Chapter 20

The man continues talking down at him and with him sitting there on the floor, feeling embarrassed and confused, Akira feels like the situation is almost familiar until another man- one much older than either of them- steps in beside the first and joins in staring down at him.

"Yusuke-kun," The older man says, not turning away from him at all as he addresses- presumably- the other man, "I'd began wondering where you might have wandered off to, you know that we had a prior engagement to attend to with the exhibit..."

"Yes, Sensei, of course." The other says, also still staring down at him. "I had every intention of being there to help with the preparations, but my passion seems to have lead me astray..."

"Passion?" The man questions, Akira watches as his feet shuffle in place, the shifting of his weight under the long, concealing robes that he's wearing. "You mean to tell me that this person has sparked your artistry, Yusuke-kun?"

"Yes, Sensei." The younger stranger says, "My next piece, it has to be with him as my model, no other will do. No other has chilled me to my core, but, at the same time, set my fingers ablaze with such passion." The man's hands move rapidly while he explains himself, but eventually still, extending a piece of paper towards the older man, who unfolds it.

"Remarkable..." The sound makes his shoulder blades tense back towards his spine and he does his best to curl in on himself.

It's like they've forgotten I'm here... The feeling of being talked around is familiar, but unsavory, especially when he has no way to excuse himself without being rude; they'd probably just chase him down anyway.

"Well, Yusuke-kun, I approve of your choice in subjects, of course." The older one says, folding the piece of paper back up and tucking it into one of the folds on his formal robes, "But I still require your assistance in setting up the exhibit."

"Of course, Sensei."

The older man walks off, but the younger stranger doesn't follow like Akira had been expecting him to and when he looks up, he finds the man still staring down at him. He swipes a strand of hair, a loose lock in hair that's so black it's midnight, and tucks it behind his ear, exposing another icy blue eye to him and reminding Akira that it had been still raining, and still kind of is. He can't read any emotion behind the stranger's eyes now that they're both exposed, nor any intentions as the man rips another piece of paper from the notebook he's carrying and bends down to hand it to him. Akira gets an extended look at his face when he does this, but finds himself looking towards the ground between then- or what's left of it- and blindly reaching for the offered paper.

If the stranger finds anything about his behavior strange, and since Akira finds the entire situation quite bizarre, he figures the other would definitely feel it as well, he doesn't say anything more than, "I will leave you with my contact information, and Madarame-sensei's as well, I look forward to cooperating with you..." The way the man trails off has Akira looking back up through frizzy bangs, just enough to see the stranger's eyes go wide for a moment, before he folds forward from his standing position; his hair brushes past in a floppy arc and flicks stray droplets of water down onto him and Morgana, who's concealed between them.

"My apologizes, I hadn't yet introduced myself. My name is Kitagawa Yusuke, I'm studying at Kosei High's Fine-Arts division as a second-student. I'm sure you already recognized him but, that was Madarame-sensei, he is my mentor in my dreams of becoming an artist."

Akira nods dutifully when Kitagawa stops talking, but doesn't respond otherwise.

Is he really the same age as me? When he takes in the stranger's stony face and eloquent phrasing, Akira has a hard time believing that Kitagawa was anywhere in his teens.

Should I know him? Part of him asks as an afterthought and, not for the first time, feeling completely ignorant about the situation. The guilt of not knowing makes him almost tempted to search through the crowd for the older man to see if he might recognize him on a second glance.

He realizes then, after an extended silence in which the stranger stood over him, that he was expected to introduce himself in return. Out of reflex- and some embarrassment- he grabs at a lock of his own hair and starts twisting it beneath his fingers; it blocked off half his ability to respond, but his other- still free- hand lay limp in his lap with the paper that Kitagawa had handed him.

"And you are?" Kitagawa questions.

Akira shrugs, not sure how he should be reacting at all.

"Yes, yes, I suppose it's better if I don't know, it may impact my subjectivity if I form an attachment to you before I take you upon my canvas..." He says, then leans down until they're sharing eye levels. Something about Kitagawa's words, or the intense stare he's receiving draw a heat that sparks across his neck and settles into his lungs. He feels stupid, and when Kitagawa hands over even more pieces of paper, he fumbles with them until they fall carelessly into his lap.

