Chapter Text
“Hanami? Tonight? This is rather sudden.” Goro says, contemplating. He’s not free of responsibilities, but he won’t necessarily be busy either. He could squeeze a small celebration into his schedule. It’s been a while since they have done anything fun.
“I know, but I feel like everyone got off on the wrong foot. We can hit the reset button. It’ll be fun.” Akira says, typing away on his phone. Goro’s phone buzzes. “Haru scouted a spot for us already. I sent you the directions. You won’t need to bring anything since Sojiro is packing food for us.”
“Who will be accompanying us?” So I can decide if I need to work overtime at the office.
“You’ve already met everyone that is going. I promise today will be different. Come on, free food.” Akira begs, his hands together in mock prayer. “Make the numbers even.”
“If I go, they won’t be. Are you forgetting Morgana?”
“Morgana is a cat, Akechi.”
“Do you not consider Morgana to be an extension of one’s self?”
“What—”
“You’re not going anywhere if you don’t get to work on that refill. Friend or not, Mr. Detective is a customer when you’re on the clock.” Sojiro interjects, eyeing them both.
“Mr. Detective is making over 6 figures a week and hasn’t paid for a single thing in months. That’s why we’re broke and he’s rich.” Futaba says, still fully focused on her little gaming device.
“Get your feet off the table.” Sojiro sighs, ignoring her. “And go up to the attic and haul that box down here. It’s right by the steps, you can’t miss it.”
“Why can’t Akira do it?” She groans dramatically, feet still resting on the tabletop.
“He’s working.”
“He’s flirting!”
“I’ll do it.” Akira rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile. “Don’t leave.”
“I suppose I will linger until the end of your shift. Foolish to return home if I am to head to the park in only a few hours.”
Akira grins. “Be back in a sec.”
Goro watches him disappear up the stairs.
“Was gonna have to throttle you if you said no,” Sojiro says, absentmindedly washing a cup. “He’s been looking forward to this. He doesn’t get to be a kid too often. It’s been better since he’s moved to the city, but he doesn’t get to live as he should. God knows his parents didn’t let him.”
“He’s been here since his arrest, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah. Parents considered him to be too much of a hassle to keep around. When it came time for him to go back home, he stayed here. They never even called. Pisses me off when I think about it. Leaving your kid like that when they need you now more than ever… I don’t get it.”
“And you never will,” Goro says bitterly.
“I guess you relate to that, don’t you?” Sojiro slides a new cup of coffee forward. “Why don’t you go check on Akira, Futaba?” Goro can see her out of the corner of his eye. She recognizes it as more of a demand than a request and nods. She’s so light that the steps don’t even creak under her weight.
Come to think of it, they never did when Akira went up, either.
Goro takes a sip of his coffee. It’s so hot it nearly scalds his tongue, but it’s good. Sweet, just how he likes it. He used to order a plain black coffee when he would come here, but it didn’t take long for Sojiro to realize it was all a ploy. He claims that all the sugar and cream turns the coffee into a milkshake, but he never fails to have a delicious cup ready when Goro enters the shop. He’s also kept that secret safe from Akira.
“Thank you,” Goro says. The heat radiates through the ceramic, penetrating his gloves.
“You have too much hatred in your eyes for someone so young. Akira used to be the same way, but I think he hides it better now.” Sojiro says suddenly, quick to get the words out. “You know, you’re the only one I know next to nothing about.”
“What do you mean?” It’s beginning to burn.
“I’ve gotten to know a lot about Akira’s friends over the years. Each and every one of them, whether it’s through them ranting to me or overhearing their conversations, I’ve listened to their stories. But I’ve never heard anything from you. Every conversation is carefully worded and practiced, and I’m convinced you made Akira sign an NDA because he never mentions anything private between you two.”
“What is there to say? My story is already out there. My father is in prison because I put him there, and my mother hasn’t been around for a very long time.” He sets his drink down a bit too harshly as some liquid sloshes over the side. “I know what it’s like to be abandoned, that’s all.”
Sojiro puts his hands on the counter and leans forward. “I don’t like liars. It’s why I didn’t like Akira when he arrived and why I didn’t like you when I first saw your face on the TV. You two lie without even knowing it.” He shakes his head. “Akira does it so people don’t worry about him. Leftover guilt from the way his parents treated him. If he’s not useful anymore, he thinks people will leave him. I take it you’re the same way.”
