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“… By the way, about that duel. If we had fought to the end, do you see yourself winning?” Goro sounded so serious as he said that but Akiren didn’t even have to think more than a second before answering, “I definitely wouldn’t lose.”
Goro nodded with a smirk on his face but he turned serious as he continued. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I’m going to be entirely honest with you. I hate you. Your deft handling of your unfortunate circumstances, your uniqueness, your ability to surpass me— all these irritate me… You’re the one person I refuse to lose to.”
Akiren couldn’t help but feel touched at the words. Did Goro really think that much of him? Goro may have just admitted that he hated him, but he did also compliment him multiple times in the same breath. Honestly, Akiren was getting mixed signals here. Did Goro hate him or not? He sincerely hoped it was the latter. Otherwise it would be very awkward to think of all the flirting he had done these past few months. Very awkward.
“Same here.” Akiren didn’t know what else to say. He loved his rivalry with Goro, he never wanted it to end. And if that meant winning? Well, guess he’d just have to always do his best to beat him.
“You really are— No. Nevermind.” He really was what? Please, Goro, you’re killing me with these mixed signals, he wanted to say. What did Goro want from him? A relationship? A rivalry? Genuine hatred? He didn’t know and it would help if Goro would at least be clear with what he’s saying and finish his sentences.
“I’ll let you have this win today— but next time, I will be victorious. Let this be my proof.” Goro proceeded to start to take off his shoes. What? Removing his sock, he threw it towards Akiren’s chest dramatically. Such a drama queen. Then the action actually caught up to him.
A sock? What the fuck? Akiren felt genuinely befuddled as he held Goro’s dirty sock between his hands. Why did Goro just throw him a dirty sock? Was this some sort of ‘Master had given Dobby a sock’ type of situation? Would Goro be ‘Master’ in that case? Honestly, Akiren wouldn’t mind calling him that. Plus, Kawakami-sensei taught him all about how to be a good maid so he was sure to satisfy Goro’s needs. A good massage, maybe clean his room, and, if Goro wanted it too, maybe more—
But wait. He was getting off track. He stared at the dirty sock. Then back at Goro. Only to realize that— crap, he was talking. “—a tradition in the West to throw one’s sock at their opponent when demanding a duel.” — Did it have to be a used one though?— “ Should the opponent accept the sock, the duel is also accepted.”
…Was he sure about this? Akiren was pretty sure that he would have heard if people in the West threw dirty socks at their rivals whenever they asked for a duel. Though, if Goro said it, it was probably true. He had most likely done his research beforehand, like when they went on that one aquarium date! “I accept!”
(Akiren still couldn’t help but wonder though, if there had maybe been a mistake in the article Goro must have read. Something that was lost in translation. But, whatever. He had Goro Akechi’s dirty sock now, he guessed. People would probably pay for something like this.)
“Make certain that you never forget: I am the one who will defeat you.” Goro practically snarled out. Akiren couldn’t help but gulp at the intensity of his voice. Was it just him or was it getting hot all of a sudden? Akiren nodded, feeling weak at the knees. How did Goro expect him to understand their relationship when he said things like that and ‘I hate you’ in the same tone as he used when they were in the backroom of that café and—
No. Goro said to forget that moment. Kiss? What kiss? There was no kiss. None at all. Nope, non, nei, nada. That never happened. But the mere idea of it, all from his imagination because it didn’t happen, made Akiren yearn for more. And, well, be very confused as to Goro’s true intentions.
“Ah, look at the time. Let’s call it a day for now.” Goro’s princely smile was back on. No more of his wild smirks and piercing gaze. Akiren felt kinda disappointed. He liked it when Goro let him see past the mask that he wore for everyone else. It made him feel special.
Like that other time in the souvenir shop of the aquarium— That didn’t happen either! It couldn’t have. Because neither of their circumstances would allow it. They just couldn’t happen. As Goro walked away, Akiren felt kinda empty as he recalled what he and Futaba had just discovered about him. Goro was planning to kill him. After all that happened between the two, he was still planning to kill him.
Clearing his head, Akiren realized that he was still standing in the middle of the street of Kichijoji with a dirty sock in hand. His dirty sock. He still thought it would have been better— more sanitary at least— to have used a glove or something. Goro was always wearing a pair, he must have hundreds of them. But a sock? A dirty one?
