Dark Void - tricksterlatte - Persona 5 [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

As the Champion of the Pokemon League, many things were expected of Akira. From the intellect and ferocity required for battling, to the charisma and wisdom for maintaining at least some sort of likability in the region, she had it all. One skill required of her on a daily basis was a calm, rational mind. She had to keep everyone on their toes, and never the other way around. On most days she never faltered, whether battling for the fate of the universe or breaking into an evil corporation’s headquarters.

People assumed nothing phased Akira, and they weren’t entirely wrong. After all she’d gone through as a teenager especially, Akira went about life largely undaunted, determined to appear unflappable no matter the situation, the foe, or the consequences. Her ability to feign nonchalance and her impressive bravado were what made her go from part-time Pokemon research assistant, part-time thief to the Pokemon League champion and the former chosen one by Zekrom. Even her own friends often assumed she was untouchable, which, while exactly what she wanted, left her bereft of support by her own design.

Only a few people ever saw beneath her masks, and no one ever saw beneath them all–save one person. The person who had rivaled her throughout her entire journey, the person she had fought on the same grounds she stood shell-shocked upon right now, the person who had betrayed her and then saved her, who was as responsible for the Pokemon League being reduced to rubble and partially overgrown ruins now. The girl who had understood and resonated with Akira in a way that happens only once every few lifetimes, no matter how they clashed.

Akira may have been level headed, but all that level headedness went out the window when she walked out of the dilapidated, abandoned League lobby, out to the grassy terrace overlooking Victory Road, and found Goro Akechi waiting for her, with a brand new look and a scowl that sent Akira’s heart offbeat. Being ambushed by Akechi would’ve been expected long ago, but not today.

Goro Akechi had died six months ago, leaving Akira with only her old Zebstrika, a promise for a rematch, and a heart devastated by survivor’s guilt and grief, yet here she was, alive and well. Akira didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, so she instead stared at Akechi like a Deerling in the headlights, completely dumbstruck.

Nothing made sense. Goro Akechi had died before her eyes here, six months ago, saving Akira from her bastard father after their god awful battle, and there was no way this was real. Well, she could always be a hallucination. That wouldn’t be a shocker, right? Professor Maruki had warned Akira about how trauma could warp the mind, but Professor Maruki had also warned Akira about the aftereffects of a Pokemon using Toxic on a human being, and hey, she was just fine and lacked any brain damage after being poisoned herself–

“Kurusu, I’ve called your name three times now. You can’t be this stupefied that I survived an explosion.”

Never mind. Maybe the brain damage was legitimate after all. “Akechi?” she asked in disbelief, her brain looping nonstop a mantra of where have you been? What happened to you? Why did you leave me? All she said aloud was, “You’re alive? But…how?”

Akechi huffed, looking frustrated, yet unable to conceal her own awkwardness in its entirety. It wasn’t Akira’s fault she had no idea what was going on. It hadn’t been that long since Akira and Akechi had battled past the brink, only stopping when Masayoshi Shido, the leader of Team Ark disguised as the people’s favorite Elite Four member, had stepped in, taken control of Akechi’s Reshiram, and nearly killed them both. For so long now, Akira had carried the burden of Akechi’s death alone. Now here Akechi was, alive and well, and Akira couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or one gigantic slap to the face.

Those six months had done wonders for Akechi. No more phony prissy demeanor to appear non threatening, no more international police uniform as a masquerade while she covered up all of Shido’s crimes. The prim, controlled braid had been chopped to her shoulders, her clothing was still practical but cutting edge, and no concealer hid the exhausted shadows under her eyes for TV appearances anymore. Under the light of the full moon, her wickedly sharp red eyes cut right through Akira and pierced her heart all over again, and Akira let her do it.

She looked tired, and grumpier than she had ever been ever before, but she was alive. Fire shone in Akechi’s eyes, a far cry from the desolate, morbid acceptance that had been the last thing Akira saw before twin dragons had taken Akechi away. The fire was controlled, nothing like the inferno when her and Akira had fought past their breaking point, but it was beautiful all the same. Akira felt drawn to her gaze like a moth to the flame, and this time she hoped that fire burned her alive.

“Did you really think so little of me to assume that bald piece of trash could kill me? I’m honestly offended, I thought you were smarter than this,” Akechi muttered with an eyeroll. Oh god, and she was mean. Akira liked them mean,

and everyone else disliked that about Akira. Not Akiras’s problem, honestly. “I know I’ve played dead for…awhile–”

“Six months and five days,” Akira clarified. “I’ve counted.”

Akechi looked taken aback, or maybe flustered. Who knew? It had been six months and five days, after all. Maybe Akira couldn’t read her anymore. Maybe Akechi didn’t want her to, though she prayed otherwise. “I didn’t think you’d want me to return, after everything I did to you and your friends.”

Awful lot to assume about someone who was actually in love with you, but sure. “They’d probably disagree, but I haven’t heard from them and they also aren’t me. You may have played double agent with us, and you did terrible things that I don’t have a right to speak on, but you also saved my life, and you nearly died for that. I…I’m sorry. For doubting you, I mean.”

She strolled past Akechi, tensing when their hands accidentally brushed–accidents could be one-sided. Maybe she just wanted to check Akechi’s pulse. She still wore those damn gloves, but at least she was a solid, corporeal body, and probably not a ghost. Sighing, Akira flopped forward against the railing, giving herself a moment of privacy to squeeze her eyelids shut and process this for the millionth time in a minute as the waterfall nearby drowned out her anxious heartbeat.

This was real. It had to be. Why didn’t it feel real? Was something actually wrong, or was the clawing at Akira’s heart just residual grief instead of any monster or myth? Nothing made any sense, but as long as Akechi was here, Akira didn’t need it to.

“Anyways,” Akira asked after regaining her composure and acting like nothing was wrong with her life ever, “where were you? Err, you don’t have to answer that, I guess. What brings you back here? Are you here for a rematch? Or did you just miss my annoying ass? You can admit it, it’s okay. I can’t judge someone’s bad tastes without being a hypocrite.”

“I could beat your annoying ass anytime, you know. And I can easily admit your ass is annoying, you are correct,” Akechi said, rolling her eyes and shooting Akira a glare. No comment about her taste in women? So did Akechi agree they were both sh*t taste? How self-cruel.

“This isn’t about you–not entirely,” Akechi continued. “I heard you still hadn’t filled Shido’s vacant position, and I’m responsible for that bastard obtaining that spot at all. I can help you find a replacement.” She placed her hand on the railing, close to Akira’s but not touching. Never touching, yet

always in reach. “I told you long ago that I repay my debts. I meant it.”

Neat! They could have used that six months ago, but Akira had wasted most of her time wallowing in a deep depression instead of doing her job.

