Completely. Self delusion seems to be a group requirement for the Phantom Thieves. It makes sense their leader would be the poster child for it. I suppose that's what makes you all so maddening and interesting.
[There's no ire in his words. The response is annoyingly expected and it's difficult to argue the point beyond an old well worn desire to be correct. To prove he's right and watch Akira fall to the same murky depths he's been stuck in for years.
Why isn't he in the mud with him, stuck in mental trenches and questioning every motive behind every action directed his way? The differences between them are apparent in every response, every word, every action and yet-
There's something to be said about Akira's modus operandi - he's the one standing tall, fighting against gods, fates, criminal charges and injustice, while the other is a day from an ever encroaching void, with nothing to show from a life filled with vengence.
The coffee's already lukewarm, and that annoys him. A persistent reminder that the clock is tick, tick, ticking all the way down. He pulls his gaze away from drink to focus in Akira and the coffee machine he's messing with.]
And yet, to hear you say that despite all the betrayals you've experienced from manipulative companions, teachers, police and government officials-
[A pause. He didn't say the name, but Shido burns against his tongue, the lump in his throat turning into coal ready to be ignited by thoughts that linger too long. Shido, who had a change of heart while Goro's body went rigid in his cognitive world. Shido, whose confession was a disgusting show put on for the whole country. A show that was supposed to be just for him. He-
Wanted to twist the dagger into his chest and take delight in every moment of suffering, every confession, every blood flecked tear, every painful inhale - it should've been a private moment between father and son. The Phantom Thieves won, Akechi's request being fulfilled as a necessary sidenote, but his revenge died in that same cold room. Everything he lived for - all for nothing.
His fingers cramp around the cup, he relents and leans back some against his chair.]
You still keep that faith with such conviction. I have to say I'm a bit jealous.
[A question. A statement. Akira's delusional quest for justice, his belief in his friends - Goro can't even frame the mindset as anything other than foolish.]
[ Akechi's accusation gets a vague, amused smile out of Akira. He guesses they are all a little like that, in a way. Believing that they can push forward and change things and make a difference, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
Except that they're right, and they've been right this whole time. They've managed to push through every obstacle, even when it almost crushed them under the weight of their own grief. Even when it almost literally killed them. Wouldn't it be more accurate to say they're the only ones that aren't delusional?
He won't try to argue that point, because he thinks Akechi is right. It's just that he's not entirely right. They might all be deluding themselves, but maybe self-delusion is less like poison in wine and more like coffee in a chocolate cake: a little bit of contrast to highlight a recipe's main point.
As Akechi continues Akira busies himself with transferring his coffee from the carafe to his cup, smile fading. He's not going to pretend that the betrayals were nothing big, or that it was somehow good that they happened. His friends all had a very good reason to wish for them to be undone. Again, Akira is the only one that's experienced an unambiguous net good as a result of the harm done to him by the people in power. His record is something he'll need to contend with, probably for the rest of his life.
But if he'd never come to Tokyo he would have been stuck with his parents and their chilly disengagement from his life. At a school where no one ever seemed to particularly care. He wouldn't have a home in the attic above a cafe, a cadre of close companions he could count on for anything, or a complicated something with a detective that had tried to kill him, then died to save him.
Faith, huh...? ]
Aren't you doing the same thing?
[ Akira looks up to meet Akechi's eyes again, as unhesitating and unflinching as ever. ]
Believing I'll keep my promise just because I said I would?
[It's silent then - the absence of an answer amplifies every sound in this place. The clink of carafe against cup, the low hum of the lightbulb over his head, the creak of well worn wood when he shifts in his chair.
His mouth twists downwards, just slightly, unblinking, and not quite there as his brain whirls for a response. A snappy comeback. An argument. Akira's wrong because Goro's different and those questions are poised like a threat. As if he knows something. Like he might have seen something in those comfortable nights at Jazz Jin or in the billiards room.
A low, quiet chuckle is covered up with a too heavy exhale.
Then just as fast, a paper thin ghost of his camera ready smile appears on his face. It's a trick. It's a weapon. It's protection. A comment that struck too close too close too close for his liking and one he needs to rip it apart.]
You seek justice and truth. I believe you will follow that path. I believe you will do what your friends want and I believe you will not allow my body and soul to be used as a doll in this man's sick game.
[ Another creak. He leans back, then forward again.]
