CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains references to grooming, self harm, parental abuse and attempted suicide. While not graphic, this content still may be difficult or upsetting to read, so please take breaks or skip sections as needed. Stay safe.


10/19 – Wednesday
Evening
Cafe Leblanc, Attic

The events of the day had been compressed into a thin and hazy film that swam behind Ren's eyes, blurring his focus. But even through that, he could still concentrate enough on the things that mattered.

"I think Anachronism's trying to tell me something," he began, plopping down on his bed.

Morgana hopped up next to him and then sat back on his haunches, tilting his head. "Like what?"

Ren shrugged. "Dunno yet. I haven't really been..." Hands in his lap, fiddling one thumbnail against another. "I've been shutting him out, kinda. His memories, all that."

"Oh," Morgana said with a little frown – or an approximation of one, at least. "Ren. You remember what happened the last time you tried pretending those memories didn't exist, right?"

"I remember that when I finally let them in, they took me out for the whole Hawaii trip," Ren replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "And until the SRU is on the same page about Akechi, at least, I don't think I can afford to let that happen again."

Morgana hummed a little nervous tune to himself, shifting back and forth on the sheets. "What if you just let one in?" he said. "Just one, and see how that feels. And if it's bad, we can get Maruki to help-"

Ren interrupted the cat by smacking his palm against his own forehead. "Maruki. Damnit, I knew I forgot something." He shoved a hand in his pocket, pausing at the overwhelming glare from his feline companion. "Okay. I promise, I'll...I'll let one memory in. Alright?" Morgana nodded, and he finished fishing out his phone.

Naoto
WHEN YOU HAVE TIME. I WOULD LIKE 2 SPEAK 2 YOU.
Srry. Caps lock.
Please call me.

Ren was barely able to compose an apology message to Maruki before nearly leaping over his own fingers to dial Naoto's number. "Hi, sorry, just got your text, been a busy night," he rambled as soon as he heard the click on the other end.

"Ren," the detective gently chided him, that familiar voice curved with a smile. "Breathe, please."

Ren breathed. "We were out celebrating," he continued. "Haru got her own place and stuff, and–"

A loud, yet distant voice chimed in. "Congrats!" Which sent a stall into Ren's tone and a laugh into Naoto's.

"My apologies, my hands are busy so I've put you on speaker," Naoto said, still chuckling. "But as Kanji said, yes. Many congratulations are in order."

"Right," Ren agreed, trying to calm himself. Laughter. Laughter was good. Laughter generally meant the absence of crisis. "Yeah, it's...I mean, like I said, we were all celebrating and stuff." He paused, another thought winding its way through his throat. "She's been amazing. Really brave, facing her dad, and all that."

A hum of affirmation. "I can imagine," Naoto said, his tone laced with sympathy. "I saw her father's confession on the news. Is she taking that well?"

Ren shrugged. "All things considered, yeah." He found his throat somewhat dry and swallowed hard, fingertips tense against his bedsheets. "There's a whole lot there he didn't confess. He treated her...I dunno how to put it to words, even. 'Abuse' feels like an understatement." Morgana crawled over his legs and settled in his lap, the purring feline sending a tingling fuzz across his spine. He forced his fingers to relax and sent an idle hand through Morgana's fluff.

"Understood." Naoto let out a long breath. "Then I think she is lucky to have all of you supporting her."

"Yeah," Ren agreed. "And we're lucky to have her right back." He paused petting Morgana, reaching up to twist a strand of his own hair between two fingers. "So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?"

Naoto didn't answer right away. Ren could hear a page turn, and the scritching of a pen. "I know you're worried about Akechi," he said, quick and blunt and yet somehow still quite kind. "And I wanted to keep you in the loop, so to speak, about his behavior and temperament when you are not there. Potentially to soothe those fears, somewhat."

"Okay." Ren nodded, a dumb and useless gesture. "Thank you."

"Of course," Naoto said, another smile woven through his voice. "I probably should have done so sooner, but rectifying now is better than not at all, I suppose." He cleared his throat. "To be clear, Akechi is currently in a state of stable crisis, which is absolutely to be expected. He is attempting to adjust to an uncomfortable situation, and the safety it provides him often feels...claustrophobic."

