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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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Akechi lets out a slow, deliberate breath as Akira figures out how exactly to hold on to him, but he doesn't complain and doesn't tell him to stop. He can handle this much.

He also doesn't protest being carried all the way to the bed, in part because he figures there's no helping it and in part because he's distracted by Akira's response. He doesn't speak again until he's back on his own two feet. He should probably sit down but he stays standing, his gaze on Akira.

"I used to think that sort of thing was idiotic." He still does, in truth, just not quite so vehemently as before. "If I had to rely on someone else it just meant I was falling short." And that's only counting the times that he was allowed to rely on other people, the times he wasn't just brushed off as a burden. And while all he's spent in the Metaverse with the Phantom Thieves has helped him recognize his changing mindset, they aren't actually the source of said change.

Not all of them, at least.

"You're the first person that hasn't made me feel that way."

Edited 2019-03-23 19:17 (UTC)

Akechi's weight may be off his back, allowing him to straighten up again, but the gaze after somehow feels even heavier. That and the fact that Akechi is even admitting this to him makes Akira's heart thump a little faster in his chest.

"You try too hard to be perfect." The phrasing may be blunt, as is typical of Akira, but there's an earnestness to it. "You don't have to be." Akira surely doesn't expect that of him, not the way the media and public and so many others seem to, and maybe that's why Akechi feels the way he does around him. "Especially not with me."

The perfectly poised image Akechi tries to project has its appeal, but Akira has found himself more captivated by what's underneath—the dogged determination, the brief flashes of vulnerability, the budding instinct to do good that's reshaped so many of his recent actions.

There's something like tired skepticism in Akechi's expression when Akira says that he doesn't have to be perfect, but the final addition he adds to his comment draws a tired smile out of him instead.

"You're the first person that's made feel like that, too." The first person that's made him feel like slipping up and admitting to his faults and failures won't be a disaster. The first person he's thought won't use that information against him. The first person that's willing to stick with him to this extent even after everything he's done and all the mistakes he made. "I wonder what would have happened if we'd met a few years earlier."

"Who knows. I'm sure we'd still be friends, though," he replies with a faint smile of his own. Akira has wondered the same, but only after Akechi brought it up once before, in the engine room. Maybe other people would've been picked to fight this battle. Maybe none of this would've happened, and they'd be living normal lives. It's a nice thought, but he's more concerned with the present. It's been a long and winding road to this point, and there's still more ahead, but standing here with Akechi right now feels right.

Still, as much as he doesn't want to break the atmosphere, Akechi probably shouldn't stay standing much longer. "Sit down. I'll get you a change of clothes." He's still wearing those blood-soaked pants, after all. Akira doesn't have a ton of clothes, but he's able to scrounge up enough random sleepwear for both of them, passing Akechi one pair before heading towards the stairs with his own. "Want anything from downstairs?"

It's a simple, baseless reassurance that neither of them have any way of confirming, but Akechi relaxes all the same when he hears it. Even if it's just speculation, it's nice to know that Akira is so certain of the result.

Akechi is equally reluctant to let the moment pass, but for once he feels certain it won't be the last one. He sits down as ordered, accepting the pajamas with brief word of thanks. As for Akira's offer, there's no hesitation before he gives his answer.

"Water." He knows he should probably eat, too, but right now thirst is at the forefront of his mind. He can worry about actual sustenance later. For now it's taking all of his focus to even get into his borrow pajamas (they traded again, huh?), especially when he has to lay flat just to wiggle out of his pants without straining his injury. He manages, though, and he even pulls it off without getting blood on Akira's clothes or bedding. His own pants are a lost cause, but he folds them up and sets them neatly aside all the same.

It's real tempting to just lay there indefinitely (something about Akira's clothes and Akira's bed are uniquely comfortable, kind of like Akira's mere presence) but he's remembered something by the time Akira returns and pushes himself upright again.

"I don't suppose you have a toothbrush I could borrow, do you?" He won't have any option but to very attractively spit into a cup when he's done, but he'd rather not wake up with a gross feeling in his mouth tomorrow.

With the request in mind, Akira heads back down the stairs. He's not quite sure how long it'll take Akechi to change clothes with his limited mobility, so there's no real rush in his motions as he goes through his typical bedtime routine.

He's in the middle of brushing his teeth when he considers that Akechi would probably appreciate the opportunity to do the same. Luckily, he's got a spare one lying around (even knowing much of the future before it ever arrives, it doesn't hurt to be prepared), which Akira nabs on the way out of the restroom, along with everything else needed for a remote teeth-brushing session.