“And…perhaps I did miss you,” Akechi begrudgingly admitted, shutting off the sarcasm receptors in Akira’s brain, “but I truly thought you’d be happier without me. A visit sounded in order, at least to confirm my survival.”

Oh.

For the first time Akira could remember, Akechi looked genuinely unsure of herself. This woman had run circles around Akira and her allies for months, conspired against them, had them framed for Shido’s own terrible misdeeds, and had nearly killed Akira herself. She had done so confidently, with an arrogance that, while off-putting to many, had been warranted due to her skill and experience. Akechi faced every obstacle with more determination and ability than anyone Akira had ever known, and almost always came out on top. She was stubborn, devious, and the most amazing person Akira would ever meet.

This felt so different, but…it made sense. Sentimentality had never been Akechi’s forte, but now Akira realized she was probably the first person Akechi felt for at all. Akechi still wouldn’t look Akira in the eye, so the girl did what any sensible lesbian would do and placed her hand on top of her attempted killer’s. Akechi tensed and her hand twitched, but she made no move to leave. A good sign.

“From the bottom of my heart, Akechi…that is the stupidest thing I have heard in my entire life.” Akecho’s hand twitched again, ready to leave, but Akira tightened her grip and cut off escape. Akira had to choose her words carefully. She didn’t want to ruin another good thing. “I missed you. It’s okay if you didn’t come back for me, but I’m happy anyways. Welcome home.”

Smiling softly, she greedily brushed her thumb across Akechi’s knuckles before withdrawing, and decided against teasing Akechi for her visibly flushed ears–Akira’s own ears were burning, anyways, and no use being a hypocrite again. “How have your Pokemon been?” Akechi asked to clear the air. “Same ridiculous tactics as before?”

“There is nothing ridiculous about training Pokemon because they look cool. You just lack style.”

“Well, you lack substance,” Akechi muttered with an eye roll. “I was genuinely curious. I rather liked your Polteageist, and my Gallade missed your Gardevoir dearly. Do you still have my Zebstrika on hand?”

I missed you dearly, Akira tried to reply, but the words caught in her throat, and she wondered if Akechi thought the same. This was no time to be a sappy, pining loser. Akechi wouldn’t like that. Shoving her yearning aside, she reached to her belt and threw her Pokeballs, letting her team out for some fresh air and a playdate–all but one. One by one, everyone else on hand popped out, and while they all remembered Akechi, their reactions varied.

Zebstrika was delighted to see his old trainer again. Immediately, he raced to Akechi’s side, nuzzling her hair while Akechi fondly scratched behind his ears. Akira had taken good care of Zebstrika, but he was a wild beast who listened to no one but Akechi herself—even if he had become bizarrely attached to Akira. Anyone else who dared approach Akira’s mysterious new teammate risked death by electric zebra, and anyone who dared approach Akira in Zebstrika’s presence risked that same fate.

Meanwhile, Meowscarada stuck to Akira’s side like a feline bodyguard, clearly remembering their final duel with Akechi. Gardevoir took one look and immediately started searching the terrace for his beloved Gallade, Zoroark appeared as a second Meowscarada bodyguard to flank Akira like jester cat chess pieces, Sojiro’s old, Polteageist let out a gurgling noise that reminded Akira of days past brewing coffee for her dear rival, and her latest catch, Corviknight, stared unwaveringly into Akechi’s eyes, refusing to break eye contact no matter how awkward.

Akechi stared back at the bird just as stoically, then glanced at Akira. “God, I can tell you’re choking back a laugh. What’s so funny?”

“An inside joke,” Akira answered cryptically.

“But your jokes are never funny,” Akechi obviously lied.

“Can you just send out your team, please? Gardevoir is going to induce a psychic aneurysm for one of us if you keep us waiting much longer.”

Akechi knew Akira was right, because Akira was always right, so she sighed and did as commanded for once. Immediately, Gallade sprinted to pick up Gardevoir in a joyous bridal carry, and now Akira was safe from a gay Gardevoir-induced aneurysm, at least until the next time she was called into a work meeting.

There were some familiar faces and some new ones. Akechi’s Ceruledge immediately decided the nearest lamppost was a great place to stand precariously in a bout of dramatic self-reflection. Her Decidueye waved his wing hello after recognizing Akira before soaring into the sky for laps, and her shiny Palafin did the same before diving into the waters below. In lieu of Zebstrika, a Mimikyu clung to Akechi’s leg shyly, alongside an Alolan Marowak that answered several questions of Akira’s at once.

“So how was your tropical vacation in Alola?” she asked, unable to keep the full twinge of bitter sorrow locked deep inside. Immediately, it was locked inside once more. Not the time or place, and that time would never come if Akira could help it. She kneeled down and waved hi to the ghosts, jumping back when Mimikyu lunged at her with a wicked, inky tendril. Feisty little guy. Marowak, though…

“And this is the Cubone we rescued back in the day, right?” she asked Akechi. “I was worried about him after the battle, too. Glad they all seem to be okay.” Once Marowak recognized her as his other rescuer from back then, he stepped forward and tackled Akira, hugging her like his life depended on it. Akira laughed and hugged the little guy delightedly, careful to avoid ghostly flames as she pet the back of Marowak’s head.

“They all made it out just fine, the only one who got injured was me,” Akechi replied. Akira glanced up and caught a glimpse of loneliness, or perhaps that was ruefulness on Akechi’s face, before she went stoic once again. Akira straightened and slouched against the railing once more, geared up to listen. “Some turncoat grunts found my body near the wreckage and carried me out. I woke up in a hospital with nothing to my name except my Pokemon and the clothes on my back, and went to the one region where no one would know me.”

“I think it did you some good. You look like you’re doing better,” Akira said.

“Akira, in what universe would this face be called happy?” Akechi asked incredulously as she frowned.

“I said better, not happy. Honestly, you smiled all the time as the detective, but you were never happy. I could tell after a while,” Akira answered. Akechi was quiet in response. As much as it hurt to admit, Akechi had needed time away from the world. Away from Akira, too. “Healing is a process.”

Even if Akira’s own wounds were opening tonight.

“It was nice to be forgotten,” Akechi admitted.

“I didn’t forget about you,” Akira impulsively blurted, biting her lip to keep more words from spilling over.

“...I know. You took good care of Zebstrika, too. I appreciate that.”

“I keep my promises.”

They slipped into silence as their Pokemon played behind them. Every now and then, Akira would catch Akechi stealing as many glimpses of her as Akira stole of Akechi. God, there was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask for. Why couldn’t this thief take the one thing she actually wanted? Why were her words failing her now?

Give me a rematch. Show me what you’re made of.

Go on a date with me. Just one?

…

Stick around this time. Join my team. Stay.

Please stay.

I can’t lose you again.

Don’t leave me.

