Cw for referenced abuse, underage relationships, suicide, and background character death.

A stunned silence fell over the rooftop as everyone processed Haru's words.

The brunette sniffled, but in contrast, something began to burn in her eyes. "Sugimura… his family promised Father even more support if he upheld their deal, so he's making me marry that vile excuse of a man anyway!"

While Akira had a sinking suspicion that this was coming the second Haru mentioned her fiancé's name, hearing his hunch confirmed brought him no joy whatsoever. Cursing, the frizzy-haired teen clenched his fist. Meanwhile, expressions of shock and outrage identical to his own crossed the rest of the Phantoms' faces.

"He… he didn't!" Ann was the first to recover from her shock, and hissing, the blonde covered her mouth. "What about the prostitutes?! What about the drugs?!"

Makoto bit her lip. "Surely he's aware of Sugimura's crimes by now, right?"

Haru nodded glumly. "Yes. Father just doesn't care. I… I tried pleading with him, telling him no, but he didn't listen to a single word I said. H-he doesn't care about my thoughts, my feelings, or my reputation – all that matters to him is his… his politics!" A flash of uncharacteristic bitterness crossed the heiress' face. "Sugimura wants a winter wedding – they're not even going to let me finish school."

As she finished her speech, Haru slammed her fist into the side of the bench, making everyone jolt. For a split second, even she looked surprised at her outburst. Shaking her head as if in a daze, the brunette straightened up. Turning towards the Phantoms, her usual softness was replaced with steel as she gave them a deep bow.

"I am truly sorry for asking so much from you, but I have nowhere else to turn. Please… please save me from my father's greed."

Of course we will. Akira stepped forward. When he opened his mouth, however, Makoto suddenly grabbed his wrist and clenched it tightly.

"As much as I'd like to give you an answer now, we'll have to deliberate this as a group before we come to any decisions." The student council president announced.

Akira shot her a stunned glare, utterly incredulous, and Makoto arched a pointed brow at him in turn.

Thankfully Haru missed their exchange, and as she rose back upwards, the brunette gave them a tired smile. "That's all I can ask for. Thank you for listening to me."

…..

"I don't know what there is to discuss." Akira folded his arms as he leaned against the bar, voice clipped. "Okumura is trying to sell her like livestock, for god's sake."

Suffice to say, no one was in the mood to continue their tour after their encounter with Haru. The Phantoms had all gone straight back to Leblanc, a palpable tension hanging in the air as a storm brewed within Akira's heart. Just what the hell was Makoto playing at?!

Ann nodded, brows furrowed. "I'm all for it. Sugimura's a pig, and any man who'd give their daughter to him is no better."

Ryuji, who was currently slouching over the counter, frowned. "Damn right. Plus, that's not the only shitty thing Okumura's done – just look at the Phansite. He's a scumbag even if you ignore that shit he's tryin' to do to Haru."

Makoto, Futaba, and Uryū all remained silent, and Akira couldn't help but feel a spark of irritation. Where was their fury? Where was their anger?!

"Akira." Makoto raised a hand placatingly. Either his Reiatsu must have spiked, or she'd seen something in his expression. "We all think that Okumura is a repugnant man who deserves to face justice. That's not the issue here. The problem is that the Conspiracy is still out there, and they've already pinned their crimes on us once. Plus, Okumura's not like Kamoshida, Madarame, or Kaneshiro. He's right in the media's spotlight, whether it's the news discussing the rumours about his move to politics or the social media outcry against Okumura Foods. Moving against him is going to be dangerous, more so than any of our other targets."

Uryū adjusted his glasses. The Quincy had perched himself down on a stool in Leblanc's corner, and so far, had been content to watch the proceedings quietly. "Makoto is right. If the Phantoms are involved in another controversy, the police will likely escalate their search for you. Sae-san can only do so much to keep them off our backs – with enough motivation, they will find you eventually, and even if they can't catch you, they can still completely uproot your lives."

"We've gotta think about Aizen too." Futaba bit her lip. "Getting chased out of Japan right before that whole disaster goes down seems like a bad idea."

Akira's objections caught in his throat as he snapped back to reality. Ah. That's right. The Conspiracy was still a spectre looming over his friends' heads, instead of a mild inconvenience for their future self to deal with. Given the amount of time he'd spent with Akechi lately, he'd pretty much forgotten that. Akira settled back into his seat and steepled his fingers - he had to think about this from their perspectives.

"Any updates on Sae's case?" He asked. If Akechi's benefactor was caught, the risk involved with targeting Okumura would be cut in half.

Makoto shook her head. "Not really. Judging by her mood, I think things are going in the right direction, but she would have mentioned something to me if she'd managed to nail down any real suspects."

Damn. Akira grimaced. While he hadn't really expected Sae to solve the case before Aizen's war began, Makoto had decisively crossed that option out.

Ryuji crossed his legs, rubbing his chin. "Why don't we handle this covert style? I bet if Akira sucker-stabs the guy with his Shikai, he'd have a total breakdown! We won't even need to reveal we're the Phantoms!"

Akira's stomach lurched as he shot up, alarm bells blaring in his mind. "Are you really sure that's a good idea? I've never used Tasogare no Dorobō on a normal human with no Reiryoku before."

Especially not while his Zanpakutō spirit was still an ornery Hollow. While activating his Shikai hadn't triggered any takeover attempts since he'd subdued Tasogare no Dorobō, using it still felt like playing with fire at times.

Ann pursed her lips. "I mean… I think it'd be fine? It's not like your Shikai physically harms people…"

Futaba, who'd been typing away at her laptop, closed it shut. "Yeeeeeah - I'm gonna have to veto this one. I did some digging into Okumura Senior during the Sugimura raid. He's being treated for heart disease, and there's some talk about him getting an operation. Freaky magical hallucinations are probably gonna be less life-changing, and more cardiac-arrest inducing."