By the time he returns with that and the cup of water, a few minutes have passed. "Already got you covered," he answers as he approaches the bed. After leaning over Akechi to set the water on the windowsill, Akira passes over the remaining contents of his hands, throwing in a smile as part of the package. "Only the best service at Hotel Leblanc."

Rather than awkwardly stand there over Akechi and wait for him to finish, Akira opts to retrieve the dusty old futon that resides in the storage side of the attic, untouched since that one time Yusuke spent the night.

Akechi accepts the water and toiletries with a relieved expression, though there's no helping his smile at the 'Hotel Leblanc' comment.

"Hopefully breakfast lives up to its reputation." He's sure it will, though.

Akechi barely gets to call is breakfast, however. He takes his time brushing his teeth and preparing for bed, but once he's down he sleeps like the dead for nearly twelve straight hours. When he wakes up the exhaustion of topping off a several-hour Metaverse excursion with a life-threatening wound has finally settled in and he somehow feels worse than he did the day before. He barely makes it through breakfast before he ends up sleeping through most of the rest of the day. But at least that reduces the number of times he needs to go up and down the stairs.

The second day he does a little better, both in terms of handling the stairs and in staying awake for most of it. He's even feeling well enough to ask Akira to retrieve a few things from his apartment (though he promises to make it up to him at a later date) and pace in restless circles around the room so that can at least get some exercise in. Should any of the other Phantom Thieves stop by while he's awake he manages to seem both composed and relaxed - though if Morgana gets too close while he's sleeping Akechi reflexively shoves him off the bed without waking. He's not used to having company.

By the third day he's feeling much, much better. He'll even dress in real clothes and go downstairs for breakfast unless Akira stops him, automatically slipping back into his picture perfect charming persona as he thanks Sojiro for putting up with his presence for a few days. He's surprised by how little being away from his own space for so long bothers him. Akira's attic may not be the nicest room he's ever stayed in (it's not the worst, either) but there's something safe and inviting about it all the same. Even so, Akechi can tell when he's overstaying his welcome; or he thinks he can, at least. Once breakfast is done and they're both back upstairs again he finally broaches a somewhat pressing subject.

"I'm feeling well enough to return to my apartment today." More joking, he adds, "I'm starting to feel bad for kicking you out of bed."

Homebody may not be a word that typically applies to Akira, but for the few days following his return to Leblanc, he allows himself to embody it. Shido's Palace is still a pressing matter, and there are certainly things he could be doing out on the town, but the prospect of staying in with Akechi for a few days is too tempting. Besides, it's best if he continues to lay low in the time following his "suicide", and he knows he needs the rest, anyway. Akechi's injury may have been far, far worse than his own, but due to the disparity between wounds from the Metaverse and ones from reality, they heal up at about the same pace.

While Akechi gets some much-needed sleep, he keeps himself occupied—helping out downstairs, crafting infiltration tools, reading. Morgana ends up hanging out with Futaba for much of that time, though he thinks it has nothing to do with his roommate disliking Akechi's presence and everything to do with Akechi taking all of the best spots in the room, whether it's while sleeping or hanging out during the day.

Once Akechi's more awake overall, he keeps them both occupied. The chess board gets hauled up from the first floor (not like anyone will miss it; he's not even sure Sojiro notices that it's gone) so that they can finally finish their match, which predictably ends in Akira's defeat. He shows him some of his other video games and even challenges Akechi to a few if he's interested, ready to show off his skills in something more within his wheelhouse. A few of his teammates—their teammates—even drop by briefly to check in in person, which Akira is grateful for. Seeing them in their school uniforms after he's been lounging around all afternoon feels weird; he kind of misses it, actually, which is a strange thought. Between the issues with Kamoshida and the poor reactions to the rumors about him, his time at Shujin started out rough. It isn't until he's forced to stay away from it that Akira realizes he's come to enjoy attending school there.

But that feeling is miniscule and easily eclipsed by how much he enjoys this surreal time he's spending just enjoying Akechi's company before they have to get back to their mission. Akira knows that won't be long, not when Akechi is recovering with impressive speed. He may have accepted the need to rest for a few days, but there's no way that's going to last.

So he's not at all surprised when Akechi announces his intent after breakfast. "I don't mind," Akira shrugs off the following comment. He really doesn't, and he honestly thinks he wouldn't be fussed if Akechi were to just keep sleeping in his bed on the regular and not because he's recovering from being shot. There is no way he's saying that, though, so: "You needed it more than I did."