Goro clenches his jaw and resists the urge to grind his teeth. Tears threaten to spill over his cheeks, but he holds back. He is not going to cry again so soon, especially in front of another person.
“Thought so. You’re gonna have to accept that people care about you, kid. Doesn’t matter where you came from or who you used to be. This is who you are now and if people don’t like the real you? Well, you’re always welcome in this back alley shop.” Sojiro backs up, crossing his arms. “You were a double agent, weren’t you? For Shido? He was the one who killed Futaba’s mother, but I wanted to blame you when you first walked through that door. But then I saw Akira run to you. Saw him smile for the first time in months when introducing you to me. I realized you weren’t the person you were pretending to be or the person I thought you were. You’re just a kid, and despite the hell you went through, you turned out to be a damn good one. You should be proud of yourself. I know I’m proud of you. Sae Niijima is, too.”
Four words he has never heard before. Four words he desperately wanted to hear from his father, even though he was the most despicable man in Japan. Four words he imagined his mother saying whenever he felt like he had made the wrong decision. Four words that he finally got to hear from a man who admitted he barely knew him. Four words from a man whose life he helped destroy, intentional or not. Four words.
And it means the world to him.
“Thank you,” Goro says after a long stretch of silence.
“You’re welcome,” Sojiro replies, handing him a napkin. “Get cleaned up, beauty queen.”
Oh.
He sniffles and pats his face dry, careful to avoid smudging even more makeup. He’ll have to reapply his concealer.
This is who you are now.
Maybe he won’t.
“How many teenagers does it take to find a box? What are you two doing up there?” Sojiro shouts.
“We can’t find it! There’s no box!” Futaba says exasperatedly.
“It’s right there when you come up!” Sojiro smirks.
There was never a box, was there?
“It is not! You’re halfway to senile already.” Akira says, climbing down the stairs.
“I’m senile? Look who's talking. You’d lose your head if it weren’t attached.” Sojiro snorts.
“Gotta back the Boss up on this one, ‘Kira. You can’t remember anything anymore. No offense.” Futaba pipes up.
“You want to see how much I remember? Let’s talk about your first day working at the cafe…”
“Akira, stop!” She whines.
Goro laughs. A real laugh, not the bullshit one he feeds the media. He always thought he had an awful laugh, uneven and low, but they all laugh with him and don’t comment on it. He overthinks too much, doesn’t he?
It soon dies down, not lasting long enough.
“Did we ever decide on yukata or not?” Futaba asks after a while. Akira has since returned to the kitchen to start on sandwiches with Sojiro.
“I don’t want to trip, so I’m not going to. I think the girls are, though. You won’t be the odd one out if you wear yours.” Akira opens the fridge. “We have strawberries. Should we make some strawberry and cream sandwiches? I can cut them into flower shapes.”
“Ooo yeah! Blueberry and cream, too! We have some at the house!”
“Are you offering to get them?”
“No, you.”
“I’m busy, and you have to get changed anyway.”
“So do you! Plus you have to pack your bag and get Morgana!”
“Go ahead, I’ll finish these up. I want you to bring the diazepam with you, so don’t forget it.” Sojiro advises, waving them out the door. Akira throws his apron on a nearby table.
“I won’t.”
“And the blueberries! The blueberries, Akira!” Futaba reminds.
Goro slides off his stool to join Akira, and once they’re out the door he feels comfortable enough to ask the question.
“What is diazepam used for?”
“Anxiety,” Akira says without hesitation. “But I should be fine. If anything happens, Morgana will be with me, and so will my friends. That includes you, by the way.”
“Interesting, I haven’t heard of that one.” Goro ponders. “Is your house far?”
“No,” Akira says. “We’re here. Come in.”
The house is quadruple the size of his apartment, which is unsurprising considering he lives smack in the middle of Kichijoji, but he’s still amazed nonetheless. He’s been to the Niijima residence numerous times, but the environment isn't nearly as homey as Akira’s house. This feels much more familiar.
“It’s nice. You… You should invite me over more often.” Goro says.
Akira shrugs. “Your place is a lot more fun.” A lie, he’s never short of things to complain about when they’re at Goro’s apartment. “Are you planning on wearing your uniform out or are you going to borrow some clothes? You said you’re not going home, right?”
“I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”
“Akechi, please. You plan on relaxing in full cop attire?”
“Well…”
“Follow me.”
