10/25 – Tuesday
Morning
Shujin Academy

Ren wasn't sure what he expected from Shujin's autumn festival, but he found the results to be both satisfying and perplexing. The overnight metamorphosis of the school from drab utility to bustling entertainment was honestly a little frightening, a clear testament to the hard work of the exhausted-looking students manning activities and handing out fliers at every turn. And if that effort was a visible monument, the evident budget was as flat a plateau as the cardboard each of those ramshackle activities were assembled from. Bulk-standard streamers, makeshift costumes consisting of single accessories over normal clothes or uniforms, banners and posters with off-kilter words in desperate need of a second draft. The amateur quality would have been charming, in a B-movie sort of way, if it weren't a continuous reminder of Shujin's cheapskatedness. It seemed like the board really had spared every expense.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but is the festival usually this ugly?" Ren asked.

"Uglier," Haru giggled. "Last year, the printer broke right before the festival and all the clubs had to make their posters by hand. It was a little charming actually, but far from pretty."

Ryuji tilted his head back and forth, gazing at the main banner as if he was trying to find the right viewing angle for the skewed characters. "Almost makes me glad that Yusuke's too busy to pop by. Dude would have flipped his shit at every single flier."

Ann snickered. "He's with his mom, right? Or, uh, his..."

"His mom," Futaba chimed in, perking up slightly from her previous position cowering behind Ann from the crowd of unfamiliar students. She'd insisted on attending the event, but so far spent all five minutes of her time in the entrance clinging to Ann's sweater. "Miss Kitagawa was his mother, Miss Mitsuru is his mom. He's moving in with his mom."

"You've got a good mem-memory, Futaba," Kasumi chirped. She held her hands behind her back, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Esp-especially for something like that about your riv-rival."

"If I don't know about Inari's stuff, I can't mock him good," Futaba mumbled, retreating farther into Ann's sweater. Ann herself just smiled and reached back to pat the girl's head.

Ren was caught halfway between reassuring his sister and continuing to tease her when he spotted Makoto hurrying towards them out of the crowd. "Sorry I'm late," she said, her breath unsteady. "Some genius at the ramen soup kitchen overspiced the pot and someone had to tell them to eighty-six it." She ran a hand through her mussed hair.

"Whaaaaat?" Ryuji whined. "Dude, I was looking forward to that one."

"You were looking forward to small bowls of overcooked bulk ramen for far too much money?" Haru asked in a sweet deadpan that almost made Ren choke on his own stifled laughter.

Ryuji just shrugged. "Nakaoka's manning it, his dad's a chef. The guy always cooks his own lunch, I kinda figured he'd make something good."

Ann grimaced. "Nakanoka's part of the track team. One of the fuckers who bailed on you."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Ryuji stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Still, I mean, fuck them for that, but they aren't all bad, probably. It was all sorts of fucked up all over, I can't blame them for every part. It's complicated, I don't know."

Makoto was silent for a long few seconds, glancing between Ann and Ryuji. She cleared her throat. "Do I...have permission to shut down the kitchen if they mess up another batch?"

Ryuji snorted. "Granted, dude. Not like I'm batting for them if they fuck up."

"I wasn't aware you still had that authority, Makoto," Ren chimed in, scooting closer to Ryuji – a little 'just-in-case' sort of proximity. Sure enough, his boyfriend relaxed almost immediately, rolling his shoulders back as soon as Ren was near. "You're not president anymore, right?"

Makoto smirked. "Yes, well, it seems that ejecting the only member of the student council on first-name-basis with every club on campus was a bad decision."

"Also you're very good at doing exec-executive stuff like this!" Kasumi added.

"Thank you," Makoto said. She was feigning humility, but Ren got the feeling she was preening, just a little. "Regardless, they realized they'd shot themselves in the foot, and asked for my help to make sure the festival ran smoothly. Which I granted, in exchange for...I'm embarrassed to admit, but a bit of well-earned groveling on their part, I think. I asked them to apologize."

Ann let out an impressive whistle, and Futaba poked out her head from behind her. "Makie's on a roll."

Makoto opened her mouth to answer but her phone chimed in her pocket, cutting her off. She winced at the sound, then pulled out her cell just long enough to silence it before pocketing it again. "And I'll just hope they can keep everything running during the two hour lunch break they had a full day to prepare for me to take."

"Ooh, a one-person-union," Haru chimed in, beaming through the words. "Be still my heart."

