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“Once upon a time, there was a crow prince.”
Joker tried, once more, to kick the cognition’s shins and wrestle free before he tied another knot in the rope. No luck. As it turned out, lying on railroad tracks was unbearably uncomfortable.
Breathless and bitter, Joker growled, “Weird time for storytime, isn’t it?”
The cognition ignored him, tugging the last knot. He brushed off a boot print on the front of his blazer. “This prince was willing to do anything to keep the show going. Even if there were casualties and inconveniences for others, it was him or them. One more year, he told himself. One more year, and I get what I deserve from the future Prime Minister.”
A train horn bellowed in the distance. Joker thrashed against his bindings, but they held tight against the railroad tracks. Panic flooded his system, and he feared his chest might burst.
Hovering over Joker, the cognition bared his pearly teeth. He was an imitation of Goro’s Detective Prince persona, even when he moved around like an over-caffeinated squirrel. “But what did the prince want? Approval? Attention?” He squared his shoulders, smiling sweetly in his typical hand-on-his-chin pose. “Perhaps a hero?”
The Prince laughed maniacally, his hands and shoulders twitching nervously. The train chugged closer, and he saluted Joker before bursting into a plume of smoke with a crow’s caw.
“Oh no! A—” A child’s voice called out. There was a pause as if he was listening to someone read his lines. “Oh, right. A damsel in distress!”
A flurry of gold, ivory, and scarlet barreled for Joker. For a moment, he thought Crow in his prince outfit had arrived, and he wasn’t fully off. Except that he was significantly younger, at most ten years old.
Little Crow kneeled beside him, fumbling with the ropes tied like a bow on a present. “I’m here to save you, Joker!”
Joker’s heart would have melted if it weren’t seconds away from a heart attack. “Please, hurry.”
The tracks reverberated through his bones, buzzing against his skull. His teeth chattered as the train’s horn filled his chest. Little Crow unsheathed a cardboard sword and sliced the ropes. Immediately, Akira grabbed him and leaped from the tracks, seconds away from turning into jam under the rails.
Joker fluttered his hands over Little Crow, ensuring he was unscathed. Little Crow only laughed and stood straighter with his hands on his hips. “I’m okay, I swear!”
“I’m glad.” Joker sat back on his heels. Little Crow’s hair was unkempt and frizzy, but there wasn’t a bruise in sight. He looked like any little kid, bright and energetic. A lump lodged in Joker’s throat. “Do you think you could lead me back to the entrance? I got separated from my friends a while back.”
Little Crow radiated with excitement. “Oh, the noisy people? I know where they are. Come on!”
—
Joker’s back ached with how low he hunched, but he’d be damned if he let go of Little Crow’s hand.
A cluster of coos met them when everyone regrouped. Little Crow scampered behind Joker, clutching his coattails and peeking over the fabric when the Thieves dashed over to greet him.
“Oh, my,” Noir exclaimed behind her hand. “Is that our Crow?”
Panther climbed Skull like a pig-tailed backpack. “He’s just a little guy!”
“There is a youthful light to him,” Fox mused, his tail swishing. “Perhaps we have time to—”
Two crows swooped in with a cacophony of harsh caws before they burst into twin plumes of oil-black feathers. In the crows’ places were two cognitions identical to teenage Goro—the Prince and one in Goro’s summer uniform with Loki’s striped tie. Loki Goro scowled from over his nose, his arms crossed over his chest.
Prince Goro called out to the group, “How dare you steal what is ours!”
Joker held his arm out, barring Little Crow from the older cognitions.
Ryuji yelled back, “Hey, we didn’t steal nothin’!”
Loki Goro bared his teeth with his hackles raised. “Liars, all of you. You’re trespassing.”
Fox unsheathed his katana. “We were permitted to enter.”
“That traitor doesn’t know what he wants,” Prince Goro shouted. “He’s grown weak and soft. It’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down on him, just like last time!”
Loki Goro stepped forward with his gaze pinned on Little Crow. He outstretched a hand, expression softening enough to ease the grip on Joker’s sleeve. “Come. You’re needed elsewhere.”
