scaling | ( for fabrications )

( for fabrications )

Akira hadn't thought seeing him in person would affect him as much as it does. After all, he's had two months to mentally prepare himself for this moment.

And yet, the sight of Goro Akechi, alive and in the flesh, perfectly put-together and looking like he was made to sit under the studio lighting, makes him feel... some kind of way. Unsettled, for sure, knowing what he knows now. Then again, there's a part of him that hasn't stopped feeling unsettled since he first (well, perhaps first isn't accurate) jolted awake to find himself on the train to Yongen-Jaya again. In one piece. Not bleeding out on the ground with a megalomaniacal pseudo-god bearing down on him. And, most importantly, as the only one with any recollection of all they'd been through.

It doesn't take Akira long to come to the most logical conclusion: That somewhere along the line, he screwed up. Somehow, it hadn't been enough, and now he has an opportunity to fix it—which would be a lot easier if he were to have some notion of what, specifically, he needs to fix, or even if this is a one-time deal.

At first, he tries copying his previous motions as closely as possible. People always talk about their regrets like they would change them in a heartbeat, given the chance, but the thought of altering the timeline as he knows it is overwhelming. The more Akira steps away from his previous path, the less accurate his existing knowledge may become, the bigger the chance that he may miss something important from the first time around.

That reasoning goes out the window pretty quickly. Akira finds that he can't watch Shiho Suzui jump off that building again, can't go through hearing that agony in Ann's voice a second time when he can so easily prevent it. So he stops her. It's what the Phantom Thieves would do. And things change... but not in a way that affects the flow of events in any profound way. Ann still stumbles after them into the Metaverse and finds the conviction to awaken her persona, somehow. He's not sure how it works out, but it does. What Akira does know is that fate is what you make of it. If he believes in his teammates, they'll end up where they need to be.

But for all of that, he still wavers as they're leaving the recording area. Up until now, the decisions to change things have been easy. Akechi, on the other hand... where to start? Is it even salvageable? Akira's not certain, but when he thinks of their last meeting in Shido's palace, Akechi's remark about the possibility of them meeting a few years earlier, the sounds of gunshots echoing from the other side of the bulkhead—he can't not try. It's not years, but maybe this handful of months will be enough.

Akira lets Ann go ahead with a nod, sliding his hands into his pockets as he tries to maintain his usual casual demeanor. Any moment now...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They really are the only ones that have touched the board, aren't they? Akechi doesn't even have to check his phone to know it's just how they left it. The question of whose turn it is is actually one Akechi doesn't have the answer to. He frowns for a moment, then leans forward and starts counting the piece. After a moment:

"It was mine." And he even remembers what he was attempting to do, though once Akira gives the go ahead to continue he switches tactics for the moment and start trying to control the left side of the board as well. As for the previous subject... "I thought that the curry cookbook seemed most relevant to your interests, anyway"

Akira observes as he makes his move, taking a moment to return himself to the mindset of the game. It's not as hard as one would expect after the considerable break they've taken—probably due to the fact that he'd been reading up on it until recently. Forearm resting against the countertop, he regards the board with a thoughtful look, eventually moving a piece to encroach upon the territory Akechi is attempting to stake out for himself. He's starting to learn that playing defensively with Akechi is asking for trouble.

"Mm, I've been doing some research." Curry is a versatile dish. Sojiro's original recipe will always reign supreme in his heart, but finding new ways to put a spin on it is a fun project, and even more enjoyable is discovering what different properties the changes translate into in the Metaverse.

Its exciting to see Akira off the defensive, especially after seeing how he operates in the Metaverse. He has a better idea of how dangerous an opponent he can be, even if the danger in this case is only to plastic chess pieces. Akechi continues to vie for the left side of the board, though he knows that pushing too hard will mean threatening his chances of controlling the center.

There's something about Akira's behavior that's starting to bother him, though. He stops short of saying anything, however.

"It almost sounds like you're training to take over when Sojiro-san retires."

The observation draws out an amused quirk to Akira's lips. "I can't imagine him ever retiring." His expression turns a bit softer as he considers the scenario Akechi's laid out, though. Leblanc is the first place he's come across in his life where he feels like he really, truly belongs. "But that wouldn't be so bad. My parents might not think so, though," he adds wryly, no doubt in his mind that they'd surely have some choice words about his aspirations. Not that being a disappointment to them is new to Akira.

