Well! I am here... with more chapter!

Chapter 4

"No."

It's the first word he thinks of speaking when he hears Morgana's offers, one that nominates him to take care of the not-cat. He is met with an immediate frown, one that has settled deeply into his heart, etched itself into his bones and condemning him and his inactions. Sakamoto couldn't help, either – from the way he looks, it doesn't seem like his room is wide enough to house a cat. "What? Someone has to take care of me, and I can't just go to Lady Ann's place."

"Sorry, dude, I seriously can't. I'm in an apartment with my mom," Sakamoto says, his look apologetic and genuine, and Ren couldn't help but sigh – it all falls to him, just like everything else.

He grunts. "Fine. But I have a few rules I need you to follow. If not, I'm locking you in a cage."

"Hey, what the hell!?" The cat cries, indignant, garnering them some unwanted attentions. "I am someone who have been helping you all this time! You shouldn't—"

"If you're not going to follow, I'm going to leave you here to fend for yourself," Ren says coldly. He doesn't trust Morgana, because he is a human – or so he claims – and he, too, is just like the rest of them, using Ren for his own benefits, jumping at the sight of a beautiful woman and treating her much better that he ever had with him and Sakamoto combined. "Well?"

"Ugh, fine, you ungrateful brat—"

Ungrateful brat, how dare you defy me!? I've fed you, put clothes on your back, trained you, educated you! And what did you do!? Hurting that man out of your own self-imposed righteousness! I've trained you better than this! That's it, I was not going to do this, but I guess I'll have to! I'll beat lessons into you until you've repented! I'll make sure you remember your place!

"—So? What kind of rules do you want me to follow?"

Ren swallows back the memories that have crept up from his shadows as he narrows his eyes a little. He is, unfortunately… going to have a panic attack, and very soon. He has forgotten it briefly in the heat of the moment, under the blaze of Carmen's flames. But the images and the voice that overlap with his father's own as he did… things are coming back as high waves that would swallow him whole soon, so he forces himself to breathe, digging his nails into his own palms with enough force for the pain to keep himself from overthinking it.

"If you want me to do something, ask first. If I can, then I will," He says plainly as he waves goodbye to Sakamoto, making his way to the station and back to where he has to be. "Don't touch me – and if you absolutely have to, do it on my clothes and not on my skin. And I don't have money, so don't expect to be fed properly."

"Wha – that's just too much! What the hell!? And I'm not going to be fed!?" Morgana cries, and Ren thinks he is beginning to regret his slight complacent in his allowance for Morgana to stay with him. "What the hell, m—"

"If you can't do it, then I'm throwing you out. You'll have better luck on the streets, anyway," Ren says, truthful, even if Morgana doesn't know it. He doesn't have a job yet, he doesn't have any money – only twenty-five hundred yen left, for fuck's sake – and he sure as hell won't be fixing that anytime soon. Sakura's curry is the only thing that's keeping him going right now, and he'll be out of energy soon if he doesn't do something to fix this.

Whatever unsaid words between the line Morgana has picked up seems to be enough to convince him, and he sighs, going back under the zippers of his bag. "…Fine. You'll have to do until I can find someone else's place to stay."

Ren hums, entering the train and heading back to his so-called room.

As it turns out… Sakura really has a soft spot for cats.

He feeds Morgana as soon as the cat is literally out of the bag (pfft, that's some lame joke he's got and he knows it), mumbling something about wanting to name him. Ren sighs and sits down on the mattress, hand fiddling with his phone as he attempts to rule in the panic that's still waiting at the corner of his consciousness. Now that Morgana is here, he just can't let him see it. If he shows weaknesses, Morgana will take advantage of it, and that'll be the end of him.

After a moment of Morgana silently eating the meal, he feels the woods shift as the man walks back up. He gives him an apologetic look right away – it must've been something that he had done, no doubt – only for the man to shake his head and drag a chair near him, seating himself across from him. Morgana has stopped eating, and is looking up at Sakura curiously – like how Ren is, he thinks – and doesn't look back down. In the end, the man sighs. "…Kid, how much allowance do you actually get a month?"