He stared at the sock in his hands. Then shook his head, his inner logic and an echo of his friends’ inputs voiced their way into his mind. Don’t do it. Do NOT sniff the sock. That would be such a bad idea. It was dirty and had been on someone’s feet until just a few minutes ago. And—
He sniffed the sock.
And just as quickly recoiled back in disgust. Gross. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Gross, disgusting, why did he do that? He should have listened to his inner monologue and NOT sniffed the dirty sock. So gross, he wanted to be sick. The sock was worn by Goro. Who literally spent the entire day walking around for his detective work. AND they just came back from a highly taxing duel in the metaverse. He honestly wasn’t sure what he was expecting. For it not to smell like feet? Why did he sniff the sock???
Though, speaking of feet, did Goro just leave and start to walk home sockless? For some reason it made him start to giggle. Just the thought of Goro Akechi walking around in his loafers with only one sock made him burst into laughter. God, he must have looked insane, standing there in the empty street in the middle of the night, laughing hysterically and holding a dirty sock in his hands…
He went home after that, dutifully tucking the song into an isolated corner of his sock drawer— heh, sock drawer— and getting himself ready for bed. Wow, he was tired. Despite his earlier confidence that he would definitely win their rematch, now he wasn’t actually sure. Goro was strong. Under that detective prince attire lay a collection of hard muscles and rough skin that Akiren couldn’t help but want to feel again. He wanted to feel as his arms snaked around him, as he pushed Akiren back towards the wall. As Goro caressed his face and whispered ‘This is the last time we can do this, understood?’—
Oh, look at the time! Akiren really should have been asleep for a while now. He wondered what Morgana would have to say to him going to bed at this hour! Oh, was he glad Morgana stayed over at Futaba’s because he would definitely not have done what he was about to do. Thinking of Goro always caused a little problem to rise between his legs. God, why did Goro have to be so hot?
After some quick, um, problem solving, Akiren went to bed. His dreams were consumed by death threats, pancakes and dirty socks…
—————
The first time someone asked about the sock was just before the fateful day of November 19. Akiren had been nervously pacing around his room, worried about everything that might go wrong the following day. He stopped occasionally to fidget with one of the random trinkets haphazardly thrown across his room before continuing his pacing.
Contrary to most people’s expectations, this was typical of him. He was the leader of the Phantom Thieves but that didn’t mean he didn’t have feelings. He just… went through them before ever talking to his team. Pacing was just the easiest way to get rid of his god-awful anxiety that threatened to suffocate him when he thought for just a second too long. At least this way, he’d be able to be the calm and reassuring leader of the Phantom Thieves when the others inevitably voiced their worries on the group chat. Feel all the feelings at once in the safety of his room so he could just never feel them again.
Did that make sense? It was like all those self-help articles that told you to let yourself feel your emotions to be able to move on. Though speaking of moving on, he should probably move on from whatever feelings he still harbored for— Nope, now was not the time to dwell on that and nor will it ever be the time! That was the one thing that he’d rather repress, even in the confines of his room.
Unconsciously, his pacing drifted him over towards his shelf. His hand were already halfway into his sock drawer when he realized— what the fuck was he doing? He went to hastily shut the drawer but of course this was the one time Morgana interfered with his pacing.
“What were you reaching for in there?” The cat hopped onto the drawer and stuck his head in. He was probably trying to distract Akiren from his obvious anxiety but that was the wrong thing to use to distract him. “Ew! Why do you have a dirty sock in here!? You really should learn to organize your things! The laundry goes in the basket, not back in the drawer!”
Slamming the drawer shut and yanking out Morgana from the drawer, Akiren let out a strained smile and turned to jokes. No point in letting his cat know about that. Not now, when the owner of the sock was literally planning to kill him tomorrow. “Let’s just… not. And, anyways, my socks are my problem, ok? So what if I keep a dirty sock in the wrong place? What if that sock had some significance? Some deeper meaning to me?”
“A deeper meaning.” The cat deadpanned. “For a dirty sock?”
“Yes!” Akiren dramatically put a hand over his heart. “What if it was given to me by someone special!? Like, an old grandma or something! What if it was the last thing a loved one gave me before they passed away?”
“Yeah… just, don’t forget to do your laundry, yeah? Especially since you’ll be camping out here for the foreseeable future after tomorrow…” Mona. Why?
Wasn’t he trying to distract him? God, now he wanted to pace again. And pull his hair. And—
—————
“I’ll hold onto your dirty sock.” Akiren sniffed. “Also, your feet smell.”