But back to the matter of Akechi returning. He thinks it's safe for now. There shouldn't be any reason for Shido and his associates to be suspicious of Akechi yet, and the apartment appeared completely untouched when he visited yesterday to grab the requested items, but the thought of leaving him unattended does make Akira feel uneasy for several reasons. There's just no way Akechi would take positively to the idea of needing supervision, so it's kind of a moot point. "You can stay longer if you want to, but I understand if you want to go home."

"And you needed mine more than I did a few nights ago." Yet Akira had slept on the couch anyway. It's a discourtesy that hadn't even occurred to Akechi at the time, but now it stands out to him in sharp contrast. Once again, guilt isn't really emotion he's matured to the point of being able to acknowledge, but he does feel shortsighted and petty for it.

The exact way Akira words his response to the rest of the question gives Akechi pause. While it isn't like Akira is an easy person to read, Akechi has picked up on some of his patterns by now. Even if his actual thoughts are an eternal mystery to him, Akechi likes to think he has a good idea of when the things Akira says and does don't quite match said thoughts - and right now, Akira's just given a noncommittal answer when Akechi wasn't expecting one.

For a moment he's torn between assuming the worst about the vagueness and wanting to believe in the best. In the end, he decides to not err on the side of caution.

"I don't mind staying another day, if you want me to." His expression has slipped into one of of attentive thoughtfulness, like he's just found an interesting puzzle and still isn't sure what to make of it.

Well, Akechi caught on quick—not that he's surprised. The more time they spend together, the worse Akira is at keeping up his poker face. Whether that's due to Akechi getting to know him better or a decline in his own ability, he's not sure.

"I'm just worried about if Shido tries to contact you," he admits. There haven't been any phone calls from him, at least that Akira has heard, but it's bound to happen soon. He really wants to believe that Akechi would choose to ignore any more assignments. If he's encountered the cognitive version of himself, he's seen what Shido really thinks of him. There's no way he could still want to carry out his orders.

Granted, if Akechi suddenly drops off Shido's radar, that would likely throw the whole suicide conspiracy into question again, but Akira would rather them be in danger together than apart.

Ah, that would explain it. Akechi wonders if Akira thinks he'd go through with any orders he's been given but for once it's not his first thought, nor his most prominent one. He doesn't take the assumption personally, either; Akechi knows he'll do it if it's the best option.

But he'd rather not. And more importantly...

"I doubt he will. There's nothing left to do but tie up loose ends." Akechi's tone has slipped from mild curiosity to cool certainty. He doubt sound at all disturbed or uneasy as he discusses lives that are already scheduled to end. "But if those that have benefited from his rise to power start dying right before the election, it'll draw suspicion and jeopardize his chances." He's wrong, of course, but he doesn't realize that yet. He's never seen Shido panic before. "But even if he does, I can stall for time. It can take days to locate someone's Shadow."

He suddenly wonders how much Akira actually knows about the breakdowns, shutdowns, and the greater conspiracy surrounding them. That's probably and explanation best saved for when everyone is present, though.

Despite how clinically Akechi speaks about potential murders, Akira does feel a bit placated hearing his take on it. Akechi is the one who's been dealing directly with Shido all of this time; he would know better. "I'll trust you on that, then," he says after a moment, nodding. This part is new to Akira. Last time, the concern had been making sure Akechi wouldn't catch wind of him still being alive.

He's quiet for a beat as he moves to sit on the couch. "I'm thinking about starting our infiltration of his Palace tomorrow." Broaching this subject doesn't make him feel nearly as tense as it did a few days ago, but it's something he hasn't really bothered with since then. Partly to avoid bogging down their impromptu break with the thoughts and partly because he doesn't want to pry into what happened to Akechi before he's ready to talk about it. "You can still come with us, if you're interested."

Even knowing that it's about an unpleasant subject, it's nice to be told that he's trusted. It doesn't make him smile, but there's a more relaxed air around him in the wake of Akira's comment.

Being invited to the Palace infiltration isn't something Akechi is expecting and it leaves him feeling a bit warm inside. After he'd run off to do exactly what Akira had tried to make him promise not to do Akechi had been half expected to be uninvited from the rest of the excursion. Now that he knows he's not that assumption feels a bit silly.

"I'd like to." Admitting to that is pretty easy, for a change. While Akira takes the couch, Akechi moves to claim the chair. This conversation might take a while. "But it'll be dangerous. I have no way of confirming this, but I believe the Cognitive version of myself in Shido's Palace exists primarily to deal with me." He sounds incredibly calm as he speaks, and not at all like just thinking about that thing fills him with a mix of contempt for Shido and contempt for himself.

