9/24 – Saturday
After School
Harajuku
"And that's a wrap! Ladies, thanks for coming out today."
Ren pocketed his phone, turning his attention from the Phan-Site to the photo shoot, now beginning its process of tearing down its camera stands, and the curious crowd starting to disperse. Ren's seat at the nearby fountain had obscured the models behind the camera crew, so no one had bothered to gather there beyond him. But he had felt more of a pressing need to be within line of sight of Ann – should she need that – than getting a good view.
Morgana, on the other hand, hadn't stopped craning from Ren's shoulder, trying to get a better vantage point. "You know Ann's always pretty, right?" Ren teased. "Keep staring like that, you might give her the wrong idea."
"That's not the point!" Morgana smacked the side of Ren's head with a paw. "It's not about her being pretty."
"Then what is it about?" Ren asked.
"I've never seen her like that before," the cat replied, simply. "Way different than when she's around us. It's..." He hesitated. "You know what I mean, right?"
Ren wasn't sure, and he didn't have much time to think of a response.
"We should totally do this again sometime!" Ann said, finally within earshot, her voice light and saccharine as she made her way towards the fountain.
"Oh, totally," the other model replied, flipping her black hair back despite it being nowhere near her face. She seemed distinctly older than Ann, at least college-age if not a graduate. "I'll text you sometime, Annie." The woman reached over in what was perhaps an effort to pich Ann's cheeks, but the blonde sped her step and dodged the touch expertly.
"Ren! Thanks for waiting for me." Her smile was still somewhat fake, but it had a distinct warmth to it now, an honesty. "You too Monamona." And she pet the feline's fluffy head, Morgana pressing his skull into her head with a resonant purr.
The other model turned on her heel and headed off towards the set again, and Ren gave a lingering glance to make sure she was actually leaving before turning to Ann. "Heya. No problem. Got another couple targets for Monday, so it's time well spent." And he reached into his bag, gently nudging Morgana to the side so he could pull out a water bottle. "Here. Hydrate."
Her eyes lit up. "Aww, thanks." Ann took the bottle and plopped down next to him, taking a long swig.
"Who was that lady?" Morgana asked, tilting his head. "Is she a friend?"
"Mika?" Ann asked, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, no, not even a little. She is a mythic bitch, and if she wasn't so good at sucking up to directors, I would gladly ignore the shit out of her."
Morgana kneaded his paws into Ren's shoulder. "Mika. She's the gossipy lady you asked about Zebul, when we were investigating him."
Ann raised an eyebrow, and chuckled. "Yep, that's her." She reached a hand over and scritched under the cat's chin. "You've got a heck of a memory on you, Morgana."
"Like a steel trap," Ren added. "Helps when you've got as many memory issues as me."
Morgana silently bonked his head against Ren's, and then slipped back into his bag. "Tired now," he announced. "Naptime."
"Sleep well," Ann said, before turning her attention to Ren. "And thanks again. I know you keep saying it's not a big deal–"
"It's not," he confirmed.
"–but I still appreciate it, you dork." She smacked him in the shoulder, lightly enough to not jarr the bag. "Means a lot."
Ren just shrugged. "Means a lot that you want to show me." He glanced towards the shoot, where Mika looked to be schmoozing her way into a director's good graces. "This is like, your passion, right?"
"Guess so." Ann took another sip. "One passion, at least. Pretty sure I've shown you all three, now."
Ren had a pretty solid guess what the other two were, considering, but he chose not to let the conversation drift towards Thievery or Shiho. "Yep. Kinda curious though, why modeling?" Ann silently raised an eyebrow, and he quickly elaborated. "Like, I dunno, I guess it's probably my own shit, but I never saw you as the type of person to, like, want to be seen in that way."
"Hm," she said. "I guess, that's sorta true." She turned her gaze off and up, a sort of distant stare towards the tops of nearby buildings, the artificial horizon. "It's not all bad, don't get me wrong. I've run into a lot of great directors, great photographers, people...I guess, sorta like Yusuke? People who just care about making good art, not the other bullshit. But there are plenty of assholes, too." She glanced towards him again. "Let me guess: 'why stick with it, then?'"
