Chapter 21
When Akira wakes up the next morning to the sound of his alarm, he immediately considers rolling over and pretending that it was Sunday instead of Wednesday. Instead, he slings his feet over the edge of the bed and roots his feet on the attic's chilly floorboards, causing a shudder to trek up his spine and making him think of Nakanohara's shadow from the day before. Everything seems to remind of the MetaVerse lately, though he supposed it was better than being reminded of the world that wasn't strictly cognitive.
Akira hurries in getting downstairs and into his uniform, wondering if he'd be expelled on the spot for being late for a second time. As ridiculous as it is to think about, he can still feel his heart hammer with anxiety at the prospect; getting expelled for being late would almost be on par for normal recently.
His stomach cramps rhythmically as he passes Leblanc's kitchen for the second time, having had to return upstairs for his school bag- and Morgana- but he doesn't pause in walking towards the cafe's exit with the cat concealed under his shoulder.
Sakura-san doesn't stop him today. He thinks he should find it strange. He also supposes that he didn't really have time to question it, deciding instead, to remain grateful for the small mercy as he walks as quickly as he can to the train station, taking care to navigate with Morgana's safety in mind; as well as his own, though that was more secondary since his leg was still burning from falling into the street the previous week and his eyes had already started throbbing from behind his glasses from the stress.
From what he can tell, he's the last to arrive, and keeps his head down as he slides into his seat. Taking out his notes sounds like a thunderstorm and he feels like melting under the desk before anything more awkward can happen. Nobody stares in his direction though; when he takes a careful glance to his right, taking in his classmates reactions, he doesn't find any of their usual stares. He watches, transfixed, as each of his classmates flicks through notebooks. He can't help but hope that his notoriety was starting to fall back into the slump it had following Kamoshida's confession.
"I'm sure all of your other teachers have made you aware of this," Kawakami starts, pulling a stack of papers from her desk, along with a clipboard, "But mid-term testing begins today. And well... if you haven't been studying, then good luck to you."
Akira's heart sinks into stomach, along with every other organ in his body.
"I'd been hoping, in light of the recent developments, that we'd give all of you more time to process and prepare for your exams but..." She sighs, folding one arm over the other, "I'm just a teacher, so it's not really my place to say. Take one and pass the rest back."
Takamaki's hand holds over his shoulder, handing him a stack of papers without looking at him.
It takes him a minute to actually process what's happening, but he finally grasps the pile and slides one onto his desk before slowly offering the last one to the student behind him.
The room goes quiet after the shuffling of papers and Akira swipes his notes off of his desk and tries his best to maneuver them around Morgana, who's taking up most of the space inside his desk.
Despite the initial shock and suddenness of the situation, the test is pretty easy; his focus falls into place like the last piece of a puzzle being slapped together. Each of the questions were nearly word-for-word of things Kawakamki had gone over in class. The essays were more difficult, but at least there wasn't an oral examination.
He finishes the first half of the test ten minutes before lunch is supposed to start, and that time is spent, gratefully, resting his head on his desk and zoning out.
Morgana suggests the roof just before the next bell rings across the school, and Akira nods into the folds of his arms and sneaks Morgana back into his bag before stopping at the school store first; his stomach feels permanently clenched from stress and hunger and he doesn't stop to read any of the labels before pointing to one of the bins on the other side of the counter. The student looks at him for a moment and Akira almost apologizes for his offense but she offers him his total instead of saying anything else. He quickly pays and walks off, feeling slightly embarrassed, for whatever reason.
Before climbing past the third floor and onto the roof, he glances over his shoulders in both directions before climbing back up. Morgana leaps onto the ground with a crunch of stray leaves, something he hears rather than notices as he closes the door gently behind them. He follows his teammate after, though, letting the cat guide him to the edge of the imposing gate and sitting in front of it; the spot looks over part of the city and, if he were standing, part of the courtyard where Suzui had fallen.
