CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains references to abuse and canon-typical police brutality. While not graphic, this content still may be difficult or upsetting to read, so please take breaks or skip sections as needed. Stay safe.
10/8 – Saturday
After School
Cafe Leblanc, Attic
The sound of footsteps on the staircase, and a headful of fluffy brown hair poked out from behind the bannister. "I'm not too early, am I?"
"Not at all," Ren chuckled, putting down the chair he'd been carrying. "Hey Haru."
"Haru!" Morgana leapt off the bed, practically sprinting past Ren to make it to the young woman as she stepped into the attic, rubbing against her legs. "Hi!"
"Why hello there Monamona," Haru laughed, leaning down to scoop the cat into a cradle embrace, belly up, nestled into her arms. "How are you today?"
"Excited," he said. "There's a whole lot of stuff Ren's gonna tell everyone today. And I don't have to be the only person who knows about it!"
"I see," Haru said, voice soft and smile softer. "That is quite exciting." And she glanced up towards Ren. "And how are you? Nervous?"
Ren gestured limply to the table and chairs. "I've been rearranging these for the last half hour, you tell me."
She giggled. "I had guessed you might be." And she took a long look at the cloth draped over the table, which was very obviously covering an assortment of objects. "Should I ask about the tablecloth?"
"Sojiro thinks it's snacks," Ren said.
"It's not snacks," Morgana added.
"Parcel stuff," Ren finished. "I mean, I could tell you all about it now, but–"
"You're going to tell everyone later?" Haru finished.
He reached up to twist a strand of hair between two fingers. "Yeah."
"Then I see no reason to rush." She tilted her head slightly, smiling at him. "And you should sit down. So you're not tempted to rearrange any further."
"Only if you sit down too," he fired back. It felt like an utterly meek attempt at banter, but she still laughed.
"Certainly." And Haru settled onto the couch, still carefully cradling Morgana. It felt oddly difficult, like stepping through molasses, but he made his way around the table and sat down next to her.
"So," he said, tapping his fingers on his knees. "Sorry I haven't reached out or anything, since...you know."
"We started dating," she said, a little laugh between her words, one that shook her shoulders even as she stifled it. "I understand, Ren. I don't exactly know what you've been working on, but I trust you. As a leader, and a friend."
"And a boyfriend?" he offered.
"Of course!" She adjusted Morgana more stably on her right arm to reach over and tap her left knuckles teasingly against his shoulder. "That goes without saying."
"Still nice to hear it," Ren chuckled. He adjusted himself on the couch. "How's everything going with you? Like, your dad, and...yeah."
"Steadily," she replied. A little less soft, but no less lovely. Haru didn't seem upset with him for bringing it up, that was good. "Not to say that my father's temperament is ever pleasant, but there is something to be said about having grown up in his household." She sighed, gaze wandering across the room. "I've grown quite accustomed to such habits."
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's...you won't have to deal with that anymore soon, I promise." She didn't have a hand free to take, but the thought did skitter across his head. "We'll change his heart."
"Mhm!" Morgana affirmed.
"I know we will." Haru smiled, gentle and honest. "But thank you. Both of you."
And a scrambling clatter of rushed footfalls stormed their way up the staircase, with a blur of orange hair and a green hoodie settling into a solid form once she reached the top. "Haru!" Futaba said, adjusting her laptop under one arm to point at the young woman.
"Yes," Haru said, blinking. "Hello Futaba, how–" And she cut herself off with a surprised "oh!" as the girl surged towards her and plopped down on the couch next to the heiress, who immediately scooted into Ren. Okay, this was happening now. He was now shoulder to shoulder with his girlfriend and a vast majority of his mental functions were now spinning at nothing.
"I'm glad you're here because I've got something to show you," Futaba said, barely pausing for breath as she opened her laptop and typed in a two dozen character-long password. "Okay, so, buckle up cause this is gonna blow your fluffy mind. I've been fiddling with something over the past couple days and I bet you're gonna love it."
"Hey, hold on," Ren managed, trying very hard to maintain a polite and unobtrusive attempt at personal space given his current proximity. "What about the whole secret part of secret project?"
Futaba paused her frantic typing to glance his way, brow furrowed. "This is different. I needed something to do when it was compiling. Didn't you get my text?"
Ren blinked. "The picture of a cat in a lab coat? I thought that was just supposed to be cute."
Futaba groaned, rolling her eyes. "The caption was literally 'experiment complete, time for a nap,' how much clearer do I have to be?"
"An actual message would be nice–" Ren fired back, but Futaba just waved a hand at him and returned to her task. Haru glanced between the two, looking like she was barely holding in a laugh.
"Okay, Haru, check this out." She tapped out a quick series of keys, and her screen filled with a meadow-green display. "So you're growing like a ton of different plants on Shujiun's roof, and I did a bit of research and I found this one crazy dude in Denmark who's got a global database of veggies, keeping track of how all these, uh, types or species or whatever, turn out in different climates and atmospheric conditions and how they react to pesticides and stuff like that."
