Chapter One: A Change of Scenery

The rituals of the morning played themselves out one more time. Wake up, a few minutes in the shower, getting dressed, shake the cat awake, make the bed and head downstairs. Steam rises, familiar, pleasant scents and the impromptu symphony of spoons and cups fill the air. Force of habit never wore out their importance, but there were different this morning. After each step, something of his sticks behind, a visual impression, an echo – a memento.

Silence at the table was nothing new to him. This time, it was different than all the other countless before, however. No longer due to a father's quiet demeanour, no longer due to a tormenting shame hanging over the table like a storm cloud. He knew his mother had a better handle on situations like this. Dad could rely on her to steer the ship. Once again, Takahisa Kurusu would see his only son depart, this time to embark on a long voyage of his own, the longest. The young man had never seen his father weep before.

It plays itself once again. Tears in their eyes, a mother and a father wave at a black haired youth. They call out myriads of blessings, advice and urges to visit soon - all mixed into one single sound that sends an ache into his pulse. He hates goodbyes, always has. His travel companion has been silent most of the way: he hates goodbyes too. But the shadow over the young man's heart can occupy only so large a region. On the other side, there is a light that does not wane. He feels its warmth beneath his skin, in the narrow of his bones, spreading slowly. It will take some time for the light to overtake the shadow, but that is a pain he is willing to take with serenity.

Akira Kurusu returns to Tokyo, this time to stay.

Seated aboard the train, he feels the weight of his cell phone in the pocket on his jeans. No incoming calls or messages. He fights the urge to browse through the conversations taken place eight hours ago. Texts from his friends, from his second dad, from the love of his life – all different but in some other fashion similar all as well. Hopeful, eager words on the future, on plans for the long run and instances of mundaneness becoming special. They have been waiting for him, just like he has for them. Yet he will not entertain his mood by reading them over; he did that enough while he should have been sleeping, much to Morgana's chagrin.

He would rather let the expectation grow into urge, become an anxious air pushing his every step when the train arrives to its destination. It had not been that long ago that he saw last saw Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Futaba and Haru; only two months ago, and Makoto one week after that. And yet, he felt like there was a world of difference between then and now. It may well be a year of contrast, because that is how it felt to him.

He could feel it happen hours into the near future. Walking out of the station into the Shibuya crossing, scanning his surroundings while sailing the wild human river, taking in the colours, the changes. He would drop by at the diner, maybe the beef bowl shop, or the burger joint, for old time's sake. Have a bite, perhaps ride the subway towards the Aoyama-Itchome station to pay his respects to his old high school. Perhaps give his new school, Hattori Nutrition College, an early visit to get acquainted. Then, as the afternoon passes and the sun burns low in the sky, walk his way home, to the alleys of Yongen-jaya to find a small, special place, secluded in some way against the urban continuum of its surroundings. LeBlanc. Akira tried to imagine Sojiro's expression when he shows up, two days earlier than he told them. Even now, though his life was far from the perilous way of a Phantom Thief, Akira still had a penchant for theatricality.

Just a few hours to go. He hardly slept the night before. Now was a good time to catch up on rest. Akira tied the rucksack that carried Morgana to his forearm.

"Do me a favour, Mona. Wake me up when we get there."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? So we won't miss our stop."

"Well, if you'd listened to me, you'd be fine and awake to know that on your own." Morgana replied.

"Oh, come on. Don't give me that. I was gonna take a nap anyway."

"'I was gonna take a nap anyway'" Morgana mocked.

"Well, that's what people do in trains if they get a seat. They sleep. Now come on, do this for me."

"Nuh-uh. What if someone approaches while you're asleep…? And… pets me?"

"Why would they pet you? You're a human." Akira yawned.

"Are you blind? You know perfectly well that I'm a ca-." Morgana caught himself. "Real clever, Akira. Real clever." He hissed.

"Never saw you complain when my mum pet you, or Makoto." Akira closed his eyes, oblivious to the cat's smirk.

Though few, the people inside the car sat looking at the young man, mystified about the conversation he appeared to have with his cat. Stranger was how the black and white furball seemed to understand and reply through meows. And even more so, how the cat looked at them all with contempt.

"Heh, heh, heh." Morgana chuckled ominously while Akira slept.

The train rode on towards Tokyo.

Akira woke up to Morgana's paw and a fuller train car. Next stop, he would need to get off and get on another train to make it to Shibuya. The railway system's proud history assured punctuality. He would arrive to his destination at noon. He was only half an hour away, but each minute still felt agonisingly long. The events he foretold himself were unfolding in a frenzy inside of his head. Morgana could not take his eyes off Akira's expression, full of quiet enthusiasm, and some remaining drowse.

