Chapter 23

I must have fallen asleep... Is what pierces through the throbbing migraine he's waking up to when Sakamoto drips more water onto his face, though it felt more like splashing than the light, almost rain-like, drizzle that it had been before. Some of it courses into his nose and he jerks upwards on reflex.

At some point, he figures, he must have fallen out of the stool that Kitagawa had put him on.

"Oh, sorry." A voice says from above him, confirming that he had fallen or that Ryuji had grown even taller in the time he'd been asleep. Though the voice apologizing did not belong to Ryuji or even Kitagawa, tension floods through his shoulders and stomach forcing him to sit up fully erect. Akira blinks several times, then uses the hem of his blazer to dig under his glasses and the remainder of the water from his eyes. Finally, he can see, but everything is still blurry, and brighter than he remembers Kitagawa's art studio being.

"Woah, kid." The same voice says again, "Maybe you shouldn't get up so quickly."

"Akira-kun!" A voice says. One that he recognizes.

Akira glances away from the street they'd taken to get to Madarame's shack and towards the source of the voices he'd been hearing. In front of him was a woman he did not recognize, though her short haircut didn't make her more distinguished than any other stranger that he'd seen since starting his probation and the sunglasses perched in hair could have belonged to anyone. Her gaze, however, was latched onto him so intensely that she may as well have been touching him; something that a lot of adults in his life seemed to have mastered. Akira drops his own gaze without really meaning to, his head bobs towards the ground and sends flecks of water from his still damp hair onto the ground between them. The unfamiliar woman's hands are still half-extended towards him, in one of them, is a purple container with droplets of water hanging off of the edge.

It wasn't Sakamoto. He recognizes slowly.

It happened again. Akira adds on, not sure what he should be feeling, knowing that he'd fallen asleep in public yet again. Though, after recalling Kitagawa's cruel warning, he supposed it was more of a forced sleep than a consensual one. Not that it really mattered, he supposed.

Peering over the stranger's form, he spots Takamaki and Sakamoto standing near the stone fence that gated Madarame's house from the others. In Takamaki's crossed arms lies Morgana, who stares down at him with an unreadable expression. All of his teammates stare down at the two of them with unreadable expressions. He's not sure if that means he's safe or not with this stranger hovering over him.

"Everything okay? You're not seeing spots or anything are you?" The stranger asks again.

"O-oh, Akira-kun can't talk." Takamaki interjects.

For some reason, the phrasing makes him flush in embarrassment, more so when he chances a look at the stranger's face. The warmth in his face only serves to make the pounding in his skull worse.

"Can't talk... oh, alright then. Um, thumbs up for okay. Thumbs down for, I need a hospital, stat, big sister." The stranger requests with a laugh, setting down the bottle she'd just poured over his face to mimic her own instructions.

"Big sister..." He hears Ryuji murmur from near the fence.

Akira gives her a thumbs up without looking directly at her, but catches her nodding regardless.

"Great, well, your head is still bleeding, but besides that, emergency over!" The stranger says with a clap of her hands. She almost reminds him of Takemi, though in a far less dangerous capacity. though the way her hands clamp around the camera hanging from her neck makes him a bit on edge; more so than he'd been before he'd noticed it, anyway.

The noise makes him jerk in place.

"Now, I couldn't help but notice that you three were hanging out at Madarame's place! You don't seem like the ordinary fans that come around here, I don't think I've seen any of them get as far as you have, though you did come out in quite a rush." The stranger says, "Even so, I'm still interested in people that know Madarame's pupils."

"Madarame's pupils?" Both Morgana and Takamaki question, drawing the stranger's attention away from him.

The woman leans back, taking to her feet, so Akira does the same, ignoring the rather massive headache that makes his vision blur as he stands back up. Quietly, he scuttles towards his two teammates, getting rid of the attention that had, until just now, been focused solely on him.

"What d'ya know about him anyway?" Ryuji embarks.

"Him?" The stranger questions. Akira watches as the lady stands up on her tip-toes, as if to peer into the shack behind them, "As in only one?"

"Yep." Ryuji offers shortly.

"Why did you want to know about Madarame's pupils?" Takamaki questions, taking a step forwards.

This appears to please the woman, as she smiles directly at Takamaki and steps forward as well, "Well, there's this rumor going around about one of Madarame's most famous paintings, the Sayuri, saying that it had been stolen. People are actually saying that it was revenge against Madarame by a pupil of his. They say it happened because Madarame was being abusive towards them and that taking the painting was their retaliation. Have either of you heard anything about that?"

