I have returned!

As always, sorry for any typos I might've missed. I've reread this a few times already but uh... I don't trust myself very much lol

Hope you still enjoy tho!

FEATURING; Ren making more Confidants, because why not.

Chapter 14

May 26th, 2016 [Thurs]

He is surprised how good it is to talk to Maruki. And he is also mortified that he feels like he could bare his wounds and scars for a stranger he still couldn't fully trust to see.

(He also feels like talking to someone else will distract him from the fact that Niijima is trying to look into something again, being the blood hound that she is, without regards for others' safety, only her own spot in the world. It makes him sick, and he would've lashed out in anger, had he not been so entirely spent by bearing down at Madarame just yesterday.)

But Arsène is getting stronger, his voice growing as loud as thunder and murmuring sweet little nothings into his ears, and his voice just couldn't be silenced no matter what Ren does, so he accepts his fate – just like how he has accepted the fact that he could never free himself a long time ago.

(the shadows casted over his is far too great, and he still fears his father even now – something no one will ever be able to ease, something no one will never be able to help him with.)

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he lets Morgana wander for the day before knocking on the door to Maruki's office. And soon enough, the man opens it with as much enthusiasm as Ren remembers – too much, in fact, that it makes him scowl unintentionally. And Maruki's face lights up, like a child seeing a new toy (not that Ren himself has ever gotten one, but he's seen others' faces lighten up that way many times before) as he speaks. "Ah, Amamiya-kun! Come, come!"

"…Excuse me," Ren murmurs, bowing his head as he walks in, only to feel the warm steams of newly-brew cups of tea on his face. He blinks, and turns to Maruki, before shifting his eyes back towards the table. "Were you… expecting someone else?"

"Oh, not really. I'm just bored, and I was hoping someone would come," Maruki says merrily as he gestures Ren forward. The man then takes a seat opposite from him, his fingers nudging the cup his way. "Do you drink tea? You can have that cup, if you want. And snacks! We cannot talk at length without snacks."

"Um… thank you," Ren mumbles, still unsure of how he should carry himself around Maruki, who seems so different from the only psychiatrist he's ever seen, who's acting in ways that he still couldn't quite fully understand. But when the tiny string of bonds between him and Maruki sings, quiet and hopeful, he just allows the sound to roll down his spine and sooth his nerves.

"So, how far are you along with the textbooks you borrowed?" Maruki asks as he smiles, his eyes hidden behind the fog caused by the steam. Ren couldn't help but feel a little amused at how childish the man seems as he removes the object and wipes the fog away with his thumb. "Ah, the life of a four-eyes. I can never enjoy a cup of tea without being blinded for a few minutes."

He hadn't worn the glasses his father gave him for that long, but he concurs; he has, unfortunately, had his own covered in steam whenever he tried to brew a simple cup of coffee, and could still clearly feel the way his father's eyes bore into him, with anger and annoyance more than anything, when he failed to do what he had been instructed to—

"It's been an… interesting read, thus far," Ren confesses, spinning the cup between his palms, his eyes glued to his own reflection. He ignores the way his arm stings when he moves, instead pushing his finger on the stitches to smooth out the tingles of pain creeping up his limb. "I have no questions as of yet, but I might… want to discuss something with you in details later, if that is alright?"

"Of course!" Maruki's grin widens as he takes a sip, and repeats the process of wiping his glasses clean again. "I would be happy to help! Do you want to talk about anything today?"

Ren pauses – he isn't even sure why he's here in the first place, drinking tea and discussing little nothings with an adult he couldn't quite trust. But so far, Maruki has proven himself something of a… character, someone who seems to genuinely care for Ren's wellbeing – maybe it's only superficially, but it's enough for now – and someone who's actively changing the way he does things to suit Ren's needs.

And he finds himself appreciating the man's company. Unlike his friends, who stay by him and help guide his mind away from its doom whenever something happens, Maruki is… just there, listening to what he wants to say, or what he doesn't say, offering new perspectives or advices that are different from what the others could provide. And Ren finds their discussion enlightening, so far.

So, he nods, allowing himself to relive the way he feels inside the Palace but a day ago, with anger rolling out of his soul in waves, unsuppressed and choking. When he looks back at how he was, he is terrified – it feels like he was losing ground, losing a part of himself (again, as if that is something he originally has in the first place), losing his sanity like grains of sand through his fingers. "I… have a few questions. I – I feel like I… have a personality disorder."

At this, Maruki's bubbliness melts away into something calculating and calm. Slowly, he nods, his voice soft and soothing. "I see. Do you want to elaborate?"

