Chapter Text
You are on a path in the woods
The first thing his senses registered when everything stopped being an empty void was the metallic, deep, grating voice echoing into his mind.
And at the end of that path is a cabin.
The second thing his senses registered was the feel of cold air on his body.
In the basement of that cabin is a prince.
The third thing his senses registered was the smell of pine and petrichor.
You are here to slay him.
The first thing his eyes saw was the dark path in the woods.
If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.
Then he registered what the voice was saying.
The end of the world?
A prince?
> Who am I? And who are you?
You are Akira Kurusu, nobody important. I am The Narrator.
But that didn’t make much sense in his still mostly dormant brain. If he was nobody important, then why was he out here to slay a prince? Why was there a narrator in his head telling him what to do? How was there a narrator in his head telling him what to do? Who even was the prince he was meant to slay?
I can hear your questions even if you’re only thinking them.
Confusion went through his brain at those… telepathic words. Was it able to hear every thought he had? God, was he suddenly developing a split personality? In all of his.. 5 seconds of existing he was pretty sure there was nothing that would cause him to get a little voice in his head telling him to kill someone.
How did he even know these things?
Indeed, I am in fact able to hear your every thought. Now are you just going to stand around here forever or are you going to get a move on?
Well… if the voice in his head was telling him to kill something then surely that something must’ve done something wrong. It’s like that voice of god thing that
That
Huh. He doesn’t remember. Weird.
> I still have questions
Go ahead then. Ask away.
Why is a prince locked away in a cabin in the middle of the woods?
Who locked the prince up?
Where even is this?
Are you a god or something?
Those questions went through his mind but he didn’t ask them. Instead he had found himself looking at his hand. It was…
SHARP
red
and black
This couldn’t be his hand. There was no possible, even feasible way. It couldn’t be. He swore. (Itcouldntbeitcouldntbeitcouldntbeitcouldntbeitcoulndtbe) It should be normal and fleshy and whatever a normal hand was supposed to look like. He couldn’t remember god why didn't he remember.
Ask away.
The feelings washed away.
> Why is a prince locked away in a cabin in the middle of the woods?
Who locked the prince up?
Where even is this?
Are you a god or something?
> What happened to my hand?
> Why was I chosen to be the one to slay a prince?
What would you do if I didn’t kill the prince? What if I just walked away and acted like nothing happened?
Killing a prince seems kinda, well, not good?
To answer your first question, need I remind you that he’s going to end the world? Second question, I don’t know and you don’t need to know. Third, you’re no one special.
Wow. What a way to kill his nonexistent ego there. How nice of you, mysterious narrator voice in his head.
I’m not here to be nice. I’m here to make sure you go into that cabin and slay the prince.
> Does anything happen if I just, I dunno, stay here?
He looks around the forest surrounding him, endless darkness and weird fog that doesn’t really move. He feels like it should. He can’t even tell what kind of plants there are. The trees look like pine but they have leaves. Now that he thinks about it, shouldn’t he be feeling wind and like, everything else that he should be feeling?
The air is stuffy but cold. The grass doesn’t really look like grass. Is there even a path here or did the grass just grow in a weird way? A quick glance behind him reveals that the path looks exactly the same both ways, a faint glimmer of light beyond it.
Are you done? I’d rather we get this over with so we don’t run the risk of the world ending while you’re sitting here contemplating your surroundings.
Just to make sure, will you be able to do anything if I just turn around and leave?
I’m leaving, I don’t wanna kill someone who probably hasn’t even done anything wrong. Leave that for someone else.
> I’ll go to the cabin. Talk with the prince and then I’ll decide from there.
Fine. I’ll go and slay that prince you want me to slay so bad.
Sigh. Well, as long as you’re going to the cabin.
He walks down the path, letting the large obvious and possibly deliberate gaps in the trees guide him. It feels like other people have gone down this path before. He hopes that’s the case.
As he walks his mind grows a little fuzzy. Like something should be there but it’s not. It nudges at where he feels the presence of the Narrator guy thingy. Maybe it’s his memories? He isn’t sure.