Tap tap tap went the pen on his table. "He's spent years of his formative life in an environment that rewards weakness with mistreatment. As such, he has developed a hypervigilant safety net, patterns which have helped him avoid further abuse at the cost of his own well-being. And he is...desperate to return to that environment, even as he recognizes it will lead to self-annihilation."

Ren stared at the far wall until spots formed across his irises. "Fuck," he said, simply.

"Yes," Naoto agreed. "But I treat the word 'stable' as vital here as 'crisis.' He is struggling, but he has maintained himself wonderfully. I believe he has used his focus on revenge in order to lock himself there, keeping himself alive and functioning at the minimum it requires to kill Shido." Ren felt his gut lurch somewhat at the statement. Almost pride, and almost dread.

"In the short term, that's quite helpful, and I do have faith his plan would work remarkably as a result. But in the long term..." Naoto hummed out a breath, almost a sigh. "Akechi needs something else to motivate him. Another goal, or ideal, that can provide him a reason to actually focus on thriving rather than survival." A tiny chuckle. "At the moment, we've only been able to aid those positive tendencies through his desire to pay back Kasumi's kindness, or one-up you, Ren."

A bark of involuntary laughter slipped out of him before he could catch it, making Morgana jump in his lap. "Sorry," he whispered, the feline giving him a grumpy stink-eye over his shoulder. Then Ren raised his voice again. "Sorry, that's, I mean, that – that's a start, at least."

"Indeed it is," Naoto replied, and Ren could hear the smile in his voice. "And I have no doubt a continued proximity to the Thieves will do him well." Another pause, another breath filled with fatigue. "But, to address the elephant in the room? Akechi's self-destructive tendencies have not stopped."

Ren bit his lip. "Yeah," he managed. "Kinda hoped...I mean, it's a hard habit to break." He reached up, massaging his left wrist with his free right hand. "I know that from experience. Still, I hoped that...I dunno, it had gotten better for him."

"It has," Naoto said, quickly. "That ice cube trick you provided him has helped him begin to form less damaging habits. And it took longer than I would have liked," a little spark of bitterness, "but the SRU has adjusted to ensuring he can maintain quality of life without facing certain...objects that would trigger those impulses. Electric razors, for example. Food that does not require a fork or knife. Locking the shower water at a safe range of temperatures."

"Right," Ren said, slowly. He was thankful that Naoto didn't spell out the graphic details, but his imagination could still fill in the gaps, and it filled them in red and gaudy and sickening. "Okay. Okay, that's good to know. Um, thank you."

"Of course." Naoto's voice was as soft as anything. "And as I said, your trick has been immensely helpful. I'm quite thankful to you for suggesting it, Akechi definitely would not have been as receptive if it came from me." The comment took Ren by surprise. It didn't sound like flattery. Well, even so, it was definitely mistaken. Akechi hated Ren, why the fuck would Naoto's advice be less helpful than his?

"But I fear..." Naoto trailed off. "I don't believe there is any kind way to put this. Mitsuru has no idea what she is doing when it comes to caring for a person in crisis, and yet she has still extended her desire for control onto his situation." Bitter words, spoken calmly. Cold, and precise.

Ren blinked. He felt his lungs begin to chill, frost coating the back of his throat. "What did she do?"

"She requested I put Akechi on suicide watch," Naoto said.

Bandages peeled off, coating the floor. Picking off scar tissue with dirty fingernails. Kicking the metal door with his bare foot. Hoarse promises that left him as pleas. Ren's entire body felt stiff.

"If anything happ-happens, while you're here. If anyone makes you feel uns-unsafe. Then I'd get you out. I promise."

"Did you?" he asked. They weren't his words. A spark of lucidity that was not him.

"No." Clear, crisp, and exactly as blunt as needed. "She has not dropped the issue, but I have made my refusal clear."

Ren forced a breath. Focus. Fucking focus. "If she doesn't shut up, or tries to go behind your back or something, tell her the Phantom Thieves...tell her Ren would consider that a point of fucking severance. If she tries that shit again, we're through."