He pauses then, belatedly realizing that maybe he shouldn't be revealing more details of his personal life to Akechi. Akira doesn't think that he'll use them against him, but—he can't help but chide himself for unconsciously slipping back into the old sense of comfort that Akechi's presence used to bring. He needs to stay on his toes.

Masking the twist of his mouth with a sip of coffee, Akira considers his next play, and once he sets the cup down, his hands reaches out to move another piece towards the same side.

Akechi can't speak on the subject of disappointing one's parents, and even trying to is weird enough to make him more than just uncomfortable. He skips right past that particular aspect of the conversation.

"Maybe you'll have to start your own cafe, instead." He keeps his attention on the board, shifting his attention to try to drive a wedge between Akira's pieces on the left and those in the center. "Though choosing which one to visit would be a challenge."

He's grateful that there's no attempt to probe into the statement, though that in itself is strange for Akechi, who is usually a font of questions. Akira starts to read into it, but ultimately he tucks the thought away for later when the conversation carries on otherwise.

"Something about that idea feels wrong," Akira admits. There's a little furrow in his brow as he takes in the precarious position he's in on the board, though it's less at that and more at the thought of taking everything Sojiro's taught him and doing his own thing. "Not sure I could compete with Leblanc, anyway."

His next move is to try to bolster his defense where Akechi is attempting to move in, but it may already be too late to save both from getting stuck in a bad spot.

That idea seems to be falling a bit flat, doesn't it? Not that Akechi is really surprised. Loyalty is, without a doubt, Akira's most consistent and noteworthy trait. Akechi's still of the opinion that such loyalty isn't very smart, but at the same time he can't help but admire it.

"Competing seems like a tall task," he agrees. "But I think Leblanc suits you perfectly well, anyway." In contrast to the serene tone of his voice, Akechi's maneuvers on the board take a sharp turn towards pushy and aggressive. He moves another piece forward to try to further break up Akira's formations, even though doing so leaves one of his own knights vulnerable.

It's discontenting, this sharp edge to his mind that wants to pick apart everything Akechi says, to analyze if it's genuine or just put out there because he thinks it's what Akira wants to hear. He's certain there's something here. Not all of it could have been acting, nor a product of his imagination, and that just makes it all the worse. That Akechi could feel some amount of friendly affection towards him and still move ahead with this plan is... incomprehensible to Akira. It's Shido's fault, he knows that, knows Akechi has been through a lot all on his own and that can do things to a person, but damn if it doesn't sting on a personal level.

"Thanks," is what comes out, Akira's gaze fixed on the chessboard as he goes for the unguarded knight, making a snap decision to sacrifice one of his own to do so. Internal struggles aside, it's nice to hear that others think he belongs here as much as he feels he does.

Before Akechi had been suspicious, but now he's absolutely certain. There's something off about Akira's reactions. He doesn't offer an immediate response to Akira's thanks, keeping his attention focused on the board for another turn. The aggressive tactics come naturally to him, which makes him wonder if Akira might not just be focused on the game. But he'd been more talkative last time, and he didn't have as broad a knowledge base back then.

"Did I pick a bad time?" He finally glances up at Akira again, expression halfway between puzzled and concerned. "I don't mind coming back later, if you'd prefer." He was looking forward to finishing but he thinks it's pretty obvious that Akira's attention isn't entirely here.

Even with everything he's been sitting on, the sudden question, coupled with the concern on Akechi's face, is enough to make him feel guilty. Akira knows he hasn't been in the best state of mind lately, but everyone else, even Akechi now, relies on him to be the one to have it together. Really not a trait he's been embodying today.

"Sorry." The apology is genuine, leveled right at Akechi without allowing his attention to be compromised by the board or his drink. "I've had a lot on my mind." Reasonably so, even discounting the things that aren't out in the open between them.

Now would be the perfect time to get rid of Akechi for the rest of the day, and Akira almost agrees to postponing this hangout. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he thinks twice of them. Would he really feel better seeing Akechi leave? He wants to believe, stubbornly, that he would, but Akira knows the real answer to that question.

So instead he glances down at the chess pieces, a faint parallel of a much more dangerous game they're playing in real life, then back up at Akechi. "Do you want to do something else? I have some DVDs and video games if you're interested."

