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Ren finds the keychain—by which he means of course the keychain, his acrylic double-sided Black Condor keychain, supposedly a limited-edition merch item from a long-ago movie premiere—completely at random. He's gone to Akihabara to pick up a few things for Futaba, and his errands are complete; now he's wandering the backstreets, theoretically browsing, though he's not sure what he's seen. He's thinking about his first year in Tokyo, and how wild it all was, and how weird it is to be back for college...
Okay, that's a lie. He's thinking about Akechi, like he's been doing more and more as he settles back into Tokyo life.
The rhythm of the city is harder to match than when he was sixteen. It skips odd beats, irregularly and unpredictably. A flash of brown hair in a crowd, an advertisement for a new pool hall. And every time, Ren stumbles.
He stumbles now, in fact, nearly tripping over his feet as he spots the keychain dangling from the end of a rack. It's not the first Featherman merch he's seen since it all happened, but the timing of it, the blue sky above him like Goro Akechi never died a stupid, awful death, the drop in Ren's stomach like he's missed a step on a flight of familiar stairs—
He can almost hear Akechi's voice as he stares at the little charm. That long diatribe at Jazz Jin, as the snow fell outside; as reality flickered at the corners of Ren's vision.
His eyes sting, which brings to mind another memory: his reflection in a toyshop window as he cried about Akechi in front of all of Kichijoji. Never again. In a panic, he snatches the keychain and turns to the stallholder. "How much for this?"
"Five hundred yen."
Ren fishes out his wallet and hands over the money. When he leaves, the Black Condor keychain sits nestled in his pocket, clipped to his keyring.
("Your luck stat is maxed out, dude," Futaba will tell him when he gets back to her house and shows it to her. "I hate you. You're the worst. I can't believe you just found this charm for five hundred yen, do you know how rare it is? Let me see it again!" But Ren doesn't care if every third Featherman fan has the same keychain or if he could sell it to pay his college tuition—not that he'll say that to her.)
After that, maybe it's inevitable that he gets into Featherman. Although that might be the wrong way to put it, since he ignores the plot, and he doesn't have opinions on the characters. Except, of course, for Black Condor, who's his favorite now, even though he's like three Feather Blacks ago. Two? Who knows. Ren just puts on the show in the background when he's cooking dinner in his tiny apartment, and he gets the occasional bit of merch when he has spending money and feels especially lonely.
It's weird. Like, being into a show that you think is boring is bizarre. And it drives Futaba insane that he watches it all the time but still doesn't know what she's talking about when she gets into the details of the latest episode, which was mostly the same as the five episodes before that, which were only a little different from the ten before that. He could watch the Featherman he remembers from when he was a kid, the last time he was invested, and all that would change would be the quality of the special effects and the amount of screentime Feather Pink gets. That's another opinion he definitely won't share with his sister.
But Futaba gets what's happening. She's never brought it up, but it's there in her eyes when she goes quiet, an awkward, ambivalent sadness. And then Ren feels guilty, but he just... he has to. He has to watch the stupid episodes. He has to get the tableware and fridge magnets and the blankets, and that one sickness mask he found that's printed like part of a Featherman helmet. Every time he hears the theme song play in the background at home, or sees an ad on a screen in Shibuya, or catches sight of Black Condor dangling from his keys, it's a reminder that Akechi existed, Akechi with his Featherman-themed persona and his opinions on the show's writing. The entire rest of Tokyo is bent on reminding Ren that he's dead. Ren just wants to remember that he was alive once, too.
That's how he ends up at the midnight premiere of the newest Featherman movie. Phoenix Ranger Featherman S, The Movie: The Aberrant Swarm. The trailer makes it look like it might have a plot, which would be an intriguing change of pace, but that's not why he's here. Akechi would never have gone to something like this; he pretended he'd outgrown Featherman until that January, when, in retrospect, he'd had no reason to care. But he'd have wanted to go, privately, in a way he'd have scornfully denied. So Ren will go in his place.
Also, Futaba says the studio teased a Black Condor cameo. Ren can't just ignore that.
The concession line is long. Ren doomscrolls on his phone as it inches forward, only barely paying attention to his surroundings until it's his turn to order. With a sugary soda in a commemorative premiere cup in one hand and a big bucket of curry-flavored popcorn in the other, he thanks the concession worker and gets out of the way, scanning the lobby to see which hallway the cosplayed moviegoers are filtering into.
A flash of brown hair in the crowd. It gets him every time; he's like one of those dogs trained to drool at the sound of a bell, only Ren gets a shot of adrenaline and jerks his head round to stare every time a brunet enters his line of sight. And there they are; he's already sighing, even as he registers that the hair is awfully close to the shade he remembers.
And the hairstyle. Also very similar.
And the person the hair is attached to looks familiar as well.
In fact, that's Goro Akechi himself standing in the concession line. Wearing jeans. Ren didn't even think he owned jeans.
Huh.
As if Ren's stare is searing his skin, Akechi jerks his head up. Their eyes meet. Akechi's lips part in astonishment, his expression blank with shock and—fear? Is he afraid of seeing Ren? Or just of Ren seeing him?
A feeling flares inside Ren that he hasn't felt since... since late one February night, probably. Hot and angry, demanding redress. He turns and sets his snacks on the counter. "Sorry," he tells the concession worker. "I have to. Yeah. Thanks."
When he turns back, Akechi is already out the front door, vaulting one-handed over the railing in front of the theater. With a snarl, Ren charges after him.
"We could be in a movie theater right now," says Akechi an hour later. His voice is a little muffled by the bag of frozen beans Ren bought him from a metro station grocery store, which he's holding against his face, over the rising bruise where Ren punched him.
Ren leans back on their bench and levels him with a flat stare. "You're the one who ran off. I paid like two thousand yen for those snacks, you know."
"Your poor life choices aren't my concern."