Kitagawa doesn't seem to notice how his words had affected him, and Akira's not sure if that's a good thing or not, but he is grateful for it.

"Two weeks from now, Sensei is holding a gallery for his newest pieces not far from here, we can further discuss the details at that location." It's the last thing that Kitagawa says to him before walking off.

Akira tenses for a moment, focusing his attention into his vision until the world erupts in a blue sheen. When he glances around, he doesn't see any new threads ejecting from him, or from the crowd. The sound of Morgana unzipping and climbing out from his schoolbag are sudden enough to break his concentration and the world shifts back into the dark atmosphere of the train station around them.

"That was... highly suspicious." The cat admonishes instantly, staring up at him with a narrowed look, "And disturbing to listen to."

Akira nods in agreement, flicking through the wad of papers that the man had handed to him, all but the first one that Kitagawa had handed him were tickets to the art gallery Kitagawa had mentioned.

At least twenty... He notes, tossing them into the bag that Morgana had vacated.

Was that a marketing tactic? If it was, it wasn't very effective.

"Does the name Madarame sound familiar to you? I don't recognize it at all."

He shakes his head, not looking down at Morgana as he does so, even when he feels grateful that he wasn't completely alone in this, even if Morgana had been hiding the entire time he was dealing with two- potentially dangerous- strangers. Still, something about the entire situation didn't seem natural to him, even after he collected Morgana and boarded the train to Yongen-Jaya; nobody had ever looked at him twice in his entire life, now someone wanted to paint him, had spent an unknown amount of time sketching him while Akira had been passed out against the station's entrance, and invited him to an art exhibit all in the same minute.

A famous someone, apparently. Part of him filled in unhelpfully, though not even that modifier of the truth impacted his decision at all. He had no intention of contacting Kitagawa or Madarame, and even less intention to be studied while he was unconscious in the future. He'd have to make sure he made it back to Leblanc- or Yongen-Jaya at least- after they explored Mementos, or anywhere else in Mementos.

Nobody looked in his direction when he entered Leblanc, even when the bell chimed noisily from above him. Something about the lack of reaction soothed the uneasy feeling he'd had since waking up at the station. When he sat at the bar, Sakura-san looked up at him from behind a book and he instantly regretted his lapse in judgement.

"Hungry?" His caretaker mumbles so thickly that it takes him a few seconds to decipher, then another minute or so to determine an answer.

His stomach was uncomfortable, like it was grabbing at either end of itself and squeezing down; hunger was an undeniable conclusion, considering he'd thrown up breakfast and barely ate of the food they spent almost thirty thousand yen on. Leblanc wasn't not fancy, but nothing about it made him want to scrub his own filth off in a vain attempt at belonging.

His insides growled at the prospect of Sakura-san's food, as well, unlike the thought of lobster tails or high-grade beef.

Akira nodded. Sakura-san nods in return.

"Just hurry up, then head straight upstairs. School starts tomorrow, doesn't it?" His guardian asks, setting down a plate and glass in front of him.

He nods again, tucking into his meal, taking care not to eat too quickly and repeating his earlier mistake; he doesn't eat a lot of it either, just enough to make the primal part of him quiet down. The curry's warmth is enough to placate the strung-up muscles in his shoulders, enough that his heart stops racing even when he can barely keep his eyes open. The rest of the meal is washed down the drain, then Akira heads back upstairs, depositing Morgana on the floor halfway to the attic's bed. He barely finds the energy to plug his phone in and take off his glasses before he collapses onto the mattress.

He's asleep before the dust can resettle around him; dreamless and unaware. Both sensations are welcome in a way that keeps the spring chill from seeping down into his skin.

Waking up, he hadn't expected the blinding orange that painted Leblanc's attic. He'd only meant to rest until the cafe had closed for the night, then go the bathhouse. Instead, he was sweating in the morning glow under a dusty comforter.

Akira turned off his alarm, then swipes off the one that he'd obviously missed through the night. There's a few other notifications from his teammates that he allows himself to ignore until he's brushed his teeth and washed his face. Once he's seated at Leblanc's bar- and in his spot- he manages his phone with one hand and a spoon with the other, taking breaks in between to sip at the glass of water between them. The majority of the messages are Ryuji and Ann talking back and forth in their Phantom Thieves chat, so he doesn't respond to any of their comments towards each other while he finishes his breakfast.

