Hi! Sorry for the slight delay, life happens uwu

Chapter 15

May 30th, 2016 [Mon]

Big cleaning day.

Ren doesn't really mind this – school, work, everything else is something he has to do, a duty he has been given to perform. It is not much different from years ago, where his father would give him tasks he needed to complete, a job he needed to finish. So, unlike the others, who sees this as an inconvenience and, as Ryuji put it, a drag, he sees it as simply one more task he needs to do to continue his day.

Ren has to leave a little early, since the place for the cleanup is quite a distance away from Shujin itself, and he knows just how inconvenient the subway's morning rush is. He never likes being late, after all, since lateness means incompetency, and incompetency means a lot of things he doesn't want to recall—

"I'm sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry right now," someone says, voice partially angry and half terrified. Ren turns to see the red-haired girl, Yoshizawa, frowning at a middle age man who leers her up and down like a predator looking at its prey. Ren pauses in his steps when Arsène hums his disapproval to what is happening, and while he'd love nothing more than to keep his head down, he also knows that he just couldn't look the other way with Arsène hissing at him like this—

"You go to Shujin, right?" The man grins, and it makes Ren's gut crawls; he's seen all too many times that kind of ogling, and to be at the other end of that look – he knows. He knows and it makes him want to throw up— "I heard things have been rough there lately, what with that violent incident. You wanna go… talk about it somewhere?"

He's hitting on her, and she's no older than I am, somewhere in Ren says, frantic and terrified of the man's implications. And before he could stop himself, could rationalize that this is none of his business, he has already begun moving forward.

"Thank you for your concern," Yoshizawa shakes her head adamantly as she attempts to take a step back, but the man follows, close enough to keep her within his reach, but not as to get too close. She bites her lip, and Ren could see distress in her eyes as he approaches. "However, I really am in a hurry, so if you'd excuse me—"

She bows and tries to walk away, but the man has his hand on hers in an instant, pulling her arm up in the air and startling her enough for her frown to drop into something much more horror-struck. "Come on, there's no need to be shy. Let's talk—"

"You're going to be late, Yoshizawa."

The two of them turn to him, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the man's eyes – one that has been lasciviously looking at the girl – on him, with such hostility that he could just fold into himself right then and there. But he stands his ground, Arsène's fingertips and Morgana's tail keeping his sanity within his skull long enough for him to complete his sentence.

"…Who are you? Can't you see we're havin' a talk?" The man snarls, tightening his grip on her wrist more.

"I'm her classmate, sir," Ren bows slightly, keeping his face as straight as possible as he frowns at the ground. Yoshizawa is looking at him now, silently pleading for his help – and he knows he just couldn't look the other way anymore. "The teacher has called us for assembly, and she's already late. I was sent here to pick her up."

"Already?" Yoshizawa says – plays along – as she forcefully yanks her wrist free upon the man's slight lapse in concentration. The man growls as she walks towards him, muttering a low thank you for only Ren to hear as she turns to bow at the man again. "I must leave now, but thank you for your concern."

"Come on, let's go," Ren says, bowing his head as well, even though Arsène is growling at him not to. He just doesn't want the man to go into a frenzy – something he's already on the verge of doing, Ren should think, with how red he is, or how prominent the veins on his forehead are.

And once they are far enough away from the stranger, he stops, placing a hand over his frantic heartbeat to try to calm it down—

"Thank you so much!" The girl says as she bows again, and again, and again, enough for him to start getting dizzy. "I'm sorry for the trouble!"

"Don't mind it," Ren breathes, feeling the panic that has been bubbling up his throat starting to melt into a soup of gray that settles deep in his marrows like tar. He frowns before asking, "are you alright?"

"I am. Thank you again for the help," the girl smiles, before her looks turn contemplative. Then, she asks something Ren has always been asking his friends countless of times before; "May I ask you… what made you step in to help me?"

"I can't overlook that," he says simply, shuffling on his feet and rolling the tension away from his shoulder. He thinks the other Thieves would've done the same, too— "I… think it's something I should do."

"I see. I'm sorry for such a strange question."

"It's not strange at all," Ren says, slightly amused, recalling all the times that exact inquiry would squirm inside his head whenever he's faced with the Thieves' conducts, something he has never seen, something that makes his heart sing and tears down his understanding of the world. "I've asked my friends this sometimes. I just mimicked their answers."

"…Oh," she says, a little surprised, before she bows her head again. "Again, thank you so much! Are you heading to the cleanup too?"

"Mhm," he hums softly, and takes a note at her clothing, still in the school's uniform and not her gym clothes. "You should hurry up and go get changed."

