[Even though Shido falls, Akechi lives. Joining up with the Phantom Thieves for their last operation had proved prudent. In those final moments, he was able to do what was necessary, a laugh bursting out of his throat at the same time. He already saw that his original plan had gone to waste. But perhaps Shido being a victim of the Phantom Thieves would prove someone's justice: his own.
He recalls the anger of the others—
Ryuji pissed, yelling that they shouldn't have trusted him. Morgana telling him that he shouldn't have done it. Haru looking at him without a single ounce of sympathy, not like before. Makoto shaking her head and turning away. And Joker—
Well, what happened then doesn't matter compared to now. The world has been in ruins for months now, mindless drones happily locked away. He tells himself that this is the way the world should be: steadily devoured by the endless droning of the people within it. They aren't worth his time or energy.
The problem is that the more the world is enveloped by the entropy, the more he is alone. And the more he is alone, the more he wishes his mind was just as gone as the minds of those complacent prisoners, locked away and trapped. Happily removed from everything around them. He envies that.
More than that, he envies not feeling the need to think, to defy, to—to fix this.
Because even if the Phantom Thieves had been angry—
—even if—
—it doesn't measure up to this, to the misery he's caused. He picked ruin. The choice came to him easily, driving him forward in those moments after his father's mental shutdown. He doesn't recall every aspect of the choice, only the moments before. The betrayal. The resentment. And yet, those moments are never about his thoughts or feelings, just about theirs. Because—the truth is that Akechi regrets it.
He doesn't relish the feeling of his father's blood on his hands, and he can't explain the bubbling anger and loathing that swelled up and took over every fiber of his being. And he knew, he knew his father's plan, he knew what he intended if he was ever on the end of a gun, on the end of a potential change of heart—so he snapped. His white and red suit shifted, the dark colors quickly bleeding through as his mask formed over his face. And then he killed him—indirectly to do it directly, pleased with the results. His laughter wasn't out of pleasure—rather, it was something more manic. More chaotic and out of control.
And then he had to move.
And then he departed.
In a world with a red sky and strange structures all around, Akechi knows there is little chance that the Earth will survive much longer. Though it rains, the rain comes down in large, black droplets, and it seems to burn into the surroundings. The only good thing about this version of the world is that he doesn't need to eat. Entropy does that to a body, it seems. He no longer has to pretend to care about making conversation over food, showing off what he's capable of. That world is gone, destroyed.
He knows the Phantom Thieves are still out there, trying to undo the mistake he's made. (The ruin he's caused.) So, he waits. It's difficult for him to choose a location. Some part of him wants to play a game with them—to make them seek him out. But would they even bother to look?
Instead, he chooses the TV station to hole up. He tugs a cot in there from the hospital. He doesn't send out a message, doesn't plant clues, doesn't do any of that. He just waits. If they wish to find him, it won't be hard to guess where they can. And if not—
He doesn't know.
Akechi has his suspicions about how to end this. If they're truly up to it, they'll need to see him eventually.]
Edited (i keyworded my icons but forgot to hit rename so i'm picking one) 2019-06-04 02:59 (UTC)
[ Helplessness is not an emotion Akira tolerates. That kind of goes without saying-- it's for that exact reason that he confronted Shido on that dark street late at night all those months ago now. (It seems like a different lifetime.) The very thing that started the events of the last year in motion. The very reason why he's a Phantom Thief. He spent too many years growing up with his head down. Pretending not to notice. Not ruffling feathers. And then one day, that day, he couldn't do it anymore.
Now he can't imagine being any other way. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. The realisation that he should do something, crystallizing into the realisation that he could do something. Despite the consequences, once he opened that Pandora's Box, there wasn't any going back. Or perhaps it was because of the consequences. Suddenly, things he would have once overlooked with a simple "Can't be helped," became noticeable. Suddenly they were everywhere. And then just as suddenly, he was granted the power to actually do something about it.
And yet he's never felt as powerless in his entire life as the moment he fails to stop Akechi from killing Masayoshi Shido.
