Literally: to lift/move aside an edge of mystery
Meaning: to partially reveal something hidden
Rough English equivalent: spill the beans

"So, um… what are you two doing in my room?" Akira asked.

Goro realized that both him and Sumire were now back in their regular winter clothes. "Pardon answering with a question, but where exactly is your room?"

"...in my house?"

"And where is your house? What town are we in?"

"Fuefuki. Yamanashi Prefecture."

"We must have been forcibly removed from Maruki-san's Palace and sent here," Sumire remarked.

The detective nodded in response. "Now that we've established where Akira is," he shot the gymnast a glare, "and that I didn't do anything to him," he turned to the host, "we were also told that you will provide an explanation for what on earth is happening."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated. "Takuto put me on exposition duty, huh? Come, I'll make you coffee."

The group marched into the main room. It had two halves, one with the floor covered with pine panels, the other - with light gray ceramic tiles. One could separate them with a sliding room divider if needed, but it was currently folded and pushed to the side. In the panelled half, there was a medium-sized TV standing on a plywood chest of drawers in the corner, a black worn-out couch opposite it, and a kotatsu in the middle. In the tiled half was a wooden table with three chairs by it, a fridge covered with sticky notes, some well-worn cupboards hanging on a wall, a sink with a water heater, a hot plate and a serious-looking high-end coffee machine.

Goro and Sumire took off their shoes and coats and left them in the entryway, and Akira went and prepared beverages for his guests. Finally, all three sat down by the kitchen table, each of them holding a mug of warm coffee - green for Sumire, red for Goro, black for Akira. After everything that happened that day, both the detective and the gymnast found it a nice change of pace.

"Alright," the host spoke up, "what's the baseline I'm working with? What do you know already?"

"Dead people came back to life," Sumire replied, "like the events that caused their passing never happened to begin with. Do you remember that Palace we blundered into in October, senpai? It's still standing and you can see it from the real world, and Maruki-san is its ruler."

"Not his Shadow, the man himself," Goro added, as the gymnast drank from her mug. "Also, some other changes were retroactively made to the real world - like me getting adopted by Sojiro and inexplicably-alive Wakaba. And while it's not directly relevant, I must mention Maruki informed Yoshizawa of my," he ahemed, "past wetwork."

"I wrongly assumed that your disappearance was caused by him, and-"

"And she awakened to a Persona," Goro interrupted her with a smile.

"And then I attacked him and slit his throat. Maruki-san had to heal him."

Akira choked on his coffee.

"No lasting harm was inflicted," the detective pointed out. "You really didn't have to incriminate yourself."

"I feel that I should though." Sumire politely countered. "That behaviour was unacceptable on my end."

"It can be squarely blamed on the power rush from a Persona awakening, and you being erroneously convinced that I was at fault."

"You were res-"

"Alright, timeout," Akira butted in, pointing at Goro. "You not caring, I get," and then at Sumire, "but why are you so calm about this?"

"I think Maruki-san casted a spell or something to forcefully tranquilize us once things had escalated," she explained.

"I see." The host paused. "And it didn't wear off when you were ejected from his Palace."

Goro and Sumire… well, if they were capable of being scared at the moment, they would've been scared, but the aforementioned spell meant they couldn't feel anything beyond mild unease.

"The gist is: Takuto is, or was, I'm not sure, a cognitive psience researcher," Akira tented his hands. "I don't know the details. And to be fair, I'm not the right person to talk about theory. The Phantom Thieves were mostly about practical applications."

He glanced at Goro expectantly. "Likewise," he said. "Continue."

"The point is, a few weeks ago…" he focused, trying to pinpoint the exact date, "I think it was after we took down Yaldy…"

Sumire raised her hand. "Yaldabaoth. A god born out of the masses' desire to protect the status quo at all costs," the detective explained. "If you were in Tokyo on December the 12th, what you've seen was his attempt to explicitly enslave humanity. The Thieves and I stopped him."

"That 'and I' was redundant, Goro," Akira corrected. The gymnast's hand went down. She had more questions, but decided against asking them, not willing to derail the conversation. "Anyway, after that, Takuto somehow gained enough power to rewrite reality, with an end goal of eradicating all suffering and giving someone the perfect life they desire. All the changes you're seeing are a result of his big project." He smiled. "Pretty cool, huh?"

The other two's faces remained frozen in mild unease. "…no," the detective protested, his voice still level. "No, it is not, are you freaking kidding me?… Consarn it, I can't even curse properly because of that ruddy spell."

"What about evil people?" Sumire added. "People that desire to hurt, mistreat, abuse others?"

