Work Text:
“Think they’re gonna be okay without you?” Morgana stretched upwards, finally awakening from his nap. “I mean, you had so many people relying on you this last year. You’ve gotta be worried about them, right?”
Akira stopped staring at his wallpaper, having been lost in his partner's eyes for the last forty minutes. He lowered his phone and turned his head to his feline companion, raising his left hand and giving Morgana a small scratch on the head. “They’ll be fine.”
A small deception, a white lie that rolled off his tongue with promises of rainbows and gold. Did he believe in them? Absolutely. They were some of the most incredible, inspiring people he had ever met. But he’d spent enough time with all of them to know that eventually, something would rattle them. Ryuji was going to end up with his foot in his mouth at some point. Futaba was already sending him a brand new PC so that they could play games together and talk about their days apart. Akira would be honoured if Ann called him half as much as she called Shiho to talk about her problems or ask for advice, but he knew that he was always second place. Makoto and Haru would be fine, though. They’d probably be able to rely on each other more than him, considering they were off to be “just roommates” together at college after all.
Nearly the entirety of his soul was consumed by worry over who was going to feed Yusuke.
“I’m more worried about us.” Akira cracked his grin and gave Morgana a singular, forced laugh. A shaky misdirect of a a laugh that he was hoping that Morgana would accept. His friend didn’t respond, instead he looked at him, his eyes settling into a stare that told Akira he wasn’t buying his bullshit. Akira knew Morgana spent too much time around him to let him pull off his best trick: a genuine response, masquerading as a joke.
Akira was genuinely terrified. His parents, his brother, his final exams were manageable, but an entire year without them would probably break him. He’d already spent the first forty minutes of his journey home staring at his phone, instead of looking outside at the pleasant, empty scenery of his country. His phone was down 64% battery because he had kept the screen bright, continuously flicking through his gallery of photos. He'd finally settled on a new wallpaper: the selfie of their last trip to The Jazz Jin, moments after they had cemented their commitment together.
The photo of himself, his boyfriend Goro, and their girlfriend Sumire.
It was their red eyes, which were captured so well, that finally made him settle on it as his final choice. The camera had lost a lot of the details, but he could still see their personalities shining through. Goro’s annoyed face that he'd forced on, pretending like he wasn’t loving every second of their time in the Jazz Jin. Sumire’s shining eyes, her makeup slightly smudged from the tears she couldn’t contain when Goro finally admitted out loud that he wanted to stay with them, no matter the distance.
Or as he put it; “I don’t believe either of you would be willing to respect any amount of distance I shove between us, so what would be the point in leaving any?”.
An entire year without them was going to be a test, one he wasn’t particularly looking forward to.
“You gonna be able to get to the end of your shift?” He teased Morgana, which caused an eye roll that finally broke the cat’s gaze.
An eye roll and a small sigh, all from a cat whose tiny paws were struggling to keep him standing up on a moving train. “It’s what, thirty more minutes? Please, we don't need to do this in shifts if you're that tired.”
Akira smiled. Morgana was always so insistent on keeping his pride. It was always for Akira’s own benefit that he got the amount of sleep Morgana insisted on, not at all because cats need nearly double the amount of sleep that humans do.
“Alright, if you say so.” Akira turned his phone off, and slid it into his jacket pocket, making sure to zip the inner lining up to properly protect it. He closed his eyes, and let his body sink down into his chair, while moving his head into a comfortable position. He wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug, trying to ignore the part of him that was loudly insisting it'd never be enough compared to the warmth of Sumire and Goro.
The humming of the train was a welcome comfort. The gentle sound of the wheels rotating slowly brought Akira’s breathing into a steady rhythm. His head felt heavier, sinking him deeper into the soft fabric of the chair. Slowly the noises of the train blended into a smooth hum. Finally Akira stopped thinking, and fell asleep.
His thief training over the past year had given him an impeccable sense of motion, especially when it came to moving silently through the air. Even when asleep, Akira felt the train turn a corner, his body slowly tipped forward, his head in freemotion, no longer resting against the soft chair. He braced for the soft impact, and Akira’s eyes flew open when instead, the back of his head hit hard plastic.
Across the aisle, another commuter winced. They were concerned, even mouthed “You okay?” to him. It was a lot nicer than anything Akira had come to expect from the majority of the citizens of Tokyo in his time there.
It was wrong.