She swallowed. The worst Akechi could do was say no–she could also smite Akira where she stood, but that was far less frightening. God, since when was Akira afraid of anything, much less Goro Akechi? This was a challenge, albeit a personal one, and Akira always rose to the bait. “Akechi…would you–”

“Finally, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you, it’s been weeks, Kurusu–is that Akechi-san?! God, never mind! I don’t have time for this!”

Akira had been so lost in her anxious, gay spiraling that she had missed the flapping of wings, announcing the arrival of one Sae Niijima. Sae, who Akira realized she had been ignoring, whose phone calls must have gone to voicemail, because Akira’s phone had been dead for weeks. Sae, the infallible Sae Niijima, ice type trainer of the Elite Four, who appeared to be cracking for the first time Akira had ever seen, drowning in something beyond Akira’s comprehension. She hopped off her borrowed Corviknight taxi, immediately brushed past Akechi, looked Akira in the eye, and shattered Akira’s world.

“I need your help. Makoto–your friends. They won’t wake up.”

It wasn’t just Makoto. Of course it didn’t stop with just Makoto. The hospital in Hearthome City now housed the unresponsive, peacefully sleeping Ann, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Haru as well, and all attempts to contact Kasumi and Futaba were futile. The guilt made Akira’s stomach write, so painfully aware of her own failings after finally charging her phone and seeing the onslaught of panicked voicemails. Grief and survivor’s guilt for someone playing dead had consumed her, only for something far more sinister to slip by thanks to her negligence. She had no excuse for this. There was no excuse for isolating herself, not when she knew Akechi wouldn’t have wanted that even if she had died.

To her credit, Akechi didn’t pry in regards to Akira’s delinquency, or why she had neglected her friends. Instead, she was making herself useful and discussing the potential whereabouts of Akira’s other dear confidants with the remaining Elite Four and an Officer Zenkichi who looked the same as all his equally plain relatives, while Akira and Doctor Takemi monitored her comatose friends.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” Takemi commented. “We’ve had our fair share of ghosts across the region, but nothing recently. Every remedy for the standard Dream Eater failed, but scanning for neural activity doesn’t look like the usual coma.”

“So…they’re dreaming?” asked Akira.

“Sure does look like it. From what the local hex maniac told me when she stopped by earlier, pretty normal dreams, too. It’s just weird your friends are the only known cases so far. You saw a lot of crazy stuff on your journey, right? Any psychic trainers with a vendetta out there? Ghosts with unfulfilled bloodlust?”

“If Shido were a ghost, I doubt he would give anyone good dreams. He’d probably make me go bald, or file another lawsuit from beyond the grave. Or just kill me, actually.”

Good luck with that, asshat.

Takemi gave Akira a pensive expression. “Do you remember how your voice used to crack when I tested my experimental Pokerus strains on you, every time you insisted you were fine before you had a seizure? You’re doing that right now.”

“I’m fine,” Akira lied, hoping she learned enough gaslighting by observing Akechi to make Takemi buy her lie. If Takemi ignored the telltale crack, that was all she needed. Scrolling through her phone contacts to avoid looking at Makoto’s sickly pallor, or Ryuji’s blissful expression as the life he cherished passed by without him, her thumb hovered over one troublesome contact and she frowned. “I just need to find who did this to them.”

All further attempts to pester Akira for answers were in vain, so Takemi left the room with a hefty sigh and the click of black heels. The chit chatting continued outside as the door opened and Akechi joined her, closing the door for privacy’s sake.

“Hey,” she said, crossing the room without sparing a glance at Akira’s friends–they were never Akechi’s friends, anyways, but Akechi was here for someone nonetheless. Akira bit her lip to avoid thinking about it.

“Kurusu–”

“Is it too much to ask you to call me Akira?”

Akechi was stumped for a second, but quickly composed herself. Perhaps after seeing distress through the fractures of Akira’s everyday mask, the cracks no one but a masterful deceiver like Akechi could see through–that no one else ever wanted to see through, she humored Akira for once. “Akira…alright,” she continued, as Akira let the sound of her name from Akechi’s lips be her solace. “Are you okay?”

It was sweet of Akechi to ask, despite everything. Whether Akechi cared or not. “Probably. I should be,” Akira whispered, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. Then that moment was over. “I’ll get over it.”

Akechi wasn’t convinced, but she played along for now. “So, That professor from your hometown, the self-righteous one who wore those hideous socks and sandals. He was studying Darkrai and Cresselia, wasn’t he?”

Why Akechi remembered so many trivial tidbits from a conversation her and Akira had a year ago was bizarre, but Akira didn’t have time or the mental capacity to unpack that right now. She glanced down at her phone and her contact info for Professor Takuto Maruki, the one name on her list she had hesitated to dial. She had never once told the elite four about her field research for Professor Maruki–only the same friends who lay comatose before her and presumably elsewhere, and bits and pieces to Akechi whenever they reconvened for their rival battles or accidental criminal rendezvouses.

Maruki had always been an oddball. Always claiming he wanted to make the world a better place, but never confiding in Akira, his other assistant Kasumi, or any of Akira’s traveling companions when it came to his end goal. Lots of theorizing about legends and myths, about the effects of certain Pokemon on cognition…Darkrai, Cresselia, and the healing power of dreams. How much better everyone would be if they could forget their sorrows.

Akira didn’t want to suspect someone she considered a friend, but the coincidences were too great, and it wasn’t like he’d be the first of Akira’s friends to betray her. There was something worse on her mind than Maruki, though, and she had no clue how to tell Akechi without making everything worse.

“He was,” Akira answered, “and I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” “Bad enough for us to ditch your little posse and do something about it?”

“They aren’t my posse, they’re my friends…okay, and my kinda annoying coworkers. And a cop, which never helps any situation,” Akira retorted, but she put her phone away and shoved her hands into her pockets as she leveled with Akechi. No longer trapped in her own head as she waited for everyone else to catch up, no longer worried about convincing everyone she wasn’t too worried or wrapped up in her own bullsh*t, she picked herself up and kept marching forward, the way she always did. She may have forgotten herself, but she refused to let herself drown.

“I did a lot of his field research while running around giving Shido’s team a hassle and beating your ass, but I wasn’t Maruki’s only assistant back in the day. Kasumi was, too. Between her field research and whatever Maruki had already, if this really was him, there’s a good chance we’ll find some answers at his lab.”

The eye roll was absolutely worth it. It was nice being able to insult Akechi without the threat of Shido between them. It almost made Akira forget all her friends were in a coma. Almost.

“Alright, Akira,” Akechi said through half-heartedly gritted teeth, “shall we depart? Or do you need to say goodbye to the peasants first?”

Truth be told, Akira really didn’t feel up for talking to the others right now. Akechi was easy to talk to at a time like this, all action bared teeth, something impersonal and yet empathetic in the strangest way no one but Akira seemed to understand. The others would question her, ask for orders or bark out ones Akira knew she could never follow, force her through red tape just to get anything done, and Akira would rather skip the legal process and save her friends right now. They didn’t need to run this by the others–jumping out the open window next to Makoto’s bedside would do just fine.

