The next morning started similar to the last. Waking up covered in sweat, expecting it be blood splatter and a searing, unbearable phantom pain railing up his arm. He scrubbed off the evidence of his nightmares, swallowing compulsively until the squeezing burn in his throat died out, and attempted to leave the café with Morgana under his arm, the cat refusing to be left behind even when Akira couldn't muster the strength to carry himself, let alone his teammate.

Something snagged onto the back of his collar as he pushed past LeBlanc's door, choking him so suddenly that a disgusting squelch pushed out of his mouth before he could stop it. The snagging continued, firmer, until Akira was forced to walk backwards or fall onto his ass, and probably Morgana. He backpedaled until he was almost at the edge of the café, then was, none too gently, shoved into a bar stool. The impact startling him enough that his vision swims blue. He gazes around the café for a moment, but is inevitably drawn to the strands of pure white darting out of his guardian's chest.

"Sit." Sakura-san says, even though he's already seated. The older man wraps around the bar and stepping into the kitchen; not even bothering with looking at him, preoccupied as he is with the pot in front of him. Akira is distracted too, by the strand, about as thick as wool, that's connected the two of them.

Morgana peeks out of the bag, "Joker, what's going on? I thought we were leaving." He glances down at his teammate from the corner of his eye, catching the appearance of another beam of light hanging loosely between them. Another bond.

What is going on? He questions, sliding over until he's in his claimed seat then putting his bag into the one next to it.

Sakura-san steps back behind the bar, then sets down a plate in front of him. "Didn't see you get dinner last night." His guardian says, almost conversationally, as the man all but shoves spoon into his hand; but his tone is like gravel and it makes him sit up straighter in the barstool, uncomfortable.

Akira looks down at the food in front of him, his stomach gurgles painfully when the aroma hits his nose. Under Sakura-san's intense gaze, though it's half-hidden behind his glasses and a coffee cup, he digs into the portion. Just like the last time he'd had it, he's surprised by how it sits on his tongue. The subtly, pleasant heat that trails through his mouth and all the way down. It's sweet, too; creamy. It makes him want more, even when his plate is empty and his stomach is expanding painfully, giving him cramps until he's certain he's going to throw up.

He doesn't manage to finish the small mountain of rice that Sakura-san had piled onto his plate, nor does he get close to seeing the bottom of the plate.

His guardian pulls the plate away from him as if his fullness is written on his face. Akira hope he can't.

"Don't miss the train." Is all the man says, handing him a glass of water as well.

He nods in response, even when his mouth is attached to the glass, gulping down water to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach; though it only serves to make it worse.

"That was strange." Morgana comments once the café's door shuts behind them.

Akira shrugs. Things have been stranger.

The train's doors begin to close before Akira is even halfway through the doorway and he ends up falling into an empty seat with his momentum. Morgana yowls at the jostling but settles down soon enough when Akira sets him onto the bench next to him.

"Can't make it today, either." Takamaki says as soon as he's on the platform just before the block Shujin is on.

The school is tense to the point that the spring air is casting a sweat-induced glaze over his skin. Every step he takes, he feels a number of eyes on him, more than when he'd first arrived. He half expects Kamoshida to be behind them all, spreading more information from his record as he'd admitted to doing, but the man is absent entirely.

"Lame." Sakamoto answers as Akira is stepping into his classroom.

"You still have that medal Kamoshida dropped, right?" Ann asks privately. His mind draws a blank, though, and he ends up looking towards Morgana for an answer, putting the screen down in front of him as class begins; he hadn't thought about the medal since Morgana had brought it home around his neck.

"Does anyone else hear a cat?" Kawakami questions at the same time Morgana says, "It's at home." His shoulders tense up on reflex and he does his best to look not guilty as Kawakami's suspicious glare wanders across the classroom.

Takamaki looks back at him and Akira nods.

"Why don't we sell that medal Kamoshida dropped and we can have a bigger celebration over break?" She asks the both of them.

"As long as there's meat." Ryuji sends back before logging off. In front of him, Takamaki snorts.