Finally, the doors slid open at Shibuya station. The tide of people gushing out of the car left only a second before new passengers flooded the car. Akira made his swift way out, bags in hand, feeling beside himself from returning to a world he dearly missed. The things he had planned for the day were well on their way, but all at once, they fell apart, shattered by the sight of a familiar silhouette at the centre of his vision, between him and the light from the sky outside. His eyes, still slightly sleepy, only suspected, but the rest of him, body and instinct, knew. That as soon as the silhouette turned, two eyes of brown so deep and intense it looked red, would have him running towards her.

His heart beat an anthem in his ears. The expectations built all morning released at once. A cool air clung to the space between his skin and his clothes as he ran. And there she was, dressed in a dark, long-sleeved top and a beige midi skirt, a bag slung across her shoulder. Braided hairband. Her hair was an inch longer the last time he saw her. And that time, he found plentiful charming words to say. Not so this time; he could hardly breathe steady, let alone speak coherently. He caught the scent of a familiar perfume off her as he ran into her arms, which surrounded the back of his head in the precise instant he was within reach.

And all at once, they melted together in the embrace. Such was the momentum driving him as he lifted her off her feet upon placing his arms around her lower back, dropping his bags into a skid. A sandal dangled loose from her left foot. Her breath was on his neck, sectioned into mirthful bursts. It had not been that long since they last saw each other. It was Valentine's Day when she paid him a visit in his hometown, and she looked not too different then, either. But even the slightest nuances and details were paramount to comprise an image he could only describe as 'royal'.

Makoto Niijima. His friend, his comrade, his love and equal. His Queen.

A few seconds later, her feet were back on the ground. They looked at each other in besotted silence while bystanders turned in their direction, some whispering to one another. It might have looked like a scene straight out of a rom-com, if not for the cat tidying himself in Akira's bag, looking back at them with insolent eyes.

"H-h… How?" It was all Akira could say. Some people never lost their footing in face of surprise. Though he was devilishly cunning and savvy in his own right, this moment pierced through his cool.

"A mutual friend of ours informed me you were meaning to surprise us." Makoto gave him a naughty, private smile. "I figured you were long time due for a surprise yourself."

"Mona?" His exclamation was more of a whisper.

"It was quite brilliant, if I do say so myself." She shared a look of complicity with the cat. "Getting you to clean some mess, leaving your mobile out in the open, primed for him to text me."

"What."

"It was a bit of challenge to make out the details. It was worth it, though."

"The cat texted you." Akira was digesting her words, attempting to make sense of them by uttering them out loud. Given the things his friends and he had experienced, he knew he should hardly be surprised. Still, there he was, imagining it happening. "And he was responsible for all of that curry, all gone to waste…"

"So worth it." Makoto looked amused.

"So worth it." Morgana agreed.

"Yeah, worth it." The ridicule of his disbelief left his face. "I'm so happy to see you again, Makoto." He picked up his bags.

"As am I." She went ahead to carry the other bag, hooking her free arm around Akira's. "I looked forward to this day, you know? You coming back, to stay." A slight tint of red went up to her cheeks. "Everyone will be happy to see you. But…" She preened her hair, brushing a strand behind her ear. He knew this gesture. "I really wanted to have you all to myself, at least just once."

"Maybe more than." It was now Akira's turn to blush. "Well then, Queen. Where will you take me?"

"Oh, Joker. What countless possibilities ahead." Makoto led the way.

[ ]

Moments later, at the peculiar façade of an establishment located in a narrow street of Shibuya, Morgana excused himself, promising to join them later after reacquainting himself with old hangouts. Akira and Makoto both knew just what he meant by that. He truly was a very considerate being every now and then, they thought. Once he left, they walked inside.

"This place… is new." Akira was quick to note, taking in the colours and furniture arrangement inside of the Arancia Soda Joint. True to its name, it was all very orange. The décor consisted of irregular mosaics painted on the walls in varied shades of orange, yellow and brown, along with several framed photographs and paintings. The result was a place with dimensions you could only truly know if you were a regular, which Makoto was.

"They opened about six months ago." She said as they took seat in a couch near the back by the restrooms. A small coffee table lay in front of them. "It was fortunate, really. I needed a new place to unwind around that time. School was getting quite tough."

"You did tell me about that. The curve was a challenge but you conquered it."

"That I did." Her smile was void of any arrogance.

"It's a very interesting place. Something wrong with LeBlanc, though?"

