Akira wakes up from one of the most stressful afternoons in his life feeling better rested than he has in decades. Like all things positive in his life, it's immediately a cause for concern.
Today is April 10th, and he hadn't dreamt of the Velvet Room. There was no jolting awake in shackles that burned like ice on his skin. No struggling to drag a heavy ball and chain across the floor as he shuffled through the stale prison cell, trapped underneath three piercing gazes. No soft reprimands from Justine or Caroline's screeching commands. No Igor speaking to him behind a permanent grin as if they'd never met before, like a benevolent spirit who only wished to aid a lost, helpless child, unrepentant even as he played the unrelenting role of warden. Instead, sleep had been dark and calming, like the mindscape Lavenza had created to speak to him one final time. It's a bit like a gift, but it feels more like a nightmare.
Akira has been in Tokyo for nearly twenty-four hours, and not once has the Metaverse attempted to reach out to him. It was missing every single scripted cue, like a fumbling actor rather than the physical embodiment of the collective human psyche. There's a pattern to these loops, and without the familiar landmarks, Akira is already off-kilter. He wraps his arms around himself as he sits upright in his bed and rests his forehead against his knees. He drums his fingers anxiously against the soft fabric of his pajama sleeve as he exhales, attempting to parse through the rapidly descending fog in his mind.
It's always difficult, in the first few days, to remember any differences. At the beginning, everything is always so routine that he never even bothers to write the events down in his journal. On April 9th, he arrives at Leblanc, where he becomes the ward of Sojiro Sakura. He cleans out the attic. He dreams of the Velvet Room. The next day, he meets his teachers. There's no reason to be anything more than an inconspicuous student looking to start over, so why risk ruining the image so early?
Something was changing today, though. He twitches, brow furrowing as he tries to sort through his thoughts, aligning memories upon memories of the same series of events. Oh, Morgana. That's right. He was rescuing Morgana from Kamoshida's Palace today. But why would he do that? Sojiro was always so prickly in April and maneuvering around him would take more effort than Akira was willing to give. If he had wanted to get Morgana early, he should have just taken a detour yesterday from the station instead of waiting until now. Stealing Kamoshida's treasure before the school year even started wasn't worth the possibility of getting caught.
Also, an extra night alone would be nice. Morgana may only be a foot long and incapable of enforcing any actual rules, but there were times that he genuinely felt like the bane of Akira's existence. There was no real harm in letting him sit in a cognitive cell for a little while longer, was there?
No, there was a reason he was going today. He knows that it had something to do with Ryuji and the others, and a vague image of the Phantom Thieves gathering in the attic and talking the day before flashes through his head, but that's impossible. The timeline is disrupted again, Akira's mind mixing up events and leaving him floundering like it so often did. He grits his teeth and digs his fingers painfully into his biceps in a futile attempt to ground himself to reality, curling further into himself.
Why hadn't he dreamt of the Velvet Room?
He fumbles to grab his journal, scrabbling desperately at the leather cover as he snatches it from its resting place on the shelf by his head. His breathing slows as he reads his own neat handwriting detailing the events of the day before, meticulously copied by his past self in preparation for this exact scenario. Oh, that's right. The others all know too, this time. That should be pretty easy to remember.
Unclipping the pen from its spine, he dates a new entry and doesn't bother to write in code as he notes both his lack of dreams and the memory lapse that he's still struggling to fight through. It's odd to mention the Velvet Room so early - it's a reliable constant. The reminder causes dread to pool in his stomach. The last loop had ended in a disaster - he'd wanted some sort of break from it all, hadn't he? Not like this, though, with the very option torn away from him.
Akira snaps the diary shut before he can lose himself in that train of thought. He unwinds fully to sit on the edge of the bed and allows himself a few more moments to let the haze in his mind dissipate, the details of the meeting becoming clearer as the plan crystalizes. Do the Phantom Thieves know that he has memory problems? Ironically, he can't remember if he ever told them.
