Oh look, it's something else I wrote for a fandom week and didn't finish in time... XD I've just spent a lot of time in the Thieves Den and somehow that turned into having to set a fic in it, and now, here we are! Please enjoy :D
"I'm glad you escaped." Akechi never looks at him when there's a chance he's being honest with his feelings, and today is no different. The faint memory of the music they once listened to in the jazz club floats just beyond their ears, merely a gentle backdrop to their conversation. Any other voices fade into the background and Akira gives him his full attention. "From the interrogation room, that is. I'm still frustrated that you managed to outsmart me, but…well, what good is a rival that dies so easily?"
"Mmhm," Akira agrees, not looking at the way the edges of Penguin Sniper fade out into the bright lights of the rest of his Palace. "It wasn't easy."
He chuckles, idly toying with a dart. "I know - there were so many moving parts, so many little ways it could have fallen to pieces - but you pulled it off." He holds it up, a brilliant gash of red in his hand, staring down the shot in front of him. "After I shot you, I had the most satisfying masturbation session of my life."
Akira chokes and the dart flies from Akechi's hand, piercing the bullseye with deadly accuracy.
"And then…" he trails off, picking up another dart. "Then, I spent the next 24 hours in the lowest pit of emptiness while I tried to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do with the rest of my life, because you were gone."
The dart lands in the center, as does the next, and Akechi finally looks at him. "You're up- don't stand there gaping like a fool."
None of this is real. Everyone is just a cognition, here for him to listen to and remember. But…
But—
He's fake. He's what Akira wants to believe he was. Akira is no better than Maruki's offer of a "perfect" reality, because he's in a Palace built on lies.
Penguin Sniper fades away and he's in a nondescript metal box of a room, sitting at a table and staring up at Akechi on the other side of it. His hand still grips a dart as he looks down at Akira, haughtiness natural on his pretty features. There's no escape from his fate, and Akira's head spins, and he's the one holding the dart now, and it's aimed directly at Akechi's head.
"If you're tired of me, if you're disgusted by me, if you'd rather I finally fade out and be replaced by a version with preset catchphrases, you know what to do." Akechi's gaze is unwavering in the face of death and rejection, and Akira doesn't know how he can just accept it, despite everything he leaves behind.
"I haven't figured it out yet," Akira begins, voice steadier than he feels. "What to do with the rest of my life without you in it. I'm here in that same pit of emptiness, and you're gone"
Akechi's eyes widen, shock and betrayal splayed across his face, and Akira could pull the trigger now and do the same with his blood. "Don't throw my words back at me!"
Every second of borrowed time they had cuts through him and Akira didn't even know how precious it was until their time was already up. He could end it now, if he only thinks of the worst, most frustrating parts of their relationship, but he'd be doing both of them a disservice.
"What conclusion did you come to?"
Akechi scowls and truth spills without its usual barriers. "I shoved it down, because I had other things to do and I never get what I actually want…until I realized you tricked me."
"Then how am I supposed to come up with an answer?" He's frustrated and lost and no one understands him the way Akechi did, even through the lies.
"You're the hero. I'm sure you'll muddle your way through."
Akira throws the dart and it hits a perfect bullseye in Penguin Sniper. His Palace is a disorganized, shuddering mess of memories he aches to hold onto forever, their claws dug deep in his heart. It's a place to relax and center himself, and he can't—
"Pull yourself together, Akira," Akechi says, holding out a hand. He's haloed by a snarl of hazy emptiness, blurred memories of others swirling behind him, and Akira can't take it, can't take the risk that they'll never speak again, and can't resist it, either.
He feels like himself. Cognitions feels real, but Akira is only focused on the warmth of Akechi's hand in his, gripping back just as tightly. The lights crackle and the music swells and his Palace rights itself, the familiar walls and fixtures falling into place. He can hear the gentle murmur of other conversations in the background, filling the space in an attempt to chase away the loneliness in his heart.
Akechi is still holding his hand.
"I know the answer, but I'm sure you've had enough clues to figure it out. Right, Akira?"
He's so self-satisfied and so sure of both of their abilities. Akira's confidence sometimes feels like a farce, but he's gathered that Akechi's is much the same. They're so different and so similar, and Akira knows that he can't possibly recreate Akechi perfectly, even if he wanted to.
"You're not dead."
"I'm right here, aren't I?"
"That's not a confirmation," Akira snaps, stepping closer. He's not taking another half-answer; he's not letting Akechi talk around the truth again.
"No, it isn't. Brilliant as always." It's barbed and a step backwards, away from Akira and away from an explanation. He can't discuss nothingness. He wants to believe he's earned more than this, after all they've been through, and he deserves to hear the whole story- even if it hurts.
