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“Ah, hmm… did we fall asleep?”
Akira blinked himself awake, wiping the bleary film from his eyes. His ears were freezing and his fingers had gone numb, and there was a light dusting of snow covering his jacket, the flakes only just staring to melt and seep into the fabric. The second thing he noticed was haw dark it had grown; the sky was an inky black expanse of space dotted with crystal-clear pinpoint stars, and above all else the moon, full and sharp and bright, casting silvery light down over the fresh snow and illuminating the night. It must have been late; how long had he been here?
Morgana, who had been curled up in the bag on Akira’s lap, shook some powdery snow from his head.
“Akira?” he asked.
“Ah, yeah.” Akira yawned. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” Morgana said. “I guess that Mementos trip really took a lot out of us, huh?”
“I guess so.”
His legs were stiff when he got to his feet and began to get his bearings. They were in a small shopping district a few blocks from Yongen-Jaya, and judging by the dark storefronts, it must have been late indeed; everything was already closed, and there was no one out on the street. Akira fished his phone out of his pocket and noted the time: barely 10pm, but it was Christmas Eve.
Hefting his bag – Mona and all – up onto his back, Akira resigned himself to walking home in the cold. At least it was a nice, clear night, and it was so close to Christmas that most of the trees he passed were decorated in sparkling white lights, providing an illuminated path home. It was peaceful.
Morgana curled his tail around his legs in an attempt to stay warm before ultimately deciding to stick his head out into the cold winter air again, resting his head on Akira’s shoulder and asking, “Do, um… do you remember what happened?”
Akira’s memories clouded over when he tried to recall them. He remembered entering Mementos earlier that afternoon, the whole team in tow, and he remembered delving lower into the depths than they’d ever gone before. He remembered cages and dozens of lost souls and the monstrous goblet that seemed to rule the whole place, and he remembered fighting, but after that…
“We beat it, didn’t we?” Akira asked. “That treasure down in Mementos. The grail.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but…” Morgana trailed off. “Then why am I still like this?”
“I don’t know,” Akira said. He could see his breath when he spoke. “But you’re still here. That means something.”
“Maybe,” Morgana said.
Akira twisted his arm around awkwardly until he was able to scratch Morgana behind the ears. “Hey,” he said. “Don’t worry. We won’t give up on you.”
Morgana bumped his head against Akira’s hand and gave a low, rumbly purr. “Yeah… yeah. Thanks, Akira.” Then, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing, he shook himself free and knocked Akira’s hand away. “A-anyway, forget about that right now! It’s Christmas Eve. Isn’t that a day for lovers?” he asked with a teasing meow. “Ah, I know where I’d like to spend my night…”
“Do you want me to take you over to Ann’s place?” Akira asked.
“Eh? Would you?” Morgana asked, his ears turning forward in attention. “Wait, no… no, she’s probably already spending the evening with Yusuke or someone… maybe even Ryuji… sigh.”
“Or Makoto.”
“M-Makoto?” Morgana yelped. “You really think so?”
Akira just shrugged.
“Huh. Makoto and Lady Ann…”
“Please don’t make this weird.”
“H-hey, I’m a gentleman, thank you! I’m not making it weird,” Morgana said with a huff. “Anyway, don’t you have someone you want to spend time with tonight?”
A fleeting thought crossed Akira’s mind, but…
“Maybe next year,” he said.
“Hmm.” Morgana kneaded his paws on Akira’s shoulder. “Then… do you want to cook some chicken and stay up watching the X-Folders?” he asked.
Akira laughed. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
It was well past closing time when Akira finally arrived at Leblanc, so it was no surprise the front door was locked, but the fact that Akira could clearly sees lights shining from inside the café gave him pause. Sojiro was very meticulous about closing up; there was no way he would have forgotten. Akira peered through the frost-fogged window and thought he could see a vaguely humanoid shape sitting inside.
With no small amount of apprehension, Akira dug out his key and unlocked the door.
The café was deadly quiet, with only a single string of lights to brighten the room. Sojiro wasn’t there – no one was. No one, save for the single soul sitting at the bar, who turned to look at Akira as he stepped inside. He looked a little worse for wear – tired, certainly, and a bit scuffed up around the edges – but it was undeniably Goro Akechi sitting there, whole and alive.
“Ah,” Goro said. His bangs fell in choppy tufts over his face, but he pushed them aside to look at Akira with clear, shining eyes. “Welcome home.”
