Oct 7

"The awful thing was that beauty was mysterious as well as terrible. God and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield was the heart of man."

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

—

An explosion went off near Akira — too close, much too close — and shook the walls of the tunnel. Dust flushed into the air. The force of it had been so great it had felt as if the place would collapse. Logically, Akira understood that it wouldn't. He did not think that anything made out of humanity's unconsciousness would crumble with any sort of ease. Logically, he understood this. But human instinct was not always logical.

He pulled himself into a tight roll, his gun flashing brightly within his hand. A bullet whistled by, faster than he could see. He was fine. It only grazed the skin of his cheek. His feet trembled when he landed, but they were sturdy. He pulled himself out of range. His arm came up and around, and then bullets burst forth from his pistol. The shots were messy, as they tend to be in battle, but they landed nonetheless. That was what mattered.

The shadow — Oda Hanae's shadow — flinched back from the attack, but it recovered quickly. It roared with anger. A recognizable glow formed around its body. If that was not obvious telegraphing, he did not know what would be.

It was with opportune timing that Futaba finished her scan. Akira felt her magic come in communication with his own, and then he heard: "I've got it! It's weak to fire, everyone!" Upon hearing her message, he closed his eyes, and let himself shift into something more appropriate. The feel of an old, electrifying anger coursed through his veins. It was always a bit dangerous, borrowing the power of more than one persona. But it was worth it, if it meant protecting what mattered most.

Above them, Futaba floated within Necronomicon. Her whisper, Matarukaja , flitted around their ears and brought strength and relief to their anguished muscles. He felt his power click within him. With swiftness, he lunged forward. He could sense Ann moving in tandem from the side. With a coordination born only from endless hours fighting side-by-side on the battlefield, they took it down fashionably.

Lightning struck the shadow with ferocity. He went up and into the air, his feet leaving the ground. Underneath his back, Ann came in. Like a big cat swiping at its prey, her arm dug into its flesh. From her palm, scorching white flames seeped into the wound and billowed like a bloom of fire. The shadow screeched in pain. It clawed wildly at its side, desperate to escape from the burning.

Not even a second after he landed, they all descended upon their opponent. The Phantom Thieves tore into the shadow in one collective, decisive blow. It cried despairingly, and then lost its proud form. Her original appearance reformed. The long blades she had clutched disappeared, as did the headdress. She was simply the innermost part of Oda Hanae once more, and thus she fell to her knees, head hanging low in shame and defeat.

"I— I lost?!" She looked down at her hands. "That can't be. I can't lose. Everything will be taken away from me again!" Tears fell from her eyes like gems. They were clear and pure. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Akira looked down upon her form. He found her almost pitiful. She had let her own fears control her so much. He crouched down so that they were face to face. He spoke: "You have your son, don't you?"

"Even so, even so I—" She wiped at the corner of her eye. Understanding of her own error came upon her. "I was terrible."

"That may be so." He dipped his head in agreement. "But that doesn't mean that that can't change." He reached into his pocket and drew out a paper. It was a picture of a radiant child. "Here, look." She did, and the sobbing quieted.

"You're right," she finally said. Her hand released the hem of her dress that she had been gripping. "This entire time, I've already had the greatest happiness. How was I so blind?"

"Oda-san."

She lifted her head.

"You care for your son, don't you?" He watched her wipe at the corners of her eyes and nod. "Learn from your mistakes. Change so that you can make up for everything." He held out his hand.

"Yes…" She took it and they stood together. The woman composed herself and gave him a strange look. "You're so young, yet you know exactly what to say."

Akira smiled. It felt like paint upon a canvas. "I'm flattered."

"Could you do one last thing for me?" Even as her figure flickered, she held onto his hands. "Tell him that I'm sorry. Please."

"You should tell him yourself." He closed his eyes and did not see what response she gave. It must have been in agreement, because not a moment later, the remnants of the magic forming her being fell away and drifted past his form. The treasure she left behind appeared as a weight within his pocket.

He took a second. Then he turned back to his friends, who had been listening patiently. He told them: "That's the last of the requests."

"Are we going back now?" Morgana tilted his great round head.

"Sure," he smiled. For a second, he let himself entertain the idea of carrying around a stool so they could talk eye-to-eye in Mementos. It was a humorous thought tinged with fondness. "We're a little short on money and items, though, so we'll take the long way around."

