Akira has never been one for cliched metaphors, but the best way he could think to describe the ensuing silence was that it was thick enough to be cut by a knife. Futaba has yet to let go, but Akira recognizes the far-off look in her eyes, the same pinched expression when analyzing high-level shadows or mapping Mementos. She's already gathered the evidence, and it's now only a matter of putting the information together like an impossible puzzle. Akira knows the feeling well.

She's never remembered looping before, didn't even begin to suspect it unless Akira told her. His mind races, trying to pin what could have possibly changed.

If Futaba remembers the loop, does that mean everybody else has as well? Could it have been only because she was Oracle, enclosed within Prometheus during the fight and surrounded by a flood of information the rest of them could barely even fathom? Were all of the Phantom Thieves caught in the crossfire of Yaldabaoth's personal grudge against Akira simply by being present at the time, or was it every single person with a strong connection to the Metaverse, dead or alive? Was this Lavenza's doing? Why would she ever intervene like this? Why now?

Did it have something to do with Arsene not appearing?

Shockingly, Sojiro is the first person to recover. His eyes slowly slide from his daughter to Akira, suspicious of the strange boy who had seemingly done more for Futaba's mental health within two seconds than anyone else had in years. "Who are you?" he asks, voice hard. "And how do you-?" he trails off, gesturing between Akira and Futaba haplessly.

"I'm Akira Kurusu, Sakura-san," Akira introduces himself formally, attempting to still make a good first impression to his guardian despite the fact that Futaba was still clinging to him as if he'd disappear the moment she lets go. "You're supposed to be my guardian during my probation?" Annoyingly, it sounds more like a question than the confident tone he's trying to project. The familiar script has been absolutely thrown out the window, and he hasn't felt this off-kilter in decades. Unlike Futaba, Sojiro obviously had no memories of the previous year. To him, today had been just another day in April.

"Oh," Sojiro says faintly. "That's right. They did tell me that some delinquent would be arriving today. But that still doesn't explain-"

"We met online!" Futaba cuts in hurriedly, the lie awkward as it tumbles out of her. "In a chatroom! He said that he was coming to Tokyo and I managed to figure out that he would be staying with you and I just wanted to come greet him!"

"Yes," Akira says, nodding placidly, happy to follow her weak excuse rather than attempt to sort his own thoughts enough to try to make his own. "We're internet friends."

Sojiro squeezes his eyes shut, brow furrowed in frustration. His throat bobs uncertainly, full of questions that Akira is definitely not prepared to answer, until he finally settles on: "You put your information online? What if he had been a goldfish? People are always lying on the internet!"

"Ugh, Sojiro! Do you mean catfish? Akira would never do that!"

"I would never do that," he echoes.

Sojiro scoffs. "That's what they always say!" he scolds her, completely out of place from the rest of the situation. This conversation was doing nothing but wasting everyone's time. Akira needed to get Futaba alone, swap stories so he could piece together as much information as he can. "Did he even tell you that he assaulted someone?"

"Sojiro, that doesn't-"

"Um, Boss?" an elderly man interrupts, causing everyone to jump. Akira had completely forgotten that there had been actual customers present. "Is everything alright?"

Sojiro puts his head in his hands. His voice is muffled when he says, "Usagiyama-san, Leblanc is currently closed. Your meal is on the house. Please leave."

Usagiyama swallows, uncomfortable by the multiple dirty looks shot his way, including one by his own wife. "Oh, alright. We'll be on our way, then. I hope you resolve your family emergency."

Family emergency, Akira mouths in disbelief as the old couple awkwardly shuffles past him. Usagiyama's wife pauses to pat his shoulder. Smiling serenely at him and Futaba, she says, "I hope you friends have a wonderful time while you're here, dear."

The door slams open in Usagiyama's face, the bell's friendly chime a stark difference to the violent entrance. The couple stumbles out onto the street as a streak of bleached blond hair bolts inside. Ryuji slides to an unsteady stop, still clad in loose pajamas and wearing house shoes. His expression immediately clears in relief when he sees Akira and Futaba. "Dude!" he manages to say between heavy gasps, "you're alright!"