Goro expects to be led upstairs, but Akira takes him away from the front door and directly down the hallway. They pass the kitchen and living room, then what he can only assume is the bathroom, until they end up at a lone door slightly ajar. Akira pushes it open, and Goro is suddenly very uncomfortable. He’s never been inside Akira’s bedroom before, or his house in general, but the bedroom feels especially off-limits.
“Let’s see… I believe I have some of your clothes here, actually.” Akira mumbles to himself, not acknowledging Morgana who seems incredibly irritated that his nap on Akira’s bed was just interrupted. He meows at Goro as if he were the cause of it.
“This is yours, isn’t it?” Akira says, holding up a beige trench coat. “Looks very detectivey. And middle-aged.” He layers a black turtleneck and black skinny jeans on the coat. “Here.”
“You want me to wear skinny jeans? And black? This isn’t really me.” Goro says, trying to politely refuse.
“Scared they won’t fit over your ass? They’ll fit, I swear. You’ll look good. The bathroom is next door. Like, the next door. Room. The next room over. To change.” Akira stutters, his face turning beat red as he realizes what he said.
Goro’s cheeks are hot. He snatches the stack from Akira’s arms and makes his way to the bathroom, sighing in relief once the door slides shut.
Their relationship has been, for lack of a better term, pricky. It’s how they have always been, but there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on. They said no more secrets, but did they really agree to that? It’s a paradoxical thing to agree to. There will always be secrets, but doesn’t it only become a secret if you refuse to tell it? Goro doesn’t want to bring it up, not after the ordeal they just went through, but when is it ever a good time? Akira is like a broken magnet that’s trying to put itself back together, it’s not going to work unless you apply an inhumane amount of pressure, and that’s not a path Goro is prepared to go down at the moment.
I know when you’re ready, you’ll tell me.
So be it, then.
He lays the clothes on a nearby shelf that holds towels and heads to the sink to examine the damage his earlier episode did to his face paint. It’s minimal, and not enough to notice unless his personal space is seriously being invaded, but it bothers him enough to have the urge to remove it completely. He does a quick once over to look for some sort of tissue or wipe but finds none, so he opens the medicine cabinet. A few bottles that were haphazardly thrown inside fall, making a rattling noise loud enough for the entirety of Yongen-Jaya to hear.
“Shit.” He picks up the first bottle, early empty. He’s about to put it away when he catches Akira’s name on the label. The two others that fell are the same. He glances back into the cabinet, where the majority of the prescribed medications are also Akira’s. “Xenazine, Prozac, Seroquel…” He says aloud, growing more and more confused by the second. He’s heard of some, hell, he himself is on some, but these others? Not even in passing has he heard these names mentioned. Surely these aren’t all used to treat depression and anxiety, right? This cabinet is filled to the brim.
“You okay?” Akira says through the door with a gentle knock.
“Yes!” Goro replies, frantically throwing the bottles back into the cabinet. More fall out as he tries to press the others in. “I just dropped this!”
“Dropped what?” He can imagine Akira right now, with an amused expression and arms crossed firmly across his chest.
“Don’t forget the blueberries!” A half-assed attempt at a distraction, but it works. Akira chuckles.
“When we’re done at the park, we’re heading back to Leblanc for hot chocolate, so you can just leave your clothes behind the bar there. Or I can put them in the Mona bag.”
“Leblanc is fine, I’d rather avoid the cat hair.” He says, finally packing away the last bottle.
The label reads ‘diazepam’, but Goro hardly pays it any mind. It gets placed near the back, quickly engulfed by the others.
“Hurry up, I need to get in there!” Akira urges as Goro starts the process of removing his clothes.
“Yeah, yeah, I am…”
The park is crowded but true to her word, Haru managed to stake a claim on their spot. A large blanket is spread out, with plenty of room for everyone to comfortably sit and eat. It’s under the low-hanging branches of one of the bigger trees in the area. The cherry blossoms are big and bright, just like in the movies. There’s a light breeze, and every once in a while a few of the petals will fall from the tree and gracefully make their way to the ground, or in this case, on top of Morgana’s head. Akira laughs and brushes it off him. Night has already filled the sky, and the soft lights from the main pathway reflect perfectly off Akira’s slate-grey eyes, making them look less stormy and showing off the flecks of blue.
He’d give anything to live in this moment forever.
“Yo! Akira! I’m hungry, unpack those sandwiches!” Sakamoto (no, fresh start) Ryuji shouts, waving his hands as if they couldn’t clearly see them.
“Let them sit down first, Ryuji,” Ann says, but is just as eager as he is. “I heard you made fruit sandwiches!”