Akira having a lot on his mind is it a little ominous, isn't it? Akechi's pretty sure he's never seen him quite this preoccupied before, not even during the times when Akechi knows he was handling previous Palaces. Is it because it's Makoto's sister this time? Or just because there's no point in trying to hide the truth when Akechi already knows what he's doing?

Either way, Akira doesn't give more details than that so Akechi doesn't push. Habit and instinct tell him he should, but... something about that feels wrong. Habit and instinct also tell him to brush off the offer to stay when he's clearly imposing, but that feels wrong, too. He doesn't think Akira would offer unless he meant it, so...

"I'd like that." He starts to pick up his briefcase before he pauses and slides Akira a warily amused look. "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to go easy on me during a game, should I?" Not that Akechi would like it even if he did.

He's half-expecting Akechi to decline, but the hopeful part of him is rewarded for holding out. Akira nods and gets to setting aside the chess board again, cautious not to jostle the pieces. Maybe they will get to finish that at some point—just not today, when his head and heart are so obviously not in it.

Akechi's question stirs up a memory of an older conversation, one where he promised exactly that. Akira feels a smile tug at his lips as he picks up his coffee cup. "No, you shouldn't." That's never really how things have been between them.

He heads back up the stairs to the attic, left exactly as it had been for the meeting. It only takes a bit of shifting things around to get a better arrangement for their purposes: two chairs pulled up near the table with his secondhand television and retro video game console. Most kids their age would probably balk at Akira's dated entertainment setup, but it's always been enough for him.

"Game or movie?" he asks once he's placing his coffee cup on the table and claiming one of the chairs.

Akechi collects his own coffee cup and follows Akira up the stairs, though he suspects he'll want more coffee by the time they're done. He helps Akira put his room back in order (if Akira lets him) then takes one of the offered chairs. Despite his propensity for trendy things, Akechi doesn't seem bothered by the dated setup in the slightest. His own taste in entertainment tends to be a bit dated (or perhaps childish) anyway.

"Game." That decision is easy for him to make despite his inexperience. He's not exactly excited to show someone how totally unskilled he is at this particular task, even if that someone is Akira, but the idea doesn't bother him as much as it normally might. "I either won't talk at all during a movie, or I ruin all the plot twists." And the idea here is to hang out rather than sit in silence, presumably.

Oh, he's sure Akechi knows a thing or two about plot twists. "Remind me to never watch thrillers with you," he says, joking despite the flat delivery.

It's not really surprising that he chooses video games after mentioning it earlier. Akira finds merit in quietly enjoying a movie with someone, but something to keep him busy in a more mindless way than chess sounds more like what he needs right now.

He leans forward to turn on the TV and shuffle around the few games sitting out on the table, eventually settling on a fighting game. While he may not have any intention of taking it easy on Akechi when it comes down to it, Akira would at least like to pick something that's simple enough to learn, and even button mashing can sometimes be successful in these games. He slots the cartridge into the console and starts up the console and—

Nothing happens. This doesn't seem to be an uncommon occurrence, though, because Akira acts without comment, taking out the cartridge to blow into it a couple of times before returning it into the system with perhaps a little more force than necessary. That seems to do the trick because the screen flickers to life on the next try, allowing him to navigate the menus to the point where they can select characters.

Fortunately, Akechi takes it as a joke despite the flat tone.

"Those are my favorite." As is anything with a mystery. Akira's probably happier not watching those with him for multiple reasons.

The process of bullying the game console into working gets an amused smile but no commentary from Akechi. The important thing is that it works, and it's probably a testament to the durability of old consoles that they still function with a bit of persuasion. As for the game itself, Akechi doesn't shy from asking Akira few questions about the available characters, ultimately settling on a character that's somewhat balanced but still leans towards offense over defense.

As for actually playing, he's clearly fumbling with the controls at first and makes for an easy opponent. But his observant nature works in his favor here, too, and after a few rounds he starts to get a feel for what he's doing and puts up a better fight. That's also around the time when he finally comments:

"I'll be embarrassed if I also lose our chess game, at this rate." He sounds like he's joking and he actually is, but there's more truth to that statement than he wants to admit to. The mix of admiration, affection, and jealousy that he feels towards Akira is starting to tilt more and more towards jealousy lately, especially after seeing how he interacts with the Phantom Thieves. Akechi is still managing to lose gracefully and doesn't seem stressed, but he's getting more and more frustrated with himself for failing to measure up to a juvenile delinquent (framed or otherwise) that's a grade below him and lives in the dusty attic above a coffee shop.