He checks his phone, hoping to find a text notification and devastated to see the time on his screen instead. He hisses out a curse. Akira's never been a morning person, and he can almost hear Morgana scolding him for sleeping late on a school day as he rushes out of bed. Futaba and Sojiro are most likely already here at Leblanc, and it's frankly a small miracle that he hadn't woken up to one of them shouting at him.
It doesn't take long for him to tug on his uniform and get ready for the day, and by the time he dashes downstairs, a plate of curry and rice is already waiting for him. From behind the counter, Sojiro quirks an eyebrow at his disheveled appearance as Futaba continues to wolf down her breakfast. "You know," he starts casually, "the convenience store does sell hairbrushes, if you're interested in that kinda thing."
Akira absentmindedly runs his fingers through his unruly hair, which only serves to ruffle it further. "Haven't found one yet that works on me," he tells Sojiro cheekily as he slides onto a stool, "but I'll keep that in mind."
Sojiro scoffs and leans back against the coffee dispensers, eyeing his wards. "I'm driving, you said?" he asks, and sighs wearily when Akira confirms it. "Don't expect me to do it more than once, got it? Because I hate to break it to you, but I'm not gonna act like some kind of chauffeur for you kids."
Akira shrugs between bites of curry. "It's just for now. The trains won't derail anymore after today, and it didn't even crash on our line."
"You really should stop talking about the future like that, brat."
Futaba finally takes a break from shoveling food into her mouth to tilt her head. "Should we, uh, stop that?" she asks Akira, eyes flitting nervously between Akira to Sojiro and back again before squaring her shoulders. "A lot of people got hurt in that accident, didn't they?"
Akira stops eating, spoon hovering in mid-air as he regards her. Futaba was pushing past her own insecurities because of the sole desire to save other people. She's come a long way since declaring to only join the Phantom Thieves for the sole purpose of avenging her mother.
The character growth hardly matters, now. They can't afford to take any unnecessary detours on this loop. He raises an eyebrow at her. "Do you really want to take on the Black Mask right now ?"
Nevermind that he has done that in the past, and won.
Futaba turns back to her food with a frown and drags her spoon through the streaks of curry still smeared on her plate. "I guess not. I don't like the idea of just letting it happen when we could do something."
Akira opts not to reply to that, because he thinks like the sentiment of 'Don't worry, you get used to it,' would not be particularly appreciated.
After a few minutes, Sojiro glances down at his watch. "We need to leave soon if you want to get there on time."
Futaba nods eagerly, pushing away their earlier argument in favor of jumping off of her stool. Akira lags behind, stopping to sling his school bag over his shoulder before following them out the door. Along with his phone and journal, he'd brought a box of yesterday's leftover curry. He doubts that he and Ryuji will need it - Akira would be shocked if they spent more than an hour inside Kamoshida's Castle, much less long enough to actually get tired - but he learned a long time ago that the phrase 'better safe than sorry' could easily be the only difference between life and death.
Sojiro herds the two of them towards his car but stops Akira from getting into his usual spot in the passenger seat. "Into the back you go," he says seriously.
Despite everything, Akira can't help but gape. "You always let me sit in the front!" he protests.
"I try not to let any guys sit up front with me."
"That's never stopped you before!"
Sojiro tuts and gestures to the back. Futaba sticks out her tongue playfully before ducking into the back seat, and with a defeated sigh, Akira slides in after her. He places his bag between them. It sits unnervingly still, with no Morgana poking out of the zipper to make a snarky comment. The absence feels weirder than it should.
As Sojiro starts the engine, Futaba leans over the bag to whisper at Akira, "Inari still hasn't said anything!"
Akira slouches back into his seat. Yusuke has never been the best about checking his phone, too caught up in his own head to acknowledge the buzz of a notification, but he's never gone completely radio silent like this before. The uncertainty of the safety of his missing teammate makes Akira's skin crawl, and he taps his foot haphazardly against the floor of the car.
He's still their leader, and he can't let Futaba witness any rush of guilt. "Worst case scenario," he starts, "you girls will go to Madarame's house while me and Ryuji rescue Morgana. Ann already knows the way there."
