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Goro could see it before he heard Sakura’s voice screech into his earpiece, a little trinket the girl could manifest for each Phantom Thief to keep them connected. His eyes had betrayed his body, an annoying burst of concern coursing through him as he witnessed Akira’s form stumble after a shadow’s hysterical slap had landed.
Akira’s body bent at the waist, breathing heavily before storm gray eyes snapped to attention, a thin line of red outlining his pupils.
“Joker’s angry!” Sakura gasped suddenly, watching as their fearless, supposedly level-headed leader launched himself back into the fight without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s taking unnecessary risks!”
He rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as he dodged a Kougan thrown in his direction. “No shit, Sakura.” He hissed, sending an Eigaon to the opponent who dared to strike at him. His lips curved in satisfaction at the way it decimated the weakling.
“Joker, you gotta calm down!” Takamaki hollered, attempting to dash past one of the shadows. She let out a yell as she had to leap from her position, narrowly avoiding a physical attack.
“Senpai!” Yoshizawa tried, clutching that damned, comically sized fan that they kept for emergencies in her hands. She was looking for an opening, however she could do nothing more than stare as she witnessed Akira leaping from enemy to enemy, slicing through them with a flick of the wrist.
Goro stopped himself in place, taking a page out of the girl’s book to sit back and enjoy the absolute obliteration of their enemies. Sure, the other fools of the Phantom Thieve trope were attempting to help, but honestly what would be the point of doing such a thing?
Akira clearly had it under control.
Goro wasn’t ignorant of what this particular status ailment did to their ability to fight. Yes, it made one lose their mind to the undeniable urge to spill blood and caused their defense to lower, however it also heightened their fighting abilities and caused their attacks to hit even harder.
Akira would be fine.
Most status ailments faded after a fight ended, only lasting for a few moments longer once the final shadow fell. There was absolutely no reason to stop Akira from slaughtering all those who tried to attack him. In fact, it made their job of getting through Maruki’s eyesore of a palace all the more faster.
Goro sheathed his sword as Akira’s dagger landed in the forehead of the final shadow’s form, grinding it down with the palm of his hand before ripping it back out to stab it back down, sending blotches of blackened goo to land around him.
He looked around them, an airless chuckle leaving him at the faces of Akira’s teammates. Sakamoto, Takamaki, and Yoshizawa looked mortified. Okumura and Kitagawa appeared vaguely intrigued, the artist even going so far as to raising his hands as if he were trying to frame this moment. Morgana, Sakura, and Niijima stared at the scene blankly with no singular emotion displayed on their faces.
Goro rose a hand to his chin in thought, trailing over Akira’s body as it panted heavily atop a mound of blackened sludge, the goop now beginning to slowly dissipate underneath his weight.
Akira was usually so composed, sly, brilliant even, and undeniably charming to a point it was increasingly infuriating each moment Goro had to be in his presence.
A cool, calm, collected leader.
To see the perfect little façade of his crumble due to a measly status ailment was mesmerizing.
For Akira to embrace anger, to finally release the inner rage that built within him throughout the entirety of his life…
Goro suppressed a shiver.
Who wouldn’t see the beauty in such a raw display?
“Um, guys…?” Sakamoto whispered, backing up slightly. “Joker’s still looking kinda freaky.”
“What?” Sakura pulled up numerous holographic screens around her, hands tapping across them hurriedly, “B-But the battle’s over!”
Goro shook his head in mild irritation and amusement, ignoring the narrowed glare from Okumura and Niijima. “That idiot.” He’d be lying if he said he was surprised.
Akira always exceeded all expectations he ever had.
If anyone would retain the effects of a status ailment after a battle has concluded, it would be Akira, just to prove once again that he was special.
It was both aggravating and entertaining all at once.
Akira stood slowly; his back straightening as his eyes flashed dangerously in their direction. The knife glinted against the overwhelming bright light of the palace, drops of blackened blood dripping from it to stain the flawless marble floors.
“Do something about it, you idiots,” Goro snapped, thinking nothing of the way Yoshizawa flinched at the harsh tone, “What are you standing around for?!”
Okumura was the picture-perfect image of politeness when she nodded once in his direction, “Lucy,” She called out softly, bringing forth her persona to send an Amrita Shower in Akira’s direction.
It took all of Goro’s willpower to not groan or laugh when nothing happened, the spell unwilling to come forth.
“W-Wha…?” Okumura whispered, watching as her Persona faded from view.
Sakura checked her stats on one of her screens. “Noir, your energy is low.” She relayed to the group, “Didn’t you notice?”