"Why stick with it, then?" he said, throwing a little smirk her way.
Rather than answer, she just took another long sip of water. "So like," Ann began, "back when I was a kid, my parents would take me with them whenever they'd go on a work trip. I spent like four consecutive summers in New York, and I threw the biggest tantrums every time." She was still smiling, but there was something more somber in her expression now. "So they stopped bringing me. And I kinda get it, like, balancing work and your probably bipolar kid." Ann shrugged. "Still drove me fucking insane, being that lonely."
"I can imagine," Ren said. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not lonely now," she said, as if trying to assure him. "Haven't been, not since I joined the Thieves." And then Ann cleared her throat. "But I got it in my head back then, 'oh hey, mom and dad are designers and they only wanna work with people who show off their clothes. So if I'm a model, they'll pay attention to me again.' Which, you know." She gave a dry chuckle. "Didn't really work out like that for me. Even if I'd been more successful, those fuckers wouldn't have cared."
Ren's parents had been the same, hadn't they? Or, close to it. It echoed around his chest like the world's most bitter nostalgia. "Sounds about right," he mumbled.
"That's not why I stayed, though." Ann smiled towards the horizon. "Back when I was getting into modeling in the first place, I studied up. Subscribed to like fifteen magazines and memorized every single issue, so I could learn what to do, what not to do. And...I got pretty depressed. Cause out of all those models, all those articles, not a single one of them talked about the kind of stuff I was going through."
"Made you feel like you didn't belong?" Ren asked.
"Sorta, yeah. But more like..." She gestured at nothing. "Made me fucking mad, honestly. It wasn't like people didn't want to hear about that stuff, I mean I wanted to hear about it, I wanted to see girls like me, feel...known, or something. Like I wasn't alone with the shit I was going through." Ann kicked her legs off the side of the fountain. "So, I made a promise to myself. I'd get famous, I'd be the best damn model I could, and then I'd tell my story. I'd..." She pursed her lips, smiling almost sheepishly. "I want to be a ray of light, Ren. I want to be the kind of person that would have made that kid I used to be feel like she wasn't alone in the world. I want to give someone hope, the way Shiho and you gave me hope."
"Ann," he said, quietly. "That's an amazing dream. And, for what it's worth, I think you can do it." Ren reached up and twisted a strand of hair between two fingers. "I mean, you already kinda have."
Ann burst out laughing. "Fuck, Ryuji's so right about you. You're a huge sap."
"I'll have you know it's one of my best qualities," he fired back.
"Oh, of course it is." She scooted close and leaned her shoulder against his. "It's one of the things I love about you, Ren. And you've got no shortage of those."
9/24 – Saturday
Evening
Cafe Leblanc, Attic
Futaba plopped down on the couch and curled her legs in towards her chest. Morgana hopped up next to her and pressed his body against the girl. And Ren sat on his bed, giving his sister all the time she needed.
"I met Kana after Sojiro adopted me," Futaba began. "It was at an after-school program for autistic kids – I didn't go to school, but Sojiro thought it would help me meet people. And, uh, I met her. So I guess it worked." A deep breath in and out. "They paired people up, at the beginning, for like...ice breakers. And we just started talking and never wanted to stop, I almost had a meltdown when a teacher suggested switching partners." She smiled, sort of nostalgic, sort of pained.
Ren nodded, a silent gesture to continue.
"She was my only friend, for a while. And then I..." Futaba hesitated. She met Ren's gaze, something like terror flashing behind her eyes, and then she looked away. "I can't say. I mean, I can...I can say what..." Like she was slogging her way through something difficult, something painful.
"It's okay," Ren said, as soft as he could manage. "You don't need to tell me everything, even if you want to tell me something. I'm here for you, Taba. I'll listen to whatever you have to say, and nothing more."