"Right! You can count on us!" Futaba declares, even as she hunches in on herself. She's gotten better at dealing with crowds, but Shibuya at rush hour may still prove to be too much for her. She'll be fine with the others. Probably. Akira gives her an encouraging smile and hopes that she doesn't notice how tight it is at the edges.
Traffic is light this early in the morning, and it doesn't take long for the three of them to reach Shujin Academy. The rest of the Phantom Thieves aren't scheduled to arrive for another half an hour - Akira doesn't want to let them out of his sight once they're here, desperate to see them all gathered together for the first time since Yaldabaoth's attack. Meeting his teachers is a tedious affair, but at least he has every beat of the boring interaction memorized. The conference itself is the same as always, with Kobayakawa and Kawakami lecturing him with all of the enthusiasm of drastically underpaid faculty. He carefully wipes away any expression of impatience from his face and nods at all of the right moments - they're already convinced that he's a hardened criminal, no need to make their opinion of him worse before he's even started committing any real crimes.
Futaba joins him and Sojiro as soon as they leave the office, bored after being forced to sit out in the waiting room. The secretary grimaces when Futaba springs up from her seat. "That sucked!" she shouts, voice echoing down the empty hall. "I heard everything and I just -" she makes a series of complicated hand motions in frustration "- ugh!"
Akira just hums in response, far too used to his teachers' reactions to his very presence to feel bothered, but Sojiro frowns at the memory. He briefly gives a disapproving look to Futaba before the expression melts into something more fond - the fact that Futaba is even here outweighs the fact that she's being incredibly rude. He turns his irritation onto Akira instead. "You heard them," Sojiro warns. "One wrong move, kid, and you're out of here."
Akira can't help but snort. "No, they won't." With how much the faculty loved to lord it over his head, Akira was honestly surprised that they'd never actually snapped and expelled him in all of the years that he had attended. He had been arrested while enrolled before, but Shujin Academy was much more obsessed with having a pristine reputation than they bothered to care about the problems of their own student body.
Sojiro's brow furrows at the flippant answer, but he's saved from answering as they stumble into the absolute last person that Akira had wanted to see.
Kamoshida towers over the rest of them. Akira has to crane his neck to meet his cold eyes, a stark contrast to the perfectly innocent smile on his face. Futaba squeaks and darts behind Akira, and Kamoshida's dark gaze follows her form briefly before snapping back to him.
"You're new here," he drawls, sleazy tone a statement rather than a question. Rather than responding, Akira nods silently, mouth pressed into a thin line. There's nothing Kamoshida can do to him here, outside of the Metaverse and standing next to an adult unwilling to look away from any shady actions, but his very presence makes the hairs on the back of Akira's neck stand up, mouth going dry. He tenses, a subconscious preparation for an attack, and Kamoshida's eyes sharpen, tracking his movements with renewed interest.
Sojiro's gaze flicks between the two of them rapidly before he interjects himself into the stilted interaction. Akira doesn't miss the way that he straightens from his permanent slouch as he does so. "And who are you?"
Kamoshida's expression is much more pleasant as he turns toward Sojiro. "Suguru Kamoshida," he introduces himself haughtily, with all of the arrogance of someone expecting to be recognized. When Sojiro doesn't react, his face twists before smoothing out once more. "I'm the gym teacher here at Shujin."
"Ah," Sojiro says, unimpressed. The sour atmosphere weighs down on them all, and Akira barely resists the urge to fidget in the tense silence. Finally, Sojiro puts his hands on Futaba and Akira's backs and begins to gently steer them around Kamoshida's imposing figure. "We'll just be going, then."
Kamoshida slides in front of them in one smooth movement, cutting them off from the exit. He stares down at Akira with a curious glint in his eyes. With his fists planted firmly on his hips, he bends at the waist to leer down at him. "You got a name, kid?" he asks.
Akira grits his teeth. It's another one of Kamoshida's stupid power plays, because Akira knows for a fact that Kamoshida's already got Mishima swirling rumors around the school, determined to destroy any chance of Akira forming a support system before he even steps through the gates. His classmates are already convinced that he's a dangerous felon, whispering accusations so wild that anyone with half a brain would know that they were false. But what's important is that people avoid him, because if Akira's alone, that means that he's vulnerable.
