"I appreciate that you came over," Maruki invited Akira to the room. "You probably have better things to do on a lunch break than humoring a counselor on his way out."

"Come on," Akira smiled at him. "It's your last day here. Who knows when we're gonna have another chance to hang out?" A beat. "You do have some food though, do you?"

"Something special, in fact." Maruki gestured at the table, on which stood two covered bowls. "On my way to work, I've been passing by this high-end tempura place. Today I've decided to finally order two of their most expensive takeaway sets."

"Oooh, fancy."

"There's a reason for all this." Maruki turned around and picked up a stack of papers, bound with spirals on the side, then handed it over to Akira.

"'Interpreting reality through cognitive psience and the alteration of reality via external influence', Maruki T." he read out loud, then flipped through the pages. "Is that that paper you've been talking about?"

"Indeed!" Maruki beamed. "It's mostly done at this point. I asked Shibusawa to peer review it for me. You remember him, right?"

"Wow, congrats!"

"And since I couldn't have done this without you, I decided to treat you on my last day." Maruki smiled.

Akira chortled in response. "Jeez, I didn't even do anything."

"Give yourself some credit. You've done a lot of good, both as a friend…" A pause for dramatic effect. "...and as a phantom thief."

For just a split second, Akira's mask slipped, before he decided that confusion would seem a natural response. "...huh?"

"The Phantom Thieves' modus operandi seems rooted in cognitive psience, whether you were aware of it or not," Maruki explained. "Entering an alternate reality, existing solely in the perception of an individual, and interacting with it to alter their cognition."

"Maybe?" Akira shrugged. "I dunno how it all relates to me though."

"Well, back in April, I accidentally saw you, Sakamoto and Takamaki exiting said alternative reality. You materialized in an alleyway next to Shujin, a few days before Kamoshida's confession."

Paper crumpled in Akira's hand. "You have seen nothing, Takuto," he growled, putting it back on the table.

A reasonable response to that would be a nod and an 'of course', but Maruki was too taken aback by the uncharacteristic hostility to react reasonably. "Uh, I'm sure I have seen-"

"I don't think you get it." A knife somehow manifested in Akira's off-hand with an audible click. He grabbed Maruki's necktie and forcefully yanked him closer, then put the knife to his throat – the dull spine towards him, but understandably he didn't notice that detail. "You. Have. Seen. Nothing," he snarled, staring daggers at him. "And if you squeal, I'll drag you down with me. From beyond the fucking grave, if it comes to it. Comprende?"

"This can't be a real memory," Sumire protested. "Senpai would never do something like this, I'm sure of it!"

Most Thieves responded with a sigh. "As far as we can tell, Joker has been maintaining a confident facade, to keep people's morale up," Makoto explained. "The past year took more of a toll on him that he'd care to admit."

"And keep in mind," Haru pointed out, "Maruki's last day of work was right before Joker… well…"

"Was about to get suicided by yours truly," Goro spat.

"…I tried to be diplomatic about it."

"You really needn't bother, Noir."

"I-I didn't plan to report that, honest!" Maruki finally managed to respond. "Look, y-you're my friend and you've saved… countless other people probably, why would I even consider it?" Cue the longest five seconds of his life. "P-put away the knife… please?"

After a moment, Akira released him and put the knife back in his pocket. His expression softened ever so slightly, but he remained visible on edge.

"This… this isn't like you," Maruki blurted out, concerned. "Is there… is there something wrong? We can talk about it if you want to."

Akira glanced elsewhere, not courageous enough to look Maruki in the eyes. "I'm going to die by the end of the week, Takuto."

Too taken aback for a coherent response, he blurted out: "...wot?"

"No, that's not quite right." He grabbed the chair by the table and slumped down on it. "I am going to get arrested and," cue finger quotes, "'commit suicide, overwhelmed by guilt'. Since, you know, I 'murdered two people'."

"Y-you know, I never thought the accusation made sense," Maruki commented, sitting down on the other chair opposite him. "Even putting aside… well, our friendship and me knowing you wouldn't dare to take a life, it couldn't have been deliberate, since you let more despicable targets live with their guilt, and it couldn't have been accidental, because it happened twice in a row."

God-fucking-dammit, I overreacted. He's still on my side. I thought I'm better at reading people.

This again, Maruki thought, and pushed Akira's worries out of his head.. "S-so yeah, I never bought the official story. My lips are sealed." After a pause, he added. "I-Is there anything I can do to help? You or the others?"

"No, not really," Akira replied. "We have a plan to make the bad guys think they've killed me while I slip away, but it hinges on a lot of moving parts. Like the cops not executing me on the spot and writing 'tried to escape' in their report."

"Now, c-come on," Maruki said. "Things like that only happen in movies… don't they?"