He launches himself at Akira, dragging him into a suffocating hug. He fists the back of Akira's blazer to tug him closer, and Futaba squawks indignantly, caught between the two. Ryuji slots his forehead against Akira's shoulder, pointedly ignoring her as his hot breath fans on Akira's neck. "Yaldy was going right for you last I saw! I thought you - I thought - shit, don't scare me like that again!"

"Leblanc is closed! Get out!"

"Ryuji!" Futaba says. "Get off of me!" She jabs at his side and he yelps, flailing backwards. He trips over Akira's forgotten suitcase and crashes into a booth seat in a heap of limbs.

"You know this one too? Futaba!"

"Chatroom?" Akira offers hesitantly.

Ryuji remembers too, then. That meant that it was only a matter of time before the others turned up, searching for the same answers that Akira himself desperately needs.

"D'you know what happened?" Ryuji flops his head back onto the leather seat, still panting. "All I remember was seein' that butterfly and then I was back at home. Where's everybody else at?"

Akira zeroes in on him with a single-minded focus. "You saw Lavenza too?"

"Lavenza? You mean that little girl at the prison?"

"She looks like a butterfly, sometimes."

"Why?"

"She's immortal. Did she say anything to you?"

"Shouldn't we wait for everybody else before talking about this?" asks Futaba.

"Ann and Makoto will be here soon," Akira easily dismisses her. "The others can't make it. Don't worry, they're all fine. Ryuji, what did you hear?"

"No! No, stop that!" They all turn to look at Sojiro, his arms crossed as he openly glares at them. Ryuji half raises a hand in a lazy greeting, but aborts the movement nervously when Sojiro rounds on him. "What the hell are you three talking about? Butterflies? Time loops?"

"We were all playing an online ARPG campaign and the enemy party was trying to defeat us in a 4v1 battle with an overpowered NPC final boss, and the way it kept hitting us with heavy debuffs using cheat codes in merciless mode to k-o our third-gen avatars by depleting their hp and sp before the time limit just really freaked him out?" Futaba interjects quickly.

"Futaba, throwing a bunch of words you know I don't understand doesn't make it any less obvious that you are lying to me."

"Wait, what's wrong with Boss? Does he not know about us anymore?" Ryuji asks.

"Know what?"

Futaba makes a wounded noise, thin fingers spasming where they're curled into Akira's uniform as he tries to figure out the most tactful way to pry her off of him. He needs a moment to back away and think, to figure out what was happening away from the oppressive wall of people. Everything had been going so well the last loop, as carefully constructed as he'd manipulated it to be, so where had he gone wrong? What game was Yaldabaoth playing this time?

Or maybe this was for the best? Would the rest of his teammates taking on some of his burden actually help him escape this year? Genuinely relying on people for help was a foreign concept that had yet to click in Akira's mind. What could they possibly try that he hadn't already?

Before he can think it through, Akira blurts out, "Boss, do you trust me?"

"I don't even know you, kid."

Deep breaths. The rest of the team will be here soon, and he needs to reschedule any inevitable breakdown to a time that they will not be here to witness it. Right now, that means wrestling back any semblance of control in this situation that he can. He's the leader of the Phantom Thieves. He can do this.

"Akira! Oh my god!"

Damn it.

"Ann," he greets her softly, and then, "you're okay." Futaba, at least, seemingly learned her lesson after Ryuji, and manages to jump back before Ann can engulf her in her arms as collateral. Akira is barely able to avoid a mouthful of blonde hair himself as Ann readily takes her place. Her forehead bumps painfully against his chin in her eagerness, but he lets her hold onto him, grounding herself. When she finally steps away, Futaba doesn't miss her chance to dart closer, carefully snagging Akira's wrist in both of her clammy hands. He flexes his free hand before curling it into a loose fist, index finger rubbing against his thumb anxiously.

"I'm sorry," Ann says, wiping at her eyes with her arm. He doesn't miss the fact that it only serves to further smear her makeup, as if she'd already been crying. "I don't know what happened. I was with you guys and then I just wasn't. I just woke up talking to Shiho, at the underground mall, like nothing had even happened, but she wasn't wearing her casts and just looked fine, like before everything with Kamoshida, you know? I don't - Joker, what's going on?"

