Chapter 6

After a whole lot of running and close calls later, they arrive back in the real world, in the same alley that they have gathered in.

Motherfucking collapse can go suck a dick, seriously.

"Everyone okay?" He hears Takamaki ask, but he's still winded from all the running (with Morgana's weight adding to his shoulder, no less), so he just gives her a nod as he pants his lungs out.

"Couldja like, tell us about this before we go in there, man!?" Sakamoto snaps, his right leg now limping almost too visibly to be ignored. Judging from the way it looks, now that the pant leg is sticking to his skin, Ren thinks it might've been broken a lot more thoroughly than he has first thought. Would explain why he could no longer run in the track team. "Why is it that you think we don't need to know this before we take his Treasure!?"

"Ryuji, voice!" Morgana hisses, four feet lightly scuffing across the ground and strangely around Ren's legs. When Ren gives the not-cat a small nod – to say that he is physically okay, probably – Morgana points out quietly. "Check the MetaNav. If we actually pull it off—"

"—And the Palace has truly disappeared, the name would've been gone, too," Ren finishes, fishing out his phone and looking at the search history, only to find the match gone without a trace. He only frowns a little. "…Is this it?"

"Probably," Morgana says, almost too simply, waving his tail back and forth like a pendulum. It takes Ren a while to realize that he is growling, because Morgana quickly adds. "Hey! This is the first successful example for me too!"

"Hn," Ren scoffs, pulling out from his coat – where he had snugged the crown inside the Metaverse – a golden Olympic medal, the very source of Kamoshida's twisted desire. Expulsion is not what he's worried about, but rather, what would come after – he doesn't want his father to know that he's a failure that couldn't stay in the same fucking school for a month without being expelled for some unsightly conduct, because that would mean more lessons, lessons, lessons—

(Taking down the Palace and strengthening Arsene's power is slowly changing him, a part of him notes, gleeful and terrified of their implications. He is getting angry easier whenever he's in the position to make a fucking choice, he is still scared of all the little things, but he realizes now that his anger from that other place is seeping through, Amamiya Ren slowly being swallowed into Joker's mask.

He quickly smolthers that line of thought with all of his might. His body knows all too well the price he has to pay for disobedience, and he cannot allow himself to be such a nuisance here in the real world.

But in there – and only in there – will he let himself free.)

"But! There's no doubt that this has affected Kamoshida's personality!" Morgana explains, looking up at the three of them. "The Palace is the manifestation of his twisted personality, after all. If it all disappears, then he would have changed, too. Not to mention his Shadow seemed to have gained a bit of conscience back before it disappeared."

"If it turns out that what you're speculating is wrong and I'm expelled, I'll turn you into a red splatter on a fucking sidewalk, Morgana," Ren snarls, voice low, Arsene's laughter louder than ever before. But when he sees the others looking at him with something akin to fear – the same damn fear he's been inflicted with and felt for himself thousands of times before, his fury quickly melts away into an ugly heap of tar under his feet. He breathes. "…Sorry, just… if I do get expelled, it isn't going to end well for my probation and—"

And my father will whip me into shape until not a single inch of my skin is left unmarred, Ren does not say.

"…Oh, right, you were transferred here on probation," Takamaki adds, her eyes returning to their kind, gentle warmth that Ren still couldn't trust. How could he, when all of the kindness shown to him has been nothing but misery in the guise of peace? "I'm sorry about that, Amamiya."

Ren only shakes his head. "Nothing you do will change it. We'll all just have to wait and see, then?"

"Mhm, I think so," Morgana nods, sitting down and licking his paw. "Let's go home then – it's a long day today, isn't it?"

"Fine," Ren murmurs.

There is still no such thing as home, only a place he could sleep, is all.

"…Why are you following me?"

Ren asks after a while, seeing that Takamaki is taking the same train as he is, when she usually would have headed Sakamoto's direction at the station. He feels Morgana shift in the bag, but he quickly pushes the not-cat against the glass pane, silencing him as Takamaki refuses to look his way.

After a moment, she sighs. "…I don't know, but back then… I – I just want to say thank you, for getting angry, even if it isn't for anyone's sake but your own."