It wasn’t as though Akira was unacquainted with impossible things. He saw them every day – even the cat sitting in his backpack was something that shouldn’t have existed – but this was… a different kind of impossibility.
“How?” was all he managed to say.
Goro laughed wearily. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” he asked, turning his coffee cup in his hands. It wasn’t steaming; Goro must have been here for quite some time.
“Akira,” Morgana said in a low murmur, “I don’t like this.”
“I know,” Akira shot back. He turned towards Goro. “Hey,” he said. “Give me a second to drop my things upstairs?”
Goro nodded and swiveled back to face the bar.
The moment they crested the stairs and stepped into Akira’s room, Morgana said, “There’s no way this is real. You know that, right?”
“I… I’m not sure,” Akira said.
“Akira!” Morgana snapped, hopping out of his bag and onto the bed beside him. “Are you serious?”
“We never saw him die,” Akira said. “Never found his body. I don’t know what happened on the other side of that wall. Do you?”
Morgana shut his mouth. “There’s just no way,” he finally said, but his voice had lost the conviction it had earlier.
“I know it’s weird,” Akira conceded. “But I don’t think we automatically need to assume the worst here.”
“I guess not, but…” Morgana frowned. “I don’t know, Akira. Something feels wrong.” He paced around on the bed, and then said, “Hey, I wanna go out and see if I can find anyone else. Maybe they’ve noticed something off.”
“All right,” Akira said. “I’ll prop open the kitchen window if I end up locking up before you get back, okay?”
“Mm,” Morgana nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere.
Akira went back downstairs, with Morgana close on his heels. Goro looked up when they came down, but Akira passed him and walked to the door, opening it just a hair to let Morgana out. The cat gave Akira one last look before he disappeared out into the darkness.
Akira flipped the lock again and took a seat next to Goro.
“So,” he said.
“So,” Goro replied.
Akira didn’t know what to say. How many nights had he dreamed about this exact scenario, that he would walk through Leblanc’s front door and find Goro sitting in his usual spot, as if nothing had ever happened? How many times had he considered the words he would say, so careful drafted in his mind’s eye when he couldn’t fall asleep? He had so many questions, most of them beginning with “why” – why are you here, why did you do what you did, why didn’t you ask us for help – but the question Akira finally asked was this:
“…what happened to you, Akechi?”
Goro’s laugh was as empty as the café around them. “I wish I knew what to tell you,” he said.
Akira clicked his tongue. “Start with the boiler room,” he suggested.
“Ha… very well,” Goro said, shaking his head. He tipped his coffee mug to the side and peered into it. “Would you mind brewing me a fresh cup, however? I’m rather cold…”
Akira wasn’t able to deny such a request, and so for a time the silence returned, Goro making no move to speak while Akira was grinding beans and boiling water. He ended up preparing one cup for Goro and one for himself, adding a healthy splash of cream and a dusting of cinnamon to the top of each; tonight, when Sojiro wasn’t around to chastise him, he wanted to serve something sweet and warm, something that would bring some life back to Goro’s pale body.
“Thank you,” Goro murmured, accepting the cup as Akira returned to his seat beside him. “For the coffee, and for… well.” He sighed and took a long sip of his drink before speaking again.
“It would seem Shido’s perception of me is rather arrogant,” he said. “That cognition beat me to a pulp and left me for dead, without bothering to check and see if I truly was. In time, I managed to stabilize my wounds, and I attempted to seek a way out. However, before I was able to find one, the whole Palace began to shake and collapse around me… that was your doing, wasn’t it?”
Akira nodded.
Goro dropped his head and stared at the counter. “You really did it,” he said, mostly to himself. “I’m in awe. I wouldn’t have thought a man like him was capable of having a change of heart.”
“Not on his own,” Akira said. “I’d say we probably helped in that regard.”
Goro smirked into his coffee.
“Anyway, you said you saw the Palace collapsing…?” Akira prompted after a few moments. Goro grimaced, but nodded.
“Yes. I was attempting to make my way through the inner workings of the ship, but I hadn’t found anything that would take me outside and allow me to activate the app. When the Palace began to collapse, I thought for sure I was dead. But then I…”
He trailed off and took a deep breath. “It’s strange. I’ve visited that world for years, and yet I still have no idea how it works. A palace exists within someone’s mind, so of course the beings that populated that world would disappear with it, but for a Persona-user… we have physical bodies. We are tied to reality. Can a cognitive world really destroy us so easily?” he mused, swirling his coffee around.