“My feet don’t smell!”
He could feel the horrified, yet curious gazes of his team on his back. But despite their questions, they stayed silent. It wasn’t the moment for that when their leader was quite aggressively wiping tears from his eyes.
—————
Why did he say that to Morgana? Why, oh why, did he have to use that exact example to—
The next time someone questioned him about the sock, he was Jared, 19 and he never learned how to fucking read. Why was he doing homework of all things when the fucker who gave him that sock literally just died. He had the fucking audacity to tell him: “I wonder why we couldn’t have met a few years earlier, Kurusu…”
And then he fucking dies. Just like that. After all his going on about rivals and revenge, after all of their efforts, he just… dies. And now he was doing his fucking homework in Leblanc with Ann because she was the only who had some semblance of knowledge as to what had actually been happening between him and Goro those past few months. And was thus nominated as the one to go comfort him.
The worst part was they didn’t have time for this. They still had Shido’s palace to do, Goro’s request to fulfill. Goro’s last request because he was fucking dead. Fuck, he was crying again. Swiping his hand over his eyes for the hundredth time in the past few days, he hoped Ann didn’t notice it. Luckily, she seemed to be busy with an English exercise they had.
Why’d she come anyways? What was the point of doing homework when he was supposed to be dead? None of it mattered and they didn’t have the time for this.
He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He shouldn’t get worked up, not here, not now. In the corner of his eye, he spotted Ann watching him. As he caught her eye, she squeaked and went back to her homework… Akiren took a closer look. There was nothing. Not one thing written on her paper. Had she been watching him this entire time? God, he was pathetic. He couldn’t even keep his cool in front of his teammates, to whom he was supposed to be the leader.
“Akiren… I know you don’t wanna talk about it… but I’m here for you, ok? We all are. Even Haru and Futaba.” Ann was looking at him now. She really hadn’t been doing the best job pretending to be busy, but he guessed that that was typical of Ann. He really didn’t know how to tell her that her acting sucked. (Ignoring the fact that he had been fooled for the past 10 minutes….he blamed his unstable emotional state, this was all Goro’s fault)
“Do you really wanna hear about Akechi Goro’s dirty socks?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. That scene between the two of them in the engine room must have really raised some confusion in his teammates. But he didn’t think dirty socks was what Ann had in mind when asking him to open up.
“That’s not—“ Ann struggled to come up with a good response. “Well, actually… I am curious as to what exactly you were talking about back then. Why do you have Akechi Goro’s dirty sock? Like, I understand keeping a souvenir… but a dirty sock?”
Akiren smirked at her tiredly. “It all started one evening in Kichijoji when Goro asked me to fight him in a duel…” He told her the entire story. From love hate confessions to the long awaited dirty socks…
“Why… why a dirty sock, though?” Ann looked so dumbfounded Akiren wanted to laugh.
“It was a profession of his undying love of course!” Akiren tried to joke, but it landed flat when his voice cracked with emotion and Ann winced in sympathy. He tried to play it off with a laugh but judging from her reaction, it didn’t quite work. “No, but he said it was some tradition in the West or something to throw socks at your duel opponent.”
“…are you sure? I don’t think— a sock?” Ann shook her head disbelievingly. “I swear to god that that’s wrong somehow.”
“I thought so too! But he just seemed so sure of himself. He always does…” Akiren trailed off as he realized that that sentence wasn’t quite true anymore, was it? “He always did…”
“Oh, Akiren, come here.” Ann opened up her arms. “It’s hug time! No more crying over dumb boys who were too stupid to realize their own feelings!”
He let out a wet laugh and dove into the hug, hoping his sniffles weren’t loud enough to be heard.
—————
“That’s a key item for you, isn’t it?” It was more of a statement than a question, Futaba looking at him with understanding and disgust as he stuffed the dirty sock into his bag.
“Yeah.”
“Can’t you, like, at least wash it?” She cringed at the sight of it, and the smell that she could smell even from where she stood.
“You’re one to talk, you remember that I was the one to clean your room, right?”
“Touché.”
—————
“Hey, dude—“ Ryuji coughed as he entered his room, Yusuke in tow. “Open a window, dude! It smells so strong of vanilla in he——“
Akiren blinked at the two of them. They blinked back.
“What the eff you doing, man!?” Ryuji stared in horror as Akiren built a shrine around a… sock?