Kamoshida likes it when students are vulnerable.
Akira imagines a gaping bullet hole through Kamoshida's forehead, centered cleanly between sickly yellow eyes. "Kurusu," he answers shortly.
Kamoshida inclines his head, and a grin showing far too many teeth slithers onto his face. "I'll be seeing you then, Kurusu." He steps aside, and Sojiro gives him a wide berth as he hurries Akira and Futaba through Shujin's front door.
As they step outside into the cool morning air, Sojiro mutters, "What an asshole."
Futaba grabs Akira's sleeve and tugs him closer. "You didn't say he'd be here," she hisses.
"Because I didn't know he would be." Akira shifts away from her, uncomfortable. He'd probably just been drawn by the sound of Futaba's yelling.
"Aren't you supposed to know all of this already?" she asks.
"Surprises happen." Except that they don't.
Sojiro continues to glare at Shujin Academy, uncaring of their conversation. "That guy is bad news," he says decisively. He looks at Akira, eyes intense. "Let me and your teachers know if he starts giving you any crap."
Despite the rare display of protectiveness, Akira barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Sure," he deadpans.
Sojiro looks at him questioningly, but thankfully doesn't press the issue. The three of them lapse into an uncomfortable silence. Futaba rocks back on her heels anxiously as Akira fiddles with the strap of his bag. He knows that he messed up yesterday, antagonizing his friends rather than being rational when they needed him to be the most. There are apologies in order, but they all taste bitter on his tongue.
What do they know about his situation, anyway? What right do they have to judge him? He's their leader - he's their friend? - and he craves their presence, flooded with the need to keep them all close and shield them from the reality (the game) that he's been forced into. They're his best chance at finally escaping Yaldabaoth's time loops, but how can he expect them to truly help him? They're young and naïve, and Akira is overestimating them like always -
"They're here!" Futaba exclaims, interrupting his thoughts as she stands on her toes and waves her entire arm at the entrance of the train station. Ryuji, Ann, and Makoto walk out onto the street as a single unit. It's the same group as yesterday, but Akira can't help but relax at the sight of his friends. He hadn't really worried about them being trapped in the train accident, but their appearance is reassuring nonetheless. Haru isn't with them, and neither is Yusuke.
"Akira!" Ann yells, bounding closer as Makoto and Ryuji both wave. She stops a few feet away from them and glances at Sojiro before leaning towards Akira conspiratorially. "He didn't kick you out, did he?"
"Sojiro would never!" Futaba protests.
"Yeah, we're good," Akira tells Ann.
Sojiro crosses his arms and mutters, "For now." They ignore him.
"You're still here." Makoto looks between Akira and Futaba. "Both of you, thank goodness."
"Where's Haru?" Akira asks. He knows that she's on her way, but impatience grips at him. There's an overwhelming urge to see his entire team in front of him, tired but safe. It's the same feeling that rolls around every September - everyone he cares about, all in one place.
He doesn't bother asking about Yusuke. Concern for their missing member curls in his chest like a vice, but he knows that his team has even less answers than he does.
Ann waves her phone in the air. "Her driver's almost here. She was only a few minutes away when we texted."
Akira takes a fortifying breath and nods. "Good."
Words burst out of Ryuji before the lingering silence can descend into something more awkward. "You ready to bust Morgana out from crappy Kamoshida's Palace?" He pumps his fist.
There's something off about the way he says it, buoyant and loud, mouth tilted in a way that's not quite a smile, that briefly makes Akira pause. It's such a normal Ryuji thing to say and do, but there's a shaky edge to it. He's rattled about something. He's rattled about Akira.
Can Akira really blame him?
The smile on Akira's face feels wooden until he schools it into something more natural. From the odd expression on Makoto's face, he's not sure of how well he succeeded. "Always," he replies, and readjusts his glasses in an effort to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.
