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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

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.

The sentiment is as touching as it is confusing. Akira can't even begin to make sense of the disconnect between what Akechi is saying and what he's planning to do. He hides his consideration behind a sip of coffee.

"I'd like that," he says simply, honestly. He can't promise anything, after all. It's all going to come down to Akechi and whether he'll really still want anything to do with Akira once he disregards their agreement to cease activity and smashes his carefully laid plans to bits. Plans that are apparently important enough to merit tossing away all of this, even though he really does seem to care. He can't imagine Akechi will be pleased with him.

Akira says he'd like that and Akechi believes him. He just hopes the sentiment lasts.

But he can't let thoughts like that stop him. Akechi plays the diligent Phantom Thief to one side and the diligent assassin to the other, and in the meantime he gets up to a bit of scheming that doesn't totally suit either side. Making time to explore the Metaverse surrounding Sae's Palace is a little tricky, but once he finds what he's looking for and confirms that items left in calm parts of the Metaverse will stay right where they're left for at least a couple hours, everything else just falls into place. It's an insanely risky plan, but he's in the perfect position to pull it off.

Again, things are bound to seem familiar to Akira. They hit all the same beats as they work their way through Sae's Palace, from slipping into the courtroom in the real world to reaching the casino's top floor thanks to Akechi's manipulations to the Phantom Thieves buying into Akechi's reasoning on when to send Sae's calling card. The whole time there's no sign that Akechi is planning to betray them all and murder Akira with his own two hands - because that's not the plan, even if the Phantom Thieves don't realize it.

The next divergence is just a matter of timing, but it ends up being a major one. When they enter Sae's Palace for the final day they don't make it to the top floor. In face, they've only barely made it through the main hall of the casino when there's a sudden influx of law enforcement agents and riot control officers flooding into the Metaverse. Akechi doesn't get a chance to try to manipulate the Phantom Thieves' reactions before Akira volunteers to be a decoy; he almost feels silly for thinking he should.

There's one other small but significant difference before the Phantom Thieves make their escape. Rather than simply encouraging them all to hurry, Akechi looks to Akira to give him a parting message.

"Be careful."

After that, it goes as Akechi predicts. Most of them escape; Akira doesn't. He's arrested, interrogated brutally by the officers, made to sign his confession, and then interrogated more normally by Sae. Akechi witnesses none of it yet knows it's happening all the same, and keeping himself calm is more difficult than he expects. He manages, though. So far, everything is going exactly how he needs it to.

But he doesn't realize everything is also going exactly how the Phantom Thieves need it to. He passes Sae in the hallway without realizing he's been pulled into the Metaverse, though when she offers him Akira's phone he accepts it without a second thought, unlike 'last time'; Akira will probably appreciate having that on hand. Akechi does make a point of shutting it off, however.

He reaches the end of the hallway and sends the guard off without murdering him (though he thinks he may need to eventually), enters the interrogation room, and starts to explain his plan, pulling out his phone so that he can open the Metaverse Navigator and enter Sae's Palace as soon as they're both clear. It takes him a second to realize what's odd about the Navigator's screen. Once he finally does he feels a little light-headed, like he's falling even though he's standing still. Because somehow, he's already in Sae's palace.

He has no idea how, but it doesn't take him long to figure out where it happened. He whirls around and dashes out of the interrogation room, down the hall, and back towards the elevator, where he's nearly overcome by the urge to punch the panel, as if that might somehow make it move faster. Once the doors are open he takes off down the hall until he feels that telltale ripple telling him that he's in the real world again. Then he skitters to a stop, turns around, and runs right back the way he came. Once again, it takes more willpower than it should to not try to abuse the elevator into working faster.

So here he is once again: shooing the guard off, thinking he might have to kill him, and slipping into the interrogation room. He's quieter this time around, however, giving Akira an unreadable look as he pushes the door closed behind him. He wants to sit down right now and try to figure out what happened back there, but he doesn't exactly have time.

"Can you walk?" Unlike Akechi's unreadable expression his tone is flat and unimpressed, like he doesn't especially care what the answer is.