“Please quiet down, people are staring,” Makoto says, embarrassed.
“Haru, do you have any ibuprofen in your bag? I have a small headache and didn’t take anything before I left…” Akira says, approaching her. Futaba leaves his side as well, heading towards Yusuke who is observing a couple on the bridge that goes over a small stream.
Fresh start.
He sits next to Ryuji, who immediately offers a smile. “Glad you could make it. Did you get the same lecture I did?”
“You could say that… My name is Goro Akechi.” He puts his hand out.
“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Ryuji Sakamoto.” They shake hands, and it makes Goro dizzy. A good kind of dizzy, whatever that means.
“Oh, lovely! You two are getting along. I was afraid I would have to step in.” Haru says cheerfully, but there’s a dangerous edge in her voice that makes him reconsider how he views her.
“Museum worthy,” Yusuke adds, acknowledging his existence. “The gods have blessed me with exuberant funds, hence I offer you all tea as an offering.” He produces a pitcher from the confines of his yukata. Besides the girls, he was the only one to wear one.
“Erm… Thanks, Yusuke. We brought mochi.” Ann says, looking a bit queasy after smelling the contents of the pitcher.
“My mom made them,” Ryuji says, proud.
“I brought sushi. My chef made it before I left, so it’s nice and fresh.” Haru hands a small box to Akira. “Fatty tuna for Morgana.” She winks.
“Sis and I made a few salads. Nothing fancy, but it will go well with the variety of sandwiches Akira and Futaba made.” Makoto says, passing out plates and utensils.
“Bold of you to assume Sakura helped at all.” Goro snarks, and to his surprise, everyone laughs at his remark. A warm feeling builds in his chest.
“Hey! I reminded Akira to get the blueberries!” She huffs, throwing her pair of chopsticks at him. It hits him square on the forehead. Her actions are encouraged by another round of laughter, but the person next to him isn’t laughing. Quite the opposite.
“Kurusu, are you alright? What are you searching for?”
Akira is combing through his bag with difficulty. Morgana had long ago jumped out, but he was rubbing against Akira’s arms and meowing, trying to catch his owner’s attention. Akira pushes him away.
“My diazepam. I couldn’t find it in the medicine cabinet, so I thought I had left it in my bag, but it’s not here. I don’t know where it’s at. I always keep it in the same spot.”
“I’m sure it’s still there. You had a lot on your mind, so you likely just skipped over it. Do we need to go back for it?”
“No, no.” Akira shakes his head, but he’s paler than ever. “I’m overreacting. Sojiro told me to bring it just in case, but I don’t actually need it.”
“You know what’s best for you, but if you start to get anxious then tell me and I will retrieve it for you.”
“I’m fine, really. Just a bit stressed out.” Akira assures. Morgana bumps his head into his hand for scratches. Akira obliges, but Morgana continues to loudly meow.
Goro eyes him suspiciously but lets it go.
Despite the dubious nature of Yusuke’s tea, it was quite enjoyable. Goro wasn’t sure what the exact flavor was, and it took him a moment to get over the abhorrent smell, but it was pleasant. The others seemed to agree as well.
As promised, the sushi was fresh and of good quality. The chef did an excellent job, and Haru assured them that their compliments would be passed along to him. Much to the surprise of everyone present, Morgana didn’t indulge in his fatty tuna at all, oddly too antsy to do so. They brushed it off and blamed his behavior on dogs in the area.
Goro might be biased, but the egg sandwiches Akira and Sojiro worked on were the best. Just enough sweetness and just enough spice. They were definitely the best egg sandwiches he’s eaten, even better than what his mother used to make him for school. Makoto was right when she said they would go well with the salads. There were three in total, potato, shiro-ae, and fruit. Goro tried a little of all three, but Akira solely feasted on the shiro-ae. “Easy to chew,” he had said.
The fruit sandwiches were supposed to serve as a bridge between dessert and the main course, but they were gone within seconds. Luckily Akira snagged him one before it too could be engulfed by Ann. She was ravenous with the sweets, including the mochi. She had eaten a quarter of the contents before they even arrived at the park, so the rest were evenly distributed to everyone except her.
Hours had passed without him even realizing it, and before too long, it was time to go.
“I’m so ready for hot cocoa. It got colder than I thought it would.” Ann says, snuggling into the now-folded blanket.
“You’re supposed to take your clothes if you’re cold. So you don’t freeze faster.” Ryuji says, missing a keyword.