"Well, those have some desires that aren't evil." Akira didn't expect backlash. "You just have to dig deep enough. And convince them to not do evil while you're at it, which isn't that different from what the Phantom Thieves were doing."

"And what counts as a 'good' or 'evil' desire is arbitrarily decided by Maruki, is it not?" Goro asked. "I must congratulate him on solving every philosophical debate in history." Pause. "Oh, the calming spell permits sarcasm. How merciful our new god is."

The host frowned. "I trust his judgment in that regard."

"You trusted me."

The temperature by the table somehow instantly dropped twenty degrees (thirty-six, if you're American). Sumire watched the other two stare daggers at one another before something completely unexpected happened:

"I'm sorry," the detective lowered his head. "That remark was uncalled for." He looked back at Akira. "Nevertheless, I stand by my point - Maruki could simply be better at hiding his darker impulses than I was. And even if he is as well-adjusted as you believe him to be, there is no guarantee that he'll remain well-adjusted in the future." Goro took a sip of his coffee. "Power corrupts, Akira. You of all people should be aware of this. And Maruki has more power than either of us thought possible until now, and more than any single human should have."

Silence followed, broken only by the boys sipping their coffee while maintaining eye contact. At last, Sumire spoke up: "Goro-san has a point, senpai."

Cue a weary sigh. "I know."

"Then…" The detective paused for a moment, trying to pick the least confrontational tone of voice for that question. "Then what's stopping you?"

Akira emptied his coffee mug with a few sharp glugs. "Do you know how many Palaces I've infiltrated?" he asked, glancing at his guests.

"No clue," said Sumire.

The detective counted on his fingers. "Seven?"

"Eight. Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, Futaba, Okumura, Sae, Shido, the people of Tokyo."

"Ah." Goro managed to visibly shrink in his chair. "Futaba had a Palace too…"

"Is… eight Palaces a lot?" the gymnast asked.

"It's enough to get fed up with the constant threat hanging over you and your friends," he spat. "Oh, a rapey teacher wants you expelled, oh, a yakuza don blackmails your friend, oh, a populist nationalist shitheel that got you a criminal record wants you dead!" He slammed his mug on the counter, startling both his guests. "And then, when you change that last one's heart and think you can take a breath, it turns out that oh, a literal god enslaved the entire fucking society and you need to fight HIM too!" He hid his face in his hands for a moment. "That's why I'm here and not in Tokyo. In this reality, Shido didn't trip on his feet when shitfaced and I didn't get my whole damn life uprooted. I didn't have to fight back against everything thrown at me by some… fucking… shitty adults or whatever, and you…"

Akira had a follow-up to that sentence, listing out every single one of Goro's transgressions, but the sight of the detective caused him to lose his train of thought. There he was, a far cry from the snarling angry villain of the Engine Room. Sitting across him in his own house, hunched over a mug of coffee, staring intently at the counter. He lifted his head, slowly, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to do so, and met the host's gaze. "Go on," he said.

Akira awkwardly looked over his now empty mug. "...does anyone else want a refill?"

Goro poured the rest of his coffee down his throat and put the empty mug on the counter. "Fuck me up." Beat. "The spell has finally worn off, good."

Sumire hurriedly finished her own drink, and Akira hosed down the mugs in the sink and pressed a few buttons on the coffee machine to start grinding the beans.

"If I'm allowed to ask…" the gymnast piped up, "what, exactly is your story? I mean, senpai had opposed Shido and Goro-san worked for him…"

"In short," Akira replied, watching brown liquid drip into one of the mugs, "friends to enemies to friends that shot each other in the face."

"It was an accident!" Goro protested, then elaborated, "On his end, that is. I deliberately tried to kill him."

The gymnast gasped in shock, then slapped the detective in the face.

"That's fair," he muttered.

"It isn't, that's the thing," the host countered. "Goro did his part in taking down both Shido and the god that granted him his destructive powers. And unlike most villains I've fought, he did this of his own free will, without requiring a change of heart." He grabbed a full mug from the machine and placed it in front of the detective. "I'm not without hang-ups about his betrayal, but I've forgiven him, I trust him and he's as much of a friend of mine as you are."

"Don't insult her like that!" Goro protested.

"...please slap him again, Sumire."

The gymnast would've gladly obliged, but then someone entered the house - a man in his forties, resembling Akira too much for it to be a coincidence. His hair was also ink-black, just shorter, less messy, and with a slightly receded hairline, and his suit jacket looked serendipitously similar to the Shujin school uniform. The differences, other than the twenty-five-ish years he seemed to have on him, were a navy blue tie around his neck, the dark-brown eyes, and lack of glasses, real or otherwise.