With nothing to do after school, Akira doesn't pack up his things, or Morgana, as quickly as he normally might. He's doing just that when a shadow dawns over the dry-erase board he's attempting to shove past Morgana's bulky frame.

"K-Kurusu-kun?" The shadow asks, when Akira looks up at the call of his name, he spots a mostly-familiar face, but is unable to draw a name.

They have the same Kamoshida-shaped bruise on their cheeks, but the boy in front of him was the same who'd taken a volleyball to the face during the rally the week before.

The guy swallows loudly. Akira looks away from his the purple splatters on his face.

"H-have you looked at it?" He shouts. They both end up flinching at the sound and Akira drops his look to the guy's fidgeting hands. There's bruises on them too, though he's sure those are volleyball related and not due to Kamoshida.

He pulls the board out from around Morgana, then digs around for a marker before he's able to respond.

"Look at what?" He answers, tilting the board upwards.

"The Phantom A-aficionado Website. H-have you seen it?" There's a strange look on his face, hidden behind the black eye and bruises, but despite the number of glances Akira shoots up under his bangs, he can't seem to get a read on it.

He shakes his head in response.

"I'm the one who started it." The guy huffs out a small laugh as he says it, running bruised fingers through the layers of black hair on his head.

Akira has no idea what's going, even less so when the guy leans forward. The bruised fingers pushing down his dry-erase board. Shut up. The gesture says.

"You guys are the Phantom Thieves, right?" It's whispered quietly enough that he's sure the sound doesn't escape the bubble the guy in front of him had created. Yet a bone-chilling tingle runs up his spine at the sound.

How did he…? Akira tries to school his expression into something hard and neutral, but the kid is already smiling. The bruise on his eye squeezes shut as his cheekbones raise higher on his face.

"I knew it!" He jeers, losing control of his volume.

They both flinch again.

"Sorry." The guys says, but Akira just shrugs.

This isn't good. Arsene snorts, just behind his eyes, causing the hair on his neck to stand on end. Nothing he'd done had drawn much attention; aside from yesterday's incident with Takamaki and Sakamoto. Morgana's presence in the classroom wasn't enough to indicate anything about them. They hadn't posted their names or faces anywhere on the calling card, yet somehow this stranger knew who they were.

"How" Akira questions, writing around the guy's fingers.

He's not sure what he's prepared to do to keep this a secret.

"U-um, there's rumors going around about y-you and Sakamoto t-threatening Kamoshida." The kid explains, taking a step backwards, "It was all over the halls this morning, I'm surprised you didn't hear about it. P-people think that that calling card thing was just a joke, but then K-Kamoshida actually confessed. So h-how did you do it?"

Akira stares at the hand still on his board, unsure what to do. If he told the truth, he's not sure if the guy would believe him or what would come of that if he did. If he lied, that would complicate things as well.

"W-wait… I don't want to know," The guy says, using his free hand to wipe at his forehead, "I… I think it's best if I keep this a secret a-and the less I know the better, right?"

Stunned, Akira nods, half-formed lies dropping into nothing.

The guy steps forward again. Akira wondered if he was more approachable when he was at a loss of words and unable to respond.

It's quiet for a long moment, the sweat that had been building up begins to cool under the school's air conditioning.

"I… did a lot of bad things when K-Kamoshida was around." The guy says, dropping himself into Takamaki's seat and leaning onto his desk. "B-but I already told the police I'd go to his trial and help convict him!"

The boy seems to sink down, looking as if he might melt onto his desk and Akira is still uncertain on what he should be doing.

"It doesn't feel right, though, it doesn't feel like enough to make up for what I did. To you… or Shiho… or anybody at this school." He recognizes the sound of crying quickly, watches, uncomfortable, as streams form ridges over the guy's bruised cheeks before he buries his face into his arms.

When the crying turns into sobbing, with loud hiccups that sound like they're going to draw attention and paint a bad image for his probation, Akira considers leaving the boy there to cry on his desk. But the guy knows things about the Phantom Thieves, so he settles himself into his seat and pulls out his phone.

"Someone knows about us." He informs, logging back in.

"What?" Ryuji questions at the same time Takamaki questions, "Who?"