"You were literally in the same line."
A faint blush darkens the visible side of Akechi's face. He presses his lips together and glares. Interesting. Despite the situation, Ren almost smiles. "What? Were you after the cups?" He spares a thought for the plastic cup he left behind. Yellow Owl, though, so it's not a big loss. "Planned to drink your morning coffee out of—"
"I didn't think you were interested in Featherman, Amamiya."
...Ah. Hm.
What exactly is Ren meant to say, in this situation? He didn't exactly see it coming, because he thought Akechi was dead, the utter asshole. The callous piece of... no, Ren can't get mad again. He needs to focus.
"Yeah, I got into it last year," he says. "When I came back to Tokyo for school." That's not even a lie.
Akechi reaches up with his free hand and, with an expressive twitch of one finger, fishes a damp lock of hair out from under the beans. "Is that so."
"Don't give me that look. You were at the same premiere. You can't pass judgment."
The corner of Akechi's mouth curls up in a sour little smile. Ren's missed him so much. "So we've both incriminated ourselves." He sighs and turns away, slumping bonelessly against the back of the bench and staring up at the sky with his unconcealed eye. "I suppose you'll insist we keep in contact, after this."
Ren presses his lips together before he can say anything stupid. Akechi is just like that, he reminds himself. Unable to let on that he wants anything. Just everyday Akechi.
The keychain in his pocket grounds him. He might not know anything about most Feathermen, but he knows his favorite. Black Condor acted a little like Akechi, for a while, prickling and spitting; and then he was one of the Feathermen, not like the rest of them but accepted as one of their own, without anyone really knowing what happened. Maybe real life will work the same way.
Or maybe this isn't a kids' show, and Black Condor killed two of the Feathermen's parents. But Ren still has to try.
"Of course I am. I can't believe you didn't even—"
Akechi's face shutters. "You've expressed that already. Several times." He stands up. "You have my number."
"Wait. You haven't changed your number?" Ren's face heats up. He sent all those texts, and Akechi could read them?
The beanless half of Akechi's face twists into a knowing little smirk. "Feel free to get in touch. Or not, as you prefer."
And then he's just—gone, vanished into the metro station as Ren gapes after him. What the fuck. What the fuck.
Belatedly, he pinches himself as hard as he can.
"Ow, shit—"
Not dreaming. Then again, he could've guessed that by how Akechi didn't disintegrate or turn into a zombie or anything else weird. He was just... alive. Akechi is alive.
He sits on the bench, staring into space with his mouth hanging open, as late-night metro travelers give him a wide berth. The words rebound deliriously in his head. Akechi is alive.
Before he messages Akechi, there's something he needs to take care of. "Good luck," Morgana says dubiously, now that he's done waking up their neighbors with his thoughts on Akechi's return. He curls up in a ball at the foot of the futon, giving Ren privacy.
Ren leans over and scratches between his ears, right where he likes it. Then he settles back against the wall, nice and cozy in his pajamas, and opens his messaging app.
ren (1:23am)
hey
back homelil sis :) (1:24am)
???????
the movie is 2 and a half hrs long, u should still be therelil sis :) is typing...
lil sis :) (1:24am)
did u get a cup at least
Not for the first time, Ren thinks about how Futaba and Akechi could really get along, if not for all the murders.
ren (1:24am)
no cup
almost tho. it was yellowlil sis :) (1:25am)
wtf
u LOST a yellow owl premiere cup
disowned
Ren sighs. Talking to Futaba makes it feel a little less like he's stepped into an alternate reality, which is—a relief. But that's not why he's messaged her.
ren (1:25am)
listen smth happened
and i need to tell u about it so u don't get blindsidedlil sis :) (1:26am)
?? are u ok?
should i get sojiro?ren (1:27am)
no don't wake him up
so
do u remember when we used to wonder about whether akechi survived
The chat goes quiet for a long, long moment. Ren cringes, picturing her sitting in her room, staring at her phone; picturing the look on her face.
lil sis :) is typing...
lil sis :) (1:30am)
ur jokinglil sis :) is typing...
lil sis :) (1:31am)
did u see him on the street or did he actually drop stealth to see a movieren (1:31am)
the second one
saw him in the concession linelil sis :) (1:32am)
what an idiot
Ren snorts.
ren (1:32am)
he still has his old number, i'm going to text him
i didn't want it to surprise youlil sis :) (1:33am)
thanks
wait
he still has his old number?
ive tried to track that one
it never works
(•ิ_•ิ)??
Actually, yeah, she did say something about that, back when Ren was still holding out hope. (Which he should have kept doing, clearly, because Akechi's been alive the whole damn time.) If Futaba can't access Akechi's phone, then... Ren doesn't know what that means. How many people are there in Japan who could keep her out? In the entire world?
ren (1:34am)
...weird
i don't think he was lying
he's not that stupid
Because now that Ren knows Akechi is alive, he'll do whatever it takes to track him down again. Anything. A wrong phone number won't stop him. But a cold little ball forms in his stomach anyway.
It doesn't last long, though, before:
lil sis :) (1:35am)
he wasnt
And almost at the same time, a message comes in from a source he hasn't seen in almost two years. His breath catches in his throat.
akechi❗❗❗ (1:35am)
Was it really necessary to tell Sakura-san?ren (1:36am)
yep
hi
get home ok?
It takes a while for Akechi to respond. Acting on a growing suspicion, Ren switches back to Futaba's chat and waits for a report.
lil sis :) (1:41am)
threatening monologue delivered (*•̀o•́*)ง i am a pvp arena masterlil sis :) is typing...
lil sis :) (1:42am)
im happy for u
A soft emotion fills Ren's chest. Maybe he'll buy Futaba the Yellow Owl cup. It'll be eight thousand yen online, if he's lucky. But she deserves one.
ren (1:43am)
thanks <3
He navigates back to Akechi's chat. If nothing else, the sooner they talk, the sooner Ren's string of unanswered messages will be pushed up and out of view, and they can pretend he never said any of it.
ren (1:43am)
how's your face?akechi❗❗❗ (1:44am)
Fine, no thanks to you. And yes, I got home without any issues.