Akira readily helps out in the beginning, answering any questions Akechi may have as well as giving him a quick rundown of the controls. It hearkens back to their time at the rock climbing gym; as Akira leans over to demonstrate the combos on his own controller, he can almost forget everything that's happened between now and then.

And it does help a bit in clearing his mind and sweeping away some of his unease. He doesn't pull any virtual punches, and while it gives Akechi a hard time at first, it gradually becomes a more even match. It may still lean in Akira's favor, but Akechi is predictably learning with more ease than someone who's rarely played video games should.

"I think you've still got me there," Akira admits as he punches in a combo that has Akechi's character flying up into the air. Even with all the tutoring from Hifumi and reading on his own time, it's hard to match up to Akechi's brilliant mind. Being on the receiving end of his schemes hasn't put a damper on Akira's respect for it. It's probably bolstered it, if anything. Besides, he's never really been the strategy person—that's still Makoto's role, regardless of what he's picked up over their time working together.

It's interesting to get instructions from Akira for a change, though as Akira leans in Akechi catches himself a bit more interested in watching him than listening to the instructions. He snaps out of it before he misses anything important, at least.

"Maybe, but you're a fast learner." Akechi is quick to get his character back up; even when he can tell a match is all but lost he keeps going, determined to at least get something out of it. "I expect us to end up in plenty of draws from here on out." Though he's wondering if it would be too petty to buy his own game console to try to practice for future matches.

Plenty, from here on out? Akechi sure has no trouble talking like he's not planning to murder him in a couple of weeks. It almost starts to drag his thoughts back down into the same pit, but Akira steels himself against it. It's not so hard to do when he imagines what everyone else would say if they were to find out that he's fretting—no doubt words of encouragement and reminders that it's not over until it's over. He can't imagine that even Akechi himself would approve of him being down on himself.

"We'll see. We have to finish one first." Akechi manages to get him stun-locked in a flurry of hits, taking off a huge chunk of his health bar to leave them more evenly matched than before. "Next time," he adds, a quiet promise.

Akira does feel a little bad about hijacking their hangout. Normally he might've gone to skulk around the upper floors of Mementos, fighting until his body is weary and mind blank, but he doesn't want to tire himself out when they're in the middle of an infiltration period. This is proving to be a serviceable substitute, and there might even be something cathartic about kicking Akechi's ass virtually.

"We do have a habit of interrupting ourselves." Akechi's tone is light and bordering on chipper. Managing to take out that chunk of Akira's health bar is a good feeling. "But it's harder to commit to a game that might take half an hour to finish." As opposed to this game, where the matches only take a few minutes and they can easily quit without needing to interrupt it.

Not that Akechi is ready to give up just yet. His aggressive tendencies from other games bleed into this one, too, and he immediately tries to push his advantage. He'd like to win at least one match before he leaves, he decides, and it would be nice if that 'one match' were this one.

"Next time." The agreement is slightly belated but entirely sincere. Even if he expects things to be awkward after they change Sae's heart, he's still pretty sure it won't be the end of their friendship.

Speaking of kicking ass… the tables have finally turned. The momentum of the match swings in Akechi's favor, and soon enough the results screen is flashing Akira's defeat for the first time since booting up the game.

"Ah… looks like you've graduated." As with all things, he takes the loss gracefully and with a quiet laugh as he leans forward to grab his coffee. "You're something else," he murmurs, a small smile gracing his features, and it's obvious from the tone of his voice that he means it in the most complimentary way possible. Akechi is so intelligent, so skilled at everything, it's almost criminal that he's been made to feel unappreciated for so much of his life.

"I had a good teacher." Echoing Akira's sentiments from their rock climbing session a few weeks ago is easy. But what he says next...

Well, it's jarring to be given words of praise by someone he's starting to resent thanks to jealousy. Akechi half expects the words to rankle but instead they leave him feeling warm, not to mention a little bad for being resentful in the first place. Past experience with everyone else he knows tells him the words are just platitudes, while past experience with Akira in particular tells him that they're completely sincere.