Before he knows it, he’s approaching a rise in the earth. A hill. And there stands the cabin where he could commit his first and hopefully only murder. It looks like it’s made of wood, with a weird shade combo of light and dark browns. There’s a light coming from inside. It looks artificial. The hill itself is completely bare aside from the cabin, there’s no trees, no shrubbery, no longer patches of grass. It feels fake.
A little warning before you go in there. He will do everything in his power to stop you. He'll charm, and he'll lie, and he'll promise you the world, and if you let him, he'll kill you a dozen times over. You can't let that happen. Don't forget, the fate of the world rests on your shoulders.
He nods, even if the Narrator isn’t able to see. He probably is. Then, before he’s able to take a single meaningful step towards the cabin, the fuzzy feeling in his mind nudges itself to the forefront. It feels vaguely like he’s earned a new set of skin, a new self. A trickster.
“Surely we’re not going to abide with this voice’s demands?”
Ignore that one, he has no idea what he’s on about.
He froze in shock. First of all, there was a new voice. Second of all, the Narrator could hear it. But he trekked on, feeling the crunch of pine needles beneath his feet even though it looked like grass.
He proceeds into the cabin.
The interior is bare. The air in the cabin is musty and every surface is covered in a fine layer of dust. The only other thing of note is a singular medium sized metal table in the corner. On it, is a singular unblemished and pristine gun. The gleam of a small piece of metal sits beside the gun. It is a bullet.
I advise that you take it. That thing may just very well be your only defense against him.
And he feels that his eyes are wide and there’s an inexplicable tension in his body at the simple sight of the weapon in front of him. He steps towards the table, reaching out to the cool metal surface and the dark gray gun sitting on top of it. He suppresses the trembles running through his hand and whole arm at the mere thought of picking it up..
“Do not pick that up just yet, we came here to talk with the prince,”
He’s struck out of his stupor by the voice of the trickster echoing in his mind and ears. He recoils away from the table and gun as if it had burned him, despite not having touched it. Right, he was here to talk to the prince and then decide from there. But it would be good to have something to defend himself if anything did happen, the Narrator had to be right about some things. Surely he was.
> It… wouldn’t hurt to have it. Just in case.
I’m not taking it.
I’ll leave it here, for a good first impression. If something goes wrong then I can run back up here and use it.
I’ll take it, if it really is the only form of defense I have against the prince…
He picks up the gun. The metal is cold in his palm, and there’s no feeling of dust on the handle. It feels too heavy. He picks up the gleaming bullet, loading the gun as if it were second nature. It shouldn’t be.
“Are we sure you don’t wish to leave it behind? I’m getting a terrible feeling from this thing,”
He was sure. Well, as sure as he could be with a loaded gun now in his hands. A vague wave of false confidence went through his brain, like it was supposed to help. It didn’t.
I advise that you open the door to the basement already.
What door? There was only bare wall when he first entered. Maybe the Narrator was wrong or seeing things or this was the completely wrong cabin and that’s why there was a gun? But that wouldn’t make sense.
He turns to look at the bare wall. There is now a slightly scuffed up wooden door in the center. What.
He stands frozen in shock for a few seconds before reaching out to the door. It creaks open and out blasts a smell of old musty air, probably because the basement didn’t even have a door a few seconds ago but who was he to judge? He was Akira Kurusu, nobody important.
To live in a place like this, frankly I think slaying him will be doing him a favor.
> I can’t see anything.
There was only void where steps to a basement should be, there was quite literally nothing. It was like a void in a game where the developer forgot something.
Really? You can’t see anything?
The silence was his answer.
Well, opening the door reveals a set of wooden stairs, worn from time and use. The staircase is faintly illuminated by an unforeseen light likely coming from the room below. This is an oppressive place. The air is heavy and damp, a hint of rot filtering from the ancient wood stairs. As I said before, if the prince truly does live here, slaying him would be doing a favor.
When those words are said, the staircase slowly comes to fruition, as if the Narrator was the sole reason they existed in the first place. What once was void is now replaced by the description the being provided, with what was quite possibly his own imagination filling in the gaps. The smell hit him again. Eugh, rotting old wood, gross.