He shouldn’t be making eye contact with them. In front of him should have been another luxury chair of the Green Car. His eyes shot to his left, another passenger. They were what he had come to expect from Tokyo, unfazed by the concerns of those around them, they simply stared down at their phone, scrolling through the news. Most importantly, they weren’t Morgana.
The train leaving a small tunnel caused a sudden influx of light. Outside distinctly, uncomfortably, sat the hundreds of Tokyo buildings that he’d spent the last year getting used to the sight of.
First the jingle, and then the announcement, something about a station, whatever it said couldn't breach Akira’s screaming mind.
His body was stiff, his cat missing. His position on the train: fundamentally incorrect.
Turning to his right, school girls, talking about something. Akira couldn’t focus, their blabbering lost in translation as if they were in two distinctly different atmospheres, almost as if he were drowning.
Breathe in, breathe out.
…It did nothing. His breath was erratic, harsh, and his eyes darted around to everything surrounding him. The wrong train, the familiar people, where is Morgana?! His usual meditation technique, completely useless. Without Morgana, he wasn’t calming down.
He grabbed for his phone, nothing, just the wrong fucking clothes .
His glasses, the ones he was certain he took off when he left Tokyo, right after Goro did his dramatic little goodbye, dropped down his nose ever so slightly.
He pushed them up, his eyes sharpened to a point. Joker reached down, pushed past the bag now on his lap, to his right pant pocket and grabbed the phone that he could feel pressed against his thigh.
The screen lit up, the information proving to be invaluable.
4/9/20XX 3:36pm
Wrong day, wrong year, but the exact correct time for him to be arriving in Tokyo roughly a year ago.
It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. His left hand joined his right, clutched onto the phone. Internally he went into overdrive, trying to figure out what the hell to do.
A tie fell ever so slightly out of his left sleeve. Black and white striped, thin, tied securely around his wrist.
A scoff and a roll of the eyes from the handsome, and for some reason redressed, former Detective Prince. "Sumire, dear" he complained, "You're doing this wrong. If anything, you should take an item of his that he desperately needs, so he has to return to you.”
As if he wasn't standing three metres away from Akira’s bed, eyes transfixed on Sumi as she straddled Akira, and tied her red ribbon around Akira’s right wrist.
“I’ve already stolen his heart, I trust he’ll come back.” She tightened the ribbon so much so that it started to restrict his blood flow. As sweet as her voice always was, she was making her underlying threat clear: Akira didn’t have a choice but to come back. He was hers.
Not that he would ever complain. Akira loved when she got selfish.
“Also everything’s already packed, she’d have to go to the trouble of unpacking, and then you’d be roped into re-packing my stuff.” Akira added, turning his head to smile at his boyfriend. He wanted him closer, but considering this was the first time Goro hadn’t simply left without saying a word, Akira would consider anything a win.
Goro took a moment, and stared at the missing collection of stuff on the shelves, then the Phantom Thieves poster that was staying behind. Really, anything in the room other than the two people he had just shared a bed with. “In this scenario, who’s asking me to help?”
Akira narrowed his eyes in suspicion. While he wasn’t entirely sure what game Goro was playing, he knew that he didn’t have any choice but to play along. “Sumire.”
“Then I would have no choice but to break some of your things while we repacked, wouldn’t you say?” Goro flashed his smirk. Akria was glad he was sitting down, because it made his knees weak.
Sumi turned her head, her eyebrows raised, her eyes wide, “Is that your way of making him come back to see you Goro-Senpai?” Sumi played so innocently, but as Goro’s eyes sharped, focused in on her, and he scoffed in disgust, everybody in the room knew she'd won whatever game that was.
“Tell you what,” Akira slipped out of Sumi’s grasp, earning a sharp turn of her head and the most adorable pout as he got out of the bed. “We’ll play it both ways,” He stepped over to Goro, only stopping inches away. Face to face, and so close he could kiss him. Akira grabbed his stupid striped tie, undoing his perfect windsor. “It’s only fair that I get one from each of you.”
Akira did an incredibly lazy job, one that would go corrected later, but for now, he just needed the tie around his wrist. He was making a point after all.
His right wrist, a red ribbon, an embroidered 芳 , his hand for Sumire Yoshizawa.
His left wrist, a simple striped tie, his hand for Goro Akechi.
His two mementos of the most important people in his life. They wouldn’t leave his wrists until he came back to Tokyo, until he was safely in their arms again.
Once he was done, Goro finally cocked his eyebrow. “And what do I get to break?”
The Detective fell right into the Thieves trap.
