Sorry for any typos in advance. You wouldn't believe how easy it is to overlook the mistakes of your own writings. Hopefully there won't be any major ones that'll put you off of this story! :D

Chapter 12

May 22nd, 2016 [Sun]

"Ah! It's a surprise seeing you here, Amamiya-kun!"

Ren almost jumps when a familiar voice calls to him as he leaves the beef bowl shop for the day (with a hefty amount of cash he's never held before in his hands), and turns to see no other than Maruki walking up to him with a smile. Their previous encounter had left some… unpleasant feelings in his gut and a sour taste on his tongue, but Arsène is calling for him to face his fears, and the insane croon of the Prince is getting impossible to ignore— "I… good evening, Maruki-san."

"Lovely evening to you, too," Maruki says with a bright smile, all the calculative look he wore during their session gone without a trace. Ren bites his lip, unsure of what to think, when the man continues. "Do you work part-time here?"

"…Yes," he nods stiffly, pushing the cash into his bag (and making Morgana yelp at the sudden intrusion of his privacy) (sorry) and straightening himself up. He feels the not-cat poking his eyes over at him, and when Ren glances down, those eyes are practically demanding that he talks to Maruki about everything – still, this doesn't seem such a good place and time, so he simply hums noncommittally before murmuring with a bow. "Are you here for a dinner, Maruki-san?"

"Ah, no, I was just passing by," the man laughs, waving his hand slightly. But then, the man's smile seems to falter a little, and his bright, almost childish disposition is then replaced by a warmer, gentler one – one that makes Ren puts his guard up instinctually, still far too distrustful of Maruki and adults in general. "…Is there anything I can help you with?"

He sighs, Arsène's insistence pushing him towards the edge. He rubs his temples with his fingers before nodding – against his better judgement – and looking up. "I… actually, I'd… like to try again. Your counseling session, I mean."

The man's smile widens slightly, his eyes betraying none of his emotions. And, for a split second, Ren is forced to remind himself that Maruki, too, might be just like any other adult he's seen before. But his thought is cut short without mercy when Maruki nods. "Of course! Would you like to talk tomorrow after school? I'll be more than happy to lend an ear."

"…I can't tell you about… anything, except for my feelings at the moment," he confesses, ignoring the silent yowl from his bag, instead focusing on trying to… sort everything (sort his fears and his insecurities and the terror building up within him) out without allowing anyone to glance deeper than necessary. "Will that be enough?"

Much to Ren's surprise, Maruki nods as he waves for Ren to join him in his walk. And since the man seems to be heading to where he is, he allows himself to follow Maruki's footsteps. "Of course. My job is not to push you to open up about every little detail of your life. While it would help if you can open up fully, there is little harm in omitting your past history. I understand – not everything can be reiterated to anyone, after all."

"I… see," he says, frowning just minutely – Maruki seems… different, from the other people he's seen. He certainly is better in at least one aspect than his previous (and only) shrink, so Ren sighs in relief, humming quietly into the air between them and relaxing his shoulders just slightly. "…I guess… I can deal with that."

"Let's not talk about the heavy topics before you're ready," Maruki smiles, one that feels sincere, before he pulls something out of his bag and hands it to Ren. He blinks when he sees multicolored mochis under the lid. "Here! I think I might've bought a bit too much snacks to be used for my sessions, and I was heading back home. I live alone, you see – it'd be a waste to throw them away! You can have some, Amamiya-kun!"

"I… thank you?" He says, a little unsure, as he takes one into his fingers, the texture soft and velvety, and it makes him unintentionally salivate. He takes a bite, and has to resist the urge to gobble everything down in a single gulp. "…It's good."

"Right?" Maruki smiles, taking one for himself. Ren feels Morgana's eyes on him, but chooses to ignore them, instead letting his gaze linger on Maruki's features. "This is the best store I've found so far. I think I'll try to walk around and find something else next Sunday."

"…I cannot help you," Ren says, unsure of how to actually continue the conversation, surprisingly bubbly and carefree – as much as it is careful to avoid triggering something in him, Ren thinks. He then frowns, something boiling at the tip of his tongue, Arsène's presence making itself known through the midnight veils that settle in. He sighs, defeated, before nodding to himself – to Arsène – and looking up. "Would you mind if… I join you sometime?"

