Chapter 7

Akira didn't dream of the Velvet Room that night. He's not sure what he chalked it up to, though; the warmth Morgana was providing in the cool evenings of spring or the panic that had wafted slowly into nothingness as he cleaned LeBlanc, the aromatic fragrance of coffee lulling him into exhaustion. He wasn't entirely sure which it could be, or if there was an unseen other factor that he hadn't considered. He wasn't exactly a coffee fanatic, nor did he own any pets back home, but both felt nice. However, Sakura-san's tirade in tandem with the intense smell of coffee had caused an unsettling rumble under his skin He writhed in bed for an additional moment, the alarm for school already turned off. His stomach continued to rumble in mutinous protest.

Morgana insisted on joining him to school.

The additional weight was rather pronounced, causing his shoulder to sag dramatically to one side as he all but dragged his schoolbag out of the café. Morgana had felt much lighter the day before. Still, they made it to the train station on time, sliding past the doors just before they curtained shut. Morgana poked his head out of the bag, taking in the atmosphere of the death-tube. The cat didn't seem to share his unease; which Akira supposed was a slight blessing. He was not fond of the idea of walking around with cat vomit in his bag.

The vibrating of his pocket distracted him from observing Morgana's twitching ears.

It was Sakomoto.

"Sorry I was sleeping."

Another Vibration.

"When should we send the calling—"

A pearly paw cut off the remainder of Sakomoto's message, forcing his wrist into tilting towards a pair of observant blue eyes. Morgana murmured along with Sakomoto's words, reading them aloud and causing a slight dissonance in the area around them, bystanders gazing around in attempt to find a source of the ghostly meowing.

Akira yanked his schoolbag upwards, pulling it further up on his shoulder and causing Morgana to jump enough that the cat went silent after a short yelp.

The murmuring died down, both from the cat and the people towering around them.

Morgana waited until they were on the platform before he finally spoke again.

"The sooner the better!" The cat advised, twisting his neck until they made eye contact.

Akira was inclined to agree, but couldn't fully support the idea. The guilty itch in the back of his head reminded him why.

There's a chance that we kill Kamoshida if we do this…

The thought made his rumbling stomach revolt painfully. Even if Morgana assured them that they wouldn't be caught, Akira wasn't sure if he could live with himself knowing that he had actually took a life, even one as twisted as Kamoshida's.

He needed to think!

The abuse won't wait. That realization only made him feel worse, even as it strengthened his resolve. Who knows when Kamoshida might finally snap and act on his demented desires, if he hasn't already. Akira thinks of that room, hidden in Kamoshida's library, the same library that displays all of his conquests so shamelessly.

What makes Suzui so different? Why did Kamoshida keep her behind a hidden door when there was actual books dedicated to the lives he had ruined since coming to Shujin? He had a feeling the answer would only make him feel worse.

"Saturday" He responded, typing out without thinking.

He wanted this to be over, he wanted to have the chance to be a normal student. He didn't want to walk around school with these feelings of dread, not knowing what was happening behind closed doors or within the endless expanse of the school's gymnasium, but aware enough that they were evil. He couldn't continue being in the same building as Suzui, knowing there was something that he could have done to ease her suffering.

If taking down Kamoshida's shadow was the way to do that… he would do it without hesitation!

Arsene, from deep within his being, hummed in welcome.

"Let the show begin!" His Persona shouted from between his ears, cackling maniacally as Akira made his way towards the school gates.

"Got it, Joker." Akira snorted at the nickname.

Somehow, in comparison to the heist they were planning, something as exhilarating as being ignored, but also gossiped about, as well as being glared at while the teachers gave their lectures made for a rather dull backdrop to his thoughts.

They were going to do this!

School ended with a promise to meet up in the alley where they had first seen Kamoshida's castle, much further away from the prying eyes of Shujin's student population, namely Takamaki.

Sakomoto activated the Metaverse Navigator as soon as they hit the far edge of the cramped walkway, whisking them into the darkened realm of Kamoshida's heart.