He revisits that moment over and over again for weeks-- both waking and asleep. He knows the scene from every angle, knows the arguments by heart. They all conflict and blend into one, a chaotic mess of guilt and uncertainty. He should have known, he shouldn't have brought Akechi along, he shouldn't have persuaded Akechi to join them, he should have tried harder, he should have gotten to know Akechi better, he should have reacted faster, he should have--
The thoughts and what-ifs keep him awake at night. He sleeps less. But he doesn't stop moving. He can't. Helplessness is not an emotion Akira tolerates.
The Phantom Thieves keep going-- harder than before, if anything. He doesn't know what's happened, but he knows that things are somehow deeply wrong, and he knows that Akechi is somehow connected to it. Masayoshi Shido dies on national television, and ... the thing is, nobody seems to care. A man even worse than Shido steps in to fill his shoes, a man running on a platform of wanting to return Japan to it's "glory days," wants to re-arm Japan's military, and still nobody sees anything wrong with it. A weird sort of nationalistic fervor starts to sweep across the political discourse. Crime rates rise. Palace runs increase to once every three weeks, to once every two weeks, and then to one a week. The pace is grueling and he knows, he knows they can't keep it up-- everyone is exhausted, but he can't sit back and do nothing while everything is falling to shit. (The only good thing is that nobody at school seems to notice or care that they're gone more often than they're there. But that's weird too.)
Between school and the constant Palace runs and the delving ever deeper into Mementos and trying to figure out exactly what the fuck is going on and how the hell they're supposed to undo it, they just don't have the time or the energy to track down Akechi. But he hopes-- desperately and against all logic-- that they'll find some clue. Some reason. But they never do. It just... never ends. Palace after palace after palace, and nothing changes.
Akira battles with himself daily not to give in to the pit of despair in his stomach that's threatening to overwhelm him, that he can see is already starting to overwhelm the group. He has to stay strong for them-- if he gives in to the depression they all feel hounding at their door, it's all over. Part of him feels bad for pushing them so hard. But it seems like every time he's about to relent, call for a break, another fucked up thing happens that they have to fix. Part of him is glad for it, deep down. If he never stops, he never has to examine that gnawing feeling in his stomach that says this is all his fault.
He falls asleep every night tossing and turning and worrying about the problem of the world and the separate problem of Akechi, and wakes every morning drenched in sweat and gasping for breath after a recurring nightmare of the world dissolving slowly under black acid rain.
This isn't how it's supposed to be, he thinks to himself as he looks at his fists balled in his lap one afternoon. Meeting again to discuss their options. He feels like he can barely listen to any of it anymore. It feels like everything's become twisted, distorted. It feels like he's becoming twisted and distorted. He wonders if he has a Palace. He wonders if... Akechi has a Palace?
Akira doesn't realise he's said either thought out loud until Morgana lashes his tail in annoyance and says "I already told you, that's not possible. Persona users can't have Palaces."
... Can't they though? Everything in this new post-Shido world is so screwed up, maybe the rules have changed. He wouldn't be surprised.
"Besides," Ryuuji loyally chimes in, "There's no way you'd have a Palace, dude!" Everyone else nods and echoes similar sentiments, that Akira is good and kind and just and all the other things. Akira doesn't feel so sure. It doesn't feel like what they're doing is the right thing anymore. It feels somehow like... like they've lost sight of their goal, of what they should really be aiming for.
... They're probably right, he thinks. It's not really a productive line of thought, in any case. Even if either of them had a Palace, what then? It wouldn't... change anything. Would it? ... No. That's the frustrating thing, he thinks. Even after everything they've been through together, he doesn't want to forcibly change Akechi's heart like they've done with so many others. He always wanted... he wanted Akechi to see the kernel of good inside him and change of his own accord. For himself.
He feels so stupid.
He calls the meeting early. They can discuss next steps tomorrow. Today he needs to clear his head. He needs to--
He needs to talk to Akechi.
Of course, it's so obvious it's been staring him in the face all this time. But he got so distracted, so caught up in trying to save everyone else. But nothing will change if he doesn't start at the root point of where this all went wrong in the first place. He's certain of it now.
He grabs his coat and leaves without a word, a man on a mission. Where would he be? Where would he be? Home? No. School? Definitely not. Process of elimination leads him to the bar they used to meet at. His heart drops when there's no such luck. Even the owner hasn't seen him. Where else, then?