A bad feeling weighs heavy on him the moment Futaba reports the out-of-place presence in the Metaverse. For everyone else, it's a minor shift in the plan; for Akira, it's a warning bell. Something wrong. Something changed, and the fact that he can't immediately pick out what that something is is troubling.

Still, he steps up to act as the decoy, met with the same tone of rushed parting words as before, promises to meet up later in safety—except for Akechi. Akira's somehow able to hide his frown at the... warning? He's not sure what to make of it, but he also doesn't really have time to dwell on it before he's having to dart off through the Palace while everyone else slips away.

From there, things are familiar again. His arrest and interrogation go as expected. Being drugged and beaten is even less pleasant the second time around, if that's possible. He pulls through the mental haze in time, though, and manages to give Sae the directions she needs to carry out the last act of their scheme.

But even as he waits in the interrogation room after the session with Sae, Akira can't shake that feeling that things aren't as they should be. Something is different. Something with Akechi, specifically. Most of his memories are still fuzzy as the effects of the drug linger in his system. Still, he can clearly recall the last words Akechi spoke to him in the Palace. Be careful. Going off on his own? Or was he referring to something else? Maybe it means nothing at all, but Akira finds himself holding onto the moment and replaying it until he has his forehead resting against his laced fingers.

Between his fuzzy thoughts and the deathly quiet interior of the interrogation room, he loses track of time. All he knows is that Sae should be coming back before long to smuggle him out of the station. The eventual opening of the door is no surprise, and Akira looks up to find a completely different figure entering the room.

Akechi's arrival is less of a surprise and more an event that makes his blood run cold. Something did change, but what it is no longer matters. All that matters is that Akechi is here to kill him, and Akira has no idea how to stop it from happening.

"Akechi—" he chokes out, pushing back in his chair a bit as if ready to jump to his feet at the first sign of danger, though he falters. What does he think he's going to do? Fight him? Akira remembers the plan as he heard it: take the guard's gun, eliminate him, then eliminate Akira. He may be quick and decently strong, but his chances of survival in that scenario are slim to none.

He could reason with Akechi. Or try to, anyway. Tell him everything, what Shido is planning to do to him, that the entire world is going to end up in Mementos-shaped ruins if they don't stop it. There's no point in trying to withhold it all when he could be dead in seconds. It might be enough to sway Akechi, just maybe...

And then the sound of the door closing registers. They're alone in the room, Akira realizes, eyes flickering from the Akechi's face to the door and then back. The guard isn't here, and there's no gun in Akechi's possession. That he can see, anyway.

Once again, something is different.

"Yeah," he answers, uncertainty with the situation clear on his face as he rises to his feet, only a little bit unsteady.

Much like their conversation back in August, it's impossible for Akechi to miss the wariness in Akira's reaction to seeing him. And much like their conversation in August, he's nowhere near the right mindset to not take it personally.

Somewhere, he missed something. He missed something vital and whatever it was, it was enough to make Akira respond to his presence with this sort of wary caution. That would make sense if Akira knows that Akechi is the one who brought the police to the Metaverse, but he shouldn't know that. He shouldn't, but--

"Good." But if not why else would he be reacting like this? Which leaves Akechi wondering when he found out, and how, and what that means about everything else they've done between now and then.

There's nothing he can do about it now, however, and his lack of total understanding means he's not angry enough to lash out. So he turns and pulls the door open, checking to make sure that the guard is really gone. Once he has he glances back to Akira.

"Follow me." And then he steps through the door, wondering if Akira will actually follow him but not lingering long enough to be sure.

All at once, a possibility appears in his mind, sharpened by the sudden sense of danger. It's like a gap being filled, dots being connected, a seemingly indecipherable puzzle suddenly becoming obvious.

Akechi was never planning to go through with it.

His breath almost catches in his throat at the realization. It would make sense. Another force, a third hand, shifting things to suit their own needs would account for the differences in events. It would explain why Akechi seemed to genuinely care, despite the phone calls that continued past that day, touching base on their plans.