"Of course not!" Maruki practically beams at him, his eyes dancing with delight far younger than what his age suggest he should do. "If we're going to do that, let's exchange our numbers. You know, so we can call each other and all of that! To confirm your participation in the counseling, too—" At this, Maruki seems to wince, before his look turns apologetic "—And, I have to apologize for last time. I did not mean to cause you any harm, but I think the researcher in me… Ah, no, that's not the point—"

"…It's okay," Ren says, almost unsuccessful in biting back the sir and trapping it between his teeth. He feels something warm in his chest, the wingbeats from Arsène soft and calm, as if to urge him on. His choices are never his to make, Ren absently thinks – with all these voices and feelings that force him to make a choice without end – but he could not say no to it, not without the sound of beatings of drums that drowns out everything else, one that rings inside his head whenever he denies them, incessant and angry. "Everybody… everybody makes mistakes."

"I promise, I will not say or ask for more without your explicit permission," Maruki says, one hand held up as if to say an oath, the other placed over his chest. Then, he lowers his hand, offering it to Ren, perhaps as a sign of peace. "Do we have a new deal?"

"…Yes," he says, against his mind's judgement, following the desires of a heart that is not his own. He takes the hand, feeling the burn rumbling deep in his bones, but he ignores it. "We have a deal."

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

"Thanks for the help, kid."

Iwai says after they meet back at Untouchable, his job now over, with him calling Iwai to bail him out of a bind back in the restaurant – and it still surprises him how such a simple trick still works, since last he's seen anyone did this to get out of an awkward negotiation was when he was about ten. "It's no problem, Iwai-san. I just did as I was told."

"So you did," Iwai hums, flopping down on the chair behind the counter and gesturing for Ren to sit at the other one on the customer's side. When he does, the man pushes a model Taurus PT92 his way. When Ren doesn't say or do anything, the man scoffs before pushing a small bag towards him. "I promised you I'll give you a discount. Never said anything about not givin' you a bonus."

"But – are you sure?" He says, frowning just slightly as he reluctantly takes the gun into his hand, and oh, it feels just like the real thing. He examines the chamber, the magazine, the trigger – and everything is near perfect, except for some off-balance weight and the fact that the trigger could not be pulled down to full. "This… this must've costed a lot."

"Consider it a forward payment or something," Iwai shrugs, pushing the bag insistently his way. Ren puts the pistol down and opens it to see what he thinks is most unexpected – some materials and cleaning equipment for guns. Pistols, in particular. "Besides, you and your friends coming in to buy model guns and weapons from me gives me some nice cash flow I've not had in a while. So this doubles as a thank you, too. Take it."

"I – yes," Ren nods, taking the gun into his hand with care and tugging it inside his jacket. Morgana and his bag is left outside, so he will have to put the thing back there later. "So… what will my next job be, if… it's not too much to ask?"

Iwai glances up at him with a small frown before he sighs, waving his hand for Ren to lean in close. When he does, he's jabbed in the forehead by Iwai's middle and forefinger (ow), forcing him to coil back and rubbing at his reddened skin.

Iwai snorts as he crosses his legs and leans back against his chair. "Don't worry about it, kid. It'll take a while before I need your help again. Don't fret over it."

"But, the deal—"

"—Is still a deal, you don't worry 'bout it," Iwai smirks, leaning his chin on his knuckles and waving his finger at Ren back and forth. "You are a natural at this kind of thing, and I ain't even gonna begin to ask where the flying fuck you learnt how to do it—" Iwai frowns a little "—not to mention the way you identify Tsuda as Hashiba Clan's member just from a glance."

Ren immediately clamps his mouth shut, unsure of what to say – because if Iwai asked around, even a little, his father's name will most likely immediately pop up, and then—

"And I ain't gonna ask you how you know," Iwai's words cut Ren's thoughts off, and he looks up with slight surprise as the man shrugs. "Not my businesses. But know this – you're still a kid, and while I need your help to snoop around those damn rumors, I ain't gonna put you in danger or nothin', okay? I can't."

