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Chapter Text

“Are you sure, Haru? You…You don’t have to come if it’ll be too much of an inconvenience.” The lanky boy toyed with his forelock: a sure sign he wasn’t showing his full hand. Akechi smirked at his boyfriend’s tell.

“In that case, I do not see why I should go-“ The detective laughed when Akira fisted the fabric of his jacket with steel in his gaze.

“Oh, you’re going, Akechi.”

Haru smiled to see Akira being unflinchingly himself, even if it was around the boy who would betray them. Akira knew what he was doing, and if she could help her Leader, then she would.

Besides, she knew how important this was to Akira. He had only asked two people to attend his first show, and his boyfriend didn’t count.

It made a place in Haru’s chest warm to realize that she was, in effect, the only person he had asked. Her alone.

“Of course I’ll go to your show, Akira! It’ll be an honor.” She smiled, brightly. When she smiled her eyes closed so she didn't see the relieved looks the two boys shared.

Chapter Text

“Just make sure you don’t serve the minor any alcohol.” The Queen in the floral kimono crossed her arms and settled a steely gaze at the inebriated journalist. She should probably cut her off after this one.

Akira had completely forgotten why he was there.

This woman in front of him was so diametrically opposite to how he’d been raised that he had no idea what to do.

Meeting a woman twice his age in a shady bar after dark? No problem.

Befriending the boy that hated his guts? Piece of cake.

Tearing his own face off to fight giant suits of armor? Been there, done that, got the Persona.

But to see someone so unflinchingly being themselves while happily running their own business? In drag?

He may be from the sticks but even he knew the term for such people. Gay cross-dressers. His mother hadn’t had anything kind to say about them.

But Lala-chan, as the man called himself, seemed to be no worse for wear.

Was this… okay? Was this allowed?

Was drag just something you were allowed to do once you grew up?

“Hey kid, it’s rude to stare at a lady’s wrinkles.” Lala waved playfully. Akira was in awe of every minute action the older man did.

Lala paused and looked at Ohya’s contact. She really looked.

“Keep staring at me like that, Akira-chan, and I’ll have to get you fitted for your own yukata. Something in red, I think? Although girly colors are more befitting of your age…”

Akira had no idea what his face did but it made the older Queen smile and wave him over.

“What do you say? Help me out behind the counter from time to time and in return I’ll teach you a few things I’ve picked up here and there.”

He nodded, numbly. He wanted to be around him some more. He wanted to learn.

As Lala coquettishly offered one hand to him he didn’t think twice about holding it and giving it a kiss.

“Someone taught you how to talk around adults and disappear at will. You know the Shinjuku nightlife like someone who has lived there his entire life. Who is your contact?” The detective tried to stare down the bruised and drugged teen but he just smirked.

There was no way in hell he was ratting out his Drag Mother.

Chapter Text

Working at the Crossroads Bar was much the same as any of Akira’s other part-time jobs. Lala-chan didn’t let him near the alcohol, protected him from the drunks, and paid him handsomely.

He didn’t mind. The mop-headed kid showed up rain or shine to this job, because he… he felt at peace here. Not in the same way meditating at the Shrine made him feel, no.

This was deeper. More instinctual.

Then he met ‘The Girls’ as Lala-chan called them.

They were his coworkers.

They were all painted and corseted and wearing women’s clothes.

And every last member of staff had an adam’s apple.

Akira didn’t know why his cheeks burst into red blush and he had to focus on washing dishes like he had lost all muscle memory, but he did.

“Ooooo Lala-chan! Who is this~?” A tall, thin man in a blond wig hummed as he hugged the portly queen.

“This is Akira, everybody. Behave, he’s 17.” When the blond’s face fell, he got a sharp whack on the wrist with Lala’s fan.

“Akira, these are the girls. Crossroad Queens, one and all!”

Akira’s forehead puckered in confusion. Feather boas came out of a chest in the back room that he had assumed contained some sort of alcohol and more cosmetics than he had ever seen in his life somehow slid into manicured hands.

“Why?” He asked Lala, quietly. He was the only person in this whole flurry Akira knew well enough to confide in.

“Hm? Why what, Aki-kun?” The boy was toying with his fringe again.

“Why do all of you wear dresses and yukata when you aren’t girls?” The poor boy’s cheeks looked like they were about to burn off his face, poor thing.

Lala taught him in the best way she could.

Immersion.

“WELL!” She pinwheeled her arms enough to get the long sleeves of her purple yukata flying. “We, my dear child, my wandering soul, my newest baby boy, are drag queens!”

“He doesn’t know about drag?! A brunette with pigtails and electric pink eyeshadow widened his eyes comically and reached for the blond to steady him.

The blond turned to the one with pigtails and soothingly patted his hand like something in the old movies Akira found now and then. For some reason he never told Ryuji about those movies.

Gina Tonic, Maria Gold, Portia Bella, and Dee Cup introduced themselves to him in a flurry of glitter and giggles. Someone named Royal Jewels wasn’t working today but he’d been assured to meet ‘her’ and that she was a bitch. He didn’t understand why all the ‘Queens’, as they called themselves, used female pronouns, and he didn’t quite get why they used names that weren’t written on their birth certificates. Maybe it was like how he became Joker?

And how was ‘bitch’ a compliment?

Another queen with a sleek black bob and a star on her cheek came bustling into the bar with vague apologies and thigh-high boots.

He tilted his head at ‘her’. Was ‘drag’ just a bunch of costumes? She was dressed like a police woman from a party store, but a very well pulled together one. Maybe that was the point?

“Sex Pistol, there you are!”

“Bitches and sluts!” She greeted cheerily.

Yeah, Akira was out of his depth, but they seemed to be having fun?

This time Akira was prepared. Or so he hoped. He’d spent far too long on the internet looking into ‘Drag Culture’ and watching something called 'Drag Them' which was some sort of competition. He didn’t completely understand, but he knew more than when he’d walked in. Besides, his cat was yowling about growing boys needing sleep and he had to get his homework done on the off-chance Lala needed him.

The next day at school he kept catching his own reflection and wondering.

“Leader! Do you want to go to Mementos tonight?”

“Yeah Akira, we can kick some serious ass and keep ourselves in shape in case any more of those Palace things pop up!”

“Ugh, Ryuji I don’t even want to think about more bad guys like Kamoshida…” Ann, their Temperance confidant groaned as she melted into the desks they’d pulled together. Akira had to agree, but he was also itching to move.

“I don’t see why not, besides, there’s something I want to try.”

The Shadow between himself, Morgana, Ryuji, and Ann was wilting and complaining about Akira’s lack of tact. He tsked and flicked the safety on his magnum off.

“Listen, you think I want to be talking to somebody with dried-out skin and untailored robes? Sit down, I’m not done with you.”

The Shadow clamped his jaw together and settled down.

Akira’s team looked at him in shock and amazement when he achieved the Jack O’Lantern mask.

Chapter Text

“Aki-kun! Lookin’ like a snack with those glasses, honey!”

Just when he thought he knew the vocab.

The dishwasher looked up and quirked an eyebrow.

“Thank you…?”

“Royal, leave him alone!” Ginger Snap chuckled, the redhead swatting her (he was getting a hang of this!) friend on the shoulder.

“She means you’re cute.” Red, undoubtedly painted on freckles moved as the drag queen laughed brightly. Akira toyed with his bangs.

“Ginger? C-can I ask you something?” He liked the redhead. She was always nice to him and had a way with the customers so they were always on her side. Akira had definitely been taking notes for the Metaverse.

Already Princess Peach (the character, not the rival drag queen from Akihabara) -esque lips pursed further.

“Of course, Aki-kun!” She winked. “So long as it isn’t out on a date. You know how I’ve been eying that businessman who comes by on Thursdays.”

He sighed in relief.

“How, um, how do you walk and dance in those and not fall over?” He pointed at the five-inch heels the redhead preferred.

She laughed twinklingly.

“Practice, darling. Lots and lots of practice.” Unnoticed by Akira, the Queen caught Lala’s eye over his head before the Drag Mother gave a small nod. “Would you like to learn?”

“I have boots with low heels, is it like that?” Joker’s footwear came immediately to mind as he held out his thumb and index finger to illustrate the height.

He hadn’t realized that his heels were that much higher than Skull’s boots.

Ginger and the girls all clapped in excitement and someone started snapping their fingers as Lala did her ‘gay scream’ of delight.

“Akira’s been wearing kitten heels! My dear girl!” Lala swept through the excited queens to hold Akira to her ample false breasts.

Royal got a positively wicked look in her eyes and tapped a golden acrylic against her lips.

“Momma, do you think we have any shoes lying around that might fit our little baby queen?”

Lala raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“We might have just the thing, if Akira is interested.”

He could do nothing but nod helplessly.

Yusuke reached out helplessly as his Leader weakly got to his feet. Mona’s healing move had kept him from breaking his neck when the shadow threw him against the wall, but he was lucky to be conscious.

“Joker!” He yelled at the same time Ryuji hefted his lead pipe.

There was only so much the team could do though, now that the Shadow had Akira in its sights.

Then Joker lugged himself upwards, a little unsteadily but able to stand with his shoulders back and his hand on his hip.

He moved towards the Shadow with a bit more swagger to his step and a bit more movement in his hips as he got within range of the thing.

“Bang, bitch.” Akira winked.

The dangling Ippon-Datara pulled up short and the attack meant to finish off Akira blasted straight into the sculpture in Madarame’s Garden.

Chapter Text

Akira could do this. He’d been hyping himself up all day. It was a sign from whatever gods were out there that today was the day when Lala texted him.

Ryuji had wanted to hang out, and Yusuke was interested in Mementos, but this was important.

“Talk to you later guys, something came up at work!” He waved over one shoulder before slinging his school bag with Morgana over his shoulder and running down from the Overpass.

“I don’t understand why you like it so much here, Akira. It’s loud and filled with people and perfume!” Mona complained. Akira just shrugged and pushed open the front door of Crossroads. He could walk there blindfolded by this point, and it still held that comfort he felt on his very first day.

Only now there was a buzzing excitement taking place in his stomach and spreading through his chest.

“L-Lala-chan would you…could I…” He was playing with his bangs again, the dear thing. Lala Escargot continued wiping out a glass with a towel and leaned a hip on the bar.

Her part-timer swallowed.

“Could you teach me how to walk in heels, please? I learn fast and-“ She settled her ringed fingers on his slim shoulders and smiled kindly down at her baby Queen.

“Of course I will. Do you have a style you prefer?”

Akira had to try to keep the niggling sense that Mishima or Ryuji wouldn’t be seen dead doing what he was about to do at bay. Maybe Yusuke would, who knows.

But Lala was kind to him, and the other Queens that worked with Akira didn’t seem like bad people. Loud and drama-thirsty for sure, but that was how they had fun.

“Well everyone? Akira has something he’s been working very hard on!” Royal, Dee, and Ginger all looked over with stars in their eyes and excited smiles on their faces. It was just the Girls, Akira could do this.

If he thought Lala’s gay scream was loud and high-pitched, she had nothing on Gina Tonic, the blond who had noticed him on his first day working with everyone.

“He even did his nails Momma!” She shrieked with joy.

“Werk Gurl! Yas!” Dee began snapping her fingers back and forth in quick motions as she yelled.

“Make! It! Happen!” Royal clapped her hands in emphasis, her giant, fake costume jewelry catching the neon lights of the bar and dazzling Akira’s eyes as he walked out of the back room into a bar full of Queens.

While his heels weren’t as high as Ginger’s or as thin as Royal’s, he was happy with the peep-toes Lala had picked out for him. He had been a little nervous about wearing the toe nail polish he got on the way home from his convenience store job, but he’d thought the red color would look good against the dark patent leather.

He was right.

“Careful, gurl, you’ll be out of a job!” Gina laughed, playfully shoving Dee enough to make her pixie cut bounce.

“Yeah, considering my hair is real…” Akira couldn’t stop the words from leaving his mouth but the way the yelling raised in pitch and volume and applause, he gathered that he’d just taken an important step in more ways than physical.

Besides, Dee looked playfully offended and clapped a hand to her chest.

“Careful, Dee, you don’t want your boob to pop!” Ginger laughed, going pink with laughter.

“OH! You RUDE thing!”

“Run, bitch, run! I heard the last bitch Dee scratched with those nails got rabies and died!”

“OH MY GOD!”

Akira giggled to himself as the Queens leapt the bar in their 5+ inch heels to chase one another around.

Lala watched him with pride overflowing from her heart.

Joker’s team was looking rough. Makoto – Queen (which he thought was hysterical for his own personal reasons) had been irreplaceable with her knowledge and power. And she also had a motorcycle, so that was cool.

Sadly this Shadow dodged Nuclear attacks, and had already tossed Yusuke straight onto his chin once.

Joker took in a quiet breath and looked over to where Ryuji was confusedly looking around and Ann was flinching.

Then he clicked his tongue.

“Who told you it was okay to leave the house looking like a Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure cast-off? Because I am so sorry honey they were wrong.”

Ann blinked and started to giggle, her tension bleeding out as her fear left in the face of her leader dragging a High Pixie.

“The 80’s called and they want that bouffant back.”

Ann wheezed with laughter at that mental image before snapping her whip out and ripping the Shadow in half.

Chapter Text

Akira watched distantly as his hands chased swirls through the soapy water in the LeBlanc kitchen. He sighed.

“Alright, enough moping. Get out and take a walk or something, moody teenagers are bad for business.” Sojiro put his hands on his hips and pointed at the door.

It was Sunday and none of his friends wanted to hang out.

…At least he didn’t want to hang out with them. Flicking warm water off his fingers, Akira checked his phone again.

Just what he thought. The handsome, stupid detective prince hadn’t texted him.

He sighed again and opened his messages.

[Lala-chan, are you busy?]

[Always, Aki-chan! But I’ll pay extra if you come over and help with the Sunday rush.]

Good enough for him.

The trip to Crossroads was as uneventful as it could be, with him not paying attention to anything but the memory of reddish eyes smiling and asking for his number. Akechi just found him fascinating, that was all. They could go toe-to-toe. That was all.

…Lala would know what to do with this.

The Drag Mother looked up from where she was counting out the till.

“You’re here early.”

Akira shrugged.

Lala’s face fell.

“What’s on your mind, Akira? You don’t look like your chipper self.”

Akira flopped onto the stool behind the bar he sat at between customers.

He had no idea what to say.

No idea how to say it.

“Lala-chan…Momma, you’re…the other Queens they’re…” His fingers sought out the comfort of toying with his hair. Lala stilled, letting him have his space.

“It’s…” He cut in as she set the cash drawer in place and closed it with a solid click. She raised an eyebrow.

He went quiet again.

She checked the clock. They had time.

“You sit there, I’ll be within earshot. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.” With the scent of lilies, Momma Escargot set about pulling down chairs and making sure all the liquor bottles were settled just so.

Her drag baby had been picking at the hem of his shirt in her absence and that wouldn’t do. The seamstress in her cried out ‘Oh hell no’, but she tucked the knowledge away before giving him a bottled water to toy with instead.

Somewhere between her inventories and repairs to Maria’s spare bell-bottoms, Akira came to sit by her side. She handed him an edge to hold taut to look for holes.

His hand was shaking.

“Lala…are you gay?”

She blinked long false lashes.

“Proudly.”

“How do you know?”

Now, Lala knew her part-timer. He didn’t have a homophobic bone in his body. He was merely asking, gathering information in that quiet way of his. He always remembered when the girls had a date, or a birthday, or Momma had run out of the bath salts she preferred.

No, this wasn’t about her being gay.

This was about him.

“Well, in school I never wanted to hold hands with girls, or exchange love letters in lockers. I dreaded the day when one would confess to me.” She sighed. Then she smiled. “Whereas with men, well. I remember there was this one jock in my middle school named Ryusuke-kun…Oh, how I had the hots for him!”

She stole a glance at her drag daughter out the corner of one eye.

“I guess I just notice men more. While I love women’s clothing, and I would kill for my female friends, I just don’t want to sleep with women.”

“How do you know?” He asked again, quieter.

“Darling, if there’s someone making you think this hard and giving you trouble, you can tell Momma.”

Akira shook his shaggy head. Adorable.

“N-no he’s not-“

Akira’s eyes shot open and he clapped his hands over his mouth. The poor kid was going even paler than her cheapest concealer.

“Akira, child, it’s okay to like men. So long as they make you happy, it shouldn’t matter what they look like under their clothes.”

The lanky high schooler pulled his knees up to his chest and checked his phone again.