Futaba half-typed, half-gesticulated as she spoke, talking with her whole body. "And I reached out to the guy and told him about the stuff you've been doing and he sounded stoked – I mean, I think he did, he didn't speak Japanese so I had to auto-translate – but yeah if you ever want to learn Danish I got his number for you; oh, but he gave me a backdoor to the database so I plugged it into a pretty simple framework. I dunno what kind of phone you have so I just made sure it worked with all of them. All you gotta do is enter some stuff when you plant your crops, and enter some stuff when you harvest 'em, and it'll throw that into the database and compare it to all the other entries for the same kinda veg."
Ren was beyond lost, but a quick glance towards Haru showed a deafening grin on his girlfriend's lips, one that ricocheted a flutter across the inside of his ribcage. "That's amazing," she said, awe threaded through every syllable. "It's an app?"
"Mhm!" Futaba reached into one of the many pockets in her parka and pulled out a long cable, plugging one end into the laptop. "I can put it on your phone right now, if you want." And she held the other end out to Haru.
"Yes please." The young woman hesitated, glancing down at Morgana. "I'm sorry Monamona, I need to put you down now."
"That's okay," Morgana said, sounding utterly unbothered. And he immediately squirmed out of her arms, hopping onto Futaba's lap and plopping down onto her legs.
"Hey, rude kitty," the girl scolded, holding her laptop up over the cat. "I need those for typing!"
"Type some other time," the feline replied haughtily, as Haru plugged in her phone. "I'm sitting here now."
Futaba just sighed, balancing her laptop on one hand and typing with the other. Ren was almost tempted to try and slip his phone out to take a picture before another cascade of footsteps heralded the rushed entrance of a brightly grinning blond. "Oh, hey! Shit, I thought I was showing up early. All the cool people are already here."
"Three minutes early?" Futaba deadpanned. "That's some preparation, dude."
"And I appreciate the flattery, Sunshine," Ren added, "but you remember me and Morgana live here, right?"
"Jeez, give a guy a break," Ryuji said, hopping up the last few steps. "Anyway, yo, Haru. Hug?"
"Oh," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Yes, thank you for asking. I'd love one." Haru stood, scooted around Futaba, and then immediately let out a surprised little laugh as Ryuji pulled her into a snug-looking embrace.
"I would like to officially welcome you to the dating-the-leader-of-the-Phantom-Thieves club," he said, with melodramatic solemnity.
"Come on, man," Ren protested, trying to ignore the chorus of snickering from both sister and cat on his right.
"I didn't know it was a club," Haru said, clearly holding back a giggle. "Should we get matching T-shirts then?"
Ryuji grinned like a madman over her shoulder. "Yes!? I love the way you think."
Ren sunk farther into the couch and dragged his hands across his face. "Glad you're getting along," he wheezed, as Futaba snorted out a laugh.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Haru on his right, Ryuji on his left, Morgana sitting on his lap and Futaba gargoyle-perched on the nearby bed next to Kasumi. The other Thieves arranged in a loose circle in chairs around the still cloth-covered table. He'd prepared himself for this. There was no backing out now, not for Ren. He didn't want to back out. This was...new, and frightening, and his instincts weren't giving him much beyond the vague panic of the unfamiliar.
But he knew it was the right thing to do. He trusted them. And it was about time he put his money where his mouth was.
"First off," Ren said. "Before we actually get to...this." And he gestured to the table. "I'd like to give the floor to someone." He glanced over at Kasumi. "You ready?"
All eyes went towards her, and she immediately shut hers. Inhale, exhale. Eyes open. "Yes," she said, smiling in a strained way that might have been forced, or just anxious. "A few weeks ago, I heard from my parents that Sumire is going to be released from the hosp-hospital. She'll be coming back home in November, maybe even late Oct-October if we're lucky." And that smile shone so honestly now, so full.
"That's amazing, Kasumi," Futaba said quietly, her eyes almost glittering. "I'm so happy for both of you."
"Do you think she'll be up to being around people?" Ann asked. "I know I'd love to meet her."
"Not right away," Kasumi said quickly. "That's...well, actually..." She sighed, hands balled against her legs. "She's going to need a lot of help adj-adjusting. I know my sister can't ever live a 'normal' life, but she still has dreams. She told me she wants to start doing gymnastics again, and make friends. And she wants to graduate so she can go to coll-college." Kasumi stared at the other Thieves with an utterly determined fullness. "I want to be there for her. So...until she's doing better, I'm going to need to take some time off from being a Thief."
Silence fell into the attic. Like no one quite knew how to respond to that. Futaba, in particular, looked halfway to shell shocked. "I...see," Yusuke said, nodding slightly. "If you don't mind me saying, Miss Yoshizawa, that is an incredibly mature decision."
"Yeah, for sure," Ryuji added. "And like, hell yeah. I mean, I know we'll miss the shit out of you, but we're all still friends, right? And you've gotta be there for your sis, no worries."