Sakura-san doesn't say anything when he leaves the cafe, even when Morgana's face ends up sticking out in plain sight as he's carrying the cat out of the cafe.

He figures it was going to be a decent morning, at least.

Ryuji was waiting outside of the school gates when Akira was walking up to them and spotted him almost immediately as he turned around the corner. The blond ended up meeting him halfway to said gates and threw a heavy arm over his shoulder; Akira was confused by the display, but grateful, at least, that it didn't turn out to be a repeat of the last time Sakamoto had tried the same thing. He supposed he should be proud of himself, at least a bit, but the sensation was more shameful than indulgent.

"Ya find anything yet?" Sakamoto ends up saying by way of greeting.

Akira shakes his head; he hadn't even thought about starting to look for a target, even when he vowed that he was ready.

"Same."

It's the only conversation they have before Sakamoto splits off, heading in the opposite direction once they reach the second floor.

Kawakami is waiting at the front of the classroom and he almost doesn't register the information in time before he narrowly steps around her, but when Akira turns around, heart racing, to apologize for almost running into her, she isn't even looking in his direction, and doesn't even seem to recognize that he's standing there.

He takes his seat, not sure if it's appropriate to feel as guilty as he does.

Takamaki turns around in her chair to face him, "Morning."

All at once, the classroom around them shifts. He doesn't have to glance around to see that their entire class is staring in their direction, staring down Takamaki for engaging with him and definitely gauging how he's going to respond. Whispers about his violent tendencies made his cheeks flush in shame, his probation was still a sore spot after so many weeks.

Carefully, Akira nods his return of the sentiment, feeling stuff and more like an outsider than he had in weeks. Once the rumors about Kamoshida had died down, his classmates attentions towards him had dropped significantly, with Takamaki and Mishima being the exceptions; all of his progress at fading into the background had dissipated into nothing, despite his best efforts.

Plucking at his hair, he chances a glance towards Takamaki, but finds her still sitting sideways in her chair and still leaning an elbow onto his desk. Her face is smooth and unreadable, more so than usual. In all, she doesn't seem affected in the slightest at anything their classmates are saying.

Then again, it's not like they're talking about her... He wonders if that makes it better or worse.

"Alright, class." Kawakami calls over the buzzing, "As you've probably heard, all gym classes for next week are cancelled due to what transpired at the assembly before the break. Instead, we're supposed to be offering... student guidance and silent study." She explains, reading off of a clipboard in one hand.

"Since the police are still investigating Kamoshida-sensei, it would be in all of your best interests to not go around talking about the incident." She sighs lowly, looking down at the floor in front of her. Akira watches her hands clench around the clipboard she's holding. "As a teacher... I'm ashamed that I hadn't noticed how a student- students, were suffering like that. I'm not making excuses or defending Kamoshida when I say that he seemed like a normal teacher. That said, student counseling will be held in the faculty office for anyone who feels they need it."

Kawakamki sighs again, slapping the clipboard onto her desk, only to pick up a textbook right next to it.

Inside of his desk, he can barely make out the sound of Morgana mumbling to himself, something that Akira can't quite catch.

He zones out of the lecture as soon as it begins, watching his teacher, then the next, and the next, without hearing anything they say, replacing their monologues with one of his own.

Should I go? He ends up asking, not for the first time that day.

"Why bother." Comes the near-immediate reply from Arsene, leaning into Akira's presence with his own.

Akira shrugs, unsure if Arsene can feel or see his reaction; it feels like answering himself more than another being entirely.

He decides not to go, fairly certain nobody on the faculty would appreciate his presence there when there were students who'd been dealing with Kamoshida for years longer than he had. He wonders if Suzui would have gone if she hadn't been the precipitating incident; then he wonders if Takamaki would go, or Sakamoto, or Mishima.

"Are you planning on going?" Takamaki asks as soon as the final bell chimes out, Akira almost doesn't hear her over the sound and she starts to repeat her question before he works up the wits to respond.