"I… think so," Ren frowns, actually uncertain of what he thinks about the subject. "I… I usually don't… like to oppose people, unless… they're from a certain group. I don't want to… get in trouble. But recently, sometimes, when I find myself… in control? I think – when I think I'm in control, I get angry easier, to the point that I'm scaring my friends, and I feel like I'm not as in control as before."

Maruki nods, taking another sip before setting the cup away, leaning back but not as to appear haughty or hostile, at least not in Ren's eyes. "I understand. But, to diagnose, it might be a little harder than this – do you want me to try do identify what disorder you're having? I'll have to ask some… rather personal questions—"

"No, Maruki-san," Ren denies instantly upon hearing that he'll have to be inquired about things he could not bear to answer. And his shoulders are drawn taut, ready to snap, only for Ren to relax when Maruki smiles and nods at him. "I… I don't think I can."

"It's okay. You can talk about what you want, or just don't talk at all. Healing takes time, after all," the man nods, thoughtful but not at all upset. When Ren doesn't add anything else, instead allowing the silence to bloom behind his eyelids like flowers in the middle of spring, Maruki continues. "But, if it helps you – from what I've seen so far, I wouldn't say you have a personality disorder, exactly."

At this, Ren tilts his head to the side, slightly confused. "Pardon?"

"Personality disorders are… pathological. Without any immediate reason or triggers," Maruki explains as he gets up and walks over to the cupboard, his hand reaching for some kind of snacks Ren couldn't quite name. "But you, I think you have experienced something before, as well as when you were angry. I won't ask like I had, of course, but… I think, rather than a personality disorder, you're experiencing something akin to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"…But I haven't been in… war or something like that," Ren says, his voice quiet, at best. He isn't too familiar with the subject (yet), and from whatever scrapes of it he could learn from listening to TVs and people in general, war is— "Isn't it more common in soldiers?"

"It is, but it's not exclusive to war," Maruki hums, closing the cupboard door and putting multiple bags of snacks on the table, nudging one over to Ren while he takes the other into his hand. "It can be found in just literally any physically or psychologically hostile environments," At this, Maruki pauses, eyes warm and calculating, as if gauging Ren's reaction. He thinks he knows what Maruki means, but— "such as domestic abuses or bullying or witnessing stressful events like terrorist attacks or deaths."

Ren's mouth suddenly goes dry, all the images from his childhood years seeping through the crack of the walls around him in waves, and he feels nauseous. For that moment, all he could feel are words in his ears and cold hardness on his skin. He breathes, trying to calm down his beating heart, Arsène's hum soft and calming, as if to voice that he will be there with Ren – and that, for now, is enough to help him push every piece of panics away.

The silence lasts for what feels like an eternity, but Maruki isn't moving to say anything, isn't attempting to try to talk to him. He just smiles sadly as he watches him with warm eyes Ren is slowly learning to relax and trust around, as if to wait for whatever he's feeling to come to pass. And Ren forces himself to exhale slowly, counting to four in his head, and grabbing the front of his shirt as if to calm down his beating heart.

Once whatever just happened is gone, he lets out another shaky breath before grimacing slightly. Maruki's words make so much sense like this that he's starting to get scared. "I… I don't know, but I think – maybe, maybe you're right."

"If anything, it takes time to heal those kinds of wounds," Maruki says calmly, hands refilling Ren's now half-empty cup of tea. And he takes it, gulping down the content like there is no tomorrow, as if to wash away the unease building in his stomach. "I'd recommend psychotherapy, but you'll need to tell me exactly what happened for that to work, and—"

"—I can't," Ren finishes quietly, feeling suddenly tense, ready to lash out. He can't talk about it, can't say anything out loud, because he's a fucking dog and his father owns him—

(Arsène's voice is loud, disapproving and burning with the heat of hatred Ren has no idea what to do with, Joker's personality lingering in his subconscious, as if urging him to follow his nonexistent heart, to seek help more than just these talks and to take actions against those who own his life. But how could he? Here, in the world where he has no power, nobody could help him. If they do, they will all be put in danger, too, and he will be whipped into shape, like he always had been.

Arsène's voice then grows low, a soft purr echoing inside his chest like a prayer, this time with less force and with some form of understanding. And when Ren breathes, he doesn't feel like Arsène is trying to force his way into his head again.)

"You can't," Maruki says simply, smiling and reaching for a small box on the table. He then opens it and pulls out a few bottles, looking at them, before handling him one, labeled Zoloft. "This is an SSRI – selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. Or, as commonly known, antidepressant. It'll help with some emotions you might experience, like anger or depressions, but it'll take weeks to take effect, and it might not be as effective if the symptoms are intense. In the end, though, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is the key."