Makoto pursed her lips. "I don't want to say you shouldn't take time for your sister, but I think we should all remember the deadline Ren told us about. If the world's really at risk, we might need to call all-hands-on-deck in only a couple months. And if that happens..." She gave Kasumi a sympathetic frown, before averting her eyes. "I think you should be prepared for that, just in case."
"I might have an idea that could help," Ren cut in. "We'd need to put it to a vote, but I want to suggest moving Kasumi from full time Thief to something like an honorary position, instead of asking her to pick all or nothing." At the confused glances, he continued. "Like, she stays in touch with the group chat, and we keep her in the loop about our plans. When she has the time, she can take part the same as any of us, but when she can't, we'll just proceed with our normal operations as if we were at full capacity."
"So for votes that require unanimity," Haru said. "We would count Kasumi's dissension if she voiced it while present, but would we do so if she voiced it later?"
Ren blinked. Huh. He hadn't really thought about that. "I guess," he said, slowly. "Same thing we'd do if any of us changed our minds after a vote. It's not like we're contractually bound to stick to whatever we vote on. If unanimity changes partway through a plan..."
"I'd differ to Ren," Ann said, firm, cutting into his hesitation. "He's our leader, and I trust him. If stuff goes pear-shaped in the Metaverse or something, it's his decision how we proceed."
"Yeah!" Morgana chirped. And a round of nods showed that the rest of the Thieves seemed to agree, and that sent a squirming spark of anxiety into him. It's not like Ren wasn't honored by their trust, he absolutely was, but...what would happen if he couldn't make that call? If he wasn't there, or if he just froze when it mattered, what would happen to everyone else? Would they just crash and burn with him?
No. He wouldn't let that happen. That was why he called this meeting, to prevent himself from being the Thieves' single point of failure.
"Should we hold it to a vote?" Makoto asked, sending Ren a pointed look. Right, shit, getting lost in his own thoughts again.
"I say yes!" Futaba said, her hand flying up before he had a chance to speak. "Some Kasumi is better than no Kasumi by a whole fucking lot!"
"I'd still stay in touch either way," Kasumi said, raising her own hand.
"Oh," Futaba said. "Still though, some Kasumi!"
"Some Kasumi!" Yusuke echoed, throwing his hand up as well.
"Some Kasumi!" Haru added with a laugh, raising hers.
"Fuck yeah some Kasumi!" Ryuji threw his fist skyward.
"Some me!" Kasumi burst into furious giggles.
Makoto sighed and shook her head, but still smiled as she raised her hand, with Morgana and Ann adding their own affirmative votes.
"It's unanimous," Ren chuckled. "Congrats, Kasumi. You're the world's first Honorary Phantom Thief."
She beamed at him. "Thank you." And then she nodded towards the table. "Could you tell us what's under there now? I'm really really cur-curious."
"Oh," Ren said. "Yeah, totally. Morgana, could you scoot off for a sec?" The cat left his lap with a little frustrated grumble, and Ren stood, grabbed the tablecloth, and pulled it off.
A yellow bandana. A red sports watch. A partially-redacted magazine cover. Therapy cat papers. A gecko pin. A blueprint. Dog tags. A redacted summary. A fountain pen. A faculty ID. A framed picture. A small purple present box. A printed-out article. A series of photographs. A handgun in a plastic baggie. And eight separate notes, all folded up with a sticky note attached to each one: Oxymoron, Anachronism 1 and 2, Kasumi, Ryuji, Ann, Morgana, Haru.
"Minus the four million yen, your weapons, and stuff like Anachronism's phone and the skill cards that I've already handed out to people," Ren said, sitting back down. "These are the contents of every parcel I've received from Oxymoron, up to today's date."
Every single Thief was now staring at the table, at the assorted objects. Kasumi and Futaba even got up off the bed to take a closer look. "Is that Mist-Mister Maruki's ID?" Kasumi asked, her eyes wide.
"Yep," Ren confirmed. "That one came with...that note." He pointed to the piece of paper marked as 'Anachronism 2.' "You guys can like, take a closer look or pick stuff up if you want. It's not a museum."
"What is it then?" Makoto asked. "Why show us all this? I won't deny it's..." She seemed lost for words. "Interesting." It left her mouth like a compromise. "But why now?"
"We figured out what future-Futaba's message meant," Morgana said, plopping back down on Ren's lap.
Ren nodded. "I don't know why, but when we go to take Okumura's heart, he's going to get attacked by Black Mask, probably with the aim of inciting a mental shutdown." And now all eyes were on him again, but his were on Haru, who looked artificially calm. "But we're going to stop him. That won't come to pass." She gave him a little nod and smile. Still nervous, probably, but she seemed genuinely thankful. "Anachronism stopped him too, in his timeline, but the way he did wasn't...good."
"On a scale of one to ten," Yusuke said, rubbing his chin. "How 'not good' was it?"
"He shot him in the face," Ren replied, wincing at his own blunt language. "Black Mask survived, but that's still something Anachronism considers one of his big mistakes."