Ren stares down at his phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Where the hell have you been? he types, but deletes it. He doesn't want to chase Akechi off again; tonight's chase is too fresh in his mind. Why didn't you contact me? Too emotional. Hey, what's up with your phone, by the way? Futaba says she can't get in. Better, but maybe he shouldn't send it to the actual phone in question.
Then it hits him.
He closes out of the chat window for a moment and does a quick web search. A moment later, he shares a link with Akechi, of a nearby theater's upcoming showings of The Aberrant Swarm.
akechi❗❗❗ (1:46am)
What's this for?ren (1:46am)
since we didn't get to see it tonight
we should try againakechi❗❗❗ is typing...
akechi❗❗❗ (1:47am)
Do you talk during movies?ren (1:48am)
noakechi❗❗❗ (1:48am)
Very well, then. Sunday at 5:35pm?
Ren grins down at his phone. The floating sense of unreality creeps in around the edges of his mind again. It's a date, he nearly types, but he catches himself. Better not to even start down that road.
ren (1:49am)
cool :) see u then
Ren doesn't pay attention to the movie, of course.
He sits next to Akechi (who's alive! in the same theater even!), making his way through his bucket of curry popcorn, while Akechi stares at the screen with intense focus and occasionally picks at a bird-shaped jelly doughnut. The ad at the concession stand claimed that particular doughnut was to Red Dooka's taste, whatever that means.
Ren's not going to stare at Akechi or anything. He'd get caught, for starters, and it would be awkward as hell. But he does find himself shooting sidelong glances at the seat beside him. There's Akechi's arm. There's his hair, pulled back into a ponytail. There are his fingers, ungloved, drumming on the armrest as a tense scene unfolds; or at least Ren assumes it's tense, judging by the background music.
Black Condor appears in two scenes. Ren does watch those. He expresses contempt that the main cast don't know who he is, delivers some exposition, shows off how well he can fight, and says he'll carry news of the Aberrant attack to "those who need to know". He stares broodingly into the distance, refuses food and rest, and leaves. And that's that.
What an asshole. Ren loves him. Where did he come from? Who has he gone to report to? Would Ren know the answers if he'd paid attention to the rest of the movie? Oh, well. He goes back to his Akechi observation and stays in that zone till the credits roll.
Afterwards, they get dinner. Dinner and a movie—though if Ren says that aloud, Akechi will probably walk out of the restaurant and change his number for real this time. Instead, over cheap sushi, he relaxes by inches as Ren keeps his questions behind his lips. Every time one wants to slip out, he drinks some soda instead. He's needed two refills already.
He lets Akechi sound him out with meaningless chatter for a few minutes, until eventually, apropos of nothing, Akechi asks, "What did you think?"
"Huh?"
"The movie, Ren. What did you think."
"Oh." Ren thought Akechi's focus was cute. He thought if he looked away for too long, he'd turn back and the chair next to him would be empty. He thought Black Condor deserved more screen time. "Black Condor should've had more screen time," he says.
Akechi's nose wrinkles with disdain. "He should have been cut entirely. All he accomplished was to throw a wrench in the pacing. Pure fanservice."
"Yeah, well, I'm one of the fans."
"Of Black Condor."
The keychain demands an answer. Ren grabs his next plate of sushi from the conveyor belt. "Yep."
Akechi gives him a look of intense skepticism, which is pretty unfair, in Ren's opinion. Like, is Akechi right to doubt him? Yes. But Black Condor doesn't deserve this slander. "Don't give me that look," he says.
"What is it, nostalgia? He left the series almost ten years ago."
"He's in the new movie, actually." Ren pops a piece of sushi in his mouth and gives Akechi an especially obnoxious close-mouthed smile.
Akechi mutters something under his breath. "All right," he says, settling grimly into his booth seat like he's getting ready for a war. "I'll entertain your misguided opinions. What elevates Black Condor above every other Featherman not just in the current flight, but in every other flight that's ever been on the screen?"
And once again Ren is staring the awkward truth in the face. I'm not really into Featherman. I lied the other day. I just couldn't cope with living in Tokyo without you, so I had to take weird measures, haha. Yeah, you're right, it is pretty pathetic. No, don't leave.
He takes his time with the sushi, really savoring the halibut, or at least he hopes it looks that way. In reality, he's ransacking the attic of his brain, where Featherman trivia goes to get dusty and tangled.
"The mechas," he says. "In the... third season of the RE series? Fourth season? The episode when everyone piloted a mecha."
Akechi squints at him. "The fourth season. What about it?"
So there were mechas that season. Ren remembers it right. Maybe he can do this after all. He's the second best bullshitter in the world, now that Akechi's around to reclaim his spot at the top. "Black Condor was cool. Like, inspirational. The way he got everyone fired up. And then he just led Yellow Owl and... and Blue Swan straight through the Gate of Hell like it was nothing. And," he adds thoughtfully, "it's funny how annoyed he gets by everything."
Akechi stares blankly at him for just long enough that Ren starts to get nervous. Did he get something wrong? Was it not Blue Swan after all? That's not a big deal, he can recover from that—
"He's obnoxious," says Akechi. "Actively harmful to team synergy. One good speech in a giant robot and a lack of self-preservation don't balance out all the times he created unnecessary tension. He also performed poorly in the mecha fight, if your selective memory will permit you to recall. He failed to follow Professor Kyllan's instructions and damaged nearly every system on the Condor Titan. His one-on-one with the Grim Lieutenant is a particularly egregious example. Red Hawk had to cover for him, yet again."