"I…" Ren trails off, taking the bottle into his hand and feeling it between his palm. This time, Arsène is thoughtful, low hum reverberating through his spine and cooing little nothings into his ears, perhaps as an approval. He then rearranges his thoughts – he might be able to at least reign in some of the anger, intense and oftentimes blinding. If he's going to lead people, helping them change hearts, then he needs to do this. "I will try. Um. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Maruki smiles. "Come back in a week or two, and tell me how you feel. We might need to adjust the drugs and the dosages, should you require it."

"Ah, yes… thank you, Maruki-san."

(Maruki has been patient and kind, infinitely so, and he can no longer find a reason to distrust the man further. He will reserve some form of cautiousness, because he has seen too many times adults and kids alike who would take advantage of him, who would allow him to curl up and die, who would exploit his weaknesses for their own gains.

But for now… for now, Ren allows himself to trust this man. And perhaps, soon, he will learn to share what he had been through with more than just himself and Arsène's midnight wings, too.

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

"Man, you sure work late today."

Morgana yawns, wiggling in his bag as he gets out of the beef bowl shop for the day (and he thinks one of the patrons might have taken an interest in him. A politician, perhaps, judging from the way he gives his speech), with more cash on his person to pay for any and everything necessary. He rubs the sleep off of his eyes as he murmurs. "Yeah, it's just that the person from the night shift came in late so I had to stand in. I got extra money, though, so I've got no reason to complain."

"You are too easy on other's misconduct!" Morgana protests, poking his head out of the bag and, as per usual, situates himself on Ren's shoulder. Then, a little quieter, "You look tired. Shouldn't you take a day off on your part time jobs? And, I don't know… going out with the others?"

He scrunches his nose, the idea making him want to both take it and bolt away. He opens his mouth, to form some kind of response, but finds himself hesitating – hanging out with the others, now with some money on his person, might be a decent idea, actually… "I'll… think about it. I haven't done that in a while, have I?"

"Nope," Morgana hums. "Since the beginning of Madarame's Palace, to be exact. Take some time to wind down and don't work yourself to the ground. Who knows? Being an idiot for once might be good for your health, too."

Ren couldn't help a smile forming on his lips as he hums in agreement, reaching up his hand (and ouch he just has to stretch his wounds, hasn't he?) to pat Morgana's head. "Maybe. I'm going to sleep for today, though. I'm tired."

"I'm not stopping you."

They banter lightly for a while before Ren stops, frowning, when he sees someone in a maid dress being cornered by a drunkard – someone oddly familiar, even with all the strange getups and excessive makeups – with her back against the wall. The stranger has one hand outstretched, as if to demand something, while his other hand clutches onto the half-emptied bottle of beer. Ren frowns, deciding that he should just look away and mind his own business, or he'd end up like back in his hometown—

Are you going to look away, like you always did? Arsène croons, words equally infuriating and terrifying, and it makes Ren stop in his steps, making his veins sing as the flame of rebellion spark under his skin. You have shown me your resolve to enact justice even if you are to be chained to hell. You have set your fate in motion when you stepped up to help the Defamed Captain's other self. Why are you running away now? What are you truly fighting for, if not for the weak against the wicked and the cruel?

He hates this, hates that Arsène's words bite so much that he wants to curl up and cry, hates that he is loud and prominent in his mind like this. He hates this because he knows what could happen if he butts into another's business – he could end whatever is left of his future right here. And oh, Ren wants someone else to take hold, someone like Matador or Andras, one who does not care about others' fate. But here, Arsène is the part of him he wants to look away but no longer could, one that gets stronger and louder with each passing day. With more battles and more hearts changed, Arsène grows and grows—

Do not listen to just your head, skewed by the injustice of the world, Arsène hums softly, his voice no longer condescending, but with patience and understanding. Ren pauses, biting his lips as he balls his hands into fists, enough for his nails to dig deep into his palm and drawing blood down his fingertips— allow your heart to guide you. You can be free, like any other, too. If you allow it, then I shall stay by your side. I shall help you find that freedom you so desperately need, my boy.

But he might have to be punished, or suffer worse for that freedom—

What are you more terrified of? Death, or servitude?

He sighs, feeling the midnight wings beating into the void, drawing out something primal and something bright in him that it makes his heart both sing and sink, making anxiety coil deep in his stomach and anticipation rising up in his chest. He doesn't reply to Arsène's inquiry, even if a small part of him already knows what the answer to that is—

He pats Morgana once before walking forward, a wad of cash he had just earned in his hand. Morgana takes the cue and ducks back into his bag as Ren leans his head to the side the listen to the demand of the drunk man to the hapless woman. "You're a mai', 'ight? You 'ave money! Give me money!"