The lady looks between Takamaki and Sakamoto almost raptly, her gaze does not fall on him once as she glances between the two blondes. Normally, he wouldn't find it strange, but given that she'd just been kneeling over him, he finds it a bit peculiar.

"N-no, I haven't heard anything like that." Takamaki answers. The stranger turns her gaze fully onto Sakamoto.

"Nothin'." The blond drawls and nothing more.

The lady sighs, but is quick to re-equip her smile. Akira's not sure how she manages to go through so many expressions so quickly. She steps forward and digs through a bag attached to her waist until she pulls out a single business card.

"If you here anything about anything about Sayuri, let me know." She orders, all but thrusting the card towards Takamaki, who has no free hands. Instead, the stranger carefully places the card on Morgana's back. He yowls in protest.

She walks off with the same presence he'd woken up to, like being in a storm without a shelter. He shivers when she finally disappears around the corner, feeling relieved.

"That was strange." Takamaki says quietly.

Ryuji plucks the card from the nest of fur on Morgana's back and reads it out loud, "Ohya Ichiko. Journalist."

"That explains it, then." Takamaki comments with a sigh. "She's just looking to cause trouble."

"Still, she might be useful." Morgana advises from the cradle of her arms, "Maybe she has some information regarding Madarame's missing pupils."

Ryuji extends his hand towards him, then, the business card clasped between two of his fingers. "You call her then."

Morgana growls.

"I'm not sure if asking her will help us with anything." Takamaki interjects, "Besides, I think I found something that might help us with the last keyword."

Gently, Takamaki lowers Morgana towards the ground. Akira's not sure if he imagined the small whine that the cat had let out or not, but directs his attention in his other teammate's direction as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. For a few moments, she swipes across the screen then extends it towards them.

Akira steps beside Ryuji as the blond leans down towards the screen and does the same. On Takamaki's screen is a stack of documents. Some of them look crusted with age, with brown circles curling up the messy corners. None of it, at least to him, looks particularly relevant. Though his difficulty reading the small print may be the reason why.

Ryuji leans even closer, "What does this even say, 'Application for...' uh, a park?"

"It's for an art museum under Madarame's name." Takamaki explains, swiping one way on the screen to show even more documents.

One of their phones, he's not sure which crackles loudly, then speaks in a harsh, robotic voice.

"Beginning Navigation."

Another wave of pain floods across his senses, though it's unlike any of the others he'd been having since waking up in front of Madarame's shack. Akira grasps at his head, tugging on his hair to try and alleviate some of the tension building up across his skull but after a few moments of that, no relief comes, so he stops, letting his hands drop against his sides.

The darkness frightens him at first, and he can't help but think he might have gone blind for a moment before he catches flashes of color from just outside his peripheral. Cocking his head towards that side, he's assaulted with the brightest building he's ever seen. In front of them, where a disheveled looking building had been barely standing up was a massive, oddly shaped buildingked upon each other, all of them were taller and wider than he was and each of them were bright that might have taken up the entire street they'd just been standing on. Bricks upon bricks were stacked and somehow more golden than the last formed the main structure of the building. Aside from that singular structure, Akira has a hard time naming the shapes of the other parts that seem to spring out of the construct like branches. Swirls of the same golden material twirl towards the sky, tearing through the black and blue clouds that hover above the place. A dome of glass, the only thing not completely gold, is attached at an awkward angle on the roof to one side of the enormous building; Akira couldn't help but wonder if he peered through it, he might find Kitagawa inside, hiding behind a canvas. Pillars of light shoot up from the ground and track back and forth across the sky, sending glares of light into his eyes as it flickers across some of the more shiny bricks that form the building. The beams intersected in the middle of the building where the bricks were most shiny and intersected across a grouping of words that stood stark against the building.

Ichiryusai Madarame

Museum of the Gods

The only thing that Akira recognizes from the world that had existed moments prior was the stone fence that had circled around Madarame's property. Only now was it several times taller than he was, even if they three of them stacked on top of each other, he doubted that they'd be able to scale it. And, as far as he could see, none of the overgrowth that was actually in Madarame's yard existed in this altered version of it. In the center of the stone walls, where the rusty fence had once sat, was now a blue toned archway that was packed with a line of what could only be hundreds of people. The line swerved around the corner of the fence and down the street, going on and on until Akira couldn't make out any of the individual figures anymore.