“I’m needed?” Little Crow asked softly.
“Buddy,” Joker whispered. Little Crow turned to him with stars in his eyes. “We’d love to have you on the team. Stay a little longer?”
With a trail of feathered wisps, Loki Goro whisked Little Crow away before he could reply.
Prince Goro leaped at the Thieves with dual saber daggers, and Joker chased Loki Goro’s trail before he lost it for good.
—
“I never took you for a cheesy spy movie fan.”
Goro chuckled into Akira’s shoulder. “Nor did you believe me when I told you I sleep-talk, yet here we are.”
Akira brushed through Goro’s hair. Goro’s legs shifted over Akira’s lap, caging him into his spot on the couch. Akira couldn’t imagine wanting to escape. “Did I ever tell you about one channel I’d watch as a teenager? It always ran old spy movies. I always enjoyed the villains.”
“You never considered taking inspiration by hanging me over a tank of piranhas? Hungry sharks?” Akira teased.
A scoff. “They were purely entertainment to me.”
“And the villains were hot, I’m guessing?”
Goro’s smirk lit up the room more than the TV. His maroon gaze lingered on Akira’s mouth as he purred, “The spies, actually. There’s something about that suave charm and nonchalance that always pulled me in.”
—
Joker sighed, kicking his dangling feet. “Is this a bad time to mention I can’t swim?”
“I don’t want your stupid jokes,” Loki Goro spat.
“And I’m getting tired of being tied up,” Joker barked back. “I’m coming home with the weirdest bruises imaginable at this rate.”
“Home? What bullshit. How could that dingy apartment we share be called a home?”
Joker dangled limply, slumping within his confines. “Does he not think of it as one?”
“That’s the problem—he does! He knows that nothing good ever lasts. That our hands bring nothing but destruction and pain. It’s what we’re good at. What I’m good at.”
Joker asked, “And what are you good at?”
“Many things. Lying, maiming, killing.” Loki Crow stepped away from the lever near him in favor of tucking his hands behind him, strutting back and forth along the suspended platform. “Without me, Goro would have frozen to death in the streets and withered away from starvation. Without his rage and revenge, he is nothing.”
“He can live without that now.”
“What about when you leave? When you face some kind of demise?” The grated platform extended toward Joker, allowing Loki Goro to sneer in his face. His golden eyes reminded Joker of the engine room. The fear of a cornered animal. “The last time he was comfortable and safe, it was ripped out of our hands forever.”
Joker spoke low around the tightness of his throat, “We can break that pattern. I’m not going to leave you, Goro. I love the life we’ve been—”
“Shut up!” Loki Goro clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. His shoulders trembled before he drew in a deep, shaky breath. He stilled, his jaw clenched. “Shut up. I know better. He’s not being objective like I am about this.”
“I would never hurt him like that. I would never hurt you—”
An awful screech of metal rang out, and the hook suspending Joker lurched to life.
Below Joker, metal doors slid away to reveal a vat of neon, boiling liquid. The heat it radiated made the soles of his feet itch. The acrid stench felt strong enough to burn his nose hairs.
Little Crow squeaked, rushing at Loki Crow with all his might. “You’re going to hurt him!”
“That’s the point,” Loki Crow hissed.
“Then stop it!” Small arms flung violently at him, but Little Crow’s blows never landed with Loki Crow’s palm on his forehead, keeping him out of arms’ reach.
As Joker slowly lowered closer to the bubbling acid, panic began to set in. The only ones capable of stopping this were preoccupied, and even from multiple feet above, the acid’s heat was intense. Sweat poured from his body. Panic seeped into Joker’s voice as heavily as the sweat soaking his outfit. “Crow. A little help here?”
Loki Crow shoved Little Crow away, and Joker wrenched against his bindings fruitlessly.
The heat was getting unbearable enough for Joker to curl into himself, crossing his ankles and pulling his knees to his chest. His toes were beginning to burn from proximity to the acid.
“Little Crow!” he cried out again, gritting his teeth in an effort to keep his knees up.