Akira shakes his head, then shrugs, stacking notebooks into his schoolbag, then, more discreetly, Morgana as well.

"Y-yeah, I figured, boys are... yeah..."

He's not sure what to make of the statement, or if he's just not hearing it properly due to all the attention they seem to be gathering just from Takamaki talking in his direction.

"I think I might go."

Akira nods when she looks him in the eye.

"I've been feeling so anxious lately, you know? With this whole stalker thing and Shiho still recovering, I think talking about it might help or something."

He nods again. Something in his arm twitches, like it wants to reach out to her. And, when he thinks about it, he kind of does; he just doesn't know how.

"Besides, if I'm not at my best, our team will suffer and-" She doesn't say anything after that, not for a long moment, "I just... don't want to let you down, or Ryuji. Which... sounds kind of stupid, since I've only just met you; but I know you're strong, and so is Ryuji, and Mona too... I just... I dunno."

Akira's head feels light and his chest is on fire, but he nods anyway when Takamaki looks back at him, studying him under a critical eye until she finally gathers her things and walks off.

Mishima approaches next, not waiting until Takamaki had fully left before the man is taking up her spot in front of him.

"Takamaki-chan, huh?" Mishima says with a smile and a blink of one eye, "She's cute." He adds on a moment later, though Akira has no idea why.

He shrugs, leaning back into his seat.

"A-anyways..." Mishima says, shrinking down into Takamaki's seat in front of him and turning around in like she had, "I was looking through the forums- and I updated the criteria with the names like you said- and I found an interesting case. A stalker! Can you believe that?"

The words makes him recoil.

If Akira were able to speak, he'd mention that the other boy looks almost pleased with the information; that the existence of a stalker pleased him in some way. But, as he was, Akira was unable to project such a thought, even when his fingers itched to do so. That itch died down when the other boy handed hi a piece of paper though, which he supposed was a good thing in consideration of what Mishima knew about the Phantom Thieves.

Unfolding the paper, he let his eyes scan over the printed out image of Mishima's website, a singular post took up the entire page. Sentence after sentence of concern about a deranged stalker following her to and from work, contacting her at strange times; Akira almost wondered if Ann had posted this and Mishima had somehow drawn the connection between the two.

A name was at the bottom.

Nakanohara Natsuhiko.

Below that was a phone number, written faintly in pencil.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Mishima asks once Akira folds the paper back down and shoves it into his own pocket.

He shrugs, if Nakanohara had a palace, or exited in Mementos, they'd be able to handle it, but Akira had no way of knowing that at the moment.

Mishima's expression falters, then recalibrates into another friendly smile, as if they weren't discussing illegal activity and stalkers, "Ah well, I tried my best, I'll keep looking for other cases that might need your guys' attention. A-and my phone number is on the bottom in case you want another suggestion or something, just don't text me before nine or my mom gets mad that I'm not studying, okay?"

Akira nods once again, then watches as Mishima bolts from the classroom.

"What a weird guy..." He hears Morgana mutter as he pulls out his phone.

"Mishima thinks he found a target."

"Yeah?" Comes Sakamoto's near-instant reply, right before he slides the classroom's door open with a call of his name.

Akira flinches at the first noise, but settles down by the time Ryuji crosses the empty classroom and climbs onto his desk; Morgana pounces out of the still open bag on the desk, narrowly avoiding being squished.

"So who is it?" Ryuji questions lowly, crossing his arms over his chest, "Saw Mishima skippin' down the hallway before I came in, lookin' pretty smug with himself."

Handing over the paper Mishima had handed to him, Akira does his best to gauge Ryuji's reaction as he reads over the forum post.

"You think this might be like, a set-up or somethin'?" Ryuji asks.

The question catches him off guard, actually; he hadn't considered the possibility at all really. Mishima already knew, or at least confirmed, that he was part of the Phantom Thieves.

Why wouldn't he go to the principal or the police then? Akira couldn't come up with a valid defense as to why Mishima would start a forum to try and help them, not one that he could fit on a dry-erase board or otherwise.

"If he already knew that we were the Phantom Thieves, why go through the trouble of setting us up instead of telling someone?" Morgana asks, all but voicing the thoughts he couldn't collect.

"Maybe he wanted proof?"