That was something Akira had wondered on more than one occasion. Shadows, as he had just learned, all returned to the depths of Mementos when they were defeated, but what of humans who met their end in the Metaverse? Especially humans who had accepted their own shadows, as Goro and the rest of the Phantom Thieves had…
“Where did you end up?” Akira asked.
“I was… nowhere, I think. I don’t remember. It took me a while to even realize I was still myself. When I did, the first thing I thought was that… I wanted to see you again, Akira. And then I was here.” The barest hint of a smile flashed across Goro’s face, but only for a brief moment. He ducked his head and quickly added, “However, I understand if you’d rather have nothing to do with me… the fact that you even listened to my story is more than I deserve. I can leave, if you’d prefer—”
Akira didn’t let him finish the thought. Emotions he’d repressed since that day in Shido’s palace came rushing back to him as he slid from his barstool and pulled Goro into a crushing hug. It was all too much to handle. What had he done to deserve a Christmas present like this?
“Uh – ah, Akira?” Goro asked.
“If you leave again so soon, I won’t forgive you,” Akira said, using his height to rest his chin atop Goro’s head. A long moment passed, and then, with the faintest of touches, Goro wrapped his arms around Akira’s waist, too.
“…where will you have me go, then?” he asked.
“Stay here,” Akira said immediately. “It’s so late… Stay with me. You can take my bed.”
“I – I don’t have any clothes,” Goro protested.
“Borrow some of mine,” Akira said. He felt Goro exhale a quick puff of air against his chest.
“Are you sure?”
“Please,” Akira said.
Goro didn’t need any more convincing. Akira went through the motions of closing the café with robotic disinterest, hastily stowing Goro’s dishes away and turning out the café lights so that he could lead the way up the stairs into the attic, Goro following a few steps behind. The attic had a terrible draft, making it even chillier upstairs than in the café, and the clothes Akira found for Goro to wear to bed weren’t the warmest, but Goro still accepted them with a quiet “thanks”.
They turned their backs to change, each feeling suddenly shy now that they were sharing such an intimate space as Akira’s own bedroom. And they were going to spend the night alone together… Akira would be lying if he said the thought didn’t make his heart race a little.
But that wasn’t what this was about. No, he would let Goro sleep on his futon, and he’d take the couch, even if that meant a night of shivering and a crick in his neck tomorrow morning. In fact, Akira all but insisted Goro take the futon, and once he had ensured there was a sufficient number of blankets, he flicked off the lamp and plunged the room into darkness. The only remaining light came from the full moon, which streamed in through the window and lit up Goro’s face with soft blue highlights.
It was hardly a minute after Akira had settled down onto the couch that Goro spoke again.
“Akira, I…” he called out softly into the dark attic, “I think… I’d prefer it if you slept here. With me.”
Akira’s mouth went dry.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’ll be pretty crowded…”
“Yes. It – It’s so cold tonight; you’ll freeze on the couch,” Goro said. “So, please… if it’s okay with you.”
The thought of a warm body beside him all night was definitely a nice one… doubly so if it was Goro’s. Akira rose from the couch and approached the bed, where he found Goro sitting upright, his knees pulled up to his chest and the blanket just barely draped over his feet. Akira’s old, black tee was a little too large for him, and the sweatpants just a little too short, leaving his ankles exposed.
Akira’s heart ached at the sight. He was so beautiful.
Goro flushed and looked away as Akira sat down beside him. “What is it?” he asked. “You look like you want to say something.”
Where do I even begin? Akira thought. In a voice quiet enough to reach only Goro, he said, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” Goro replied. “After I tried so hard to ensure you weren’t…”
“Akechi… Goro,” Akira said, cutting him off. There was turmoil in Goro’s eyes, uncertainty keeping his shoulders tense and his muscles coiled, and the fear of what could go wrong made him flinch when Akira raised a hand to his face and gently caressed his cheek, which was cool to the touch.
They were already so close that kissing Goro was as easy as tipping his chin up and leaning forward. Goro’s eyes fluttered shut and hid the turmoil away, and for just a moment he surrendered to Akira’s soft touch, though it was still Goro who pulled back first, turning away and nuzzling further into Akira’s palm to hide his face.
“How?” he whispered. “After everything I’ve done to you… how can you look at me like that?”
