Just this once, the chapter title is in Ukrainian.

Romanization: Idy na khuy.
Literally: Go on a dick.
Meaning: Go fuck yourself.

Initially I wanted to name this chapter "Spadaj na drzewo [banany prostować]" which is a much less vulgar way of saying this in Polish (literally "go on a tree [to straighten bananas]") but, well, y'know.

Thursday, January 12th, Afternoon

The doctor stepped out of the room and scanned her surroundings. She noticed a proper-looking girl sitting on the bench, her head lowered, her expression blank. "Miss Okumura?"

She responded with a weak confirmatory murmur.

The doctor sighed. "I know that you've been told that your father is in a bad condition, and that was true at the time."

Haru turned to her, expecting a 'however' to follow.

"However," the doctor continued, "bafflingly enough, his damages seem to… reverse themselves, somehow? From what we can tell, his spinal cord is slowly healing itself. We'll need to keep him on observation for the next few days. Run more checks, see if the asphyxiation caused any lasting harm to the body, and of course offer him some counseling."

Haru winced for some reason.

"We can't allow you to visit him yet, unfortunately, so I guess that is all for now." The doctor glanced around. There were a few other people present in the corridor, but none of them seemed like they were with her. "Will anyone… pick you up? Do you need a cab?"

"I am waiting for someone to come over," she said. Her voice was barely audible.

"Okay then. I know it's hard on you." She bowed. "I must leave now, there are other patients I must attend to. Stay strong." She turned around and marched away, leaving Haru alone to stew in her thoughts.

Her phone buzzed. The caller ID said "Bpss" – her hand slipped and she couldn't have cared less about that at the moment. She picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Hey," Sojiro's voice came from the speaker. "We're by the main entrance, but the security doesn't want to let us in, since we're not family." Pause. "Well, not formally, at least."

"I'll walk downstairs," she said, then hung up, not in the right state of mind to finish the call politely. Off the bench, down the stairs, through the corridor, retracing her steps on autopilot. She turned a corner, saw Sojiro behind a pair of automatic double doors, and sped up to a march. The sound of panes sliding to the side prompted him to turn his head and notice the approaching girl.

"Good afternoon, Boss,"

"Hey kid," he said, then pulled out the thermal cup he had refilled earlier. "I brought coffee."

She took the cup and drank from it. Sojiro's coffee was powerful enough to make her feel less dead inside for a few precious moments.

"How are you holding up?"

Haru finally registered that there was someone else standing by Sojiro. "And who are you, ma'am?"

"A copy of Wakaba Sakura, Futaba's mom."

Haru didn't visibly react to this revelation and Sojiro was unsure if that was a good thing or not. "She's up to speed on everything and knows your story," he piped up. "She insisted on coming over and offering emotional support."

"And how are you going to do that?" Haru asked her, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"What form would you find appropriate?" she replied.

She pondered that question for a moment before replying: "Just be here and let me be angry at everything." A short pause. "And please, no platitudes."

"Got it," Wakaba nodded. "Are you waiting for something now, or…"

"No, not really. I can't visit Father for now but reportedly he's somehow recovering from having hanged himself."

"Weird," Sojiro remarked. "Do you think they're trying to cover things up to spare you?"

"No, I think someone put his thumbs on the sca-"

"Um, can I interrupt?"

The three turned towards the newcomer. Wakaba didn't recognize him but noticed Haru gripped the travel mug tighter, and Sojiro's default scowl became slightly more pronounced. "I don't believe we've met," she remarked.

"Well…" he looked aside, "let's just say I am currently… in charge of everything."

"Maruki, wasn't it?" Sojiro was as happy about this as you'd expect. "We've all gotten messages from you today."

"Yes, that was…" He didn't dare to meet the three's pointed gazes. "I did not consider all the possible outcomes, and things… escalated." He looked vaguely in Haru's direction. "Your father will recover. I am truly sorry for how it all ended up."

