Chapter Text
“…Are you listening?”
Akira flinched. All eyes were on him. Some curious, others suspicious, and at least one pair looked on with an emotion close to pity. He offered an easy smile and affirmation despite his mind being a million miles away. Makoto didn’t seem convinced, but Morgana came to his rescue.
“We need to talk about how to get out of this situation.” The cat padded over on the table and took stock of everyone’s mood. Ryuji leaned back against Akira’s pillows and gestured to an empty chair.
“Should we really be talkin’ about this while Futaba’s busy?” he asked.
Akira shook his head and cupped his chin pensively. “I tried to convince her to come, but she said she’s working on something really important.”
“She probably got another hit from Akechi’s phone. After all, the bug she planted confirmed it.” Makoto’s crimson eyes flashed dangerously. “He did indeed have an ulterior motive.”
“It’s on a completely different level than just that.” Ryuji interjected. “That bastard was ready to rat us out to the cops.”
Haru held her wrist in a deathly vice. It was a wonder how blood still circulated. “It’s not that simple. Akechi-kun was the one behind the mental shutdowns… The one behind my father’s death.” Her eyes blurred with unshed tears, but the Okumura heiress refused to let them fall. “I won’t let him get away with this.”
“Unfortunately, he’s holding all the cards.” Makoto admitted bitterly. “If we go into Sis’s Palace as he suggests, we’ll likely be met by a large ambush of police forces. Escape might not be an option.”
Yusuke visibly shivered. “To think he would be this far gone… I know now what it means to feel a chill down my spine. Furthermore, he wishes to bring a police force from reality into the Palace... ”
“If the eight of us can enter at once, it’s not inconceivable to think a larger group is possible. He may even be able to bring in vehicles or other special equipment.”
“So this really was just a setup to shift the blame onto us…” Ann lamented.
“He made us go after Okumura, then once we triggered the change of heart…” Morgana stared meaningfully at Akira. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of accusation and pity. “He killed him.”
Akira gripped his knees hard. It was getting difficult to keep his expression neutral, but every ounce of truth thrown his way raised a bout of nausea in his gut. His friends tossed titles and labels around until it all turned into white noise in his ears.
Bastard.
Homicidal Maniac.
Murderer.
Morgana warned him he was playing with fire. He warned him that nothing good would come out of bonding with the detective, Confidant link be damned. He knew it was true. He knew he had no right to speak up—not when at least two of his friends personally suffered from Akechi’s part in all this. Haru lost a father. Futaba lost a mother. Could Akechi be redeemed after all that?
Should he even be given a chance?
“If the time ever came and we stood on opposite sides, could you trust me?”
Akira buried his head in his hands and groaned quietly. With the way things were going, either all of them would go to jail or one would take the fall. At that point, survival would all come down to the luck of the draw.
“Akira? Are you okay?” Ann gently shook his shoulder. “You don’t look too good.”
He smiled weakly and shook his head. “M’fine. Just…tired. Let’s stop for today. We can continue when Futaba’s free.”
Reluctantly, everyone dispersed knowing full well Akira was lying through his teeth.
“Pretty boy, pass me another bag of chips.”
Akechi’s eye twitched behind the stacks of paperwork he’d been staring at. While Futaba worked on perfecting a new algorithm on her computer, the detective reluctantly set up a make-shift workspace on her bed.
“There’s an unopened bag right next to you.” He struggled to keep his voice even, but the pen curled in his fingers threatened to snap beneath his taut grip. “And isn’t that your fifth one!?”
“Chips are easier to eat while working,” she answered matter-of-factly before grumbling under her breath. “I should be catching up on Mirage Saga instead of coding. Quick! Grab the CalorieMate under the bed! Apple jelly STAT!”
Scratch Joker. He was going to kill Oracle.
Breathe, Goro. He thought and pinched the fringe of his hair. He wouldn’t be surprised if he started to see grey hairs sprouting. You didn’t come this far just to lose to a NEET.
“Hurry up! I hunger!”
The pen snapped. He wouldn’t kill her, but there were multiple ways to torture an otaku. Akechi took quick stock of the figurines and books lining her shelves and felt the beginnings of a mischievous grin on his lips.
Not yet, He told himself and looked under the bed for her rations. Akechi blanched at the amount of snacks she had hiding. He couldn’t help but snort and assessed her small frame disparagingly. Futaba blinked innocently.
“What?”