The smooth purr of an engine alerts them all to Haru's arrival, and Akira looks up to see her fling open the door of a sleek black car. She rushes over to them, engrained rich-girl etiquette forgotten in her haste. Makoto is the closest, and with the strength of an oncoming storm, Haru throws her arms around her. Makoto stumbles backwards under her sudden weight. By the time she seems to remember to hug back, Haru has already moved on to Ann, and then to Ryuji. Futaba dodges behind Akira to avoid getting smothered, so he finds himself with a face-full of fluffy copper-colored hair and a pair of thin arms squeezing his chest so tightly that it forces a violent huff of air out of his lungs instead.
Delicately brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes, Haru finally steps back and gives them all a watery smile. "It's wonderful to see you all!" She notices Sojiro lingering at Futaba's side, and adds politely, "You as well, Sakura-san."
Sojiro makes a noise of somewhat confused acknowledgement. Akira says, "It's good to see you too," after a beat of hesitation, he adds, sincerely, "I'm glad you're safe." His eyes skip over the rest of his team, and he amends, "All of you."
Haru's answering smile is small but bright, but her expression grows concerned. She gives a cursory glance to the rest of the group before looking back to Akira. "Is Yusuke not coming?"
The atmosphere darkens, and Akira finds himself meeting Makoto's eyes. Her mouth curves into a frown, and she tilts her head slightly. She's come to the same conclusion as him, then, and likely the same plan. Good.
"Something happened, with Madarame," Akira theorizes haltingly. "I don't - I don't know what," and isn't that a pain to admit, "but Yusuke might be in danger. Here's the plan." He gestures to Ryuji. "Me and Ryuji will enter Kamoshida's Palace and free Morgana. In the meantime, I want you girls to go to Shibuya and figure out what happened. Try and get in contact with him if you can." He looks at Ann. "You still remember the way to Madarame's, don't you?"
Ann crosses her arms. "Yeah, I do."
"Then I'm trusting you to lead everyone there." Akira taps the back of his phone. "Keep texting updates. Ryuji and I'll not be able to see them, but I want everybody to be on the same page."
"Where are we meeting up after?" Makoto asks, all business.
He deliberates. There's no one suspicious of them yet. The Phantom Thieves don't even exist. Still, a ripple of unease spreads through him at the thought of anyone spotting them together and connecting the - currently nonexistent - dots. Weirder things have happened, after all.
Akira pushes the feeling away. "Leblanc." He looks at Ryuji. "We can try and join them after we deal with Kamoshida."
"Hell yeah."
"Wait a second," Sojiro interrupts them, and Akira startles. For the second time in as many days, he'd completely forgotten that Sojiro had developed a worrying streak of being with them when they make their plans, oblivious of everything they're saying except for the fact that it's obviously dangerous. "How are you kids planning on getting to all of these places? Shibuya? A palace?"
"Oh, my driver can take us!" Haru pipes up. "I'd rather we not take the train."
"Your driver can take you to a palace?"
"Oh, no." She gives a trilling little laugh, and then does not elaborate.
Makoto side-eyes her and steps in. "Boss, Haru can take us to Shibuya to look for our missing friend. The Palace is, um," she hesitates, "it's here. At Shujin."
"It has to do with the Metaverse!" Futaba explains, which makes the rest of the group jolt. Akira grimaces. He'd forgotten to tell them that Sojiro now knows more about the world of the Phantom Thieves than they'd ever bothered to inform him in the previous loop.
"Oh," Sojiro says, still looking a little lost before shaking his head. He eyes Futaba. "I'll drive you all to Shibuya, then. I'd rather you ride with me than some stranger."
"Sojiro -" Futaba whines.
"I don't think that would be the best idea," Haru says, neatly severing the beginning of their argument. "My driver won't leave without me, and there's a large traffic jam that we'll have to get through. It would be best that we all stick together, correct?"
"Also, the boys will need a getaway driver," Ann chimes in, and then winces at her own choice of words. "Because the trains will be shut down, I mean. They'll need to get home."
"They can walk."
"No, we can't," Akira and Ryuji say in unison. Trips to the Metaverse are always exhausting ordeals, and the walk from Aoyama-Itchome to Yongen-Jaya was not a short one.