Makoto let out a jittery laugh and rubbed the back of her neck. If Ren wasn't mistaken, her cheeks seemed a little more red than a second earlier.

Morgana let out a groan from inside his bag and poked his head out over Ren's shoulder. "You said there would be cool stuff to look at. This entrance is boring."

Ryuji burst out laughing, and reached behind Ren to ruffle the cat's head. "Come on, you big fluffy baby. You too, Ren. Let's go tour this popsicle stand."


Ryuji glanced between the makeshift soup kitchen and Ren. "Dude, are you...you sure? I mean, this isn't a bad idea or something, right?"

The Thieves were down three and up one already. Ann had insisted on taking Makoto and Haru into the haunted house, and – after Ryuji's leg started acting up – the rest of them had commandeered a table outside the maid cafe, across from the soup kitchen. A table already occupied by a very friendly face.

"You don't owe them anything," Mishima chimed in. "I mean, so long as you remember that. If...well, I'm not really friends with anyone on the volleyball team anymore, but I still kinda...I talked to them, after what went down. It kinda helped, just...you know, seeing them like actual people. A bit." She gave an awkward smile. "That's not really helpful, is it?"

"Sounds helpful to me," Ren said, giving the girl a nod before turning back to his boyfriend. "Mishima's totally right, you don't owe them a thing. If talking to them helps you let go of what happened, then it's a great idea. There's not a wrong answer here. Trust your instincts."

"Believe in the we that believes in you!" Futaba chirped.

Ryuji raised an eyebrow at the final comment, before bursting into laughter. "Don't fucking quote otaku shit at me, you little gremlin." He craned over the table to ruffle Futaba's hair, and she smacked at his hand repeatedly in a frankly impeccable impression of Morgana on a grumpy day. "But, I guess, you're not wrong. Nerdy, but not wrong."

"Nerdy and not wrong are my middle names," Futaba added, with a mischievous grin. "Futaba Nerdy Not-Wrong Sakura, at your service." Kasumi snorted on laughter, grinning with her eyes.

Ryuji, however, was more focused on the soup kitchen. On the track team manning the booth. "Yeah," he said. "Fuck it, yeah. Believe in the you that believes in me." He stood, stretching his arms over his head before glancing towards Futaba. "If anime fails me now, I'm holding you responsible."

"Blame Kamina," Mishima and Futaba replied in unison, before both girls' jaws dropped into enormous grins, pointing at each other with silent glee.

Ryuji rolled his eyes, crossing the table and leaning down to peck Ren on the forehead in one smooth motion. Ren forced himself to continue breathing and threw a thumbs-up. "You've got this," he wheezed.

"I've got this," Ryuji affirmed, totally unaffected. And he headed off towards the kitchen.

"You look like a tomato," Morgana said, giving a distinctly feline smirk.

"And you look like a cat," Ren fired back, wincing at his own involuntary inanity.

"I am a cat," Morgana replied hastily, before dunking himself back into his bag.

Mishima glanced between the bag and Ren. "Are you...am I missing something, or did you just insult your therapy cat?"

"Oh!" Kasumi blinked at her. "You can't underst-understand Mister Morgana then? I assumed you could."

"Only Persona-users can," Futaba said. "Everyone else just hears him meowing."

Mishima stared at a vague space between the two girls. "I'm...sorry, I'm very lost."

"Uh," Ren said, trying not to laugh. "It's...Thief stuff. Morgana, the cat, helps us–" Another student walked by the table, and Ren frantically shoved the words back down his throat, almost coughing at the effort. "He helps us do that stuff. He's...magic?"

"And you can hear him talking?" Mishima asked, incredulous. "Like, actual words. Not just 'meow meow meow,' right?"

Morgana poked his head out and squinted at the girl, a distinct glare from a face not quite designed for it. "You called Ren a 'normie' for being too busy to read that eight-part manga. And your favorite part is six."

"Eight-part manga...?" Futaba mumbled, before her eyes lit up. She slammed her hands on the table with enough force to make everyone else flinch, and whirled towards Mishima. "You like Stone Ocean!?"

Mishima stared at the girl, blinking quickly, before her gaze locked on Morgana. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," Ren said, once again doing his best to keep from laughing.

"He's magic magic."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit," Mishima repeated. She leaned back, letting out a long breath. "You guys have a magic cat. That's...that's really cool."