"I can't!" The woman snaps, trying to shy away only to get trapped between the wall and the man's frame, imposing and horrifying. Ren frowns, pulling a few bills out of the roll to make sure he will have enough for his meal – but still prepared to use everything that he has if he must— "Get away from me, you drunk! I don't have money to give you!"

"Liar!" The man roars, pounding the bottle into the wall and shattering it, making the woman screams and half curls into herself. "Gimme 'he damn money or I swear—"

"Will this be enough?" Ren cuts in, drawing the man's attention to him fully. He ignores the woman's look, half terrified and half confused, with a smidge of surprise lacing her face. When the man's eyes on him becomes almost suffocating, he adds, feeling the bile biting the back of his throat. But Arsène is here, stronger than ever before, his presence loud enough for Ren to be able to stifle down his fear. "It's about a few thousand yen—"

"Bah!" The man snaps, snatching the cash away from his hand and counting, displeasure slowly melting away into disgruntled acceptance. "Least it 'ighta been be'er than what a mai' can make, anyway! I'll take it!"

The man turns on his heels and stumbles away without so much as looking back.

Ren's eyes follow the man for a while, the panic that has been bubbling up his chest slowly subsiding into no more than an inconvenience under his feet. Then, when the silence starts to get uncomfortable even for him, he turns to the woman, who's looking at him with wide eyes—

"…Amamiya-kun?"

It takes Ren a moment to recognize her voice and her features, marked and covered with too much make-up for it to be healthy. He frowns, both surprised and displeased at the turn of events. "Kawakami-sensei? Why are you—"

"Why are you walking around Shibuya this late at night?" She cuts him off, guarded and still clearly rattled, and oh, now Ren so wishes he had just left her to her own devices— "You're a high school student! You shouldn't be walking around this late!"

"Neither should you be seen cornered in a back alley, Sensei," Ren says quietly, shifting on the balls of his feet. He wants to run and hide away for good, but if he does, and if she spins this story into something more, into something wild and dangerous, he will definitely, undoubtedly get booted into oblivion beyond. And that isn't a fun thought. "…I just got back from my shift at a beef bowl shop. You can call and ask my manager to verify."

"…That's not why I asked," she says meekly, averting her eyes before sighing, twirling a few strands of hair in her finger and mumbling into the night air between them. "…Thank you, for saving me."

Ren blinks, finding that notion alone slightly unexpected. But he will take whatever blessings he could, because he doesn't want to paint a bigger target on his back, not more than he already has. "…It's no problem, ma'am—" then something strikes him, and while he thinks he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't offer this at all, something in him (Arsène) stirs him to continue "—are you heading home? I can walk you home, if you'd like."

Kawakami takes a moment, frowning with her eyes gazing up and down his frame, as if to gauge and judge him. He wants to curl up and disappear, but soon relaxes when she lifts the scrutinizing gaze away from him. "I shouldn't bother you like this. You have school tomorrow still, after all."

"It's alright," he murmurs, shifting on his feet again, feeling Morgana nudge his back softly, as if to remind him that he is not alone. A smile comes and goes, and he sighs, "I think it would be safer for you that way. At least, for today."

"…If you're sure," Kawakami finally relents, looking away with a slight frown. "…Thank you."

He hums, offering her nothing more but his presence and his silence as they walk towards the station.

May 27th, 2016 [Fri]

"How are you doing?"

Ren asks, being slightly too early for school (because his brain decides to fuck with his ability to sleep last night) and running into Yusuke on the same station they had confronted one another not too long ago. Morgana pokes his head out slightly to see who Ren's talking to, and ducks back into the confines of his bag when he catches Yusuke's eyes.

The boy doesn't frown, but it's not exactly a neutral expression, either; the lines of his face and his jaw are enough of a sign to tell Ren that he is not comfortable with the turns of events. His eyes twitch minutely, Goemon's presence negligible at best, as he speaks, "Madarame's still ill, but the exhibit is still going strong."

Madarame without so much as a stutter, Ren notes. But he doesn't pursuit that topic further, knowing full well that whatever it is that Yusuke's facing, it's better for the artist to set his own pace than Ren. So, he decides to say, "I see. Are you doing okay?"

"…Somewhat, yes," Yusuke nods with a small smile, hand resting atop the sling of his bag and clenching around it somewhat roughly. "Even though I do not consider that man my Sensei anymore, I… it is such a sorrowful thought, to think that I no longer have a mentor, or someone worth calling my own father."

