After school, they spend that afternoon plunging into the depths of Mementos. Their usual procedures of stealthy avoidance and ambushes are abandoned, relying completely on voracity and destruction to forge their path. Concealment wasn't really an option when the screams of his teammates announce their presence. Their roars reach well into the abyss below them, shaking the walls and stirring the shadows who respond in kind. It's mostly Panther and Skull but Kitagawa had gotten into it as well after his appraisal of Mementos, having only been when they had dragged Akira in an attempt to fix him.
Akira considers doing something to intervene, to stop them before something bad happens. More then once, he had had to swerve Mona out of the way to avoid hitting one of his comrades after they'd jumped out to rush into the next fight.
His heart thunders the entire time, but nothing comes. Akira does not stop his friends—his teammates from grieving, from feeling or expressing themselves. It doesn't feel like the right thing to do. That doesn't stop Akira from joining in where he can, though mostly on the outskirts of every battle. Distance doesn't stop the shadows from coming after him or pleading for Akira's salvation, which he offers always, opening his soul and locking them inside.
It is not the safest place to be, but it is all the redemption that he can offer to them.
Summoning them is easier than Akira remembers, only requiring an instant of concentration before they manifest as opposed to the seconds that it had taken Akira before. The process feels different as a result. Rather than squeezing through the straw, clawing their way free, the personas within him walk free, barely touching the edges of his mind as they work their way towards the surface. He's not sure if it's due to an increase in strength or something else that causes it.
Either way, Akira appreciates it, especially when he discovers that Phoenix is capable of producing the same chilly mist that is capable of erasing injuries. Invoking this magic from his persona specifically is taxing, making his vision swim for several seconds after its effects have faded, having done its job of washing away blood and leaving scarless skin behind.
The strain deters him from using it too often, resisting the urge to erase every scratch or nick or the buckshot pellets that Skull gets in his calf when the blond handles the weapon carelessly.
Akira admonishes him for that last one, finally breaking his silence by pulling his phone free of his coat. Skull's reaction surprises him. Stopping, the blond smiles at him, acknowledges the statement, but speeds into the next battle with the same fervor as before, hellbent on finding their next target. There's not much change, one that Akira might be imagining, but Skull seems to slow down the pace of his injuries. His movements are still wild, his speech frenzied and frantic and betrays the joy that he feels from battle.
It's frightening in a way that is not scary, but Panther is no better. Since they'd stepped into the MetaVerse, she'd been constantly wreathed in a veil of sparks and smoke, every step flicks off sparks and Mona had complained more than once that she was charring his seats. She matches Skull's ferocity, feeds into it, and encourages it.
They encourage each other, really, and don't seem to notice that they've driven through the into a section of Mementos that had been previously locked off. Akira takes note of it, as well as the way Mona's headlights shift across the ground more frequently, either searching for clues of his true form or finally falling victim to the environment his teammates had created.
Akira hopes that it's the former but wouldn't hold it against him either way. Mona knew their limits as well as his own. Not that it stops Akira from worrying regardless, especially with how quiet the other boy had gotten since they'd arrived.
The new section of Mementos is even darker than the last. Despite the depth, Akira sometimes feel encroaching summer heat press against his skin and the uncommon breeze that sometimes whips between the Tokyo skyscrapers. Stranger though are the walls, which sometimes appear as if someone had broken through them and started hastily putting them back together. The hasty repairs leave behind massive gaps and unstable structures, requiring only a tap of Mona's front bumper before they reveal the road ahead.
Mona offers no explanation for the oddities, only suggesting that they keep an eye out for them, and his vagueness frightens Akira. Even without his teammate's words, whatever was capable of breaking through the walls of Mementos is not something Akira wants to see. He's not a very curious person by nature and this was a mystery he wouldn't mind leaving unsolved.
Hours pass in the same cycle of violence and Akira has stopped noticing the sting of sweat sliding across the burn on his chest and hours more pass before they reach the bottom platform. Unlike the others, there is no singular shadow guarding it, leaving the space devoid of noise or movement. The door doesn't budge, not even when Skull strikes at it or a superheated spell from Panther splashes against the etched stone.
"What the hell." Skull growls, extinguishing a few drips of flame with his boot.
"Maybe we should go back up?" Takamaki suggests. "One of them has to know someone with a palace, right?"
"It's possible." Fox decides. "Though it may be more beneficial to explore other means, such as that website Panther told me about."
Panther sighs, "I guess. If we can't go any deeper, I doubt we're going to find anything on the higher floors. We were pretty thorough on the way down."
"That's putting it lightly." Skull snorts. He moves over and drops a shoulder on Panther's shoulder, extinguishing some of the flames clinging to her form. "Never knew you could be so hardcore, Panther."
"I- I'm not." She insists, "I was just upset, and we need to find a target before it's too late."
"Why the sudden change of heart?" Fox interjects, "I was surprised that you invited me here. I was under the impression that our hiatus would go on until Joker was fully recovered."
Four sets of eyes lock onto him and it takes considerable effort on Akira's part to avoid all of them, but he manages, locking onto a tipped over bin that wobbles slightly in the MetaVerse's nonexistent breeze.
"Shit." Skull hisses and rushes towards him. Yellow fingers latch onto Akira's shoulders. "You okay, dude? I wasn't—we—fuck!"
The shout makes Akira flinch.
"Maybe we should just go." Panther suggests, over Skull's shoulder, her form extinguishes. The last of the sparks and ashes get lost in the wind, whisked away by a whistling train. "Let's go."
Mona is quiet as he shifts back into his bus form and the rest of his team are just as silent as Akira climbs behind the wheel and starts navigating the path back to the surface. Without any words, the drive stretches into an eternity, an awkwardness of Akira's responsibility makes the ride unbearable. Skull assesses him from the passenger seat, twisted around on the bench to keep an eye on him with unnerving consistency and Panther is no better, leaning over the back of his seat every few moments to glance at him.
Fox's reaction isn't surprising, but not something Akira expects as he doesn't know the other boy very well, hasn't appraised him fully yet, or at all, if Akira is being honest. The artist stares out the window and remains silent the entire trek back to the surface. Lack of artistic distinction might be an explanation, though it could easily be the opposite as the other boy was difficult to read even when Akira wasn't observing him through the rearview mirror. He'd remained wordless since his last observation, which didn't offer much when it came to examining his teammate. Fox seemed like he'd been enjoying himself during his battles as they drove into the depths, laughing and matching Skull, strike after strike.
Maybe the good time had worn off? Perhaps Akira had offended him? He had no way of knowing.
Shibuya station is still swathed in sunlight when they emerge from Mementos, which is a surprise. Burnt orange floors replace the lifeless concrete of the MetaVerse as they enter the real world and Akira stumbles around blindly for a moment before he finds a wall to lean against.
"Thank god it's the weekend." Ryuji groans, rolling the arm he carries his pipe in. Shuffling over, he leans against the wall to Akira's left and yawns loudly.
"Hmm." Takamaki hums in response, "Oh that reminds me…"
Ryuji waits a moment before he rolls his hand at her, "Well, are you gonna fuckin' tell us or what?"
The blonde snickers and lumbers over. Her assault is swift and merciless, despite the sweat still dripping from her hairline, she seems full of energy and laughs easily when Ryuji starts swatting at her and begs her to set her attentions on anyone else.
Morgana is a voluntary tribute, but Takamaki switches targets onto Kitagawa, who takes her strange behavior in stride.
"I was thinking we should turn our celebration into a welcome party for Fox as well." She says, only speaking up after she makes Kitagawa twitch from a jab just under his ribs.
"Really?" Fox croaks while Ryuji speaks up at the same time, "Double party!"
Takamaki smiles, "I'll text you guys the details."
Kitagawa escorts her away after a promise of free dinner, leaving Ryuji alone with him and Morgana.
"You okay?" His friend asks, voice soft. If he were anywhere but at Akira's side, the words might have been lost.
Akira nods easily. He's still embarrassed for being the one holding them back yet again, but is just as content with being out of Joker's clothes and surviving another day.
"Feeling pretty beat myself." Ryuji crosses his arms and leans further against the wall. "But I'm feelin' better after all that, even if we didn't find any clues. That bitch really pissed me off."
