(a/n: waa i really appreciate the support, both short comments and mini-essays ;_;

reviews are my medication, i am chronically sleep-deprived.)

Cop and Robber
RANK 9, STAGE 3

Sakamoto Ryuuji sat in his car, watching the entrance of the café. He felt battered by the storm, even sheltered in the protective shell of his vehicle.

"Inspector, this storm is nuts," he said into his phone. "Seriously nuts."

"Have you seen anything?" came Akechi Gorou's voice. It crackled with interference.

"I can't see crap in this rain," said Ryuuji. "Someone could book right by me, and if they stuck to the shadows, I wouldn't even know."

"So, Niijima Makoto has not left her apartment?" Akechi Gorou said.

Ryuuji paused.

The police force was corrupt.

Niijima Makoto had the bravery to face it, to ask for change. It sounds crazy, but change begins with us, she said, and if we refuse, then change will begin with the Phantom Thieves instead. Which will you pick?

He hadn't joined the cops so that more boys like him would be pushed around or unfairly arrested or expelled.

He'd joined to institute change.

Ryuuji swallowed.

"She did," he said. "Came back with groceries. Can't I go inside and grab a bite? I think she's making ramen."

Gorou's voice was exasperated. "You're on stakeout. You can't ask food from your mark. Report to me if any changes are made. The assignment will finish in the morning."

He had such a little opinion of Ryuuji's intelligence that he hadn't questioned the pause.

Ryuuji smiled.

This was the beginning of his stand.

.

.

.

Morning rose.

Sunlight cracked through Makoto's eyelids. She blearily sat up. She was curled on a booth seat, tucked tenderly into a warm fleece blanket.

Fear lanced through her.

"Akira," she whispered. She vaulted to her feet. "Akira—"

She flung herself to the stairs, but stopped short.

Kurusu Akira was standing at the stove, stirring a ladle through a pot of curry.

The fear eased into relief. She slumped against the wall.

He was alive.

She'd been debilitated, she'd fallen asleep, but the Joker hadn't killed him. Despite her shortcomings, he was safe.

Makoto inched closer, peering at Akira's back.

Psst, whispered her id. Remember what happened last night?

She winced as she thought of images: embracing him, shrouding herself in his coat, sleeping as he held her. It had been a dream, hadn't it? Surely it had. She couldn't imagine being so childish in reality, losing all sense of control.

Please let it be a dream please let it be a dream I don't know if I could live with myself otherwise.

Her id coughed. Even if it was, you do realize that you dreamed about Kurusu Akira embracing you rather intimately, hm?

Lewd, accused her superego.

She shut them up with a shake of her head and cleared her throat.

"Morning," she said hesitantly.

Akira froze, the ladle idle in his hand.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked.

Akira turned. He was smiling, but it was vague and not entirely genuine. "Right as rain."

"Ha. Ha."

"And you?" He turned back to the curry.

She blinked. "Me?"

"You didn't seem to like the storm."

Heat crept up her neck to her ears. "Why? Did something happen last night? Did I... um, do something?"

His smile broadened and it started to look authentic.

"I, I can't remember all that well," she stammered. "I had some kind of dream, except, I'm not sure it was a dream. I think it was. But... maybe it wasn't. Is that why?"

"It wasn't a dream," said Akira casually.

"Oh, good," she said.

She paused.

"Wait. WHAT."

Akira switched off the stove and ladled the curry on a plate.

"You mean—um—I, I hugged you—?"

"And fell asleep in my lap," said Akira.

She squeaked.

Akira laughed. It was warm and pleasant and annoying, so she hit him on the shoulder.

"How can you be calm about that?" she muttered. "It was totally inappropriate."

"Because I rather enjoyed it."

She clapped her hands on his cheeks and forced him to look at her. "S-stop saying things like that."

He was quiet for a moment, and his eyes darted down to her lips.

Her mouth ran dry.

Then—

—he suddenly shoved her away, unmitigated terror washing over his face.

She caught herself easily, long-trained balance and reflexes serving her well, but the confusion was dizzying. She'd never felt something like that from Akira—aggression, horror, fear.

Like he was scared of her.

"Akira?" she said.

Akira blinked, startled. "What... what did..."

"Are you okay?"

He stared at his hands. He looked lost. "I'm sorry. I... I don't understand."

"Maybe you're still not feeling well," Makoto said. She stepped forward, reaching a hand to his forehead.

Akira shuffled back and lifted his arm, as if he was defending himself from a strike.

She stopped.

Akira immediately lowered his arm, but it was shaky, like he was forcing his body to do something that it didn't want to do.

"Akira?" she said.

"I don't..." His face was unusually helpless. "Makoto, I... I think something broke."

The uncertainty in his voice was palpable. It struck Makoto, all at once.

Of course.

Joker didn't have to come in the physical world.

He had other ways.

"Give me one second," said Makoto.

She sprinted outside of Leblanc and ripped out her phone. She jabbed at the red-eyed application, whispering fervently.

"Kurusu Akira. Leblanc café."

"Searching," said the voice.

And then something she never wanted to hear.

"Location detected."

.

.

.

"We're done. We're so done that our grandchildren are done. We are the most done human beings in the history of done-ness," bemoaned Morgana.

It was an eerily familiar lamentation.

Akira shook his head, trying to clear his brain. "I don't get it. Nothing like this has happened before."

Morgana groaned again. "I should've seen this coming," he said. "We've thought about the Palace, but not the change of heart."

"Change of heart?" He thought of the pained surprise on Makoto's face. His chest pinched.

"Think of it this way," said Morgana. "When we steal the Treasure from a Palace, we're stealing the distorted desires of the owner, thereby prompting a genuine change of heart, right?"

"Right."

Akira paused.

"Oh."

"Yes. We're dolts. Your psyche didn't naturally build a Palace over time from preestablished corruption in Mementos. By rushing it, we artificially forced its creation. We artificially forced the instatement of a Treasure. We artificially forced... an opposite change of heart."

Akira opened his mouth.

Akira closed his mouth.

"That doesn't sound good," he said.

"It is very not good. And it's unpredictable, unprecedented. Right now, there's unintended changes in your behavior. Definite disconnects between how you want to act versus how you actually end up acting. If the Palace is up for too long, maybe it'll even change your thoughts like a real change of heart—which, might just be me, but I don't really wanna stick around and find out, you know?"

Akira ran his hand through his hair. "So our timeline just got more urgent."

"Well, why do you think your body is acting up? What's the distorted emotion?"

"I don't know, but... but I think my mind is afraid that Makoto will hurt me."

Morgana laughed.

Then stopped.

"Oh, you're serious," he said.

Akira nodded gravely.

"How could she ever hurt you?" Morgana said. "Even without magic, your reflexes are honed by seven years of hardcore combat. And she's not willing to shoot you. What will she do, stub your toe?"

Akira hesitated.

Morgana looked at him.

"Oh," he said softly.

Akira shifted his gaze.

"You know," said Morgana, "it must really suck to have such a terrible backstory."

Akira swallowed. "It does."

.

.

.

| POLL: "Do you feel lonely?"

YES: 86%; NO: 14%

| CHATBOX

"who doesnt tbh"

"I feel lonely even when I'm surrounded by people"

"JUST MAKE IMAGINARY FRIENDS"

"hello darkness my old friend"

"money is my waifu"

"cri"