Chapter Text
”Change Shido’s heart… in my stead… end his crimes… please!”
“…I promise.”
BANG BANG
“His signal is… gone…”
Akira jerked awake, breathing heavily as he blinked the last traces of the engine room out of his vision. He groped around for his phone, wincing as he brought the bright light up to his face. 8 am. He couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.
“Hey, you okay?” Morgana asked groggily from where he was lying on his chest.
Akira sighed, reaching up and pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. “Yeah,” he reassured, scratching the cat behind his ears. “Just a dream. You can go back to sleep.” Morgana seemed satisfied enough with that answer, curling up and drifting off once more.
There was an unread message from Futaba on his phone, sent only a few minutes prior. He clicked on it and squinted tiredly against the blurred text.
We going in today?
Akira scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. It was true that they should send the calling card as soon as possible, but he was just so exhausted. Part of him wanted to curl up under his blankets and never move again.
He shook his head. He had a promise to keep. Sure. You got the calling card situation sorted out? he sent back. Futaba’s reply came almost immediately.
Woah! You’re awake? Before noon? I might die of shock.
Ha ha.
Don’t stress about the calling card, I’ve got it covered. For now let’s just focus on securing the route.
Akira blinked. Pretty sure we already did that.
There was a long pause between messages. Dude, go back to sleep. I don’t think your brain works this early.
Akira frowned, but shrugged it off, nudging Morgana off of him and getting up. There was no way he was going back to sleep. Not when he was thrown back into the engine room every time he closed his eyes.
He spent some time helping Sojiro set up for opening (“You’re awake already? Did hell freeze over?”) before making himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the counter. He couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the vacant seat second from the end, a complicated feeling twisting in his gut. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly.
Sojiro slid a plate of curry in front of him, and he picked at it distractedly, his mind elsewhere. Morgana came to join him eventually, stretching out lazily and jumping up onto the stool beside him. “Hey, everything alright?” the cat asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. “Those are some serious dark circles you got there.”
Akira patted his head in lieu of a response. Morgana frowned, but didn’t press the issue.
“Are your friends showing up today?” Sojiro asked. “If they do, tell the skinny one there’s extra curry in the fridge.”
“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Akira replied, taking out his phone and pulling up the group chat. Meet at Leblanc when school is out? “Thanks, I’ll let him know.”
Sojiro hummed. “And you stop playing with your food and finish up before the regulars start coming in,” he said briskly. Akira glanced down at his plate, feeling a little nauseous at the thought of eating any more. He swallowed the bile down in his throat and stood up.
“I’ll have the rest for lunch,” he mumbled as he stuck his plate in the fridge. Sojiro raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored it, rinsing out his coffee mug and heading back up to his room.
He flopped backwards onto his bed and pulled out his phone. There were several replies to his recent message.
It’s Sunday, dude.
Man, must be nice to miss school for so long you completely lose track of time.
Um, I don’t know if him almost getting assassinated and having to fake his own death is something to be jealous of…
Akira blinked, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. “Morgana, yesterday was Sunday, right?” he asked. Morgana gave him a weird look.
“No, it was Saturday,” he said matter-of-factly. “You reaaaally didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
Akira frowned, before shrugging it off. He could’ve sworn he’d seen the shopping channel on TV last night, but to be fair, he hadn’t exactly been in a great state of mind when they’d returned from Shido’s palace. Actually, now that he thought about it, a lot of what had happened yesterday after the watertight door had closed was lost in a thick haze.
He turned back to his phone. Right, sorry. Whenever you guys can show up is fine, then.
You got it leader!
Akira spent the rest of his morning making infiltration tools, attempting to keep himself busy and ward off his thoughts. He had to stay focused. Today was finally the day they would take Shido down. It was quite possibly the most important thing they would ever do.
“Change Shido’s heart… in my stead… end his crimes… please!”
He hissed as he sliced his thumb on the lockpick he was making, blood immediately welling up and dripping onto his desk.
“…You sure there’s nothing you wanna talk about?” Morgana asked. “You seem pretty out of it. Maybe you should take a break and we’ll infiltrate again tomorrow.”
Akira shook his head. “The longer we wait, the more people suffer because of that bastard,” he muttered, wrapping a tissue around his throbbing thumb. “Let’s just get it done.”
Morgana blinked and tilted his head. “It’s weird to see you so serious,” he said blankly. “Well, I’m glad you’re fired up. Let’s take this guy down!”
The other thieves started filtering in at around noon, starting with Futaba and Ann. “Oh, good, Haru isn’t here yet,” Ann said brightly. “Hey, Akira, what would you think of having her birthday party here next weekend? I know it was almost a week ago, but we’ve had so much on our plate… hopefully everything’ll be sorted out by then.”