Sojiro runs a hand over his balding head and looks up to the sky, as if begging it for mercy. "Fine," he acquiesces sullenly. "I really can't stop you all from doing whatever this is, can I?" When no one objects, he sighs. "You want me to just wait around here and lose all my business for the day? Sure." He jabs a finger at Futaba. "But you, get home safe. Call me."
Futaba gives him a sloppy, mock salute. "Aye, aye, captain!"
Sojiro scowls but says nothing more. Akira looks over his team. "Good luck, everybody," he says, and then nods once. "I'll see you soon."
"You too," Makoto says, and Akira does not miss the way her concerned gaze slides deliberately from him to Ryuji and then back again. She raises a pointed eyebrow at him. Ann reaches out and squeezes his hand lightly before letting go, and then turns to follow the others to Haru's car.
Akira looks over at Ryuji. He swallows past the zing of nervous electricity when he meets his familiar, dark eyes. "We should go."
"Yeah," Ryuji agrees, and together, they split off from the rest.
The short walk from Shujin's entrance to the alleyway is unbearably awkward. It's the first time that he and Ryuji have been alone since their argument in the attic, and the remaining tension hangs thick in the air. They pause just under the shadow of the buildings, at the exact same place that they always used to warp into Kamoshida's castle back in April. For a moment, they stop and stare at each other.
Ryuji rubs at the back of his neck and starts to say, "Are you gonna-" at the same time that Akira blurts out, "Listen, about earlier-"
Their words clash messily in midair, bringing them both to a screeching halt. They lapse into an uncomfortable silence again. Akira rubs his index finger in erratic movements across his thumb while Ryuji crosses his arms. Finally, Ryuji clears his throat. "You first."
There's a lot of things Akira could say. He could say, 'I don't understand why you're so upset when nothing about this was ever normal to begin with.' He could say, 'What right do you have to blame me for all of this?' He could say, 'You deserve better.'
He could say, 'I've known you twenty different times, but I can't tell which version of you is standing in front of me right now.'
The words sit heavy on his tongue, but he swallows them back before they can escape into the empty air. Instead, he simply states, "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday."
Ryuji blinks rapidly, and then scoffs. It echoes in the alley. "Is that why you think I was mad?" Ryuji asks incredulously. "Because you're stuck in a stupid - some stupid time loop or whatever?"
Akira opens his mouth uselessly, but Ryuji barrels on. "It ain't like you control that crap! It's just that -" he scrubs a hand through his bleached hair roughly, "- shit, why didn't you -" he trails off, glaring deeper into the alley. "Dude, why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you -" his voice stutters briefly "- why didn't you trust me enough? I could have, I dunno, I coulda been helpin' you this whole time!" He takes a gulping breath. "Akira, I told you everything, dude. About the track team, and my d-dad, and Kamoshida, but you just - you just never said anything!"
He finally looks back at Akira, and there's unfiltered hurt in his eyes. "What did I do wrong?"
Akira can barely do anything but gawk. "You didn't-"
"No, dude, I obviously did, didn't I? And I know you said that some of those other me's were total a-holes about all this - who, by the way, I would beat the hell outta - but what about me? Now. This me. What the hell did I do wrong?"
Akira's nails bite into the skin of his palms, and he grits his teeth. "Ryuji, it's complicated, alright?"
"How is it complicated? You coulda told me and you didn't!"
The emotion bubbling in Akira's chest isn't quite anger, but it's something close, white hot and choking. "I was trying to do everything the same! Like the very first time, before any of this started happening! And you didn't know then, so you couldn't know now!"
"That's crap and you know it! It's not like you knew the first time 'round either!"
"So what else was I supposed to do?" Akira snaps, mounting frustration forcing the words to tumble out of him. "How else am I supposed to escape? I've tried everything and nothing works! The first time was the closest I've gotten, and I couldn't - I couldn't let anything get in the way of that!"
"Not even me?!"
"Especially not you!"
Silence. The air is punctuated by heaving breaths. Akira digs the heels of his hands hard against his eyes as he leans against the brick wall, letting his glasses get pushed higher onto his forehead as he revels in the darkness that the pressure brings. He doesn't want Ryuji to see him like this - he doesn't want any of them to. His heart rabbits in his chest.