But I will not go into that fight under the false assumption that Maruki won't use all the powers a false idol is allotted. He gave us a glimpse of the pathetic methods he's willing to employ only moments ago. It's all trivial, meaningless bullshit, but even the strongest person can be manipulated with the correct bait.
[His hands fold neatly in front of him, smile still taped up and spewing ice cold words.]
If you, or your friends, fall or falter for even a second tomorrow, I will end Maruki's rampage in my own way. There are no second chances. I will do what has to be done if it comes to it. I will not go in without a backup plan.
[A bullet planted deep in his skull, a knife slicing through his chest, rip every piece of his body off him until reality is normal again.]
If you want to call that putting faith in you, then yes, I have faith in you, Akira.
[ Ah. That was a critical hit then. Akira watches, gaze steady, as that TV-ready smile of Akechi's slips back into place—or tries to, at least. Akira would like to think he knows Akechi by know. Maybe not completely, but enough to recognize that this particular mask doesn't fit as well at it used to.
He also knows him well enough to recognize it as a warning sign. Akechi has taken a sudden emotional step back. If Akira pursues this line of conversation too far, there's no doubt in his mind that it'll either turn into a fight, or turn into Akechi leaving Leblanc entirely. Backing off and accepting Akechi's words at face value would probably avoid either situation. So it comes down to a simple question: does he want his last private conversation with Akechi to be a long one, or an honest one?
Hah. A question like that isn't simple, just stupid. He knows there's only one path for him to choose. ]
That's not it.
[ Akira's coffee is completely forgotten on the counter now, his attention focused wholly on Akechi. ]
If you thought there was a chance I'd accept his offer you never would have agreed to work with me.
[ Akira would go even further than that, actually. If Akechi didn't think he'd already realized the oddities of Maruki's perfect world, Akira doubts he ever would have sought him out in the first place. But maybe pointing that out is throwing too much gas on the fire right this second. ]
The only reason you didn't try to go alone is because you trust me.
This is the route he wants to take. Wants to stand there, stare him down and pretend he knows everything about him because they sat across tables sharing crafted secrets to pull trust out string by string for their grander plans. Because they had moments that could have been friendship in another life - moments arranged as a picture perfect mockery of what could have been.
Moments of complete stillness are interrupted at 'agreed work with me' when his fingers grip the edge of the counter until they're numb. His body twists at 'because you trust-' and there's venom pulsing behind his lips when that 'me' leaves Akira's own.]
You know me so well, do you? Does that make you feel good? Did the savior of the world need one more ego boost before his final battle? Does the amazing leader of the Phantom Thieves need everyone in his life to trust him?
[The words are loud, pitched on the edge of mania. Heart racing. Mind scrambling and decoding the truth in Akira's words to make them palatable. He decides the truth and the blunt, quiet ferocity displayed by his rival isn't it. It can't be it. It's not it and he will rip the facade from its hinges, tear it like the frayed pieces of reality around them, findmakedestroy the truth because Akira's is full of shit.
His gaze doesn't relent, looking more like shark than man as he circles around the counter until his feet hit the front of the fridge, the worn fingertips on his glove sliding against the countertop as he moves. He settles there, making himself less of a silent threat and more of a looming one.]
Make no mistake - I don't need you for the reasons you've concocted in that delusional little mind of yours. Get it out of your head. I worked with the most vile, disgusting person in Japan to get what I want. There was no trust. You think you're any different?
[Another step. Another rip. He hates Akira. Hates the candid words. The feigned care. The need for his pathetic little life to weave together fake bonds to satisfy his own ego.
Wanting to stay was a mistake. Akira letting him was a bigger one.]
You're not. We're working together out of convenience and necessity. That's all it is and all it will ever be. You are-
[Strong. Stronger than him. Powerful enough to take down gods and Shido and-
Weak. Weaker than him. Weak enough to see it in others and pounce on it like a predator smelling prey.
Honest. More honest than he ever was and it makes him want to rip the words straight from his throat, coat them in crimson liquid and viscera that's easier for Akechi to see honesty in.
Another strangled laugh passes his lips - softer, but teetering against the edge of knife to sharpen itself for a fight.]
[ Another critical hit, then. Akira expected that, just like he'd expected the venom gushing out of Akechi in response.