"…It's fine," Ren says, before immediately biting at his tongue to stop himself from saying anything that would lead the man to where he shouldn't be. "…I don't really mind risking it a little."

"…Huh," the man says, scratching his head. "Well, I guess you really don't. See you around after a while, kid – I need to prep somethin' for a bit before I could use your help again."

"…Roger that."

Ren then excuses himself, ducking out of Untouchable Airsoft and heading home for the day, the string of their bond shining and growing stronger as the deal is slowly being carried out, unaware of the pair of eyes that linger on him, that seems to search for something Ren couldn't possibly provide.

(Munehisa is… concerned.

No, seriously, the kid not only has some uncanny instinct and knowledge of the underworld at large (how the fuck he identifies the clan's tattoo with just a glance, Munehisa has no fucking idea) but also that sharp yet terrified edge to the way he carries himself. He's afraid of something being dug up and laid bare, if he has to guess.

Which makes him curious. Morbidly curious.

"Oi," he says as soon as the call is picked up – one of his informants, the only one who hasn't bought into Tsuda's bullshits – and immediately gets to the point. "I need ya to look up a name for me. Don't tell anyone anythin', too, especially not the person being looked up. Can you do that?"

"Definitely, Iwai-san," the other side says. And since Munehisa trusts this man even with his own life – and Kaoru's, too – he is willing to put his bet on him. But if the kid knows— "Who do you want me to look into?"

"Not exactly looking into the person in question himself," he says, scrunching his nose and letting his breath escapes through the gaps of his teeth. "But anyone relatin' to him in Tokyo, at least."

"I can arrange for that. The name, please?"

"Amamiya Ren," he states, eyes watching the boy walking away into the dark of the night. "The kid himself ain't the problem. I want to know what kinda connections he has."

"Got it. I'll call you when I've found things out."

"Please do."

When he puts down the call, Munehisa couldn't help but feel like he's going to be in some deep, absolute wild ride of a shit. And years after years of being in a Yakuza's family has taught him enough – that his instinct is always something to be trusted.

He just hopes that the kid will be alright. After all, he doesn't look that much older than Kaoru—

—And he'd rather the kid be safe and sound than getting involved in all of this shit more than necessary.)

May 23rd, 2016 [Mon]

"Welcome!"

Maruki says as soon as Ren opens the door, only to be greeted by him and the student with scarlet hair – the one he's helped on the train, the one Kamoshida has ruined his already tarnished reputation to her – sitting opposite from Maruki. He just stays at the door, unsure of what to do. "Um… is this a bad time? I could come back another—"

"It's alright! I've just finished with Yoshizawa-san," Maruki quickly says, getting up and gesturing for the girl, Yoshizawa, to get up. Ren scoots out of the way, not missing Yoshizawa's bow – but not letting himself respond in any way, either – before sliding into the room and closing the door behind him. Then, Maruki smiles, "I'm glad you decide to drop by today! Want a snack? A cup of tea?"

Ren is about to decline, but then, his stomach growls, making Maruki laugh delightedly. He sighs before mumbling half to himself. "…Yes. Maybe a cup of tea and something to chew on."

"Alright," Maruki's expression is gentle and kind, so kind, that it makes Ren's heart squeezes painfully in his chest, filling the emptiness with something warm. Then, the doctor gets up and walks over to the cupboard. "Anyway, let's start with something simple, shall we? What are you feeling today? Or right now, if I may ask?"

"…Hungry?" He tries, drawing a puff of laughter out of Maruki. Arsène then whispers little nothings into his ears, and he hums in return, allowing his body to sag slightly against the gravity. He then hums, Jack Frost's light chuckle (hee ho, Trickster!) now taking precedence over Arsène's madness. "…But I guess… it's so-so today."

"So-so, huh?" Maruki repeats with a small smile, pulling something out of the cupboard and closing it. "It's a good start. Anything else? Just say whatever you want to say. From a good lunch to an itch – it's a small start that leads to a big change, after all."

Ren only hums, but offers nothing more.