“Yes, I too appear to be curious as to why you seem to be building an altar of worship around a piece of clothing.” Yusuke watched as the flames of the candles danced, the uniqueness of the scene in front of him filling him with a burst of inspiration. “Though, it does make for quite a pretty sight. Would you mind if I set up an easel in here? I brought all of my supplies.” Without waiting for a response, he moved, erecting the wooden support in a corner of Akiren’s room.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Akiren nodded towards Yusuke, an action that was wholly unnecessary. Turning himself to Ryuji’s incredulous expression, he giggled a bit then sobered up before saying, “It’s a memorial. For him.”
“Oh.” Then, “Oh.”
“Yeah, um, sorry ‘bout that again, dude.” Ryuji apologized. Akiren didn’t really understand that, it wasn’t like it was his fault that he was just too dumb to have joined them when he still could. It wasn’t Ryuji’s fault, and it wasn’t Akiren’s. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It was.
“But, uh, why a sock?” Akiren shook himself out of his reveries and opened his mouth to explain, “It belonged to him. He gave it—“
Yusuke cut him off, still concentrating intensely on his new painting. “I believe that socks are often gifted as comfort. These usually signify warmth and are quite the thoughtful gift.”
Akiren pursed his lips and shook his head. “Yeah… no. It was less a gift, more a… promise.”
“Oh! I understand now. Not unlike promise rings that couples give to one another to prove their love will last.” Yusuke nodded to himself, completely serious.
“Dude! They weren’t in love!” —Akiren flinches at this— “It can’t have been that! It was probably the opposite. Some sorta hate promise. ‘I’ll hate you till the end of my life.’” Ryuji badly imitates Akechi’s voice. Not his princely one, his deranged one. But instead of sounding deranged, he sounded more like a clown. In pain.
Akiren wanted to laugh at that. But he couldn’t. Not when both their theories were true. It was a promise of love and hate. Goro was… complicated. And so was their non-existent relationship. Because Akiren did love him. And he’s pretty sure Goro loved him back. But he also hated him. And tried to kill him. And killed a bunch of other people.
But Akiren knew. He knew that Goro could change. Could have changed. With a little bit of love and a lot bit of therapy, Goro could have been a person fit to live in society and unlikely to murder Akiren at any given moment.
Cutting off his inner monologue, Akiren realized that they were still talking.
“A profession of a rivalry that would never end. Such a concept is so exhilarating! Two men bound by their connection of hatred and passion! I simply must draw this! Such passion must be recorded!” Yusuke proclaims, already taking out a new sheet of paper. Akiren felt a drop of sweat run down his back. Just what exactly was he planning on drawing???
“Akiren, would you happen to have any photos of the two of you in the midst of such a passionate act of hatred?” What. “I would love to have seen such a thing myself but—-“
“Let’s… let’s not. Please.” Akiren sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, suddenly feeling so weary. He didn’t want to break down now. “The sock was part of some sort of duel tradition, a promise of a rematch. He…” Akiren smiled a bit, recalling the memory. “He just took off his shoe in the middle of Kichijoji and then threw me his sock. You can imagine how confused I was. But apparently it’s a tradition in the west.”
“Wait! Did Akechi walk home sockless!? Akechi Goro, the stuck up proper blah blah blah dude? That Akechi?” Ryuji mocked, lightening the mood and attempting to divert the attention from the unfortunate scene in the engine room. Akiren smiled to himself. God, he loved his friends. He looked up and let out a laugh. “Yeah, I had the exact same thought. With his shoes, I can’t imagine that would have been comfortable.”
“Dude. You managed to get Mr. Do not touch me with your dirty hands to take off his socks in the middle of the street?” Ryuji shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, he must have really liked ya.”
“I think… I think he really did—-“ Crash.
Akiren jumped in surprise, both he and Ryuji instantly turning to Yusuke, the most likely source of the noise. Yusuke, who was shoeless and looking somewhere behind them. They followed the other’s gaze to see a shoe. Sitting atop Akiren’s desk. Where he had been in the process of making lockpicks. Lockpicks which weren’t on the desk anymore.
“Yusuke! Those were for our infiltration!”
“What? I only desired to recreate the feeling of passion he must have felt in that moment!”
