Steal Your Heart

Huh. Not quite the reaction he’d expected, for some reason.

The crash of the stool makes him jump a bit in alarm, but it’s short lasting as he looks at Akira watching him like he was a ghost or something.

Did something happen for him so look so shocked? Well, besides his entire appearance…

“Is something the-?”

Before he can finish the question, Akira is pulling him in close, and he feels slightly guilty about it. He’ll get himself all wet and covered in blood like that.

But it’s warm, and he can’t actually remember the last time he’d received one. The way he clings to him so tightly hurts his myriad bumps and bruises, but it doesn’t stop him from reaching up and returning the hug equally as tight, enjoying the contact for every moment before Akira pulls away to speak again.

“Um- W-what do you mean?”

The response to the physical contact is enough to send him reeling, and Akira needs a moment when he pulls away to process that this is real and Akechi is alive, dripping wet in the doorway to LeBlanc looking like he’d been in several brawls-

Oh. He should probably get him a towel. This.... was a lot to take in.

“You’re soaked. How long have you been in the rain?”

Gently, but still hesitantly, he reaches to lead the other further inside the store, making a mental note to clean up the puddles later. He retrieves a towel from behind the counter that would normally be used for dishes, and offers it to the other man before acting on autopilot to turn on the coffee maker.

“And how did you get so beat up? Did you come out of the Metaverse like that-” 

Akira can barely finish speaking before he removed his foot from Akira’s back ever so briefly enough to give him a sharp kick to the ribs. Then another. And another.

“You shut up, you sniveling garbage heap! What do you think you know about me?”

“Everything was going perfectly until you had to show up! Just like always- You can’t even take a bullet to the brain right! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone??!!”

His voice had been raising in volume beyond his awareness, to the point where even the crowd was starting to turn heads, but they quickly turned back to their own feet or phone screens. His breathing was now labored, and the blood was pulsing through his veins, sticking in his hair, and leaking onto his collar.

He could bludgeon him right here, spill his brains on the concrete and be sure they would never make their way into his skull again.

But then, where would the even lead him? Exactly where he was the night of Akira’s first murder? Frozen, shaking, unable to sleep, eat, breathe….

He picks up his boot again to grind it against his face, turning it ever so slightly with the pressure of each motion.

“I suppose there’s not much worse I can do you you now, anyway. You’re in the same position as me, now. You’ve got nothing, and that’s all you’re ever gonna get until you curl up and die in the streets like the dog you are.”

He knows for certain he’s broken a rib or two, the snap is audible and he chokes on his own blood in his throat as he coughs and sputters. It hurts, gods why did the man have to wear pointy shoes, but Akira is anything if not stubborn and he holds steadfast in his gaze... Only breaking to wince every once in a while as the other yells his frustrations.

It’s only when his heel digs into his cheek does he finally speak back.

“If you think i’m going to lie down and die for you you’ll have to kill me again yourself, Akechi. If i have to suffer through what you’ve done then i will make sure you live every day in agony until you put us both out of our misery.”

“Oh? What clued you in, genius?”

His mouth is moving faster than his brain can register, and it’s almost like he’s watching his own hand move from afar as he reaches down to grab his own fistful of the other man’s curls, being none too gentle about slowly pulling his head to to face his own.

“You think I got here by playing nice? By following what’s just? This is a dog-eat dog world now, Akira. Just look around- Not one of these people give a flying fuck about your misery.”

Upon finishing his words, he proceeded to throw down the young man’s head, before raising his knee and bringing his foot down right upon his midback to press him down and grind his heel into his defeated opponent. Just to satisfy the urge that threatened to bring his blood to a boil.

“Nothing you did ever really mattered in the end, and you can’t even blame anyone but yourself for it! Your little rebellion was marked to be your downfall from day one.”

The attempt to struggle is quickly suppressed as all Akira can do is glare at the man, baring teeth and clawing at Akechi’s arm until he’s thrown back down to the ground.

It hurts. Everything hurt already, but the pain that blossoms through his chin where it connects with the ground makes him bite his tongue, and he sputters a mix of blood and spit when Akechi’s foot connects with his back. 

It hurts, but more importantly, the words that follow carve holes in his heart and Akira makes no attempt to lift himself from where he now lay, sprawled on the concrete like a doll.