Reminders of Suzui and his failures to stop Kamoshida in time stung, even if they had been directed at Takamaki instead of him. The student council president—who's name slipped Akira's mind despite her being their biggest threat—had ripped open scars that had been lost to time. Though Suzui was comatose, the girl was still alive, still had a chance to awaken in a world that was free of Kamoshida's cruelty.
It's not that it still was not Akira's fault. As much as he hates to admit it, other things had begun pulling priority. After her fall, the only thing Akira could truly do for her was to create a better world for her to wake to. It is neither a vow nor a promise, but it is something Akira is willing to fight and die for. Fear and doubt keep it from being either of those things, even when tasked with stopping the calamity, Akira is no hero.
When he shrugs, Ryuji rolls his eyes and smiles. "See ya."
Morgana squirms in his lap when Akira boards the train towards LeBlanc. "I think I got it."
Akira stares down at him.
"I had an impression before, but I think today confirmed it." Morgana says quietly. "I think Mementos is reacting to the Phantom Thieves. Our ability to go deeper seems to be related to how much people in the real world are talking about us."
Akira says nothing to this, letting the words bounce around in his addled brain for a moment. He tries to pull up what he knows about Mementos and the timeline of the Phantom Thieves and supposes that Morgana's theory could be true. The other boy knew more about that world than any of them did, which gave him enough credence for Akira to dispel much he doesn't know before agreeing.
Taking that into consideration, Akira estimates how quickly after Kitagawa's welcome party that the artist would decide to leave. Recovering Morgana's true form required public opinion of the Phantom Thieves, which diametrically opposed Kitagawa's ideals and agreeance to joining their group. With Madarame out of the way and his conditions no longer being met, Akira grimly predicts that Kitagawa's resignation may occur the same day he learns what Morgana had just told him.
Regardless, getting the artist a gift as a welcome gift—or a parting gift depending on things go—would be expected. The idea gives Akira pause, a reminder that for all of their similarities, he doesn't know much about the artist at all. Ryuji was probably the teammate he knew the most about and even in that case, Akira still wouldn't know what to get him. A gun would probably be useful, though that was more of a necessary tool than a welcoming or parting gift.
Art supplies came to mind, but Akira knew even less about them than about his teammate. Not to mention that they'd act as a reminder of everything that Akira had taken away from him by taking on Madarame as a target.
The rest of the evening passes without Morgana saying much else and Akira looks at his homework. Focusing on it would be a stretch. Even though he knows most of the material, the words and numbers—and sometimes combinations of the two—hold little meaning at the moment. He waits until the café empties out before he gives up on writing anything down and sets the stack of papers aside.
Checking his phone, Akira is slightly surprised to find that Takamaki hadn't messaged him at all, but assumes she'd finally crashed. Akira isn't much better, ducking into the bathhouse for a quick shower before he rolls Morgana over so he can crawl under the covers.
Sleep is quick and merciful. For a while, it washes Akira's worries away, but morning arrives too soon. Along with the birds, Morgana chirrups in his ear and it takes all of Akira's resolve not to strike out at the cat when he jerks away.
"Oh good, you're awake." The cat says happily from his place on Akira's pillow. "I think Boss was calling you."
Sakura-san's voice bellows into the attic a moment later, followed by a series of coughs, confirming Morgana's statement.
Akira fumbles with the blanket and trips twice on his way to the stairs. Once there, he tries to rack up his sins, but can't think of anything specific that he'd be in trouble for. He'd locked the café up when he left and came back last night, and nobody had seen him leave, and there was no reason that the school would be calling unless the student council president had somehow managed to infiltrate the MetaVerse. Even if that were the case, only his own phone seemed to work in that reality, so there wouldn't be any definitive proof that they were acting as phantom thieves.
Unless they took her word for it… Akira thinks, surprised at how bitterly the thought comes out when it crosses his head. It would take someone of considerable standing to convince the authorities that an alternate reality existed, but if anyone could do it…
The possibility that Sakura-san merely wanted his help is one of the last things to cross his mind, but what Akira finds at the bottom of the steps is even more strange.
Akira's… Well, most of the time they were his friends, sometimes just his teammates—sometimes he doesn't know what to call them other than people he is aware of—are all standing in LeBlanc. Their eyes wander as if they had not caused two separate worlds to collide.
"Smells nice in here." Takamaki says gently.
"Looks pretty outdated, but I can't really say I hate it." Ryuji hums, making Kitagawa nod minutely.
"People refer to that as 'retro.'"
"Definitely better than whatever the hell they've got going on Shibuya these days." The blond scoffs.
Sakura-san's gaze flits over to Akira, "These your friends?"
Akira hesitates, then nods. He tries to keep track of Sakura-san's expression but doesn't learn anything from it.
Takamki steps out from behind Ryuji, revealing casual clothes that he assumes are in fashion. Looking at them, Akira can't help but feel frumpy in his wrinkled uniform which he'd fallen asleep in and bare feet. The girl takes a seat at the bar, seemingly unintimated by Sakura-san and smiles brightly.
"That's us!"
Sakura-san's attention diverts between her and Ryuji, "You're the kids from TV."
Takamaki's laugh is stunted. "Aha—you saw that?"
"Something like that." The man confirms. He taps at the bar, "Have a seat, first one's on the house."
Takamaki, who'd already been sitting, is flanked by Akira's teammates. Akira stays where he is, unsure how to engage.
"I think I've seen this place in a magazine before." Takamaki says.
"That was a long time ago." Sakura-san smiles in a way that Akira hasn't seen before, it lasts only for a moment before his stare turns back onto Akira. "Why don't you go wake yourself up and then come attend to your guests. And brush your hair!"
Akira flounders for a moment but retreats back into the attic and then into the bathroom with a bundle under his arm. Quickly brushing his teeth and attempting to smooth down his hair a few times, he returns to his teammates and finds them sipping from steaming mugs, save for Ryuji, who was nursing a can of something.
"How the hell are you guys doing that." Ryuji whispers not so quietly. "It's like drinking tree flavored lava."
Sakura-san chuckles, "I didn't drink coffee when I was a kid either."
Even with a change of clothes and mostly managed hair, Akira lingers on the edge of the conversation, not really sure how to approach what might as well be a freedom-threatening conversation. He doesn't think that any of them will mention what they get up to in front of an adult, but things always had a way of going wrong when Akira was involved.
"It's quite exquisite." Akira hears Kitagawa say happily. "There's a great depth to its acidity."
"It's definitely delicious!" Takamaki agrees, finishing off her cup with a sigh.
"Soda's good too." Ryuji tacks on, earning an elbow from the girl beside him and another chuckle from Sakura-san.
"Why don't you kids head upstairs." The older man suggests, "You all working on a school project or something?"
"Something like that." Takamaki lies smoothly. She takes to her feet and steps around Akira, "It was nice meeting you, Sakura-san!"
Ryuji and Kitagawa follow after her, leaving Akira alone with his parole officer.
"Keep it down." The man says simply, waving him off with an ease that Akira had not been expecting.
Akira returns to the attic and finds his teammates in various states of snooping and observation. Kitagawa is the closest, standing at the table against the banister. The artist has cans of Morgana's cat food in either hand and a strange expression on his face. Takamaki stands by the workbench in the corner where Morgana had migrated to at some point.
Ryuji leans over what had once been a bookshelf, the blond apparently tall enough to see the items on the top shelf that Akira had hidden away. The hearing aid and necklace, both layered in dust, are pulled away from the shadows of the room.
Akira's heart thunders in his chest and he swallows hard.
"I forgot about these." Ryuji admits. He has an expression on his face that Akira doesn't like. Stormy with bad memories, when things had been even newer. Akira had mostly forgotten about that girl as well, the only shadow that he could actually converse with. She'd been angry and suffering and everything that Akira could have been.
"Oh yeah" Takamaki says neutrally. A pause. She turns away from it. "This place is pretty nice, Akira-kun."
Kitagawa nods in Akira's peripheral. "I must agree. The ambiance is very peaceful. I endeavor to reside in such a space one day."
"Dorms not cutting it for ya?" Ryuji questions. He places the items back on the shelf and Akira feels a weight lift from his chest.
"They're an acceptable abode."
Takamaki snorts. "I hated staying in dorms. Maybe it's different for boys, though."
"That's before you were in Japan, yeah?" Ryuji takes a seat on the unmade bed and thankfully does not look beneath it.
Takamaki takes a spot on the sofa and Morgana sidles up beside her. "Yep. They were… nice. I guess it's just weird living with a bunch of strangers."