Akira pulls half-squished food from his bag and starts dividing it up, contemplating if he should just start bringing Morgana's canned food with him to school. The rattling slam of the door is sudden enough that his extended hand jerks in place, sending Morgana's half onto the concrete between them, narrowly missing a small puddle from a curve in the roof. He's hesitant to pick it up, despite his luck, and offers Morgana the other half of the mystery meal before turning towards the source of the noise while his chest constricts painfully. He'd been near certain that nobody had seen him sneak up here.
"Yo." Sakamoto calls, halfway to where he and Morgana are sitting despite the obvious limp that encumbers the man's speed.
The blond hisses as he sits down, kicking his legs out and letting out a airy sigh as he leans against the gate that circles the roof; Akira thinks of the trains at the station when he does this.
"Whaddya got?" Ryuji ends up asking as he pulls items from his school blazer's pockets and putting them to one side of him.
"The sign said it was an... apple something? I couldn't really see it." Morgana ends up answering for them, "It's got bread in it."
"Wednesday's apple day." Ryuji says in way of reply, "Those are pretty shitty, but Ann used to get 'em everyday back in middle school. Like clockwork, ya know?"
Why did he ask if he knows what they have... Akira can't help but wonder, folding one of the wrappers and sticking into his unzipped bag.
Akira doesn't know, but when Ryuji stares at him for a long moment, he bobs his head like he understands.
"She used to be chubby, too." He continues, grabbing at his own stomach, "Not like, big big, but she definitely had a gut."
"R-really?" Morgana whispers, then pulls himself upwards with a tilt of his chin and a scoff, "I- I mean, you should never talk about a lady's weight! It's ungentlemanly to do so."
"Yeah, whatever." Is all Ryuji says in reply, popping open the tab on a can and taking a sip of whatever's inside. "Were you a fat kid, Akira?"
Akira blinks, and feels his fingers climbing into his hair before he can stop them.
He shrugs in answer, not really sure where he'd fall, exactly, on that scale. He's still coming to the slow-realization that not all upbringings were quite like his own, even if he and his teammates shared similar experiences.
"Figures. You look like a coupla twigs taped together." Ryuji smiles, "I'm kinda jealous, ever since I stopped runnin', I been gaining weight ever since. But since we're, ya know, phantom thieves now, I figure now's the best time to get back into shape."
Akira nods quietly.
"An' there's this gym that's been opened up in Shibuya since like, last month, wanna check it out sometime?"
Morgana pipes up before Akira can consider a response.
"Training would be good for the mind and the body. And I need to keep in shape for when I get my real body back..."
Ryuji snorts, sending a spray of crumbs onto his uniform. "I don't think they allow cats in the gym."
"I am not a cat!" Morgana snaps back, also sending a small spray of crumbs onto the floor, along with a small piece of apple. "Besides, don't you think we should be looking for our next target instead of trying to become a meat-headed thug?"
"Oh yeah!" Sakamoto's eyes widen, "I been lookin' around on the forum and on the 'net, but there's no teachers named Madarame mentioned at all."
Morgana wilts a bit, his posture sinking until he's almost curled in on himself, "That is strange."
"You think that guy was legit? I mean, he was a shadow after all."
Akira remains quiet, not offering a reply when the blond glances in his direction.
"He seemed sincere, though, even after you all defeated his shadow." Morgana speculates.
Ryuji shrugs one shoulder. Some of the crumbs that had been occupying his uniform tumble onto the concrete in an a messy cascade. The blond doesn't seem to notice, and cocks one hand into the air as he starts jumps back into the conversation.
"I guess so... As much as I hate to say it, though, we should probably wait until after this week before we group up and find this guy." Ryuji groans, then mutters, "Tests are such a pain in the ass..."
Morgana nods, and Akira inclines his own head in agreement.
"Just remember that phantom thieves are strong in mind and in body, Ryuji." The cat advises.
Ryuji groans again, throwing his head back until the spikes slap through the small openings in the gate and making it rattle, "I know, I know. Now you sound like my ma. 'Sides, if my grades started improving so suddenly, wouldn't that be even more suspicious?" He questions, leaning to the side until he's staring at the two of them.
Akira shrugs.