Naoto was silent for a long few seconds. "Understood," he said, finally. "Thank you. I...yes." Another little pause. "Are you alright? I apologize for not adequately preparing you for the topic, I should have recognized that it..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry, there's...is that purring in the background, or is it something on my end?"

Ren blinked. Morgana was thrumming up a thunderous tone against his legs, making a noise like a creature twice his size. He couldn't help the tiny chuckle that escaped him. "Yeah, that's, heh, sorry. Morgana tends to purr a lot when I'm stressed." He ran a hand over the cat's fur, and his purring quieted. "I'm okay. Hit me kinda hard right when you mentioned it, it's...a personal thing for me. All of it."

"I understand," Naoto said, quietly. "As it is for me." He took a long breath in and out, one that Ren mimicked on instinct. "If I felt Akechi was truly in danger, I would gladly adjust his situation as much as necessary to ensure his safety. But that is..." A bitter little sigh. "That is a step too far. The SRU is not a mental institution, nor should it be. So long as Mitsuru respects me as a consultant on this matter, I promise you, I will not budge when it comes to Akechi's autonomy."

Ren nodded for his own benefit. "Good." He sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Cause neither will I."


10/20 – Thursday
After School
Odaiba, Shadow Response Unit Headquarters

There was a silence as Ren guided his sister down the halls, a tension that tore at his heartstrings, but he kept steady. Futaba had enough trouble going out already, and being without the other Thieves on top of being in an unknown place like this probably just added to it, not even to mention the occasion. Ren wanted to be her rock, stay steady, stay strong. He didn't know how this was going to go. But however it did, he'd let her have full authority. This was her grudge, the final resolution of her reason for joining the Thieves. She had every right to do what she needed to resolve the pain she'd been carrying, and Ren wasn't about to interrupt that.

As they reached the plain-looking metal door, Ren stopped, swallowing his anxiety like so much bitter medicine. "It's through here," he said, voice shaky but firm. "Are you okay? I'll be in there with you the whole time."

Futaba, for her part, was like Ren had never seen her. A firm anger in her eyes, a steady dedication, even as her body shook from the nerves, gripping tight to the ends of her jacket, head gently swaying to one side as the white fuzz of the collar rubbed against her. "I'm okay," she said, her voice quiet and scared, but strong. She took a deep breath in and out. "I'm gonna be okay. I want to do this. I have to do this."

"There will always be time if you're not ready now," Ren added. "But I trust you. If you give the word, it's a go right now. And I'll be right behind you the whole time. Okay?" His hand rested on the door's handle.

After a momentary pause, Futaba took another long, deep breath, and she nodded. "I'm ready," she said. "I'm ready to meet my mom's killer again."

The room inside was the same as when Ren had last seen it, a simple setup with a table and three chairs, two empty on the side by the door. The cooler had been added, a slight confirmation that put his mind a bit at ease. In the chair on the other side of that table sat the one responsible for the death of Wakaba Ishiki, a boy in simple clothes, a white shirt and pants, light-brown hair spilling over him in a mess, deep under-eye bags and both arms covered up and down by vivid red marks that crawled up to and past the ends of his short sleeves that made Ren's left wrist itch at the sight.

"I see you've brought another one of your merry little gang to me," Akechi said, with an annoyance that felt somehow forced, and an exhaustion that didn't. "Should I get comfortable? Are you going to drag each of your bonds in and out of here like a carousel? Is your homeroom teacher next?"

Ren rolled his eyes. "I'll bring in any of my allies who want to speak with you. That's part of the arrangement." Rather than play along with the prince's goading, he kept his eyes on his sister.

Futaba winced as she laid eyes on the boy at first, her eyes darting down to her feet before refocusing on him. The anger in her expression had dwindled a bit, but she stayed firm. Her face twisted in that way Ren recognized as her making a mental connection, placing a memory. "We've met before," she said. There was a chill to her voice, something unnerving and unnatural from the girl.

"Yes," Akechi admitted plainly. "And I take it you're referring to the time we met outside of the traces your group placed on my phone."