"It is quite different than staying at sensei's. One girl often goes through the recycling late at night and carries bottles back to her room."
"Girl!?" Takamaki and Ryuji squawk simultaneously. Akira was more interested in why Kitagawa was near enough the recycling so late at night.
"Indeed." The artist replies and says nothing more on the topic, not swayed as easily as Akira would be Takamaki tugging on his arm and pleading or by Ryuji's prodding and taunting.
When they recognize the futility on the matter, the attic falls quiet. Painfully awkward silence stretches across several minutes before Takamaki clears her throat.
"So…"
"Some welcome party." Ryuji mumbles, earning a glare from the girl across from him.
"I've been reading up on public perception of the Phantom Thieves. It seems that even those who believed in us were influenced by the Akechi's comments on TV." Kitagawa says. The artist pulls out his phone and swipes at it, "But I haven't found any suitable targets on that forum, either, so I'm out of ideas."
"Yeah." Takamaki sighs. "I was thinking about what you said on TV actually, Ryuji."
"Oh yeah?" Ryuji leans forward, "What's that?"
"Just how nobody would have caught Madarame if we didn't do anything." Her eyes slide over Kitagawa. "The same could be said for Kamoshida as well, and Nakanohara too."
"How did you all come into contact with him? Nakanohara-senpai, that is." Kitagawa asks, tone monotone. "Surely he didn't have a palace of his own?"
"Uh-uh." Ryuji tuts, "He was on Mishima's website, apparently he was stalking his girlfriend or something."
Kitagawa doesn't react strongly to that. "I think I see what you're saying though, Ann, targets worthy of our attention aren't going to be on TV until they confess their crimes. Otherwise, they will appear as ordinary individuals."
Akira blinks and finds himself agreeing.
"Not sure I'd call them normal, but that's pretty much it, isn't it?" Takamaki sighs again. "Plus, who's to stop the police from just taking the credit. It's not like everyone sees our calling cards and they didn't really mention them on the news."
"I fucking hate that guy." Ryuji growls. "And that stupid bitch. And everyone."
Takamaki throws herself against the back of the couch and groans, "Agreed."
Akira finds himself nodding along as well. After working through his confrontation with Akechi-san, he would say that anything less than dislike is an appropriate feeling towards the detective. Niijima was in a similar boat, especially after bringing up Suzui so viciously.
"Whom?" Two sets of eyes turn on Kitagawa.
"Akechi and Niijima-senpai. She's been following us around at school, trying to get dirt on us."
"Hmm." Kitagawa hums.
"Good observation, Ann." Morgana praises. "Regardless, we'll need to find a way to make our justice known to society. We should keep our ears open, we might overhear something in Mementos, but the real world might be our best bet for finding a new target."
Ryuji grouses, "What the hell? That was my observation, y'stupid cat."
"Well, I was the one who deciphered your stammering when you were talking to that host." Takamaki corrects over Morgana's spew of insults.
"W-what the fuck? I was not stuttering!" Ryuji protests, making Takamaki cackle.
"You totally were!" She scrunches up her face and does an impression, "'T-the Phantom T-thieves are doing m-m-more than the police ever will. A- Aoki-chan, p-please go out with me!'"
Ryuji blushes red, looking vibrant against the droll backdrop of the attic. "I DIDN'T SAY SHIT!"
"You totally were crushing on her." Takamaki giggles. "And keep it down, unless you want everyone downstairs to know you're totally in love with Aoki-san."
"You're the goddamn devil." Ryuji mumbles, initiating another silence that's considerably more lighthearted than the last. This one is broken up by a loud growl coming from Kitagawa's direction.
"Apologies. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday."
This surprises Akira. How long ago had it been since he'd split Madarame's bounty with him? A few weeks? Perhaps living alone was more expensive than Akira had previously thought. Not that he'd given it much, but without a guardian to offer him curry on a daily basis, he could see how that might be the case.
"Well, I see a portable stove and we did see a grocery store earlier. Maybe we could do a hotpot as our celebration-but-also-welcome-party party?" Takamaki suggested. She points towards the corner of the room that Akira had reserved for equipment that Sakura-san hadn't wanted thrown away, which apparently included a portable stove.
"Well, it's a step down from our last party." Ryuji says with a grin, "But as long as there's spice and meat, I'm not complainin'."
They were celebrating now? Akira hadn't decided on a gift for the artist, let alone purchase one.
"Eating together does bring people closer." Morgana comments. Akira can't help but agree, it did seem like something that friends did together.
"Might I suggest we finish it off with porridge? Garnished with parsley, of course." Kitagawa suggests. His smile is simple, as if the thought of food did not tumble rocks into his stomach.
"Right…" Ryuji drawls, glancing towards Akira with a strange expression.
"We'll handle ingredients, Akira-kun." Takamaki says. "Why don't you grab the stove and see if Sakura-san will lend us a pot, he's bound to have a few spares, right?"
Akira's good mood evaporates, but Morgana agrees quickly.
"Boss'll definitely have something."
Takamaki pauses by the stairs, "Boss?"
"That's just what I hear people call him sometimes."
"Er, right." Takamaki smiles and leads the way downstairs. Akira can hear them discussing ingredients and flavors until they reach the door, eventually their voices filter in through the attic's window before finally fading.
"I'll drag the stove over if you wanna go ask for a pot." Morgana suggests, slinking towards the corner of the room. "I'd ask but I'm not supposed to be down there."
Not willing to acknowledge that Morgana had been in the café multiple times a day since he'd come to the real world or that the other boy seemingly couldn't communicate with anyone outside of their group, Akira follows after Takamaki and the others and pauses near the back of the café once more. His hesitance doesn't do much to stop Sakura-san from noticing him.
"Your friends are pretty noisy." Sakura-san flips a page, a puzzle book from the looks of it. "Hot pot, huh? Should be a decent sized donabe in the kitchen."
Akira flounders yet again, wondering why Sakura-san was being so lenient with him. He tries not to mistake it for anything that it isn't though, kind or strict or even hateful, the power difference between them was too large for Akira to drop his guard. Sakura-san would always be his parole officer and Akira would always be his charge.
The donabe is more than decently sized and carrying the stoneware back up the stairs feels like carrying multiple Morganas at once.
"That was fast." Morgana says around one of the tongs of the portable stove. He'd gotten the device from where it'd been stored and perhaps a step or two further, and had seemingly struggled the entire way. Akira leaves him to it, not sure how the other boy would react to a reminder of his lost body, and clears off the table where he keeps Morgana's food. Dragging it over isn't a very quiet task, but Akira manages it just before Morgana reaches him, stove in tow.
"Should probably make sure that thing even works." The cat wheezes. He rolls over to one side and Akira takes the opportunity to lift the device onto the table and fiddles with its interface until it whooshes to life with blue flame.
Minutes pass and Akira's teammates—friends?—return, announcing their presence with crinkling bags and laughter long before Akira actually sees them step into the attic.
"It's a shame really." Takamaki says flatly. "I can't imagine why they wouldn't have porridge."
"A real damn tragedy." Ryuji agrees in a similar tone. They set their bags on the table that Akira had dragged over and take seats around it. Heading back downstairs to fill their cooking vessel with water and borrow a knife, Takamaki claims the sofa to herself. Akira sits adjacent to it with Kitagawa opposite to him and Ryuji at his left side, all of them are in mismatched stools and chairs, but don't seem to have a problem with it.
"Everything should be safe for Morgana to eat, too." Ryuji explains suddenly, setting his phone on the table and opening a hissing, fizzing bottle. "Had to avoid garlic and onions, but that old lady said it'd taste fine without it. Did ya know that cats can't eat grapes either?"
Akira shakes his head. He's surprised that Ryuji had been the one to take Morgana into account and feels ashamed that he hadn't been the one to mention it. The day had been mostly back-to-back surprises, though, so he tries not to take it so hard when he's still getting his bearings.
Ryuji leans back and grins. He looks pleased, an expression that is cut short when Kitagawa speaks up.
"Why would we put grapes in a hot pot?"
"Obviously we're not gonna do that." Ryuji sighs. "Just making sure we don't accidentally poison the cat."
Morgana, for once, does not protest being called anything but human. "What else did the internet say, Ryuji?"
"Huh?" Ryuji's eyebrows climb on his face and pulls his phone into hand. "Onions, raw meat, chocolate, soda, stuff like that."
