BarthVader

Makoto entered Leblanc hoping for peace, quiet, and a good cup of coffee. What she got was Akechi beckoning her to the booth he was sitting in.

“Good to see you, Niijima,” he said, putting aside a copy of Redemption Arcs for Beginners. “Can we have a word?”

“Must we?” she scowled.

“If we didn’t have to, I wouldn’t have wasted your time, now, would I?”

She let out a sigh. “Can I get coffee first?”

“Of course. I’m not in a hurry.”

Sojiro was preparing one for her already, and after a minute or so, Makoto sat opposite Akechi. “Okay, what do you want from me?”

“I know you despise me, so I’ll keep it brief-”

“The fact you walk free after everything you’ve done is a miscarriage of justice,” she growled.

“I told the prosecutor the same thing!” He seemed as offended as she was. “But apparently neither Shido nor Akira mentioned my role in the events, for some reason.”

“I can only speculate about Shido’s motivations, but Akira omitted your role in the events to not incriminate himself,” Makoto sighed in response. “An accurate description of what happened in the Engine Room would sound… well…”

Akechi put his hands up to his face to mimic Akira’s fake glasses. “I know I had motive and means to kill him but he actually killed himself, honest!” he said in a silly voice. “Well, not himself-himself, there was this evil copy of him that did it and he stopped us from saving him. It was very very tragic.”

Makoto failed to stifle a chortle. “More or less.”

“Apparently,” Akechi continued with his normal voice, “what little evidence there was to incriminate me specifically was too inconclusive to bother with bigger fish to fry.”

“And I’ve heard a lot of oil went bad and had to be thrown away,” Makoto added.

“Exactly. But I’m not here to talk about underfunded and understaffed prosecutors, my problem is with Akira.”

Makoto raised her cup to take a sip of coffee. “I’ve noticed as much.”

“He asked me out.”

Akechi narrowly dodged the following spit-take. Sojiro wordlessly handed Makoto a roll of paper towels. She gestured at Akechi to move aside and tried to wipe the liquid off. “What do you mean ‘he asked you out’?”

“He suggested a movie date on Sunday.”

“And what was your response?”

“Well, I tried to politely decline,” he replied. “Leftover Phantom Thief money pays for my room, board, and therapy. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to take subtle hints, and if he asks me again, I might snap and deploy unsubtle ones.”

“I can play the parental veto card if you want,” Sojiro offered. “Well, parental substitute, but it’s close enough.”

“I'm worried that would make things worse,” Akechi replied. “The forbidden fruit is more appealing, after all.”

Makoto threw away the used-up paper towels. “So what do you plan to do now?”

“Well, I planned to bribe someone to seduce him so that he’ll forget about that stupid idea.” He shook his open wallet over a table and a few coins fell out of it. “I have… 556 yen, they can be yours if you accept it.”

Makoto stared at the money in front of her. “Or, hear me out, instead of going for a zany scheme with an infinitesimal chance of succeeding, we talk to him upfront.”

“I just told you, I am unable to do that.”

She tented her fingers. “And if someone were to speak on your behalf?”

Akechi understood the allusion. “…well, I can pay you-”

“Keep your pocket change,” she said, slightly offended. “Who do you take me for?”

“A younger sister of a lawyer.”

“Here’s a legal term for you: pro bono publico. In this context it means working voluntarily for free.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was adjacent to law enforcement long enough to know what it means, Niijima. Still, if you are willing to represent me and ask for nothing in return…” The air of nonchalance he has been projecting up to that point has collapsed for a brief second. “…thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.” She turned to Sojiro. “Where’s Akira now?”

“Out and about,” he shrugged. “I’d just text him and ask him to come back here.”

Akira entered Leblanc and noticed Akechi and Makoto waiting for him. “Hi there,” he waved. “Did you think about my offer, Goro?”

“We would want to discuss that somewhere more private,” Makoto replied.

“Oh, okay then.” He pointed at the staircase leading to his attic. “Is upstairs fine?”