“Are you expecting a text, baby?” Akira’s big, grey eyes widened again and he fumbled to put his phone away.

Lala chuckled and made herself more comfortable.

“Tell me about him.”

Akira sighed and began telling her about this boy who needed a haircut and was smart as hell and irritating but had the nicest smile.

“…And I think I have a crush.” He finished quietly. She chuckled.

“Oh, I know you do. Why don’t you text him?” She pulled out her fan and opened it.

“I couldn’t do that!” He squeaked.

“Why not?” She smiled.

“Because what if he doesn’t respond?” Ah, young love. This poor kid had it bad.

“Then he doesn’t respond! His loss.” She elbowed him gently and stood up to dust off her kimono. At least his hands had stopped shaking.

And, whenever he came out to the girls, they were going to have a huge coming-out party. It’s what their baby Queen deserved.

That and Sex Pistol owed her money.

Joker leveled his pistol at the hulking Kelpie as it tossed its head and worked its jaw. He narrowed his eyes.

“Skull! He’s weak to Electric! Hit him hard and I’ll finish him off!”

Skull blinked at Akira. How did he know that? They’d never fought one of these horse fucks before, and even Mona was at a loss.

Fox tilted his head to try and see whatever it was their Leader had seen.

Ryuji shrugged and yelled for his Persona.

With a roar, Captain Kidd levelled the lake horse in a shower of yen.

How had Akira known? It had just been obvious to him. Just like how he somehow knew the damn thing wouldn’t be touched by Yusuke.

Maybe he was just developing a gaydar.

Chapter Text

Either that or it was a ‘please be gay-dar’.

He couldn’t help it, he had a crush on ‘Akechi Fucking Goro’ as Ryuji called him. Akira was gone on him. He knew the detective prince (dreamy) was far from perfect, but even the dumb things were cute to Akira.

The guy wore gloves at all times? Akira wondered what it would feel like if they held hands.

His hair was too long and wasn’t flattering to his face? Absolutely. All of Akira’s gay aunties would clutch their pearls if he tried letting his hair grow out that badly. But the way it had shone in the lights of the stage had left him breathless. And it looked so soft…

Akechi was an insufferable know-it-all, he knew this. But the smug look the detective got when he had figured out a puzzle was endearing. Even if it made Ryuji see red. Akira saw red too, but that was because the prince had reddish eyes.

He sighed again and leaned onto the bar, hoping the wood would cool his heated face.

The perfectly imperfect prick even had a briefcase with his last initial on it. Like some grade schooler.

It was so fucking cute.

“Oh no, somebody’s killed Aki-chan!” Akira’s shoulders tensed at the nickname that now sounded so similar to his name.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

“I was just thinking what would happen if I let my hair grow out…” His voice came out muffled.

“Gurl who hurt you?” Pistol blinked, her head snapping to look at him. She had thought better of him. The part-timer just shrugged.

Ginger’s eyes lit up and she clapped.

“I think this calls for a wig, honey!”

Lala patted her part-timer on the back and tried to get him to cheer up.

“What do you think, Akira? I think we can get your hair down to mid-back, at least.” The boy chuckled and shrugged, pulling his head up to smile at their little Crossroads family.

“I accept that challenge.”

Wig boxes materialized out of thin air and he was measured again and again to make sure the final product would be flattering.

“Can I convince you to try lipstick? I have this gorgeous shade that would go fabulously with your curls, Aki-chan.” Pistol chuckled while Ginger helped Dee get a Eurovision castoff back into a bag. She wasn’t expecting the hopeful look that Akira leveled her way.

“Is it the one you wear with your police uniform?”

She traded looks with Momma.

He noticed lipstick colors.

In the end, the girls had managed to surpass all of Momma’s dares and got their novice into a black wig full of curls that reached almost down to his ass.

If anyone noticed how excited he looked when he looked in the mirror, they didn’t say anything, for once.

These things were not to be rushed.

“Wait just a moment…” Pistol reached over and gently held Akira’s chin before putting on a moisturizing primer on his lips.

His long, natural eyelashes fluttered closed while he focused on what she was doing.

Lipstick was waxy and thick, but smelled good, he decided.

“There.” She finished, helping him to look back into the mirror.

“Oh honey!” Ginger and Gina fluttered to his sides when tears spilled down his cheeks.

Gina wiped at one cheek.

“What is it, dear heart? What’s wrong?”

Akira shook his head and smiled.

“I look pretty.”

Akira had just arrived back at LaBlanc with perfume in his hair and the taste of makeup remover on his lips when his phone trilled.

It wasn’t Akechi, he had his own ringtone. Didn’t stop his heart from fluttering.

“Lala-chan?”

“Aki-chan! Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. By the way, you’ll be getting a week off sometime in September. Princess Peach just dropped off her yearly challenge letter so the bar will be in upheaval the whole week leading up to it.”

Akira went cold. He’d dealt with yakuza, CPS, juvie, he-

Princess Peach. Right.

“That dried up queen from Akihabara?”

Lala cackled into his ear.

“Keep that attitude up and I might just get you front row seats to the show!”

“I’d like that, Lala-chan.”

He could hear her smile through her words.

“Consider it done, baby queen.”

Joker’s grip on his pistol flexed in concealed outrage. This asshole was attacking people and scaring his boss at the flower shop all out of some weird sense of social cleansing? It was complete bullshit. He couldn’t listen to it anymore.

The teen sighed and shot the Shadow a Look, drawing his team’s attentions.

“You’ll regret picking a fight with me. I’m going to beat you to a pulp!”

Their leader rolled his eyes and leveled his gun lazily at the newly-revealed Kin-Ki.

“Oh, like how you beat up defenseless seniors? I’m sorry but you’re wasting our time. It shouldn’t take long to take someone this weak down a peg or seven.”

The shadow cut off it’s tirade as Akira motioned with the barrel of his gun vaguely at it.

“Wh…what did you say?”

Joker sighed again and tilted his head to lean on one shoulder.

“You sure have enough hot air to back up all your blustering, but I’ve had enough. You’ll have to catch these hands because idiots can’t catch colds.”

The massive, golden shadow blinked a few times and looked at the swirling ground of Mementos.

“Huh?” He blinked a few times in confusion. To a trained eye, it was easy to see that his blinks took just a touch longer than they should have, his brain gone fuzzy from trying to figure out Akira’s bitchy comments. Kin-Ki blinked and shook his head. “…What?”

Akira fired.

“Damn Joker, you really showed no mercy with this one! I’m glad he’s off the streets though…” Ryuji scratched the back of his blonde head in thought. His eyes shot open.

“Wait! Do you know the person who requested this one?!”

Akira sighed but nodded. He wasn’t gonna just lie to Ryuji.

“It’s my boss at the flower shop in the mall. She was really worried this time and it rubbed me the wrong way, is all. I’m glad he turned himself in.” The mop-headed teen sipped a juicebox and leaned back. With his glasses catching the light from his attic overhead, he missed the thoughtful look that went across his friend’s face.

“You work at the flower shop, man? I didn’t know that. Wait! I bet you get all kinds of dudes coming by to get flowers for their girlfriends! Maybe you should take notes!”

Akira fought not to slump onto the table between them. Bless Ryuji, but no. Maybe Momma and the Girls would appreciate some flowers though… He put the thought aside for later.

“Yeah, maybe…”

Huh, Ryuji thought, taking a bite of his energy bar.

Chapter Text

“Uh, Momma Lala-chan-“

“Yes, Aki-kun~?” She was so proud of him for finally catching onto the nickname she preferred from her Girls. She was their Drag Mother, after all – an esteemed title passed down from Daba Queen to Daba Queen all the way back to Mamaguri Daba herself. The thought was enough to bring a tear to the Drag Queen’s eye, but she had to focus on the future right now, not the past.

The future that was currently twirling his forelock around his index finger and veritably hiding behind those big glasses.

“Um…What…What is a drag show? I know you mentioned one coming up in Akihabara-“ He clapped his hands over his ears just in time for Momma to let out a ‘gay scream’ that echoed across the empty bar.

“Oh darling, let Momma tell you all about it! You’re coming, you know. The Girls will just flip shit if you don’t. Besides, it’ll be good for your education!” She placed one hand inside the opposite kimono sleeve and stroked her chin in thought.

Wait, they wanted him there? Lala had given him the invitation of course, but the idea that the Girls, his coworkers would start a riot if he didn’t go…it struck a chord.

He wasn’t used to feeling wanted. The warm, fuzzy feeling he only really got at Crossroads would have tuned out anything Lala was saying, but the Queen had caught on to his thoughtful silence and waited for his attention to be on her once again. He was a thoughtful boy, quiet. She got the feeling that he didn’t have a lot of people who just waited for him to think though. Her Akichan was a brilliant boy, and he had that spark that drew people in, but based on his reactions to simple kindnesses, Lala didn’t like what that implied about the people he surrounded himself with. So she would be patient and she would be kind. Crossroads Queens had big hearts to match their big personalities, and their part-timer was already one of Them.

When he looked up at her next, his eyes shone through a thin veil of moisture. He cleared his throat and responded quietly.

“I’ll be there.”

Lala smiled at him softly and guided him to an empty stool to begin her lesson with the proper dramatics and hand gestures, eventually roping each Queen in as they arrived for their shifts.

By the end of Gay Storytime™ Akira was laughing and wiping his tears from mirth and good company instead of loneliness brought on by the outside world.

“But what will I wear?”

The Girls and Momma screamed and bustled into the back room where they kept their costume trunks.

“No! No, I demand to see him in red at least ONCE before I die!” Lala commanded from the back of the whirlwind.

“But the green will bring out his eyes!”

“In what universe, Gingy?”

“Oh shut up, Dee.”

Akira shook his head and chuckled at the friendly squabbling his friends were making out of his view.

“I’ve got it! Why don’t we let Akichan pick?” Akira stopped breathing. How was he supposed to pick? He didn’t know the first thing about any of this!

“Ohh, good idea Portia, let’s pack this all up and get him a few outfits to choose from.”

His spine relaxed. Pick out from a few options. He could do that.

“Okay Aki Akachan,” Dee Cup swept out of the curtained back room with a few hangers crooked in her delicate fingers. Ginger Snap followed, carrying a stack of folded fabrics. Finally, Royal Jewels dropped a pile of hats on the bar. Portia Bella dusted off her hands with a jingle of her many bangles and put her hands on her ample hips.

“We’ve picked out the basics – Shirt, pants, hats. We’ll work on accessories once we have the base of the outfit sorted out.” Peacock-blue metallic eyeshadow caught the lights as Portia blinked.

“Ready Akachan?”

Akira’s smile was a bit wobbly, but his eyes held a competitive fire and a thirst for knowledge.

“So you have a good eye for color, baby.” Portia put a hand under her chin in thought, surveying the …interesting combinations their baby Queen had pulled together. Akira preened at the praise, buying her time to figure out how to let him down gently.

Royal Jewels, ever the bitch, cut to the chase.

“But none of that is going to look good on you, sweetie.”

Akira wilted and Royal pouted out her plush lower lip in empathy. (Something her Drag Sisters had no idea she could feel before Akira.)

“I…guess I still have more to learn?”

Ginger Snap clapped her hands and straightened up from where she was leaning over the bar, the sleeves of her peach-colored floral kimono spilling practically into Portia’s lap.

“Yes! In fact, I think this calls for……” She let the air thicken with anticipation, “An outing!”

All the Girls yelled in agreement as Akira chuckled to himself about their excitement.

“Just don’t pick anything that’ll make me look…bad, I guess.”

Royal looked offended and Portia clutched her thick, beaded necklace. Ginger pursed her lips prettily and blinked her long, tasseled falsies.

“Oh but you’re coming with us, Akachan! It wouldn’t be an outing with just us!”

"But it would be an event." Royal intoned before Portia Bella hit her arm.

For the second time that day, Akira Kurusu was floored harder than an All Out Attack.

“Yes, yes, babygirl! Say you’ll come!” Dee Cup clasped her hands and opened her eyes wide.

“I…yeah, of course I will, if you really want me to go.”

Ginger leaped over the bar as Portia rushed to pinch his cheeks. Dee Cup cheered and pumped her fist. Even Royal smiled just enough to push her cheeks into her heavily-gelled hair points.

In the corner, leaning against the doorway, Lala smiled at the perfumed group hug going down in her little corner of Shinjuku. He had an eye for color and love of beautiful things...

But best yet, he had a whole group of Girls who were ready to help him polish and shine.

Akira always hated this part. If he could cover his ears and curl up to avoid looking, he would. Beneath twin struggling sheets, two Personas that he had personally reasoned with and fought beside made small sounds of distress.

But he had done this. He owed it to them to stand firm and watch over the process.

He can always summon them again, he can always summon them again, he can always summon them again…

Striped shoulders jumped as the blades fell.

In the ensuing brightness, Akira narrowed his eyes to search for the resulting Persona.

“What!” Caroline barked.

“That’s unusual…” Justine murmured.

As the light disapparated a massive horse covered in eyes reared up and clashed its hooves into the Velvet Room’s floor. Death Himself sat astride, grinning emptily.

The Prisoner looked down at the entry that glowed before him, waiting for him to pick the moves his White Rider would use.

Snipe, Triple down…Energy drain?!

Akira’s eyes widened as he pressed a finger to the move, scanning the unfamiliar entry.

Almighty?

He’d never seen that typing before.

He kept it for its healing skills though, it would come in handy.

Still, it was a bit odd.

Chapter Text

“Sorry guys, I’ve already got plans…” Akira sent the text to the group chat and tried not to feel too bad about blowing off Mementos to spend time with the Girls.

He stuck his phone in his pocket and nervously re-adjusted the white jacket he’d picked. It wasn’t his usual ‘casual going out’ clothes, but it was close enough. Just a bit ‘upgraded’ as Ann would say.

God he wishes he’d thought to ask Ann for clothing advice. She was usually stylish, right?

He tried not to sigh as he thought of the cute upperclassman who somehow managed to stay in dress code while looking completely different from her peers. Why couldn’t Akira figure out how to do that?

“Ahhh! Who’s this dapper lad who just so happens to be in our path, girls?” Akira twitched and swung around, eyes wide.

Oh, it was just the Girls. Thank goodness. He didn’t know why his instincts screamed at him that he was under attack any time his back was turned, but it had to cut it out.

“Dapper?” His fingers were in his bangs before he noticed, bashfully blushing at the comment.

“Mhmmm~” Ginger hummed, ruffling his hair affectionately (and to break him out of his nervous tic, but he didn’t need to know that). Today the Girls were in ‘casual’ outfits, tight pants, 4” heels, ‘light’ makeup. Honestly they looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. He told them so and they fluttered acrylics and eyelashes at him saying “Stopppp”.

Ginger Snap tilted her pigtailed head and put a finger to her pink lips in thought.

“But where to go first?”

“Out of the Closet?” Portia offered, her floppy garden hat keeping the sun off of her ‘delicate complexion’.

Dee Cup squealed and clapped her hands, denim romper revealing a long strip of thigh when she bounced.

“Oooooh yes! Starting his education off strong! I love it!”

Pistol checked her nails and flicked non-existent fuzz off her blazer. “Might as well, I haven’t seen Adri-kun in simply forever.”

Royal’s eyes glinted dangerously.

“Doesn’t he owe you money still, darling?”

Pistol grinned cruelly.

“Perhaps.”

A short enough walk later and the Girls were tumbling through the door to a little costume shop off a side road Akira had been frankly too afraid to go down alone.

“Adri-kun!”

“Sorry I’m late!” Maria flopped in through the door, all in a tizzy, like usual. Someone with a long ponytail shoved through a trucker cap came into the room from a space behind the till and waved her off, getting an armful of each Girl and offering them airkisses on each cheek. He looked down at the ‘new blood’ Lala had warned him about, the kid had that nervous air around him that marked him solidly in their community. He smiled and held out his hand.

Akira looked up at the denim-clad butch in front of him and returned the handshake. The shopkeep smiled at him, chin fuzz catching the light when he smiled and Akira returned that too.

“OoooooH Gurls!" Gina waved from the back of the shop, bracelets cutting through the perfumed air. “Akachan needs costume jewelry, right? Maybe something Prohibition Era…” She settled one hand on her chin before the gaggle of Queens swept to her side while Pistol bickered with the lesbian at the till.

“Um, what are we looking for?”

“We aren’t!” Maria Gold chirped from somewhere behind Gina.

“That’s half the fun of thrifting, Akichan.” Ginger raised a finger and winked. “You never know what you’re gonna get!”