"It's not like anyone can see what we're doing in the MetaVerse, Ryuji."

Ryuji shrugs, then looks down at him.

Akira bites at his lip, another bad habit, trying to think through both sides of the argument and determining risk.

"Why don't we just see if this guy has a palace before we do anything?" Morgana suggests.

Nakanohara doesn't have a palace, but he does exist in Mementos.

"Lame... I thought we were goin' after a big shot, not some loser who can't take a hint." Ryuji comments with a sigh.

Morgana pulls himself up taller on the desk underneath them, "You guys are still new at this, think of it as some additional training. Besides, I thought you wanted to get rid of all the corrupted hearts, not just the big shots?"

Sakamoto scratches at his cheek, looking chastised before turning to him, "I guess but... You know what I'm talking about, right, Akira?"

He nods, despite being the contrary.

Sakamoto smiles anyway, unseeing or unwilling to notice his confusion, "Right on!"

Below them, Morgana sighs, crawling back into the schoolbag, "We should at least ask what Lady Ann thinks about this guy."

"On the forum? Or someone he knows?" Ann ends up asking once he, Sakamoto, and Morgana are outside the school gates. Ryuji answers the question in his place, then the one after, and Takamaki agrees in not so many words before logging off.

"Tomorrow, then?" Ryuji ends up sending while saying it out loud.

Akira nods in assent, Sakamoto smiles back at him before they separate at the station, and Takamaki replies that evening while he's at the bathhouse and not looking at his phone.

The entrance to Nakanohara's budding palace is splintered between an arcing intersection that Akira almost misses the first time he drives through the bend, but the glowing entrance that curls the metal rails lining the floor calls his attention like a physical presence. Not dissimilar to the feeling he gets when Arsene is making himself known, and the sensation has him flicking his head to the side in time to see the portal just before he twists Morgana's wheel in the opposite direction. He guides the van through the warped train tracks silently and parks just inside of the entrance; a useless gesture since Morgana shifts back into his natural form without warning, sending the room into a bleak darkness without the presence of his teammate's headlights. Everything is an outline, except for the distinct glowing eyes floating in the middle of the room. He barely makes out the shape of them between the wrapping, rolling fog that further encases the figure in darkness.

Panther calls out her persona, who casts the room in an orange and red glow by raising her hand. The spark of fire in Carmen's hand flickers against Mementos' endless breeze, but allows them all to see the figure standing in the center of the room.

Nakanohara is so ordinary looking that Akira wonders if they'd managed to stumble into the wrong place, the man is standing under Carmen's glow appears unfazed by their entrance. Instead, the man tugs at the ends of the sleeves on his expensive looking suit and remains still otherwise; if it weren't for the glowing, malicious gleam in his eyes, barely concealed under a neat looking and well-kept bowl cut, and the menacing smirk that the man adopts, Akira would have considering turning around. The presence of those things made him want to run, instead, to get away from this man as quickly as his legs could carry him.

His legs wouldn't move, but his knees threatened to buckle.

Akira had never been good at reading people just from one look, but staring into the feral expression that Nakanohara had adopted, he knew, without a doubt, that this man was a danger to all of them; Takamaki worse than others, possibly.

Panther steps forward, the heels of her costume clacking noisily in the otherwise empty area, approaching the yellow-eyed man. Camen follow just behind her, floating just over one shoulder, leaving the rest of them in the dark and casting more and more light on Nakanohara's snarling teeth. Morgana leaps forward as well, hastily stepping in front of Panther before she reaches their target.

"Who're you?" A voice calls out, gruff and snide; almost identical to how Kamoshida had first spoken to him and Ryuji when they'd been captured.

His legs move on his own, dragging him into the epicenter of Camen's fire where the other three were already waiting.

"Are you that stalker?" Panther calls out, much louder than necessary.

Nakanohara doesn't react.

"Haven't you ever stopped to considered how your ex feels?" She tries instead, still loud enough that her voice bounces off the walls, but not loud enough to drown out Nakanohara's voice when he begins muttering.

"She's mine... Mine... Mine!"