Akira thinks back on his own bitterness and doubt and feels a sickening tightness in his chest. He should have trusted what he was seeing in Akechi. When did he get to be so cynical?

If he seems a little rickety on his feet as he silently follows out of the room, it's as much thanks to the staggering thoughts running through his mind as it is the side effects of the earlier interrogation.

For once, Akechi's thoughts don't run away without him. His mind feels strangely blank, focused on the task of navigating the familiar hallways and nothing else. He retraces his steps once again, taking Akira down the hallway and back up the elevator once more. He's distracted enough to not think to worry about running into Sae again, but things play out in his favor anyway. The halls are empty this late at night, and it's not until they're upstairs and around a corner that Akechi finally opens the Metaverse Navigator and sends them back into the Palace.

It really is strange how it looks completely identical, but he supposes that just speaks to Sae's character when things besides her 'casino' are involved. It also explains how he completely failed to notice when, somehow, he was sent here himself. Akechi's grip tightens on his phone for a moment, but then he shoves back into his pocket. It's only then that he finally speaks again.

"Things will have settled down in about an hour. It'll be safe for us to leave then." He's still walking, though. They're in the Metaverse again, but this isn't quite the final destination he had in mind.

He watches as Akechi activates the app shifts them into the Metaverse. Of course he would think to use the Palace as an escape route. That's why the police showed up so early—he couldn't let them steal Sae's treasure and collapse the Palace before he could use it. Too bad Akechi didn't know that they were never actually planning to take it in the first place.

"Okay." Akira wants to ask where they're going, but he bites down on the question and follows along with nothing more than that acknowledgement. It's probably about time he has a bit of faith in Akechi. He'll find out soon enough.

Well, at least Akira is following him without complaint. That's... something. It's probably something, at least. Akechi decides to not dwell on it - or rather, he forces himself not to.

Their destination isn't far, at least. There's a small storage room a few meters past the point where they entered the Metaverse, just barely big enough to not be considered a closet. There's enough room for two people to sit comfortably, but before he does that Akechi pulls a plain black backpack off one of the shelves and offers it to Akira. There's some snacks and painkillers inside, but most importantly:

"Your uniform is too distinctive to miss." His tone is still a bit flat and disinterested, like he can't be bothered to get invested in the conversation. "Fortunately, the cleaning staff here have jumpsuits loose enough to wear over your regular clothes." It's a cliche, but that doesn't mean it won't work.

Now that he's no longer contemplating his own death, the tone of Akechi's voice fully hits him. This is new and not exactly pleasant. It's not the overblown friendliness he exhibits on TV, nor the clipped professional notes he uses on his calls with Shido, and it's definitely not the warm comfort Akechi used to speak to him with.

Akira accepts the backpack and tucks an arm around it, although he makes no move to dig into it just yet. They're apparently going to be waiting around here for a while; he has some time before he actually needs to put on his disguise.

He's more caught up in feeling like he needs to say something—a strange compulsion for Akira. Where to even start? "… Thank you," he eventually settles on, because that's a good thing to get out there first, "for getting me out of there."

Now he's saying thank you? Akechi's brows draw a little closer together. It's not quite enough to be considered a frown, but it's not the same bland neutrality from a moment ago.

"It's nothing." Ir rather, it should be nothing. It should be something either of them should do for the other. Because they're friends?

But if that's the case, then why--

"Why did you look so uneasy when I came to help you?" Now is really not the time to be having this conversation. They might be in the Metaverse but this is still enemy territory. But maybe not being sure either of them will leave here alive is why he's asking now. He'd like to at least get an answer while he knows he can.

It really isn't the time, Akira realizes that as well, but it's a very big elephant in a very small room, and he doesn't think he can just sit on this until they're in a better place.

"We bugged your phone." To his credit, he doesn't look away as he admits it, as much as the streak of guilt encourages him to. Akira meets Akechi's eyes dead on. "We realized you were lying when you came to us at the school festival, so we came up with a plan." I thought we failed and that you were going to kill me. It hangs there, unsaid, as Akira falls quiet for just a moment. "I should have trusted you more."

