7-2

They put you in a box. Everything you are, everything you've ever done or could do, everything you wish you could be, all the love and drive and dreams you carry in your heart, all the things that connect you to others, all of it. For all of it, they put you in a box.

Akira stares at a white ceiling, mismatched with the dull ivory walls. It is warm, not unbearable, but getting there. The A/C only comes on after six. It's one of the few ways of telling time in here, as there's no clock and no window. There are two cots, both with simple black metal frames, far too thin mattresses, scratchy sheets and dull gray blankets, and blocky pillows that provide no comfort.

"Don't think that way."

Akira looks at Rokuro as the latter speaks. The boy is his age, a familiar mop of uncombed black hair atop his head, but the similarities stop there. His face is all edge; his jawline thin and straight, and his nose hooked downward. Rokuro's eyes always seem to be darting around, even though there's nothing to look at in the cell. There's energy beneath them, but it seems cruel to Akira. He does not know what Rokuro has done to be here, and the boy has not offered it up, but Akira cannot help but think he earned his place here.

"Think what way?" He asks. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't need to." He is sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall and extends one long arm with one long finger and points at Akira. "You've got the look of a guy that's lost all hope. You're thinking, 'That's it for me, I'm done. This is the end of the very short road that was my life.'"

Akira looks back up at the ceiling. "I wasn't thinking..." His mouth shuts. He wasn't thinking. Hadn't been thinking. Isn't thinking. He is not thinking.

Rokuro lets his arm drop and shakes his head. "You need to open your eyes-"

"To the possibilities, man," Akira finishes. His words are quick and clear; he bites them off. "I've heard this before."

Rokuro grins. "There's always a way out. You have to take up the responsibility to find it."

They know.

Akira sits up.

"What're you doing?" Rokuro asks. "Is it time to have a proper talk?"

Akira looks at his cellmate. "Where are we?"

Rokuro slouches and balances his cheek against the knuckles of his hand. "You always ask that. I would think you'd trust me by now."

Trust.

There's something he has to do. His head pounds. "This isn't right." His eyes shift around the room. "This isn't where I'm supposed to be," he sputters. "This isn't where I am. Where are we? We're not in the Velvet Room, so where are we?"

Rokuro's hands grip his forearms. Akira looks down and sees a blue butterfly settled on the inside of his wrist. "Calm down, man. Calm down."

Akira does not. "Who are you? You say there's a way out, but there isn't. There's nothing. Just the same problems, over and over. They're coming. They're going to put me back in the box."

Something flickers behind Rokuro's eyes. "Have you ever considered that you might be the problem?" The butterfly beats its wings and lifts off. "You make the same decisions and expect different outcomes. You still think yourself a prisoner. You don't see the truth of it."

"Which is?"

"You've seen enough by now to know."

"Stop talking like that! I don't know what this is." Akira's skin is pulled too tight over his bones. "Why does this keep happening? Why can't you tell me what's-"

"It isn't much of a lesson if I have to explain it to you," Rokuro says.

Akira wakes up. The alarm on his phone vibrates.

#

The Saturday bell rings, and Kawakami waits until most of the students have left before she says, "Takamaki," as the girl is about to exit.

Takamaki turns and approaches, and manages to smother the frustration on her face by the time she stands alongside her desk. "Yes, Kawakami-sensei?"

"I was wondering, have you heard from Kurusu today?"

Takamaki stiffens a fraction but keeps her face neutral. "He texted me earlier and asked me to take notes. He's not feeling well."

"He's sick?"

Takamaki shrugs. "I guess."

He was fine when I left.

Whatever that drunk had said or done, must've affected him. Or, maybe it had been whomever Kawakami spotted downstairs. She'd only caught a glimpse of a gangly, short figure dressed all in black, with a ski-mask pulled down over their face.

"Are you planning on dropping off those notes today?"

Takamaki nods. "Yeah. Do you want me to tell Akira you asked about him?"

"Yes," Kawakami replies, then quickly says, "No." She frowns. "I mean, yes. Please do. Exams are coming up and-"

"Oh, he knows," Takamaki says. "He's been studying like crazy. I'm sure he'll do fine."

Kawakami blinks. "Well. Good. That's good." She gives the girl another look. "And what about you?"

The girl looks abashed. "Me?"

"You're part of my class too. Have you been studying?"

Takamaki makes a face Kawakami is sure is meant to signify honesty. "Definitely."

"I should see that reflected on your score, then?"

