I apologize about the delay uwu, there's many things going on. Multiple exams that got yeeted to kingdom come, etc, etc...
Anyways, hope you enjoy! Also a surprise appearance of a certain someone you might not have expected ;)
Sorry in advance about any typos! I've always proofread my work, but some of them might still slip ._.
Enjoy!
Chapter 16
The holiday with Sakura went by in a blur.
In fact, most of it was a blur. Ren isn't even sure how long he had been trying – and failing – to stop those tears from falling from his eyes, and when Sakura didn't punish him, didn't hit him and berate him for being weak and showing an unsightly face, he couldn't help but let it all go. And Sakura only laughed gently as he took Ren around Tokyo, with its grand towers and its gently-blooming blossoms and its rich history hidden under blocks of stones and mists of ignorance.
The car ride back is much warmer than the one outward; with Sakura talking about little nothings, waiting patiently for Ren to say something, or just waiting for his silence to pass. And then, he would talk about what he thinks Ren would like, and would ask him if he does; something new, different. Unlike a friend's kindness, but nevertheless gentle, and he couldn't help but allow himself to relax his guard, one that he has been putting up for so long. Not fully, of course, because he still fears what Sakura might and might not do – but for now, being able to allow himself to relax even a little is enough for him.
Once he returns, with tears already turned into droplets of lights that Arsène gently takes into his hands and molds them into something Ren doesn't know what exactly, he greets Morgana – who's been forced to wait for his return since noon – with a slight bow as he shuffles his way towards bed. "…Hey. Sorry it took us so long. You hungry?"
"No. The food you left really saved me there," Morgana replies, eyes curiously watching Ren as he sits down on the bed, with a heavy sigh and hands over his eyes. "…Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," he murmurs, reaching down and patting Morgana's head gently. The not-cat, as always, climbs into his lap and curls his form on Ren's thighs, nuzzling his muzzle into Ren's waiting hand with care. He couldn't help but smile as he decides to elaborate. "Sakura-san… took me around town. Bought me some food and… had a long chat with me."
Morgana turns his head to peer up at Ren, and whatever expression he's having causes Morgana to grin, with happiness more than anything else. Ren, yet again, briefly wonders what rights has he done to the cosmos, to be blessed with a good friend just so? "Looks like everything's looking up around you, huh?"
"I guess so," he returns, scratching his head and pushing strands of stray hair off of his eyes. "Speaking of which… we haven't checked the Phan-Site in a while. And since everything with Madarame's cleared up, do you want to go? Clear out the requests and all?"
"Sure," Morgana agrees instantly. "It's been a while since I've stretched my claws, and I'll be damned to pass this opportunity up!"
"Let me check with the others," Ren says, whipping out his phone, screen bright against the dim, half-dying light of his room. He makes a mental note to do a few more shifts to earn enough to change it later on. "Mm… maybe Tuesday? Since we have social study trip on the 9th. I don't want us to be too beat up to attend it."
"Sounds good to me."
[Definitely Not The Phantom Thieves' Group Chat]
[Amamiya Ren]: Hey guys, sorry for bailing out on you in the afternoon.
[Takamaki Ann]: You've said that to us, like, 6 times already! Shuddup.
[Sakamoto Ryuji]: What she said.
Ren couldn't help a small chuckle as he continues to type.
[Amamiya Ren]: Anyway, I was thinking that we should start checking and clearing the requests on Phan-Sites again. It's been a while, hasn't it? I was thinking we should do it on the 7th.
[Kitagawa Yusuke]: It has, indeed! Ah, my artistic inspiration will thrive within that place, I'm certain!
[Sakamoto Ryuji]: There he goes again. Good job, Ren.
[Sakamoto Ryuji]: Anyways, I'm down. Gotta stretch my legs more anyways.
[Takamaki Ann]: Count me in, too! I'm game!
[Amamiya Ren]: Alright. Then see you at school.
Ren smiles as the messages of see you's pops up in the chat, and he closes it before sinking his hand further into Morgana's fur, feeling his firm hide with soft, warm fur under his hand. Morgana purrs, content, as Ren sighs briefly. "…Thanks for being my friend. All of you."
That sentence, to be honest, sounds oddly out of place, but Ren couldn't help but say it in the moment. His life has never been kind, has never been something he looks forward to. But now, with them here, he finds himself enjoying this life with this brief freedom more, and he's looking towards the future he has never allowed himself to think about before.
Even if he knows it'll eventually be stripped away when his father knows what a disobedient little cur he has been acting as, he'll never trade this for anything. Death is far less terrifying than the sense of solitude and helplessness he's been under for years, and he will die to keep this peace if he has to. He's willing to trade his life just for one more day, with them here, with his false sense of freedom under his palm—
"Don't mention it, Ren," Morgana finally says, and Ren blinks to see the not-cat grinning up at him, eyes shining brightly like lapis lazuli. "We're glad to be your friends, too."
Ren smiles back, Arsène's croon a soft lullaby within the vacancy of his heart.
Jun 8th, 2016 [Wed]
"A surprise seeing you here still, Amamiya-kun!"
Ren turns to see Maruki smiling at him through more paper bags of what Ren assumes to be more snacks for the sessions to come. He takes a moment to finish cleaning up the dishes before bowing to his manager and preparing to leave for the day. "Good evening, Maruki-san."