Okumura bristled at the comment, “Well, yes, but I thought…”
Was Akira the only one who kept an eye on everyone’s status? Goro could only assume Okumura had at least a little energy left, or she wouldn’t have even attempted to heal him.
He remembered Akira had specifically switched Okumura in due to Morgana running low on energy, then he had switched Niijima for Sakamoto because of the same reason and if he could recall correctly…
That meant all the members of their group who had a method to cure Akira were unable to do so.
“Um, do we have anything that could help?” Yoshizawa questioned, fidgeting in place as Akira began to look them over slowly, sizing them up one by one.
They shouldn’t be worried truthfully. Usually, a person was still somewhat in control of their body when enraged, although…
With how Akira was defying basic metaverse logic at that very moment, Goro wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t in control.
“Joker’s usually the one with all the items…” Morgana responded with a shake of his head, “We never thought something like this would happen.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Goro scolded, his heart twisting uncomfortably. How stupid were they? Did they really have such blind faith in their leader that they wouldn’t foresee an event like this?
It made Goro want to puke.
“All we have to do is search his pockets then?” Goro shifted his stance, readying himself for combat, “Sounds easy enough. He shouldn’t be able to resist if we knock him out.”
“That is unacceptable!” Okumura yelled, hands clutching at her sides.
“Why?” Goro groaned, his patience running thin, “Do you propose a better idea then?” He could see Akira surveying them carefully, his dagger spinning in his hand skillfully.
Akira’s lips curved into a thin smirk, a hand raising to beckon one of them closer, taunting them all with a seductive promise of bloodshed.
It made Goro want to go absolutely feral.
Forget curing the fool, he would much rather fight him one on one in this state. He could remember the adrenaline that coursed through him when they had fought against each other, refusing to give into defeat. Their expressions mirrored their intent to kill, knowing if one held back then the other was done for within seconds.
“Maybe we could try talking to him?” Takamaki tried, her face reddening as Akira met her eye and winked, “Is that really rage? Shouldn’t he be charging at us or something?”
“This is Joker we’re talking about though…” Kitagawa mused, his fingers still raised to frame the image of their leader. “Perhaps he is in more control than we thought. Talking to him may be a reasonable option.”
“I dunno, dude. Rage is more stabby stabby and go nuts kind of thing,” Sakamoto swallowed nervously, catching on the sight of dexterous fingers twirling a dagger effortlessly, “I can’t tell if he wants to fight us or…you know.”
“Sakamoto, you can say fuck,” Goro rolled his shoulders as the blonde’s face reddened considerably, hollering a jumble of words in his direction. “We’re wasting time discussing this. If you do not propose a better suggestion, then I will take care of this myself.”
“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Yoshizawa asked nervously.
“Would it matter if I did?”
“Of course, it would! We can’t have Senpai be unconscious!”
“He’ll wake up eventually.”
“LOOK OUT!” Sakura yelled, the group reacting instantly to throw themselves backwards, their reflexes no doubt having improved tremendously thanks to their training throughout the year.
Goro refused to obey, his feet planting himself heavily onto the marble while one hand instinctively reached for his sword.
He rose it just in time for metal to clash against him. A force pressing down heavily, his knees bending to accommodate the weight.
A sense of déjà vu fell over him, meeting the bloodthirsty storm that rested behind the white mask of his rival.
Akira’s smirk stretched out deviously, challenging Goro with his expression alone.
You won’t be able to defeat me unless you actually fight with lethal intent.
Goro mimicked his smirk, letting his weight fall onto his heels before using the momentum to push Akira off him, the metal flashing in a spark before falling away.
“Now then,” Goro said to himself, already forming a battle plan in his head as he threw himself forward. Akira met his blade strike for strike, the bold red outlining his pupil becoming brighter with every move he made. He dodged himself to the side as Akira’s dagger slid away from his sword in a quick movement, almost slashing across Goro’s chest.
The moment he felt his feet touch the ground, he threw himself back into action, sheathing his sword as he made a quick calculation in his head. As much as he wanted to reenact the memory of their first fight, he had only one objective in mind.
Akira’s beloved friends didn’t want Goro to knock him out, so that left only one option.
Restraint.
He waited for Akira to charge at him, blade risen to level with his torso, prepared to end his life with one single strike.
Goro intercepted Akira’s attack, claw-like hands wrapped around his wrist, using the force behind the strike to throw them both to the ground with Goro on top. Goro pressed himself between Akira’s legs, quickly maneuvering both of his wrists into one to slam above his head.
