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“You need... To pull your weight…” Akechi wheezed.
Akira watched his partner for the day lay facedown on the ground – the way his wiry back rose and fell with his harsh breathing, how he relaxed his death-grip on his emotional support pistol, the way he splayed like an ink splatter on the white tile. Loki perched statuesque on his sword nearby while Raoul sauntered in circles around the other Persona, taking long drags off his cigar and letting out puffs of smoke periodically.
Akira himself leaned against the sterile walls of the new Mementos, a vertical shadow to match the darkness pooled on the floor. They’d finished their objective in just an hour and sent the rest of the group home, promising to join them soon. Akira then spent the rest of the afternoon tagging along while Akechi savaged anything unfortunate enough to get in his aimless way.
He had no idea how many miles they’d wandered or how many Shadow’s they’d killed. He just followed Akechi on his warpath, wordlessly providing support in shields and healing. “I’m pulling my weight and keeping yours alive.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” Akechi snapped, even more venomous than usual.
Akira wondered why. He ran through a few options of things to say in his head. None of them jumped out as being correct, so he went with transparency. Not like Akechi really had the energy to fight him about it right now. “I dunno, you just seemed like you needed this.”
Akechi struggled to his knees. His arms were shaking as he braced himself. “You don’t know what I need.”
At least he didn’t overexert himself until he puked. Again.
Akira just shrugged and turned to watch their Personas play. “You’re right.”
Raoul finished his orbit around Loki and stopped in front of him, offering his cigar with his offhand propped on his hip. Loki did not take it. Like most of the times Raoul bothered him, Loki refused to move at all. Any motions he did make were overshadowed by the too-bright light reflecting off his skin. Staring at him for too long gave Akira a headache.
Akechi was still struggling to catch his breath. Akira glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, the guilt of creeping on him in such a vulnerable moment not enough to stop his perverse desires. Akechi’s head hung low between his arms, a few strands of hair escaping through the mouth of his helmet and the rest bunching in the visor. He coughed hard and spit on the ground.
Akira quickly looked away to something less inappropriate. Loki continued to not acknowledge Raoul, who then made a show of inspecting his companion. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he bent at the waist, one clawed finger tapping his chin while he swayed his hips. He stood up straight after a moment and started touching Loki’s face. He pawed around clumsily, searching for something, then scraped a claw against the false teeth bisecting Loki’s face.
“He’s as annoying and invasive as you are,” Akechi grumbled, lifting his head.
Akira grunted his agreement. I wish he’d stop flirting, he thought.
As if he could hear him (he could), Raoul chirped. He failed to find an orifice to insert his cigar into so he settled for blowing a lungful of smoke into Loki’s face.
Raoul flapped his wings once to dodge the vicious slash aimed at his stomach. One moment Loki was sitting, and the next his sword had already returned to his hand and hung menacingly at his hip. He stood on one hoof with the other slightly raised, perfectly motionless save for his head tracking his annoying companion. Raoul snickered.
“I don’t know why he’s like that,” Akira lied.
During this, Akechi had managed to flop into a sitting position. His legs sprawled in front of him and he let both arms hang over his knees. He sounded marginally less furious. “Perhaps you should do some introspection if you can’t even figure out why the literal personification of you does something.”
Raoul danced back into range of Loki’s sword, indifferent to the glare burning into him. He kept pushing, testing to see how far into Loki’s personal space he could get before he was attacked again. Raoul got until they were chest to chest and briefly nuzzled at the other Persona’s neck.
Please stop.
Raoul’s left wing made a sensuous sweep around his own legs and Loki’s, caging them together. One of Loki’s braids had draped over his striped shoulder and chest from his earlier attack. Raoul picked it up and started playing with the end of it, rolling the coiled hair between his fingers and then even pressed his shoulder against Loki’s.
Akira swallowed hard and glanced over to gauge Akechi’s reaction. He wasn’t saying anything. He just looked somewhat disgruntled, frowning thoughtfully, but that could be for any number of reasons. He didn’t look disgusted or outraged like he should.
Akira returned his attention to his Persona. You’re making me look desperate.
When Raoul didn’t stop, he added, Whore.
Raoul’s wings dropped and he turned to Akira with a contemptuous expression. He silently crushed the lit end of his cigar against Loki’s horn and flicked the butt away.
Akira heard a weird sound – Akechi wheezing, or perhaps choking on something, but realized he had just laughed. “Your Persona has an attitude.”
“Mm.”
Raoul brazenly turned his back on Loki and stalked back over to his owner. Surprisingly, Loki did not take the opportunity to cut him in two. Akira craned his neck back as Raoul towered over him.
His voice boomed in Akira’s head. Life is short.
I know.
Raoul snorted and gestured at the other two. So do something about it.
“Nah.”
Coward.
He felt both Akechi and Loki’s eyes on him. He wondered what conclusions they were drawing from his conversation, or lack of it.
Raoul rolled his eyes. Hurry up and make up your mind, he said breezily. He manifested another cigar from inside his jacket, clicked a flame to life between his claws, then lit it. He didn’t bother looking at Akira again as he spoke. I want a piece of that before one of you dies.
Akira leaned to his left to get a better view of Loki – the rictus leer carved into his face, the casual posture that could maim and tear at any moment, the intense stare. Akira then looked over at Akechi still slumped on the ground. He didn’t smile much anymore. Akira got to see his real him – childish, tired and hostile, the narrow body that was much stronger than it looked, the resentment in his stare.
I get it, Akira thought.
He turned his back on their Personas and walked over to Akechi, nudging at his discarded sword with the toe of his boot. He knew better than to offer a hand, not when Akechi was already down. “Ready to go home?”
Akechi glared up at him. Akira didn’t like keeping eye contact for too long but he worried about what Akechi would find if he looked away first. So, he subjected himself to scrutiny, keeping his face as neutral as he could.
Thankfully Akechi broke eye contact first. He retrieved his sword and used it to push himself to his feet, the tip embedding in the tile with a ceramic screech. His arms shook as he put too much of his weight onto his weapon, but he didn’t fall and impale himself. He swayed on his feet, still breathing hard, then wordlessly turned to make his way back to the entrance of Mementos.
Akira let him gain a lead, glancing back at their Personas one last time. Raoul darted over to Loki, caressed one of his horns, then pressed his muzzle to the blank face.
Loki didn’t react at all.
Raoul then removed his hat with a flourish, bowing deeply before dissolving into embers and returning to Akira. Loki lingered for a moment, silent and still, before abruptly vanishing in his own pillar of fire.
Akira chewed on the side of his tongue and watched where they stood for a bit longer, then went to follow Akechi.
He’d just have to be content with keeping him alive.