Makoto glanced at Akechi, and after he silently nodded, the three marched up the stairs. Akechi placed himself on the couch, Makoto sat next to him, and Akira grabbed a chair and set it opposite them. 

“Well,” he sat down on said chair, “I assume that since you wanted to talk in private, you’re about to suggest a threesome.” 

He cracked a smile. Akechi and Makoto responded by turning a faint shade of crimson. 

“No, you utter mmph!”

Makoto put her hand on his mouth. “Let me talk.” She then turned to Akira. “Akechi… politely requested that I help him gently reject your offer.”

“Oh.” Akira raised an eyebrow. “Goro politely requested that you turn me down in his stead?”

Akechi nodded. 

“He acknowledges his social skills are lacking and doesn’t want to antagonize you again,” Makoto explained.

“And he did that without any pressure whatsoever from you, I assume,” Akira remarked.

Another nod from Akechi. “That is true,” Makoto said. “Though I think this is a correct decision on his part.”

“So that’s where the line is, huh?” Akira asked, mildly amused. “Risking my life and fighting literal gods is a-OK, but asking out a guy-”

Akechi pushed Makoto’s hand away. “You cannot be serious now,” he snarled at Akira. “I. Tried. To murder you.”

He put on a shit-eating grin. “Bad boys are hot, you know?”

Akechi’s eyelid twitched. “Hormones overriding your brain, I can understand, I think, but for fuck’s sake, you’ve got so many not-sociopaths you could ask out instead of me!” He gestured at Makoto. “I mean, Niijima’s here already, you might as well seduce her!”

“Beg your pardon?” Makoto blurted out.

“She’s astute, athletic, attractive, and didn’t fucking shoot you in the face!” Akechi continued. “So here’s a less moronic idea: I turn around and leave and you two can have a… twosome or however the fuck you call it.”

“This was not part of the agreement,” Makoto hissed, trying to put her hand back on his mouth, but he resisted.

“And you won’t convince me you’re not into girls,” Akechi was past listening, “I have seen you ogle all the goddamn catsuits! Everybody has seen you do that!”

“Bisexuality is a thing,” Akira remarked.

“That is not the main point, you insufferable-!”

Makoto, unable to shut Akechi up with gentler methods, tackled him to the ground, pinned him down, and covered his mouth with both her hands. “This,” she strained, as Akechi struggled under her, “is the exact type of shenanigans I wanted to avoid. I’m disappointed in you, Akira.”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

So did Akechi. “Mph?”

“He’s obviously not interested in you, and instead of acknowledging it like a normal person and moving on, you’re cracking jokes and dodging the subject,” she explained.

“Well, uh,” Akira adjusted his glasses, “considering I never got a straightforward ‘no’ for an answer, I assumed it’s just his self-loathing talking.”

“Or he doesn’t want to upset the guy whose savings pay for his accommodation and recovery.”

There was a period of silence, as Akira started thinking about how he’d perceive the whole situation as an outside observer. When the coin dropped, he felt a profound sense of discomfort and disappointment with himself. “…I messed up.”

”Cun uh suh sumphn?” Makoto removed her hands from Akechi’s mouth as he repeated: “Can I say something?”

“If you say it, and not snarl or scream it.”

He cracked a smile. “Can I screech it?”

“I will have a body count by the end of the day,” she grumbled to herself, then got off of him and lifted him back up by his lapels. “Speak.”

“Okay, so, cards on the table:” Akechi began, “when I said that, I didn’t intend to accuse you of entrapment or anything like that. I just… if you pardon the obvious quip, I don’t want to be a bastard.”

“Eh,” Akira replied. “I still think I come off as an asshole in this scenario.”

Akechi looked at his dejected face and sighed. “…not if you were kind of right.”

There was a bit of a pause before Akira said: “I’m not jumping to conclusions. Elaborate.”