Ren doesn't even know who the Grim Lieutenant is. Avoid specifics if possible, he notes, and zeroes in on the most obvious flaw in Akechi's argument. "Red Hawk covers for everyone. That's his entire..." He waves a hand. "His entire thing. All the reds are like that." Even Ren knows that much. "You can't single out Black Condor. And, like... yeah, I know he sticks out. That's what makes him interesting. It was cool to have someone on the team with a different background. And his captivity backstory taught him a lot, too."
Akechi leans forward. "That's a charitable way to say he was a convenient mouthpiece for exposition that the writers didn't otherwise know how to include. Even if there was often no way for a captive of the Aberrants to have learned the information in question."
Ren grins. He's getting the hang of it now, he thinks. Just stick to the vague stuff he remembers and be argumentative about it, and it's almost like old times. Sitting around with Akechi, debating. But it's better now, because no one's trying to kill anyone, and no one's secretly already dead. And something in Ren's chest, something sealed away secret and small through a long winter, sees the glint in Akechi's eyes and unfurls to greet the sun.
"All I'm saying is," he tells Akechi a week later, halfway through a game of darts, "Red Eagle didn't help that much, last season."
Akechi's grip tightens mid-throw, his arm freezes, and his dart doesn't leave his hand. Which is a shame, since Ren was hoping to annoy him into missing. Akechi turns irritably. "You are aware that this is a cooperative game?"
"Yep."
At one of the billiard tables behind them, someone takes a decisive shot. Balls clatter against each other, and an excited murmur rises. Penguin Sniper has barely changed from how Ren remembers it—different flooring and updated dartboards, and the bathroom smells a lot more like flowers than it used to, but otherwise, they could be back in high school, practicing their synergy for Metaverse battles.
Akechi turns back to the board and takes his throw. It flies as true as ever, like he's been playing darts twice a week the whole time they've been out of contact. TRIPLE 20!!!, the dartboard declares excitedly, flashing all its lights at once. With a smug little smile and a raised eyebrow, Akechi retrieves his darts and makes way for Ren.
Cooperative game, Ren's ass. He grabs a dart and stares down the board like it's a Shadow he can intimidate into compliance. It's times like these when he really misses his third eye. Gaze fixed on the triple twenty postage stamp, he lifts his arm.
"I've always thought Black Condor's role was poorly acted," Akechi says pensively.
Ren's throw goes wide. Single nine. Fuck.
Akechi tsks. "There's no room for mistakes like that in 701, Ren."
Ren scowls at him and takes his two other shots, both of which get the TRIPLE 20!!! treatment, thank you very much. They're not going to win on his round, though, what with the missed throw, even though it was really Akechi's fault. He drops the darts into Akechi's hand. "Hope it was worth it."
"Oh, it was." The smile is more present in Akechi's voice than on his face, where it lives mostly in his eyes. "I meant it, by the way."
"About the acting?"
"Yes." Akechi steps up to take the throws.
Ren didn't think Black Condor was badly acted in the movie. He doesn't remember the show one way or another. "It was fine," he says. "None of the acting is that good. You're just singling out Black Condor because you don't like him."
"You're projecting. Or perhaps you're blind to the flaws in the actor's performance because you enjoy the character." Akechi hits a double fifteen, bringing their score down to two. Ren kind of misses when he hit bullseye after bullseye. Like, yeah, the bullseye was symbolic of Akechi shooting Ren in the face, or whatever he was trying to get across, but Ren's triple twenties were still the better throws. "He was talented at being annoying," Akechi continues, "but his actor didn't have the subtlety to portray his emotional beats."
"So you admit he has an emotional arc." Sadly, Ren needs to get them off the topic of Black Condor. He can talk more confidently about the season that just finished airing, now that he's done some research (which is to say, he's read the Wikipedia episode summaries). "I meant what I said too."
Akechi breathes out slowly through his nose. "Shut up. I need to concentrate." He eyes the dartboard for another moment, then throws his second dart.
Instead of going for a single two like a normal person, he hits a double one. The board lights up in congratulation. "And there we have it," says Akechi, smug and deeply insufferable. Ren allows himself to gaze fondly at the back of his head as he fetches his darts from the board.
"Another game?" he asks when Akechi gets back.
"Let's take a break." Akechi nods at the bar. "I'm a little thirsty."
"Sure."
A couple minutes later, they take their seats at the narrow counter by the window. A steaming cup of tea rests in front of Akechi, which is a weird thing to order at a billiards hall, but it's none of Ren's business, he supposes. He takes a sip of his Dr. Salt NEO and gets ready for another night of drinking five soft drinks in a row.
Without really thinking about it, he turns on his barstool to face Akechi, only to see that Akechi has done the same thing. Akechi offers a suspicious little glare, for reasons known only to him. Ren looks back at him, nonplussed. He must pass some kind of test, because finally Akechi says, "Red Eagle was the linchpin of multiple plans. He saved each of his teammates at least once. What the fuck were you talking about?"
This is the kind of thing Ren can address. "He just did what his smarter teammates told him to do. Anyone could've done that. And anyone could've saved the others. There's nothing unique about any of the reds, except that they're capital-H Heroes."
Akechi stares at him in disbelief.
"What?"
"Out of everyone in the world," says Akechi, "you have no business criticizing anyone for over-the-top heroics."
Ren's cheeks grow warm. "Shut up," he mumbles into his soda. "That was, like, years ago." And none of it was over-the-top, either, given the circumstances... Actually, nope, not going there. He takes a long drink of his soda before he can make the mistake of trying to talk about things with Akechi. "Why do you always like the reds, anyway? I'd have thought you'd be more into the blues."
Akechi draws back. "What," he says sharply, "the 'brains of the team'?" His lip curls with contempt. "Please. Leave any of them alone with a single Infinibug larva and they wouldn't make it out of the room. Pathetic, each and every one."