The blond snorts, "Guess I better go, then, study up for the other half and bullshit my way through the essay questions."
He cringes, but waves his teammate off regardless.
"Good luck, Ryuji!" Morgana offers as the door to the roof slams shut again, leaving the two of them alone.
"Do you think this Madarame thing is a real lead, Joker?" Morgana questions after a moment of staring off into the city-scape.
Akira shrugs, thumbing his phone out of his pocket for the first time that day, "I'm not sure."
"I guess so..." Morgana supplies, "It's just... you never really say anything with Ryuji or with Lady Ann, and it's been making me wonder if you're really serious about leading the Phantom Thieves, is all." His voice comes out quiet, barely above the croak of city life, but heavy and intense like a rock threatening to crush him as he strains to listen.
"I can't say anything."
Morgana groans, high-pitched in comparisons to the noises that Ryuji had made moments ago. "That's not what I mean! It's just... you're not... leader-like!"
Morgana's right... Akira could acquit to that; before Tokyo, before the trial, he'd never had to speak to anybody as often as he did Sakamoto or Takamaki. Now he was leading their group into dangerous situations. He didn't really contribute to their plans at all, he just... did what he could, contributed what little he had to offer.
Which wasn't much.
"Should someone else be leader, then?" He asks, more than willing to take orders from someone who can actually give them.
Morgana wilts again and turns away from him to stare out at the empty roof around them. Akira has to lean even closer to hear what he says next.
"I didn't mean it like that, Joker, but you need to... be more involved. The MetaVerse and Mementos are life-threatening, if something happens to Ryuji or Lady Ann and me, and you're not strong enough or committed enough, we might all..."
The threat- the truth- lingers in the air like dense fog and it becomes a struggle to breathe properly. He's reminded of the things that Igor had said, about avoiding ruin and being determined to maintain his contracts. He should be more involved with the Phantom Thieves, he just doesn't know how to do that, or how to lead them to their salvation.
"An unfair burden, indeed." Arsene says from within, "Yet, I sense your resolve, even if you, yourself, are blind to it..."
Morgana doesn't say anything else while he climbs back into the bag. Akira takes it for the end of the conversation and scoops him up, along with some of the wrappers that Ryuji had left behind from his lunch. He guides the two of them back to the second floor and maneuvers Morgana back into his desk while the second half of their mid-term is passed out right after the next bell rings.
The second half of Kawakami's test isn't difficult, following along with her lectures and the assigned readings. Akira knows this, and has studied the material several times over, yet he finds it strangely, almost unnaturally, difficult to concentrate at narrowing his thoughts down to those that are purely academic; even more so to pick up his pencil and write more than his name. He can't help but letting his mind wander off, creating trails upon trails of potential futures- of the ruin that Igor, Coraline, and Justine spoke of; ones where he fails to find an answer, can't muster up the strength, or the magic, or the right persona to deal with the next threat. Being forced to watch as it's Skull or Panther that takes the sharp end of a spear instead of himself, a future where shadows are the ones pointing guns to their heads while they beg for forgiveness. The imaginings make him sick to his stomach with worry and anxiety.
He has to be a better leader, but knowing what to do and how to do it are so different.
Akira hates his own incompetency, his own dependence on others to guide and care for him; if it hadn't been for Sakamoto and Morgana, he'd most likely be dead once he'd stumbled into Kamoshida's palace.
A chill runs up his spine at that, releasing him from the chains of his thoughts but leaving behind the dread and chill that they'd created. He chances a look at the clock hanging on the far end of the room and almost starts panicking all over again. Another sort of a ruin would come if he didn't finish this test.
Working through the test is almost like becoming another person; he's focused solely on the packet of papers under him and he finishes them without straining for the lost information. Once it's completed, however, he finds himself unusually jittery. His leg is bouncing under his desk, then the other. He's almost tempted to stand up and walk out just to rid himself of this energy, but remembers that there's an entire week's worth of tests that he has to sit through. The self-reminder doesn't help any with his bouncing leg.