"Apology…" Sojiro glanced at Haru to gauge her reaction, "...let's say 'acknowledged'," he finished, trying to remain polite. "Now, please leave and don't upset her further."

Maruki nodded, turned around and marched away. Then, after a few steps, he spun back around. "You are aware that bringing this reality down means that your father dies again, right?" he asked.

"What part of 'leave' do you not understand?" Sojiro growled.

"I-I mean," Maruki tried to explain himself, "maybe she was misled by… someone and isn't aware of the consequences?"

"Do I need to borrow a page from Akira's book and punch a god?"

"Or maybe you'll just let her speak for herself?"

Wakaba's faux-parental overprotectiveness and existential crisis blended together into a cocktail of righteous anger, and Maruki had just willingly walked into the splash radius. "Or maybe you'll leave her alone, you goddamn egomaniac," she barked.

Not expecting such backlash, especially from her, he blurted out, "Uh, excuse me?"

"How high of an opinion of yourself you must have to believe this… project of yours is so flawless that every dissenter is either malicious or misguided?"

"...okay, I-I know it sounds like I didn't listen to your point, but… er…"

"I already know I'm a copy, you told me as much earlier today." She clenched her fists. "That's why you made me in Wakaba's image, didn't you? Emotional leverage, to be deployed when people step out of line."

"No!" he protested. "I-I-I really thought that… that this would make them happy!"

That was the last straw for Haru. "You forced me to relieve the biggest tragedy of my life, you reprobate!" she screamed.

That stung more than Maruki had expected, and he snapped back: "Did you give the guy that put you through this the first time so much grief?"

Haru replied with a kick.

"ARGH!"

No, not where you are thinking, lower. She aimed for the ankle but hit his shin instead.

"You're comparing yourself to a kid about as stable as a wobbly chair," Sojiro growled, embracing Haru with one arm. "That's self-damning by faint praise."

"Only if he actually comes out better though," Wakaba added. "Considering Mr. Okumura's state-"

"I didn't want to push him to suicide!" Maruki protested. "I didn't think he'd do that!"

"And how many other things about this reality did you not think through?"

"I…" he started, but the rest of the sentence didn't come out. He had no way to rationalize away that point, that was the verbal equivalent of a critical hit. Doubts creeped in, and with them, an uncomfortable realization that, any way you slice it, at that point in time, he was the bad guy. "...I'll leave now."

The ground under him gave way and he disappeared. After a moment, Haru attempted to march away, but Sojiro grabbed her by the wrist. "And where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"Back into his Palace." She yanked it out. "I will shove a grenade launcher barrel down his throat and tear this fucking reality down."

Haru tried to walk away from them in a huff, but Wakaba placed herself in her way, and she was not mad enough to go through or past her. "You shouldn't rush into it," she said. "I-I mean, I've seen a friend of yours, Kasumi, run alone into…" She glanced at Sojiro. "Mementos, wasn't it?" He nodded. "Yes, Mementos. And if Sumire didn't catch up with her, she'd get hurt. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Wait, why was she running around alone in Mementos?" she asked, concerned.

"She was trying to get to Goro, who was hiding there from… well, whoever might try to come after him after what that shrink pulled off."

"He doesn't have to worry about me or my father, if that concerns him. Is he still in the Metaverse?"

"No, we convinced him to return to Leblanc with Futaba and the Yoshizawas," Wakaba replied. "Do you want to join them? I… want to have a word with all of you and don't want to repeat myself too much."


"You said you were a bad cook, Goro-san," Sumire remarked.

Her and Kasumi were watching as Goro was intensely whisking thin batter in a jug with a fork. "This is the single exception." He put it down, then poured some oil on the pan and swirled it around a bit. "I was stubborn enough to learn how to make decent pancakes, and have been subsiding on these, rotating through a few sweet and savory fillings," he said, pouring the batter onto the heated surface.

Sumire got curious. "Ooh, can you recommend any?"

"If you can be bothered to go to an import store, there's a nice simple one you can make out of onions, spinach and feta cheese."

"Fresh or frozen spinach?"