"Dude," Ryuji starts, and then pauses. Finally, he mutters, "This is all so messed up."
That shocks a dry laugh out of Akira. "Yeah, no kidding." He moves his hands away from his face to look at Ryuji. Quietly, he says, "I would never have let anything happen to you, you know."
Ryuji tilts his head and crosses his arms loosely in front of him. "Yeah, I know." His mouth twitches. "You're still you, dude, even though you've apparently been lying to me this whole time." Akira winces, and Ryuji says, "But you're done with that now, right? Now on, you an' me, we're gonna be on the same page. No more stupid secrets."
Akira hesitates, barely long enough to be noticeable, and then parrots, "No more stupid secrets." For a moment, he almost hears Lavenza whispering in his mind, reciting a familiar poem as she names Ryuji the Chariot.
That's all in his imagination. But this - him and Ryuji facing off in the same alley that they have been for decades now, with the same bond forging between them - this is real.
Akira pushes away from the wall and adjusts the bag on his shoulder. "We should get going."
"Gotta rescue that dumb cat again, don't we?" Ryuji groans, and Akira relaxes. Things aren't - they aren't really okay, yet (and, how can he even expect them to be?), but this dynamic is easy and familiar, and right now, Akira would grasp onto anything easy and familiar.
The MetaNav still isn't on Akira's phone, so Ryuji puts in Kamoshida's keywords instead. Akira stamps down the irrational flare of jealousy at seeing the app on Ryuji's phone rather than his own. It won't even matter in an hour - one trip to the Metaverse is all that it will take for the app to appear on Akira's phone too.
Soon, he'll have access to the Metaverse and his personas again. Morgana and Yusuke will be joining up with the rest of the team. Then, when everything is as normal as he can force it to be, Akira can finally focus on the only thing that truly matters: destroying Yaldabaoth once and for all.
The world warps around them, and when the flash of red-tinged vertigo fades, they find themselves in the shadow of the Palace rather than in a dingy alleyway. Instead of Ryuji in his slack casual clothes, it is Skull that stands before Akira, gunmetal gray outfit highlighted by the sickly purple hues emanating off of Kamoshida's castle. He examines his armor, turning his arms and flexing his gloves before finally lifting a hand to trace his fingers over the edges of his intimidating mask. He grins. "Dude! It worked!"
The smile immediately slides off of his face and morphs into a scowl as he looks back at Akira. "I know you said that you used to hide your persona around me, but you know you don' have to do it anymore, right? Come on, just transform already."
Akira doesn't meet his eyes, instead staring down at his own bare hands in shock. He turns them over frantically, as if the familiar blood-red gloves will just appear if he looks for them hard enough. He finally runs one hand over his arm, feeling the stiff fabric of his Shujin uniform underneath his palm rather than Joker's leather trench coat. It quickly travels up the length of his dark sleeve and over the wrong high collar until it finally touches his face. Instead of a sleek domino mask, his fingers meet the cold frames of his glasses. Dimly, Akira registers the tremor in his hands.
There's concern in Ryuji's voice when he prods, "Uh, Joker?"
Akira balls his fists and tenses his muscles in an attempt to simply will his rebel's outfit into being, searching for the comforting presence of Arsene in his mind to tug to the forefront. But instead of transforming into his other form in a wave of blue flames, nothing happens. No Joker appears. There's just Akira, barren and horribly out of place against the surreal atmosphere of the Metaverse.
He finally looks up at Skull. Beyond him, there's no perfect rectangular door, glowing an enticing cerulean and guarded by Justine's small form like always. The entrance of the castle is suddenly menacing in a way that it hasn't been since the very first time Akira had ever seen it, cloaked in darkness and completely void of the presence of the Velvet Room.
The Velvet Room has never simply vanished. Even on April 9th, he could always summon his thief outfit and call for his personas the moment he stepped into the Metaverse.
Last night, Akira hadn't dreamt of the Velvet Room. No prison cell. No Caroline or Justine. No Igor.
"I can't," Akira whispers, dread coiling in his stomach. "I can't transform."