"I timed myself correctly, then!" Maruki laughs gently, eyes sparking with that same light of fondness that Ren has come to expect of him more, and something he's more comfortable to see after many weeks of talking with the man, too. "You've been working hard, with school and works and friends. Don't burn yourself out, alright?"
"I won't," Ren responds, briefly going to his locker to change and pull Morgana out of his bag before walking back towards Maruki. And the way he said those things make Ren thinks that he might've wanted to talk with Ren. "Do you want to talk with me?"
"Only if you want to," the man shrugs easily, handling him a small bag of daifuku with enough insistence in the way he breathes that Ren could find nothing in him to refuse. He accepts the gift, pulling one out and munching on it – and oh, it's soft and sweet, enough to make him melt slightly into the taste – as Maruki walks with him down the streets. "I was in the area to buy something. And, you guess it, I remember seeing you around last time, too. So I figure I should drop by."
It is strange for an adult to take notice of his schedule and actually mold their plans to his own, and not the other way around, and it feels… nice, almost as much as the way Sakura's hand on his head feels just a few days ago. Morgana shifts softly inside his bag, peering his blue eyes out to look at Maruki before ducking back into the darkness. Ren pats him through the fabric as he hums, testing the words on his tongue before speaking quietly. "I… thank you, Maruki-san."
"What is there to thank me for?" Maruki says brightly with a grin far too young for his age, and Ren could see the way his eyes seem to light up with that childish glee whenever he talks about things that is, at least to Ren, as interesting as they are puzzling. "Amamiya-kun, I couldn't claim I know everything about you, but you don't owe anyone kindness, you know. Kindness is… well, it's something we should give each other without rewards, not as a payment of a job well done."
Maruki seems to know more than he's initially let on, and Ren is left to ponder his words as they walk down the half-emptied streets, with the lights of the night fading into obscurity behind them. Kindness, to him, still feels strange. But so far, his friends have always been giving him just that – unconditional love and trust he couldn't quite understand, but nevertheless look forward to – not to mention the way Sakura seems to be doing the same, with a warm hand in his hair and a kind smile waiting for his return to Leblanc, a place that feels less cold and much more like—
"It'll take time to get used to it," Maruki hums, breaking Ren out of his own thoughts, and he glances to his side to see the man smiling at him kindly. He takes the daifuku from the tray and throws it into his mouth, chews a few times, before continuing. "Speaking of which, do you know what makes me that much more curious about psychology?"
Ren pauses to think for a moment, tilting his head to the side as Arsène croons softly, words left unspoken strung between the stars like holiday lights. He breathes after a while as the silence starts to settle in. "I think… maybe because, even after all these years, psychology is relatively new and with so much rules and guidelines left unestablished…?"
Maruki's smile seems forlorn at this, almost to the point of being in tears. But the look melts away as the man half-nods. "That's a part of it. Another part is that the mind is not like the body. When the body is in pain, there are causes and wounds to see, and when you address them, you can heal your body. The mind? I think there might be a cause to it, as visible as wounds, too. I want to find that root cause and cure it, to heal the mind the way we could the body."
Ren slows down to think on the words, and he finds truth in them. It is true that the wounds of the mind, or of the vacant heart that Ren doesn't have, are as tangible as the early morning's fog, unlike the scars on his skin or the broken bones fixed under his muscles. It would've been nice, to be able to heal the mind the same way one threat their own broken body— "Wait, so you are researching on that?"
Maruki might never have spoken about it, but the books left lying around in the counseling room and what he's always talked about during their sessions and the way he refers to himself as a researcher are enough indications for Ren to come to this conclusion.
"Yes," Maruki hums with a small smile. "It would be nice if you could prescribe something for the heart like the way you put painkillers and antibiotics on a cat's scratch wound. I've seen so many people like that, and I want to help them however I can, you know?"
"…You are kind, Maruki-san," Ren says, with Arsène's low rumbling echoing with his words. He smiles to himself a little, the distrust built through years of living as a dog crumbling away just a little more. And while he is still unwilling to bear everything for Maruki to see fully, he thinks the man's goal is noble – enough that he wants to help with it, too. "Do you need help with it?"
At this, Maruki beams, the stars in his eyes shining brighter than even the sun.
"If you are willing, then of course! I'd love for you to be there!" The man laughs, shoving another box of daifuku into his arms despite Ren's protest. Then, his smile softens as he says, much quieter and with something Ren think is a certain wish – a wish to help, a wish to find salvation for— "I hope I can help you with this research of mine, too. Glad to be working with you, then!"
Despite everything, despite a strange feeling of hollowing growl that grows within him, Ren smiles; he rids himself of the sense of foreboding, of something waiting to go wrong, and nods his head as they walk together towards the station. "Likewise, Maruki-san."
(The path of the Councillor grows ever stronger, leading Ren to unprecedented danger he is not aware of yet, guiding him towards both joy and suffering that await at the end of the road.
Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)
The Twins have always strike him as the same as his father; someone who wants him to do exactly as they say, someone with absolute power above him—
—But when he looks into the golden thread of the Strength, he feels like something is missing. A puzzle piece. A life, taken away and shaped into something different, something almost obscene, even. But he doesn't allow himself to think much on it as he takes the Twins to wherever they want him to lead; the Big Bang burgers, the movie theaters, the—
"Inmate," Justine says, her calm and near emotionless voice stirring anxiety deep within his gut. And while their presences are not as suffocating as his father, he still doesn't like being near them, doesn't like being under their scrutiny; they've been as relentless at the wardens that they are, and he by no means wants to anger them, to make his life harder than it already is— "There is something that I'd like to ask of you, and you shall answer promptly and without delay."