"Dunno why," Futaba grumbled, arms crossed, glancing away. "Not like he doesn't deserve it."
"I don't know why either," Ren said. "And that's why I'm dropping my cards on the table right now. Not just the parcels, the memories too. From here on out, I'm not gonna hold anything back. I don't think I can." He interlocked his fingers, glancing down at the assorted gifts from that most benevolent of Witches. "I've got a bunch of memories with holes poked in them, and a bunch of puzzle pieces I don't know how to put together. If I keep on juggling this all myself, I know I'm gonna end up dropping something. And if we're going up against a guy like Black Mask, I can't afford to do that."
"Holy fuck, Ren," Ann said, staring at him with the most wonderful and awful expression on her face. "That's...you're really trusting us with all of that? You don't have to, you know. I promise, you don't."
"I do, though," he said. "And even if I didn't have to, I'm still going to. Cause..." He breathed out a little embarrassed laugh. "You're all the most important part of my life right now. I trust every single one of you completely, and I don't ever want to lose any of you. So," here goes. "I need your help. Please."
No one said a word, for a little while. "Ryuji," Haru said. "Could you please hand me that piece of paper with my name on it?"
"Oh, yeah, sure thing." He scooted part of the way off the couch and nabbed the note, along with the red watch, and handed the former to Haru while he focused on the latter.
Makoto took a long breath in. "Fuck it," she said, and picked up the photographs. Ann immediately grabbed both the magazine cover and the note with her name on it, Kasumi took her note, and Yusuke gingerly took the lockpick blueprint.
Futaba seemed at first hesitant to participate, but that resistance melted away almost immediately, and she peeked over Kasumi's shoulder. "Oh!" she said. "Blue glass bird! Ren told me about that!"
"It's how I got my name," he added, with a little smile. "Or, what inspired me to choose it. Long story short, I guess, it meant a lot to me, it broke, my mom kept it in a jar on the mantle."
"It says here that you lost it," Kasumi added, glancing up from the note.
"Yeah," he said, reaching up to spin a strand of hair around his finger. "I'm pretty sure my parents threw it out. After I got arrested, I mean. That's what happened to Anachronism's, at least."
"That's shitty," Futaba mumbled, brow furrowed, expression bitter. "What the fuck is wrong with them? I'm gonna..." She pursed her lips. "If I ever meet your parents, I'm kicking their butts. Mark my words."
Ren's chest ached, but he couldn't stop from smiling. "Consider them marked."
Click. "Uh," Ryuji said. "Hey so you didn't put anything in here, right?"
Ren glanced over at the young man to see something small, white and rectangular jutting out of the watch he was holding. "Woah. Is that...it's got a secret compartment or something?" A piece of paper, tucked into a tiny drawer exuding from the watch's side.
"Yeah, every Aion watch does. Sort of a company feature." Ryuji gave a little sheepish grin. "I was kinda looking at one of them back when I was on track, but the whole Kamoshida thing happened and I never ended up getting it." He pinched the paper and removed it, then handed it carefully to Ren. "Here ya go."
"Shit, thank you." Ren unfurled the paper as best as he could, and squinted down at the miniscule text. It looked to be...some sort of recipe? No, scratch that, a formula? "Morphine sulfate?" he mumbled.
"That's a painkiller," Makoto said, glancing up from the photographs. "A strong one, too. Is it a prescription?"
Ren shook his head. "It looks like instructions or something."
"If it's medication, we should probably give them to Takemi," Morgana added. "Maybe she'll know what to do with them."
Right, yeah, Ren kept forgetting the fact his doctor was aware of his status as a Thief. "That's a good plan. I'll update you guys once I've had her take a look." For the moment, he slipped the paper into his wallet, then immediately started as Haru leaned into him, her head against his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered, low enough for probably only him and Morgana to hear. Her note in her lap. He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "It feels...amazing, to have someone like you standing by my side through this. I keep getting scared that..." She looped her arm into his. "There's a lot of me I don't like. And I keep feeling that the more you see, the less you'll like me. Not just as a girlfriend, as a person."
"I get that too," he replied, in the same quiet tone. "I mean, that feeling. Like I'm faking at being someone worthy of being with you."
"I know." Haru breathed out the quietest laugh. "You are worthy, though. And I am too. It means a lot to me–" She cut herself off with a hum. "There'll be time for sappiness later, I think. Too much to focus on right now."
He chuckled, leaning into her for a long moment, then straightening up again. "I'll look forward to it," he whispered, before clearing his throat. "Anyone find anything else?"
"Yes," Makoto said. "These photographs all seem to be from before Haru or Kasumi joined the Thieves, but why isn't Ann in any of them?" Her sharp eyes bored into him.
"Uh," he said.
