"You should visit all of your friends before you leave," Sojiro told him a few hours before he needed to leave. "Make sure you say your goodbyes and don't end things on a sour note."

It was simple advice, but good nonetheless. Ren had made a number of friends and allies over his year in Tokyo, some near his age and some far older. Each of them had helped him grow in one way or another, whether that be opening up to others more or developing his skills and talents. Each and every one of them was precious to him, even if he came into conflict with them or they disagreed in their ideals. His former counselor came to mind, a man willing to break the world over his knee to rid it of pain and suffering—forgetting that trials, tribulations and pain made happiness and joy keep their touch in his well intentioned, but misguided efforts.

He thought about that as he made his loop back towards Yongen-Jaya, having perhaps a half hour before he needed to be on his way proper. Another person came to mind as he stepped into a back alley, ignoring the fading blue door as he took a familiar shortcut. Even if he wanted to enter the room once more he could not, having given up his key not long ago. A smirk graced his face as he took a turn, only to fade as he heard an unpleasant sound.

Someone or something was being kicked. He easily recognized the repetitive dull sound from his brief interrogation a few months prior, one of the few things that stuck with him aside from the hazy, sickly feeling that made his head a sea of fog. Ren found himself moving without thinking, a cool mask slipping over his normally stoic face. He wasn't supposed to play the hero now, not if it would potentially get him arrested again, but he wasn't going to stand by and let someone suffer if he could help it.

"What's going on here," he barked, rounding the corner only to freeze.

"Stupid! STUPID," hissed a black clad figure, kicking a dissolving shadowy figure in a corner. Ren recognized him immediately, concern and confusion hitting him like a wall.

"Akechi?" The name felt bittersweet as he spoke it. It couldn't have been him. He'd... he'd died back in November, lost to the Metaverse after he'd been bested by Ren and his companions. Even when he'd reappeared afterwards, a cognitive projection created to make him feel at ease, they both knew that he was fake—that the real Goro Akechi was long gone.

Still the figure paused, drawing himself to full height before he turned. Sure enough, Ren recognized the shaggy brown hair and rust red eyes. He knew the manic, furious look the teen had, having been on the receiving end of it. He knew the black and faded blue striped garb and cracked black mask as well, having both fought the man in the costume in one breath and saved the world with him by his side in another.

"You... you did this," Akechi hissed. "You know good and well I should be dead!"

"..." Rather than reply, Ren remained silent. Some small part of him knew this would happen. Of all the members of the Phantom Thieves, he was the one most affected by Akechi's death. The brown haired teen had been his friend and rival, his foil and opposite. His greatest friend and purest foe. His heart ached when he died, even if he had denied it until a few days after the Ark had collapsed. Akechi was many things, but he did not take half measures: he would have reappeared and spun the story of his survival to the media as a virtuous battle against the Phantom Thieves sooner rather than later. The others thought he was lying low, but Ren knew better. Akechi would have expected him to.

"Why didn't you forget about me, the one thing I wanted you to do! Did you forget that I wanted that false reality destroyed, that I secretly wanted anything like this to happen!?"

"No," the glasses-wearing teen breathed, "But asking me to forget my rival was foolish. You're slipping, Akechi."

The black clad teen's eyes widened then he laughed. It was a loud, unhinged sound. Bitter and angry, but joyous in one way or another. "Even now you'd stick to that belief?"

"We never got to properly settle our differences before you died thanks to Shido. I may not have meant for this to happen,, but I couldn't just forget about you."

"...You should have just forgotten me, Amamiya. Now I'm trapped here in whatever this place is. It's not the Metaverse, else I'd have called Hereward long ago."

"You're in limbo," Ren supplied. "Normally, that'd mean you were between life and death, but that boat's passed. Instead you appear to be caught between the living world and the world of the dead because of a mistake on my part. Apologies."

"What the hell are you on about?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. Instead, do you want to hear a story? It won't be long and it might be helpful."

"And how would a story help me, Amamiya? Did you suddenly gain some new power to will stories into reality," the black clad teen huffed. "Then again, there's not much else I can do other than kick that husk of mine until it vanishes."

"Long ago, relatively, there was a boy who eternally lived in the shadows," Ren began. "He was an orphan, having lost his parents long before he could remember them. To his peers he was an oddity, having odd visions and a terribly active imagination that kept them awake at night. Thus he was kept away from the majority of families looking to take in a child. He was often told no one wanted a strange child nor a wicked child. In their eyes he was both."

"And?"