"Hey!" The cement floor beneath them shivers with a loud crack, like glass suddenly exploding. Akira jumps, then glances over and around Carmen's skirt and Panther's form. Skull is crouched over, bright yellow hands extended outwards, still recoiling from having just smashed his pipe into the floor in front of him.

His brain stabs against his skull in rebellion and his heart threatens to hammer out of his chest; he'd thought he'd managed to get over this stupid fear.

"Can you quit yammering and quit stalking your ex, she dumped your ass, dude!" Skull calls out. Akira watches, half in terror and half in awe, as the blond pulls his pipe away from the floor, revealing a circular hole in the floor. Cracks splinter off from the impact, spraying plumes of dust into the air that sweep around Nakanohara and print grey splotches onto his suit.

The man doesn't seem to take notice, only glares out at four of them with his glowing eyes and stamps his foot on the ground. "She's my property! I can do whatever I want with her!"

Panther recoils from the shadow, taking a step back, but Carmen's flame grows too bright for Akira to see what expression she's making.

"You're sick..." Nakanohara laughs, a high-pitched cackling that sends another uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

"What?" The man asks, taking a step forward, "It's not like she didn't treat me like a plaything. What's wrong with me doing the same?"

Skull growls, "You can't treat someone like shit just 'cause they did something to you, you moron!"

Akira thinks of Kamoshida for an instant, wondering if Sakamoto would take a pipe to his legs if given the opportunity.

"We're gonna change the hearts of all the bastards like you." He promises.

"Like me?" Nakanohara echoes, "There's millions of people worse than me, why am I being singled out? What about Madarame, huh? He stole everything from me! Where were you when that happened, huh? Answer me!"

He recoils at the name.

It couldn't be.

"What the hell..." Skull voices.

Nakanohara shakes his head, then explodes into a black mist. His entire form falls to the ground like rain water and sits in a puddle on the cement floor before shooting upwards like an explosion. In a flicker of blackened fire, a shadow emerges from the onyx-tinted mess. It cackles maniacally at them and rushes through the air with a flap of its wings.

She barely manages to dodge a swipe of its claws as she falls towards the ground, and Carmen retaliates quickly, flicking orbs of flame in the shadow's direction. It manages to dodge each attack, laughing out in a shrill voice as it does so.

Captain Kidd crowds the room in a flicker of flame, his boat nearly reaching from one of the corridor to the other as the skeletal captain aboard it bombards the air in front of them with a hail of bullets and spears of lighting that fork off several times before splattering towards the ground. The smell of gunpowder fills the air, thick and acrid with the smell of fire. Lances of lighting continue to spark against the ground, exploding the terrain in a hail of cement shrapnel create a cloud of dust that carries along on Memento's breeze.

The shadow emerges from the mess uninjured despite the chaos, though considerably darker than before now that it's covered in dust and flecks of dark cement.

Morgana calls out his persona with a heavy gale, blasting bursts of air towards the shadow with a flick of its blade; he cries out when the thing manages to dodge every attempt at hitting it.

In the middle of its taunting laugh, Panthers whip flickers through the air, barely visible when their light source keeps flashing from one end of the room to the other. The whip looks like it's about to connect, but the monster flips over Panther's arcing weapon and lands in the same spot it had been occupying before.

"Uh, dude?" Skull calls out over the maelstrom of cannon fire, explosions, and lighting. "Joker!"

Akira flinches at the call and looks towards his teammates, guilty that he'd just been standing there like an idiot.

Arsene bursts out of him, escaping from within without him feeling it. His persona laughs, deeply and surly, before collapsing his wings together, sending a black gust towards the shadow in front of them. It manages to dodge it, even with a blast of fire coming from another angle.

"Fucking stand still!" Skull calls out again, throwing his pipe at the dodging shadow. It evades once again, leaving the pipe to clatter against the far wall.

"Tricky one..." Arsene analyzes, flicking out a blackened fire of his own using only his finger tips.

"We need to slow him down somehow!" Morgana orders, attempting to nail Nakanohara's shadow with a splattering of marbles from his slingshot.

Akira gets an idea only after Arsene is sucked back into him, replaced by another tamed persona before he consciously thinks of doing so. Jack Frost appears in front of him, chilling the air around him instantly and somehow freezing the sweat that had been sliding down his forehead. Jack Frost stomps his foot on the ground and bright blue light dances across the floor, encompassing the entire floor in a flat expanse of ice.