“Wet clothes, Ryuji. You should remove wet clothing.” Makoto corrects. “And that’s only in specific conditions.”
“You’re such a perv, Ryuji.” Futaba quips, skipping ahead and carrying nothing.
“I must object! Your perverted nature far exceeds Ryuji’s, Futaba!” Yusuke announces, again drawing the attention of strangers in the group’s proximity. Haru holds a finger to her lips to shush him.
Admittedly, Goro isn’t paying much attention to his surroundings. He assumed the responsibility of the Mona bag, and the cat hasn’t stopped howling since they left Leblanc, so that was a distraction in and of itself. The conversation unfolding behind him is another noise disturbance, along with the dozens of others that are too hushed to listen to but too loud to just ignore.
So he doesn’t notice that Akira hasn’t stopped walking until he runs into him.
Morgana is losing it at this point, scratching and clawing his way out of the bag until he is able to leap on the ground. He circles Akira, still consistent with his obnoxious cat noises.
“What is it? What are you staring at?” Goro questions, maneuvering around a stagnant Akira and an increasingly irritating Morgana.
But Akira doesn’t seem to be staring at anything at all. His face is completely blank, void of all emotion.
“Kurusu?” Goro places a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Hey.”
No response. Goro snaps his fingers in front of his face. Still nothing.
“What’s the holdup?” Ryuji asks, and Goro looks away for a single second. That’s all it takes.
“Akechi-kun!” Haru shouts, but by the time he turns his attention back to Akira he has already hit the ground. His head connects with the pavement with a sickening crack, and red immediately begins to spread across the surface.
He was just walking. He was fine.
There’s so much blood.
Head injuries always bleed a lot, it doesn’t always mean it’s serious.
Akira told him that.
What happened?
Goro gets shoved aside by Futaba, effectively snapping him out of his racing thoughts. “Help me turn him over,” she says firmly. It’s not the first time she has said that. Blood is soaking into her yukata.
He complies, flipping Akira onto his back. Shockingly, he’s awake, and the blood running down his face doesn’t seem to bother him at all. He didn’t even react.
“I need a timer.” Futaba orders.
“Already on it,” Ryuji says, holding up his wrist and displaying his watch.
A crowd is starting to gather around them. Makoto, Yusuke, and Haru fan out to keep them as far back as possible.
Goro doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what’s happening.
He removes his coat and places it under Akira’s head. Futaba nods her head in appreciation.
And then the convulsions start.
And Goro knows exactly what this is.
Futaba takes her hands off of him immediately as his body tenses and shakes. It’s awful. Goro has never seen anything like it in his life. There’s nothing he can do to help. He just has to wait until it's over, and that's the worst part.
They watch in fear as seconds tick by then minutes. They don’t stop, and if anything they worsen. Becoming more and more violent. His skin takes on a grey tinge, then a dull blue.
“He needs to lay on his side. He’s having trouble breathing.” The words leave his mouth without even thinking about it. Without hesitation. He feels disconnected and robotic. He’s sick. He’s terrified. He remembers coming home from school long ago, excited to share his grades with his mother. She was in the bath. He waited. And waited. She never came out. There was water everywhere. Blood everywhere. It haunts him.
“Approaching five minutes. I’m calling an ambulance. This isn’t one of his usual seizures.” Ann chokes out, her phone already up to her ear.
The word sounds evil. Grotesque. It shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Goro tries to cover his mouth to stifle an incoming sob, but he only manages to smear blood across his face. Akira’s.
“Fuck, come on. Come on, Akira.” He cries.
Futaba is dumping everything out of his bag, searching for something that isn't there. “I can’t find his diazepam!” She’s panicked. “Sojiro told him to bring it! Why isn’t it here?!” She’s screaming. She rips her glasses off her face, tears clouding her vision. “You heard him, didn’t you Akechi? Didn’t you hear him? How could Akira forget? He never forgets his medicine! Akira’s going to die and it’s my fault, just like mom! Please don’t die, Akira! Please, stop! Please!” She hugs herself as ugly sobs wrack her body.
And Goro remembers.
He always hurts the people he loves.
“It’s my fault. It fell out of the medicine cabinet when I opened it earlier. I… I put it back in the wrong place. Akira was looking for it, but he couldn’t find it because I moved it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to…”
He zones out.
Ann pulls him back as a paramedic kneels next to Akira. He jams a needle into his thigh, and the convulsions cease within moments.
And Goro is eight years old again, watching them take Akira away just like mommy.