Akira raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? My answer hasn’t changed since then,” he teased with a small grin. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Ann gave him a puzzled look. “I… huh?” she said, tilting her head in confusion. “But I just thought of it on the train ride over here…”
“Geez, is Akira psychic now, too?” Futaba asked exasperatedly. “As if you weren’t OP enough as it is.”
Before Akira could respond in equal confusion, Ryuji and Yusuke burst in loudly, the latter immediately requesting food. Akira allowed the subject to drop. Feeding Yusuke always took priority.
He wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting after yesterday, but it definitely wasn’t for everything to be so… normal. Business as usual, not at all like someone had been murdered in front of them less than 24 hours ago. He didn’t really know how to feel about it.
“Alright, we all set?” Ryuji asked once everyone had arrived, drumming on the top of the counter to get their attention.
Akira glanced at Futaba. “The calling card?” he asked, a bit confused as to why it hadn’t been brought up yet. She brushed him off.
“I told you I had it covered! What, you don’t trust me?” she said confidently. Akira blinked.
“Um, yeah, but…” he said uneasily. Had she already sent it out? It was definitely strange that she would do so without telling him, or even explaining how, but… he did trust her. “I guess that’s fine.” Makoto gave him one of her scrutinizing looks.
“Everything alright? You seem a bit tired,” she asked. “We don’t have to go in today, if you’re not up for it.”
Akira shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“You are acting a little weird,” Ann said, her eyebrows creased in concern. “Sure nothing’s up?”
It was extremely rare that he allowed himself to get irritated, in general, and toward his friends especially. But this was getting ridiculous. There was no way they couldn’t figure out why he might not be in the best mood of his life without him having to spell it out for them.
Was it really just him? It wasn’t like he’d expected them to be in mourning; they had every right to be resentful, some more than others. But even still, he’d sacrificed himself for them in the end. Were they really able to brush that off so easily?
“Let’s get going,” he said firmly, hoping it would get the message across to drop the subject.
Stepping back into Shido’s palace made him feel nauseous in a way that had nothing to do with seasickness. Being inside the manifestation of corruption within the hearts of abhorrent adults never failed to stoke the anger constantly simmering within him, but this was a whole other level entirely. The ship beneath his feet was no longer only Masayoshi Shido’s distorted vision of his desires, it was someone’s grave. Akira couldn’t wait to watch it sink.
“Helloooo, earth to Joker?” Futaba’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked, pausing in his determined trek toward the main doors. “Where are you going? We gotta find the engine room.”
The nausea escalated. “What?” he asked, maybe a bit more curtly than he’d intended. That was the absolute last place he ever wanted to see again. “Why would we need to go there?”
“Unless you think the Cleaner might be somewhere else…?” Makoto asked carefully. Akira felt a headache coming on.
“The… what?” he replied lamely.
“Dude, did you get hit with confuse or somethin’?” Ryuji asked, patting him hard on the shoulder.
“We haven’t even encountered any shadows yet…” Haru pointed out.
Akira carded a hand through his hair, his confusion quickly morphing into frustration. He just wanted to get this over with and get the hell out. “I don’t understand what any of you are saying,” he said tiredly. “Can someone just explain to me why we’d need to go to the engine room? Please.”
Futaba sighed dramatically. “It’s the only place on the ship we haven’t been to,” she said, slowly, like she was explaining something to a child. “So it makes sense that that’s where the Cleaner would be. Riiight?”
“Why do you keep bringing up the Cleaner? We already got his letter,” he said, desperately looking around to see if any of them were as lost as he was, or at least understood his confusion. All he was met with was blank, concerned stares.
“Joker,” Makoto said, very seriously. “I think we may need to pull out and come back another day. You’re obviously… overtired, or something—”
“Wait, wait,” he cut her off. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”
They were all quiet for several beats. “Yesterday?” Ann asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence and clearly trying to appear casual. She tapped her chin. “Hm… well after school Ryuji and I went shopping, we texted you to see if you wanted to come but you were hanging out with that kid in Akihabara, remember? Umm, I had takeout for dinner…”
“Okay,” Akira cut her off, trying to collect his thoughts and keep his panic at bay. “So we didn’t infiltrate the palace at all yesterday?”
They all stared at him again. “Nope. We didn’t,” Morgana said warily. Akira nodded.
Alright, so he was losing his mind. That was fine. Or maybe this was another nightmare. That would make sense, his brain seemed to be hellbent on making him relive this day. “Great. Well, lead the way then, Futaba,” he said, resigned and very, very tired.
