10/6 – Thursday
After School
Velvet Room, Lockdown
The blue flame hadn't even faded from around the gentleman thief before his strange, familiar laughter filled the arena. "Have your senses dulled, boy? It took you quite a while to answer my summons."
"Your 'summons?' Was that what that was?" Ren replied, raising an eyebrow. He'd only stopped by because Caroline had cornered him on the way to Untouchable and dragged him into Lockdown. "Why didn't you just send me another freaky dream message or something?"
Lupin's eye twitched. "As if I could worm my way into your consciousness with all those chaotic, screaming thoughts filling up your little head."
Ren rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe Lupin was telling the truth, but he could stand to be less of a little shit about it. "What's up, then? Why did you 'summon' me?"
Lupin adjusted his top hat, as if pausing to collect his thoughts. "I wish to extend another exchange. A particular favor, in return for what I hold."
A little spark of anxiety wormed its way into Ren's ribcage. He really didn't have the time to indulge this sort of conditional bullshit, not now. "So you're gonna hold back your assistance until I prove myself again. Whoop-de-fucking-doo."
"Don't tempt me, boy," the thief said, sharp and quick. Then, he seemed to catch himself. "You've already shown yourself worthy of my power. I see no reason to go back on my word." He tapped the butt of his cane against the ground. "What I offer is a different exchange entirely."
"Okay." Good news, but Ren still held his reservations. "What sort of exchange, then?"
"An oath," Lupin said. He raised his chin, staring Ren in the eyes with his own glowing orange ones. "Should you agree to the terms I set out for you, I will grant upon you...call it a bargaining chip. One that shall bring you a great deal of leverage against the very entity that binds you to your fate."
Two yellow eyes in the back of Ren's head. "I'm listening."
Lupin chuckled. "I figured as much." He slipped his cane under one arm, holding his left hand at the wrist, almost fiddling with his glove. Ren's own left twitched, an itch against that raised line of skin. "In exchange for this chip, I shall ask of you only one thing. One simple, little thing." And those orange eyes seemed to glow even brighter. "Before you take the world's heart? You come back to me, here, and you take mine."
Ren blinked. Okay, brain, back to work. "Sorry, you're gonna have to run that by me again. What the fuck do you mean, 'take your heart?'"
"Ugh," Lupin scoffed, seeming genuinely ruffled at Ren's response. "You do realize that I am attuned to your senses, boy. I have heard those little diatribes as to my existence. And I have...considered them."
Diatribes? What was...oh. "You mean, about you being a Shadow," Ren said.
"Precisely." Lupin's gaze seemed to wander, his eyes obscured once more beneath the brim of his hat. "To speak plainly, I myself do not know what, exactly, I am. Perhaps a Persona. Perhaps a Shadow. Perhaps something else entirely. And, as you can imagine, I wish to know the answer. I wish to be provided proof."
"Fuck," Ren muttered. Okay, think this through. If Lupin was a Persona, then 'taking his heart' should do...what, exactly? Nothing, right? He was already part of Ren's heart, so it shouldn't change anything. But if he was a Shadow...shit. Futaba's Shadow had inverted into a Persona, so maybe Lupin would do the same, just changing back into...some normal version of Arsene, maybe? But a person's Shadow represented a mental block, an obstacle between them and their truth. So, it's possible Lupin would just vanish. And what the fuck was he blocking, anyway? Ren would probably be changing his own heart by extension, and what the fuck would that do to him? "You're a know-it-all, so I'm guessing you're aware of the risks."
"Certainly," Lupin replied, indignance clear in his tone. "I would not risk anything so recklessly, not without understanding what fate I have sewn for myself."
"And you're okay with that? With..." Ren gestured at nothing. "Not existing."
"Should I be some beast borne of doubt and veils," Lupin fired back, that familiar dark fire boiling behind his words. "Then what existence is there for me? Forever furious within your damaged heart? No, I think not. I will face my fate like a true gentleman, with my head held high." He pulled the glove off his left hand in one smooth motion, and extended that hand to Ren. "I shall not bend to fear." A little smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Shall you?"