That's the only thing that makes sense. If Akechi had the time to puzzle through everything he would have figured it out himself. But hearing Akira say it makes his heart stop for a moment. When he thinks about all the things they could have overheard and all the things they could have discerned from those conversations...

Part of him thinks that he needs to abandon this plan and kill Akira anyway, while another part of violently rebels against the idea, and he can't decide which part feels the most treacherous. So he sets the thought aside, grabbing on to the one part of that reveal that he doesn't fully understand.

"Lied?" His tone is perfectly calm, but there's an intent expression on his face. He'd definitely be lying during that conversation. About a few things, as it turns out. He needs to know what, exactly, tipped them off.

The calmness is exactly what he would expect from Akechi, but it makes it no less unsettling. It's impossible to tell what's going on beneath that inscrutable expression.

"About how long you've known about the Metaverse." Akira leans his back against an open spot on the wall, letting some of the weight off his feet. "You've known since that first time we met at the TV station. You responded to something Morgana said when you couldn't see him." It goes back much further than that, Akira knows, but this conversation is tenuous enough as it is without bringing up the full extent of his knowledge. "He realized it after you offered us that deal."

Shit.

Shit.

There's no salvaging this situation anymore. No chance he can get everything he wanted out of this and keep both of them alive. The situation isn't the least bit funny, but Akechi huffs out a tired chuckle all the same.

"You really are incredible, you know. Managing to figure out that much from a conversation that happened five months ago..." He says it like Morgana figured it out, but Akechi is sure Akira realized it, too. And if they already know he's known about the Metaverse for that long, it won't be a tremendous leap for them to figure out that he's known about it for years, known about it ever since Wakaba Isshiki 'committed suicide'. "And what else have you learned since then? I'm sure there's plenty of conversations you've overheard."

His voice is cheerful, the sort of tone he uses when making lame jokes on talk shows, but there's already a frayed, manic edge to it. He can feel everything he's worked so hard to achieve over the past few years coming apart at the seams, and he's not even sure he can be angry about it.

Akira recognizes that unstable quality to Akechi's laugh. He's heard it once before, in an encounter that now feels ages past. It puts him on edge, but only because he can only imagine what must be going through Akechi's mind as he realizes how much they know about him.

Still, Akira doesn't shy away from clarifying.

"I know everything with Medjed and Okumura was a setup leading up to this. I know you're working for the people who killed Principal Kobayakawa." He hesitates for a moment, grip tightening on the backpack. "But I also know that you lied to them, at the risk of your own life, to save mine."

Akira may as well have said 'everything'. If they know that much then there's not much they can't figure out. The truth of his connection to Shido may be the only thing only he knows about by now. The realization puts another crack in his already crumbling facade of calm. Then Akira continues and the mania suddenly drains away.

That's right, isn't it? He'd taken a lot of risks, including this tremendous one, in the hopes that this friendship might make it out of everything that's still yet to come unscathed. That plan is already in shambles, but Akechi is nothing if not stubborn.

"I wasn't bluffing when I said the Phantom Thieves should disband." He doesn't include himself in that. He's pretty sure that no one, not even himself, ever thought he really counted. "They think you're dead right now. Let them believe it." The manic edge is gone from his voice now, replaced by calm resignation. There's nothing else he can do at this point but try to salvage a passable resolution out of the mess.

"No." It occurs to him that maybe he shouldn't push this when Akechi has just calmed down and seemed to accept things, but… He can't wait around and see if a better opportunity will present itself.

"I recognized Shido's voice. I know he's the one behind everything." Well, that honor truly goes to Yaldabaoth, but that's another matter entirely. One Akira isn't ready to deal with just yet, not with this mess still at his feet.

He fixes Akechi with a resolute look and continues, "We're going to change his heart, and I want you to stay with us for it." Contrary to what Akechi might believe, he's still a member—in Akira's mind, at least.

It's not a surprising response but it sends sparks of anger dancing through Akechi all the same - and those sparks are snuffed out by dread once Shido's name is brought back into the conversation. Akechi pales just a shade, feeling and even slightly looking like he might be sick. Akira had already admitted that Shido was an eventual target of theirs, but not their next target. Not that they would be targeting him close enough to the climax of Akechi's years-long plan to derail it completely.