"That's… not something I'm willing to risk." Makoto sighed, sweeping a hand through her hair. "As unpleasant as he is, if he dies, that's just going to give Haru a slew of brand new problems instead."

Everyone's attention drifted to Leblanc's corner as Uryū cleared his throat. "Forgive me for being callous, but I think we should decline Okumura-san's request." As a series of shocked gasps greeted his proclamation, he sighed. "Look, from all logical standpoints, it's a bad idea. Akira's Shikai isn't an option, while handling him like usual leaves us ripe for exploitation by the Conspiracy, arrest by the police, and has a good chance of triggering his health issues anyway."

"I know!" Ryuji snapped his fingers. "Futaba can leak Okumura's dirty dealings! That'll ruin his political dreams for good!"

It was hardly the 'gotcha' moment the blond was expecting, and Uryū rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, his dirty laundry has already been leaked, and it hasn't made a lick of difference. Even if Futaba finds something out about him that people actually care about, Okumura will probably uphold his deal with the Sugimura family anyway for the sake of money – in fact, it might even make him more desperate."

Ryuji's hand dropped. "Dammit… there's gotta be something we can do!"

"… Anyone got any bright ideas?" Futaba forced a grin which quickly turned into a grimace as resounding silence greeted her question.

Leaning forward, the Quincy massaged his brows. "Honestly, even if we did, I don't think this is a priority right now. As sympathetic as I am towards Okumura-san's plight, an unhappy marriage is trivial compared to the fate of the world."

Ann frowned deeply. "It's a bit more than just unhappy, Uryū. It's creepy and abusive."

"I know, but we can always fix things once Aizen and the Conspiracy have been dealt with. Worst comes to worst, we can just stab Sugimura with Akira's Shikai repeatedly until he agrees to a divorce."

"Hey, why don't we just do that now?" A beaming grin crossed Ryuji's face. "If we freak Sugimura out enough, maybe he'll kibosh this stupid marriage himself!"

Akira squirmed as images of a white mask flashed into his mind. "I… don't think that's a good idea. Not with how temperamental my Shikai's been lately."

Once he'd mastered his Hollow powers, sure - it's not like Sugimura dying would exactly be a tragedy on the off chance Tasogare no Dorobō worked differently on the spiritually blind. If he lost control again and ended up hurting someone he actually cared about, however... it wasn't worth the risk. Not yet, anyway. Unfortunately, that had been their final hope - at Akira's refusal, the light died in everyone's eyes as they came to the same conclusion he had. As awful as it was, every path before them had been closed off. Not to mention, it was like Uryū said – war could break out any day now. Even if Aizen didn't strike in the immediate future, Akira only had a month before Akechi would come calling – did he really have the time to waste on Haru's infinitely more mundane problems?

"… Who's going to tell her?" Ann sighed, slouching gloomily as she finally accepted the inevitable.

"I'll do it." Akira's eyes drilled a hole into the table as he glared at it muleishly. If he was going to let Haru down, he'd be man enough to do it face-to-face - he owed her that, at the very least.

"I'll come with you." Makoto volunteered tersely. "I… probably know her the best, after all."

With that, the discussion came to a grim end. While Akira half-heartedly offered to make the others dinner, unsurprisingly, none of the Phantoms were in the mood to hang out. One by one, they slowly trickled out of the café until it was just him and Futaba remaining.

"Well, this sucks." The hacker sighed, resting her head against a table.

Akira could do nothing but nod in agreement. As he quietly took out a couple of servings of leftover curry and put them in the microwave, he gritted his teeth. Even with all his training, he was still powerless whenever it truly mattered.

…..

Makoto texted both Akira and Haru the morning after their encounter, asking to meet on the roof after class. Privately, she'd sent the black-haired teen another message – she wanted to rip the bandage off sooner rather than later, a sentiment Akira concurred with. As classes came to an end the duo headed towards the rooftop garden, marching grimly like pirates to the gallows. They paused as they reached the door, exchanging one final glance. Makoto skin was wan and there was a dullness to her gaze Akira hadn't seen in a long time. He felt a flicker of guilt at his fury towards her yesterday – it was clear this situation was eating her up inside just as much as it was the rest of them.

He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. "Come on. Let's get this over and done with."

Haru was already waiting for them, and the brunette leapt to her feet as the door swung open. While her smile could only be described as strained, there was a tentative flicker of hope in her eyes, which punched Akira straight in the guts.

"Good afternoon!" She gave the two Phantoms a polite bow before looking up, biting her lip. "Apologies for cutting straight to business, but have you made your decision…?"

Taking in a deep breath, Akira stepped forward. Haru must have seen something in his expression, as the smile slowly began to slip off her face.

"I'm sorry." He began. "It's not a matter of not wanting to help, but more a matter of whether we can. Your father's health means our usual methods might be too dangerous, and, well…" Akira's voice trailed off. "Look, I can't give you the full details, but we're currently caught up in some serious shit. It's got to do with the people who killed Kobayakawa – it's too dangerous to do any overt Phantoms work while they're still active, for both us and any of our prospective targets."

Haru did nothing but stare blankly at him, and Akira's stomach began to churn as guilt stabbed into him like a blade. He knew that this conversation was going to be awful, and Haru had just proved him right.

"I-if you can try to delay the wedding until after winter, we might be able to intervene then!" Makoto interjected, her voice an octave higher than normal. "It's just that right now is a really bad time, and, um…"

"That's… that's okay." Haru's voice was flat as she interrupted Makoto. The brunette forced a trembling smile, eyes shut tight – if they were open, Akira knew they'd be full of tears. "I understand! If… if you can't help, then you can't help. It's as simple as that. Please, excuse me."

Without another word she ran off, brushing past Makoto's shoulder, and the roof's door closed behind Haru with a slam. For a moment, the two Phantoms stood there in silence, the air heavy with the mutual guilt wracking both teens. Makoto opened her mouth, but something flickered across her face and she aborted the motion, instead merely staring at the closed door with sadness in her eyes.

