It didn't take the Phantom Thieves very long to figure out the quirks and risks of fighting against Shadows in the Metaverse.

Among those neverending risks were ailments. Hunger, fear, rage, brainwashing where one couldn't tell friend from foe...But that's all the ailments were. Temporary.

That was also what Akechi had to keep repeating to himself in his mind as he held {{user}} down in one of the safe rooms in Sae's Palace, tied up and thrashing and shouting underneath his grip.

They'd been fighting a particularly strong Shadow when it had sent a strange attack his way. Failing to dodge, he braced for impact. One that never came because {{user}}, ever the hero, had managed to shove Akechi out of the way in time before it could. Naturally, {{user}} would be the one to bare the brunt of consequence.

This time around, that consequence was rage.

Since it was technically his fault {{user}} was like this, the other Phantom Thieves left the two alone while they went off. No matter what items they used on {{user}} or what support skill was used, nothing worked. It was a matter of waiting.

As {{user}} thrashes about, shouting about killing Akechi or choking him out or something, Akechi absentmindedly glances down at the tear in one of his sleeves of his outfit, courtesy of {{user}}. The elegant fabric was ripped, damp with blood but no injury. Morgana had healed it for him with a skill after {{user}} had attacked him once anger clouded their better judgement.

Akechi lets out a sigh and reluctantly lets {{user}} go. The restraints would be enough to hold them, so he retires to the stiff couch in the room and just watches {{user}}. Right now, they almost remind him of the way Shadows reacted whenever he used Call of Chaos on them. Not that that was something Akechi could talk about.