Futaba chuckled, one hand on her chin and placing the other on Mishima's arm. "Oh, you sweet summer child. The magic cat is just the beginning of cool."

Mishima gave her a confused but unbothered glance. "Okay. So, what's after the cat?"

"The cat has a name!" Morgana yowled, shaking the bag back and forth in ire.

"After Morgana," Futaba said, without missing a beat, "we all get superpowers. And cool costumes. And fight monsters."

"I helped beat up a demon eleph-eleph-elephant last month!" Kasumi added.

Mishima snickered. "Okay, you're definitely fucking with me. Talking cat is..." Morgana poked his head out of the bag again, giving Mishima a pointed glare. "Morgana is one thing, but you're...you're telling me the Phantom Thieves are magical girls?"

Kasumi blinked twice and then gasped. "Oh! Oh! Futaba, Futaba!" She grabbed onto the girl's sleeve, and Futaba let out a surprised 'eep.' "Futaba, are we mag-magical girls!?"

"Kinda," Ren chimed in, grinning at the scene. "I mean, we're not all girls, but otherwise–" He was cut off by Kasumi's gleeful squeal, before she hugged Futaba with what looked like unshakable excitement. Futaba froze in place, a huge grin locked on her face, looking halfway to the most exuberant state of comatose he'd ever seen.

Mishima just shook her head in disbelief. "I always kind of imagined...I dunno, some kind of crazy ritual or psychic thing, but...I mean, if anyone else told me that, I'd probably laugh in their face." She paused. "Wait, does that mean...like, that I was like a monster? Did you have to fight me?"

Ren blinked. He could feel the gears turning in his head, something important he'd left for later, for now, a puzzle parked and idling in the back of skull. "Normally, we would," he said, slow, careful. Lock-picking his own head and keeping his facts straight at the same time. "People with distortion, whose hearts need changing, they turn into Shadows in the Metaverse – the place where we get our powers. Monsters, I mean, like...demons and minor gods and stuff. And when we fight their Shadow, we can change their heart. But sometimes we – I mean, basically only with you so far – we can change someone's heart by just talking to their Shadow before they attack us. Your Shadow–"

"Whether or not you have ever listened to me, listen now. You have done to me exactly what your father did to you. You let your son be free, and punished him every single day for that freedom, waiting for him to return home and accept the destiny you chose for him. And in doing so, you have forever lost your daughter."

"A father should not repeat his own father's mistakes. But I have repeated mine. I hated my father, and yet I expected...I expected you to love me. Everything I did, I did for my legacy, of training a worthy heir to my name. I thought only of raising the prodigal son my own father wished of me. And I fear that I have lost my daughter in that desperation."

Ren blinked. The puzzle clicked into place. "You changed your own heart."

Mishima nodded, visibly lost. "You said something like that, yeah. I don't really know what that actually means though, I guess." Both Futaba and Kasumi's eyes were on Ren as well, clearly waiting for his conclusion, for whatever revelation was trapped in his lungs and straining to escape.

"We talked, in the Metaverse," Ren continued, every word a careful note in a precise symphony. "I talked to your Shadow. Your inner self, the part of you that you didn't want to see, that you were hiding from. And your Shadow chose to change her own heart, your heart."

Mishima was quiet, taking that in. "Okay," she said slowly.

"What do you remember?" Ren asked. "That night, before we talked, something changed in you, right? Your heart changed on its own. What did that feel like?"

"Uh," Mishima mumbled, shying away a little from the intensity, but still seeming to focus on the question. Her brow furrowed in thought, in memory. "I felt kinda tired. After I yelled at you, I just...I fell asleep real easy, which is weird, cause I didn't sleep well at all that whole week before. And I had..." She trailed off. "Weird dream. Not bad, just...weird. I was a flower, I think. Growing out of subway tracks."

Futaba and Kasumi flinched in unison, eyes wide, and Ren felt his own heart start to fire on all cylinders. "I think there was someone else there, like a person. I don't remember much, but they sort of...I mean, I had to...I unrooted myself, and..." Mishima blinked. "I woke up really early, and I stared at the ceiling and thought about stuff. And I remember calling myself a liar over and over, and then I just...like, I got really mad at myself, and I just decided like...even if I'm a liar, even if I've been trying to be someone I'm not, I'm a really bad actor. I suck at lying."