"Okay, that's... fair." Ren makes a mental note: Akechi hates the blue Featherman. His mental notebook is filling up fast. "So the reds?"
Akechi scowls. Takes a sip of tea, and then another. His shoulders are drawn up like he expects a blow. "Their position as team leader places them at the center of the plot. They get the most development, which is metered out consistently over the course of a series rather than squeezed into a couple of dedicated episodes."
None of that's wrong, exactly, but it's also not why Akechi gravitates to the reds. Even now, Ren can see well enough that he's using the truth as a smokescreen. A flame of defiant victory flares and fades; words crowd his mouth and press against his lips. I know you're lying. Do you think I've forgotten how to read you? Where have you been? Why did you run away when you saw me? Are you that afraid of talking to me? He drinks his soda.
"I guess," he says. "I liked the Red Eagle and Black Falcon plot a few seasons ago."
He regrets it the moment he's said it. That's another season he barely remembers. It would come on the TV at Leblanc sometimes when he was studying or practicing his barista skills, disconnected episodes that he never really paid attention to. The background noise about the Black Falcon plotline hit him hard, given the events at the time, but that's pretty much all he can say about it. Hard to fake being a fan.
His peace offering doesn't put Akechi on any more solid footing. "Black Falcon the traitor?" says Akechi. "The man who left the team stranded in deep space on the orders of the Daimaho? That Black Falcon? That plot was bullshit. Red Eagle should've left him to die."
"But he wasn't that bad," says Ren. It's supposed to be the start of another debate, but instead, without any input from his brain, his voice drops into a low, coaxing tone. He puts his soda on the counter and leans forward. "Deep down. Was he? Wasn't he just—doing the best he could?" Too late, he realizes he should know this; he shouldn't phrase it as a question. "He wouldn't have deserved that," he adds with more confidence.
Akechi stares at him, guarded and tense, hands pressed against his stool like he's about to get up and run. Ren reviews his last statement.
Hm. Yes. He sees the issue.
"Anyway," he says lightly, trying to remember the episode summaries he read the day before. They all started to blur together after a while; there are only so many alien fights and trivial hijinks a group can get up to before it becomes recycled content. "Black Falcon was the only one who could fight the portal demons this season. He had to teach everyone else. If Red Hawk had just let him die, Earth would be a demon colony by now."
There. Totally free of parallels to awkward, unspoken real-world issues. Probably. And after a moment, the spark reignites in Akechi's eyes. He wraps his hands around his tea again. "It was a copout. Having someone whose powers ever-so-conveniently included instinctive knowledge of how to fight them."
"For a fan of the show, you sure criticize it a lot."
"I'm not a..." Pinned beneath the weight of Ren's disbelieving stare, Akechi lets the sentence trail off into a sigh. "It's because I enjoy it that I critique it."
That January night at Jazz Jin. Akechi's impassioned condemnation of what Maruki had done to Featherman, as he smoldered with tired outrage over his fluorescent mocktail. There does seem to be a pattern emerging. "I guess," says Ren.
But even as the conversation moves on, a weird feeling lingers between them. Uneasy and charged, like Ren got too close to something. This isn't sustainable, whispers a voice in the back of Ren's head. He exiles it to the Featherman attic in the back of his mind and turns his attention back to Akechi, where it belongs.
But it's not Ren who brings it all crashing down.
Or, like. It is. But not the way he expected.
"What are you talking about?" asks Futaba, as baffled as he's ever heard her. He blinks; memories of Akechi and conveyor belt sushi fragment and vanish, leaving him with just the ceiling of Futaba's bedroom, where Ren has flopped bonelessly onto her bed. At her question, he summons enough energy to roll over on his side and look at her. She's crouched in her computer chair, hands around her legs, frowning incredulously at him like he's just said maybe espresso-based drinks aren't so bad.
"What?" he says. "Black Condor fighting the Grim Lieutenant in RE season four? I can research stuff."
Though after all this time, maybe Futaba is right to be stunned that he actually knows something about his alleged favorite character—but that's all Ren has time to think before she opens her mouth and changes the entire game.
"Who's the Grim Lieutenant?"
Ren would like to say he puts the pieces together in that moment, but actually what happens is he thinks, You're asking the wrong guy, and he says, "Black Condor fought them in that episode? In the Condor Titan."
She gives him the espresso stare again. "Ren," she says slowly. "Black Condor wasn't in 'Giant Robot March.' Everyone thought he died in 'Death of a Condor'. That's what Red Hawk's stat-boosting speech was about? Fighting in his memory...?"
"Huh?" says Ren, showing off the witty banter for which he's known across Tokyo. "But..."
And that's when it all comes together.
Akechi's blank stare when Ren first brought up Black Condor, unnervingly like how Futaba's looking at him now. The sparkle of malicious glee in his eyes from time to time, that he can never quite conceal. The way Ren has never, not in entire nights of Featherman debate, gotten a single thing wrong.
"Huh," he says again, slowly.
"...What? And where did you read that, anyway? It sounds like a fanfic."
"It probably was. Now that you mention it."
Ren can tell the difference between fanfiction and episode summaries. But it's a good cover story, so he lets it pass. He has some scheming to do.
Fucking Akechi.
His scheme goes as follows: He will meet Akechi at Inokashira Park in the evening, like they've planned. He will slyly bring up the topic of Featherman, which shouldn't take much effort; half their conversations since they met back up have been about it. From there, Ren will use his wits and thief wiles to trick Akechi into slipping up and revealing his deception.
He finds Akechi standing by the lake in the park and brooding, bolstered against the chill in a coat and scarf. Phase one complete.
"Hey," he says, shoving his hands in his own coat pockets.
Akechi turns his head, unsurprised. "Hello."
