2/15, Wednesday Evening

The familiar smell of coffee-infused wood made the attic of Leblanc home, more of a home than Akira had ever known. It had felt so cold, so empty, when first he'd entered it, so many months ago. But now it was where he truly wanted to be, where he'd dreamt of coming back to so many nights over the past month and a half. He sighed in contentment, simply standing within it.

Home.

"Hey, you're not getting all sappy on me, are you?"

No other being could express such a degree of condescension so matter-of-factly, the guilty party happily sitting on the table closest to the stairwell. Akira cast his gaze over the form of the cat before him, its bright blue eyes, white paws, tail-tip and muzzle standing out against the depth of its black fur. A brief moment.

And then a light laugh.

"I'll be back to normal tomorrow."

"Good," Morgana hopped down to the ground, the light padding of his feet eliciting only the slightest groans from the floorboards, "it's weird seeing you like that."

Despite his words, as Morgana passed Akira by he shifted his weight and rubbed his side against the back of Akira's leg, before wordlessly moving on to hop up on the bed. Turning to face him, Akira wore a wry smile, though didn't tease immediately. "I didn't see you today – did Futaba keep you busy?"

"She's impossible!" Morgana flopped on the bed, already reminded of the day's exertions. "She demanded I come with her to Akihabara and then spent all day staring at those blasted machines! She can't even carry me like you can, I had to keep hiding myself while watching over her! I'm not a babysitter, Akira!"

There was a banality to this, even if he was listening to what most people would see as a talking cat – though most people wouldn't even get the talking part –, and Akira relished how much this was normal to him. This was his friends just hanging out. This was Morgana complaining. This was Futaba doing her own thing. Things like this, he'd missed it.

God he'd missed it so much.

"Hey."

Morgana's voice, for once dropping his own teasing pretence, made Akira acutely aware of himself and he raised a hand to his eyes, checking for moisture. "Sorry," he shook his head, "tomorrow, like I said."

Moments of vulnerability from Morgana were rare, Akira could count without much trouble the number of times Morgana had truly lowered his guard to him. The reverse, however, was not even comparable. Times Akira showed anything, any sort of weakness, Morgana struggled to recall more than one. He stared.

"Hey, I was joking about that. You don't have to push yourself to-"

"It's fine," Akira shook his head, "All I want is for things to go back to normal. To just spend time with you all. That's all I need."

Another quiet moment. And then the being in the form of a cat chuckled.

"You're going to get that and more you know, there's no way any of the others will let you spend even a minute alone if they can help it."

"I'm counting on that."

The delivery of that line was... a little more intense than Akira had planned for, and Morgana immediately fixed him with a strange look. Not really wanting to deal with that right now, Akira moved over to the workbench, idle hands shifting about tools and materials. How many nights had he sat here, under Morgana's instruction, creating tools for the Phantom Thieves? Did his hands still remember all the motions?

Without even thinking about it, Akria found himself portioning materials into groups to be used. Seems he hadn't forgotten one bit.

A heavy weight on his shoulder was Morgana leaping off of the bed and onto Akira, before taking another leap to the workbench's top, carefully positioning himself so as not to disturb any of the models resting along it. Sitting himself down, he observed the product of Akira's actions.

"Most of the Thieves' Tools only function with cognition behind them. In the real world they're barely more than junk."

Hmm, Akira nodded in response, rifling about in a bag kept under the table, retrieving a collection of the tools that had gone unused. The storage of material that would function in the Metaverse was a strange one – food products outright disappeared outside the Metaverse and reappeared when you returned, while the numerous tools took on new forms. Cognition was a strange thing. Looking up at Morgana before him, of course that was the case. The strangest thing you could imagine.

"Yeah," Morgana continued, "I think only the lockpicks are usable in reality, and I doubt they're even as effective here as they were in Palaces. The eternal lockpick would be the best of the bunch, but it's definitely not unbreakable here."

Akira did have his lockpicks, and laid them out on the table, the sheen of the eternal lockpick standing out amongst the others. A lot of materials had gone into it. It had paid its keep with gusto after that however.

"So what're you gonna do?" Morgana looked Akira in the eyes, "Gonna take them with you?"

"Hmm," Akira considered, hands still idly pushing materials here and there, "I feel like that's going to get me into trouble if I'm caught with them."

"Could get you out of trouble too!" The black-furred being quickly took on the role of devil's advocate, "You never know. And I mean, you know how to keep things out of sight. Are you really going to get caught?"

"The last thing I need is people thinking I'm a criminal again." Akira may have said that, but when he folded the cloth he'd lain the lockpicks upon, he didn't dispose of it. Set it at the back of the workbench for later, and turned his attention to the now defunct tools and remaining materials from the Cognitive World. Hmm.

"So what's on your mind then?" Morgana had lain down, head hanging over the edge of the workbench's top, watching Akira's motions below as the fuzzy-haired boy sat down, "going to make something?"

"Maybe..." Akira was still toying about with the pieces, taking some of the previous tools apart, combining some of the materials. There wasn't a goal yet, he was just flexing his hands and his focus. Remembering motions. There hadn't been a lot of options to keep practise in solitary.

