what a pity that i am not an honest man!

No one, perhaps, but Arsène Lupin! For him, gates, walls and drawbridges did not exist. What use were the most formidable obstacles or the most careful precautions, if Arsène Lupin had decided to effect an entrance? akira kurusu / joker for aldebaran sea.

[treasureheist-blog]

iustise‌:

He was correct in assuming Akechi would not tell him the truth. Well, he would eventually. Under different circumstances. Perhaps when Akira was about to die. Even after everything, he owes the other student an explanation. No matter how thinly veiled in lies it was.

“I know.”

Right now, he’d rather focus on how to get out of this situation. While Akira was on his way Akechi concocted at least a dozen excuses and trimmed them. Some were just ridiculous, and others not believable enough. This time there is no coffee to ease the conversation between the two of them, just the cold click of the door locking. He moves his head just slightly, to make sure they were the only ones in the room.  

“I was planning on telling you eventually. That I am also a Wild Card. I just…”

The fact that he hesitates is also planned. His worried expression is meticulously crafted, experienced in twisting his emotions and how he carried himself. Akechi looks at the floor for a few minutes, before looking up to the leader of the Phantom Thieves again. 

“… preferred to not let people know. The others, I mean. But things happened too fast, and I found myself with no opportunity to reveal such a big thing to you only. I am sorry for that.”

If he is apologetic, then Akira has no reason to keep that quiet accusatory stare. Even if he tries to hide it, Akechi knows it well enough to pick it off. Even when his friend’s expression would be somewhat nearing blank otherwise. 

“Surely you must know how it feels to want to keep a part of yourself secret and off-limits to others, Kurusu-kun. After all, you prefer not to show every single side of yourself to your friends.

It was why I was planning on revealing this to you in any case somewhere down the line.” 

It all sounds true enough. Akira does know how it feels, and even half a year into their work as the Phantom Thieves there are Personas that he doesn’t let anyone see, Personas that he fuses away swiftly or keeps quiet at the back of his mind. No one wants to be fully exposed. He gets that.

But he also gets saying something that sounds true without actually giving anything away. It’s a skill you develop to deal with people who will punish you for not telling the truth and punish you more harshly for being honest. Akira knows how to do it, and he knows what it looks like. Right now, it looks like Akechi.

“Okay,” he says. His expression is carefully blank, but that doesn’t mean much, because it usually is. “You don’t have to show it to me. I get it.”

"But I’d like to know more about it, if we’re going to work together here.”

It’s a threat, sort of, but it doesn’t sound like one; Akira delivers it with the same matter-of-factness he’d use for “we’re going to need an umbrella if it rains tomorrow.” If Akechi wants to keep him close enough to be able to betray him, he’ll need to give him something. 

[treasureheist-blog]

iustise‌:

He expected the message. Akechi actually did not want to approach Akira about this, so waiting it out seemed the best option. It had not been long since he could feel the familiar presence of. Loki. It was his own choice, and he could have continued with the facade and decided to power up Robin Hood instead of revealing more about himself. 

But then he would not feel the cold but comforting hands on his shoulder. It was out of sheer necessity, out of pure desire to feel what one could describe the truest part of himself back where it belonged. He leaves the chat text open for a long while, debating on how he wants to approach this situation. 

Part of him wished that Akira would have simply missed the announcement. The same part knew that this was impossible. They were both wary of each other, and information was something they both needed.

Information was not something Akechi wanted to give away. 

[msg] Sorry for the delay, I was busy.

[msg] However, this is also not something I wish to discuss over text messages. It would not be fair to you. I owe you an explanation. If that is okay, meet me at my place. 

[msg] I will be waiting.

This would give him enough time to come up with a believable story, at least. He could not escape letting Akira know more about him than was necessary, but the absence of the Metaverse right now worked in his favor. The most concerning parts of his secret would be safe for now.

As he said, he would just wait. The door was left open on purpose.

[msg] Got it [msg] See you soon

Of course Akechi hadn’t told the team that he has a second Persona. Akira wouldn’t have revealed it either, in his position, even if he wasn’t planning to stab the Thieves in their collective back. It’s not betrayal that he feels right now, he thinks. So what is it?