"Not at all!" Makoto responded. "Thing is, I can't bring myself to drink coffee too often, especially now that I have to study harder. Otherwise, I may end up drinking out of habit rather than taste proper. I can't have that."

"That's very true." He nodded. "Are you sure it isn't because you missed my coffee?"

"I reserve myself the answer to that." Makoto winked. "But I would like you to make me coffee again."

"I think we can work something out."

"Good afternoon! Sorry for the delay. Makoto-san, what will you have today? Ginger Whisper?" The waiter, a lanky young man with slick red hair and high-pitched voice, swung by their table.

"Yes, thank you."

"And your companion…? What may I…" The words died in his throat upon seeing Akira who looked at him wide-eyed.

"Yasunori?"

"Stride- I mean, Akira?" His accent peeked from a hidden corner of his past. Long gone was Yasunori Kujo, the prisoner. But sometimes, a shade of Rooster flashed free as a memory of times both dear and dreaded.

"Yeah. Yeah!" Akira stood up to shake his hand. At that moment, both young men shared a look of disbelief, especially more so for Akira. For all he knew, the friend he made behind bars chose to return to crime when he was released. To his own surprise, he brought Yasunori closer for a hug.

"You two… know each other?" Makoto asked, curious.

"Yes, Makoto-san. It's…"

"A long story." Akira spoke ahead of him, minding his tone so as not to sound discourteous.

"Too true." Yasunori smiled. "But man, to think we would meet again. And to think you'd know Makoto-san! This is nuts." He smiled. Then, a sudden realisation. "Makoto-san… Makoto." His gasp fetched the surprised gaze of everybody in Arancia. "She is Makoto…"

"Um, what's going on?" Makoto looked worried.

"Yeah…" Yasunori's eyes fell on her. "I can see it, Strider. I definitely see it."

"So, uh… I'll be having what she's having." Akira hurried to place his order, looking to avoid the topic of his imprisonment last year from coming up.

"Yeah. Right on it, my friend." Yasunori went ahead to bring the beverages, casting one last look behind at Akira and Makoto.

"That was interesting, Akira." She cast a searching look at her boyfriend. "Anything you'd like to share… Strider?"

"It IS a long story. I'd like to tell you about it, but not right now." He placed his hand atop hers. "Right now, I just want to hear about you."

"Oh, what in particular would you like to hear?"

"Anything you want." He leaned in for a kiss. Her lips met his, soft and wet. They had been wanting this for a long time. Makoto's hand wandered towards his chest, sliding up towards his collarbones while his lingered about her neck. At the end of it, both knew they wanted more. There were a few weeks still to go before first term began in the country's universities. Surely they would find a few more days all to themselves.

[ ]

"Well, that was not bad at all." Akira remarked on the hours spent in Arancia. As per Makoto's recommendation, he tried several of the soft drinks in the menu. Italian Soda, something he could explore in the near future as part of his career in gastronomy. Many tastes remained in his tongue and palate, including Makoto's.

"Always one to undersell, huh?" Makoto walked close by his side as they walked along the street, with the dusk settling over the sky above. "I was hoping we could go somewhere else, but it's kinda getting late now."

"I don't know." Akira smiled to himself. "We could always go to the Red Light District for old time's sake."

"Ha ha, Akira. At least you didn't say something like "the night is still young"."

"The night's still young."

She gazed at him, entirely unamused. Nonetheless, Akira could not help but laugh at the stupidity of his own comment.

"Anyway. Since I took the very selfish liberty of withholding the information of your early return from everyone else, I can't quite let you go to LeBlanc." Makoto said playfully.

"It would be an unforgivable oversight if you did that." Akira played along. "Whatever shall we do?"

"I was thinking, maybe… just maybe, you could spend the night at my place."

"Interesting proposal. Or we could go to the Red Light District."

"Stop that." She gave the back of his head a light slap. "I'm serious, though. I'd like you to spend the night. Can't let you brave the night out there like an alley cat."

"Speaking of…"

"Took you two long enough!" Morgana joined them once more, hopping on Akira's shoulder and finding his place in the rucksack. "It's getting late. Where are we going?"

"Well, if there truly is no inconvenience, we're going to the Niijimas'" Akira turned to look at his girlfriend. "Are you sure there truly wouldn't be any inconvenience?"

"There is none. Please, do let me offer this hospitality." There was a hint of old formality in her voice.

"Thank you so much, Makoto."

"However… my sister will be home tonight. So, you will have to sleep on the couch."

"Magnificent."

"It's a very comfortable couch?"

"I'm sold."

"Also…" Makoto's expression contained genuine embarrassment. "My sister is allergic to cats..." She slowly turned to look at Morgana. "I'd appreciate it if you could stay in the rucksack, Mona."