Ren sighed. "This isn't about fear. Okay, well, it kinda is. Whatever." Deep breath in, deep breath out. Lupin wasn't really his Persona, not completely. Losing him might make Arsene lose his powers, or it might not, but either way...the thought of the gentleman thief vanishing filled him with an abject dread he couldn't quell. Could he get by without ever knowing what Lupin was, without ever tapping into whatever lay beyond him? Yeah, probably.
But wouldn't that be the same sort of trap Mishima and Futaba fell in? The same mental loophole that had drowned them in despair for months, that had the power to birth an entire realm to host their distortions? The power that had almost killed his sister? Fuck that. Fuck that.
"Fine." Ren grabbed his own left glove, shucking it and reaching out to take Lupin's frigid, pale hand. "I swear on my name, before I change the world's heart, that I'll face you again." The words left him on instinct, and flowing like lightning across his tongue. "No matter what that might do to you, or to me. I'll rid you of your distortions, Lupin. Every single one of them." His fingers clenched around the young man's wrist. "I'll take your heart. And both of us will face the truth."
Lupin said nothing for a long few seconds. "So shall it be," he said, an odd solemnity in his tone. And he pulled his hand away, massaging his wrist, as if Ren's touch had harmed him somehow. Then, silently, he pulled his glove back on, glancing over towards the distant twins, as if to ensure they were out of earshot. "Yaldabaoth."
Ren blinked, slipping his hand back into his own glove. "Sorry?"
"The leverage I promised you. It is a name: Yaldabaoth. The name of one who obscures his true self from you." Lupin chuckled in a way that seemed almost forced. "The rest, you will have to figure out on your own."
Yaldabaoth. Ren rubbed his that supposed to be Oxymoron's true name or something? No, that didn't feel quite right. 'His' true self, for one. For two...it was just a feeling, but Ren was supposed to trust his feelings. So if not Oxymoron, who was it? Who else...
Beady black eyes. A grin, more like a mask than a face. That chain around Ren's leg.
He felt his blood chill. "You're telling me that's Ig–"
Lupin raised a finger with a sharp enough motion to knock the breath out of Ren's mouth. Then he slowly, carefully, placed that finger against his own lips. "Careful, now, boy," he warned. "Such leverage is best used only once. Should you waste it, you will not get a second chance."
"Right." They were still in the bounds of the Velvet Room, after all. And that guy had seemed more than a little omniscient, so it was possible... "Gotcha." He turned back towards the entrance, but paused. "Thanks, Lupin."
The thief chuckled. "Perhaps you should wait to thank me, boy. The path you have chosen is one fraught with disaster. So long as my assistance pushes you along this path, I am complicit in that devastation."
"Yeah, maybe," Ren replied. "Except I'm the one who chose it. Whether you help me or not, it doesn't change that." His gaze wandered, lingering on Caroline and Justine, who seemed locked in some probably harmless bickering. "I'm just as stubborn as you. If you didn't help me, I'd just drag your ass all the way to the end myself. At least this way, you're pulling your weight." He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe that'll change something. Maybe we can make it there in one piece, working together. Better as allies than enemies, at least."
A silence stretched between them. "For such an attempted realist, boy," he said, quietly, "you hold quite the dreamer's heart within you."
"You should know," Ren fired back. "It's your heart too, isn't it?"
"Perhaps it is," Lupin replied. "But I would never refer to myself as an optimist."
"You took a chance on me, Lupin," Ren said. "You're still taking chances on me." He shrugged, as blue flame began to leak back into his vision. "If that's not optimism, I don't know what the fuck is."