Kawakami sighs at the girl's emphatic nodding. She bends over and yanks free a square of sticky paper from a pile. Kawakami doesn't understand why she writes down her email and hands it to Takamaki. "If you've got any questions or want some study tips before the exams, let me know." What am I doing? I don't have time for this shit.

Tutoring Akira was enough of a burden.

"Wow," Takamaki replies. She pockets the note. "Okay. Uh, thanks."

She won't do it, Kawakami thinks. Why would she? She doesn't know me. Girls like her should be able to rely on teachers. Instead, she has a faculty full of sycophants who kissed up to Kobayakawa, and now, Toko. They tripped over themselves to criticize Kawakami's absence at faculty events, but couldn't be bothered to help their students.

Don't go down that road. It'll just stress you out. Kawakami dismisses Takamaki. Regardless, she hopes the girl confers her message. Kawakami needs to know what happened at LeBlanc last night.

#

Iwai stares down at meek little Akira. There's nothing cunning in him now, nothing devious or dangerous, no charm or wit. He looks down at his feet - unable to meet Iwai's eyes - and waits.

Iwai returns to the door. He squints out through Untouchable's glass, past the 'Closed' sign. He sees no one suspicious. He moves behind the counter and snatches up the wand. Iwai runs it over Akira, and Akira says nothing. When he's satisfied, Iwai places the device back down on the counter.

"The police are there now?" Iwai asks.

Akira nods.

He hits him. Akira manages to stay upright but staggers into a display case. Iwai storms over and seizes him by the collar. He wants to hit him again.

You knew this could happen.

He shoves Akira down into the boxes of model guns and spits out a curse.

Akira picks himself up and says, "I-"

"Go away," Iwai snaps. He doesn't elaborate, but jerks his head towards the door. Iwai needs to be alone. He needs to think.

Akira takes a step forward, halts then pushes the door open and steps outside. He keeps his head down.

Iwai is left alone with the quiet and the knowledge that he is well and truly fucked.

#

Akira steps into LeBlanc and out of the Saturday afternoon's heat. The bruise he is sure will form stings. I should be used to this, he thinks.

Sojiro is behind the bar, working. Akira knows enough of his body language to recognize his distraction. He means to slip past him, but the man looks up and says, "Your friends are upstairs."

He hesitates. "They're early," he mumbles.

Sojiro grumbles out a response and shrugs. Then, he glances back at Akira. His eyes widen. "The hell happened to you?" He steps back from the coffeemaker and approaches him, squinting. "Did some kid at school do that to you?"

Akira hadn't told Sojiro he'd skipped school. It didn't matter. "No," he replies. "I walked into a door. I was dumb. I wasn't paying attention."

Sojiro's scowl is fierce, but he shakes his head and snaps, "Sit down for a damn minute." He stomps back into the kitchen and returns with a small pack of ice. "Here," he says, holding it out as Akira finds his way onto a stool. "I swear, you never stop being a pain in the ass."

Akira can only shrug at this. The man isn't wrong. Sojiro is sure to be caught up in all this, once the police come. He tries to shove away the hopelessness - not for the first time today - but cannot. It has settled across his skin like ink.

He can hear soft footsteps from above.

It can wait a few minutes.

Akira presses the ice against his cheek and nods thanks to Sojiro. "Can I have a cup of coffee?"

The man crosses his arms and asks, "What blend?"

Akira is about to say, 'doesn't matter,' but knows that's a terrible answer, so he covers with, "Guatemalan, please."

Sojiro sets to work. "So," he says, his back to Akira. "You walked into a pole?"

"No," Akira says. "I walked into a door." He wasn't that hopeless.

The man grunts and Akira listens to the soft pour of liquid. It is something simple he has come to appreciate. The sound shakes something loose in him, and he drops his head into his hands. When his palm presses into his cheek, it hurts, but he lets the sensation wash over him. Sojiro puts the drink in front of him and asks him a question. Akira shakes his head. He doesn't want to talk to anyone.

Slowly, he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip. It burns the roof of his mouth. He takes another sip. Then another. Sojiro is standing right in front of him. His mouth is pressed together in a tight frown. "What don't you cut the crap, Akira?" He asks. "What's going on?"

"Can't you just stop?" Akira asks. The words take the air out of him. "Can't you just give it a rest?" He wonders if Ali Baba managed to get the microphone back into place again.

Sojiro crosses his arms over his chest. "You better start talking."

That's something I'll hear again soon, he thinks. In response, Akira down his coffee. He only manages to finish half the cup before he's sputtering from the burning, and has to stop himself.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sojiro demands, but Akira lifts himself off the stool and mumbles, "Thanks, Sojiro. For everything." Then, he's walking towards the stairs. Blessedly, the older man says nothing.