Akira struggled, roaring in anger as he began to kick his feet in retaliation, his arms flailing uselessly in Goro’s grip. He glared up at the once detective-prince, gritting his teeth in rage.
Goro hummed amusingly, unable to deny how pleased he felt at the sudden recollection of the fact Akira’s friends were watching him be pinned down against his will, struggling against a hold that he couldn’t escape from.
Rage made a person stronger, however Goro was an assassin.
He knew how to restrain his target.
“I admit, I could get used to this,” Goro purred darkly, lips curving sharply, “I quite enjoy the image of you finally letting go.” His free hand trailed down, chuckling deeply as he felt Akira’s body tremble beneath him. He took his time, making sure the other felt how slowly his hand trailed past Akira’s hips.
Goro’s hand touched a loose pocket, snaking himself inside to feel around for a small tin. He knew he was looking for a balm of some sort, what with the fact Akira had used it on others in emergencies.
Akira bucked up beneath him angrily, groaning lowly as he fought against the other.
Goro’s throat dried at the sound, swallowing thickly in an effort to control himself.
“But this isn’t you,” Goro continued speaking, his fingers finally touching the familiar shape of a circular tin. He would have to somehow manage to get the lid off without dislodging himself from Akira. Ah well, he’d accomplished much more difficult tasks in his life.
He held the small tin in his hand, the words Relax Gel printed on the label atop it. He secured it in the center of his palm, managing to use enough pressure to get the lid to turn with his thumb alone.
“I’m going to need you to calm down.” He flicked the lid off the tin, sending it flying in a random direction before looking down at the clear gel. All he had to do was smear it somewhere on Akira’s body. He laid the tin beside them, scooping a respectful amount onto his fingers.
The movements beneath him began to lessen considerably, curiosity grabbing onto Goro before tempting him to look down at his rival.
Akira was utterly and completely at his mercy.
Hands held high above his head, clasped in an ironclad grip.
Cheeks flushed red, a combination of anger and bloodlust with a hint of arousal.
Mouth slightly agape, panting heavily due to his constant struggle.
Eyes narrowed, dangerously sensual and inviting despite the angered outline surrounding his pupil.
Goro forced himself to focus.
He leaned down, making sure all of Akira’s attention remained on him and him alone.
“Are you going to behave for me, Joker?” He questioned breathlessly.
Akira didn’t do anything more than grin mischievously, taunting him with a wink.
Goro huffed, pushing down the heat curling in his gut. He rose his fingers towards Akira’s face, pausing as he realized he hadn’t exactly thought of where to put the gel.
Akira lifted his chin higher, tilting his head to bare the side of his neck to him.
“Good boy,” Goro purred lowly, hearing a surprised squeak from one side of the room.
He smeared the gel across Akira’s neck, trailing his fingers across the skin slowly, ensuring Akira felt the sensation of cold metal scraping past his pulse. He felt his body tremble at the motion, or perhaps the temperature, the gel spreading easily across his neck.
Goro rubbed in the substance, pressing down firmly on a section that caused Akira to shiver more than before, a moan threatening to spill from his person.
“Calm down, Joker,” Goro breathed, lowering himself fully to whisper into his ear, “We’ve a job to do, haven’t we? Get up.”
With Goro’s harsh words and the cool gel seeping into his skin, Akira’s eyes widened, recollection gathering in mere moments. Goro was pleased to find the red finally fading from his gaze.
“What…?” Akira blinked, sluggish in his movements as he brought himself back into reality. He tried to move, eyes widening further as he realized the position, he was in. “…Crow?”
“What?”
“Not that I mind, but…” He gestured to his restrained wrists, “You uh…” He licked his lips nervously, the motion sinfully enticing despite the increasingly awkward atmosphere, “You going to let me go?”
Goro reacted as if Akira was a lit flame, throwing himself off his body hurriedly to narrowly avoid stomping on the used tin of Relax Gel. He crossed his arms, pointedly looking away as Akira stood up, brushing himself off as his band of fools came closer to check on him.
He chanced a look behind himself, noticing how there was still a pinkened hue to Akira’s cheeks, obviously flustered by the state he had been in previously.
Goro’s hands dug into his forearms, his claw-like gauntlets biting into his skin. He tried to force out the image that had laid before him moments ago, his teeth grinding together as his brain worked against him.
He didn’t have time to waste on his pathetic infatuation.
“Now that Joker’s returned to the land of normalcy,” Goro said calmly, willing himself to turn around to meet Akira’s eye despite his flustered state.
His gaze sharpened, converting his raw desire into a more familiar anger.
“We should stop wasting time and move.”