“I didn’t get to see the you that tried to… do me in,” Akira said slowly. With his free hand, he sought out Goro’s, lacing their fingers together. “I never have. The you I remember is the one who spent so much time with me here, down in the café, the one who fought with me in the casino… and that was real, wasn’t it? I know you felt it too, Goro.”
“I… I did,” Goro admitted. “But I – I shouldn’t – and the others…”
“We can worry about them another day,” Akira said. He brushed his thumb along Goro’s face, close to his lips. “Don’t think about them right now, okay? I might get jealous.”
Goro tried to laugh and it turned out more like a hiccup. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked.
“Of course,” Akira said. “It’s Christmas… we can be selfish for a little while.”
“All right,” Goro said.
Akira’s heart leapt into his throat. “All right…?” he asked.
“Yes,” Goro said. He cleared his throat and smiled shyly. “I… wouldn’t mind being selfish for a while… with you.”
Though his pulse jumped at the words – and their implications – Akira let Goro come to him. Akira had instigated everything so far; he didn’t want to push Goro into anything – he needed to know that this was what Goro truly wanted, too. So when Goro let his knees drop to the side, pulled himself into Akira’s lap, and granted him a slow, tentative kiss, his every fear was assuaged.
They explored each other slowly, Goro with a reservation that was difficult to shed, and Akira with the gentleness that Goro deserved, starting with hot, tender kisses pressed against the other's lips or cheek or neck, and then with hands roaming all over, shaky with nervous excitement. In time, they shed the thin layers protecting them from the chilly attic air and sought out new warmth in each other’s arms. Goro had a lithe frame with a little muscle definition that came from fighting in the Metaverse, and the pale moonlight revealed a crisscross of old, faded scars that marred his skin. When Akira saw them, he smoothed his hand over Goro’s back, running down towards his hip and tracing the scars with his fingers.
Goro squirmed in place. “Please… please don’t,” he said.
Akira pulled away. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
“No,” Goro said, “I just… don’t like to think about it.”
Akira pressed his lips to Goro’s temple and promised to chase those wretched memories from his mind for good.
As their touches grew more heated, Akira couldn’t stop himself from whispering all sorts of secrets against Goro’s skin; words of adoration and regret, of acceptance and compassion, all the things he should have said so long ago, before everything fell to pieces – because if he had, then maybe none of this would have ever…
But he couldn’t think like that. If he did nothing but ruminate on what could have been, what should have been, he was liable to miss out on what was happening right now. Right now, he had Goro wrapped protectively in his arms, and they rocked against each other, drawing out gasps and pleas to keep going until at last Goro took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to look Akira in the eye as his body went rigid and Akira’s skilled fingers made him come. It only took Akira a moment to follow.
Akira’s breathing began to slow back down to normal, but Goro’s did not; he shook and shuddered against Akira’s shoulder and it was only when he felt the hot tears drop against his own bare skin that Akira realized what was happening. He hugged Goro close to his chest and stroked his hair gently, coaxing the tremors and tears out of his body until at last, they stopped.
“Okay?” Akira asked.
“Yes, I just… can’t believe it,” Goro said. He pushed himself from Akira’s chest, just far enough that they could look each other in the eyes; his were shiny with unshed tears, which began to fall anew when Goro said, in a shaky whisper,
“Akira… Akira, I think I love you.”
Akira wiped a stray tear away with his thumb, pressing a kiss where it had been. “I love you too, Goro,” he said. “I love you so much, so much… we’ll figure this out together, okay?”
“Yes… okay. I believe you,” Goro said.
They dried the rest of Goro’s tears and cleaned away the mess they’d made, dressing again before they both settled down beneath the covers. Slowly, they each drifted off to sleep just like this: Goro pressed to Akira’s front and Akira wrapping his arm around Goro’s waist, perfectly content to stay like this forever, if they could.
But their rest was disturbed only a few hours later.
“Akira… Akira!” Morgana hissed, batting at Akira’s face with his paw.
“Hmm?” Akira mumbled, his mind still clouded by sleep.
“Get up! I found something really important. You need to come with me,” Morgana said in an urgent whisper.
Though Akira was loathe to leave the comfort of his bed, Morgana was speaking in a tone of voice he very rarely used – only when there was serious danger – so Akira woke himself up. He tried his hardest to be careful, but there was only so much you could do to avoid disturbing someone sharing a bed with you, and as Akira got up, Goro stirred.