"I… should probably go. I need to coordinate Yoshida-san's appearance." The student council president eventually mumbled, shoulders hunched.

Akira gave her a mute nod, and after casting one final glance back at him, Makoto left the roof, leaving him on his own. A flash of anger suddenly overtook the frizzy-haired teen, and with a yell, he whirled around and smashed his fist into one of the ventilation shafts. Even with his human body muting the blow, the metal dented under the force of his punch. Breathing heavily, Akira trembled, a maelstrom of hate and fury overwhelming him as pain radiated through his knuckles.

This time though, his rage was purely directed at himself.

…..

Akira readied his blade, eyes locked with Akechi who circled him on the opposite side of the testing grounds. For the first time in a while, he was looking forward to this. Several days had passed since they'd turned Haru down, and his fury at the bloody injustice of it all hadn't abated one bit. The second Akechi withdrew his blade, Akira summoned his Hollow mask and lunged. Surprise flickered in the detective's eyes as he narrowly parried Akira's blow, but this time, when he pushed back, Akira finally managed to match his strength.

"Steal their hearts, Tasogare no Dorobō." He growled softly, his Zanpakutō moving straight from its sealed state into its flamberge form.

Eventually, Akechi batted his blade away, but Akira was ready and took the opportunity to punch him in the face. The detective's head snapped to the side with a crack, and the brunet immediately shunpoed away, fingers brushing over the bruise that was already beginning to form on his cheek.

"Finally." Akechi's lips curled into a vicious grin. "I've been waiting for you to muster your resolve!"

With a laugh, he raced forward, attempting to fillet Akira with his blade. The Shinigami was waiting for him, however, and quickly countered every one of the detective's blows. When Akechi fell back, Akira instinctively pushed forward, golden eyes honed in on his prey. For a split second, his rival's face faded away, replaced by Okumura Kunikazu's, and Akira's burning rage exploded into an inferno.

While he would never accept the part of himself that would hurt his friends, he had no qualms about embracing the part of himself that would hurt that goddamn CEO. Yelling, he closed the distance between them and hacked at Akechi again and again. The detective furrowed his brow and clearly attempting to take advantage of Akira's fury, he flicked his sword in an attempt to disarm the other teen. Akira saw through his movements, however, and let Akechi guide his blade. Instead, he jabbed a finger into the boy's shoulder.

"Hadō #4. Byakurai." Lightning crackled at the tips of Akira's fingers, and blasted straight through Akechi's shoulder.

"Really, Kurusu?" The brunet smirked as blood spurted from the wound. "Try a Cero next time. We are working on your Hollow powers, after all."

Finally, Akechi summoned his own Hollow mask. A glowing orb formed at the tip of his white beak, and if Akira hadn't twisted out of the way at the last second, the blast of raw energy would have blown off his head. This time, the Shinigami was the one to fall back, and the duo circled each other like lions hunting their prey. Fine – if Akechi wants a Cero, he can get one. Akira stretched out his arm, pointing at the other teen as he charged his own attack. At the last second, however, he diverted the beam towards Akechi's feet.

While the detective hadn't anticipated Akira's last-second feint, it didn't matter – Akechi fell back well before the laser beam smashed into the ground. Shrapnel flew through the air, slashing Akechi's leg, but the detective was otherwise unharmed. Charging towards Akira's side, the brunet swung his Zanpakutō with a wild laugh. Akira blocked the strike with his own blade, but the sheer force behind Akechi's strike made Tasogare no Dorobō vibrate in his hand. Changing tactics, as Akechi struck again, Akira split his Zanpakutō into its gauntlet form and rappelled out of the way with his grappling hook.

Twisting mid-air, the teen launched a Cero at Akechi's back. The detective shielded himself with the flat of his blade, but he was still sent skidding backwards. An odd expression flashed across Akechi's face, and alarm flashed in Akira's chest as his rival suddenly sliced the back of his own palm. This time, when Akechi charged his Cero flakes of blood entered the mix, and Akira's eyes widened as the glowing light turned an eerie shade of red.

"Bakudō #81. Dankū." The black-haired teen chanted, summoning the strongest barrier he could.

Akechi's Cero rocketed towards him like a freight train, and Akira took in a sharp breath. He knew Akechi's attack was going to be strong, but had underestimated just how much juice his rival had put into his blow. Readjusting his hook, Akira abandoned the barrier and swung halfway across the testing grounds, eminently relieved he'd returned Tasogare no Dorobō to its default form. The ferocious blast of crimson light smashed through the Dankū like it was made of glass, before continuing its trajectory and blasting a hole right through the roof.

Chunks of rubble crashed to the ground, making the earth quake beneath his feet, and the oddly muffled Reiatsu shielding the lab faded away. Both boys snapped out of their trance as they gawped at the devastation. Now that his adrenaline had abated, a wave of exhaustion crashed over Akira. Tasogare no Dorobō reverted to its sealed state as his mask crumbled away and stars began to dance in his eyes.

On the other side of the clearing, Akechi blinked, eyes wide in alarm. "Oh, fuck. Quick, let's get out here before Shi- his cronies begin to swarm."

Shi? What was that supposed to mean? Akira had no time to contemplate Akechi's slip of the tongue, however, as the brunet shoved him into his thankfully unscathed body before moving to open a Garganta. Unfortunately, being back in his human body only increased his weariness, and Akira stumbled, barely able to keep himself upright. Instead of complaining, an odd frown crossed the detective's face, and with a shrug, he suddenly scooped up Akira and lifted him bridal style. The teen could do nothing but yelp in alarm as Akechi abandoned his portal and instead shunpoed out of the hole in the ceiling.

Several flashes later, the teen came to a halt and lowered Akira to the ground

Stunned into wakefulness, Akira quickly rolled back to his feet. "Akechi, what the fuck?"