10/6 – Thursday
After School
Untouchable Airsoft
Even with Lupin's words buzzing in the back of his head, even with the gears turning at everything and nothing at once, Ren was pretty confident this would be easy. In and out, ask for some specialty parts and then buy them, no problem. He had a fairly good grasp on how Iwai operated, it wouldn't be too hard to weasel what he needed out of the guy.
"Uh," he said, one hand still on the door handle.
"Uh," echoed the boy with messy dark hair and glasses standing behind the counter, not even bothering to take the chair both Iwai and Ryuji had habitually reclined in. The boy started. "Oh! Um, hi! Welcome to Untouchable."
"Thanks," Ren replied, forcing his feet to start moving again, scooting all the way inside.
"Did Ryuji lose his job here or something?" Morgana muttered from within his bag; Ren almost expected the statement to come delighted, but the cat sounded genuinely worried about that potentiality.
"You work here?" he asked, slipping back into the blunt, forcibly informal tone he donned around Iwai – just in case the guy popped back in before Ren could adjust. Might as well keep a consistent character, after all. "I haven't seen you around."
"Oh, you're a regular?" The boy's question was honest on its face, but Ren caught the whiff of suspicion beneath those words. "I don't work here that often, Dad doesn't..." He trailed off with a wince. "I mean, Mister Iwai said he brought someone else on, so he doesn't need as much help. But I still wanna help, you know?"
Okay. Uh, wow. Couple things right off the bat. It had never been this easy to weasel information out of someone. This guy was genuinely desperate to talk to people, huh? And beyond that... "You're Iwai's kid?"
The boy winced again, and he rubbed his neck, averting his eyes. "Yeah. That's...me."
"Neat." Ren adjusted his bag, scooting a little closer to the counter. "Ren Amamiya. You?"
"Kaoru," the boy replied, a little sigh beneath his words. "Kaoru Iwai." For Iwai's son, the guy was...sort of a pushover, huh? Fuck, Ren felt really bad for the kid. He could only hope the gruff shop owner wasn't too harsh on him.
"Outa curiosity, have you ever met the other guy he hired?" Ren reached up to spin a strand of hair between two fingers. Okay, this was probably dumb, but turnabout was fair play and the guy deserved to feel like he wasn't the only one dropping bombshells. "Blond hair, loud voice, kind of a punk but super harmless."
"Um," the boy said, seeming genuinely taken aback at the abrupt change of subject. "Once, yeah. Ryuji, I think. He seemed pretty cool." Kaoru finally glanced up towards Ren again. "You know him?"
"He's my boyfriend," Ren said.
Kaoru blinked. "Oh," he said. "Neat." And he shifted in place. "Were you here to see him? His shift's not till tomorrow."
Ren shook his head. "Actually wanted to do some shopping while he wasn't here. Sort of a secret project, if you catch my drift." He winked.
"A gift," Kaoru said, deadpan, not quite a question.
Ren just shrugged. Fuck, for whatever reason, it felt really uncomfortable lying to the guy, even skirting by on half truths. "So, you think you could help me out?"
Kaoru just shrugged and rolled his neck in that exact same way Iwai did; Ren could have burst out laughing. No hiding that the two were...related...huh. A blotch of darkened skin against the boy's neck, poking out of his high-collar shirt. It looked impeccably familiar.
"Is that a tattoo?" Ren asked, curiosity slipping past his better judgement. "Iwai had one of those too, right? A gecko tattoo?"
Kaoru flinched, one hand flying to his collar and adjusting it, hiding the tattoo. "It's–it's not" he spluttered, before just shaking his head. "Look, do you want help or not?" A genuine anger sparking around his words like a firestarter tucked into his cheek.
Ren resisted the urge to break character, but he did allow himself a raised eyebrow. "Sure, yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to hit a sore spot." He pulled Futaba's list out of his pocket and handed it over. "Any of this stuff would be helpful. I'm hitting up Akihabara after this, so don't worry about leaving stuff off."
Kaoro skimmed over the list, adjusting his glasses, eyes flicking over the words with enviable speed. "I'm guessing you want a scrapped Citori."