"You got it." His friend gave a cheerful thumbs up. Akira stepped back in line with his teammates, and they all watched as the Monabus appeared.

From his side, Ann folded her hands behind her and leaned forward to look at him. She asked: "Hey, hey, you got time on Sunday?"

"Yeah, I do. What's up?"

"Shiho asked me if you could come visit her with me." She smiled. "I've been telling her about our friendship so she's been curious."

"Sure. I've been wanting to talk to her properly sometime anyways." He felt he owed her at least that much. It had been some time since they last talked. In front of them, Mona settled down and opened his doors. One by one, they all filed into the Bus. Akira himself climbed into the driver's seat.

"I think I might take a breather after that fight." In the passenger seat beside him, Akechi rested his head back. He turned his head so he could see Ann in the back, vaguely. "Shiho-san is the friend you spoke about before, right? I wonder how she is doing."

"Yeah, she's the one who played volleyball. Ryuji and I have known her since middle school." Ann said. Her smile was tinged with a bit of sadness. "She's been doing better. Thanks for asking. She'd probably be thrilled that the Detective Prince is asking about her." She gave a little laugh.

"I should probably go see her too." Ryuji leaned forward through the space between the two front seats. "It's been too long. Gotta catch up."

"Maybe next time, Ryuji." Ann flicked his ear. "The hospital room's going to get crowded if everyone goes to see her at once."

"Right, right."

Akechi let out a small chuckle. "Please pass along my best wishes then. Though I'd like it if you didn't mention my name. I'll surprise her with a visit someday, if that's alright with you."

"Sure. Text me later about the time?" She leaned back in her seat. Akechi nodded. Watching them through the rear mirror, Akira had a small smile. He looked at all of his teammates one-by-one. They were grouped together and chatting kindly. It hasn't been long since Akechi had joined them, but they all fit together well. He was glad. He wanted never to see his friends split apart again.

"Hey! Eyes on the road, mister!" Makoto poked her head in front. Akira looked at her faux-angry expression for a moment, and then burst out laughing. She asked: "What's so funny?"

"No, it's nothing." He closed his eyes. "I'm just happy to have you all here."

Her expression softened and she smiled back. "I'm glad that we're friends too. We're not going anywhere."

"You bet we're staying forever!" Futaba gave him a thumbs up. "Right guys?" Every one of his friends gave lighthearted gestures of agreement, whether verbal or not. Even Akechi, who had only just joined their group, nodded. It was a raw scene, so much that Akira was touched.

"Thank you." He meant it, truly.

Makoto huffed a bit, but it was a fond sound. "Alright. Now put your eyes back on the road."

"Yes, ma'am." He breathed through the tenderness within his gut, and did as she said. His friends settled back into their own little conversations, speaking lightly of exams and candy shops. This was what he had missed when he first stepped into Tokyo, his heart quivering with the pain of betrayal. This was what had been given to him in a more whole, more innocent form. He felt an appreciation that he couldn't voice.

So he asked instead: "Now that Okumura's palace is gone, where do you guys want to go celebrate?"

"Sweets parlor," Ann said, at the same time Ryuji said: "Udon place."

"No, no." Yusuke closed his eyes, presumably to imagine his ideal. "We must go somewhere with a picturesque scenery, with a visage not unlike a fantasy—"

"Oh, oh, I've got it!" Futaba slapped her hand down in front of them. She turned her hand face up, and above her palm was a see-through picture of a theme park. "We'll go to Destinyland! Fantasy theme park."

"That's not quite what I meant," Yusuke tried to say. "And isn't that quite expensive…?"

"Destinyland is the land of dreams, Inari!" The hologram expanded and cycled through different images. She shoved it in his face. "It doesn't get more fantastical than this!"

He appraised the image before him. The rides did not seem to interest him nearly as much as the decor and overall design. Something in them must have been intriguing enough, because a moment later, he relented.

"Sounds good to me," Akira said.

"I don't really mind as long as there's sushi," Morgana told them.

"That sounds good. I don't have any objections." Makoto turned towards Haru. "Noir, what do you think?" They waited for a response, but she was silent. Her gaze was fixed to some distance outside the window. She was entranced by what she saw. Akira took a quick peek outside the window, but could not see anything as the red walls went by.