"So, even if I've been lying my whole life, then there's something in there that's me, right? There's some point in which I've been me, even just a bit. So if I can't be all the way a liar, then maybe...then maybe you, and Sakamoto, and Takamaki, and everyone, maybe you really would like the real me, cause...there's gotta be some of the real me there, somewhere."

Silence. Mishima shifted back and forth on her seat, hands in her lap. Ren could practically smell the smoke from his brain screaming on overtime. Morgana wiggled his way out of his bag and stared first at Mishima, then Ren. "It's Okumura all over again, isn't it?"

"Okumura?" Kasumi mumbled, quirking an eyebrow at Morgana. "You mean Haru's dad?" Right. None of the other Thieves knew about that wrinkle just yet.

Ren just nodded. "That's what I told your Shadow," he said, and Mishima froze. "Not verbatim, but damn close."

"No way." Futaba turned towards Mishima, gazing at her with a reverent awe. "You self-induced a cognitive overhaul and reiterated direct subconscious stimuli into your conscious mind on a one-to-one basis?" She shook her head in amazement. "You're a pscientific miracle. I would...if I ever invent biotech, please let me hack your brain."

That seemed enough to rouse the girl, and she blinked towards Futaba with a perplexed expression. "I like my brain unhacked?" she managed in distressed falsetto.

Morgana snorted. "One more mystery to figure out at our next meeting, then." It was a little artificial, pointed, almost shying away from Kasumi's curiosity.

Kasumi thankfully didn't press the issue. Instead, she glanced back towards Futaba, whom she was still about zero inches away from. "Futaba, didn't you get your heart changed too? Do you remem-remember any of that?"

Futaba seemed genuinely surprised by the question, like she hadn't expected it. "Uh, I...I think so? I mean, I was there when it changed, so it's not like.." She trailed off. "Um. I had...like a bunch of dreams? Like, about being up on top of that pyramid again, except I was my Shadow and not me. Like, I was the pyramid, almost."

She hummed at nothing. "Daydreams too, not just dream dreams. I just...well, it was on my mind. I wanted to know what my Shadow felt like. Who she was, how she thought. She was me, but also, kinda not me. And I was...empathizing? Or, trying to." Futaba frowned, pursing her lips. "I don't think I did a very good job."

There was...a lot to take in. Ren's head was still spinning at nothing, but his sister's melancholy knocked those thoughts into static. He scooted closer, giving her a sympathetic smile. "You accepted her, Taba. There's nothing else you need to do. She's still a part of you. Just...a good part, now. A part you can be proud of. You did that."

Futaba still seemed a little less than thrilled, but she did return the smile. "I guess so. You helped though. A whole lot." She leaned into Kasumi a bit more, hugging the girl tight. "Never could have done it without my key item."


10/26 – Wednesday
Lunch
Shujin Academy

The festival's second day was even busier than its first, no doubt due to the announcement of the guest to be speaking that afternoon. Ren was pretty sure he'd even spotted a few Kosei students ditching their own festival to loiter in the hallway. Besides them, it seemed like the entire school and half the alumni had shown up, filling the hallways with bodies and sound.

Makoto and Morgana had both offered to keep Futaba occupied in the student council office to stay out of the crowds, and the former had ensured the Thieves would have general access to it if necessary. Ren still felt like mingling, but the crowds were definitely too much for him before long. So he elbowed his way through a small throng, and slipped out into the courtyard.

The fresh air tasted as sweet as the pervasive, beautiful silence it carried. Ren almost felt dizzy, lightheaded, as the quiet filled him up with every breath. His buzzing anxiety silenced almost immediately. He was alone with his heartbeat.

And his therapist. Takuto Maruki, sitting on a nearby bench, blinking at him. "Ah. I...well, I was about to say I wasn't expecting to see you today, Ren, but this is our usual day, isn't it?" Maruki cracked a smile. He had an open bento on his lap, but Ren got the feeling he hadn't caught the man eating. Maybe he was done already?

"Yeah, it usually is," Ren agreed. "I mean, except for last week. Sorry again for that."

Maruki shrugged good-naturedly. "I expect you were occupied with something important. Or, more than one something, most likely. You're a busy young man after all."

"Don't I know it." He nodded to the bench. "May I...I mean, if you're–"

"Yes, of course!" Maruki interrupted, scooting over down the bench. "Is there something on your mind? I'm not on duty, but I'm happy to lend you my ear for the next..." He pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. "Twenty minutes."