The classroom erupts into chatter as soon as all the tests are collected and Akira almost feels like joining them; a first for him, as far as he can tell. He glances up, straight towards Takamaki and falters, recalling what Sakamoto had said outside of Mementos. Cheer dying, he sinks back into his seat and waits for their class to be dismissed.
Walking to the station is an uncomfortable burden when school ends, knowing that two of his three teammates don't want to talk to him; even more so when he lives with one of those two. The whistle and huff of the trains, along with the hum of passengers walking past, is enough to draw him back into his mind. It feels almost surreal, this isolation, though it truly wasn't any different than when he was back home.
The tap on his shoulder makes him jump, and when he turns around to see who it is he jumps again, having expected Sakamoto or Takamaki, or even Mishima.
This person is neither of those three, but shares the same uniform that he does.
"You're friends with Takamaki Ann, right?" She questions, voice hard and authoritarian; her question is more of a statement and the tactic reminds him of dealings with his own parents and puts him on guard faster than he can react.
"We're classmates." He signs, because they're not on school grounds and hopefully his lack of verbal skills will make this conversation end sooner.
"Uh, I-I mean, you can just shake your head yes or no, understand?" She continues, recovering quickly.
He inclines his head, half-curious and more than half-cautious of the situation; Morgana squirms against his side and Akira can tell he's probably eavesdropping again.
"You're Kurusu-kun from Class 2-D, correct?"
He nods, letting his gaze drop away from the woman; she's starting to remind him of the lawyers and cops that had shown up during his trial. That connection was starting to make him sweat, despite how unlikely it was that this person was either of those things.
"That makes you classmates with Takamaki Ann, right?"
Again, he nods.
"Are you friends with her?"
Akira hesitates.
"You sit behind her, right? There's reports of you two talking to each other during class."
Reports? He questions, nodding once again.
"Are you friends with Takamaki Ann, then?" She questions again, sweeping brown fringe away from her too intense eyes.
Akira looks away, losing a hand in his own hair at the line of questioning.
Who... is this person? He shrugs noncommittally.
"I'll take that as a no then." The girl in front of him says, pulling out a small notepad along with a pen, "Have you noticed anything strange about her, then? Notes or texts to mysterious numbers?"
He shakes his head.
"Has she been acting secretive lately? Or suspicious at all?"
He shakes his head without thinking about it; he doesn't really know any of this stuff and knows even less why this stranger is asking him instead of Takamaki herself.
"Interesting... That will be all then, Kurusu-kun, the student council appreciates your cooperation."
Cooperation...?
Something clicks and Akira drags his gaze away from the station's tiled floor and up this strange girl; he takes in her neatly made uniform and equally neat hair. Nothing about her is out of the ordinary, nor is she extremely ordinary. Something about her presence, though, throws him off. The air around her is domineering despite her status as a student. If she hadn't approached him, hadn't started asking questions, he probably would have never noticed her; yet she had done those things, no doubt knowing who he was and his apparent relationship with Takamaki.
Is this the stalker? He questions, almost frantic.
"Good luck on the rest of your mid-terms, Kurusu-kun. I hope the extraneous circumstances that have caused your transfer aren't hindering your academics." The stranger says, turning on one foot and walking in the opposite direction. Akira catches her navigating back up the stairs and exiting the station through the sea of passengers. Clearly the woman had no business here, and the realization that she had followed him down here just to talk about Ann made him freeze up inside.
As soon as the next train headed towards Yongen pulls up, he's worming his way through the crowd and sitting on one of the seats. His legs are bouncing noisily against the floor while he scratches at his scalp. He's stressed all over again; over-loaded with questions and sensations.
"Shouldn't you tell Lady Ann about that woman?" Morgana asks from where he's sitting on Akira's lap, the visible part of him is bouncing like waves where his legs can't stop jerking.
He nods, tugging his phone out of his pocket and wiping his clammy palms against his uniform.
"Someone from our school just approached me in the station." Akira sends to their group chat once the train's doors slide shut. Being away from Shibuya seemed like the best thing to do at the moment, lest another, more dangerous, person started asking questions about his teammate.