As Akira sits on the train, watching the stars drift past, he considers it. They consider it. Having things kept from you isn’t supposed to make you feel like this. The rest of the team wouldn’t feel like this. Surprise would be appropriate -- and Akira and Joker feel some of that, yeah, although not as much as someone else might -- but not... whatever this mix of emotions is. Interest in how the rest of Akechi had manifested itself, surprise at meeting another wild card, a jolt of excitement at the potential danger. Joker’s joy at something new happening, at seeing another face of someone they’re interested in. Arsène’s itch to meet Loki in the Metaverse, where they belong.

They steady out quickly, as they always do. Joker is still bubbling to the surface, but Akira maintains his composure, nods politely to the few rats who acknowledge him, and makes his way to the Palilicium without incident. 

Akira reaches Akechi’s room on autopilot. He pauses in the doorway, tilting his head a little as he looks at Akechi, then steps inside and closes it behind him. Akechi won’t tell him the truth no matter how he approaches this, he knows. So there’s no reason to be aggressive about it. He’ll get as much information as he can and sort the truth from the lies as he goes.

“Hey,” he says, calmly. “That was a pretty big surprise.”

[treasureheist-blog]

TO: Akechi Goro FROM: Akira Kurusu

[msg] Hey [msg] Loki?

[commerceprotocol]

Trading in my Transportation Voucher for a hybrid bike, please

Thank you, Kurusu!

You have redeemed 1 TRANSPORTATION♡VOUCHER for a hybrid bicycle!

[aldebaransea]

requesting rank up to 2, info available on my /threads page, thank you!

Thank you for your request, Akira!

You have been promoted to RANK 2.

Based on your stated preference, you are awarded:

1 Transportation Voucher

1 Standard Toolkit

1 Home Item (Common) Voucher

You may redeem your rewards at the Commerce Protocol.

Please see the list of ranks for more information on your rank and future rank requirements.

[treasureheist-blog]

iustise‌:

“Right. Before we go, do you mind turning your holophone off? Here, I will do the same so you know I have no ill intent.” 

Turning his holophone to Akira, he pressed the button until the OS screen changed, warning that the system was shutting down. Once it did, he slid the phone back into his pocket. He waited for his companion to do the same before speaking again.

“I do not trust these things, so it would be in our best interest to always turn these off when we meet. Wouldn’t want to find out that the creator of these things can figure out what we are talking about. Also, using your other name does not work. They have our real names down in the contact list, and you can’t edit how you are registered.”

Futaba could probably try to change it, if she was here. It wouldn’t be pretty, since Akechi had a feeling their captors would catch up on what they are doing quickly. 

“I brought some papers, so if we need to sort stuff out we can do it the old-fashioned way. Writing notes using your phone is alright, but use the old one. They don’t connect to the internet, but we can trade information this way. I will compile them on my laptop and share the information with you.”

He gestures to the bird that was waiting for both of them to order, deciding on coffee for both of them. Akechi turns back to Akira soon after.

“The maps we receive are alright, but it is best if we also note down places of interest and specific routes. And…”

He frowns, as if missing something. Someone, in this case. 

“I cannot access the Metaverse. I mean, I know it still exists. It would be impossible for it to not exist, but the Nav simply…. does not work anymore.”

Loki isn’t around either, he adds mentally. Unfortunately it is information Akechi cannot disclose to his friend-enemy, and unfortunately Akira cannot know too much.

“… How’s Joker doing? I know he prefers there, after all.”

Half of it is sincere concern. The other half just an excuse to avoid talking about Robin Hood.

Akira listens carefully. He doesn’t think Akechi has much of a reason to sabotage him here, so he follows along with the instructions, turning off his holophone and pocketing it. The name thing sucks. Being locked into one name and one identity is the norm, yes, but he doesn’t have to enjoy it.

“Joker’s fine,” he says, smiling faintly. There’s a little rush of warmth to their chest whenever their friends acknowledge Joker as Joker, and Akechi’s no exception. Well, he’s an exception, but not about that. “Kind of on edge, but fine. Arsène is here, even with no Metaverse, but he’s weak. I can’t feel the rest of my Personas.”