His breath hitches, and he tenses up immediately. What could he say? Could he lie and say that he's gotten enough to last him a few months at least? Could he say anything at all? If he does it wrong, his father will be informed, and it will mean the end of him. But when he looks up, Sakura's eyes say that he will know if Ren lies. So he bites back the bubbling panic and mumbles lowly. "…I… don't get it, sir. I have some money left with me, so… I'll be fine for a while."

A while that's ticking back down by the seconds.

"…Have you found a part time job yet?" He asks, his voice so kind that Ren would've believed it had it not been for a fact that he knows just how little he's thought of. He's an unruly kid, a dog waiting to be put into place as soon as he's out of the line. He's already toeing the fine line of obedience and fault freedom as is— "Because if you still haven't, you could help me with my shop."

"…Sir?"

"You could help with the shop; cleaning and cooking and cataloguing and all of that," The man offers, waving his hand just minutely. Ren catches Morgana looking at him, wide-eye, but he decides not to think too much on it. "You're good with cleaning anyways, right? But I warn you, I can only pay you minimum wages, and I'll be working you to the bones—"

"Are you sure you should be paying me at all, sir?" Ren mumbles, the awful tick of itchiness reigning the end of his fingertips again, and he looks at his bitten nails, chipped and misshapen, and feels the urge to bite onto them, only to be stopped when Morgana actually meows. He just bites on the tip of his tongue to calm himself down. "I mean, I'm here because of my probation, and I've not done nearly enough to get anything worthwhile for you—"

For a moment, he could feel anger at the tip of Sakura's tongue, and Ren visibly flinches back, all the feelings of hands and sticks on him coming back full-force. But then, that fury fades into the background, nothing more than an absent hum of weariness within the back of Ren's mind, and he looks up to see some kind of sadness in the man's look, something he couldn't quite understand. Then, the man says softly, as if afraid to upset him (why would he be? It makes no sense, none of it makes sense), "…I got paid doing this, kid. I've already been compensated taking you in. I just need a part-timer, and you seem like the sort that would work hard. So? What will you do?"

Ren bites the tip of his tongue again. It will take him a while to actually find a job – at least, one that would take him in – so he has no choice but to agree. If he wants to stop himself from starving to death, that is. "…I'll take it, sir. Um… thank you, for your hospitality."

"Think nothing of it, kid," The man says, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing quietly into the stale air between them. "Just, after coming back from wherever, help me do inventory and clean everything. I'll teach you how to inventory, and how to brew some coffee – since it's be best if you can help me during your off-days, too."

"…Sir, yes sir."

Sakura looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't. He then reaches for Ren's knee – and his reflex is to pull away, something that doesn't seem to have gone unnoticed to the both of them. Ren mumbles out a quick apology, but he's met with a wave of a hand. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Just message me first if you're going to be late, so I can time my closing a little late."

(The name Hierophant appears at the forefront of his mind. Like Sakamoto, Sakura, too, seems to be one of his Confidants – but why?

Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings)

Sakura then takes a moment, watching him with a bit of curiosity and something he couldn't quite discern before he leaves the attic, letting Ren stay in his own little space of—

"What's he talking about?" Morgana suddenly snaps him out of his thoughts, and Ren blinks before looking down as the not-cat licks his paw clean. "Probation? Being compensated taking you in?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ren responds flatly. "Just… don't ask."

"…If this will put a risk to our operation, then—"

"It won't," He says, his voice so sharp that he has to flinch back into himself. He grabs his knees hard – harder than maybe he should – before he mumbles lowly. "…Sorry, that's… a bit harsh. But I promise you, it won't – the probation and everything else is my personal problem."

"…Alright, I'll take your word for it," Morgana finally relents, curling up on his bed and looking up at him. "And, just to be clear… I won't stay here for free. I'll be teaching you about everything that I can too, alright? It's a give or take, after all."

"A favor for a favor," Ren murmurs, nodding to himself. "As I thought, you're just like everyone else."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean!?"

He doesn't dignify Morgana's protest with an answer as he pushes the cat (not-cat?) off of his mattress before curling up into himself, ready for the sandman to take him away for the night – or, at least, he had hoped so. Instead, his phone buzzes. He ignores the cat's yowl as he looks at it, to see Takamaki messaging him. He frowns, opening the chat to see that she's sending them to him personally.

[Takamaki Ann]: Thanks for everything today. I mean it.