"And?" Sakamoto ends up asking.
Oh right.
"She was asking about Takamaki." He shoots back, stepping onto the platform into Yongen-Jaya.
"Ann?"
"Me?" Ann pipes up, logging in and responding at the call of her name.
"Yes." He sends back, because he can't really think of anything else.
"What did they look like?" Ann asks next.
Akira tries to sum up the person, but is having difficulty doing so.
"You think they're the stalker?" Ryuji interjects.
"Brown hair." He finally sends off, because he remembers that much.
"That ain't very helpful, dude."
Morgana slides his head out from the bag on his lap and glances down at the sideways screen in his hands.
"Didn't she say she was student council at your school?"
Did she? Akira questions, trying- and failing- to recall the one-sided conversation that had just happened; to him no less.
"She said she was part of the student council."
"What! Forreal?"
"There's only one girl on that group, though." Ann responds.
Akira drops his phone into the pocket of his school blazer. His heart is hammering against his chest and when he nods to Sakura-san as he's walking past a wave of nausea floats through him. It passes quickly though, like a single gust of air floating past him. Depositing his schoolbag onto the mattress and toeing off his shoes, he climbs into bed anyway.
"You mean Niijima-senpai? The president? Why would she be stalking you? " Ryuji questions.
"I don't know, Ryuji. I just know that someone has been following me around when I'm going to work or school. You don't think it's because of what we did to Kamoshida, do you?"
Akira doesn't know, but since none of them do, he figures that probably wouldn't be helpful to say.
"Didn't Morgana say that nobody would know it was us, though?" Sakamoto points out.
"True, but he also called the three of us out at the assembly, remember? Wouldn't that make us look guilty of it. Plus the rumors that have been going around about us anyway."
"Weren't they sayin that it was Akira and me doin' that though? I don't remember anyone talking about you at all."
"Yeah, but the three of us hang out all the time, so maybe one of our teachers think that we did it..."
"I guess."
Morgana climbs up beside him, finally managing to claw his way out of the bag, and stares down at the screen in his hands once again. The cat merely sighs, contributing nothing else. Akira gets the feeling that this is one of the situations that he'd been talking about earlier, about how he needed to step up as their leader. He scanned his brain for options.
"We should avoid being around each other." He types out, sending it and glancing towards Morgana right after; Akira can't tell what the other is thinking, though.
"Like, pretend we aren't friends?" Ryuji asks.
"That makes sense, actually." Ann says after a terse silence; Morgana still doesn't say anything, nor does the cat look up at him, "We can't get caught while we're changing their hearts, but if we're together all the time in real life, especially since people were already suspicious of all three of us, people will definitely start connecting the lines."
Morgana nods his head along with the message.
He'd been the one to suggest it, but something about the way Takamaki had put it made it make more sense; Akira was inclined to agree.
"Seems kinda shitty though." Ryuji rebukes.
"Better than being expelled, though. Right?" Ann contends.
"I guess so, 'specially after all doing all these stupid tests."
"Well then, I guess you better start studying."
Takamaki logs off.
Ryuji doesn't say anything for a long time, and Akira puts his phone down, letting his head sink back into his pillow. The crushing feeling in his chest had dulled to a distant ache; they've worked out a plan that seemed like it was going to work. The logistics seemed sound, though, from previous experience, logic played little part in the real world.
Or the in the MetaVerse... He amends, tugging off his glasses and folding them up.
Akira wakes up to the sound of rain. Fortunately enough, the window had been shut at some point during the day and he can't quite recall if he'd done it that morning or the night before, or if he'd done it at all. He glances outside, careful not to adjust too quickly against the purring weight pressing down on his chest. It's not quite dark outside and he can still see parts of the sun bleeding through the spring's rain clouds and the tall buildings that breach through the skyline.
It's pretty. He comments to himself, and possibly the several, still-sentient beings inside of him.