Want to go for a walk before we head to Jazz Jin? Ren says, except actually, when he opens his mouth, the words that come out are,
"I learned something interesting this week."
Phase two flying dangerously off the rails.
The arch of Akechi's eyebrow conveys both guarded suspicion and intense doubt of the idea that Ren can approach an interesting fact without being vaporized. "Is that so."
"Yep," says Ren. He's gotten started, so he might as well keep going. "Remember the Grim Lieutenant? His single combat with Black Condor in their mechas?"
"How could I forget," Akechi drawls, but Ren is watching him closely now and he sees a glimmer of realization, quickly masked.
"I was talking to Futaba about that episode." Ren doesn't bring up Futaba and Akechi to each other very often, for obvious reasons; and, indeed, Akechi's expression shutters as he hears her name. But Ren isn't in a merciful mood. "And she said, who's the Grim Lieutenant?"
With a quiet crunch of vegetation under his feet, Akechi turns to face Ren fully. "Imagine that."
"Yeah. Turns out Black Condor wasn't even in that episode." Ren narrows his eyes. "Which is funny. Since I definitely remember you talking about him."
Akechi stares at him for a moment, with an incredulous look not unlike the one he gave Ren the first time Ren opened his mouth and talked about Black Condor. "Ren," he says slowly, like he's talking to an idiot. "You talked about that episode first."
No, back up, new angle. They're not supposed to be talking about Ren's bullshitting. "Sure. But you could've just called me on it. Why the charade?" It's a genuine question; more than anything, more than the embarrassment or the annoyance, Ren is just—baffled.
Akechi's mouth pulls up in a smirk. "It's not complicated. I wanted to see how far you could take it before the whole thing came crashing down around you. And it was funny listening to the nonsense you came up with." He settles back on his heels; the smirk widens. "Let's see. You claimed that Black Condor was present for 'Giant Robot March' and didn't even blink when I talked about something called the Condor Titan and a villain named the Grim Lieutenant, both of which I made up. You claimed he takes Blue Swan through the Gate of Hell, when it's actually White Swallow."
Ren's face heats up. Is Akechi just going to list every mistake he's made? He is, isn't he? He's had them locked and loaded, probably, waiting for just this moment.
"Black Condor didn't have a backstory of Aberrant captivity," Akechi is continuing, even as Ren ponders the merits of turning around and leaving. "You're thinking of Green Parakeet in the W series, who was held captive by demons. Black Condor was experimented on by the government."
Ren blinks. "Isn't this a kids' show?"
"You called Red Eagle a bland character," says Akechi, with more opprobrium than he's shown up to this point. "And you mixed up the portal demon plotline with Black Falcon's teaching arc, which was about how to defeat a new species of Infinibug. No one could fight the portal demons. That's why the Feathermen forced open their own portal across the galaxy."
His recitation complete, Akechi crosses his arms and looks smugly down his nose at Ren, somehow, even though they're the exact same height these days. Ren's entire face burns; his ears must be a fiery red; heat creeps down his neck. He wishes he'd thought to bring a scarf. He wishes he hadn't brought it up. All those conversations, thinking he was so slick. Second best bullshitter in the world. Whatever. He should've remembered the one person who could beat him was standing right in front of him.
"Okay," he says slowly. Talk about the show. If they keep discussing Featherman, maybe Akechi won't notice how red his face is. "They couldn't fight the demons, so they went across the galaxy? They just left Earth there to be attacked? That's a stupid plan. The whole show is stupid, Akechi."
And there it is. He's said it. It's more of a relief than he imagined it would be—except then Akechi squints at him, not with contempt but attentively. He looks like he sometimes did that January, when they were working out what to do about Maruki.
But he's not staring into the middle distance this time; his eyes are fixed on Ren.
"Is that so," he says again, with the air now of a bloodhound on the scent. Though after all the shit Ren went through with Yaldabaoth and then with Maruki, he's not going to be intimidated by a single cranky Akechi. No matter how intimidating Akechi has suddenly become.
"Yeah."
"Then why were you at one of its midnight premieres?"
Ren freezes.
He's walked right into Akechi's trap. He's gotten rusty, without Akechi to keep him on his toes, without—
No. "No, let's talk about you. You've acted way weirder than me. You're the one who kept—making up plot points. At least I really thought I remembered the stuff I talked about. Where did you even get the name Grim Lieutenant?"
Akechi takes a predatory step forward. Ren's lizard brain eyes it with interest; he squashes it back down.
"All I've done is let you dig your own hole," says Akechi. "Why were you there, Ren? Why do you insist on defending a character you demonstrably know nothing about? You're sweating like a first-year law student."
With nothing but the force of his glare, Akechi pins Ren in place to dissect him. Ren can almost see the scalpel in his hand. It's like he thinks he can come back after years of silence and put Ren under the microscope like he used to. Like nothing's changed.
Bleak days and months and years spin through Ren's memory, a time that he walked through slow and unbalanced, missing his counterweight. He's only one foot out the door of those days even now. It hasn't been a month since he found Akechi again, Akechi nearly runs whenever they so much as brush against a personal topic, and yet he still has the—the nerve to act like—
Ren pulls his keys from his pocket. "Here." He sorts through the mess of keys and miscellaneous keychains until he finds Black Condor. "Look."
Akechi is already looking; his forehead crinkles with incomprehension, which slips quickly and predictably into annoyance. Ren holds the keychain out between them like an offering as he haltingly tries to explain; to do what Akechi's asked, like he always does.
"I found this in Akihabara. In a little stall. When I moved back here for school. I wasn't... It was weird being in the city without you." Akechi gives him a brief, shuttered glance. "And I was... thinking about that, I guess. And then I found this little Black Condor, and it reminded me of... that January, you know."