Ren doesn't rightly know that feeling, having been given nothing but misery and grief and fear for years on end without rest. But he thinks he might know just enough, at least about the feeling of losing ground, the feeling of having his trust betrayed, so he hums quietly, Arsène's wingbeat soft and calm. "I won't claim I understand how that'd feel like, but… if you want to talk, I'll be there."

Yusuke blinks, before his lips curl up into a thin smile. The string of the Emperor's bond shifts and changes, the cold winter's wind dancing along the thin thread, just enough to make itself known. Eligor's stallion slams its hooves into his spine, in time with his heartbeat, the roar of exultation echoing inside his skull as Yusuke says, quiet and hopeful. "Thank you, Ren. I will hold you on to that."

There is a pause, as if Yusuke is contemplating on something. Ren allows silence to come and go, with his eyes on the tracks, waiting for his morning train to arrive. Ren decides to add after a moment, when the whistles of the train is distant. "You don't need to hurry. I've heard from someone that healing takes time, so… take all the time that you need. Haste makes waste, after all."

"Indeed," Yusuke smiles, as he turns to face the tracks as the whistles grow louder. And soon, when the train comes into view, the artist nods. "Let us proceed. I will see you again later."

"Mhm," Ren hums, noncommittal, but not at all displeased by the prospect. "See you around."

"—ot finished talking yet!"

Ren frowns, his immediate path towards the door suddenly half-occupied by two figures. One is Kawakami – the very person whose nighttime job is, by his estimate, a closely-guarded secret – while the other is the English teacher, Chouno. Ren decides to try to ignore it, at first, but stops his feet when he hears Kawakami stammers. "But… I have to go. I have something I need—"

"There's been a series of scandals on this campus, and we are all being called into question! Yet you leave work early, and barely make it in time for faculty meetings!" Chouno says, hands on her hips, a deep scowl on her feature. She's challenging Kawakami, cornering her. "Explain yourself! Don't tell me you're out running around at night!"

"Uh oh," Morgana hums from deep inside his bag before he sneaks his head right up under Ren's armpit, blue eyes shifting between the arguing teachers and Ren. When he gives Morgana a raised brow, the not-cat mutters. "I know. It's really not our business, after all. But that seems like a dead end for your teacher. It's kinda sucks, having your work ethics questioned like that."

Ren sighs; that is true, even for someone like him. But he could never get angry – at least, not against those with power over him – so instead, all he ever does is try to become better, try to work harder, faster, enough for him to collapse quite a few times for it (and got beaten and disciplined for his lack of endurance too), and yet, he's never enough—

Ren hums again when the fight continues on, neither side willing to back down; Kawakami not wanting to talk about what she's been moonlighting as, and Chouno not satisfied with a half-assed excuse.

Even if it feels wrong, even if his head is screaming at him not to put himself at more risk, he decides to step forward, nearly choking on himself when the two pairs of eyes land upon him. Instead, he bites back the bile and pulls out the Japanese literature Ren had borrowed from the library not too long ago. And then, when he finds the passage, he says, "Kawakami-sensei, are you free for a few more questions today, as well?"

He's careful enough to word it as slow as possible, and sighs inwardly in relief when Kawakami manages to catch his meaning, playing along and smiling sheepishly at him. "Of – of course! What is it?"

"A few more questions today, as well?" Chouno repeats, arching up her brows, hands on her hips falling to her side gently. "…Have you been helping your students late at night, Kawakami-san?"

"Yes, I was!" Kawakami quickly adds, with an all-too-forced grin that matches well with her stiff postures and her stutters. Ren could hear Morgana trying to stifle his laughter, but pays it no mind as Kawakami continues. "I mean, Amamiya-kun's questions are advanced and sometimes a little too complicated, so I've been spending some nights helping him out, is all!"

"So you're giving individual lessons outside of school hours, hm? What passion!" Chouno brightens up in an instant, her questioning stance replaced by pure joy and a smidge of awe. "Oh, you are the ideal teacher – the kind that should appear more often! I am sorry for suspecting you, Kawakami-san!"

"Ahaha…" Kawakami bites out a laughter, rigid and bland. "It's… alright, Chouno-san."

"Well then! Keep up the hard work, you two!"

And with that, Chouno leaves without so much as a glance backward.

There is a momentary pause, where Kawakami's gaze follows the other teacher's footsteps. She then sighs, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "She… just kind of convinced herself, didn't she, now?"

"She did," Ren decides to say, shifting his bag and putting his book back in, careful to avoid hitting Morgana in the head. He has his questions, of course, but he'd rather find the answers by himself than to ask for help – he doesn't want to seem more hopeless and foolish that he already is. He then bows to his homeroom teacher. "If you'll excuse me, ma—"

"Wait," Kawakami says flatly, holding up a finger with a thoughtful look. She doesn't seem upset by what had happened, but her tone makes him jump under his skin and makes his gut crawl uneasily. "…Why did you do that?"