“Me” Akira grabbed his shirt, threw his lips against the stubborn adonis, and pulled him hard. Some buttons fell on the ground, and Akira dragged a very willing Goro Akechi back to his bed while Sumire laughed.
He pulled his right sleeve back. Red, 芳 . They were both here, both with him. Somehow.
He opened his messages. The phone was new when he brought it to Tokyo, and right now, there was nothing in the inbox.
With more desperation than Akira had ever operated a phone before, he opened his contacts. Completely empty. The fresh phone that he was burdened with a year ago. The metaverse app wasn’t even here.
He opened the phone app. The basic app he couldn’t recall ever using. Staring at the dialpad, Akira knew he didn’t know the numbers he needed. He hadn’t memerised a phone number since his home phone number when he was four.
…
He knew where Sumire lived.
He knew where Goro’s apartment was.
He knew where all of his thieves were.
Running through the scenarios in his head, not a single one worked out well. Goro Akechi would be in the metaverse, a day away from the train accident that made Akira’s trip with Sojiro memorable. He’d probably shoot anyone that came to him and knew too much. Sumire Yoshizawa would be Kasumi Yoshizawa , trying to figure out why her body wasn’t able to bend like she needed it, why she was slower than she needed to be, why homework was more difficult than it should be.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to see either of them like that again without crying.
Ryuji wouldn’t trust a new school student without a life changing experience. Ann would be too walled off because of Kamoshida. Futaba wouldn't leave her room, Makoto might try and turn him into the principal for being too suspicious. Yusuke would be who knows where, drawing who knows what. And Akira didn’t trust himself to talk to Haru, because that would mean Sugimura, and that would mean going back to jail incredibly quickly.
…
Maybe that wasn’t the worst idea.
The train pulled up to Shibuya station, and Akira got off it all the same. He retraced his steps from a year ago, all the way to Shibuya Square. Over his screen, the red icon appeared all the same, perfectly on time.
Akira hit the app. The world froze. The flames arose, across the street, his shadow stared back at him, and Akira couldn’t help but give the incredibly handsome guy a wink. It’s showtime.
Once the world restarted, Akira had the basics of a plan. He had confirmation that the Metaverse was back, and that gave him a weapon. Step one, go home, clean the attic, and prepare for the next year. Once Sojiro leaves, google Kunikazu Okumura and Sugimura, find out what that arsehole's name is, and go find his shadow in Mementos.
Akira was certain that fuck was distorted.
Step Two of the plan involved punching Maruki in the face.
That would give him Sumire Yoshizawa. However it would be close to Kasumi’s death. She’d be trying to grieve, her mental state worsening, spiralling down into a despair that she needed help to be pulled from. It would be painful, but he would at least have her.
But… She only trusted him as much as she did because of her experiences as Kasumi. Their bond was deep enough by that point that she was willing to lean on his shoulder when she needed it, and regain her strength. Without that prior trust…
Akira could feel something in his chest crumbling. The dawning realisation that he probably wouldn’t be able to rush back into Sumire’s arms hurt. He needed her to get to Goro. Goro needed Sumi there to realise Akira wasn’t just fucking with him, that people could genuinely want Goro Akechi, Loki and all, around.
He had no idea how to start conversing with Detective Prince Goro Akechi. Akira wouldn’t be able to get through it again. The lie so perfectly crafted, it gave Akira butterflies. Akira knew he wouldn’t be able to mask his own knowledge from Goro. He was smarter than Akira was, and he was a much better liar than Akira too. It was only a matter of time before he would work something out, and if he did that too early, Akira knew he might actually end up with a bullet in the head this time around.
Breathe in, breathe out. Akira pushed the glasses back up his nose.
Sojiro first.
He could go full conspiratorial later, he needed somewhere to live. Plus, the idea of covering LeBlanc’s attic with red string and pictures of Goro Akechi did make Akira smile.
Eventually he found himself in the streets of Yongen-Jaya. Takemi passed him, frustrated and clearly in a rush. Internally, he promised to come soon, to help out as soon as he could. It felt like he might as well have been walking through his childhood home, reliving all the memories of the past year. He’d eventually need to pick up the laptop from the second hand store, eventually the TV. Maybe this time he could find nicer furniture for the attic? Akira always felt like a terrible host whenever he had several people sleep on milk crates and the world's second worst mattress.
He could skip the trip to the Sakura house this time at least. This time around, he walked straight towards Leblanc, even catching a small glimpse of one of Futaba’s cameras without the need to use his Third Eye.