"Haru?" She asked again. She still doesn't reply. Makoto placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. Haru's reverie was broken then. Awareness bled back into her being and she turned to them with urgency. She asked: "Akira-kun, could you please stop the Bus?"

"Yeah—" He pulled them to a stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Maybe I was imagining it, but that intersection wasn't there before, was it?" She rested her hand above her heart. "Can we back up a bit?"

Akira pulled them into reverse, and did as she said. They collectively watched the walls carefully. The luminescent bloody veins stretching across the tunnels lighted their way. And just like she had said, at some indivisible spot, the meat-concrete caved way and fell into another path. It was a hidden and almost shy passageway, shadowed where even the lights did not shine. There was no doubt why they had missed it so easily.

Haru closed her eyes. "I thought that perhaps it was something that opened up after the last Palace that we overlooked. It doesn't seem to be so." She was right. It was strange for any new areas to reveal themselves like this.

"Oracle," he began. "How long do you think we have?"

She fiddled with her holographic monitors a bit. "We haven't been in the section long, so I'd say we have 10 minutes, give or take."

He put a hand to his chin, and considered the line of action. It was still fairly early in the afternoon. It was rare for any new area to occupy them for long without a shortcut back above ground. They had time. And with the ever shifting nature of Mementos, it was uncertain how much time would be needed to find the entrance again.

"Hey, Akira…" Ryuji suddenly stuck his head over. He tapped a finger against the glass in the general direction of the passageway. "You're not saying that we should go in there, are you?"

He didn't reply. His friend turned to look at him. "You can't be serious."

Joker tipped his head a little in apology.

"Nuh-uh. That thing screams 'bad idea.'" Ryuji held his arms close to himself. "Going in there would literally be a horror movie setup."

"I'm inclined to agree," Akechi said from his seat. "It looks harrowing."

Ryuji looked at him in surprise, but took it in stride. "See? Even Akechi thinks that we shouldn't go in."

"However, I think it is at the very least worth checking out." Crow unlatched his saber from its sheath with his thumb. "Better now than later, when it could disappear." Hearing such words Ryuji threw his hands up in defeat.

Akira gave Akechi a small nod before turning to the others. "And what about you guys?"

"I'll follow you, Joker," Yusuke asserted. Mona spoke similar words, and Makoto made a hum of agreement. Ann draped her arms haphazardly around Ryuji's shoulders and grinned. "Count us in too. Can't leave our friends without backup, right, Ryuji?"

"Dammit. I get it; I get it, alright." He protested from under her manhandling and squeezed out under hold. His hand scratched the back of his neck, and gave away the softness underneath.

Joker listened to their words carefully, and was content with them. Their trust was a source of strength he drew from, when he pulled the bus into the tunnel. There was a sudden, unnatural change that they could not speak of quantifiably. It was a curl around their instincts that came with the diminishing of light and the echo the tires created. Darkness swallowed the world before them and behind them. The red from their entrance fell from a spill into a trickle, and then barely a flame struggling to live. The floor beneath them slowly came out of the black visage it had held and into a checkered pattern. It wasn't a stark appearance, but it was there in the marble. It went like that for a while.

After some inordinately long time — of which the clocks did not move, Prometheus could see nothing, and the only path was forward — they came upon a door. It was not something that they had seen driving up to. The Metaverse did not obey physical laws like that. It was not there one moment, and then it was. The door was their destination.

He looked up upon the appearance of the door. There were crisscross of chains still attempting to hold the double doors closed. No, perhaps it was closer to twine. Twine had held the doors shut, but it was open now. The twine had loosened and the doors had rusted with time. Time had come inevitably.

"Is the gap large enough to slip past?" he asked. Morgana blinked, and the headlights flickered lightly. There was the implicit understanding that nobody wanted to exit and travel by foot.

"I think so," his friend answered. "It's just large enough."

So through the door they went. Akira took them over the threshold, and as if a bell was rung, light bloomed in the emptiness. Flame decorated the columns around the room.

"Is this… a train station?" Akechi's words were quiet and contained within the bus, yet the sound seemed to hang in the air. It was like a solitary ripple on the surface of a pond. A large circular chamber appeared before them where there was once a shroud of black. In the center was a fountain filled with water, and adorned with the statues and a clock at its peak. At the other end, a great hall stretched out into the beyond. It was the only way forward.