The brightly-plumed bird bustles over with their coffee, and Akira accepts gratefully. The dark, bitter taste sends another bloom of warmth through him. Akechi had ordered one of his favorite blends. 

As he drinks, he reaches for a sheet of paper and a pencil and begins sketching out a rough but accurate map of the route from Lampadias Suites to the train station, marking the mouths of alleys and side streets to investigate later. Joker has a good memory for these things.

"How are you and Robin Hood?”

[treasureheist-blog]

iustise‌:

“Stay safe”. Probably only Akira would say this to him, all things considered. Most of his text messages and calls were extremely professional, so to have someone worry about his safety was… not unwelcome, but weird. The track from the Palilicium to the train station was quiet, and hopefully he did not get too lost. So was the train ride. For someone used to the extremely uncomfortable rides from school to work and work to home, this empty scenario could be considered unsettling. 

He was alone there, but it did not seem to bother Akechi in the slightest. It gave him time to think about what he’d do now. Arriving at the Sea of Nectar just confirmed that he was early, but fortunately he did not have to wait long.

“It has been a while, Kurusu-kun.”  

Did he know that his real named appeared in the messaging app? He hoped that would be enough of a hint. 

“We should probably find a quiet place to stay first. We would attract too much attention otherwise, and I would not risk myself like that in an unknown place.” 

It was good to see Akechi. The other teen looked so... normal. So calm. So Akechi. Part of Akira’s mind flitted around the awareness that that being really good at acting normal when everything was going to shit was generally the result of things going to shit often, and that Akechi was acting an awful lot like he himself was at the moment, and that the reason for his own calmness was that he’d had to be an oasis of quiet in a chaotic life for so long that it had kind of fucked him up permanently. Another part carefully cut that thought out and laid it aside for later. They were busy right now.

Akira had flipped through the info on his holophone on the train, skimming maps, public postings, and the “codex” and fixing as much of it in his memory as he could. It didn’t illuminate much about the situation, but it did give him a few ideas for their strategy meeting. 

“You mentioned cafes earlier. There’s a few down the way,” he said, tilting his head towards the thoroughfare outside the station. “If you want to avoid people entirely, we could hit the beach. It’s not far.”

[treasureheist-blog]

iustise‌:

Akechi took the stairs. He could have used the elevator, but taking his time seemed better than relying on unreliable factors. It was a bigger deal here. It made him miss his own cellphone, so he would be able to take notes without them being potentially spied upon. But then came the theory that his captors could have very well fiddled with it. And he gave up on that also. He at least had his briefcase (which he was now carrying with him, as it would prove useful from now on. His laptop was still there, and he could try his best to find if it was tinkered with later. He had to meet Akira first. As he exited the Palilicium, he grabbed his holophone again. 

Let’s meet at a neutral place. From what I have read, there are cafés at the Sea of Nectar. Can we meet there, outside the station? 

And then came the warning.

It is better if we do not rely on texting for exchanging sensitive information, Amamiya kun. We do know how secure this thing is.

Akira circled back to his room to grab his Shujin bag, just in case he picked anything up while he was out. It was strange not feeling Morgana’s weight inside it. He typed out his response as he headed downstairs.

Yeah. I agree. I’ll see you there. Stay safe.

The trains were surprisingly normal, for space trains. Akira had less trouble navigating his way to the Sea of Nectar than he did getting back to Leblanc on his first day at Shujin, which to be fair was a very difficult level of confusion to match, but still. It was nice to not be lost about something.

Akira spotted Akechi as soon as he entered the station proper. The detective didn’t actually stand out that much; Akira was just used to keeping an eye out for him at their normal, Earth-based train station.

“Hey. Good to see you.”

[treasureheist-blog]

8ctoshot‌:

The dresser in his the room he’d been assigned had contained a modest number of outfits, but Agent 8 had found himself with the strong desire for…more. He’d already tried on everything in the room and the novelty of having more than one set of clothes that wasn’t battle armour sent a giddy rush through him, and the second he realised that his holophone had money on it he’d zoomed out the door. It was a very…inkling thing to do, but it wasn’t like he’d defected from Octarian society and spent all that time trapped in the Metro just to keep up with Octarian habits once he got to the surface. A little splurging was fine, right?