Ren blinked. "Sorry?"
Kaoru rolled his eyes – holy shit, this kid really did have a spine in there somewhere. "Says you need a vertical double-barrel shotgun firing system with a barrel selector. Over-unders aren't the most common, but you're probably not looking for an antique replica or something. So you're gonna wanna go for Citori, Cynergy or a Stoeger Coach." He quirked the corner of his mouth, tapping the paper idly with one thumb. "Why the barrel selector?"
Fuck, okay, looked like Kaoru knew his stuff. Ren dragged his brain back to the rambling explanation Futaba had given him that morning, when he was still too uncaffeinated to process much of it. Barrel selector. Why did she want–?
"Redundancy," Morgana reminded, and the memory clicked into place.
"I don't care about double tapping," Ren said, the improvised script flying across his lips without room for hesitation. "I'm planning on using the barrel selector as a contingency for two side-by-side mechanisms. If the first one misfires, it'll click over to the second and fire that one too. But if the first one does work, then I don't want it to trip the second."
Kaoro nodded slowly. "Citori then. Unless you've got a few million yen and want to wait a week for us to order some antique parts."
A few million, yes. A week, no. "Sounds good to me. And hey, next time I'm here, I'll be sure to let your dad know you've got the customer service thing down."
"Shut it," the boy scoffed, but that did snap a smile onto his lips, and Ren considered that a victory.
10/7 – Friday
After School
Kichijoji, Penguin Sniper Lounge
"I thought this was supposed to be cooperative," Ren said, staying a careful distance back while Akechi readied his second throw. "You seem a lot more competitive than usual. Rough day on set or something?"
"On the contrary," Akechi replied. With a fluid, precise movement, he tossed the dart towards the center, and the board lit up with a loud and gaudy celebration of his bullseye. "Today is my day off. My...agent felt I needed time to recover." The word left his lips like a curse.
A dry 'and you're spending it with me' lodged itself in Ren's throat, but he swallowed it. The guy seemed...off. Petty banter was fun, but there was something genuinely up with Akechi. A sharpness that was even more pronounced than usual, a plastic falsity that had begun to soften over the past few months, now resurging in force. "You seem pretty tense for your day off. I'd think you'd be able to relax without the celebrity circuit breathing down your neck."
"I suppose you're speaking from experience." Akechi landed another bullseye, and stepped forward to retrieve his darts from the board. "Or, perhaps I'm simply more equipped to do my job than you ever will be."
Fuck, okay. That was an unprecedented level of bitterness, even from the Prince. "Are you..." Ren hesitated. "Are you looking for a fucking fight or something? I didn't come here to argue with you."
Akechi stalled by the board. "Yes, I'm aware." He turned, stepping back towards Ren and handing him the darts. "You came to play. So play."
A frustrated breath escaped him before he could stop it. "Akechi, look. You don't have to open up to me or whatever, but at least..." He gestured at nothing. "You do get that I enjoy your company, right? I'm not just showing up to get into debates or prove I'm better than you." That particular comment sent a twitch into Akechi's eye, so he adjusted course. "We're friends. I'm not your enemy here. Just...try and remember that, please?" And he stepped past Akechi, readying his first throw.
There was silence, for a time. When Ren's dart sunk into the single-twenty spot with a vibrant chime, he could almost hear the slightest of guilty sighs buried beneath the sound. Or maybe that was just optimism on Ren's part. "Do you expect me to be grateful for that? Let us not play this unspoken dance; we both know that you have surrounded yourself with compatriots and fellows, and my own bonds are distinctly barren. That does not make you my personal messiah, Amamiya. The implication–"
"Oh my fucking god, will you stop putting words in my mouth?" Ren's second dart smacked the edge of the bullseye. Eighteen points. "I don't feel sorry for you, Akechi, and I don't think I'm better than you. I'm not saying that your loneliness is your fault, or that I'm the solution. I just...care about you. And I want to help the people I care about. That's the kind of person I want to be." Dead center. Fifty points. The machine chimed out a delighted tune.