"I mean, are we even sure he's really a cat anymore?" Takamaki asks from the stairs. She crosses the attic, knife and pot in hand. "I mean, in that other world he doesn't really look like a cat… or any other animal for that matter."
That's a good point… Akira agrees, thinking back to when he'd first met the other boy and had thought he was another monster.
"L- Lady Ann…" Morgana stammers.
Ryuji snickers quietly and Kitagawa looks disturbed.
"That's a good point, Ann." The artist turns towards Morgana and prods at him as Takamaki done to him and Ryuji several times. "Have you encountered others like Morgana in that place then?"
"Nope." Takamaki confirms. The staccato of the knife in her hand punctures the air, slicing through a stalk of Bok choy.
"There's nobody like me!" Morgana argues, "I'm completely unique."
"More like a complete freak." Ryuji sniggers, also reaching over to prod at Morgana.
"Come on, Ryuji. Amnesia and body aside, Morgana's pretty normal. Like a pervy younger brother." Takamaki drops a mountain of chopped vegetables into the pot.
"Pervy!?" Morgana cries out. "I'm a perfect gentleman!"
"I do recall some less than gentlemanly comments about Takamaki-san's form while we were in Mementos." Kitagawa counters.
"Oooh!" Ryuji hoots. "Even Yusuke's callin' you out, perv boy."
With no ingredients left to chop or prepare, Takamaki slides the heavy lid into place and quickly joins in with poking and prodding at Morgana's cheeks and stomach. Morgana doesn't seem too bothered by the addition, almost the opposite if Akira observed more closely. She joins in with the goading as well, offering her own gentle mocks that make Morgana groan and the others laugh.
Listening to the subtle rattling of the earthenware and watching his friends torment his roommate fills Akira with strange contentment. Usually steeped in coffee and Akira's fearful thoughts, the attic hadn't been this lively since he'd arrived. All the same, he doesn't engage in torturing Morgana, knowing that he'd be the one left behind after the dust had settled.
"How did you all come to meet?" Kitagawa asks out of the blue, his long fingers twined with Morgana's twitchy tail.
Ryuji finishes off his drink and opens another one. He slides one in front of Akira as well. It's sweet and makes his teeth ache.
"Ann an' I met in middle school. I met this guy on the way to school and we've been tight ever since. Morgana we found blubberin' away in Kamoshida's palace."
"I was not!" Morgana bickers, quickly starting an argument with Ryuji.
Kitagawa turns to Takamaki.
"Hmm. I met Ryuji on my first day of middle school. The other students in our class were interested in me, but none of the wanted to be friends, you know? And then I met Akira-kun when the semester first started, but we weren't really friends until I used him an excuse to get away from Kamoshida one time."
Her answer surprises Akira, not really expecting Takamaki to refer to him as her friend so openly or having considered him one for so long.
"What about you, Yusuke? How did you and Akira-kun meet?"
Akira feels a blush come up at the memory, one that only intensifies as Kitagawa offers his perspective of that strange afternoon.
"We met outside of Shibuya station. It was before the opening of Madarame's exhibit. It was raining and I spotted him on my way there, posed against the wall with a serene expression. I was drawn in an instant. When sensei found us, he noticed the same thing that I did. Some sort of hidden quality that one cannot help but take notice of."
"He does, doesn't he?" Takamaki agrees. She lowers her chin onto her hands and stares at Akira through the billowing steam. Still caught up in the details of their friendship, he avoids her gaze.
"Indeed. I think this is an excellent opportunity to know each other better." Kitagawa turns to Ryuji. "You all know the details of my past; I'd like to hear about yours in turn."
Ryuji fiddles with the donabe's lid and gets a face full of steam when he lifts it up. He's quiet for a moment but speaks with a strain when he opens his mouth. "Me, huh? S'just another story about a rotten kid. My dad ditched us a while back, so it's just been me an' my ma for a while. It's been a struggle and I was tryna make things easier for us when I went after that track scholarship at Shujin, but I screwed all of that up. Turns out I'm a pretty bad son, after all."
Ryuji laughs, quiet and bitter. Akira hates it and feels sick to his stomach.
"She got called after I decked Kamoshida. All the teachers got on her about what I did, but she didn't say anything to 'em… I'll never forget the look she had on her face. After we left, she turned to me and apologized, like bein' a single mom is why I'm so fucked up."
Akira sucks on his teeth and feels like dirt for not having any comforting words to offer. The past wasn't something that could be so easily fixed and their future as phantom thieves wouldn't much better odds. Parts of his friend's story worry him, but with what Ryuji has told him about his mother, he doesn't think there's anything but genuine care between them.
"You're not fucked up, Ryuji. Maybe a little loud and annoying, but you've always been a sweet little mama's boy when it counts." Takamaki says quietly.
"Wow. Thanks." Ryuji deadpans. "But as far as shitty stories go, I think 'Kira's got me beat."
"I don't think I've heard the full story of how you ended up here, Joker." Morgana crawls towards him and stares.
"I mean, I kinda got the gist of it from the kids in our class, but I'd like to know what it was like from your perspective, vampire-kun." Takamaki sniggers behind her hand.
Several sets of eyes land on him and Akira feels the burn on his chest start to sting in tune with the heart threatening to burst free from his chest. A not so insignificant part of him thinks that this is all that they've been waiting for, that his accounting of events would definitively prove to their peers that he really was criminal trash. The thought worries him, but an even greater part feels sick that he'd had the thought at all. Through violence and blood and fear, his teammates—his friends—had earned his trust and doubting them now would be to go against everything that he was working towards.
Akira moves away from the table and grabs his phone from where it had been plugged in. This first step makes him pause, makes him question if he could really do this a second time. Back to his friends, their silence chips away at Akira's confidence, like he's waiting for a sentencing all over again. When Akira turns, rolling his phone between his fingers, they're exactly where they were before, silent and staring. Their judgement isn't obvious, lacking the hardened disapproval or the open apathy that comes with adulthood.
Telling his story, one of the faceless man and the screaming woman, Akira feels like it's someone else telling it for him. In the courthouse, in the backseat of a police cruiser, from behind bars, and in the attic around them, he had gone over the story countless times in his head. Certain details were etched into his brain, burnt deep and refusing to heal over, to be forgotten with time. Fear was one of those things, the way his heart beat even faster than it was now. Where he'd been before was unforgettable, the plastic bag in his hands that crinkles in his dreams, the remnants of the last pages of a book about a far-off land had been fresh in his mind. Though he misses them, Akira excludes his mother and father from his tale, their role minimal enough that Akira can preserve what's left of their pride.
Ryuji, despite having heard this story before, reacts strongly. Rage bubbles up from the boy to his left, seething and hissing like a wounded animal. None of it, Akira is surprised to learn, is directed towards him. Despite Akira having been the one to shove the man, to be the one too useless to speak up in his own defense, none of that heat or anger is put onto him. When Ryuji curses, it is at the adults and police and even the victim that Akira had been protecting. Though they shush him, the others around the table all express similar sentiments. Sorrow and anger and pity, but like friends do, they refuse to blame him.
"That's terrible." Takamaki sniffs and Kitagawa agrees quietly.
"Truly despicable."
Morgana leaps onto the table in front of Akira and earns a whack from Takamaki.
"Manipulating the police and blaming an innocent? That man sounds exactly like the kind of person whose heart we should steal!"
His friend's vehemence catches Akira off guard once again, but their fervor settles when Akira admits that the man was barely a figure in his memory and that his name was even more elusive. They slump in their seats and Akira shrinks as well, feeling insignificant for ruining their plans, as futile as they were.
"I suppose the court has already made their ruling." Kitagawa leans forward, "Even if we were to get revenge on your behalf, there's nothing we can do about your record."
"This is so fucked up." Ryuji rants, "How is it the weak are left to fight for themselves, when rotten adults can get away with all this shit?"
Kitagawa's frame goes rigid and his eyes widen, exposing the redden tissues that keep them in place. The artist stands, "Can't we fix this? By showing the world what true justice is, we can bring them to their senses."
"I thought you didn't wanna be famous?" Ryuji leers, but doesn't disagree.
"Perhaps not, but infamy has it's uses. In the art world, we remember those who are controversial. In their times, they were shunned as pariahs, yet their work and practices live on, have influenced millions of others. If fame is the cost to ensure that what's happened to our leader happens no more, then that is the cost we shall pay."