"Oh, yes! I forgot my gym clothes at school!" She exclaims, bowing for the thousandth times before jogging away, but not before half-shouting over her shoulder at him. "I'll see you at the cleanup!"

Ren only allows himself to feel that little spark of satisfaction for a few seconds before he walks away and towards his destination, not willing enough to believe the girl will keep her promise just so.

It is hard enough that he has to be with a group ofpeople that do not care about him, but they just have to make it harder by talking behind his back right in front of him about all the rumors.

(A part of him wants to deny it, wants to shout at them the truth that he's kept close to his heart, but he knows he couldn't. He couldn't just deny everything his father had said, he couldn't deny the false truth that spreads like the plague, couldn't make them see the little him locked inside his chest. Words hurt, they do, they hurt all the time—

—And he knows he is weak without his friends, because like this, everything hurts even worse, and he just wants to curl up and cry and disappear into a speck of dust, turning into the trash of society that he is.)

He sighs after finishing up (while having to hear the endless streams of fearmongering and whatever else the others come up with, about how vile and irredeemable Ren is—), seating himself down on the bench and putting the small bowl of hot miso soup in his lap.

"I've been looking for you all morning!"

Ren blinks, at first unsure if the voice is addressing him. But that uncertainty becomes something much more solid when he looks up to see the girl – Yoshizawa – beaming at him, eyes shining like ruby under the sun. Ren tilts his head to the side, feeling something like a bond, fleeting and flickering as it is, forming between them – and he quickly shuts that thought off as he murmurs. "Excuse me?"

"Oh! Um, sorry, I mean… I've been meaning to properly thank you for this morning since the beginning of the cleanup!" She says – dances – as she asks for his permission to take the seat beside him with a gesture of her hand. Ren watches her body language for a while, and when he feels nothing hostile, and with Arsène's croon ringing in his skull, he allows her with a nod of his head.

"You don't need to. I just did what I thought was right," he says, lifting up the bowl and taking a small sip, feeling warmth spreading through his throat and down to his stomach in waves. He reminds himself to thank Maruki for such a kind meal later before he glances up at the girl again. "You don't need to associate yourself with me, Yoshizawa-san."

The way his words bite deep into her is made clear in the way that she winces, in the way that her eyes seem to trail away from him and to the park, now filled with nothing but silence and a few souls being left to do as they please. She is just the same, Ren muses, seeing that being confronted with the truth shuts her up so instantly—

"I have to apologize for a month ago, too," she finally says, and that is enough to stop Ren in his track. He frowns, looking at her again, to see the girl smiling at him sheepishly. "I… I don't really believe in the rumors or something of the like. I know how twisted they usually are. I was just, um… with Kamoshida-sensei at the moment, and I wasn't sure how I should act, so—"

Ren sighs, remembering well the way she neither agreed nor disagreed with Kamoshida's view of him. But when he remembers the way she would smile at him whenever they passed in the hallways, and with Arsène beating his wings slowly and gently, Ren allows himself – something he has done a bit more often, with each new heart changed – to believe in her, even if it's for a moment. "You don't have to apologize. It's not easy to challenge the ones who have your futures in their hands."

She pauses, as if unsure of what to say next, and Ren isn't going to elaborate or change the subject soon, so it is inevitable that a silence would follow – one that seems to makes the girl uncomfortable. And soon enough, she breaks it with a cough. "Ahem! Er, what I mean to say since the beginning is that; I think you're a kind person, not like whatever the rumors have been saying about you!"

Ren frowns at this, unsure of the angle Yoshizawa is coming at him from. But then, he watches, and waits – he has given a few people a chance already, and while he still couldn't say that he'll be doing this on a regular basis, he feels like she's genuine. Her smile doesn't seem to hide anything, and her body doesn't have that slight tenseness Ren'd always see from his previous friends who threw him into the wolves' den as soon as he did something wrong—

"…You're a strange one," Ren comments, with Arsène chuckling softly in his head – not a maddening, all-consuming laughter, but a chuckle – and Morgana squirming right beside his thigh. Ren takes another moment to watch her, and when she looks away, cheeks slightly dusted with pink, he allows himself to relax slightly. "…But thank you. That means a lot to me."

And he is by no means lying; those words, while he doesn't quite fully trust, feels nice and warm in his chest, like a prayer answered. He shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts as she says, "…you're welcome. I mean, I do understand. People gossip about me a lot, too."

Ren isn't sure what he should say, if anything at all, but he decides to allow Arsène's thoughts to reign his own, lips quirking up slightly into a small smile. "And you never let it get to you."