They continued to regard him cautiously as they made their way to the side deck, shooting him concerned glances they thought he wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t blame them, honestly.
When they made it to the vent they’d used to infiltrate the engine room previously, Akira was as shocked as he was not to see that the grate was still perfectly intact. He kicked it off with a little more force than was probably necessary. Then he hesitated.
What were they going to find in there? A dead body? Were bodies even left behind in the Metaverse, or did they fade into dust like the shadows did when they’d been defeated?
Or worse, would it be like none of it had even happened?
“You up for this?” Ann asked him quietly. He shrugged.
“I have no idea,” he said bluntly, before taking the lead.
There was no body. Nor was there a closed watertight door, or any indication that there had ever been either of those things. He walked briskly past the main area and toward the back room where he knew the Cleaner would be, ignoring the twisting feeling in his gut as he tried not to let his thoughts wander to the last time he was in this room. He really couldn’t even have a day to get over it, huh?
Assuming this wasn’t all a dream, or a hallucination, or something. Maybe Takemi’s clinical trials were finally taking a toll on his brain.
“Ann, switch out with Haru,” he commanded detachedly, switching his mask to Rangda. “Haru, keep Tetrakarn on Ryuji and Yusuke, and you two stay on the offensive. Ready?”
He was met with blank stares. “U-um, sure, but we don’t even know if he’s…”
“He’s in there,” Akira interrupted, hopping up into the grate. “Let’s go.”
They took the Cleaner down in minutes. Akira held nothing back; regardless of whether or not this was real, if he really was reliving this day, there were much more important matters to attend to.
“…Wow,” Makoto said after the Cleaner had surrendered his letter and walked off. “You seemed… prepared, Joker.”
“Yeah? I’m thinking of taking over as Oracle,” he said, adjusting his gloves distractedly. He glanced at Futaba. “What do you think? Wanna be leader?”
Futaba hummed thoughtfully. “Do I get health insurance?”
“Nope, no benefits at all. You do get shot in the face sometimes, though.”
Futaba whistled lowly. “You drive a hard bargain,” she said.
“Right. Anyway,” Makoto interrupted. “Shall we move on?”
Akira looked out toward the main area of the engine room hesitantly, adjusting his gloves once more out of nervous habit. Maybe he had been stalling, a bit. “Yeah. Let’s go,” he said, every inch of him protesting as he stepped forward.
He stopped walking after they passed under the ceiling beam, but he didn’t turn around; not even after he heard the thud of a body landing on the floor behind him, not even after his teammates gasped and called out in alarm. “Long time no see,” a familiar voice said, just as it has last time, and Akira let out a shaky breath.
“Akechi,” he said, finally turning around. There he was, in his ridiculous prince costume, much calmer than he had been when Akira had last seen him. Alive. Breathing. “We’re not going to fight you.”
Akechi chucked. “Well, that makes things easier for me,” he said with a shrug, reaching for his mask. “I’m impressed you managed to deceive me. But I won’t fail this time.”
Akira wasn’t prepared for him to summon his persona and attack so quickly; there had been much more lead-in last time, more hesitation. Akechi hadn’t even told them Shido was his father, or made the shadows psychotic to attack them first. He just jumped right in, desperately, like he was running out of time.
“Rangda!” Akira called at the last second, just barely managing to block the curse attack Akechi had thrown at him. Yusuke, Haru, and Ryuji immediately came to the front lines. “No, get back! I’ll handle it.”
Akechi looked at him strangely, before his expression quickly morphed into fury. “What, do you think I’ll hold back if it’s just you?” he asked, his voice frighteningly steady. “Or do you actually think you stand a chance against me?”
Akira blocked his next attack again, wincing. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said again. “Come with us. We can take down Shido together. Please.”
“Joker, what the hell are you saying?!” Ryuji called. “He’s Shido’s effing lackey.”
Akira winced, bracing himself for Akechi’s reaction to that statement. However, he was simply looking at Akira with a perplexed expression. After a few moments’ pause, Akechi shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, offhandedly, as if he were talking to himself. “I’ve had enough of this. Come, Loki.”
Dread clenched around Akira’s stomach like a fist as he watched Akechi’s clothes turn black, Loki’s dark form hovering behind him. He knew that even when fighting as a team, they were barely a match for him in this state.
Things were quickly spiraling out of his control. Not that he’d had a plan to begin with.
“He has another persona?!” Futaba said frantically. “Joker! His power levels are insane, you can’t face him one-on-one!”