"You lied to me," she continued, seeingly refusing to play along with his rhetorical game. The sharpness in her words like a lingering threat.

"By omission," he added, seeming to strain his whole body to force an exaggerated shrug. "What I did tell you was true, for what it's worth."

She was quiet for awhile. "So that really happened to your mom." And more silence. "And then you did the same thing to me."

That seemed to finally put a dent in the boy's facade, his demeanor seeming to shrink before Ren's eyes, settling back in his chair. "Yes," he said, his voice hoarse and tired. "I suppose I did."

Futaba looked away, gritting her teeth and muttering something quietly to herself. "Why?" she asked finally, still refusing to look at the boy again. "Why would you do that?"

He seemed to consider that, leaning over the table and interlacing his fingers. "I felt I had no other choice," he said. "I had a plan…" A moment of hesitation, his fingers twitching. "Or, I…thought I did. And at the time, my rationale…" He shook his head, entire hand twitching this time. He held them together tighter. "Accomplishing that plan required that I obey Shido's order and take her life." His full body seemed to twitch at that, and he sighed. "There's really no vindicating or emotionally satisfying answer. Shido asked, and I obeyed." And he gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening their grip against each other.

Futaba took another erratic breath. "Okay," she said, no shortage of frustration in her voice. "Why for Shido, then? Why would he want my mom dead?" She gripped her left arm tight with her right hand, her jacket slipping and falling before she pulled it back up. "Why?"

Ren wanted to rush over to her, to envelop her in a hug, to gently reassure her, but he held himself back. From the bag in his shoulder, he felt the gentle shifting of a cat who most likely shared his sentiment. It felt awful, but Ren was determined to let Futaba have this space, to say and do whatever she needed.

"He doesn't share his reasons with me," Akechi began, slow and methodical, like he was picking his words with the same careful deliberation as in his TV interviews. "So this is all speculative. But her research into cognitive psience would have been of obvious interest to him for his influence over his own public perception. If he could get his hands on it, he would. And if she wasn't willing to share…" he trailed off, making a vague gesture to himself.

Futaba simply nodded, the sharpness never leaving her expression. "Okay," she said quietly. And her brow seemed to furrow like she was even more upset. "So you're just a tool, then? I can't even…" and she gestured at nothing, letting out a jumbled cry of frustration.

Ren turned back to Akechi, whose eyes seemed to suddenly alight with a similar determination. "Don't misunderstand me," he said. "Shido gave the order, but the one responsible for taking your mother's life is still me. If you have a grudge to keep, it's I who will bear it."

Futaba gave a quick noise, like a frustrated whine. "I know that," she said. "I'm not stupid." She shook her head, seeming to dispel the lingering hesitation. "Okay," she said. "Tell me about my mom's last moments before you killed her. Everything you can remember."

Akechi sighed, seeming to hesitate to speak. His head lowered, taking a deep breath in and out. "Please understand that I was only able to kill her because she had a Palace," he began. "It was through that that I killed her, so the version of her I met was her Shadow, not her earnest self."

"I know," the girl fired back. "And I don't care. I know my mom wasn't always perfect. I know she had some problems and made some mistakes. But she wasn't like what those men who visited me tried to tell me she was. And I want to know the truth."

The prince nodded, seeming to take a moment to gather his words. "She was obsessive. Absorbed in her work, rushing to get it done as if she was up against a constant deadline. Her Palace was a power plant, a mess of production at the cost of her own life force." He shrugged. "In the end, I suppose her paranoia was justified." Ren almost interjected at the comment, but he bit his tongue. It wasn't his battle to fight.

Futaba simply nodded. "Yeah," she said. "That sounds like mom." She closed her eyes as if trying to envision it, an empty smile on her face like a bittersweet memory. When she opened them again, she stared at the boy across the table again, looking over him like she was examining a dissected animal. The anger in her eyes seemed to soften. They were still sharp, but somehow weary. "That's so unfair," she said, almost a whisper. "I thought I'd be able to track down some unapologetic smug jackass billionaire in a nice suit, some guy in power, an adult, not…" and she gestured at nothing with her hands. "Not someone I could see myself in." And she was quiet for a minute, rubbing her face on the sleeve of her jacket. "I hate you," she said. "For taking even that away from me."

