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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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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.

"Rude," Akira shoots back, but it's clear he finds it anything but, "I'm plenty cooperative." He's perfectly capable of being well-behaved when the situation calls for it. It's not Akira's fault that their roles have just exposed Akechi to basically every uncooperative part of his personality. Definitely not.

Then, in one swift moment, Akechi is coming dangerously close to crossing into his personal space. Akira laughs at the observation, and, to his credit, manages not to stare when he lifts his head a bit to meet Akechi's eyes again, much closer this time.

"That's exactly what happens. It's not pretty."

"You're cooperative when it suits you." It would be a cutting comment in another tone, but right now Akechi just sounds amused - and somewhat endeared, though he's trying to rein in on that reaction. It's hardly appropriate.

And speaking of inappropriate, Akechi starts to lift a hand, intent on reaching out to grab a strand of Akira's hair and slide it between his fingers. He catches himself before his hand moves more than a few inches, though. He forces it back down and himself to straighten back up.

"Besides, it's hardly rude to simply make an observation."

"Mm, I'll give you that one," he responds once Akechi amends his statement. "Guilty as charged." The pun is entirely intended.

The seconds seem to dilate the longer he peers up at Akechi, each one amping up the fizzle of electricity right underneath his skin. For a moment, Akira considers reaching out for him and doing—something, anything, to satisfy this sudden need. He's so close, it would be so easy to just…

But before his dumb impulses can get too out of hand, Akechi is putting some space between them. Akira's perspective widens again, and he has the self-awareness to be a bit embarrassed by his own thoughts. They were talking about Shido hardly a couple of minutes ago. Now that's hardly appropriate.

Even the faint warmth rising to his cheeks doesn't cause Akira's smile to falter. He scoots over a bit to fully vacate the other side of the couch in case Akechi wants to take it. "Maybe, but sometimes it's more polite to say nothing, you know." Not that that's a philosophy Akira puts into practice all the time—once again, only when it suits him.

Akechi catches the color rising in Akira's cheeks, and while he's filed away the image under 'cute' before he realizes it, he also has no idea what the cause is. Maybe he's not used to being called out so plainly.

Akechi wasn't intending to join him when he first approached, but now that the couch has been vacated he doesn't hesitate to take a seat next to him, leaving a comfortable but not impersonal gap between the two of them. It feels relaxing and natural, just like being in Akira's presence.

"That's something else you only do when it suits you." And at other times, it feels like sharing his thoughts is the thing that Akira only does when it suits him. Akechi still isn't sure what the 'default' is. "Besides, it's hard to keep my thoughts to myself around you." The ones he lets himself think about, at least. There's a few he's still refusing to acknowledge.

This is the easy sort of interaction he's come to appreciate over the past couple of days. Sitting here with Akechi, talking about nothing in particular… Is this what it'll be like after Shido is dealt with, after Yaldabaoth is defeated, after the Metaverse becomes nothing more than a memory? He doesn't want to get ahead of himself (although they really can't fail this time, it's simply not an option), but it's crossed his mind a few times. While he's felt like he'd sorely miss the presence of Arsene, of Joker, Akira thinks it wouldn't be so bad this is what's waiting for him on the other side.

"I don't mind it," he confesses, then adds, "Even if it means sometimes receiving unflattering comments about my personality." A jab at the earlier exchange. His tone drifts away from humor again as he continues. "Sometimes it's hard to tell what you're thinking on my own." This seems to be one of those times where sharing his own thoughts suits Akira.

Akechi's had a decent amount of time to get used to thinking of his future as something that includes Akira. It's been in the back of his mind ever since he asked him for help on a case months ago. Even so, he hasn't had time to think about what's next now that the situation has changed so much. He's not even sure if there'll be a 'next' anymore; the possibility of being prosecuted for his crimes once everything is said and done isn't lost on him.

"You shouldn't take it as unflattering." Akechi's tone has already drifted away from humor, though he doesn't quite sound somber. "When it's you, being uncooperative is a positive trait." Though when it comes to Akira reading Akechi... well, being a bit of a mystery suits him just fine, but he slides Akira a skeptical thought anyway. "That's hard to believe. Sometimes I think you must be a mindreader."

And then sometimes he thinks Akechi is making a sincere effort to murder him. He's not about to bring that up, however.

"Really? Then I'll try to be more uncooperative for you." Which he doesn't really mean; it's more than he enjoys poking fun at Akechi in moments like these. Although maybe that's him being uncooperative? Akira contemplates it for a moment before circling back to the other comment.

At this one, he shakes his head. "It's probably just… you know, knowing as much as I do."

Even though he's tried to play dumb, there's no way he could perfectly maintain that charade for months. It was only a matter of time until Akira gave off the impression of being more insightful than he really is. And he's usually pretty sharp, but having come into the relationship this time with a decent understanding of Akechi, he can see where he might give off the impression of being a psychic. "I'd rather not be a mind reader, anyway."

"I'm looking forward to that." Akechi actually does mean that. He enjoys having Akira as a friend, but he makes for an enjoyable opponent and rival as well. As for his strangely accurate insight being a matter of experience: "Perhaps." Akechi doesn't entirely believe that, though. Some of it for sure, but there have been a few moments that Akechi suspects Akira wasn't able to 'cheat' with.

When it comes to his thoughts on mind reading, though, Akechi doesn't doubt him for a second.

"I'd like it." Being able to immediately know what someone's thinking without having to sneak into the Metaverse and shake their Shadow down for information? That sounds incredible. "But I'm sure you'd prefer something like invisibility."

Of course Akechi would like it. It would certainly have its uses, Akira can acknowledge that, but he's experienced firsthand the downsides of having information one has no real right to know. Doesn't help that he's also not the type to care what other people think about him, so it wouldn't be especially helpful in that aspect either.

Akechi's suggestion is much more his speed. "An invisible thief?" There's a mischievous flash in Akira's eye as he considers it. It sure would make infiltration a bit easier—and that's not counting all of the applications outside of the Metaverse. "Sounds like the perfect choice for me."

The same thought occurs to Akechi. He's realized that Akira doesn't especially worry what other people think about him, while Akechi has always been very keenly concerned with the opinions of others.

"I can only imagine the trouble you'd get into." Probably even more than he does now, though thinking about it that way nudges Akechi's thoughts in a different direction. "Then again, you're not the sort of person to abuse something like that, either." Even when he did get a strange, supernatural power he only used it to try to right the wrongs that society couldn't correct on its own.

"Of course, I'd never use my superpowers for evil." There's a humorous lilt to it, but it's true. Akira has already come across far too many people abusing their power at the expense of others; the world doesn't need another.

"But it wouldn't hurt to use it to sleep in an extra hour on Sundays without being told anything. Or for pranking Ryuji," he adds with a grin. Nothing evil about that.

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