[log; open] will the memories of our morals fade

[simulatio]

Who: Goro Akechi
When: November 20
Where: Around Gloucester, in the gym, Bonnie's flophouse, ADI apartments
Summary: Goro Akechi's no-good, very-bad daytrip down memory lane
Warnings: Persona 5 spoilers, smoking

A.

[Akechi wakes up like it's any normal day -- rolling out of bed to the sound of his alarm going off at 5am to get dressed in sweatpants and a jacket. Some light smudge-proof makeup, and he's out the door for his usual jog. While he doesn't have to get up early to get some exercise in before a TV shoot or school, and thank God he doesn't have to deal with any obnoxious "fans" anymore, there's comfort in routine. The nearest bouldering facility is a bus ride away and he'd rather not waste money on a bicycle he doesn't need, so running it is.

It isn't until the brisk morning air hits his face and he fully wakes up partway through the run that he slows with sudden thought, checks the date on his phone. November 20th.

...Ah. There are only two people in this world who even understand the significance of that date. In an instant, it's like he's transported back to that small underground room, feeling the weight of a real pistol in hand for the first time, a light wisp of smoke drifting from the barrel. He only comes back to himself at the frantic noise of a pedestrian ringing a bike bell and shouting for him to get out of the way, to which Akechi leaps back belated and snarls something about getting off the fucking sidewalk and using the road, flipping off the cyclist for good measure.

It hasn't been a full year yet, and yet by this calendar, it has. Almost without seeing it, he retreats back to lean against the closest building, lost in thought and memory.]

B.

[Distraction is the name of the game today. Later that morning, he can be found in the training area, pistol in hand, essentially wasting ADI's ammunition and their good-will. Anyone who frequents the area would know that he's ordinarily an excellent shot, favoring his left hand only with an unshaking aim.

Not today. Today most of his shots go wide, and his teeth grit and eyes blaze in clear frustration. He's getting worse as he burns through magazine after magazine, until he finally gives up and, with obvious difficulty, doesn't hurl the pistol at the paper target. Instead, he returns it with a strained smile and casts an appraising eye around the rest of the gym.]

I don't suppose anyone is available for a spar?

C.

[In keeping with the theme of "absolutely nothing going fucking right," Akechi's in the kitchen of the first floor of Bonnie's flophouse, stirring something on the stove. It smells vaguely like chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon, but that's largely overpowered by the smell of scalded milk.]

Shit!

[He yanks the pot off the stove and frantically scrapes at the bottom, trying to see if he can salvage it. He's trying to make hot chocolate for when Ren comes home, but if the mess of dumped-out milk in the sink is any indication, it's... not exactly going well.

Please help him.]

D. [cw: smoking]

[Smoking is more Ren's habit than Akechi's, and yet, tonight feels like a good night for one. He's outside ADI's apartments in the early evening with a cigarette in hand, staring pensively into the night. He genuinely did never think he'd make it this far, a year out from that fateful encounter in the interrogation room. Sure, none of it had actually been real, and in some respects, the actual experience hadn't been nearly as bad as the nightmares he'd suffered only a few weeks prior.

But still, it lingers, like the stench of the cigarette smoke seeping into his winter jacket. Funny how the Detective Prince wouldn't be caught dead with such a filthy habit, and it certainly doesn't match the image of the goody-two-shoes young man he's been trying to project here at ADI. But right now, he can't bring himself to care.

He inhales deeply and exhales a cloud of smoke, tapping some ash off the end of the cigarette to the ground. Maybe he should mention his thoughts to Ren, but if the other boy hasn't mentioned the date, he certainly isn't going to be the one to bring it up. His lip curls in distaste -- really, who the fuck is he to be upset about something like that when Ren is the one who suffered most greatly. He'd thought he'd been above this kind of pointless navel-gazing, but here he is.

Fuck, but it's cold out here.]

Comments

[aelwyn_aberration]

[She hums, giving him a sidelong glance. Then shakes her head. She got confirmation, so that's something.] I don't believe so. You strike me as bit more practical than he is.

[Even in his good boy persona, which frankly makes Aelwyn a bit uncomfortable just watching, he's not as prone to self righteous fury on behalf of a few damaged cars.]

Am I correct in that assumption?