"We're in the MetaVerse?" Morgana's voice questions to his side, "I didn't even notice."

Akira glances around to look at his teammate is startled, more than he should be, to find that Morgana had taken up the form he'd first met him in. Confirming, if nothing else, that they'd traveled into the metaverse.

"So it was museum!" Takamaki- Panther- says. She sounds excited and her exposed back is traced into a smile.

Akira finds it unnerving. He still wished he'd been wrong.

"How'd you figure that out? Just from those papers?" Skull questions, his mask slips into place over the top part of his face with a glare from one of the light shining over Madarame's museum.

"Yeah, I was looking around the upstairs and one of the doors was locked, but the other was a bedroom. It was also locked, except the door didn't close all the way so I just walked inside. It looked like a bedroom, but there wasn't anything there besides a desk and tables." She adjusts her own mask, pulling away from her face and onto the top of her head, "Anyways, I went looking through the desk and I found a bunch of the papers I showed you guys. I took pictures of all of it so he wouldn't notice any of it was missing."

Skull nods, casting a yellow blur as the light shining onto his mask moves with the reflection. "That's kinda badass, like a real phantom thief!"

"Maybe... except for the part where I tripped as I was leaving, so I hope Madarame doesn't notice the hole in his shoji..." Panther admits quietly. In the blue glow of the MetaVerse's sky, Akira catches her cheeks lighting up until they're matching her outfit.

"You fell into the shoji?" Skull laughs. His black coated arms fold over the buckles on his stomach as he bends forward. He laughs some more.

"Shut up!" Fusses loudly. Her yell doesn't alert any of the shadows nor any of the countless people forming a line in front of them.

"The distortion in this place is thick." Morgana says next, drawing his attention once more, and talking as if he hadn't heard anything that had just been said. When he glances over again, Morgana isn't looking at him, but instead at the crowd of people that circled around and into the palace.

"How can you tell?" Panther inquires, stepping forward as if physically stepping into the next line of conversation.

"Look at the customers going around that wall, none of them have faces, but they all seem to be talking."

Akira took another glance at the line of people and, to Morgana's observation, he found that none of the people talking actually had mouths or a nose or eyes, yet seemed to be looking around and conversing with each other.

Or, more aptly put, the cognition of these faceless strangers speaking to each other. Like the case in Kamoshida's palace, he had a feeling that these people were nothing but fodder for Madarame's twisted desires.

"Never mind that, just look at that thing!" Skull calls out, lifting a yellow glove to point at the glowing, shining building in front of him.

The more he looked at it, the worse his head pounded against his skull. It truly was that disturbing. At least Kamoshida's palace had been easy- easier- on the eyes, excluding all of the tapestries and other things he'd rather forget.

"This is really Madarame's?" Skull pipes up, dragging him away from a road he'd rather not walk down again.

Panther speaks up next, "Doesn't it seem strange? Madarame's artwork is already in museums everywhere, why would he have a palace that looks like one, too?"

Distracted by its disturbing exterior, Akira really hadn't considered that himself. Madarame was already famous, with adoring fans that climbed over themselves just for his autograph, so it did seem strange that he'd have anything in his heart to distort after all; he had all he could want already.

"T'would seem not." Arsene's voice comes out as he flickers into being with a burst of azure flames. Another strange wave crackles across his brain, fortunately one of soothing relief rather than the painful ones he'd been having.

"Uh." Panther falters. He catches her glancing towards the presence lingering just behind him, then back at him. "What would seem not?"

"Greed." Arsene answers cryptically. Even Akira, who was mostly privy to what his persona was thinking and feeling wasn't sure what to make of the statement.

"Oh." Ryuji voices, "So he doesn't just want any museum or somethin'? He wants to own every museum?"

Arsene nods. Akira doesn't seem him do it, yet finds himself aware of the action without turning around to face his other half. It's an unusual experience, but not one he can describe.

"Well, it's not like it'll do us any good to speculate what's going in Madarame's head, especially when we're inside his heart." Morgana advises.

Panther steps between the small circle they'd unconsciously formed. "Is that really a good idea, I mean Akira- er, Joker is still bleeding and it wouldn't really be in our best interest to head in there without everyone being one-hundred percent!"

Akira runs his fingers around his head, ignoring his mask, and then pulls his hands in front of him. He jumps at first, forgetting that his gloves were already blood red to begin with, but spots an additional wet sheen coating his right hand. That, he supposed, might have explained some of the pain he'd been feeling since waking up.