After a minute of tense silent on Ren's part, he decides to bite the bullet (again, every time that he does something his head says not to, it is in no small part due to the incessant crows of laughter in his head) as he takes the snack from the table – from a tray of crackers, this time – and bites on it as a way to occupy his body. Maruki is humming a quiet tune of a song Ren doesn't know, lips curled up into an ever-pleasant smile that sets Ren at ease but makes his nerves itch.

He sighs, leaning back against his seat, hands fiddling at the end of his shirt to find some sort of purchase that nothing else could give him. He then exhales slowly, a frown on his face, before he murmurs. "I think… I'm angry."

"Angry?" Maruki repeats softly as he leans in on his knees, perhaps for better hearing. "Can you elaborate on that? Or would you rather not?"

Ren bites his lip – he just never wants to say anything to anyone, wants to take his secrets and everything that has transpired during the last sixteen years to the grave with him, but he knows that Ann is right; that he needs to talk about this to someone, if he's going to make progress. And while he himself is fine drowning in his own misery, his friends don't seem to think the same, and they are hell-bent on making him know exactly that.

They refuse to back down… and he has to do this, so that he wouldn't put them in danger of his own doings. He won't be able to live with himself if the only people in the world that have called him their own were to be hurt and made worry by his hands. So, he bites his tongue, exhales for a long second that feels like a lifetime, before mumbling out. "I was… while working on a project, I had to look at… something. Something that reminds me of what had happened in my life before."

"I see," Maruki hums easily. "And why has it made you angry?"

He closes his eyes, slowly recalling the images of golden statues and false praises and fake paintings that alight the paths of Madarame's Palace, something that he has seen all too many times before within the confines of his own house, within where his father and mother resided. He bites his lip, the panic bubbling up his throat again.

"You don't have to tell me if you can't," Maruki says with a small smile as he pushes a cup of tea his way – and he absently takes it without a second thought, fiddling the steaming cup in his palms. "But when something makes you angry, that means that it's something that overwhelms you with negative feelings like frustration, anxiety, stress, loneliness, grief, shame… do you think you were feeling one of these emotions? When you were angry?"

He frowns. The falsities of everything in that place reminds him of the cold, hard truth that his parents (the word that used to mean nothing to him now makes him feel sick) saw – see – him the same way Madarame does with his pupils, with Yusuke, too. So, reluctantly, he nods, "…Yes. I think I am… frustrated. To see something that I've been through repeated in someone else's life."

(Frustrated, and afraid, and shock, that he's not the only one who's been through it. While he knows that life might not be kind to everyone, he hadn't assumed that someone with the same pain would be so close at hand, hadn't imagined he would have to see everything that has been done to him being repeated to someone else – many someone else's – and hadn't imagined that he would now have the power to change it.

He usually would've just kept his head down and bore those feelings, bottling it up inside his chest until it'd burst and rip him apart. But now that he has this power of the Wild Card, has the power that is born from Arsène, from his own pent-up emotions he has never allowed himself to feel… it is different. It makes him feel more than he ever had in a lifetime.

And the novelty of it all terrifies him.)

Maruki takes a small pause before he smiles slightly. "…You're such a kind young man, Amamiya-kun."

He frowns, taking a sip. "I don't see how that is relevant with me getting angry."

"But it is," Maruki says, pausing in his munching of the never-ending supply of snacks to look at Ren in the eyes, with enough intensity to make him squirm. Arsène growls lowly, but Ren decides to push him out to the back of his mind as the man continues. "You are getting angry for someone else. You have a good heart, Amamiya-kun. A very kind one. If not, you wouldn't have gotten angry seeing someone else in your shoes like so."

Ren opens his mouth to retort, but he could come up with nothing; his mind is blank, and his vocabulary for any insurgent towards such an outrageous statement nonexistent. He feels not just Arsène, this time, but some of the masks within him – like Jack Frost's childish laughter, or Shiisaa's bashful yips, or Eligor's authoritative war cry – rumbling in approval to Maruki's words.

He could find nothing in him to rebuff Maruki, so he simply sighs, taking it not with voice but with stoic silence, absently sipping through his tea and feeling its warmth washing down his throat—

"Anger is a normal psychological response, you see," Maruki says, pulling from the back of his couch a miniature white board, one that immediately draws Ren's eyes to it. There is something scribbled on it, some sort of charts, one that Maruki wipes away with his sleeve – inevitably staining it with ink – before he uncaps the pen and starts drawing. "Are you familiar with Paul Ekman's universal emotions theory?"