She nodded, curling in on herself further. "I found out something bad about her parents," she said. "And I thought Kana probably didn't know, and I should tell her so she could..." Futaba gestured at nothing. "I don't even know what I thought. I thought it was the right thing to do, that she needed to know." She pursed her lips. "She got really mad at me. Really, really mad. Said I should leave her alone, and that we weren't friends anymore." The girl skewed her eyes shut. "I kept pushing. I thought I could make it better, that if I apologized or explained or something, that it'd be okay, that she'd understand. But I was just scared to lose her."
"Anyone would be," Ren assured. "That...sounds awful, I'm sorry you had to go through that. You're not a bad person for trying to help or for clinging to your only friend. Hindsight's 20/20, but you shouldn't have had to deal with this on your own."
"Mmm," Futaba mumbled. "I dunno. Still feels bad, like I should have done something different. I mean, I didn't even change anything, by pushing her. She's still–" She caught herself. "It probably hasn't changed, or gotten better for her. The only thing it did was make her hate me."
Morgana sat back, blinking slowly at Futaba. "Do you think you might want to change her parents' hearts?"
Futaba shook her head immediately. "Can't. If..." She shuddered out a laugh. "They'd go to jail. Probably for the rest of their lives. I couldn't do that to Kana. Even if she hates me, I still couldn't hurt her like that."
Ren blinked. Fuck. He'd figured the girl's situation was bad, but if he was catching onto Futaba's implications, that was a level of awful he hadn't really been prepared for. He ran a hand back through his hair. "Okay," he said. Maybe he could figure something out. Even if Futaba wouldn't tell, maybe...maybe Sojiro knew someone, or–
"Please don't try to fix," Futaba mumbled, staring right at him. Not quite at his eyes, but her focus was distinctly on Ren. "Kana doesn't want me, and I don't wanna hurt her. I should just..." She shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't want you to get upset."
"Why would I get upset?" Ren asked.
"Cause you couldn't fix it," Futaba said with a shrug. "Cause she's not someone you can save, I think. I don't either of us can."
"Ah." He smiled involuntarily. "Right. Sorry." She'd read him like a book. Not that Ren was too surprised, she'd seen the consequences of his anxiety before, back in front of that door in Mementos with Kasumi.
"I just...it's awful to see a friend hurting and not be able to help them."
That extended to more than just him, though. It must have been awful for her too. "I'm here for you," Ren continued. "No matter what, I've got your back. I won't go over your head with this, or anything, I promise. The Thieves only act unanimously, right? And, besides that..." He slipped off the bed, gently seating himself next to her. "There's people who've left me behind too. I know what that feels like, and I promise it's not your fault. It wasn't, and it isn't."
"Do you think..." Futaba hesitated. "Have any of those people come back? Or, wanted to?" Morgana similarly peaked his head out from behind her, as if he was curious as to the answer.
Ren thought that over. "Not yet," he said, carefully. "But that doesn't mean none of them ever will. Just...haven't, yet."
"If one of them did," Futaba continued, almost hurriedly, "would you want them back?"
"It depends," he replied. "But, I dunno. I think there's probably some people from back then I wouldn't mind reconnecting with." Ren gave a little awkward smile. "But at the same time, I wasn't that close with any of them. Not the way I am with the Thieves, or you were with Kana. They were just people I knew from school."
"Right." Futaba seemed to wilt. "I shouldn't get my hopes up."
Ren reached over and gently wrapped an arm around the girl, pulling her into a little sideways hug. "Nothing wrong with hoping, Taba. Sometimes things don't work out, and that always sucks when it happens, but it's not set in stone. No destiny, no fate and no omens." He shrugged. "Maybe we can't control the future all the way. But that doesn't mean we don't have any control. It's still your life, and you get to choose where it goes."
Futaba hummed out a thought. "Guess so." She sighed. "Still wish things worked out better."
"Me too, sis." He squeezed her shoulder. "Me too."
9/25 – Sunday
Late Afternoon
Ryuji's House
Ren brushed himself off for what was probably the fifteenth time, and reached out to ring the doorbell. He paused. Ugh, no, his shirt was probably too wrinkled or something. He pulled at the hem, trying to straighten it out before giving up entirely and just smacking the doorbell before he had a chance to second guess something else.
