Chapter Text
“Makoto, this plan sucks.” Orange hair hid the frown from Akira but the expression was obvious from her tone. She didn't just seem sad but resigned, even as she continued trying to argue.
“Even if we can't find a way out of Akechi's deal, there's too many holes in every step after. We need to deal with Akechi directly.” Akira finally spoke up. The team liked Makoto's ideas, since she's joined she's been the team strategist, for whatever that was worth. It normally kept everyone happy to just follow her lead and sort out the kinks himself but today he'd needed to argue, it was better than allowing Makoto to direct her emotions to Futaba.
Makoto's face turned to a scowl as her intense brown eyes looked between the two and Futaba visibly shrinks in her seat when Makoto's gaze lingers on her before looking to the other concerned expressions in the room.
“We can't just wing something like this, when Akira gets arrested, who else but Sae can get access down there. She's the only chance we have.” Makoto's tone was stern, it wasn't unusual for her but it prickled a bit to hear it in this context.
“Your sister doesn't think of justice or doing the right thing. What are the magic words you expect me to say to fix that without changing her heart?”
“She'll understand if you tell her the truth!” Makoto's hand slams down on the table near the stairs of the cafe attic. Silence fills the space for a few moments before Haru stands up and walks beside her, grabbing the brunette's hand, stroking it with her thumb and attempting to calm her down.
“If Makoto places her trust in Sae, perhaps we should do the same.” Her voice is soft and sincere, her eyes pleading for understanding.
Before Akira has the chance to respond, Ryuji pipes up. “It's the only plan we got right? It sucks but what else are we gonna do?” Ann nods subtly next to him.
“We could say he stole the guard's gun and committed suicide during his imprisonment.” Akechi's voice came from Futaba's phone. He'd heard it enough times now that the words have started to lose meaning. Like radio static in his ears.
“If we don't get Akechi into the Palace, Akira will…” Futaba stares at the phone on the table. “We can't just hope Niijima-san will help us. She was even willing to lie about Sojiro before. Maybe if I wait outside the prison I can–”
“No.” Akira interrupts jolts upwards. There was a lot Akira was willing to do but putting Futaba in the line of fire wasn't one of them. Or any of his thieves, he assured himself mentally.
Eyes focus on Akira when he gets out of his seat.
“But that's not the only option we have. There are 8 of us and Akechi doesn't know what we know. He's not better than us.” Thoughts of all their previous competitions fill Akira's memories. “He's not better than me.” The spoken affirmation more for himself than the others.
“He'll be alone with us in Sae's palace, if he's the Black Mask we can solve two problems permanently.”
“Akira, what are you saying?” Ann's visibly trembling as she watches her leader
“Joker…” Mona grumbles
“The Phantom Thieves don't…” Yusuke tries to look through the opaque lenses shielding Akira's eyes.
Akira looks at the other thieves, “He wants to kill me. If we fail, I will die. You guys can't be okay with this.”
“We even let Kamoshida go after all he did.” Ryuji stared at the floor.
“I won't do it. I'm not going to kill someone, anyone.” Makoto's tone is stern and unwavering.
“I can't deny understanding your feelings Akira. But…” Instead of speaking, Haru holds on tighter to Makoto.
Eyes in the room all turn to Futaba, clutching her face in her hands. Instead of prompting her to speak, Akira simply lays a hand on her head, petting her lightly before glancing at his phone, an unread message waiting.
“I'm out voted then. Futaba can start working on remotely activating the app, Makoto and I can talk about what to say to her sister later, we should have enough supplies stockpiled for this palace, we can figure out what comes after once we get there. Morgana, stay with Futaba tonight, I'm going to be busy.” Intent on ending this discussion Akira begins to leave without waiting for comments.
Akira quickly walks down the cafe stairs leaving the thieves behind in his attic room. He can hear whispering begin the moment he's out of sight. He grabs two thermos on his way out of Leblanc, filling them with coffee he'd made before the meeting and is just as quickly out onto the streets of Yongen-Jaya.
Another quick glance at his phone as he heads towards the station.
[Akechi]
I think we should talk. It's time we establish something important.
“We could say he stole the guard's gun and committed suicide during his imprisonment.”
The words played back in Akira's mind. He hadn't been angry when he heard them. After all, he and Akechi had never been on the same side. It was a betrayal sure, but the two never had obligations to one another, every exchange had always been a struggle to gain the upper hand in some game they were playing. Darts, Chess, Billiards, The Thief and the Detective.
Akechi would challenge the ideals of the Phantom Thieves, make subtle allusions to his suspicions of their identities. Akira would taunt the Detective's inability to confirm what they both knew. And then they'd keep going, coming in for coffee, going out for drinks. Sometimes it was hard to find an excuse for their meetings, and they'd talk until they could find something to argue about, or wander the city until they found a new thing to claim they were better at than the other. Neither of them much had an interest in the sport but they spent almost an entire night at the batting cages just because neither felt like admitting they were tired until the sun rose outside.
