so anyway I never write anything on time I'm either a few days early or a few days late

happy belated birthday pancake boi for your gift I'm returning the knife you left in my back :')


(perhaps this is for the best.)

sae should know.

the search for the high school detective had run on for two weeks now, with no luck. the missing persons unit had looked high and low, and the prosecutor-turned-defender had neared the end of her rope.

it is the cat who speaks first. tell her; she has a right to know.

someone else besides us should know.

the air is heavy when he reveals why he's called her here. oh, she manages. i see.

a signal fading from within shido's palace, not even a hair to recover. yaldabaoth's hand likely at play in this as well; if no longer within the cognition of others, why bother to exist at all?

the lump in his throat tightens when he reads her face. this stays between us, he murmurs. you'll have to call off the search.

she nods; her sigh is shaky, ragged.

he catches her hands rising to her face on the way out.


a grave. he deserves one.

of course, a plot of land with no body or ash to lay to rest is not the way. though his time visiting had been short, why not at leblanc? the cat asks. he liked being here the most, after all.

the idea is run by futaba first, using her aid to convince sojiro. it's fairly easy once they had recounted what happened.

the father-daughter pair prepare the space after closing, right underneath the sayuri. it's an oddly fitting space, a place to honour lost mother and son.

morgana wonders if akechi's mother is at peace. maybe she isn't lonely wherever she is anymore.

he hopes all the ones they've lost are no longer lonely anymore.


before he can even ask, yusuke has already offered to make a stake for the recently departed. cardboard and cutting is not his strong suit; my forte lies with painting, he states, but i will do my best. it would be a disservice if i do not at least try.

its construction is simple: a thicker, wider horizontal box for the base, and a longer, thinner vertical box for the gravestone, the characters of his name carved in accordingly. and, of course, the entire ensemble is painted in a telltale gray, the colour of passing, of mourning.

yusuke laughs with no humour behind it when he hears where it will go. it seems leblanc is our mortuary, slowly accumulating altars for the dead.

akira can only laugh with him.


the moment akechi's name leaves his lips, ryuji wants nothing to do with it. after everything the late detective had inflicted upon their group, who can blame him?

if not for him, then for me, ryuji. please. i just want to give him the company he never had, the friends he never had.

the life he always wanted, that I had gotten instead.

the blond is silent for a moment, unusual for someone such as he. i… alright, he finally speaks, dazed but reluctant. if it really means that much to you, i'll go. but this is for you, not for him.

moral support is all he could ask of anyone right now.


i'll bring the lilies i've been growing, haru says. she reveals that she had been growing them for some time now, plucking a few every now and then for her clockwork visits to her father's grave.

another reminder of one they've lost passes through them without a word, dictations of anguish left unsaid. it's something all the former phantom thieves do when the topic broaches. if they dwell, it will overwhelm them, pulling all eight into the pits of despair.

after all, some had already sunk farther than others.

her hair fluffs as she shakes her head, leaving the mess as it is while she tends to her garden. no thanks needed. he should be honoured, despite everything.

even morgana agrees.


ann and makoto appear the night before their makeshift funeral, the former toting candles and incense. the latter sets up the supplies, centering the gravestone under sayuri, using the lilies to decorate what may have otherwise been a dreadful space.

the white petals and yellow anthers brighten the gray, breathing life into the deceased's name.

i've thought about doing something like this for some time now, makoto explains. a broken smile pulls at one corner of her lips. i just wasn't sure how. thank you for asking this of me—of all of us. akira merely nods, stare trained on her as she speaks, but thoughts elsewhere.

seeing everything set up before him stings, lashes quick to flutter away stray drops that attempt to spill over.

red eyes look to round blue, the incense set aside in favour of the candles. with plates in hand, she places four around the altar, careful to place them away from the cardboard. when round blue eyes look to silver, he nods with approval, the feline nearby joining him.

they hold a vigil of sorts until the wax has halved itself, two hours passing in near silence. the trio exchange farewells before two depart, the one left behind making the trek upstairs.

slit blue watches until the candles extinguish.


in front of the gravestone, atop the base, akira places the lit incense, kneeling before it. behind him, eight pairs of hands fold together, heads bowed and eyes closed.

finally, akechi is put to rest, at least within their memories.

the black wardrobe shared adds a weight to the café already subdued in dark, reflecting the atmosphere amongst the audience. the rich coffee placed before akechi makes fine company as well, a substitution for the typical water; it is the last cup he'll ever have.

with morgana next to him, his eyes finally close as well, praying as he whispers. i'm sorry i couldn't save you. wherever you are, i hope you've found peace.

your friends—the family you wanted and could have had—wish for nothing more.


author's note

tbh I don't think he's actually dead but I mean

what if he is honestly I think that's the more daring option LET HIM BE DEAD ATLUS

anyway I take requests on my writing tumblr :T