But expected isn't quite the right word. The venom isn't a surprise, but there's no way he can say he expected it when the emotion rushing through him in response is relief. He'd been ready for much worse. Akechi could have walked out, but he didn't. Akechi could have stayed in his seat, but he didn't. Akechi could have stood and stayed on the other side of the counter, but he didn't. He's staying and he's standing and he's drawing closer.
Even better, the lies have stopped. Not verbally, of course. Even if Akechi lived to 100, Akira doesn't think he'd ever manage to get out from under the habit of doublespeak, of lies by omission, of half-truths. But there's honesty in violence, and sincerity in hatred. It's still not the whole truth, he's certain of that, but it's closer to it than he usually gets. To get such a reaction, how could he not be relieved?
Akechi is undoubtedly a deeply disturbed and fucked up person, but Akira's certain there must be something wrong with himself, too.
But while those illogical feelings of relief are good cause for someone to question Akira's intelligence, he's not actually an idiot. The threat in Akechi's approach and posture are clear as day, and Akira tucks his hands in his pockets in response. The stance is as deceptively casual as ever; he's ready for a fight, even if Leblanc doesn't make for a terribly appealing arena.
But Akira isn't the only one landing accurate verbal blows. When Akechi compares his arrangement with Akira to his arrangement with Shido, Akira narrows his eyes and presses his lips together; it's just the barest shift, but it's enough for the cool annoyance running through him to be evident in his expression. The comparison is another lie, but Akira can't tell if it's a deliberate attempt to hurt him, or something Akechi actually believes.
The answer doesn't matter, though. The important part is that it's enough to make Akira tired of simply holding his ground and waiting for Akechi's approach. He steps forward, closing the gap between them. There is, of course, no chance that he's going to shut up. ]
You're contradicting yourself.
[ Though the traces of annoyance remain in Akira's expression, his tone remains steady and blunt. He knows there's no point in convincing Akechi that he trusts Akira, and in the end it doesn't even really matter if that's true or not. Only one of them needs to think differently for the relationship to be different. ]
If my sentimental nature is enough to get me hurt one day, then it's enough for me to trust you.
[Detective's intuition - that's what the mindless idiots around the office used to call his ability to pinpoint and notate small details. A talent. An innate skill.
It's nothing like that - it's cultivated from years of watching. Of reading expressions, gestures and changes in tone and tempo in voices. Sometimes directed at him, more often not.
Akira's face changes and only when it's referencing Shido. All the vile he's spewing out and it's Shido and it's always Shido and not even in a perfect idealized world can Akechi get a break from coming second to him. It doesn't matter if it hit the mark. Doesn't matter if Akira's shift in body language means he won because it's fucking Shido that did it.
It's infuriating.
Worse when Akira steps up to him in pure defiance. Better because of it. His rival isn't one to fall from words alone and challenges are a dance for them. One that he will offer again and again and again until he's satisfied. Until Akira falls down to his level and snaps.
But he doesn't.
He keeps talking in that steady, calm manner that makes him want to vomit. Focused on him. Looking at him. Talking to him. Trusting him.
Akechi laughs - manic and raw. Strangled from his throat like his own fingers are twisting the life out of him. Like those words rip the life out of him.]
How idiotic can you be? So desperate for what? You're so pathetic - it makes me sick.
[Fabric twists against his fingers instead of the cool countertop - he hadn't realized he was gripping Akira's shirt, nails digging into skin when he can, as if his body is trying to make the decision whether to toss him over the counter or throw him to the floor without input from his mind.]
I would set up your friends again. I would set you up again. I would kill you again. I would do all of that to ensure Maruki's reality is destroyed and you're going to stand there and say you trust me?
[Even if he had sat over a toilet stool for hours, drenched in blood of the only companion he ever had, vomiting up contents of his stomach until all he could think about was the invisible gore embedded in his fingertips.]
Even if you're willing to sacrifice yourself for that foolish shit, are you willing to risk your precious friends lives on that notion?
[The sickening truth is known to both. Friendship is everything, friendship is blahblahblah. He's nauseated at the thought, throat dry when he speaks again. ]
Please. I know you far better than that. Don't think you can placate me with that garbage. I don't need it. I don't want it.
[ Akechi grabs him and Akira finally lifts a hand. He doesn't do anything as reasonable as try to break Akechi's grip on his shirt, though. He just curls his fingers around Akechi's wrist, fingers pressing gently into the fabric of his coat and the leather of his gloves. ]
I know you would. And you're right, I wouldn't risk their lives over it.