Joker quickly threw his arm out to prevent his teammates from coming any closer. “Don’t interfere,” he said firmly. He turned back to Akechi desperately. “You don’t have to do this, Akechi. It’s not too late. We have the same goal, just come with us, please.”
Akechi responded with a Laevateinn, and it came too quickly for Akira to block it in time. He gasped in surprise and pain from the sudden attack. “Just shut up,” Akechi hissed. “It’s my destiny to succeed. You’re just in my way.” He hit him with the same attack again, and Akira felt the breath leave his lungs.
“Oh, to hell with this,” Ryuji said, running forward and immediately hitting Akechi with a Swift Strike. Haru followed up, shooting off a Triple Down before Akechi could even recover.
Akira felt himself panic. No, no, if they weakened him then he wouldn’t be able to fight off his cognitive double, he would lose, nothing would change—
He acted before he could even think, running toward Akechi and reaching for his gun before pivoting and letting off a shot simultaneously. He watched it hit its mark, shattering the glass in the control panel and causing the door to rise between them before anyone could react. It was just like he remembered, except this time, he was on the opposite side.
Akechi seemed to get over the initial shock more quickly than anyone else. “What the hell are you doing?!” he snapped, staring at the barrier that now separated the two of them from the rest of Akira’s team. “What exactly is your plan? Are you trying to protect them? I’ve had enough of your noble sacrifi—”
“I’m trying to protect you!” Akira interrupted loudly, attempting to ignore the panicked voices of his friends on the other side.
Akechi seemed to be shocked speechless, but it didn’t matter. It was at that moment that Cognitive Akechi decided to show up, in all his insufferable, leering glory.
Fortunately, Akechi wasn’t nearly as weakened as he had been the last time around. He’d sustained minor injuries from Ryuji and Haru, but other than that, he seemed no worse for wear. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about Akira. He could feel himself swaying from the two hits Akechi had managed to land on him, and he’d left all of his healing items back with Makoto. He couldn’t see himself as being much use in the upcoming fight. Not to mention the fact that they were badly outnumbered.
“Captain Shido’s orders,” the cognitive double said, pointing his gun at Akechi. “He has no need for losers.”
“Shoot him,” Akira hissed at Akechi. And then, because he’d wished he’d had the chance to say if before, he added: “That’s not who you are. You’re not the person he sees you as.”
Akechi grit his teeth, cocking his gun and aiming it at his cognitive double. “Yes. I am,” he said in resignation. “But that’s not gonna stop me from blasting this thing to hell.” Cognitive Akechi laughed.
“I don’t think so. After all, there is one difference between us,” he said. He quickly switched his aim from Akechi to Akira. He grinned sadistically. “Well? Who do you think can pull the trigger faster?”
Akira blinked in confusion. What would make the cognitive double think Akechi valued his life enough to hesitate? There was nothing to suggest that, other than the sacrifice he’d made once in a different reality. But only Akira knew that reality even existed.
Akechi seemed to be similarly perplexed. “You think I care if you shoot him? Be my guest,” he said, and Akira thought he must have imagined the slight waver in his voice. Cognitive Akechi shrugged off-handedly.
“Regardless, might as well take out all the trash at once,” he said, his voice cold and emotionless. He cocked his gun.
Akira held his breath. Here he was again, staring down the barrel of a gun. Even the face on the other side was the same. Maybe he was just… destined to die this way. Maybe he’d avoided that destiny the last time, and that’s why he was living this day again, to finally meet the fate that had been waiting for him. He squeezed his eyes shut.
At least this would give Akechi the chance to kill his cognitive double. He would survive this time. Akira could be at some kind of peace, knowing that.
Two shots rang out simultaneously, and Akira braced himself from the impact. However, it never came. He opened his eyes in confusion, only to see Akechi standing in front of him, his gun still aimed at the cognitive version of himself.
“You… bastard…” Cognitive Akechi grit out, hunched over and grabbing at what Akira assumed was a new gunshot wound.
Akechi coughed, and Akira let his eyes hesitantly travel to him. There was a pool of blood slowly forming at his feet. “Akechi,” Akira said in alarm.
He’d taken the bullet meant for Akira. He’d sacrificed himself for him, again.
“Shut up,” Akechi hissed. “I’ll take care of this piece of shit, you fight off the shadows as best as you can.”
Akira almost laughed. Neither of them were in any shape to fight. They weren’t going to win this. “Alright. Got it,” he said anyway, straightening up and turning toward his enemies.
The ensuing fight was a blur of pain and exhaustion. He fought back against the shadows with every last ounce of energy he had in him, and he vaguely processed Akechi joining him at one point, defending Akira in his weakened state at every possible opportunity. Akira could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, could feel his breath coming out in short, desperate bursts, but even then, he kept fighting.