"Don't." His voice is soft but his tone is positively icy. "Stay away from Shido. I'll handle him myself." Admitting that he's actively conspiring against Shido already isn't something he had planned, but he lets it slip without a thought right now. He's caring less and less about how he deters Akira from this path, only that he manages it in the end.

"I can't." Akechi might interpret this is some sort of self-serving revenge plot of Akira's own, but it goes so much deeper than that. If it were just the injustices Shido wreaked on him, Akira could deal with it. But there are so many others, probably more lives lost at Shido's hands than he's even aware of, and if he doesn't succeed, Akechi will be just another name on that list. He can't allow that to happen again.

He drops the backpack now, stepping away from the wall and closer to Akechi. There's no real aggression in Akira's stance, only a stubbornness that mirrors the same in Akechi's words. "You know better than any of us how dangerous he is." Possibly even more than Akira himself, which is saying something. "I'm not going to let you take him on alone." He really doesn't want this to get to the point of having to fight Akechi again—but the determination behind his words is clear. If Akechi wants him to back off of Shido, he's going to have to kill him.

Akechi doesn't have the time or presence of mind to try to make sense of Akira's motivations. He doesn't care. I'm not going to let you take him on alone might be a caring statement, the sort of thing that one friend would naturally say to another.

"I don't need your help!" But instead of soothing Akechi's nerves it just makes everything boil over in a flash. His temper cracks under the frustration, the jealousy, his hatred for Shido, his concern for Akira's safety, and the bitter resentment that's been building for months, making his tone raw and seething. Akechi takes a step forward himself but unlike Akira his body language is nothing but aggression, even if he doesn't actually act on it. "I've known him for years, but you ran into him once and ended up living in someone's attic! What makes you think there's anything you can do?"

But the most infuriating part is that Akechi doesn't doubt him for a second. If it comes down to it he's certain that Akira will accomplish more than he ever could. Thinking about that feels like it's clawing at more than just Akira's temper, though, so he's quick to shove the thought aside.

Here it is: the rage he knows has been simmering below the surface. Without the intent to kill behind it, it sounds more like a temper tantrum, but Akira doesn't take it lightly. In fact, the sharp increase in Akechi's volume causes something in him to snap.

"Because I've already done it once before," he answers, the last vestiges of his restraint peeling away. His voice is level, but there's a quiet intensity creeping into it, not quite anger but adjacent to it. "We changed his heart, and you weren't around for it because you tried to act alone and Shido had you killed." It's going to sound like he's gone crazy, but Akira doesn't bat an eye as he speaks about things that have never transpired here.

It doesn't matter anymore. All that he cares about right now is getting Akechi to see reason. If it means that he's putting himself or even the world in more danger down the road, then so be it.

The comparison to a tantrum isn't at all unmerited. Akechi is reacting with the sort of irrational, unhinged anger of a child suddenly being told 'no' after months and years of assuming 'yes'.

There couldn't have been better timing for Akira's reveal. Akechi doesn't understand what he's saying in the slightest at first and it kicks the legs out from under his anger entirely. He falters, confusion creeping into his expression and taking the edge off the white hot rage that's still simmering inside him.

"What?" That's really all he can come up with in response to such an absurd statement.

That, at least, seems to dampen Akechi's fury, even if only with sudden confusion. It's an understandable reaction. Even Akira knows how nonsensical this must sound. He doesn't expect Akechi to believe it without some convincing.

"I've been through all of this already." A broad statement—this encounter, as with so many others concerning Akechi, is actually quite new. "We failed our last mission. One moment I was dying, and the next… I woke up on the train to Tokyo again," Akira finishes with an exhale. Some of the wind seems to have left his sails, too. Maybe it's more relief at finally expressing this to someone. "I guess someone gave me a second chance to do it right."

Whether this counts as doing it right is still very much up in the air. Things are different, at least.

( for fabrications )

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