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Akira watches the door close behind Akechi, watches him disappear from view. He swallows around the scream lodged in his throat. He knows if he doesn't let it out very soon, it's going to explode out of him in the messiest possible way, at the most inconvenient possible time. Considering what he has to do tomorrow, he can't afford that.
He can't do it here. The only possible place is Mementos.
Akira squares his shoulders and follows the path Akechi must have taken minutes earlier. He gets on a train to Shibuya and idly wonders if Morgana actually went over to the Sakura house or if he was waiting for Akira upstairs.
He slips down an empty corridor when he gets to Shibuya Station and activates the nav.
"Trickster?" Lavenza asks from her post by the cell door.
Akira waves to her and goes down. The shadows on these upper floors go down with a single gunshot, so he takes them out quickly, barely looking at them. He goes until he gets to a floor where it takes a little bit more effort, where a couple of the shadows are strong enough he needs to summon a persona sometimes. Mostly, he takes them out with vicious strikes of his dagger and screams out every feeling of despair, rage, and terror he's kept in his chest for the last four months.
He doesn't bother healing himself when the odd shadow actually manages to get a hit in. He goes until the tracks split under his feet and cackles maniacally as he's dropped down to another floor. He goes until his muscles are aching, until his throat feels raw, until he finds himself slumped down on the ground with his back against a wall, his head tipped back, and his arms limp at his sides.
"You are the stupidest person alive."
Akira lifts his head and watches Akechi stalk through the room toward him. Somehow, he's not even surprised to see him.
"Yep," he agrees, tips his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes.
"If you fail tomorrow—"
"Fuck you," Akira snaps without lifting his heated or opening his eyes. "I won't. You know I won't. Stop pretending like you doubt me."
"I have watched you since you were infiltrating Madarame's palace," Akechi says. "I have never seen you like this."
"Excuse the fuck out of me for not particularly enjoying the knowledge that tomorrow I get to fight my therapist and when I win, you'll be dead," Akira says.
"Oh, please," Akechi scoffs. "Surely the fact that this is what I want will be enough to assuage your ridiculous guilt complex."
Akira's head snaps up and he stares at Akechi.
"No. The fact that you want to be dead does not actually make me feel better about any of this," Akira says slowly as if trying to explain a complex idea to a child. "In fact, it kind of makes it worse."
Akechi sighs and rolls his eyes. "I don't want to be dead any more than I usually do, but there is nothing for me in this reality."
"Nothing," Akira repeats. His tone is perfectly even, but he can't quite exert the same control over his expression.
Akechi narrows his eyes under his helmet and he pulls it off with a huff.
"Nothing I can trust. There are two Kichijoji locals who are often standing at the entrance to the promenade after school," Akechi says. "Prior to this month, the boy kept asking the girl out, kept pressuring her to spend time with him. She refused. Seemed to barely tolerate his presence. This month, when he asks, she doesn't disagree when he calls them spending time together dates."
"But she still won't actually go anywhere with him," Akira counters. "She still knows deep down she doesn't trust him. She's not fully actualized. And neither am I. And neither are you. None of this is new. Me wanting to spend time with you isn't new and I know it's not new for you, either."
"Maruki's power is like nothing either of us have seen before," Akechi says, maintaining steady eye contact. "We can't be sure of anything. I refuse to entertain any thoughts or take any actions Maruki could be influencing. I will not give him the satisfaction. I will not let him have any part of my life that isn't dedicated to stopping him. I would rather have my real, shitty life end tomorrow than stay in his perfect little utopia. At least that's real. At least it's mine."
Akira swallows and looks away. "I know."
"Then why are you—"
"Because my real life is infinitely worse when you're not in it!" Akira says and pushes his hands into his hair. "Because for most of December I thought you were dead and it was fucking terrible."
"Shut up," Akechi says, low and furious. "I don't want to hear it. Not here. Not now."
"When, then?" Akira demands. "Tomorrow in the split second between when we take Maruki's treasure and the metaverse collapses again and you're dead?"
Akechi glares. "Think, Kurusu. Where's Wakaba? Where's Okumura? How about Niijima-san?"
"They disappeared when everyone...realized," Akira says and suddenly his breath stops in his throat.
"And where am I?" Akechi asks and raises an eyebrow at Akira. "There are no guarantees. Maybe you're managing to keep me here when the others disappeared by virtue of you being your stubborn self. I wouldn't be surprised. It's still very possible that after tomorrow, I'll be dead or in a coma somewhere unable to wake up, but it's not the only possibility."
Akira swallows hard and takes a deep, steadying breath.
Then, the sound of rattling chains reaches his ears.
"Shit," Akechi spits, puts his helmet back on, and reaches out a hand to haul Akira to his feet. "Well, Joker, are we running or are we fighting?"
Tomorrow, they'll fight what could very well be the hardest battle of their lives. They should go home and sleep.
A grin spreads across Akira's face and he pulls his dagger. "I think between the two of us we can handle the Reaper, don't you, Crow?"
Akechi's answer is a vicious smirk as he pulls his saber.
They fight.
The Reaper demands every bit of his concentration and skill. It demands that he and Akechi work together seamlessly without faltering even the tiniest bit.
Akira enjoys fighting, he enjoys the physicality, the rush of adrenaline, the ability to pour every bit of the anger boiling inside him at all times into killing shadows. This is the most fun he's ever had in battle.
It's like their showtime attack extended. They're perfectly in sync. It feels good. Right. Like this is how they were always meant to be.
Akira is surprised when they deal the final blow together and the Reaper's form dissipates into nothingness. He blinks at the space it occupied until he feels a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's get out of here," Akechi says.
Akira nods and they start walking. By unspoken agreement, they avoid any fights.
When they reach the top, Lavenza calls out to him. "Trickster, are you all right?"
He smiles at her. "I'm okay."
She tilts her head, looks at him for a long moment, then her gaze shifts to Akechi for a moment, then back. She gives him a sad smile and nods. "May luck be on your side."
He swallows. "Thanks, Lavenza."
A moment later, the world swirls and compresses and they're standing in Shibuya Station.
"I don't want this world," Akira says without looking over at Akechi. "I meant it when I called it a hellhole. I don't want a happiness where all the things that gave it meaning didn't fucking happen. I don't want to force you to live in it. But tomorrow when we beat Maruki, for me it won't be to save the world from his control or anything noble. It will be for me, and for you, because he forced us into this."
"Good," Akechi says.
Akira is about to step away, to go home again, when hands grip the lapels of his coat and pull roughly. Akechi presses his forehead to Akira's and his warm breath puffs against his lips.
"Find me," Akechi says. His voice is low and rough. "When this is all over and everything is back to normal, come find me. You owe me a rematch, after all."
"I will," Akira promises and Akechi pushes him away again.
"Now go home and sleep," Akechi says. "I need you at your best tomorrow."
Akira laughs. "Yes, Morgana."
"Fuck you," Akechi says, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips.
"See you tomorrow," Akira says.
"Tomorrow," Akechi replies, turns, and walks away.
Akira watches until he disappears from view.