—————
“Or, are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”
“This isn’t ‘trivial’!” Akiren screamed, feeling so overwhelmed. It was too much. Everything was too much. He had just gotten Goro back. And now he had to leave again. Goro was going to leave again and he couldn’t do anything—- no. That was the worst part. He could do something. But he also couldn’t. Not if it meant taking away the world’s freedom. Not if it meant taking away Goro’s freedom. Not if he wanted Goro to still like him…
“It is.” Goro glared at him with cold eyes. Why did Goro always have to be like that? Why did Goro always have to be so mean? Akiren loved it honestly, but sometimes he just couldn’t. “Do you think I’d be happy with this? Being shown mercy, now of all times? I don’t want to be pitied—“
“ Pity!? Oh my God!” Akiren scoffed with an incredulous look on his face. He clenched his fists, taking a shaky deep breath. “Can you just… not? For once in your life?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Or, for once in your apparently-not-life, ‘cause apparently you’re dead! That’s a thing now!”
“Calm down, Kurusu-kun. There is only one choice to make here—“
Slightly in hysterics, Akiren stepped forward, pushing a finger into the other’s warm, beating chest. Not for much longer. “Shut. Up. You… you knew this entire time!? You knew and you just…”
“Kurusu-kun.” Goro took Akiren’s wrist into his hand. “Your indecisiveness on this matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes.”
With Goro’s hand around his wrist, Akiren could feel his own hand trembling. Goro could evidently feel it too, and despite his cruel words, his thumb lightly caressed Akiren’s wrist in a comforting gesture. It only made Akiren want to cry even more. Fuck. This was what he would miss the most. Goro always seemed cold and uncaring but sometimes, his affection would show. Whether it be hand-holding in the Metaverse when Akiren could feel the loneliness of all his friends being gone, or a gentle touch on his shoulder when the weight of the world was just a bit too heavy for him to carry alone.
That side of Goro was one that only he was privy to and honestly? He loved that part of him so much. Though he couldn’t deny that Goro’s aggressive side did things to him too, but not quite for the same reasons.
“Please. Can we just… have tonight? I don’t want to…” Akiren held back a sob, burying his face in Goro’s chest. He really didn’t want to spend what was essentially going to be their last ever night together talking about Maruki and his fucking choices and shit.
Goro sighed and his face softened, but he put his hand to Akiren's face and tilted his chin up, forcing Akiren to look him in the eyes. “Kuru— No. Akiren. I need to hear you say it aloud.”
Akiren stared at him with wide eyes and gulped. That was hot. Fuck. Wait. No. So not the time. “I…” A raised eyebrow prompted him to continue. “I still have your dirty sock.” He blurted out.
Goro blinked slowly, evidently stunned by the sudden change in subject. Then he sighed, shaking his head yet he was unable to resist the fond smile growing on his face. “Akiren, no— That’s—- that’s not what I wanted you to say and you know it.”
Akiren hesitated, then continued, completely unwilling to talk about this and desperately trying to delay his choice. “It’s in my sock drawer, ‘cause, you know, it’s a sock.”
Goro’s eyes hardened again, but he didn’t seem as angry as he had a while ago. “ Akiren. Stop this. I am not going to discuss this with you. Make your choice.” He caressed Akiren’s cheek with his thumb. And spoke in a softer yet still determined voice. “C’mon, Akiren. This isn’t real. I refuse to be a puppet to another shitty adult any longer. I died in that engine room. You know this. There is no choice to make.”
Akiren didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to choose. He didn’t want to discuss this! He wanted to just lay in his bed with Akechi and just do nothing until the deadline ended. Just sleep… But that wasn’t possible. The burden of choice was put upon him and he had to take responsibility. No one deserved to be overwritten. No one deserved to be completely changed just to be ‘happy’. (But Akechi didn’t deserve to die either!)
“…we’re stopping Maruki.” He whispered out. He quickly took off his scarf and threw it at Goro’s face. “It’s a promise!” He yelled out in sudden a too loud voice.
Goro blinked back at him confusedly, the scarf hanging from his hands. “What?”
“You know, it’s like your sock. It’s… a promise scarf. Like… like the duel sock.” Akiren stumbled on his words, internally berating himself for not thinking this through. A promise scarf? Really? Truthfully, all he wanted was for Goro to have something of his. A memento, in case. Just in case… he was actually alive after all this.