"…No," Ren says. While he has dipped into psychology as a part of his education, he has not been given the luxury to go as far as the very foundations of the subjects. The name has never even come up once before. "What is it about?"

"In 1972, doctor Ekman here said that there are six universal emotions for all humans," Maruki says as he draws the circle in the middle, branching out into six. "It is not as easy as that, per se – but doctor Ekman initially categorized emotions into six main branches. Anger. Surprise. Disgust. Enjoyment. Fear. Sadness. There is a seventh, but that is irrelevant, so let's not get to that."

Ren watches as Maruki finishes drawing. The man then points at anger in particular.

"Now, emotions happen due to events around us; physicals, psychological, social. Anger is, let's say… one emotion that is basically a way to tell you that you are feeling like you are wronged. Now, while this is subjective, it can tell you that you're faced with a problem, one that you have to get rid of to reach your goals, whatever they may be," Maruki says, putting the board down and snapping Ren's focus back to the man. He then smiles. "Anger is not necessarily a bad thing, however. It tells you that there is something you need to fix – and once you can find the source, you will be able to reign it in."

"Something in need of fixing, huh…" Ren repeats numbly, blinking into the lukewarm cup in his palms, his brows furrowed in concentration. He… anger is quite new to him, since he has never allowed himself to feel it. And after coming here and gaining this maddening power, he has never tried to look beyond the simple fury that runs through his veins before.

"You don't need to do it now, of course," Maruki says, pulling Ren out of his train of thoughts again. When he looks up, Maruki offers him a paper bag, pushing it into his arms without waiting for him to protest before leaning back into his seat. "But, the first step is to recognize when you are angry. After that, is to find your focus, to see where your anger is pointed at; and it always will point at actions, not the actors. I can help you, if you will allow me, of course."

Ren tilts his head to the side, Maruki's words sitting deep in his veins, singing the tune of reasons into his bones and calming down the wild beats of Arsène's wings. He hums contemplatively, "…I guess I'll have to sleep on this a little. Uh, and… thank you. For that. It is… enlightening."

You gave me a something to think about, Ren does not say.

"You're welcome!" Maruki beams. "Do you want to continue? Or would you rather go back to rest for the day? We could schedule this another time, of course!"

"…Probably back," Ren mumbles, looking around the room. When he finds the stacks of books with the words Psychology etched into the spines, he turns to Maruki once again. "Can I… burrow some of those? I think… I think I want to know more—"

"Of course! Take your pick! And feel free to return them whenever you want to!" Maruki says without so much as a pause, and that along with their conversations so far make him think of Maruki as different from the other adults he has had the displeasure to meet before. He seems… genuine. Kind. Unlike the rest of them. "If you have any problems understanding them, you can come to me anytime. Or call me. Or texts! I'd love to discuss this with someone else!"

"…Okay," Ren bows his head slightly. "Thank you, Maruki-san."

(The bond grows deeper, and while his first impression of Maruki had been less than ideal and painful to the bones, the man has proven himself to be someone that maybe Ren could say things he will never say to anyone else to. But he isn't willing to dive deep into his own head, isn't willing to bare his sin for all the world to see just yet. But for now, he chooses to truly cherish this bond, with his many masks' croon urging him forward.

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

May 24th, 2016 [Tues]

"Joker, do I want to know why you seem so comfortable hanging upside down?"

"No. No, you don't."

Ren says with a leg draped over the steel hook, hanging upside down and staring at the still unformed Treasure, its light bending even the space around it into obscurity. He stays there for a while, imagining himself being lowered to the Treasure. He has to be able to carry whatever the hell that thing is up before running for his literal life.

"Yeah, I can do this," he says, pulling himself back upright and jumping off of the hook. This, Ren muses, is probably the first time he's glad about what he's been educated before. He frowns and shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts, before gesturing to them. "That means our route is secured. As long as nobody tampers with the hook's control, that is."