"Cause I left the Thieves in that timeline," Ann cut in. "I mean, that Ann did. She got into a big fight with Anachronism, and bailed after Kamoshida's Palace." And she sent a little 'you're welcome' sort of smile towards Ren. "That's what it says in the note here, anyway." A big fight. It wasn't inaccurate, but that was almost a laughable reduction of events. Ren was almost tempted to correct her, to spill his guilt onto the table between the bandana and the pistol, but he held back.
"I'm glad you stayed," Makoto said, a little abruptly. "In this timeline, I mean. I'm...well, I'm glad you're here." She gave a sheepish smile, then winced.
"Thanks Makoto," Ann said with a little laugh. "I'm glad you're here too."
It had been about two hours since the meeting had begun. The parcel objects had been cleared to either side of the table, or in the care of those whom they concerned, or returned to Ren, and the table itself was now covered in snack wrappers, half-empty drink bottles and haphazardly stacked plates. The Thieves had made progress, but they were still far from where they needed to be. And there were still plenty of hours left, as the sun outside had just dipped below the horizon.
The bandana was Morgana's, a perfect match. Yusuke had probably drawn the lockpick blueprint. Ryuji seconded the connection between Iwai and the gecko pin – after openly sobbing over his note and hugging the shit out of Ren – and Kasumi did the same for Sumire and the origami crane. That left the redacted document and the pistol as the only complete unknowns. Those, and how exactly to proceed next.
"What if we opened the last parcel?" Yusuke suggested. And Ren's steady pulse shot through the fucking roof.
"Instincts say no," he replied immediately.
Ann gave him an odd look. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and took a sharp breath in through her nose. "Why?" she asked. "Like, I dunno if you know, and it's okay if you don't. But do you know why that scares you?"
He...did he? Ren leaned back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His instincts were another one of those leftovers from Anachronism, learning from his mistakes, right? Like muscle memory, maybe. So, if the Anachronism part of his brain was freaking out, that meant...
Notes and objects scattered across an attic floor. A mess of weaponry and predictions and confessions, a chaotic storm of information, so full and so deafening that he had no idea where to start.
"Should we show them?" the not-a-cat asked. "Maybe they can help."
He opened his mouth and a dream drifted into it, and "no" drifted out.
"Anachronism opened the parcels early," he said, the memory lingering like a sunspot in his irises. "I'm pretty sure, at least. Like, he opened all of them, right when he got them. And it was just...too much."
"I can imagine," Kasumi said, soft and sad, glancing down at the few lingering parcel gifts still on the table. "That must have felt awf-awful, having to try and figure it all out on your own."
"It was," Ren said, before he could stop himself. "For him, I mean."
"But that won't happen again," Haru added. "Because you're not alone." Her hand against his, and he gladly let her take it. "Not anymore. Not ever again."
"Yeah," Ryuji continued, nudging against Ren. "We're here, Renren. No matter what's in store, we're all together. All nine of us."
It still felt awful, so obtuse and uncomfortable and wrong. Like a thought that was sharp in all the wrong places, poking into the softest parts of the inside of his head. And every ounce of that fear was justified. But it wasn't him who justified it. It was another him, an echo, a fucking ghost. It was a warning stuck on repeat, unable to piece together enough context to know when to shut itself off. Ren knew he was smart enough to listen to that warning. But he also knew he was smart enough to ignore it, when the moment called. And the moment was screaming in his ears, so loud it gave his soul tinnitus.
"Okay," he said. "Let's open it." And he shifted up before remembering that Morgana was still lying quite comfortably on his lap. "Uh. Could someone grab it for me, actually? Sorry. It's under my bed, there's a loose floorboard."
"I've gotcha." Futaba immediately scrambled onto her stomach, reaching her arms underneath the bed. After a few seconds of rummaging, she emerged, tossing Ren the final parcel before he could protest. Thankfully, his reactions were still quick enough to nab the thing before it smacked him in the face.
"Take it easy, gremlin air!" Ryuji near-yelped.
"Excuse me for being excited!" she fired back, before plopping back down on the bed and staring at the envelope with eager eyes.
The final parcel drew his own gaze like gravity, it sent a tingle through his fingers and lightning across his spine. "I'm excited too," Ren admitted. And before his nerves could get the better of him, he undid the final adhesive, opened the 11/20 parcel, cleared a space on the table and upended its contents for all to see.
There was a key, and a note. The former was thick, old fashioned. An archaic protrusion of dark metal.
"Hm," Yusuke said, tilting his head to get a better vantage point. "A key?"
"Maybe it's cognitive?" Morgana offered. "There might be something in a Palace we might have to open later this year."
"Or Mementos," Kasumi added. "You said there might be something imp-important there."
Cognitive, huh? "Wish I still had Yu's glasses," Ren muttered as he reached out and picked up the key. And the warm metal fluttered against his fingertips.
Trickster.
He dropped the key, pulling his hand back as if he'd been burnt. "What the fuck."
"What's wrong?" Futaba asked, gaze darting between him and the key.
"It's warm. It feels..." Ren stared down at his fingertips, half expecting some residue of squirming rust or the shimmer of pollon. "Alive."