[Takamaki Ann]: I really want to start over with you. I'm so sorry for making you uneasy or hurt you, I swear to god I didn't mean them.

[Takamaki Ann]: Just… you know, we've not seen or talked to each other much, but you seem like such a kind person. I shouldn't have let the rumors get to me, so, um…

[Takamaki Ann]: Peace?

Ren frowns. What does she want exactly? Everyone gets closer to another person for their own gains, and while he thinks Sakamoto is an exception – he's seen it himself, after all, that the boy has nothing akin to an ulterior motive within him – that doesn't mean all those who want to befriend him would be the same. But, to go through the trouble to message him…

Ren sighs. He won't trust her just yet, but… he'll give her a shot.

[Amamiya Ren]: I'll see whether I can trust you or not. But for now, I'll tolerate you.

[Amamiya Ren]: Is that alright?

It takes her a moment.

[Takamaki Ann]: I mean, not really, but I can't blame you. I came off as rather cold-hearted back then, too, so yeah… that's fine for now.

[Takamaki Ann]: I hope we can become friends soon, Amamiya.

Ren doesn't reply to that as he simply shuts off his phone and forces himself to fall asleep, the hums of Arsene's midnight wings lulling him into a deep, peaceful slumber he's not had for a while, now.

April 16th, 2016 [Sat]

It's such a terrible idea he could laugh, really.

The clinic is at the darkest corners of the whole damn Yongen Jaya. He doesn't really mind a doctor who wears punk-like clothing at all, nor all the rumors swirling around her. People can be judgmental, they do not care if they're bringing another person down to the mud or not, as long as they could satisfy whatever bits of morbid curiosity they're having.

And because she's a doctor, he knows two things will happen, when he inevitably has to be examined – his scars will be exposed, and he will have to answer her questions about it. Still, he doesn't want any of them to risk death – one that he doesn't really mind. He could die here and now and actually be happy about it – within the Palace, so he'll have to use his scars as excuses to get the painkillers.

"Morgana," He says, and when he hears the cat meows in affirmation from within his bag, he sighs before mumbling half to himself. "…Just… anything you hear in there, don't ask, okay? It's… a lot."

"…Fine," Morgana mumbles. "Go on in. We're wasting time."

When he opens the door, the smell of alcohol and sterile sheets hits him, making him nauseous, and he has to put his bag (Morgana) down as he sways on his feet. He distinctly hears someone calling him in a half-panic, and when he actually regains some semblance of control over himself again, he's seated, his hand over his mouth, and the punk-like lady – the doctor, he corrects himself – is looking at him. It takes him a moment before he could say anything. "I'm… sorry, the smell of hospital is just… a bit too much, sometimes."

"…Are you sure? Are you still feeling nauseous?" She asks, backing away slightly. When Ren shakes his head, she gives him a strange look, but relents. "…Is that why you're here, or are you here about something else, too?"

"Pain medications," He gets straight to the point. Her eyes are sharp, and her posture one of skepticism. He will be seen through no matter what he says, so it's better that he does it like this. When she gives him a stink eye, he mumbles out, still slightly light-headed. "I… have a lot of scars, and… they hurt. Sometimes – enough to wake me up at night."

And that isn't a lie. It's the truth and the whole truth, after all, but he's been experiencing it for years – enough time for him to make peace with himself. But they still hurt – they always do, and they always will. So, no, he isn't lying. The doctor doesn't seem to trust him, however, so he simply glances at Morgana. And once he's sure that the not-cat is not seeing it, he shakily unbuttons his blazer and rolls up his turtleneck until his stomach is exposed—

He hears a gasp from her, and he flinches away as soon as her hand is an inch away from his skin. He just pushes the shirt back down and looks to the side. "…It's not the only reason I want pain medications, but… it's one of them."

"…What happened?"

"Things," He says, the truth stuck in between his teeth, unable to roll out. He'll never be able to tell anyone – because none of them would believe him. They won't as soon as his father gets his hands on their backs and persuades them to turn a blind eye, that is. "Just… I'll say this; I'm going to use them for something else, too. But I'll mostly be using it for all of these."