His rival merely gave him a wink, full Detective Prince mode. "Why the ire? I thought you'd enjoy a display like that. The prince, carrying a fair maiden in his arms… it's romantic, isn't it?"

Akira fake-gagged. "Maybe if I was the prince and the 'fair maiden' was literally anyone else but you."

Akechi expression could only be described as shit-eating. "Even Sakamoto?"

"Yes, even Ryuji. You know, he actually looks quite good in a dress…"

"Please, spare me the details." Akechi cut him off, raising his hand.

Akira nodded, happy to give in to his rival's demands now that they were back on equal footing. He took advantage of the moment's quiet to survey his surroundings. They'd fled to a city or a town of some sort – the buildings were larger than they were in Yongen-Jaya, but the streets had the same suburban feel, and Akira could catch the scent of baked goods. Almost instantly, his stomach began to gurgle.

"Why don't we grab a bite to eat?" Akechi suggested idly. "I could do with a coffee myself, truthfully."

Akira shrugged. As long as he could actually rest for a moment, he'd be happy.

The two boys entered the first coffee shop they could find, Akira ordering a cheese and bacon roll along with espressos for the both of them. It had nothing on Leblanc, but the food and caffeine helped perk the Shinigami up. The boys ate in silence – Akira had minimal interest in engaging with the Detective Prince mask Akechi always wore in public, and it seemed his rival had little desire to put it on.

As he looked around though, Akira quickly realised nobody was paying them any heed. Perhaps it was because of his dishevelled state, or perhaps they were simply too far from Tokyo, but nobody was even giving Akechi a second glance despite his so-called celebrity.

Relaxing into his chair, Akira shot his companion a curious look. "Any idea where we are? I don't have my phone with me – I didn't want anyone to track us."

Akechi sipped his coffee. "If this is some juvenile attempt at drawing information out of me, it's not going to work."

Akira rolled his eyes. "I already know our training grounds is one of your benefactor's Cognitive Psience labs. I'm not an idiot, you know."

A flicker of surprise crossed Akechi's face, before it was replaced by understanding. "Ah, that's right – you're friends with Isshiki's daughter. Of course you'd know about Cognitive Psience."

Akira decided to keep mum that he also knew Wakaba herself. "What on earth are they even doing in that lab? There's nothing there that even resembles anything Futaba's dabbling with." There were no production lines or walls lined with anti-Hollow weaponry, for one. Then again, Akira supposed Akechi's boss could have multiple Cognitive Psience facilities out there, a thought that was both bleak and depressing.

"That location is primarily designed to study my abilities. The psientists are particularly eager on finding a way to reverse-engineer my Shikai's abilities." Akechi revealed, before a ghost of a smirk crossed his face as he saw Akira's eyes widen in alarm. "Don't give me that look – even if they succeeded, they're hardly competent enough to utilise it properly. Besides, as long as I'm on their side… they already have an army of Hollows."

Akira shuddered, leaning away. The more he learnt about what people were using Cognitive Psience for, the more he thought it probably would be for the best if Wakaba's research was locked up in a vault and never saw the light of day again.

"Truthfully… I'm more interested in talking about you at this particular moment." Akechi continued, regarding Akira coolly. "Or to be more specific, your performance today. You've barely been able to retain your mask for a handful of seconds until this point, but today, you managed to summon it for nearly ten minutes – what happened?"

A ferocious scowl crossed Akira's face as his mind immediately drifted back to Haru's situation. "Ugh, don't remind me."

"Oh, I'm going to, if it'll get me results like this."

Akira rolled his eyes. "Fine – it's Okumura fucking Kunikazu. Satisfied?" At the surprise in Akechi's eyes, he relented. "I'm an acquaintance of his daughter, Haru. She's… she's a good person. Lent me her ear when my inner Hollow was acting up. You remember the Sugimura scandal, right?"

Akechi nodded. "Yes. I've heard that Okumura was attempting to woo his father - politically, that is. I take it the Phantoms targeted him at Haru-san's behest?"

"Something like that. She was engaged to him, but Makoto and I… we noticed some bruises on her arms. Turns out that bastard Sugimura was the one to put them there. Even if the police gave half a shit about abuse to begin with, they wouldn't dare touch someone of his station, so we used Medjed to ruin his reputation to the point where marriage would be actively detrimental to Okumura's reputation."

"… I still have no idea how you pulled that one off." Akechi mused. "You must have found an expert in cybersecurity somewhere, or otherwise used Shinigami technology to hoodwink them to your side. Still, I can't deny the efficiency of your methods – the prostitution could probably have been hushed up, but the drugs? You pretty much sounded his death knell."

Akira had barely resisted laughing when Akecki brought up Shinigami tech – the thought of Rukia having to deal with something like a hacker group was utterly comical. At the second half of his rival's sentence, however, his foul mood returned full force.

"You'd like to think would ruin the engagement, right? But guess what?!" Akira threw his hands up into the air. "Okumura wants Haru to marry the bastard anyway!"

Akechi blinked slowly. "… Excuse me?"

"Yep!" Akira hissed, crossing his arms. "As long as Okumura gets Sugimura Senior's political support, he doesn't give a damn that he's throwing Haru straight to the wolves! She's his daughter for crying out loud! It's sickening!" The teen's shoulders slumped as he deflated. "Let's just say it's a lot easier to accept my Hollow side when I think about scumbags like that."

"… God, I hate rich people." Akechi sneered, contempt glimmering in his eyes. "They're all talentless hacks whose only skill is leeching off the achievements of those who lack the resources to stand up to them. The sooner they get their just deserts, the better, as far as I'm concerned."

Akira's brows rose as he regarded the detective with surprise. It wasn't that he disagreed with him – quite the opposite. Still, it was utterly surreal hearing a take like that come straight from the White-Masked Killer's mouth.