Ren stepped closer, unable to help himself at glancing into Maruki's bento. Yep. Empty. Eaten. That made Ren feel a little better. "There's a lot on my mind, actually." He sat down next to the man. "Important stuff. Not heavy stuff, just...important. Lots to think about."

Maruki hummed a thought. "Are they personal thoughts, or thoughts related to your...hobby?" Hobby? Ah, 'helping out the Thieves.' His cover story.

"Hobby," Ren replied. "I mean, both. It's all hobby stuff, but it's personal too." It sounded inane on his tongue, but Maruki just kept nodding along. "We've been helping someone. Intervening, stuff like that. Kinda...forcing him to process all his shit. Like, I mean, we've helped other people too, before him. We helped my sister a lot through something kinda similar. But, uh..."

He pursed his lips. "The guy we're helping sort of told us to...back off, I guess. That to fix his stuff, he needed to go back to the guy who hurt him in the first place. And I don't...know how to be okay with that. Like, we all agreed it was probably an okay idea, but it's still...fucked."

Maruki's expression was solemn as he slowly packed up his empty box. "You've probably come to the right place, then." A joke, but not a particularly mirthful one. "It's always hard to watch someone you've committed to helping undo that help, or choose to regress."

"Yeah," Ren agreed, the word coming as easy as breath and rough as gravel. "It feels like...stuck. Like a logic trap. I mean, I made such a big deal about making sure he could make whatever choice he needed to, and giving him all this space and support, and now all I want to do is stuff him in a safe room somewhere and just..." Ren choked on his own words, and cleared his throat. "I've never felt like this much of a hypocrite, helping someone. Like I'm a bad person no matter what. Like every choice is a mistake."

"Trauma is complicated," Maruki said, quiet and kind. "You know that firsthand, Ren. It's messy. Sometimes to take a step forward, you really do have to take a step back. But..." He gave a grim little smile. "Sometimes it really is just a bad idea."

Ren just nodded, dumb in every sense of the word.

"Are you still there for him?" Maruki asked.

"As much as he lets me be. As much as I can handle, I guess."

"Good. That's the right thing to do, Ren. That's all you can do."

"And what if it's not enough? What if he..." Ren couldn't say the words. "He's my friend. Or, I don't know. Maybe we're not even friends."

"You care about him."

"Yeah. And I don't want to watch him die."

Maruki's hand was on Ren's shoulder. He didn't feel the impact, but he felt the presence. "Ren, you are one of the kindest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You're consistently one of my hardest working patients, and you're more mature and articulate than most adults I treat."

The unfitting praise washed over him like a dry wave. "Is there a 'but' in there?" Ren asked.

Maruki laughed. "More of an 'and.' Because I think, and I say this with kindness...you would be a terrible therapist."

Ren blinked. "Uh," he said. "Guess I can scratch a Psych Major off my list then?"

Another laugh, a deep and honest chuckle. "Again, I don't mean it as an insult. Being a therapist means that, sometimes, you have to accept that your ability to save people has limits." His gaze was distant. His hand half-slipping off Ren's shoulder. "Confidentiality is necessary, but it's a brick wall. It keeps both the bad and the good out. If my patient decides to stop seeing me when they desperately need to, I am legally obliged to leave them alone. The only people I can help are the ones willing to ask for it." And the focus returned to his eyes, a little pointed glance towards Ren. "And not everyone is able to ask. Even people who want to be helped."

"Yeah," Ren said. A little spark of offense at the statement, but it faded quickly. Maruki was right. He knew that. "And I'm too much of a busybody for that?"

"Don't deflect," Maruki scolded. A quick little thing, barely more than an aside, but it knocked every snarky follow-up comment out of Ren's mouth. He lifted his hand from Ren's shoulder and scooted towards the far end of the bench. Not fear. Respect, maybe. Or guilt. "You said you intervened with this person. That's not a tool in my repertoire. The closest I have ever come to intervening is...well, asking you to check up on Kasumi for me." He chuckled, a little dry, a little shameful.

A wriggling doubt squirmed its way beneath Ren's tongue. "Or calling the cops," he mumbled.

"That isn't intervention." Maruki's firmness was palpable, Ren could feel it in the air. A disgust as strong as gravity. "It's violence. And not an option I would ever take if there was anything else I could feasibly do."

Ren let that sink in. Let the words bubble around his head like a glacier dunked in boiling water. "Don't I know it," he said.

