[It once felt too easy to fall in line behind Akira as they stepped across piles of fake bills, the chatter of a casino overwhelming and yet it always came second to Akira's voice.

Akechi doesn't take orders - only feigns that subservience. A plan formed in the corner of a forgotten room, in a dingy foster home, doesn't look that different from one made on the fly in a pristine, untouched apartment. Exploit the exploitable. Follow a leader until a spine can be severed.

But Akira

was always different.

Certainty in the uncertain, confident in false worlds -

relentless and unshakeable.

A wild freedom in his eyes that Akechi wanted to rip free for himself - his eyes only, his heart only. He wanted to see how Kurusu Akira operated then, and so he followed to get a taste of that life for himself.

Their lives didn't mean anything, so what was the harm in stealing a small piece from each of them. They wouldn't be alive for long beyond that point - one person in particular, dead in a cold room. The others-

Likely to follow, if Akechi couldn't enact his plan before then. It wouldn't matter either way. One, two, six more bodies on a pile of them - it's all meaningless.

And so he follows now - Akira sits at a table Akechi has shared with another night after night and after night. The hum of Tokyo's evening news draws him to the bar, the clatter of curry pots ushers him into a seat next to an intruder, and the sight of Joker in a gaze subdued keeps him plastered to the spot.]

That's a difficult question, Kurusu. I should refute one implication of your statement now though - I wouldn't share a space with someone I couldn't handle, trust or not.

[The counter isn't wet, but he can feel the phantom residue of a freshly wiped counter creeping up his elbow. A comfortable, hunched position in a place where Akechi could be himself and here -

With Maruki Takuto

Whose entire being formed another safe haven for someone who lost theirs long ago. Akechi can't stand him. Hates this place, in this moment, more than he ever has. Hates Akira's legs dangling only an arm's length away, a throat closer than that.

Akechi doesn't look away. Doesn't stumble on his words. Kurusu Akira is someone he can handle too.]

But in the matter of Maruki-san-

[Maruki doesn't

stop.

He's among the ranks of those who deserve to walk above the rot, and who are destined to be drowned in it under the weight of their own resolve.

Like Akira.]

You never truly know anyone. Not even a full view of heart, mind and soul can show everything. Intentions are missed, motivations are lost and some matters are meant to be locked up.

[His gaze remains steady against-

a quaint beige wall illuminated by colorful, vintage lights.

Against wood paneling that looks both worn and brand new.

Akechi has

to play his part.

Because Akira dons his own mask, and Maruki will too.]

In saying that, he's also a man with an unshakeable resolve and holds a genuine desire to understand those around him. [It's pathetic. Akechi's face doesn't show it - only bares a thoughtful neutrality over a man he knows, and will never comprehend.] As an ally in this world, you could hardly do better. He's competent, resourceful and intelligent. [A beat.] You've met some interesting characters in your time in Tokyo - what's one more? I have no doubt you'll come to your own conclusion on the matter.

And when that day comes, I look forward to hearing it.