“Hm… ‘kira?” he asked.
“Sorry,” Akira said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
Goro blinked and sat up. “You’re leaving me,” he stated.
“Only for a minute.” Akira dipped down and pressed his lips against Goro’s forehead. “Promise.”
“Mm,” Goro murmured, pulling the blanket up and rolling over.
Akira threw on a pair of jeans and an overcoat, and he reluctantly decided to put on socks in addition to his shoes. It was late, nearly three in the morning, and the day was no doubt reaching its coldest point. Indeed, when Akira stepped outside, he was hit with an icy chill that cut straight through his jacket and settled under his skin. Hunching his shoulders, he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Morgana, who was already off and leaping through the snowdrifts.
“This way!” he called out. “C’mon!”
Akira followed Morgana down the street towards the Sakura residence, and when he reached their house, Morgana paused, standing at attention in front of a small, frozen puddle of water just beside the mailbox.
“Look, look!” Morgana exclaimed.
Crouching down beside his cat, Akira stared at the icy pool. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at.
“What is this, Morgana?” he asked.
“Akira?” a voice completely unlike Morgana’s responded to him, though there was no one on the street at this time of night. The voice sounded familiar, too, almost like…
“Futaba?” Akira asked.
“Akira! Oh my god!” It was then that Akira realized her voice was emanating from the small, icy pool in front of him. She sounded distant, like they were talking over a telephone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, Futaba. What’s happening?” Akira asked.
“I don’t know! Prometheus and I have been trying to wake you up for hours and… A-Akira…” Futaba was sniffling now. “We’re in the Metaverse. We’re somewhere – I don’t know where, like a prison maybe? I’m with the others. We’ve found you, but you’re out cold… I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“You see?” Morgana asked. He pawed anxiously at the snowy ground. “I knew there was something fishy going on here.”
“I’ve been studying you, and I think you’re under the effects of a spell,” Futaba said. “Like, a totally insane Marin Karin. I tried rubbing relax gel on you, and shoving an energy drop down your throat, but it didn’t work.”
Akira wrinkled his nose at the thought of the sticky mess on his skin and the hard candy lodged in his throat.
“Okay. Assuming you’re right, is there anything I can do from my end?” he asked.
Futaba paused. “We’ve been discussing that. If you’re brainwashed – and it seems like you are – then you need to shock yourself awake; y’know, do something to shatter the illusion. I think if you can find the thing that’s the most different… that might be the source of the illusion. You need to find the thing that doesn’t fit and destroy it, and that’ll wake you up… I think.”
“…okay,” Akira said. “Okay. I’ll go look around, I guess. You’ll stay here, right Futaba?”
“Right!” she promised. “I’ll be here – just holler if you need me, okay?”
Akira stood up too quickly and had to brace himself on the retaining wall outside the Sakura household after just a few steps. That was… a lot. It was almost hard to believe. Shouldn’t he know if he was still in the Metaverse – in the Velvet Room, even, as Futaba seemed to hint? He’d been there so many times, and every time, he would still be in costume. He would still have his weapons…
Muscle memory caused him to place his hand over where his holster would be, and although there was nothing visible, he encountered resistance. He clasped his hand over the shape of a gun and pulled his weapon out of thin air.
“That proves it, then, doesn’t it?” Morgana asked, coming up beside him and winding around his legs. “You wouldn’t have that otherwise…”
“You look like a house cat,” Akira said.
“I know,” Morgana replied. The fact that he didn’t protest more strongly was perhaps a testament to how serious he was treating this situation. “But Futaba wouldn’t lie, Akira. We need to get back to the others; we need to break the illusion.”
“Maybe,” Akira said.
Morgana flicked his tail and ran a few paces out in front of Akira, stopping in place. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t know.”
He knew. This world was a perfect illusion – almost. Akira wondered if the magic that wove this world into existence had tapped into his memories to make such an authentic fake.
“I don’t even know where to start looking for the distortion she mentioned.”
He did. Whoever had created this place was smart. They gave Akira the one thing he wanted the most in the world, the one impossible thing he knew he could never have, and that was why he knew, as much as he wished to deny it, that Morgana was right.
Morgana glared at him, growling in frustration. “Akira, get real!” he snapped. “You know there’s only one thing out of place here, and that’s him!”
“Ah…”
The silence that rang in Akira’s ears was deafening. Slowly, dreading every second, he turned around. A few feet behind them, just turning to come around the street, was Goro, still wearing Akira’s old sweatpants but with his jacket thrown on over top.