Ren frowns for a moment, his lips set – what does she want, now? Not small talk, certainly. Does she want to really thank him? If she does, she could just text him when she's back home. When he fails to analyze what it is that she truly wants from him, he says, voice barely audible against the chatter of the commuters inside the train. "What do you want?"

"What – how could you say that!?" She quickly snaps, only to recoil back when others start to look their way. Ren ignores them – he would be forgotten soon, anyway – and waits until she regains some kind of composure. "Amamiya – I am worried about you! You are so angry one moment, and then you are so reserved and scared the next—"

"Everyone wants something from me," Ren says, his eyes not leaving hers, noticing for himself flickers of fear and something incomprehensible in them. When the train jerks, he allows a moment of silence to fall between them before continuing. "I am just a fucking dog, and I'll never be free. Everyone that has ever approached me wants something from me – my money, my labor, my blood. That includes you, too – you want me to help you avenge your friend, right? And I told you that I still don't trust you. What is it that you want? Just speak up so we can get this pretentious act of friendship over with."

(Arsene hums in disapproval, but Ren ignores it, letting his distrust and his suppressed ugly emotions reign his weak, beating heart.)

He's met with silence, shock, and something akin to hurt as she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. Ren doesn't blink, his hands balled into tight fists, hard enough for his nails to leave marks on his skin and draw blood from his flesh.

It takes her a moment to reply, Carmen's spout of flame cooled into no more than cinders. "I… I know we started on the wrong foot. I'm sorry I hurt you back then, but I… I want to help you, too. You look like you need it."

Arsene hums, as if content, wings cool and calm as they flutter against his spine in time with his heartbeat, and for a while, Ren just stares at her. She doesn't seem like she's lying. Sakamoto is different, because he is there since the beginning, he doesn't ask questions and doesn't pry. But Takamaki is with them only for the sake of revenge, and now that she's saying she wants to help him, Ren just couldn't understand.

He bites his lip, looking away, trying his hardest to ignore Arsene's wingbeats as they force away his distrust into something more, something that he has never felt and never willing to feel.

"…What can you do?" Ren hears himself say, his voice breaking into pieces like glasses as the train jerks again. He feels Morgana poking his head out of the bag, and glances down to see the not-cat looking up at him with some kind of contemplation and something else. Before he could stop himself, he mumbles out, his voice no more than a whisper. "What else can you do? You can't help me. No one ever tried. Even if they did, nothing would change."

"Amamiya," Takamaki says again, her hand half reaching over to him, and he flinches back instinctually. She doesn't back away this time, however, instead placing a careful hand on his arm, squeezing gently, just enough to make herself known. "I don't believe nothing will change. Please, let us try? We want to help you. All of us."

Ren presses his lips together as a part of his mind, treacherous and uncontrolled, ravels in the feeling of warm hand, one that is soft and careful and gentle, on his arm. He just looks away from her, unsure of what to say or do. When he feels Morgana nudges him, however, he looks down to see and feel his whiskers brushing lightly at his hand – one that has gripped tightly onto the sling of his bag – as he speaks. "I want to help you too, you know."

Ren forces himself to sigh as Arsene's presence become too large to ignore, and the Prince of Thieves coos into his ears, making his rationality slips away into the abyssal depths that he couldn't reach. He bites his lip again – should he really?

But his heart, treacherous and uncontrolled, rebels against him as his mouth moves in a word that horrifies him to hear (and it's perhaps forming the word he has always wanted to say, deep down), "…Fine."

"Okay," Takamaki smiles brightly, pulling her hand back and tugging at the sling of his bag, careful to not touch his skin. "Then we take off at this stop. I've got sweet shops I want to try out!"

"Wait—"

He isn't given the chance to protest when she pulls him along as soon as they're out, her steps springing with some kind of lightness he couldn't quite understand.

(The Lovers and the Magician come to mind, for the two he still couldn't trust, for the two that have wanted something from him in return for their cooperation. How could he ever trust them? He doesn't know, but he couldn't protest the voice in his head, or Arsene's wingbeats against the staffs of his ribs.

Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)

Ren somehow finds himself sitting in a café not too far from Shibuya station, with Takamaki gushing about all the things regarding sweets as she eats a slice of delicious looking cake, Morgana hidden inside his bag in her lap.