"I don't know. This doesn't feel like a Palace." Morgana quietly told them. If this wasn't a Palace, then what was it? This was the thought they all held. His friend confessed: "It feels familiar somehow, but I can't remember."

Akira drove them along the right side of the fountain, counter-clockwise. In the back, Yusuke gave muttered whispers of the design of the pillars, the lightless atrium, and the architecture as a whole. He didn't begrudge his friend. They were all nervous, and learning of the greek curves to the structure was an insight, even if small, to this area.

"This is really strange." Futaba sorted through data on her holographic screens. "I haven't been able to map out the area for a while. There haven't been any shadows either. It's like… this is an entirely different place."

It was a possibility. Futaba was not able to see areas of Mementos they had not unlocked unless it presumably let her. Her insight into the layout of a Palace was limited until they found a map too. The Metaverse was a strange place that they did not understand fully. Where Mementos began and ended was beyond them. They could have left its domain without even knowing it.

Around the clock-like fountain they went. Their advance was slow. It was to be expected with the scale of the place. But they reached the other end of the fountain where 12 o'clock would be, and the grand hall flushed a brighter blue. The dimness over the area lifted gently. He could see what was ahead clearer now. Akechi had remarked that it looked akin to a train station, and he was not wrong. But it also held a likeness to a cathedral.

The arches were long and graceful. The glass ceiling was stained and arranged into depictions of some unrecognizable epic. Only the signs — labeled with unintelligible characters — gave the impression of an active hub. But the hall was empty now, and the billboard had no trains listed as active.

A sudden, intense dread struck Akira. He did not know where it had come from, or even what had heightened his caution to the border of fear. Was it the darkness that had only receded upon their approach, or was it something else? He felt regret for his earlier haste. Not only were they not at their peak due to previous battles, but they did not prepare themselves for venturing into new territory.

He parted his lips to let his words come out. "I think we should lea—"

"Akira-kun!" Futaba's voice was panicked. One of her screens blinked into existence in front of him. It shows a hazy map, with a bright angry red dot rapidly approaching. He jerked the wheel sideways just in the nick of time.

A bullet smashed straight through the corner of the side mirror. It left an ugly spider-web of cracks across the glass. Akira winced when they all smashed into the right side of the bus from the movement. But his hand found the gear quickly. He pulled them off the pillar, and into the empty hall.

The sound of chains rattling was piercing in this neigh immutable tomb. The Reaper was silent; a great change from all other encounters. The lack of inane screaming felt damning and somber. Akira didn't dare to look behind him.

Mona led their dodges with the instinct of a cat. It was a wild, unpredictable experience. It was miraculous that they hadn't been hit yet, and he largely thought that it was because the Reaper was too maddened to shoot straight. Something had stolen away its normal razor-sharp precision.

They passed through an arch — a threshold of some sort — and suddenly there was a shift within the air. A stark shadow was cast upon them from their right. He turned his head to look oh so slowly. It was only a few seconds but it felt like eternity. There was the glint of a metal beak. Akira's eyes widened, and then a spindly milk-pale hand slammed its grip into the bus.

A yowl rose up out of Morgana's throat. The walls of the bus shuddered once, twice, under the force, and then they were pulled away voluntarily. They all fell. He laid there on the ground. He knew should move, but his limbs were frozen. His limbs and body and mind were frozen. The voice of someone familiar swore through the ringing of his ears, and then there was a hand on his arm.

"Come on!" The voice pulled at him. He barely budged. The voice pulled again, and then arms came under his armpits and pulled him hard. "Akira!" This time he moved, and as if life had come back into his body, he found purchase on the ground and pushed himself up.

An inch away from his feet, the palm rushed past and dug into the wall.

His chest shuddered when he let his breath free. Akechi had saved him. He let himself close his eyes and give a small nod of thanks. But he didn't give himself another moment, because time snapped back into rapid pace. They ran towards the doors at the end, together. Five meters.

"Go!" Ryuji shouted. "I'll hold him off!" Seiten Taisei came into existence above their heads and locked his pole against their enemy. It was a struggle, but the Reaper was held in place for the moment at least. Ryuji's arms shook with the effort.

