Reposted by Kupo
Kupo
@kupowonders.bsky.social
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29 ✨ She/her ✨Fanfic writer KupoWonders on ao3 ✨ Persona, KH, FF ✨ Profile pic by ghostsjogging
29 ✨ She/her ✨Fanfic writer KupoWonders on ao3 ✨ Persona, KH, FF ✨ Profile pic by ghostsjogging
![Fic by:
saikowrites
Spot Art by:
Cinammie
[Leblanc's Lending Library Logo]
"Of course it was you," Akechi says, as if that explains everything. "As soon as I heard about a 'Midnight Cafe' in some obscure Yongen-Jaya side alley, I knew it would lead me here."
Akira keeps up his wall of cautious silence. His eyes flicker between the twin cups on the counter and the figure who looks too solid to be a ghost and speaks too lightheartedly to be a cognition.
Akechi's own gaze follows his. "Is that one for me?" His chin nods to his share of the coffee.
"You're late," Akira chides, a slumbering reflex reawakening. "Don't fault me if it's lukewarm."
That seems to take Akechi aback. Was he not expecting the truth?
Either way, he sits at his usual spot—second to last stool near the door—and hooks his gloved index finger around the ceramic loop. He raises the cup to his lips, eyes fluttering half-closed to better savor the toasted scent. Tiny creases dig into his forehead as he takes the first sip, and Akira's heart throbs with the same annoying urgency it had two years ago.
[Cinammie’s art shows Akira holding a cup of coffee behind Leblanc’s counter, a surprised expression on his face as he looks toward the right. He’s not wearing his glasses.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ojrpnyf372obt5wv2tkdfnyg/bafkreihtlxowh5ytq4z7pk3t2c56hofp4pqhoeez5q7smaybp2tdyilaya)
![Fic by:
Corone
Spot Art by:
Kaetor
[Leblanc's Lending Library Logo]
Wordlessly, Akira places the mug of coffee, a glass of water, and an ibuprofen tablet on the table in front of Akechi. He dry swallows the tablet, seemingly not even registering the glass of water, then picks up the coffee. Akira backs off, leaning up against the counter, giving Akechi as much space as he can without leaving his apartment, because running away is the only idea worse than every idea he had last night.
It takes several minutes before Akechi says anything. Akira tries to make himself busy, to look like he's not thinking about changing his name and leaving the country. When Akechi does speak, he jumps.
"So," Akechi says, voice a little scratchy, eyes still squinted, "are we going to talk about it?"
Akira stares at the kitchen sink rather than meet Akechi's eyes. "We don't have to."
"Yes, we do," Akechi snaps, rubbing his temples. "Everyone saw."
Akira wants to scream. Akechi's right, of course. He already knows that. So instead of letting his feelings out, he schools his face into a carefully neutral expression and turns around.
How much do you remember?" Akechi also isn't looking at Akira. "Clearly you remember some it, but…"
Akira sighs. "Well..."
[Kaetor’s art shows a very disgruntled Goro, complete with messy hair and rumpled clothes.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ojrpnyf372obt5wv2tkdfnyg/bafkreidtkb5e2zyme73fudo22o24vg5usp32byo3b5c3o444iboggllkre)
![Fic by:
Kitty
Spot Art by:
Biip (Biipbop)
[Leblanc's Lending Library Logo]
Akechi gave him a withering look. "I seem to remember telling you I'm a terrible cook."
"I just need an extra set of hands. Butchering will keep me busy," Akira said, breezing past him to get the fish out of the fridge. He'd caught both the akamutsu and kinmedai himself, because it'd felt important to make this dinner something purely his to offer. He'd broken down the kinmedai the same day he'd reeled it in from the cold deep, but the akamutsu was still shining and whole.
They were similar, these two fish. Both red on the outside with fatty white flesh within, wide-eyed from life in the dark. The akamutsu's fangs and red eyes reminded Akira of his rival. It was tastier—oily and fragrant from the moment a knife slid into its belly. The kinmedai had to eat itself first, decomposing into something almost sweet.
Real chefs called it aging, but Akira understood the power of controlled ruin.
[Biip’s art shows Akechi packaged between fish, covered in plastic wrap. A sticker with the date of 2016.11.20 covers his eyes. Akira’s hand is holding the package, and his fingernails are painted black.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ojrpnyf372obt5wv2tkdfnyg/bafkreia4bfewflds7otwqfgemfjscrldrpoueb2ysffwtpn743zaoyk4vi)
![Fic by:
Ace Swervey
Spot Art by:
Sniper
[Leblanc's Lending Library Logo]
Kicking his legs grew impossible. Even digging his heels into the dirt-pounded ground and driving his hips up to jostle the fighter wasn't working.
YOU BETTER NOT, Loki warned.
NO CHOICE, an animal part of his mind growled. DYING.
An erratic buzzing filled Goro's head. Fangs pricked his gums. Loki's Blessing—a screeching death knell to any victim—consumed him.
DAMN YOU, CROW.
Goro howled as he became chaos incarnate. The fists around his throat faltered. Rage and insanity coiled in rueful tendrils, and its new found desperation aided Goro in dislodging the fighter's grip.
The fighter went sprawling, clutching his gut, and Goro coughed and retched. With a bone-deep inhale, Goro dragged his long-sword's tip along the ground, drawing grooves that inevitably connected the fresh drops of blood preceding it. He knew he was a hellish sight when he invoked Loki's Blessing on himself; hunched like a feral animal, snapping his bloodied jaw. Warmth rolled down his neck, his eyes stung, and thick blood bubbled down his chin.
"Fucking hells," the fighter whimpered.
Goro's voice came out in a monstrous, blood-wet growl.
"Huge mistake."
[Sniper’s art shows Goro in his champion attire stalking menacingly forward with his posture tilted, wrapped in shadows. He’s wearing a wicked grin behind his mask.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ojrpnyf372obt5wv2tkdfnyg/bafkreicbtrsfvzlauj4vuugrbuwedj3wmi473ktq3ziukjbdsgylw4cnxi)