"Why don't you order any?" She asks after a bite, pointing a fork at him, her face resting in her hand. When Ren doesn't answer right away, she pulls the menu out and flips it open. "I could recommend—"

"I don't have money for that," Ren quickly says, arms crossed on the table, expecting some sort of demand or personal questions from her. However, both her and Morgana, much like Sakamoto back then, are giving him the privacy that he has always wanted, so he's slowly relaxing his guard. Still, he couldn't help but grunt as the coil of unease curls inside his stomach as he explains, "I'm… broke."

"…Oh," Is all she says. Then, something suddenly occurs as she snaps her fingers and pulls out her wallet, sifting through it and fishing out a few bills before calling for the waiter. "Lemme treat you to this one, then! I know just the dish that would—"

"Wait, you don't have to—"

"Nuh uh! I'm not listening!" Takamaki declares, making Ren frowns and winces at the volume of her voice, bright like the sun. She notices her folly, because she suddenly bows her head. "…Sorry. Anyways, if you don't have the money for it, then let me treat you, just once. As a thank you, and maybe… as a token of friendship?"

Ren still doesn't trust her – doesn't trust them – but the sincere look in her eyes and her willingness to keep questions to herself still his tongue. Maybe, just like Sakamoto, he could take this leap of faith, too – just like how Arsene keeps telling him to, persistent and unyielding.

In the end, he nods numbly, leaning over to look at the menu. "You take a pick. I don't know what I like."

He knows of what sweets are, delicacy to be enjoyed alone or with one's friends and families, but he has never had the chance to eat one for himself. Too expensive, unnecessary, and all the other things that they are. The thought comes to him, from time to time, but with his life set in stone as is, how could he? No action escapes his father's ears, after all, and since he always said that sweets and things other than the cheapest food are nothing but a waste, Ren never tries them.

He doesn't say it out loud, and he reigns his expression in well enough that she doesn't notice it, since she simply smiles and flips through the menu with a finger on her chin, deep in thoughts. Ren takes this time to study her; now that the revenge is gone from her mind, she seems like such an independent individual, gentle with the fire of passion burning under her skin. Much like Sakamoto, she, too, seems to be someone with a very clear sense of right and wrong in mind, and someone with the drive.

Someone Ren has always wanted to be. Someone that has everything that Ren doesn't.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when she talks to the waiter, ordering something that escapes his auditory sense entirely, and looks back at him. Takamaki waits for a while, as if catching his slight lapse in concentration, before smiling gently. "Just wait a little. And uh… I kinda heard from Ryuji (when did they get to the first name basis? Since the Palace?) and Morgana that you lived in Yongen-Jaya?"

"Yes," He replies, frowning just a little as he spots the not-cat poking over the edge of the table to look at him with disturbingly unblinking eyes. Ren finds himself looking away after a moment. "My… custodian let me live in the attic of—"

"In the what!?" Takamaki hisses, not loud enough to garner any undue attention to them, but enough to make Ren jump under his skin with the prickle of anxiety nudging at his fingertips. She quickly pulls back, clearly noticing whatever uncomfortable expression he is wearing, and mumbles. "…Sorry. Morgana never did say where exactly, and Ryuji just doesn't know any better. Is that really okay? Shouldn't you be given a proper room—"

"It is a proper room," Ren quickly mumbles out, unwilling to make anyone think that he is an ungrateful brat that would bark and bite at his own guardian, the deeply-rooted fear that has long since been beaten into him pulling at his tongue to continue diffusing the situation. "The attic is… cozy. It's good enough for me."

"Still, living in the attic is—"

"Just leave it at that," Ren finally grounds out, a frown settling deep on his face. She is prying more than she should, and he couldn't say anything, the fear and the guilt and all the discipline he's been taught dragging their ugly nails across his back like some kind of insects latching onto his flesh. He suppresses the shiver the best he could. "It's fine as it is. I'm on probation, not vacation."

Takamaki opens her mouth, as if to ask something, but shuts it and backtracks into her own head. After a second, she nods, her eyes still curious, but some understanding has already settled into her face. She offers him a small smile before saying, "Okay, if you say so. If you want to talk, I'll be there, okay?'

"Mhm," Ren hums noncommittally, resting his cheek on his hand, eyes glancing out towards the crowded streets of Tokyo, seeing at the edge of his visions the lost soul who has already succumbed to despair of the world sitting not too far from the dark alley, his eyes lost and glassed over. Ren decides to ignore him and returns his gaze back to the other two.