#

There are questions, of course. Panicked. Scared. Then, there is silence. Then, there are more questions.

"Morgana went there this morning," Akira tells them.

The cat bobs his head in a nod. "Ohya was right. The police are all over."

Ryuji refuses to capitulate. "So what? Ali Baba's still on our side. We can get them to hack the police. They're supposed to be doing it anyway. They can get into their records and-"

"That won't work," Makoto replies. Her voice is distant, cold. Almost unbelieving. "Any physical evidence they find will be physically stored. The phone companies will be able to provide the requested data numerous times. Ali Baba might be able to hack in and copy whatever data they have, but the police will notice if the evidence is suddenly deleted from their servers overnight. Any electronic files or reports that go missing will be noticed and recreated, and the second time, the police would know they were onto something significant. If they didn't already."

Haru shakes her head. "This can't be. We were careful. We-"

"No," Akira cuts in. "I wasn't." He looks them all over. Ryuji and Ann and Yusuke and Haru and Makoto. He reaches out a hand and scratches Morgana's head. "I knew a GPS could be hacked or traced. Ohya proved that. Hell, we used it on Madarame. The police have more resources than us. I should've realized they'd investigate the building we told Sugimura to go to." He scowls. "We told Sugimura where to go. On his phone." He rolls his jaw together and rubs his temples, before offering them each a smile. "So, we're done."

Yusuke frowns. "We are most certainly not."

"We are, Yusuke," Akira tells him. "If we're not in handcuffs yet, we will be soon. The police will find out I was in the area. If they're looking that hard into the Phantom Thieves and our previous cases, they'll be able to connect the dots and link me to the other targets as well."

"Bullshit," Ryuji says. He looks at everyone, sporting a big grin. "C'mon. I know this is bad, but we just gotta put our heads together, and we can get out of this."

"How?" Ann asks, tone harsh.

He blanches. "I... well, I don't know. But c'mon." He looks at Makoto. "Prez, you've gotta have some idea. You're the smartest one here."

Makoto says nothing.

Akira leans forward, hands clasped together. "Here's what needs to happen. In a few months, this will all have died down. You'll have to go back into Mementos with Morgana. For his memories." He looks at the cat. "I'm sorry, Mona. Maybe your memories aren't buried as deep as you think. Maybe you guys can rebrand or something. But you'll have to do things differently. Maybe don't go for such big targets. Small fish. Guys like Daisuke and whoever's hurting cats in Shibuya. With enough of those, maybe you can go deeper. But you'll have to change your name. They can't know it's the real Phantom Thieves. And you'll have to come up with another way of delivering Calling Cards. You probably shouldn't even call them Calling Cards, now that I think about it."

Morgana's eyes narrow. "What're you talking about, Akira?"

He makes himself smile as he makes himself say the words. "I'm going to turn myself in."

There is no initial response, and then there are protests. Makoto. Ann. Ryuji. Yusuke. Haru. Morgana. They are all hurling words at him, telling him he's a fool, an idiot, telling him that he can't just give up.

"This is the only way," he says. "The police will eventually find me. If I go to them first and confess to being the one and only Phantom Thief, they might stop looking for any others."

Makoto shakes her head. "They'd never think you could pull this off by yourself."

"Thanks," Akira replies, chuckling. "But they'll have to. I'll confess. Sign whatever they want me to." Find myself back in another box. He doesn't say this. "If I need to, I can show them my phone. I'll see if I can get Ali Baba to scrub it or something before I turn it in, so it doesn't implicate any of you. They'll probably be so blown away by the Metaverse that they won't know what to do."

"Dammit," Ann spits. "Akira, you aren't thinking this through! Again! It's like Makoto said! They're not going to believe you. If you show them the Metaverse, then the conspiracy will know and-"

"I know all this," Akira growls out. "You don't think I understand all the ways this could go wrong? Do you think I don't know what's going to happen to me once Kaneshiro finds out I was a fucking Phantom Thief?" He manages to shrug. "But what else is there? I need to protect you all."

Ryuji tries to make himself tougher. "We don't want your protection if it means you've got to go down. We're in this together and-"

"Stop." Maybe this is what they need. Perhaps this will make it all easier in the end. Even with his nerves frayed, he can still summon enough of himself to put this all to rest. "This isn't a game. It never was. These were real actions we took with real consequences. It was my responsibility to make sure we stayed safe, and I failed. Alright? That's it. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be."