Akira furrowed his brow. "Isn't that a bit rich coming from a literal hitman? Pun unintentional, of course."

"It's never unintentional when it comes to you." Akechi snarked, before his expression turned into something contemplative. "Besides… it's not like my side job is something I do for fun."

The black-haired teen shot him a sceptical glance. "Oh? You seemed to be having a pretty good time when you sicced that brigade of Hollows on me."

The detective laughed. "That's because you're special - I rarely battle against other spiritual beings, after all." Leaning forward, Akechi crossed his hands together, humour fading from his face. "While I'd be lying if I said I didn't gain some satisfaction from my duties at times – plenty of my targets have more than earned it – ultimately, the Vanishing Incidents are nothing but a means to an end."

Curiosity sparked in Akira's chest, and despite himself he drew closer to the other boy, hanging off his every word. Akira had spent so much time focussing on who or what Akechi was, he'd never really contemplated why the teenager before him had become the ruthless murderer he was. A part of Akira had assumed money or fame had led Akechi down the path he'd taken, and a far crueller part of him had assumed the brunet's depravity was an infliction of his Hollow-tainted blood – an inherent sickness that consumed his very soul. Still, he should have known that his rival would never be so shallow – there was a method to his madness, but Akira had no idea what it was.

"Fascinating." He folded his arms. "So, what is your end, Akechi?

"While our methods differentiate, I seek much the same thing as you – justice."

The sounds of clinking silverware and the muted noise of distant chatter blurred in the background, and a sceptical Akira raised a brow. Justice? How the hell can anything Akechi does be described as justice?

"You're… really gonna have to elaborate on that one, buddy." The frizzy-haired teen sipped his coffee. "If you were some serial killer that only targeted villains, I'd get it. But you're not – you're a hitman. Like you said before, it's nothing personal. What about that can be described as justice?"

Akechi laughed, voice light as if they were discussing the weather instead of his motives for murder. "Like I also said before, the Vanishing Incidents are just a by-product of my end goals. If I could do what needed to be done with less collateral… perhaps I would, though I admit they're very convenient. The greater the depravities he asks me to commit after all, the greater the comeuppance he'll face in the end…"

"He?" Akira blinked, confused. "Is this your benefactor you're talking about?"

The detective paused for a moment, before shrugging, and giving him a nod. "… I suppose there's no harm in confirming your suspicion. You're right. He's a vile man – the lowest of the low." Akechi continued, fire burning in his eyes. "I made a vow when I was younger. I would give him everything – power, fame, money, success – and then the moment all his dreams came true… I'd reveal his true nature to the world, and drag him straight down to hell with me."

Akira slowly digested his rival's words. That was Akechi's game? No matter how much he contemplated it though, the reasoning behind the detective's plan was incomprehensible to him. The idea of setting yourself and the world around you on fire simply to burn one man… it seemed so pointless. But then again, perhaps he was just lying to himself. If Akira hadn't found the Phantoms and Sojiro… if he had never received their love and friendship… maybe he would have just said to hell with it all and brought everyone he hated down with him in a blaze of glory.

On the other hand, maybe Akechi's viewpoint simply was too alien for him to ever truly understand. Akira could imagine destroying himself for the sake of his justice, but he didn't think he'd be capable of dragging dozens of innocents down with him. Like he'd said to Tasogare no Dorobō, Akira would not tolerate evil, even his own.

In the end, the black-haired boy merely sipped his coffee. "You must really hate him."

Akechi remained quiet for a moment. "… He killed my mother."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

"Hah! I thought you were meant to be charismatic, Phantom. What sort of lousy consolation was that?" The detective laughed.

Akira shrugged. "Hey, only one of us works in the spotlight here – I'm more of a shadows kind of guy. Besides, what did you want me to do? Give you a hug? No offence, but if I tried that, I'm pretty sure you'd attempt to maul me."

"Attempt? Succeed, more likely." Akechi wrinkled his nose, lips curled in disdain at the mere suggestion of physical affection. The moment passed, however, and his expression softened, voice turning wistful. "… I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this."

"I mean… who else do you have to talk to?" Akira suggested. "The only other person who knows the real you is your evil murder boss."

"I suppose that's true. Perhaps it's also because unlike everyone else, you might actually understand." The detective mused, rubbing his chin. "You know what it's like to be dismissed and rejected for circumstances beyond your control."

"Why don't you tell me more about what happened?" Akira suggested. "Let me make that judgement for myself."

Akechi drummed his fingers on the table. "… I suppose there's no harm to it. Truthfully though, I barely know where to begin…"

…..

Innocence was something stripped away from Akechi Goro far, far too soon. While his childhood had officially ended at age nine, when he saw his mother's corpse swinging from the rafters, he'd lost his naïve belief that the world was a kind place long before then. After all, when one was born a bastard child in the socially conservative Japan, their wretched society would never let them forget it. His heritage had choked Goro like a vine during his time in foster care, and it was now a sword of Damocles hanging over his head, ready to ruin his life the second it became exposed.

Goro loved the fame and attention his detective act got him, but the brainless fans of his who giggled and squealed when watching his interviews, drinking up his every word… they disgusted him. How many of them would stick by his side if they ever found out the circumstances of his birth - that he was no sweet prince at all? Not many, Goro assumed, and out of the people who were left, would any of them have coveted him to begin with if they'd known his status from the start?

The answer, as Goro learned again and again and again, was no. He was poison, tainted - a noose wrapped around the neck that would only ever tighten, ruining all that grew too close (killing the only person who ever truly cared for him). Who could ever love someone like that?

While it was truly impossible to pinpoint the exact moment when he became destined to live a life of bloodshed, Goro suspected it was the day when he first learnt what he was.

He'd been six when it happened - chubby-cheeked with unruly hair and a brightness in his eyes that was destined to die sooner rather than later. Goro had been sitting at their dining table – a plastic fold-out model his mother had found by the side of the road, which only had one rickety leg – while his mother microwaved some ramen for dinner. Expression pensive, he swung his legs, lost in thought.