(That lost soul has the same eyes Ren always wear – of lost hope and fear of the unknown that always lurk just underneath, and Ren thinks something stirs in him, some kind of primal anger that makes Arsene's very flesh and bones into being, materializing into the world of the hearts, where Ren is not himself, but Joker, the rebel, the Trickster.

He wonders when he will end up like that. A part of him has already accepted such fate as his own.

Another part of him wants to resist the inevitable with all of his might.)

"Oh! Here it is!" Takamaki's voice drags him out of his own little bubble of privacy, and Ren glances over to see the plate of chocolate cake being served before him. Ren just blinks owlishly a few times as he raises a questioning eyebrow at her, and she shrugs. "Chocolate is a classic, and this place's cake is the best! Come on! Eat up!"

"…Alright," Ren says reluctantly, pulling the small plate to himself with his fingers as his right hand finds and grabs onto a small, silver spoon. Ren notices a blighted spot on it, and has the sudden urge to rub the damn thing clean, his skin and scars itching with vengeance. Ren ignores it. "Ittadakimasu."

He thinks he sees Takamaki looking at him like he had just uttered a language of another planet, but when she catches his eyes, she just shrugs and smiles, so Ren leaves it as is before taking in a tentative bite—

—And the cake is unlike anything he's ever eaten before.

He leaves the delicacy to melt on his tongue as he resists the sting of tears prickling at his eyes, his nails digging deep into his palm as he swallows both the food and his stupid tears back. Just like with the curry, the food is just something made with care, not some crude ingredients put together in a hurry in fear of slowing down the schedule. He has had to make blends on his own too many times to count, careful to allot his money to work rather than meal to make sure he stays within expectations – and it has been so long that the flavor nearly overwhelms him, just like the curry, too.

If she notices his internal turmoil, Takamaki doesn't voice it aloud as she keeps talking softly about all the shops he doesn't care about (he doesn't have the money to waste on them, anyway) and about something else he hasn't been putting his mind to. Ren allows her to continue, though; somehow, against his initial impressions of the raging inferno, she can be so kind and so warm when she wants to be, the lick of flame no more than soothing embers upon his skin, calming down his thundering heart and making his arms and legs relax as if he's within the confine of his own mind.

He just keeps eating – forcing himself to eat, to appear normal – with the seconds bleeding into minutes, and before he realizes it, the sun has already set, and his plate and hers are both empty without a single speck of the dessert remains. When Ren looks up again, she smiles. "Do you like it?"

More than I should. I shouldn't have eaten it, because I won't be able to forget it, and it'll make it all the harder to— "…Yes, I do."

"Great!" She laughs, clapping her hand lightly. "When we have the time, let's visit other places, too! I—"

"I don't have the mone—"

"But I do!" She grins as she waves for him to get to his feet, and he slowly complies, Morgana being handed to him almost too absently as her pale blue eyes glint with some kind of free-spirited light. "We're friends, Amamiya – I'm here for you whenever you need me too, okay? I promise I won't hurt myself for this. If we have the time and I have the money, you've got to come with me!"

Ren pauses, pursing his lips, his mind reeling. She's still not to be trusted, but the longer she talks, the longer he stays within her vicinity, the harder his wall just crumbles. Sakamoto gave him the distance that he needed, and that is why he feels like he could maybe put his faith in him. But Takamaki – she just shoved herself into his personal space and forced him to do things he has never dreamed to do before. They are different, and yet—

—And yet, they are the same.

Do not think, my boy, Arsene's voice rumbles within him, forcing him to uncurl his fingers and laying down his own tangled, conflicted emotions bare before himself. You think too much with the standard of the world led askew by what you have been through. But they are not like those who called you a mutt – they are different. Do not think with your mind, crooked and twisted by the injustice of the world. Feel with your heart, one that is free – what is it saying?

Ren bites his lip, half torn, both unwilling and yearning to trust that voice that is both his and not his own, the heart of the rebel born from the pure, unadulterated anger that has been left to fester in his chest like a rotting wound. When Arsene leaves his words as is, following them up with calm, cool silence, Ren sighs shakily, running his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes.

He doesn't want to feel anything. He doesn't want to trust people only to be hurt and—

Don't think. Feel. What does your heart truly want?