Tonight was no different, Akechi's invitation was a request for a fight in Mementos, a fair battleground, despite the years of experience Akechi had in this place as the thieves had confirmed. This place wasn't just Akira's second home, it was his only one. He'd run himself ragged over the last few months, helping everyone in Tokyo that he could, doctors, politicians, yakuza, models, the list went on for miles. But here in the Metaverse it felt as easy sleeping, much to Morgana's chagrin he'd actually slept here quite a few nights. Sure, he still had his responsibilities in here, doing a few phan-site requests when he could, collecting items for the thieves, and accessing deeper levels to help Morgana. But really, the place felt so much more honest than the normal world. Everyone's true selves laid bare, and unlike the real world he didn't have to forge himself into what was needed to be accepted. He didn't need acceptance at all. Joker was undeniable.
Even now, it felt like there was no need for pretending, as the Detective that wanted him dead asked to fight him, not holding anything back. Akira wanted to hurt him. Badly. Not that Akechi was a pushover, but they were both angry, Akira could recognize the boiling rage the other hid behind pleasant smiles as if he were looking in a mirror.
The problem was Akechi had no idea how much Akira had been holding back before. Even if Akechi was stronger, every slash, bullet, and skill hitting Akira hard enough to send him reeling. Akira always had a new card up his sleeve, wells of energy to draw skills from, personas resisting almost every element Akechi could muster. Both their blood covered the secluded station they'd had their battle in but it was the relentless slashes of Yoshitsune that sent the Detective to his knees.
Akira's finger tensed on the trigger of his pistol as he stood over Akechi, looking down at the rage in his deep red eyes, the barrel of the gun making the lightest indent against his head. It would be so easy, the thought bouncing back and forth in Akira's head before he put the gun away, invisible underneath his long black coat, and reached out a hand to Akechi.
“No wonder you're the leader of the Phantom Thieves.” Akechi rises to his feet alone with visible difficulty.
“I doubt that sometimes...” Akira mumbles to himself. “Are you satisfied?”
“Of course not.” The words lingered in the stale air of the distorted train station.
“A while ago, you asked me to join you… why?”
Akechi looked shocked by the response, he hadn't exactly been keeping up the facade tonight, but he seemed to struggle with the question. Akechi didn't usually need time to think of a lie. He was better at lying than he was speaking plainly, Akira had noticed. Good trait for the job he guessed.
“For me to abandon my ideals and be a member of your team, it'd be no different than asking you to abandon those you fight with and join me. It's a thing I simply cannot do. I'd hoped you understood the comparison when you rejected my request.”
Akira hadn't needed much thought, to deny the idea of abandoning his friends, he still didn't. But what of his justice, freedom, rebellion, retribution. What was Akechi fighting for that was so... incompatible? “What are your ideals, Akechi? What's your justice?”
“There has to be retribution for the rotten and the evil. I want to make them suffer. Just as I told you, it's a personal grudge. That's all there is.” Akechi is bitter and angry as he repeats his motivations
“And why do you think that makes you so different from us? You think I'm so noble that this isn't personal to me?” Akira has no idea how much honesty he could pull from Akechi, he isn't even sure that he's trying. He's confused and upset and he realized both too late to stop the words from coming. “That whatever reason you're working as the Black Mask is so much grander than anything I'd be capable of.”
“So you know?” Akechi's eyes were a pool of fury and bloodlust. Tension visibly builds in his muscles as he grips his blade tightly, twisting it around in his fingers as he still struggles to maintain balance standing upright.
Akira doesn't nod or respond, but the look of betrayal he gives as he looks at Akechi seems to confirm it well enough.
“Tell me why.” Akira's hands squeezed tight into fist by his side. “I did everything right.”
Staring away from the Detective, Akira tries and fails to find the will to hold his tongue. “I helped her and she chose to lie for some piece of shit. I did everything my parents wanted and they sent me here. I helped everyone with every stupid fucking problem they had. Spent every moment since I've been in Tokyo working for this. So tell me why–”
Akechi's lifts his hand, readying his feet to move, struggling with what little strength he has left.
“It's still easier for everyone to let me die than just let me kill you right now.” Akechi grabs at his blade and starts to shift quickly towards Akira. Before Akechi has a chance to take a step, Akira draws and fires. A bullet piercing Akechi's hand and sending the knife sliding across the ground, and more blood dripping onto the Mementos floor.
“There's something I have to do Kurusu, I can't let anyone stand in the way of that.” Akechi desperately searches for some way to keep fighting as Akira paces around the station. “I am going to destroy him, to rip everything away from him, I will make him despair just as he did to my mother.” Seething hate dripped from Akechi's mouth with his own blood trailing behind it. Damage from life and battle mixing with his words.
“If I helped you would it even change anything?” Akira stood still for a moment, his back to Akechi as he stared down the subway tunnel that seemed to go on forever.
“Change what, Kurusu? We've already gone too far, it's too late for any of this.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Akira puts away his gun once again and tosses Akechi a still warm thermos. “We're entering Sae's palace on Monday. Don't tell the others this happened.” Akira starts walking back towards the direction they came in. Hoping to organize any of his racing thoughts into something coherent, any kind of action.