"So it happened to you too, huh?" Ryuji this time, his voice carefully pitched to be more gentle. He was callous at the best of times, but Akira was grateful that he was taking at least some sort of initiative, at least until everybody got their bearings back. Ryuji and Ann bickered often, but she hadn't looked this shattered since the aftermath of Shiho's suicide attempt.

Ann blinks, coming back to herself. "Ryuji," she breathes, "Futaba-chan. You're both okay, too." She swivels her head, as if expecting the rest of the Thieves to jump out from behind the chairs. "Did everyone else make it?"

"Everybody's okay," Akira tells her, mind buzzing. They're terrified and confused, most likely, but safe. Ann had called him Joker. "Makoto's coming by soon. We can talk to Yusuke, Haru, and Morgana later. I doubt we'll see them today."

Ryuji perks up. "Have they said anything to you?" His words easily overlap with Ann's demanding, "How do you know that?"

"Makoto's the only one left who's free, so it's not exactly a difficult-"

The final chime is not nearly as chaotic as the ones preceding, Makoto's sharp intake of breath quiet and tense against the faint bustle of the street. Her ballet flats clatter against the tiles as she rushes forward, and for the fourth time in ten minutes, Akira passively lets himself be held. His own comfort be damned, right now, his teammates need him. His emotions are for later, later, later.

"I thought we'd failed," Makoto says, voice hitching as she tucks herself against his chest. "I thought I failed."

Akira brings an arm around her in a gentle hug, squeezing once before letting go. To all of them, he says, authoritative and trust-worthy, "We're all okay. We survived, and that's what matters. Right now, we just need to focus on our next move and figure out what happened."

Makoto steps away from him and he lets go easily. "Right," she says, and everyone politely ignores the slight tremor as she speaks. "I think we've somehow time traveled to before the school year began. I was at Shujin, and I ran Kobayakawa. He wasn't - he wasn't dead, and seemed confused when I, um," she blushes, embarrassed, "screamed. He asked me about how I was preparing for the new year and student council."

"I was with Shiho," Ann adds. "I don't think anything had happened to her yet, with Kamoshida. And then I checked my phone, and he had just," she swallows, uncomfortable, "he had just texted me. He hasn't done that since April."

"It is April," Futaba says, "again."

"So nothing's happened yet?" Ryuji asks. "No Phantom Thieves? I just - what happened? Why?"

Why indeed.

Akira turns to Sojiro, whose lips are pursed. "Please. I can prove everything later, I promise, but right now we," he gestures towards his friends, "need to talk. Alone."

Futaba speaks up. "Yeah! I can help, but can you just," she makes a shooing motion in his direction, "go away!"

Sojiro stares her down. She hadn't been this energetic since Wakaba's death, and Akira subtly leans closer, bumping his arm against hers. He doesn't dare speak up again, hoping that Sojiro just gets the message: Futaba trusts us, can you do the same?

"Fine," he grunts. "You can use the attic. It needs to be cleaned up anyway for this guy."

Akira says, "Thank you, Boss. Everyone, come on," he jerks his head towards the stairs.

"Your room's a mess," Futaba tells him bluntly, even as she follows him.

"So is yours," Akira counters, "and I cleaned it up for you, didn't I? Repay the favor."

Ryuji groans from behind him. "Dude, what?"

"You want to figure out what happened, right?"

The rest of them exchange glances, and Akira waits for them at the base of the stairs, more impatient than he allows himself to show. "Yes," Makoto eventually speaks for them all. "Let's do this."

Akira turns away from them, leading them upwards. It didn't matter now who orchestrated this loop, or what they possibly hoped to gain from it. Right now, Akira only had one goal, and that was to finally escape.

I should mention that I'm not planning to have any ships in this fic! There may be a few background relationships, but anything involving Akira will only be vaguely hinted at. After all, by this time he has dated most of the team (and then some) and he still somewhat remembers those feelings, even if they haven't fully translated to the new timeline.