Morgana shifts on top of him, and, gently as possible, Akira scoots the cat off of him until his roommate is lying down on the mattress instead of on top of him. Pulling his glasses back on, Akira flips his legs over the side of the bed and stands back up. His back and legs crack noisily as he does this, releasing pops that echo off the walls enclosing the mattress. When he glances back, he expects to find Morgana wide awake, but is surprised to find the other still curled up on the bed, now occupying the space that he had previously. He takes the freedom of being alone to change back into a different set of clothes; shirt, jacket, jeans, and, after a second thought, another pair of socks. All of them are comfortable and mostly-soft, but definitely lacking the pungent starchy smell that lingers on his school uniform. They are chilly though, from having sat in the cold attic all day.
LeBlanc is still open when he steps downstairs, which he finds surprising considering the lack of customers. The silence had made his descent noticeable, he figures, since Sakura-san was waiting at the counter and staring at him as soon as he turns the corner. Being thrust into the situation makes him jump a little.
"You hungry?" Sakura-san asks, motioning him forward with a dish towel.
Akira bobs his head on reflex, but as he sits down at the bar he realizes that he is feeling quite hungry. Shame licks at his insides, squirming under his skin. He digs into the meal that much more fervently when it's set down in front of him though, knowing that Takemi would end up getting Sakura-san involved otherwise.
He's halfway through the mountain of rice before his caretaker says something else.
"Hey, you still got the key for this place?"
He looks up, surprised at the question before inclining his head, knowing, with near-certainty, that the small golden key was upstairs. It was piled with the card to the bathhouse that Sakura-san had also given him.
"Why don't you head out then? Being locked up all the time isn't the way for a young man to live." His caretaker suggests. A small smile is creeping around one end of a cigarette, though it takes him a moment to recognize it for what it is. "You'll only be here for a year, ya know, might as well make the most of it. Country bumpkins wanna see the sights just like everyone else, right?"
He nods, again, despite himself. If he's being honest, he's lost track of the conversation rather quickly.
"Just," Sakura-san continues, his small smile quickly shifting into a subtle frown. Akira glances away, fighting the urge to shrink down into the bar stool. "Don't get into any trouble. And don't miss the last train. Got it?"
Akira nods, then Sakura-san is stepping around the side of the counter and headed towards the exit.
"Oh, and don't forget to wash the dishes before you go."
Akira glances towards the sink, eyes the near-massive pile of dishes filling it up and quickly turns back towards Sakura-san had left. The door rings noisily as the man makes his exit, leaving him alone in the cafe.
Washing the dishes isn't that difficult, none of the items served at the cafe seem to stick to anything and he's made a large pile of clean plates and cups in a shorter time than it's taken him to work through the rest of his dinner. The meal, he admits, had energized him enough to work through the chore without any issues. He didn't feel tired, or even the need to sit down, no sudden vomiting or fainting. He felt pretty decent, if he was being honest, and that carried him through the workload he'd been left with.
He heads back upstairs with pruned hands and contemplates if he should wake Morgana or not; if he should bother leaving at all, in fact. But when he approaches the bed, and catches a glimpse of the medicine jars under his bed, he doesn't do either. Riding on his mood, he uncaps some of the mint-smelling jars and wipes the burning salve over the ridges of his spine and ribs. There's even an anti-septic in the box that Sakura-san had delivered to him the other day and he spends a few minutes letting it burn into the scrape along his leg.
The multi-vitamins, much like the other medicines Takemi makes, smell- and taste- like mint. But he swallows them down, doing his best to ignore the sense of dread that's threatening the monotony of being alone.
He pulls out the paper bag afterwards, swiping aside empty boxes of model guns and latching onto it.
It still scares him, how real it looks, what this thing could do if he were discovered with it; but he decides that since he'd already gotten Sakura-san's permission to leave, he may as well do what he can with his new freedom before another beam of suspicion is cast down on him.