“Mon Dieu! Well, shall we venture forth?”
Since when did he know French? What did those words even mean? If he didn’t know French then how did the little voice in his head?
But then the voice of the prince carried up the stairs.
“Who’s there? Please show yourself immediately,”
He sounded in control, there seemed to be no danger in his tone but if they were face to face, he was sure that his eyes would be piercing through his soul, taking him apart and analyzing him. It was like a cat ready to pounce on its prey hidden under a thin pleasantry. It scared him.
“Let us meet the supposed roialté and hope we make a good impression,”
Not like they were gonna get much of one when he saw that there was a gun in his hands. The stairs creaked and made noises that unpleasantly sounded like they were about to break right under his feet. The sight of that empty black void came back into his mind and he shivered.
Before he knew it, he was standing a few feet away from the prince. Light streaming in through a barred off window and two chains on the wall. The prince rises from his hunched over position on the floor, staring at him with a cold gaze and tilted head.
There’s a heavy chain around his wrist. It should be easy for you to shoot him right here and now. All it would take is a simple pull of the trigger.
“He’s so… coldly beautiful,”
The voice was right. The prince’s eyes pierced through the air, they were dark red, akin to blood. A crown sits atop his head and it gleams with the same shine as the bullet did. It looks like jewels are embedded into it but he can’t really tell nor describe what colors they are.
“Judging by that gun you have in your hand, I’m guessing you’re here to kill me,”
> I’m not here to kill you.
“I find that a bit hard to believe. But if you truly aren’t here to kill me then drop the gun and come here. We can have a little chat,”
Okay, I will.
I’m not gonna drop it, who knows what you could do.
Maybe I should… leave.
> [Squint at him.]
[Slay the Prince.]
The prince looks at him in confusion. He looks a bit annoyed actually. But then he squints back, but harder.
> [Squint back, but even harder.]
The prince eyes the gun, breaking the squinting and staring contest.
“As much as I love competition I would rather you drop that gun sooner or later. For my own safety,”
He feels a small grin on his face as he nods and puts the gun down. He definitely won that. But soon enough, he’s face to face with the prince.
What on Earth do you think you’re doing?
“We said that we were going to talk to him and then we would go from there, ai-je raison, no?”
You shouldn’t just put the gun down!
“Well, we are going to have to unless we wish for our conversation with le roialté to go sour,”
“Hello? Space case?”
The prince is waving his hand in front of his face. Since when had he sat down on the floor? Was that just him on autopilot?
“Are we going to have our talk or not? Unless you’d like to sit here in complete silence forever, then I won’t stop you,”
> Don't worry, I won't.
“Good,”
For as short of a time that he’s known this guy, the prince is… surprisingly fun to talk to. This conversation is probably the first time he’s actually talked to another human being since spawning in the woods. He was pretty damn sure the Narrator or the trickster voice didn’t count since they could probably just be written off as a conversation with himself.
“So, is there anything you would like to start off with? Like why in the world you came down here with what I presume is a loaded gun?”
> So apparently you’re meant to end the world?
The prince’s face twists up into a sharp smile and his eyes crescent. He barks out a crude laugh. Unfit for a prince.
“Me?! End the world! Oh that’s funny,”
What’s so funny about ending the world!?
The sharp smile stays present on his face as his voice and tone take a self deprecating turn.
“As if I could end the world! Look at me, chained and locked up like a prisoner when I’m meant to be a prince. Pathetic,”
After his words, he gestures towards the chain attached to his wrist. The chain makes a clinking sound as it’s moved and raised. It’s clearly heavy and no amount of force would break it.
“I hate to agree with monsieur but his observation is correct,”
> Do you have a name? All I know you as is The Prince.
“I can’t really remember but, you may call me…”
He pauses for a second, contemplating his next words. His eyes turn away and he looks to the floor, as if it would grant him any answer.
“Akechi Goro.”
Did you see how long it took for him to come up with that? He’s clearly suspicious.
“I don’t suppose you have a name either? All I’ve been calling you in my head is Angel,”
There’s a small playful smirk on Akechi’s face as he places his hands together and rests his cheek on them. It’s a cute gesture that sends a brief bout of warmth through his face. That, should not be the first thing he’s reacting to. First off, ‘Angel’? Did he look like an angel or did he just look angelic? Both of those answers opened up whole different cans of worms.