Akechi squeezes his hand once more and tries to take it back. When Akira refuses to let go, he sighs. "I told you just now- I'm here. I'm right here, kept safe in the memories in your heart, because that's a power you have, I suppose." His brows knit together and he glances away, staring at Loki's shifting form above them. "But this is all I have. I never left Shido's Palace. Not because that cheap imitation actually defeated me- have more faith in my skills! I was there when you fought his Shadow, keeping reinforcements from reaching the Treasure Room. You aren't really naive enough to think he'd fight alone, are you?"
He was. They all were. It had never happened before, so they didn't plan for it, and now he feels like an idiot. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me- I was just making sure you kept our bargain," he snaps, and his refusal to meet Akira's eyes betrays his real feelings. "I should have known he'd use one of his backup plans to prevent having his heart changed, but I couldn't make it out in time. So... I didn't die, but I couldn't get out of the Metaverse, either."
Somehow, Akechi is still alive but not quite, stuck in a place between reality and nothingness, and that's why they can actually talk to each other. Akira can't be a silent observer around Akechi; he makes him part of it, always, and the truth only makes this more complicated.
"Well? Are you satisfied now?" Akechi looks at him again, expression distant.
"No," he answers honestly. "You told me you were dead."
"My memories after Shido's Palace are hazy. I remember…drifting for awhile, with nothing but my failures for company, until Maruki's stupid Persona plucked me out of it for his altered reality. Without any clear proof against it, it was quite logical to assume my life had ended in our true reality." The way Akechi can talk about the certainty of his death as nothing more than a minor, inconvenient detail is baffling, and Akira kind of wants to punch him for it. "And after…I don't have an exact answer, but I think your stubborn insistence on keeping me in your thoughts brought me here."
He lets out a breath of relief. If Akechi can't see his own worth and importance, Akira will do it for him, and it's seemingly strong enough to make a significant difference. "I'm glad."
Akechi looks past him. "It's…fine. Thank you, I guess," he says, prickly again. It's uncharted territory, this much continuous honesty, and neither of them quite know how to navigate it. "Unfortunately, I've been stuck here with the cognitions of all your stupid friends, and I'm tired of having the same few conversations with them. Can't you be creative enough to give them more to say?"
"There's always Tycoon," Akira suggests.
He scoffs. "None of them are any good at it."
"I bet you are."
"I am."
He can't make out what anyone else is saying, filling the space with the same words he's heard countless times. They're comforting, more so now that he's not in Tokyo. They're a reminder of a time with friends, a time of belonging, a time when he believed he could have a future without loneliness—
Akechi snatches his hand back and they're still in Penguin Sniper, decided by a pool table. "Everything else is up to you- like it always is." He has a cue stick in his hands, eying the untouched balls for his opening shot. One wrong move and the starting advantage is lost, forfeited to his opponent without a chance to regain control. Akechi's gaze is sharp as a knife, focused on his plans, and the balls break apart like a sword through the chest, splitting into every corner with measured precision. No mistakes, no openings, no way for Akira to cut in, because Akechi is too determined to ever surrender.
This is his Palace.
Akira watches him silently, admiring the way he moves and plays, until he's one shot away from victory. Penguin Sniper vanishes, Akechi stumbles, off-balanced, and grips Leblanc's counter to steady himself.
"Cheater," he curses, eyes flashing with burning hatred, an intoxicating invitation to danger that Akira can't resist. He's like every bad impulse Akira has, made manifest in the form of a strikingly handsome peer, and maybe he likes Akechi so much because he's the only one willing to encourage him like this. "Going to make me coffee now, Akira?"
The counter is an endless expanse between them, neatly placing them into their predetermined roles. He's tired of playing by fate's rules; he already knows he can change it. "Not tonight," he says, leaning forward, across the counter, and into Akechi's personal space, watching his eyes widen. "I don't live here anymore."
"I suppose you don't."
Leblanc fades away and they're on a cheerful, overly bright TV set. Akechi's expression sours into plastic lies founded on hidden shreds of truths, and it's gone, gone, gone, replaced by haunting walls closing in on them, locking them into a situation where neither of them truly win.
"Do you regret it?" Akira asks and Akechi trains a plastic toy ray gun on his forehead.
He smirks. "I'd do it again in an instant," he lies, finger frozen on the trigger, and the truth is so wrapped in lies, neither of them can untangle it.
"Then do it."
Akechi's hand wavers, years of practice failing in the face of separation and an end to them. "I hate you," he snarls, tossing aside his gun to grab the front of Akira's shirt. "I've seen how you see everyone in your life, myself included, and I've seen the sorry state of who you are, and I hate how much I still want to be part of it. I hate your mindless, idiotic friends and I'd hate it more if they abandoned you, and I want you to let me out!"
Akira can leave whenever he wants, he merely has to think about it. But during their infiltrations, there was only one entrance and exit for them. Even though he doesn't consider Akechi a threat, he's still a guest in his Palace. "Okay," he says simply, leaning back from Akechi's now loosened grip on his shirt, and he gets out of his seat. They're not going to see eye to eye here, and Akira is ready for a change. "Follow me."
