❝ i don’t believe we’ve met. a pleasure to meet you, i’m akechi goro. ❞ @oruphes.
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@crowraths
❝ i don’t believe we’ve met. a pleasure to meet you, i’m akechi goro. ❞ @oruphes.
she & i may still be figuring out who she is — but she’s still baby, so follow me for more baby content & baby content exclusively !
❝ ah, maruki-san, ❞ akechi greeted the therapist with a nod. ❝ is kasumi with you, by any chance? ❞ / @appleyjuiceboy.
starter call? starter call. one-liner and cap at 5 maybe.
every time i come back here it’s like i come once in a while, dumps a whole wall of text then goes back to sleep. time to hibernate for 238482323 years.
❛ if only there was someone who loved you. ❜ :3
akechi has to wonder what brought up the statement.
why did you say that— he opens his mouth to speak, but the question hangs on his tongue and wilts so quickly he can only close it that the only thing left was a surprised stare towards the barista. the detective surmises that it must have been the quaintness of the coffee shop today; when time crawls by with nothing to do, humans tend to allow their thoughts to trail to the borderlines of existence and morality. as akira does, and as he himself does, too.
silence hung in the air. goro isn’t sure what to say to it, only looked down at the reflective calmness of his half-finished coffee, long since lost its warmth since it was brewed yet still tantalizingly bitter. it’s refreshing, in a way. not too different to how he’d describe himself.
it reminds him of his mother.
his impression of his deceased parent was brief, if it should be phrased that way. she was already too infrequent for him to remember her face right, but he could recall she often left behind a mug of coffee on the dining table every time she’s out with some other lovely gentleman. the young boy thought nothing of it, assumed it must have been breakfast left for him when he crawled up the legs of the cheap yet too tall dining chair for a sip. he remembered it tasted disgusting.
thinking back makes him glance down at his coffee cup again. of course it tasted disgusting. his mother didn’t have any money to spare beyond her fake brand outfits she uses to go out and then some, just to make sure she can last a toddler’s food. the coffee she ever made was some type of watered down package coffee made in a flurry and drank just as fast, with no time to spare for more than a gulp before her partner of that day hurried her out.
he finished her leftovers and washed the cup quietly.
she never bothered asking him about it. not that she had time to when she was always so occupied, and goro never tried to question her. she often silenced him with meaningless words like ‘it’s work’ and ‘this is for you’ before ushering him to go to the bathhouse once he was old enough. for a long time, he assumed that was how love was — parents saving the best things for their children in a show of love, a small but noble act of sacrifice just like what he read in books. maybe that was why he drank it for years.
maybe he was just convincing himself mother loved him.
—
time didn’t leave enough space for a child with no mother to cope. for years and years, he was passed on between orphanages and caretakers, and all the same, he was always obedient — he could still recall the words of one of the caretakers about being good children that he took to heart for time to come. goro was always smiling to the adults no matter what they made him do, so much that it made his peers hate him.
‘ass kisser,’ they called him, ‘caretaker’s little pet’. he’d made a face and said innocently that he’d never kiss somebody’s bottom. they beat him up.
he was moved to another orphanage thereafter, when the kids decided to gang up on him and tell his guardians that he’d been a bad bully to everyone else. goro had felt betrayed, but there was nothing else he could do; surely the adults wouldn’t buy his words over the accusations of a bunch many other. still, he’d hoped.
the first time it happened, it shattered his heart. the second time, it hurt a bit less. by the seventh or tenth or whatever number of times he’d lost track of, he’d become numb. there was no love here, not even the half-full cup of coffee like mother used to do.
and then … he met his father. masayoshi shido, the very future prime minister of japan! goro was in awe. then that awe turn into grief. and … hatred.
why?
why wasn’t he with him all this while?
wasn’t he his father?
wasn’t he supposed to be there?
why didn’t he stop mother from dying?
why?
why?
why?
orphanages had taught him that answering the wrong question would be punishment, so goro never asked him out loud. instead, he became eager. he still is — so eager to please and grovel and do every goddamn dirty thing shido demands of him. his past had festered into something ugly inside his heart that he would do anything just to get a speckle of that farfetched love and approval if there was any left to spare for him.
he knew better than to hope. he still yearned for it.