The shadow jumps back in attempt to dodge his attack, but slips as soon as his feet touch the ground. The darkened monster slides backwards, flailing his arms in attempt to fix himself to no avail. Nakanohara's shadow crashes back into the far wall, its head meeting the textured concrete with a sickening crunch.

Akira hesitates for a second, then rushes forward, unaffected by the slippery texture on the floor somehow, and stops in front of the shadow with his gun out.

"You're all idiots!" It cries, thick trails of red flow down its face, dislodging the dust that had been building up from their combined attacks. "You all make me sick! She's mine to do as I want!"

He pulls the trigger.

Nakanohara's shadow explodes in a splash of gore. Akira thinks he's going to be sick, his stomach churning painfully before he can force himself to look away.

The real Nakanohara appears behind them, missing his smile and yellowed eyes, but trails of liquid are slithering down his face just like his shadow.

"Y-you were right about me..." He says without preamble, not looking at any of them, "I was wrong. I'm sorry, please forgive me. That evil teacher used me, then threw me onto the streets... That's when I met her..."

"Evil teacher?" Panther questions, stepping into the bright glow of Nakanohara's true form.

"Madarame... Madarame-sensei..." The guy sniffles, "I just didn't want to be thrown out again... alone again..."

Akira's gut squirms, uncomfortable.

Nakanohara steps forward, "You change hearts, right?"

"That's right..." Panther confirms.

The man drops to his knees in front of him, appearing humbled, "I- I beg of you... change Madarame's heart... B-before more people fall victim to him."

His glow, and form, disappear before any of them can answer. A small wallet and a silver necklace stacked on top of each other are what had remained of Nakanohara.

Akira picks them up, shoving both items into his pocket without looking at them.

"W-we should go..." Morgana urges, "Before this bud collapses."

They escape without another word, and Akira drives them back to the entrance of Mementos, avoiding any of the lingering shadows that were in their way. For once, he manages to be the first one out of the MetaVerse, and steps onto the platform without looking back. The exhaustion hits him like a solid force, weighing down on his bones like he's been filled with cement. He wobbles on his feet and considers sitting down, but thinks better of it while he waits for his teammates to reappear; it takes longer than expected and he wonders if he'd ran out as opposed to walking out like he thought.

Sakamoto is the first out, followed by Morgana and Takamaki. None of them look happy.

"That was..." Ann starts up, only to trail off.

"Uncomfortable?" Sakamoto finishes, dragging a hand through his hair, flecks of sweat bounce off of him and onto the floor.

"Yeah... kinda. I'm gonna go, but... good work I guess." Takamaki leaves with that, not saying goodbye or waving back at them.

"It takes some getting used to." Morgana ends up saying, his blue eyes are facing the crowd that Ann had disappeared into, "Phantom Thievery, I mean."

Akira shrugs one shoulder, nodding, knowing that Morgana wasn't looking up at him to see either.

"That was... kind of brutal, dude." Ryuji comments.

Akira looks up at the teammate, expecting the blond to be looking towards Morgana, but instead is surprised to find Ryuji's dark eyes locked onto him. He looks away before he can help it.

"Ann stopped me before we left, talkin' about how you kinda, ya know, shot that guy's shadow in the face..." Ryuji explains, "She got pretty freaked out, then left before I could say anything."

Brutal? If the shadow had been a person, he could understand, but shadows weren't people- from what Morgana had said- they were the hearts of people who were corrupted. Not to mention that it had freaked him out as well, just not to the extent that Takamaki had felt, apparently.

He ends up nodding in reply to the revelation, but doesn't pull his phone out to properly respond, unsure if he could actually manage to coordinate his fingers in such a way at the moment.

Ryuji nods too, Akira barely catches the bobbing of his chin as he does so.

"See ya."

Akira rides back to LeBlanc in silence, holding Morgana in his lap until they make it back to the cafe. Even then, he only slings his bag over his shoulder long enough to navigate through the cafe and into the attic before he's clutching the feline against his chest once again.

Victory tasted like gunpowder and smelled like blood.

Was all of this still worth it? He couldn't help but wonder.