[ There's no sense in arguing the point because Akechi is dead on in his assessment. Akira knows—intuitively, logically, from experience—that Akechi won't stop until he's dead, and that the mere threat of death won't be enough to even slow him down. But there's also no point in arguing because... ]
But I also know it's not going to happen.
[ Because he knows that he's not going to waver; and he knows that Akechi isn't going to waver; and even if Akechi doesn't want to admit it, Akira is certain that Akechi knows neither of those things will happen, too. But getting Akechi to agree out loud to that, or even convincing him to believe it privately...
Well, that's probably not possible. Not with words, at least. If Akechi ever believes him, it'll be once Maruki is dealt with and Akechi is gone forever. If Akira's being honest with himself, he's known convincing him isn't possible since the start of this conversation. It would have been nice if it was, though, and realizing that makes the rest of his thoughts all click into place and neatly align with one another. Akira closes his eyes for just a moment, just long enough for him to reorient himself with the smell of coffee lingering in the air, the sound of the refrigerator humming away, the feel of his hand around Akechi's wrist.
When he opens his eyes again his gaze is clear, steady, and unflinching. The tension around his eyes and brows has melted away entirely. ]
It's alright if you don't believe me. I just wanted you to hear it from me.
[There are plenty of reasons to hate Akira Kurusu.
Despite the ideals and preaching of his retinue of bumbling idiots - a group of people who would always, without fail, go to bat for their leader at even the smallest insult, it doesn't change the truth.
Akira Kurusu is detestable.
Exhausting confidence, unflappable demeanor and even in the most emotionally charged moments, he grips it tight. Presses fingers into the pulse of his wrist in a way that infuriates and grounds him. The mental struggle between tossing him to the ground or pushing him back into those organized cannisters is gone. If he had a weapon to plunge into him, Akechi's certain he would use it right now.
It's not going to happen he says, like it's a fact. I just wanted you to hear it from me, like it's the truth.
He hates Akira. Hates Joker. Hates the phantom thieves and Maruki and every twisted variation of human that walks this fake world.
His ire isn't gone, but it diminishes into tense annoyance and a raised chin to stare down this newfound determination. To intimidate. To gain ground lost when Akira took those steps between them.
But even he doesn't want to spend his last night alive in a frothing rage at some homely cafe in the middle of Tokyo. The knuckle white grip on his shirt ends and both hands drop to his side with the intent to pull him off his wrist by force of gravity alone.]
You're a complete idiot, but if all you care about is saying your piece, then you did. Congratulations.
[Said with all the mirth and joy of someone about to lay down in sewage drain during a downpour.]
I heard it. Are you satisfied? Are you content? Will hearing me say that stop all this bullshit spewing from your mouth?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[There's no ire in his words. The response is annoyingly expected and it's difficult to argue the point beyond an old well worn desire to be correct. To prove he's right and watch Akira fall to the same murky depths he's been stuck in for years.
Why isn't he in the mud with him, stuck in mental trenches and questioning every motive behind every action directed his way? The differences between them are apparent in every response, every word, every action and yet-
There's something to be said about Akira's modus operandi - he's the one standing tall, fighting against gods, fates, criminal charges and injustice, while the other is a day from an ever encroaching void, with nothing to show from a life filled with vengence.
The coffee's already lukewarm, and that annoys him. A persistent reminder that the clock is tick, tick, ticking all the way down. He pulls his gaze away from drink to focus in Akira and the coffee machine he's messing with.]
And yet, to hear you say that despite all the betrayals you've experienced from manipulative companions, teachers, police and government officials-
[A pause. He didn't say the name, but Shido burns against his tongue, the lump in his throat turning into coal ready to be ignited by thoughts that linger too long. Shido, who had a change of heart while Goro's body went rigid in his cognitive world. Shido, whose confession was a disgusting show put on for the whole country. A show that was supposed to be just for him. He-
Wanted to twist the dagger into his chest and take delight in every moment of suffering, every confession, every blood flecked tear, every painful inhale - it should've been a private moment between father and son. The Phantom Thieves won, Akechi's request being fulfilled as a necessary sidenote, but his revenge died in that same cold room. Everything he lived for - all for nothing.
His fingers cramp around the cup, he relents and leans back some against his chair.]