He balls his fists tight, ignoring the way Rakshasa taps his armored fingertips on his spine to calm him down rather than to spur him on; a strange, almost misplaced sensation, one that Ren couldn't quite put his fingers on. He shakes his head slightly before looking down at Justine, to see her bright golden eye much softer than he remembers it. "Yes?"
"No need to worry. Whichever answer you reply me with, I will not punish you for it," Justine says, as if that empty lie would soothe him. But he decides to nod anyway, urging her to continue. "…We have been observing you in your daily lives, too, and we have some questions. Why are you in the Metaverse that much more different than the you here?"
"…Isn't that the point of the Metaverse existing?" He asks as they walk back towards the door of the Velvet Room, the place he repeatedly kills off a part of himself to give birth to a stronger one, the place where peace is denied, the place that hovers over the edge of his dreams. "All of my friends are like that, too, don't they?"
"No," this time, it is Caroline who speaks up – Caroline, who has been oddly quiet for at least the past hour or so – with brows slightly furrowed, but without that same haughtiness, that same anger in her eyes. "They wear their true hearts as soon as their Personas awakened, but you? You might be the Wild Card, and you're still clinging to your original self, and yet… you're wearing almost nothing in the real world. Why is that?"
"I don't know," he says, even if a part of him already knows an answer to that question. Arsène's growl becomes incessant and terrifying, and it takes everything in him not to shudder as he looks down at the Twins' eyes, now more curious than they are searching. "I… don't feel at ease, I suppose."
You remain afraid of the possibility of facing your own flesh and blood, and you know it, Arsène roars, wings beating into the vacant void and drawing out something in him he's not willing to look into, his own heartbeat sounding like a reminder that he could never— You are the Trickster, boy. And that is a fate you can never escape from. You will have to face him if you wish to grow stronger—
Ren cuts the voice off by digging his nails deep into the flesh of his palm, feeling the anger of his own mask burning away something in him, the searing pain deep and suffocating. He decides to push it all away, instead focusing his attention on now. "Is there any more question or assignment for the day? I'd like to go back to rest."
Justine doesn't seem satisfied, but she sighs, in the end. "Very well. You may leave for the day, inmate. We will inform you of your next assignment whenever there is one."
Ren nods, and leaves, not missing the way their gaze linger on his back, painting it with a target and an emotion he couldn't quite name.
(The Strength grows, and Ren isn't too sure why; the bond he has with the Twins has been purely made from a deal, much like the Hanged Man, but they both feel strange. Almost warm.
He doesn't allow himself to linger, breathing in the silence and letting it settle deep within his marrows.
Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)
June 9th, 2016 [Thurs]
While Ryuji and Ann said that it's okay that he didn't choose the TV station as a place for social study, he still couldn't help but apologize again when the date arrives.
He doesn't have any particular hatred for the station, no, but rather the implication of being there in the studio; while the odd seems rather low and almost nonexistent, he couldn't allow himself to be put on the screen, couldn't allow himself a moment in the spotlight. He shudders at the mere thought, of him hanging his own skin for all the world to see, to look at his sins and all his deeds.
So, he settles for something less, something… quiet. Almost boring, even.
He doesn't mind the stagnation of thoughts, the mindlessness of the trip – it is a better alternative than to present himself and his sins to the world. And while Morgana complains, he doesn't blame Ren for his decision to settle for that ramen factory Ryuji talked about in passing. And after a long, grueling day of walking around and learning about something that would prove useless to him, Ren decides to head to Inokashira park for the day.
Morgana is already fast asleep when he arrives, and while Ren usually doesn't mind it, the silence and the solitude is starting to nudge at the back of his mind, disquieting and unsettling. He decides to push everything away as he breathes in the air, the life – one that bustles and goes on around him without a pause, much like his first day here. They do not seem to have noticed him, so he lets that knowledge ease his empty heart as he strolls around almost aimlessly about.
Their run in the Mementos was interesting, with new and stronger Shadows festering inside the depths that are far too deep for the eyes to see, and the twisted maze that is the imitation of the train track reminds Ren of something he couldn't quite name; a nightmare from a time long past, or images he's seen in books and pictures during his younger years.
But aside from that strange gut feeling, they've done quite well – he's getting more used to the weight of his new knife, getting a good grasp of moving and shooting at the same time (even when he's taught to do otherwise by the hands that feed him), and getting comfortable with switching Personas with a single breath. Arsène seems much calmer, much more stable, but his anger remains as palpable as ever before, and while he still clings to the Prince of Thieves like a lifeline, he could tell that Arsène is not content with how things are (how he is) now.
But Ren will not allow himself to be swayed much more than this. God knows what would befall him, should he disobey the only man he shouldn't have disobeyed—
Arsène's anger flares in the form of a splitting headache, silencing the voices around him and making him reach his hand for something to hold – a railing, his mind supplies – and he squeezes his eyes shut to ground the feeling of blazing fury bubbling and boiling in his chest away. Arsène has been getting that much stronger, and so too does his presence and his influence on Ren – and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the way his thoughts are being drawn towards a place he dares not go, doesn't like the way he's been coerced to defy the very person he should never—
"Are you okay?" A voice says, gentle like the spring, and Ren opens his eyes to lock them with a pair of bright blue ones, with dots of light shining behind them. Stars, Ren muses. "You look like you're in pain."