"I'm getting there, patience," Ren chided. Truthfully he'd need to skimp on some details if he was going to make it back to LeBlanc in time, but he could manage that. "That was the first shadow, the shadow of scorn. The second shadow appeared when he was eventually adopted, taken in by a woman who shined brilliantly like a star in the night sky. She had sought one like the boy in particular, taking him in to save him from what she deemed to be a poor fate. The boy soon experienced happiness as he and his guardian traveled the world, though he soon found her hard to be around. She was a paragon, a master of many crafts and though she told him not to worry about following in her footsteps, he couldn't help but try. Try and fail. The shadow his guardian cast was far too deep, rivaled only by the brilliance she exuded. It made him loathe himself for being inadequate, for being too little to help his mother in her work. Thus, when he was allowed the freedom to do so, he left her side to better himself. One day he would become someone who could stand by her side. The third shadow came soon after that, one you may be familiar with."

"I don't quite follow, but I'm starting to get what you're doing. Go on then, tell me your story, Amamiya."

"The third shadow was the shadow of scrutiny," Ren breathed. "He was calm, intelligent and skilled, but he didn't always make the best choices. One such choice, well intentioned as it was led to him being on the wrong side of the law, prosecuted and sent far from the home he'd made for himself well away from the city. There he was caught in the limelight, scrutinized for every little thing on the off chance he erred and proved himself to be the monster everyone thought him to be. He eventually proved to be otherwise, but not without the aid of the people he slowly warmed to and those he chose to place his trust in. One such person was his rival, though untrustworthy and treacherous. The boy knew that from the very beginning, a single utterance from the rival making that known, but he didn't care at the time because he found someone he truly connected with—another person who lived in a deep shadow for all that they tried to mask it. They fought of course, meeting thrice in a world between worlds—once unknowingly, both clad in garbs as dark as night, and twice with every intention to do so. Despite that, the boy viewed his rival as one to look up to, someone to surpass and prove himself against with how much he admired him. Perhaps that was why the boy was able to draped in the fourth shadow, the shadow of–"

"Hold on, you were that shadowy bastard in Mementos," Akechi growled. A moment later he chuckled. "No wonder you seemed to have an edge on me when we fought in my father's palace: you were more than familiar with what I could do."

"Perhaps," Ren replied, a coy smile crossing his face. "It didn't make you any less of a bastard to fight the third time around, not that I'm complaining."

He'd had to go all out to defeat Akechi on the Ark. He had to trade his Mask of Rebellion for his Mask of Twilight and fight as his mother and the experiences he'd accumulated had taught him to match the elder teen then push himself further to finally defeat him when Akechi chose to go all out himself.

"That smug look of yours is as annoying as ever," Akechi grunted. "I know what happens next for the most part. There's no need to tell me anymore."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah. You said it yourself, you couldn't forget me despite what I did. That allowed Maruki to create this version of me in his bid to create that idealistic dystopia of his."

"Right. The only thing you missed was me making a vow before taking on the God of Control. I promised that I would surpass you, both as a warrior and as a person. Not because I saw you as a stepping stone, but because that's what rivals do: they better themselves so that the next time they meet they aren't on the back foot. It'd be a disgrace to get sentimental and let myself fall into despair or slack off because you were gone. You, perhaps unintentionally, brought out my best and taught me more about myself and that was worth a great deal to me—as much as the camaraderie we shared even after your death and the bonds I hold with Ryuji and the others."

"Spare me the melodrama."

"Nah, I've one last thing to say: You were a good friend for a backstabbing, vindictive asshat, Akechi. I do wish I could have saved you on the Ark, but I'm not going to cry over spilled milk. I can only hope you successfully move on as I know I will with your memory in tow. Is that too much to hope for?"

Silence greeted him rather than another biting remark. When he turned, Akechi and the body he'd been kicking were gone. The only remnant of the teen, the only thing that made Ren realize it was no hallucination or daydream, was a pair of familiar black leather gloves. He gingerly collected them, unsure if they would simply fade away once he tried to hold them. When he found them to be real, a sad smile graced his face.

"Thanks again Akechi. May we meet again someday."


A monk was greeted by an odd site that day. A frequent visitor of the shrine he attended passed once more. Normally the boy felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, a burden too great for one to carry alone. Occasionally he came with others, the burden split between them as they made their offerings. Regardless of that, heavy shadows seemed to fall upon his shoulders, weighing him down beyond whatever duty bound him and his compatriots. Today was different however.

When the boy passed, the weight was gone from his shoulders and the shadows stripped away. Something about the boy shone as brilliant as the sun, the slight hunch in his back gone as he strode confidently past the shrine. The monk noted the gloves he wore as a passing detail, but thought nothing of them. They were simply glad the youth appeared to have reached some form of peace.