He looks up to the skyline outside the bar as if searching the heavens for an answer, when one presents itself-- the silhouette of the TV station. Of course.
With his skills and the recent apathy blanketing the populace, it's not hard to slip in unnoticed. Not hard to find the hiding place, either. (There aren't that many good spots to hide in the first place.) He simply watches for a minute, Akechi having not seen him yet. (Or so he hopes.) He looks so small from this vantage point. So unlike the man in the black mask.
If their places were reversed, he wonders if Akechi would take the shot. Just end it all, quickly and quietly with Akira unsuspecting. Maybe. Maybe not. He likes to think... their friendship was real, even despite all the weird cat-and-mouse games and other bullshit that got in the way of them being honest with one another. Maybe that's all just wishful thinking on his part. Projecting a reality he wishes was real. Well, there's really only one way to find out, isn't there?
Eventually, he steps out of his own accord, hands up in supplication and waits for Akechi to notice. No weapons or trickery. ]
[Despite this being a world where no one cares—where no one is allowed to care, released from the burden of emotions weighing them down—Akechi still tries to look as if he appeals to others. It's not as if acquiring clothing and looking well put together is a difficult task. He wears a button-up T-shirt with a tie, everything perfectly tailored—undoubtedly the result of him being able to try on as many shirts at possible, rather than getting the right shirt thanks to an actual tailor. His pants, his gloves, his shoes. It's all habitual, a sign that he can't depart from the impression he tried to give the world.
Old habits die hard, even when the world strips away the need for approval. Akechi knows he lives in a world without approval. Who can approve of something if they don't care? As he walks by someone, half expecting them to point out that he's Goro Akechi, the Second Coming of the Detective Prince, it never happens. Their eyes glaze over. Sometimes they blink. Sometimes all they can do is blink, like their body can still react, even if their mind has left them.
They're subdued.
The TV station acts as a stage for Akechi, just as it did for the past year. Even as the world flung insults at him for his unkind words about the Phantom Thieves, he knew the game he played. Perfectly dressed on every occasion, he waited to see the results of his interviews. He saw the art featuring him. He signed multiple autographs. There was even a line of posters that was due to come out!
None of that matters now. No one can care for him. He removed the question of acceptance and rejection. No one can use him, use anyone.
He doesn't spot Akira before he steps into view, and Akechi turns toward him, eyes studying him at the same time. Unlike the version of Akira that's Joker, a dashing Phantom Thief, he looks so small here. Then again, so does Akechi. Desperate to look proper. To look good.
Perhaps he dressed like this for this day, fortifying the divide between them.
(Even he doesn't know.)]
I wouldn't be so quick to act like you're surrendering, [he tells Akira. Akechi doesn't bother to feign the softness that followed him before. It's still there—a natural part of the intonation of his voice—but there's a quivering, constant edge to every word.]
After all, Joker, I doubt that's what you're here to do. Do you tire of the mess I left? It was the only way things could be once it was done.
[Never mind the direct contradiction to his plans, the feeling of flying into a rage.
Of killing his father, and then watching him die on television.
Of picking ruin because that was the only way it could be.
Then again, Akechi has always been a result of chaos. What else can be born from that but ruin itself?]
[ There's a flash of something in Akira's eyes, then-- impossible to read and gone the second it arrives. Then his face is back to being as carefully neutral as it ever was. For a moment he's quiet. Then, rather measured and unruffled-- ]
... It's not like you to mistake parley for surrender.
[ He has no intention of ever surrendering. Surely Akechi him well enough to know that. To know that beneath his mild exterior, Akira is as stubborn and foolish and bullheaded as Akechi himself, that even drowning he'll resist and fight tooth and nail until his final breath. ]
A temporary white flag, then. [Akechi never thought he'd be here to surrender—that Akira of all people would ever let the world remain like this. It only speaks to the power of Akechi's desire to leave everything to ruin that it's been left this way for so long.
It's hard to defeat a god whose power has been amplified by Akechi's hatred of the world.]