"I'm… okay," he breathes, noticing the boy's peculiar, off-season yellow scarf that flows like the river behind him. The stranger's eyes seem genuinely concerned, and while Ren usually wouldn't even attempt to think about trusting someone at first glance, something feels… oddly trustworthy, about him. Arsène calms down, with curiosity prickling at the tips of his feathers, and Ren grounds himself enough for the spots in his vision to fade. "…Just a headache. I'm alright now."
The boy smiles, glancing down at his cross-strapped wristwatch and then up at the sky above, the light of the unseen stars already bright in the way his eyes seem to shine. Almost inhumane, even. "If you're certain. Are you a student? I wound assume so from your attire, but I'm not entirely sure."
"Uh… yes," Ren says, scratching the back of his head. And Arsène, like all the times before the Confidant is forged, nudges at him, but this time with more insistence than most instances combined. Ren finds it odd, but doesn't question it much; the stranger's aura seems to bring some sort of peace to his mind, a quality even Arsène himself couldn't quite manage when they first met. "Are you?"
"…Was would be a more precise description," he hums, stepping to the side and away from the walkway at large, leaning his frame against the railing and letting the afternoon breeze rustle his midnight hair, swept back and framing his face like a reversion of a halo. "I'm just a traveler."
"Traveler?" Ren repeats, tilting his head to the side, something more than just Arsène spurring him forward to continue with his strange, pointless conversation. This boy seems… different. Otherworldly, even, and in a good way, at least to Ren. "What do you mean by traveler?"
At this, the boy smiles, mysterious yet easing his frayed nerve enough for Ren to relax almost fully. That gesture alone makes him unconsciously drops his guard, and he is by no means in a hurry to erect it back up, even if a small, rational part of him finds this outrageous and unthinkable – something in him, a deep and primal and spiritual part of him, wants him to trust this boy.
There is a moment's worth of pause before the boy hums, eyes glancing towards the moat, to the rustling leaves and to the scenery of the place that resembles nature the most within the forest of concrete that is Tokyo. "I just like to observe people, learning about them through a glance. It's an interesting hobby, when you possess as much spare time as I do."
"Oh," is all Ren manages out as he pulls his hand away from his head, the headache subsiding into no more than mere buzzes at the back of his mind.
"I've seen you around town often," the boy begins again, with a smile that is gentle and kind and warm, and it fills Arsène's heart with enough joy for the Prince to quiet down again. "I've walked around a lot and watched many lives unfold, you see. I've seen you at a beef bowl shop. And then at that coffee shop in Yongen Jaya. Most often around the subway, if I recall correctly."
"…You sound almost like a stalker," Ren bemuses, only to half-fold into himself at the implication of his words, as unintentionally as it may be. "Uh, no offense."
"None taken," the boy laughs lightly as he turns to lean his back against the railing, eyes watching the people around the park, and Ren does the same; and as he looks as lives flourish before him, in ways he never could allow his to, the boy continues. "You look like you'd benefit from a few more friends, and I'm in need of one, as well. It's been so long since I've met someone as interesting as you are."
"…How am I interesting?" Ren asks, frowning just minutely.
"Let's just say… that Arsène is a very unique character, indeed."
At the name, Ren could feel Arsène laugh, without a shred of fear – it's as if Arsène has always known that the boy knows – and he turns to see the boy grinning at him, light yet with softness and a fragment of thoughtfulness lingering in the air. And Ren gapes, before voicing himself out loud, his hand absently feeling Morgana still sleeping in the confines of his bag. "How did you—"
The boy presses a finger to his own lip, silencing Ren, and allowing wordlessness to pass between them. His eyes seem to glimmer with mischief, one that he voices aloud at Ren's expression, whatever it might be. "I don't think there's any point saying it, but I'm not a Persona User myself. I'm just a traveler, as I've established. An observer."
Something rings within him; the same voice of the world, and something more, something much deeper and far brighter than what Ren could hope to understand, at the moment. A warmth at the edge of the universe, tucked away into the veils between the stars, and the voices of the many masks within him sing in exaltation, and in gratitude – of what? He doesn't know.
"I won't ask you to trust me," the boy says lightly as he straightens up, his yellow scarf now dusted with something like smokes of darkness – but not one that is suffocating. It's one that's warm, and gentle, almost like the careful and kind lull of sleep that would greet him when his mind is tired and his heart is heavy— "But, if you're interested in knowing who I am, and who you are… I'd like to make a deal with you. Confidants is the word you call your bonds, correct?"
Ren still couldn't fully trust this, but something in him – the way the voices of his masks seem to sing, in sadness and in affection, perhaps – makes him discard his doubt, and he finds himself nodding. "…Alright. What kind of deal are we talking about here?"
"If you come to this park, whichever day you so choose… I'll find you," the boy smiles, mysterious and light, a contrast that seems to make him that much more dangerous. And yet… "And when I do, we can talk about what you want to know. The deeper your power grows, the more I'll tell you. How does that sound, Wild Card? Or, do you prefer Trickster?"
Ren frowns. Whoever the boy is, he must've been something close to Igor or the Twins; someone who knows far too much about the world in between to be human, someone that the voices of his Personas respect and revere. But, in the end, he decides for a name not offered; "I'd prefer to be called by my human name rather than those fancy ones. Amamiya Ren."