"I'm fine." He tries to say, but forgets what company he's in, where nobody can really understand him. Of his three teammates, none of them are looking at him. Even if they'd understood what he'd been saying, they wouldn't have even seen it.

"That's true..." Morgana agrees with a nod, "Nice call, Panther."

"I'd be out of the job if my client were to get hurt on the job." Panther quips, laughing to herself.

Skull sighs, rubbing at his eyes between the gaps in his mask. "Did you really just say that?"

Akira doesn't get a chance to hear her response before the MetaNav is activated once more, sending them back into the real world. The first sensation he feels, aside from another wave of pain that pulses behind his eyes, is the peculiar sensation of his clothes changing material. The tight, leathery material that makes up his MetaVerse outfit is replaced with the less form-fitting trousers and suspenders that he'd been wearing just before.

Everything else that had been around him moments before faded with a bright light, including Arsene, who disappeared with the same ball of flame that he'd appeared with. The massive museum swirled in on itself, reforming the shack where Kitagawa was residing. The stone fence shrunk down until Akira could almost see over it if he stood on his tip-toes, the plants crept over the edges and the rusted gate winked into place all in the space of a few seconds. Sound came next, the chirping of birds and the far off roar of trains he couldn't see. His three teammates were replaced with two students that wore outfits that matched his, their faces blank of the masks they wore.

It all seemed so normal compared to what he'd just experienced.

Wiping at his face, Akira chipped off some of the drying blood and does his best to pressure the small gash at the edge of his hair line. He's not sure how he'd hit his head there of all place when he'd fallen, but can't do anything more about it until he can get somewhere with running water. Chancing a glance back up at the shack, he has a feeling that this isn't the place he needs to be.

"Hm. It's later than I thought it would be." Takamaki informs. "We should leave before any more reporters show up."

Together they head back to the station. He tries not to look too much into that. There's already a lot to think about without bringing up Takamaki's stalker. It's a quiet endeavor, which is something that makes him both nervous and relieved, the same feelings that described how it'd always been at home.

Once they were at the station, Takamaki drifts away from them as they approach one of the intersection between Ginza and Minato line.

"See you guys tomorrow!" She says cheerfully before setting Morgana down on the floor.

"Right." Ryuji says without looking in her direction. The blond is preoccupied with scooping his roommate into a bag Akira recognizes as his own.

He hadn't even realized he didn't have it with him until just now. In his panic, he'd forgotten all of his belongings in Kitagawa's studio.

Takamaki waves to him, turning her back to the flow of traffic to do so. He's pretty sure that's more hazardous than it's worth just to include him in her farewells. And unnecessary.

Akira waves back regardless.

"I got it." Ryuji says when Akira tries to reach for his bag.

Something in his stomach clenches when his teammate says that. He feels a bit guilty, then, but relents, even when the blond flips Morgana over his shoulder and carries him like he might a bag of garbage.

Morgana screams quietly, a piercing yowl that's drowned out in the masses around them. Even without the screen, Akira can see the panicked look in Morgana's eyes that tells him more than he needs to know. Still, Ryuji continues forward as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, like he hadn't just burdened himself with Akira's things even when he didn't have to.

The train to Yongen-Jaya was still the same gate away from whatever gate that Sakamoto went off to. He'd never asked which. Yet his teammate marched in front of him until they were in the station, far enough that if they went together any further, Ryuji would be taking the train to LeBlanc with him. Only then did the blond finally turn around and return him his belongings, as well as Morgana.

"See ya." Ryuji says, clapping a hand down on the shoulder that doesn't have Morgana hanging from it.

The contact rattles him, shaking down from his neck all the way to his knees. He's not sure whether to attribute it to the other boy's strength, of which he'd been a victim of to its fullest extent, or to Akira's own weakness, which he'd been saddled with since birth, or some strange combination of the two. Regardless, he finds himself readjusting his balance before he finally sees his teammate off. Unlike Takamaki, Ryuji doesn't turn his back to the stampede around him and thus, doesn't see when Akira raises a hand to offer his farewell.

"Let's get back to base so we can treat your wound." Morgana advises once more.

Nodding, Akira steps onto the next train headed towards Yongen-Jaya and refuses to let himself close his eyes for more than a few seconds lest some other, new stranger approach him and ask him for weird favors or pour water on him. His eyes are dry by the time he makes it back to LeBlanc, but he's able to avoid looking or talking to anyone, which he considers a victory. That changes when he takes his first step into the cafe. Instantly, eyes are on him. Just one pair, fortunately, though that doesn't stop that singular gaze from being any nerve-wracking than if it'd been a train full of people.