With the bag in his hands, Akira finds that there's nothing else he can really do to delay his next decisions; other than attempting to de-dust the attic again, which, when he glanced down at the floor and over at the work desk he'd cleaned up, seemed to be a battle not worth tackling. He supposed he could do laundry or study for tomorrow's test- or any of the tests later in the week- but, without knowing which one would come next, he figured it'd be more detrimental than useful. It left him with one choice, of course, which was to wake Morgana, who was still resting even as Akira lingered over him. He watched, for a long moment, at the slow, steady rise of his roommate's chest and couldn't help but let his curiosity spark. Cycling through his- admittedly spotty- memories, Akira's pretty sure he's never caught Morgana sleeping before him before.
It has been pretty stressful lately... He contends with himself. In reality, though, he was no idea who or what Morgana was before he'd ran into the monster-like being that had been locked in Kamoshida's basement. If anything concerning the Phantom Thieves or being trapped in the wrong body concerned him, Morgana concealed it very well.
Akira reaches over, clasping his fingers around the handles on his school bag and pulls it away from the mess of blankets and stray cat limbs and shoves the paper bag inside before shouldering the load, unconsciously anticipating a sudden dip to one side, but finding none; it was a strange sensation.
Before he leaves, Akira makes sure to empty out Morgana's litter box and leaves out a small plate of food for him, hoping that Sakura-san doesn't mind him borrowing one for the night. He had been the one to clean them, after all.
Taking the first train out of Yongen-Jaya, Akira finds it difficult to step further into the small alley that leads to Untouchables. Behind him, the entrance to the Velvet Room remains quiet, as stagnant as the alleyway around him. Akira paces backwards again, wondering if it was really in his best interest to leave Morgana at home while he did this, or if it was okay for him to be doing this at all.
He did say next week... He reminds himself, trying to rationalize. Though it had been nearly two weeks since he'd last been even near the place.
It takes him another ten minutes to get in front of the door to the shop, and a few heavy breaths before he manages to operate the door handle with his shaking fingers. Without Morgana's near-constant weight bearing down on him, he feels like might float away at any second, leading him to wonder when he'd even grown used to having his body half tilted in one direction.
A bell rings above him when he steps inside, similar enough to LeBlanc that he almost forgets why he's there until the man behind the counter shifts in his chair and glares straight at him.
"Oh, it's you." The same man from last time says, a thin white stick sticking out of one corner of his mouth. Just like last time. "You bring that special item back?"
Special item... Akira echoes inwardly, letting the words roll around his brain for a moment as he pulls the paper bag out from where Morgana's body would usually be.
"You didn't open it, did you?" The guy asks, finally standing up. He's- unsurprisingly- taller than him and Akira has to tilt his head back to stare in the general direction of his face.
Akira nods, feeling guilty and nervous, especially when the guy continues to stare down at him; his gaze feels like cement, rooting him in place. Not all that dissimilar to the way that Sakura-san does it, though the implications are much less pleasant than jail or violating his probation. Something about this man's presence reeks of danger. Akira, for the life of him, can't figure out what it is; other than being surrounded by weapons. It's almost like he's in the MetaVerse, sensing the omnipresent danger that has his skin crawling.
The clerk sighs, "Kids are so damn curious."
Akira stares down at the floor, at the small leaves and rocks that other customers must have brought in when they stepped inside.
He wants to leave.
"I gotta admit, though." The guy says over the long-since familiar sound of the paper bag unfolding. Akira keeps his eyes level with the ground, but can't help himself from glancing upwards as the clerk pulls the model gun out into plain view. "The way you dodged those suits was pretty impressive, they didn't even look twice at you." He laughs or coughs, Akira can't really tell. "I guess that's something about you, glasses, people don't even look twice at you. Know a lotta people that'd kill to be like that. Under that, though, ya got some steel ones; comin' in here, tryna pawn stuff off and ditchin' with evidence. Any kid I know woulda been cryin, or in jail..."
The words linger like a threat, like being thrown so suddenly back in time, before Tokyo, before spring, and right into the trial. He feels like throwing up, but keeps nodding. The man behind the counter was wrong about him, and so was Morgana; he wasn't brave, and he wasn't a leader.
"... And you're quiet. I bet you've never even been scolded in your life, huh?" The guy asks.
