#as always this is unbeta bc i go by vibes only

[erengayer]

[Fic]: Pink Carnation

I saw these flower-based writing prompt by writtenbyevie and had to give one a try!

Prompt: Pink Carnation--Burying a Lover.

Goro died, moved on, and worked part time at Jazz Jin. He did not expect to see Akira again with an unexpected guest.

A Dead Like Me AU where Goro became a grim reaper after the one who took his soul had moved on, so Goro took his job.

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Goro didn’t connect the dots until Shido’s palace disintegrated in front of his vision into the darkness of a narrow alleyway, when he stood in front of his very still body with two bullet holes through the chest.

“I supposed that means I’m dead now,” he said to himself, not fully expecting answer, but then a voice spoke up behind him.

“You catch on to things quickly. It seems that I won’t have to spend a lot of time explaining your new job.”

Goro turned around to meet the amused gaze of an elderly looking salaryman.

And that was how Akechi Goro, Ace Detective and Assassin, became un-Akechi Goro, grim reaper for the Division of External Influence, covering murders, suicides, accidents, etcetera etcetera, thanks to the fact that the reaper who took his soul had retired. The elderly salaryman—Yoshida—current leader of the reaper team that Goro was, by literal fate, stuck with, had offered to bring Goro to see his body autopsy and his funeral, both of which Goro immediately refused.

There was really no need to be reminded that he did die in the one way he didn’t wish to end: utterly alone in a ditch somewhere, forever unloved. Nor did he want to see his cremated remains in an urn sitting in a sad corner of an ossuary, forever unclaimed.

Yoshida said it would bring him closure, but Goro was pretty sure he was over it already. He was honestly pretty over living in his last few moments of life.

So Goro just moved on. Every day, he received a name and time of death from Yoshida. Then he went to his day time job delivering food to people on his bike, which gave him the convenience of being able to leave anytime to keep the time of death appointments. Apparently Grim Reaper still had to pay for rent and food. It turned out that Grim Reaper was a thankless job with no employee benefits. Still better than being Shido’s lackey though, if Goro was to be honest.  

Overall, his un-life was fine. He learned to make curry now. He got a plant with flowers. He was in the process of learning how to make coffee. He did not think about why he wanted to do those things in particular.

The face that looked back at him in the mirror was too long, too thin, too sharp, too pale, hair and eye colors too dull, and he still hadn’t gotten used to seeing it when he brushed his teeth, but this meant that no one from his past would be able to recognize him.

Which was a fact that Goro was grateful for on a cold rainy evening, when Kurusu walked through the door of Jazz Jin with a large bag that he hugged to his body on one hand and umbrella in the other.

Yoshida had warned Goro about avoiding the past, and for some reason, Goro had not heed that warning when he decided to get a part time job at Jazz Jin.

Goro almost ducked away until he realized he had a different face now.

“Ah, good evening,” Muhen called out. “The usual table for you then?”

Kurusu gave Muhen a small smile and a nod as he approach the counter. “I brought him along with me today. I thought it would be nice for him to come one last time before tomorrow.”

“Of course,” said Muhen.

Goro straightened up the stack of menus while pretending he was not eavesdropping. He wondered what they were talking about because Kurusu was clearly alone.

“Is the service at eight o’clock tomorrow?” Muhen asked. “I’ll definitely be there.”

“Thank you,” said Kurusu, voice soft. “There won’t be a lot of people. I think he would like it if you came.”

Goro knew that he should stay away from Kurusu. Goro knew that lingering attachment to the past was a bad idea. Yet, as Kurusu walked to what was presumably his usual table, Goro couldn’t help but grab a menu and followed him before another server could. His body was moving before his mind could catch up, so by the time he was standing in front of Kurusu’s table, it was too late.

“What are you having today? Are you expecting company later?” Goro asked with a smile as he handed Kurusu the menu, the personality he crafted for his new identity came out naturally now without any effort.  

“I’ll just have two of the special on the mocktail menu today,” said Kurusu as he handed the menu back to Goro. “Thank you.”

Kusuru gave no other explanation of the guest he was waiting on.

Goro pushed down the flash of disappointment and anger at the simple dismissal.

He hadn’t thought about Kurusu in a long time. He didn’t think he had any expectations if they ever bump into each other again. He knew that he was now wearing a stranger’s face in front of Kurusu. Yet, being so easily dismissed from Kurusu’s attention unnerved him. His body went on autopilot as he made the drinks, but he was berating himself in his mind for being utterly stupid about this.

He was effectively undead. He had moved on. From the looks of it, so had Kurusu. He had expected this.

So why was it unbearable to look at Kurusu? Why was it also unbearable to look away from Kusuru?

Kusuru nodded a "thanks" as Goro placed the drinks in front of him.

And just like that, their interaction was over.

“Was there anything else?” Kurusu asked, and Goro realized with abashment that he had been standing there way too long than socially acceptable.

As his brain scrambled for something to say that would not sound like he had a mental affliction, his eyes finally dropped to the urn sitting in the chair next to Kurusu. It was the large bag that Kurusu was carrying earlier—Goro finally realized.

The second drink was on the table in front of the urn.

Kurusu followed Goro’s gaze to the urn next to him.