The boy grins, offering him a hand as another is placed over his own heart, over the yellow scarf that seems to play with the breeze as it comes and goes. "Very well, then. Do we have this deal?"
"We do," Ren says, and every one of his masks sings in agreement, and in reverence. "So, what should I call you? Do you even have a name?"
The boy seems to ponder for a while, lips curling into a fond smile at a distant memory Ren couldn't quite see. "I have many, but my beloved called me by this name; Mochizuki Ryoji. You can call me Ryoji, though – all my friends do. A pleasure to make your acquaintances, Ren."
"Likewise, Ryoji," Ren bows his head slightly as he takes the hand, one that doesn't scald him like human contacts would, one that is cold but not biting, one that feels kinder than even Sakura's own upon his skin.
(The voice is silent, instead an image is formed; a card without a face, a name without a voice. A power that is so close yet so far, infinitesimal yet larger than the universe itself. It is both cold and warm, both light and dark, all and none – and it feels as overwhelming as it is satisfying as the bond, golden and with two strings intertwined instead of one, starts to form, as a road towards the far unknown.
Arsène sings, too, in exaltation and reverence, in joy and affection, with love and sadness; a strange gesture for the Prince of Thieves, but not at all unwelcome.
Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings; light and dark, life and death, all combined into one.)
June 10th, 2016 [Fri]
When he returns to Leblanc after another mindless day of social study, he's greeted by two things; a strange boy with brown hair and a suit far too hot to be worn in such a weather, and Sakura who's waving his hand for Ren to join him behind the counter.
The meeting with that stranger, Ryoji, is still fresh within his mind. It was… quite something, far more outlandish than he could ever think, and it leaves Ren in enough daze that he might've missed a few train, even today, and returned to the shop a little later than he had first intended. So, for a moment, he thinks he might've been scolded, but remembers the way Sakura talks to him not too long ago; with kindness and affection, enough to soothe his thoughts and calm him down.
He lets Morgana go, and the not-cat races upstairs as he regards the boy on the counter – with ruby red eyes and a near permanent smile that looks oddly out of place – with a small bow before he joins Sakura behind the counter. Once he does, the older man hums. "So, this kid here might ask you for more cups of coffee, and I've got an errand to run. I don't know if I'll be back in time or not, so if I don't by nine, feel free to close the shop. You don't have to do the inventory for the day."
"Yes, sir," Ren says, pulling the apron out of the rack and turning back to Sakura's hand in his hair. He allows a small smile to come to him as he bows deeply. "Take care, Sakura-san. I'll see you later."
"Sure, kid. See you tomorrow," the man says as he rips everything off of him and, in a hurry, leaves, the rings of the bell the only ghost that follows his disappearing footsteps.
The silence then settles afterwards, and Ren takes this time to start doing the dishes. He isn't sure how long has passed when the boy at the counter speaks up. "Are you perhaps from Shujin?"
A pleasant, almost naïve way his voice lilt makes Ren frowns. It feels more forced than the boy is letting on, but he supposes there is no point in hiding it, either – his school uniform has been something of an icon, so far; of the scandals boiling within the confines of the school's walls. Ren suppresses the urge to sigh, and turns back to look at the boy fully – at his pleasant smile, at the way light seems to gently reflect off his eyes, at the way he seems almost… too tense.
Then, he recalls the boy on the television, and a name comes tumbling out of his lips before he could stop himself. "Are you… Akechi Goro?"
The boy blinks, slightly surprised, before his face turns sour for a brief second. But he brightens up in an instant – forced, too, that smile – as he nods. "…Yes. I'm quite surprised that you'd know of me, since most of my, ah… fans are women."
"I've been paying attention to the TVs," Ren lies easily, when in truth he's seen the boy – Akechi – on the screen in passing only once. But the way the boy's called the Detective Prince always strikes him as something odd, misplaced, so he remembers that name quite well. "Anyway, I'm not your fan. Just a guy behind the counter."
Akechi seems a little surprised, at this, blinking lazily up at him for a few seconds before he chuckles, his smile a little more genuine. It is a fact that keeping up a careful, friendly front is a meticulous and tiring process, and oh, Ren would know – and while he still couldn't despise his father, he loathes every second of acting like a good dog, now that he thinks back about it, now that Arsène's hellfire is running loose in his veins. "Indeed, you are. But I am at a disadvantage here. May I know your name?"
Ren hesitates for a moment, since the boy's first question to him is about his school, and not something else, something… trivial, and that he works with police officers in general. But he decides to play along, not willing enough to turn hostile against a stranger who has that much more power to sway the public than he ever could. "Of course. Amamiya Ren," and after a second, he decides to add, seeing no point in lying. "And yes, I'm from Shujin. Second year."
Akechi hums. "My, I'm actually older than you. A surprise, indeed."
Ren tilts his head. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen. I'm a third year," the boy smiles simply as he lifts the cup up to his lips. "I might be the so-called Detective Prince, but in truth, I'm just a mere high schooler. Everyone seems to always forget about that fact sometimes."
There's an edge of sadness in his voice, something deep and dark like sludge clinging to his frame. Ren feels something inside him shift, Archangel – one of the Personas that has no Arcana in which it belongs to, one of the masks that has been silent all these time except for with his meeting with Mochizuki Ryoji – stirring in the cavity of his chest, soft and calm. Sad. Mournful.
