Shuake Week 2020

Role Swap (Day 3)

Whatever cocktail they injected into him was making his head pound and swirl like a floaty-toy at the bottom of a wave pool but Akechi forced himself to stay lucid. He refused to black-out again, he had got to see Akira one last time.

He's got to see what Akira's got to say for himself. How could he rationalize all this? How could he sleep at night knowing what he's done? How?

He's got to--

With cold, grey eyes the raven entered the room as silent as a shadow and snapped the neck of the unsuspecting guard. It's a quick and painless motion, Akechi is sure of it by the way the guard's expression never changed. Calm, as if this is just another run-of-the-mill day, he turned from the crumpled body and towards Akechi with a crooked smile.

Akira had always been such a gorgeous specimen and his beauty was only heightened as his aura emanated dangerously. Something about the fact that he could kill-- and did kill easily-- without moral consequence was absolutely alluring. He took a few steps towards Akechi and pulled up a metal chair identical to the one Goro was slumped in.

He sat down, positioning himself with excellent posture as if he was a doll on a shelf. He looked like how he did during interviews. Perfect. His pale, porcelain face settled in a wondrous grin of victory.

"Hello honey," he said pleasantly. "I'm sure you're confused but I assure you it will be okay." Akira took out a gun from inside his coat pocket and added a silencer to the muzzle slowly. He wanted Goro to watch him. This was a performance to him, it had to be. It was the last time Akechi would see Akira, he wanted to make it unforgettable.

"Nothing to say?"

Even if Akechi had something to say he couldn't speak. His mouth was so dry and his eyelids felt so damn heavy. He thought he might be dying actually. Everything hurts. Every single thing.

Shit.

Nonchalantly, as if he didn't care about the lack of banter, Akira continued. "Whatever, if you don't have any last words I guess this makes it easier."

He knew Akira was lying. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever was easy with the two of them.

"You know," Akira lamented wistfully, "I really like you-- liked you. You always had such conviction, you always were so proud and boldly stuck to your ideals...your justice. But it seems this is how your justice ends." Unceremoniously he pulled the gun up to Akechi's eye level, making the barrel kiss his forehead, and put his finger on the trigger.

Akechi stared down the barrel with a sour expression, his vision going hazy again. He waited for the trigger to be pulled. He waited with his eyes shut tight for the quick burst of pain to explode in him only to fade into nothing. He waited for death.

It didn't come.

Opening his eyes cautiously he saw Akira lowering the gun to his side and biting his lip, clearly conflicted.

"What," Akechi rasped. His voice crunched like the sand of Futaba's palace under boots he spoke. He wondered if that was a side effect from getting arrested with a grown man hunched over his neck to subdue him or if it was from whatever drugs he was given. "Too scared Joker?"

"Shut up," he spat. All of a sudden the perfect doll Akira Kurusu had a few hairs askew. "Why aren't you at least surprised? Why no shock at my big reveal? What's wrong with you?"

A lot of things. So many things were wrong with Goro Akechi it would be hard to count them all.

Smacking his lips Akechi tried to gather enough saliva to give a proper response. Somehow he ends up drooling like a dog. Akira watches him with fondness poorly disguised as disgust.

"We met at Shibuya Station," Akechi finally managed to get out. His mouth was so wet he wanted to spit everything he had ever swallowed out. God, his head was kicking him from the inside out.

Akira raised a brow. "I know. I was there."

"I kissed you in Shibuya Station."

His face scrunched up, perplexed. "No, you didn't."

"I--" Another headache washed through him like a hurricane. Static. He couldn't understand anything, but he knew Akira's pretty mouth was moving and his face was thinly veiled with panic.

He squinted and he swore as he swayed that he saw Akira's face begin to break at the seams. Akira slowly became more disheveled. His suit had lint on it. His pocket square wasn't folded correctly. What was happening?

Eventually, Akechi's sense of hearing came back to him and he could listen in on Akira's constant talking.

"--Akechi if-- no-- die on me. I-- Got it?"

Akechi grunts in response.

"Did you hear me," Akira cried. He was holding Akechi up out of the chair and dragging him towards the door. Why? "Goro did you hear me?"

The brunette's eyes weighed a ton. He couldn't keep them open any longer and succumbs to the darkness that has crept around his vision for so long. Akechi never thought he would live past twelve. His mom was gone, he had no more people who loved or cared for him. Not even the Phantom Thieves cherished him enough to come up with a fool-proof plan to ensure his safety. He was going to die at some point, he always knew that. Why not now? Dying at sixteen at the hands of Akira didn't seem so bad anymore.

He just had to let go.

The last thing he heard before he passed out for good was Akira in the faintest voice saying, "I'm sorry."