Their clothes, unlike the two previous times they had been there, shifted as soon as they reached the perimeter of Kamoshida's domain. Morgana shifted too, the schoolbag he'd been in previously fizzling into nothing as his feline skull swelled into its normal shape.

Skull watched, transfixed and seemingly disgusted, judging by the sneer impressed on the visible parts of his face. Akira tried to mellow his own reaction, lest their mentor gets annoyed with them and decides that their team isn't worth the ridicule.

"W-what?" The cat finally squeaks out, tilting his rotund head to the side as he observes Sakomoto.

The blond glances elsewhere, scratching at his yellow hair with an equally yellow glove, "Nothing!" He says all too quickly.

Morgana looks skeptical, but turns to him instead, looking confounded. From behind the cat, Skull smirks.

Akira shrugs, then gestures towards the foreboding form of Kamoshida's desires turned solid. The castle's form was still the same ominous structure it had always been, yet Akira felt more comfortable traversing its depths than he had a few days ago—even a day ago. Not that the lust-emblazoned corridors could ever make him feel anything but disgust and anguish, but he was managing.

His adaptation, however, was not an infallible force.

The objective in coming here today was to strengthen their personas as well as their teamwork; which sounded much more professional than Sakomoto's text of "Kick ass and find Kamoshida!"

Akira's legs collapse before they even manage to get halfway through the main formation of the castle, the cathedral where he'd scorched Kamoshida's godly form was only a few doors down when he found himself inhaling the coarse fabric of a hallway rug. The scent was nothing special, yet managed to splash bursts of black across his vision.

"Akira!" Skull all but screamed from a few steps behind him, not close enough to catch him but well enough in proximity to hear the loud thud produced by his nose slamming into the padded, yet still solid, flooring.

"Joker!" Morgana yelped, right before the sensation of being pressed on passed through his senses.

He was rolled over, allowing most of the ceiling to creep into his vision. The light made his stomach twist, like he was being squeezed from the inside with hands made of iron.

"A-are you alright?" Morgana asked, paws still painfully into his sides.

Dazed, Akira nodded.

"Did you wear yourself out or something?" Skull inquired suddenly, making him finally take notice of the gleaming face stooped over his own. Sakomoto's eyes were widened, the whites wrapping around the rims of his eyeholes, his face, even while covered in metal, was configured into deep, shadowed valleys.

Morgana's face was no better. The already pitch black fur that covered most of his face turned an even more intense shade of midnight, his normally oceanic eyes squinted in confusion and shock.

He hadn't meant to worry them…

That was his last clear thought before everything faded to black.

When his brain finally restarted, the air was no longer thick yet cold, the smell of ashes was replaced with garbage, and no screams bounced off the walls around them.

They had returned from the real world.

What happened? He wondered in between the pounding in his skull.

"Ryuji! He's waking up!" Morgana called from beside him, initiating the sound of stomping.

"Dude!" Sakomoto gasped, breathing hard over his face.

His stomach churned at the smell.

"I-I got you some water," Something pressed at his lips, "Morgana thought you might have been dehydrated from running around in the Metaverse…"

Icy liquid slipped past his lips and across his tongue, causing the flaming muscles within his throat to ripple, attempting to repel the liquid. His body was too lethargic to fight it, though, or to keep his eyes open. Ryuji continued to tilt the container upwards, forcing his jaw to follow along idly as water slid into the depths of his stomach. It continued to churn uneasily, but he didn't vomit.

Eventually, his lips were met with nothing but moist air and the bottle was removed shortly after.

Something clunked against his head, presumably the bottle.

He rubbed at his head, but only felt his hair and the sturdiness of his scalp past the fog occupying his mental facilities.

"Idiot." Sakomoto scoffed.

"I have to agree, Joker," Morgana interjected, "If there were any shadows around, we would have been in serious trouble."

His head lulled forward on its own accord.

"Sorry." The sign comes out before he can fight it, another byproduct of his half-conscious mind.

"Uh." Ryuji replied.

Akira opened his eyes.

Morgana was staring at him intensely. His emotions, as ever, were plain to see despite the blackened affect of his fur. Disappointment reflected back onto him in somber shades of blue. His stomach twisted.