For a split second, Joker thought it was Little Crow that plummeted from the platform overhead. By the sound of the guttural cry, however, it was Loki Crow. With a heavy, echoing ka-chunk, Joker lurched upward. Agonizingly slow, he rose away from the acid as the metal sliding doors over it closed.
“Oh my god,” Joker shuddered. He’d never been so thankful to stand on solid ground again. Gratefully, Joker reached out to ruffle Little Crow’s hair. “Thank you, buddy.”
“I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t.” Little Crow’s hands wrung at the hem of his shirt, twisting and trembling.
“You saved me. I appreciate it.”
“I hurt people. I’m—” a violent tremble of Crow’s bottom lip “—I’m a bad guy.”
“What do you mean?”
Little Crow sniffled and wiped his eye with the back of his wrist. “I’m just like Dad. I hurt people.”
Immediately, Joker reached out to hold Crow’s little arms, shaking his head. “You’re nothing like him, take it from me. You did what you thought was right to stay safe.”
Before Little Crow could refute, the Thieves finally rushed in, panting and thoroughly singed from bless attacks. Little Crow received an abundance of hair ruffles and pats to the shoulder for saving their leader, but Joker knew by the shine in his maroon eyes that it was a bandage over a festering wound.
—
Akira awoke, hyper-aware of the telltale sound of someone sniffling. Even half-blind in the darkness, Akira knew where to reach. “Goro? What’s wrong?”
“I saw them. The lives I ruined and their faces. But this time, the last person was—”
Goro clung to Akira like a lifeline. After an eternity, he said, “It was her. It was my mother.”
Akira cradled him, brushing through his hair as he gasped into his shoulder. Once they settled, Akira asked, “Has it been bothering you? Having me around more often?”
“What? No.”
“You’ve just been having more dreams about her, and the topic comes up more when I make certain meals, and—”
Goro brushed Akira’s bangs from his forehead and shook his head. “‘Kira, it’s okay. It’s not a bad thing. I just…” He worried his bottom lip. “The domesticity. I’m still acclimating. I haven’t had security like this since I was a child.”
Goro sniffed, his smile shaky with barely-said emotions. “It’s like growing pains. The only person who cared before was her. It scares me, but it’s worth it if I have you. I’ll be better for it.”
“Goro.” Akira’s voice shook. He wasn’t sure where to begin. Instead, he tucked Goro into his neck, rubbing his back.
Heavy with sleep, Akira whispered into Goro’s sleep-mussed hair, “You can have me forever if you want.”
—
“Wait, guys.” Mona held out one tiny paw. “I smell treasure.”
Even with a handful of palaces under their belts, the feral sparkle in Mona’s cartoonish eyes never changed. Much to everyone’s shock, Mona sniffed out a trail that ended at Little Crow.
Mona fidgeted. “So, uh, I think he’s the treasure.”
Tentatively, Makoto asked, “Do we…?”
Joker barred the others from Crow. He bared his teeth as he said, “Don’t you dare.”
Little Crow clutched at Joker’s coattail, and the team tripped over each other to reassure they wouldn’t hurt him. Oracle buzzed in their earpieces, her keyboard clacking rhythmically. “He’s been guiding Joker this whole time. Maybe he leads to it?”
Joker knelt in front of Crow, his arm resting on one bent knee. “I know it’s hard, but could you guide me to the treasure? I want to help him feel better.”
Little Crow fiddled with the hem of his little cape. “I can, but I’m scared.”
“How come?”
“Getting there. It’s scary. I don’t wanna see it. Never again.” Behind his trembling hands, Crow whimpered, “What if I get lost in there?”
Joker held out his hand. “Can’t get lost if you hold my hand, can you?”
Crow took Joker’s hand. His eyes were shiny, rimmed with pink. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
A foggy mirror grew from the wall, and Crow tugged Joker toward it. By the time they were through, none of the Thieves followed along. “Only you can see this part,” Crow said.
When Joker looked back at Crow, he was taller. Inconsistent meals made him scrawnier than he should have been. His knees were knobby, and his hair was choppy and short.
Flashes of memories latched onto Joker. Ten-year-old Goro Akechi’s meager personal items dwindled before him. A mean foster child broke Mama’s photo frame. His best socks were stolen. He outgrew his favorite sweater.