"I've been using fresh, but-" he flipped the pancake with a flick of the wrist, "-I think frozen might work too."

After a moment, two things happened at once: Goro attempted to flip the pancake again, and the door to Leblanc was opened. Goro turned to the newcomers and noticed Haru entering the cafe, with Sojiro and Wakaba behind her. "Oh, h-h-"

A pancake landed on his head.

"-hello again," he finished.

Haru stared at him and the almost-literal egg on his face for a moment, then marched up to him and opened her arms. Goro gritted his teeth and carefully and awkwardly embraced her without a word. Kasumi grabbed the pancake from his head and inspected it. Deeming it done enough, she shoved it in her mouth.

"I am not cleaning up after this," Sojiro proclaimed.

"Where is Futaba?" Wakaba asked.

"Upstairs," Sumire replied. "Digging through telecom logs to see how many messages Maruki-san had sent and to whom."

"Can someone come and fetch her?"

"On it." Kasumi got off her chair, swallowing what remained of the pancake, and trotted upstairs. After a moment, she returned carrying Futaba in her hands – she kept holding the laptop with one hand and typing with the other, seemingly unbothered by the commotion.

"Not quite what I meant," Wakaba commented.

"She didn't respond when I poked her," Kasumi replied, dropping her in one of the booths.

"Yeah, she gets like that sometimes," Sojiro remarked. "When she's in the zone you can't pry her away from the keyboard with a crowbar."

"Can I wait for her to finish before I say my piece?" Wakaba asked, not minding an excuse to stall for a bit longer.

"I could finish frying the pancakes in the meantime," Goro said, then glanced down at Haru, still glued to him. "If I'm allowed, of course."


Futaba finished typing, closed her laptop, and finally realized her surroundings had changed. She was sitting in a Leblanc booth, there was a plate with Rootkit's pancakes with strawberry jam a bit to the side, Haru and the Yoshizawas were sitting on the other side of the table, finishing their portions, and the bunch currently aliased 'the other Sakuras' were eating their food by the counter.

"Uh, that's not how I left things."

"Look who came back to the real-er world," Kasumi remarked. Sojiro, Goro and Wakaba turned to her. "So, how many people got a text from Maruki today?"

"Eight. A nice round number," she replied. "All of them were family members and people close to the Phantom Thieves." She counted on her finger. "You, Shiho, Madarame, Makoto's dad, Haru's dad, your dad, my dad, and…" she glanced at Wakaba, "...well, and you."

"Yes, this is what I wanted to talk about," Wakaba felt six pairs of eyes looking at her expectantly. The low-key anxiety she had been feeling for the past few hours was getting more intense. "I…" Come on, she thought. Get this over with. "I cannot stop you from undoing Maruki's reality, can I? You outnumber me, for starters."

"N-n-none of us want to fight you, Wa- uh, er, Mrs Sakura," Goro blurted out.

She looked at him. The memory of a black-masked thug beating her to death with a baseball bat didn't match the visibly bothered kid averting eye contact in front of her. "I've had my doubts about this reality's high concept," she continued, "and my brief interaction with Maruki didn't assuage them. My main counterpoint boils down to self-preservation. Simply put, I want to live. But…" A pause. "But this reality comes with a caveat that all I have now can be taken away in an instant, on an arbitrary whim of a fallible god. It can all be taken away by accident because said fallible god has already demonstrated he doesn't think about unintended consequences of his actions." Another pause, a bit longer than the previous one. Don't break down in front of the kids, she thought. It's as hard on them as it is on you. "My point is… I'm screwed either way, so do what you think is right."

And then, silence. Kasumi approached Wakaba and put her hand on her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. Futaba decided she might as well finally dig into the pancake in front of her. This pause continued for half a minute or so before Wakaba turned to Futaba. "So, you're the team's computer expert, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Could we talk in private for a bit?"

Futaba nodded, grabbed her laptop and trotted upstairs, and Wakaba followed her. The rest heard her say "I might be interested in some petty vengeance…" before she got out of earshot.