“Come on out, Akecheep!” she called as she let Corviknight out of its Pokeball outside. She leaped outside herself and let the adrenaline rush wash over her, grinning mindlessly for several glorious feet until she landed on Corviknight’s back. “Akechi…wait, Goro! Can I keep calling you by your first name? I should, Akecheep might get the two of you mixed up if I don’t!”

Akechi stared at her like Akira had suddenly sprouted multiple Dodrio heads, completely unimpressed with the punchline for Akira’s inside joke. Then she glared icy daggers and jumped, landing with more force than necessary on top of Akira, as Akira became a (literal) bootlicker for the first and only time in her life.

Flying with Akechi nestled behind her initially was panic-inducing enough, but flying with Akechi’s arm wrapped around her waist for balancing purposes was more nerve-wracking than the time she nearly drank coffee from Polteageist. Her heart was offbeat, and yet perfectly in time with Akechi’s, thrumming with life while pressed lightly against Akira’s back.

Akechi had claimed the hold was for balancing purposes, since Akira was such a klutz and would fall at some point, but she hadn’t exactly been wrong. Akira had never felt more off-balance in her life.

After the initial bickering over Akira’s poor choices in Pokemon nicknames and recklessness in regards to jumping out a fifth story window before Corviknight’s ball even opened, they slipped into a silence that was almost too comfortable to truly be comfortable. They hadn’t been alone like this since before Akechi had nearly killed her, too far down the path of revenge to spare Akira from the mutual self-destruction.

With no lies or masks between them, Akira felt too vulnerable. She thanked whichever god actually gave a damn about her that Akechi couldn’t meet her eyes right now, and she wondered if Akechi’s eyes carried the same weariness Akira felt seeping into her bones.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Akechi said, finally breaking the silence. Akira, thankfully, did not jolt. A part of her was used to Akechi by her side already. “I meant to at the League, actually, before your day took its second unpleasant turn.”

“It wasn’t unpleasant to see you again, you know,” Akira corrected. Her chest felt heavy. Her eyelids felt so heavy. “I mean it.”

Akechi sighed. “I know…you’d be better off if you didn’t.”

“Too bad. I’m stubborn, I’m probably mentally unstable, whatever it is you’re stuck with me. You were saying?”

Akechi didn’t match her bantering tone at all. She was solemn, quiet, unreadable even if Akira could see her face right now. “The League still hasn’t been repaired. You were by yourself, and from what I’ve gathered, you have spent the past several months wallowing in either self-pity or misery. Has anyone ever checked in on you?”

What a turnabout way of asking if Akira was alright again. She probably wasn’t. “I didn’t want them to. They stopped asking after a while, unless it was Sae, Iwai, or Chihaya about filling Shido’s vacant spot. They have more important things to do than worry about me–”

“And that’s the issue,” Akechi interrupted her. Akira didn’t miss the way her grip tightened around her for a millisecond before releasing, catching herself before she got carried awhile. Akira once again had no idea how to process whatever that was. Her head was mere TV static and her emotions were a writhing void.

“You are important, and yet you’re acting like you’re worthless. You used to be ridiculously confident in your battle skills, your negotiation skills, what felt like every damn skill under the sun, but you loved to boast about your friends more than anything, how they were everything to you. And yet you sit here calling yourself unimportant? What happened while I was gone to change that? Why are you isolating yourself–”

“Since when do you care?” Akira blurted, and then bit her tongue so hard she hoped it bled. “Sorry.”

“...I’m asking because I care, you idiot. Even though I have already failed you,” Akechi admitted quietly. Deep breaths. Akira had to take deep breaths. Her emotions never got the best of her. She was the unflappable ace trainer, the one everyone relied on, whatever people wanted her to be. However, Akechi seemed to want Akira to just be Akira, and Akira had forgotten how to be her true self so long ago. Her thumb gently stroked Akira’s side, soothing and unsettling, before she pulled away. The void was so cold. Akira shivered. “What happened to you?”

“Akechi…” She took another deep breath and opened her eyes, tilting her head back to let the wind brush away her bangs, breathing in the fresh air so something could fill her hollow heart. Something that didn’t scare her, something that wouldn’t leave. Something that might heal her scarred heart and let Akechi inside.

Nothing surrounded the two of them except a sea of clouds and stars as twilight faded into night. Only the moon illuminated their journey, her gentle glow and the darkness that embraced her giving Akira the serenity to say what must be said. Perhaps someday they could be just like the moon and her darkness, too, and this pipe dream, as hopeless as it seemed right now, gave Akira the will power to answer.

It would be wrong to want that light for herself, selfish even, but it was so dark, and Akira was already so selfish.

“Do you remember what you told me, when you first caught your Cubone?” she began. Akechi didn’t reply to the rhetorical question, so Akira continued. “You talked to me about your mother, and how you saw yourself in that Cubone. Alone, afraid…I know you blame yourself for his mother’s death, and given how Team Ark were the ones to do it, I’m gonna guess you had a small part in it, but he gave you a reason to keep going even when you were lost.”

Memories came back unbidden. Under the moonlight, protected by the darkness, Akira let them sweep her into the undertow, if only for a moment. Her lungs burned and her heart was gearing to burst, but maybe that was okay. Maybe there was a way to find the shore again, after all. “I don’t mean to stir up bad memories for you, but god, I just…you could only save one of us, and yet you saved me. All I had left of you was your Zebstrika and a promise for a rematch, and you didn’t come back. It’s been six months, Akechi. I waited all this time, and you never showed. All I dreamed about…”

Nightmares. Calling the looping visage of the only person she resonated with screaming, bleeding, and burning alive in an unfeeling inferno, the consequences of Akechi’s lust for revenge and Akira’s own meddling a dream would be a sick, twisted joke.

She shook her head to clear it once more, and turned around on Akecheep’s back, looking Akechi in the eye for the first time in ages, but openly for the first time ever. Grief. Sorrow. Anger, a bit of resentment, and an unfortunate amount of bitterness for being kept waiting, but hope and longing reigned supreme above all else. “So, as for why I’ve been so distant…I think you already know the answer to your question,” Akira said. She needn’t say more.

Akechi met her gaze unwaveringly. Under the moonlight, Akira could see how dark the bruises under her eyes were, how the lies and misdeeds had taken a long term toll after all. She lacked any malice, hatred, or rage she had presented on that dreadful day. All Akira saw was exhaustion, regret, and a tragic yearning Akechi surely didn’t mean to convey. “You want something that isn’t good for you, Akira. I know what you’re angling for, I’m no fool, but I’ve hurt you. More than once, I might add.”