"You're late." Sakura-san says without preamble.

Akira's world freezes for a second. His heart beats over the sound of the TV on the far wall and something about that change in his hearing makes the smell of coffee and curry disappear completely.

"It's a joke." Sakura-san says in the next instant. The older man scrubs at the back of his head with one hand and casts a look towards the counter in front of him. "Kids these days..."

He's not sure how to respond to that, not entirely. In school, people didn't make jokes with him, though they didn't make jokes about him either, at least to his knowledge. Jokes were supposed to be laughed at, or in his case smiled at, yet Sakura-san's sense of humor sent chills racing up his spine while the rest of his chest tried to compress in on itself. All in all, he didn't feel like laughing, but he did his best to smile when Sakura-san glances back up at him.

"You eat yet?" Came next. Akira shakes his head silently and is promptly guided towards the bar when Sakura-san waves him over and pats the bar in front of him.

Quickly, a plate of curry is set in front of him, but also a new addition, a cup of steaming, dark liquid. He shouldn't find it strange, he was eating in a coffee shop after all, not to mention living in one. Despite that, he can't think of a particular instance in his entire life where he'd consumed the acrid smelling beverage.

When he glances upwards, towards his guardian, he finds the man standing a few feet away, off to the side and counting money in the already empty cafe as if he just hadn't changed the pattern they'd set up since he'd arrived. Then again, it's not like Akira himself had been sticking to any particular schedule, never coming back to the cafe at the same time each night.

He sticks with the familiar first, drawing up a spoonful of curry, then a spoonful of rice until less than a portion of it remained. He stares at the beverage in between each bite, wondering if drinking something hot while eating hot food was wise or not. He'd never been served a hot beverage in his life, either, now that he thinks about it. On the contrary, Sakura-san, and his customer base, seemed to almost live by that rule.

Akira curls his fingers around the small handle, that too is warm, almost too hot to touch and wonders if he's just over-analyzing something that didn't require it. Lifting the cup to his mouth, he takes a whiff of it and his tongue curls back in his mouth on instinct. Like the smells that permeated through the floorboards and into the attic, and even into his clothing, coffee was a bitter scent, even more so when it was right under his nose. Now that he was this close, however, he smelled other things as well, some sweetness, but it was mostly bitter; nearly the opposite of the curry that Sakura-san served, which was mostly sweet and partly spicy.

His first sip was underwhelming in flavor, but the opposite in sensation. It, as expected, was hot, but he hadn't expected it to burn against his tongue to the point he almost spit it out. His second sip, he decides, is minutes later, when the steam is nothing but a trickle towards the ceiling. It's still impossibly warm, managing to coat his mouth in heat in a way the curry can't do. Akira's pretty sure he starts sweating instantly, his body somehow heating up with the liquid. Now that it's finally manageable, he doesn't find anything in the taste that he particularly enjoys. Like the smell indicated, coffee was fairly bitter, but help some distant sweetness that might come more from the smell than any actual sugar.

Despite the burn on his tongue, he's not not a fan of it.

"It's a sophisticated drink." Arsene says so suddenly that Akira fumbles with the cup and saucer in front of him.

Akira glances towards his guardian, but quickly looks away when he finds that the older man isn't looking in his direction, as if he hadn't noticed he'd made any noise at all. Instead, he turns his head down towards the coffee he'd nearly spilled and swirls the half full cup around in his hand. The brown liquid swirls like a miniature typhoon, still steaming a bit from the middle but otherwise looking completely mundane. Tracing his lips against the edge of the coffee cup's, Akira is struck with how warm the ceramic is against his skin as well as the most immediate aroma courses through his nose in the most pervasive manner possible. The warmth that boils through him is quite sensual he notices, after taking another, longer sip.

He can't quite recall a time he's been this warm, especially on the inside. It really is the most peculiar sensation.

By the time his cup is empty and placed back on the saucer beside his plate, Akira's almost wishes Sakura-san had given him a bigger cup, if only to analyze the bittersweet taste and not to relive his own unprecedented and visceral reaction to a beverage of all things.