Though ... I admit even calling it that is a way to bolster myself, and not you. It's hardly the compliment you deserve. I've seen what you've done to try to undo my decision. [Never going to the point in which he kills the so-called amplifier of the power itself. Akechi is certain his death would stop this ruin. But he already had his opportunity to die and didn't take it. Now it feels like giving up a game he's already won.]
[ Akira's brow furrows ever so slightly. For some reason, that reaction feels irritating. He doesn't want to be complimented by Akechi right now. Condescending after he's won, is it?
It's tempting to rise to the bait, to snipe back, but he knows better than to actually do it. Focus on what you can do, he thinks. ]
... So it was you, then.
[ As if there was ever any doubt. But, well-- you know what they say about assumptions. ]
Was there really any question? It turns out that we were fated to be rivals, but the wager revolving around you was the one that was never meant to win. [A hint of bitterness seeps into his voice—he's confident that it would have gone differently if Akira hadn't decided to take pity on him. Hadn't invited him back. He should have known better.]
I told you what needed to be done with my father. It was the only way.
Somehow, Akira keeps his voice calm and nonjudgmental. Merely challenging. Like this were a simple hypothetical. No hint of the fact that a not-insignificant part of him wants to reach across the distance and just throttle Akechi right now. (He wonders if Akechi can hear it anyway. Probably.) But then, that wouldn't be taking responsibility for his part in all this. ]
... Either way, I suppose we can't find out now.
[ What's done is done. For all their power, neither one of them can take it back. Turning back time is a power that eludes even the Phantom Thieves. They can argue about whether it was right or not until the cows come home, but it wouldn't change anything. Akira sighs. ]
To my eye, at least. Frankly, I find myself surprised they were able to replace him so easily. So quickly. By my estimation, there weren't very many worthy candidates left. [The joint efforts of Akechi and Masayoshi Shido took care of that.
If it sounds as if he's bragging, it's because Akechi's decided in this moment to do just that. Standing in the ruin of his mistakes, he can't see any other way. Shed responsibility for his actions? Walk away from it?
The only person who he'd want to care about it is standing in front of him. Akira deserves to feel his anger toward him. Should feel anger toward him.]
You called this a parley. Do you truly think it's safe to meet me alone? Especially considering our last time together. [Or what should have been. Bragging, with that rumble of an edge in his voice, acting as if he's fully and firmly standing by his actions.
[ Akira is silent for a moment, turning that over in his head carefully, considering it from every angle in that way that he does. Nothing about Akechi is every truly "safe," is it? But if Akechi really wanted to kill him, he's had plenty of opportunity to do so. But he hasn't.
But perhaps spelling that out for Akechi isn't the wisest move, even if it would feel satisfying for the split second he'd spend being a smart-alec. It'd be so typical for him to die with his last words being "You haven't killed me yet, have you?" Truly embarrassing.
Besides, there's something else to it, too. ]
... Maybe. Maybe not. But a calculated risk is still better than an automatic lose.
[ Because from where Akira's standing, coming with the others in tow would be an auto-fail. Once the whole squad turns up, they're no longer on equal footing anymore. Whatever Akechi would do, it would be because his hand was forced. Any words exchanged would be false. Akira... doesn't want that. If they need to settle this between the two of them-- so be it. Akira's prepared for that possibility. But this started between them, it should end between them. Nothing else would have any meaning. ]
Quite true. [And then, without truly knowing what Akira is thinking, he adds:] Plus, coming alone means that you've preserved my life for another day. While most of your teammates were quite set on giving me another chance, I doubt that's the same case now. [They had acted together against him. In unison. It was a very thorough scheme, one that he began to put together when time allotted that capability to him.
In that way, Akechi isn't an incompetent detective, at least when given the opportunity to truly detect. Had his life gone a different way without the same power, he may have ended up in that role in the end.]
You do have to wonder. Why is it that the God of Control allows such a wild variable such as yourself to live?
[ "The God of Control," huh? That's a new one. Is Akechi referring to something real, or metaphorical? Where Akechi is concerned, it could easily be either. ]
... My rugged good looks?
[ Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can't quite resist. ]
[It's the seriousness of the situation and the lack of serious response that clues Akechi in to Akira's lack of knowledge regarding the situation. His eyebrows pinch together curiously.]