"What happened back there?" Sakomoto questioned. Akira's eyes were drawn towards the sound of his teammate's voice. Without the shapely metal that quelled the expression on the blond's face to a minimum, Sakomoto's expression was significantly sourer than it had been before he had passed out.

The bottle connected with his head once again.

"You should have said something, idiot!" The blond shouted.

Akira watched him recoil at his own words, "Or…er, typed something, I mean—"

His lips cringed into a small grin before he found the nimbleness to reach into his pocket.

"Sorry. I did not mean to worry you two."

Sakomoto didn't seem satisfied with his apology, as the bottle struck him a third time.

"I—Don't worry about… worrying me, or whatever." The blond sighed deeply, the lines that had scrunched his face up smoothing out into a more placating, pitying expression. When Sakomoto met gazes with him again, something in his eyes had noticeably changed.

"I can't let anyone fall victim to that bastard again!" The words were punctuated with a winding back of Sakomoto's arm. On instinct, his body curled into itself, ducking down to avoid anything too painful.

The blow never landed.

Instead, in the distance, the empty bottle clattered noisily between the alley's walls and eventually found itself on the floor.

His mind rejected his will to open his eyes, but when he finally did, Sakmato was staring at him. The blond's face artfully blank, despite the puffing his nose and chest were performing.

"I'll see ya tomorrow." He huffed out, taking to his legs and towering over him for the briefest of moments before he whisked himself around the corner.

Akira found it difficult to head back to LeBlanc.

In the past few days, he'd yet to arrive before closing.

The exhaustion drove him towards Yongen-Jaya before his awkwardness could repel him from the train station.

The walk from the station back to the café was longer than it usually was, even with the new addition of weight pocketed under his shoulder. Keeping his head down, he observed, not for the first time, the decrepit and weathered streets leading to LeBlanc. The homely feel was endlessly fascinating, yet completely boring, still, the distraction didn't last long enough before he was pushing open the door to the café.

"Welcome—oh." Was the reception he received upon entering; Sakura-san clearly hadn't anticipated him returning at a decent hour.

The older man flicked the book in his hand towards the stairs, "The store's still open, go upstairs." The instructions replaced a greeting once his identity had been revealed. Somehow, he'd expected as such, despite Sakura-san's kindness from the night before, which only served to make him even more confused on how he should act around the café owner.

Akira nodded and tucked his schoolbag closer to his side, making sure Morgana was well hidden from both customer and proprietor before he ambled forward. He made it several steps before an obstacle slid in front of him like a slamming door.

"O-oh, my mistake." The human-shaped obstacle called out, a dry voice that, even through the filter of shock, he could recognize without fail.

His chest, shoulders, and neck seized up instantly, but somehow, he flicked his eyes upward to confirm it.

Shit.

Bronze eyes, surrounded in dark, dark makeup, leveled onto him with focus that only a doctor could achieve. The stark white coat was absent though, replaced with casual, gothic clothing; it did nothing to distract him from the gleam in her eyes, the floor, however, was a decent deterrent from the feeling of being intensely analyzed.

White tiles. White tiles. Shoe tapping impatiently. White tiles.

Akira chances a look up, but is unable to peer further than the sneer pinching her lips together.

"H-hey!" Sakura-san shouts, interrupting his imminent, albeit silent, meltdown, "Stop harassing the customers!"

He takes a step backwards, trying to make himself as small as possible in the small walkway. Her eyes, like a predator's, tracked him. He could feel her gaze. Knowing, yet the social contract kept her from leaping on him again and battering him with unanswerable questions.

"I don't mind." The doctor replies, just as loudly, but lacking the gruff irritation that seeps off of Sakura-san whenever he's around.

"Er, still—" Another gaze presses down on him, begging him to squish open like a bug, "He should at least apologize."

Before she can protest, and before his body can muster up more concrete to freeze his body with, Akira finds himself bowing deeply before the physician he doesn't know the name of.

He's not embarrassed by the action, no more than usual anyway.

"Now go upstairs." Sakura-san sighs out.