"…Do what, ma'am?" Ren repeats.

"Save me from being hounded," she clarifies, pointing to where Chouno had been mere seconds prior, with the air of tension and distrust still lingering around Kawakami. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but it doesn't seem to be any of your concern."

Ren doesn't rightly know the answer to that question, either, but he takes it as is and forms a respond of his own, with his words carefully molded into something at least presentable. "…It might not be, but it seemed to me like… you needed it, ma'am."

Kawakami stills for a while, her eyes saying just enough for Ren to nearly cower into himself; I don't trust you. But then, as if she remembers something, that look is gone, replaced by something else that Ren couldn't quite tell what, exactly—

"Are those questions you have for me genuine?" Kawakami murmurs after a pause, gesturing towards his bag. Ren takes the cue and pulls out the book, one that Kawakami promptly takes; "…Mori Ougai's? You are reading this on your own?"

"Yes," Ren says, looking away and scratching the back of his head. He sighs, before setting himself to answer her earlier question. "And… I am curious about some wordings in there, but not insomuch as to require assistance, as of yet. So, if you'll excuse me—"

"Wait," Kawakami says again, voice no more than a whisper, and one without hostility. It makes Ren's fingers twitch, unease crawling up his spine and spinning the invisible thread of something into shapes he's couldn't quite see. "…I have to thank you somehow. For this, and… for last night, too. How about we make a deal?"

"…A deal?" Ren repeats, his mouth dry, the sting of resistance making itself known at the back of his throat, filling his lungs with the rancid scent of distrust. But he quickly swallows it back down, not willing enough to even remotely cross the one faculty he should never, ever cross—

"The, uh, maid service does just about anything. Cleaning, cooking, laundry—" At this, she eyes him, a little contemplative. Ren is aware as much, from the bits and pieces that his classmates talked about, and from what Mishima and Ryuji had been saying, too. But he senses hesitation in the way she breathes, so he waits for her to continue. "But it doesn't mean I can't do something else. For example, teaching you what you want to know, or something. As long as it isn't illegal."

"…I don't have the money for that kind of service, ma'am," Ren says evenly, feeling his breath catching in his throat at the way alarm blares inside his head. "I can't make a deal I can't pay for—"

"I'll let you use it the first few times on the house," Kawakami sighs, looking away from him and focusing on a blighted spot on the woods. "Since you've paid for my safety, and all of that. Is it a deal, then?"

Ren feels like he should decline, should distrust this sudden turn of events and her willingness to provide her service when the deal isn't even favorable, but something in him stirs. A voice that is neither his nor Arsène's, something that has yet to make its presence known, but with its name already saturating on the tip of his tongue—

Makami lets out a soft growl, and Ren could feel its ethereal body curling around his own, and rests its snout on the knob of his shoulders, feeling the way its warm gale runs down to his fingertips. Ren blinks, and when the beast croons, decides to try to trust it; it is one of his masks, one of the personae he wears as he lives and breathes, one that he calls for in the time of need, after all.

So, he nods, even if his mind tries to deny the legitimacy of this deal. And when Makami's growl turns into something tangible, soft and warm and infinitely patient, he lets out a sigh and nods. "…Of course. I look forward to working with you, Sensei."

"Hn," she huffs, but then smiles thinly as she offers him a hand. "Likewise."

He takes it, ignoring the way the burn spreads across his hand like wildfire.

(The name Temperance comes to mind, the Arcana of balance and moderation. Ren isn't quite sure what to make of it just yet, where this deal with Kawakami will take him. But as his power as the Wild Card grows, so too the voices of his masks, his other selves, the ones he never allows himself to wear and flaunt so readily in the real world.

But the more Confidants and bonds he makes, the powerful, the… more complete he feels, and that thought alone makes him look forward to and dread fostering these so-called bonds, making his gut twitch yet pulling at his heart for it to sing the melody of joy that is foreign yet feel so familiar. Arsène hums, voice low and undeniably kind, as if to say that him taking this leap is okay, too.

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

May 28th, 2016 [Sat]

"I'm surprised you actually called."

Trust me, I'm thinking the same thing myself, too. "…Yes, ma'am."

Somehow, against the alarm in his head, he called Kawakami for her nighttime service with Leblanc's yellow phone. Morgana – whose insistence might or might not have been a clear influence to his decision – has long since left for the streets, giving him the privacy that he does not, for this moment, want. He questions his sanity, but Arsène only laughs lightly, as if satisfied by his decision – and that, in and of itself, should never, ever a good thing—

(And yet, it is, Ren says mentally.)