"And I never will."

A beat passes, cool and calm, before Ren realizes that they haven't properly introduced themselves yet; and while he knows her surname, that was it – not her year, not her first name. And, against it all, against the distrust that still simmer in the pit of his stomach like tar, he decides to turn to face her a bit more, bowing his head slightly, without offering her his hand. "…Amamiya Ren. Second year."

The girl blinks at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side in confusion, before it reaches her, too, that they have never had a proper introduction before. She quickly bows, apologies coming out in near endless streams. "Ah, I'm so sorry! It totally slipped my mind! I'm Yoshizawa. Yoshizawa Kasumi, first year!"

He allows his shoulders to roll loose, the drums of his heart calm as the windless sea, his fingers gracing along the edge of his hand as he hums. "Glad to make your acquaintance, Yoshizawa."

She beams. "Likewise, Senpai!"

(The voice of the world calls for the Faith Arcana, the edges jagged and unrefined, the string of their bond loose and almost moldable, to a degree. Ren finds it strange, but doesn't question it; to him, despite his mind's blaring alarm, she feels like someone who understands his current situation up to a point, too. And to him, it looks like she has her own darkness, hiding inside her shadow and ready to pounce at a moment's show of weakness.

A bond is a bond, spontaneous and flimsy as it may seem, and he feels like he might be able to help her, too. Give her the wings to fly like he did the rest of his friends. So, he decides to trust Arsène, something he has been doing far too often for it to be healthy, and sets his mind to cherish this so-called bond as it is—

—Unaware of the path this bond will lead him towards.

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

June 3th, 2016 [Fri]

The next week after the cleanup has been… fairly normal.

(As normal as it could've gotten, with his fear of Madarame suing him and making his father know that he's been a disobedient cur since the very beginning rising and flaring like the erupting volcano. And he has been doing his best to silence those thoughts, snuffing it out and burying it up by working until he could feel the exhaustions deep in his bones. Because he doesn't know how else to stop it.)

Aside from him doing as much part-time as he could to earn his keep and to free up his schedule (and at times hanging out with his friends whenever the workplaces don't need his presence for that day), he would never in a million years expect a politician, of all people, to take an interest in him. Yoshida Toranosuke is by all means the exception to the rules; he does seem to genuinely care for the people, and not the usual politicians Ren often sees in the media (or with his own eyes). And while he still doesn't trust the man in the least, Yoshida's insistence on buying him meals is something he just couldn't quite refuse, so he decides to play along, even if something in him – Suzaku, he thinks – says they he should allow him to come just a little closer, too.

And for everything else, nothing has changed much – not the rumors surrounding him like mists, not the ceaseless voices of little nothings that put him on edges, not Sakura's increasingly more perceptive eyes that seem to be looking at him for something more than just the obedience that he had been showing. And it is as nerve-racking as it is suffocating; he doesn't like being watched like that, with eyes that's splitting him open and laying his guts bare on the ground—

"Ren," Morgana's voice snaps him out, and he blinks before looking down, to see the not-cat curling his body around his ankle. Ren breathes, forcing himself to expel the remnants of unease coiling in his gut, before the not-cat continues. "Aren't you working too hard? I mean, even that stranger politician said that you should take a break."

"I'm fine, Morgana," Ren says, shifting his weight as to not step on Morgana's tail and walking towards the back of Leblanc to look over the stock again. While Sakura has already left, he'd rather not leave all of this for the man to find out come tomorrow morning (he might also be trying very hard not to think about Madarame, should they fail), and he'd rather busy himself with something (instead of feeling the dread that's crawling up his legs—) than sleeping the day away in silence. "Working helps clear my head."

"Yeah, as if I'd believe you," Morgana rolls his eyes, and with two carefully-placed jumps, climbs up Ren's shoulder. The sudden weight added to his person makes him yelp, and nearly makes him topple over. But he persists, managing to stabilize himself in time— "Your eyes never look ahead of you. They're staring at some place beyond what I can see."

Ren frowns, letting the words settle in his heart for a moment before he sighs, sitting down and letting Morgana climb into his arms. He strokes the not-cat's fur for a moment before he buries his nose into Morgana's back, ignoring the indignant yelp that arises from him. He doesn't move, not for a while, and only mumbles out when he feels like he should say something to break the silence;

"I don't know what to think," is what he manages as he breathes in Morgana's scent – of verdant wind and moonlight shadow that seems to coerce him to rest. He closes his eyes, curling into himself just a little more before muttering. "I don't regret any of this; not changing the hearts, not fighting as Joker. But I'm afraid. I thought I've already made peace with it, but I'm afraid—"

He stops himself from saying anything more, instead biting his lip and allowing darkness to dig deep into his marrows, boiling inside his bones and—

"Hey, shh," Morgana murmurs, lapping Ren's cheek carefully. He blinks, and the not-cat is smiling at him, his tiny paw placed on his nose, pushing it playfully. "You don't have to be. Whatever happens, I'll be there with you."