"No way in hell, Skull!" Ann snapped her whip around the Reaper's neck and yanked, hard. "I'm not leaving you behind!"

Akira twisted around on his heel to go and join them, but his arm was caught again. He gave Akechi a look and frowned. "Crow, let go. "

"They're holding it back so the rest of us can get to safety." His friend said this in reply, but he loosened his hold and gripped the guard of his blade.

"I'm not going to just leave them to fight alone."

"The entrance behind us is too small for it to get through. It'll give us a better chance." Akechi spoke evenly.

"A better chance shouldn't come at the expense of our friends." The words were a hard thing come from a lost patience.

Akechi opened his mouth, and then his gaze focused on something behind him. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward, out of the way. Akira stumbled and turned on his feet in an attempt to stay balanced. He turned — and then there was metal slamming against Akechi's sword. He looked upon his friend's form, mouth agape. His cape fluttered blue and elegant around his form. He was like a prince come to rescue a princess in a fairy tale.

"That's not what I meant." This was Akechi's reply, as if Robin Hood wasn't channeled into his arms. As if he hadn't saved him from harm yet again. "If we all stay to fight, we'll all die. We should at least get to a better position so we can help them to safety." His voice was unwavering even with such a force of an attack upon him. His feathered blade twisted, and then the Reaper's gun slid past and stuck itself into the wall. It would have taken off at least an arm.

The gun was still attached to a chain. The Reaper pulled it taut, and then Akira had no choice but to make a decision. He compromised: "We'll all run."

He ran for the doors again, and shouted his orders in hopes that Prometheus would hear and share his message. The gun dug deep, curved scars in the pale stone, but the chains passed him by. The doors were not far. He let Arsene's wings carry him faster, so that he would not hinder anyone else. But Akira could not help but chance a look behind, just to make sure.

Akechi was not far behind him, the swiftness of Robin Hood present in his every step. Futaba was flying within Prometheus. Haru had joined Ryuji in defense, but they were all falling away and closing the distance from the doors quickly.

The Reaper shook in its silent rage, but it could do nothing more substantial. Its form had been deteriorating since their encounter. It struggled between two halves of itself — the malicious sack-body and the inexplicable darkness that turned the crude into unrelenting steel. It fought to kill them and to stop itself from hurting them. Either way, their feet clamored through the open doors. The marble swung themselves closed and then all was still.

A moment of tense anticipation passed. When it passed, the tension bled out of them and let them fall.

"Ah…" His hands found his knees and he let them rest there. Its stifling, consuming presence had cut off. Whatever was here could not be touched by the Reaper.

The place they had come into was a strange one; domed and solemn. The marble beneath them was clear, dark, and smooth. He looked down upon it. The stars winked back at him, their visage reflected in the stone.

The dome was dotted with holes. Innumerable stars adorned the blackness with fierce vibrancy and life. Despite the deep green shadows of the room, they shone proudly. He had never seen anything like it. At the peak there was an uneven break, where moonlight fell gently on top of glass, like a river. He walked forward, his friends close behind.

At the center was a traditional coffin. But where there would be wood was instead glass. A boy laid within it, still and unmoving. His hair was a blue so dark it was almost black. He was clothed with the ceremonial wear of the dead. His closed eyes were relaxed, as if he was at peace. Belatedly, Akira realized that this was the angel he had seen days prior.

"Akira." Futaba's call was so faint, it was barely a whisper. "My readings, he's — He's still alive."

A breath of understanding passed between them. And together they hurried to lift the lid of the coffin, so that the one inside may breathe. But even in haste they could not bring themselves to set the lid loudly. It felt as if that would violate the sanctity of this moratorium.

But there were no nails in the glass and soon the coffin was open. The boy — who looked as if they were their age — was lifted out. And then —

The world crumbled. As if the boy was a Treasure and this strange place a Palace, the Metaverse faded from existence and the streets of Shibuya were before them again. Instead of stars, there was simply darkness and light pollution.

"I think we need to call Boss." Haru said quietly. And so they did.

— ζ —

The taste of ash was heavy on his tongue. The shaking blurred the world both before and behind his eyes. It swirled and shuddered in its immoral agony.

Akira nearly let a plate slip from his fingers. A hand came from the side to help him regain his hold. Well, he wouldn't have dropped it in any case, but it was appreciated. He followed those long fingers up, up — and then he was staring into the face of Akechi Goro.

