Chapter Text
It’s not even a close battle; the Shadows are no match for them. And as if to rub it in, Crow has a flower twirling between his fingers as the last of the enemies dissipate into smoke.
“For you, Leader.”
He extends the flower towards Akira as the rest of the team share a high five for having made their mark. The yellow glow of the petals burns through the dim of Mementos, beautiful and out of place. Crow smiles politely—he’s not even breathing hard from the fight—but his eyes are full of mischief.
Akira wonders if Akechi’s expression will be the same when he comes to kill him.
There’s a soft chuckle from Crow, presumably assuming that he had stunned Akira into silence with his flower stunt, when the reality is so far from the truth, and honestly, completely irrelevant. It’s pointless to call Crow out now. No point in making enemies; it’s four days before they send Sae’s calling card, and Akira knows that the person standing before him is meant to be his killer.
Akira takes the flower. “It won’t make it out of Mementos.”
“True,” Crow admits, yet isn’t ready to let the subject drop. He seems to be looking for a particular reaction. “In that case, perhaps I’ll request one from the flower shop you work at.”
Akira knows the end game but plays along for now. “And have me prepare a bouquet for myself? Feels like low effort on your part.”
“Oh, it’s a bouquet now?” Crow’s laugh is full of cracks. “Maybe…” he trails off, then starts again softer. “Maybe as a gift to celebrate the completion of our next mission.”
The Thieves return to the entrance of Mementos on a high, and Akira wonders if it’s going to be a gun to the head or a knife through the heart that takes him out first.
Crow waves for Akira to go on ahead without him. Says he’ll stay behind to further test his skills before returning home. As reality distorts around Akira, Crow offers a wink, then lets out a breath, and suddenly the facade shatters to the ground.
Akechi, the perfectionist. Akechi, full of confidence. Akechi, carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders, with the final straw already laid upon his back. He must believe there is only one way forward. One inevitable path that he must follow, powerless in the face of fate’s design.
Watching Akechi’s brief hesitation is the final straw for Akira too. He clutches the flower against his chest until it vanishes into puffs of light that drift upwards, like stars drawn towards the night sky, and the beginnings of a new plan are set into motion.