It's not that simple, a part of him croaks, even as he curls his arms tighter around Morgana's frame. He feels his friend wriggle, his whiskers brushing under his eyes lightly. It's never that simple. I don't want to lose any of you. And I'm afraid of being alone again when Madarame sent me back to my father, and then I'll be all alone for an eternity. I've made peace with it, but I'm still scared—

"Do you want to talk about it?" Morgana murmurs, twisting his body to lie flat in Ren's lap, offering him his coat of white at the underside of his body. Ren decides to comply, carefully combing his fingers through the soft, warm fur with color as white as snow. "Or do you not?"

"…No," Ren shakes his head, feeling all the tension that's been bubbling in him slowly seeping away and out of his core, Morgana's heat of life replacing the cold dread instead. "I don't."

"Suit yourself," Morgana huffs, before his all-high-and-mighty attitude devolves into something warmer, and lighter. "Hey, I'm sure the change of heart has already occurred. If Madarame really wants to sue us, he would've done so. He's still bedridden, right? And apologizing to Yusuke, no less?"

Ren opens his mouth, to say that what Morgana said is something so blatantly too optimistic, but finds himself agreeing to it.

"…Okay," Ren finally breathes out, the marks of unease left in his spine ringing loudly in his ears in ways he could never silence. But he thinks, this, too, is alright – he trusts Morgana, trusts the Thieves. If he says that it'll be fine, then he could at least try and place this trust on him, and let himself relax for a while—

"…You're still not back to bed?"

Sakura's voice is soft, but to Ren – still rattled from a miniature panic attack that latched onto his neck out of the deepest, darkest corner of his shadow – it sounds like the strike of a high thunder, dangerously close and with enough force to singe open the edge of his veins. And it takes him a moment too long to realize that he's backed himself into the shelf, nearly knocking the jars of beans over with his flailing arms and his curled fingers—

"S-sorry, sir!" Ren quickly bites out as Morgana hops off, reluctantly as he may, and forces himself to stand up on unsure legs. Ren doesn't look up – couldn't look up – and fists a part of his apron into his still shaking hands, frowning deep into himself as if he could stop his heart from racing. Arsène is not here, he is gone into somewhere Ren couldn't feel, into the black he couldn't see— "I, um… I was about to close up! I—"

"…Don't fret about it, kid," Sakura says, and while Ren still doesn't force his eyes up, he could see from the edge of his vision that Sakura has seated himself on the stool at the counter. Ren bites the inside of his cheek as he quickly straightens out his clothes, but stops when Sakura taps his fingers onto the counter, light and careful. "…Anyways, kid, you free on Sunday?"

He doesn't have a plan, as far as he's concerned – and while the exhibit ends on that exact date, he has no clue as to what will happen. But again, he'd rather not anger Sakura in any way if possible, not to mention that should the changing of heart fails (something Arsène, now suddenly here, coos into his ears that it has already succeeded), his availability on Sunday would be the least of his worries—

"I don't have anything planned, sir," Ren says, nodding his head slightly, finally biting the bullet and looking up. And Sakura's eyes are different from what he's expecting—

"Have you been to the Imperial Palace? Or the Sensou-ji Temple?" The man asks, and Ren isn't too sure what kind of facial expression he's making, but it must've been something at least entertaining for Sakura, because it makes the man let out a low, rumbling laughter at the sight. "What's with that look? I'm just asking. Have you?"

"…I've… never been there, sir," Ren says quietly and truthfully, his mind reeling and trying to come up with an explanation as to why Sakura would suddenly ask him this. It makes no sense to him. Isn't he about to ask Ren to work on Sunday for a shift? "…Is that a bad thing…?"

"Of course not. If you've never visited Tokyo for sight-seeing, then I don't think you'd ever have the chance to go there, anyway," Sakura shrugs easily, his eyes filled with something Ren couldn't quite name; an emotion misplaced, a thought that doesn't belong. The man then smiles, slight but hopeful. "If you're free on Sunday, let me take you there. Someone like you might appreciate being there in person, I think."

Ren's thought grounds into an abrupt halt, all process stopping cold in its track. He feels his jaws go slack, and a voice escape him, so impossibly quiet that, had they not been alone, even Ren would've missed his own word; "…Sir?"