He couldn't claim that he knows what it's like, but he thinks it might've been something close to what he's experienced; to be seen as mere tools rather than a boy. And before he could even consider the hazard that would come with saying this out loud, he finds himself voicing his thoughts to the stranger he doesn't know. "Yeah. People tend to forget that, don't they? They don't care about who you are, just who they see you as."
At this, Akechi perks up, eyes alight with something Ren couldn't quite name. A smile then crosses his lips once more as he nods. "That is true. So you've been in a similar situation?"
"You could say that," he says, and feels Archangel urging him to continues. Arsène seems both eager and reluctant, the former stronger than the latter; another new side of the Prince of Thieves, to be sure. "And hey, your cup's emptying. Do you want another one?"
"Yes, if you may," Akechi hums, pushing the now empty cup his way, clasping his gloved hand over the woods and drumming his fingers along it in a mindless rhythm. "If it's not too much to you, Amamiya-kun… may I ask you a question? It might seem a little odd, but I've been given a less than satisfactory insight so far, and I'd like to change that."
He shrugs as he sets about doing what Sakura's taught him, something he has trained in his spare time to as near a perfection as he could – then, to avoid the older man's wrath. Now? He isn't too sure, but it isn't a bad feeling when Sakura gives him praises. "Sure. Go ahead, shoot away."
"I've asked this to one of your classmates during the live television set today," Akechi says, and Ren recalls that Ann and Ryuji had both taken part in that. He thinks Akechi might've been referring to that, but Ren couldn't be sure until he checks in with them again tomorrow. "But please, don't take this too personally – this is only my opinion, and it may change with time."
Ren nods, allowing Akechi to continue.
"I've said that the Phantom Thieves, if they are real, should be trialed in the court of law," he says, his eyes looking straight at Ren, perhaps to gauge his reaction. And while it is true that Ren has his own attachment to the group, he also knows that such a view is not impossible; they are humans, and Ren also thinks that they, too, may have already overstepped their boundaries in the eyes of law. "What the artist Madarame did was an unforgivable crime, but they're taking the laws into their own hands by judging him. It is far from justice. And you should never forcefully change a person's heart."
"What is justice to you, then?" Ren asks, voice leveled, doing his best to keep the trace of Arsène's growing anger out of his voice. Of course, it is not that he's unbothered by it, but it's because he's been looking at everything thoroughly enough to know where those lines of thoughts would've come from. And what they did, while necessary in Ren's eyes, could also be seen as a crime in and of itself – even though he's given those in need the wings to fly, he also knows that they're robbing the targets of their strikes a part that makes them who they are.
Akechi is silent, both surprised and deep in thoughts. The boy seems to be tasting the words on his own tongue as he hums. "…I suppose justice is bringing someone who's wronged others their just dessert. An eye for an eye, but… maybe a little less extreme than that."
That laughter is fake enough that it makes Ren cringe, but his words say enough about what he thinks – an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. To take what was taken is his version of justice, then.
(A part of him he's not willing to acknowledge says that it sounds more like revenge than justice, but he ignores it – because justice and revenge… aren't they the same, though?)
Ren pauses briefly, thinking about his own answer, before he hums. "I don't think the Thieves are the definition of justice or that they do more than the cops, but… the laws are not absolute. They are created by those in powers, and while some laws are there to protect the mass, you have to see, too, that some are meant to secure the positions for those in powers."
Akechi nods along, a hand on his chin.
"I think they're more or less the necessary evil, if you'd go as far as to call it that," Ren says, slowly pouring the black coffee into its cup and pushing it Akechi's way. "But I do agree with a part of your opinion on the matter. A man's heart should never be forcefully changed, but… I suppose that is a better alternative than to cull them and execute them, no?"
The detective seems to ponder upon this for a while longer than necessary, but it is genuine and not an act, as far as a deep rumbling within him says. Then, the boy smiles, a puff of laughter escaping him as he pulls the cup to the vacant area before him, with a smile and a thoughtful hum. "I suppose so. Your point of view is quite interesting, and… more enlightening than what I've been given at the shoot today."
"Thanks," he accepts the compliment, sitting down and drumming his fingers on his knees.
"One more question, then," Akechi says, and when Ren nods again, the boy seems more invested in Ren's response than he previously was. "If a person close to you suddenly has a change of heart, would you also think that it's the Phantom Thieves' doing, as well?"
Ren pauses for a moment, the implication of Akechi's words bringing the deep brewing fear up into the pit of his stomach. He frowns, but decides not to keep quiet for too long as to not draw too much undue attention to himself. "…It is possible, yes. But I don't believe that a single power is exclusive to just a group of people. There may be another group. Who knows?"
Akechi stills briefly, and Ren glances to see a surprised look that disappears as soon as it comes up. "That… is quite an astute observation. And I'm glad that there's someone who's willing enough to oppose my thoughts and ideas. To paraphrase Hegel, advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis."
Ren smiles at this, remembering some of his lessons taught in the dark from an old man with eyes the color as light a gray as the fog before sunrise – possibly the only one human within the groups of his so-called teachers – about philosophy and some of the more… interesting theories within the minds of the long-forgotten. "Truth is found neither in the thesis nor the antithesis, but in an emergent synthesis which reconciles the two."
Akechi blinks, taken aback, before his eyes shine with delight, like rubies under the light of the afternoon sun. "I didn't expect someone our age to know of that quote. How intriguing."