Akira tries to pull for a name, but comes up empty, "He's in our class… The one that got hit in the face during that rally."

"Mishima?" Ann provides at the same time Ryuji does.

"I gotta go. Make sure he doesn't tell anyone!" Ryuji sends right after, logging out again.

The guy's—Mishima's head pulls up, the crying settling down, and Akira puts his phone away.

"S-sorry about that, I was just thinking about Suzui and… that was really embarrassing, huh?" Mishima laughs again but the sound is swallowed up by another hiccup.

"I wanted to do something more to help, you know, so I made the website." Mishima reels back, "B-but I didn't tell my mom what it was when I asked her to pay for it, so she won't find out. Promise!"

Mishima pulls out his own phone, then hands it to him.

The familiar colors of the Metaverse are morphed into a webpage that it almost resembled the MetaNav; black background with red text. He wonders if it's a coincidence or if the Metaverse how manipulated Mishima somehow. The calling card Sakamoto had posted all over the school is in the corner of the page as well.

"I figured there's a lot worse adults than K-Kamoshida out there, you know?" When Akira nods, Mishima continues more loudly, "It's just… if people had a place to talk about their problems that something would happen, like the Phantom Thieves." A smile dances around Mishima's busted lip.

"There's also a poll!" He shouts, but apologizing right after and switching to a whisper. "For the next target, so there'd always be hope that anybody who abuses their power can change, you know?"

Akira nods again, handing back Mishima's phone as he does. He'd pass the website along to Ryuji and Ann, to see what they think of it.

In his lap, Morgana wiggles violently against the confines of the bag and Akira remembers something the cat had said.

"A name" A writes out, pushing the board closer to Mishima to read.

"A name?" He reads aloud, muttering while scratching at the cut on his lip. "You… need a name to do… whatever it is?"

Akira nods.

Mishima laughs again, "Alright! I'll make sure to update the forums when I get home tonight."

Akira nods again, the dread from before melting into satisfaction; Mishima would keep their secret and provide them with names.

"You're not that bad a guy, you know that, Kurusu-kun?" Another laugh, Mishima stands as he does so, though. "I… gotta go, Principal Kobayakowa isn't letting anyone off the volleyball team until the whole thing with Kamoshida is resolved."

Then he's alone in the classroom, and Morgana seems to sense it as he pulls himself out of the confines of his bag and pounces onto the desk.

"You think he's trouble?" Morgana questions, his tail swishing lazily behind him.

Akira shrugs. They'd have no way of knowing until it was too late.

"That was good thinking, though, making sure to get names for our targets." Morgana goes quiet for a minute, "Do… you think we can go to Mementos, today?"

He pauses, recalling their previous experience with Morgana ended up comatose, with Akira's own struggle to stay awake. Without Skull or Panther, they might have not made it out.

"Please?" Morgana coughs into his paw; a very human gesture that reminds him of what they're looking for.

They end up at the entrance to Mementos an hour later, another train delay causing a minor injury. The station assures them that the cause was not due to a mental shutdown, but his brain filters the intercom into static as he pulls open Mishima's webpage. The poll was empty, but the forums were constantly updating as he scrolled through them. The entries started to blur together; how could so many pop up when the page was created yesterday?

He finally found one with a name, though.

Atsuhiro Kensei. He typed it into the MetaNav and was surprised at the confirmation his phone emitted, even more surprised when the world around them shifted, turning the blur of people walking past him into nothing but empty space. As he took to his feet, his body was swarmed in cold, blue flames and leaving him covered in familiar dark leather; seeing it's sleeves leaves him breathless, apprehensive and anxious. Skull wasn't at fault, nor is the blond here.

He side-eyes Morgana, hoping a similar spell doesn't manage to overwhelm him.

"We're here…" Mona observed quietly, remaining otherwise silent at his side, then around him as he transformed.

Akira did his best to avoid engaging with too many shadows, instead letting them grovel or boast about their wrongdoings. Some of them sent shivers down his spine, but, resolutely, he drove past the majority of them until Mementos started to grow colder.