“Um.”

“Well what’s the occasion, girls?” Adrian’s voice carried well through the shop after he waved Pistol away, chuckling.

“It’s Akichan’s first drag show!”

The butch raised a thick eyebrow at the kid.

“Relax he’s just attending, Adrikun.” Royal waved a wrist at the proprietor, hand limply moving back and forth to brush off his concern. Adrian rolled his eyes.

“I mean you can’t go wrong with a suit, but-“

“Lesbians, you can’t take them anywhere. Where’s Emi, surely she'd know something.” Royal clicked her tongue before smirking at the rude gesture Adri threw her way.

“But if you want to get into the spirit of it, then, say, glitter?”

Someone clapped frantically in the back.

“Jumpsuit? Less work!”

“Layers.” Akira blurted. “I’d feel better in layers.”

“We can work with that!” Gina Tonic called while Maria clapped her hands and took something off a rack.

Akira gently ran his hand down a white shirt with a star graphic exploding out one side.

It reminded him a little of Jose and he smiled.

“What if we went, like, totally androgynous?” Maria Gold offered, pulling something else off a pole before returning it with a wrinkled nose.

“Androgynous?”

“Neither male nor female, babything.” Pistol’s lower voice sounded from a rack of leather nearby. Akira’s cheeks turned pink and he nodded.

“I guess? Wouldn’t hurt to try?”

“I still say there’s nothing wrong with some masc stuff.” Adrian muttered just loud enough to get an affectionate side-eye from Royal.

“No denim!” Snapped one of the girls from a side room.

Laughter and tittering echoed from all sides of the little shop while the proprietor crossed his arms and sulked comedically.

Akira found himself smiling wide enough to show teeth. Maybe he would get the shirt, just as a reminder of the day.

His eye caught on something that knocked all air from his lungs.

Sound filtered away from him as he moved with the silence of the Metaverse to trace a hand down the soft yukata fabric.

Royal swatted Pistol’s shoulder with the back of a ringed hand, causing her fellow cunt to hiss and rub at her arm. Royal pointed wordlessly at the boy who reverently stroked the arm of a ruby red yukata that washed itself with delicate white flowers. The dangerous edge to Sex Pistol’s eyes softened as she sent Lala a text with a photo attachment.

[Sex BitchDoll: You’ll get him in red yet.]
[Mama E: OMG! Buy it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
[Sex BitchDoll: Will do, if it fits.]
[Mama E: What r sewing machines 4 girl?]

[Royal Gems: dw Mama I’ll make sure it comes home. 😉]
[Mama E: U were always my fav 😉]

Akira was tugged into the gaggle of Girls by Maria after he’d returned to browsing near the front of the shop. Maybe he’d come back later for the yukata, when he could afford it.

“Mesh, girls!”

Ginger threw her hands into the air, the pink sleeves of her yukata-style shirt flailing into Gina’s face.

“Mesh! Oh Maria you’re brilliant! I could kiss you!”

“Psh, that ship has sailed, darling.”

Ginger swatted her as Akira’s poor head raced to catch up to the knowledge that was being presented. He’d almost stumbled into the realization that his coworkers were probably sleeping together when one of them had pushed him into a dressing room with arms full of mesh and something that glittered. She told him to ‘just try them on, if you don’t feel them then don’t worry!’ through the thick curtain.

He blinked at the huge mirror wall and gingerly laid out the items someone had forced into his arms.

The first one had holes too big, the second he could barely breathe in. Then it hit him.

The perfect mesh shirt.

One problem: He hated showing this much skin. It felt too unprotected. As Joker he wore a waistcoat and a thick coat atop his shirt and this was…barely a shirt.

He glanced at the jacket he’d put on that morning and figured ‘why not’?

Apparently he had made the correct decision because the Girls leaned into one another and Pistol took a photo with her phone. Akira blushed and looked away.

“Akichan, don’t you need your glasses?”

Shit.

“I…I…” He tried.

“Oh this opens up so many doors!”

“Portia Bella Daba you will not Elton John our little boy!”

“Shut UP!”

Akira tried on a few gold bracelets while they bickered behind him.

“Try it with this too,” Jesus Adrian moved quietly. Or maybe the Girls were just that loud. The short lesbian held up a thicker gold chain to his neck and he nodded wordlessly. He motioned to Akira to turn and move his hair, the brunette acquiescing before the cool metal touched his nearly-bare collarbone.

“Wait!” Akira jumped at the outburst but Adrian merely brushed a hand across the necklace to let it lie flat and turned calmly to the horde of drag queens that had taken over his shop like a plague in stilettos.

“Hold this,” Dee Cup shoved her handbag into her drag sister’s chest and dug out a dark eyeshadow from somewhere in its depths. She traded a ‘Quiet, you’ glance with Maria and turned to put the makeup on Akira. He blushed but closed his eyes and tilted his chin up slightly so she’d get better lighting.

“Oh, darling you’re a genius! Pistol, quick, give me your gold liner!”

A tube was pressed into a waiting hand and the assembled queens waited in breathless anticipation.

They stood back and silence reigned.

“That boy needs leather pants.” Adrian was the only one brave enough to break the silence of Creation and Rebirth. One of the queens nodded seriously and bustled off to find something in his size.

Filled camera rolls and shopping bags later, the Girls and their acolyte pulled together tables and chairs at an open-air café run by a tall, thin gay man and his partner. The sight of the older couple made something in Akira ache.

Somehow getting through his order without stammering or staring, Akira let himself settle back in amongst his senpais.

“Oh! This mint tea is divine, Hika-chan!” The quieter owner blushed and waved off the boisterous queen. His husband smiled and shook his head at all of them as he moved to the next table.

“Speaking of tea…” Royal leaned over the table. With a flutter, the rest of the table was instantly at attention.

“Tea? Oh, please girl I am parched.”

More vocab?

‘Tea’ Akira mouthed as Royal Jewels released the most shocking gossip the teenager had ever heard. Granted, he had no idea who any of the people involved were, but he knew that he wouldn’t want to find any of them in Mementos.

Back at Crossroads, Lala Escargot looked down at the photo of her drag baby Maria had sent her of Akira standing in the low light of the thrift store, brushing hair behind his ear and completely at ease for a moment. On the edges of the picture she can see a pink kimono sleeve, one of Gina’s gloves, and Sex Pistol’s elbow.

She’ll have to get that framed.

“Skull!” Panther screamed, reaching out fruitlessly as their classmate teetered atop a giant rolling stone below them.

“Wah!!” He pinwheeled his arms, metal-edged boot slipping closer to the edge.

Joker’s eyes shot from ledge to ledge, trying desperately to calculate a way up or down. The scaffolding they used to get up had been knocked loose by a retreating Stone-of-Scone and the electric user hadn’t been paying attention after grabbing the treasure.

The boulder rocked cruelly and Akira closed his eyes and pulled.

For a moment, the Metaverse shivered.

The ghost of a rider on a white horse appeared out of the ether, forming a foothold where previously there were none.

“Skull! Jump!” Joker yelled, throwing his arm over the gap.

Skull made a sound and took the leap, scrabbling at the blinking flank of the spectral horse.

Chariot Confidant. White Rider. Right.

Their palms slapped against one another and Joker towed his teammate out of the gap.

Akira sat in the sand, panting.

Ryuji sprawled beside him, chest heaving.

The two boys bumped fists with shaking arms as their friends came running from adjacent rooms, called by their Leader’s will and Panther’s cry.

Chapter Text

Akira laid on his bed in the quiet attic, staring at the ceiling. They’d saved Futaba and unlocked her memories. He still had aches and pains from the sphynx with her mother’s face and cruel implanted cognition.

He sighed.

Now they wait.

His phone trilled.

His aches begged him not to move, but he groaned and checked it, just in case it was one of the Phantom Thieves or Lala or-

Akechi. When had he gotten tired enough to forget about Akechi’s ringtone?

Akechi wanted to go to the planetarium with him when they have a certain show.

Akechi wanted to hang out with him. Usually it was Akira showing up to bother him at all hours of the night (that sounded wrong but the bastard didn’t have free time during the day), but this time he was asking Akira out.

[Akira: It’s a date. =) ]

Stupid stupid stupid-

[dETeCTIvE PrINcE🙄: … You have an odd way of saying things, but yes, I will take that as acquiescence.]
[Akira: At least I don’t use ‘acquiescence’ in everyday life, pretentious. ]
[dETeCTIvE PrINcE🙄: … I don’t know why I try.]
[Akira: You love me, don’t even deny it. ;) ]
[dETeCTIvE PrINcE🙄: I will block you.]
[Akira: That’s not a no!]
Unable to Send - [Akira: Haha you actually blocked me didn’t you. ]

Why was he smiling like an idiot? That’s just how the two of them talked. Why Akira turned into a smooth motherfucker whenever it was the detective prince on the other end of the line he would never know.

He closed his eyes and smiled, remembering their trip to the Aquarium...

The filtered light had glittered in Akechi’s hair, turning his red eyes into a shade of purple that Akira caught himself staring at. Granted, the other boy was used to being stared at, but Akira didn’t like adding to it. Akechi had more than enough on his plate without Akira joining the masses.

He didn’t want to be like the masses anyway. Akechi had declared him interesting after all, and he had Akechi’s number, so hopefully he was more than just another fan.

Long, black eyelashes fluttered closed as he remembered the event that ended with Akechi wearing his glasses with mussed up hair. It had looked so stupid but so endearing.

Grey eyes opened to the unseen sight of his rafters.

That was the day Akechi told him he doesn’t enjoy what he does. That he only does things in his spare time to further his image.

Akira didn’t want to just be a transaction to the other boy.

He…he wanted to be special, he wanted to be able to bring Akechi to Crossroads and spend time with his found family-

That thought stops him in his tracks.

Lala…The mental images of the Crossroad Queens flicker past his mind’s eye, one after another, each of them dear in different ways. Even Royal and Pistol, who are kind of his mentors and the mean aunties he could use as attack dogs without complaint. In fact, they’d probably enjoy it.

…Might not be a good idea to introduce them to the boy who has the ability to break his heart.

Heh, what would Akechi think if he knew he was the thief of Akira’s heart?

The teenager rolled over and curled into a ball beneath his window, the steady warmth of Morgana plopping onto his ribcage.

Something brushed Akira’s hand in the darkness of the planetarium. His every sense zeroed in on it, memories of sneak attacks and being surrounded by masked shadows flashed through his mind before he brought himself back to the present.

A…glove?

Warmth flooded Akira’s chest where cold terror had sat just prior.

Akechi didn’t do things unless people could see him or he could use it later.

So then, why were they linking pinkies in the dark where no one could see?

Grey eyes sought out the darkened blob against the night sky beside him. He couldn’t make out details, but he could see the silhouette of his crush’s horrible haircut.

Could they have done this at the aquarium if they hadn’t been interrupted by that reporter?

Wait.

Akira searched his memories, keeping a proverbial finger on one feature: an audience.

The bar, billiards, the aquarium, the café, the TV station, the arcade…

People.

The teen’s eyes bounced around the room, taking in only vague darkness lit by pinpoints on the curved ceiling high above.

There are people here, yes, but no one could see them.

And Akechi is holding his hand.

Two days later, Akira came home to a guest sitting right near the door of Leblanc.

Chapter Text

While Akira had debated inviting Akechi to the show with the Girls and Momma, he ultimately wrote it off. Maybe he’d take him to the next one, but this was just for Akira and the Crossroad Queens.

In a sign of solidarity, Akira packed a pair of earrings that matched Lala’s kimono on top of the other clothes the Girls had bought him.

Throwing on his star shirt and a pair of pants with hanging suspenders he’d borrowed from Ryuji, the boy headed out to catch the train to Akihabara.

He’d change once he was among friends he thought fondly, snapping on a leather cuff and bracelets from Futaba to complete his look. Morgana tugged at his bandana with his teeth but he ignored the cat.

He was buzzing with energy and excitement. He’d been waiting for this for weeks and it was kind of like the prize at the end of a race.

…It might be safe to say that he was more excited for this Drag Show than Mona was for Treasure, mostly because by the time Treasure came around Joker was too tired to feel anything but relief.

The train clacked beneath his sneakers and he put on his headphones. The Girls and Momma had made him a playlist to ‘Prepare Him’ and he’d been saving it.

He hit ‘play’ and it was Time.

---

Akira was thankful he’d already been here a couple times with Futaba, but The Fruit Garden was way out of his league. Pop music from the 80’s played in his ears as he wandered the roads near the bar Lala had texted him about.

He took in a breath and clenched his fist around his phone. He was in enemy territory now.

Princess Peach’s domain looked a little like Crossroads from the street, and for some reason this surprised him. Maybe all Drag bars have a certain type of dress code for their buildings. It would make sense, Queens love a theme. He smiled to himself and hiked his backpack slightly higher on his shoulder. In his other hand, the handles to the bag with his clothes crinkled.

“AkichaaAAAAN!” Dee Cup came running at him from a side road and he smiled at her sheepishly. He hadn’t meant to stand outside like a lost puppy, but he always felt better infiltrating a new space with a team around him.

“Heya Dee, this the place?” He motioned at the bar with a peach-shaped sign outlined in neon. This early in the day it wasn’t lit, but he could imagine the little animation the fruit would get come sundown. A little swinging motion, just enough to entrance the curious.

And Akira was curious by nature. He set his jaw and walked into the bar after Dee Cup.

Ginger Snap quickly put her drink aside on a delicate table and came running over to him.

“Oh my GOD! Darling! You look so cute!” She cupped his cheeks and smiled, her breath already fruity with alcohol. Then the Drag Queen frowned dramatically. “I thought you were going to dress up, Akachan? You would look so nice…”

He raised his paper bag meekly and was waved to a dressing room in the back.

“Those dusty queens can wait, we’ve got a diamond in the rough to LET OUT!” Ginger giggled, moving him by the shoulders as Pistol waved their enemy Queens out of the hallway around him.

He had never seen so many feathers in one place.

But there was something about the dressing room, something magical. Whether it was the anticipation in the air, the old props leaning against the wall that matched handbills tacked up here and there, promising a story and a history he could touch but didn’t yet know… The globes of light that surrounded the mirrors like movie stars used in the old movies Akira secretly rented when nobody was coming over. He reached out to trace one and yanked his hand back from the heat it was producing.

“You okay in there, Akichan?”

“Hm? Yeah! Just a minute!” He called back, remembering with a shock that there were other people who needed a dressing room. Having locked the door on the way in, he shucked off the clothes he’d traversed the city in and reverently laid out the outfit the Girls and Adrian had picked out for him.

The yellow light from the round bulbs highlighted off the leather, diffusing gold over his jacket.

With a deep breath in to savor the perfumed air (similar in feel but completely different to the staff bathroom at Crossroads), he got dressed.

With a little wince, he pulled out the little black studs Portia had put in his ears when no-one was looking and slipped the dangling rectangular earrings in their place. The dark purple metal even had gold ginko leaves that reminded him of Lala’s kimono.

A smile lit up his face as he swung his head a few times, watching the earrings catch the light like the ribbon on a wind chime.

“Um, could-“ He opened the door, goosebumps forming across his chest at the temperature difference after the small, non-ventilated room. “Could you help me with the eyeliner? I don’t want to mess it up.” He turned his big, gray eyes at Sex Pistol, pleadingly.

The brunette queen rolled her eyes but made a motion with her arm-length pleather gloves. He handed over the makeup tube gratefully.

She tsked and blended out his smokey eye a bit more with the edge of her ring finger. Akira let himself be fussed over with a small smile, just enjoying the contact with someone who cared about him.

“And…there.” With two swipes of the miniscule brush, his eyes were done and she tilted his chin this way and that to catch the effects.

Sex Pistol Daba pursed her lips and pulled out a tube of lipstick from Royal’s purse.

“You trust me, right Akachan?”

He nodded, helplessly.

“Good, now close your eyes. I’m about to make you gorgeous.”

Even Pistol is upping the ante now that we’re here. He mused, realizing just how Extra all of the Girls were being. It was like being around other Queens stoked their inner fires and energized them. It was cute, watching Gina giggle to herself and wave a velvet elbow-length glove at a fellow 20’s themed Queen from Akihabara. Seeing Royal smoking and dishing dirt with the most muscular Queen Akira had ever seen while Ginger bat her eyelashes at a Queen with a beard.

He didn’t even know that was possible.