Something tells me that you're not to his tastes.
[A bit of humor.]
But that you said that at all means you're unaware of the circumstances at hand, aren't you? What caused all of this.
In the mystery that lied at the heart of it, apparently. In the cages of those who were set "free" from having to think for themselves. I never saw it for myself—circumstances never made that necessary. I could see the freedom he offered would be vicious for mankind, proof of the kinds of mindsets that would get a man like my father elected. At the heart of Mementos, the need to be ... controlled was gathered together. The true wish of humanity. It was on me to grant it, and let the world be as it always was.
[Leave to Akechi to explain it this way.]
The wish granter was that god of control. But again, why you? And why are you here at all?
... You're wrong. People deserve to be able to choose for themselves.
[ Akira looks a little bit heated as he says that-- quiet, but challenging. ]
... As for your question, I couldn't say. Why not ask him yourself?
[ From anyone else it would sound goading, but from Akira it only sounds curious. Actually, maybe it's a little bit goading. He never can resist being a little bit glib with Akechi. They always get under each other's skin like this.
But more importantly, if Akechi has a line to whatever it is that's caused this, maybe it's not too late. Maybe it can still be undone. ]
Is that so? And yet, everything that's happened with the Phantom Thieves only served to prove how easy it was to persuade society one way or another. Their attention spans were short. That's why we easily took advantage of it. [There is a hint to what he says that makes him sound—not quite contrite, that isn't the right word, but sad. Distant. Like he's stating these things because he's told himself them a hundred times before.]
Unfortunately, as you may have guessed, once a god gets what he wanted all along, a pawn can easily be discarded. [Like before. Like always, at least with him.]
I'm afraid that reaching him seems to be out of the question. [It's not like Akechi ever had access to the Velvet Room.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
don't read this until your schoolwork is done
He recalls the anger of the others—
Ryuji pissed, yelling that they shouldn't have trusted him. Morgana telling him that he shouldn't have done it. Haru looking at him without a single ounce of sympathy, not like before. Makoto shaking her head and turning away. And Joker—
Well, what happened then doesn't matter compared to now. The world has been in ruins for months now, mindless drones happily locked away. He tells himself that this is the way the world should be: steadily devoured by the endless droning of the people within it. They aren't worth his time or energy.
The problem is that the more the world is enveloped by the entropy, the more he is alone. And the more he is alone, the more he wishes his mind was just as gone as the minds of those complacent prisoners, locked away and trapped. Happily removed from everything around them. He envies that.
More than that, he envies not feeling the need to think, to defy, to—to fix this.
Because even if the Phantom Thieves had been angry—
—even if—
—it doesn't measure up to this, to the misery he's caused. He picked ruin. The choice came to him easily, driving him forward in those moments after his father's mental shutdown. He doesn't recall every aspect of the choice, only the moments before. The betrayal. The resentment. And yet, those moments are never about his thoughts or feelings, just about theirs. Because—the truth is that Akechi regrets it.
He doesn't relish the feeling of his father's blood on his hands, and he can't explain the bubbling anger and loathing that swelled up and took over every fiber of his being. And he knew, he knew his father's plan, he knew what he intended if he was ever on the end of a gun, on the end of a potential change of heart—so he snapped. His white and red suit shifted, the dark colors quickly bleeding through as his mask formed over his face. And then he killed him—indirectly to do it directly, pleased with the results. His laughter wasn't out of pleasure—rather, it was something more manic. More chaotic and out of control.
And then he had to move.
And then he departed.
In a world with a red sky and strange structures all around, Akechi knows there is little chance that the Earth will survive much longer. Though it rains, the rain comes down in large, black droplets, and it seems to burn into the surroundings. The only good thing about this version of the world is that he doesn't need to eat. Entropy does that to a body, it seems. He no longer has to pretend to care about making conversation over food, showing off what he's capable of. That world is gone, destroyed.
He knows the Phantom Thieves are still out there, trying to undo the mistake he's made. (The ruin he's caused.) So, he waits. It's difficult for him to choose a location. Some part of him wants to play a game with them—to make them seek him out. But would they even bother to look?