Akechi stayed still and listened, giving a nod when she seemed to finish. "I see," he said. "I can't blame you for that." He rested his head in his left hand, seeming to smirk at something distant. "Though I don't see how you can't at least pick up 'smug jackass' from me."

"Because you're faking it," Futaba interjected, her voice as strong and firm as Ren had ever heard it. "Just like you faked everything else." She glared at him. "You can't make me feel better just by pretending to be a complete asshole to avoid the blame." She shook her head. "No, let me correct myself. I don't hate you. I don't think it's even worth it to hate you." She lowered her sleeve from in front of her face again, sharp purple eyes staring daggers into the boy. "I think maybe I pity you. Because I think you could've been like me, or I could've been like you. You're like me without my family, if I had gone all in on revenge. And I don't like it."

"I think you're letting me off a little too lightly," he said. "You're allowed to be angry, you know."

And she scoffed, a brief spark of irritated laughter. "Oh, I am. But you're wrong." She looked down at him. "I think you want me to be angry and want me to hate you because that's easy. Then you can write me off or you can say I'm treating you exactly how I should and you can keep on living with all your self-hatred and guilt and all that dumb bullshit." And she shook her head. "I know how to think like that. And it's so easy. What's gonna be hard is dealing with me not forgiving you and not hating you either. Then you've actually gotta treat me like a person and figure out how to make it up to me." Her hands balled into fists that quickly unformed. "You don't get to take the easy way out."

Akechi seemed awestruck, mouth open without any words coming out, as if every retort he'd carefully planned was made irrelevant, as if she'd found the one stance he couldn't write off or ignore. He seemed to fold further in on himself, leaning over the table before pushing himself back up with a slight strain. "I see," he mumbled quietly.

Futaba looked like she was set to leave, but she hesitated as she turned to walk to the door. With a little sigh, she turned around one more time to look at him. Ren saw something else in her eyes now, something softer. "Tell me something," she said, her voice so soft and so quiet.

The boy simply nodded.

"Kasumi considers you a really good friend," she said, her voice sounding on the verge of tearing up. "Why?"

That one seemed to throw the prince off guard, and he let one of his arms drop limply onto the table in a motion that made Ren wince as he seemed to consider it. Something in his expression, like the simple realization that Kasumi still considered him a friend was tearing at his heart. "I don't know," he muttered. "Kasumi is far too kind and far too forgiving. So she-"

"Shut up," Futaba interjected, shaking her head. "I know that trick. The dumb thing where you find a way to explain away people's kindness so you can still hate yourself." She turned to look at Ren, a little meek smile. "I used to do it too. I still do sometimes." And her gaze was back on the detective. "But it isn't fair to your friends. So I'm asking you why Kasumi still thinks you're a good friend. If you know, tell me."

The boy sighed, an exhausted motion as if a twenty-pound weight rested squarely on his chest. "Unlike everyone else," he began, his voice low and deliberate, carefully finding his words as he went. "Kasumi valued me for myself. Not the Second Detective Prince, not as a useful tool or a good PR connection. I knew right away she didn't have the heart to even consider using me for her own ends. She saw the genuine me and chose to be my friend in spite of it." He gave a distant smile, as if visualizing a more pleasant time, and Futaba seemed to share it, her own memories of Kasumi no doubt on her mind. "So if I had to say," the boy continued. "I think she liked… my spirit, my… passion. The genuine one." Ren saw the pain on his expression, as if even considering his own positive traits was a greater torture than any insult Futaba could have thrown his way. He knew the feeling all too well himself.

"When you talked about the Phantom Thieves," Ren added. "You weren't making that up. You really believe changing people's hearts is dangerous and terrifying, right?"

The boy gave a cold laugh and nodded. "You've got me marked, I suppose. Whether she agreed or not, I imagine that was the sort of time when Kasumi saw my genuine passion break through."