"…Alright," Ren's lips move of their own accord, leaving behind his addled mind and his broken heart. Ren couldn't stop himself from saying that, and neither could he refuse the call from some place deep within him, one that he doesn't know, one that spurs him to continue. "When we have the time… I will."

"Great!" She laughs, her hands still careful as to not touch his skin as she leads him out of the café and into the open road. "But that's for the future. Let me walk you back to your place. I kinda want—"

"—No," Ren chokes out, stopping himself in his track, and forcing her to still her feet, too. He takes a moment to calm down his pounding heart, always so treacherous and ready to burst out of his chest upon the slightest crack in his defense, before he explains himself. "I… I'm not ready. Just—"

"Okay," She says easily, much like how Sakamoto did, too, when he refused to disclose anything regarding himself, when he refused to open his lips and tell another soul about why he is here, when he refused to even try to connect to another person more intimately than the superficial bond (the word is such a strange thing on his tongue that it makes his gut twists uneasily) that they are sharing. "Hey, I do get it. You just can't talk about something with anyone, and it's not like I have the best first-impression with you, Amamiya."

"…Thank you," Ren says, his voice raw, his fingers curling into his hair and tugging at the roots, making the pain just enough to not be noticeable by others, but adequate to pull his thoughts together. "I'm sorry, I… I'm just not ready. But… maybe. Someday."

Someday that may never come.

"It's okay," She says, the flame simmering beneath her eyes warm but not scorching. Ren blinks slowly as she leads them back to the station. "I'll get onto a different platform at the station. Let's just walk there together, yeah?"

"Mhm," Ren hums.

(He is wrong, Ren realized, Arsene humming quietly beneath the celestial canopy that hangs above his head like dark boxes of jewels. Takamaki is different from the others. Morgana, too. They might have come to him initially for the favors that he could give them, for the services and the skills that he has.

But here, where he had done all that he can, when his part of the bargain has been carried out, they're going beyond their own just to talk to him. It is unexplainable, but Arsene is forcing the notion into his mind, one that is strange and foreign to his tongue, but not one that is unpleasant… friends, is what they are.

And it makes him think that maybe, just maybe, should that day he could fly (the day that may never come) arrive…. He could allow them to see the shadows he never allows anyone else to catch a glimpse of before, as well.

Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)

April 26th, 2016 [Tue]

Kamoshida hasn't been seen since their heist, and while Ren still doubts the success of their so-called stealing of the heart, it is a good sign.

The rumors about him still haven't stopped, but people are more inclined to ignore his presence than to outright gossip about him now, which he counts as a rather fortuitous thing. At school, he keeps mostly to himself, the lunchtime spent in solitude on the roof with the other three of his co-conspirators huddling together talking and joking around, closer than ever before. Ren likes the silence (lies), and while it is still something new, them allowing him his little bubble of peace is quite… something. Strange, but not at all unpleasant, and he thinks he appreciate it, to a degree.

But whether they know or not, he is listening to everything that they were and are saying; about him (those were discussed briefly and in hushed whispers, so he does not know much), about the school, about the incoming expulsions should their mission fail, and about all things and everything that Ren doesn't care to remember. The part-time jobs he had sent his applications to still haven't called back, and he's anxious, Sakura's curries the only thing keeping him going – and it's been three damn weeks, so he is pretty sure he'll be losing more weights and more sanity for this—

"Here, dude," Sakamoto's voice snaps him out, making him tear his eyes away from the article about how to make the best meal with the least amount of money and up to the other boy. He looks to the side to see Takamaki and Morgana waving at him before Ren decides to focus on Sakamoto, who's trusting a steaming, gigantic hotdog into his face. "I've never seen you bought any lunches, so I guess the situation's pretty shitty, yeah?"

"You don't have to—"

"Nuh-uh, I ain't listening!" The boy says with a grin, putting the thing down carefully on his lap before sliding down next to him, a fair bit of distance separating their skin. "It ain't a bother to me. You look like you need to eat lots more, man. I've eaten plenty, so it's your turn."