Every eye was now locked on the mundane, silent, stoic object. Makoto took a breath and held it, reaching out and carefully placing her fingertips against the key. After a moment, she slipped them underneath, nestling the thing into her palm. "It's cold," she reported. "I don't feel anything out of the ordinary."
Ann leaned over and tapped the key, holding her fingers against it; Makoto immediately glanced away, cheeks lightly flushed. "Feels fine to me too," she said. "Maybe it only reacts to Ren or something?"
He shook off his hand, trying to rid himself of the tingling feeling that lingered across his skin. "Maybe." Had Oxymoron made it for him, for some odd purpose? It certainly seemed possessed of some sort of supernatural property, either magic or cognition – whatever the difference even was between the two. It looked like...iron. Why did that seem important? Something about it seemed heavy, a weight beyond its apparent size, as if carrying it should be a monumental effort–
The cold metal against his back. Chains shifting against each other overhead. The Trickster shifted off the cognitive prison bed, adjusting his costume, reaching up and brushing the tips of his gloves against his mask. It had been a while since he'd stepped into this place without it, but it still brought him some comfort to remember that he was no longer a prisoner. The warm key pulsed in his jacket pocket, yet another reminder. He was in control. He wasn't a pawn. He could choose his own destiny. His friend had ensured it.
Speaking of, there she was. Exactly where he'd left her, standing there in the center of that circular vestibule, holding an enormous tome under one arm as if carrying it was no more effort than transporting a feather.
"Hello, my Trickster," she said, smiling at him.
"Hey," he replied, stepping out through the open door of his former cell. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting–"
"Lavenza." The word tore from somewhere deep inside him, leaving his lips like a retracted dagger, like it had gutted him on the way out and torn the very soul from his body.
"I beg your pardon?" Yusuke's voice through the haze, through the pulse of lingering memories like a migraine aura.
"Who's Lavenza?" Morgana asked.
"I don't..." Ren shook his head, trying to focus. "I don't remember. It's someone...I don't know. But I know that key's hers. She gave it to me – to Anachronism. I'm..." Blue shining through the clanking iron chains. "I think she has something to do with the Twins. I don't know how, but she...they know her, somehow. Or they should." He could still see that prison in his mind's eye, that empty desk where Igor had once sat, and the odd girl with platinum hair where two had once stood. Two, now one. What the fuck did that mean!?
The clink of the key on the table. "Focus," Makoto said, firmly. "You don't have to figure it out right now. If it comes to you tonight, then we can proceed with that information. And if it doesn't, then we'll proceed without it. Either way, we're not helpless." She gave a little smile. "You weren't supposed to open this for another month, don't forget. There's still time for it to make sense."
She was right. She was absolutely right. "Yeah," he said, nodding, feeling absolutely mindless. "Yeah, okay." Fucking focus, Ren. You're the leader of the fucking Phantoms. Get your shit together. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "I'm okay. Are you guys ready for the note?"
"Born ready," Futaba said, giving him a big smile.
"Are you?" Haru asked, tilting her head to make it into his field of view.
His automatic response was on the tip of his tongue before he bit it back. No, she deserved honesty. They all did. If he wasn't ready for this, they could...
"I don't know," Ren admitted. "Not on my own, at least." And his eyes traced the entirety of the room. The Thieves. His friends. His family. "But we're ready." And he picked up the note.
Joker,
Consider this paying back my debt to you. I recognize that you would not see it as such, but if you have ever or will ever trust me, let me make this clear: my vitriol, my pain, and my ideations are not yours to bear. I would rather be treated as I am, with every ounce of damage, accepting responsibility for the abhorrence I have caused, than be carried around by you like some helpless maiden, like your personal burden. I refuse to allow you to damsel me any fucking further, in any iteration.
With the benefits of foresight, and the assurance that Anachronism will never read this note, allow me to say a few things I would rather die than admit to him. My contempt for his cowardice is well known, but he remains the only person who has consistently kept me to task, and the only person who has regularly advocated for my autonomy. He is my friend. Most likely, my only friend. I do not know how much that is worth to him, or to you. But it stands that I likely would have died months ago if not for my burning desire to one-up that sniveling pushover, to prove myself better than the one person capable of pulling that trigger in Okumura's Palace.
In case you are not aware, both your life and Niijima's are in danger. Her Palace was targeted by my employer as a snare, one that would entrap the Thieves into being buried under the weight of her collapsing distortion. You need first to identify some method by which to stay his hand, to create a greater lure he cannot resist. Then, you need to ensure that you can escape your own trap in a way he cannot detect. If he knows you are alive, if he identifies you as a threat, he will not rest until he has 'wrapped up' your loose end by any means necessary. His own desire for subtlety is the only thing stopping him from sending an assassin directly to your home and placing a bullet in the heads of everyone you care about. Do not let him. He will only look away when he is sure that he has won.