Akira gathers his plate and cup and rinses the remains down the sink before taking a sponge to it, along with a small stack of other, identical looking dishes that had been harboring in the bottom of the sink. He has a feeling that Sakura-san would have asked him to do it anyway. While he's washing dishes, he can't help but roll his tongue around in his mouth, chasing after the remnants of the unusual combination that his guardian made a business out of.

Then there's a primal force pulling at the back of his head, grasping at his hair and Akira drops the sponge and cup that's in his hands. He doesn't react to the sound of the ceramic shattering, too caught up in the force on his head. Physically he's been yanked, but that sensation dulled in comparison to the complete and utter emptiness that tugs against his brain, that sends him back in time, away from Tokyo, further back than the trial, and dumps him into his bedroom at home.

"You have blood in your hair." Sakura-san's voice rumbles like a storm, shattering whatever had just happened.

Akira swallows, a loud uncomfortable sound, but doesn't say anything, sign language or not.

"You been getting in fights at school?" Is the next thing out of his caretaker's mouth.

His headache returns full force, a pounding, pulsing sensation. One like someone is stomping on his head repeatedly. He'd almost forgotten, in the man's charity, how much Sakura-san distrusted him.

Against the tug of fingers and matted blood in his hair, Akira turns off the sink and spins around where he's standing and glances up at his guardian before shaking his head.

A notepad is thrust into his hands, along with a pen. His phone is in his pocket, which would probably be easier on the both of them, yet under Sakura-san's intense look, he starts writing on one of the order sheets.

"I fell" He answers.

Past the rim of his glasses and the mess of hair covering his eyes, Akira catches Sakura-san frowning. The wrinkles on the older man's face curl together into hard lines.

"I thought I told you to call me if that happened." Sakura-san says, his voice hoarse where Akira had expected harsh and quiet where he'd expected loud.

Despite the expected reaction, Akira still flinches when his guardian says that. He'd all but forgotten that the older man had said that. And, if he's being honest, he'd thought that Sakura-san would have as well.

"Doesn't seem to be the case." Arsene murmurs, so suddenly again that it has Akira trembling in place as his other half interrupts the panicked monologue he'd developed in place of answering.

Instead of responding to Arsene, Akira finds himself apologizing, bowing in solace and filling the space between them with his bent over torso. He hopes that would be the end of it and Sakura-san would just send him back upstairs or make him clean something. In place of all that, the older man remains staring down at him with a sour expression that Akira can't get a read on no matter how many glances he keeps shooting upwards.

Sakura-san sighs just as Akira feels like he's about to his his threshold for awkward silence. The sound makes his head jerk upwards before he quickly looks away, hoping that whatever nightmare he'd fallen into would just end already.

"I need to know about this stuff, kid." Sakura-san says, still hoarse and still soft.

Akira would have preferred the yelling and the sinking feeling he felt when it happened. Instead, Sakura-san continued to defy his expectations of him. His stomach still sank, though it was accompanied by the weight of shame and humiliation that made his cheeks and eyes burn in tandem. Even if he hadn't forgotten what Sakura-san had said and had taken it seriously, part of him knows that he still wouldn't have called. That made the his face burn even worse. Not wanting to trouble his caretaker more than necessary and keep to himself, or at least that was what he'd been hoping for, had backfired right into his face, it seemed.

For a long moment, while Sakura-san remains a silent, towering statue over him, Akira thinks that this is it. That he's finally going to be kicked out and sent to jail. Surprisingly, the wave of strong emotions that is flooding his insides is not filled with fear. He thinks, maybe, that he's starting to become desensitized to thoughts of violating his probation. If only a little. Either that or his head injury was interfering more than he'd thought.

"Just... make sure it doesn't happen again." Sakura-san addresses, "Make sure you call or uh, texting message me when that happens, or we'll both end up in trouble, got it?"

Akira bobs his head, shocked, but trying to push these feelings back to wherever they came from.

"I'm gonna lock up, make sure you wash that gunk out of your hair before you go to school tomorrow."

Akira nods again, then Sakura-san steps away and twirls Leblanc's sign to closed. The older man's gaze flits over him from the other side of the door's glass and Akira feels those awkward feelings starting to build up again.

He heads into the attic and drops Morgana off, who doesn't budge from the bag when Akira deposits it on the edge of the mattress in the corner of the room.

Must be asleep. Akira thinks passively, stepping away from the bed.

Picking up clothes to sleep in, Akira heads downstairs once again. The key to LeBlanc is a heavy weight in his pocket, a reminder of sorts of the unusual scolding he'd just received. He makes sure the door is secured, tugging on the handle a few times, then spins around and heads into the opposite walkway.