Sakura sighs – and Ren immediately winces. He shouldn't have asked, shouldn't have indirectly called for a repeat of Sakura's words, shouldn't have shown his incompetency— "You've been here for nearly two months, and you barely go out anywhere but at beef bowl shops and restaurants with your friends, right? Might as well take you out for a bit. Do you not want to?"

It's not so much as to what he wants as to what he needs to do; his wants never matter, never hold much ground within any discussions, never had any significance. But when he looks – from the corner of his eyes, subtle enough that Sakura wouldn't catch him – he sees the man's eyes, and sees the way they shine with expectancy rather than whatever else he was (is) expecting.

He isn't sure what he should respond; I want to seems to be what Sakura's looking for, but could he truly? Could he truly indulge in himself and risk springing the trap he's laid out, an excuse waiting to be made to kick him back to wherever he came from and bring his worst nightmare (he doesn't want to leave his friends, doesn't want to forsake this newfound yet soon to be snuffed out future of his just yet) to reality, chaining him back to the cold truth Arsène's presence has been allowing him to ignore—

But when Morgana meows softly from below him, with his paws on his foot and his nose gently nudging at his leg, and that patient look on Sakura's face that betrays none of what he's feared, Ren is allowed – forced to allow – himself to relish in the feelings, to hope.

He bites his lip at last, feeling the twinge of fear clinging to the back of his mind still. But this time, he decides to allow Arsène's croon of dark shadows and Morgana's warm fur to persuade him, against the alarm in his mind screaming for him not to trust any of this— "I… I do, sir. I've… never visited those places before, but—"

"Don't worry about the work or nothin' of the sort, kid," the man says, leaning his cheek against a bent knuckle, a small smile on his lips. Ren doesn't allow himself to relax, keeping his shoulders squared and his breath steady, disallowing himself a moment of thought that would give him anymore frail, breakable hope that might push him over the edge far sooner than he should. "Let me treat you there. I'm your guardian here, after all. It's only fair I treat you to things sometimes, right?"

"…Sir," Ren says quietly, frowning minutely into his hands as he forces out a breath, feeling the murmurs of Phoenix in the back of his mind, blazing wings and fiery feathers ghosting along his arms as a form of reassurance. "If you… if you would, then I would be um… honored to go."

Sakura sighs heavily, and when Ren thinks the man would scold or frown at him, all he's got is a gentle (is it really gentle? Ren isn't too sure) smile that soon morphs into a near permanent scowl. "Well, I'm just here to tell you that, I guess. I'll open the shop until maybe noon, so you're free to do anything with your friends before then."

"Yes, sir."

"And, one last thing," the man says as he heads for the door, hand resting on the knob, ready to twist. When Ren murmurs out a small sir to acknowledge his speech, Sakura hums. "If your friends want to, and if you're okay with it, you can invite them here. This place could use some more life in it, you know?"

He has never thought of that, never allowed himself to think of showing his friends where he works, where he has been given his bed and warm meals and place to stay; he doesn't want them to think ill of Sakura, less it backfires on him. Doesn't want to put himself in danger and allow thoughts unbecoming to fester in the cavity of his chest like the rot. But when Sakura stills his hand, as if waiting for Ren's response, he could only smile – what else could he do, to strip away those glares off of his skin? – and replies, quiet and subdued, just as he's always been taught. "…Yes, sir. I'll tell them as much."

"Good, good."

And so, Sakura leaves, emptiness and the void left in his wake.

June 4th, 2016 [Sat]

"Ah! Welcome back!"

Maruki says, springing to his feet and welcoming him with a warm smile that Ren has, against himself, come to expect, to look forward to. He bows his head, allowing Morgana to climb out and roam free and away from their discussions, before closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry I came, even when you said you have appointments—"

"Don't worry," Maruki beams, sitting on the couch and gesturing for Ren to take a seat, something he does with less reluctance than the first time. Ren allows Arsène's croon to grow distance as he attempts his best to relax, fingers fidgeting on the button of his blazer. "It's not until late into the night anyway. I have spare minutes, and I'll be more than happy to share it with you. So, how are you today?"

Some answers form, both redundant and authentic; Ren knows he hasn't been feeling all too well this past week, with the anxiety of Madarame's change of heart creeping up the horizon and latching its claws into his back. That little, misplaced panic attack in Leblanc yesterday is a testament enough to his current state – that he is by no means stable, by no definition sane and fully functional.