Haru turned to Goro. "With that out of the way: when are we heading back to Maruki's Palace?"

"Do you have a deadline?" Sojiro asked.

"The end of the month."

"I think you should take the rest of the day off to calm down," he suggested. "Earlier you said something about firing a grenade launcher at close range. That sounds like trouble." Before anyone could protest, he corrected himself: "Unnecessary trouble. You know what I meant."

"Ann-san also seemed frustrated," Sumire remembered.

"Yeah, my point. Text the others that they can all hang out here after class if they want to." A thought popped up in his head. "So, how many Thieves are onboard at the moment?"

"Everyone besides Akira, who remains neutral," Goro replied.

"I see. Out of curiosity, who's in charge now?"

"Nominally, me."

"Wha…?" Of all the things that Sojiro had heard that day, that was the one that took him by surprise. "How on earth did that happen?"

"Well," went Sumire, "I tried to approach Akira-senpai, but he wasn't here, I bumped into Goro-san instead, and things kinda went from there."

"Nobody protested so far," he shrugged. After a beat, he corrected himself: "Okay, Morgana did, but what does he know?"

After School

Akira closed the door behind himself.

With both his parents being at work, his house was quiet – even after two weeks he couldn't get used to the stillness of it. He took off his coat, swapped his shoes for slippers, and considered turning on the TV on a random channel just to break the lull when his phone buzzed. He picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, kid."

Akira recognized the voice but decided to play dumb, just in case. "I'm sorry, who's speaking?"

"You know who I am, Akira," Sojiro replied on the other end. "Maruki's meddling brought me back in the loop, so you don't have to keep secrets from me anymore."

"I see." Akira slumped on the couch. "Why are you calling?"

"Just wanted to check up on you," he replied. "And while I'm at it, tell you that currently all but one Phantom Thief are dead-set on taking that damn shrink down."

"Good for them," Akira sighed. "Can't imagine the dumbass that trusted him to not misuse his new powers."

"You two were friends, weren't you? I get why you'd assume he had everyone's best intentions in mind." A pause. "Is that all you're upset about? That you thought this arrangement was a good idea?"

"Not just that, but…" he stammered, "er… eh, never mind. It's nothing."

"Come on, kid," Sojiro gently pushed on. "Whatever it is, you can share it. Nothing can surprise me at this point."

Akira took a moment to try and phrase his grievances. "You know, on one hand I'm terrified about my friends sticking their neck out, but on the other I'm glad that I'm not the one risking it all for once. And… I'm scared to take the responsibility for the team again. We've had too many close shaves with me in charge."

Sojiro raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Everything past my capture in November worked out through dumb luck alone."

"Hm." He paused for a moment. "I saw that Yalbadaoth god back in December. You don't walk away from things like that without a metric ton of luck. But there was more to it than that – you've started with less than nothing to your name, assembled a motley crew of other outcasts and useful contacts, and went toe-to-toe with a nationwide conspiracy. Give yourself some credit."

"I painted targets on the backs of everyone I cared about."

"All of them are now fighting a god rewriting reality itself, for the second time in a row," Sojiro countered. "Do you think they mind?"

Akira had no answer to that, and so the line went quiet for the next few seconds.

"You're burned out. I understand," Sojiro continued. "All the others would understand that too. If you want to come to Tokyo for whatever reason, there will be a place for you here. Unconditionally. And in the meantime, I'll try to look after your friends."

"Thanks, th-that means a lot." Akira wiped away a stray tear. "I-I have homework to do, I gotta go." He hung up before Sojiro could've said his goodbyes. He put his phone away with a dejected sigh.

"That poor kid," Wakaba remarked. Sitting on the other side of the counter, she had heard the conversation well enough. "Considering everything he went through, the fact he's still mostly holding together is a testament to his fortitude."

"Tell me about it. I think I'll have a word with his pare-"

The bell above the door rang. Sojiro and Wakaba turned in to notice four teenagers entering the cafe, Morgana among them. All of them, to a man, seemed vaguely uneasy.

