（♡） 03. — Her Wildcard, His Confidant
Chapter 3: The Jazz Jin — AO3 — Chapter 2 / Chapter 4
Summary: After Ren Amamiya's behavior at school catches your eye, you decide to look into him and his friend group, which leads to you accidentally getting wrapped up in the cultural phenomenon that is the phantom thieves. Is it possible to stay steadfast in your loyalty to your team as well as steadfast in your loyalty to Goro Akechi?
(Fic is based off of the idea of what would happen if Akechi managed to trust someone enough to acquire a confidant of his own.)
Warnings: toxic relationship (it's Akechi), slow burn, Goro Akechi X female reader
Akechi raised his eyebrow, propping his elbow up on the bar as he rested his chin on the heel of his hand, " I must say, I wasn't aware that I had a favorite beverage here. "
It didn't fully make sense to you how a kid his age could work such a grueling job and still manage to walk around in a relatively chipper mood. He had to be tired; it was the way his eyes seemed sunken, his face gaunt as if he was in the habit of skipping meals, the tenseness in his body that lessened as he unwound with the ambience of the Jazz Jin. To the tabloid media, the angle of his story was that of a princely detective: brave, chivalrous, and keenly intelligent, on a mission to rescue the people of his nation from the ever-growing phenomenon of 'mental shutdowns'. To your discerning eye? There had to be a much more interesting beat on the subject lurking beneath the surface of his masterful PR training.
Luckily for him, you weren't a child prodigy signed with a major news agency. If circumstances were different, you'd have an absolute field day with him.
" You always order one of two things- either you ask me to pick a drink for you, or you ask me for an omni fizz, sometimes despite the fact that we only offer them on Fridays. I'd assume someone's go-to drink is their favorite, wouldn't you? " You start preparing a glass for him.
" Well, well, well, we'll make a detective out of you yet, Miss (----). I sense some friendly competition in our midst. "
" Bar-tending for the Jazz Jin is much more my speed. " It was indeed that time of the week, so you decided to go ahead with the omni fizz. You muddle some mint and raspberries before sliding them into a mixing cup along with club soda, non-alcoholic limoncello, and ice, stirring the mixture before straining it into your cocktail shaker. Working and speaking simultaneously, you glance up at him, " Though, I wouldn't mind being an investigative journalist. Traveling Japan, maybe even the world, sniffing out and exposing corruption- it's not exactly on par with the public service you do, but I think it fits into my own sense of justice. "
A bemused look flickered across Akechi's face before he moved to push back the stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, " and you'll surely write about my many successes when you're working for The Yomiuri Shimbun, won't you? "
" Make that The Chunichi Shimbun, I tend to prefer their approach to reporting much more, but I'll always buy a copy of The Yomiuri Shimbun when I have the means to. I don't know about publishing articles singing your praises though, maybe I'll uncover the scandal that ruins your career instead. "
" You wound me! " Faux-shock. He brings his hand to his chest, leaning away from you as his face scrunches into a dramatized look of a dejected sort of pain, " And here I thought after my many months of patronage, you and I had developed a sort of camaraderie… "
The kicked puppy act lasts about as long as it takes for you to finish up his order and slide the glass in front of him. With that, the two of you were back to your usual routine. The night continued on, and Akechi took to shuffling between listening to the performers on stage, responding to emails, and occasionally starting up yet another conversation with you; the topics of which ranged from stories you had seen in the papers, novels he had been reading, how school was going… Mostly small talk, which neither of you minded. For you, it made your shift a lot less mind-numbing. For him, it seemed from your perspective that having someone to talk to who wasn't intent on chasing him down the street with a camera was a crucial part of how he wound down after work. Then again, it was hard to tell whether he fed off of the limelight surrounding him or if the intensity of it all combined with the tasks of his job was eating him alive. A part of you was curious if he took a liking to you because you preferred to avoid the topic of his line of work entirely, or if the sentiment of someone acting as if they didn't know him simply amused him.
Every week or so there was a shift you worked where Akechi would stay for its entirety. In spite of how he perplexed you, these were some of your fondest memories from being employed at the Jazz Jin. There really was something about him…
You looked up at the clock, noticing it was nearly time to wrap up for the day. The moment the coworker who typically relieves your shift entered the bar and headed to the back room, Akechi took out his wallet and set down the yen to cover his tab. As you were confirming the amount and stowing it away, he proceeded to withdraw several more bills and set them on the counter.
" Come on, I know you're not a foreigner, and you just paid me in full. I'm not allowed to accept tips, Akechi-sama. Frankly, it's a little embarrassing- "
" There's really no need to be so polite! Akechi alone will suffice. " He quite literally waves your hand away as you attempt to shove a fistful of bills towards him. " Think of it as a gift from a friend. "
" You're my customer, it's- but that's not the point! I don't- " Akechi is turning away from you and heading for the door, " wait- don't leave! Take your money! "
He was already exiting the building, face wry with glee, and you still needed to hang up your apron and punch your time card. Despite how the two of you had been 'meeting' here weekly, sometimes several times a week for the past few months, you wouldn't consider the two of you particularly close. There seemed to be a mutual understanding between you both about something you had in common; he, as well as you, preferred holding others at a safe distance. Stuffing the yen into your pocket with red-tinged cheeks, you turned on your heel and began the process of closing your shift.
It was when you had looked at the amount he had given you before catching the subway home that you felt a combination of positive and negative emotions wash over you. Not only had this man tipped you when he wasn't supposed to, he overtipped you. Majorly. In an alternate universe where people did tip workers in Japan, the only place where you would receive a sign of gratitude this good was in red-light district.
It wasn't like you didn't need the money. Living alone as a student, paying for rent, supporting yourself; these things were hard to do on the income from part-time jobs. Your uncle helps here and there, giving you a discount on a unit in his apartment complex and helping you with meals the best he can, but he himself could barely keep his business out of the red before he had to start looking out for you last year. In all honesty, the extra sum of cash would be a god send. The things you could buy with this… No more rice! Be gone with the miso soup and packaged ramen! You could have expensive fruit! Or pork! Or beef! Those little premade bento boxes… Sushi… Oh, when was the last time you had sushi?
You supposed it was possible that instead of returning the yen the next time you saw him, you could put what you were so kindly gifted to good use. That Akechi was a sharp one. He must have been able to tell you were scrimping- maybe your clothes were terribly outdated? Your phone definitely wasn't new by any means, and looking down at your shoes— yeah, okay, they were a teensy bit worn in. Still, who just gives away money like that? Perhaps along with his fame came a certain level of wealth, and perhaps he was one of the somewhat rare well off individuals in Japan that still held a penchant for philanthropy. If one thing was for sure, things on your end were going to feel insanely awkward the next time you saw him face to face.
All these thoughts flooded your mind in tandem with the bodies that flooded the train you were taking, both of which subsided as you finally made your way out of the station and back to your home. The weight of the day hit you as you kicked off your shoes and slid into your house slippers, your body suddenly feeling heavy with exhaustion. Feet practically dragging across the floor of your apartment, you threw yourself into your typical nighttime routine. A bit of food, a shower, washing your face, brushing your teeth; the works. It's as you're slipping into your bed that you realize, despite the fatigue you're experiencing now, today had been the best day you've had in a while. You find yourself hoping, as your eyes flutter shut, that tomorrow will be just as good.
Sleep falls over you how smog covers a city in a thick sheet of grey. You dream of darkness, and fluttering off in the distance, a shimmering blue light.