Crow stood nearly at Joker’s shoulder. There were bags under his distrustful eyes; his skin flecked with scrapes and a smattering of bruises. His shoes were two sizes too large. Joker squeezed his hand. Crow squeezed back tightly.
Another memory. There was an alleyway where Goro hunched over unwrapped food, clutching his stomach. His hair was spidery with grown-out flyaways. In another, Goro slipped a protein bar and a toothbrush into his ratty sweatshirt pocket at a 777 and casually passed the cashier.
At fourteen, Goro stole a taupe blazer. With any spare second, he would marvel over the most expensive thing he had laid his eyes on. On a warped notepad, he scribbled something with Shido’s name on it.
Joker kept his grip, but Crow didn’t squeeze back. Instead, he looked away, ashamed.
Next was a phone call. Shido’s simpering orders and Goro’s prim responses. Shido crooned on about the eradication of the Phantom Thieves’ leader. Goro stared blankly, numb, but his voice never faltered.
Crow bit his lip, saving face. The shaggy hair over his eyes helped. “I didn't want to do it,” he said.
“I know.”
It continued. Metaverse Joker was dead. It was jarring seeing his corpse. Would he really bleed that much? Bile rose in Joker’s throat, realizing this was what Goro had nightmares about in their bed.
Goro stayed nonchalant. He unscrewed the silencer, tucked it away, slipped the gun into Metaverse Joker’s limp hand, and left to call Shido.
Glimpses of Goro’s mother appeared like bursts of color behind Joker’s eyelids. Her dead, fish-like eyes clouded over. A mouth ajar. A limp, lifeless hand lightly curled.
In the next breath, Goro was in his apartment, sweeping mirror shards with shaking, bloodied knuckles. A kaleidoscope of red-rimmed eyes stared back at him within the mirror fragments. “I’m a monster,” he shuddered. “I really do destroy everything I care about.”
Joker squeezed Crow’s hand, the size of his hand something he had memorized and cherished for years now. “If you had any other choice, would you have chosen this path?”
“Never.” Crow sniffed. “At least I found you.”
Once the memories ended, Joker gathered Crow into a vicious embrace. He staved off the lump in his throat like he swallowed something wrong. “It’s over, and I’m still here,” he said.
Crow lifted his hands, hesitating, before returning the embrace. He held Joker desperately, verging on painful with how tightly he held on.
“He never should have faced that,” Crow whimpered.
“You were just a kid. You needed care and stability, but they failed you.”
“I needed love,” Crow said through bitter tears and gritted teeth. “I didn’t deserve that.”
“For real.” Another squeezing hug. Crow squeezed back in kind. “I can’t undo your hurt, but I can always be here. Take your time. We can stay here as long as you need.”
Joker brushed through Crow’s hair, rubbing circles up and down his back. It was sweet to see how much his Goro had grown from the scrawny, greasy-haired teenager in his arms. This was a boy with emotions and needs, and he had to burn them all to pursue something else. This was a boy who had no intention of living beyond eighteen. Doomed from the start and cursed to live. And yet, outside this palace, he had a home with a mouthy not-cat and his frizzy-haired boyfriend. Funny how life worked.
“Okay,” Crow said. “I’m ready.”
They pulled away, but Crow kept close. Before Crow walked out of Joker’s grip, his scarlet gloves grazed Crow’s lower back affectionately, wishing already to pull him close once more. He, quite literally, beamed with joy. When Crow smiled at him, it was blinding.
Soon enough, the brightness was overwhelming enough for Joker to squeeze his eyes shut and look away. Once it ceased, no longer warming his skin, Joker found an item sitting where Crow had been. A photograph of a woman, her honeyed hair mussed from motherhood. A toddler curled in her lap with a mop of hair the same color as hers.
The Thieves rushed to Joker, crowding the item cradled lovingly in his hands.
“What was his treasure? Is that—” Ryuji paused, craning his neck to look over the photograph.
“His mother,” Yusuke said. “She’s lovely. They look similar, don’t you think?”
Joker’s smile trembled. “Yeah, they do.”