Rolling his phone around in his hands, Akira wants to disagree, wants to repeat his story and tell them the true costs that they'd be paying. He wants to tell them to stop all of it. Akira, surprising himself, finds that he doesn't quite believe his own words, not like he used to, like he did before meeting Arsene and hearing his voice. That part of him, chained to hell and caught in the ruin, wants to believe in Kitagawa's elegant phrasing, in the passion of his friends to fight for their justice.
Akira wonders when being a phantom thief stopped being about survival.
"Food's ready." Takamaki announces, breaking up the heavy atmosphere. She pulls out bowls that match the plates downstairs and starts serving them.
Not quite hungry, Akira lets the bowl in front of him continue to shoot steam towards the ceiling and continues to think as his teammates—his friends—talk around him.
Akira should be troubled by the developments of the afternoon, especially when Takamaki requests that they never give up, no matter what. Instead, he finds that his fear of the Phantom Thieves has become separate from his fear of the MetaVerse. He still fears death and pain and accidentally killing someone, but the idea of changing hearts is…
Appealing isn't quite the right word, it runs deeper than that, like it was something that only they could do and something they were born to do. Only part of that is true, aside from Madarame's confusing mention of a black mask, they'd been the only true humans in the MetaVerse, as far as he's seen. Though it is an undertaking that they are all choosing, Akira included, it doesn't seem fair that they are the only ones that can do this.
Akechi-san's argument comes to mind. Having taken the side of the adults, Akira doesn't doubt that the detective would agree, though probably in a different sense of fairness. That the Phantom Thieves acted unfairly as both judge and executor was a valid point. Akira cringes at being deemed the latter, but knows that it's at least somewhat true. More importantly, what happens to those who slip through the cracks, like Madarame and Kamoshida, who have escaped both judgement or execution until the Phantom Thieves intervened?
Shujin Academy had lost its oppressive atmosphere and though Akira was not in any art circles and hadn't met any of the people that Madarame had scammed, Kitagawa seemed more at ease with life, not quite happy, but certainly living.
Suddenly, Takamaki's statement makes more sense. Just because he didn't know how the desires of others corrupted others, like poison roots killing thousands of unfamiliar leaves, it doesn't mean that Akira can leave them to suffer. Akira wants to think that his inaction does not mean much, that by doing nothing, he remains as neutral as everyone else, but finds he can't quite believe that either. The power of the MetaVerse has given them too much sway to be rendered inert.
It's terrifying and makes Akira feel sick to think about, that justice was, quite literally, in his hands. Though he agrees with Akechi-san or at least concedes that the Phantom Thieves act unfairly, they cannot be allowed to sit still and become nothing. Complacency and belief in their current system made them as bad as the adults that propagated it.
Even if Akira deserved his record or worse, there were others who were innocent that faced much worse than probation.
Ryuji's foot nudges at his knee and when Akira looks up, he finds a subtle smile waiting for him.
"You okay?"
Swallowing down anxious thoughts that four highschoolers and a cat were tasking themselves with fixing the unfixable through unseen warfare and bloodshed, Akira nods and hopes that his face does not betray his thoughts.
The steam fogging up his glasses seems to help with that and Ryuji taps on the bowl in front of him like he's done before.
"Make sure you eat up, leader."
Despite the fact that his thoughts go at double the speed they were before, to the point of delirium, at the reminder that he was the one leading that group of highschoolers and a cat into that battle, and that it is a decidedly unfunny situation, Akira snorts.
"I think that's the first time I've seen Akira-kun smile." Takamaki comments and Akira immediately feels shame for having let his wild thoughts run into the real world.
"Well," Morgana begins, "Flashy missions aside, we still don't have any targets in mind, perhaps Mementos is our next best option."
Ryuji reaches over and runs his hand over Morgana's head none too gently. Broth that been dripping from the cat's cheeks and whiskers are spread into his fur, though Morgana doesn't seem to notice this, even when Takamaki giggles and more than a few pictures when Morgana's red-tinted chin towards her.
Akira smiles, this one he is more aware of and the voice in his head saying that he deserves no such levities in life gets a little louder because of it. He is a criminal and criminals don't smile. A useless mouth has no point in smiling. As if the words were his own, Akira swallows hard and forces himself to be present as Ryuji brings up a manga that he's been waiting for.
Kitagawa, to everyone's surprise, admits that he's been keeping track of the same one and the conversation turns one-sided as the artist details his admiration of the mangaka's technique.
"…How'd you even find out about it, Yusuke?" Ryuji asks, cutting off what Akira could tell was going to be a lengthy divulgence. "I mean, you're seem like you're always caught up in your art stuff, so I didn't take you for the type to sit around reading."
"Oh." Kitagawa replies, "I found it in Ann's room while I was staying with her. That reminds me, I should procure a gift for you and your family—"
Takamaki cuts the artist off with vehement denial, "W-what, you did not find that in my room. I don't even read manga anymore!"
Ryuji sniggers but quickly hides the expression behind his bowl, but soon finds himself on the floor, unable to contain himself with what Kitagawa says next.
"That's strange, you have an entire shelf dedicated to a style of book you don't enjoy?"
"I hate you." Takamaki groans and buries her face in her hands, her ears, which stuck out from waves of gold, are tinted the same red as Morgana's face.
Perhaps it's the contagiousness of Ryuji's laugher, the incredulity of the situation, or even Akira's own deficiently developed sense of humor, but the voice in his head buries itself deep. His cheeks burn at his own attempts to quell it and certain that the expression must be unpleasant to look at it, he buries it behind his uneaten bowl.
Its warmth is dim compared to the one within him, the kind that cannot be attributed to dread of the continent shaped mark across his chest.
The donabe empties and the conversation goes along with it. Takamaki spreads out across the couch and falls asleep quickly.
"Ugh, thought I was finally cutting down." Ryuji pouts and grabs at his stomach. It has some give, but not enough that Akira had noticed it before.
"Porridge aides in digestion." Kitagawa adds petulantly, "But it was a fantastic meal."
"Eh. It was kinda salty." Ryuji smirks, leaning back until his chair tips onto two legs and teeters rather precariously.
"Lady Ann will make an excellent wife someday." Morgana says from his place on the table.
Glossing over the comment, Ryuji turns to Akira and waggles his eyebrows. "I gotta say, this place is pretty awesome. This place is bigger than my apartment, plus I heard there's a co-ed bathhouse nearby."
"A soak would be nice." Kitagawa says seriously.
"Co-ed, Yusuke. Mixed." Ryuji sighs.
A chill runs down Akira's back, remembering his own run ins across the street. Thankfully, he'd fallen into a rhythm of going unbothered whenever the urge to clean himself arose. If Takemi happened to see him during her own stints, she kept her distance, likely distracted by whatever she'd been working on when Akira had visited the clinic.
"We gotta go!" Ryuji pleads, before nudging Morgana. "Too bad there's no pet baths, guess you'll miss out on seeing Ann there."
"Actually," Takamaki yawns. "I think I'm gonna head home. And don't stare at any of those girls, it's creepy."
"What she said!" Morgana cheers.
"Morgana, joining them is the first thing you have planned for when you get your body back, isn't it?" Takamaki guesses. She takes to her feet and gathers their dishes, retreating from the attic with Morgana's cries at her back.
"W-what!? That's not true in the slightest! I'm a gentleman through and through, Lady Ann!"
"Perv-cat." Ryuji coughs into his fist.
"Indeed." Kitagawa says. "Perhaps another time then. I would love to see more of the places our leader frequents, but it is getting quite late. We can have that porridge on my next visit as well."
"Yeah yeah. Give it a rest, man." Ryuji waves him off and turns to Akira, "You gonna head to bed soon?"
Bed? Akira blinks, then turns towards the window at his back. Soft light stares back at him, dying with each moment. With summer edging in closer and closer, it should be impossible for the sun to be setting so early, but his phone tells him that it's already evening. Had they really spent the entire day learning about each other and sharing inane stories, Akira wondered, certain that it couldn't be possible when barely any time had seemed to pass since they showed up from another world.
"You wanna head over then?" Ryuji forks a thumb towards the window in the general direction of the bathhouse.
Akira hates that he considers it. He doesn't have an exact reason for doing so, aside from the obvious. He shakes his head and Ryuji frowns.