The bathhouse, like the other times he'd been was nearing empty. He's not sure if, this time, it's due to the grey clouds starting to puff up around Yongen or if it was just due to how late it was. Either way, he was thankful for the lack of others. Offering up the pass that Sakura-san had given him, yet another reminder, he stepped into the barren changing rooms and let out a sigh. Pressure that had been scaffolding upon itself since the day had started chipped away, just a little. The respite didn't stop him from glancing over his shoulder as he stripped off his clothes, though.

Naked, save for the towel, Akira steps into the room that separates the changing areas and the baths. He ducks into the first open stall around the corner and settles onto the stool without preamble. There's a long moment where he just sits there, staring at the white tiles opposite of him. There's nothing particularly vexing about them, but the blank wall in front of him invites him into a calmness he hadn't been expecting. It's not the same one he'd felt when he'd been scared that Sakura-san was going to kick him out, nor the relief that came when he walked to school. It was something entirely different, like he wasn't even himself anymore. He continues to stare at the wall, at the small tiles and the thick, white lines between them, trying to dissect this strange, new feeling he'd discovered.

Akira isn't sure how long he spends staring at the wall of the shower stall, he's just grateful that the place had remained empty while he zoned out. Being alone was another source of relief he felt in addition to the comforting torrent of water from above. Soap like tea leaves, much like Sakura-san's coffee, invaded his senses and left him feeling strange. The blood that had dried in his hair slithered down the drain just below his feet and left him feeling lighter, despite the stinging against, presumably, where he'd hit his head.

Alone, he scrubbed his legs and chest with one of the bathhouse's flannels, leaving him mostly pink, enough that the winding scars that curled around his stomach almost faded into nothing. That was a shocking sight, yet did nothing to interrupt the utter tranquility he'd been put under.

When he finally returns to LeBlanc, it had only just started raining, and the dull roar of it hitting the roof only added to that sensation. He'd never realized how good this type of isolation felt, even his parents, who'd only been so far away from him at any given point had never let him experience this type of freedom. With a sigh, and what he figures might be a creepy smile, Akira tugs Morgana out of his school bag and deposits him on the end of the bed. After that, he climbs in himself, careful not to disturb his roommate as he does so.

Almost instantly, he's caught in the sensation of falling as his back hits the mattress. That sensation continues for a long moment before he gasps awake breathlessly. The sound of rain had faded into nothing between one moment and the next, and the sudden change leaves his ears ringing. Opening his eyes, Akira is shocked to find the cafe's rafters missing, replaced with the flat, stony ceiling of the Velvet Room.

This place again... He recognizes as the shock starts to dwindle.

Adjusting the chain around his ankle, Akira carries himself towards the metal bars that separates him from the rest of the velvet room. Between his fingers, the metal bars are cold, almost icy, to the touch, yet he continues to grasp onto them for a reason he can't identify.

Justine and Caroline are standing in front of the door, already facing him as if they'd expected his arrival.

"I see you've begun infiltration on another palace." Igor's baritone voice echoes through the silence. Across the room, Akira can make out most of the man- if he truly was a man- sitting behind the simple, dark wood desk in the center of the chamber just beyond his cell. "And with that, another seal hath been broken. You and your compatriots are quite clever, trickster. I believe a reward is an order, but keep in mind that your bonds are still new, and easy to shatter. To harness the true power of the wild card, you must foster them to their fullest potential."

The compliment, if it was one, doesn't spark anything inside of him. That is until Igor raises a gloved hand and snaps two of his ivory fingers together. Instantly, what hadn't been coated in shades of blue and azure is instantly transfixed that way and when Akira blinks a few times, it remains that way, no matter what he does to deactivate the thief vision.

Twisting down from his chest, the translucent line- and the only thing that remains not blue- that connects him to the man on the other side of the room pulses with a small flash. It's not enough to blind him, but it does draw his attention as the connection pulses with energy as it grows slightly larger.

Igor snaps his fingers again, and his vision fades back to normal.

Rubbing at his eyes, Akira half-listens as the man continues to speak.

"As for the next order of business, I believe you are worthy of a new assignment. It is one that will, no doubt, help you in your most prevalent tribulation, indeed. Of course, it is not mandatory to complete it, but it will serve you no detriment to finish it." He glances up, just in time to see Igor wave a hand towards the two wardens in front of the gate between them.