“There we are.” Sex Pistol capped her lipstick and told him to look up at the ceiling. The mascara felt heavy on his eyelashes after she applied it, but it made him feel cocky, like he had another weapon in his arsenal. Pistol smirked as she capped the mascara wand, noting the newly confident set of their baby Queen’s shoulders. She smoothed down the shoulders of his blazer and fluffed up his curls. “Gorgeous.”

“OH! Akichan!” Lala Escargot had arrived.

She came sweeping in like a 6’2” whirlwind of silk and full-bodied grandeur. Her usual geta traded in for a higher, more lacquered pair making her entrance sound musical with each step. She was wearing her signature shade of purple kimono, he saw with relief, but it was a more ornate version with obi decorations and a gilded fan. Her wig had been swapped for a long, complicated one that was swept into a bun and decorated with a truly massive spider flower accent. The gold on her eyeliner matched his, though her eyes would put a peacock to shame and he was rocking a solid ‘evening mist’.

For some reason the knowledge that they matched almost made him tear up.

“Momma!” He called out, bright and happy in a way that he usually didn’t get to. Lala had wondered if this event would let him do that. She’d hoped.

Looking around at all of her Girls, in-training and otherwise, her heart felt so full it was threatening to spill over, spreading lava-like clouds of love and joy to her family.

She picked up Akira’s hands and her eyes lit up at the jewelry he’d added since she’d last seen the outfit.

“Oh! You sweet thing!” They traded air kisses for the first time, and god she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. He was such a fast learner.

“And is that mascara?! Akichan!” She waved at him in excitement. A proud little flush graced his cheekbones and he replied only with ‘It was Pistol’s idea.’

“Oh! Bless the bitch, she has the best ideas!” She rearranged a few of his curls before looking at him like a proud mother.

Then she turned her head and yelled for a mimosa from the room at large. In the distance, there was a crash and the room exploded with tittering. Somehow a drink appeared in Lala’s hand and she took a sip of it approvingly.

“Well, at least you still make a bitchin’ drink, Peachy.”

“Oh you!”

Ah.

Princess Peach.

Akira narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the newcomer.

She must have been about Lala’s age (though it would be a betrayal to Momma to even think it, so he didn’t.), with massive blond pigtails that were covered in decora-style plastic candy. She’d chosen a lolita-esque look for the Battle, and her shoes more than made up for what she lacked in the height department. In fact, she was only an inch or two shorter than Lala when they exchanged sardonic ‘mwah mwah’s on each other’s cheeks.

Massive, cupcake-shaped rings bejeweled the Other Mother’s hands as she spoke, waving her fingers like they were part of some sort of Sign Language. (‘FSL’, he found out the other Queens called it. Fag Sign Language. For some reason, the slur didn’t sound as jarring from them, even if it was startling.)

“Now Queens, and Crossroads broads.” Peach paused for the required assorted cheering and booing. She nodded, smiling, and continued.

“Welcome to the 21st annual Fruity Roads Drag Battle!”

Cheers, thumping on tables, Akira clapped.

“Now, I know we’re all gonna play nice and fair:” She dropped her voice.

“And by that I mean ugly and dirty.” She winked over-exaggeratedly which was quite a look with the amount of white shadow she’d beaten into her eyes and forehead. The room laughed and someone whistled. Akira’s skin was buzzing.

“Now, category is!”

And they were off! The Fruit Garden Queens had set up a runway off of their little stage setup and each Queen took turns ‘walking’ it.

Akira had never seen such athleticism.

Heels flew into the air as Queens dropped onto their wigs, Royal looked like she was about to have sex with the stage, the Queen with the beard did this thing where she(?) dropped and began kicking her legs out from the seated position. The room exploded and Akira yelled along with them.

Apparently, that was a common enough skill.

Arms snapped into positions, posing, ‘vogueing’, dancing, twirling-

Colors, lip-syncing, ‘screaming’, snapping fingers in encouragement and pride-

Akira had glitter in his hair and his heart in his throat.

Those were his friends up there, doing all these great moves and making this extended family laugh to the point of side-stitches and torn stockings.

Family.

He realized something, in a moment. Looking around as if the world were in slow motion and his Third Eye ability was activated…

They were all family. Lala and Peach sat, toasting their Girls and holding hands. Ginger was falling over the muscular Petit Treat in laughter at something the JoJo-themed queen had said. Dee and Maria were sitting on the laps of some of the other Queens, laughing and fanning themselves with their outrageously large fans.

Was this what it was like? Was this what it could be like?

Having a team that wouldn't abandon you?

All the love, and light, and laughter really did empower them all when they came together. Sure, the Queens ‘hated’ each other, but they were sisters and mothers and…

And Akira was one of them.

This time he actually teared up and hoped that Pistol’s mascara was as water-proof as she claimed.

Lala looked over just as he dabbed at the corner of one eye like he’d seen Gina do.

She smiled, her eyes soft as she elbowed Peach enough to motion to her Drag Baby.

Peach’s face fell into a soft expression, smile lines showing even through the thick makeup.

Welcome home, the two Mommas thought.

The fight had been going smoothly enough. Noir’s aid had come right in time and her machine gun was nothing to sneeze at.

There. They had an opening.

The ground shuddered beneath his team.

Giremehkala. God he hated fighting these things. They were so big and intimidating.

Not to mention the sword attacks.

“Noir? You hanging in there?” Futaba called through their comms.

The psy user shook her head, still confused from a particularly bad attack right to her head. They’d have to get that healed up asap, Joker wasn’t about to fuck around with concussions.

The double-handed axe his ally fought with was raised as the teen gave them a shaky thumbs up.

“Yeah? Then I think I have just the thing!”

A massive bomb flung itself from Oracle’s Persona, knocking the Giremehkala onto its face and Joker raised his hand. His team grinned in eager bloodlust as Joker made it into a fist.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, the adrenaline of fighting with friends and knowing you were going to win was a high unparalleled by anything Joker had found in these Palaces.

“Adieu!” Noir waved coquettishly, rotating her axe after hacking the downed elephant shadow in the dome.

Payback’s a bitch, bitch. Joker smirked.

“Fuck, I love it when we do that!” Skull cheered, helping his team members from where they’d all sat down upon completing the battle. Joker smirked and nodded.

Then he handed Noir a solid dose of healing medicine from Takemi’s clinic. She took it with a wince and a quiet ‘thank you, Joker’.

Chapter Text

Akira pushed both hands through his hair and slumped over his desk. A long sigh raised and lowered his torso before Morgana jumped on it.

“Oof-“

The cat moved in a few circles on his back and laid down.

“What’s bothering you, Akira? You keep sighing, and you broke the last lockpick you were working on. You haven’t done that in months!”

Akira rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses as best he could with a whole-ass animal on his lungs.

“It’s Akechi- Crow, whatever he wants to call it. I can act, apparently, but this is just too much.” He groaned and Morgana butted his head against the back of the human’s curls.

“Like, first he saves our asses from Futaba’s uncle, then he smiles at me and when he did that bullshit at the festival? Oh my god I had to leave the ‘café’ to wheeze in a classroom, you remember?”

Morgana hummed at the memory.

“And I get it, I do, he’s been against us this entire time and I’m in love with a killer, I can admit that.” He felt the cat flinch against his back but Morgana wisely said nothing.

“And like, I even get that he might want to kill me eventually, but then why does he look so sad? I doubt anybody else sees it because they can’t read him for squat but sometimes, when the Thieves turn away or Sojirousan is cleaning in the back and we’re alone… he looks tired.” One hand clenched ink-black locks.

“And I don’t know how to help. I don’t know what to do!”

The cat raised and lowered as his little human moved an arm to clutch at his heart where it sat bleeding in his chest.

Morgana didn’t know much about humans on this side of the Metaverse, but he knew pain when he heard it. Much like any good companion he began to groom Akira’s curls with his sandpaper tongue. The boy giggled a little, which the cat took as a win.

“I- Mlemmlem-“ The cat worked his jaw to get the hair off his tongue and Akira’s torso jumped faster in his suppressed laughter.

“I don’t think this is something we can solve alone, we need to at least bring Futaba and Makoto onboard.”

Akira’s fist tensed at the implication that he’d have to tell them of his and Akechi’s…whatever they had. They held hands at the movies and the Planetarium, he had looked like he wanted to hold Akira when he saw how scared the boy had gotten when threatened by the police, and he regularly came clean across the city just to have coffee and a board game.

Akira wasn’t clutching at straws, right?

“I know, I’m just…not ready.”

Morgana sighed, his little body expanding and contracting with the movement. It felt weird on Akira’s back.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on him. Sort of a counter-surveillance. That’s a thing thieves do.”

This time Akira hummed in agreement and closed his eyes.

But then…Akechi started opening up.

It was weird, and at the most random times, but he was talking to Akira. Probably the first person he’d ever told most of these things, if their conversation in the baths was anything to go by. (Which, wow. For more than one reason.)

The detective prince was lonely, and barely covering over the open wound his childhood had left in him.

So Akira dug deeper.

If Akechi was the man in the Black Mask they kept hearing about, then how had this broken child gotten into the Metaverse to begin with and what made him start to kill?

Was he being blackmailed?

Something he’d said about his motivations made Akira worry it like a loose tooth.

He understood what it was like to be taken advantage of by scumbag adults.

Being passed around like Futaba was…

I live alone in an apartment.

How? How was he paying for that and a private school? Detectives probably make enough to live off of, but he was still a kid.

Had someone taken him in and thrown him into the Metaverse?

…Had he had to awaken a Persona all alone and afraid?

Two years ago he would have been younger than the majority of the Thieves were now.

Akira felt sick.

He put down the school copy of ‘Hero with a Bow’ and rubbed his eyes.

What else are you hiding, Goro?

Chapter Text

Walking into Crossroads was like taking off a tight jacket. Akira just felt more full here. More him. He inclined a head at Royal Jewels, Sex Pistol, and Momma as he moved to put his bag away and grab his apron.

He missed the look the Queens shot between themselves.

“Ah, Akichan, come here for a moment will you?” He looked up through his fringe as his Drag Mother waved him over. Shrugging one shoulder, he moved to their side of the room.

Lala exchanged another look with the Mean Girls™ and picked something up from behind the till.

Akira looked at the little wrapped package with curiosity, but looked to Lala to explain. She smiled at him like a proud mother.

“Your Aunties and I have a little present for you, our Baby Queen.”

His eyes lit up and he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from bouncing in childlike excitement. Pistol and Royal shared a smirk and took in the youngest Daba-to-be. Hands clasped politely behind his back, leaning forward in anticipation, eyes bright and sparkling like a child on Christmas.

Yes, for him they would kill.

For now though, they had work to do.

“We saw this and thought of you, Akichan.” Pistol winked.

“Absolutely had to have it.” Royal added, waving with her empty cabriole-style cigarette holder.

“Now, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we thought it might be nice to do your shift in something a little more…thematically appropriate.” Lala smiled cheekily as she passed the parcel across the bar.

For once, Akira’s hands were shaking with excitement instead of nerves. He bowed a little as he accepted the gift and immediately settled it on the clean bartop to unwrap with the reverence such a gift required. It was clothes, it had to be, what with the way it moved when Lala held it up and the way it felt like fabric beneath the tissue paper…

As the dark paper fell away, a ruby red yukata sat folded before him. It had flower silhouettes outlined in white embroidery and when he reached out a hand to touch the fabric, it felt like river water beneath his fingers.

“Oh honey,” The Queens rushed to their boy as he pulled his hands away from the yukata to wipe his eyes.

“It’s so pretty-“ He choked out, wiping the flood of tears with the sides of his fists like a child.

“And so are you, child.” Lala stroked his hair soothingly.

“Nobody’s ever given me something so…” Perfect. The adults smiled sadly at one another over Akira’s shoulders where they enclosed him in a group hug.

“And it’s all yours, Baby Queen.” Royal leaned her cheek on his forehead, causing his shoulders to shake as he broke into weeping.

It was a beautiful gift, and a thoughtful one. Akira hadn’t stopped thinking about this robe since the first time he had to walk away from it in Out of the Closet.

It just opened the floodgates.

He had to be so strong, all the time. Nobody just let him be, nobody encouraged him like this. All the adults in his life outside of Crossroads were just waiting for him to slip up so they could kick him out or sentence him to prison. School was pulling him a million different ways on top of all the contacts he had to keep up with. He couldn’t even go to the little church in Kanda to look at the stained glass and appreciate its beauty without being reminded of the stressed girl he had to go to Mementos for.

He thought he was making headway with Sojirou, finally felt jubilant when the man had told him and Futaba that he had their backs, but it all felt too good to be true.

Safety didn’t happen for Kurusu Akira. Comfort was a momentary pittance. The government wanted him to fail and the cops were just waiting with baited breath. Strangers on the internet blamed him for the deaths of people who wouldn’t give him the time of day even if he had been a blip on their radar.

Everyone had goals they were working towards, while he just wanted to be.

That was what he wanted, he realized.

He wanted to be.

Why couldn’t he be allowed happiness to just go to school and learn like any other kid? Everything he did was tied in a million knots with everything else and while he loved being able to make a change in the world, his own boyfriend had given his friends an ultimatum to split up by the end of the next month.

What would Yusuke do if they weren’t Phantom Thieves anymore? Would he just drift out of their lives? Would he lose Haru and Makoto to their upper grade circles?

What about Futaba? Without the Phantom Theives would she ever be able to lead a ‘normal’ life and make friends all her own?

And what about Morgana?

Lala handed him a handkerchief for his nose, Thank God.

After Akira had cried himself out, Royal was on her second drink and Pistol had completely abandoned hers.

“Well, now that we’re feeling a bit better, why don’t we clean you up a little, maybe try on your new ‘uniform’?” She winked at the boy with puffy, red eyes and he laughed wetly, eyes shining with thankfulness.

Lala was going to have words with Sojirou Sakura. Keeping her baby in an attic, really.

“And put some ice on those eyes, gurl. Conceal, conceal, conceal.” Royal chirped, motioning at her companions with her glass. Pistol laughed and shook her head.

“What you must think of me. Honestly. Sluts 101, gurl. Sluts 1-Oh-1.”

Royal laughed brightly and clapped her hands, bejeweled acrylic nails catching the lights brilliantly. Lala waved Pistol and Akira towards the back room, yukata joining an obi Akira hadn’t noticed over her arm.

Sliding a hand along the sash to make sure everything was arranged properly, Pistol looked up at her drag sister through her eyelashes.

“Akichan, if there’s something- or someone- bothering you, you can tell us you know. We won’t judge.”

He smiled sadly down at her while getting his sleeve to lie correctly.

“I’ll figure it out, but thank you. Really.” The earnestness in his eyes and tone was enough for her… for now. Patting her hands together to get non-existent dust off, Sex Pistol got to her feet.

“How’re you doing over there, Mama?”

Lala Escargot had never met a wig she couldn’t slay.

Thus, it was going swimmingly.

She had her baby queen’s face taped up gently and his hair under a wig cap by the time Pistol had helped Akira into his under-robes.

By the time everything was tied and their boy had a large bow on the small of his back, Akira now had a curly wig slightly longer than his natural hair and was sweeping it to one side with a ruby red ribbon at his jaw.

Once all the cords were settled and Pistol had him painted and styled, Akira was the proud wearer of a hair stick that dripped elegant tassels and a single red jewel in his visible ear.

They both held one of his hands as he stepped into a set of gata with red thonging.

“Tadaa~” Lala sang as she helped Akira twirl to look into the mirror Pistol dramatically yanked a cloth off of.

Akira took in a tiny breath, his every action more delicate and choreographed upon seeing the beautiful girl mirroring his every action.

Pale fingers with red paint rose to outline red shadow put at the edges of his eyes and the bright shade of lipstick they’d put on him that he’d never even seen before.

He took a sleeve in his hand and twirled gently, like Momma had shown.

Pistol clapped and Lala’s phone sounded with camera clicks.

“Are you ready? I want to see my new drag sister!” Royal called from outside. Every Queen needs an audience, naturally.

Akira, Akichan looked eagerly from Queen to Queen and smiled in a wide, unrestrained movement. ‘Can I?’ her look pleaded.

Her Auntie and Mother smiled back and waved her out.

Royal screamed and jumped up, yelling about how pretty Akichan was and how well the makeup suited her and wasn’t she right about that lip shade???

Akichan tittered lightly, raising one hand to hide her smile demurely.

Royal screamed louder and started taking pictures.

“Wait until the Girls see!” Her Auntie must have yelled, but it was at such a pitch that Akichan wasn’t sure it was even words anymore.

She giggled again, too full of breathless joy to keep it hidden.