"Hey there," Sojiro greeted them. "Yes, we both know everything and don't plan to stop you."

"The remaining Phantom Thieves, I presume," Wakaba remarked.

"Correct," Morgana nodded. "Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa, Ann Takamaki, Makoto Niijima," he said, pointing at the people.

"Wakaba Sakura," she bowed her head a bit in greeting. "Despite the circumstances, it's nice to meet you." She realized Ann's looks match a description from a few days prior."Oh, Morgana's girlfriend is a Phantom Thief too?"

Ann was shocked for a split second, then turned to Morgana with a scowl on her face. "You have five seconds to explain this," she growled.

"I-I was put on the spot and needed to fib, Lady Ann!"

Wakaba chuckled to herself. "Since we're already discussing Mona's lies," she said, "considering the revelations about myself, Futaba and Goro, is there something about you I should know?"

"Well, I'm actually a magic cat," he said. "I really wanted to be human for, uh, reasons, which is why I look like some actor right now."

"...you're pulling my leg."

In response, Morgana snapped his fingers and turned back into his true form. "I can talk in this form, but only-"

"You're adorable!" Wakaba squeed, then picked him up from the ground and scratched him under his chin. "Who's a cute widdle kitty?"

"I am," he smiled.

"And youw cat voice is cute tooooo!"

"The server's getting crowded, I see."

Everyone turned to Futaba, descending the attic stairs. "Hey," she half-heartedly waved at them. "How's Shiho and Mr. Niijima?"

"Heartbroken," Ann replied with a scowl. "But since Maruki has already traumatized her again, this reality has nothing to offer her."

"Dad took things… shockingly well, truth be told," Makoto said. "He understands why we're doing it, and frankly, he seemed more angry about the Tokyo PD going to the dogs than about being a copy of a dead man."

"Iss weassoo- ahem," Wakaba put Morgana down. "It's reassuring to know I'm not alone in my assessment of this reality," she commented.

"That's that then. Maruki failed his quest to get us to stand down," Futaba remarked. "And considering mom's…" she paused, "opinion about this whole thing, I guess there's nothing stopping me from rejoining the party."

"If you need any equipment, ask Goro for money," Makoto said.

"Not really," she replied. "But I'd like to go to Maruki's Palace. Just stay by the entrance and run a thorough scan of the whole building."

"We can take ya there now, and cover you while you do your thing," Ryuji offered.

"How about that thing I asked you?" Wakaba piped up.

"I left a crawler bot running on my laptop," Futaba replied. "I should have some results before the end of the day."

"What thing?" Sojiro asked.

"Nothing important," Wakaba waved him off. "I'm just trying to get in touch with someone while I'm around."

Friday, January 13th, Afternoon

Things felt wrong on too many levels to count.

Last year he had fallen asleep in a prison cell in Tokyo, awaiting trial for running a criminal conspiracy, and had woken up in Ishikari, free, with the events of the past few years having never transpired, somehow. The discrepancy was too large to ignore, but since he had no clue about what caused it, he kept his head down and tried to live that new life. Get up at six, start work at seven, work until three, return home by four, relax until nine.

He was marching up the staircase, about to get to the 'return home' part of the day, when he heard footsteps behind him and someone calling out: "Um, sir, excuse me?"

He spun on his heel and noticed an unassuming woman in glasses walking up to him. She looked familiar for some reason, but he didn't want to dwell on that.

"Are you Masayoshi Shido?" she asked.

"I think so?"

"Then this is for Futaba, Goro and Wakaba."

The next thing he registered was a brass knuckle to the face. He tumbled backwards and fell down, and felt a drop of blood roll down on his upper lip. He stared at the assailant, too shocked to fight back or flee.

"Nine hours on a train," Wakaba muttered to herself. "Just barely worth it."

She then ran away.

Shido didn't bother reporting that to the police. Getting decked in the mug seemed, for lack of a better word, more appropriate than everything else about his life.