"I used to believe that, you know."

He produced his knife again and started flicking it open and closed. Maruki found that concerning, but as long as he wasn't going to attack him, he'd allow it.

"Even after I got shipped here when a drunken MP tripped on his legs and claimed I punched him," he continued, the weapon clicking in his hands, "I thought this is an exception. That the system works on average, and you just… give it a small nudge so the baddies get properly dealt with." He chuckled mockingly. "It doesn't. It's rotten all the way through, and the best you can hope for is the guy that sold you out will just murder you and deem all your friends too insignificant to bother with."

Maruki fell back on the therapy mainstay of repeating the last few words as a question. "Uh, s-s-someone sold you out?"

"Yes." He gripped his unfolded knife tighter. "That treacherous bastard. He… he was suspicious from the word go but I tried to look past it. My first friend in this school was," cue air quotes, "'a delinquent' and 'an idiot' that has more integrity and morals than half the fucking staff in this school. And now…" He took a breath. "And now I've painted a target on his back. On everyone's backs. Maybe even yours."

He took another breath – or more accurately, a sob. Maruki reached into his pocket for tissues and put them on the table.

"I… I believed his fucking sob stories…" Akira continued, "even as he said to my face that he hates me… tried to be a friend he apparently never had…" A tear went down his cheek. "I… I bugged his phone… I have a recording of him fucking volunteering to kill me, Takuto." Brief, sharp breaths, and Maruki realized he's about to have a breakdown on his hands. "What did I do... What did I do to him, what did I do to deserve this, I am going to drag my friends down with-"

"Calm down."

The image split into color channels for a split second. Akira's breath leveled itself almost instantly, the tears stopped flowing. With a blank, emotionless expression, he turned towards Maruki, who was holding his outstretched hand pointed towards him.

"I'm-I'm sorry," he lowered his arm. "I-I panicked and d-didn't want people to get alarmed by your screaming."

"What did you do to me?" he asked. The Thieves found themselves unnerved by how unnaturally neutral his voice sounded.

"D-do you remember that talk we had a few days ago," Maruki lowered his arm, "about how a personality override like Yoshizawa's is a bit e-excessive?"

"I do," he replied. "You mentioned you were practicing more precise ways of helping people."

"Y-y-yes. That's one of them. A… a calming override of sorts. It-it keeps the personality more or less intact, but suppresses all emotions of the target." He sighed. "N-not an ideal solution, but I… didn't have any better ones. I-I-I'll remove it no-"

"Don't," Akira interrupted him, as firmly as the spell allowed him. "I will need a clear head over the next few days. This is perfect."

Maruki was hesitant. "I-I-I've only used this a few times, for a few hours. A-and only on myself."

Akira smirked. "Consider this an in-vivo test then."

"Th-there might be unknown side effects to prolonged use of it!"

"Whatever they might be, they scare me less than the alternative. I can't let that frickin' son of a seamstress get me and my friends." Beat, as he realized what just came out of his mouth. "Uh, what?"

"Yeah, i-it also blocks swear words. Apologies, that's a known side effect."

"Why 'seamstress', of all- nevermind. I will reach out to you discreetly when this is all over, so you can remove it." After a pause, he dared to meet Maruki's stare. "I'm sorry for that 'knifepoint' thing. You're a good friend, Takuto, and you didn't deserve it."

"N-no worries. You're under a lot of p-pressure," He glanced at the bowls of tempura on the table. "S-so, do you want to stay for a meal? Y-y-you could use a small pleasure right now, I suppose."

Akira removed the lid from his portion and an outburst of steam covered up the lenses of his glasses. With his eyes hidden and his expression forced into indifference, Maruki found him low-key intimidating. "By the way," he remarked, grabbing a pair of chopsticks, "don't go public with your research yet. If my gambit doesn't pay off, you'll end up joining me before you can say 'mental shutdown'."

"Th-thanks for the warning." Maruki removed his own lid and got to eating, unbothered by his own glasses getting foggy as well. It seemed unimportant in comparison, and the bowl was close enough to see it decently enough.

The two ate in awkward silence for a minute, before Akira spoke up again, in that unnatural monotone:

"You were right."

Maruki, startled, almost choked on a battered piece of vegetable. "...a-about what?"

"Some time ago," he elaborated, "you've said that helping single people doesn't change that much in the long run, and it's the world itself that needs to be changed."

Unwilling to argue the minutiae, he replied "M-more or less."

"Well, you were right about that."

Maruki thought his beliefs being validated in that specific way brought him no satisfaction.

The tape was ejected from the machine. "Looks like Maruki-san managed to pull this off because senpai helped him with his work," Sumire commented. "And the unfairness of what happened to him was one of the things that motivated him the most."