"Kid, if you were abu—"

"No!" He quickly says, his voice sharp and panicked. The doctor backs off in an instant, a frown settled deep into her features. If there's anything else to be read between the lines, he doesn't – couldn't – because panic and the familiar sense of fear has already been etched deep within him. "No, I'm – it's fine, I'm not, I'm not. I promise, I'm not, just—"

"Kid, breathe," She says, careful enough to just hover her hands over his shoulders and not touching them. "You're safe here. I won't say anything more, and I won't tell anyone, okay?"

Ren simply nods, numb and so, so cold.

He sees Morgana poking his head above the zippers of his bag, but doesn't pay him too much mind as he tries to focus his thoughts on the present.

("Hello?"

"Hello, Sakura-san," Takemi's voice comes through the receiver, and while she's called him many times before, it usually isn't this late – the kid has already gone back to sleep, too, and she's calling him through his private number. Before he could ask, however, she says, her voice full of suspicions and worry. "That kid that's staying with you. Amamiya Ren. Has he been abused before?"

"Wha – No, I—" He begins, but stops midway. He is about to say that I don't think so, but… how could he be sure? All the signs of trauma are there, plain and too clear to be ignored. "…I don't know."

"Just… I probably shouldn't inform you this, but I have no idea who did all of that to him, and that's just from a glance," The doctor breathes, her voice low and almost resentful, to a degree. "I only saw things on his abdomen, just by him rolling up his shirt. Sakura-san, if my experience has taught me anything, it's taught me to see scars as they are."

Sojirou feels the cold grip of fear nudging just at the tip of his toes. He really has his suspicions, but with this, he just couldn't deny it anymore.

"He's been abused before. At least with blades, maybe even something more. There are scars of cuts and burns all over his abdomen."

"He – what?" Sojirou murmurs. A kid like that – someone who seems too meek to actually be charged with assault, someone who fears even the tiniest of unannounced sounds, someone who thinks living in an attic of a coffee shop is a blessing – must've been through something. But abused until he's gotten scars all over? "That's – goddamnit, what the fuck – do you know what kind of things caused his scars?"

"Not until I get a proper look at him, and I won't be anytime soon."

"Okay, just… keep me updated. And thank you, for telling me."

A kid like that, abused and scarred, enough for Takemi – the unflappable, no less – to actually call him instead of the kid's own father?

He doesn't like where this is going at all. Not in the least.)

April 17th, 2016 [Sun]

Sakamoto is looking at him like he's sprouting another head.

"You actually know your stuff, huh?" The manager of the shop – with a distinct look Ren could only make as that of a gangster, or maybe a Yakuza – says, putting his legs down from the counter and looking at Ren as he dismantles a pistol, examining each and every piece of equipment with care. It's made into a perfect imitation of the real firearm, the only thing absent the chambers for the bullets to be loaded and the hammer for the trigger to actually work.

"…I was taught a little, sir," Ren says absently as he times himself and puts the gun back into one piece, a part at a time. He hears Morgana meowing something barely audible, but he ignores it in favor of finishing what he's started. Once he's done resembling the thing back, he tries it, putting it up and feeling its realistic weight in his palm. But of course, they're model guns – they'd feel off. The weights of the metal that are balanced differently, or the lack of a certain notch and resistance in the trigger. "…It does feel as real-like as it could've gotten. Still, I could tell it's model."

The manager looks at him, eyes narrowing. Of course, a kid his age with experiences with guns will bring about some suspicions, but he's already passed himself off as an enthusiast, so the man doesn't ask too many questions about it. "…Huh, so you could tell? Must've had practices with the real thing for a bit, then?"

He hums, ignoring the look Sakamoto is giving him. He remembers every last bit of the lessons beaten into his skin, and he could still feel his own trembling hands as someone pointed it at him—

"Anyways, if you're the real deal, then I'll show you the good stuff later on," The manager says at last, getting to his feet and dusting his pants off. "But for now, let's show you the beginner ones. It'll be a while before the real deal's back on shelves."

"That's alright, sir," Ren says with a cordial smile. "Please, I want to see them."

Once the man is out of earshot, he turns to Sakamoto, who looks both excited and kind of worried. When Ren cocks his head to the side, the other boy just… points at him. The entirety of him. "I mean, it's kinda a good thing and all, but… where did you learn about all this? Your pops and ma gun enthusiasts, too?"