"Sixty-one points left," Akechi said, no hint of emotion in his voice. "Good to see that you're capable of pulling your weight, Second-Year." Completely ignoring Ren's heartfelt speech, huh? Harsh, but Ren couldn't deny he expected as much.
Ren tried to dry his focus of the bitterness that had drenched it through, as he pulled his darts out of the board. Okay. Emotion wasn't getting through to the guy. What about logic? "You know, there's a pretty simple solution to this. A way we both get what we want, and we can stop snipping at each other every ten seconds." And he turned back to Akechi, holding out the darts.
"Oh?" Akechi raised an eyebrow as he took the triplicate from Ren, stepping forward to ready his throw. "Then, by all means. What is this proposed solution of yours?" That hungry glint in his eye made his intentions clear, that he was planning to tear Ren's suggestion apart the moment it left his mouth.
Fine. He'd throw himself at this as many times as it fucking took. Ren was willing to fight for a friend, if he needed to. Even if that meant fighting the very person he desired to protect. "Let me introduce you to the rest of my friends."
Akechi's dart clipped the border of the double-twenty space. Twenty points even. The detective swore under his breath, then adjusted his stance and raised his second dart. "You're asking me to join your little Phantom Thief fanclub? You really think your friends would accept me as one of you?"
Ren had honestly just intended to schedule some sort of private party, with the Thieves of course, but Akechi and Mishima and probably Shiho, maybe Sumire if Kasumi felt she could handle that; something akin to a mixer had been in the back of his mind for a little bit now. But Akechi's specific wording brought another potentiality to mind, and it stopped his thoughts in his tracks. Would the other Phantoms accept Akechi as one of them, as a Thief? He didn't have a Persona, but maybe he could be another honorary Thief, like Kasumi. Or even just someone like Mishima, helping out on the sidelines.
Akechi probably wouldn't want to stay out of it like that, he'd want all or nothing, have a say in every decision or pretend they didn't exist. But that was all assuming Ren could trust the guy with that sort of volatile truth. And...he wasn't sure that he could. Fuck, he wanted to, but he just didn't know for sure that Akechi wouldn't turn right around and call the cops on them as soon as he was out of sight. Or worse, publicize their identities for the sake of grabbing another headline. Ren stifled a shudder. "Dunno," he said, finally. "Worth a try though, right?"
"I don't see why it would be," Akechi replied dryly. "Your two bodyguards seemed quite opposed to my presence. I don't expect the rest of your entourage would react differently." The dart left his fingertips. Double twenty. Forty points.
It took Ren a long few seconds to register the reference. "Ann and Ryuji? Dude, that was in June, it's been four months since then."
"Your point?" Akechi glanced away from the board, still tense but not focused on the game. One point left. An easy victory. Was he stalling?
"My point is I was an asshole to you then too," Ren continued. "And granted, you haven't exactly done the best job of endearing yourself–" Akechi scoffed at that, but notably didn't deny it. "But you're still my friend. We weren't friends back then, and things have changed with Ryuji and Ann too. Fuck, whole group is different, we've got almost twice as many people as we did in June. And, hell, I've changed. I would hope you've changed too, even just by talking with me. And if introducing you to everyone means that even one more person gets to see you the way I do, that's worth it. Isn't it?"
Akechi said nothing, for a time. "Perhaps it is," he said, though the sharpness slipping between his teeth betrayed his true feelings on the matter. "Or perhaps it is a colossal waste of my fucking time. Time better spent doing what needs to be done: putting those self-righteous anarchical bandits behind bars."
"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Ren snapped. "Why are you wasting your time with me if all you care about is making your cop buddies proud of you?"
Another twitch, another barely-stifled sneer, and Ren had the distinct feeling that Akechi might lunge at him and bury that dart into his chest. But the detective did no such thing. Instead, he whirled back to the board, and snapped off a near-blind shot.