“This explains a lot…”
Her face blossomed red and she spun in her chair. “H-Hey! What are you looking at!?” Futaba sat on her heels and glared at him from behind the tops of her knees. “Anyway, you have no right to complain! You don’t know how hard it was to sneak you in here!” She argued, but it lost its venom from stray chip crumbs that clung to the corners of her lips.
“Ah, yes. It was so hard to walk in while Sakura-san was working.” Akechi rolled his eyes. Nevertheless, he handed her the jelly bag and sat back on the bed. Futaba huffed and went back to programming. Akechi began putting his papers back in his bag. He wouldn’t get any work done at the rate she was making demands.
“Hey…” Her hesitation made him pause. “Are you sure your plan will work? I’m sure our favorite prosecutor won’t be too happy about this.”
Akechi crossed his arms and leaned back against the shelf. “It’s a bit unconventional, but it’s the only way I can guarantee Sae-san’s safety.” he admitted.
“At the cost of Akira’s life.” Futaba added as she continued her rhythmic keystrokes.
The corner of her screen flashed red for a brief moment before she caught the error and fixed it with the flick of her wrist. For a sixteen year old girl, her knowledge of the deep web was frightening. She could give trained professionals a run for their money. Akechi shuddered to think of how much she could hone her skills in a few more years.
“He’s aware of the risks,” Akechi explained. “That’s why he’s is our leader.”
“Yeah, Joker is our leader,” Futaba smiled ruefully and hugged her knees tighter. “But ‘Akira’ is just a high schooler.” Akechi couldn’t find any words to say as he stared into his empty hands. Futaba stopped typing and turned the chair towards him again. “You’re just like all those other rotten adults. The Detective Prince is capable of throwing everything away for his sense of justice. You must sleep like a baby.”
Akechi abruptly stood up and glared down at the young hacker. He expected the shut-in to back down. This was the same girl that couldn’t go shopping by herself after all. Instead, Akechi couldn’t help but marvel at the fire burning in her eyes. It reminded him so much of Akira that he instinctively took a step back.
Futaba sighed and awkwardly fiddled with her hands. “Sorry… That was unfair.”
“It’s fine,” Akechi shook his head and ran a stressed hand through his hair. He managed a sheepish laugh to ease some of the tension. “I suppose I deserved that. I haven’t given you much reason to trust me, after all.”
The redhead couldn’t help but smile a little. “That just means you have some catching up to do, detective.”
“In that case, let me start with this.” Akechi reached into his pocket and placed a black USB in her hands, as well as a folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“Blueprints and research data I acquired, as well as an account number,” He explained and adjusted his gloves—a nervous habit he had yet to rid himself of. “Use it to get any supplies you need.”
“You’re even footing the bill?” She grinned cockily. “You’re already off to a good start.”
Akechi breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I should get going then. I have some phone calls to make and you’ll have your hands full sorting through all that data. Will you have it done by the deadline?”
“Can birds fly?” Came her witty reply. Akechi shook his head exasperatedly. She spoke again before he could leave. “Why ask me for help? Why not Makoto? It would be much easier to convince her sister if you had Queen on your side.”
Akechi scoffed. “Even I could tell that she hates my guts. And besides…I owe a huge debt to your mother.” Futaba’s eyes widened to the eyes of saucers. Akechi couldn’t bear to meet her gaze, so he turned his back to her. “A debt that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay.” He heard the chair squeak twice before the sound of her footsteps stopped right behind him.
“You were there, weren’t you?” Futaba’s voice quivered. It sounded accusatory and desperate all in one. Akechi bit his bottom lip, hesitant to release the final bit of information that could affect this whole operation. Should he keep quiet? Or take the chance and tell her the truth? He took a shuddering breath and pulled out an additional SD card from his coat pocket. He turned and placed it in her hands before he changed his mind.
“This might shed some light on that.” The words felt like ash in his mouth, but he pushed himself to speak anyway. “You’re free to do what you want with the information. Copy it. Burn it. Share it. Although if you choose the latter, I’d prefer if you would do it after we complete our deal.”
Futaba’s hands slowly closed over the precious piece of plastic. A moment of understanding passed between them. Satisfied, Akechi turned to finally leave. It was only a matter of time before Sojiro checked on Futaba.
“By the way…” he paused by the door. Futaba sniffled and turned in the middle of wiping her eyes with her sleeve. His lips curved into a wicked grin as he pointed at a Mirage Saga figurine on the shelf. “Shinon dies at the end of volume 13.”
“YOU FU—”