She even got called ‘chan’ the entire shift and would keep the compliments in her heart for the rest of her days, she just knew it.

Even the cop who came in during patrol didn't look at her twice.

After a bunch of shifts at his various jobs and exams, you would think Akira would be the most ragged of their group.

This, tragically, was just not true.

“Noir!” Mona hissed, grabbing the Beautiful Thief by the elbow and pulling her behind a slot machine.

“What?” She shook her head, blinking at the cat-shaped Thief.

“Where’s your head at, Noir? We’re lucky Joker is so gifted with stealth because between you and Queen we’ve been all over the place today!”

Makoto rubbed the back of her neck where she crouched behind a machine nearby, her metal mask hiding her blush.

Joker rolled his eyes and elbowed his boyfriend who looked like he was .02 seconds away from saying something that would make this whole situation worse.

Joker was only half correct.

Crow was .01 seconds away from saying something that would make this whole situation worse.

“What was that for, Joker? I was only thinking that it’s hardly Noir’s fault some of our team members are so distracting.”

Joker shot him a Look that said he was about to shove Crow’s beak into his mouth.

Crow, the shit, just smirked.

“If you’re into bikers, I suppose. To each their own.”

Joker thanked everything that the passing Shadow turned past a clicking machine just as he flicked the tip of his teammate’s plague mask. Crow made a little choked sound as his head was jerked back by the motion and Joker smirked.

Asshole.

Crow’s eye moved in a way that belied him raising an eyebrow.

You love me.

“Guys, the mission-!”

Joker ignored Mona just long enough to treat his partner to a long, dramatic eyeroll.

Chapter Text

It took everything Joker had to keep his bloodlust in check.

He knew Crow was the Black Mask, they had a method of straight-up killing this asshole right there.

Well, maybe not with his ray gun, but Akira would figure out the difference later.

His hands shook and Crow tilted his head to take it in. What was Joker hiding? The detective blinked but returned his gaze to the sworling walls of society’s unconsciousness.

Akira had been perched in the back room, putting the finishing touches on a geisha look he was trying out when a clatter had sounded from the front door.

“Ginger! What is it dear, what happened?” Lala’s footsteps rushed across the bar and her drag daughter was right behind her, gata permitting.

As soon as he broke through the curtain and saw his sister, he kicked those shoes off.

Sliding down the wall of the entryway, lay a thin man with smeared makeup. Had Lala not said the man’s stage name Akira wouldn’t have recognized his sister.

Akira’s hands shook as he ran.

Ginger blinked sluggishly as she looked up at her loved ones, smiling lop-sidedly and dazed.

“It was Kase, he… Oh Momma.” Ginger crumpled, falling shivering into Lala’s arms. Akira knelt beside the duo, helpless but needing to act. He shot Lala an anguished look that begged her to keep Ginger Snap talking. To see his usually sunny coworker shrivelled and mussed was just wrong, it wasn’t right, he had to fix it-

“Who’s Kase?” He whispered over the weeping man’s head.

“Kase Shinma, he’s a landlord that bothers us sometimes. He’s never gotten violent before, just likes throwing his weight around.” She rubbed Ginger’s back soothingly.

“He said he was gonna buy Crossroads and knock it down! Said the area was only good for fags but that he could change that now that Shinjuku was ‘fashionable’ again. Like our community is a decoration to him!”

Akira clenched his fist.

Lala shook her head sadly.

“Even if I were able to sell the building, I wouldn’t. Mamaguri Daba bought this land fair and square and has left it to us as caretakers. It’s not ours to sell, she kept us safe like that. Let that man tie himself in knots, Crossroads isn’t going anywhere.”

Ginger shook her crew-cut blond head in despair.

“You don’t understand, he’s going to hike up prices in the whole neighborhood to force us to leave. This is just land to him, a tourist destination! It’s our home, Momma! Where will we go?!” She sobbed.

“Shh, shh, I know, I know. Now, what did he do to hurt you?”

Ginger hiccuped and accepted the glass of water Akira had brought her while listening.

Kase Shinma….Kase Shinma…

She laughed wetly.

“Guess he didn’t like getting bossed around by a lady.”

“So he hit you because you said ‘no’.” Akira’s voice was dangerously low and Lala shot him a look. He grit his teeth.

“Y-yeah, yeah he did.” Ginger winced when the glass met her cut lip and Akira saw red.

“Akichan, can you go and grab the notepad off your station for me?” Lala inquired kindly, though her eyes were steel. The boy nodded stiffly and got up, grabbing a pen on his way back.

What are the cops gonna do, Momma? They don’t care about me. They don’t care about US.

Still, he took neat notes of every blow the mad landlord had rained down on the gentle soul in Lala’s arms.

And now he was going to make him pay.

Crow stood by his side and watched him out the corner of his eye. Makoto looked ready to bust Shinma's lip with her knuckles and Ryuji was pale with anger.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up over some sissy, the bastard was standing in my way and talking shit, so I made him go away! Just like I’ll make all of them go away! They can’t live somewhere they can’t afford.”

His yellow-eyed form burst into cognition tendrils and reformed into a singular Arahabaki, leaking malice and filth.

“Not cool! You can’t evict people that aren’t doing anybody any harm just for living!” Skull barked at it. Crow sighed gently, just within Joker’s hearing. They both knew Ryuji was more naïve than they were, but he meant well and he’d been through his own baggage.

“Yeah! It’s bullshit to beat somebody up just because of who they love!” Panther pulled out her whip, clenching it as she yelled.

“Or how they dress!” Noir readied her axe, nodding at Queen. Makoto nodded back and revved Johanna’s handlebars.

“Guys, Joker’s enraged? I don’t see anything that could have inflicted it on him…” Oracle cried out, frantically pressing buttons on Necronomicon’s dashboard.

Crow gently laid the very edge of his pinky finger against Joker’s.

“This isn’t like you, Joker. Not that I don’t appreciate seeing you go off the handle, but this anger will just make you sloppy.”

Joker’s red glove tightened around his knife and Crow stepped away, readying his saber.

“I’ll cleanse the area of the dykes and fags and put in a tourist café! Maybe sell off a building to a religious bookstore for publicity…Religious folks love shit like that.”

A jewel-encrusted whip slashed across the blue metal to shut him up.

“It’ll be a rags to riches story! Cleaning up the trash and making it safe for families to visit.”

Joker’s knife buried itself up to the hilt in the Shadow’s chest.

“Robin Hood!” The vast archer shot a blast close enough that Joker’s hair moved in the breeze. He kicked the Shadow to get it off his knife and backflipped back to his team.

“Johanna!” Blue nuclear energy fired directly into the hateful man’s Shadow, knocking it back.

Noir’s battle axe landed squarely center on its head, cleaving a chunk from it. She pivoted on a delicate boot and embedded the blade into its neck next.

“You don’t get to decide what’s family-friendly! You’re probably going to kick out a lot of families from their homes if you go through with this!” Noir pleaded as Johanna revved once more.

Crow’s ray gun gave Joker cover fire as their Leader took in what his friends were saying, the sounds of genuine pain in their voices tugging him out of the haze of his rage. In his ear, Oracle sighed in relief.

“It’s true.” He leveled his magnum at the thing, lining up a shot with the crater Crow had left.

“Family comes in many forms. They aren’t just taking up space and ‘dirtying up the streets’. It’s their home. It’s home. You see bars and dollar signs, but they see humans!”

He opened fire, unseeing the look of comprehension on Skull’s face at the thickness of Joker’s voice. The look of empathetic pain in Queen’s eyes. The sadness in Noir’s.

“That’s not a family, that’s a group of criminals and degenerates!”

Joker’s vision got blurry as he fell back. Skull easily stepped in for him while Fox tended to his wounds.

“Joker, you aren’t hurt. Do you need to take a break?” Mona asked in concern. Joker shook his head, brushing at his eyes through his mask.

“Yeah, fuckface! Just because you’re filled with hate doesn’t mean these people don’t deserve to live a life filled with love!”

Noir brought a hand up to her chin before raising her hand straight up at shoulder level. Hold up.

Her glove formed a fist and Joker took in his friends raining hell down on the homophobic cuss in front of him.

Gold chain wrapped around the creature’s throat and pulled.

Noir held the creature down with her axe head and spoke directly into its face, voice low and dangerous.

“As someone with ties to the housing market myself, I think you don’t deserve your title. Name your price or turn yourself in.”

Joker nearly fell on his ass at what the heiress was implying.

A glowing sword levelled beneath the cornered Shadow’s head.

“I think he should turn himself in anyway, that entire area is under subsidy, isn’t it? I don’t think the government would take kindly to someone double-dipping with their share, do you?” Red eyes flashed before he jammed his blade into the Shadow, bursting the bubble and leaving a quivering man at their mercy.

Joker held his breath.

There…was a way out?

There was a way out??

“So what will you do, Kase? Will you kick people out of their homes or will you leave and never look back?” Ann snarled, her whip still wrapped around the landlord’s neck and her eyes wet.

Something clicked behind the cognition’s eyes and his eyes started to well up.

“Oh my god…oh my god I almost-“ Crow casually leaned on his pommel, causing the whimpering cognition to raise his hands. Kase covered his eyes and let the tears flow.

“In my hatred and greed I almost made children homeless. I-I raised my hand against another man, and I made him bleed. I never wanted to become this. I just wanted a way to make money! I’m not a thug, I swear! I’m not h-heartless…”

“Could have fooled me, asshole.” Skull tsked. “Hurting and scaring people just because they don’t think like you. That’s the lowest kind of scum I hate.”

Ryuji was…standing up for him? For people like him?

Grey eyes jumped from one ally to the next, meeting Yusuke’s worried gaze and Akechi’s tense shoulders. Ann’s arms were quivering with barely-suppressed rage and Makoto was clenching both handlebars.

Haru still had her axe head resting on the man’s chest.

The team kept throwing protective statements for Akira’s community at the hateful man they had defeated, drawing it out until Joker could raise himself out of his crouch. Mona rested a hand on the back of his leg in support.

“Will you leave Shinjuku, Crossroads, and the communities you own land in alone?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll leave them alone! I just want to make money…I can still take their rent, right?” Joker cocked his gun.

“Only the rent they agreed to, no more. The government will find out otherwise.”

“Yes, yes, I swear!”

The Shadow liquified into the ground, leaving a glimmering prize and some Yen in his wake.

Akira’s legs gave out beneath him and all his friends came running.

“You okay man?” Ryuji reached out to touch his shoulder. Akira shook his head slowly.

“I couldn’t let him get away with it…”

Understanding clicked in Akechi’s gaze but Akira wiped it off by grabbing his wrist.

“Do you think he’ll really change? That kind of hate is deeper than Mementos. It’s ingrained deep.”

Akechi knelt in front of him and tilted his head towards Haru.

“We’ll keep an eye out, between Queen, Noir, and my contacts he won’t get away with anything.”

"Oh, I'll keep an eye out too, Joker." Oracle piped up. Akira felt his eyes beginning to sting.

Akira nodded shakily and leaned his head forward to rest in his face in Mona’s head where the cat had hopped into his lap. Two sets of arms wrapped around him from behind and the scent of Ann’s perfume mingled with the smell of graphite that Makoto always carried faintly. Smaller arms wrapped around his head as Futaba crouched next to her adoptive brother and Ryuji leaned in, scooping his friend into his arm.

Then the blond yanked Yusuke and Akechi into the group hug because they wouldn’t get the hint if it bit them.

Haru gently laid her arms over Yusuke and Makoto’s shoulders and rested her curly head atop Akira’s.

“We won’t let anything happen to them, Joker. Promise.”

If their leader leaned slightly into Akechi’s hold, the team chalked it up to placement and the stress and exhaustion getting to Akira.

They held tighter.

“Momma! The Phantom Thieves of Heart got Kase!” Ginger was back to her sparkling self when she ran into Crossroads with a letter in her hand.

“Listen to this! He’s sent me money for my injuries and he’s promised to keep rent the same!”

Akira’s hands still shook and his heart thudded with terror, but he smiled for Ginger Snap.

Two days later, Kase was found brain dead in his apartment and Akira was sick in the Crossroads bathroom.

Chapter Text

With the support of all of his gay aunties behind him and the rabid excitement of Lala and Royal to get him all dolled up and on stage, Akira made a decision.

He was gonna Pose.

Momma had sat him down before a shift one day and described the different categories their next show would have.

“It’ll just be a family thing, Akachan, but it’ll have different categories you can perform in! Think of it like a small version of the beast we had with Akihabara.”

He nodded eagerly and leaned forward against the bar, eyes wide and excited.

‘Posing’ was similar to ‘Vogueing’, but a queen held the post longer. With all of the work Morgana put him through to hone his body for the Metaverse, he figured he could pull it off.

He wasn’t about to enter the dancing or lipsync sections yet, he wanted more practice first.

…And to be quite honest he didn’t understand Face yet.

A week later, the boy crouched on the roof in his gym clothes, digging in soft loam while the early morning air fogged his breath.

He’d come to cherish this time in Haru’s garden. Actually making something concrete and not just honing his skills on the off chance it was needed in Mementos. He brushed his bangs back with one wrist and looked over at the girl.

Okumura Haru had been doing pretty well since her father’s death, all things considered. She had her up days and her down days, of course, but it settled something in his soul to spend time with her.

She’d even taken him to her closet to outline how she played with the dress code! As a probie he couldn’t flaunt the rules like that, but it was fun to watch her try on outfits and laugh with her.

Then she looked at him with her big, kind eyes and asked him if he wanted to try.

He’d paused. Searched her face.

Then smiled and nodded.

“You’re the expert here, what would you put me in, Sensei?”

“Oh stop!” She giggled, waving a hand at him before disappearing back into her walk-in closet. (Her closet was bigger than the back room at Crossroads! He’d been floored.)

That was how they discovered they were a similar pants size and that her oversized clothes looked disheveled and fashionable on him. She had brightened up and actually laughed when he struck poses on the carpet of her bedroom, clapping with mirth.

“I think you look better in those clothes than I do, Akira!”

The boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You should see me in makeup.”

Her eyes had glittered.

Thus had begun a tradition, of sorts. He would tend the garden with his friend every morning that he could, and on the days when she seemed down, he would sit with her in quiet, offering her company without pressure.

When more than two of those quiet days strung in a row, he would invite himself over and bring those movies he didn’t watch with Ryuji and the guys, and flowers, and they would talk and snack and watch TV.

She was the first person in the Phantom Thieves he came out to.

In his defense, Akechi had come on screen and he had sighed.

Actually that was indefensible.

He didn’t tell her about them until much, much later, but she knew. Noir had sharp eyes and sharper intuition when it came to Akira. Something he was grateful for when it came to outfit coordination, but something he cursed out when it came to his love life.

In return, she kept him accountable. She kept him sane.

She knew about Akechi’s inevitable betrayal but stood by Akira anyway. Sometimes he needed to laugh, sometimes he needed to ignore it, and after one Mementos request beside Crow he had needed to weep.

Akira wasn’t a violent boy, nor was he a killer and it tore him apart that he had released one upon another human being – even if that human being was a disgusting, hateful man.

Kase’s death had shaken her too, but it was followed swiftly by a sense of relief for their Leader. It was something the two teens had in common and they struggled with it differently. Haru was reminded of her father, of course she was. She wasn’t a killer, but it helped her sleep better at night knowing that there was one less threat to her dear friend roaming the streets.

Akira was just a wreck though. He skipped work, school, and life for a couple days just to hide out and panic.

She was the one who found him, eventually. The rest of the Phantom Thieves had spread across Tokyo and searched all of his known hideouts (something she was a little concerned about after the fact: that Akira had practically nowhere to be alone), and Akechi and Futaba had disappeared to do their own searching behind-the-scenes.

Makoto had searched the school, but Haru had gone home.

“Haru…” Akira had been sitting on her back porch, like she thought he would after two days in a row of quiet.

She merely sat down beside him, wordlessly, watching him slump in the porch swing.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He whispered, choked up.

“Oh Akira…You were right to come here, honey.”

The endearment must have been what pushed him over the edge because tears fell thick and fast after it left her lips. It was probably one that his drag family used, she realized.

The soft teen gently pulled her friend into her chest and rested her chin on his unwashed hair.

“I know…” She soothed, letting him sob himself out.

In the end, they had both skipped one more school day and started watching Golden Girls with Japanese subtitles.

It was good to see Akira smile again.

“Haru?”

“Mm?” She hummed, not looking up from the seedlings but still giving him her attention.