Futaba simply nodded, and in a swift motion, lifted her headphones from around her neck over her ears, flicking on a setting that lit them up with a gentle blue glow. "I see," she said. "I think I understand now." And she took one last look at Akechi, shaking her head. "I'm kind of glad," she said. "I'm glad I came here and I met the person who killed my mom." And she turned to leave, ducking quickly through the doorway. Ren went to follow.

"Amamiya."

And Ren stopped halfway through the door, turning back around to look at the boy again. "Yes?"

Akechi seemed to hesitate, staring distantly at the table as the scarred fingers on his right hand sifted through his hair. "She's scared of me," he finally said. "Isn't she?"

Ren didn't answer for a moment either. His gut churned with both a hesitancy to speak for his sister and a desire to be open with the detective. "I think so," he finally mumbled. "It's not for me to say."

The boy simply nodded, expression unchanging, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "I see," he muttered, brow furrowing in frustration. "How very considerate of you to accompany her, then." There was something like a curse in those words, something hostile even in the exhaustion. Ren couldn't quite place it. It almost sounded something like jealousy.


Ann
Text your boyfriend.

Ren
?
Hi Ann, nice to hear from you, hope you're having a good day
What the fuck do you mean text my boyfriend

Ann
Just do it.
Trust me.

Ren
Okay?


Ren
Hey Sunshine
How's it going? You doing alright?

Ryuji
dude
did ann tell you to text me?

Ren
Yes?
Dunno why but yes

Ryuji
uuuuuuggggghhhhh

Ren
Ryuji seriously what the fuck is going on

Ryuji
i just had a kinda rough day at work and asked her to walk me home
and i TOLD her i didn't wanna bug you about it but noooo she had to text you

Ren
Uh
I mean, it's not bugging me?
To tell me if you're going through it
Cause I love you
And I wanna know when you need someone to talk to or whatever
Even if you don't need me, I still wanna make time for you

Ryuji
dude you are burning the candle at like five different ends

Ren
Okay yeah but if I don't make time for you when you're struggling then I don't deserve to be your boyfriend so spill already so I can help you

Ryuji
okay
you're right, sorry
it just feels kinda stupid and embaressing and shit you know?

Ren
I know
I do, I promise

Ryuji
okay so like
pretty normal shift today, mister iwai got a new shipment so i took over the front for a bit
i do that all the time, i'm aces at it, nothing to worry about
and right as mister iwai is lugging another box into the back a new customer comes in and says he came in on tuesday (not my shift) and ordered some special ammo and he wanted to check if it arrived and i was like yeah sure thing man what's the name on the order and it's my fucking dad's first fucking name

Ren
Oh
Holy fuck, Ryuji
I'm so sorry

Ryuji
so of course i freeze the fuck up and i'm just staring at the counter and the guy starts getting really upset and impatient and stuff cause i'm just fucking standing there and THAT freaks me out even more and mister iwai has to come over and handle this guy and there's boxes of shit he still hasn't unpacked it's just all over the store while he's taking care of this guy so now he's gotta multitask and i just run into the fucking back cause like hell i can stand there anymore
and yeah
i asked ann to come get me cause my mom's got work on thursdays and i don't want her to get in trouble cause her son can't handle his shit and i couldn't stop freaking out
and i just kinda stared at my phone in the back room till she got here and now we're on the train back to my place

Ren
You could have told me too
It's not a blame thing I promise I'm just
Here for you, you know
Always
I love you, and I'm here for you

Ryuji
yeah but you were busy with taba and stuff
no sorry that's a lie
i mean yeah you were busy and i didn't wanna bug you guys
but also i was just
idk
i guess i don't want you to see me like this

Ren
Like what?
Like you're still freaked out about what happened?
Ryuji I have a panic attack every single time I get within five feet of a cop
I get it, I promise I do
It doesn't change how I feel about you, it won't ever change that

Ryuji
not the same thing

Ren
How isn't it?
We're both traumatized Sunshine
We're both scared about going back to that trauma

Ryuji
yeah but the difference is my dad's never fucking coming back
i'm not in danger because he's not coming back
and we're both scared but you don't wanna go back to prison and i still have dreams about having dinner with the bastard who fucked up my life forever
fuck
ugh im sorry
i'm such a fucking mess i'm sorry

Ren
Did I ever tell you about what the Velvet Room looks like?