Ren stiffens up, all the shards of memories of the two of them educating him invading the forefront of his mind and embedding themselves there, deep inside the crevices of his skull and refusing to leave. But Ren knows he couldn't say anything, so he just sighs and nods, not willing enough to say anything more. "It's complicated, but yeah… kind of."

"Cool," Sakamoto hums, pulling out a small roll of notes – roughly five, ten thousand yen, Ren guesses – and shoving it into his hand. When he just looks at the thing stupidly, Sakamoto grins. "I mean, you know more than I do. Go ahead and pick everything for me, yeah? I'm gonna trust you with it!"

"…Are you sure?" Ren mumbling out, the word trust foreign and heavy at the tip of his tongue. Sakamoto, who Ren couldn't bring himself to trust fully, is just casually trusting him with everything, from watching his back to buying supplies. Morgana is with him all the time, so that doesn't count, but Sakamoto does not know him that well, so why? "I mean… why?"

"Why what? You know your stuff, and you've been watchin' my back since the beginning, man," The boy grins easily, crossing his hands behind his head. Then, a bit more seriously, "Ren, I know a lot's been going on about you. I won't ask, just know that I'll be there whenever you need me to, 'kay?"

Don't give me hope. Please, don't give me hope, "Why would you? Not that I'm ungrateful, but—"

"I don't need a reason to care for a friend, do I?" Sakamoto grins, thumbing his chest with his fist. Ren feels Morgana looking between them strangely, his paw half-kneading into his shoulder. He ignores it as he just stares at the other boy – the boy he couldn't quite understand, the boy who's proving his entire knowledge of people wrong this whole time. But he's seen too much to actually believe all of this nonsense about friends, at least not yet, and Sakamoto sees that, because he scoffs. "Dude, no offense, but lower your guard once in a while. Then again, who am I to talk? You're the one who's got records leaked before you even talked to anyone."

"…Thank you," Is what Ren decides to say. For giving him that frail, breakable hope waiting in the horizon, waiting to be proven and waiting to be reached. For actually sticking by him without asking questions he does not want to be asked, for seeing him for who he is, for— "For… for a lot of things."

"Don't mind it, man," He says, grinning again, bright like the sun. "That's what friends are for."

Friends, huh…?

He wonders, what the feeling of butterflies in his chest is all about?

April 18th, 2016 [Mon]

After a night of messages left unanswered (he's read them, but he doesn't deign Takamaki with a sticker, much less so an actual response) and making infiltration tools, with Morgana teaching him, he greets the morning with Kamoshida looking at him with some kind of smug distaste.

After that morning, he has a run-in with a student called Yoshizawa as he's called into the guidance office – and just like everyone else, Kawakami doesn't bother trying to hide her disgust directed all too clearly at him as she asks him about what had happened. And since she's a faculty, he knows all too well that she will side with Kamoshida no matter what he says, so he just doesn't say anything at all and lets her say whatever the hell she wants.

(They're all the same. He just can't trust anyone here, like back then. They all just want to use him for their own benefits, is all. Even Morgana. Even Takamaki. Even if Arsene thinks otherwise, he will not allow himself to fall for some petty tricks again.

Sakamoto, though…? He's different, but he might not be. He'll have to see.)

Ren doesn't bother stopping the three of them as they gather on the rooftops, planning out the operations and actually not minding him, for once. He thanks Sakamoto, who seems to try his damn best to steer the topic away from him (thank you, thank you very much) and to the Palace proper itself.

After they've decided that they're going in, Ren simply nods and goes straight into the Palace.

And as always, changing worlds seems to have an effect on his personality, too, because in here – he still is bitter, he still is distrustful, but he is… bolder, he thinks. Braver than he ever will be. And his bitterness is making itself known at the forefront of his mind, kneading itself into his flesh and settling in between his fingertips. Arsene hums lowly, neither discontent nor delight, just simply letting his voice reverberate through Ren like a soft, negligible buzz of nothingness.

He is snapped out of his own mind when he notices the three of them bickering about something, with the only girl of the group covering her half-exposed chest, inevitably gathering more catcalls from the other two. Ren frowns; he knows all too well what it's like, being the center of attention this way. So, he grabs Morgana by the tail, and Sakamoto by the scruff of his neck, pulling them away. "Catcalling just makes you look like fools. Sorry about them, Takamaki. Just smack them upside the head or something."