“I’m…I’m gonna do drag. Like, for real. We’re having a show at Crossroads and I’m gonna perform.”

Haru Okumura smiled down at her gloves before sitting on her heels and beaming at him.

“That’s great! Do you know what you’ll be wearing?”

That spark in Akira’s eye caught like wildfire in his eyes as he turned away from his watering to face her. He couldn’t contain the grin or the way his hands began moving in a less fluent version of FSL as he explained that Lala and the Girls were going to surprise him, and that they had all been working on looks, and that he’d been shown this artist named Madonna and she that she was a goddess.

Haru brightened even further and asked questions at all the right times to pull him further out of his shell.

The next chance he had to tell his boyfriend about his debut was when it was pouring buckets outside, dark, and cold - but the Guardian would be active.

Akechi sighed and pulled his hood further over his face like it would keep anything dry.

Akira swore as his line snapped, making the seated boy’s lip twitch.

“What was it that was so important you brought me out here instead of, I don’t know, somewhere inside?”

Akira sat tailor-style in front of him and handed him the pole with a quiet ‘hold this’.

The detective prince sighed and held the pole so Akira could re-thread it.

“…I’m gonna do drag on Saturday.”

Akechi hummed, staring out over the ponds.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” The brunette boy nodded, still fiddling with line and bait. Akechi wrinkled his nose and sighed.

“And you want me to go?”

Akira perked right up and beamed at the drenched detective.

“Would you really?!”

God, why was he so cute? The man had a formidable strategic mind, but he had the energy of a puppy! …He had the eyes of one too…

Not that you can SEE them when his GLASSES are FOGGED OVER due to all this RAIN.

Akechi shook his head, water bouncing off the ends of his hair.

“I guess I could make time for it…”

He smirked as his partner began to wilt.

“I mean it would mean a lot to me… But I…I know it’s not really your thing and you only really do things because it makes you look good and this would kind of do the opposite if it got out…”

Goro stopped him with one gloved hand settled on the hand that shook as it threaded a suspicious-looking bait onto the line.

“Akira,”

The other boy looked up, his eyes barely visible through droplets cutting lines through the fog on his superfluous glasses.

“It doesn’t serve my image to sit in a fish farm at fuck o’clock at night in the pouring rain either, but here I am.” He would deny that his gaze softened when his boyfriend’s eyes widened.

“I’m here for you, Kurusu. You asked, and it was your turn to pick the date spot.”

“I…Really?”

Red-brown eyes rolled good-naturedly.

“Really. You don’t see me dragging myself all over the city for Sakamoto or Kitagawa, do you? Just you.”

Cold hands slipped free from Akechi’s gloves so Akira could rub his eyes.

Was he…crying? And why did that thought hurt?

“Do you…” Akira sniffed and shook his head, smiling past his dripping fringe. “So you’ll come?”

Akechi brought his knees up to his chin, still holding the pole with one hand.

“Of course I’m coming, you silly thing.”

Akira’s smile was worth more than all the Treasure he’d ever seen. It was practically sparkling above his head before shooting out to parts unknown. Akechi’s shooting star.

He mentally shook himself.

“Does that mean you’ll come with me when I ask Haru?” Akechi raised an eyebrow at the boy. Sheepdog-lookin’ ass, he thought fondly.

“What’s one more thing?”

Akira beamed and a massive shadow behind him caught Goro’s eye.

“Is that…?”

Akira raised an eyebrow before following his glance.

Then the angler shouted, restrung his line, and cast it in record time.

The detective prince shook his head at his ridiculous partner and tucked his chin into his knees to keep warm as the wind picked up.

Might as well get comfortable.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!” Dee Cup clapped in time with her counting, merciless now that she was given a modicum of power and Pistol’s riding crop. Akira’s biceps ached but he’d held himself up by his fingertips before, surely posing and holding it was similar?

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

Drag Show Boot Camp, as Dee had dubbed it (after some musical Akira was almost certain he was too young to watch), was like working a double shift on the convenience store floor carrying heavy orders from the restaurant. It wasn’t as stressful as making flower arrangements had been in the beginning before his research, but fuck was it close. He was sweating. He was serving. He was panting.

“Kinky Boot Camp?” Ginger inquired, clinking her fruity drink against Dee’s water glass. Maria Gold nodded sympathetically from Dee’s other side.

“He’s doing well though, he’s quite athletic, our Akichan.” Akira panted but smiled at her praise. Maria returned it with a gentle grin and a wave.

“Face forward!” Dee barked, crop slapping into her palm. He snapped to attention and continued the choreography, thinking of new positions on the fly and trying not to pass out.

“Almost opening time, girls! I need my star waitress!” Lala finally shooed her girls away from their makeshift stage and gave Akira an opening to shakily drink from his water bottle. Lala hummed in amusement.

“Take 20, then we’ll get you dressed for your shift.”

Her part-timer lay down on the stage and nodded in winded wordlessness.

Mental note, never let Mona meet Dee Cup. He thought, knowing full well that Morgana was probably taking notes from his backpack where it sat beneath the bar. His chest heaved and his calves burned.

No Mementos until after the show, was his executive decision.

Okay.

Okay.

He was doing this.

Momma had told him she’d come up with a name and an outfit but that they were surprises.

He bounced from one foot to the other in the dark back room they had extended into a stage. The thick theatre curtain made more sense now, he mused.

Through the slit between curtains he could see the edge of Akechi’s hair and hear Haru’s shoes click across the bar floor. They had been given special permission to be here, seeing as they were underage and the bar was closed.

Breathe in…Breathe out…

Long eyelashes weighted with mascara and eyeliner fluttered closed as his Third Eye opened. A type of pinging went around the small room, highlighting his garment bag and outlining the other performers and guests outside the curtain.

He could do this.

He picked up the garment bag and clicked on the overhead bulb.

His very first performance was a blur after Lala introduced him.

“…Gina Tonic and Akichan Daba!”

Applause dulled in his ears as he swept through the curtains beside his ‘competitor’ who looked at him like she was going to cry tears of pride.

Then they snapped into character and ‘Vogued their brains out’ as Royal would later say.

It felt good to use his training like this, moving his body in fluid, snapping motions he had watched his sisters and mentors do over and over again. It was like a dance, or a fight.

It was like an All Out Attack in a corset, actually.

His body moved into the gaps Gina had left him, pulling on his Boot Camp and his infiltration missions, mind moving just far enough ahead to lock in his next high-heeled step.

Before he knew it, they were bowing to the applause.

It was over?

He bowed while Gina held out her arms to show him off before he turned and did the same thing for her.

His drag family let him step down off the stage, holding his trailing fringe away from heels that were taller than Joker’s with the hand that wasn’t being held by Royal.

Then he was buried in a pile of rouge and wigs and excited noises.

“Oh Aki-Aki! You were marvelous!” Ginger squealed, hugging him close enough to pop something.

“You did so good!” Maria patted his waist-length wig where normally she would have ruffled his hair.

“It was all thanks to my training, really.” Dee beamed at him, hugging him close. “I’m kidding, you did great.”

At Dee’s whispered praise, Akira had to look at the ceiling to keep his tears from ruining the makeup Lala and Pistol had done for him.

A small flicker of red caught his gaze as Haru gave him double thumbs up and Akechi smirked, giving a little golf clap for his eyes only.

Akira rolled his eyes at the boy and went back to his gaggle of queens.

His gaggle of fellow queens.

Royal and Lala gave the three kids a ride home after the makeup and costumes were safely stowed away.

Through the rearview mirror, Royal could make out their drag baby asleep on his boyfriend’s shoulder while the other two discussed the inspiration behind Akira’s drag look: The Cell Block Tango.

For some reason, the boy was fighting to hide his laughter at whatever the girl was saying.

She was glad Akira had friends like that, ones that would come to a drag show in a tiny bar in a red light district just because their friend was performing.

She hoped Akira got to keep them.

Beside her, Lala’s phone lit up in the night as she texted someone.

[Lala Escargot: On our way back, Akichan is wiped out the poor thing. He did GREAT!!!! Almost home now!]
[Lala Escargot: Thanks for letting us keep him today, Sakurasan.]
[Sakura Sojirou: I’m glad he had fun. Thanks for bringing him back.]

“What’s the dad say?” Royal asked quietly, one hand on the wheel as they drove through Yongen-Jaya. Lala shook her head fondly.

“That he’s glad his kid had fun.”

Chapter Text

Cold, early-November air turned Akira Kurusu’s breath into clouds as he looked up at the faded sign above Crossroads bar.

He wasn’t scheduled to be here and Momma hadn’t texted, but he had come to a realization in a moment of post-exam clarity that he had to tell someone.

And the only person safe enough was Lala Escargot Daba.

Bouncing around the stairs and pushing open the door, the boy called out ‘Knock Knock’ in a musical, carrying tone. He’d figured out Adri-kun’s trick dammit, now he was gonna use it!

“Akichan? What are you doing here, child?” Lala came up to the bar and put down the chair she was carrying. Akira beamed at her and ate the distance between them with full strides of his long legs.

“Momma! I have something to tell you! If that’s okay.” He paused mid-hug.

Lala pulled him to her ample bosom and patted him on the head.

“Of course it is, Akichan! Should I sit down?”

The lanky teenager beamed at her.

“Okay, okay.” She chuckled, sitting primly upon the nearest stool.

“Momma- Lala- Um.” Rubbing his neck is somewhat new, maybe he’s stopped hiding behind that hair of his.

She raised an eyebrow at the blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m gay.”

“What was that?” She smirked, leaning forward. For added theatrics, she swept a portion of her wig away from one ear and cupped it. Akira laughed and waved her back.

“I’m gay, Momma. Not bi or pan or poly or anything like that, but I like boys and I like kissing them and I want to spend my life with one. I even have a…” He looked down, cheeks and ears aflame.

“…a boyfriend. And I like him, a lot.”

Lala bit her lip to keep from screaming with glee. She’d met the Detective Prince a few times, of course, and each time she had seen how absolutely lost her drag baby was for the shaggy little thing.

“Oh?” Her grin was fully audible in her voice. Akira laughed a little at the sound, still looking at the ground.

“And…and he likes me, too. We’ve been together since September and you knew already, didn’t you.”

She hid her smile behind her fan and fluttered it coquettishly.

“Why whatever makes you say that, Akichan?”

Akira rolled his eyes affectionately at the Queen batting her eyelashes at him.

“Okay, okay, how long have you known?”

Her fan clicked closed (she’d long since stopped snapping it shut without warning, the poor kid nearly broke a tray of glasses in his violent startle).

“Oh, I’ve always known, dear. You can’t hide it from Momma.”

Akira smirked lopsidedly and rubbed his neck before turning it into a motion that fluffed out his curls. He settled himself next to her on a bar stool, his long, spindly legs resting between them.

“How long have you known, dear?”

Akira’s cheeks flushed but he looked at the lights thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve always known? It’s like that conversation we had about Ryusuke-kun.” Ah, she knew it. He fluffed his hair again and shook his head.

“But it really hit me when this girl who teaches me Shogi tried to ask me out. I mean, we were just comparing strategy and I was helping her with her mom, right?” Lala had no idea, but she nodded encouragingly.

“Then she said she thinks we could be more? Like we could have something ‘special’? And I realized that I don’t feel that way for girls and I never have. With Goro it’s different. He’s smart and tactical and fucking beautiful, but so is she. Just…not like that. It would feel like I was manipulating her, almost, if we went out. Taking advantage of her feelings of friendship and gratefulness…”

“But you don’t mind taking advantage of Akechi-kun?”

“Oh shush!” He blushed beet red and playfully pushed at her. His Drag Mama and Senior Gay just laughed as she rocked with the move lightly, just playing along.

“OoooooooooooH I haven’t seen Akichan that red since we got her in heels! Mama, what did you do?!” Maria clapped and walked into the back room to get changed.

Akira felt his lips fuse.

It was just Maria Gold, his Gay Auntie, his fellow Queen, it wouldn’t change anything. Besides, she probably already knew-

“Akichan?”

His breathing was getting shallower as his eyes widened behind his thick lenses.

Suddenly, a larger, warm hand settled atop his shuddering one.

“Breathe, Akira. You don’t have to tell anyone anything if you don’t want to.”

“I haven’t even told my friends, even Haru thinks that I like both, I couldn’t risk- I didn’t-“ And Mishima oh my god- Lala’s soothing voice slowed his tumble into panic.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re safe here. I can make Maria-chan take stock while we chat a little, how’s that sound?”

Somehow, Akira managed to bully his neck muscles into letting him nod. Something cold was being put into his hands and Lala was saying something that got the other Queen grumbling but moving into the room behind the bar.

With a gentle hand, Lala Escargot lead her baby gay further into Crossroads to make sure they were out of hearing range of the monster with the clipboard.

“But Akira, you know it’s normal to come out to your friends later than you tell your gay aunties, right? It’s hard to take that risk, to let others in when the ‘closet’ you just stepped out of was put there to protect us.” She brushed some hair away from his forehead to get his attention. Taking a sip from the water bottle she’d handed him, he looked up, eyes big and lost.

“Besides, everybody’s got their secrets.” She winked at him. “It’s what makes life interesting.”

“But- But I also want to be able to tell them. Both my friends and the Girls, like, I think they already know by now but it feels right to tell them myself.” He nodded decisively but still slumped into the booth chair like he’d had his strings cut.

She remembered that feeling. The thrill of discovering your surroundings were filled with jewels and furs and feathers, the glee of trying it all on and discarding what worked and what didn’t. The pressure of realizing that the more joy the closet got filled with the smaller and smaller it felt.

The explosive need to tell someone, to blow the door off its hinges and never look back once you’ve stepped out clad in high heels.

That lunging terror that you’ve just left the closet underdressed for what the rest of the world has in store for a young, gay man.

She rested one hand on the back of his.

“And you will, child. But for now, knowing that you told someone and that someone knows about you, isn’t that marvelous?” She leaned back too, watching the joyful light twinkle back into his eyes.

“Yeah, it is pretty great.” He smiled down at the water bottle he moved from hand to hand.

“And your secret is safe with me, baby Queen.”

“Thanks Momma.”

“Any time, Akichan.”

As the Queen made her way back to their grumbling coworker, Akira pulled out his phone and stared at the darkened screen.

He’d said it.

He’d told someone.

He’d made up his mind and he’d said it, told someone about him, and about Goro, and about him.

He’d said it.

‘I’m gay.’

And it was okay.

Lala Escargot fanned herself while her Queens slowly trickled in for their shifts, each one happily greeting Akira when they saw him loitering around. Royal patted his head and winked at Lala, knowing something had happened but not about to open whatever can of worms it was until either Lala or Akichan had brought it up.

Eventually, Akira took in a big breath, held it, and let it out.

“Royal? C-can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course you can!” The pile of furs and fake jewels planted herself into the booth opposite their drag baby and he leaned in and lowered his voice.

Royal Jewels’ face went from bemused, to amused, to so filled with love it was nearly out of character.

I feel you, gurl. Lala thought, her fan fluttering delicately.

The seated Drag Queen came around to his side of the table and gave him a massive squeeze, causing him to cough and begin laughing. She kissed him on both cheeks, leaving obvious lipstick marks, causing him to laugh harder and wave her away.

“I take it he told you what he just told me?”

Lala winked over her fan to the Queen that now stood beside her. Royal leaned into her side and took in how Akira smiled as he watched the Girls get up to their usual antics.

“Now how long do you think it’ll take him to tell us he’s in the Phantom Thieves?”

Lala Escargot burst into laughter and hit her friend with her fan.

“No really!” Royal lowered her voice to talk into Lala’s ear.

“Kase’s mind changes like this-“ Here she snapped, long acrylic bouncing against gold-leafed costume jewelry. “And yet he still has trouble talking to hot guys?” She shook her head. “Our little enigma.”

“Our Akichan.” Lala agreed, smile lines crinkling as Gina tugged their part-timer into a discussion by his wrist.

At least he’s feeling better. She thought.

Oh Akichan Daba, the world is your oyster.

Well, go big or go home. Joker thought, eyeing the massive stained-glass window above him. A shit-eating grin formed on his face before he threw himself backwards, piercing the huge wall of color and light straight through the center.

“Joker!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake-“

“That dramatic-“

He smiled at the exasperation of his teammates as the wind ripped at his hair and flared out his clothes.

Distraction, distraction, the point is to get caught-

Guns cocked below, manpower as far as the eye could see.

“How did they get in here?!”

Joker closed his eyes and felt for his friends one last time.