"Hey, dad!" Akira smiled.

"Hey, Ren," he smiled back. "I forgot my lunch, I'll just grab it and be on my way." He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a small plastic box, and on closing it realized that he wasn't alone. "Oh, you've got guests." Something clicked in his head and he pointed at the detective. "Wait, aren't you Goro? Sakuras' adopted kid?"

"Yes, indeed." He put up a genuine-looking smile as his brain rapidly came up with a vaguely plausible backstory. "Both Sumire," he gestured at the gymnast, "and I got to know Aki- Ren online, and we chatted for a few months before revealing our real names. Once we realized that our parents know each other, we decided to meet in person to drink coffee and laugh at the coincidence."

Sumire, unwilling to add anything lest she contradicts him, just nodded. "Nice to meet you, Kurusu-san."

The adult chuckled. "Amamiya-san, actually. Ren just introduces himself as Kurusu because kids mocked him for his surname one too many times." He patted his son on the head. "It's good to see you make friends. Have fun," he smiled, "and don't stay up too late, Akiren."

"Har har." Akiren smiled back at him. "See ya, dad."

The adult left. The host finished preparing coffee for himself and the gymnast, and Goro took note that the smile didn't disappear from his friend's face throughout. "You're getting along with your parents, aren't you?"

"I mean," he turned to him, mugs in hands, "I wish they didn't work eight days a week, but otherwise they're fine." He put one in front of Sumire. "And that's not due to Takuto's tampering; both of 'em supported me when I came out of the closet and fought tooth and nail in court so I got a relatively light sentence."

The detective smiled faintly. "Good for you."

Akira sat back down by the table, and after a moment, Sumire spoke up again: "So, what happens now?"

The host glanced at the detective. "You know you don't need my permission to stop Takuto?"

"You know I'm not doing this to spite you personally?" he replied.

"Of course you aren't." Pause. "I can't force you to accept this reality, and more to the point, I don't want to. Me being burned out doesn't make your points about power less valid. Just… let me sit this one out, alright?"

Goro intently stared at the now-half-empty mug in front of him. "But… we'll remain friends afterwards, right?"

Akira's face very briefly froze in shock. Then, he sprung up, circled the table, and stood next to the detective, his arms outstretched. Goro got up and embraced him.

The two just stood there, hugging each other, until Sumire once again broke the silence:

"I want to help."

Without releasing one another, the two looked at her. "Huh?"

"I want to help Goro-san steal Maruki-san's heart." She stared at him. "Because that's what you're planning, right?"

"Out of the question," the detective said. "One, because you shouldn't trust me, and two, because I don't trust you."

"For the love of…" Akira released him, and pointed at him with his left hand. "Goro here has social graces of a brick thrown at a window, and will not say a good word about himself even if his life depended on it, but at this point, I trust him with my life, and I trust him with you, Sumire." He pointed at her with his right one. "And as for her, her self-confidence was last seen near the bottom of the Mariana Trench, but she's an award-winning gymnast in peak physical condition, and now that she has a Persona, she'll carry her weight if you give her a chance."

The gymnast and the detective stared at one another. Goro thought about how she managed to keep up with that tentacle that was manhandling him back in Maruki's Palace, and that maybe she could be trained into usefulness. Sumire thought about how whatever reservations she had left about him were overwritten by Akira-senpai's Seal of Approval™. Finally, she outstretched her hand.

"I'm… sorry for slitting your throat."

"Apology unnecessary, but accepted." He shook it firmly, and her arm wobbled around a bit. "Welcome onboard, for real this time. Let's exchange contact information, so that we can stay in touch with one another." He turned to Akira. "That includes you. You must have learned something I do not know in your own Metaverse escapades, I might end up asking you for advice."

Akira chuckled to himself. "Goro Akechi admitting he might not know something. Never thought I'd see the day."

"I've almost choked to death on humble pie." He sat down and pulled out his phone. "My ego went the way of the dodo." He opened the settings page with his phone number and slid it over to the gymnast. "The plan for now:" he told her, "we finish our coffee, then we catch a train to Tokyo, and then I'm going to need a day or two to figure out the rest of the plan. As soon as I do, I'll call you."

"Unders-" The gymnast realized something. "...do you have enough money for train tickets?"

The detective pulled out his wallet, counted the notes inside, then wordlessly turned to Akira.

He got up from his chair, failing to suppress a giggle. "I left my wallet in my room, give me a second."