You still keep that faith with such conviction. I have to say I'm a bit jealous.
[A question. A statement. Akira's delusional quest for justice, his belief in his friends - Goro can't even frame the mindset as anything other than foolish.]
no subject
Except that they're right, and they've been right this whole time. They've managed to push through every obstacle, even when it almost crushed them under the weight of their own grief. Even when it almost literally killed them. Wouldn't it be more accurate to say they're the only ones that aren't delusional?
He won't try to argue that point, because he thinks Akechi is right. It's just that he's not entirely right. They might all be deluding themselves, but maybe self-delusion is less like poison in wine and more like coffee in a chocolate cake: a little bit of contrast to highlight a recipe's main point.
As Akechi continues Akira busies himself with transferring his coffee from the carafe to his cup, smile fading. He's not going to pretend that the betrayals were nothing big, or that it was somehow good that they happened. His friends all had a very good reason to wish for them to be undone. Again, Akira is the only one that's experienced an unambiguous net good as a result of the harm done to him by the people in power. His record is something he'll need to contend with, probably for the rest of his life.
But if he'd never come to Tokyo he would have been stuck with his parents and their chilly disengagement from his life. At a school where no one ever seemed to particularly care. He wouldn't have a home in the attic above a cafe, a cadre of close companions he could count on for anything, or a complicated something with a detective that had tried to kill him, then died to save him.
Faith, huh...? ]
Aren't you doing the same thing?
[ Akira looks up to meet Akechi's eyes again, as unhesitating and unflinching as ever. ]
Believing I'll keep my promise just because I said I would?
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His mouth twists downwards, just slightly, unblinking, and not quite there as his brain whirls for a response. A snappy comeback. An argument. Akira's wrong because Goro's different and those questions are poised like a threat. As if he knows something. Like he might have seen something in those comfortable nights at Jazz Jin or in the billiards room.
A low, quiet chuckle is covered up with a too heavy exhale.
Then just as fast, a paper thin ghost of his camera ready smile appears on his face. It's a trick. It's a weapon. It's protection. A comment that struck too close too close too close for his liking and one he needs to rip it apart.]
You seek justice and truth. I believe you will follow that path. I believe you will do what your friends want and I believe you will not allow my body and soul to be used as a doll in this man's sick game.
[ Another creak. He leans back, then forward again.]
But I will not go into that fight under the false assumption that Maruki won't use all the powers a false idol is allotted. He gave us a glimpse of the pathetic methods he's willing to employ only moments ago. It's all trivial, meaningless bullshit, but even the strongest person can be manipulated with the correct bait.
[His hands fold neatly in front of him, smile still taped up and spewing ice cold words.]
If you, or your friends, fall or falter for even a second tomorrow, I will end Maruki's rampage in my own way. There are no second chances. I will do what has to be done if it comes to it. I will not go in without a backup plan.
[A bullet planted deep in his skull, a knife slicing through his chest, rip every piece of his body off him until reality is normal again.]
If you want to call that putting faith in you, then yes, I have faith in you, Akira.
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He also knows him well enough to recognize it as a warning sign. Akechi has taken a sudden emotional step back. If Akira pursues this line of conversation too far, there's no doubt in his mind that it'll either turn into a fight, or turn into Akechi leaving Leblanc entirely. Backing off and accepting Akechi's words at face value would probably avoid either situation. So it comes down to a simple question: does he want his last private conversation with Akechi to be a long one, or an honest one?
Hah. A question like that isn't simple, just stupid. He knows there's only one path for him to choose. ]
That's not it.
[ Akira's coffee is completely forgotten on the counter now, his attention focused wholly on Akechi. ]
If you thought there was a chance I'd accept his offer you never would have agreed to work with me.
[ Akira would go even further than that, actually. If Akechi didn't think he'd already realized the oddities of Maruki's perfect world, Akira doubts he ever would have sought him out in the first place. But maybe pointing that out is throwing too much gas on the fire right this second. ]
The only reason you didn't try to go alone is because you trust me.
no subject
This is the route he wants to take. Wants to stand there, stare him down and pretend he knows everything about him because they sat across tables sharing crafted secrets to pull trust out string by string for their grander plans. Because they had moments that could have been friendship in another life - moments arranged as a picture perfect mockery of what could have been.