He looked into the café that he’d be spending the next year in. Akira prided himself on his picture-perfect memory, so the two extra people at the bar caught his eye.
Cascading red hair, matching a red skirt with a white jumper.
A full head of luscious, soft, silky brown hair sitting on the left, next to red.
His heart stopped. They were here.
They were here.
They were here.
Goro turned to Sumire, his eyes darting to the old couple that seemed to be facing them both, and whispered something. Their hands held tightly together, Sumi’s fingers clearly tapping on the dorsum of his hand, her tell that she was stressed.
Akira needed to hear their voices. He rushed over to the LeBlanc door, pushed it open much harder than he ever had in his entire year here. The loud ringing of the door bell brought everyone’s attention to him. Sumire’s hand tightened on Goros, she clearly made a move to get up, but Goro grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
“What the hell? Be careful with how you treat other people’s property!” Sojiro scolded. Akira didn’t care. His eyes didn’t move off either of them, Goro clearly studying his face.
Goro smiled, “Alright, he’s ours.” He let Sumire go.
She shot off the bar stool and sprinted over. Akira dropped his bag, moved out of the doorway, and braced himself. Sumire threw her arms around Akira’s neck, and pressed her lips against his. Akira in turn wrapped his hands around her waist, picked her up and spun them around in a circle. Eventually, Sumire broke the kiss, starting to giggle. A loud “Senpai!” was cheered alongside the wonderful laughter as they spun. Akira held her tightly, burying his face into the crook of her neck. He spun for as long as he could, taking a brief moment to enjoy her giggling, indulging in the sound of her voice, and in the warmth of her embrace. He heard a small, forced, cough, and eventually he had to let her down. Sumi immediately returned his earlier gesture, and shoved her face directly into Akira’s chest as she hugged him tighter.
“Glad to see you didn’t disappoint.” Goro Akechi spoke up, very deliberately choosing his words as he always did. Always talking with an edge that could viciously tear through hardened steel. Akira knew he meant more, and he was going to embarrass Goro whether the Detective was ready or not.
Really, what better was there than the classic, “Honey, I’m home!” Akira’s smile was wide, and aimed directly at Goro, whose eyebrows were raised.
“Do you really have nothing better to say when you enter a room?” Goro’s smirk betrayed him, the smile giving away his genuine feelings.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on Senpai?” Sumire lifted her head and stared up directly at Akira, cutting short their banter. “We can’t think of anything, but does Lavenza-San know anything?”
Akira hadn’t even thought about asking the Velvet Room. His plan already needed some drastic rearranging, and he very much needed to start brainstorming with his partners. He simply had to shrug. “No idea.”
“Excuse me, what’s going on here?” Sojiro finally got Akira’s attention.
The hierophant personas that still lay dormant inside Akira’s screamed. He screwed a small smile to his face, and made sure to be as polite as he could. “Nice to meet you, my name is Akira Kurusu. I’ll be in your care.” He hated being this formal with people he was supposed to be close with.
Sumire finally dislodged herself from Akira’s chest, and bowed towards Sojiro. “Yes! Sorry! Please take very good care of him Boss-San!” It was as polite as anyone could have been in the situation. Sojiro couldn’t help but smile and exhale quickly through his nose, clearly chuffed. “Ah, will do young lady.”
Akira and Goro both smiled. Akira knew he was thinking the same, that they were both so proud of how Sumire could be so specifically manipulative when she wanted to be.
“Excuse me-” The old man that Akira remembered sat in the shop from time to time started to speak up. The group all looked over to him, clearly intrigued by the individual. “Are you, Goro Akechi?” Akira watched Goro’s eyes sharpen, his brow furrowed, before the mask of the Detective Prince was being screwed on.
“No, sorry” Sumire answered first. “He gets that all the time, but if you saw them both side by side, you'd see they’re pretty easy to tell apart!”
Goro’s eyes stayed impressed with Sumire. Akira wouldn’t hide that he felt a bit jealous of all the praise he was giving Sumi, as he felt the tug to weigh in. “Yeah,” Akira walked over to Goro, an inch away, so close that he could kiss him. “We told you, that’s why you can’t wear your hair like this.”
Akira started to run his fingers through Goro’s hair. Messing it up, puffing it in the same way Akira did it each and every morning. A perfect routine that gave beadhead to anyone, in the exact right way. It was also just an excuse to run his fingers through that silky, smooth, immaculate hair. Once he was done, Akira could tell Sumi wanted to laugh.