After a few minutes of toying around, the former leader of the Phantom Thieves cut open a metallic ball, once a means of disappearing in battle, and bent some metal plates into shape, fitting them together. He smiled, holding up the rounded ball with the two triangles of metal sticking out from its top. "Look, it's you."

"Ah!" Morgana's form being a cat's provided a significant bonus of hiding embarrassment, and so he was able to avoid expressing just how pleased he was with Akira creating something as tribute to him. "That doesn't look anything like me! Where's my natural charm? My handsome face? You could have at least given it eyes!"

Akira smiled, somehow giving Morgana the impression he could innately tell how pleased Morgana actually was. But there was no way, right? No way.

"You're right," already caught off-guard, Morgana found himself unable to reassert dominance as Akira once more focused on the sphere, "I can do better."

Sometimes you forgot just how deft the hands of Akira Kurusu were. How imaginative he could be when it came to solutions. How intent he was with a goal in sight. If any of the others were here, watching this, well Akira would probably be too distracted to focus. But were this scene recorded, and then shown to them, Morgana was fairly confident each would stare open-mouthed at the sight, watching Akira's hands rapidly moving across the workbench, dexterously manipulating the collection of parts and materials he had available.

Whatever future awaited this one, should it require skilled hands Akira Kurusu would be covered. Honestly, this kid.

The construction of the Morgana model was by no means slow, but it was diligent. Akira was focused, his mental picture realised with every motion of his hands. Having something to devote himself to, to focus on with the fullness of his mind so that not even a single spare thought could occur, it was an absolute delight to the young man who had just spent the last month and a half with nothing but too many thoughts he couldn't control. The slight curve of his mouth, the expression of focus on his face, it spoke happiness he hadn't tasted in too long.

This was good.

When Akira did lean back from his chair with a smile, stretching his arms and interlocking his fingers, Morgana hopped down to stand next to the model, roughly half his own size. It was impressive, honestly so, and he couldn't help but approve as he studied its features. The collar was there, though all of it was in sleek metal greys than with colour, while the face conveyed a suitable amount of charm. Surely it did not capture his full majesty, but it was a decent approximation.

"Hmm, not bad." The hope of humankind circled round the model, before coming to a dead stop, eyes staring wide at its tail. Or around the tail. Akira, seeing this through half-closed eyes, chuckled slightly.

"I thought the phillips head screw was a good touch."

"Th-th-this is," Morgana was stuttering, eyes wide as he considered the modelling Akira had included, "this is utterly inappropriate!" Akira's spreading grin did nothing to mollify the indignity of the one before him. Morgana's rant continued. "I cannot believe this, how could you do something so... so... Akira!"

"Relax, Mona," Akira's outstretched hand, reaching for Morgana's head, was batted away by a paw swipe as Morgana shoved the model, pushing it towards the edge of the workbench. Unfortunately Akira's deft hands were also quick, and he caught it neatly lifting it up into the air such that the offended party could not get at it. "You're literally the only person who'd be upset by this."

"It's obscene! You can't show this to anyone! Oh god what if Lady Ann sees it! You can't!"

"There is no way Ann would do anything but laugh, if she even gave it any attention."

"That's almost worse!" Morgana's back was arched, catlike traits on full display as Akira kept the model held directly in the air. "Get rid of it!"

"After all my hard effort?" Akira kept a sly grin, though internally was beginning to doubt. He'd intended it as a joke, but Morgana truly looked mortified. "I really don't think it's such a big deal."

"It is!" Morgana insisted, narrowed eyes watching Akira's movements and preparing for a chance to pounce, "I don't walk around on... on... on display like that so why should a model! Fix it!"

There was a brief pause, a moment for doubt to sink in, before Morgana's eyes narrowed again. "Do I?"

Akira answered honestly.

"I have never and hope to never spend any amount of time inspecting your butt."

Scandalised beyond belief, Morgana rocketed off the workbench, utterances of the word 'mirror' following his path downstairs. Akira wished him luck: the act of trying to position oneself in front of the bathroom's mirror while also contorting to check your dignity would prove difficult even with a feline body.

Honestly, turning the model over in his hands, Akira really had done a good job on this. It had been relaxing, and fulfilling. Perhaps model-building was something he could enjoy in future. Something to think about.

But still, placing it back down on the workbench, his attempt to tease Morgana had apparently pushed his friend's self-consciousness to breaking point, so that wasn't quite what he'd intended. A trace of paint and some metal threaded through the cross-head of the screw, and it was now instead a completely flat surface, not notable at all. Best to just let this go.

When Morgana did return, his recriminating gaze for Akira lasted only long enough for Akira to motion to the model. Seeing the adjustment, Morgana shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but at the very least didn't attempt to dismantle it. Victory achieved.

Akira really had wanted to show it to the others.

The next day, when everyone came by to visit and Akira showed off the model to them, the first thing that came out of Ryuji's mouth was "where's the butthole?"

Morgana's yowling screech must have shook the building.