shido never gave him any gratitude or so much as a thank you for all of his work. never once called him son. in turn, akechi never called him dad — it’d be a painful reminder of whatever fling that never came to fruition, just like how akechi shouldn’t have been born. where a target died came another and another and another, the neverending list of enemies was so long that akechi had never once stopped to ask about why. not out of fear, of course. just that his father would be disappointed that he was butting his nose into somebody else’s business.
there’s no love here either, akechi thought. not that he understood what love was.
what shido does manage to give, though, was popularity. the fame of detective prince rose just like a kite in the wind as soon as his first cases were brought to light, and the media swallowed it greedily. charming! beautiful! intelligent! such was the second coming of the detective prince, headlines claimed, the rise of a true person of justice. fans love him, elderly and children and teenagers alike.
it never occurred to goro that he’d been twisted until then. he basked in that superficial adoration from society, so spoiled that he suddenly understood why his biological parent wanted more power. people hang onto his every word like it’s the gospel, and he wanted more. perhaps it’s no genuine love like how parents should be to their kids, but it felt better than that taste of blood when he was hit by other children at his youth.
no love here. no love anywhere. he’ll take everything else.
then came the phantom thieves.
they’re … a confusing bunch. they aren’t friends, not really, not as far as he was aware. half of the team was recruited because the barista in front of him was blackmailed, akechi himself included. by all means of logic, they shouldn’t have been friends. and yet … they are.
he thinks of ryuji, so loudmouthed, the foul of the team. the runner never liked him. they’re like polar opposites, so the detective never gave him much credit. ann with so much charm but not enough academic intelligence to follow up. just as much a media darling as him but with less tolerance to the dirty and damned. yusuke, the oddball with five parts quirk and ten parts talent. the socially reclusive futaba. the heiress whose father goro had murdered without so much as a bite of remorse, haru. the student council student with a biting elder sister, makoto. mona, the yapping cat. and then … his rival, akira.
he thinks of that bright-eyed red-haired darling who loves him so dearly that she’s willing to do everything for him even though he didn’t even know who she really was.
all of them had treated him better than anybody else had been in the past. akechi had grown immune to so much bad intention that he could recognize anybody trying to use him with just a glance, and they … aren’t. nothing of him genuinely attracts them. not his fame, not his pretty face. in front of them, he’s just akechi goro, a teenager like any other.
it doesn’t feel nice. it’s love, but… it doesn’t feel nice.
he wonders why.
akira was giving him an expectant glance by the time he came back to reality.
❝ if only there was someone who loved you. ❞
❝ yes, ❞ he answers in earnest, ❝ if only. ❞
musecrimes:
“seeing as one of us is LACKING in any sort of humour, ONE of us has to carry this pitiful burden for the both of us, don’t you think, crow?” fool, he’s a phantom thief, there’s no curve ball that he cannot handle. kakattekoi*. tn: kakettekoi means bring it on.
❝ yes, you’re right. ❞ his pleasant smile suggested a white lie that he didn’t care to correct, ❝ fortunately, i’ve been relieved off of the duty because you don't have any sense of humor for me to be burdened with. ❞ detective: 1, phantom thief: 0.
musecrimes:
joker could tell that crow had little to no appreciation for a decidedly good pun! but was he going to stop? absolutely not. “did you hear about the move about constipation?” he smiled an equally fake smile to match the other’s. “it hasn’t come out yet.”
❝ i see you’ve decided to consult a new brand of humor, joker. i must say, it does suit you quite well. ❞ in other words, there is going to be a murder case, humor and person alike, if joker doesn’t shut up any time soon.
musecrimes:
“nii-san! what a surprise. i was just about to bring out the ouija board – i was worried you couldn’t hear me.”
❝ how could i? my brother’s gone through so much just to seek me out, i don’t have the heart not to haunt him. ❞
“hey crow, what has four wheels and flies?” he paused for dramatic effect, then looked at him right in the eye. “a garbage truck.” / @crowraths. :)c
let it be known that akechi goro had nary any patience for such a thing as puns, ❝ —ah, i see. ❞ if only god knew how much patience was wasted with just that restrained sigh.
“i can’t believe my brother is dead. sometimes i still hear his voice.” / @crowraths :pensive:
❝ i wasn’t aware you can see spirits . is that a new talent ? ❞ he’s standing behind you kogoro.
idk man promote me i don’t have icons. reblog or like to spread the word if you wanna interact if you wanna interact with one akechi goro from persona 5 ? super low activity and canon divergent, but i swear i’m friendly !