“What is there to elaborate upon?” Akechi sighed again. “You are intelligent, kind, (ahem) attractive, prejudice-free, unreasonably patient, and if I were to deny your appeal, that’d be a lie. And you’ve gotten too good at spotting these.”

“Then…” Akira was confused. “Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is in the very idea of you recifuckingprocating!” A beat. “Reciprofuckingcating?”

“Do you really have to use F-bombs so gratuitously?” Makoto asked.

“Out of all the ways of relieving my frustration, this is the one least likely to get me in trouble,” Akechi replied.

“I think I read an article about that some time ago,” Makoto replied. “It claimed that the effectiveness of that is inversely proportional to frequency of cussing in day-to-day conversation.”

After a beat, Akechi replied: “Well, I’ll be darned.”

“Alright,” Akira said, “let’s take three steps back. I need to explain myself.” He gestured at the couch. “Sit down, please. Both of you.” 

Makoto sat down on the couch, by his side. Akechi took a chair that stood next to the desk and placed himself opposite the two.

“Okay, so,” Akira started, “I assumed that the whole lighthearted wink-wink-nudge-nudge tone would be a good way to ease you into the idea.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Boy, did it backfire. Let’s try this again: I want to go on a date with you, Goro.”

“You are a fucking idiot.”

“We’re going in circles,” Makoto rolled her eyes. “Can you make that point without insulting him, for a change?”

Akechi took a deep breath.  “Okay then: I vehemently disagree with your judgment on the topic.”

“And why is that?” Akira asked. 

With Makoto still staring daggers at him, Akechi replied: “Because I screwed over both you and people you care about.”

“I’ll talk with the others about this,” Akira replied. “And I’ve already spoken with Futaba and Haru before asking you out. They are willing to let this slide, but they also declared they’d avenge me if you hurt me in any way.”

“That explains the text messages I got from Haru earlier,” Akechi commented. “I think I’d make poor fertilizer, but she’s the gardener, who am I to argue?”

“Still,” Makoto joined the conversation, “putting aside everyone else’s potential reactions to this, there’s still a big leap from forgiving someone to asking them out.” 

“I just think he’s fascinating,” Akira said, gesturing at Akechi. “I want to watch how he develops, blooms, how he’ll approach the new lease on life he’s gotten.” He glanced at Akechi. “Also, you’re hot, but I’d rather err on the side of non-creepiness so I won’t go into detail.”

Akechi responded with something between a sigh and a groan.

“Don’t sigh-groan me there,” Akira protested. “You’re going to therapy, you’re looking for a job, you are picking up the pieces, trying to get your life in order. And in the back of my head, there’s still this nagging thought that if a few things have gone a bit differently, I wouldn’t have any moral high ground over you. Because Kamoshida, the piece of shit, would be pushing up daisies, for example. Look me in the eyes, please.”

After some hesitation, steel gray met reddish-brown.

“You are not unlovable, Goro. And I know things between us won’t be all sunshine and roses, but I’m willing to put in the work to improve it.” He dared to faintly smile. “And we both know you’re stubborn enough to do the same.”

There was a moment of silence. Akira and Akechi gazed into one another’s eyes, while Makoto decided to bite her tongue and watch the situation unfold.

Metaphorically, Akechi blinked first. “My answer remains unchanging.”

Akira opened his mouth.

“Now it’s my turn to monologue, so hush,” Akechi interrupted him, then glanced at Makoto. “Without raising my voice, I promise.” He got up from the chair and started pacing around the attic. “I kept complaining about your low standards, but those complaints were actually a symptom of the actual problem. One you’ve actually pointed out earlier, and only now it clicked – you might believe I’m not unlovable, but I don’t believe that.”

“So there’s an inherent power imbalance in any relationship you’d be in,” Makoto commented.

“Precisely.” Akechi pointed at Makoto. “So even if Niijima, or anyone else, propositioned me-”

“Do I look that desperate?” Makoto muttered.