"I've… dabbled in philosophy a few times," Ren shrugs, relaxing back into his seat and allowing a small smile to form at one of the very few memories of years long past that he feels at ease recalling. That man might not be his family – never will be, when he too works for his father to mold him into nothing but a tool – but he has taken care of Ren well enough to be considered something of a benefactor. Someone who regards tools as something precious to be protected— "Hegel is an… interesting philosopher. He is someone who would contradict himself, yet would gain everything and nothing out of it, all at once."
"If a man never contradicts himself, the reason must be that he virtually never says anything at all," the boy hums amusedly, leaning a cheek on his bent knuckles as his smile widens. With glee, perhaps, Ren isn't too sure.
"You're quoting Schrödinger? Really?" Ren muses.
"You know of that, too," is what Akechi replies him with, simple and delightful, as if he's a child who's found himself a new toy. Or, more accurately, a child who has found himself a conversational partner. "Now I'm curious to see what kind of ideas and thoughts reside in your head. If I come here, would you indulge in my selfish wish and have a conversation with me?"
"If I don't have work at the moment, then of course," Ren agrees easily when Archangel seems to hum in contentment. Ren usually wouldn't even consider talking with a stranger all that much, but Akechi seems like someone who only cares about his thoughts and not who he is. So, as long as his identity remains a secret, he wouldn't mind someone who could revitalize that small, thoughtful philosopher in him. "I make no promises, though."
"That is all I could ask for," Akechi says, holding out his left hand – not at all that rare, but something a little unusual – for Ren to take. He doesn't seem to notice Ren's hesitation as he continues. "I hope you would continue to share your insights with me in the days to come, Amamiya-kun."
"Likewise," Ren says, taking that hand, gloved and hidden from the world.
(At this, the voice calls for the Justice, one with its thread golden with a hint of shadow etched into the fiber like a stain. Ren frowns, and his scowl deepens when a strange, almost animalistic laughter that belongs to none of his masks echoes inside the chambers of his nonexistent heart. And when he blinks, all he could see is the Justice Arcana, reversed and with half its frame white like snow, the other half frayed and burnt, charred to ashes.
Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)
June 11th, 2016 [Sat]
It is quite a surprise to learn from Ryuji and Ann that Akechi was… kind of a dick to them.
It is also even wilder a surprise to see that, upon him and Morgana explaining to them that he's seen the boy in the café yesterday, and had made a rather spontaneous, nearly out of character deal for himself, he's met with half a glare, a resignation, and something like awe?
"Dude, how did you even interest a near impenetrable dick like that Akechi guy, while I am stuck being laughed at for two minutes!?" Ryuji groans, throwing his arms up in the air and ruffling his hair while Ann simply shakes her head. "You're unfair, RenRen! Unfair, I tell you!"
"Um… sorry?" Ren apologizes, tilting his head to the side as guilt bubbles up his chest, all too familiar and still all too consuming—
"No, it's okay, it isn't your fault," Ann says with a smile as she laughs, hand coming near his shoulder – and she promptly pulls away when Ren instinctively flinches from her touch. "I mean, I do kinda get where you came from. But what surprises me is that you actually defended our goals in the end. It's kinda nice to know that you still see our actions as just."
"Justice is subjective, and I do agree to our ideals," Ren shrugs, frowning at the memories of time long past again, of books and world views taught and beaten into his head. "I was… taught a lot about looking at things with multiple points of view. As a way to understand another person's thoughts, and as a way to—" exploit them with those understanding, Ren nearly forgets to stop himself from saying. "—see the truth better."
If they notice his minuscule pause, they are not saying anything to it. And after a moment, Ryuji grumbles, kicking at the empty air as he says, "Anyways, I'm still lookin' for our next target."
"No need to rush," Ren comments, garnering himself a quiet, approving meow from Morgana, who pokes his head out from his bag momentarily before sliding back in. "There's still this Black Mask Madarame talked about. I'm not too keen about going in anywhere blind. And since the polices are involved, too—"
Ren stops when he spots a familiar face, one that is too unwelcome, saunters into his view.
He growls almost immediately, drawing Ann and Ryuji's eyes to her – to Niijima, who is as carefree and unbothered by their sufferings as before. "…Why are you here?"
"Why can't I be?" She retorts, and Ren could feel every muscle in his body being pulled taut, ready to snap. But this time, it's not to run – it's to fight back against the injustice, against a small gear in the grand scheme of things that has brought misery upon his friends' lives, too— "You three seem to be having so much fun. I'm a little jealous."
"Are you snoopin' on us again?" Ryuji snarls, hostility dripping in his words like venom, and Ren is glad that it isn't pointed his way – if it does, he doesn't even want to begin to imagine what he would feel. "As we've said before, we don't know nothing."
"Why do you think I'm here to question you? Could it be that you're hiding something—?"
"Or it could just be that you're an annoying bastard who is here to make our lives even more miserable," Ren finds himself saying back, with the black sludge of anger already painting his world with darkness and red edges and hellfire. Arsène is laughing as Ren takes Niijima's startled look as a sign to continue. "I don't know what kind of game you want to play, Senpai, but know that we don't intend to follow them. We're not your lapdogs – at least, not the way you are to your employer."
Niijima's scowl deepens, fiery anger dancing in her eyes as she clenches her fist. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting that I'm someone's dog?"