Again, Akira follows the instructions with little hesitation.

"Sorry about that, doctor." Another sigh.

He doesn't hear the reply, only the muffled vibrations of her voice as he stumbles onto the landing of the attic.

Morgana bursts free as soon as he puts down the bag, small, puffy paws extending, followed by a small, bulbous head. His sleek form sparks up a buff of dust upon landing, causing the graceful landing to turn into a miniature coughing fit.

Gently, he patted along the feline's spine, trying to fix the issue.

He couldn't go downstairs for water, unfortunately, and he hadn't had time to set up Morgana with a bowl beforehand; something he was currently regretting as his teammate began retching at increasing volumes. Each cough and lurch of his throat grew in intensity with each moment until, right between his feet, Morgana puked up a very round, very slimy ball of hair. Disturbing.

"Disgusting!' Morgana rasped out, yet leaned forward to sniff at the abomination that had spawned on the floor.

Akira cringed, but made no effort to move away from the object or to clean it up. It was kind of fascinating, sort of, in a very, very strange way. It only served to remind him of his own stomach, which had long since turned into a heavy pressure pushing further and further down. He had to pee.

Unfortunately, according to the sun, which was still filtering through the far window in broad beams, the café would be open for quite a while. Which meant he couldn't go downstairs.

Morgana's hairball only distracted him for so long before he found it more disturbing than interesting. Digging into his bag, he pulled out a piece of scrap paper and wedged it beneath the moist clump and balled it up. The cat remained silent, yet seemed rather put out at the loss of his hairball.

Homework provided nothing but sore eyes, an insufficient distraction that he managed in an hour. In that hour, LeBlanc refused to close.

He'd given up on the café ever closing when something finally happened.

"You feeling better?" Sakomoto questioned, causing a loud ping! to interrupt the silence in the attic as well as the boredom and exhaustion that was starting to creep in. He almost wanted to go to bed more than he wanted to relieve himself. Almost.

He stretched out across the thin mattress in the attic's corner, swathing himself in an equally thin cocoon of blankets, and contemplated his reply.

The most straightforward answer was a resounding yes. He was no longer unconscious in Kamoshida's palace, or subsequently in an alley behind Shujin, and while he had to pee very, very badly, and he was still mortified at his chance encounter with the doctor from the bathhouse, those things were improvements from passing out.

His stomach grumbled.

"Yes. Sorry again for trouble." He eventually sent, after rolling over multiple times, much to Morgana's dismay.

The reply was near instant.

"Anyways, we still on for Saturday for the calling card thing?"

Akira considered it. While they had made some progress in growing their strength, having to end the day earlier put a slight damper on their progress. They didn't have a lot of information on Kamoshida's abilities, outside of being a manipulative abuser and an Olympic medalist. If the three of them approached, could they really take down someone as worshipped and feared as Kamoshida?

We don't have a choice… He reasoned, but found it flawed; he knew it was wrong. To do nothing when many others were suffering. Even if he, Sakomoto or Morgana were hurt, even if Kamoshida died as a result of his treasure being stolen, wasn't that a better fate than doing nothing? Igor seemed to think so, though he didn't know enough about the man to discern his true intentions.

They could kill this man. A teacher he barely knew, gone like a whisper; broken irreparably, a husk of a man with no desires.

Could Sakomoto live with that? Could I live with that? He wasn't sure. It wasn't like it had been all those weeks ago. There wasn't time to plan or to think, he could only move. He'd been punished for moving, rejected by his parents, and by society.

Could he really do the same thing again?

"Are you talking with Ryuji?" Morgana's voice crackled through suddenly, causing his body to seize up in momentary panic. When had the cat gotten so close?

He finally allowed himself to see the screen before him, which had long since faded to black due to his inactivity.

He turned back to Morgana, nodding.

The cat purred softly, "About our mission? I can tell by the look on your face."

Then why did he ask… Then again, Morgana did have a strange air about him, one that, just by a look, you could tell he did not have a filter between whatever spawned in his mind and what came out of his mouth; especially when it came to Sakomoto. He wondered if there was a similar situation with his stomach and mouth.