“Shut up. Just shut up. Do you think i don’t know this? You’re so pretentious, going on and on with nothing to show for it. You couldn’t even kill me right. How does that feel, Akechi? You call what i’ve done a failure yet what have you even achieved from your goals other than making the world exactly the fucking same.”

His voice raises in volume as he talks, vitriol rolling off the tongue and he turns his head enough to look up, locking cold steel eyes with the rust red that bore down on him.

He watches him sink without so much as a flinch, and didn’t even bother to fix his now-rumpled uniform. For all that he imagined Akira in this position before him so many times, once again catharsis eluded him at seeing it in reality.

Upon being asked the question, however, the leather of his gloves strained as his fists clenched.

Ah, of course. Ever the sentimental one. Even now his soft heart was the reason for both of their suffering in this moment. Perhaps all he really needs is a nudge…

“Not physically.”

“No promises about the mental toll of watching their companions fall one by one before them, though.”

Once again the venom drips from his words even as he feels the corners of his lips tug up of their own accord.

The tremble ripples through the young man’s body as he shakes, the anger and despair an all consuming weight the threatened to snap his back like a twig. He could hear it, even if he couldn’t see the sadistic venom in the others words and for once in his life Akira wishes the parts off him that prevented him from darker thoughts would shut themselves off. 

Just for once.

Instead, he slams his head into the ground, burring his hands in his hair to tug and pull and muffle the noise that escapes the back of his throat. Why did it have to be this way? Why did he have to exist, survive by some fucked up miracle when all it would do is cause him agony?

His luck hated him, of that he was certain.

He grits his teeth at another round of pain, and he can feel the blood rushing in his head for what was most assuredly an open wound by now. His ears were ringing, too, but Akira’s voice was still clear as crystal through it.

“Not particularly.”

His response is quick in coming, almost instant, and with a distinct lack of feeling. In fact, his whole continence is eerily similar to that accursed night. Like a blank canvas, without a hint of his usual witty disposition. Perhaps it was for the best that Akira saw him for what he really is. The chance to deliver his justice without guilt and relieve him of his torment all in one go.

If Akira were a different man Akechi wouldn’t be standing anymore. Whether it was fortune or karma for the other, he wasn’t that kind of person, and he finally relinquishes his hold on the other at that tone and sinks to the floor on his knees. It’s a pitiful display, really, but his legs just can’t hold him and he can’t stomach to look at those eyes anymore.

Blindly, he fumbles or his glasses and puts them back on, ignoring the crack that now split a lens in two.

“Did you make them suffer.”

Even though his voice is quiet, he knows Akechi can still hear him and his hands bale into fists on the hard concrete, scraping his knuckles in the process.

Akechi’s face had a look of concern but he was thinking of how much a forgetful idiot Akira can be but deep down…it was sort of charming. The brunet shook his frustrations away and smiled lightly. 

“Well, no. Not really but won’t you be uncomfortable? I’m sure they have some paper towels in the bathroom you can use to dry off a little.” he responded as he took note of the droplets and how wild Akira’s hair was when wet. 

Right, that honestly was probably the preferred option lest he get them both kicked out immediately by dragging in a puddle into the billiards room. It’d probably take him quite a few paper towels but he’s sure he can get the worst of it off, and he nods at Akechi’s suggestion before motioning with his hand for him to go inside first.

“You go on ahead then and set up one of the tables. I’ll try not to keep you much longer.”

The detour to the bathroom was quick, and he only managed to slide on the tiles once as he pat himself dry, (he lost count how how many sheets he’d used, but the bin was now full and he felt a little bad for the cleaning staff who’d have to deal with that later.). Once he was no longer dripping, Akira gives himself a once over to make sure he doesn’t look like a complete idiot before finally joining the other outside for what was now probably a much shorter outing.

Ah, yes. This was what he was looking for.

The smell of coffee, the distant drone of the TV, the soothing not-too-bright lightning…

And, most importantly, the young man sitting at the counter.

“Honey, I’m home.”

The joke rolls off poorly not only due to his admittedly haggard appearance, but his disused voice cracks in the middle. Seems that despite the rain, he was actually quite parched…

The speed of which he forces himself to his feet is enough to knock his chair backward, stool colliding with the floor with a loud thud as the man can do little other than stare.

Stare at Goro Akechi like he’d evaporate the minute he took his eyes off of him.