"You're not making any sense."
He tilts his head, watching Akechi's shock fade to amused annoyance. "Let's go."
There's an exit, because it's still a Palace, even if it's peaceful. Akira only used it once, the first time he found himself here, and now he needs it again. Akechi follows him out of the interrogation room and past other cognitions, up the glowing stairs to the main level, until they're standing next to the boarded up hole in the wall. "Your confidence is going to blow up in your face someday," Akechi says, like he can't decide if it's an insult or a warning.
"It hasn't yet."
"Yet."
Akira walks into the hallway and trusts Akechi to follow. He can feel the cognition weakening as they walk, and he pauses before they reach the end. "The exit's down here."
Akechi looks down the hall. "Ah…I suppose that makes sense. We'll have to speak more another time."
He gestures ahead of him. "You first."
Akechi steps back, hands up. "Me? Akira, I think you're overestimating—"
"You said you wanted me to let you out," Akira reminds him, looking pointedly at the door. "Here we are."
"You're being ridiculous."
Akira shrugs. "Then stay—"
Akechi shoves him aside, stalking forward. "I'm quite tired of being stuck in your mind," he snaps, and pushes the door open . Akira follows him into the light, blindingly bright as the Metaverse breaks away to reveal reality.
The crisp fall air greets him, different from the comfortable yet still atmosphere in his Palace, and Akira blinks a few times to remember where he was. The fields stretch endlessly on one side, an ocean of monotony without a lifeboat in sight, while the path on the other side cuts through a less-occupied residential area until it finds the main street. Is he alone? Morgana wasn't with him today, but…
"Where the hell am I?" Akechi's voice is harsh, covering his worry and confusion in annoyance to keep him safe. His face is twisted with it, brows furrowed and scowl creasing up to his cheeks, and Akira has never found him so pretty.
"My hometown."
The breeze ruffles Akechi's perfectly styled hair, threatening to tease it into the fluffy mess Akira knows it can be. He looks around, still frowning, before nodding. "I suppose that makes sense, though my appearance here is more questionable. I know you invited me along with you, but I cannot believe it actually worked. It shouldn't have! Your damned heroics are too convenient."
He shrugs again. "I'm not going to apologize."
"You wouldn't." He sighs, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his gloves.
Autumn's colors haven't fully transformed the area, and dark green firs jut up in the distance. It's peaceful. It's painfully removed from all of Akira's friends - save for Morgana - and now, Akechi is standing across from him. It's mind-boggling and feels so natural, Akira can finally relax.
"It's a bit anticlimactic," Akechi says after a while of observing the environment. "All of this. You're from this tiny, insignificant town and it was that stupidly simple to leave the prison of your heart, and now I'm standing here trying to figure out what to do with all of that."
Akira takes a tentative step closer, and when he isn't rebuffed, he takes a much more confident one. "That's how it always seems to go. Every heist ended with nothing but our own knowledge of what we'd done, so…it's what you make of it," he explains. "Though, it usually involved going to restaurants we couldn't usually afford."
"Or standing all alone on Christmas Eve after saving the world, before promising to turn yourself over for everyone else's benefit?" Akechi smirks at his stunned silence. "I'm too petty and self-serving for your method, Akira. I don't want to be some selfless, invisible force for good—"
"But you are," he points out and watches Akechi's expression falter. "And besides that…this was a pretty selfish accomplishment for both of us, so I think you're on the right path?"
"And what path is that?"
"Wanting something more than standing next to fields, with only yourself for company," he continues. "It's better if there's something to look forward to."
Akechi's eyes are on him, just as piercing now as they were the first time they met. They promise never-ending change and challenges and unpredictability, and Akira will never back down.
"I still have your glove." Akira watches the realization in Akechi's eyes as he pulls it from his pocket. "You owe me a rematch."
"Is that so?"
He nods. "I haven't decided on the details yet, so you'll have to wait a little longer."
"Typical," Akechi scoffs fondly. "I suppose that will have to do."
There's something familiar in Akechi's smile; something sweet and defiant and earnest and so many other things that he is, and Akira offers him his hand without hesitation. "Rivals."
"Of course," he confirms, gripping Akira's hand firmly. "Don't think I'll let you keep this lead you have- you only got this far because I was holding back."
Akira chuckles warmly, because a missing piece of himself has settled comfortably within his life again, and the whole world seems brighter for it. "There's no jazz club here, but we could at least get coffee."
"I'm sure it's no Leblanc, not in a backwards place like this," he points out without actually turning down the invitation.
He nods. "Of course it isn't."
Akechi sighs. "Typical. I suppose that's to be expected. But…" He trails off, adjusting his hand to twine their fingers together. "I think I'd like that. Lead the way, Akira."