"Aren't you?" Ren says, tilting his head to the side, seeing the way his own eyes glint dangerously off of Niijima's now widening ones. And while he usually would never, ever do this outside of the confine of the darkness of the Metaverse, everything about her rubs him the wrong way. Painfully wrong, in fact, that just being in the same vicinity as her makes every nerve in his body singes. "If not a dog, then what are you? We're not that different when it comes to our blind obedience, and trust me… you're in no position to be judging us, when you yourself are blindly following orders for your own benefit."
"What are you implying, Amamiya-kun?" She snarls back at him, with her own version of fury that holds not a single candle against Arsène's, one that rises like the tide within his chest, one that is drowning even his own self restraints to nothing but ashes and dusts. "You know, if I had recorded those words, and with your records as a sociopath in the making, I could end your life—"
He could hear Ann and Ryuji starting to come to his defense, but they don't need to. Here, they are all students, equals, and there is no reason for him to pull back anything—
"Then why don't you?" Ren asks calmly, even if fear is there at the back of his mind. If Niijima actually does what she's threatening him with, his life would end in the most literal sense possible, but Arsène's voice is loud, enough for that fear to be forgotten. "And of course, you're so eager to get your oh-so-precious letter of recommendation that you're willing to send me back to the wolves, like my former friends used to do. Go ahead, then – if you see your future as something far more important than mine, then go ahead and do it."
Niijima seems to stop, biting her lip and looking away. Ren catches a look from Ann, eyes gleaming with surprise and sadness.
Ren only offers her a small smile before he shakes his head and shrugs. "Well, not like I don't understand where you're coming from, Niijima-senpai. But I'll have to warn you of one thing—"
He steps closer into her personal space. And when she brings up her arms before herself to stop him from getting any nearer, he feels his lips stretch into a snarl.
"You can do whatever the hell you want with me. Throw me back to the wolves, kill my future here and now, I don't give a fuck. But if you talk badly about my friends who give my life meaning even one more time, while you yourself are as useless as the wet trash that you are… I am going to beat you to a fucking pulp, and I'm not going to regret a damn thing."
He then walks past her, hitting her shoulder and sending burns across his own body as he does.
Ren doesn't miss that look of both contempt and self-deprecation in Niijima's eyes, but he allows anger to blindside him enough for him to forget about it as soon as his friends catch up to his hastening steps.
(He is angry, far too angry for it to be normal, yet he could not bring himself to care. He might have been weak and without a will of his own to deny his father, but never once had he allowed himself to hurt another with his own obedience, with his own weakness – he could never. And she did it oh so casually, and a part of him thinks that, if he had done what Niijima did all the way back when he was but a child, he would've already been adored by his father as the perfect dog and fed and cared for far better than the treatment that he's been given.
He doesn't allow the thoughts to fester for too long, however, when Arsène hums, in sadness yet in agreement – that, if he had done what Niijima had, obeying his orders to the letters and outperforming himself, he might've already become something that he would've hated himself for by now, too.)
After meeting up with Yusuke, something Ren never consciously brings up into the conversation is addressed as soon as the artist's request to stay at Ann's place is shot down.
Ann raises her hand, and when Ren nods as a permission – one she has no need to ask for – to continue, she says. "Are you alright with us visiting the café, though? You seem quite… against the idea before."
He thinks back, tasting the feelings and the words on his tongue, shifting his eyes upward and away from the present. Sakura had told him that if he had friends, he could bring them to the café, too, to give more life to the place and introduce the ones who define what Ren is to Sakura—
"…It's okay. He did tell me I could bring you guys there," Ren hums with a small smile, the feeling of Sakura's warm hand upon the crown of his head resurfacing as something gentle and kind. He doesn't think his friends will think any less of Sakura – and if they do, he'll defend the man with his life if he has to. But he thinks he knows them enough, and that they won't judge the man simply by what they've seen at a glance. "I… believe he would love to meet you all."
"Then I'll be in your care, Ren," Yusuke hums with a small smile as he bows his head ever so gently. "I'll try to find an alternative as soon as I am able. I know my presence could be a little… uncomfortable to you."
"No need to hurry. Take your time," Ren comments as he begins leading his friends towards the station, with Ann and Ryuji bickering and talking about little nothing like always. "I could help you find a cheap place to stay, if you want. Do you have any preference for the place you want to stay at?"
"As long as it is quiet and adequately clean, then I can make it work," Yusuke hums, dragging his supplies along with care as they enter the station, with Ren pointing briefly at where they need to head towards – Yongen Jaya – before turning his attention back to Yusuke once more. "You do not need to trouble yourself with me, though. I'm certain it won't take long until I can find somewhere suitable."
"Helping each other is what friends do, no?" Ren says, quoting what Ryuji had said to him once before, in a moment that now feels like a lifetime ago. And when Yusuke smiles, he finds himself grinning back slightly, too. "I don't mind it, Yusuke. So don't think too much about it."
The boy hums and nods, changing the subject of their conversation into something a little lighter as they all gather into the car heading towards the place that is starting to slowly warming up like a bonfire in winter's night lies.
(Leblanc, with Sakura now so warm and tender – almost too gentle for a soul so broken – like he is now, with his warm hand on the crown of Ren's head and his kind words greeting him when he opens the door, Ren decides to start calling that place his home.
And oh, the word does sounds so right on his tongue, like it was meant to be since the very beginning.
Somewhere in the world, a butterfly flaps its wings.)
As a P3 Weeb I cannot help myself sorry uwu.
Hope you have fun with this, and see you soon!