"Yes," says Akechi distantly. The chill in the air, the murmur of Kichijoji's evening crowds around them. Akechi right in Ren's face and yet so unreachable. Fucking Featherman. The memory is so close, Ren could reach back down the years, through nightmares and realities to Maruki's fever-dream diorama, and hold it in his hand.
"It's a travesty," said Akechi, nursing his soursweet mocktail with the grim determination of a salaryman with work in less than six hours. "Appalling disrespect for the art form. Kitagawa had the right idea."
Ren propped his chin in his palm and watched him. In the background, jazz music floated through the air, and the patrons of Jazz Jin murmured contentedly to each other. When he let his guard down, reality shimmered and doubled in his peripheral vision. "Yusuke hasn't said much about Featherman."
Akechi waved a hand dismissively. "I meant more generally. His—issues with the state of the arts in this reality."
And Yusuke had gone on about that. At length, on several occasions. Whether Featherman counted as art was another matter, but Ren didn't argue this time; he just tilted his head in invitation for Akechi to continue.
"You can't present a compelling narrative if you've never known pain," Akechi insisted. "The Feathermen are still saving the world, supposedly, but the writers and actors are unable to capture a sense of threat or loss. The interpersonal conflict between team members is toothless." He scowled. "But I suppose that's the kind of media the masses would enjoy in this reality."
Ren raised his eyebrows. "You're making a lot of claims about a show that's only aired a couple of episodes this month."
If he hoped to catch Akechi out, it didn't work. Akechi just stared flatly over his mocktail. "Strangely enough, I have a lot of free time."
And he was spending it watching Featherman. Ren wasn't so out of touch that he hadn't noticed Robin Hood's Featherman motif; and the laser guns were hard to miss, especially after all the shit Iwai had given him for expensive mods to kids' toys. He had assumed those things were remnants of Akechi's childhood enthusiasm, like he'd imagined Proof of Justice to be when he'd been embarrassing himself in public over it. Now he wasn't so sure. Maybe Akechi was just a fan.
It was kind of endearing. That even Akechi had passionate and deeply uncool interests. Ren wondered why Akechi was letting him see them.
Back in the present, brandishing his Black Condor keychain, Ren swallows. "And I guess I felt a little better after I bought it. And when I had the show playing in the background. The premiere just seemed like something you might've liked. And I was right," he can't help but add. A little glimmer of vindication in the depths of vulnerability.
Akechi looks as uncomfortable as Ren has ever seen him, shoulders rigid and expression fixed, almost hunted. He licks his lips. Leans in further to look at the keychain. Stares at it for a moment.
"I hope you didn't pay a lot for this," he says. "It's a knock-off." He doesn't look at Ren. "You do at least know this is ostensibly a limited edition item?"
In silence, Ren pulls his hand back, removing Black Condor from Akechi's view. He could use something to drink. Water, soda, anything.
He could really use something to drink.
But he doesn't have anything. Just a keychain, and the worst fucking rival on the planet, and anger that scorches his throat.
"I thought you were dead," he breathes.
Akechi straightens up. Lifts his chin, opens his mouth, but whatever he might intend to say, Ren doesn't want to hear it. "For almost two years," he says, raising his voice above Akechi's. "After everything that happened—everything you did, you just let me live my life thinking you were gone."
"That was why," says Akechi, coldly and nonsensically. Ren stares at him. "I thought perhaps you would want distance from your murderer, Ren. Don't act like I'm the irrational one here."
"My—" Ren sucks in a slow breath through his nose. His hands are shaking. "I'm not talking about what happened in November. Who cares. I'm talking about February, you absolute... Do you even think about it? What you said to me? I wake up in the middle of the night still hearing it. Your hesitation is a betrayal of my wishes," he quotes, with Akechi's cruel, precise enunciation. "Like you had the right to talk to anyone about betrayal! When all I wanted was some time to fucking process—you knew I would grieve, you were there with me when Maruki—"
His voice cracks. Something flickers across Akechi's expression, too fast for Ren to catch it. "You could have at least told me you were around!" His voice echoes; he's shouting; he realizes dimly. Shouting and swearing in the middle of a public park. "And not fucking dead! I was saving up for a gravestone! I kept thinking about how your body was just—" He gestures wildly, in a way that entirely fails to capture the nightmare of a corpse being wiped from existence during the collapse of a cognitive realm. "But no, our business was finished, so who cares about Ren Amamiya, right?"
"Ren—"
"And what are you even doing?" He takes a step forward. Akechi doesn't move back, but he goes rigid, as though it takes effort to stay put. Ren forces himself to speak more quietly, given the topic, but he doesn't bother to wipe the fury from his voice. "Futaba can't track your phone anymore. Do you know how weird that is? Are you in danger again? I have no idea, because you won't talk to me, you look like you're going to run back into your foxhole whenever I bring up something serious even accidentally, so I just have to worry about it—"
"It's none of your business," Akechi cuts in, his tone icy. "Believe it or not, Joker, you aren't entitled to every detail of everyone's lives. My occupation is not for you to concern yourself with." His lips are thin, his eyes dark and forbidding, his hands... closed warningly around Ren's, where Ren has grabbed onto the lapels of his coat. When did he do that?
He blinks rapidly. He's not sure when his eyes filled with tears, either.
His fingers tighten around Akechi's coat. The various bits of metal and plastic on his keyring press painfully against his hand.
Akechi meets his eyes and seems to notice the sheen of unshed tears, because his face goes through a whole series of changes. "You're humiliating yourself," he finally says, his voice carefully neutral, but only after visibly discarding a number of other options. Ren wonders what they were. "With this... display. I had no need to contact you."
It's the same thing he did at the movie premiere, but even more frustrating this time. There was no need. And, I suppose you'll insist we keep in contact. Like Akechi is allergic to the concept that he can make decisions because he wants to.