Maruki merely nodded. "You would be an awful therapist," he repeated. "And, in my...I was about to say 'professional opinion,' but I don't believe that it would be very professional to say this. In my personal opinion, you should stop attempting to be one." A soft, honest smile. "Trust your instincts, Ren." Those three words flash-froze the boil. "I already know that you're kind enough to listen to criticism, but I would advise you away from getting stuck in your head. You told me what you're afraid of, what you think might be right, what your friends agreed on. What do you feel is the right choice?"

Breath came unbidden, automatic. Speaking without thinking, but far from without feeling. "Instincts say stay the course. They trust him. I trust him. I think I should keep trusting him."

Maruki's smile was full and bright. "Then, I think you know best. And if they stop telling you that, or if you need to veto them, then you'll know what to do." He stood, brushing off his legs. "You've got a good heart, Ren. Don't hesitate to use it."

Ren just nodded, and he felt an odd smile echoing his therapist's. A good heart stained through. What a pretty contradiction that was.

A perfect oxymoron.


Makoto
You do realize what sort of implication "public blackmail" would give to anyone smart enough to look?
If you're blackmailing us, it would stand to reason we would have something to hide.

Kasumi
We do have something to hide, though. :o

Makoto
And public knowledge of that fact would obstruct our ability to achieve our goals.

Akechi
I wouldn't devalue the importance of showmanship.
Properly convincing a man as paranoid as my father is going to take more than just my reports.

Makoto
How exactly does playing fast and loose with our identities constitute "convincing?"

Ryuji
hey koto im like not fuckin thrilled about this either
but shido already knows we're thieves and he owns the cops and shit
not like we'll get arrested for that or nothing

Ren
If I'm not wrong, I think that Makoto might be more concerned with Sae
Even if she doesn't find out directly, if this story goes public? She might make the connection

Haru
Oh dear. (⊙_⊙;)

Makoto
I'm not thrilled about your phrasing, but yes.
I would say that's a quite prominent concern.
Do you have a counter argument, Amamiya?

Ren
None
I'm right there with you
If Sae finds out any of us are Thieves, that could majorly throw off our infiltration

Yusuke
It is possible that further investigations into ourselves could uncover our link to the SRU and thereby direct Shido's attention towards our as-of-now hidden allies.

Kasumi
That's...a lot. :|
Very risky risk.

Futaba
Genius boy's the genius here.
Princey's probably got a plan, right?

Akechi
Ah, is that spite I detect in your tone, Miss Sakura?

Futaba
Bite me.

Akechi
I'm only teasing, haha. My apologies.
But I have indeed planned around that risk.

Ann
Okay.
Money where your mouth is, Akechi.
I'm gonna need something more than "trust me" from you.

Akechi
I have no intention of asking for you to trust me.
I'm not an idiot.

Ren
What's the plan then?

Akechi
Simple.
I don't "blackmail" you over your own identities.
I blackmail you by threatening to pin the blame on your friends.


Seeing Akechi in that tan suit again, even from afar, looking up at him so small on that vast stage, made Ren feel just a little bit queasy. Every 'for the camera' smile was yet another reminder of how much progress the Prince had left behind, of that quiet and thoughtful and angry person Ren had played chess with a week ago, now covered up with layer after layer of masks. He almost wanted to scream.

Akechi's words rolled off of him, and Ren could find nothing else to focus on beyond those little tics. The way he adjusted his tie. The way he held the podium for seconds at a time as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. The way he would smile at some questions in a just-a-little-too-plastic way, overselling his performance for the cheap seats.

Ren hadn't noticed. For the longest time, he hadn't noticed. He hadn't even bothered to fucking look.

"You there, in the yellow shirt," Akechi said, motioning to a spot in the audience two rows ahead of Ren.

Focus. Secondhand anxiety spun Ren's guts into a spiral as Ryuji made his way to standing, as he took hold of the mic handed to him from a nearby teacher. "Yeah, uh..." Ryuji trailed off, maybe startled by the sound of his own projected voice in his ears. "You went on all those talk shows and told everyone the Phantom Thieves were brainwashing people, and then you up and vanished for a month."