“A… promise scarf.” Goro let out a laugh. “You and your friends really are alike. So stupidly sentimental and, well, stupid. Where did this dumb idea even come from? My duel sock, as you call it, was a tradition in the west. Where exactly you did it get into your head to give me your scarf?”
Akiren blushed. “It— it was a spur of the moment thing! It just— it seemed right for the moment! And… I just really wanted you to… have one of my... things…”
Goro understood, he always did. But he stayed silent, opting instead to take Akiren’s hand in his. This time they had no evil, corrupt politicians, or strange old men with extremely long noses to be wary of. (Only slightly deranged therapists with the powers of god… but he wanted them to be happy so they were sure he wouldn’t mind them taking this moment for themselves. Being them. Together.)
The aquarium happened now. So did the café. And so did all the other small moments between them that made Akiren just fall harder and harder each time…
“…do you want your sock back?” He reluctantly asked in the silence of Leblanc. He honestly didn’t want to give it back. But, it was Goro’s.
“Why would I want it back? We never got our rematch didn’t we?” Goro raised an eyebrow at him, but it wasn’t very condescending as the weight of a heavy wish lay behind those words. A wish both of them wanted to be true more than anything.
“Well, I mean, I was just thinking of how weird it is to lose one sock of a pair and to always have that one lonely sock in your drawer that you don’t have a use for anymore but that you still keep because, what if I find the other sock? And that you know you will never find the pair of but are too lazy to throw it away. But—-“
Suddenly, he felt something on his lips, shutting him up. Lips. Those were lips. On his lips. Goro Akechi was kissing him!!! To shut him up, but it was a kiss nonetheless! “ Don’t worry. I’ll be keeping your scarf too.” Goro murmured, as they stood forehead against forehead.
“Stay? Please?” This may be the last time we ever talk each other, hold each other, kiss each other, was left unsaid.
“Yeah, okay.” I love you too, was left unsaid.
—————
“A glove..” Akiren looked at his phone in the silence of his empty room in Leblanc, his bags were packed and he was ready (in the material sense) to go back to his hometown. “It was a glove. Not a sock. A glove. Oh my god, Goro messed up so bad.”
He burst out laughing, feeling he’d rather laugh than cry once more. “And I was the idiot for giving him my scarf? I knew there was something off about that. A sock? Really?”
Morgana came up the stairs, having gone to talk to Futaba while he packed. “What’s got you all cracked up?”
“Nothing, just… remember the sock he gave me?” At Morgana’s hesitant nod, he continued. “Well, I just checked it out and apparently the tradition in the West is to throw down your glove to initiate a duel. Not a— not a sock!” He showed the phone to Morgana, chuckling.
“He couldn’t have been further off the mark! A sock! A dirty sock, of all things.” He took out the sock which had been aired out enough these past few months that it had stopped smelling too bad.
Morgana smiled back, but a bit of pity could be seen in his eyes. “Are you… going to bring that sock back with you? It’s kinda dirty, don’t you think? You could leave it here with all the other gifts your friends left you?”
Akiren looked at the sock in his hand. “He promised me a rematch. My fight with him isn’t over yet.” He sighed. “I know… I know that, logically, there was no way he could have survived.”
“But, I can’t help but still think that… he may be alive. Somewhere.”
Morgana shook his head. “Okay, yeah. I really think you should leave it… but I guess it wouldn’t really take up much space either.”
Akiren smiled. “Thank you, Mona.”
—————
As he sat in the train to leave Tokyo, he felt… empty. Was he really leaving? Was this really the end for them? So many things had happened here, he had completely changed. What would it be like living, once again, a normal life? He would have to get used to it…
He thought back to Muhen asking about Goro when he had visited the jazz club during his goodbyes. And, honestly? He felt hopeful. He may not have been able to say goodbye to the one person he really wanted to, but he felt like it didn’t matter. They would meet again. He was sure of it.
He suddenly got the instinct to look out the window. And there he saw it. A flash of blue and beige… Was… was that Goro? Was he wearing his scarf???
Akiren gasped, putting a hand over his mouth. He had been hopeful, yeah, sure. But he didn’t actually think Goro would just appear? He blinked. And looked back out. But he was gone.
Holy fuck. Did that really just happen? He giggled. Of course Goro would always be there to surpass his expectations. Putting his hand in his pocket, he squeezed the sock. ‘ I’ll find you again. I swear it. I am not keeping this dirty sock for any longer. So we need to have our rematch soon.’
‘I’ll see you soon, Goro.’