Ryuji
uh
idk blue and shit

Ren
It's a prison
Yu told me that every Velvet Room looks different because every Wild Card is different
And mine is a prison
Maybe that's just something Yaldabaoth did to fuck with me but I don't think so
It feels like it's something I chose, somehow
Cuz I was in juvie for a year
Worst year of my life but it couldn't be bad all the time
Sometimes people were nice
Sometimes I found a good book to read or a good corner to sit in where no one would bug me
And I miss that
Ryuji I never wanna go back to jail but sometimes I still crave the food they had there
Maybe that's dumb I dunno

Ryuji
it's not dumb
i guess
you're saying it's normal to miss stuff from back then?

Ren
Very normal
It's called loss aversion I think
Maruki told me about it, he said it happens to everyone

Ryuji
no shit

Ren
None

Ryuji
lol
yeah
idk maybe i just want something else
like closure or something

Ren
That sounds really normal too

Ryuji
cool
also like props to ann i guess

Ren
For telling me to text you?

Ryuji
yeah that
but also she said like
i mean i told her i didn't want you to see me like that and she just said like that you're GONNA see me like that someday
cause i wanna love you with all of me, dude
much as i can
and all of me means even the parts i don't like
i can keep getting better and stuff but i can't just trim off all the bits of me i feel bad about
so i either gotta stop loving you or accept that you're gonna see stuff i'm ashamed of
and there's no fucking way in hell i ever wanna stop loving you

Ren
I feel the same way
Like almost to the letter haha
There's still a lot of me I'm not ready to show anyone
And I'd be lying if I said that didn't freak me out, thinking of showing you and Haru and Ann and Taba and everybody
But if being with you all means showing that, then I'll show it
It just might take me some time

Ryuji
same here
you cool with waiting renren?

Ren
Yep
As long as we need to

Ryuji
cool
thanks ren
i love you so fucking much you know that right?

Ren
Always
And I love you too


█████
Evening
Mementos

"I'm not going to let █████ die." The oath left the Trickster's lips a threat.

"A curious choice of words," the Witch replied, without an ounce of hesitation. Quick and bitter. "And how do you plan on preventing her death?"

He forced his breath to remain steady. She was goading him. Using him as a punching bag for her own helplessness, no doubt. Or whatever it was that she pretended was helplessness. More predeterminative bullshit. "That's what I'm here to find out." He tapped his foot on the tracks, letting the makeshift metronome echo across the walls. "You told me she's the catalyst. That Feather thing at her heart, you need one of those. Can't you get it from somewhere else?"

"A pure Apollyon Feather is not a thing easily obtained," the Witch said. "And hers is unique, among all Attendants. Greater than the sum of its parts." She paused, as if catching herself. "But a similar source of energy can be obtained quite easily, the ritual does not care to specify a Feather in particular. It is the secondary component that her death enables."

The Witch pulled her ethereal string taut, sending an iridescent twang through the air. "An unpayable cost. Something that must be forced upon the traveler, something that traveler would never freely take." She snapped her wrist, severing the end of the thread, and then took up a new one. "In a way, it is a catalyst of another sort. A single regret powerful enough to tear reality asunder."

The Trickster let out a long breath. Regret. Something she'd regret. The thought of this bitch feeling bad about tearing a girl's heart out...it made him sick to his fucking stomach. Regretting it enough to turn back time, but not enough to stop herself from doing it in the first place. "Okay," he said, forcing that furious bile back down his throat. "So how do I change that? What, do like we brainstorm something else you can feel sad about?"

She didn't take his bitter bait. "Provide an equivalency," the Witch said. Her fingers flickered across the wall of Mementos, weaving cognition into practiced patterns, deftly manipulating the fabric of the collective unconscious. "The unpayable cost must be paid. If not with her life, then with an equal abhorrence."

Equal to her life. The Trickster was silent a moment. "What else can you take from me?" he asked.