Most likely. Akira snorted.

"Joker," Morgana stepped closer, kneeling down so their faces didn't collide, save for the whispering of fur against his chin. His face was hidden from view, giving Akira a decent view of Morgana's staggering breathing.

"Are you having doubts about our mission?"

Stupid, perceptive cat.

Fortunately, with Morgana's face bundled beneath him, his teammate couldn't see what was, apparently, an obvious expression of uncertainty. The cat remained silent, though his mind, for once, didn't stream out of his mouth; not a good sign.

"Can I tell you something?" Morgana asked. His breathing had slowed, but his fur covered spine remained completely rigid.

He unlocked his phone.

"Sure."

The cat sighed deeply, deflating his form until it was near melted into the mattress.

"Remember when Ryuji asked about what I am?" Akira recalled Sakomoto deeming Morgana a monster cat, but not the blond posing a question of what exactly Morgana was.

"…To be honest, I don't remember anything about my birth," Another sigh, "I think the Metaverse's distortions made me lose both my memory and my true form; but I'm sure, once they're purged, I'll remember who I am, and regain my identity."

It was his turn to sigh.

Morgana had been fairly straightforward with his desires, to reclaim his human form; not to help others. His stomach recoiled. Obviously he wouldn't care if Kamoshida died. He wondered if the cat could even feel remorse, could fully process what it meant to take a life outside of the Metaverse.

Still, it's not like he'll give up… Morgana seemed driven, if nothing else, pushing them to their limits to achieve their, and his own separate, goal.

He could still call of the mission. Could easily text Sakomoto and explain that it felt wrong to chance someone's life like they were planning to do.

He couldn't.

"How about this, I'll become your pet as the boss called it, in exchange for your help in the Metaverse." Another deal. "In addition, due to my vast knowledge and dexterous nature, I'll teach you some other skills to help in that world."

So… two burdens and more lessons. Morgana was possibly the worst salesman he'd ever met.

"How does that sound?" Morgana quipped, sounding quite confident. The cat twisted around once more, taking some distance so he could observe him.

Akira wanted to say no, but his neck refused to accept that notion. Instead, he stared back at the cat, into those enormous, reflective blue eyes. He didn't like what he saw inside, nor did he enjoy the grin threatening to split the cat's face.

He agreed to the deal with a swift, cordial nod.

Morgana's intentions were not pure, nor were they self-righteous.

Nor were Sakomoto's, the blond wanted revenge against the person who broke his leg.

Akira couldn't say the opposite of his own intentions, either. He wanted an easier year. He wanted his probation to not break him, to not be isolated because he wanted to help. His mind drifted to Suzui, of that room that made him sick. He could do it for her, though, for that book of girls that Kamoshida bragged about within his heart, for the tome of boys he so mercilessly stepped on.

He was not selfless, but that was okay.

There was also a chance that Kamoshida would live, an ending where all of his desires weren't stripped from him, only the ones that had corrupted him. There was the chance that the students he had tortured and lusted after would get an apology.

Would that really be enough? Would an apology be sufficient enough for ruining people's lives?

Didn't Kamoshida deserve the same?

Didn't he deserve to die?

"Yes." He sent, feeling angry but unable to get it out; not an uncommon occurrence when he couldn't scream until his lungs refused to work anymore.

Life or death… Kamoshida was going to pay.

Despite the crackling underneath his skin, begging for release, there was also some satisfaction at having made up his mind. This was something he could do.

"Can you tell Ryuji the plan?" Morgana asked, interrupting his satisfaction.

The cat began explaining without waiting for an answer.

Akira typed.

"Morgana says: Post the calling card in the morning, make sure it's everywhere, so he can't forget it before we have enough time to enter the Metaverse. The calling card should be enough to trigger the treasure into taking form. Once we have the treasure, Kamoshida's shadow will try to take it back from us."

Sakomoto took a long moment to reply, but eventually did so.

"Then we kick his stupid ass?"

Morgana stared at the screen, sighed, then nodded.

"Yes."

