personavelvetroomdr | whisper that the past is gone eternally

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whisper that the past is gone eternally

It's the Shibuya Crossing. The big, famous one, with all the crowds and the traffic and the 109 building overlooking it all.

And that's the thing.

The 109 building.

Paying no mind to the sea of empty cognitions around him, a Goro Akechi stands in the center of the crosswalk, staring up at the number-faced building with a frown. If you were looking for any Goro Akechi in particular, however, this one almost transparently isn't him. Twenty-one years of age and dressed like the masculine line of a Victorian goth brand was thrown over his head like a bucket of cold water, this Akechi stares at one of the most familiar landmarks of Tokyo like it's a river in a desert and he hasn't quite decided if he wants to take a drink.

He's back.

(Or, at the very least, he's no longer where he was. Her Shibuya was a 109 as well. And there was that strange room...)

"If the Shibuya Game has gone down the shitter again," he says, seemingly addressing nobody, or possibly the phone he's pulled from his pocket to glare at, "I am going to go after the Composer myself."

He lifts his phone. (It's the same phone he's always had. The only thing that hasn't changed, for anyone with a keen enough eye for detail. There's a new vinyl sticker on the back, a stylized skull in red at an angle, but it's the same phone as ever.) Snaps a picture. No change in the photo. Closes that, opens a different app, snaps again. His frown intensifies.

(It is, by now, a good thing that the cognitions are just filler that will continue to idle in whatever routine they're running, because otherwise he would surely have been hit by a car, right? But the crowd continues to wander around him, heedlessly.)

Finally, he lowers his phone, sends the photo to someone on his contacts, and apparently gives up, shoving it back into his pocket. The cognitions resume the flow of normal traffic, clearing the crossing so that cars can pass through, as he goes over to Hachiko to lean up against the side of the statue.

"I didn't miss the not having any idea what's going on," he tells the dog, firmly firmly and with a hint of melancholy. "Oh, if only a real person would show up with the answers right about now. Why, I'd even consider buying them a coffee for the trouble."

Despite nominally being addressed to the bronze canine, the way he lifts the volume of his voice makes it clear that it's addressed to you, onlooker, whoever you are.

[[OOC: I don't actually care what format you use i just always write introspective-y starters in prose. tldr twewy au post-canon post-death akechi]

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[Wait until one of them goes to Inaba. Then they'll truly experience 'dinky.']

Oh, I'm sure - I used to have to do it for my TV appearances, though that was in a much more respectable style than I'm wearing nowadays. I even know someone who would be all too happy to assist.

[Coco would lose her petite sweet lolita mind at the chance to do him up. Which is why she doesn't get it.]

I just don't have much interest anymore. There's such a thing as too much work, I've discovered.

[It's not like anyone except a bunch of other dead people see him, most days. And most of those dead people he's known for at least six months.]

Mm, yeah. [ He nods as they climb the stairs. ] I just wear it for special occasions. It's fun, though. Like dressing up. I've found some real nice dresses here, but when the hell am I going to wear them, you know? There's no nightlife. [ He's kept them, though. They're in a box in his Mementos hideout.

His expression becomes a little less animated as they stop in front of Leblanc. ] Here we are.

[If he's expecting more of a reaction to the skirt thing, he's going to be disappointed, because this is an Akechi who has done his time in the wear a lolita dress for the stats mine. Don't worry about it.

He notices that expression, but for the moment, he's far more interested in Leblanc itself... And not just because of the coffee.]

Interesting... There seem to be multiple concurrent Leblancs here, at least to my eyes. Let's be sure to take an empty one, shall we?

[There might seem to Ren to be a slight shift as Akechi opens the door to the cafe, and holds it like the polite young man he used to play on TV.]

[ ...That distracts Ren from his Akechi-related angst somewhat. ]

What?

[ He glances between Akechi and the doorway. He noticed the little shift, and of course he heard what Akechi said; he stays where he is. ]

Hm. To simplify, it's akin to how a Palace is laid over a real-world location, except in this case, it's multiple 'real-world' Leblancs. Probably a result of the slightly differing cognitions of the various 'us' who might be expecting different things from it.

[He's still holding the door open, casually.]

I have some skill at manipulating that kind of thing, so I picked an empty one. It might not be yours or mine, but hopefully Sakura-san's coffee is universal.

[ There is... a long pause. Ren's friendly, casual mask doesn't exactly slip, but it looks weirder when he goes still like this. His eyes fix on the doorway as alarm bells clamor in his ears.