It was like a daze, a dream, a nightmare...? He looked horrific, like a drowned rat and it takes him far too long to actually make a move towards the other to help him in.

At first the touch is hesitant, as if expecting his hands to fall through the other man’s body. But when it connects with his upper arm (avoiding a nasty looking gash in the process) Akira loses the fight he didn’t know he was having with himself, and the tears fall freely as he pulls the other into a tight hug.

The brunet was waiting for Akira to arrive. It wasn’t often he had spare time like this and he would make the most of it. The detective prince was one who was always busy with various tasks; cases and dealing with his fans. 

It was utterly….exhausting. 

“You are soaked..” was the first thing out of his mouth. “Did you forget it was going to rain today? It can’t be comfortable being wet clothes like that.” he paused and thought for a moment. “You should hurry and dry up once were done here or you will catch a cold.. 

The boy could only offer a sheepish smile in response, feeling the rain soak down through every layer. At least Akechi seemed concerned, that was a sign he hadn’t irritated him in being late and he shakes his head lightly, spraying droplets of water everywhere in its wake.

“I forgot to check the TV before i left... I didn’t know it would rain until it rained on me.”

He felt Morgana leave the bag as discretely as possible, ducking into the alley due to the ban on pets.

For several long seconds that drag almost like hours, he can’t seem to scramble up a response. After weeks- months - of being so certain in his work, that this… This specter should appear before him now… Dumbfounded is an infinite underestimation of what he’s feeling right now, yet it’s still the closest thing.

“My apologies. I seem to have left my weapon in my other coat today.”

Snark wasn’t the thing he’d expected out of his own mouth, but the infinitely worse option, being genuine with any version of his ill-fated rival, was simply out of the question.

He pulls Akechi forwards only to slam his head back against the wall, the motion enough to slide his glasses off completely, and they hit the concrete with a clink, the distinct sound of glass cracking distant in his ears.

Its not like he needs them to see anyways though, but the raw hurt is more apparent now with no shield to hide it... As well as the burning anger that he bore into the others’ eyes with an unwavering stare.

“You’re not in a position to snark at me, Akechi. Not after everything you’ve done.”

His stomach churns and Akira’s grip tightens, and he’s certain now that there’s definitely blood from their collision, as he can see it slide down the bridge of his nose as a slow, agonizing pace. 

They’re a whirlwind of motion as Akira charges at him, and the only thing that registered they’d even stopped was when pain blossomed in the back of his skull, shortly chased by a similar blinding pain in his forehead. When the flashing lights cleared, he was eye to eye with the coldest steel gaze he’s ever witnessed. And he thought he was cold the night of Akira’s murder at his hands…

“………”

Once again, his silence is deafening, and it takes every last ounce of his strength (funny, he thought THAT was long gone) to meet Akira’s gaze in full. Was this his karma, finally? It was…kind of a relief.

“Kurusu?”

His grip on Akechi’s collar tightens and he can feel his own nails through the fabric pressing into his palms.

“You seem shocked. Surprised at the lack of a bullet hole? So am i.”

Once their gazes lock there’s no turning away, cold steel on rust red... It’s symbolic in a sick, twisted way that the fates would throw them at eachother again after Akechi clearly failed to finish the job properly.

For a moment Akira wonders if he made them suffer, but quickly those thoughts are quickly pushed away, too painful to linger.

“Do you want to finish the job...?”

With a deep sigh, the good doctor found himself unable to meet the other’s gaze. He was still contemplating everything, even now. What he could do about this situation if the feeling in his chest was accurate….and what he might do even if that conclusion came to be so. He had already done so much to get here, after all.

He had already lost so much.

Too much to stop now, even if it turned out to be wrong.

“Kurusu-kun…if someone had the power to change how people think. Truly change their hearts like the phantom thieves claim to do…. Do you find it to be okay, even if the person is unwilling? Though they may benefit from doing so, they may still stubbornly refuse to see eye to eye with those helping them, regardless. Is it still the ethical action to force happiness upon them, or is their decision to be miserable somehow more important? I’m truly curious as to what you think on such a matter. It is, once again, just a hypothetical question of course.”

That... certainly had caught the young man off guard. He hadn’t thought about it from that sort of perspective, and never, really, had he had much the need. The people the Phantom Thieves changed where harming others... Actively a threat to people whether through abuse of power, or more physical means.