"I gotta admit, dude, I don't really get what he was saying about stealing desires, but Kamoshida will end up like, braindead if mess up, right?"

He tried not to picture the eventuality that Sakomoto was presenting. Kamoshida's large, imposing form, reduced to nothing but a pile of flesh on the floor. A vegetable.

Would he even have the drive to breathe?

"Yeah…"

He wondered if that would change Sakomoto's mind, knowing, without a doubt, that whatever they did on Saturday, could have serious repercussions, and they could not be erased.

His phone buzzed again in his hand, but another force stopped him from seeing what it was.

Sakura-san had managed to sneak up on him. The looming shadow made him twitch violently away from the source.

"I'm leaving, make sure to lock up behind me." He nodded, something that Sakura-san reciprocated along with a sturdy glare from behind the bifocals slipping down his nose. Guilt swarmed inside of him, and he couldn't help but carefully slide his phone under the edge of the blanket.

"Also," The older man tacked on, lifting an accusing finger that made his stomach drop. "Don't harass the customers. Got it?" Again, he nodded.

Sakura-san nodded too, dropping his gaze towards Morgana, or Kaito. Some of his wrinkles smoothed out, making him look much younger than Akira had taken him for.

"Who's a good cat?" Accusing fingers softened into waving strokes across a fur-coated spine. Morgana, somehow, grew even more relaxed, and began purring. Horror breached his large eyes, but he didn't stop the rumbling until Sakura-san retracted his arm.

"Make sure he stays quiet." Sakura-san's voice was a mixture between how he speaks to Morgana and how he speaks to him, half stern and half cooing. He hated how refreshing it was, to not be completely patronized with every action he took.

Sakura-san left. Morgana's disappointment was blatant, especially when the cat rolled over and rubbed at his fur-covered stomach.

Akira had other things distracting him, however.

He listened, very carefully for the sound of the café's door to close for the final time before he sprung up from the bed and bolted down the stairs. A sharp turn and a frantic yank finally delivered him to sanctuary.

He peed.

Washed his hands.

Exited the bathroom.

He almost flicked the remaining lights off to the café, but a small whine captured his attention.

Morgana was sitting on the counter, even more prohibited territory. He was in the same pose he had been in when he'd fled to the restroom, patting at his stomach as if expecting something.

Oh…

Akira stepped away from the light panel and into the small kitchen LeBlanc had to offer. The perpetual stench of coffee and spices magnified indefinitely now that he was at the source. It was nearly overwhelming. Another firm yank opened a portal into every ingredient that went into LeBlanc's staple dish.

Was curry safe for cats? He doubted it, even something as delicious as this curry in particular was, no doubt, dangerous for Morgana to consume.

Which left… his leftovers.

He felt bad, having let the food that Sakomoto bought him just sit around in the fridge, but it was nothing more than meat and broth; which meant safe for cats.

He hoped.

Akira plucked the box from the fridge, removing the only non-fresh looking artifact from the confines. Turning around, he noticed Morgana staring, looking as smug as ever, especially at the notion of being fed.

Bending open the lid, he set the box in front of the feline.

He supposed he could have heated it up. It wouldn't have hurt him, but there was something deeply satisfying about watching his teammate struggle against the hardened chunks of beef. Immensely so.

"Now that I think about it," Morgana said between slurps and smacks, much to his disgust, "I never got hungry in that other world."

Akira shrugged in response, unsure how to take that information. He did make a make a mental note, however, to get Morgana more feline-safe food.

Does that mean he's never been to the bathroom?

As well as a litterbox, he hoped that the Yen that that monster had dropped would be enough.

"Aren't you going to eat, Joker?" Blue eyes drifted up to him, sprinkles of broth turning into dew for Morgana's fine eyelashes.

Suddenly, a lot of his day made sense.

He was hungry!

His stomach squirmed. With the discomfort of his bladder gone, he noticed the pain of his emptiness now.

Ah.

Observing the briny slime dripping off of Morgana's chin, the smell of meat wafting between the café's natural aromas like a knife, the visible grease pit at the bottom of the container, he felt like throwing up. His body refused though, somehow knowing that nothing would come up. Not even water.