Ryuji had made it clear no less than four times that this was a casual thing, that Ren absolutely shouldn't dress up, that he should just come wearing normal stuff and for fuck's sake Ren stop trying to impress his mom already, she'd be impressed cause it was him, and Ryuji loved him so she'd love him too. Ren had still grabbed his nicest looking t-shirt and made sure both it and his pants were as clean as humanly fucking possible. To which Morgana and Sojiro had both teased him incessantly, but that was probably just the cost of doing business. If he had to pay that to care, to make a good impression, he'd gladly do so ten times over.
Ryuji opened the door, grinning up a storm. He looked a little out of breath, had he been running or something? Or...ah, right. He was probably just as nervous as Ren. "You look good," he said, standing motionless in the doorway.
"Thanks," Ren said, returning the smile with one of his own. "You look...same as always." Same yellow t-shirt he always wore, even his hair – oh fuck oh shit goddamn it. "Which is good! I mean, you always look good. Yeah." He resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead.
The jock burst out laughing. "Yeah man. Uh, thanks." After another awkward, silent second, he gestured towards the hallway with his head. "Come on in. I'll introduce you."
Ren's heart contorted itself in his chest as stepped inside, scooting past Ryuji and into his home. He glanced over his shoulder, and his boyfriend just motioned him farther, so he kept on walking, through the small hallway towards the dining room. The house was homey, but a little cramped, and Ren noticed nearly all of the doorways seemed to have the same little object affixed to them, a few-inch long white rectangle with a black symbol that almost resembled a 'W.' He was definitely curious, but that feeling couldn't linger, not when he stepped into the dining room and found himself face to face with a pair of bright brown eyes under a head of similarly colored hair curling out in all directions.
"Mom," Ryuji said, almost mumbling as he nudged his way past. "This is Ren. Ren, this is my mom."
Miss Sakamoto was round and warm, with rosy cheeks and an attentive gaze that at once invoked a sense of sternness and safety. She glanced Ren up and down, and then scooted around the table and pulled him into an immediate hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he wheezed.
She pulled back, holding him at arm's length with an odd, firm expression. "Young man, you are thin as a ruler. You need some meat on your bones." Miss Sakamoto shook her head. "I don't know what that cafe owner has been feeding you, but it clearly isn't enough."
"Mom, come on, give the guy a break," Ryuji protested.
"In, in," the woman bustled, tugging Ren farther into the dining room. "Dinner's almost ready. Do you need anything? Water, tea, soda? Ryuji has a few sports drinks left–"
"Mom."
Miss Sakamoto threw her hands up in a very exaggerated surrender. "Yes, yes, alright." And she turned back towards the kitchen. "It's nice to meet you too, Ren." And with that, she slipped around the corner and out of sight.
Ryuji plopped down at the table, running a hand back through his hair. "Sorry dude, mom's kinda...I mean, I guess I should have warned you, she does that to every guest."
"No worries," Ren chuckled. He sat down next to Ryuji, adjusting his shirt to keep it from bunching up. "She seems really nice. And a good mom, right?"
"Yeah," Ryuji said, leaning his head back like he was trying to play it cool, but Ren could see the huge grin forming on his face. "She's fucking great, you know? Just like, shit, man. Like, I don't think I've ever felt like...not loved, here." He let out a long breath. "Not since my dad left. And I'm not always my best me, here, but at least I get to be me here." Ryuji screwed up his face, and glanced at Ren. "You know?"
Ren nodded. "I think I do. And, I'm glad. You deserve somewhere like that, and I'm glad you have it."
Ryuji laughed. "Yeah man, you too."
Ren decided braised brisket – juicy and simple, primarily just meat and onions, with a side of baked vegetables – was sort of like barbeque, but also very different, and he further decided that he enjoyed the dish a lot. Good thing too, since Miss Sakamoto insisted on feeding him seconds, and probably would have pushed thirds on him if Ryuji hadn't been hungry enough to finish off the last serving.
"Thank you for the meal, Miss Sakamoto," Ren said, bowing his head slightly. "It was delicious."