He's well aware that it's going to be dangerous, especially now that Akechi's confirmed the cognition is still lurking in there. There's no way they won't encounter it before they reach the treasure, and if what Akechi is hypothesizing is true… Bringing him right to it would sound like an incredibly stupid idea to any logical person.

Still, Akira can't force him to sit back for this. He knows the rest of the Thieves would agree. They may not be able to allow him the brand of closure he really wants, but this is far too personal to deny him any. And there's a part of him that hopes that maybe, just maybe, Akechi will be able to feel the merits of what they do—changing one heart to leave the world a slightly better place than before.

"We'll be ready this time." There's a note of confidence in his voice. The first time, the fake Akechi had completely gotten the drop on them, and, well… he'd rather not think about how that ended. The second time, Akechi was clearly caught off guard, but maybe it was the warning Akira gave that allowed him to escape with his life intact. A third time? They know what's coming. Even if it's as strong as he suspects, even if its powers mirror Akechi's, it won't stand a chance against them at full strength.

Akira leans forward and crosses his forearms across his thighs, though his gaze stays on Akechi. "It'll be dangerous, but Shido also underestimated you." That, he doesn't doubt one bit. Shido has no idea what Akechi is truly capable of if he just intended to use him like some easily manipulated puppet. "The cognition will reflect that."

Once again, Akechi is torn between relief that his presence is being not just allowed but invited, and feeling silly for assuming anything else would happen. Once again he catches himself wondering if Akira knows just how deeply personal his grudge against Shido is, and wondering if he should clarify just in case.

That thought gets derailed by Akira's reassurance. For once he words ring a bit hollow, though not through any fault of his own.

"I didn't feel underestimated." The Cognition had dropped in the second he'd started towards Shido's inner sanctum and nearly killed him in the process. "Shido doesn't even know why I--" And then he pauses and frowns. Well, before he gets into that, maybe he should broach the easier subject. "... Last time--" Back before Akira time traveled, or whatever it was. "--did I tell you how I learned about Shido?"

The aborted sentence gives Akira pause. Of course Akechi wouldn't know that Shido already suspects their relation. Being the one to bring that up doesn't sit well with him, but neither does withholding any more information. Especially at this point, when he's already divulged so much.

"I… know he's your father, if that's what you mean." Akira can at least save him the breath he'd devote to that reveal. "You told us that much last time, but not much else about it." No specifics about how he found out about or approached Shido, anyway. They weren't really in a position to press for details, either, given that he wanted to kill them and all.

Akechi has suspected that was the case, but he's not sure how he feels about learning that Akira has known this whole time. It makes it easier, at least. He doesn't have to try to explain everything again. But it's weird, too. Is there anything that Akira doesn't know about him, at this point?

Probably not, actually. For some reason that doesn't bother him as much as it should, so Akechi just moves on.

"He doesn't know." Akechi is certain of that much, even more than he's certain that Shido won't ask him to kill anyone else any time soon. "But that doesn't mean he isn't going to be cautious. I don't think there's a single person that man actually trusts." So Akechi expects that Cognitive thing in his Palace to be a pretty steep obstacle.

Urgh. Akechi sounds so terribly confident as he says it. Akira could simply keep his mouth shut and let him find out from the Cognitive Akechi, or even when confronting Shido himself. Does he really want that to be the way the news is broken, though? Right before the heat of battle, where the suddenness of it might spur Akechi to do something stupid, when he has the chance to say it here, in the comfort of his bedroom?

"Goro…" The name comes without a second thought now, Akira's eyes flickering down to his own hands and then back to Akechi's face. "He does know. Or he at least suspects it." Just thinking about it makes his jaw set with dormant anger. He knows that Shido is, short of a change of heart, irrevocably evil, but Akira still can't fathom how anyone could do that to their own flesh and blood. "He told us when we confronted him about what he did to you, before."

He what?

Akechi doesn't actually say that out loud, but it's the sort of thought his expression conveys. Shido knows? But how? Akechi hasn't let the information slip at all. He hasn't even mentioned his mother, and even if Shido did look into his background there's not a chance he'd remember her. If he did the name would have been enough to tip him off, and then he never would have trusted him at all. So...

"Of course he does." Akechi tries to rein in on his disgusted, bitter tone and fails utterly. Learning the news is bad enough, but it falls just short of 'devastating' when he's already in a mindset that has him wondering if he's managed to do anything right for the past almost three years. "Thank you for telling me, Akira." The name comes naturally to him, too. "Better that I figure that out now."