“But you don’t want to do that anymore,” Akira declared. It wasn’t a question. Akira could see the truth for herself on Akechi’s face. “We both want the same thing, and there’s nothing in the way anymore, right? What’s the use in denying yourself? You don’t have to self-flagellate over something I’m over already, and you don’t have to be alone anymore.” I don’t want to be alone anymore.

Her stomach dropped briefly as Akecheep began their descent, and she realized Twin Leaf Town was finally beneath them. Akechi remained silent as Akira faced forward again, and she decided this discussion would have to wait. There were more important things to focus on than Akira’s feelings.

The good news: Thanks to Akira’s old breaking and entering skills alongside Akechi’s tech expertise, Maruki’s lab and also his records were easy to crack open and listen to. The bad news: Maruki was long gone, and probably hadn’t been in the lab for at least a few weeks. All records were cut off mere days before Akira’s friends had gone missing, and Akira’s dread only grew.

Data Log #783

As newly crowned Sinnoh League Champion, Kurusu has resigned from her field research position. Kurusu’s final act was to submit information regarding Legendary Pokemon Reshiram and Zekrom, though all attempts to inquire further regarding their abilities were shut down. Kurusu was unresponsive, other than to confess she had released both Pokemon already, and that Reshiram had never been hers to begin with. I continued to pester her, but it was in vain. Whatever happened with Team Ark must have been emotionally draining. I will inquire again at a later date.

Data Log #784

Yoshizawa has picked up hints of high level psychic activity near Canalave City, potentially connected to Cresselia. Monitor equipment has been placed. Focus on Fullmoon Island is currently top priority for my potential breakthrough.

She has also informed me that while Kurusu claims to be assisting with League recovery efforts, she has failed to respond to any correspondence between her and other friends. I wish I could do more to help. She has always been a tough nut to crack.

Data Log #785

Yoshizawa’s communication has been abruptly silenced. Monitoring equipment has picked up high levels of dark type energy. I can’t resist the call to Fullmoon Island any longer. Breakthrough imminent. I hope this will finally be enough to save them.

“Why the hell does your professor speak like he’s some self-righteous bastard protagonist from a pretentious prestige film?” Akechi asked once they finished combing through them. “No one was going to read these except him, it’s so self-congratulatory. His savior complex never fails to piss me off–hey, are you still listening?”

No. “I’m fine,” Akira lied, before realizing that wasn’t what Akechi had even asked. She grimaced as she reread the final calendar date over and over. “We need to head to Fullmoon Cave–”

“You are truly a piss poor liar,” Akechi interrupted, frustrating Akira beyond belief. She shoved her hands into her pockets and slouched, praying her bangs concealed her anxious expression. “I may have participated in cover-ups, but I was still a detective, and I don’t need an ounce of investigative skills to know you’re upset about something. Spill–”

“I’ll talk about it later,” she interrupted right back. “I’m worried about more people falling asleep, and we don’t know how much time we have. If it’s only people I know, who knows if we’ll be targeted next?”

“Why do you think they’ll only target you and your little friends?” Akechi asked, but Akira was already out the door, freeing Akecheep for their awkward flight to Fullmoon Island.

The suspicion had been strong before, but now Akira was certain. This entire situation was her fault, and she was too afraid of admitting her failure to the one person she had started all this for in the first place. They soared onward. Akira was determined to act like everything was fine, but something heavy was burning a hole into her side, reminding Akira of her shame no matter how far she ran away from the problem, even if they were on their way to fix it right now.

“Do you believe the folklore about Darkrai and Cresselia being lovers?” Akira blurted halfway through the flights unable to contain herself any longer.

“Hm…the theory has merit, but personally I never gave it much thought,” Akechi clinically replied, clearly detached from the legend. “While enacting my plans for the past several years, I never had the time to think about theoretical love stories or any legends that didn’t pertain to destroying Shido. Those two particular Pokemon were never priorities of mine. I suppose you’re the type to get brainlessly sentimental over a story like that, though.”

Akira grimaced. Okay, she had earned that one, but she wore the brainless badge with pride. “A little bit,” she cryptically replied. “I always wanted something like that growing up. Everyone else thought they were enemies, but I never liked that theory much. Even if it was true, it wasn’t the full picture. They didn’t clash, they were complementary, and they weren’t complete without their mirror image. When I was a kid, I just thought it was sweet, like they meant everything to each other, and they’d mirror each other forever. Now, though…”

She looked across the horizon, at Fullmoon Island–at what should have been Fullmoon Island. The entire island was engulfed in shadows,, and Akira could not make out anything within that writhing, eerie darkness. If she closed her eyes, she swore she could hear Darkrai’s agonized cries, taunting her, refusing to rest until Akira gave back what was hers.

“Akechi, I’m gonna be honest, I messed up pretty bad with this one.”

Akechi didn’t tease her or sneer. Somehow, that felt worse. “Akira. Is this your doing?” When Akira nodded, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, her elbow digging into Akira’s back as they approached the gaping abyss. “What the hell did you do?!”

“Got brainessly sentimental and did something stupid,” she murmured ruefully.

“...You caught Cresselia, didn’t you?” When Akira didn’t reply, Akechi’s voice grew angry. Akira’s fists clenched. “God, of course you did. Why did you let go of Reshiram and Zekrom if you were going to go catch another legendary Pokemon anyways? Why would you separate Darkrai from Cresselia if you thought they had such a powerful bond?”

“Because I’m an idiot, okay?!” Akira shouted, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Akecheep paused its glide to hover in place, sensing frantic movement on its back as Akira twisted to glare at Akechi. God, it hurt. Everything hurt, and knowing she had no reason to feel this way in the first place was the nastiest wound of all, despite her relief, despite her lingering hope for the future.

“Every time I looked at Pokemon that were tied to the both of us, when I thought you were dead because of them, I just broke. I fell apart, I let them both go, because they never belonged to me, and Zekrom only chose me because you were my other half. Then I had to run off and catch Cresselia, when I had no right to separate her from her own other half, no matter how much pain I was in! It was a stupid mistake, and I know you think I’m a moron, but people do stupid things when they’re grieving, Goro!”

“Why would you throw off the balance of the entire waking world just because you missed me–”

“Because I’m an idiot! Did you not listen to a word I just said?” Akira babbled. “Every day after you seemingly died, I had nightmares. Over, and over, until I just stopped sleeping. I stopped trying to see my friends or do my job because they would all realize how badly I was doing, and that’s not what anyone wants from me! I shouldn’t have caught something that didn’t deserve to be caged, and I should have freed her by now instead of wandering around in a haze. It’s my fault, I get it! It’s my fault…mine, only mine.”

She wiped her eyes, laughed hysterically, and smiled, never feeling that smile reach her eyes. It hadn’t in all the months before Akechi came back. Happiness was fleeting, and she strove for it in all the wrong ways. “I get it. I’m not acting like myself, but I’m usually pretty good about hiding what I feel, so maybe this is exactly what I’m really like. There’s no reason to stick around when I’m not the good, unstoppable rival I’m supposed to be, right? I…I can’t make you stay, and I can’t hold a Pokemon hostage either, no matter how sh*tty I’m feeling. That’s what I need to do, right? Set the both of you free.”