But, he thinks reluctantly, an Akechi who works as a shinigami (?) and can manipulate planes (?!) has powers Ren doesn't understand. He probably doesn't need to do all this if he wants to attack Ren, or even just trap him somewhere. They could've stayed in Shibuya for that. So odds are it's safe.

Probably. Maybe. ]

Watch us get the one Leblanc with shitty coffee. [ Confidently, as if he never stopped to calculate the danger, he steps past Akechi into the coffee shop. It's fine. He doesn't have to think about his own Akechi at all. This isn't even the same Leblanc; the Akechi he's talking to right now said that explicitly, and it would be a weird thing to lie about. ]

[He's not in a rush, and he's not going to call that out yet, but he does notice the too-long pause. He's not going to go through the effort of seeing what this Ren is thinking.

Instead, he just continues to hold the door open with the same easy expression, frozen in time, until Ren moves and Akechi can follow him inside.]

Heavens forbid. I don't suppose you know how to - ah, that works, I suppose.

[The interruption is brought on by him noticing the pot of freshly-made-as-if-someone-was-there coffee on the counter. There's no cognitions of Sojiro or any customers around; the place is empty as can be.]

Huh.

[ He spots the coffee too, and tilts his head as he considers it. ]

Maybe that says something about people's cognition of baristas. They might as well not be there, coffee shops just come with coffee automatically.

[ He frowns. He doesn't appreciate that thought. Akechi's worked hard to learn to make good coffee. ]

Perhaps in most coffee shops. For my part, I don't want even a dream of Sakura-san leaning in and huffing in disapproval at my life choices.

[He says it in the tone of someone who's joking and is well aware that they would like nothing better, actually.]

At least it still smells the same.

Yeah. [ Ren doesn't necessarily appreciate it, either. But never mind that. ] Are you gonna get behind the bar and put on a cute apron?

Only if you do.

[Completely deadpan. He'll get behind the bar to fix himself a cup, if Ren doesn't make a go at it, but no cute aprons.]

Though if you want any of the food, you're on your own. I am forbidden from operating anything other than the coffee machine and the microwave to reheat leftovers.

[ He lets Akechi go. He's dressed so incredibly unlike Ren's Akechi that it barely feels unsettling at all to see him behind the bar. In the meantime, Ren leans against the counter and gazes into the coffee pot. ]

Really? My Akechi's a pretty good cook. I guess because he's been cooking for his mom for however many years.

[It's a good thing that so far, he's only picked up a coffee cup, because that's light enough that he doesn't drop it when he freezes. The same might not be said for the coffee pot itself.

For a moment, there's wild pinwheeling and gears failing to hook together in his head. A deep, angry envy, one he hasn't experienced in years, rears itself in the back of his throat.]

... My mother died when I was very young.

[There's no attempt at forcing a smile on it. In fact, there's no attempt at putting any emotion on it at all. It's flat and toneless, a peek at the monster inside that is nothing but empty space, not even Noise. The thing that is always hungry.

Did he know? The old paranoia creeps in, too - Akechi is now skimming the surface of Ren's thoughts, just to see if that was a comment thrown out in anticipation of such a reaction, if it was something Ren knew beforehand. Ren has surely encountered other Akechis before this point, after all, and surely they weren't all that lucky.]

[ Akechi will see surprise, as Ren glances up, quickly followed by chagrin. Ren has indeed met at least one Akechi whose mother died young, but Leblanc and Oh, I died and the scream that's been building in his chest for weeks were crowding his mind, and he wasn't thinking when he spoke.

That's not to say he doesn't store this information away as a data point, because he does. But he's sorry he made Akechi upset, especially about his mother.

(It's possible that Akechi catches a brief, hateful glimpse here of another Akechi, and a meeting in Inokashira park. But this is a different guy.) ]

Sorry to hear that.

[A lot of tension in there, but no intent.

Akechi visibly relaxes, setting the mug carefully on the counter. He doesn't trust himself to pour just yet.]

It'd be a lie to say that I'm not envious of your world. Just for that.

[How many dark paths would he have not walked, if not for that?

He tells himself that there's no point dwelling on it. That he's not the one who can turn back time. It doesn't stop the hungering ache.]

If you get the chance to meet her, be sure to treat her well.

[Because a version of his mother that survived... All it takes is a moment of weakness. He knows that. He's seen Players play it out too many times to not.

So, that's a version of his mother who never had that moment.

With that, Akechi seems all too happy to close the subject.]

In any case, I never really learned to cook. I didn't have occasion or time to do so in life, and my partner now is one of those people who plans meals for far more people than he actually has to feed to fill his need to coordinate something, so I never have to worry about going hungry.