Instead, he chooses the TV station to hole up. He tugs a cot in there from the hospital. He doesn't send out a message, doesn't plant clues, doesn't do any of that. He just waits. If they wish to find him, it won't be hard to guess where they can. And if not—
He doesn't know.
Akechi has his suspicions about how to end this. If they're truly up to it, they'll need to see him eventually.]
no subject
Now he can't imagine being any other way. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. The realisation that he should do something, crystallizing into the realisation that he could do something. Despite the consequences, once he opened that Pandora's Box, there wasn't any going back. Or perhaps it was because of the consequences. Suddenly, things he would have once overlooked with a simple "Can't be helped," became noticeable. Suddenly they were everywhere. And then just as suddenly, he was granted the power to actually do something about it.
And yet he's never felt as powerless in his entire life as the moment he fails to stop Akechi from killing Masayoshi Shido.
He revisits that moment over and over again for weeks-- both waking and asleep. He knows the scene from every angle, knows the arguments by heart. They all conflict and blend into one, a chaotic mess of guilt and uncertainty. He should have known, he shouldn't have brought Akechi along, he shouldn't have persuaded Akechi to join them, he should have tried harder, he should have gotten to know Akechi better, he should have reacted faster, he should have--
The thoughts and what-ifs keep him awake at night. He sleeps less. But he doesn't stop moving. He can't. Helplessness is not an emotion Akira tolerates.
The Phantom Thieves keep going-- harder than before, if anything. He doesn't know what's happened, but he knows that things are somehow deeply wrong, and he knows that Akechi is somehow connected to it. Masayoshi Shido dies on national television, and ... the thing is, nobody seems to care. A man even worse than Shido steps in to fill his shoes, a man running on a platform of wanting to return Japan to it's "glory days," wants to re-arm Japan's military, and still nobody sees anything wrong with it. A weird sort of nationalistic fervor starts to sweep across the political discourse. Crime rates rise. Palace runs increase to once every three weeks, to once every two weeks, and then to one a week. The pace is grueling and he knows, he knows they can't keep it up-- everyone is exhausted, but he can't sit back and do nothing while everything is falling to shit. (The only good thing is that nobody at school seems to notice or care that they're gone more often than they're there. But that's weird too.)
Between school and the constant Palace runs and the delving ever deeper into Mementos and trying to figure out exactly what the fuck is going on and how the hell they're supposed to undo it, they just don't have the time or the energy to track down Akechi. But he hopes-- desperately and against all logic-- that they'll find some clue. Some reason. But they never do. It just... never ends. Palace after palace after palace, and nothing changes.
Akira battles with himself daily not to give in to the pit of despair in his stomach that's threatening to overwhelm him, that he can see is already starting to overwhelm the group. He has to stay strong for them-- if he gives in to the depression they all feel hounding at their door, it's all over. Part of him feels bad for pushing them so hard. But it seems like every time he's about to relent, call for a break, another fucked up thing happens that they have to fix. Part of him is glad for it, deep down. If he never stops, he never has to examine that gnawing feeling in his stomach that says this is all his fault.
He falls asleep every night tossing and turning and worrying about the problem of the world and the separate problem of Akechi, and wakes every morning drenched in sweat and gasping for breath after a recurring nightmare of the world dissolving slowly under black acid rain.
This isn't how it's supposed to be, he thinks to himself as he looks at his fists balled in his lap one afternoon. Meeting again to discuss their options. He feels like he can barely listen to any of it anymore. It feels like everything's become twisted, distorted. It feels like he's becoming twisted and distorted. He wonders if he has a Palace. He wonders if... Akechi has a Palace?
Akira doesn't realise he's said either thought out loud until Morgana lashes his tail in annoyance and says "I already told you, that's not possible. Persona users can't have Palaces."
... Can't they though? Everything in this new post-Shido world is so screwed up, maybe the rules have changed. He wouldn't be surprised.
"Besides," Ryuuji loyally chimes in, "There's no way you'd have a Palace, dude!" Everyone else nods and echoes similar sentiments, that Akira is good and kind and just and all the other things. Akira doesn't feel so sure. It doesn't feel like what they're doing is the right thing anymore. It feels somehow like... like they've lost sight of their goal, of what they should really be aiming for.