If your sister is reading this, please make clear to her the following: there is no way that any of us have found to make good on my debt to her. I cannot ever pay back what I have taken, and I cannot undo the suffering I caused. If she forgives me in this or any iteration, it will be an unwelcome miracle. I have every intention of bearing the sin of my actions for the remainder of my life, however short that may be. I will not survive this year. As such, I can only hope that another iteration of me will have the time to pay proper penance for what we have wrought.
A final offering. Should you be in a position where I am being characteristically 'difficult' and my trust is needed, or should I ever turn against you, the name Freya should cause me more than a slight pause. Should you confront me with it, it will cause me a strong enough shock to safely disarm and incapacitate me. Use it wisely, as I will most likely attempt to murder you as soon as I regain control of my faculties. If it saves your life, even once, I will consider us even for the trust I could never give back to you in this world.
Do not die, Amamiya. Do not let yourself die.
Sincerely,
Goro Akechi
Ren's gaze immediately snapped towards the bed. Futaba's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, hands balled into fists against her lap. And Kasumi looked on the verge of crying, her own eyes shining with what must have been tears. "This whole time," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He was...he..." She reached over and grabbed onto Futaba's sleeve, who flinched and then stared at her. Futaba's expression evened out, softened. And she scooted closer, grabbing Kasumi in a tight embrace, and the girl clung to her so tightly back, screwing her eyes shut.
"Akechi," Ann repeated, incredulous. "Akechi is Black Mask?"
"I don't fucking believe it," Ryuji said, sounding breathless, running a hand back through his hair. "That shit-eating cop shill's been behind the fucking mental shutdowns this whole time, prancing around and blaming stuff on us!? Stuff that he did!?
"Ryuji," Haru said, her voice low, a soft warning. "It's not just 'us' that this affects." And she glanced at Ren, lightly placing her hand against his arm. "Are you alright?"
He stared back at her, feeling beyond empty. "I don't know," he finally replied.
"Sorry dude," Ryuji mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to make shit worse or anything."
"No, it's okay," Ren said. "I just...I don't think it's sunk in yet." He stared down at the paper, at those dozens upon dozens of words that seemed to swim through his eyes. "Niijima's Palace." And he looked up at Makoto, whose face was utterly pale, as if every ounce of color had been drained out of it.
"Makoto can't have a Palace," Morgana said, digging the tips of his claws into Ren's leg; not enough to really hurt, but it wasn't the most comfortable. "She's got a Persona, that's impossible."
"It's not mine," she said, her voice empty. "It's..." Makoto swallowed, her breath ragged. "It's my sister's. It's Sae's Palace."
"Your sister the prosecutor?" Yusuke asked, though his eyes were locked on his phone. "I believe you mentioned as much to Kaneshiro."
Makoto nodded. "She's...I mean, yes. I already know that she has a Palace, but it doesn't...why would someone target her?" And those wide eyes focused on Ren. "He works with Sae. Akechi must have...if he knows she has a Palace too, then–"
"Hold on, hold on," Ann said, raising her hands. "Makoto, how do you know she has a Palace?"
The young woman pursed her lips, and reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. "When I got the Meta-Nav," she said, swiping across the screen. "I had a feeling. So, I entered her information, while we were still infiltrating Kaneshiro." And she turned the phone around. There it was, right between Kaneshiro's Palace and Futaba's in her search history.
Sae Niijima. Tokyo District Courthouse. Casino.
"It took me about a week to find her keyword," Makoto continued, pocketing her phone again. "I was planning on starting my own infiltration, but I couldn't quite find the time." She winced. "No, that's not true. I was...scared. I couldn't face that. I couldn't...face her." She sighed, almost deflating.
"You were planning on heading into there alone?" Ann said, her tone caught between frustration and compassion. "Just handling all of that, risking your life, without telling us? Without telling..." She trailed off, glancing away.
"I'm sorry," Makoto said, her eyes locked on the floor. "It wasn't a part of me I wanted any of you to see."
A spark of anger pierced through the haze, and lucidity followed it. "Then tell us that," Ren said. "You're the Phantoms' advisor. You're one of us, you've got a whole team ready to stand behind you. If you wanna walk into a Palace alone, without any backup, then let's at least work together to make sure you've got the resources to do it. The only thing shutting us out is going to do is get you killed, and I'm...fuck's sake, Makoto, I'm not going to let that happen." He swallowed hard past the knot in his throat. "You're my friend, I'm not about to let you do something as stupid as a secret one-person infiltration."
"Dude," Ryuji said. "I mean, shit, I'm right there with you, but that's kind of a harsh way to say it, yeah?"
"No, it's..." Makoto took an unsteady breath in, both hands clutching onto her skirt. "He's right. I was ashamed. I couldn't face her, and that made me feel so useless. And I let that shame control me." She shook her head, raising her gaze towards Ren, towards Haru, then finally looking at Ann. "I'm sorry. I should have done better. I will do better. I'm...I'm sorry. I–"
"Stop apologizing already," Ann grumbled, wiping at her eyes. "I'm not mad at you, Koto. I'm just...scared. This is all fucking crazy and terrifying and the last thing I need is for you to vanish cause you went off somewhere alone without telling someone and got hurt. I can't sit around knowing that my best friend might up and disappear forever, not...not ever again. Okay? So I don't need you to apologize or stop keeping secrets or whatever, just promise me that, please. Don't shut me out."