"Thanks," he said. "I thought you left already?" He turned his head to look out at the cafe. No one. Everyone had gone already, so he had assumed. But since Akechi was still here, he might as well check.

"It's just me," Akechi said in reply. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, it's alright." He rinsed out the plate that had almost fallen again, and placed it on the rack. "I'll be done soon anyways."

"It'll be faster if I help." Akechi spotted a second pair of gloves draped over a cupboard door. "Didn't Sakura-san tell you to go rest?"

"You'll miss the last train," he said, half-heartedly. "Don't you have work?"

"Then I'll miss the last train." He said it so easily, as if it wasn't any issue at all. "I have tomorrow off, anyways." Akira could not think of anything to say, so he simply stepped to the side to make space. Akechi stepped into the space easily. His gloved hands fell next to his own, and the remaining dishes were quietly separated into two stacks. His side was warmed by their close proximity.

"I didn't really expect you to come over just to help me wash the dishes," Akira spoke. His words were barely a murmur over the sound of the faucet and the clinking of plates.

"Can't I just help out a friend?" Akechi gave a dazzling smile. Akira reckons that if he hadn't seen him use it when interacting with the media, he would have been drawn in by it too. His friend continued: "You'll worry Sakura-san if you stay up."

"Sojiro-san won't mind if you used his given name. That or 'Boss.'" The words slipped past his lips without much thought. He looked back into the sink. "Besides, I promised him that I would wash tonight."

Akechi let his eyes fall closed. "Then it's a good thing you have me to help out, right?"

"I guess so."

Silence fell down upon them gently, like a blanket. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just was. It was a space between them that felt so close yet so far. This space was filled only with the shutting of the faucet, and the end of their labor.

Ever since Akechi had joined them a week or so prior, he'd found it difficult to converse with him as easily as he had before. They'd met him in Mementos, struggling against the shadows in Kaitul, with a newly-awakened persona. His rival, the detective, had joined the side of the phantom thieves.

When the last dish was put away, Akechi finally spoke: "I did have some other reasons for coming here tonight." Akira slipped his hands out of the gloves and waited for the other to continue. "I wanted to talk with you, if that's alright."

"About what?"

Stepping back a bit, Akechi turned to look at him gently, and with his full face. It was to Akira when he spoke, haltingly: "What you said to Oda-san earlier today —" He gave himself a light pause. "It was well spoken."

"Was it?" Akira said. "I hoped so. There were a lot of things I wanted to say to her, but none of them were really right."

"What did you want to say to her?" — came the question in return.

"A lot of angry things, I suppose. Why she took her son for granted. What value winning even had." He felt the urge to wave the words away, but settled for a brush of his hair instead. He laughed: "It's not very in line with this 'paragon of justice' thing we have going, is it? In the end, it's all just sentimentality." He wasn't quite sure why he was telling Akechi this. But it felt right, so he did. Maybe that was why Akechi was asking him too.

"Your self control is impressive," his friend commented. His eyes broadened slightly, as if he hadn't quite considered something. It wasn't as raw as surprise. It was closer to a concession to his own oversight.

"You give a lot of flattery," he said back. It was a hard thing that came from somewhere he didn't know. He spoke again, softer now. "You probably would have handled it better than me."

"I'm not so sure that I would," Akechi confessed. "I don't think I could have said anything at all." Akira tilted his head, and waited for him to continue. The other looked away.

"I was orphaned at a young age," he began. "I was young enough that much of my memory has faded with time. My mother… I can barely remember how she looked like."

"I'm sorry," Akira said. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"It was a long time ago." Akechi gave a smile, as if he could tell what he was thinking. "In any case, I think I find it hard to understand Oda-san. I say a lot of things that people expect a 'paragon of justice' to say. I'm not sure if I could have spoken as sincerely as you did."

"I suppose we're both just actors on a stage, then." Akira hung up his apron and sat behind the counter. "Acting out our own interests under the hide of justice."

"Perhaps." Akechi looked wistful, in the seat he had taken across from him.

"Coffee?" He offered. His hands went to the pot.

"No, thank you." He shook his head. "I won't be able to sleep if I do." Akira considered that. Maybe it would be better to get something else. So he did so, and brought over two cups; one for himself and one for his company.