"How was school, honey?" Akechi Koharu glanced over her shoulder with a smile.

Goro always used to find her smiles very pretty - time had diluted the memories of her face and hairstyle and fashion, but Goro could remember her smile like it was yesterday. He could picture it even more vividly than he could her dead body, and that was saying something. Still, he suspected if he could somehow travel back in time to that day, that wouldn't be the first feature of hers he'd notice. No - that would most likely be the dark rings under her eyes, expertly covered up with makeup, or perhaps the way her bones could be seen through her skin just a tad too much for her to be dismissed as merely skinny.

Alas, he was a stupid kid who knew nothing of the world back then, so instead, with all the bluntness only a small child was capable was, he turned his head and looked her in the eyes. "What's a whore?"

It was probably a relief their dinner was still in the microwave, otherwise she probably would have dropped it on the kitchen floor.

"W-where did you hear that word?" Koharu asked, voice surprisingly calm, but it had been impossible not to notice the way she'd tensed up.

Goro frowned, as a twinge of guilt formed in his young chest. He knew he'd hurt his mum, but he didn't understand how. "Some of the boys down the road said I was the son of one. I know they were being mean, but I don't know why."

Koharu flinched, all thoughts of dinner clearly abandoned as she walked to her son's side and cupped his cheek in her hand. "You're right – it is a mean thing to say. Some people… they don't like families like ours, which only have a mommy and a child and no daddy."

"But why?" Goro repeated. It had seemed like a such silly reason to dislike someone. He hadn't quite reached the age yet where a lack of a father would feel like a gaping hole in his side – after all, he had a mother who loved him very, very much, and that had been enough.

Her smile thinned as her shoulders fell. "Some people don't think it's proper."

"That's dumb."

"What did I tell you about using that word?" Koharu corrected half-heartedly before something mischievous entered her eyes. "But never mind those people! Do you want to know something, Goro?"

He nodded – he'd always enjoyed learning things, after all.

"Sometimes, people are going to say mean things about you, Goro, but even if your father isn't here and we don't live in a nice house… you're still special." Her eyes sparkled, and he remembered being transfixed by their wonderous light. "Because you're not just an ordinary human – you're a Shinigami."

…..

Akechi Koharu was a dumb woman who made dumb choices. Her life was equally as tragic as it was ultimately irrelevant. She graduated from Shin'ō Academy after spending the full six years in the general class. Her grades were mediocre but passable - unfortunately, they weren't quite passable enough to have any choice in which Division she ended up in, and Koharu was randomly assigned to the 3rd.

It was a poor fit – Ichimaru was a capricious man on the best of days, and his poison trickled down into the ranks of the men he was meant to be guiding. The Division's insignia were marigolds – symbolic of despair. His predecessor had always believed the motif was chosen to represent the horrors of the battlefield, but under Ichimaru's reign, the important thing about despair was how much of it you could inflict on others. The pretty but meek Koharu was a perfect target for any disgruntled seated officer to take their frustrations out on.

As miserable as her time in the Gotei 13 was though, it wasn't like she had anywhere better to go. She hailed from a middle district in the Rukongai – Koharu hadn't needed to struggle for survival, but it was far enough away from the Seireitei for its population to learn it wasn't worth helping anyone but yourself. Both her district and the Seireitei were equally unpleasant options, so she stayed in the latter simply because she was there. Koharu would have continued to live her ordinary, mundane life, morbidly wondering which patrol would finally end with her becoming a Hollow's lunch, if she hadn't crossed paths with him.

She first met the future father of her child and the man who would eventually lead her to her death on a routine mission in the World of the Living. Her squad mates had left her to patrol Roppongi by herself while they handled Shinagawa to the south. She'd told them she didn't want to be alone, but they'd hardly paid her heed. Tired and sweaty after felling a Hollow all by herself, she'd slumped against the side of a building on the verge of tears, when a voice made her head snap upright.

"Are you okay there, miss?" A man in a clean business suit shot her a winning smile, eyes glittering behind his golden glasses. "I don't normally see spirits of your power in a place like this."

Koharu had gaped, watching him as if he were an angel descending from the heavens themselves. It had been the first time anyone had seen her in years, and she wasn't talking about him being a human when she said that.

Their chatter had been light, almost banal, at first. Koharu expressed her curiosity – it wasn't entirely unheard of for humans to see Shinigami, but the man wasn't even phased by her presence. At her question, he chuckled – a rich, charming sound. It was at that moment that Koharu began to fall for him.

(Unfortunately, she hadn't quite realised the warnings about not interacting with humans existed for a reason.)

Apparently, while the man possessed little in the way of Reiatsu, he'd always been slightly more spiritually sensitive than most. That was why when he heard of a research project studying a mysterious power no one could see, he'd ignored his colleague's scepticism and decided to fund it. While he was the only one who knew the truth of what they were studying, naturally, his decision bore fruit. Now, he couldn't just see faint wisps or hear muffled noises – with the power of technology, he finally possessed true spiritual sight. Hollows, Shinigami, Wholes… he could see them all, and he hungered to know more.

As the human spoke, his every word drew Koharu in like a moth to the flame. Even the 12th didn't have technology that fanciful. For a woman who barely even knew what a car was, he'd been akin to a god.

They didn't end up talking for long – she was there on a mission, after all – but as the days went by, Koharu found herself going back to the man's side, again and again. Her fellow Shinigami barely noticed her absence, and nor did they blink when she asked her mission to be extended. She never truly belonged in the 3rd, after all – it wasn't so surprising that she'd take the risk of Hollows over Ichimaru's reign of terror.