... They're probably right, he thinks. It's not really a productive line of thought, in any case. Even if either of them had a Palace, what then? It wouldn't... change anything. Would it? ... No. That's the frustrating thing, he thinks. Even after everything they've been through together, he doesn't want to forcibly change Akechi's heart like they've done with so many others. He always wanted... he wanted Akechi to see the kernel of good inside him and change of his own accord. For himself.
He feels so stupid.
He calls the meeting early. They can discuss next steps tomorrow. Today he needs to clear his head. He needs to--
He needs to talk to Akechi.
Of course, it's so obvious it's been staring him in the face all this time. But he got so distracted, so caught up in trying to save everyone else. But nothing will change if he doesn't start at the root point of where this all went wrong in the first place. He's certain of it now.
He grabs his coat and leaves without a word, a man on a mission. Where would he be? Where would he be? Home? No. School? Definitely not. Process of elimination leads him to the bar they used to meet at. His heart drops when there's no such luck. Even the owner hasn't seen him. Where else, then?
He looks up to the skyline outside the bar as if searching the heavens for an answer, when one presents itself-- the silhouette of the TV station. Of course.
With his skills and the recent apathy blanketing the populace, it's not hard to slip in unnoticed. Not hard to find the hiding place, either. (There aren't that many good spots to hide in the first place.) He simply watches for a minute, Akechi having not seen him yet. (Or so he hopes.) He looks so small from this vantage point. So unlike the man in the black mask.
If their places were reversed, he wonders if Akechi would take the shot. Just end it all, quickly and quietly with Akira unsuspecting. Maybe. Maybe not. He likes to think... their friendship was real, even despite all the weird cat-and-mouse games and other bullshit that got in the way of them being honest with one another. Maybe that's all just wishful thinking on his part. Projecting a reality he wishes was real. Well, there's really only one way to find out, isn't there?
Eventually, he steps out of his own accord, hands up in supplication and waits for Akechi to notice. No weapons or trickery. ]
no subject
Old habits die hard, even when the world strips away the need for approval. Akechi knows he lives in a world without approval. Who can approve of something if they don't care? As he walks by someone, half expecting them to point out that he's Goro Akechi, the Second Coming of the Detective Prince, it never happens. Their eyes glaze over. Sometimes they blink. Sometimes all they can do is blink, like their body can still react, even if their mind has left them.
They're subdued.
The TV station acts as a stage for Akechi, just as it did for the past year. Even as the world flung insults at him for his unkind words about the Phantom Thieves, he knew the game he played. Perfectly dressed on every occasion, he waited to see the results of his interviews. He saw the art featuring him. He signed multiple autographs. There was even a line of posters that was due to come out!
None of that matters now. No one can care for him. He removed the question of acceptance and rejection. No one can use him, use anyone.
He doesn't spot Akira before he steps into view, and Akechi turns toward him, eyes studying him at the same time. Unlike the version of Akira that's Joker, a dashing Phantom Thief, he looks so small here. Then again, so does Akechi. Desperate to look proper. To look good.
Perhaps he dressed like this for this day, fortifying the divide between them.
(Even he doesn't know.)]
I wouldn't be so quick to act like you're surrendering, [he tells Akira. Akechi doesn't bother to feign the softness that followed him before. It's still there—a natural part of the intonation of his voice—but there's a quivering, constant edge to every word.]
After all, Joker, I doubt that's what you're here to do. Do you tire of the mess I left? It was the only way things could be once it was done.
[Never mind the direct contradiction to his plans, the feeling of flying into a rage.
Of killing his father, and then watching him die on television.
Of picking ruin because that was the only way it could be.
Then again, Akechi has always been a result of chaos. What else can be born from that but ruin itself?]
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... It's not like you to mistake parley for surrender.
[ He has no intention of ever surrendering. Surely Akechi him well enough to know that. To know that beneath his mild exterior, Akira is as stubborn and foolish and bullheaded as Akechi himself, that even drowning he'll resist and fight tooth and nail until his final breath. ]
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It's hard to defeat a god whose power has been amplified by Akechi's hatred of the world.]