Moments of complete stillness are interrupted at 'agreed work with me' when his fingers grip the edge of the counter until they're numb. His body twists at 'because you trust-' and there's venom pulsing behind his lips when that 'me' leaves Akira's own.]
You know me so well, do you? Does that make you feel good? Did the savior of the world need one more ego boost before his final battle? Does the amazing leader of the Phantom Thieves need everyone in his life to trust him?
[The words are loud, pitched on the edge of mania. Heart racing. Mind scrambling and decoding the truth in Akira's words to make them palatable. He decides the truth and the blunt, quiet ferocity displayed by his rival isn't it. It can't be it. It's not it and he will rip the facade from its hinges, tear it like the frayed pieces of reality around them, findmakedestroy the truth because Akira's is full of shit.
His gaze doesn't relent, looking more like shark than man as he circles around the counter until his feet hit the front of the fridge, the worn fingertips on his glove sliding against the countertop as he moves. He settles there, making himself less of a silent threat and more of a looming one.]
Make no mistake - I don't need you for the reasons you've concocted in that delusional little mind of yours. Get it out of your head. I worked with the most vile, disgusting person in Japan to get what I want. There was no trust. You think you're any different?
[Another step. Another rip. He hates Akira. Hates the candid words. The feigned care. The need for his pathetic little life to weave together fake bonds to satisfy his own ego.
Wanting to stay was a mistake. Akira letting him was a bigger one.]
You're not. We're working together out of convenience and necessity. That's all it is and all it will ever be. You are-
[Strong. Stronger than him. Powerful enough to take down gods and Shido and-
Weak. Weaker than him. Weak enough to see it in others and pounce on it like a predator smelling prey.
Honest. More honest than he ever was and it makes him want to rip the words straight from his throat, coat them in crimson liquid and viscera that's easier for Akechi to see honesty in.
Another strangled laugh passes his lips - softer, but teetering against the edge of knife to sharpen itself for a fight.]
Just shut the hell up.
no subject
But expected isn't quite the right word. The venom isn't a surprise, but there's no way he can say he expected it when the emotion rushing through him in response is relief. He'd been ready for much worse. Akechi could have walked out, but he didn't. Akechi could have stayed in his seat, but he didn't. Akechi could have stood and stayed on the other side of the counter, but he didn't. He's staying and he's standing and he's drawing closer.
Even better, the lies have stopped. Not verbally, of course. Even if Akechi lived to 100, Akira doesn't think he'd ever manage to get out from under the habit of doublespeak, of lies by omission, of half-truths. But there's honesty in violence, and sincerity in hatred. It's still not the whole truth, he's certain of that, but it's closer to it than he usually gets. To get such a reaction, how could he not be relieved?
Akechi is undoubtedly a deeply disturbed and fucked up person, but Akira's certain there must be something wrong with himself, too.
But while those illogical feelings of relief are good cause for someone to question Akira's intelligence, he's not actually an idiot. The threat in Akechi's approach and posture are clear as day, and Akira tucks his hands in his pockets in response. The stance is as deceptively casual as ever; he's ready for a fight, even if Leblanc doesn't make for a terribly appealing arena.
But Akira isn't the only one landing accurate verbal blows. When Akechi compares his arrangement with Akira to his arrangement with Shido, Akira narrows his eyes and presses his lips together; it's just the barest shift, but it's enough for the cool annoyance running through him to be evident in his expression. The comparison is another lie, but Akira can't tell if it's a deliberate attempt to hurt him, or something Akechi actually believes.
The answer doesn't matter, though. The important part is that it's enough to make Akira tired of simply holding his ground and waiting for Akechi's approach. He steps forward, closing the gap between them. There is, of course, no chance that he's going to shut up. ]
You're contradicting yourself.
[ Though the traces of annoyance remain in Akira's expression, his tone remains steady and blunt. He knows there's no point in convincing Akechi that he trusts Akira, and in the end it doesn't even really matter if that's true or not. Only one of them needs to think differently for the relationship to be different. ]
If my sentimental nature is enough to get me hurt one day, then it's enough for me to trust you.
no subject
It's nothing like that - it's cultivated from years of watching. Of reading expressions, gestures and changes in tone and tempo in voices. Sometimes directed at him, more often not.
Akira's face changes and only when it's referencing Shido. All the vile he's spewing out and it's Shido and it's always Shido and not even in a perfect idealized world can Akechi get a break from coming second to him. It doesn't matter if it hit the mark. Doesn't matter if Akira's shift in body language means he won because it's fucking Shido that did it.