“Ah,” said Kurusu. “This is—well, a friend is not quite the right word. He is someone very important to me. I’ve arranged for his funeral tomorrow, so I’ve been spending the past few days bringing him to different places that he liked.”

Goro’s throat went dry. The back of his eyes stung. His legs were unsteady.

“Not a friend?”

Kurusu scratched the back of his neck, his lips curved into a small sad smile. “I don’t think that word can really encompass everything that he was to me.”

“Oh.”

Kurusu was a fool. Goro had tried to kill him twice. What was Kurusu doing? Did he think that Goro wanted him to do this? Goro's body was supposed to be unclaimed, forever forgotten by everyone else. Goro was supposed to move on with his undead existence. Goro wished that he had his face again, that he could grab Kurusu by the shoulders and shake the stupidity out of him.

Goro wished that he could kiss him. Bit at his lips until they bled. Until Kurusu bit back. Until the pain from that wound reminded Goro that he had a beating heart.

But Goro could not. Because his beating heart was no longer real.

“My condolences for your loss,” Goro said. His voice was unexpectedly hoarse.

“Thank you,” said Kurusu.

Goro took the nostalgic sight of the dark curls slightly damp from the rain, the downcast of Kurusu’s lashes, the way his spine arched into a familiar slouch, and then he was struck with the realization that this was it: he was never going to go to Jazz Jin with Kurusu again. He was never going to sit next to Kusuru and debate philosophy, never go to Penguin Sniper with him, never play chess during many late nights at Leblanc, never have those grey eyes intensely on him in those moments where he finally felt like he mattered to someone ever again.   

His mind was a mess. He didn’t know how he managed to walk back to the front counter. Didn’t know how he worked through the rest of the night, not when his eyes kept straying to Kurusu’s table. Didn’t know how he found a cloth to wipe down Kurusu’s table, eyes still glued to Kurusu’s back as he left.

It was over.

All of it.

It was stupid. He wanted it all to be over. He wanted to never see Kurusu again. He wanted a new start. He moved on.

Yet, Goro hadn’t expected that seeing Kurusu felt like peeling back a bandage until the wound reopened.

Something small and black underneath the table caught Goro’s eyes. He crouched down to pick it up.

A familiar black leather glove. Kurusu must have dropped it by accident. An unfulfilled promise to be forgotten now that the existence of Akechi Goro was no longer among the living.

Goro’s hand clenched tightly around the glove. His feet moved before his mind caught up to his body. He rushed out of the front door, ignoring the curious eyes of the patrons chasing after him.

“Wait!” Goro called out to Kurusu’s back. “Kurusu!”

Kurusu stopped in his track, turning to Goro with a look of a deer against the headlight.

Naturally, when Goro made a fool of himself was when his brain decided to go online once more in order to experience the full weight of embarrassment.

“You drop something,” said Goro as he handed the glove to Kurusu.

Kurusu gave him an indecipherable look before taking it. Goro wondered why Kurusu was staring at him like that, as if he was some interesting puzzle. Did he say something strange?

“Thank you,” said Kurusu and gestured to the urn sitting snugly in a bag. “He gave this to me once as a declaration for a duel, if you believe it or not. I guess now I should bury it with him.”

“I think he would like for you to keep it,” said Goro.

Kurusu blinked at him in surprise.

“Just—it was a promise to a duel that you’ve accepted. Are you backing down from his challenge?” said Goro.

What was Goro saying? What was he doing? This was the opposite of keeping distance. He had moved on. Kurusu should move on. They need to never see each other again. For all intent and purposes, Akechi Goro was supposed to be dead.

“I don’t back down from anything,” said Kurusu as he narrowed his eyes.

“Then keep it.”

“I guess I should keep my promise,” Kurusu chuckled. His face seemed to brightened as some of the melancholy melted from his entire body, and his gaze was filled with mirth as he met Goro’s eyes. “You’re quite a strange man, but I have to thank you.”

Goro felt his insides froze as Kurusu scrutinized him, reassuring himself that Kurusu might be sharp, but there was no way he could figure out Goro’s identity. Heck, Kurusu was literally holding his dead body in his arm.

Goro pushed down the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Yoshida, telling him this was a terrible idea.

“Well, if that is all, then good night,” said Kurusu as he began to turn away. “I hope I can see you again at Jazz Jin.”

Goro swallowed, feeling the excitement that he didn’t want to allow himself to feel beating through his body.

It was fine, Goro told himself as he watched Kurusu’s back until he faded in the crowd. Kurusu didn’t figure it out. There was no way.

Goro would continue his undead existence. Perhaps occasionally, he would see Kurusu. But that didn’t mean that he was hanging on to the past. He was moving on. Kurusu would be moving on. Goro’s importance in Kurusu’s life would eventually dwindle to a distant memory. And Goro was fine with accepting that.

And then, there would come a day when Goro would actually believe these lies he was feeding himself.  

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Not Goro thinking he got away with things, but forgetting that Akira literally had not introduced himself so there should be no way for Goro to know his name. :)

Happy Weekend everyone!

#akeshu #fic #persona 5 #writing is hard and idk how #dead like me AU #as always this is unbeta bc i go by vibes only #what if akechi is grim reaper?? #what if akira just take akechi's ashes around just 'cause??