“Akira–”

“I can’t make you stay,” Akira whispered, a reminder to herself just as much as a promise to Akechi. She swallowed bitter bile, but also her pride, her feelings, and her horrible words that would only scar the both of them, and attempted to breathe evenly, ignoring the panic that ripped through her lungs and sent her thoughts spiraling like this. “I promise I won’t. No matter how badly I want to, I don’t deserve–”

Something heavy slammed into Akecheep, knocking Akira and Akechi both off its back. Akira yelped, Akechi cursed, and the three of them tumbled down towards the choppy ocean below. Akechi was already calling for Palafin, but Akira barely managed to recall her unconscious bird in time before something dark and chilling snatched her midair and held her in a vice grip. Seafoam green eyes met her own, swirling with grief, rage, and a desperation Akira understood all too well–a storm of emotions that Akira had foolishly inflicted upon the Darkrai before her. The Darkrai that wanted to eat her alive.

Realizing during one terror-stricken moment what was happening, she could only detach her belt and pray Akechi caught it. As the Darkrai she had cursed with her own greediness engulfed her in its dark void, all Akira knew was that maybe this was for the best. Her eyes drifted shut, and then there was nothing but the void.

“Hypothetically speaking, what are your thoughts on these Phantom Thieves, if they are real after all?” the TV host implored to their audience for today.

Akechi had always despised TV appearances, but she did what was asked of her like any obedient lapdog would. No matter her end goal to strip Shido of everything, no matter her motivation, her means to her end were still so mortifying and irksome. There were a million better things she could be doing with her life, if only Shido hadn’t saddled her mother with such an undesirable thorn in anyone’s side. Maybe Akechi would be a Frontier Brain by now, or a Rhyhorn racer, or anything else besides a cop that gave Tepigs a bad name.

It could be worse. She could have simply never been born at all, but maybe that was better than doing skincare company collabs with the goddamn international police. She would have never ruined her mother’s life, never been a blight upon the only family she’d ever known. Her mother would still be alive if she had never become acquainted with the joys of parenthood via such a pleasant child like Goro Akechi.

But she was dead, long gone, cursed to rot and to curse her bastard daughter from beyond the grave, and Akechi was left to curse her right back for abandoning her in favor of the reaper’s tender embrace. All that remained was her father, Shido. All that remained was this bitterness that rotted her innards until only a hollow shell was left, desperate to be made whole once more, but riddled with holes thanks to the vices and violence that tempted her. Always hunting, always spiraling, and yet never fulfilled until the Shido bloodline was erased as his scourge deserved.

Such a despicable young lady. Not like anyone else cared, as long as she smiled for the camera and killed for those who asked offscreen. People were gullible and so stupidly impressionable, and few dared to look past the superficial niceties or her pleasant, desirable detective persona to question how weird this was. The more influence she had, the more likely she’d get to crush Shido like a pathetic worm and revel in his humiliation, so whatever it took was fine with her. Who gave a damn about sunk cost fallacy? If eyes were on Akechi, then she would keep sitting still and looking pretty, no matter how badly she wished to acquaint the heads of her father’s associates with a guillotine, no matter how many innocent people were caught in the crossfire.

She was woefully content with her fate until someone in the studio audience interrupted her melodramatic inner monologue, and then something incredible yet terrifying was set into motion.

“At least the Phantom Thieves are doing more than the cops,” a strong, feminine voice said into the studio mic. Immediately, the reporter pulled away, refusing to air any potentially unsightly propaganda on live TV, lest someone think an audience member had a good point about the lobbyists funding the TV station.

Akechi mindlessly whipped out one of her many rehearsed rebuttals, but it wasn’t the audacity to challenge her on live television that drew her eye. It was that this girl was Akechi’s primary suspect for leading this group of Phantom Thieves in the first place.

The audacity was impressive, if not arrogant. Lack of evidence aside, especially considering how easily Akechi could forge some, Akechi knew for a fact this girl’s escapades had begun only recently, whereas Akechi had been working overtime fulfilling Shido’s power-hungry whims for years. Still, she was bold, and Akechi could respect her audacity in the face of brazen corruption. This was the justification she gave for approaching the probable leader of the Phantom Thieves later and asking to exchange phone numbers.

Immediately, a few things became clear about her new acquaintance Akira Kurusu. First, the girl was probably a masoch*st, being far more responsive and excitable whenever Akechi provoked her. She was also either the bravest person Akechi had ever met or the stupidest, having the gall to rumple Akechi’s carefully maintained visage in order to throw a few obsessive male pursuers off their celebrity crush’s tail. Akira had probably assumed she’d saved Akechi some stress, but she had probably saved lives that day. A pity, and a disaster.

Akira was deliberately reckless, intentionally chaotic, cluelessly charming, unassumingly dangerous, and everything Akechi had always wanted. Everything Akechi had always wanted to be.

From the moment they first conversed, Akechi assumed she despised her. She had to. Akira was a detriment to her plans to usurp Shido, and a force to be reckoned with, no matter how unfortunately dear to Akechi she became, whether Akechi wanted her to be or not. She grew on Akechi like an undesirable yet symbiotic fungus, whether foiling Akechi’s plot or genuinely trying to endear herself. It had to be a ruse. Akechi wished it was a ruse. It would have made everything so much easier.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Everything was a ruse for Goro Akechi. Her genuineness had died years ago with her mother, intentionally drowned by Akechi herself and buried alongside someone who should never have been her child’s duty, who had never wanted a child of her own. Akira made her feel, and Akechi wasn’t allowed to feel. She had her truth, and she had to pursue it. Akira pursued her own ideals, as lofty or demented as they were, whether she was busting Shido’s Team Ark operations at the game corner and revealing their hand in trafficking, ousting the beloved artist Madarame’s Lilycove Museum paintings as plagiarism and a product of child labor, or making a name for herself across every region imaginable as she and her friends freed captured Pokemon and made off like thieves into the night.

Akira wasn’t devoid of imperfections either, though. Sometimes, when they’d run into each other, Akira would greet Akechi with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, unable to fully conceal the bags under her eyes even with glasses. She expected too much of herself, refusing to admit weakness or defeat–until Akechi came along, and weakness maybe became a talking point. Akira opened up to Akechi in a way that made Akechi want to open up herself. That couldn’t be allowed, and yet it happened. Over and over, time and time again, Akechi lost herself in the moment and gave too much to Akira, and selfishly took too much of Akira for herself. This would only kill them both in the long run, but that was fine. Akechi was okay with dying. It was unfortunate Akira was swept up in the undertow with her.