"Yeah," Mona hums, nodding approvingly. "We should probably make our way back to the safe room. Do you have any idea of how and where to plant the calling card, Joker?"

"Not yet. But I do have an inkling of where," Ren says as Arsène beats his wings, hellfire dancing at the tip of his fingers and sending chills down his spine in waves. He rolls the tensions off his shoulders before sliding into the nearest corner to wait out a group of Shadows up ahead. He then glances to Fox. "Do you guys have any problems with tomorrow?"

"We don't," comes the collective replies. Ren nods as he waves them forward, footsteps light and careful as they navigate their way back to the gap of Madarame's cognition. He hears Fox mumble something, but ignores it when Panther speaks up. "You always seem to prefer doing things on a tight schedule. Not that I mind, but… are you okay with it?"

"Mhm," he hums. "I'd rather get it out of our way, sooner than later. Besides, taking too long to explore and change a heart wreck my nerve."

"On that, we can agree," Skull nods sagely. "But! I gotta say, this three-day break is somethin' we all need! Give us time to think and rest and stuff."

"I agree," Fox echoes. "While it is unwise to leave this matter unattended for long, a brief reprieve is something that I did not realize until now that I need. Thanks be to you, Joker."

"You guys were the one forcing me to take days off. You most of all, Mona," he grunts, but couldn't help a smirk pulling at his lips as he slips around the corner, just a few steps away from the saferoom. Mona takes that with stride, grinning back up at him as he relents. "But I concur. If we do have a new heart to change, and I guess we will… next time, I'll plan out the rests more carefully, too."

"Yep! That's how it should be," Panther agrees.

Once they've slipped back into the safety of the blotted spot in Madarame's heart, Ren allows himself to spread on the couch, breathing deeply the stale air of the Metaverse. He takes a moment to look at the ceiling before springing up to full sitting position, "So, the calling card."

"You said that it is a way to bring the Treasure to a physical, tangible form," Fox says, pushing his mask up his forehead as he leans his elbows on the table. "Can you elaborate?"

"Leave that to me!" Mona says.

Ren lets Mona share his knowledge as he sits back, trying (and failing) to relax, the trill of Arsène's laughter still ringing loud in his ears after the big fights they were in with Madarame's lackeys. He decides to push his mask over his forehead, much like Fox had done – and subsequently silences the voices of his other selves to a degree, muting them by pushing them further away from his heart – and lets his gaze wander over the bizarre contraption of the safe room.

It takes him a while to realize that someone's walking over, and is only brought out of his own pocket of the universe when he sees Panther smiling down at him before she props herself down beside him. She pulls off her mask, breathing deeply, before murmuring. "So? How did the talk with Maruki-san go? Is it any good?"

"It's… actually better than expected," Ren says, glancing briefly at her before looking back to the three boys (?), who are trying and failing to understand the contraptions of the Metaverse at large. He scoffs lightly when he sees Skull making a wild face at Mona, then back to Panther. "He is actually pretty good at his job. As long as the researcher inside him doesn't act up, at least."

Panther snorts. "Yeah, that happened on my last session, too. He's nice, but sometimes he gets so over-excited so easily. I almost slapped him last time."

Ren could only wince, hand instinctively coming up to his cheek as the phantom of Panther's knock-out slap is placed on his skin. He hasn't found out how much it could hurt, and frankly, he would rather not the hard way. "I see."

"…So," she says after a pause, the easy grin melting into something contemplative, Carmen's embers flickering inside her eyes and hovering over her shoulders like a soft, warm mantle that carries the sun's ray with it. "I'm… sorry about last time. Yelling at you about opening up to us, I mean. I could have handled that better, you know?"

Ren only shakes his head. While Panther was harsh back then, he knows she meant well. All too well – and it is something he appreciates and is afraid to let go. "Don't be. You gave me the push that I needed to… to start facing my own problems, I think. I appreciate it."

"Still—"

"Ann," Ren calls for her real name, cutting off her streak of apologies that shouldn't have been pointed at him, his smile slight but this time genuine. He looks at his gloved hands, and then at her face, into those pale eyes that sparkle with gentleness and the light of warmth that he couldn't have found anywhere else except for within their ragtag group of friends (family, Arsène's voice corrects him). "There is nothing for you to apologize to me for. You saved me. So… thank you."