Akechi chuckled into his own mic in an uncanny mimicry of awkward mirth. "Yes, I would say that is accurate, thank you for the observation." A bubble of laughter through the assembled students. Ren could imagine Ryuji's subsequent scowl in perfect definition. "If you mean to imply that the Phantom Thieves had something to do with my period of absence, I will reiterate that I was working undercover and cannot disclose–"

"I'm not accusing them of nothing!" Ryuji snapped. Akechi stopped talking. There was no disguising the irritation on his face. Even as far away as he was, Ren could see the anger boiling off of him. For that moment, it wasn't an act. "I'm asking if you're gonna waltz back in and keep blaming them for shit. Or, I dunno, if you changed your mind or something." It was messy, and ugly, and rambling. And perfect.

"That's all I got." Ryuji handed the mic back to the teacher, sending a warbling sound through the speakers before the device could be properly muted, and then sat down without being told to.

It took a long second, but a storm of boos began to echo across the room. Like rolling thunder, from one end to the other, a thousand tongues expressing a thousand iterations of disapproval. More than enough to drop Ren's gut into his feet from secondhand nervousness.

Akechi lifted a hand, and the room quieted. Woah. He wasn't kidding, he really did know how to work a crowd. "Please, everyone, let's not be rude. It's a perfectly legitimate question." Just the littlest hint of mockery in his tone, and Ren was right back there in the studio audience four months back, biting his tongue to keep from calling the detective on his bullshit. The more things changed... "To answer it plainly: I believe my opinion on the Thieves has, perhaps, altered in my time away. In fact, I would go so far as to say I am far more sympathetic to them now than I was then."

A confused murmur in every direction. Makoto started in place on the side of the stage, clearly surprised. It had taken some last minute finagling to get her into a host position for the talk, and here was where that work paid off. She raised her microphone to her lips and started speaking, and then paused to give the audio club a chance to unmute her. "Sorry, Detective, could you elaborate on that? What exactly do you mean by 'sympathetic?'"

Akechi leaned back from the mic, letting out an awkward laugh as he adjusted his tie. "Not letting me get away with just that little comment, eh? How very...prosecutorial of you."

"Ouch," Morgana winced from inside his bag. Showmanship aside, it seemed Akechi wasn't above an emotional sucker punch, even towards his allies.

Makoto pursed her lips and let the crowd titter themselves out before she responded. "I simply believe that I speak for the interests of your audience. I dare say a lot of them have come here for an update on the Phantom Thieves' case, considering that you spent so much time discussing them before your disappearance." A scattered series of cheers, excited affirmations. Two sentences, and she'd swayed the crowd. Makoto wasn't fucking around. It was like watching two boxers exchange jabs. 'Verbal sparring,' or something. Hell, it almost made Ren himself forget for a moment that they were all on the same side.

Akechi gave a punctual hesitation before his next response. "Guilty as charged. You're entirely correct, Miss Niijima, and I suppose I was the one to open the floodgates." He adjusted his cuffs, and Ren stiffened. Tie was safe, that was a common habit. Cuffs were...worse. Drawing attention to his wrists. It wasn't something he'd do unless he was genuinely nervous. "But to be clear, I do not intend to retract my earlier statements. The Thieves are criminals, without a shadow of a doubt. But..." He paused. "I have now come to believe that some of the Thieves, at least, cannot be held accountable for the actions of the Thieves as a whole."

The room went quiet.

"I'm...confused," Makoto said, and she sounded it.

"Allow me to explain," Akechi said, quick and sharp and perfectly prepared. He had the floor now. He had the attention of the crowd. It was his stage now, and he seemed perfectly ready to make use of it. "I'm not quite sure if you recall, but a few months ago, there was an opinion piece published in a small independent online newspaper that claimed there were two groups of Thieves: the ones who changed Kamoshida's heart, and the ones who changed Madarame's. I believe I responded to that article directly on Good Morning Japan. However, during my time away, I found myself prompted to examine the Phantom Thieves case in a new light. For whatever reason, that article stuck in my head, and I now believe it to be entirely correct."

Makoto stumbled with her mic, nearly dropping it. "I'm sorry, what? You're...two groups of Thieves. You tore that article apart before."

"If you recall," Akechi continued, refusing to grant Makoto's words time to breathe. "My argument at the time was simple: it is incredibly unlikely that two groups of disparate individuals would simultaneously gain access to whatever technology or technique allows the Thieves to change hearts. I still believe that to be unlikely, but...of course, I would point to Ockham's Razor, which calls for the simplest explanation to be the closest to truth, not necessarily the most likely one."