Single one.
Game complete.
Akechi turned, aiming for the door, but he paused next to Ren. "I'm here because you're not as good at hiding things as you think you are," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Do give Shirogane my regards, would you? One Prince to another." And when he started towards the door again, this time he did not stop.
Ren turned back to his bag on the nearby chair, moving on automatic as his head spun at everything and nothing all at once, a jumble of rambling incoherency across his cerebellum. But Morgana poked his head out before Ren could pick him up. "Do you think he knows about you being a Thief?" he asked, directly.
"I don't know," Ren said. He glanced towards the door, still swinging slightly on its hinge. "I really don't know."
10/7 – Friday
Evening
Cafe Leblanc
Ren opened the door with every expectation to see a friendly face within the Cafe, but the sight still made him grin. "Howdy, Yusuke."
The young man sent him a similarly vibrant smile back from his spot at Leblanc's counter. "Hello, Ren. Doing well?"
"As well as I can," Ren replied, placing his bag on the nearby table so Morgana could hop out. "Pretty busy, getting everything in order for this weekend. Snacks, picking up stuff for Futaba, you know." He made sure to speak around the obvious Thiefly business, acutely aware of the fact that Sojiro was still in the cafe. "So, what's up? You wanted to talk?" He hopped up on the seat next to Yusuke, slightly pivoting to better face the young man.
Sojiro glanced over the top of his newspaper from his stool behind the counter. "You need me to get out of your hair for a bit? I don't mind if you want some privacy for..." He gestured silently to the two of them.
"Not at all," Yusuke replied, shaking his head. "You're welcome to stay, Boss. This may be a personal topic, but it is hardly one I need to keep secret."
"Uh," Ren said. "I mean, I don't...um..." How the fuck was he supposed to imply Thief stuff without tipping the man off?
Sojiro stood, tucking his newspaper under one arm. He paused for only a moment, giving Ren a little smile, before heading out around the counter. "I'll go see if Futaba's craving anything," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I feel like getting delivery tonight."
"Knowing her, she'll probably just ask for curry," Ren quipped, mentally sending a thousand thank-you's to the cafe owner.
"Worth a try," Sojiro replied, chuckling. He opened the door, glancing over his shoulder at the pair of them. "Kitagawa, are you staying for dinner?"
An awkward giggle escaped the artist. "Ah, Boss, you're quite kind to offer, but I wouldn't dare want to intrude on your hosp–"
"He's staying," Ren interrupted, sending a little smirk back towards Yusuke.
"Yes," Yusuke admitted. "Thank you."
Sojiro just laughed, nodded, and closed the door behind him.
Yusuke took a deep breath in, then focused once more on Ren, almost bashfully. "I suppose there's no point building it up, so I will just inform you directly." Despite the proclamation, it still took him a solid few seconds of hesitation before he was able to blurt out: "I'm planning on moving in with Miss Masumi."
Ren blinked. "Holy fuck. Like, uh, right away or..."
"Ah, no, not for a little while, actually." Yusuke chuckled. "She suggested saving such a transition for Winter break, but considering we'll most likely have our hands unreasonably full this December, I requested to make arrangements for the end of October." Right. End of the world, and all that. "If I may be candid, it still feels rather fantastical." His gaze shifted, not quite on Ren but past him. Towards the 'Sayuri' on the wall. "Not only moving in with my mother after such a long time, not only experiencing such a joyous bond from family I did not think I still possessed, but that I found such love through joining the Phantom Thieves. And, beyond that, through you."
Oh. Ren really...couldn't find a single word to say to that. He reached up and twisted a strand of hair between two fingers, praying the awkward grin on his features would tell more than his breath could manage.
"If this is another confession," Morgana grumbled from the nearby booth. "Just tell me now so I can get out of here."