Though ... I admit even calling it that is a way to bolster myself, and not you. It's hardly the compliment you deserve. I've seen what you've done to try to undo my decision. [Never going to the point in which he kills the so-called amplifier of the power itself. Akechi is certain his death would stop this ruin. But he already had his opportunity to die and didn't take it. Now it feels like giving up a game he's already won.]
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It's tempting to rise to the bait, to snipe back, but he knows better than to actually do it. Focus on what you can do, he thinks. ]
... So it was you, then.
[ As if there was ever any doubt. But, well-- you know what they say about assumptions. ]
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I told you what needed to be done with my father. It was the only way.
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[ The only way?
Somehow, Akira keeps his voice calm and nonjudgmental. Merely challenging. Like this were a simple hypothetical. No hint of the fact that a not-insignificant part of him wants to reach across the distance and just throttle Akechi right now. (He wonders if Akechi can hear it anyway. Probably.) But then, that wouldn't be taking responsibility for his part in all this. ]
... Either way, I suppose we can't find out now.
[ What's done is done. For all their power, neither one of them can take it back. Turning back time is a power that eludes even the Phantom Thieves. They can argue about whether it was right or not until the cows come home, but it wouldn't change anything. Akira sighs. ]
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If it sounds as if he's bragging, it's because Akechi's decided in this moment to do just that. Standing in the ruin of his mistakes, he can't see any other way. Shed responsibility for his actions? Walk away from it?
The only person who he'd want to care about it is standing in front of him. Akira deserves to feel his anger toward him. Should feel anger toward him.]
You called this a parley. Do you truly think it's safe to meet me alone? Especially considering our last time together. [Or what should have been. Bragging, with that rumble of an edge in his voice, acting as if he's fully and firmly standing by his actions.
It's all Akechi can do.]
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But perhaps spelling that out for Akechi isn't the wisest move, even if it would feel satisfying for the split second he'd spend being a smart-alec. It'd be so typical for him to die with his last words being "You haven't killed me yet, have you?" Truly embarrassing.
Besides, there's something else to it, too. ]
... Maybe. Maybe not. But a calculated risk is still better than an automatic lose.
[ Because from where Akira's standing, coming with the others in tow would be an auto-fail. Once the whole squad turns up, they're no longer on equal footing anymore. Whatever Akechi would do, it would be because his hand was forced. Any words exchanged would be false. Akira... doesn't want that. If they need to settle this between the two of them-- so be it. Akira's prepared for that possibility. But this started between them, it should end between them. Nothing else would have any meaning. ]
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In that way, Akechi isn't an incompetent detective, at least when given the opportunity to truly detect. Had his life gone a different way without the same power, he may have ended up in that role in the end.]
You do have to wonder. Why is it that the God of Control allows such a wild variable such as yourself to live?
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... My rugged good looks?
[ Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can't quite resist. ]
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Something tells me that you're not to his tastes.
[A bit of humor.]
But that you said that at all means you're unaware of the circumstances at hand, aren't you? What caused all of this.
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... I've been trying to figure it out.
[ He sifts through all the strange things Akechi has said to him in the last five minutes. Things he hadn't known how to respond to. ]
I know some of it leads back to you and Mementos. But I'm missing a piece, aren't I?
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[Leave to Akechi to explain it this way.]
The wish granter was that god of control. But again, why you? And why are you here at all?
god sorry my life never gets less busy
[ Akira looks a little bit heated as he says that-- quiet, but challenging. ]
... As for your question, I couldn't say. Why not ask him yourself?
[ From anyone else it would sound goading, but from Akira it only sounds curious. Actually, maybe it's a little bit goading. He never can resist being a little bit glib with Akechi. They always get under each other's skin like this.
But more importantly, if Akechi has a line to whatever it is that's caused this, maybe it's not too late. Maybe it can still be undone. ]
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Unfortunately, as you may have guessed, once a god gets what he wanted all along, a pawn can easily be discarded. [Like before. Like always, at least with him.]
I'm afraid that reaching him seems to be out of the question. [It's not like Akechi ever had access to the Velvet Room.]