She beamed across the table at him. "Good!" And then the woman turned to her son with what was almost a smirk. "And if you learn how to cook it–"
Ryuji scoffed. "Mom, I already told you, Ren's way more of a cook than me." He leaned over and nudged the young man with his shoulder. "Maybe you can teach him instead."
Miss Sakamoto tutted her tongue. "Now, Ryuji, you know that's a family recipe. You've got to marry the boy first, and then I'll teach him."
"Uh," Ryuji said.
"Uh," Ren echoed.
And the woman burst out laughing. Deep and loud and as bright as her smile.
Ryuji cleared his throat, looking distinctly embarrassed and yet happy, a smile creeping onto the edges of his lips. He stood, grabbing his empty plate – Ren was an instant away from joining him when he shook his head and took his plate as well. "Nah man, I've got you. Just chill, I'll handle dishes."
"Aww, there's my sweetheart," Miss Sakamoto nearly cooed. She reached up to pat Ryuji's cheek as he rounded the table and took her dish. "Don't forget to run the disposal, alright?"
"I won't," he replied. And with that, the blond vanished into the kitchen. The sound of running water echoed out soon after.
"So, Ren," Miss Sakamoto said, turning her attention towards him. "Ryuji's told me so much about you, but he always seems to shy away when I ask how you met." She sighed, resting her cheek in one hand. "I don't suppose that's something shameful, is it?"
"Ah," he said, forcing a smile. Made sense, considering they'd run into each other for the first time ten minutes before wandering into Kamoshida's Palace, Ryuji nearly dying, and Ren awakening to his Persona; and meeting Morgana, of course. It was all vivid in his mind, as it'd been five days and not five months since then. But it wasn't exactly something he could tell Miss Sakamoto. "Not shameful, I don't think. I guess it's just sort of..." He shrugged. "We got lost, and got in trouble. Maybe he didn't want you to worry."
The woman nodded. "Oh, that definitely sounds like my Ryuji." She smiled across the table at him. "Though, he's been getting in trouble so much less this year. And he met you this year." Miss Sakamoto chuckled. "Maybe those two are connected."
"I'm sure it's a coincidence, ma'am," he replied, grinning despite his deadpan.
"I'm sure it is." Miss Sakamoto winked.
Not even the cold evening air could stifle Ren's joy. It was a chilly wave and he was a duck's back, or something like that.
"You gonna get to the station okay?" Ryuji asked. "I could totally just grab a jacket and walk you back."
Ren laughed. "Kind of gentlemanly of you, but I bet you just wanna spend more time with me."
Ryuji snapped his fingers with a grin. "Shoot, you've got me. Busted to shit."
"I mean," Ren said, "I wouldn't complain. I like spending time with you."
"Yeah?" Ryuji asked. He was outside now too, the open doorway behind him, spilling warm light into the dim street. Hands stuff firmly in his pockets, staring right at Ren.
He nodded. "Yeah." He reached up to fiddle with his hair, but hesitated, and lowered his hand again. Indecisive. Odd, almost...breathless? Was that what this was? "You're nice."
Ryuji snickered. "Harsh, dude."
"You are!" Ren fired back. "Not just nice, but...I dunno, you're..." He gestured at the empty air. "You're everything." The statement left his brain as gibberish, and his lips as a prayer. It felt so much bigger, more true between them than it had alone.
"That's a lotta things to be." Ryuji shuffled another half-step, close enough for Ren to see his face faintly red, cheeks flushed in the evening chill. "Can't say I don't get it, though."
"Yeah?" Ren asked.
"Yeah," he said. And his hand found Ren's. "Cause, I feel the same, you know?"
"I think I do. And, I'm glad." He squeezed his hand. "Cause I've wanted that for a while."
Ryuji laughed. "Sap alert," he mumbled.
Ren snickered back. "Just kiss me already, Sunshine."
And he did. And it was everything.
█████
Unknown
Underground Interrogation Room
The woman leaned back in her aluminum chair, her arms crossed, those brown eyes like crimson locked on the Trickster in such a familiar way. Looked like the apple didn't fall far from the tree; or at least, terrifying perceptiveness ran in the family. "That's quite a story," she said, coldly. "Clever, convenient, and entirely unverifiable."