Yusuke burst out laughing, pivoting further in his seat to beam at Morgana. "Nothing of the sort. I simply wished to make my gratitude clear to Ren – and you as well, my feline friend. Were it not for you, Ren may never have awakened to his Persona, nor succeeded so completely at leadership without your tutelage." Ren was tempted to teasingly deny the assertion, but no, yeah, Yusuke was absolutely correct.
"Oh," Morgana said. He tilted his head back and forth, as if evaluating the worthiness of such praise. "You're welcome." The cat flopped down onto his belly. "Continue."
"Thank you." Yusuke turned back to Ren. "Though I recognize this is rather unconventional at such times, I would like to make a request of you. Would that be alright?"
"As if you even have to ask," Ren said, chuckling. "Dude, yes. Always. You're my friend, of course I'll help."
And that smile crept up to the young man's eyes then. "You're quite kind, Ren. Thank you." He reached into his bag, pausing as if to gather his courage, and then pulled out a small golden object, extremely thin and rectangular. "If you felt so inclined, I feel this would suit...well, I...here." Words apparently failing the softspoken artist, he simply handed the object to Ren.
It was a plaque, impeccable-arranged lettering etched across its vibrant surface.
Kitagawa, Toshiko (1974–2003)
Winter Blossom
April, 2000
Ren stared down at the plaque, that mundane object that felt painfully, impossibly vast compared to its diminutive size. "Yusuke," he said, as loud as he could manage. "I would be fucking honored."
█████
Evening
Yongen-Jaya
It was raining. It had started a few minutes after the Trickster left his benchplace rendezvous. The whole awful, exhausting walk, all he could think was how frustrating it was that his attempted murderer's speech had concluded before the heavens could rain on the man's parade. A hundred bodyguards wouldn't be able to stop those drops from hitting his bald fucking head, and the mental image of them trying brought a genuine, if petty, smile to his face.
His father was waiting for him at the subway's exit, a spare umbrella tucked under his arm in addition to the one he was already holding. "I told you I'd be a while," the Trickster said, forcing his voice up above a mumble despite the probably psychosomatic soreness engulfing his lungs. "You didn't have to wait for me."
"I didn't have to," his father agreed. And he held out the umbrella. "But I figured you probably didn't grab one."
It was kind of a dumb gesture, considering the Trickster was already waterlogged, and the cafe wasn't much more than a five minute walk. He took the umbrella.
█████
Late Morning
Cafe Leblanc
It was still raining. It hadn't stopped overnight, it hadn't even attempted to let up. How might it have felt to be in class now, staring out the window as the raindrops poured down the glass? How might it have felt to be kicking up water with every step, huddled under an umbrella with his Sun – who had most assuredly forgotten his – just laughing and trying to sync up their steps? How might it have felt to be a normal fucking highschooler again?
"How's █████?" the Trickster asked.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "She's your friend. Beyond that, your teammate. Haven't you two been in–"
"She's not..." He trailed off. "It's complicated. Please just answer the question."
She sighed, brushing a strand of silver hair behind one ear. "Being under surveillance as the suspected de facto leader of the Phantom Thieves isn't a comfortable thing. But she's staying strong."
"If anyone could handle such a thing," the boy not currently in the black mask said, dryly. "It would most assuredly be the valedictorian of Shujin." He was leaning against the countertop, while the woman stood and the Trickster was seated in a booth, the three of them currently alone in the cafe.
"And he hasn't made too much trouble for you?" the Trickster continued, gesturing with his head towards the boy, whose good eye twitched. "I could always reach out to another Thief, see if they could house him safely, if things aren't working out."
"Our arrangement does not make you my parole officer, █████," the boy spat, his bored expression twisting into momentary fury before emptying again.
"I've had no issues with █████ thus far," the woman said, and it was absolutely a lie. She might have been good at lying, a prosecutor's training shining through, but there was something so simple about her tell. The way that she looked him in the eye, that she focused on him in that way that almost dared him to question her. She didn't do that when she told the truth, not since they'd left the interrogation room. But the Trickster was far too exhausted to call her out on it.