On a nearby ledge, Crow and Queen felt a shudder go through them from the epicenter that was Joker. Some of Makoto’s cuts and scrapes closed and she felt her energy level raise. Akechi’s ankle re-centered from where he’d twisted it falling out of a vent earlier.

“Joker…” Makoto held her hands to her chest.

Thinking of us at the very end.

Akechi’s fist clenched.

Chapter Text

Akechi Goro sat staring out at the city lights from his high-rise apartment.

He had done what he had warned Akira he would do.

He had been warned.

Traitorous fingertips shook as they traced down the silencer of the assassin’s weapon of choice.

Come on, Kurusu, I gave you all the pieces and you still let me shoot you.

How could you have missed it?

Goro Akechi laid out the facts. The facts would have to save him for now.

1) He had been hanging out with Akira Kurusu since June.

2) Akira Kurusu was quick on the uptake, pulling information out of the air before Goro realized he’d dropped it.

He caught on about my right hand at billiards and we’d only known each other for a short time.

3) Akira Kurusu had gotten attached to him at some point shortly after or around the café run-in.

4) Goro had… been interested at least that long.

5) Akira Kurusu knew he was an old hand at gun use, and that he was skilled. Clue number one.

6) He had somehow let down his guard enough to talk about his mother with the other teen, which then lead to his father. Clue three.

7) Akira Kurusu knew him better than anyone else in the world.

8) Goro Akechi had shot him in the head like he had warned. Clue two.

9) Akira Kurusu knew about the gun Black Mask used. He had shown the teen himself. Clue four. He had shown that he could get into the Metaverse alone. Clue five.

10) He made no secret that he’d been wronged by “an adult”, and that his situation was similar to Sakura Futaba’s. Clues six and seven.

11) So why had Akira let him shoot him in the head?

12) Goro Akechi had told Akira Kurusu numerous times that he was hiding his true interests. BIG clue there. At least clues nine, ten, and eleven.

Hell, he’d never tried to hide how fake the ‘Detective Prince’ truly was.

…He hadn’t tried to hide from Akira for a long time now, and that was a type of fear he would just be looking past, thank you very fucking much.

1) He was in love with the boy he had killed.

2) He had enjoyed killing.

3) He had smiled.

4) He was currently sick as a goddamned dog and numb and cold.

5) He was holding a single glove whos mate was probably now in evidence or forgotten somewhere in LeBlanc. Akira would have never carried it around.

6) His jacket, hanging on its hook where it belonged, had a chess piece in the pocket.

Why hadn't Akira figured it out?

13) The perfect crime. Clue twelve.

Akira had figured out his dominant hand without any clues dropped, why was he dead?!

Loki stirred within his chest and burned within his blood.

“Alright, alright, FINE THEN.”

Yanking on his jacket, the Trickster of Chaos ran out into the cold and let Mementos swallow him whole.

Chapter Text

“Join us.” Joker held out a red-gloved hand to the kneeling figure before them.

Black Mask chuckled in absolute bewilderment.

“You people are so naïve. That’s not how this shitty world works.”

The Trickster of Hope shook his head as Akechi, his lover continued to put himself down and talk shit about how he had nothing left to live for.

Then the Thieves began to speak.

Akira’s throat tightened as they extended olive branch after olive branch to the other half of his soul, the boy who still loved him despite his warped cognition and trickery.

‘So you did put it all together, Joker. I was starting to worry that you’d actually died.’ The figure echoed from on high, white uniform shining.

‘You!’ Someone shouted.

‘Akechi-!’ Skull clenched his teeth.

With a stupid front flip that was so quintessentially Crow it made Joker almost want to smirk, the teen had begun monologuing.

The rest of the team had no idea about why Akechi had done any of these things, but Akira had had an inkling. Akechi had been leaving him breadcrumbs while he led him into a fatal checkmate, after all.

It was as energizing as it was sickening when Akechi revealed his connection with Shido. On one hand, yes, Akira was right. On the other hand, he’d been dangling at the end of puppet strings his entire life and now the marionnettiste was his own flesh and blood. Salt filled the back of Akira’s mouth at the thought.

“I don’t forgive you, but I get it.” Haru’s voice pulled her friend from his musings.

They’d talked about this actually. She had had a hard time putting the two halves of Akechi Goro together over their cookies and popcorn nights. Akira couldn’t tell her all of it, but with all the pieces now in front of her, the girl could puzzle it out.

He was just as trapped as she had been.

And he was smart and he was shutting them out.

Akira clenched his fist and moved to open his mouth when a chillingly familiar voice echoed out around them.

Oh Akira did not like this Akechi at. all.

His eyes were dead, his voice subservient. He was a toy to the man who ruined Akira’s life and his Akechi, his love, was just taking it. He’d accepted it.

No. No this was all wrong.

That barrel was aimed at him once more.

Chills broke through him.

Twin gunshots.

“You-!”

Cold metal emblazoned with the garish mark of their captor slammed into the ceiling between him and Akechi.

No.

No!

Akira bolted to the bulkhead, slamming both fists against the unforgiving grate.

“Get out of here! Change his heart…for me.”

“NO! I STILL HAVE YOUR GLOVE-“ Joker roared, an odd vibrating glow beginning to form from his chest.

Skull’s eyes widened as the muffled voice of Crow coughed out a ‘What the fuck?!’ from the other side.

The air around the teenagers glittered in pulses like a Persona being summoned from the depths of their hearts.

All around Akira the ghosts of faces they had seen him fight with flickered in and out of focus as it seemed like their leader was searching…

Ann squeaked in surprise as the space around them lightened with a white-mist glow.

“What…” Mona’s eyes widened into saucers as all of Futaba’s sensors started firing simultaneously.

Six wings sprung from the ether at the back of the room, accompanied by the booming laughter of Arsene.

Clicks and hisses whistled through the air on the other side of the wall, banging like a massive battering ram sending throbbing vibrations into the air alongside the cacophony of Arsene and some sort of hissing laugh from the other side.

“LOKI!”

“ARSENE!”

Akira pulled.

An explosion shattered the air over Akira’s shoulder as a massive, ghostly form raised a hand and fired at the wall.

Two pairs of spectral hands gashed through the wall from Crow’s side, bowing the metal out and forcing a bleeding teen through the gap.

“What the fuck-?!” Ryuji choked at the sight of the massive creature flickering out from the red Persona his friend had summoned at the very beginning.

Arsene laughed as its 8 wings scintillated through the air like spinning crystals.

“HORUS!”

Akira’s mask shattered in his fist as Akechi hit his chest.

The massive, gilded bird Akira had summoned flapped its wings and unleashed Almighty damage straight into Cognition-Akechi.

Robin Hood bowed before dissipating in fine mist. Loki grinned manically as he twisted himself back into his wielder’s ribcage.

Tiny golden spires of light formed across Akechi’s side, mimicking the spots of light healing items would leave as they worked.

The ex-detective began to cough and Joker merely held him closer.

With a final, deafening BOOM, Arsene spun midair and left existence in a swirl of black feathers.

“JOHANNA!”

“MILADY!”

With the revving of nuclear engines and overpowered firepower pointed into the twisted metal gap in the wall, the enemy Shadows were turned into fine powder as they bottlenecked themselves.

Joker panted, clenched his teeth and his eyes, and willed.

“Don’t leave me, Goro. Don’t go.”

The supine teen grunted and blinked at the ceiling.

“…Do you really still have that damn glove?”

Even Akira’s tears were beautiful, in those big, gray eyes.

“Of course I do, Rival.”

Akechi’s laugh turned into a cough as Closet Breaker pulled the bullet from his kidney and scarred the flesh over.

Fluffy, black hair rested on the least-serrated part of Crow’s headgear as Akira gathered his partner into his arms and hugged him.

“Never do that shit again. I am so serious.”

“Yeah, Akechi. As good as it feels to kick ass, I’d rather not have you owe me too much.” Ryuji rolled his shoulder in one hand and smirked down at the pile of teenager on the floor. Captain Kidd laughed before shrinking back into the boy’s mask.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Haru asked breathlessly, her own mask back in place.

Futaba crouched beside Ann and Akira, scanning their downed team member.

“He should be okay, unfortunately.” She grinned down at the scowling boy.

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” She chirped, patting Crow’s upper arm so that she wouldn’t touch his weird cape-thing. Akira chuckled, eyes wet.

“Well Akechi, what do you say? You kind of owe us now.” Ann smirked down at the boy, her elbows on her knees.

Red-brown eyes traveled to what of Akira he could see.

Then he sighed.

“I suppose it would be easier to get my revenge if I had a whole group of angry teenagers instead of just one.”

Akira’s arms tightened. Akechi rolled his eyes. Futaba pumped her fist.

Mona propped his slingshot on one shoulder and took in their battered party.

Two Tricksters, huh?

“Phan-tom-Thieves Phan-tom-Thieves-!” Ryuji chanted, grabbing Yusuke around his neck with one arm. The taller boy coughed but nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Everyone! We’ve got a Calling Card to send!” The cat called out, raising happy cheers and smiles from the relieved Phantom Thieves.

Gray eyes met red.

“Looks like you’re attic trash now, Goro.” Akira smiled.

“Oh, fuck.”

Haru hid a laugh behind one hand.

Chapter Text

Akira awoke to two familiar sensations that did not belong together:

-Akechi Goro spitting mad and cursing a blue streak

and

-a prison bunk beneath his striped clothes.

The Trickster shot up and looked across the Velvet Room to where another boy in striped clothes stood yelling vitriol at Caroline, Justine, and Igor.

“Listen you motherfuckers you washed your hands of me and now you pull my sorry ass back here?! No! Warden, I’m fucking talking to you cue ball!”

Igor merely gazed into Akira’s cell, drawing the boy forward with his eyes.

Akira settled shaking hands on the bars, his little prison guards standing at attention like they always did.

If Akechi Goro wasn’t white with rage before…

The other Trickster thinned his lips.

Oh he’s pissed.

Akira fought a smile at the sight and focused on the imposing Warden seated between them.

The imposing Warden who was sentencing him to death for failing some invisible test.

Verbal filth filled the small space from their failed Trickster at the news but Akira sat numb.

He was…He had… He had failed?

“AKIRA!”

At his boyfriend’s roar, the teenager struggled against the invisible force holding him captive as Caroline rained hell down on his unprotected head.

From where Goro stood, furious, all he saw was a glittering light above his lover’s head, then Joker straightened where Akira once crouched. The bars on his cell shattered in victorious blue light.

“Set us free.”

And these brats.

Goro came level with Joker and raised his fists.

“Will that put you back together?”

Sharp, red eyes bounced between his boyfriend’s pale face, shaking hands, dual guillotines, and stoic children.

Gray eyes formed a vacuum that Akechi’s gaze was helpless to leave.

“Help me.” Joker asked.

The inmate nodded and clenched his fists at his sides.

“What do you need me to do?”

Joker took in a deep breath, looked over the twin death machines, and nodded.

“You take one lever, I take the other and on three we drop the blades.”

Akechi nodded once, firmly.

“Got it.”

It was an odd sensation, being the one with bare hands when he held one of Akira’s gloved ones to help center the boy.

“You good?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Gray eyes closed and Joker set his jaw.

“I just hate this part.”

Rage boiled hot in Goro’s veins at the resignation in his voice.

A whirlwind of air and light overtook the Velvet Room as soon as the blades dropped.

Lowering their arms from where they had been blocking their eyes, the two Tricksters took in the new Attendant with opposite reactions.

“Who?”

“YOU!”

Lavenza blinked at the duo and hid a bit of a smile in her eyes at the taller of the two.

“Hello, Inmate.” She nodded lightly at Akechi before turning her yellow gaze to his boyfriend.

“I knew you would make it. I believed in you.” This time she smiled and Goro tried not to appear too petulant. A hand slid into his grasp and he held the red leather.

The petit Attendant then wheeled on Igor and began admonishing him for his trickery and falsehoods.

Then the bastard began to float and Akechi got a sinking feeling. Joker squeezed his hand.

“Ah, my Tricksters. I didn’t expect you to both survive. Maybe that Igor knew what he was trying to do after all…”

The Wildcards looked at each other in mild confusion.

“I thought-“

The floating being cut off the shorter boy and Akechi squeezed his hand in barely restrained rage.

“Wait, you’re a fucking cup?! You drag us through the goddamn mud, acting all high and mighty when all you are is a twisted cognition made flesh?”

The false Igor laced his fingers together and looked down his substantial nose.

“I am the granter of wishes, little failed Trickster. I am a god of control and desire, a charge you played into beautifully.”

Joker matched his ferocious grip on their hands in his own stymied rage.

“Yes, my Trickster. Called upon to play up humanity’s desires, their chaos, their vices.”

Eyes with bulging scleras moved to Joker.

“I had hoped seeing a righteous thief vanquish evil would spur mankind to change their own hearts…” Akechi's lip curled as he growled. Igor? continued without notice.

“However, you also failed. Humanity chose to forget you, cast you aside.”

Goro’s body moved slightly to push his shoulder between Akira and this floating piece of shit. Sharp eyes bounced around the cells, grasping for something to work with while the windbag droned on.

“…I will give you a chance to make a deal with me.” Red eyes shot back to the levitating fuck-all.

“Akira…” He growled in warning. Joker nodded, gray eyes somber.

“You forcefully dragged them into the Metaverse and imposed ordeals they did not deserve… yet you still intend to toy with him?!” Lavenza’s gaze sharpened.

“What deal?” Joker cut off his companions, giving the mad god the floor.

The world.

Fame.

Renown.

Slavery.

“Like hell!” Goro bit out, pausing when Joker’s other hand rested on his upper arm.

“No.” Joker finished.

“You choose foolishness and ruin. Very well.”

Crazy old fuck exit stage right.

OTHER crazy old fuck enter stage left, Jesus.

“Oh! Trickster…s? How fascinating. It has been so very long since I was last here…”

“Master.” Lavenza smiled at the new/old coot.

Akechi narrowed his ruby gaze malevolently.

Igor looked directly at him and laced his eerily long fingers together.

“Akechi Goro… I admit, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The teenager rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, we all expected me to fucking beef it. D’you have anything new to say or are we just stuck here?”

Lavenza looked scandalized but Igor chuckled.

“A creature of vice indeed.” He smiled kindly at the pissed-off prisoner. “It seems your contract was never completely signed, oh dear.”

“Master?” His Attendant inquired.

Igor pulled out a few of the pages from the stack on his desk and traced down a line with one fingertip.

“Oh yes, I see. How fun!” Red met gray.

“What? What is it?!” The ex-detective snapped at the Warden.

“Akechi Goro, Trickster chosen by Yaldebaoth to herald in the ending of this world… I recognize you. Welcome to the Velvet Room.”

Akechi’s striped clothes shattered apart into shards of light, immediately replaced by his Black Mask attire.

Igor raised an eyebrow.

“A twisted Jester indeed. So this is the form your justice takes…very interesting, yes.”

“Kurusu Akira.” Joker snapped his gaze to the true Master of the Velvet Room. Igor’s smile was unnerving but not malignant.

“Trickster of Hope, my choice to stop the ending of the world. I am sorry for your treatment before myself, but you are a fully realized Trickster. Lavenza?”

The Attendant smiled radiantly and opened her book.

A single tarot card floated above the pages.

The World.

“With this, you have completed your rehabilitation, Inmate. Your spirit is one of rebellion and your bonds will carry you the rest of the way to salvation.” Here she nodded gently at their entwined fingers. Yellow eyes met the humans’ in turn.

“Your rebellions are opposite but with the same end: Free Will. As you’ve helped one another grow and awaken, so must you sharpen each other and fight. Humanity and Hope, Vices and Virtues.”

Here the boys snorted a little laugh at the thought of them ever being virtuous, but they got the picture.

“Now go, free the minds of your teammates and save your world!”

“They’re alive?!” The shorter teen's voice broke in his excitement.

Akechi tuned out the reasoning as he took in the Warden.

So they were a cosmic bet, huh? That made a twisted kind of sense. He had always been set up to lose and Akira had been somehow able to cobble together a victory. That also felt about right.

He clenched his free fist and studied how his power, his abilities felt different.

It was like he wasn’t training alone anymore, like he had a sort of mentor go in and re-route his talents and refine them.

His grin was bloodthirsty.

“C’mon! Let’s go wake up our friends!” Joker cheered, towing them towards the open door.

“And save the fucking world.” Crow joined, voice gravelly and adrenaline high.

In the end, the world saved them.

Voices Akira would know anywhere cheering him on from stories below as his friends fought ‘the giant fucking cup’ as Crow dubbed it.