The Trickster chuckled, and his ribs protested the action. Fuck. Painkillers were wearing off. He was running dangerously low on time. "We haven't even gotten to the best part." He locked the visage of his own mask in his mind. He was Joker, for fuck's sake. He wouldn't let his story end here, wouldn't let his justice die in some shitty police station.
"Oh, you mean the final calling card?" The woman smirked, reaching into her jacket and pulling out that black and red rectangle – not so much as plastic-bagged. Something in the Trickster's failing mind indicated that she must not have submitted the card as evidence. She'd kept it hidden from the police. Good. "It was an admirable bluff, I must admit."
A bluff. Wait, what? His eyes blurred over, and he blinked it away. "Explain," he managed.
"I don't know how you found out about our investigation," the woman continued, her expression distinctly triumphant. "Perhaps you're even telling the truth about ████, perhaps she really is–" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "But it stands that you figured out you were being investigated, and bluffed at changing my heart in order to buy yourself time."
"I..." He couldn't bear it. It was just too fucking funny. The Trickster rolled his head back and laughed, his lungs burned and his sides ached and he laughed as loud and as full as he possibly could. "You really think you outplayed us, don't you?" He grinned at her. "You can't be that fucking stupid."
She glared at him across the table. "I haven't so much as felt a single symptom of a changing heart. If you mean to convince me you hold all the cards, you have a lot of work left to do."
"I don't hold..." His brain snapped over the conversation, and he had to struggle to fit broken synapses back together. "I've got a few cards. More than you, less than I need." The Trickster focused on her, staring right into her maroon eyes through his wavering own. "If I held all the cards, I wouldn't be here. I'd be halfway through the Palace of the fucker who's trying to end my life for the second time."
"Ah yes, your conspiracy theory," she said, dry as dirt. "You've yet to convince me of that claim either."
He bit back further bitterness. "And your logic is flawed, anyway. I know you're writing me off, but you at least listened when I told you about the Metaverse, didn't you? About the Treasures?"
"I don't see what that has to do with this," the woman said, one eyebrow raised.
"You said my story couldn't be verified." He leaned his weight on the table for an instant before forcing himself as close to sitting upright as he could manage. "That's true enough for every change of heart so far, not without outing my own teammates. But remember, we only knew the nature of two distortions before we infiltrated the respective Palace – not including yours, of course." The woman scoffed, but the Trickster just kept talking. "For the others, it was only through that infiltration that we learned of their crimes, of the nature of their obsessions." He let himself smile, just a little thing. "Do you follow my logic, Miss ████?"
She must have. Because she was speechless, stumbling, clearly trying to pull at something to disprove him. "I have no reason to believe that sort of nonsense, and you'll do better for yourself trying to tell me the truth rather than spinning yourself a further fabrication."
"Okay," he said. "Would you describe the contents of your father's notebook as a fabrication?"
And the woman paled. She pushed away from the table, blinking quickly, lips forming desperate syllables that no breath would grant. "████–" she began.
"Oh, did you tell her?" A little coldness crept into his tone; well deserved, even if it wasn't his place to be such. "The way she reacted seemed to indicate otherwise." He shrugged, one hand up and out in the most casual motion his newfound agony could muster. "It was probably a coin toss for her, whether she'd go along with the plan or knock me unconscious so she could drag your Treasure out herself."
She opened her mouth. And closed it. Pursed her lips, eyes flitting back and forth, her sharp mind clocking in an overtime shift. The Trickster was running on fumes, but he didn't need to be the one to prove this to her. All he needed, all he'd done, was to drop his hand and watch her stitch together her own cognitive overhaul. "Why?" she said, finally. "If you could have changed my heart, and chose not to, why?"
The Trickster found the words alongside a two-dozen ton weight on his chest. "Because I don't want to die. And I need your help."
Enormous thank you to Jane for helping beta read this chapter.
I won't specify here but I will say there's some lightly hidden secret lore in the scene with Ryuji's mom that'll probably make immediate sense to some specific people, and I'm kinda curious how many readers pick up on it.