"Lame." The other boy says, but settles in his seat. "Guess I'll just hang out for a bit, if that's cool."
This Akira agrees to, even if Morgana protests slightly.
If possible, Ryuji settles even more deeply into his seat and the frown on his face follows suit, shifting from subtle into something more morose.
"We're leaving, Akira-kun!" Takamaki calls from downstairs, making Ryuji jump.
The blond beside him doesn't speak. His mouth opens when Akira stands up and retrieves a paper towel to wash the red from Morgana's face and smirks when the boy in Akira's hands squirms and resists, but no words come free.
Silence spreads into the attic and Akira's pretty sure the café downstairs is closed, judging from the lack of light shining up the stairs.
His friend looks nervous, though he finds it hard to tell. His frown returns and his cheeks are ruddy. Ryuji runs both hands through his hair, something Akira does when he's thinking, making it easier to estimate the other boy's mental state. Whether it is something that Akira wants to hear or not remains to be seen.
"It's just…" Akira startles and nearly pokes Morgana in the eye. Brown eyes flick to the cat in his arms and Ryuji clams up again.
"I should go." Morgana suggests.
"Nah, I mean—you two are practically attached at the hip, I'm sure you'd hear about it anyway." Ryuji's expression turns perplexed.
"Joker's not like that." Morgana assures. He looks up at Akira with an expression that leaves him stumped as well. "I can keep a secret too."
"Yeah…"
The attic falls quiet again and a few thoughts cross Akira's mind. He doesn't think that Ryuji would ask to leave, particularly after they'd spent the last several hours planning their next move. It's possible that the blond would request more distance between them though, to lower their culpability with the student council president or with the girls that were in Takamaki's vicinity.
"I was feelin' pretty good when I got home yesterday." Ryuji starts, startling him again. "But then my ma's got all this paperwork and shit right? And remember what I told you about? In Ogikubo?"
The name blanks in Akira's mind but the other boy continues on regardless.
"She's actually going through with it, dude. This lawyer dude told her that she can get a lot more than scholarship money if the case is strong enough. Ma had this crazy ass look on her face when she told me that, like she wanted the whole ass school or somethin'…"
"W-what?" Morgana pipes up. Akira's thoughts are about the same. He remembers most of what Ryuji had been saying about his mother and her budding vendetta against Shujin Academy. Maybe it was a good idea, the kind of justice that Akechi-san would approve of, fair and real. Akira isn't as sure, dragging the fight into the light could expose all sorts of things about their school that he isn't sure he can handle.
"It's fucking crazy isn't it? She's talkin' about taking even more hours just to pay for his stupid ass fees… She's barely even home to sleep as it is, how the hell is she gonna…"
"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Ryuji." Morgana admits.
"What's that supposed to mean?" The blond bites back.
"Well, if she does go through with it, the school's likely to investigate you and your family. Your mother may not have anything to hide but you're different."
Akira swallows hard, knowing that that difference is because of him.
"And then we'd all get caught…" Ryuji sighs.
Morgana nods, "Do you think you could talk her out of it?"
"It ain't that easy. I've tried a few times whenever she brings it up, but things are starting to dry up…"
"So it's more than just a payday then." Morgana guesses and Ryuji nods.
"We've been tryna find a way to keep me in Shujin next year, but…"
The admission is more painful than Akira thinks it should be. Shujin without his first—and sometimes only—friend doesn't sound like it should even be a possibility, yet there they were.
"I see…" Morgana says quietly.
"Pretty fucked right?" Ryuji smirks. This smile is different, Akira is sure, smaller with a blunt edge, nothing of the usual carefree nature that the blond usually has.
Overloaded with information and half plans, Akira is grateful when the attic fills with a pregnant hush. His fingers find their way into his hair, all but mirroring what Ryuji had been doing before his big admission.
Suing the school would have some benefits to those outside of the Sakamotos. Suzui comes to mind first, the comatose victim of Kamoshida. As much as Akira dreads it, it's possible that Shujin's other secrets would come into public knowledge as well and selfishly wonders what kind of backlash that he'd face once it's revealed that he's a criminal. By following Akechi-san's form of fair justice, free from the touch of the Phantom Thieves, might also prevent another Kamoshida from occurring at the school entirely.
If that same justice could be applied universally, the Phantom Thieves' own justice would be pointless. Maybe not that, just unneeded. Then again, the other thing that Akechi-san had mentioned gives that thought pause.
If Akechi-san's justice was synthesis and the Phantom Thieves were antithesis, could progress survive without the other?
"It'd probably make headlines." Morgana states thoughtfully.
Ryuji raises his eyebrows, "Yeah, so?"
"If things get too dicey for us, it could be our ace in the hole. If you can get her to put it off, that is." Morgana explains. To Akira, it sounds farfetched, but it's possible that the other boy knew something he didn't.
"Didn't you just say that it would lead to us?"
"It's incredibly likely, but if we're closed in on, we'll need to distract the police. An investigation might take away enough manpower for us to cover our tracks." Akira never expected Morgana to come up with such a plan and hopes that they'll never be in a position to use it. Using Ryuji's family as a distraction was a step too far, even with their unfair form of justice.
"That's pretty smart, cat." The blond checks his phone and sighs, "D'you mind if I crash here?"
A guest? Akira pauses. They rarely had guests at home, which were always family members that never stayed overnight. One instance had been close, maybe a cousin or someone that Akira was tangentially related to, but she'd been driven home after some insistence from Akira's father. Which makes it all the more strange that Akira's first reaction is not to deny his friend.
Guiltily, Akira wonders if this might be something he could have that his parents could not.
"Trains are gonna end soon and I really don't feel like seein' my ma… Damn, never thought I'd say that again." Ryuji continues, as if it could explain everything so simply.
"I don't think Boss would have a problem with it." Morgana says, making Ryuji's somber expression melt into relief, enough so that Akira doesn't refute the claim even if he disagrees with it.
"Cool." Ryuji says, voice slight. His weight shifts and Akira does the same in his seat, unsure how to proceed.
Should he offer him the bed? A meal? Some vague advice? Akira wrings his hands together and waits for Ryuji to take the lead or at least offer a hint.
"Can's downstairs, right?" Ryuji nods towards the stairs.
"Yep!" Morgana answers. "Just don't stink it up, blondie!"
"I don't stink, fucker!" Ryuji calls back, voice echoing up from the café.
Finally alone—or as close as one can be with a roommate who's not quite human—Akira sighs quietly and begins a slow meander around the attic before the idea to clean the space back up comes to distract him.
Takamaki had taken all of the dishes downstairs, which might give him something to do later, but all of the other trash had been left behind. Limp leaves of damaged vegetables, their roots, and a few bottles of soda, including the one that Akira hadn't gotten halfway through didn't take very long to collect, nor did putting the table, chairs, and portable stove back where they were before the day had started.
If it weren't for the noise downstairs where Ryuji was running the sink and possibly humming to himself, Akira could almost convince himself that the day hadn't happened at all. It had all been very strange, still is strange, with his friend downstairs using the same sink that he did.
Akira's checking his schoolbag when Ryuji climbs back up the stairs. The jeans that he'd been wearing are slung over his arm, exposing his legs. He notices the scars straight away, which are different from his own in nearly every way. A long pink and white line follows the curve of his knee and a more jagged one is tattooed down the same calf, almost hidden by the messy lines of dark hair. Akira can only assume the first is from a surgery and the second from Kamoshida. Weight in his chest tells Akira that he's had a part in them as well, that maybe he could have prevented them from happening in the first place.
"Nice undies, Ryuji." Morgana croons, giggling away from his place on the bed.
Ryuji's face reddens, but he snaps back quickly. "Thanks, perv."
Akira leaves them to bicker between themselves and heads downstairs himself. Unfortunately, someone had already cleaned the donabe and the other dishes they'd used, leaving only the task of checking the sign and locks before he readies for bed.
When he returns to the attic, he finds Ryuji on the couch, draped in a small blanket that Akira had never seen before. The blond's face is cast white with the shine of his phone, which vibrates loudly. Plugging his own phone up, Akira shuts the light off and settles into bed with Morgana near his feet.
"Night dude." Ryuji's unexpected voice nearly sends Akira into palpitations.
"Good night, Ryuji." Morgana returns with a smack of his lips.