He chewed on his finger, contemplating for a long moment.

The pain refused to subside.

The anxiety, begging him not to give in, also refused to leave.

Both managed to overwhelm him into action. Without thinking, he turned around, entering the chamber of LeBlanc's kitchen and identified his target.

The sought-after curry had glazed over from cooling for so long, making it resemble mud with vegetables sticking out of it. Not very appetizing, not even when it began boiling and he finally noticed the reductions in his vision.

There wasn't any rice left for him to plate, and the anxious dread that was fueling his actions refused to do more than necessary. He was running on low energy, it seemed.

The curry, once heated, looked wonderful once it was met with pearly porcelain, yet shame still managed to creep its way into his system; refusing to be ignored as he shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. Giving into the needs of his body did nothing for the cramps that clamped between his organs, nor did a glass of water. Nor two.

Akira finished a little over half of his portion before each sensation became too much. The food, while delicious, felt like nothing more than swallowing still wet cement, thick globs winding down into his body.

He hated the feeling.

Still, he had eaten something, which meant he wouldn't be passing out, involuntarily, at least.

After a third glass of water, he cleaned up the mess that he and Morgana had made; disposing of the takeout box and cleaning the dishes he had used. Once that was done, he made his way upstairs, collected his toothbrush and paste, tossed off his glasses, plugged his phone in, then traveled back down the stairs and into the café's tiny bathroom. He peed, again, the relief not as monumental as it had been when the café had finally closed. Akira washed his face, brushed his teeth, and escaped from the cramped space of LeBlanc's bathroom. Slowly, he made his way towards the entrance to the café, ignoring the way his heart turned into a thunderous drum; he knew that he wasn't going out again, yet his body tensed in anticipation. He really wanted a bath. Ignoring his conflicting desires, Akira made sure the door to the café was locked, then finally turned off the lights.

He didn't fear the dark, yet something about the midnight hue the café took on when the lights were off sent shocks across his skin. He made his way upstairs, ignoring the dread that seemed to follow.

The bed that Sakura-san had provided was nothing but a futon over a stack of boxes, yet somehow its embrace relaxed him, at least enough that he could feel his muscles losing their tension.

Morgana was quick to invade his personal space, taking up a large portion of the middle of the bed. The blackness of his fur seemed to glow under the beams of moonlight filtering in through the attic's window, giving him a defining shape in the otherwise darkened room. It was, as things tend to be with his new pet, endlessly fascinating.

Putting a hand on Morgana's head, he found himself drifting off.

There was a message from Sakomoto when his alarm finally broke through his unconsciousness.

"You feelin better, dude?"

He isn't sure what to make of the message.

Akira takes his time getting ready for school, except for when it comes to getting dressed. Something about getting dressed in front of cat with a human mind unsettled him, even if that cat could only communicate with him and Sakomoto. It was better safe than sorry, though. Once his uniform was on, he pulled his schoolbag up from where it had been sitting by the stairs and moved it onto the bed for Morgana. Once that was finished, he made his way downstairs quietly, his toothbrush and paste in tow. Sojiro looked up as soon as his feet hit the landed. Apparently he had not been quiet enough. The older man nodded once, then looked away. Akira headed into the bathroom and readied himself for another school day.

Morgana was in the bag when he went back to the attic, and stared at him as he ascended, but said nothing.

Odd.

He didn't question it though, Morgana was a fairly strange being. Gathering his phone and schoolbag, Akira deemed himself ready for school, at least physically.

Leaving the café, he flipped over the sign, and began walking towards the station.

Morgana sighed.

They were halfway towards the station when the same noise erupted from below him.

Akira stopped walking.

Rolling the bag off of his shoulder, he set Morgana on the ground in front of him before bending over.

Morgana's eyes avoided his.

He continued to stare.

Morgana sighed again.

"J-joker?" Morgana asked, pawing at the jagged edges of his prison.

Akira raised a brow in answer, doing his best to look attentive.

"I, um…" Morgana squirmed, "I t-think, I have to do that thing that you do? M-my stomach is um…"

Oh.