— monaerchy:
her heart drums in her chest as she falls under his inspection. he never missed a thing, her love, not unless she squandered it & hid it away like it wasn’t part of her own life. not unless she was brainwashed & someone else entirely. it was funny that someone so honest & open & kind should be the one to trick him in the end. sumire had never wanted to hide a single thing from ever again; that is why she came clean now in all her meekness. a far cry from the firecracker that had lit up the night sky, she was the sparks & smoke that tumbled back to earth.
the familiar weight of his hand atop her head has the girl glancing up, breathing a sigh of relief — until her sister’s name is what passes his lips & her breath hitches before she can help it. the clock strikes twelve & the fantasy ends; cinderella flees from the ball. the prince searches & searches & searches, & he finds her in her large, empty estate. lonely save for the specters that haunted her. the demons that she could not hide. this fantastical girl, undone before him; this fantastical girl, nothing but common. the magic of the night is gone, & the question remains — does the prince like what he has found ? the shoe fits, she says, it’s me, i promise that it is. i’m the one you’ve been searching for.
the sound of her true name falls from his lips like a prayer, a confirmation to sully the thoughts that haunted her. she longs to reach for his hand, to take it into her own, to find the strength in it that she always did. the comfort, the security. she does not, though. nay, she silently awaits his terms, his response — whatever else it was that was to lie in the wake of her softly spoken admission.
❛ y - yes, i can do that, ❜ is her reply to his request & her eyes come alight, just a bit, at his acceptance. she’d expected anger, for him to be upset at her. that calm demeanor, perhaps, told of more beneath the surface & it dampens her newfound relief, worrying her. he’s smiling, yes, & she knows it to be genuine ( just for her ), but she can’t help the anxiety that curled in her chest. ❛ … are you sure, though ? y - you can be honest about … this. ❜
eyes trail away.
❛ i thought you’d be … angry. ❜
he falters just a bit when she tells him about her expectations of his reaction to the news, and goro suddenly wonders again ... how does he feel ? he’s aware she’s not wrong about the sense of unease emanating by his eerie calmness . you don’t know , a voice echoes to him however soft it may have been that it should have been lost on him , but it doesn’t . he doesn’t know what he’s feeling . however , the statement quickly loses meaning once he realizes that his mind simply refuses to register it , brushing it aside even when he doesn’t mean to .
the detective simply shakes his head . ❝ no . i’m not angry . ❞ he assures her , and the curve of his smile softens into an attempted comfort for her . in fact-- he thinks, i don’t feel anything at all . he feels nothing because he’s unwilling to face the everything behind it , or at least he assumes so : the feeling of betrayal because his love for her is false , dedicated for somebody not there . the sting at the bottom of his heart ( rare as it may be to ever beat ) for her anxiety about telling him of her true self , made worse because he can’t even blame her for it . and fear .
so , so much fear .
❝ i just thought sumire fits you better as a name. ❞ and he smiles again , ever gentle . call it denial how it will , as he’s sure somebody would have had they seen this . deep down , goro’s still trying to convince himself so; kasumi is the fleeting mist . sumire , the blooming violet . a flower that won’t disappear on him like the mist will out of love for him . in time , he will be fine . he’ll go along with her , find out about her true self again . ❝ you have no need to be nervous . ❞ as long as he doesn’t lose her .
UWU I’m so happy he is coming back!!!!
Transient graduation // inktober 2019
— falsmask:
if there were ANY uncertainty, kogoro made sure NOT to show it on his features. though black gloves squeezed at the folder in his hands, he offered his older brother a smile instead. as much as his brother had been with him for most of his childhood, there were still secrets that he kept from him. thoughts that didn’t leave his tongue, because he deemed it UNNECESSARY for the time being. “i have confidence in my abilities. it sounds like a simple closed room murder, nothing too complicated. who knows, i might be able to whet my appetite for the more COMPLEX cases later on.”
out of consideration for his brother , goro relents on the ‘ are you sure ? ’ dying on the tip of his tongue . for better or for worse , he understands that both of them had their own pride about being detectives , however false this whole charade might be . ❝ if you insist . ❞ he answers as an afterthought . albeit the gesture of offering help can be considered doting with how strict they ( and their wretched father ) are on themselves , the elder sibling can’t help but do so regardless . ❝ if you have questions , be sure to at least ask for help . ❞ not necessarily specifically from him , that is , but that goes unsaid .
Inktober2019 Day 12 - Prince and Princess of Delusions
I’m really excited for P5R and I can’t wait to see these two interact.