It's infuriating.
Worse when Akira steps up to him in pure defiance. Better because of it. His rival isn't one to fall from words alone and challenges are a dance for them. One that he will offer again and again and again until he's satisfied. Until Akira falls down to his level and snaps.
But he doesn't.
He keeps talking in that steady, calm manner that makes him want to vomit. Focused on him. Looking at him. Talking to him. Trusting him.
Akechi laughs - manic and raw. Strangled from his throat like his own fingers are twisting the life out of him. Like those words rip the life out of him.]
How idiotic can you be? So desperate for what? You're so pathetic - it makes me sick.
[Fabric twists against his fingers instead of the cool countertop - he hadn't realized he was gripping Akira's shirt, nails digging into skin when he can, as if his body is trying to make the decision whether to toss him over the counter or throw him to the floor without input from his mind.]
I would set up your friends again. I would set you up again. I would kill you again. I would do all of that to ensure Maruki's reality is destroyed and you're going to stand there and say you trust me?
[Even if he had sat over a toilet stool for hours, drenched in blood of the only companion he ever had, vomiting up contents of his stomach until all he could think about was the invisible gore embedded in his fingertips.]
Even if you're willing to sacrifice yourself for that foolish shit, are you willing to risk your precious friends lives on that notion?
[The sickening truth is known to both. Friendship is everything, friendship is blahblahblah. He's nauseated at the thought, throat dry when he speaks again. ]
Please. I know you far better than that. Don't think you can placate me with that garbage. I don't need it. I don't want it.
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I know you would. And you're right, I wouldn't risk their lives over it.
[ There's no sense in arguing the point because Akechi is dead on in his assessment. Akira knows—intuitively, logically, from experience—that Akechi won't stop until he's dead, and that the mere threat of death won't be enough to even slow him down. But there's also no point in arguing because... ]
But I also know it's not going to happen.
[ Because he knows that he's not going to waver; and he knows that Akechi isn't going to waver; and even if Akechi doesn't want to admit it, Akira is certain that Akechi knows neither of those things will happen, too. But getting Akechi to agree out loud to that, or even convincing him to believe it privately...
Well, that's probably not possible. Not with words, at least. If Akechi ever believes him, it'll be once Maruki is dealt with and Akechi is gone forever. If Akira's being honest with himself, he's known convincing him isn't possible since the start of this conversation. It would have been nice if it was, though, and realizing that makes the rest of his thoughts all click into place and neatly align with one another. Akira closes his eyes for just a moment, just long enough for him to reorient himself with the smell of coffee lingering in the air, the sound of the refrigerator humming away, the feel of his hand around Akechi's wrist.
When he opens his eyes again his gaze is clear, steady, and unflinching. The tension around his eyes and brows has melted away entirely. ]
It's alright if you don't believe me. I just wanted you to hear it from me.
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Despite the ideals and preaching of his retinue of bumbling idiots - a group of people who would always, without fail, go to bat for their leader at even the smallest insult, it doesn't change the truth.
Akira Kurusu is detestable.
Exhausting confidence, unflappable demeanor and even in the most emotionally charged moments, he grips it tight. Presses fingers into the pulse of his wrist in a way that infuriates and grounds him. The mental struggle between tossing him to the ground or pushing him back into those organized cannisters is gone. If he had a weapon to plunge into him, Akechi's certain he would use it right now.
It's not going to happen he says, like it's a fact. I just wanted you to hear it from me, like it's the truth.
He hates Akira. Hates Joker. Hates the phantom thieves and Maruki and every twisted variation of human that walks this fake world.
His ire isn't gone, but it diminishes into tense annoyance and a raised chin to stare down this newfound determination. To intimidate. To gain ground lost when Akira took those steps between them.
But even he doesn't want to spend his last night alive in a frothing rage at some homely cafe in the middle of Tokyo. The knuckle white grip on his shirt ends and both hands drop to his side with the intent to pull him off his wrist by force of gravity alone.]
You're a complete idiot, but if all you care about is saying your piece, then you did. Congratulations.
[Said with all the mirth and joy of someone about to lay down in sewage drain during a downpour.]
I heard it. Are you satisfied? Are you content? Will hearing me say that stop all this bullshit spewing from your mouth?