Makoto pursed her lips, and nodded. "I promise," she said, almost a whisper. "I wouldn't ever do that to you, I swear. I never...I don't want to hurt you. Not like that. Not ever like that."
Ann gave a wobbly smile, and reached out to grab Makoto's hand tight in hers. "Ditto," she said, her voice unsteady.
"I don't mean to interrupt this moment," Yusuke said, glancing up from his phone. "But I may have discovered something that I believe you all should hear." He stared back down at the screen. "I took a brief look to see if Goro Akechi had any political connections, considering our current business with An-So. His most obvious contacts and affiliations are with police or prosecution, I found an article that...well..." He cleared his throat. "Fledgling detective Goro Akechi seen in heated conversation with political superstar Masayoshi Shido; does this foretell an investigation into the beloved minister?" And Yusuke looked back up towards the Thieves. "Written for Temptation by Ichiko Ohya."
"That fucking gossip lady?" Ryuji asked, and Ann curled up her nose.
"She did help Ren before," Makoto said, quieter than usual. "Maybe she knows more about this."
Masayoshi Shido. Masayoshi Shido. Shido. Shido. "Yusuke," Ren said, voice sounding so hollow in his own ears. "Does the article have any pictures or anything?"
"Yes, of course," he replied, giving Ren an odd look before handing over the phone.
It took less than five seconds of scrolling to find a picture of the man, standing in front of a podium, frozen mid-elocution. A bald head, stern brow, goatee. Dark eyes hidden behind orange-tinted sunglasses.
"After I told him who you were, he pulled strings at the police station to get it sent to him."
"Hey. Make this statement to the cops. 'This kid suddenly attacked me.' Got it?"
"He was the one who put me in juvie. He–"
"Fuck," he whispered, dropping the phone onto the table. His left hand was shuddering, and he grabbed the wrist with his right, blinking fast. Spiraling, his head reeling back into his skull. "It's him. It's fucking him."
"Ren?" Morgana asked, pressing a paw into his stomach with a concerned mewl. "Are you okay? What's going on?"
Ren stared down at the picture, at the phone now two feet from his face, at the man whose face he'd seen in blurry memory on repeat for the past two years. "The drunk guy that night, the one I pushed, who accused me of assaulting him. That's him. He's the guy who got me arrested."
The room flinched in unison. "Fuck," Haru whispered.
"Dad mentioned something about him," Futaba said quietly, still holding tight to Kasumi, her eyes now locked on Ren. "I don't...remember exactly. But anytime he came on the TV in Leblanc, he'd always turn it off or change the channel. Like he knew him."
"He's running for Prime Minister," Makoto said, blinking fast. "A man like that, in that position of power? Not to mention..." She pursed her lips, trailing off.
"That fucking bastard," Ryuji whispered, voice shaking with rage. "Doing that shit to a fucking middle-schooler, and now he's out there making speeches?" He reached out and grabbed Ren's hand, holding it tight, as if he were terrified to let him go. "Fuck that. Fuck him."
"And there's some connection between him and Akechi as well," Yusuke added. "We would need to get the full story from Miss Ohya first, but that does imply that he knows something about the mental shutdowns."
"If I may summarize," Haru offered. "The Second Detective Prince, Goro Akechi, is the black masked Persona-user, and is likely responsible for some number of mental shutdowns. He will try to murder my father when we change his heart. And he has some connection to the politician Masayoshi Shido, the very man who put my boyfriend in juvenile detention for a year." Her eyes gleamed with momentary anger, a furious shudder leaking into her tone. "And it's up to us to figure out a way to stop him. Most likely, stop them both"
"I need to talk to him," Kasumi said, quiet, almost a whisper. "I wanna know...even if he's been ly-ly-lying this whole time, I need to hear it from him. From Akechi. I can't..." She pulled Futaba closer, blinking away what must have been tears. "I need to know. I need to know why."
Ren's gaze turned towards the table. Towards the note. Towards the key. Towards the gun. This was beyond him. A maelstrom of untethered facts, screeching overhead in an absurd spiral, a cacophony of knowledge he had no way of processing. Knowledge that, if he couldn't figure it out, might end up killing him and every single person he loved.
What the fuck else was new?
Ren Amamiya, the one and only Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves, reached over and picked up the key. Once again, it seemed to strain against his skin, like a butterfly fluttering into his fingers. "We've got all night to figure this out," he said, the words spilling out of him. "And we finally have an opportunity to get some fucking control over our situation. We're Thieves, aren't we?" His fingers curled around the living metal. "Let's take back our future."
An impossibly huge thank you to Jane for beta-reading this behemoth of a chapter, her notes were amazing and super helpful and inspiring.