The couch is empty when Akira wakes on Monday morning, save for the blanket that his friend had been using, which is more wrinkles than folds. Akira doesn't go looking for him, but ends up filling in the information under Sakura-san's stern glare.
"Your friend told me he stayed the night." Akira can't tell if it is a question but nods anyways, making the older man sigh. "Just text me next time something like that happens. Almost clocked him when he came out of the bathroom."
Akira nods numbly and finds himself surprised yet again at Sakura-san's recent leniency. That the older man expected it to happen more than once tells Akira that he may have opened a door that could no longer be closed. He isn't sure how to feel about it.
Ryuji's side of the story emerges when Akira checks his phone.
"Thanks for letting me stay over, don't think I said that before ya conked out. Also, Boss might be a bit pissed, so stay back! I was takin a leak and he showed up with a ladle was about to beat my ass. He screams like a girl btw."
Finding that hard to believe, Akira finds himself laughing at the mental image. It comes out as a groggy huff, but with nobody except Morgana around to hear it, Akira finds that he doesn't mind it as much as he normally might.
Akira's on his way to school when someone ends up at his side. He half expects it to be Ryuji looming over him, but the face he turns to makes Akira's blood run cold.
"Fancy meeting you here." Akechi-san says gently. Unlike Mishima or Ryuji, the detective keeps his distance. "I didn't think that we'd use the same stations to get to school. Perhaps it must be fate. How are you doing?"
Akira does not tell Akechi-san that he had been feeling happy until a few moments ago or that there's enough anxious pressure building inside of him that Akira feels his insides may implode. Instead of sharing either of those things—or anything that might tie him to the Phantom Thieves—Akira shrugs and hopes that it does not look as incriminating as it feels.
Akechi-san matches it with a shrug of his own, making the buckles on his briefcase clank quietly. The detective smiles softly, more reminiscent of Mishima than it should be, as they don't seem that much alike at all. "I'm usually one to follow fate, so I suppose today is a good a day as any to start our lessons, no?"
Desperately wanting the answer to be no, Akira finds himself agreeing as easily as he had at the TV station and wobbles a little when a train whizzes past. He barely hears what Akechi-san says next over the ringing in his ears.
"I have some time after school today. I shall send you a text message regarding the details."
Morgana jostles himself underneath Akira's arm and pulls himself free once the detective steps away, "I hate that guy."
Privately agreeing, Akira still debates whether he should bring Morgana to his meeting with Akechi-san or not. Testing if it had been a fluke that the other boy had heard Morgana's voice could have disastrous results, especially with the detective's determination to catch the Phantom Thieves going public.
Deciding very quickly that the risk was not worth confirming any suspicions, especially when nobody else seemed to have noticed it, Akira tries to think of what he might do with Morgana to keep him distracted while he helps Akechi-san. There were too many factors to consider and it's not as if he could pass Morgana's voice off as his own since it sounded like a cat's meow to anyone who hadn't touched the MetaVerse before.
Akira just hopes that Akechi-san is a faster learner.
It is not a hope that he clings to throughout the day, but it does offer something to think about in between classes and when Akira opts to skip lunch. After what had happened on Saturday, maintaining distance from the other Phantom Thieves seemed like a good idea.
Considering Akechi-san's apparent motive, Akira feels like he should be pleased. Like stray atoms, explosions start with a single person. Though Akechi-san wasn't an official detective—or least Akira hoped that he wasn't—having someone that new sign could be a step forward in society. Comparisons between this and the Phantom Thieves' motives weren't too far away from each other, both aiding the underdogs of their society, but Akira intends never to share such a thing with Akechi-san. Despite his gentle and polite approach, the detective didn't seem like the type to change his mind so easily.
The message comes in as soon as the final bell of the day rings.
"If you're still free this afternoon, Kurusu, I'll be heading to this location shortly. It should be equidistant between our schools, so the commute shouldn't take too long for either of us." The message followed up by an address in Shibuya.
"Oh good." Akira fumbles with the phone in his hand at the sudden voice. Despite the female lilt of it, he half expects it to be Ryuji standing over him when he looks over. Looking and sounding nothing like his friend, Kawakami-sensei lingers in the aisle between desks. "Kurusu-kun, Niijima-san is looking for you, could you drop by the student council room before you head home? She said something about a lost item report and she needs you to fill out some paperwork."
Akira nods automatically, despite feeling like he's swallowing sand and feels grateful when the teacher turns away quickly, unable to see the layer of sweat materializing the instant that her back is turned.
Swallowing down stale air, he turns to Morgana, who hadn't made the journey between desk and bag, and sees the cat's eyes wider than they've ever been.
Caught. Akira reads the message reflected in that ocean-stained gaze.
More steady than he should be, Akira texts Akechi-san. "Akechi-san, I may run late."
He does not tell Akechi-san that after today, he may no longer free at all.
Akechi-san replies quickly but Akira throws his phone into his bag and collects Morgana with shaky fingers. Usually, the other boy made the journey himself, but Akira needs time to think and this was the only thing that he could do.
Akira hadn't lost anything recently—though his future was now up for debate—and he doubts that any of his classmates would do him any favors by turning them into the proper authorities. Which meant that the pretenses of their meeting had to be fraudulent, leaving only one thing that Niijima would want to discuss.
The student council room is found on the third floor, next to a library that Akira hadn't known existed. With the door slid open, he doesn't even have time to prepare before Niijima waves him into the empty room.
The layout sets him on guard immediately and Akira wonders if the student council president had set the tables up like an interrogation room intentionally or if they'd always been arranged in such a fashion.
"Take a seat and I'll get straight to the point." Niijima offers, tone devoid of any hints, which tells Akira everything he needs to know. She walks to the door Akira had just stepped through and slides it shut before taking the seat opposite to him.
Setting Morgana in the seat beside him, Akira buries his hands in his lap and forces himself still. Inside of his head—or soul or wherever they'd carved their homes inside of him—all of his personas stir. They shift like sharks as Niijiam speaks and Akira knows if they'd had this meeting in the MetaVerse, there wouldn't be much left for her to say.
"Kamoshida-sensei and Madarame. Won't you tell me the truth behind the incidents behind the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?" Niijima slides over an open notebook and pen.
Akira still flinches when the words he'd been expecting drip from her lips, but refuses to budge.
"No answer? Of course there's no way you'd just admit to such things, not after what Akechi Goro said on TV."
Niijima places her phone onto the table and Akira, who avoids looking at her directly, is pretty sure she catches a smile creeping up on her face. "Have a listen."
Ironic, Akira thinks, that the friend he's been searching for all day shows up in the place that he would least suspect.
Ryuji's voice, though muddled by digitization and what Akira assumes is the wind, is instantly recognizable as it blasts from Niijima's phone. "That stupid bastard! Why doesn't he do anything about it? If someone else coulda helped them, we wouldn't be doin' shit as the Phantom Thieves anyways."
There's a pause, most likely from Niijima editing out other parts of the conversation, "It's not like the cops can scare us off from being Phantom Thieves."
Static follows after Ryuji's voice. To Akira, it sounds like the entire world collapsing against his eardrums. Tsunamis, earthquakes, and economic collapse all rolled into a shrill screech in his ears. The wound on his chest, which always aches, turns cold, insignificant against what Akira thinks might be an actual heart attack.
Taking everything as far as it could go, that's what Takamaki had said, what they'd all promised to. They'd made another promise as well though, to protect each other to that same end. Akira is pretty sure that Ryuji had only meant it physically, even if it was solely for the purpose of keeping tears away. This was a blade or a bullet or a barbed appendage that Akira could jump in front of.
He knows that it probably won't work. Aside from the evidence that Niijima had just revealed, Ryuji had also publicly called out his support of their group on television. He can only assume that after following Takamaki for so long, the girl across from him must have something on her as well.
The bag in the seat next to him twitches, "We screwed up…"
"What could all of this mean?" Niijima asks, though Akira is almost certain it has a sarcastic drawl to it. "Was it blackmail? Some type of hypnosis? How did you corner them into making those confessions?"
She taps at the blank page between them but Akira refuses to budge. Memories threaten to surface, trying to distract him or to make him slip, but he refuses them as well.
"What do you think the police would think if they heard my recordings?" The bag beside him rustles again and Akira resists the urge to glance at it. "Perhaps if you confess the truth, I wouldn't mind just leaving this between the two of us… All you need to do is tell me."