Ren opens his mouth, as if to counter that, somehow, but Arsene's feathers ruffle through his hair with gentleness that makes him shiver minutely. He blinks again as the words roll over him – don't think, feel – before sighing and deciding to amuse the Prince of Thieves by accepting the gift he shouldn't have. "If you insist. Let me—"

"—Friends giving things to other friends is normal, y'know?" Sakamoto says, crossing his hands behind his head and looking up at the cloud lazily crossing the arc of the sky. Ren follows his gaze as he continues, his voice low in volume. "Dude, I've gotten this out before – I ain't gonna ask if you don't wanna talk. But hey, this is what friends do, you know? Helpin' each other without rewards, I mean."

"I see," Ren says, realizing just at this moment that Sakamoto is actually… not as dense as he first thought, and maybe more considerate than his first impressions, too. He then turns his attention towards the hotdog on his lap. "…Thank you, Sakamoto."

"No problem!" The boy grins brightly. "Anywho, I dunno if you want to or not, but you can call me Ryuji! We're friends, after all!"

"Call me Ann, too!" She says, pouting just minutely even as her hands remain on Morgana's head, rubbing the tip of his ears and making him kick his back leg repeatedly, a satisfied mewl spilling through his teeth without care. "We calling you Ren and you not calling us with our first names are kinda weird, y'know?"

Ren frowns a little. His… previous interactions with his former friends (ones who have abandoned him as soon as his father did, just like everyone else) never let him call their first names. But Ren's always been fine being called whatever, normal or derogatory, as long as it catches his attention. And this – them saying it like this, as if calling names are important enough for them to actually confirm to him that he could call them with that kind of familiarity, even though he hasn't been doing anything for them before – makes Arsene twirls, light and free, laughter bubbling like shining lights in the dark.

He allows himself to smile, the notion of being close foreign and new, but now that he has been exposed to it for days even when he has nothing else to offer, he feels… nice. Warm. Calm.

"Alright, if you two insist… Ryuji, Ann."

(For someone to stay with him even when his usefulness is over, when he has nothing else to offer, when he is hard to get along with, with a record that would stain theirs, too – it feels, for the first time since the very beginning, for the first time since forever—

—It feels like… home.)

"And… yeah, just like that, nice and slow."

Ren complies, tilting the glass jar and pouring the hot water into the grounded coffee, the aroma calm and soothing. Ren allows his hands to do what he's been told, and once he's done, he pushes the cup towards Sakura's direction before going about cleaning up the mess he inevitably has to make during the process. "Let me clean this up a bit, sir, and then um… the critique?"

"You can listen while you clean," The man says softly, fingers rubbing at his beard contemplatively. Ren only nods, bowing his head and putting everything away back in order, not even a millimeter off of their original locations. "I've gotta say, kid, you've got lots of promises. And your work is always so neat and clean – better than I can do it sometimes, to be honest."

Ren doesn't let the praise get to him – praises are good, of course, but they could turn into scowls as soon as he slips up. He nods his head a little again, pushing the jar of coffee beans back up the shelf and turning it so that the label would turn outward. "Thank you, sir."

"You don't sound happy about me praising you," Sakura notes, and it makes Ren jump; has he not been showing enough gratitude? Has he been acting like an ungrateful— "Oh, it's no problem, kid. I'm just… surprised. You look like you are expecting me to hit you next."

"Of course not, sir," Ren says, trying his best to level his voice and calming down his beating heart. The Price of Thieves does not move much, instead stirring within the hollow cavity in his chest – one in place of his heart, one that he doesn't have of his own – and groaning deep into his bones, grounding his racing thoughts to a halt. Ren sighs quietly, mumbling, "I'm… elated that you said that. I just… don't want to disappoint you by messing it all up, sir."

"Messing up is a part of the process," Sakura says, putting the cup to his lips and taking a sip as Ren pulls off his apron and sitting back down, fingers twitching restlessly as he puts his hands together to warm them up. He hears Morgana mewls from upstairs, but pay the not-cat no mind. "Mm, the taste is good, too. You're good at a lot of things. You could make a living off just about anything."

But who would hire someone like him? Someone with a criminal record, someone whose father is angered at and willing to whip him back into the dog that he is? He doesn't have a place in the world anymore. He just has to live as his father dictates— "…That is a high praise, sir. Thank you."

"You're too modest sometimes," Sakura notes, his voice not exactly scolding, but… strange, one that he couldn't quite discern. "Work on your self-confidence a little more, and you're good."