Instead of letting go of Akechi, Ren continues to humiliate himself: He opens his mouth, but he all he manages to say is, "I—I don't know what—I couldn't—" And before his face can crumple, he drops his head onto Akechi's shoulder.
I don't know what I'd do if you left again. I couldn't handle it. Don't go. Don't go.
Akechi is as stiff and uncomfortable as a plank of wood beneath Ren's face. He doesn't wrap his arms around Ren or do anything a normal person might do, but that's okay; he's there, warm through their coats and smelling of some kind of product. It's a sharp scent, the kind that really gets in your nose, but not too strong. Ren likes it.
"Ren," Akechi whispers fiercely. "What the fuck are you doing? Stand up. People are staring."
"Who cares," Ren mumbles. "Didn't you used to use that cologne?"
"What." A pause, while Akechi processes that, or maybe glares at passersby. Ren doesn't know, or care. Akechi is a pain in the ass; he stresses Ren out more than almost anyone he's ever known. But he's here, real and rigid and alive. "When I was the Detective Prince," Akechi finally says. "To fit my image. It was revolting." How do you remember that is strongly implied in his tone. Ren ignores it.
"Whatever you're doing now is better. It suits you."
"For fuck's sake, Ren, stand up." But Akechi still hasn't pushed him away or stepped back out of reach.
Ren pulls himself together before long and stands up, forcing his fingers to uncurl one by one until he's released Akechi's lapel. He stuffs his keys back in his pocket, not before a quick check to make sure Black Condor didn't get damaged by the force of his grip, and looks back up to meet Akechi's eyes. Akechi's cheeks are pink from the cold. Maybe they should get inside soon.
Akechi clenches his jaw for a moment, then takes a breath. "I'm not in danger," he says, as reluctant as if Ren has forced the words out of him at gunpoint. "My work is classified—"
"You're working for the cops again?" Ren blurts out, incredulous.
Akechi's eyes flare. "I never worked for the cops—" But then he collects himself. "I suppose. But not in any way you'd recognize."
Ren's stomach sinks. "What does that mean?"
"It means what I said, Ren," says Akechi impatiently. "You would... approve, more or less. But you need to leave it alone. It's not safe."
As if Ren would ever approve of the cops. "Not safe for who?"
"For f—"
"Sorry. Sorry." Ren settles back on his heels and takes a second to absorb the information, as well as the fact that Akechi offered it at all. Not happily; even now, he's glaring with all the resentment Ren remembers from that January, when Joker would give Crow orders that Crow didn't like. But he did offer it. It's meant as a compromise, Ren thinks. And as a test.
But how is he supposed to interpret I'm working for the cops in some dangerous way, but you wouldn't get it, if it's not sinister? And if the situation isn't safe for Ren, how can it be safe for Akechi? And yet...
Akechi is here. And for now, Akechi is safe, standing in front of him, giving him that guarded glare, like he more than half-expects Ren to take the trust Akechi's shown and shatter it. A feral cat. A half-tamed crow.
Ren takes a deep, calming breath. "Okay," he says. "Thanks for telling me."
Akechi blinks at him. A second or two passes in silence, except for the ripple of lakewater and the murmurs of parkgoers; then some of the tension bleeds out of Akechi's posture. "Don't scream in my face about it again."
"Yeah." Ren laughs awkwardly. Now that the moment has passed, he looks back on his behavior a few minutes ago and cringes. "Sorry."
Akechi waves a hand dismissively. "To get back to the matter at hand," he says, which gives Ren pause; they've covered several matters in a fairly brief period of time, any one of which could be the most important one in Akechi's brain. But what Akechi says is:
"The Featherman shit was stupid, Ren. Trying to lie to me about it. What did you think you were accomplishing?"
Oh, yeah. Featherman.
Ren sighs. "What was I supposed to do? Say I was at the premiere as a memorial? For all I knew, you would've run off again." Akechi eyes him, unimpressed. Ren dredges up the best grin he can, given the circumstances. "And I wanted to impress you."
"You failed," Akechi informs him.
For some reason, Ren feels better. "Fuck off," he says. Before he can think better of it, he reaches down and takes Akechi's hand, and Akechi... stiffens again, but doesn't pull away. And slowly, slowly, as Ren doesn't drag him in for a steamy makeout session (unfortunately), as no paparazzi leap from the bushes and start snapping pictures, as the world doesn't crack in two and drag them screaming into the void, Akechi finally starts to relax.
Something in Ren's chest eases, too, in response, and especially when Akechi's fingers curl tentatively around his. Akechi is glaring out across the park, determinedly not looking his way. But he's holding Ren's hand. He's here.
"I can't believe you slandered my keychain," says Ren.
Akechi's head snaps back round, eyes narrowed as he meets Ren's gaze. "It's a fake, Ren."
"It's secondhand. Of course it's not in perfect condition." Ren fishes around in his pocket with his free hand for his keys. "That doesn't mean it's not genuine."
Akechi rolls his eyes. "You're delusional. Look at the design. It's crooked on one side."
"You're just jealous because you don't have one." Ren retrieves his keys at last, but his eyes are on Akechi. "That's what's going on here, isn't it?"
"Give me those." Akechi snatches the keys, pulls out poor, maligned Black Condor, and brandishes him in front of Ren's face, all while keeping hold of his hand. "Look at the left foot, you simpleton."
Ren's keychain dangles in front of him, with its giant chibi head and its goofy pose. The catalyst for all of this, his most prized possession except for a single leather glove. This is the same as it has been, with him and Akechi arguing about Featherman, except this time Ren knows what's going on. He's not walking a tightrope blindfolded, or plummeting to his doom, unknowing. They're just bickering.
And they're doing it hand in hand. Without his gloves, Akechi's hand is warm, skin against skin. Tokyo spreads out around them, the park and the city beyond it, beating a rhythm in time with their hearts.
It's taken a year to get here, but Ren's finally home.