He did not want to open up any of them. He was here to do what he was here to do.
Remember what I said. He will charm and he will lie.
“Tais-toi, we will decide that for ourselves,”
Don’t get mad when I say I told you so when the world inevitably ends.
And with that threat hanging over his head he decided to answer.
> I’m called Akira Kurusu.
“Akira? How common. Well, I’m guessing you might be smart enough to know how to get me out of here?”
He was not. Despite what his last name might’ve implied, he was not smart enough to figure out how to remove the heavy chain from around his wrist. So he shakes his head.
Akechi simply sighs, glancing between Akira’s hands or claws, and then his chained wrist. As if he were making a plan involving the two. He couldn’t be, right? Then he grabbed his wrist.
Oh he was.
“Stay on guard.”
“Do you think these are sharp enough to cut through flesh or maybe even this metal?”
To be truthful, he wasn’t sure. But they did look sharp. If he really tried he could probably cut through something, just maybe not metal. He stares at the sharp black tipped claws on his hand, if he really thought hard enough, it wouldn’t be too out of place if they gleamed in the light like that bullet did.
But the Narrator did say that the gun was basically his only defense against him. So they must not be that sharp. At least not enough to kill a man.
> I’m not sure.
“We’ll have to find out for ourselves then. Are you okay with me using these,”
Akechi gestures to the hand he currently has in his grasp, probably referring to the claws.
“To cut myself out of this?”
Fuck. He doesn’t know how to handle this. How does one just, cut someone out of restraints?
“I believe that what monsieur is implying is that you cut off his wrist, thus getting rid of his shackles,”
Do not dare try and free him. You will regret it.
Right. Yeah, the world ends. It was only right to help someone who was down on their luck or in trouble. But it was also right to save the world, even if it meant… killing someone. And Akechi was so, blasé about all of this. He was the one who suggested getting cut out of his chains.
He came back to himself and Akechi was sitting there patiently, still holding his wrist in his gloved hand. The material was soft and it felt like some kind of leather. It made him think about maybe getting some gloves to cover up his claws.
His waiting gaze felt like he was seeing right through him. Like he could see beneath the layers of flesh and into the voices in his head telling him whether or not to kill him.
I'm okay with it. I think.
> Are you okay with this?
Wait a second, I don’t even know if these are sharp enough to cut through anything.
I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. Maybe the next person who finds you will.
[Nod and cut him out]
Akechi’s face twists into one of annoyance, his eyes narrowing and eyebrows slightly furrowing.
“Am I okay with this? Would I be asking you to cut me out if I were not?”
Yeah he was probably right on that front.
> Ok then. I’ll cut you out.
And then his claws sink into flesh.
The blood is deep red and his flesh and muscles are red. He can see and feel how uneven and rough the cut is. The skin looks like it tore instead of being cut and at the edges there’s rippling. He knows he’s cutting through tendon because of the feel and his claws briefly scrape against bone. He’ll have to cut through it soon and he imagines the feel of the marrow sticking to his claws.
Blood is flowing and pooling in the wound. It’s all over his hand. It’s on the floor. It’s on Akechi. It’s Akechi.
There’s no expression on his face when he looks at him. He is just staring at him with those red eyes again. A small stain of red is on his lip and it seems like blood. He wants to wipe it off his face but he knows he’ll only stain it further.
His claws slice through bone. It’s rough and takes more effort than before and he hears a scraping noise from the movement of his claw.
His claws are through and the bone fully cracks.
Christ are you even fully there!?
He jolted back.
“That was… gruesome. I do hope that this decision is not one we come to regret,”
It most definitely is! You’ve just quite possibly unleashed a world ending threat!
“It is-”
He hears it before he sees or fully registers it and comes back to himself. The weird sound of another crunching noise that probably shouldn’t have happened because he’d already cracked through the bone and oh god.