He’d nearly walked right past the thrift shop at first (the streets here were confusing to navigate, even with the help of the map app on the phone) but the bright splash of colour against the gloom caught his eye and drew him back, like a fish to bobber. Pretty much everything in his wardrobe was solid black or dark red, and while he wasn’t unopposed to all the dark colours…

He’d been living in the dark for a pretty long time. A little bright couldn’t hurt.

Agent 8 startled a little when he was addressed out of the blue, having barely noticed the…smaller human that had wandered up the street. Well, smaller than Heysel, at least; this one seemed more around Eight’s age, if humans even worked like that.

“Uh, maybe? It’s a little more…everything than what I’m used to.”

“Same here,” Akira said, leaning towards the window to peer into the store. It was badly-lit, but the clothes he could see looked more Harajuku than Rat Topic, which was an improvement. He wasn’t a flashy dresser himself -- as Akira, at least -- because he had enough attention drawn to him just for being the local delinquent transfer student. But he wasn’t that here. He could probably afford to wear something more interesting than a white polo shirt.

The door of the shop jingled as he opened it and paused in the doorway, glancing over at the tentacle-hair-having teen.

“You want to come in with me? We can try new styles. Compare notes.”

[shiloriin]

I spent an incredible stupid amount of time on this. Yay. (You’ll never see it coming …  I guess-)

[treasureheist-blog]

knightmorph‌:

I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE EATEN A ‘BEEF CURRY’, you say, which would be a lot more impressive if this de-shelled prawn had any idea how long your life has been so far. Very, very long. To be fair, you haven’t exactly tried to make it a culinary journey, but that’s not the point. The point is that you have no idea what this human is going to serve you and you are very excited. You make this very clear by shuffling towards the shrimpling as best you can and peering down at him so you can see every step of the process.

MEAT IS A PRETTY GOOD GUESS. I MEAN, LIKE, CLOSE ENOUGH. You don’t bother explaining that any further. You don’t think humans have worms inside them, generally, or at least not on purpose, and trying to explain its peculiar culinary desires at this time of the morning is just not something you feel like doing right now. ARE YOU MY ‘ROOM’ ‘MATE’. IT IS SO NICE TO KNOW I LIVE WITH GOOD PEOPLE.

“Yeah, we’re roommates.” The beef curry thing is kind of tragic. It makes sense that there isn’t beef curry in space, because there realistically should not be cows in space, but the idea of being an alien and not knowing how it feels to come home to a steaming plate of curry and feeling welcomed by it is... a bummer. Akira only learned it himself recently, and though it still feels ephemeral, it’s nice.

Well. There’s no need to get emotional about it. Aliens probably have their own comfort food. If the markets here have space ingredients he can learn how to make some of it, eventually.

“I’m Akira.” He flashes her a brief smile as he turns to dig the the curry and beef out of the fridge. “You seem good yourself. Have you been here long?”

[treasureheist-blog]

fathomline‌:

Saying that he’s lived mostly off wild berries and raw meat and that literally anything else is a luxury probably isn’t necessary. “Curry… I’m fine with just that,” Yasa answers, relieved that it’s something familiar. He hasn’t made curry often, but he’s confident in what goes in it. Unless this stranger’s definition of curry wildly differs from what Yasa knows. Better to venture, “…With potatoes and carrots and such, right? I should still have some seeds in my pack.” And with that, he begins to rummage through said pack because anything other than growing his own ingredients from scratch does not occur to him at all.

“Yeah, I like onions and mushrooms in it too. There’s already some beef in the fridge.” Akira stops for a moment, halfway through digging the requisite pot and cutting board out of the cupboard. He thinks he sees a rice cooker back there, too, but-- 

“Seeds?”

Does his roommate plan to plant their dinner ingredients? Does he only need to eat once every... however long it takes to grow potatoes and carrots? (Akira has no idea, because he is a good, respectable city boy and all food comes from grocery stores to him.) Does he not know that plants take time to grow? Is time an illusion to him? 