The hesitance flickers across his face for a moment, before Akira presses an index finger to his chin in thought.

“Well.... I think that its the right of the person to choose if they want to have a ‘change of heart’ in this scenario. You use the Phantom Thieves as an example but you lack the most important aspect in those cases. Weren’t the people they changed harming others? With cases like that... You act in the better of those around them. but if a person is simply self-destructive...”

Akira lets out a low hum.

The glass of the nurse’s office door took the gentle rapping and echoed it audibly enough to gather the attention of the good doctor. It wasn’t as if Takuto hadn’t expected to have company, he was the lone counselor for the entirety of this school after all! Not to mention everything that had happened to these students, a handful in particular coming to mind more than most.

They needed a little bit of guidance, even if that guidance came from someone like him- Not to say that he wasn’t prepared! It was just that, at times, even a trained counselor was at a loss.

Especially when the issues that plagued the students that saw him most often were far from natural. Akira Kurusu was one such student, the very same he had sought out on his own after witnessing a certain…. event. The young man had handled so much strife with so much apparent ease, that it took Takuto by quite visible surprise to see him so haggard.

“Kurusu-kun! Please, please, find yourself a seat. If you don’t mind me pointing it out-…. have you been sleeping well lately? Is there something on your mind?”

Normally, he would have allowed himself to fall into his more comfortable passive nature, but the rapport, and friendship, that the two of them had built called for something a little more direct.

As he pushed the door open and gently ushered the young man inside, Takuto found himself preemptively reaching for the snack basket and offering it to Akira before the session had even begun. 

“A snack will help get your energy up. Did something happen?”

He probably didn’t look too hot, judging by Maruki’s response and the boy pushes his glasses up his nose as he allows himself to be ushered inside with little protest. He was here to see Maruki on his own whims, after all.

“Is it that easy to tell...? Ah, it’s actually why i’m here today Doc, if you don’t mind me asking for some counselling for once...”

Akira nabs a snack out of habit, unwrapping the small candy and popping it in his mouth as he takes his usual seat on the couch, placing Morgana down by his feet.

He doesn’t particularly know where to start, he’s not one to open up to others, really. Usually most people have a better time opening up to him. He supposes its something about his personality that simple makes him easy to talk to. The only down side was that getting him to open up himself was like prying open a cell door with a toothbrush.

By all accounts, today was a supposedly ‘normal’ day.  At least, it would be, if any day fazed him anymore. Ever since he sealed his own fate, carrying out his long-held dreams that had come true in the worst possible way. Perfectly.

He was well and prepared to just shuffle through the station on his usual morning commute, never minding the rain, or the myriad bodies that surrounded him without so much as a glance. People were simply like that these days. Anything not in their immediate field of view was as if it never existed. He was still unsure whether acknowledgement would be worse. It was here, however, and today, that the absolute worst thing could happen.

“Oh, my apologies-”

The comment is instinctive, but gets caught in his throat as he looks up at the body (or, at least the person who should very much only be a body) he’d run right into in his mindless haste. His jaw snapped shut so fast, he bit his tongue. Not that he wouldn’t be tasting iron anyway. Or smelling gunpowder.

“……………”

There’s no way, right? He must simply be seeing some remarkable similarity, or it was a nightmare dream. Yet somehow in his stunned disbelief, he can’t move, whether it be his feet or his lips.

Akira recoils instinctively, the honeyed voice making his throat close and his head hurt with a splitting ache that threatened to rip him apart at the seams.

It was nauseating, and he knew who it belonged to the moment he heard it, but it doesnt stop him from looking up at the man locked in place in front of him… Hollow, grey eyes locking on to rust red through the cracked, fake lenses that shielded them.

Those same rust red eyes that bore down on him in glee as he pulled the trigger on him.

On him. On his friends. Each of them, probably one by one in some sick, gleeful fashion that made Akira’s blood boil, to see this man now as he stood…

He didn’t know what happened first, or why the sea of people had parted like it had nothing to do with their lives but his fits bale in the older man’s shirt and roughly, angrily, he forces him back into the wall with enough force to slam their heads together and Akechi’s into the brickwork behind them as well.

He’s panting, breathing unevenly and his glasses hanging lopsided, threatening to fall from his face and shatter on the ground. He doesn’t particularly care.

“Akechi.”