The old man seemed to believe them though, as he apologised. “That must be incredibly frustrating, I’m sorry.”
Goro opened his mouth, closed it and considered something for a moment. “It’s fine, he is a hit in popular magazines isn’t he?” Goro complimented himself in a cheery voice, but his face fell flat. At least it wasn’t specifically hostile. “My name is Shiomi.”
The old man nodded, “Nice to meet you Shiomi-San. I apologise for interrupting your reunion.” Once he started to get up, his wife seemed to fall alongside him. They nodded their goodbyes to Sojiro, with only the wife sneaking in a quiet “Good catch!” to Sumire as they tried to leave.
“Well, I guess I can show you all to his room. He will be staying here after all, there’s a situation in my house that needs to be resolved before he can properly move in.” Sojiro grabbed everyone’s attention. The politeness in his tone was quite upsetting, considering how rude he was to Akira the first time around. As he looked at the girl practically swinging off his arm, Akira figured out pretty quickly why Sojiro had such a fast change of heart.
After climbing the stairs, Akira realised he had forgotten how horrific the attic was when he'd first arrived. Petrol containers, bags of garbage, a ladder, some ancient space heater thing. He winced at the idea of Sumire seeing what he was expected to live in. He’d probably have to remind her about how much freedom it gave him, compared to staying in Sojiro’s house proper.
Luckily the worst Akira had to deal with was a quick “attic trash, after all.” which Goro quietly muttered, then followed up with a classic plastic, Detective Prince smile.
“We can clean this in no time, Senpai! After all, it’s the three of us this time!” The cheerful optimism in Sumire's voice gave Akira something to hope for.
Akira remembered it taking him weeks to clean everything. The workbench especially went the longest when he had to do it alone. Today however, they were done in the few hours that went by. A strict “No cuddling, it’s distracting!” rule was set in place by Sumire, which she strongly managed to abide by for a solid fifteen minutes. Even with the rule, they were not just able to fully clean the room, but Akira was also able to abuse his third eye and remove all of Futaba’s cameras. He was certain he’d be hearing from Alibaba at some point, so he might as well speed it up.
Eventually they found themselves exhausted, but on an incredibly clean couch. By some miracle, Goro worked magic when it came to cleaning furniture. Akira forced himself into the middle, with Sumire on his right, Goro on his left.
“So, should we come up with some sort of actual plan?" Goro felt a need to break the silence, clearly itching to have some form of plan of attack.
"Considering that we're as alone as we can be right now, should we discuss the most expedient way we can get out of this hell?”
“Live.. an extra year with you two...” Sumire earnestly, tiredly, responded. Putting her head on Akira’s shoulder, she wrapped her left arm around him, so she could touch Goro.
“I need your help punching Sugimura in the face.” Akria responded, figuring that the key to his entire plan was sitting right next to him on the couch, feeling up his leg.
Goro’s nails dug into his thigh through his trousers. “When does the god question you? Instead of playing super hero with all your friends' horrible backstories, I would prefer to get back to our actual reality.” Goro cracked a sinister looking smile. “Afterall, I was so excited about you going home.”
Akira heard a loud slap to his left. Goro quickly followed up with a “That hurt.”
“No mean.. To Senpai… ” Sumire was already falling asleep on Akira’s shoulder. She was so cute, he couldn’t help but lean down to kiss her on her forehead.
“We can have a rest and come up with this later, okay?” Akira proposed, half expecting to be shot down.
“...Fine.” Goro scowled, but inevitably rested his own head against the couch. Akira chuckled at the exhaustion of his partners. He’d definitely put them through more physical activity than the light cleaning.
Akira found room for his hand in Goro’s, and let the warm embrace of the two of them bring him comfort. Knowledge on how to deal with whatever was happening would probably be found in the Velvet Room. And for that, he needed sleep to take him. As he drifted off to sleep, Sumire rearranged herself to wrap herself around his stomach, bringing her knees up to the couch and leaning on him. Goro in turn moved Akira’s arm around himself, in order to use Akira’s entire body as a pillow.
They’d deal with whatever hand they'd been dealt tomorrow. For now, Akira was back where he desperately wanted to be, where he didn’t want to leave: on the couch of his home, wrapped between Sumire Yoshizawa, and Goro Akechi. Akira closed his eyes and smiled, looking forward to whatever god tried to get in his way next. With these two by his side, there was nothing they couldn’t conquer.