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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...

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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.

The nicest thing Akechi could say about Akira's claim is that it's completely ridiculous. A few harsher words like insane and asinine also flicker across his thoughts. He doesn't believe him for a second, but he also doesn't not believe him. Akira might hide things, but bizarre blatant lies like this aren't his style.

"You're lying." He doesn't sound convinced. "If that's true then why wait this long? Why not go after Shido right away?" He's not even going to touch on the fact that something like that is impossible - sort of like changing a criminal's heart and forcing them to confess is impossible.

"I thought about it," Akira confesses, "but this is even bigger than Shido. And I knew I couldn't do it alone." Even if he could've easily contacted the others, it wouldn't have been of any use. They still needed to go through their own trials to awaken their Personas. And even if they had somehow taken Shido down far ahead of schedule, then what? Wouldn't it only push Yaldabaoth's plans up as well, leaving them even more ill-prepared than before?

He doesn't budge from the edge of Akechi's personal space, resolve setting into his features once more. "You know that if I wanted to lie to you, I'd tell you something more believable."

That's a perfectly rational, logical breakdown of the situation, which is exactly the sort of thing Akechi doesn't want to hear right now. If there was something unsteady or incoherent in Akira explanation then Akechi could dismiss it as the drugs or the brutal beating disguised as an interrogation that he just received. But instead he's calm and steady, which leaves Akechi with two possibilities.

First, that Akira is lying to him right now, and for some reason has decided to feed him this fanciful nonsense with a straight fact.

Second, that Akira isn't lying now, but has been the entire time they've known each other, through every conversation and game and joke. It just validates Akechi's paranoia, the feeling that he was making a mistake with each little bit of his history that he revealed to Akira. He's not in the right state of mind to reflect that he was lying the whole time, too, and that maybe Akira's motivations made just as much sense as his.

He didn't just get out maneuvered, he lost the game entirely before he even realized they were playing.

Now that Akechi's anger has been derailed simmering frustration takes its place, along with resentment and suspicion and the sharp sting of betrayal. All of it shows on his face as he finally takes a step backwards, unable to care about being the first one to give up on the argument.

"Do what you want." He doesn't bother clarifying that Akira will be doing it alone. "I'm leaving. If I take took long to report in Shido will get suspicious." And while that's not a lie, there's also no reason that Akechi has to leave right this second. No reason except not wanting to be around Akira right now.

There's no helping the way his face falls when Akechi announces his intention to leave. Akira knows it's just a flimsy excuse to not have to stay in this room with him. Can he blame him? Not really. He's fully aware of what he just admitted to: months of lying to Akechi as they built up their friendship. It's not like he hasn't felt guilty about it for a long time, but it was always more important that Akira was ultimately trying to protect him.

But seeing the clearly wounded look on Akechi's face, that feels like an even weaker excuse. Suddenly nothing can justify the betrayal Akechi is feeling, and that's—not how Akira operates. When he believes a course of action is right, he sticks to his guns, doesn't let anyone else's opinion of him change his mind. Usually. Right now, though, the idea that he's hurt Akechi is making him reconsider everything.

His body moves before his mind can catch up, snapping out a hand to grasp Akechi's wrist before he can move any further away. "Wait." Akira pauses, and it's clear that he had no plan for how to follow up on this impulsive move, no idea of where to even begin to try to fix this rapidly widening gap between them. I'm sorry? The words sound as small and hollow in his mind as Akira feels.

He wets his lips before he finally speaks up, "I can't take back what I did, but… It doesn't make the way I feel about you any less real. I never lied about that." This may be pointless. For as flawless as Akechi's logic is, Akira knows he's just as much the type of person to be blinded by his emotions. Still, letting him walk away without even an attempt feels like it would be a huge mistake.

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