The flat corridor that leads up to the stone wall that Morgana insisted was a door wasn't as devoid as it had been the last time they'd been here. Instead, a shadow stood in front of them, staring in their direction with bright golden eyes. The shadow was a facsimile of man, wearing a dark suit that blended into their surroundings, pillowing off of it, however, was dark, smoke-like ashes that swam around it like an aura.

"Come to stop me, have you?" The man barked, his voice deep and unsettling. He lifted a hand towards them, "After all I've done for the community? My community?" He cackles loudly.

"She deserved it!" The shadow shouts, "She did! She did! She did!" Stomping his feet, the shadow dissolves into a solid mass of opaque darkness before remerging as a different being. With dark wings and claws, the shadow swooped forward, threatening to decapitate both of them.

The man continued to lunge, grunting with effort as his mantis-like claws sliced through the air with an audible whistle. Akira did his best to parry each of the man's attacks, circling around the platform's empty space with agility he'd true self didn't possess. With the man's excessive attacks, he found no time to retaliate and Morgana was having difficulty landing a spell to gap the closing distance between the two of them.

Akira fell to the floor, lungs burning and heart threatening to bounce out of his chest. The beast took his stumble to its advantage, crawling forward until it was hovering over him, using its wings as perches as it spewed hot, rancid breath onto his face. One of the claws that had been barely missing him now hovered over his cheek, thin bristles on its end brushed against the edge of his skin.

"Can't even keep your feet under you and you think you can stop me." The creature hacks up a laugh, sending more of its rancid breath onto his face. Something wet lands on his cheek, just below the edge of his mask. "Fucking brats." The claw suddenly trails down, pressing firmly as it goes. "I bet your blood tastes good, doesn't it? Doesn't it?"

"Zorro!" Mona calls once more, conviction heavy. The massive form of Morgana's persona appears once more, sending a blast of wind that connects with the shadow's still form. It skitters off of him and Akira coughs as he manages to stand back up.

Apsaras shimmers into being in front of him, creating of layer of frost around the still reeling shadow. The man screams, falling onto his stomach as his feet and wings start losing traction on the floor.

Morgana jumps forward, slashing the shadow across its side, causing it to explode in a splash of black mist and green goo.

"What a weakling." The cat comments, wiping his blade on the reappearing suit the man had been wearing.

In the carnage, a man appears, translucent and frowning.

"Please, I need help!" He sobs into his hands, "I didn't mean it! Any of it!" The light he had been giving off fades as he does, dropping behind something as the remains of his being begin disintegrating. His presence cast off into Mementos' endless howl. When he steps forward to examine the object, he pauses in his tracks as the ground beneath his feet starts to tremble violently. The door on the far end of the corridor cries for his attention and instead of picking up the object the shadow had dropped, he finds himself walking towards the glowing stone wall. Pressing a gloved hand to it, the wall glows brighter until he's forced to turn away, then, all at once, the walls fold together like panels, dropping in on themselves to reveal another set of the station's stairs. Like the others, Akira can't see the bottom of them through the thick fog of Mementos.

Akira turns back to the body's remains, and picks up the object the man had dropped after his confession. A wallet. It was brown, but worn white where it folded open. Inside was a single business card and a small stack of bills. He slid the card out, only to find it blank.

Weird. He observes, sliding the card back into place and the entire wallet into a pocket on his coat.

"Updating…" A voice called from within his pocket; his phone. "Target not found."

So that was him, then… The request hadn't said anything about blood lust, merely a creepy neighbor.

"Joker?" Mona calls. When he looks up, his teammate is standing in the recently revealed doorway, his sword slung over his shoulder almost casually.

He nods in response, following after Mona while trying to process what had just happened; he could have ignored that request. Would something bad had happened if he did? If the two of them had been too weak, would whoever posted about their creepy neighbor still be alive?

Mona transforms back into an oversized vehicle, one with far too many seats for just the three of them, let alone when he's by himself. Despite the extra room, Akira folds in on himself as he continues to drive through the darkened tunnels of Mementos until they stumble upon another stone wall with the same glowing patterns on it.

"Try that thing again, Joker." Mona suggests, speaking for the first time in hours.

Akira pushes his hand to the door, watches the glowing red lines and circles glow bright, then dim back to how they'd originally been. The door did not open.