He glanced around, looking for a suitably spot for a cat to relieve himself, for the first time, apparently. Tokyo, in his limited experience, was, unfortunately, not known for its open, yet private, fields of grass. Yongen-Jaya was no exception, it seemed. Spying an alley, he prayed that Morgana wasn't going to be picky about location; beggars can't be choosers, after all.

Sweeping up his schoolbag, and ignoring the high pitched yelp that followed, Akira headed towards the small alley. Stopping at the corner, he glanced inside of the empty space. Nothing but a small stream of water and a trashcan for company. It was better than nothing. Again, he sat down the bag, mindful of the puddles and Morgana leapt out of it to survey his new surroundings.

A frown. Clearly he wasn't pleased.

"H-here?" The cat stuttered, visibly cringing.

Akira nodded, feeling a little warm in the face and unable to look the cat in the eyes.

Morgana sighed, but nodded in acceptance as well.

He backed out of the alley to give his teammate privacy, gathered enough distance that he could no longer hear Morgana trying to figure out how his body worked, but kept close enough that it wouldn't be impossible to snatch the cat up and run. He still had to catch the train, after all.

With some free time, Akira took a moment to glance at his phone again and reread Sakomoto's message.

He still didn't have a response thought out. He'd already told the other boy that he was fine the previous night, why bother asking again? He couldn't deny, however, that it didn't feel weird not responding to a message; but why was Sakomoto, and others, still asking about his health. He was fine. He'd told Sakomoto as such already.

Maybe he's just nosy.

Morgana appeared moments later, looking both relieved and mortified. He bent down, and patted his companion on the head, hoping to alleviate some of the strange tension the cat seemed to carry with him.

"L-let's just go." His teammate whined instead of purring, the reaction that he had been expecting.

Akira shrugged, but took to his full height and wrapped around the corner to grab his schoolbag with Morgana climbing into it just before he lifted it from the ground.

The rest of the journey was free of sighs, at least from either Morgana or himself, and he made it to school on time, despite the detour.

Takamaki, as well as the rest of the classroom, eyed him with visible suspicion as he entered, though the blonde's was significantly more poignant in a way that he couldn't describe. It might have been an aura she exuded or something, he couldn't figure it out, nor did he have the time to ponder it much further since he was currently panicking about something else; having a fully-grown animal hanging out of the edge of his desk, not even bothering to appear inconspicuous with his flapping tail and visible gaze.

The cat, fortunately, remained silent. Which made him panic a little less, even as , not Chouno-sensei, called on him six times in a row. He was the only one who had done the reading, apparently; she cooed over him, even waiting patiently as he scribbled out answers on his whiteboard, which he tried to pretend wasn't covered in cat hair. Definitely suspicious.

Ushimaru-sensei, however, was less than patient with their class, but didn't call on him a single time.

"Settle down! We are the middle of class!" Technically, they were 56% done with this period, not that he was counting the seconds in his notebook until he was startled by Ushimaru-sensei's yelling even louder than before.

"Enough! This is a classroom!"

"Wait, she's going to jump!" A girl cried from the other end of the room, drawing Akira's attention towards the voice. Was someone watching a drama in the middle of class?

More students stood up.

"Suzui?" A boy gasped.

Takamaki rocketed to her feet in an instant, "Shiho?"

Akira's heart slammed against his chest once, like a jackhammer, then crackled to life in double speed.

He too, stood, and scrambled after Takamaki as she fled the classroom and glued herself to the hallway window.

Outside of it, on top of the roof, stood Suzui Shiho. She was barely a speck from the distance they were at, but Akira could make out the folds of her skirt fluttering in the wind like a dance. Her dark hair followed a similar method, whisking around like cherry blossoms in a storm.

Akira watched, mesmerized, frozen in time as Suzui's form ejected from the roof of Shujin Academy.

Takamaki's screams had long since muted in his ears.

Suzui's fall took maybe a few seconds, but to him, watching through one of Shujin's polished windows, it felt like a lifetime. An eon of nothing but frozen ice that evaporated the more gravity wrapped the girl in its embrace.