It was then that she got to work. Rumours of a rogue Shinigami who'd happily provide whatever mission tools you needed for a price had been circling around the Gotei 13 for years, and it wasn't too hard for Koharu to track him down. The shopkeeper didn't even blink an eye when she asked him for a Gigai. Later that night, when she rendezvoused with the human man he lowered his glasses, eyes wide as he realised she wasn't just a spirit now, but flesh. They made love for the first time that day, but certainly not the last.

Koharu was a fool. She should have noticed that her paramour didn't ask her about her dreams, ambitions, or interests - only about the world she hailed from and the powers she possessed. But she was young, lonely, and in love – it was only natural she missed the giant red flags he waved through the air. It was no surprise that the day she received her summons back to the Seireitei, this time with no option to linger behind, Koharu made a choice.

"The Gigai you leant me…" She murmured, unable to look the shopkeeper in the eye. "Do you have something… stronger? I… I want to stay here. I want to live out the rest of my life as a human with the man I love. Can you… can you help me?"

The rogue Shinigami didn't even bat an eye at her request. "Of course! As a matter of fact, I have the perfect product for you…"

While she didn't know this, Koharu was neither the first nor the last Shinigami who'd look at the World of the Living and see an escape from the rigid life of an unranked officer of the Gotei 13. Her desire to trade her godhood for mortality was less common, but hardly unheard of.

(There was a reason Urahara came up with the specific idea he did to seal the Hōgyoku.)

Perhaps if Akechi Koharu had fallen in love with another man, she'd have found happiness. A small apartment, two children, and a pet. While it would not have been a glamorous life by any means, it would have been a comfortable one, and that would have been enough.

Alas, the tale of Akechi Koharu was a tragedy. There was no happy ending waiting for her.

On the night everything went to shit, they met in the same hotel they usually did for their trysts. Her lover never invited her back to his home, or any of his work functions – she was a spirit after all, and would need to return home eventually. He'd always said was too risky to involve her more in his everyday life - his friends and colleagues would ask questions, and some of them knew about Cognitive Psience. Alas, if they discovered the true nature of what they were researching… it would end in pandemonium.

(The excuses were nothing but a pack of lies, but Koharu was too blinded with love to see the truth staring her in the face.)

"There's… there's something I need to tell you." The former Shinigami whispered into his ear, oblivious to the fact the fantasy she'd constructed in her mind was about to come crashing down around her. "I'm… I'm staying here. In the World of the Living."

Her lover froze by her side. Koharu should have realised then that this wasn't going to go the way she'd wanted it to.

Unfortunately, she didn't. "I got a new Gigai. This one… it'll seal my powers, and let me live my life as a normal human. Let me live my life with you."

"What?!" The man's lips curled as he watched his lover with horrified disgust. "Why on earth would you do such a thing?!"

Koharu blinked, frightened, but more than anything confused by her lover's fury. "P-pardon?"

"Are you a complete and utter moron?! Do you honestly think I'm doing any of this because I love you?" The awful sneer on his face would be burned into Koharu's memory forevermore. "The only reason I ever talked to you in the first place was because of your powers! Without them, you're worthless to me!"

The sound of his palm slapping her cheek echoed through the room like a thunderclap. It would be the last time he ever touched her. As the man stormed out of the hotel room, Koharu curled in on herself and began to sob. She never even had the chance to tell him she was pregnant.

…..

"Her situation didn't get any better from there. My mother couldn't go back to the Seireitei – you know how the Shinigami handle deserters. So, she was stuck in a foreign world she barely understood with no friends, no family, no education, and a baby on the way. She was a god of death, for crying out loud. And yet, she was reduced to caring for a snotty-nosed child no one wanted while selling her body to make ends meet." Goro spat, rage kindling within him.

Kurusu's eyes softened, and something settled uneasily in the detective's stomach. He… he didn't need his rival's goddamn pity. He wasn't some pet project for Kurusu to satisfy his ridiculous saviour complex with.

The celebrity's anger quickly faded though, and uncomfortable, Goro looked away as he continued his story. "… Still, despite everything, she tried her best to provide for me. When my stomach ached with hunger, she'd distract me with fanciful tales about her time in the Gotei 13. Fighting Hollows, saving Wholes… it all seemed so heroic. When I was a child, I wanted to become a Shinigami when I grew up. It was a ridiculous dream, in hindsight – they'd never have accepted the half-human bastard child of a deserter."

"I don't think it's ridiculous at all." Kurusu frowned, drumming his fingers on the table. "Look, I'll be real with you. The Gotei 13 fucking sucks, but… there's a reason I offered to continue helping them. Saving people… it feels good, and I'll put up with them if it means I can keep on doing that."

Goro rolled his eyes and barely resisted gagging at Kurusu's sappy sentiments. "You say that because you have a bleeding heart and a hero complex. As far as I'm concerned, Hollows are barely any worse than the people they eat."

His rival had the gall to laugh. "And you say that because you haven't grown out of your edgy teenager phase." The levity quickly dropped off the frizzy-haired teen's face, however. "I suppose we're getting off-topic, though."

Goro shrugged stiffly. "There's not much else to say, truthfully. In the end, it all got too much for her. She killed herself when I was nine. I think… I think a part of her might have thought it'd just separate her soul from her Gigai, and allow her to return to the Soul Society."

"That's not what happened though, is it?"

It was scarcely even a question. Goro shook his head. "Of course not. Even though her cursed Gigai had rendered her functionally human, she was still technically a Shinigami. She'd have just reincarnated back into this world as some mewling infant who'd never remember me even on the off chance she wanted to."

For a moment, silence fell over the rivals as Kurusu brooded over his drink. Still, Goro vastly preferred that compared to the pathetic moony-eyed stare he'd gotten before.

"… You know it's not your fault, right?" The frizzy-haired teen's voice was a low murmur as he finally spoke again.

"If I'd never been born, she might still be here. No matter how you look at it, I hold some culpability for her death." Goro pointed out matter-of-factly, but when Kurusu opened his mouth to object, the detective cut him off. "Still, you're right, in a way. While my foster guardians loved to remind me what a burden I was on her, I was hardly the only person responsible for her demise."