"Yes, sir."

"Anyway, kid," Sakura starts again, finishing his cup and handing it back to him. Ren accepts it and quickly goes about cleaning, keeping a part of his attention on the older man. There is a pause, one that makes Ren want to turn around and prostate himself in apology for something he might've done, before the man continues. "I've been meaning to say… I've gotta apologize to you."

"What for, sir?" Ren says quickly, turning around while his hands remain on the cup, his fingers scarping on the ceramic as if to ground himself. "You've been nothing but—"

"Shush and listen for a second," Sakura half-snaps, making Ren jumps just under his skin, and he presses his lips together to stop his own set of apologies and reassurances to spill forth. When he's sure nothing will come his way, he looks back to the man, who's looking at him with some kind of curiosity he doesn't know the reason of. "I judged you after just hearin' about you. I shouldn't have done that, because you're actually a pretty kind kid, at least to me."

"It's only normal, sir. I've done terrible things, after all," Ren decides to say, the need to spill out the truth that his father didn't listen, the need to talk about everything his so-called friends didn't believe him at the forefront of his mind. But he doesn't – couldn't – allow it to come out, because there is no way in hell anyone will believe anything that he says (but maybe, those three whose other-selves have been helping him before would, another part of him states). "It's within your rights to protect your property."

There is a strange light within Sakura's eyes, one that disappears as soon as it comes. Then, the man sighs, shaking his head a little. "Seriously, you've got some problem – and no, I don't mean it in a bad way. It's like… whatever."

"…Sir," Ren murmurs, nodding slightly before putting everything back in place. He glances to the clock to see that it's only a few minutes past ten, so he just shrugs to himself before bowing fully. "Then, please excuse me, sir. I'll go finish the inventory before going back to bed."

"Ah, about that," Sakura waves his hand. "It's already ten. You go get some shut-eye, kid. I've got it."

"But—"

"No buts!" The man says, putting up a finger to halt his tongue. "You. Back to bed."

"…Sir, yes sir."

Ren bows again before turning to head back upstairs, unaware of the unease appearing on the older man's face, or the way the light of guilt glints off of his eyes.

May 2nd, 2016 [Mon]

The morning gathering starts off innocently enough—

—Only for Kamoshida to suddenly come up on stage, prostate himself and apologize for everything he has done, is doing, and is about to do.

He also offers to take his own life to atone for his crimes, as well.

But what surprises Ren more is the way Taka – Ann, he corrects himself – snaps, her voice rising against the chatters that surround them. "Don't you dare run away! Shiho's still alive even after all the things that made her want to die, after all the things that you've put her through! You have no right to run from this!"

"…You're right," Kamoshida murmurs, eyes downcast. "I should be punished under the law and atone for my crimes, and—" At this, Ren sees Ann's hand tremble, her fingers tense and the veins on her hands visible under all the tension. "—I've done horrible things to Takamaki-san, as well… forcing her into a relationship with me, in exchange for Suzui-san's starting position."

The disgust rises within the mass, and Ren could feel Arsene laughs at the chaos of it all, his steel-tipped boots and his dark-feathered wings dancing within the void of his soul. Ren feels something in him, the words in a language he vaguely recognizes as Latin coming into his sense, as Arsene hums into his core, light and careful. Audentes fortuna juvat, my dear boy. Fortune favors the bold. Without taking a leap, there will be nothing for you to gain. You've taken the first step on your own, and now you see the fruits of your labor. What shall you do now?

Ren still isn't too sure what he should do, what he's supposed to do. He is treading a fine line of angering the only man who rules over his life and fighting for his own right to live, but here – here, where he sees the relief on some faces, the cloud of sadness partially lifted on others – he thinks… this fortune might be worth everything that he has to offer.

He allows Arsene's power to course through him, making his lips curl up into a small smile, the curses and darknesses running through his veins like hellfire as he breathes his oath anew;

"I'll do everything. I am Thou, Thou art I – give me all that you have, and I'll give you all that I am."

So be it, my boy!

(He still couldn't fight against his own weakness, couldn't cut through the fog of guilt and obedience that has hung over his shoulders like a cape. But here and now, he will give it his all, to see this fortune called justice be done – to give those who needs it the wings of rebellion to fly, something he couldn't do on his own.

Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)