Ren looks up to those eyes, alight with warmth and kindness he still couldn't get used to, he still couldn't trust fully. But Arsène's wingbeats are soft, and forbearing – just enough to ease his doubt away into something less prominent. He hums, letting the ever-shifting visage of the Prince of Thieves fit over his face like a mask that it is, before saying quietly;

"I had a panic attack yesterday," Ren says, relents, something he would never have done before, bearing his scars for Maruki – someone he doesn't fully trust, yet has come to actually appreciate his advice and assistant – to see. When Maruki doesn't say anything, Ren continues, closing his eyes and huffing out a small breath through his nose. "It just… came out of nowhere."

"I see," Maruki hums, pushing a steaming cup of tea in his direction, like he always does whenever he wants to say something. And Ren takes it, cradling the cup into his hands and keeping it in his lap with his fingers idly playing with the edge. "May I offer a piece of opinion?"

"…Sure," Ren nods, putting the cup to his lips.

"You see, a panic attack can come and go without warning, without triggers. But, from what I think I've seen from you so far, your panic attack might've come from triggers that are more subtle than you'd think," is what Maruki says, and Ren takes a while to let the words sink in, to let them roll and flit over his tongue and down his throat, to let his mind catch up and see them as they are.

A subtle trigger? He isn't too sure, but he supposes there are many, with his anxiousness about his whole situation with Madarame being the primary trigger that he could think of. But it is subtle, so much so that he doesn't even consider it to be possible. He swallows, shaking his head and ridding his thoughts of the growing restlessness before taking another sip. Then, "…I think… I think so. I think there is one. Um, more than one, actually."

"You don't have to tell me what they are," Maruki says as he leans back, grabbing a snack from the tray and put it between his teeth. "But it's good that you could identify it. Now, there are many ways to deal with this, the most prominent that's recommended by United Kingdom's NHS is to seek counseling, or to seek peer support—"

"Something I'm not comfortable with," Ren declares, voice raw and rough with deep-rooted fear that remains despite his time as a Thief, despite the voice of Arsène that grows ever more maddening.

"Something you're not comfortable with," Maruki repeats, voice soft and gentle. "Instead, I can teach you something else. Not exactly a mental training, but a breathing technique to help control your heart rate, enough to stave off the panic for a while. Would you like to?"

Ren takes a pause, a moment to think – so far, whenever he has a panic attack, he usually has no choice but to let it fall away through the gaps of his fingers after drowning in it for a time that is far too long to be normal (as if having one is normal in the first place), for it to be healthy. And if there's any way at all, any alternative that would mean he doesn't have to bear his wounds for all to see, for him to breathe on his own and deal with it with just his wits and lungs, then he thinks it is far better than any deal he could have made by himself.

So, Ren nods, exhaling shakily into the cup, into the rising steam that caresses his hair with gentleness that is unbefitting of something that can't even be considered alive. "…Yes, if it's not too much of a trouble to you."

"How are your general mood, by the way?" Maruki says as he stands up and walks over to the cupboard, hands searching for something within its depth. Ren sees the man pulls out the same box that has various bottles of drugs he doesn't care enough to name. "Do you think the drug I gave you work? If it isn't, I can adjust. I think I saw an Amitriptyline in here – perfect to help reduce anxiety."

"…I'm not sure, because I haven't been in a situation like… before, ever since," Ren says, rubbing the back of his hair and frowning slightly into the ground. "…But… I can take one more, if you think it'll help."

"It depends on the person, so we won't know until you've actually taken it," Maruki says with a small smile, finally producing a bottle out of the cupboard and handing it to Ren, careful not to brush his fingers – something he appreciates, something anyone except those within his circle of friends doesn't usually do – and letting Ren take a look at it for a moment. "Take it once before bed. It'll help with your sleep too, from my personal experience."

"…Alright," Ren nods, putting it inside his blazer's pocket, patting it once to make sure that it won't fall off before he readies himself. "I think… I'm ready. With the breathing training? If you're available, of course, Maruki-san—"

"Of course I am," the man laughs lightly, waving Ren's fear away with his hands as he sits back down, putting his hands together and rubbing it. "Well then. Let's get started, shall we? I promise, I'll go slow – and you can ask me anything you want during this time, too."

"…Thank you, Maruki-san," Ren hums softly, feeling the strings of the Councillor Arcana growing stronger inside his empty heart, the bond golden and warm and glittering with the light of life Ren is not at all familiar with, but has nevertheless come to let himself relax around, come to appreciate—

(As the bond grows, so too does the strength of the heart, even if Ren doesn't fully realize this yet. Arsène's voice grows stronger, louder, yet at the same time more refined, with more rationality that he usually does not have, with more grace that is befitting the title as the Prince of Thieves, the gentleman thief, the phantom, the shadow of the rebel without a heart—

And when he thinks so, Arsène hums softly, not without anger, but with enough care that it doesn't appear as hostile as it used to be. Ren allows his voice to roll over him, for the myriads of emotion mixed together like a well-made cocktail to wash over his heart and fill the gaping void in his chest.