Akira hesitates, then shrugs, unsure if playing along or lying would be worse for him.
"Ah, well. I sold that medal if that's what you're worried about." He hadn't been, not really. He'd spent more time worrying about Sakura-san, or anyone else, finding about the model he'd been hiding.
The guy is quiet for a while, the only sound in the shop are the ones that come from the clerk fiddling with the model gun that Akira had just returned. That and his own insanely loud heartbeat, though he hopes that he's the only one hearing the latter.
"You ever find something like that again, bring it here, alright? I'll cut you a deal, no questions asked, got it?" The proposition almost sounds like a rule and Akira's bobbing his head into his chest before the words even finish coming out of the clerk's mouth.
"In return..." The guy continues, "I'll cook you up a special menu, I'll put aside a few units from each shipment just for you. Maybe if you bring something real nice, I'll chop off a discount or somethin', how's that sound?"
Akira nods again, feeling light-headed and overloaded. His ears are ringing and he resists sealing his hands over them while the clerk continues talking over at him.
"Name's Iwai, by the way." Akira catches his gloved fingers lifting up over the counter and signing it out for him. His chest tightens painfully.
"Iwai." He mirrors back, feeling happy for finally meeting someone whom he can talk to, but feeling equally as shameful for harboring such joy for something so stupid, so minuscule.
"Don't wear it out." Iwai warns him, though Akira catches him smiling around the stick in his mouth. The smile does nothing to remove the dangerous presence the guy seems to carry with him.
"You gotta name, glasses?" Iwai questions, picking up a small screwdriver from the counter before sitting back down.
"Kurusu Akira." He all but throws out once Iwai looks up from the model.
Iwai's face goes blank, "Slow down, kid, I ain't an expert in this stuff..."
Akira nods, letting his name spill out of his fingers, deliberately slow like they had been when he was teaching his teammates the same thing.
"Akira. That right?" He nods once more, not bothering to contain the tugging of a smile stretching out over his face, even as his face burns at the use of his given name. He's almost certain that it was a city-thing at this point, to just use them without provocation. It felt unbelievably good, though, to be understood like this; no hiding behind a screen, no dry-erase board or notepads. Just him.
"Pick up one of them cards, will ya?" Iwai suggests, or demands; he can't really tell which. A screwdriver points him towards a small display stand with a stack of business cards right next to the door. The card stock is firm in his fingers and reflects the overhead lights with its gloss.
Untouchable. It reads in the same bright neon that the sign just outside has, along with Iwai's name, declaring him as the owner. His contact information is just below that.
"Text me your name when you can, and I'll shoot back when I got somethin' new in stock for ya." Akira nods to himself, pocketing the card in the wallet that Nakanohara's shadow had dropped. "You should probably go, anyways, unnoticeable or not, it's still a school night."
Akira nods at the statement, bowing a goodbye before walking out of the alleyway, feeling much better about the situation now than when it had started.
He steps out of the alley that leads to Iwai's shop and is bombarded with noise and light; a stark contrast to what had been a private, yet happy moment for him. He couldn't help but wonder how none of the sound from Shibuya managed to pierce into the shop, though. He figured it could've been his nerves about the situation blocking out things that would have stressed him out even worse, but he wasn't entirely sure.
He buys Morgana some more food, using half of the money that had been in Nakanohara's wallet, and heads back to Yongen-Jaya with a heavy plastic back hanging under his shoulder. The weight almost perfectly resembles that of Morgana's, enough so that he's pretty content to stand on the train as it brings him back to LeBlanc.
Morgana is still sleeping when he steps back into the attic, and Akira does his best not to bother him as he sets down his stuff and grabs some clothes to sleep in.
After washing up, he returns back to the cafe and isn't surprised to find Morgana still curled up in the sheets, clutching one corner of it between both sets of paws. Akira tries his best to get into bed without jostling him too much.
Without the bag under his bed, Akira feels like he's floating. Sleep collapses around him without him startling awake to crawl underneath the mattress. It's such a relief in pressure that it feels almost surreal, like he's forgotten something.