That energy he felt when saving his teammates crystallized within him as Arsene began to speak.

Crow took a knee beside him, legs giving out as his own mask caught fire.

Mad cackling split the air as a striped Trickster ripped itself out of Crow, bouncing and twirling on its blade before its archer brother materialized behind the kneeling Wildcard.

“Your true power!” Arsene finished, light encompassing his massive form and dissipating.

“That Persona!” Skull yelled, pointing at the many-winged individual now standing back-to-back with a Persona with a bird mask and a bow.

“A little on the nose, eh Crow?” Joker smirked, holding up his hand, palm open.

Hold up.

“Oh shut up, Joker. Yours matches your savior complex.”

Guns materialized in the two boys’ hands, the voices of their confidants and believers sounding around them, teammates squaring up against the threat they weren’t prepared for but were willingly fighting til the end. Panther stumbled upright, wiping blood from her nose.

Joker clenched his gun in his fist and felt his partner’s back press into his.

Their arms lined up perfectly, moving in perfect sync. Matching barrels in jet and titanium leveled at the god that pulled them into this mess to begin with.

They weren’t fighting for the same reasons, or in the same ways, but humanity needed both sides of the coin:

Rebellion and Unity.

Chaos and Order.

Surrender and Belligerence.

Hope and Instinct.

“HEREWALD!”

“SATANAEL!”

All Out.

Chapter Text

“It’s the only way, I’m sorry.” Akira took in the detective that had saved his life and took a breath.

“Oh that’s bullshit, Nijima.” Right on time, the asshole.

“Akechi?!”

The two boys would chuckle over how pale the woman had gotten, but upon explaining the whole story, Goro Akechi held out his wrists to his old coworker.

“Goro…”

A shaggy head shook.

“No, Akira. You go build a life for yourself and put all this shit behind you. Let someone else take the fall for once, eh? Someone that actually deserves it, for a change.”

Gray eyes searched red and began to mist.

“I wish neither of us had to sacrifice anyone.”

“Oh, hey, no.” Gentle hands came up to cup his boyfriend’s cold, damp cheeks.

“Let me be selfish, Akira.” He shared a small smile with the other teen, wiping tears off his cheekbones as they fell.

“How is this selfish, you asshole?”

Red eyes flickered to Sae and the detective turned away to give them a moment. He lowered his voice anyway.

“I’d be going to prison anyway, sweet thing. This way I get to have you out and about to keep tabs on everything for me. Give me a break for a while.” Akira laughed wetly.

“Only you would think of prison like a vacation.”

The taller boy shrugged.

“I’ll study law, get out, make a billion dollars as a ruthless ex-con lawyer, and build you a Drag bar somewhere nobody knows our names.”

Akira was speechless.

“You've thought about this before.”

“I thought it would be an eventuality, yes.”

“Goro…”

“Shh, it’ll be alright. We’ll probably pull some sort of ‘victim of the system’ angle and I’ll get five years or so.” Per death, he didn’t say.

Gray eyes searched his.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

Akechi shook his head.

“Not if it’s either you or me.”

Big eyes flashed over to the prosecutor hopefully, but the rigid vertical line of her spine toled the death knell on any way out.

“I…”

“Hey, maybe Haru will work on forgiving me if I’m actually serving time.”

Long arms clutched the taller boy to Akira’s chest.

“I’d rather it be me, I could probably get out faster.”

“Yes, but that would spit in the face of your justice, wouldn’t it? This way there’s a nice, pretty bow on the Phantom Thieves CV: All criminals confessed and gone to prison and the world is a better place. Yay.”

Akira laughed wetly at his deadpan little ‘yay’ before burying his face in Akechi’s neck.

“What am I supposed to do without my other half, dumbass?”

“Getting clingy now, Kurusu? Not a good look. Whatever would the public think?”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Akechi laughed in breaths of air at that.

“You don’t really mean that.”

“…no.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Sae let the two boys hold each other for as long as they needed.

Akira would like to argue that that entailed ‘forever and ever amen’, but it wasn’t up to him.

For once, Akechi was allowed to make his own decisions when it came to his future and this was his choice. No one else was going to rule him or sway his decisions anymore.

Akira wiped his eyes and waved his closest confidant goodbye.

Akechi stole a kiss in front of the wide window over the city, where anyone could see and walked away, cold metal bracelets soon to replace the one Akira had bought him with money he made off of flower arrangements and cleaning the Metaverse’s clock.

In the end, Momma Daba threw him a wild going-away party.

All of his friends came to Crossroads to celebrate. (Makoto and Ann even pretended to be surprised when he came out to them and told them about the Drag bar!)

The Girls did, in fact, threaten to eat Mishima Yuuki alive and got him, Ryuji, and Yusuke in falsies and kitten heels. Akira made sure to tell Akechi every last detail when he got phone time next.

He told Haru what Akechi had joked about, and she had actually looked thoughtful if sad.

Four months later, she was the first person he called when his mother found his ruby red yukata with white embroidery and his purple earrings with golden ginkgo leaves.

Chapter Text

“When are Makoto and Haru supposed to get here, babe?” Akichan Daba asked over one shoulder as she set the sign to WildeCards Bar out on the sidewalk.

“I still hate that nickname, but tomorrow morning. Emiko has a three-day weekend from school so they can bring her.”

Akira straightened up, eyes twinkling.

“Emi’s coming?!”

Akechi Goro looked over his glasses and smirked.

“Yes, the love of my life is coming to your little reunion.”

Akira burst out laughing and waved the bar’s accountant off. Goro pushed some of his dusty-brown hair back into its ponytail (if group homes and prison couldn’t get him to cut his hair then Akira was going to find a different hill to die on) and put aside the CDs he was sorting through.

“I thought I was the love of your life, Gororororo.” The other man wrinkled his nose at that atrocity.

“You are the man who gave a lesbian a wonderful daughter and all you ever gave me was a cat. No. Emiko is my favorite and you can fuck off.”

An elegant, opera-gloved hand reached over the man to pick up one of his old CDs from the Jazz Jin.

“Play this one tonight, it calms your nerves.”

Akechi blinked at it.

“I didn’t realize you’d kept it.”

“Of course I did, it was one of our first dates.”

The banged-up bracelet on Akechi’s wrist caught the light at the same time his noticeably newer wedding ring did and Akira let himself be dazzled by the everyday beauty he got to have now that he had Goro back.

Akichan sat on her husband’s leg and turned the plastic square over in her hand in thought. She felt his lips press into her temple and closed her eyes for a moment to savor the fact that he would do that now: kiss her where anyone could see. In front of windows, out on dates, on their wedding day…

“Eugh, lovebirds!” Their crotchety cat dragged himself down the stairs from their apartment and began licking one paw.

“Eugh, a cat!” The two men chorused, causing the black-haired beauty to laugh in a musical, twinkling sound.

“MORGANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Ryuji roared, bolting inside the bar Akira had just unlocked. Akechi winced but his husband put her hands over his ears gently.

“RYUJI-!” The fat cat squeaked as he was scooped up by the physical therapist and squished.

“Ryuji! He’s old! Be careful!” Ann laughed, having carpooled with Ryuji from Tokyo. (Makoto and Haru would bike over tomorrow, apparently.)

“Yusuke and Futaba?”

Goro turned a page in his omniscient planner.

“Kitagawa should be flying in from his Paris show sometime tonight, probably at fuck-me-o’clock. The Sakuras are taking it easy after their trip. They’re probably making use of hotel wi-fi and garbage cable, if I had to guess.”

Akira nodded in understanding.

He ran his fingers through Akechi’s long, healthy hair...

...Akechi had neglected his hair after getting out of prison, not having had access to the expensive saga he usually put it through. But Akira had gotten pointers from the Girls and had slowly nursed it back to life.

For a while he had even debated going to cosmetology school, to make other people feel as pretty as being a Daba made him feel… But then Lala had introduced him to costuming and he had taken to it with a fervor.

So he did what he’d always wanted to: He lived life.

He made costumes and fixed clothing up for his community, helping people feel pretty, or handsome, or something between or not at all. He left wigs to Lala until she sat him down and told him her knowledge was part of his inheritance.

So he had learned that too.

His wardrobes grew, both with pretty things and with fashionable things, and with things he stole from his friends and family.

He worked at Crossroads, and at a million other part-time jobs just to feel useful and help him sleep at night…

...Then Akechi had gotten out, finished his law degree, fallen in love with complex math, and became an actuary instead. Because of course he did. (Akira held that it was good for his god complex.)

He had given Akira the plans for WildeCards as a gift one year, blueprint paper spread across their tiny apartment kitchen table, weighed down by mugs and Morgana as they worked on it with all their spare time for months. Wine was drunk and scrambled eggs were eaten around college textbooks and a massive sewing machine, always somewhere around those plans.

Mishima had been tickled pink when they told him its name.

...Haru and Makoto had gotten married a few years before Akechi had gotten out, and when his closest female friend had asked Akira for something he was never going to use, he agreed happily.

Emiko Nijima-Okumura was born with a headful of Haru’s hair in Akira’s hair color, a smile on her lips, and big brown eyes.

She was a rockstar at Crossroads when they had shown her off. Lala had cried. Pistol had hid a few tears. Royal had claimed her and had almost bit anyone who wasn’t her moms when they tried to hold her.

Akechi would later swear that her brown eyes had a hint of red, but that was neither here nor there.

...Morgana traveled back and forth with Akira, first when he left Tokyo then when he came back in the middle of the night in the pouring Spring rain with nothing but a backpack and a cat.

The old bag of bones and attitude was the same as he ever was, though being an indoor cat had been…well, giving to him. Akira and Akechi’s lungs would just have to deal with his added bulk whenever he sat on them.

He was old, he was retired, and he’d earned the world revolving around him.

Akechi argued that he hadn’t earned shedding all over their bed, but Akira had a soft spot for the cat and the couch was big enough for Goro if he had an issue with it. This was Goro’s chance to find a different hill to die on.

...Takamaki Ann took her modeling seriously and even got Akira in on helping her design a few fashion lines. Keeping designing on a back-burner, Ann decided that she preferred modeling and dressing herself over dressing others. Akira and the Girls had toasted her and told her they’d take over the job. She had laughed, and, over a beer had texted an agent back to turn down a lucrative offer that didn’t spark joy. Akira was happy for her, and it eased his heart to see how well-off she was due to royalties and free swag alone.

She loved traveling and reading magazines and buying increasingly outrageous outfits for Morgana, which she put him in every time she returned to Japan.

Akira kept them all in boxes in the attic.

Yes, they were a necessity every time they moved.

No, Morgana would not get away with hiding them somewhere since Akechi had discovered how miserable they made the cat to even think about, so he joyously kept tabs on them whenever they moved.

...Ryuji Sakamoto ended up building on advice from their school counselor and his experience with all the first aid the Thieves had to teach themselves.

“I think I want to help kids. People who need a second chance, y’know?”

Akira and Ann had looked up from their noodles and waited for him to continue.

“Now, I don’t want to be a coach or anything like that, but I think I can help people. Like…a masseuse or something. That therapist the school made us talk to mentioned something about…ET or something.”

“PT? Physical therapy? Ryuji that’s a great idea!”

Akira had smiled at his friend as Ann threw her arms around the blond and hugged him tight.

They then both helped him pass Anatomy, no homo or hetero.

If Akira never sees another Grey’s Anatomy in his life, he will die a happy man.

...Makoto Nijima dropped out of Police Academy after a week solid of angst, tears, and reassessing her goals and motives.

When some of Adrian’s friends invited her to one of their ‘Dykes on Bikes’ chapters she found the home Akira had found in Crossroads.

From that meeting onward, she was always seen with a carabiner through a beltloop and a grease stain somewhere on her clothes. Haru was all for it.

...Haru Okumura-Nijima was a miracle worker, Akira had decided. On top of inheriting a massive conglomerate while she was still a high schooler, the heiress ran the businesses with a fair and compassionate hand until she got too busy to keep up with her friends.

Then she decided to delegate.

Haru Okumura then tracked down her entire family that had been alienated by her father and filled her family tree with people who remembered her grandfather and his business practices.

By the time Emiko had come around, the company was working like a well-oiled machine that she was proud to call her family’s: The workers were treated as humans and their companies were building a reputation for having the best benefits packages on the market.

Akira and their friends had had many late-night planning sessions on what charities Okumura Foods could contribute to: Everything from art scholarships to schizophrenia research made it onto her whiteboard of ideas. A youth center for Akira’s community was built, and Haru discovered her passion project:

Saving people. Go figure.

Haru Okumura worked with Adrian’s partner, Emi, to find and fund women’s shelters for women and girls escaping from loveless marriages and partnerships.

When they told Akechi, he went very, very quiet over the phone.

“That would have made all the difference for my mother, Haru. It’s a great idea.”

They had underlined women’s shelters on the whiteboard.

...Kitagawa Yusuke became a painter in his own right, eventually painting a series of works entitled “What Sayuri Saw”.

“I can’t encapsulate her gaze with just one work!” He had declared at LeBlanc one summer. Haru’s eyes had lit up and Akira had cheered.

Sojirou had long since stopped trying to shush them when they were hyping each other up.

By the time the series was completed, he had already made a name for himself in art circuits and his first solo show had run for a week under the title ‘Goemon’. When asked about the meaning behind his show name, Yusuke Kitagawa did as Ryuji taught him:

He told a different story for every question.

Yes, Goemon was an inspiration but also a concept. A reflection of self in an outer form. A reflection of ideals. A character a friend made up. A doodle from their school days. A crossword answer.

His next show was similarly titled ‘Fox’.

He never went hungry again, and Akira can never articulate how much of a relief that is or how grateful and how proud he is of his friend who stayed true to himself and still achieved his dreams.

...Futaba Sakura had a few relapses after Akira had moved away, after Ryuji went to college, and once when Sojirou had a bad fall. She continued her mother’s research now and then, when she got bored, but mostly she designed code and watched anime.

She graduated from high school and decided that college, while interesting and she could complete it if she wanted, she just didn’t need it. Instead, she hung out with Akira when he went to various part-time jobs and ended up working a few herself.

Recovery wasn’t always linear, and that was perfectly okay.

Akira focused on just living, and Futaba found that that worked just fine for her, too.

And hey, if she ever had too much free time, she could hack something for Mishima.

...Mishima Yuuki became a journalist – One of the few of their group that actually followed what he wanted to be in high school. He focused on social justice and cyber crimes, poking holes in facades big companies and governments tried to throw up to write off the common folk.

He had seen first-hand what happened when adults wrote off kids and bullying, and he was never going to let that slide again.

Having Alibaba in his back pocket never hurt either.

...Lala Escargot would later endow her title of Mama to one of her daughters and retire in style. She traveled and vacationed anywhere her heart desired and usually brought Royal, Pistol, or Princess Peach with her once they retired.

She offered the title to her beloved Akichan, but Akira knew his destiny was with WildeCards. Lala had been the first person outside of Akechi to see the plans, after all.

She even saw them before Sojirou, but the two business owners would bicker that fact to the grave.

Thus, Lala Escargot had brought a small phial of Mamaguri Daba’s perfume as a christening gift once WildeCards opened its doors and ‘loaned’ Dee Cup, Portia Bella, and Maria Gold to work with him while it got off the ground.

WildeCards employs a few local Queens who needed a place to call home, and a few baby queens that made Akichan realize everything Lala never told her.

'Was I always this blatant?' He would catch himself thinking before texting his Drag Mother in Barbados or Hawaii or Fiji or Belize.

The answer was usually always ‘yes’.

...Sojirou Sakura never sold LeBlanc and the room above the café was Akira’s for as long as he wanted it.

It was the place Akechi had gone after getting out of prison. The place they had thrown graduation parties. The place they would sleep at if they got into a fight with a partner or were just homesick for Akira.

The place Haru had her baby shower.

It was home.

No matter how far and wide the Thieves went, LeBlanc and Crossroads were always their hearts, the place they went in their minds when they missed home.

And physically, in the case of LeBlanc. The Phantom Thieves still used it as their base of operations whenever enough of them were in town.

Sojirou only pretended to mind their ruckus, unchanged in volume after all these years...

Akira leaned back against Akechi’s chest and watched her friends bicker over the ancient cat, enjoying the steady warmth of her partner’s arms around her waist and safe in the knowledge that her friends were happy, and healthy, and would be with them soon.

His heart was full of love and his bar was full of laughter.

He had a home he had built, and a family he had chosen.

Lala Escargot Daba had taught him well.