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

June 5th, 2016 [Sun]

The news about Madarame comes and goes, and while Ren knows he should be elated that his sentence and his doom are avoided, he's faced with another trail.

He doesn't tell his friends anything, and they let him go – but not without reluctance, not without care, something he appreciates, something that makes him feel so warm – after they've scurried for the day. And while Ren thinks he catches Niijima looking at them with curiosity (it's to be expected, after all; a bunch of victims huddling together just so is far stranger than what one would usually see), he doesn't say anything. Couldn't.

(He also notes the way they reacted when he showed up to their meeting place with long, black arm sleeves through the summer's heat, but they didn't say anything to him, didn't so much as comment about it. But their eyes were curious enough to make him squirm. What could he have said? That he didn't want any of them to see the scars left by years of training? He couldn't. He couldn't say anything at all, not even to Morgana, whose eyes grew impossibly wide at the sight of his bare arms.)

Morgana says as soon as he steps away from the train and back to Leblanc, the feeling of blood being drained from his face far too prominent for him to keep his secrets for much longer. "Ren, it'll be fine. I'll always be in your corner, okay?"

"Yeah. I know," Ren murmurs, tugging the bag – and Morgana's warmth – in a little closer, teeth clenched and jaws set. He isn't sure what he should make of Sakura, what he wants from Ren, what he's going to do, and bringing Morgana with them would only make it even more suspicious. "I guess you'll have to be alone for a bit. Will you be alright?"

"Of course!" Morgana huffs, a sight that Ren has come to find rather amusing, something to lift up his spirit, even just slightly. Then, the not-cat deflates ever so slightly. "I'm sure it'll be fine, but you can call any of them anytime if you need a way out, okay?"

"I know," he hums, knowing full well that what Morgana said is the truth – he's certain, after days and weeks he's spent with company that see him as their own, that they would come to his aid, should he ever make the slightest sign of distress. He forces himself to relax as he breathes through his nose, stopping before Leblanc's door. "…See you in the evening, Morgana."

"Yep!"

Ren pushes the door open, and Sakura is already there, in the same suit he's worn when he took Ren to school the first day he's in Tokyo, with his fedora hung on the rack by the door. Ren bows at him as the man raises his hand in greeting. "Welcome back, kid. Didn't take long, huh?"

"Sir," Ren hums quietly, eyeing the door – and noticing, just now, that the sign to the shop has already been flipped to close – before turning his gaze back to the man. He awkwardly walks behind the counter after silently asking for an invitation, dropping to his knee and letting Morgana out. "Um, do you need any help cleaning up before we go, sir?"

"Nah, I'm just about to finish," Sakura shrugs easily, eyes warmer than what Ren remembers. Arsène croons again, soft and low, with Phoenix's caw ringing in his ears like the chimes of the hollowed woods. "I'll drive us there, so you don't have to worry about the train fares. And I'll treat you to any food there, so don't fret about it."

Protests immediately come up his throat and settle deep at the back of his tongue, but when he looks at Sakura, who is more expectant than he is scrutinizing, it makes Ren stop. Hope dances at the edge of his brain, murmuring the sweet tune of anticipation into his spine. He wants to kill it, to stop himself from ever feeling like this (because hope is such a fragile thing and it hurts to think back to what had happened before, with his hope squandered, with everything destroyed by everyone around him—), but Phoenix's fiery feathers stop him, warm the cold distrust in his veins into something gentler—

"You look like you're objecting that idea," Sakura says, with a strange sound in his voice that makes his throat clamps up, makes his fingers shake— "Are you—"

"I'm alright with that, uh, s-sir," Ren stammers out, cursing himself as his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt, feeling the way sweat starts to cover his palms. "I just – I was just thinking."

The silence is physically suffocating, and while Ren registers Morgana peering at him from behind the shelf, he couldn't really focus, his heart thrumming the beats of his fear, pounding deep inside his skull and almost drowning the sounds of his dwindling thoughts to oblivion. But then, Sakura breaks it, not with a scowl or harshness, but with a leveled tone that he's not too sure why Sakura would wield. "…Alright, if you say so, kid. Go get changed, alright? I'll wait down here."

Ren bites down any other words, any other emotions that's going to rise up his throat, and nods numbly, ignoring the beating wings of both Arsène and Phoenix within his chest as he does.