Akira should probably ask some of these pressing questions, but he wants to see what will happen with The Seeds, and so he opts for rescuing the rice cooker from the cabinet and then turning to trail quietly after what is apparently the Ark’s newest local farmer.

[treasureheist-blog]

fathomline‌:

Moreso than suddenly being approached and then towered over, it’s the question that catches him off-guard. He stops himself before he can ask something that would sound terribly stupid— so it’s for doing dishes?— and closes the Washing Dishes Machine now that he no longer has business with it. Since he knows what its purpose is. That’s really all he wanted from it. “No, there are no dishes to wash, but thank you for offering…”

He trails off, feeling awkward now that he’s been interrupted in his investigation of the kitchen. Perhaps it would be better to leave, but— this stranger offered to help. It’s only fair of Yasa to do the same. “If you’re going to cook, I can help with that. Let me know what you need.”

“That’d be nice,” Akira says, flashing him a small, genuine smile as he heads to the sink to wash his hands.  “I was planning on making beef curry. Is there anything else in particular you want to eat?”

[treasureheist-blog]

@8ctoshot

Akira was on a day trip to the Sea of Crises. The shops near his apartment were very nice, but they seemed more Akechi’s style than his own, given the wide variety of upsettingly-patterned sweatervests available. So here he was, doing recon and also window shopping, because it’d be nice to have something to wear besides his uniforms and one of three identical t-shirts.

Someone else seemed to have had the same idea, because a few streets into his journey he found a boy looking through the window of a thrift shop at a hot pink biker jacket covered in black patches and buttons. The pink almost matched his... tentacle hair?

Well. One of his roommates was a nine-foot-tall alien with a worm inside her, so tentacle hair was approaching normalcy. It was, at least, hair. The person it was attached to seemed a bit younger than Akira, but he was still the closest to a teenage human being that he’d seen so far, so. 

“That’s cute. Are you going to get it?”

[treasureheist-blog]

knightmorph‌:

Oh, wow. There sure are a lot of humans here. Just regular, pasty-skinned, fragile-boned humans. You weren’t exactly expecting to see this place infested with Hive (as much as you would have liked that) or Vex (god, that would suck) but you were expecting maybe some Awoken, at least. Something a little more exciting than the hairy lizards you’re being plagued with.

At least–this one doesn’t flip its lid at the sight of you, which is a great start. Maybe it’s been to space and seen Hive before–except, no, wait, if that was the case it would be trying to murder you or something, which is how Light-bearers usually do things. You and your Hive aren’t exactly popular. (Thanks for that, Oryx. Wait, no, further back than that. Thanks for that, Worm Gods.)

I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE THAT, you say, because you’re not exactly hungry as much as you need to go out and fight something to sate your worm but eating food is kind of the same thing. Your voice is startlingly loud in the early-morning quiet, even for you, and you stand up abruptly, knocking your head on the ceiling and barking out a surprised cry. SORRY. SORRY. STILL GETTING USED TO THESE LOW CEILINGS. AT THIS RATE I AM GOING TO GIVE MYSELF A CONCUSSION.

Akira and Yasa had made enough for the whole apartment, but they had assumed “the whole apartment” was four traditionally human-sized people. If this person eats proportionate to their size... well. He’ll make it work. He’s not that hungry himself, anyway.

The sudden noise of too-tall alien meeting too-short ceiling makes him flinch, but it’s just an old reaction, and he shakes it off quickly. “It’s okay,” he says. “As long as you’re okay. What do you eat? I made beef curry earlier, if you like meat.” There’s some raw beef that he was saving for gyudon tomorrow, too; he can throw that in if they really like meat. The knife teeth seem to indicate a meat-liking thing going on here.

[treasureheist-blog]

knightmorph‌:

@treasureheist

Everything here is very unsettlingly strange. To be fair–it’s been a very long time since you were last on a planet, particularly a planet populated by humans, particularly a planet where you can’t just do whatever you like through reckless manipulation of the sword-logic. It’s been a very long time since you were anywhere but a Hive dreadnought at the head of your fleet, actually. So this is all very new for you.