"Tea," he said, when Akechi asked. "It's a light brew, so you don't need to worry about your sleep."

Akechi closed his eyes and took it into his hands. "I didn't expect a coffee shop to have tea."

Akira laughed. "Yes, well. Coffee is not good on the elderly. I bought it for Boss."

"That's quite considerate." Akechi seemed to warm his hands against the stone cup. He brought it up after a moment, and took a sip.

"I think it's just the natural thing to do." He didn't feel like making big out of something so simple.

"Oh, this is quite good," Akechi said. He took another sip, with more earnestness now. "What tea is it?"

"Ti Kuan Yin." He smiled lightly. "Iron Goddess of Mercy. It's an oolong from China. Good, isn't it?"

"Yes." — came the reply. His friend had a look of melancholy just then, as if there were thoughts within his head from a time both unwelcome and welcome. "Things like goodness come to you easily. I'm envious."

"You say that I'm good, but like I said before: I'm still just serving my own purposes in the end." Akira turned to place the empty cups in the sink. "I'm just as human as you are."

Akechi let out a laugh."I suppose so."

Stillness stretched in the space between them. It was a warm, silent thing that enveloped them both. The walls between them felt like decorated glass: beautiful in its fragile existence. Quietly, quietly, the clock hand struck 12.

"Oh, it's that late already." Akechi set his cup down gently against the wood. "I hadn't realized how late it had gotten."

"How far do you live? We can ask Sojiro-san to drive you," Akira said. "It's probably better not to go home by yourself."

"Are you offering to walk me home?" His smile was loose and somewhat fond. "What a gentleman you are."

"Is it strange to care about a friend's wellbeing?" He asked.

"No, it's not." Akechi turned to look out the window. He watched the reflection on the glass. It was large and prominent enough that the darkness outside could almost be forgotten in this warmth. He finally said: "I don't know if I should trouble Sakura-san. I live quite far."

"Sojiro-san," he half-heartedly corrected. "If you insist on being so formal."

"I'm not nearly acquainted enough with Sakura-san to address him as such." His companion held his arms and looked away from the visage.

"Don't beat around the bush." Akira let himself sigh. "We're both tired."

"Sojiro-san is old and tired." His friend relented. "Not only do I live far, he also has a daughter to look after as well." They both did not speak of the sleeping guest in his house.

"How far exactly do you live?" He asked outright. Akechi looked almost guilty at the question, and he averted his eyes.

"…Asakusa." He said this one name with not very well-hidden embarrassment. Akira considered the distance in his head. It was not as far as the dilly-dallying had made him think. The location was a surprise, but not because of the distance. It was surprising indeed, but it made sense.

"Well, I suppose both options are out then." The Ginza line had definitely stopped by now, and it would be hard to ask for a ride home considering the travel time. He stared at Akechi's shyness. "What, did you think I was going to laugh?"

"Well." Akechi's voice had a light timbre to it. "It's just strange admitting it, is all. I don't think I quite come off as someone who'd live in such a high-end area."

"It's not a big deal." Akira let his eyes close. "In any case, I think it's best if you stayed over."

"You don't have to." Akechi shook his head. "There's a motel a block or so away."

"A dingy motel doesn't really suit you either," he said, and turned to climb the stairs. "Come on, I have an extra futon."

"We haven't asked Sojiro-san for permission," his friend said, but he followed up behind him.

"You didn't say 'Sakura-san' this time." Akira looked back and smiled. "Don't worry about it. I think he'd be more mad if I didn't offer you hospitality."

Akechi paused on the top step. He looked around the room: from the television to the couch to the mattress and then to the window. I'm happy to have you here too. The words unfurled in the empty space, like a whisper would.

Feeling a bit awkward suddenly, Akira pulled out the futon and laid it upon the floor by his own mattress-on-crate bed. "It's a bit crumpled, but it's clean. I think it might be more comfortable than my own bed." He let out a laugh.

The corners of Akechi's eyes softened in response. He closed his eyes, as if in acceptance, and then he stepped forward.

Hi. Early upload, lmao. This was supposed on the 16th of May but ykw, here's a treat for waiting so long. Chapter 3 is going to be pretty long, so let's hope I get it (and some later chapters) finished and put through betaing. Bless my betas for putting up with me writing this fic on and off for years.