The car ride is mostly silent.

Ren is still too afraid to do anything much, instead electing to look out the window, at the passing cars and the pedestrians, at the flickering lights and the sun burning brightly up in the sky. But so far, Sakura hasn't been forcing him; has been accommodating to his preference of silence, has been tolerant towards his attitude – one he still isn't too sure if it's too aggressive, too passive, or just generally unacceptable to people in power – and has been… quiet.

Silence from the people who holds power over him is never a good thing; it'd mean that they have something they need him to know to do, something they have in mind to punish him for even one wrong move, for even a spark of disobedience that he sometimes doesn't have control over. And he doesn't like silence that stretches out for far too long, doesn't like silence that seems cold and contemplative, doesn't like silence that breathes the air of hostility onto his neck—

"So," Sakura begins, jolting Ren out of his own head, and making his fingers curl instinctually over his own long sleeve, almost making him rip the article of cloth off with that twitch alone. He forces himself to breathe, frowning a little to keep his facial expression in check. "You don't seem at all comfortable around me, kid. Is there a particular reason?"

Ren bites his lip, unsure of what to do. So far, Sakura has been… at first, he has been cold and almost hostile, something that has been gradually morphing into something warmer, something Ren isn't at all used to, and he's afraid of the implication, of what Sakura is planning, of what could've been. He isn't sure what kind of answer would Sakura be waiting for, what kind of words would and would not trigger him, and he doesn't want to. And Sakura has never called him out, has never—

"It's not – it's not like that, sir," Ren manages with a small frown, nudging the knot of unease away from his fingertips. Arsène croons softly, a stark contrast to his current predicament, and Ren tries his best to let that croon calms him down. "I just… am not—"

Sakura sighs, and Ren feels his spine tensing up, afraid of— "It's fine, kid. I know you're not that okay with lots of things."

"I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to apologize," Sakura hums quietly. "I know we've started off on the wrong foot and all. And no, before you begin apologizing again, it's not your fault."

Ren attempts to form an answer in his mouth, attempt to find a way to reply, to keep himself safe, but there are none. Phoenix's warm feathers are the only things that occupy the void of his heart, with Arsène's usually constant presence retreating back into some place Ren couldn't reach, and fear is where the Prince used to be, clutching at his heart and—

A hand is then on his head, and Ren flinches at the touch, expecting his hair to be yanked or something to collide with the rest of him. But when the hand simply tussles his hair out of its already unruly shape, he looks up – finally look up – to those eyes, inexplicably warm and undeniably kind—

"Like it or not, you're my family now," Sakura hums, his touch gentle and oh, this must be the reason why Arsène doesn't lash out, doesn't react when he's forced to enter the car with his guardian. A spark of an emotion foreign to him registers, and Ren feels his breath comes and leaves him alternatively, his mind drawing nothing but a blank, unsure of what he should make of this situation. "And family don't hurt each other, you know? I'll never hurt you again, I promise."

"Why?" He feels himself croak out, cold fingers fidgeting on the buttons of his shirt, then the edge of his arm sleeves, then at his knees – anywhere to keep his mind occupied. He bites his tongue hard until the scent of blood registers. "I'm just a delinquent sentenced and branded because I did something wrong, and I shouldn't—"

"—I don't believe a kid like you are capable of doing something of the sort. Not anymore," Sakura cuts him off, patient. Gently, the man pulls his hand back, placing it on the armrest at his side as he hums. "I've told you this before, but I'm sorry for jumping to conclusion. I've seen you for two damn months, and one thing I can say for sure is that you're a good kid. Far kinder than you should be."

"But I'm—"

"You don't have to say anything," Sakura relaxes back into his seat, and when Ren finally gathers enough courage in him to look at him, Sakura is still smiling, with that tint of sorrow that seems misplaced, that seems like it doesn't belong. He freezes. "Take your time, kid. No need to rush. You're now my family. And family help each other."

Sakura places his hand on Ren's head again, and—

Oh. He's so warm, and before Ren knows it, tears have already started falling from his eyes.

(From a place deep within him, an entity stirs. A dragon, with scales shining like the sun's aurous ray, eyes red like rubies, its body warm and gentle, growls deeply within the Sea of Souls, its voice booming like thunder, but soft like a gentle wave. Arsène doesn't laugh like he usually would – instead, he bows; in respect, and in reverence.

The dragon's name is lost to him, but its firmness, its gentleness, and its warmth remain, reminding him of the warm hand still placed upon the crown of his head as he cries for the family that Sakura has claimed them to be.

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