After all, if it wasn't for the callous judgement of their so-called neighbours, his mother might have been able to persevere. If the men who were oh so happy to pay for her body yet wrote her off as a proper lover because she was spoiled goods had even an ounce of kindness in their hearts, she might have gotten the emotional support she needed to survive.

Goro steepled his fingers, trembling with rage. "Myself, our neighbours, this whole damn rotten society… we all played parts in her death, but do you know what? The only reason she had to put up with any of that to begin with was because a certain manipulative prick used her, knocked her up, and then discarded her like trash. If it wasn't for my shit stain of a father, she'd still be alive. While we all deserve to face our dues for our roles in her death, nobody does so more than him."

…..

Akechi Goro was nothing like his mother. While the whole world might have been against him, he was strong. Spiritually, mentally, physically. Koharu had nothing to hand down to her child but a Zanpakutō she'd never actually managed to imprint on, but that was all he needed. As Goro held the sword – invisible to everyone but him – at her paltry funeral service, he made a promise. He'd find his father, and kill him with that very same blade.

He could think of no better justice than that.

When the other kids in his numerous foster homes tried to bully him, he had no qualms about crushing them with his spiritual might. When the so-called guardians meant to support him dismissed him as a worthless cursed child, he'd buckle down and study even harder.

Goro was smart, motivated, and ruthless – he tracked down Shido Masayoshi when he was fourteen. The man was giving a speech a few suburbs away from Goro's latest home - he'd recently managed to advance from being a mere public servant to a member of the National Diet. As he watched his father though, hand resting on the hilt of his blade, he paused. Was simply killing him enough? Even if he offed the bastard, nobody would know why. Nobody would know the story of Akechi Koharu and Akechi Goro, whose lives he had singlehandedly ruined. It would just be seen as a random burglary, the act of a madman, or the revenge of a disfranchised voter. Goro's father would be remembered as a popular, if not renowned politician – people would cry, and then the world would move on like nothing had happened.

Goro sheathed his sword and turned away. No. His mother deserved more justice than that. Shido needed to know why his life was coming to a premature end as Goro's blade severed his spine. When his body was burned and ashes scatted into the wind, nobody in the world would mourn him – they'd know what he'd done, and when people spoke his name, it would only be in disgust.

It was at that moment that Goro had a grand revelation. If his father craved the power of the Shinigami so badly… then he'd get it. Goro would come to him, offering his services, and the asshole's lust for power would give him no choice but to accept. Goro would then become indispensable to him - he would give Shido everything he wanted. He would trust him, love him, rely on him, and the second he let his guard down, Goro would strike.

Still, while the teenager was strong, he wasn't that strong. And so, every day, Goro trained.

Until he met Isshiki Wakaba, and he didn't have to.

His father wasn't that impressed with the fifteen-year-old who strolled into his office, a Shinigami's blade in his hands. When Goro summoned his mask, however… the politician had leapt to his feet, and the detective could still remember the sheer and utter hunger in his eyes.

"… Well. Maybe we can barter a deal, after all." Shido was practically salivating, and Goro's heart skipped a beat at the thinly veiled excitement in his father's voice. "Ever since Isshiki passed, my research into Cognitive Psience has come to a halt. Perhaps this is just the breakthrough I needed…"

A smile pried at the teenager's lips. "I live to serve, sir."

At first, most of Goro's job consisted of being a guinea pig for his father's researchers. It was boring, tedious work, but fairly easy. In return, he was granted a fancy new apartment, liveable wages, and a prestigious internship at the SIU.

"I need to have a justifiable reason to meet up with you." Shido explained when he told his son the news. "Plus, I would like more eyes in law enforcement – with your abilities, you will have an easier time discovering any… vulnerabilities in the system than most."

Goro gave him a polite bow. "That sounds more than acceptable, sir. I promise I won't let you down."

And he didn't. Goro wasn't born with natural charm by any means, but over the years, he'd honed it like a knife. People didn't want to deal with a bratty, angry foster child, after all. If he gave them a soft smile and pretended to care about their stupid lives, however? People dismissed him as silly but ultimately harmless Akechi. It was a perfect cover for his less clandestine activities – he took to being the second coming of the Detective Prince like a fish to water. In regards to his other task, it was easy to slink through the SIU offices and nearby station unnoticed, infiltrating systems and spying on his colleagues so he could find the ones sympathetic to his father's goals. For the ones that would be harder to budge, well… when one was invisible and untraceable to all but the spiritually aware, gathering blackmail material was trivially easy.

Perhaps if his father was more cautious, more aware, he'd have stopped with simple espionage. But he wasn't – Shido possessed an insatiable greed that would never be satisfied.

"Matsuda has been a thorn under my side, lately." The middle-aged man crossed his arms, glaring out of his office window. "I would like him to… disappear. Dramatically. Then, perhaps my enemies would catch a hint."

Goro stilled. While Shido would never say something so vulgar openly, he wasn't exactly being subtle about his request. His father wasn't merely asking Goro to snoop around, show off his powers, or gather some dirt. He wanted him to kill someone.

For a moment, the detective hesitated. But then again, it wasn't like he hadn't killed people before, as Isshiki and all of her co-workers could attest. He'd gone too far to give up now – he didn't mind bloodying his hands even further if it'd mean Shido would pay.

Eventually, he shot his boss an award-winning smile. "I have a fantastic idea, actually…"

That night, the detective ripped Matsuda Hachiro out from the roof of his car, dangled him in the air just long enough for nearby pedestrians to hear his screams, and then dragged him through a portal straight to Hueco Mundo. As he deposited the businessman down onto the World of the Hollows' pearly white sands, Goro didn't even bother to stay and watch as the monsters roaming under the ever-present moon swarmed him.

When the teenager went to sleep that evening, his dreams were undisturbed.