That's not what he wants to say, though. He wants to lash at Akira for waiting this long, for not telling him sooner, for letting him stumble around like a idiot that thinks no one can see him because his own eyes are closed. He doesn't actually do that, though. He's getting better at tamping down on those impulses, even as his closer proximity to Akira makes said impulses more frequent.

Akira certainly doesn't feel any better for having said it. There's no part of him that enjoys being the one to put that look on Akechi's face.

"Sorry," he breathes out, shaking his head, and even Akira's not entirely sure what part he's apologizing for. For saying it in the first place? For keeping it to himself all this time? For the painful position Akechi is in? Maybe a little bit of everything.

On the bright side, he thinks that's probably the last bomb he could probably drop on Akechi. Well—save for the bud of affection that's grown rapidly out of control as they spend more and more time together, flourishing every time Akechi gives him a genuine smile and making his heart twist up in guilt in situations like these, when he feels like no choice he could make would end well. But that's really not relevant right now, not when they have important challenges to overcome right in front of them.

"Don't." Akechi's response comes out harsh and snappish, anger simmering just under the surface. Akira's apology sounds too much like pity.

Then, half a heartbeat later, he sighs. The tension drains out of his frame and the anger out of his expression. This time he does feel guilty, though the emotion is tangled up in a mess of frustration and disgust. Every time he so much as thinks about Akira his already complicated thought on him get even more hopelessly snarled.

"There wasn't a better time to tell me." He's not even sure that's why Akira is apologizing, but sometimes it feels like Akira can read his thoughts. Assuming that feels natural - especially because Akechi believes what he says. Akira isn't the sort of withhold information for no reason.

"I know," he says. It's not intended to sound condescending; it's more resigned than anything. He just can't imagine how it must be for Akechi, to find out that basically everyone has been one step ahead of him the entire time. Pretty crushing, probably, and while Akira knows exactly how to cheer up the rest of his friends, he's yet to puzzle out the method for Akechi. For as much as he's come to understand about him, the words and actions that would comfort him remain a mystery.

So instead he'll do what he knows he can: stick by him through this, and do his best to ensure that Akechi comes out the other side better than before, unlike the previous times he's suffered.

Akira sits back on the couch, ruffling his hand through the back of his hair like the unpleasant feelings are hiding in there and he's trying to shake them out. "We'll deal with him. Together," he adds.

Right, together. He and Akira and the other Phantom Thieves. The reminder doesn't relax Akechi, but it helps blow away some of the storm clouds that have settled over his mood. It's a good way to conclude the conversation, but Akechi finds himself unwilling to simply lapse into silence. The earlier thoughts of returning home are forgotten for now, too. Even if he is feeling better, it won't kill him to rest here for at least a few more hours.

Well, at least there's one thing he can remark on, a thought that had occurred to him a few days ago but only feels appropriate to remark on now. A few moments have passed between the last word spoken and now, so maybe the change in subject won't feel so jarring.

"Do you think that's why your hair is so wavy?" He hasn't missed Akira's habit of playing with his hair (how could he, when it's so endearing?) and now now the mild tease feels like the best thing to say.

It's still jarring, but more so because Akira doesn't even realize what he's referring to at first. Confusion paints his face before he mentally backtracks a few moments and—oh, right.

"No, it's been like this since I was born," he deadpans, like he came out of the womb with a full head of unruly hair. Maybe because he's been made conscious of it, he reaches up to tug lightly at a strand. "It's never cooperated." There have certainly been attempts. Mostly by his parents, in an attempt to make him look more presentable for various occasions, but his hair had gone full rebel far before the rest of him ever got the memo and caught up.

Akira allows himself to crack a smile, then, gaze sliding back over to Akechi. "I guess we can't all have shampoo-commercial-worthy hair like yours." A tease for a tease. It's true that Akechi's hair is nice, though.

An infant with Akira's unruly mop... that's an image. Akechi doesn't actually grin until Akira makes his comment about cooperating, though.

"Just like you." Defiant right down to the roots of his hair, though Akechi is of the opinion that the waves just make him look soft and mild mannered. It's like natural camouflage, in a way. As for his own hair, the compliment makes him grin. "This is the result of hard work, you know. It took a while to find a good combination."

Akechi pushes himself to his feet, the movement almost completely smooth and natural. His injury doesn't bother him that much, though. Certainly not enough to stop him from approaching Akira and leaning in with a thoughtful hum while he makes a brief show of studying his hair.

"I bet even if you got yours to lay flat, it would curl up again the second you stepped into the humidity." That's another funny image, actually.

( for fabrications )

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