"Uh, I… thanks," She says, a little startled. Ren doesn't pay her much mind, not until she continues. "Anyways, you said something about codenames?"

"I'm Skull, he's Joker, and this guy's Mona," Saka – Skull, goddamnit – says, pointing at them respectively. When Ren nods, he could see apprehension in her eyes, one that Skull's words do nothing to help. "I mean, you've got a tail and stuff, so… Catwoman?"

Her face flames to match the color of her suit, skintight and shining even inside the world where the sun could not reach. "Hell, no! I'm not using that name!"

Ren then recalls the way she looked at him back then, like a panther eyeing her prey (like all predators, she was, and still is, fierce and relentless, caring about not a thing except getting what she wants), and it strikes him almost immediately. "La Pantera. Panther."

A smile forms on her lips at this, and she nods. "Huh, yeah! That name sounds pretty cool! I like it!"

"Man, you've really got your ways with words—"

"Let's just focus," Ren snaps them all to attention, the midnight wings beating against the void in his chest with ferocity. He ignores the burn of something wild at his fingertips, instead letting Pixie's childish hum echoing inside his skull. "We are here to find the Treasure. And I'd rather that to be as soon as possible."

"On that, we can agree," Panther nods, stretching her arms up high, the whip in her hands.

(Before they get to it, Ren, yet again, is forced back into that accused cell, with the prison master babbling on about rehabilitation and everything that he could not hope to accomplish, could not hope to understand.

Instead, he just listens about the execution, the fusion of Personas – of his identity, of his other self – getting rid of the old and giving way to the new.

Just like his father, he is yet again asked to kill off a part of himself, to allow a new one to form. Igor and the wardens, otherworldly as they are, remain just like everyone else. Someone who want Ren to carve out a piece of himself in order to satisfy their little whims.

But, he childishly clings to Arsene, to the true part of himself. As if such a thing really exists.

As if he truly has a heart of his own.)

Ren feels something akin to an emptiness, a panic of sort, creeping up his fingertips. But Arsene's presence is here, deep and powerful, enough to beat the unease away from him, for now. So he ignores it, focusing his attention on navigating the maze that is Kamoshida's incorrigible heart.

The sooner he could get this over with, the better.

(Because it's getting harder and harder to ignore the overlaps of his memories and the things in this castle. The shackles, the whips, the defiled, the defeated.

They are just like him, and it's making him sick.

With Arsene here, he could ignore it, but it's there, that sense of something vile and dark, clinging onto his form like a shadow, its arms around his shoulders and its wordless whispers right beside his ear.

Reminding him that he is no better than these lost souls within the confine of the Palace.)

It's here.

As soon as they leave the Metaverse, without Arsene's wings to keep it all at bay, every piece of panic comes back to him without anything to hold them down.

All the things he's seen in that place – the way that damn teacher sees the rest of them, as a fucking sex toy or an ape – reminds him too much of what he has seen and experienced before. But in there, he could keep calm with the threat of death (one that he does not fear) and the voiceless whispers of his many other selves ringing within him.

But out here, he is alone. Truly, undeniably alone.

Ren doesn't pay anyone any mind as he slides down to the ground, both hands pressed over his own heart as it gallops inside his chest like a wild horse, hooves of thunder and fear slapping each block of his spine with vengeance. He doesn't spare Morgana a glance as he looks at him, his voice just going through one ear and out the other. He doesn't give Sakamoto even a hum of acknowledgment as the other boy kneels down by his side, hand hovering helplessly above his knee, as of wanting to do something.

What could you do? You can't fix something like me. You can't fix what's broken beyond repair—

"Amamiya, hey," He hears someone say, and looks up through the haze to see Takamaki looking at him, that fire he's seen her wear around her shoulders like a mantle nothing more than fading embers at the back of her eyes. Her lips are set, and she's holding up both hands – hands that are reaching out for—

"Don't touch me!" He rasps, pulling his knees closer to himself, his pounding heart like rail hammer, drowning out everyone and everything else. "Don't fucking touch me! Just leave me alone! Leave me the fuck alone!"