"That's a high compliment coming from someone like you." He wears a small smile himself, his expression soft and bordering on fond. "I've never once met anyone capable of the things you've accomplished."

He's about to point out that most of his success can be attributed to his friends, that without them he'd be lost, but then he glances over and the thought fades away as he's taken by Akechi's expression. It's something he's seen hints of before, the warmth and affection in his features, but this… There's no way it can be manufactured to get at him.

It would be so easy to ask Akechi not to follow through on his plans. He could join them for real, even—Akira knows from experience that the others would welcome him to tag along to stop Shido. But there's still that cut left behind from listening to the phone recording a few days ago, fresh with betrayal, telling him that it would effectively be signing his own death warrant if he were to let Akechi know that they're onto him. He swallows, the words thick in his throat.

"You should smile like that more often." It tumbles out in the space left by the things he can't say. Akira pauses, a little surprised by it himself, and then continues on because it feels weird to leave it at that. "It's different from the one you wear on TV." Which is a tactful way of saying that it looks less fake. "It's… really nice," he finishes kind of dumbly.

The smile vanishes for a moment, replaced by surprise at hearing such a blunt comment - and at learning something new about himself. The smile creeps back in a moment later, a little less subtle and tinted charmed embarrassment this time around.

"I hadn't realized there was a difference." Which is entirely honest. He smiles a lot, to the point that he doesn't notice even he's faking ite. He doesn't even think of it as faking anymore. Smiling just comes naturally to him. Though when he thinks about why there's a difference... "It's probably because I enjoy spending time you more than I enjoy being on TV."

Which Akechi realizes is a weird thing for him to say. Why would he like anything better than being on TV, especially when he worked so hard to put himself there? But even he's aware that it's really the attention that he likes, and that he doesn't especially care which method he uses it get it. And ever since the line tracking his approval rating has done its best impression of a roller coaster he's come to appreciate the simple, no-strings-attached nature of his friendship with Akira. Falling on the wrong side of public opinion, or even revealing his less-than-charmed upbringing, hadn't been enough to drive a wedge between them.

"Just talking to you is also nice, you know."

Even Akira himself hadn't been able to tell at first, when he was only bearing witness to the face Akechi showed the rest of the world. Now that he's been privy to Akechi's expressions when it's just them, there's unmistakable dissonance between the two. One has a purpose, intentional or not, meant to charm and cover up everything underneath. This one seems like more of a reflection than a shield. It stirs up a desire to press into Akechi's personal space and see what other unguarded reactions he can get out of him.

He stays rooted in his chair, though, coffee cup cradled in his lap as he nods in agreement. "I really meant what I said before, about wanting you here." An answering warmth has settled into his expression as he peers over at Akechi. "These are some of my favorite moments."

Turns out he didn't have to try so hard to strike up a friendship. They've fallen into it naturally from that first meeting, like it's always been meant to happen and Akira just made a misstep the first time. It's hard to believe that he did this one before without this, these quiet moments that have become so important. Seemingly to Akechi as well, if he's to be believed. Akira wants to, but if what he says is true, then why…

Akechi is someone that always carries a good deal of tension in his frame, despite his tendency towards making himself seem calm and at ease at all times. It's a side effect of both his stressful sidejob and his habit of staying on constant alert for anything unusual in his environment. Most people would never see the difference, but when Akira reiterates his previously made point about wanting him around Akechi actually relaxes. Not much, and not enough for there to be a huge difference, but his shoulders slump just a little and his movements are a touch more languid as he breaks eye contact and leans forward to set his controller next to the console.

"I meant what I said, too. About wanting a reliable partner." Akechi also picks up his coffee cup, though he only stares at it for a moment before he looks back to Akira without taking a sip. "I know I've demanded that the Phantom Thieves disband once we've changed Sae-san's heart." Which is as much for their sake as it is his own - maybe even more at this point. "But I hope that won't be the end of us working together, or spending time together."

Though Akechi's tone and expression are calm, his brows are slightly drawn together due to the anxiety stirring beneath the surface. He means every word he says, but a lifetime of transient relationships and years spent habitually lying both tell him that such flat honesty is dangerous.

( for fabrications )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject