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Things would be better if I were less broken.
The thought claws itself into his skull.
It’s exhausting, living this way.
A thick blanket of smoke swallows up his brain. The world feels fuzzier now. Distant.
Nobody wants me here, the way that I am now
Its talons curl into him, white-hot pain flashing
Don’t be an idiot stop giving i n and f ig ht thisyou’reembarrassingyourse
He can feel himself screaming but the noise doesn’t reach his own ears
He would want me around if I was different
He imag ines his own face, smiling, wit hout any da rkness, sitt ing acr oss fro m him
Far away, someone yells something at him, muffled.
“Crow!”
--
They drag him to the nearest safe room when the samarecarm doesn’t wake him up. Some of the girls yell at Ryuji when he lets Akechi slide off his shoulders and land inelegantly against the table, and they go back and forth over that while Makoto checks his head for injuries.
“How’s he doing?” As the leader of the group, it’s not like Joker has any choice but to remain calm, but it’s not an easy task. He’s never seen anyone not get back up after a samarecarm, and the scream Crow had let out before passing out had been completely unnerving. Even more unnerving than the usual bloodthirsty screams.
Makoto finishes her inspection and sighs, pulling out their bag of items and rummaging through it uselessly. It’s not like they can force medicine down his throat in this condition, and she clearly knows it, but she looks anyway. “I don’t know. He seems fine, but…”
“He’d probably be awake by now if Skull hadn’t slammed his head into a table,” Morgana cuts in.
“Hey, give me a break, alright? I said I was sorry! My knee’s been killing me all day, it just slipped.”
“It seems like some of us are getting tired,” Haru points out gently. “Maybe we should--”
Suddenly, a burst of blue flame startles a shout from the entire room. For a split second, Ren thinks that Crow has somehow spontaneously combusted and deliriously relives that moment of grief in the engine room all over again. But then the flames subside and Crow is still there, but different. What’s more, he’s finally awake. He groans weakly as he sits up, rubbing his head, clad in his white and red Robin Hood clothes.
“What…? Where am I?” Crow--no, Akechi; there’s nothing ‘Crow’ about that pristine outfit--slowly blinks himself awake. The entire room just stares at him in stunned silence. Notably, Sumire looks almost as shocked as she did the first time she witnessed Crow in battle. And a little starstruck.
Rather than snap at them to pick their jaws off the floor, Akechi frowns, confused. “Um.”
Makoto is the first to shake herself out of it. “You passed out earlier during battle,” she explains. “You...might have a concussion,” she then adds, as if grasping for an explanation for whatever the hell is going on right now.
“Ah. I see.” Akechi balances himself against the table and removes his mask so he can scrub a hand over his face, sighing. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to worry you. Is it alright if I take a moment to recollect myself?"
“Uh, sure.” Makoto shoots a look at Ren, somehow telegraphing ‘You know him better than I do, you say something ’ with her eyes alone. It doesn’t sound like one of those ‘calms before the storm’ Akechi sometimes gets, though, so he’s pretty lost as well.
Before he can think of what to say, Akechi continues, removing his hand from his face so he can smile politely at her. “Thank you. I promise I won’t be long.”
Across the room, Ren can hear Ryuji whisper something loud to Ann, who elbows him sharply. Everyone otherwise keeps exchanging uncomfortable looks instead of saying something , and it doesn’t come as a surprise when Akechi inevitably picks up on the tension and points it out.
“Is...something the matter?” he asks, in the middle of inspecting his gun.
The room more or less responds with variations upon the word ‘uh.’
Finally, Ann brightens. “Wait, I know!” She picks up the bag of items Makoto had been sorting through and sorts through it. “He got brainwashed earlier, right? So all we have to do is give him some relax gel.”
And now a relieved ‘ohhh’ is rippling through the room, save for Akechi, who just seems even more confused. “Yeah, that was a nasty hit,” Ryuji recalls. “First brainwash, then that massive psychic attack that totally wiped him out.”
“I’m…I’m sorry, brainwashed?” Akechi echoes, holstering his gun, but the conversation trucks along without him.
“I don’t know… Shouldn’t the effects have worn out by now?” says Haru as Ann victoriously holds up a bottle. Ann tosses the bottle to Ren, who catches it.
“But that does seem to be the most likely explanation…” says Yusuke, tapping his chin with one finger.
Ann puts her hands on her hips. “Come on, let’s just try it. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“Weeeell…” Futaba inputs from her spot in the corner of the room. “Do we know if he’s got any allergies?”
The conversation carries on without them in that fashion, spiraling into a whole other discussion about allergies and food. Akechi watches Joker warily as he approaches, and Joker can’t help but smirk a little. “So that part’s still the same,” he comments, quietly enough for it to go unnoted in the ongoing discussion. He pops open the bottle and spreads some gel over his gloved hand. “Hold still.”
It’s clear that Akechi would rather do this himself, but instead of telling him off, he leans away from Joker’s touch and says, “I’m not sure this is necessary.” Joker pushed back his bangs with his dry hand and pokes him in the forehead with his gelled up fingers in lieu of giving him a response. Akechi yelps and frowns at him, deeply affronted, but it lacks the same bite as his usual glare. In fact, even for Detective Prince Akechi, this look is pretty tame. Joker smears the gel across his forehead just to get a reaction out of him -- and he does, eventually, get swatted away with a curt yet mostly polite ‘that’s enough, thank you.’
“You sure?” Joker prods, grinning. Even when he’s brainwashed, Akechi is too easy. “They say it’s more effective the more you spread it around. Like here.”
Fully expecting to be swatted down again, he reaches for the spot behind Akechi’s ear, brushing his hair aside to do so. But Akechi doesn’t swat him down, just sits there with that confused yet reluctantly obedient frown that still isn’t a real glare, hands sitting in his lap. It throws Joker for a loop, and he withdraws quickly, embarrassed by how unintentionally intimate that was. He only takes some comfort in the fact that Akechi seems just as embarrassed about it, his hands restless in his lap.
“Well then,” Makoto’s voice cuts through his train of thought. “I guess all that’s left to do is wait. Did anyone else need some healing?”
The group huddles over the item bag, picking out medicine and snacks and even switching out some accessories. All the while, Joker can’t help checking Akechi’s face every so often, just to see what kind of reaction he’ll have when he finally comes to his senses in his white suit. But Akechi just continues to look reluctant and lost, like he’s not sure what’s happening but is too polite to ask. The others gradually seem to realize it, too, the uncomfortable atmosphere from before slowly boiling back up again.
Morgana is the first to bring them back on topic. “So...how are we supposed to know if it worked?”
“Not sure…” Ann chews on her melon bread and looks at Ryuji. “Skull, say something that would piss him off.”
Ryuji beams around the rim of his Arginade and grins wickedly at Akechi, blatantly ignoring Makoto’s protests. “Hey, Crow, you in the mood for some pancakes after this?”
The room erupts into a series of groans, most of them along the lines of ‘eh’ or ‘that was weak, Skull,’ as well as one ‘I don’t get it’ from Sumire.
“It’s a reference to a mistake I made in the past,” Akechi explains to her, eerily calm. “When I first met Skull and Panther, I jumped into the conversation when I heard someone say ‘pancakes.’ But in fact, Mona was the only one who had mentioned pancakes in that discussion. It then became clear that I had previously been to the Metaverse, contrary to what I told them later. You see, no one can understand Mona outside the Metaverse unless they’ve been there before. So, basically, ‘pancakes’ is a reference to the moment they caught me in a lie.”
“Oh, I see,” Sumire nods, though she’s still frowning with some confusion. Someone really ought to sit her down and explain the whole Black Mask thing someday, though Joker isn’t sure she could look at Akechi the same way after that.
Ryuji sighs. “Man, it’s no fun when you explain it…”
“Especially when it wasn’t that funny to begin with.”
“Shut up, Mona!” Ryuji casts a desperate look at Joker. “I’m tagging out. Joker, you’re up.”
Joker cracks his knuckles, smirking when Akechi gets visibly nervous, but Makoto is quick to shut him down. “Guys, we are not taking turns poking fun at someone who might have a concussion.” There’s a collection of boos, aws, and ‘lame’s from several people, including Ryuji and Joker. “Save it. Crow, how are you feeling? Can you stand?”
“I…yes, I can stand.” And then he does, as if to demonstrate. “However, I’m not quite sure I follow. Why does everyone think that I’ve been brainwashed?”
“Um, well…” Makoto looks to Joker for help yet again.
“You’re not acting like yourself,” he provides. “It’s just us, Crow. We know you. You don’t have to act like the Detective Prince or hide your true persona from us.” Though it’s not like anyone asked him to drop the detective prince act in the first place; he simply did that all on his own.
Akechi blinks at him, then laughs. Not a short, amused ‘hm,’ dark chuckle, or maniacal laugh. One of those princely laughs that makes everyone cringe. “My ‘true’ persona, you say? Well, rest assured, there is no need for concern. I’m perfectly fine. I just decided to take a break from all that...anger, for a while. In other words, I’ve simply, erm…” He scratches his face. “...‘taken a chill pill,’ as they say.”
Morgana groans. “Yeah, he’s definitely still brainwashed.”
“Aiight, I’ll get the harisen.”
“ Nobody is slapping Crow !”
“Seriously, didn’t we just say that he might have a concussion?”
“Aw, c’mon, Oracle, don’t look at me like that, it was a joke!”
“I suppose that’s 0 for 2…”
“Gee, thanks, Fox.”
“Joker.” Everyone stops. Akechi is leveling Joker such a measured look that Joker almost thinks the relax gel has worked. “You’re our leader, correct? What’s your call?”
Joker just stares at him blankly. “My call?” he parrots back. It’s clear that Akechi is fishing for something, but he has no idea what.
Akechi shrugs, dusting himself off. “Well, I’m feeling perfectly fine. But if you say there’s something wrong, then I suppose we’ll have to deal with it before moving forward.” He then smiles pleasantly. “So? What’ll it be?”
It feels like a challenge. Is he hiding something? If he’s been brainwashed, he might have somehow been twisted into becoming a spy for Maruki. And even if he’s not, there’s still the possibility that he really does have a concussion. Either way, it’s too dangerous to keep going like this.
“Let’s head back,” he says eventually. So they do.
--
That evening, Takemi can’t find anything wrong with him, other than a few scrapes and bruises. What’s worse is that he acts so goddamn pleasant the whole time that Takemi is genuinely charmed by him, though maybe the everyday Akechi would’ve done the same in this situation -- if not for the sake of keeping up appearances around strangers, then for the sake of endearing himself to someone Ren likes in an attempt to one-up him. (He hadn’t been subtle when he tried to pit Yoshizawa against the Phantom Thieves, at all. The joke was on Akechi, of course; Ren likes competing with him, but friendship isn’t a competition.)
“I must say,” Akechi says on their way out of the clinic, “I find it mildly insulting that you all seem to think my good mood must mean something is amiss. Of course, I appreciate the concern, but...”
“Good mood, huh?” The last time Ren saw Akechi in a ‘good mood’ was when Ren tripped down the stairs on his way out of Penguin Sniper after losing three rounds of billiards. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it.”
Akechi smiles at him. “Oh? Then what’s your diagnosis, Amamiya-kun?” Another challenge. This guy really never changes, does he? Just piles on more layers of passive aggression to sort through.
Ren shakes his head. “If I knew, I would’ve fixed it by now.”
“Would you?” Akechi seems amused. “And what if the ‘problem’ was simply that I feel happier now?”
“Sounds like Maruki talk,” Ren says immediately.
Akechi chuckles and shrugs, raising his hands in an ‘oh well’ kind of gesture. “Well, perhaps you’re right... I’m at a bit of a loss, though. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to prove my sincerity to you if you don’t trust me in the first place.”
“You don’t have to. I can tell.” Mostly. Sometimes the line between ‘genuinely malicious’ and ‘malice designed to cover up his real feelings’ can get a bit blurry. Any kind of malice at this point would be a miracle, though.
“I see. Then, if there’s nothing else--”
“There is.” Ren allows himself a grin, feels a tug of something victorious in his gut when Akechi’s eyes flash with curiosity. “Wanna play 701?”
--
[ANN]: Are we sure it’s a good idea to leave those guys alone together?
[MAKOTO]: Well…
[HARU]: I trust our leader!
[MAKOTO]: Agreed.
[RYUJI]: Man this ain’t fair
[RYUJI]: I wanted to go too! I haven’t played darts in ages
[FUTABA]: Mona says it’s not worth it lol
[FUTABA]: ‘Trust me it’s really uncomfortable’
[RYUJI]: The hell
[ANN]: Uhh, what’s that supposed to mean?
[FUTABA]: 🦽🦽🦽
[RYUJI]: ???
[FUTABA]: 3rd wheel
[RYUJI]: WTF
--
Truth be told, Ren had already been planning to do this before the whole brainwash thing happened. The last time they played darts, his heart had just about hit the floor when Akechi casually suggested 701, when he’d barely scraped by in 501 with Ryuji the other day. After three mediocre rounds of it (two with Akechi, one with an extremely reluctant Morgana), Ren had felt so mortified he could barely even look Akechi in the eye.
It was an absolutely ridiculous standard to reach - what kind of human being hits three bullseyes in a row, every single time? - but he still felt shitty about failing to reach it. Something about being Akechi’s self-proclaimed rival made these stupid competitions feel a lot more important than they really were, like if he slipped up then Akechi would realize he isn’t a worthy rival, or something. More than that, Ren would be disappointed in himself. And he was. Extremely embarrassed and disappointed. And as they gathered up their things and headed out for the night, he braced himself for the mockery to begin.
“Your skills have gone soft,” Akechi told him on the way down the stairs (which he did not trip over that night). There was a surprising lack of humor in it; more matter-of-fact than taunting. “I suppose that’s what happens when the only partners available to you are weak. You’ll need more practice if you want to keep up.”
It took a moment for Ren to process all that through his Akechi translator. “Are you...comforting me?” he said eventually.
Akechi paused in his descent to level a glare at him, snorting derisively. “What part of that sounded comforting to you?”
“The part where you’re not lording your victory over me, I guess.”
“Victory? Amamiya, it’s a team game. Your loss is mine as well.” Akechi crossed his arms. “Even if it was my ‘victory,’ it’d hardly be something worth gloating about when you clearly lack the experience to match me. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not...” He hesitated. It’s not like you , Ren imagined him saying. “It’s not becoming of my equal,” he said instead.
That last part especially had Ren grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll catch up to you, then,” he promised. “Just wait for me.”
Akechi’s expression had changed then. Surprise, briefly. Then a quiet, satisfied ‘hm’ as he smiled back and averted his eyes. “Of course.” You are my rival, after all, went unsaid. For some reason, Morgana started gagging after that and later refused to accompany him to Kichijoji at night, ever again.
It’s been about a week since then, and Ren has come prepared. He’s practiced on his own, read the literature, and even bought his own dart set (an incredibly expensive purchase that had Morgana yowling in the middle of the store). It sits comfortably in his messenger bag as they climb the stairs together, right next to the glove he’s been holding onto. He figures he should give that back to Akechi eventually, but not now. After all this is over, maybe. Some nervous, paranoid part of him worries that giving it back too soon might make it easier for Akechi to disappear again.
“Oh! You came prepared,” Akechi remarks, eyeing the dart set on the table. That plastic smile still on his face. “I’m glad to see you’re taking this seriously.”
Ren rolls his throwing shoulder, warming up. “Just trying to keep up.” He winks.
For now, Akechi just laughs, but that’ll change in a minute. Competition has always been the one thing that riles Akechi up more than anything. Those nights spent playing billiards had been the closest Ren had been to seeing the darkness beneath the mask. A smile that was a little too sharp; a curious gleam in his eye whenever Ren showed off a new move. He’s still no match for Akechi at billiards - at least not with his predominant hand, which is what they’ve been playing with recently - but he’s confident he can keep up at darts.
“701, yes?” Akechi gestures at the board. “After you, Joker.”
—
[ANN]: Ohh yeah, I forgot how competitive they can get
[FUTABA]: Ren is gonna troll the niceness out of him kekeke
[HARU]: I hope it works!
[MAKOTO]: It should. I can’t remember seeing Akechi-kun genuinely mad before he...you know.
[ANN]: ...Almost died?
[YUSUKE]: Killed Joker?
[MAKOTO]: Yes. That.
[SUMIRE]: I’m sorry...
[SUMIRE]: Can someone explain the joke?
[HARU]: ? What joke, Sumi-chan?
[SUMIRE]: The joke about Akechi-san killing Ren-senpai?
…
[SUMIRE]: Hello?
…
[FUTABA]: A hitman and a phantom thief walk into an interrogation room
[RYUJI]: Into a pancake house*
[MAKOTO]: Stop
—
Hitting three triple 20s in a row ends up being a lot harder when his rival’s well being depends on the sharpness of his throwing skills, and said rival is staring at him the whole time, and his cat isn’t here to diffuse some of the tension.
They just barely lose the first round and have to take a break to shake off the nerves before the next one. You look nervous , he can imagine the real Akechi leering at him as he chugs his water. That eager to impress me, are you? The current Akechi just waits for him patiently and cheerfully encourages him to relax, which is passive aggressive in its own way but nowhere near the level of snark Ren wants him to be at.
“Mind if I give you some pointers?” Akechi pipes up after the first throw. Without waiting for an answer, he comes up behind Ren and adjusts his posture, his hand warm on the small of Ren’s back. His free hand gently guides Ren’s elbow to a new position, then holds his hand, adjusting the grip.
“Here.” The word comes out as a soft breath in Ren’s ear. “Just take it slow.” Easy for him to say.
Without turning his head, Ren steals a glance at him. He imagines the real Akechi looking back at him with the same patient confidence he exudes during a baton pass. Trust, or Akechi’s version of it anyway. The current Akechi just smiles at him, the picture of politeness, and it makes his stomach churn unpleasantly.
The new posture works wonders for him; he ends up landing way more triple 20s than before, and they slowly whittle down the points until the last round, with 41 points to go. Even before all that training, Ren could clean this up with one hand tied behind his back, but he can’t help but feel massively disappointed in Akechi’s response. Certainly, there had been the initial gleam in his eyes the moment Akechi realized Ren was aiming for the triple 20s to outmatch his bullseyes. But all he said about it was something along the lines of ‘you never cease to amaze me, Amamiya-kun.’ No smirks, no low, velvety laughter, no lingering looks after each turn.
It bothers him more than he thought it would. Even at his best, he couldn’t bring the real Goro Akechi out from his shell. Maybe he shouldn’t have expected it to work that way.
Well, fine. New strategy, then.
Ren speeds through his last three shots, each of them missing the board entirely and instead hitting the outside number ring. “Woops,” he says, looking Akechi dead in the eye.
Akechi blinks at him, shocked. “A-Amamiya-kun… Why did you do that?”
He shrugs, gathering up his things and carefully placing them back in the bag. “Feels wrong to win our first game when you’re not in your right mind.”
That, at last, provokes a twitch of irritation out of Akechi. “Th-that’s…” He tries to compose himself with a laugh, but there’s an angry undercurrent to it. “That’s pretty unfair, Amamiya-kun. You promised me to give it your all, didn’t you?”
“Nope. I promised to give my all to the everyday Akechi. Not this one.”
“‘Everyday Akechi’... Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Yep. I’m screwing with you.” Ren finishes packing up and places his hands in his pockets. “I refuse to take you seriously until you return to normal.”
“Is that so…?” His smile tightens for a second before dropping entirely. “I see. So that’s how you feel.”
“It is,” Ren confirms. Then pats him on the shoulder and leads them back outside, where some snow has begun to accumulate on the ground. Their breaths materialize like puffs of smoke as they huddle near the entrance and sullenly wait for someone to say something.
Akechi ends up being the one to break the silence. “Amamiya-kun…If this is about my choice of persona, I’m sorry, but I refuse to return to Loki.”
Ren stares. Where did that come from? “It’s...not about that. I just want you back to normal.”
“What’s the point in that? I can still pull my own weight as I am now.”
“The point is that you’re my friend, and this isn’t you.”
“You prefer me to be miserable, then.” His voice is trembling with thinly veiled disdain. “Does it make you so unhappy, to see me normal and healthy? Would you rather I wallow in my own hatred forever?”
“No. But acting like someone you’re not won’t make that anger go away.”
“There is no anger here, Amamiya,” Akechi growls at him, which is just rich really. “I have nothing to be upset about except you. In this world, I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m a clean man. Someone truly worthy of being your rival. Isn’t that enough?”
That strikes a nerve in him - something so inherently against Akechi’s principles coming out of Akechi’s own mouth. “Are you even listening to yourself?” Ren finally snaps back. “None of this is going to erase any of what you’ve done, and you know that. The real Goro Akechi wouldn’t hide away from his past in some fantasy world and pretend he’s done nothing wrong. He’d fight for his own path, in the real world, regardless of what anybody else has to say about it.”
“Isn’t this what you want ?” Akechi hisses, snarling, and it’s almost him, it’s almost , but the words aren’t right at all. “This was the person you spent all those months with. The Detective Prince. He’s the one you competed with, ate with, served coffee. The moment you let the real Goro Akechi return, that person will be dead.”
“Fine! I never wanted that in the first place.” Ren digs into his bag and yanks out Akechi’s glove. Akechi visibly recoils from it, as if he’d been slapped. “All that time we spent together, I was waiting to see the guy who dragged me down to Mementos and threw this in my face. The guy who kept pushing me because he saw who I really was, what I could really do. My real rival. No bullshit, no holding back. I didn’t care about your stupid mask. I wanted to see you .”
Something flickers just then - a shift in cognition, the world twisting just slightly around them before snapping back into place. By the time the world has readjusted itself, Akechi’s face has gone completely blank, save for his eyes, soft with nostalgia, transfixed on the glove in Ren’s hand.
A couple of patrons shatter the moment by squeezing in between them to get up the stairs. Ren quickly stuffs the glove back in his bag and glances up at Akechi, who’s now studying Ren’s face with a detached fascination. That kind, neutral smile from the Detective Prince is long gone now, leaving behind something more cold and cynical. It’s the kind of look that could see right through him - for everything that he is, everything that he isn’t; for everything that he could be. Ren waits for him to say it, whatever he’s clearly got on his mind.
The tendons in Akechi’s neck flex as he swallows. “You ought to throw that away,” he says eventually. Leave it to the real Goro Akechi to make his comeback a stinger.
“If you didn’t want me to have it, you shouldn’t have given it to me,” Ren counters, earning a quiet ‘hm’ from Akechi.
“I didn’t expect you to carry it around like a lovesick puppy,” he says, and that one stings, too. But his voice trembles toward the end, on the ‘love’ in ‘lovesick,’ and something tells him this is difficult for Akechi to say. “But fine. Do whatever you want.”
Ren adjusts the strap on his shoulder and tries not to sound as hurt as he feels. “Don’t be a prick. We both know it meant something to you when you gave it to me.”
“It wasn’t a gift. It was a challenge.”
“Yeah. A challenge that meant something to the both of us.”
Akechi isn’t even looking at him anymore. He laughs, bitter and humorless. “That Dr. Maruki really doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, does he?” It’s so out of left field that Ren can do nothing but stare as Akechi laughs again. Before he can even begin to ask, Akechi’s eyes are locked on him again, dark and fierce and magnetic. “If you ever throw another game with me as your partner, I’ll strangle you with your own scarf.”
The unofficial Akechi translator processes that one as a ‘thank you.’ No apology for his previous comment, but fine. He knows Akechi is full of shit. If Ren ever threw out his glove, he’d probably kick his ass.
“You’re welcome,” Ren responds diplomatically. “And noted.”
Akechi scoffs. And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away, throwing up a middle finger when Ren cups his hands around his mouth and calls after him, “Welcome back, Crow!”
--
[REN]: Meetup at the hideout at noon?
[MAKOTO]: Sure
[YUSUKE]: Understood
[SUMIRE]: I might be running a little late but I’ll be there!
[ANN]: Sooo how’d it go last night?
[RYUJI]: Oh yeah, did you guys finally beat 701??
[AKECHI]: No.
[AKECHI]: Our leader choked on the last round.
[REN]: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
[FUTABA]: lolololololol
[ANN]: On the bright side, looks like Crow is back!
[FUTABA]: \o/
[MAKOTO]: Good work, Ren. Thanks for doing that.
[HARU]: Welcome back!
[RYUJI]: For real?! Man that sucks
[RYUJI]: About the darts thing I mean
[RYUJI]: Ren, didn’t you spend like 100k on that dart set?
[FUTABA]: Whhhhhhhhh
[ANN]: Uh yeah seconded, what????
[YUSUKE]: That’s quite the purchase…
[MAKOTO]: I don’t remember seeing a dart set with him the last time we went, when did he buy this?
[RYUJI]: Like a week ago
[RYUJI]: He was super gung ho about it, he’s been going to that place every night for a whole week just to try it out
[AKECHI]: Is that so?
[REN]: Hey sorry something came up last minute so the meeting’s canceled
[FUTABA]: D:
[MAKOTO]: Wait really?
[RYUJI]: Aiight just let us know when you’re ready Ren
[ANN]: Ryuji this is your fault
[RYUJI]: ?? The eff?? What’d I do???
—
[AKECHI]: That eager to impress me, were you?
…
[AKECHI]: Good.
[AKECHI]: I expect you to maintain that level of performance for our next round.
…
[REN]: Ok
—
In retrospect, Dr. Maruki’s utopia had still been the result of his own arrogance. The dreams of a hack therapist who romanticized other people’s lives to the point he rewrote them in his own image. Akechi always assumed that was why he’d been chosen - that he’d been mistakenly pinned as Ren Amamiya’s one true weakness.
Should it make him happy, to know that Maruki had been more accurate than he’d expected? To know that Ren still wanted him there, sitting across from him at that table, just not the sanitized version of him that Maruki believed in? Does it truly change anything in the end?
Akechi stands outside Leblanc, the leftover snow from February melting into spring at his feet, impossibly alive. He lingers in the doorway and thinks it over.
Maybe that won’t be the way this will end. They’ll get sick of each other, grow bored of each other, lose touch and fall apart. Or maybe their rivalry will stretch on for years—some years better than others, but long lasting and worthwhile.
Either way, as loathe as he is to admit it, maybe a version of Maruki’s fantasy could end up becoming real after all. And maybe there could be a place for him in Ren Amamiya’s life.
The bell rings as he opens the door.