That caused Oxymoron pause, her hands stalling. "Beyond your name," she said, slowly, "there is much that I can take. Your memories must remain intact, but I can extract far more than your heart."

"You said you were purging my name from this iteration," he said. "Why not purge it from all iterations? Would that be unpayable enough?"

"Perhaps," Oxymoron replied. "But I doubt your future selves could accomplish much, should they lose that."

The Trickster thought. He racked his brain for anything, anything at all; what did he have that could weigh against his friend's life? Could he save her?

Before he could say a word, Oxymoron flinched. "There is," she mumbled, "something that might be equivalent." She turned, and her yellow eyes were cold, perhaps bitter, perhaps just tired. "The Fool. Your Arcana." The cognitive thread slipped from her fingers.

"Arcana." The Trickster's brow furrowed. An echo of a distant memory, like a dream glazed in the blur of morning lucidity. "The means by which all is revealed. Or something like that."

"Oh, you've heard that adage, have you?" Bitterness woven through her tone. The Witch turned back to the wall, and he saw a single flash of fury across her irises. Something personal. "It's somewhat...reductive, though not inaccurate. The Arcana can represent many things, but among them is the bond you share with your Persona." She took the thread between her fingers again, and continued her work. "As that bond grows, so does your other self gain strength. This is true of every Persona user."

"And mine's the Fool." Good to know, though he supposed that was one more bone to pick with whatever celestial entity had assigned him such a fate. "What happens if I lose that bond?"

"Your Persona would no longer recognize you," the Witch said. "Arsene may no longer answer your commands, may act independently, and he may even try to attack you. In some ways, he would become something like a Shadow chained to your heart."

The Trickster couldn't keep his shudder. "How exactly would I be able to 'accomplish' anything in that state?" he spat.

The Witch hummed a little tune before answering, maybe some kind of wordless mnemonic. "If you were any other Persona user, you wouldn't be. But you have something many of your friends do not."

Ah. That was her ploy. "The Wild Card, right?" He growled out a breath. "I'll have other Personas to keep me company, so I can just let Arsene rot in the corner of my heart or something." His other self, gathering dust. Like he could ever allow that.

"Not quite," the Witch chuckled, and Ren had to bite his lip to keep from snapping at the sound. "Though it would help you make strides without his aid. But the Wild Card grants its holder more power than just to wield multiple Personas." She turned slightly, sending the tiniest of smiles his way. "How else do you think you could pull that demon god out of the sky like a lesser beast?"

He paused, forcing his temper back down. "You're saying I could make Arsene recognize he's my Persona again by just sitting down and talking about our feelings?"

"Something like that," the Witch replied, simply.

"And that'll save her?" The words seemed to drag every ounce of anger from the Trickster. Like a strong chill breeze, tearing away the flame. "Losing that, paying it. It'll save her?"

The Witch paused. The thread stilled in her hand. Her shoulders drooped, as if the eons had caught up with her. "It would save the iteration of her that you know."

"That's fine." His tone was quiet, and beyond him. Mournful through the pervasive numb. Something that itched at old scars. "It's enough, just to save 'this' her. Even if it doesn't mean anything in the long run, it...it means something to me!"

His voice, awful and strained, echoed on the silent walls and cascaded across his own eardrums. Over, and over, until he couldn't bear to hear it any longer. He turned, and headed back towards the entrance.

"███," she said, and he stopped. "For what it is worth, I am glad it is you. I am glad that my...that she chose you to be her ward."

"It's not worth much," he said, and his words dragged out a fatigue in him as deep as a century. "Your word, your gratitude. I don't trust you, █████. I don't think I ever will."

"That is for the best." He turned back at her words, seeing the woman in profile again. She was smiling, a pained thing, oddly fresh. Almost pleasant, almost...young. Younger than he knew her to be. "You are █████'s Trickster, and you will save her. And one day, you shall be the one to cut out my heart. I am glad for that, as well."


A hundred thousand thanks to Jane for her continued inspiration, beta-reading annnnd writing the Futaba scene featured in this chapter! She did an amazing job with it, and her notes and brainstorming has been an eternal source of phenomenal inspiration, pushing this story to be better and better and I love her so much for it.