“Goro,” Akira said.
“It’s okay,” Goro said. From the look on his face, he’d heard every word of their conversation. “It’s true, isn’t it? …I don’t have any memory of how I got here. It’s suspicious, to say the least. I wonder if I’m even real…”
“Goro,” Akira repeated, taking a step closer.
Goro laughed, or tried to. “Even now, I can’t have what I want, can I…?” he asked. “But you can, Akira. You need to get back to them.”
Akira shook his head. “What I want is you.”
“It’s okay,” Goro assured him. He drew closer still, close enough that he could fall against Akira’s chest and pull him into a hug. With his free arm, Akira wrapped around Goro’s waist and squeezed as hard as he could. “Akira. Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Akira said.
“I don’t care if this is real or not.” Goro let his chin rest on Akira’s shoulder. “Because I got to experience it… because it’s real to me. Because I got to see you again, Akira…”
“M-me too,” Akira stammered. “It’s real for me, too…”
Goro pushed away and held Akira at arm’s length. He had a sad, almost pitying smile on his face. “But it’s not. You need to live, Akira… so what did Futaba-chan say?”
Akira’s arm shook violently and he could barely hold his gun.
“I can’t,” he said.
Goro reached down and found Akira’s other arm, the one carrying the gun, and brought it up to chest-level. “It’s just a model, isn’t it?” he asked. “So if this is real… we have nothing to worry about. And if it’s an illusion, then I won’t feel anything, anyway. You have nothing to lose by simply trying…”
Still, Akira lowered his gun. “I can’t,” he said.
“Hey…” Goro brought a hand to Akira’s cheek, tilting his head until they were looking each other in the eye. “Let’s make a deal, okay?” he asked.
“Don’t,” Akira croaked. “Don’t do this again, Goro.”
“Don’t worry,” Goro said. “I promise you’ll like this one.” He let his hand drop to his side. “Find the one who played this cruel joke on us and make him suffer. Okay?”
“Okay,” Akira said. “Okay… I will.”
“I know,” Goro said, and he was smiling again. “You always make good on your promises, Akira.”
With a shuddering breath, Akira took a step back and aimed his gun again, and this time something steadied his grip. He was at point-blank range now… it would take a lot for him to miss.
“Goro, I’m so sorry,” he said. After everything he’d told Goro tonight…
God he was such a hypocrite.
Akira squeezed the trigger.
The gun recoiled, but it didn’t make a sound, and yet a clean bullet wound appeared on Goro’s forehead, and Akira watched the life drain from his eyes.
There was a moment, then, when nothing at all changed; Goro’s body crumpled to the ground and lay, lifeless, in the fresh snow, and all around them the world stayed the same – no illusion to be shattered. Icy cold terror shot through Akira’s body and he dropped to his knees, his gun falling from his hand and clattering to the ground beside him. He grabbed Goro by the shoulders; a trail of blood ran down his forehead.
I did this. I pulled the trigger and now look—
His body was heavy and lifeless and still warm in Akira’s arms —
I fucked up. They were wrong, they were both wrong—
What did I do?
But as Akira’s mind devolved into panic, he felt Goro’s body become suddenly light – impossibly light, as if he wasn’t there at all – and the world started to dissolve, like grains of sand scattering in the wind, until Akira was left all alone in an inky black void.
“Joker? Joker! Akira!”
A chorus of voices welcomed him back to consciousness. His body was sore – he could hardly move – and when he did at last open his eyes, he found himself looking down at his gloves – Joker’s gloves, bright crimson red – and he could only picture blood. It coated his hands and his mind, staining his memories red.
The other Thieves crowded around him, all wide-eyed and relieved, but there was someone missing among their ranks, never to return. Makoto was saying something – Ryuji too – Akira could see their lips moving, but he heard nothing. His vision began to blur, gone fuzzy from the tears that pooled in his eyes, and he blinked to clear it. The tears wet his face and caught behind his mask, and still his vision blurred.
The others were taking notice of him now. He didn’t move, but they all seemed to get closer, and then Akira felt pressure: arms closing around him, hands resting on his arms and knees until most of his body was covered by another’s comforting touch. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer; he sobbed openly, freely, like he could relieve some of the pain he felt through tears alone.
He cried enough for them both, because Goro would never have the chance to mourn for himself.