The others hesitate only briefly before they offer more protests. Akira shoots them down. He knows the plan isn't perfect - hell, it's not even good - but it's what he can do. If he heads off the police investigation, if he takes full responsibility, maybe they'll stop. Perhaps the conspiracy will look no further than him. It's a slim chance, but one he needs to take.

A kind of nauseous tension hangs over the room. No one looks convinced, but no one seems ready to offer another plan. Ann sits huddled on the couch, arms wrapped around herself. "Kawakami-sensei asked about you today," she mutters. She repeats the woman's message. Akira stutters out a, 'thanks.' A wave of guilt passes over him at the thought of missing his exams. He tries to make a joke out of it and says something to the extent of at least he won't have to take the tests. No one laughs.

Makoto stares blankly ahead. "I refuse to accept this as the outcome," she says.

Akira shrugs. "I'm sorry."

Makoto launches herself from her chair, suddenly glaring down at Akira from where she stands, hands clenched into fists. "This is... This isn't..." she tries.

"I know."

Makoto scowls, spins on her heels, and marches towards the stairs. "Mako-chan," Haru calls. Makoto doesn't stop. Haru stands as well, looking unsure of what to do.

"Go ahead," Akira says. He waves his hand casually through the air. "It's fine."

Haru says, "I'll be back," but Akira can hear the anxiety in her voice. Then, she's speeding after Makoto.

"I find I must agree with Makoto," Yusuke puts in. "We cannot-"

"Would you mind," Akira asks him, "looking after Morgana?" The others blink and stare at him. Akira gestures around the room. "It isn't as if I can keep him anymore. Once I'm gone, he'll need a place to stay. I'm sure Haru would take him in, but I think it might be safer with you." He smiles at the cat. "I know you're living in dorms, but he knows how to stay hidden."

"I'm not going anywhere," Morgana complains, even as Yusuke gives a short nod.

At least that's settled, Akira thinks. He wouldn't have asked Ann or Ryuji. The last thing Ann needed was the cat creeping on her at home, and Ryuji and Morgana rooming together was liable to end with one of them dead.

After that, there isn't much else to say. Akira's friends tell him it isn't over, that they will find a way out and will convince him of it, but he knows they're just bullshitting. He knows how hopeless this is. Whatever luck allowed him to get this far has run out. He cannot wait to turn himself in; he needs to act fast so the cops don't find him first.

Some hours pass, and the sun begins to set. He knows what he needs to do, but he wants one more night here. One more night in this bed, in this room, where all these incredible things happened. He plays back the last three months in his head. The ups and downs and trials and anxieties and he finds that if he had the option to do them all over again, he would. Albeit with some changes. Maybe he'd find enough balls to tell Makoto how he felt. To confess now, just seemed cruel. Better that he faded from her life. He smiles at the ceiling. Looks like Sae was right. I was nothing, in the end.

His phone vibrates. The others have been reaching out to him, asking him to call, being smart enough to keep their points vague so as not to incriminate themselves. He doesn't know why he picks it up, but he does.

It is Iwai. He tells him to come downstairs.

Akira gets out of bed. Morgana, exhausted, stirs from where he rests but doesn't rise. Akira slumps his way down the steps and across the bar to the front door. The man stands against LeBlanc's window, hands shoved into his pockets, hat pulled low across his face. When Akira opens the door to look at him, Iwai mutters, "Come with me," and starts to march down the narrow street. Akira steps outside, locks the door and follows the man into the warm summer night.

A/N:

What do you think will happen?

It's always rewarding to post another chapter, and I'm glad I could get this one out in time for the holidays. I do hope to return to regular posting soon, or - at the least - get back to a decent writing pace that allows me to update more frequently. I don't think I'll ever get back to my M-W-F posting schedule, but if I could post once every week or two, I'd consider that a success.

For those who've been wondering what I've been up to: my son was born on October 6, 2019, two days before my birthday. It's both a delight and a privilege to call myself a father now. As for all those cliches about not getting enough sleep? Well, they're true — all of them.

I was in Bangalore for a bit as well, training analysts. Significant upheaval worked its way through my company, but I came out of it with a higher position, so I'm not complaining (too much), and I've been volunteering what little free time I have left to a political campaign here in the States.

For all these reasons, Crimson had to take a backseat this year. I hope that 2020 allows me more time to work on this story, even as I begin (and continue) some of my original works. I hope to continue talking to you, and for everyone who's kept reading over the years, and to everyone who has just started, thank you. You all are the reason this story continues, and I couldn't have done this without you.