At the time, the only way to protect Shido’s final investments into Team Ark’s endeavors had been to lure Akira into a trap. Akechi had hardened her shriveled heart, telling herself she had no heart in the first place, and had framed Akira for the death of Okumura Co’s CEO–a death Akechi herself was personally responsible for. It was a vile thing, but Akechi was used to being everything wrong with the world. With being everything Akira wasn’t, that Akechi had wished so badly Akira was.

It was so easy for Akechi, though. Too accustomed to ruining every nice thing, too accustomed to assuming ruining nice things was her duty, because she no longer deserved them. Such a warped, twisted child, proving through and through she was undesirable. Everyone expected a Pokemon battle nowadays. No one expected a gun. Shooting Akira Kurusu in the deepest corner of Dragonspiral Tower had been so easy–

Until the shot connected. For one horrible moment, Akechi finally realized her potential for good–when it was too late, and a bullet was buried in Akira’s forehead.

It had all been an orchestrated illusion, of course, an attack Akira had predicted somehow against all odds. but for one second, Akechi finally realized that some plans weren’t always worth seeing to fruition. The blinding, irrational rage that overtook her once she realized Akira had tricked her led to that battle at the overtaken Pokemon League that nearly killed them both, but one tiny part of herself Akechi had never successfully pruned overtook her that day, and chose to save someone else instead of dragging everyone down with her.

It hadn’t been kindness, it hadn’t been justice, and it could never be love. Akechi had long ago given up on love, but perhaps it had been hope, or maybe a longing for a love she didn’t deserve, that made her limbs move on their own that day. Begging like the peasant she truly was for Akira to get out of there and finish what she started, even if done Akira’s way, entrusting her Zebstrika to save that precious life and to carry out her dying wishes by Akira’s side, and embracing a fate she had earned for herself–to be forgotten by the people she had desperately outwitted, living only in the memories of the one person she had always wanted.

Akira was everything she had always wanted, and truly everything Akechi could never be. Akechi herself was everything Akira had always wanted, and everything she foolishly strove to be. They always seemed to misunderstand each other, stubbornly assuming the other deserved better, never making the connections until it was too late.

Such as right now.

“Akira?” Akechi whispered hoarsely on the dimly lit shore of Fullmoon Island, cradling the girl she had failed time and time again, whose affection and pining Akechi had foolishly denied time and time again. She brushed damp bangs out of Akira’s eyes, wishing to see those piercing gray eyes open more than anything.

“Akira, wake up.” Nothing. Akira didn’t move, Akira didn’t wake, no matter how gentle or angry Akechi was with her. All Akira did was sleep, clearly trapped in a nightmare considering how her limbs and the corners of her mouth twitched.

“Wake up already! God dammit, get up! You need to wake up! Akira!”

Still, there was nothing. All was silent, broken solely by a choked sob Akechi refused to own up to. Akira couldn’t die like this. This was so pointless, so stupid. A greater fate must have laid in store for Akira, but instead Akira had thrown it all away while fruitlessly searching for a cure to her sorrow, apathy, and needless remorse. She didn’t deserve this, no matter her mistakes. Nothing felt right about justice anymore, and the truth made Akechi crumble.

She didn’t wake up. For all intent and purposes, Akira might as well have been dead. She slept, trapped in a perpetual nightmare brought about by justice, and Akechi’s heart was ripped in two as she lost the second and last person she had ever cared about. No more sly smirks or gentle smiles, no more clever gray eyes would meet Akechi’s own while Akira cracked her stupid jokes. No more challenges, no one left to drive Akechi forward. Nothing to look forward to, not with her other half lost to the void, leaving only a husk in her wretched grasp.

“You really are such a fool…You really are…” Akechi allowed herself to curl protectively around Akira, delusional enough to pretend this would protect Akira from anything. Instead of finishing the job, Darkrai hovered nearby, leaving Akechi alone for some reason. Unwilling to separate Akechi from her sleeping, tormented Akira, uncaring despite how Akira foolishly had separated Darkrai from Cresselia herself. There had to be something Akechi could do. Akira couldn’t leave. Akira couldn’t leave her.

“It’s amazing what Darkrai can do, isn’t it, Akechi-san?”

You sack of sh*t. Akechi raised her head from where it had rested upon Akira’s and growled, tugging Akira downwards and out of that vile man’s sight. From a few yards away, Professor Maruki stood and regarded her calmly. The unfounded audacity was astounding enough to make Akechi rise to her feet.

“It’s amazing how unfeeling you are, considering your old assistant is in a coma.” As if Akechi had the right to debate feelings. “What the hell do you want?! Did you spurn Darkrai to do this?!”

“When Kurusu-san and Yoshizawa-san’s efforts finally bore fruit, I immediately flew to this island, wondering why we were picking up Darkrai on this island. It wasn’t too happy about Cresselia being taken, and considering how Yoshizawa-san was its first and initially only target, I wondered if her or Kurusu-san had been responsible.” He regarded Akira’s prone form with a despicable detachment that made Akechi want to rip his head off. “From what it’s shown me and what I’ve observed, I can assume she caught Cresselia, didn’t she? Is that why her belt has seven Pokeballs?”

Akechi had been too distraught to even look at Akira’s belt when she first caught it, too distracted by carrying her body to shore on Palafin’s back, but she stepped back on a dime and took a look now.

Of course you carried too many. You never cared about the rules, idiot.

Akechi huffed, took a deep breath, and placed Akira gently on the ground. She regarded Maruki with as much respect as he deserved–that is to say, none. “Given that Akira is out of commission and you’re still gloating, it’s safe to assume you have plans beyond us, isn’t it?”

Maruki smiled softly. Akechi only felt patronized. “Haven’t you ever wanted a peaceful, happy life? Free of pain, a life where you don’t have to suffer–”

“No,” Akechi cut him off rudely, refusing to let this man waste her precious time. “I don’t know you. I don’t care to know you, or your high and mighty bullsh*t. Akira came back to release Cresselia and apologize, but given that she didn’t even when it could cost her life, she couldn’t just yet. Whatever you’re planning, you can shove your preachy attitude into the trash where it belongs. I’m not here to negotiate, I’m here to keep my word, and I don't give a damn about you, or anyone swept up in this sh*t except her. If you’re in the way, then move or I. Will. Move you. Are we clear?”

“If I can control both of them, I can possibly save the world—“

“I don’t give a damn about the world! I don’t want your dreams, whatever the hell they are! I want Akira back, you piece of sh*t!”

Maruki sighed. “You’re as stubborn as Kurusu-san always said.” The quietly hovering Darkrai suddenly screeched, giving Akechi little time to free her team before it charged, its shadowy onslaught only stopped from hitting Akechi by Ceruledge’s blade. Her team battled together as flawlessly as they had for all these years, new and old Pokemon alike, yet Akechi ignored them, trusting them to do their job as she hurtled towards the immovable Maruki.