She takes a moment, words sitting on her tongue, one that she seems to hold back on purpose. After a moment, she sighs with a small smile, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. Then, she giggles lightly, pushing her shoulder on his, the contact brief and light enough for him to not feel uncomfortable, "If you say so, Ren."

"Hey, you two!" Mona's call snaps them out of their little bubble of privacy, and Ren has to force down a smirk as he feels the bond between him and Ann grows stronger, the string golden and burning with the fire of passion he will never wield – but perhaps, it would be the fire that would allow his power to grow. "Stop chatting and come here! We have the matter about the calling card to discuss!"

"Sure," he echoes as he stands up, a small smile on his face as he exchanges a glance with Panther. "We'll be there."

(The voice of the Velvet Room then beckons him forward, calling to him and reminding him of his state as the prisoner of fate. He is horrified at the notion of having to kill off a part of himself to make something – weapons, items, instruments of war – that would help them inside the Metaverse.

Because, every time he does a fusion, he could feel a small part of him that house those Personas being ripped and torn apart, the pain brief yet nearly unbearable, as he tears off a part of himself to recreate another, tempering them through the fire of bonds that he has been forging and strengthening through the understanding of the heart.

Even if he could fill that empty void with another's voice, the pain persists, leaving scars inside his heart, one that burns as painfully as the marks upon his flesh. But, despite the misery that he will inevitably have to put himself through, he will cherish it, cherish the power to mold a part of his empty soul into something more, into a weapon that would allow his friends more power and more growth.

Because, this once… he wants to let mature the bonds that make him feel more alive than he has ever felt before, wants to let them grow—

—Even if they have to flourish upon his flesh and blood, he wouldn't have cared.

Arsène only laughs and laughs, as the part of him that he will never be able to let go, the part that is truly and utterly himself – as if such a thing exists for a man without a heart of his own – that he will never allow to be sacrificed, a part that he will never yield to anyone or anything. Like a dying man desperately clinging to life, his grasp on Arsène is tight and desperate. But he couldn't let go – he just couldn't.

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

May 25th, 2016 [Wed]

"We can now take him down, yes?"

Yusuke speaks up first and foremost, his face pained and thoughtful, but the ice of his determination does not falter upon uttering those words. Ren leans on the railing, looking out into the bustling streets, as he listens to Morgana speaks. "Madarame will be a changed man, though, and there won't be any way to revert it back. Are you sure you're okay with that, Yusuke?"

Yusuke bites his lip, brows furrowed, his eyes hard as steel. He then nods, his voice ringing with the purpose of his own making. "I have thought it over carefully already. I cannot think of any future in which he does not pay his dues. He has preyed not only on the art world, but on countless talents… so, I humbly request your help."

"You've already gotten it since first we met, Fox," Ren grins at him, and when he spies the sadness in Yusuke's face subsiding away, allowing a smile of his own to bloom, Ren hums. "Yeah… he has preyed on the weak for long enough. It is time we make him pay for the crimes that he had done."

"I… thank you, Ren," Yusuke murmurs, arms crossed, as he drags his eyes away from them and fixates his gaze on something far away, on the spot in the universe beyond. "I apologize for dragging you into all of this, and… thank you yet again, for saving me. All four of you."

"No problem, dude," Ryuji says easily, as light and carefree as ever before. "Sides, even if he's shitty, he's your dad figure, yeah? We don't wanna make you do it if you ain't feelin' up to it."

"What he said," Ann seconds. "If you're determined to do it, then there's nothing more for us to say."

"I see. All of you are quite thoughtful," he says with a small smile, and Ren couldn't help but smile a little wider, one that doesn't seem to escape Morgana's eyes. Then, he feels Yusuke's eyes on him as the boy bows his head slightly. "Most of all, it is thanks to you that I have come this far, that I have the courage to face my own… mentor. You have my gratitude."