[ No way. Talking to the Sakuras is bad enough. Ren doesn't want to even think about meeting Akechi's mother. What would he even say? Sorry I killed your son, I really liked him?

It occurs to him to wonder whether Akechi needs to eat, what with being dead and all. But he doesn't want to think about that. Instead what he says is: ] Your partner, huh? Congrats.

Ah - not that kind of partner.

[Despite the rumors that surround them among the Shinjuku Reapers. Shinjuku isn't a partners Game. They don't get it.]

More like police-force partner. The sort where we have absolute trust in each other even if he's always muttering about how he liked me better when I couldn't lie and I'm always rolling my eyes and telling him that smiling is a thing he's allowed to do.

[There's definite fondness, sure. But none of the hot-flash of romance or lust.]

Uh-huh. Sounds like an old married couple to me.

[ He always figured Akechi had a side to him like the one that briefly peeked out a minute ago, so he isn't too troubled by it. Hard to put him on edge when he's already there. He smiles over the counter, though, as if everything is chill. ]

You couldn't lie for a while?

You should see our seniors, then.

[Alright, his hands are steady. He grabs a second mug and starts making up the cups, keeping his hands in full view the entire time. Even if he's no longer actively Scanning Ren's thoughts, that layer of paranoia leaves a taste in the back of his mouth that would ruin the coffee if it didn't equally taste like old memories.]

Let me run a hypothetical by you - if you died, and had the chance to win a second chance, but the cost of entry was the thing you valued most in the world, would you do it?

[ Obviously. He values his freedom more than anything, all the more since he doesn't really have it. But if he died, he'd go back a slave rather than not go back at all.

...or at least he thought so until recently. Now that he's truly faced with that choice, he's started to wonder. ]

Not if the so-called second chance was being a shinigami, dude. No offense.

Well, it was second prize. Winners got to go back no strings attached.

[In the end, despite everything with Shinjuku, this probably wound up being the better option for him... But it's precisely because that's not true of everyone that he's here like this now.]

[ It's hard to imagine Ren's Akechi coming second place in anything. But Ren doesn't say so, and he definitely doesn't put into words his new, tentative thoughts about the path he should take when he gets home. ]

Then yeah, I'd do it. [ He smiles crookedly. ] Are you saying you value lying more than anything? Very Akechi of you.

[ With his preoccupation with his image, and his fear of what would happen if people really knew him. They're alike in that way, Ren and his Akechi, except that Ren is right, while Akechi is an idiot for it. He's surrounded by people who love him. ]

Oh, it was awful, I wouldn't lie about that.

[Ha. He can joke about it now, but there's a little too much edge in it to be anything but honest sentiment underneath.]

But that's part of the point. It forced me to change - and what's the point of sending someone back to life if they're just going to repeat the same mistakes? It takes a lot of power to bring someone back; I can't blame the creators of the Game for wanting to be sure that that second chance goes to people who will do something worthwhile with it.

[That's how he's made sense of it for himself. He doesn't need to understand whatever nonsense there is about the power of soul or whatever is going on behind the scenes, the cosmological perpetual-motion machine that is the Reaper's Game and how it refines souls. Bringing people back to life is expensive, so second chances should go to those who aren't going to fuck them up.

And he would have absolutely fucked his up if he'd been brought back to life without that experience. So he gets it.]

[ Ren listens with a distant look in his eye. It forced me to change - and what's the point of sending someone back to life if they're just going to repeat the same mistakes? Mistakes like killing a lot of people, probably. So would he just go back, tell Shido to fuck off because he'd changed or whatever, and then die again? Or get sent to a lab, maybe. Or the noose, or a prison cell when they weren't using him as an attack dog, or a windowless room for carbon copies of Murota to file in and out of day after day.

He keeps fucking thinking about that situation, that inevitability. At that rate, maybe it would be better to just be dead.

Anyway. Whatever happens, he's not going to be selected as likely to do something worthwhile with a second chance, so this conversation at least is hypothetical. ]

It's a game? Isn't that kind of... fucked up?

That's a common first reaction. I'm not in a position to judge; my baseline hasn't been normal since my mother died, and Shido certainly didn't help.

[His perspective on 'fucked up' is skewed. That's part of the reason he makes a good Reaper. It's hard to bother him in that regard.]

We call it the Reaper's Game because we have to call it something, and a game is closer than most of the other options. It's a game; it's a test; it's a cognitive secondary reality on par with the Metaverse. My partner once called it an anvil. You can choose your metaphor.

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cw sexual slavery mention, vague suicidality

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