"Ugh." Morgana groaned. "It's the last time I do something for you two love birds."

"I promise to make it up to you!" Makoto said. "Fatty tuna?"

"I'll remember this, Queen." Morgana declared with a tone that brooked no leniency.

"So will I, Makoto. Thank you." He planted a kiss on her cheek. "Wait… does Sae know you and I…?"

"Um… yes, she does. Don't worry, she took it better than I thought she would." She smirked. "Now she only wants to kill you in your sleep."

"I'm really not sure if you're joking or not. Don't do this to me, Makoto."

"Haha. It's just a joke. She means you no ill fate, Akira. In fact, I get the feeling she already at least suspected it."

"Hmm." Akira wondered if something he said back in the interrogation room hinted at the affection he bore for Sae's sister. Many memories of that day inhabited a foggy region of his mind. He then thought of something Sae told him the morning he turned himself in. Perhaps, Akira could dare think she would approve. Though his love for Makoto trumped outside objections, he truly wished for there to be no friction.

"Is something wrong?" She asked him with a tone of concern.

"No." He smiled at her. "This day, it's just better than everything I hoped for."

[ ]

The Niijima sisters carried an aura of pulchritude and authority. Akira would never forget the first impression upon meeting Makoto and Sae; the former in the library during his first week in Shujin, the latter on a heated visit to LeBlanc. He was not surprised when entering their apartment, a place so routinely tidied, regardless of expected visits. The sight of polished surfaces and the subtle but constant scent of lavender made him hurry to remove his shoes; it also grew a sense of shame from every time Makoto visited his room. He would need to be obsessively meticulous when cleaning the attic at LeBlanc to purge the feeling.

They met Sae in the living room, her attention divided between a crossword on the newspaper and the news on the widescreen.

"Hi, Sis." Makoto greeted her sister, her tone carefree, entirely different to the increasing worry in Akira's heart.

"Hello, Makoto." She replied without lifting her eyes off the paper. "Kurusu-kun." Her greeting towards Akira was free of any discernible tone. It could well be a legitimate kindness as much as it could be a threat.

"Good evening, Sae-san." Akira bowed.

"Sis, Akira will be spending the night in the couch." Makoto said, putting her bag on a table nearby. "I'll be right back." She said, excusing herself to the bathroom down the hallway.

"He better." Her sister said. "Make yourself at home, then."

"I promise to behave, Sae-san." He gambled a more affable tone to try and give some levity to the moment. "I appreciate this kindness. In return I will make the best coffee for you two."

"Better than Sojiro's, you'd say?" Some of the old trust between Sae and Akira returned to her voice. For a brief moment, at least, she spoke as the confidant, not as Makoto's intensely protective sister.

"That'd be quite a challenge. Makoto seems to like my coffee at least."

"Do you like his coffee, Makoto?" Sae called out to her sister.

"It's not bad!" The young woman called out loud along the sound of a running faucet.

"Not bad. That sounds like a Niijima sign of approval." Akira nodded.

"Speaking of approval…" The tone in the older sister's voice fell one pitch, abandoning the previous affability. "I am very aware of the relation you have with my Makoto." She waited for the young man to put up some kind of verbal barrier to defend or disengage himself. She took his silence as acknowledgement. "I'll have a word with you soon. For now I'll be brief. I will not object. Do not give me a reason to suspect I should." The quiet force behind Sae's voice could disarm a yakuza and make them yearn for a hand to hold on to.

"Understood, Sae." Akira's expression changed miles away from the young man joyful about returning to his friends. Rather than being a demeaning gesture, his foregoing of honorifics was a leap back in time, to the final minutes of his interrogation in charge of Sae Niijima. The one speaking now was the Phantom Thief who would not sell out his partners-in-crime, the one who defended Makoto at every turn whenever she came into the narrative. "I will not disappoint." No defiance in his voice, only truth and unshakeable belief.

"I'm glad we're on the same page here." Sae nodded. "Now, I suggest you start defending your claim to your coffee being the best. While you do that, I'll go find a couple of pictures of Makoto when she was little. I'm sure she'll love you seeing them." Sae cracked a grin that made Akira wonder how many people had seen it in their lifetime – less than he could count on one hand, he guessed.

"Aye, aye." Akira took his place in the small kitchen a few meters away. From there, he could see the glint in Morgana's eye, peering from the darkness of his rucksack. He surely heard the words coming from Sae's mouth, including those regarding Makoto's baby pictures. The young man did his best to suppress a perverse giggle about the evening to unfold. "Say, Sae-san. Are you in the mood for curry?"