He's shaking, everything feeling like he's looking at the world through murky water, his fingers shifting and trembling uncontrollably over his shirt. He would've cursed his weaknesses, he would've cursed and cussed out at his own inability to remain perfectly useable for a full day had he not been busy trying to find something to cling onto, something to anchor him to reality just for a moment longer, just enough for him to make sure that he's still him (as if the concept of true self applies to him anymore).

In the end, his hands find the glasses on his face, and he pulls it off, as if getting rid of the fake thing would clear up his vision. He thinks the others are saying things, many things, but the words all end up jumbled and bled together at the seams, turning into one vast canvas of meaninglessness that stretches out under his feet. Ren tries to think, but nothing comes to mind, and he clenches his hand tighter, as if—

"Ren, Ren, shh," Morgana's voice breaks through the haze, and it takes Ren a moment to realize that the not-cat is nudging the back of his hand with his head. He wants to pull away, but the feeling of fur instead of skin is strange and soothing, strands of warmth and worry and kindness brushing at every nerve ending in his hand, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels so calm. "Look at me. Breathe, okay?"

He does so, inhaling in the scent of back alley and water and piss, of all things. But he could feel the air entering his lungs, saturating his blood with the oxygen he so desperately needs, and oh – it's only here and now that he realizes why his hands seem to sting. During all of that, when he clenched his hands, maybe, he broke his only pair of fake glasses and embedded most of the shards into his palms.

He whimpers – of all the thing he could've done, he whimpers – and curls further into himself. Morgana looks at him for a brief second before climbing up his lap, and he would've tossed the not-cat away if he had enough sanity left within him to think properly. But Morgana is inexplicably warm, and his warmth is not like that of a human's. It's warm, and soft, his fur running along his fingertips as the not-cap curls up over Ren's bleeding (profusely bleeding) hands, his tongue (it's so small and it's so warm and gentle and kind) lapping at the blood that is slowly dripping down from his fingertips to the floor.

Ren's breath hitches, and his eyes feel hot, the sting of something prickling at the corners. He feels the other two – he thinks, maybe, he isn't too sure and he's too tired and too rattled to look – sit down beside him, a fair bit of distance between them, and he mumbles something he himself isn't even sure what. After a while that he doesn't know how long, he curls his fingers a little, and Morgana shifts, resting his back onto Ren's palm.

"Ren," Morgana says after a while, and Ren presses his lips tighter a little, now that his panic-filled fog has vanished from the edge of his consciousness. He then realizes that the sun has already set, and something – something just sits there, brewing deeply inside his ribs and putting back together his shattered mind with poor quality glue that is his teachings. Ren blinks slowly as Morgana continues, nudging his chest with his own nose. "Ren, are you okay?"

How could he be okay? He can't even stay intact enough until he's back in his dust-covered room and— "I will… I will be, I will be. I'll not jeopardize the assignment, I—"

He bites his tongue. Assignment? No, that's what his father has given him. This is what these people had decided to do, and what he wants to help with. This is not his assignment. This is his mission.

"Dude, we still have time, and you're more important than the whole Palace shit right now," Sakamoto says. Ren doesn't turn his head, he couldn't, so he focuses himself on the feeling of Morgana's fur in his hands instead. "If you don't wanna talk, then I ain't gonna ask. But I'mma stay with you till you're really okay, dude."

Why? Why would you do all of that? You don't know me at all. You don't owe me anything – Ren leaves all of those words unsaid, simply nodding numbly. He looks down, and Morgana is peering up at him, all the haughtiness he's shown, all the condescending eyes, all of them are gone, disappearing behind the veil of something like what he's seen from Sakamoto. Worry? He isn't too sure.

Before he could think anything else, he feels something – something that isn't him, is not him – pulling at his tongue and forcing him to speak. "Can I hug you?"

Morgana's eyes widen, his furs standing up at the very end, and a hiss escapes him. Ren doesn't even know why, but Morgana just sighs in the end and nods. "…Sure, just… don't be too harsh, or I swear to god I'll claw off your hands."

He couldn't help but crack out a small smile that is classified as only maybe a quirk of his lips. He mumbles a low thank you before gently scooping the not-cat up in his arms, holding him against his chest, and—

—And, oh, he's so warm.

It takes Ren a full minute to realize, then, that he's crying.

See you next time!