"So," Kawakami begins, her act as the friendly maid Becky long since discarded, leaving only an ordinary woman with emotions behind. Ren tilts his head as she looks around his attic, one that he spent many hours cleaning to a mirror's sheen. "This is your room, huh? It's… unexpected, for you to live in the attic of some old coffee shop, not to mention those crates…"

"…Ma'am."

Her eyes turn to his when he says that, quiet and subdued. She looks at him for a while, with clear curiosity in her eyes, but doesn't mention it as she turns her attention back to his room. "…Never mind that. So, there's something I've always wanted to ask; what kind of kid are you? To go out of your way to pay for my safety, not to mention this, and your demeanor…"

Ren presses his lips together, fear and distrust boiling deep in the pit of his stomach, making him frown and pulling his shoulders taut. His demeanor, as she has put it, might've been something he'd done wrong, enough for her to be angry or annoyed with him. But he doesn't – couldn't – allow himself to say anything about it. Instead, he opts for the safest option; to confirm the rumors as true, even though they're not, ignoring the way Arsène growls deep in his ears.

"…I'm just a delinquent who hurt an innocent man, ma'am," his voice comes out much more shaken than he thought it would, but decides against correcting it as he looks away, biting at his lip and frowning into the floor. He scuffs his shoes against the woods before continuing. "As for this, I just… I don't know—" He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose and leaning back against the old couch. "—I'm not sure what I was thinking. I'm sorry."

There is an infinite pause, and Ren dares not look up into Kawakami's eyes, only for the couch beside him to dip when she sits down. That is enough to turn his face to, and he's met with a thoughtful look, one that does not sit well with her getup overall, as she says, "You don't have to apologize. I did say that this is a deal, after all. So… what do you want me to do? Cleaning? Cooking? I can—"

"It's alright," Ren shakes his head, feeling the way the pressure of the situation bears down at him, making him dizzy and his mind a jumbled mess. He shakes it a little harder to get rid of the strange feeling as he hums, putting his hands together and fidgeting against his fingertips. "I've done all of that myself, so…"

"…Huh," Kawakami hums, surprised, before she nods to herself once. "Then how about this? You are reading high-end literatures, right? Do you want my help understanding them?"

Ren frowns for a moment, thinking about how all of this could go wrong very soon. But the honest look in her eyes, and Makami's croon in his ears, say otherwise. And while he reads Mori Ougai's work out of sheer curiosity, it might be better for himself in the long run if he has someone that he could discuss it with. So, he nods, taking the bag into his lap and pulling out the book. "If it's not too much of a trouble for you, then yes, Sensei. I'd love to."

"Well, we've got time, since I didn't get any other requests today, either," she sighs as she glances at her wrist, the watch face obscured from his view. Ren doesn't miss the way she words her sentence – and guesses that her age might've become somewhat problematic for her to get a call. "I can help with English and some other languages like German, too… since, believe it or not, I'm actually a major in linguistic—"

That comes as a surprise, and a rather fortuitous one, for Ren. He himself had been taught in more than two languages, and to say that his German is rusty is but a fool's way to say that he has no clue how to proceed next. And while his father never makes the demand out front, the subtle signs that he wishes for Ren to knows the language is enough for him to study on his own, too—

"If it isn't too much trouble," Ren adds, Makami's yip pleasant and warm under his fingertips. He raises his head, but doesn't outright meet her eyes and instead open the book in his hand, to the passage he still has some trouble understanding. "Then, would you mind explaining this part to me?"

"Not at all," Kawakami nods, and while Ren detects a strange note of interest in her voice, he decides not to say anything to it as she starts explaining the passages of the book to Ren, with both enthusiasm and delight in equal measures.

It is well into the night when she finally finished her lession for the day.

"You've dabbled into something pretty intense even by my standards, Amamiya-kun," Kawakami says as he walks downstairs with her, with Leblanc's keys in his palm. He hums noncommittally, allowing her to continue. "It's been a while since I've taught something that hard. But I have to say, this is something I think I've always wanted to do."

"Ma'am," Is the only thing Ren could think of saying, filling the night with silence once more. He spies Morgana curling on the wall opposite from the entrance, and catches the not-cat's eyes briefly before he opens the door. "Please return home safely, Sensei. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mhm," she hums. "I'm sure you already know this, but don't tell anyone about this, okay? And if you have the money to spare, you can call for me anytime. It's nice to work with someone you know, even if that someone is your own student."

Ren doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to allow himself to become vulnerable around people that see him as mere inconvenience, but Makami's voice is enough to sway him for a moment. He frowns, stifling his mask away into the deepest pits of his soul, before he nods slightly. "…I'll think about it, ma'am. If I have the required fund, then maybe I will."