"And he's safest with you," he finished, shifting up his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. "Okay. No adjustments then."
"I'm quite happy with the arrangement as well, thank you for checking," the boy not currently in the black mask added, quiet and bitter.
"No adjustments, then," the Trickster repeated. "█████'s intel assumes we need at least three infiltrations before we change █████'s heart, so we're aiming for two weeks, just to give ourselves some wiggle room. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, or feel in danger at all, call █████, she'll be able to keep you safe. █████ isn't aware of the SRU, and we aim to leverage that fact for as long as humanly possible."
The woman let out a long breath as she took that all in. "Understood. I assume the Thieves will still be using this place as headquarters?"
The Trickster just nodded.
"Then I'll send any further updates through my sister," she said. "I'd rather not risk having you be discovered. With such enemies, it's best to play things safe." The woman glanced back at the boy not currently in the black mask. "I'll wait outside for you. No need to rush on my account." With that, she took her umbrella off the nearby stand, and stepped out of the cafe.
And then there were two.
"I have something to ask you," the Trickster said, the moment he could be sure she was out of earshot. "It's about your father, and it's not pretty. Just wanna make sure I don't blindside you."
The boy not currently in the black mask scoffed. "No patience for pleasantries, I see. Very well, what is it?"
Deep breath in, deep breath out. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but it had to be better than stewing in curious anxiety. "Did he know it was me when he made the call? Or after that, even. Did he ever know it was me?"
"I," the boy said, blinking, seeming genuinely taken aback. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Probably not then," the Trickster mumbled before properly responding. "He was the one who put me in juvie. He–" The look on the boy's face, of every ounce of color draining from his features, cut off any further explanation.
He didn't say anything, for a time, eyes flitting back and forth, pupils on a delay, like he was trying to piece it together in his head. "He had your parole record," the boy said, finally, his voice inches away from shuddering. The Trickster's blood went cold. "After I told him who you were, he pulled strings at the police station to get it sent to him."
"You've seen it?" the Trickster asked.
"Yes," he said. The boy covered his mouth with one hand, gaze fixated on an arbitrary point on the wall across from him. "█████ isn't the type to shy away from bragging. If he recognized your name, he would have said as much. He only identified you as someone potentially able to be exploited due to the violent nature of your offense."
"The offense he faked." The Trickster leaned back in his seat, his tension deflating like a stuck balloon. "Fuck," he muttered. "He...fuck. He didn't even care. He didn't even fucking care what he was doing." His eyes felt watery, and he blinked it away. It was shitty. It was shitty and unfair and it was fucking stupid of him to get so worked up about it. "Not to either of us, huh?"
"Not enough to remember either of our names," the boy not currently in the black mask said, his tone oddly hollow. "Not enough to avoid succumbing to his own loose ends."
"Wishful thinking," the Trickster added, forcing himself to breathe. "█████, I..." He swallowed. "I need you to promise me something. I don't care if it's a lie, I just need to hear it from you."
The boy said nothing. He didn't even look at him.
"I need you to promise that you won't martyr yourself." It sounded so desperate in his own ears. Begging, more than requesting. "That you won't leverage your own life just to kill him. Not for me, or you, or anyone. Just...please, promise me that."
The boy not currently in the black mask glanced towards the door. "█████'s still waiting for me," he said, neutral, empty, null. "I shouldn't keep her any longer." He grabbed his umbrella, and maybe his hand was shaking or maybe that was just what the Trickster wanted to see in him, that hesitation, that desire to stay. He didn't stay. He opened the door, and walked into the rain, and let it swing shut behind him.
And then there was one.
Huge immense enormous thank you to Jane for beta reading and brainstorming, she contributed a ton of inspiration to both the Akechi and redacted scenes in this chapter and I'm very very grateful.