For example: when you enter a room, the lights do not turn on on their own, scared into luminosity by the immensity of your presence. You have yet to find the light switch. The doorways are too small. You got stuck in one earlier. The chairs are also too small. You’re perched on the edge of this rickety wooden thing with your knees up by your chin and you feel like if you breathe too deeply it’ll fall to pieces under you.

This is, apparently, the kitchen. You’ve been known to indulge in food every once in a while, but there are no cooks here, and the cupboards are also too small, and you feel like if you start trying to make something by yourself you’ll wreck the place. So you’re sitting in the dark instead, in silence save for the occasional click and hum, ruminating on exactly how you’re going to punish whoever’s responsible for all this tiny, tiny furniture.

The lack of friendly talking cat is proving to be his biggest problem at the Ark. Without the comforting weight of Morgana’s tiny, fluffy body smashed against his head, it's hard to actually fall asleep. Akira shifts positions, doubles up his pillow, and even tries balling up a corner of the blanket and pressing against it, but nothing really helps.

It’s weird. He shouldn’t be so used to sleeping well.

A quick check of his phone informs him that it’s still too early to just get out of bed and pretend that he slept. It’s the perfect time for a middle-of-the-night snack, though, so Akira throws on a t-shirt over his boxers and heads to the kitchen.

His night vision is still shaky from looking at his phone in the dark, which is probably why he doesn’t notice the very large person -- one of his other roommates? -- at the kitchen table until he has the refrigerator open and its light casts them into sharp relief. They’re really large. Comically big, actually, but Akira has enough practice not laughing when laughing would get him in trouble that he manages to keep a straight face, despite the way they’re crammed into a kitchen chair like a bodybuilder sitting in an infant’s high-chair.

“Are you hungry?” he ventures. He’s not sure that the person can talk, because he doesn’t really see a mouth so much as two rows of small knives clenched together, but that’s no reason not to try. “There’s leftovers from earlier, if you want me to reheat them for you.”

[fathomline-blog]

@treasureheist

Measuring cups of every imaginable size. Shove, and the cabinet drawer stops itself partway to close with the softest click. It’s rather interesting. Yasa opens a second cabinet to test if that one’s drawer is the same.

Ladles, spatulas, whatever those utensils meant for scooping noodles are called. Shove. Soft close. Interesting.

The kitchen is remarkably well-stocked, as least with all the dishware and utensils one could possibly need. He has to admit, it took him a bit of exploring to realize this space even was a kitchen, his only visible clue being the pots and pans hung from ceiling racks, same as any other— but the stove is far more advanced than anything he had ever seen. And the icebox is massive. Both were of sleek, smooth metal, as were the myriad of other… appliances, whose exact applications Yasa could not determine with a cursory glance.

And he is nothing if not an explorer, so the next logical step for him would be to take a closer look.

He had just crouched down and opened the dishwasher— not that he knew that is what it is called; he sees a deep container with metal racks and some sort of spinning fan, and of course that does nothing to tell him what the purpose of this device is for— when he hears the faint woosh of air displaced by a well-set door opening. The sudden awareness that he is no longer alone causes him to flinch, his head hitting the top of the as-of-yet unknown appliance. He ducks back out to acknowledge the newcomer, too aware of the embarrassment that must be plastered on his face.

A young-looking human with inkwash hair that falls over his eyes in curls messy enough to rival Yasa’s own. He regards the sharp academy suit (and how old are humans when they attend school? Their teens? He knows it’s somewhere in the early double digits…) before he stands, fingers locked on the appliance door as if holding a shield. There is not much else to say other than,

“Um. Hello.”

[treasureheist-blog]

“Hi,” Akira says. He’s seen enough strange things over the last few hours that a person of indeterminate everything seems fairly normal, in that they’re at least human-shaped. Like, they’re not a bear. It’s fine. “You okay?”

He slides his shoes off near the door and pads over to where the beary normal person in question is clinging to the dishwasher. It’s nice, as far as dishwashers go; Sojiro would probably like it, even if it looked like the kind of newfangled, overpriced appliance he claimed was a waste of money.

“Were you doing dishes? I was going to make dinner, but if you’re already washing up, I can help with that first.”