His focus seemed less on the audience and more on Makoto, like he was speaking directly to her, weaving some cage with his words. "Up until this point, I have struggled to find a connection between Suguru Kamoshida's change of heart, the small-scale requests issued and answered through the Phantom Aficionado Site, and the theatrical high-profile targets of Madarame, Kaneshiro and Okumura."

A little giggle escaped him. Just a tiny thing, but a crack in his masks nonetheless, and it made Ren feel...relieved, somehow. Just seeing that, remembering that Akechi was still in there, helped. The detective cleared his throat, taking a sip of water, and Makoto pounced on the opportunity.

"Are you sure you should be telling us all of this?" she asked, and she didn't need to fake the anxiety. Ren could hear it in her voice. "This is a classified investigation, isn't it?"

"I've told far more classified things on Good Morning Japan," Akechi replied, which got a laugh out of the crowd. "Besides which, there is no harm in simply sharing my opinion. There's still plenty of time for me to be disproven; I'm sure you would enjoy seeing that." Another laugh. "Now, would you like me to finish answering your question, Miss Niijima?" Sickly sweet and saccharine. Fuck. A good touch, but a mean one. Ren felt a little bit like wincing.

"Yes," Makoto said, too blunt to be polite.

"The ideology of the Kamoshida case and the cases on the so-called 'Phan-Site' are aligned, as far as I can tell," Akechi continued. "I've even found a few direct connections between the Aficionado site and Kamoshida himself, though I can't specify what those connections are at this time."

Ren bit the inside of his cheek. He hoped Mishima wasn't here. He hoped she wouldn't see this. Or, at least, that she wouldn't jump to conclusions, that she'd wait for his explanation before panicking.

"However, I haven't been able to identify a single solid connection to tie either to the high-profile changes of heart. Which...of course, leads to the simple conclusion that there is no connection. That there are two groups of Thieves, each operating independently; one group changing hearts through the Aficionado site, and the other taking on large targets with the aim of making some manner of statement."

The room was silent no longer. Excited whispers and hushed chatter from every angle. "You said you were sympathetic to the Thieves," Makoto said, and the audience quieted again. "Which of those 'groups' are you sympathetic towards?"

"The first one, of course," Akechi said. "If you remember, the very first change of heart was performed here at Shujin, and the majority of Suguru Kamoshida's victims were students here. It would naturally make sense that the Thieves who performed those changes of heart were–"

Beep beep beep. The chime of a phone.

Akechi started, a hand on his pocket, and he pulled out his cell. "Ah, my apologies. It seems that I'm being called in for work. Perhaps I told you all too much." A bubble of audience laughter. "Unfortunately, I'll have to ask that we cut this talk short. Do you know anywhere on campus I might be able to take this call privately?" Ren forced himself to let out a breath. He was cutting it pretty close there.

Makoto nodded. "There's...er, yes. I'll show you there."

Akechi smiled warmly. "I'm grateful for your hospitality." Every word was plastic venom, and Ren wasn't quite sure how much of it was fake. The detective stepped away from his podium and crossed the stage to Makoto, pausing to say a single sentence to her, far too low to be heard from Ren's seat. But in the breaths of a second before the audio club muted her microphone, two low words made it through. "–your allies–"

Makoto's surprise was evident across the distance. And her gaze flitted across the auditorium. Lingering eye contact with the other Thieves, with Ren, and then immediately down to the phone she'd yanked from her pocket. Her lips formed a single bitter word, and Ren didn't need to hear it to grasp the meaning. "Bastard."

And Akechi laughed, perfectly in time with the sound of eight intentionally-unmuted cell phones chiming at once across the auditorium. Ren dutifully tore his eyes away from the stage and to his own phone.

Makoto
No curveballs. Proceed to the meeting room.

The sound of plastic laughter echoed across Ren's skull as he grabbed his bag and made a show of heading towards the nearest exit with the haste of a man possessed, of an actor who just realized he was about to miss his cue. Everything was going as planned. Not a single prop out of place.

And all he could do is pray it would sell to the only man it needed to fool.


It's hard to find new ways of expressing gratitude for Jane since I'm pretty sure I've run the gamut at this point but...she did the chapter notes and helped brainstorm and provided a ton of inspiration and pushed me to be better, and I'm eternally thankful. If you enjoyed the writing in this chapter, it's because she was keeping me accountable and I've striven to be better because of her, because this story is important to someone who is important to me.