Technically, our story begins in April of an unspecified year. You probably know how it went.

You're also probably aware of an alternative version of it, that diverted from the original when at a crucial moment, a group of vigilantes decided to not let a villain get killed by a mockery of himself, which snowballed into said villain attempting to atone for past crimes and bury the hatchet with said vigilantes. If not… this is a sequel to that. Catch up with it and get back. Content warnings still apply.

Some details weren't important, so I didn't dwell on them. You didn't need to know that Futaba's laptop ran an extensively customized Debian, post-change-of-heart Sugimura donated absurd amounts of cash to foundations helping rape victims, and the pancakes were actually closer to crepes, because English is my second language and some things get lost in translation. However, since taking down the God of Control turned out to not be the end of the story, one specific interaction, glossed over earlier, became much more significant. So, let's start by going back a few weeks.

Sunday, December 11th, Morning.

The job was just a temporary arrangement, but he enjoyed it anyway. It gave him an opportunity to meet people from all walks of life and listen to their stories, it paid decently, and it allowed him enough flexibility to maintain his academic career - or what remained of it - on the side.

A notification flashed on the phone on his cab's dashboard and he tapped the 'accept' button. The client was waiting by a nearby hotel, no doubt a tourist. It was a time of day and week that guaranteed relative peace on the roads and he was near the starting point in no time.

The client walked out of the hotel lobby and promptly marched into the cab and crawled in the back seat. "Good morning," he smiled, the way you smile at a stranger when you're trying to be polite. "To… dangit, I forgot the exact address. There's a small cafe near the Yongen-Jaya train station. Just drop me off somewhere in that area."

Without looking it up, the driver typed the address of Leblanc in the GPS app and the car took off. After a few minutes of heavy silence, Akechi spoke up "I know, it's awkward to be in the presence of a celebrity."

"It's not that," the driver drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. "I mean, it is awkward, but not because… look, you're going to Leblanc, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's the place. It's an underappreciated gem among Tokyo cafes."

"This is a bit of a shot in the dark, but… do you know Ren Amamiya? Or Akira, that's what most people call him."

In the rear view mirror, the driver saw the detective visibly stiffen for a second, before he forced himself to relax. "That's a bit of a personal question, don't you think?"

"I know, it's just that… I'm concerned about him. He's a friend."

"He has a lot of those."

"Look, you got him arrested." The driver's tone turned slightly sour. "And before that, he ended up rambling about how his days are numbered, then he allegedly commited suicide in police custody, and then he shows up in a nationwide pirate broadcast going after the most popular politician in Japan. And now you of all people are going to his house like nothing happened, so I want to know what's going on!"

He glanced at the rear view mirror again. The detective's affable exterior evaporated, replaced by an unnerving smirk and a defiant glint in his eye. Then, realization flashed on his face, and he just lowered his head, ashamed. He then shot the driver a glance. "Watch the fucking road."

"Alright, alright." The driver adjusted his glasses. "I apologize, I didn't mean to upse-"

"I shot him in the head."

The car continued driving straight, but the conversation took a sharp left. "...wot."

"Oh, sorry, you need more context." Akechi clasped his gloved hands. "I've been working as an assassin for Masayoshi Shido over the past two or so years. All the mental shutdowns from that period are on my conscience. One of my targets was our… I hesitantly call him a friend at this point."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "So, Akira's..."

The detective chuckled. "No, he slipped away. I couldn't cause a mental shutdown to him, and an attempt at killing him… conventionally, so to speak, ended with me getting duped and him escaping custody. I'm not sure why the police covered it up. They were probably terrified of Shido's retribution. But yeah, Akira's fine and relatively well, just in hiding."

The driver was now one hundred percent sure the context didn't help. "That… that is more knowledge than I expected."

"You wanted to know what's going on," Akechi shrugged. "And if you were already aware our mutual friend is a Phantom Thief, I might as well fill in the blanks."

The next few minutes went by in silence, broken up only by the GPS reading out directions. The detective heard one too many 'recalculating...'s and decided to speak up: "Where on earth are you taking me?"

"Me? Nowhere." The driver wasn't a good liar. "Just, erm… trying to avoid traffic jams, yes."

"Driving to the nearest police station, aren't you?" Akechi stopped giving a damn about trying to sound affable, and so the line sounded low-key threatening. "Let me outline what will happen if you try to turn me in: I'll either," cue finger quotes, "'commit suicide, overwhelmed by guilt', or get press-ganged into more wetwork." Beat. "Some cops have kidnapped Mr Sakura, Leblanc's owner. I am playing a vital role in the Thieves' plan to recover him. If I disappear now with no warning, you'll hinder Akira and the rest."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Why did you believe me when I confessed to the mental shutdowns?" he countered. "If I wanted to lie, I would've come up with something more plausible." He leaned back and stared blankly at the upholstery. "I turned the Thieves' life into living hell, directly and indirectly. Then, in my stupidity, I almost disposed of myself and they could've just… do nothing. Grab some popcorn and watch that problem solve itself. Few people would know, and fewer would care. But nooo..." He glanced at the driver. "Apologies, you just became a part-time therapist."

The driver let out an awkward chuckle. "That's nothing new. I worked for a few months in that capacity in Shujin. That's how I met Akira and his friends."

"Oh." The detective's scowl became slightly more pronounced. "So you were damage control after the Kamoshida fiasco."

"I helped people," he growled. "Regardless of the intentions of Shujin management, I have done enough good to not take lip from an assassin."

Cue something between a sigh and a groan. "Yeah, fair."

A few more minutes of heavy silence, before the driver piped up, "Um, is there anything I can do to help? You or the others?"

"Raise my victims from the dead. Or get me adopted by someone sane three years ago."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," the detective countered. "There's nothing to be done, everything's burned down, I'm just fucking… running around with a fire extinguisher, trying to stop the embers from igniting the neighbourhood. Maybe it'll kill me and I'll be done with it all, but I've had little luck so far."

"That doesn't sound like a healthy attitude."

"Really? I didn't know." He put on a mocking smile. "Thank you for this insight, Doctor… uh..."

"Maruki. Takuto Maruki."

A neuron in the back of Akechi's brain fired for some reason. That name rang a bell, but he couldn't pinpoint why. The taxi was approaching Yongen, so he pushed the thought aside. "Okay, you wanna help, Maruki? Forget this trip ever happened. It's not about me, I'm past caring, but Akira and other Thieves are currently in Leblanc, so if you rat me out, you'll put a target on them as well."

The idea of just letting a criminal disappear in the crowd didn't sit right with Maruki, but if he was as honest as he claimed, this was the lesser of two evils. "Understood."

The car turned into a side alley and parked. Akechi glanced at the meter and reached for his wallet. "Alright," he handed over some cash, "this is for the ride," he pulled out a 5000 yen note, "that's for the therapy session," and another one, "and that's for forgetting we've ever met."

"Thank you for your generosity," he said, as the detective unbuckled himself and got out of the car. "Until next time."

"With luck, there won't be a next time." Akechi slammed the door behind himself and promptly marched away.