It was over before he realized it. One moment he was fighting for his life, and the next he was on his back, staring up at the engine room ceiling. He let out a shaky breath, and found that even that simple act hurt. He was sure he had a few broken ribs, at the very least.
He turned his head to the side, inhaling sharply when he saw Akechi lying a few feet away from him, curled up on his side. Akira felt his breath stop in its tracks as he realized the dark pool Akechi was surrounded by was his own blood. “Akechi? Akechi!” he said desperately, his voice coming out as a weak croak. “Hey, talk to me. Come on.”
Akechi let out a cough, and Akira winced at the wet sound. He met his eyes, and grimaced. “You’re such… an idiot,” Akechi said, his voice weak and breathy. “You can’t… save me.”
“Yes I can,” Akira said immediately, with a firmness he didn’t know he still had in him. “I’m going to. Just hold on a little bit, okay? My teammates will be here any minute.” Akechi didn’t reply.
Akira closed his eyes and waited, focusing on breathing in a way that hurt the least. This was bad. He’d never sustained injuries like this in the Metaverse before, and if the others didn’t get there soon with healing items… he didn’t even want to think about what would happen.
“Joker? Joker!” he heard distantly, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater. He blinked his eyes open once again, wincing against the light.
“…Makoto?” he croaked out, and she sighed in relief, casting a Diarahan over him. He felt his breathing come much easier, but it did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that went all the way down to his bones. “Akechi… where…” He turned and reached out toward where he knew Akechi lay, but his view was obstructed by Ann and Futaba crowding over the other boy.
Makoto shushed him and ran her fingers through his hair. “We’ll take care of it,” she assured. He felt someone grab his hand firmly, and he shifted to see Ryuji sitting at his other side.
“The eff were you thinking?” he asked, though his voice was more concerned than angry. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, and for what? The guy who tried to assassinate you?”
Akira grimaced, letting his eyes flutter closed once again. “He’s not our enemy,” he mumbled, feeling his consciousness begin to slip away. “He’s the same as us.”
The next time he woke up, he was in Takemi’s examination room.
“You’re alive!” Futaba said excitedly, hovering over him. “Welcome back, dumbass.”
Akira groaned, turning to see the rest of his team crowded in the small room. Takemi waved them aside and moved in to check his vitals. “What kind of trouble did you get into this time?” she asked with a sigh, though he could tell it was a rhetorical question. He could guess that everyone else had already given her some kind of vaguely believable excuse.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Thanks for patching me up again.”
“We were so worried about you!” Haru said frantically. “Takemi-san said you’d be alright, but you’ve been asleep for nearly six hours!”
Akira glanced up at the wall clock above Takemi’s desk. It was nearly midnight. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I’m sorry,” he said. Then all at once, he sat up, looking around frantically. “Where’s Akechi?”
Takemi put her stethoscope back around her neck, glancing away. “I’ll leave you all alone for a bit,” she said. “Don’t try to get up, do you understand?” Akira nodded, and she left to head back to the reception desk.
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. “About Akechi…” Makoto started, not meeting his eyes. There was a sniff from the corner, and Akira glanced at Ann for the first time. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face was puffy, like she had been crying for some time now.
He felt his blood run cold.
“No,” he said. “Stop, he’s not… where is he? I need to see him.”
Haru stepped forward and took his hand. “I know you really wanted to save him,” she said softly. “You did everything you could.” Akira closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to hear anymore.
“He was… already dead by the time we reached the engine room,” Futaba said, her voice wavering slightly. “When we saw you both lying there… we thought you were dead, too.”
Akira wanted to scream. By some miracle, he’d been given another chance to fix things, and he’d failed. He’d failed Akechi again. “No, god, I told him I’d… fuck,” he swore loudly, causing Futaba to jump. “What was the goddamn point?!”
“Akira,” Makoto said firmly. “You need to get some rest, okay? You’ve been through a lot. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to talk anymore, ever.
Somehow, he managed to fall back into a restless sleep, Akechi’s bloodied form playing out over and over again behind his eyelids.
--
Akira jerked awake, breathing heavily as he blinked the last traces of the engine room out of his vision. He groped around for his phone, wincing as he brought the bright light up to his face. 8 am. He couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.
“Hey, you okay?” Morgana asked groggily from where he was lying on his chest.
Akira didn’t respond, looking around in alarm. He wasn’t at Takemi’s, he was in his room, completely devoid of any of the injuries he’d fallen asleep with. He glanced at his phone again. There was an unread message from Futaba.
We going in today?