"Okay," she nods, her eyes lingering on his frame for a moment too long before she shakes her head and sighs, deep and slightly sorrowful. "Well then… take care. I'll see you around. And that book – I have a few more of the same author that you might be interest in. If you've finished that one, you can tell me, and I'll let you borrow mine."

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

May 29th, 2016 [Sun]

"Hey!"

Ann greets, waving her hand wildly when she spots Ren walking into the restaurant, quiet and warm. He nods, and lets himself smile briefly. The other two are here, too – Yusuke is busy eating something (are those beans?) while Ryuji is flipping through the menu with vengeance, eyes alight with glee with each passing page and each beat of time that march forever forward.

"Sorry it took me so long," Ren apologizes as he slots himself beside Yusuke and across from Ann and Ryuji, hands carefully pulling Morgana out of his bag – and away from the waiters' eyes – before he rubs the back of his neck, yawning lightly. "I stayed a little late reading last night."

"How can you stay late reading?" Ann laughs, obviously incredulous, as she waves at him. Leanan Sidhe sings in his veins as Ann smiles, leaning her cheek against her bent knuckles. "That's enough of that! Let's find something to eat!"

"Fish!" Morgana hiss-yells from under the desk, and Ren has to push his hand into Morgana's jaws as a waiter looks at them weirdly. When he lets go, Morgana coughs, but lowers his voice just enough to remain unnoticed. "Give me fish! And chips!"

"Alright, alright," Ann giggles, pushing the menu into his hands, silently asking through her eyes and her slight smile if he's alright eating here. He reassures her with a small smile of his own, and she seems to sigh in relief before pointing at one menu, then the next, then the next; "I'm not sure what you'd prefer, but I think you'd like some of these. This shop's famous for its ramen and tempura dishes. These three here are the best when it comes to cost effectiveness!"

She's been careful to keep my preference in mind, Ren notes absently, the low growl of Arsène a quiet prayer in his chest. He nods his head, looking at the price and making a mental calculation, another part of him keeping taps of the others' orders. Yusuke seems to think the same as he is, with how hungry he seems and how thin his build is – he must've been more or less underfed, as well—

"Then I'll try Kitakata Ramen," Ren says at last, pushing the menu away from him as Ann nods her head in confirmation. "What did you guys choose?"

"Mm? Oh, just some Tokyo Ramen, haven't eaten that in a while," Ryuji grins easily before he perks up, as if remembering something. "Oh! And I ordered us some Gyoza and Tempuras, too! Share meals!"

"It's not get-together if you don't eat some dishes together!" Ann adds in, clearly elated by all of this.

"A meal with friends I could talk with, how aesthetic!" Yusuke breathes, ordering something Ren doesn't quiet catch, before leaning forward on his elbows and smiling gently. He could feel Goemon's presence in his shadow, sleeping peacefully and stirring once the boy looks at him. "I must admit, this is the first time someone my age asked me to share a meal with them. Most would simply… leave me alone."

"No difference here," Ryuji grins as Ann tells the waiter their orders, and Ren mutedly agree. He has never had friends like these before; not one that are all too willing to share his pain and his burdens, not one all too willing to look past the rumors. And he is glad that he took that leap, is glad that the wheel of fate had been set to motion that day where he and Ryuji stumbled upon Kamoshida's twisted world— "I mean, we all just ain't what society expects from us and all that, yeah?"

"That's true," Ren hums, taking a sip from his glass of water as his hand reaches for Morgana. The not-cat purrs quietly as he leans his back against Ren's palm. And then, he smiles, Arsène's wings beating softly against his temple. "It is a nice feeling."

"Then let's keep being friends, yeah?" Ryuji says, and when Ren looks into the boy's eyes, all he could see is authentic care that he still couldn't understand, but come to appreciate more. "Ann agrees! Right?"

"Yeah!" She grins in return, bright like the sun. "If the society wants to screw us over, that's fine by me! As long as I have you guys, I'm sure it'll all be just fine!"

"I'm certain, as well," Yusuke hums.

Ren could only smile as Arsène coos softly, and this, here, he thinks – this is what home feels like.

(And here, he makes himself a vow; that with all that he has, he will protect them. Keep them safe from harm, and see them prosper. And when he does so, he feels the strings of bonds between him and the other Thieves grow and shine like crystals under the moon's light, the melody of exultation ringing inside his empty heart like the chorus of souls coming together.

The card of the Fool springs forth, the bonds between them forging Arsène's wings into something deeper, darker, stronger. And when the Prince of Thieves laughs, he does, too.

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