Morgana growls, but didn't unsheathe his sword. "We'll have to come back another day then."

He nods in response, letting Morgana navigate him back to the surface as he drove through Mementos' tunnels.

When they resurface, the sun is starting to set and he falls asleep on the train home, nearly missing Yongen-Jaya until he's startled awake by Morgana swatting at his face. He takes his bag and stumbles onto the platform.

LeBlanc is crowded, as much as it had been the night before, but Sakura-san pins him down into a seat with another plate of food, keeping watch on him even as he checks customers out. He's still full from breakfast, but doubts that Sakura-san wouldn't be offended if he openly disrespected the free food. Instead, he eats. Drinking water as he does so until slimy mouthfuls build up in his stomach and Sakura-san excuses him, snatching his plate away before throwing an apron into his face.

The meal hadn't helped with his exhaustion, though. Nor did it stop the customers from staring at him strangely, a contrast to the night before, except for the singular expression. Not that they were unkind, they just stared at him with familiar empathy in their eyes until Akira found something else to draw his attention; which was, mostly, the notebook in his hands. Sakura-san made the orders and he delivered them until the sun finally set. It died down when it got dark, a mass exodus until only a few couples remained, engrossed in the news on the café's television.

When another half hour passes, and no new customers come in, Sakura-san leaves for the night, taking the rest of the customers with him.

Akira thinks about going straight to bed, but decides to take another shower at the bath house across the alley.

The attendant bows to him, recognizing him with a greeting, then waves him in.

He scrubs down with a scentless bar of soap and shampoo that smells like tea leaves. Turning off the water, he turns around to leave and nearly jumps out of his skin.

In front of him, the doctor smiles languidly, which turns into a laugh as Akira tries to cover himself, a heavy blush sweeping across his exposed skin. His face, especially, is warm; uncomfortably so.

"I recall," She says, crossing her arms over her chest, "saying to you, 'come by next week for further examinations.'"

Her foot taps, she's still wearing shoes, tall heels with straps that snake up her legs that make her just taller than him; even if she feels much more so at the moment. "Yet, here we are, and no quiet little boys in my dungeon."

His hands don't move from his crotch; she wouldn't understand anyway, and his phone is still in the café; she's cornered him and seems to realize as much.

"See you in a few?" She asks, smiling wide enough to expose most of her teeth.

Akira nods quickly, shivering despite how warm he is, now cold water still dripping off of him and onto the floor. She hands him a towel and, once he takes it, she's gone. He sighs into the damp air, pushing his hair away as he knots the towel around his waist. He's careful to keep his back to the wall as he makes his way towards his belongings; less so when he has a shirt on. He does his best to scrub the dampness out of the ends of his hair before dumping the towel in the bin and walking out of the bath house.

He's certain it's cursed.

Morgana calls for him once he's on the steps, but doesn't move from the spot on the bed that he'd left him hours ago.

Grabbing his phone and tucking it into his sleeping pants, Akira heads back down the café's stairs, ignoring Morgana's call once more, and locks the café behind him.

The clinic is just as ominous as it had been the first time he'd been, the bright neon still disorienting as he pulled open the door that lead into a small waiting room.

The doctor was behind the stall once he walked in and slid open the glass separating them as soon as she spotted him. "Come into the examination room, sir." She offered with a wink. His cheeks caught fire once again, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, and did as she told him; walking across the small waiting room and wrenching open another door.

"So," She says, and Akira's realized he still hasn't caught her name, "How's my favorite patient?"

Favorite? He echoes, pulling his phone out of his pocket once he's seated on the exam table with the doctor in front of him.

"Fine." He says; guilt licks sickly in his stomach, sloshing painfully. Even when he's telling the truth, a part of him feels like there's no right answer.

"Good, good." She says softly, "But you'll have to excuse me for not believing you, shirt off—pants too." That smile is back, sharp and dangerous.

She doesn't offer the illusion of privacy as he strips to his underwear, just watches him with an unreadable expression until she pulls a file from her desk along with a clipboard.