Justine steps forward, and glances down, with her single eye, to flick through the papers attached to her clipboard. "Your objective, inmate, is to gather and produce the mask we specify."

Caroline steps forward as well, "Just show up here once you've got it, we'll know." She says cryptically, her own eye flashing the same blue that had clouded his vision before.

"In return, we, the holders of strength, will forge a bond with you, to assist you further in your rehabilitation." Justine continues over the sound of tearing paper.

She flicks it in his direction and Akira watches as it flutters like a cherry blossom and lands just on the other side of his cage. Releasing his grip on the bars, he bends over to retrieve it and studies it for a moment.

The paper itself is almost golden, but glows white under the room's ever present blue glow. On the parchment is a roundish figure with dark, crooked ears that stick straight up. His face is oval shaped with a smile as crooked as his ears. Underneath, in small, thin cursive is, presumably, its name.

"Jack Frost"

"That's his first trial, Justine?" Caroline scoffs, glancing at the paper in his hands as if she could see through it. "That's hardly a challenge!"

"It is what is written, and that's what we shall receive." Justine responds back without looking up.

"A sickening creature." Arsene mumbles from within, though Akira pays him no mind at the moment.

"With those matters dealt with, I shall now return you to your own realm. Do not take too long to complete your tasks, trickster, or ruin will be sure to come." Igor warns.

The mysterious man waves his gloved hand once again and Akira is cast back into shadow. It doesn't last as he'd like, in fact, it feels as if he's only just closed his eyes before the sound of rain splatter forces him into consciousness, then the smell of curry and coffee hit him as well. His alarm goes off seconds after he opens his eyes and he turns it off in the next moment, feeling exhausted despite the hours of sleep he'd apparently gotten.

His school uniform is wrinkled from where he'd forgotten to hang it up, but otherwise clean, save for the yellow specks of pollen stuck on his trousers that refuses to come off no matter how many times he shakes them.

Exiting the cafe's bathroom, Akira heads back upstairs and finds that Morgana had finally woken up, though looked equally as tired as Akira felt. The feline slumped over the edge of the bed, but his ocean blue eyes were peering slits towards the stairs as Akira climbed up them.

"Morning, Joker." He greets with a yawn, exposing his sharp teeth and pink tongue.

Akira nods in greeting before crossing the attic and picking up both his phone and his school bag. He offers the latter to his roommate, who climbs over the canvas lip gingerly and curls down inside. Akira has a feeling he's going to be asleep by the time they make it to the station.

Sakura-san stops him by the door by throwing something in his direction just as he's about to head out. The object smacks against the cafe's glass door and makes him jump before it clatters on the ground.

"Heads up." Sakura-san says mildly from behind the cafe's counter.

Akira picks up the object, a collapsible, black umbrella.

He turns around to offer his thanks, only to find that his guardian had disappeared around the corner and into the cafe's kitchen. Reminding himself to thank the older man later, Akira heads out into the rain, careful to keep Morgana under the brunt of the shield, along with his school supplies.

Unlike the day prior, Sakamoto is not waiting just outside of the school gate when he arrives, nor is Takamaki in the classroom and seated before he is. The latter barely manages to take her seat before the bell rings and Akira can't help but wonder if he's done something wrong before he remembers that he'd been the one to suggest this situation.

Silently, he listens to Ushimaru-sensei's monotone lecture over the importance of Northern Kyushu's name change and its influence on the economic disparities of the region.

Akira has a difficult time taking an interest in the subject, especially when his phone begins to vibrate.

"How's your head, Akira-kun, I forgot to ask when I came in." Takamaki questions.

"Yeah, are you good enough to head into Madarame's palace?" Ryuji chimes in, just before lunch.

"Don't rush him, Ryuji!" She scolds.

"I think so." He sends back after heading to the rooftop. Part of him is unsure of heading into another palace. His the scrape on his leg still isn't fully healed and the back of his head still throbbed in pain from yesterday's fall, yet part of him thinks of Suzui, then of Takamaki's conviction, and he knows he has to do this for their group, if not solely to stop Madarame and to help Kitagawa-san.

"Awesome! Let's group up at the walkway right off central street then!" Sakamoto says in their last period.

Akira informs Morgana of their infiltration plans and heads towards the station. He doesn't say anything about his doubts though. Akira keeps those to himself.

With a frown, he glances up at the second-level window of Madarame's shack just before it swirls into its MetaVerse counterpart, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of the artist beyond.

He doesn't.