"Don't fret about it," he says as he turns back, leaning his back instead against the railing as he hums into the air before him, Arsène shifting calmly in his chest, fingers drumming along the staffs of his ribs and flame warming up his arms and slowing down his heartbeat. Then, he sighs, the sample of one of the many calling cards Ryuji and Yusuke has cooked up in his palm. "Well then… we have a heart to steal."

They soon go towards Madarame's exhibit, with Ren silently and carefully planting the cards all over the place outside of his little bubble of power, with Morgana purring quietly from his back as he does so, "Now, all we have to do is make sure he sees it. When he does – then his heart is ours."

Ren is reminded of the visage of an angered Kamoshida overlapping with the real one when the calling card is placed on the bulletin board not too long ago, and while he is afraid of those anger being pointed at him, he also looks forward to the change in Madarame's cognition with a grin that doesn't belong to him (Arsène laughs, crooked and dripped with insanity, in his ears) and anticipation that makes his lips stretch wider and his fingers twitch with tension.

Once they enter the exhibit, all they have to do is wait in the corners where Madarame won't see them. And while Ren sourly misses his glasses, since it would be quite a tool to mask his face (and hide his fears), he decides to embrace the madness that is his own other self's hellfire as he watches Madarame's guards bringing to him their invitation to his doom.

Ren could see Madarame's Shadow where he stands, eyes filled with unbridled fury and contempt as the dark air of the world beyond burns and bubbles with both anger and fear. He then looks towards Yusuke, who nods. "He has received the message. The calling card has been successfully delivered."

"Nice!" Ann grins. "Not to mention that you perfected our calling card, Yusuke! It looks way cooler than when Ryuji alone took charge of it!"

"Hey, I resent that!" Ryuji grumbles. But his face soon breaks into a grin as he shows his phone, and the social media teeming with the words of their calling cards. Ren idly questions the speed in which rumors spread, but is then reminds that, indeed, bad news tends to have wings as they fly (the rumors that have already settled deep into Shujin is a prime example of this) and spread like disease upon the rotten shore. "But! Look, people are definitely talkin' about it right now!"

"It's one more reason we cannot fail," Ren says, pulling out his phone and feeling the pulse of the other world dances under his fingertips, setting his veins alight with the mad grin of the only Persona he refuses to let go. "You have no more reservations about this, right, Yusuke?"

"None," the boy shakes his head to emphasize his words. "I have already made up my mind. He is the man who continues to slander the world of art with his heartlessness and his wicked desires. I feel that there is no other option but to force him to face what he has done – and only once he atones for what he did to his pupils will I rest in peace."

"For what he did to you, too," Ren says without a pause, garnering an approving cry from Eligor as the thundering hooves clap the shadowed mist inside his head. "Very well then, lady and gentlemen; we have a heart to change. And we won't fail it."

"Remember, people," Morgana chips in as he pokes his head over Ren's shoulder, perching on top of his flesh with his whiskers moving in time with his words. "We have only one shot at this, since the calling card only works once, and then not again."

"No time to waste, then!" Ann declares. "Let's do this!"

"Yeah," he echoes, Joker's mask slipping back on again as they walk towards their destination – the Palace of Vanity. "It's showtime!"

(The echoes and roars from within his heart is loud and enthusiastic, the numbers and the strength of those masks he has killed himself to give birth to stronger than ever before. He allows their war cry to run through his body like electricity, with Arsène – with Joker – at the center, the madness and the flame rising and boiling up to heights unforeseen.

He only grins and grins as they make their way towards their destination, the wingspan of Arsène growing all the wider and stronger with each foe slain, with each word uttered, with each bonds tempered and strengthened.

Even if one such as he, one without a heart of his own and without a future, could not use those powers beyond this world of the heart, he is fine with it; he now chooses to embrace the madness as it gives him the way to give people wings to fly.

Yusuke is spreading his, ice and frozen fury dancing at the tip of his blade as his snow-clad feathers are caressed by the winds of his own determination to change – and that, for Ren, is enough.

With each bond, with each power in him, he feels like he could give more people what they need to seek freedom on their own. And that, to him, is his greatest calling. If he has to disappear into the mud anyway, then why not go out with a bang that would mark the earth with his legacy?

Arsène laughs in approval as he beats his wings like a war drum in his skull.

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