"Turn your back towards me." She instructs. The paper covering the exam table crinkles loudly, the only noise in the otherwise quiet room, as he turns around, hooking his arms around his legs to expose his back to her.

Skin and nail brush down his back, making him shudder, following the lines of his scars where his skin is even more sensitive. "Doesn't seem to be much progress." She says quietly, "Have you been using the medicine I gave you?"

Akira swallows and his throat clicks in the silence where his answer should go, but he shakes his head eventually.

Her tongue pops, "Tsk tsk." Followed by a sigh, "What am I going to do with you?"

She turns him around again, using her hands instead of her words. She prods at his ribs, at his stomach and hips before taking his heartbeat. The metal is cool against his chest and he's all too aware of how fast his heart is beating.

"Are you at least eating proper meals?" He nods.

"At regular times?" Regular enough. Another nod.

"Three times a day?" Hesitates, but nods.

She frowns, as if smelling his lie.

"If you're going to lie to me, you should at least get good at it first." Her tone is grim, but she laughs afterwards, leaving him confused.

She tugs at his arm and he releases the tension in it enough for her prod at it, pressing the skin back and forth along his bones, "I don't think you'll grow much more." She says, serious once more, "But if you don't eat at regular times, multiple times a day, you'll face many more complications than what you have now."

The doctor pulls her hands away from him and picks up a pen from her desk to write down something on the file in her lap.

"What blood type are you?" She questions without looking up.

"AB." She snorts upon reading it, a smile masking the knowledgeable look in her eye.

"Two-faced, shy, and mysterious." The doctor delineates, continuing to write. "Just about sums you up, doesn't it? Then again, I don't think I ever bothered learning your name, did I?"

He debates leaving out his family name, knowing it would only make it that much easier for her to abuse her power over him. "Kurusu Akira."

She mumbles his name under her breath, then continues to write, "Well, Akira-chan, I really don't want to get the police involved, but you're not giving me a lot of options. You'll be a danger to yourself, no matter what your parents did to you, if you keep up like this."

His skin prickles at the mention of the police, his face heats up at the use of his given name, and his stomach clenches at the casual mention of his parents.

He feels like throwing up.

Then she sighs, "The police being here would be an inconvenience to me, too, you know. So do us both a favor and start eating. Take the medicine I give you. Don't you want to get better?" Her last statement hits like a trucks; leaves him raw and uncomfortable. He should want to, but something is holding him back.

"Keeping a regular schedule is supposed to help with eating disorders." She advises.

"I don't have an eating disorder." He interjects.

She shrugs, "Your parents starved you, didn't they?"

Akira nods.

"And they're not here, are they?"

He shakes his head, a stray drip of water drops onto his nose.

Smiling, she continues, "But you're still not eating."

"I forget." Empathy washes away the smugness and the smile that had been built up in her expression.

"I-I see…" Silence, then a sigh, "Do you have friends? Any friends?"

He hesitates, ends up nodding.

"Tell them to remind you if you can't remember." He doubts he could find the means to bring something like this up to Sakamoto or Takamaki, but he ends up nodding anyway, doing his best to look engaged.

She sighs again, putting down the clipboard in her hands as she does so, "Put your clothes back on and drink this." In her hand is a clear cup that is stained orange from what's inside.

He follows her first instruction, pulling on his sleeping clothes and embracing their comfort for a moment before he can look at the doctor again.

"What is it?" He questions, taking the cup in hand when she pushes it into his.

She taps her chin, "Think of it as compensation, for keeping this under wraps." A wink.

He swallows it. Feels it burn and soothe, only to burn again.

Unconscious, he remembers throwing up, then gasps to life with an intense sense of vertigo as he pulls himself back up.

The doctor is writing again, "Twenty-six minutes. Vomited twice. Vitals unchanged." She murmurs along with strokes of her pen.

"What was that?" He asks again, all but shoving his screen onto her clipboard.

"Special project." She answers, "A new type of homemade medicine; you can go now, by the way."

He doesn't move. "What's your name?" Akira's not sure why he's curious.

She glances down at the screen, pen paused, then up at him with another smile.

"Takemi Tae." She keeps writing, "You'd know that if you read the label on the medicine I gave you."