Silence stirs in the room, feeling like a winter storm and a heat wave all at once. Niijima stares at him, unmoved by the sweat trickling down his front or the racing thump in his chest.
"There's no point in denying it, Kurusu-kun. I know that Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann, and yourself are the Phantom Thieves of Hearts… Actually, perhaps it would be best if you had all of them come up here, I'm sure they're all waiting for you right now, aren't they?"
Akira doesn't move, doesn't breathe. Usually, he excels at sinking into the background, but Niijima's stare is unrelenting, matching his stillness.
"I know about the conditions of your probation, Kurusu-kun. I doubt the police would look very kindly upon a second infraction. Blackmailing a teacher? A world-renowned artist? They may even try you as an adult."
A shudder racks over him and fighting against it makes the edges of Akira's vision shift blue.
Niijima slides her phone closer to him, "You can even use my phone if you need to. It's really no trouble at all, Kurusu-kun. Contact Sakamoto-kun and Takamaki-san and tell them to meet us here."
Thief Vision swallows him up whole, turning Niijima into a void of blue across from him. For whatever reason, it disrupts whatever hold that the student council president had on his thoughts. Not enough to shake off the complete collapse, but enough wiggle room for Akira to force himself to breathe in.
Time. He needed time. Niijima wanting to meet with all of them had to mean something, especially considering how damning her evidence already was. The thought to launch her phone through the third floor window crossed his mind, but Niijima probably had a backup plan considering how willing she was with Akira touching the device. It would probably only worsen her mood and add at least a year onto his sentence.
Akira reaches across the table and latches onto the pen there. His fingers tremble, but the words come out as legibly as they normally might.
"I need time." Akira says, regretting it instantly because silence had meant to denial and his words were anything but that.
Niijima leans back in her seat, "You're free to leave, but remember that there's nowhere you can run that the police won't be able to catch you. Actually, fleeing will most likely guarantee that all three of you are tried as adults."
Tugging Morgana along with him, Akira all but throws himself at the door to find the nearest bin. Bile sears the inside of his throat and the sounds of his own retching echoes in his ears. Fortunately, there is nobody around to see him, aside from Morgana, who remains utterly silent, even when Akira reaches into the bag to retrieve his cell phone.
Knowing that he needs to warn the others, the device rolls around in his hands, but the words refuse to come. Everything that Akira had worried about had come true in a single moment. His thumb hovers over the MetaNav and a twisted part of Akira wonders if he might be able to stop Niijima that way, be it a change of heart or a mental shutdown, to abuse the Phantom Thieves unfair justice to save themselves yet again.
Sickened by his own thoughts and unable to approach the end of their lives, he messages Akechi-san again.
Passing through Shibuya station, the same thought crosses his mind, but Akira refuses to even look at his phone, unsure if he could fight against temptation a second time.
Café Royale is just as fancy as the hotel that they'd used to celebrate their victory over Kamoshida and seemed to blend in perfectly with the elaborate pieces of architecture surrounding it. Unlike the other parts of the city that Akira had seen, the crowds were dressed more casually, though no less stylish. With his wrinkled school uniform and even sloppier hair, he feels immediately out of place approaching the café.
Picking up on how out of place Akira must look, Akechi-san notices him almost immediately from his place on the café's veranda. Despite everything that had happened since they'd seen each other, the detective offers him the same gentle smile.
"I was beginning to think my teacher had stood me up." The detective jokes, "I still have a few hours before my other obligations, so there's still time for some aliments, my treat of course."
Through the haze and whirlwind in his ears, Akira moves to imitate that everything is normal and nods along with the other boy's words. Dragged into the café, he barely feels none of the embarrassment that he normally would when he points at random spots on the menu, unable to muster enough concentration to read a single one of the words.
Akechi-san seems to find his actions amusing. "I never thought I'd meet someone with a bigger sweet tooth than me. Perhaps there's more to you than I had initially thought, Kurusu."
They return to the veranda, the heat gives Akira an excuse for his clammy hands and why sweat is sliding down his neck. Ten minutes later, Akechi-san's words make more sense as the table between them fills up with a small selection of drinks and delicacies.
He flinches when Akechi-san pulls out his phone, "I hope you don't mind, I've been meaning to come here for quite some time, and I usually post pictures of the various desserts I've tried around the city."
Snapping picture after picture, the detective looks surprisingly normal, like a regular highschooler that Akira might be friends with if he were more normal. He tries not to think about how this may be his last time seeing Akechi-san but finds himself looking a little harder at the man across the table. Akechi-san's smile contains genuine glee as he twists the plates and cups around to his liking. He wonders how he'd come into detective work at all when desserts and photography seemed to his liking plenty.
"Forgive me." Akechi-san says gently, finally picking up a fork in his gloved hand. "But I can assure you that I can learn while I eat, though it might get a bit messy."
Akira nods and curls his fingers around the drink closest to him. It's warm, smells of coffee, and is sweeter than soda.
"After some consideration, I believe learning my own name would probably be a good place to start, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."
Taking another sip, he considers it, but doesn't see any fault in the reasoning. If Akechi-san was just learning it for work, he didn't need to be fluent, just serviceable.
Akira rolls through the movements for the first time in months and feels a little embarrassed when he has to think about them for a moment. Grateful that Akechi-san's name is only three syllables, he rolls through each one slowly, aware of the detective's keen gaze despite his preoccupation with the spread of desserts.
"A-ke-chi." Akira says, watching as Akechi-san mirrors him with little hesitation. The detective smiles.
"Not what I was expecting. Strange that the syllable count remains the same despite the lack of actual vocalization. Though, if each character is assigned a sign, it lowers the chances of people spelling your name wrong as opposed to if you simply said it aloud. When I first started working with the Tokyo police, they hadn't read my file and I must have mistakenly introduced myself. Everyone called me 'Akaishi-san' for months, I couldn't bring myself to correct them for several months." Akira isn't sure how to react to that, but supposes that Akechi-san's point is fair enough. Unless the detective forgot the movements, it would be hard to introduce himself with the wrong name, though everyone in Tokyo seemed to know who the detective was, so Akira doubted that it would be a problem if he did happen to forget.
"On the subject of introductions, perhaps they'd be the next best lesson. Something along the lines of, 'I work with the police…'"
Progression through the desserts occurs faster than anything than anything Akira teaches. True to his word though, Akechi-san picks up the terms quickly and is pleased by the straightforward approach to grammar. It's not so much a conversation as acting out either side of a flashcard, but Akira finds himself agreeing to a second cup of coffee all the same. The content is an area of concern, something he should have predicted, considering how closely Akechi-san works with the police and Akira finds himself scoping out their surroundings more than once to keep an eye out for Niijima or her camera.
The last thing he needed was for her to catch him admitting to a crime in front of a well-known detective, but the only thing he finds are a number of Akechi-san's fans. Thankfully, they are too respectful or shy to approach. Neither stops them from whispering about the frumpy looking boy sitting with their hero.
Akira finds himself flushing at some of the more insensitive comments, but Akechi-san doesn't seem to notice them at all.
"Goodness." Akechi-san says after what counts to be at least their tenth recitation over in-field questioning. "It's past time for me to take my leave… Perhaps if I cut through…"
The detective stands and offers Akira another of his gentle smiles. "They say time passes by more quickly when you're having fun and after today, I must certainly agree. I doubt teaching is as enjoyable, but I hope I met your educational standards enough to meet again. And if the… fanatics threaten to scare you off, just think of all the sweet treats we shared in exchange for your tutelage."
Akechi-san's laugh is as gentle as his smile and Akira finally gets why the detective is on TV so often. Following after the detective, the small circling of fans disperses as Akechi departs, leaving Akira alone.
Not quite ready to return to LeBlanc for what may be the final time, Akira settles back into his seat and tugs his schoolbag into his lap. After everything that'd happened, he had completely forgotten to make to have Morgana be elsewhere for his meeting with Akechi-san and is grateful that the cat was able to preoccupy himself without attracting any unnecessary attention.
Morgana's stare latches onto him as soon as Akira opens the bag, but the cat remains oddly statuesque as Akira reaches around for his phone. Feeling it lodged under Morgana's backside, it takes some effort to wrench it free.
Going to check the time, his eyes widen at the hundreds of missed calls and messages, all from Sakamoto's number.
Akira's about to check them when the screen flashes with another incoming call.