Akechi was pulling the severed and now weirdly twitching half of his forearm off of his body. Parts that he hadn’t cleanly cut off stretching and clinging to both halves. Akechi’s eyes are wide and unseeing. Like his body is on autopilot.
There’s a disgusting wet ripping sound as the skin and what seems to be a hidden tendon that he somehow missed, cling to the two halves and stretch like gum. The skin fully rips off when the tension force is finally too much for the material and they’re now left with Akechi fully free from his chain. The part that’s just got cut off plops to the floor with little fanfare, not making much noise other than the sound of metal.
The two voices are still bickering in his head, Akira thinks he’s somehow gained the ability to tune them out.
“He didn’t make a sound. He seemed so, hm, unaffected. I do wonder how he’s so composed after such a thing,”
Trickster voice was right. But there existed a fierce determination in Akechi’s eyes as he gazed at him.
“Thank you, now let’s get out of here Kurusu. I’m not particularly fond of staying down here one second longer than I have to,”
> [Approach the door.]
His vision blacks out after he takes exactly two steps towards the door.
No. We won’t have any of that. The stakes are too high. You can’t just let him escape into the world. …no. I just can’t let him escape into the world.
His vision comes back to the horrific sight of him having silently picked up the gun, still pristine and unmarred in his blood stained hands. Akechi’s back is facing him and he’s bewildered that he placed just that much trust into the possibility that he wouldn’t backstab him.
As Akechi approaches the bottom step, the Narrator chimes into his ear.
Your body steps forward and raises the gun. Finger on the trigger.
It’s like his muscles are being pulled by puppet strings as his limbs jerk into position. The gun is positioned to the back of Akechi’s head, only barely hovering two inches away.
“Attendez une minute! How dare you control our body like this! You cannot just do that!”
Watch me.
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
> [Warn Him.]
The words of warning struggle their way out of his throat, clawing and wheezing but they make it out into the air. His voice is quiet and strained.
Stop that.
“I thought this was a little too easy.”
His vision blanks out again. He only hears the sound of the gunshot and the flash of light that came with it.
His vision was only out for the briefest second and he wrestles back control of himself to see that Akechi had moved to the side. Relief floods his veins when he sees that the bullet only embedded itself into one of the steps.
Akechi’s eyes glare into his, blood red piercing into his soul once again. He finds that he doesn’t really mind as much.
Stop it! Stop resisting me! I am trying to get you out of here alive.
[Slay The Prince] [Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
[Slay The Prince.]
> [Resist]
His hands tremble with effort as he desperately fights the pull on his limbs to move and do something. The gun drops to the floor with a clack, his hands not stable enough for it. Akechi’s stance shifts and his eyes narrow, searching for answers in his probably panic filled face. Suspicion fills Akechi’s expression and he briefly wonders if he’s caught on before his thoughts are butted into.
Your claws! Move. Your. Claws!
“You’re doing your best to help me, aren’t you? I can see the conflict in your eyes, panic too,”
Akechi seems strangely amused by the prospect and he barks out a laugh. And then he steps in front of him, any previous expression that was previously on his face dropped and replaced with a cold dead mask.
“I’ll make this quick,”
Akechi gently takes his clawed hand into his own gloved one. The one that he had chopped off was surprisingly missing the other glove, now that he thought back on it.
“Maybe I’ll see you in another life. If that even exists for us,”
There’s a cruel and cynical smile on Akechi’s face as he presses his claw to his own throat. He slices through with an almost clinical ease. He can feel the blood pooling and flowing into his throat and it makes him want to violently cough it up, dirty and stain the stone floor with even more evidence that they existed in here. His knees crumple from under him and he collapses into the small puddle of his blood that grows larger by the second.
Akechi stares down at him, smile still on his face.
If Akira wanted to say something, he couldn’t have, for the air in the basement suddenly felt like it was filled with sharp razors made of iron. Every breath was laborious and entailed more blood for him to choke on and cough up.
“This is the end, isn’t it? I almost refuse to believe it,”
He wants to laugh, cry, curse, and scream at the Narrator for taking over his body. For probably dropping him into this forest in the first place. For basically dooming him to fail.
I’m afraid it is. Everything goes dark, and you die. I hope this was worth it.