“-it wouldn’t be any better, because the idea of me being a desirable partner for anyone, is beyond my comprehension. And you can argue I don’t deserve to not feel like that – or the opposite – but the facts are, this is how I feel right now, and in that state, any romantic relationship will end in a disaster.”

There was a period of silence, and then Makoto did a little golf clap. “Good job there, Akechi.”

“Aw, sod off,” he scowled.

“No, I-I really mean it,” she elaborated. “It was eloquent, polite, and got the point across. And considering your problems with talking about your feelings, it came out better than I expected. Seriously, good job.”

“Oh.” Akechi wasn’t expecting a genuine compliment. “Th-thanks.”

“That’s that then,” Akira got up from the couch. “The topic’s officially dropped, and I’m sorry for nagging you. And of course that doesn’t change your money status or anything.” He scowled. “Seriously, if I fall that low you might as well shoot me in the face again.”

“That didn’t discourage you the last time, did it?” Akechi quipped. 

All three let out a chortle.

“Alright then,” Makoto turned to Akechi, “with that out of the way, could you go downstairs now? I want to speak with Akira in private.”

“Sure, no problem.” Akechi walked to the stairs, and as he took the first step back, he turned back to her. “Thank you, Niijima.”

“You can call me Makoto.”

“Okay then. Thank you, Makoto. Your assistance was appreciated,” he said, then marched downstairs.

“So, this is the part where I’m getting dressed down for being a creeper, isn’t it?” Akira remarked.

“Well, you’ve backed off in the end,” Makoto replied. “Also, we’ve been friends for months and I know you’re better than this, so I’m attributing all this to social ineptitude.” Beat. “Though it is kind of atypical for you, you’re usually more competent in these matters.”

“To be fair, most of my reputation as a social expert comes from lending an ear when people are venting,” Akira commented. “Turns out people like being listened to, who woulda thunk it?” He paused for a moment. “Since you’ve already been dragged into this: could I ask you for a favor?”

Makoto raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t the topic closed?”

“Well, romance-wise,” Akira reached for his wallet. “But I feel that Goro should socialize a bit more. I could pay you to spend some time with him.”

Makoto facepalmed with enough force to make her head hurt.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Put the goddamn wallet away,” she growled. “And me asking him out for a one-on-one hangout could be easily misinterpreted, and I’ve had enough hijinks for today.”

“I can tag along,” Akira offered, hiding his wallet. “We could go play darts, or bowl.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Maybe ask around, see who else could tolerate his presence.” 

Akira produced his phone. “I’ll call a few folks.”

Sojiro noticed Akechi descending down the staircase. “How did it go?”

“With Makotoʼs help, I managed to successfully and firmly turn Akira down.”

“Good. You’re not actively malicious, but youʼre still a trainwreck,” Sojiro remarked, knowing that description was gentle enough by Akechiʼs standards. “Are you hungry?”

“I donʼt have enough money for a meal.”

“Donʼt be ridiculous, I’m not going to charge you,” Sojiro said, turning back to the stove. “By the way, are you openly out of the closet, or do I need to keep mum?”

Before Akechi could explain, his phone rang out with a snippet of free form jazz. “Excuse me a moment…” He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. There was no caller ID. “Hm.” He picked it up. “Hello?”

“I know who you are,” said a digitally obscured voice.

Akechi was unperturbed. “And a good afternoon to you too.”

“I know what you did.”

“Narrow it down, please.”

“I know everything. What you eat, where you sleep, what videos you watched last night instead of sleeping, and if you hurt him in any way-” 

“I turned him down, Futaba,” Akechi interrupted her.

“…wot?”

“We talked about it and came to the conclusion that I’m not ready for a romantic relationship with anyone.”

“Oh.” After a pause and a quick click in the background, Futaba’s voice came out of the speaker: “…still, don’t hurt him or I’ll blow up your phone battery, you bastard.”

“Yes, yes, whatever,” he said, then hung up.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sojiro said, putting a plate of curry in front of him.