He had to be controlling Darkrai somehow. Perhaps Darkrai had been converted to a Shadow Pokemon, or maybe Maruki had captured it after coercing it to join his cause. Whatever the case, the first and most logical course of action was to incapacitate or kill Maruki–maybe not kill, Akira wouldn’t appreciate waking up to a bloodied corpse in her vicinity, but who gave a damn right now?

Maruki reached to his belt for a Pokeball, but Akechi was faster. She slammed him with a shoulder check and tackled him to the ground, applying pressure to his throat with her elbow and holding his arms back with her spare hand.

“I..thought you would play fair,” Maruki gurgled beneath her.

“Oh please, as if Dark Void is fair,” Akechi fired back venomously. “What did you do to Darkrai? Shadow technology? Some other method?!”

“I didn’t do anything–” Akechi pressed harder against his throat threateningly for a second, letting up before her frustration could consume her, purposely avoiding thinking about Akira on the sand, trapped in a hellscape, never knowing peace even within a dream unless Akechi woke her up. “I wanted them both, I don’t have them both! I can’t do any good without Cresselia, and I’m not sure why Darkrai ignored me!”

Because you’re irrelevant, Akechi snidely thought to herself. “For what it’s worth, you earned this,” she said, and she quickly jabbed into the side of his neck, knocking him out in one second flat. Grimacing, she stood up and shoved Maruki aside like the irrelevant mess he was, finally addressing the monster she had indirectly made, even if this mess was Akira’s doing.

“I have what you want!” she shouted, her voice bellowing enough to make Darkrai pause. The creature floated high above Akechi’s Pokemon and regarded her carefully, hissing inside Akechi’s mind. Akechi paid the threatening aura no heed and glanced at Akira’s belt, her hand lingering over a Luxury Ball she didn’t recognize, right next to her old Quick Ball she painfully did. Gritting her teeth she presented the ball where Darkrai could see. “I’ll give your Cresselia back to you, but you have to give my Akira back to me.”

The creature hissed menacingly once more. Out of the corner of her eye, Akechi could see Marowak flinch, but Akechi herself didn’t waver. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Having something ripped away? She didn’t want to hurt you, she doesn’t think things through sometimes. I know her. She’s an idiot, and she’s sentimental, and maybe doomed to stay that way, but…I need her back. You can have what’s yours back, but don’t take Akira away from me. Don’t do this to her. To me. You can’t take her from me, too.”

Akechi didn’t know if Pokemon could understand her, but she prayed this one could. If words couldn’t reach Darkrai, maybe her feelings could–regret, desire, grief, and something else that embodied it all at once, an emotion so all-consuming that Akechi refused to name it right now, lest she be lost to the void as well. Begging was beneath her, but it wasn’t beneath Akira. Akechi would do anything, just this once, if it meant Akira could smile again, laugh again, challenge her to a rematch, or ask Akechi once more to stay. She had a new answer this time, whether she deserved to stay or not. Akira wanted her to stay, and if Akira could overlook her issues, all her twisted little quirks and problems…then maybe Akechi could too.

She was nothing without her, and maybe that was everything she had always wanted.

“Ughhhhhh…”

Akira’s head was pounding. Something, or someone, was combing through her bangs, making Akira wonder if she had somehow gotten blackout drunk without ever wanting to attend a party–

Cresselia. Darkrai. The void. Akechi.

“Goro–”

Arms tightened around her, and Akira finally opened her eyes. The darkness around them had dispersed, and all that remained was Akechi crushing her in a possessive and protective hug, burying her face in Akira’s wet hair and tightly clinging to her sides as she held her close. They were still on Fullmoon Island, but the full moon above them shone brightly. Numbly, Akira realized her clothes were soaked, yet the warm coat she wore wasn’t her own.

“I’m here,” Akechi mumbled into Akira’s hair. Her tone felt too apologetic to be real, leaving Akira floundering in shock as she wondered what could have shifted. “I’m staying.”

“...Huh?” Akira asked mutely, positive she heard that wrong. “Sorry, I’m…are you okay? What happened? Where’s Darkrai?”

“I’m fine, worry about yourself for once,” Akechi answered. Akira could hear the eye roll even with her face pressed into Akechi’s shoulder. “I punched your professor’s lights out and released Cresselia for you. Darkrai just freed you, too. Are you feeling disoriented? Any side effects?”

There was a lot to take in here. “I…I think I’m fine. I’m just amazed Darkrai let me go. I thought it was the type to hold grudges?”

Akechi’s hand stilled in Akira’s hair. . “Once Cresselia was released…Let’s just say we achieved an understanding. Darkrai holds grudges, but Cresselia seems to even it out.”

“Yeah…” Akira agreed, closing her eyes and rested against Akechi completely, savoring this moment, wishing Akechi would never let go. Akechi wasn’t just talking about Darkrai and Cresselia, and they both knew it. “They are.”

Akira expected it to end there, but Akechi caught her by surprise with her next statement. “About that Elite Four spot, are there any objections to an alleged relative of Shido usurping him?”’

Akira pulled away from Akechi’s grasp to look her in the eye. She was greeted by uncertainty, sure, but also determination, and a spark of something Akira was afraid to name. “Wait, you want to stay? I thought you were just going to help us find someone again. I…I’d love to have you, but what changed your mind?”

Akechi breathed in deeply, then tucked a strand of hair behind Akira’s ear. Her hand trembled as it lingered on Akira’s cheek, but Akira dared not point it out. She refused to shatter this precious moment. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” Akechi began. Akira followed her gaze briefly to the sky above, watching a Cresselia and Darkrai dance above them before she came down to earth once more to continue this fragile dance of their own. “Maybe we were tied together for a reason. I…I’m not perfect, but you know that, and for whatever reason you’re okay with that. Is it alright for me to stay? …Alright for me to have you?”

Akira stared wide-eyed at Akechi once more, all masks thrown aside. Akechi was messy, but so was Akira. She was her other half and maybe her better one, but Akechi appeared to think the same. If Akechi would have her, Akira would stay as long as she asked, even if that were forever. Forever wouldn't be so bad as long as Akechi and her stood side by side, facing every battle that came their way, until the days faded into eternal night and they had to find each other all over again.

Instead of answering properly, Akira kissed her. It was soft, and quiet, and lacked all the fervor and tenacity they had grown to expect from one another, but there was no one there to judge or question them. There was no one to put an act on for right now. On cloud nine, with Akechi’s lips softly pressed against hers, as hands once dangerous now held her close, Akira had no lies to tell. She was better than alright. Akechi was everything she had always wanted, everything she never thought she’d deserve.

“Stay with me,” Akira asked once they parted, though she already knew the answer.

“I will,” Akechi answered, as Akira had always dreamed she would.

They wouldn’t be alone anymore. The nightmares were finally over.