[simulatio]

[He snorts another humorless laugh and brings his cigarette to his lips. "Practical?" Perhaps, in some respects. Less idealistic, more realistic, certainly. Considering how many times the thief had escaped death, perhaps his optimistic bravado is warranted. Perhaps he's simply on a winning streak that will inevitably, irrevocably, end.

Akechi exhales the smoke and turns a humorless smile to her.]

Something like that. Do you still intend to kill him?

[The tone is casual, but his eyes are deadly serious as he cuts directly to the question that's far more pertinent to him. What does he care if Aelwyn sets a few cars on fire, except for how it affects Ren?]

[aelwyn_aberration]

[She shakes her head, a bit amused.]

I don't. I'd prefer not to, at the very least. He did help me, even if it was in a dream, when he didn't have to. I don't like going back on my debts. [She sighs. If only it were that simple... she doesn't think she'd kill Ren as it stands. She doesn't think she'll have to. But if she does... well, she already knew she'd have to take out both of them. Would Mercy still like her afterward...?] Do you? Still intend on killing him, I mean.

[It's a fascinating relationship, if he does. Not that Aelwyn's own encounters have been particularly regular in how they expressed their feelings. Unless Mercy counts.]

[simulatio]

Repaying your debts, hm...?

[A humorless smile twists his lips, an ugly expression of private mirth. He'd said something like that to Ren once, a lifetime and a half ago. It ties directly into Aelwyn's question, the one that lingers deep within his heart, half-acknowledged and often buried. He takes his time answering it, inhaling and exhaling another breath of smoke before continuing.]

I don't, [he says honestly, glancing sideways to her with that same crooked smile.] As you said: debts. If our scales were to be assessed, he has given me far more than he has taken away.

[Though he's taken quite a lot, which only makes the new life and tantalizing promise of a future he's provided all the more meaningful.]

He's quite the unique individual, wouldn't you say?

[aelwyn_aberration]

Indeed. [Although, she wouldn't really know, would she? Maybe there's just as many idealistic heroic types at Adaine's school, where they breed them to be naive and violent.]

I can't quite decide if I like him, to tell you the truth. He's very... [She purses her lip, trying to find the words.] ...set in his ways, I guess. He keeps silently giving me the "you can still be a better person" treatment, like that's his decision.

[She sighs, taking another drag of her cigarette.]

What did he take from you? If you don't mind me asking, that is.

[simulatio]

[He actually laughs at her assessment, a deeper, uglier sound than his usual pleasant, politely indulgent laugh.]

Yes, he does rather embody Rousseau's ideal that man is born good, hm? And then expects those around him to conform to those selfsame ideals.

[Not that he expects Aelwyn to know anything about French philosophy. Maybe her dimension has an equivalent to the Romantic genius, but it doesn't matter in the end.]

As for what he took... [It's really none of her business. He studies the vanishing smoke in front of him, relishing the idea that he can simply say so, bluntly. It's not as if telling her would damage his already-ruined reputation in her eyes. But then again, what would it hurt? He doesn't need absolution from her, nor understanding. But in the haze that had followed his monstrous transformation, perhaps she's one of the few who could comprehend.]

Revenge, [he says finally, meeting her eyes as he taps more ash from the end of the cigarette.] The single goal I'd dedicated my life to. He's the only man who had ever beaten me, and in doing so, robbed me of my life's purpose.

[The smile he gives her is more wan than wry, an honesty he's unaccustomed to.]

He's the only man who ever tried to match me, and proved victorious. As I said: a most unique individual.

[aelwyn_aberration]

[There's no Rousseau in Spire, but she gets as much of the general idea as she can. She'll read about him later, for now she just nods along with a dry smile.

She's a bit surprised when he answers her. She's not sure she would've, if questioned about her motives.]

I see.

[Revenge... what an odd motivation. Well, not really, it's entirely natural to want to rage against those who hurt you. Adaine, for one, wanted revenge. She imagines there's a fair few out for her head by now.

She can't decide if she relates. She's equal parts compliant with her family's demands, and deeply spiteful against the person they wanted her to be, the things they wanted her to do. She can't... love them, but she can't hate them. Or she shouldn't. Good daughters don't hate their parents. Good daughters don't try to plunge the world into the abyss either.]

That would be frustrating, yes... I think I understand the feeling, to some extent, though I suspect my own case is... quite different.

Then again, I also know firsthand how horribly dull it is to live without real competition. So that's a silver lining, I suppose. Boredom is rather poisonous, in my experience. So I can understand why he holds your interest.