Nobody reacted. She scanned the crowd and realized that all of them, to a man, seemed visibly disappointed with something. "Am I missing some context, again?" she asked, dejected.

"Joker was on the verge of a friggin' breakdown," Ryuji growled, "and we didn't even notice."

"I had a private discussion with him on the topic," Makoto commented. "He seemed… well, back then he seemed awfully confident, but in retrospect… goddammit, how did we not notice jack until he shot Crow in the head?!"

"Don't beat yourself up for this," Sumire replied. "You've said it yourself, Joker-senpai had to keep everyone's morale up."

"Perhaps," Yusuke replied, unconvinced, "but in hindsight, that whole arrangement feels like an unnecessary and dangerous piece of showmanship."

"We could've achieved the same thing if we just talked down, intimidated or seduced Crow," Ann commented, "and yeah, I know you think it wouldn't… work…" She trailed off, realizing nobody was protesting, and then realizing the group is one member short. "...uh, where's Crow?"

Everyone scanned their surroundings before Morgana went "Shh!". In the silence that followed, they managed to pick up something from the direction of the endless shelves: a vaguely familiar sound of a pulled spring, followed by the same sound, but in reverse, somehow.

"Follow me," Morgana whispered, and quietly walked towards the source of the sound, with the other Thieves behind him. Before long, they found Goro, slumped on the ground by one of the shelves. He stared at the revolver in his left hand, resting on his lap, pointed towards nothing in particular, and kept cocking and decocking the hammer absentmindedly. He didn't acknowledge the group that had just approached him.

"So, uh," Ann said, "you took that vid badly too, huh?"

Goro didn't react. The gun in his hand kept clicking, thumb on the hammer and finger on the trigger.

"Root- uh, Crow dot exe has stopped responding." Futaba wasn't sure if an appropriated insult was a good term of address at the time.

"A lot of things have changed since that memory, you know," Haru pointed out. "The past two months felt like two years. You're… you're alright now."

Once again, no reaction. Not even the expected ramble about how he's the worst, actually, which the Thieves found out-of-character enough to be concerning. Makoto noticed something on Goro's left shoulder, held up by it and the wall, and reached over to grab it. It was metal, vaguely cylindrical in shape, two centimeters long and just below eight millimeters in diameter.

"We've already established this wouldn't have worked, didn't we?" she remarked.

After a pause, Goro responded with a muttered "…worth a shot."

"Alright, you're going home right now," Makoto proclaimed. "Boss will keep an eye on you, he has experience with things like this." She then turned to the others. "Any volunteers to break away from the group and escort him?"

Haru raised her hand, then walked up to Goro. "Are you going to get up or do I have to carry you?"

He lifted his head to look at her, and she took his thousand-yard stare as a challenge. Before Goro could muster enough of a damn to protest, he found himself lifted to an upright position, then grabbed in a firefighter's carry. He was heavier than she had anticipated, but nothing she couldn't have managed at that point.

"I have a spare Goho-M," Morgana pulled the item out of his vest's pocket. "You can get to the entrance, then get out of the Metaverse, then call a cab or something."

She grabbed it with her free hand. "Thank you, Mona."

"You don't have to come back after you drop him off," Makoto said. "We're going to watch the last tape, get our foot in the door, and call it a day. We'll get in touch."

"Got it. Noir, out." Haru slammed the Goho-M against the ground and she and Goro disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Sumire raised her hand.

"What is it, Green?" Makoto asked.

"Um, I know it isn't that important, but who's the team leader now?"

"Me," she replied. "We discussed the chain of succession in November. Back when we collectively agreed that sending Akira to die was a fantastic idea."

"Okay, I am one hundred percent sure he doesn't hold it against any of you," Sumire countered.

"Well, I am holding it against myself. Let's go back and watch the last tape."

Makoto turned around to march to the player, followed by Sumire and the rest. "Look, guys," she said, "I'm new to this, I make mistakes-"

"Could you try and make that point without self-bashing?" Makoto interrupted her. "Just for a change."

"Hm." Sumire took a moment to reframe what she wanted to say. "This whole thing… a cognitive world that only few can access, a nationwide conspiracy using it for nefarious purposes and murdering people left and right, and in the middle of this… well, you. Knowing only what you try out for yourself and what Mona-san tells you."

"And I wasn't correct some of the time," Morgana added.

"Exactly!" Sumire continued, with unusual confidence. "Maybe it was a mistake, but you've made that mistake based on the limited knowledge you've had at the time, acting under pressure and without things you knew now. Don't forget it, but don't let it drag you down." She paused for a moment, before adding "Senpai wouldn't want you to beat yourself up for this, would he?"

No response. Sumire found herself losing her steam. That pep talk had sounded better in her head, and they probably knew a detail that rendered it irrelevant and why couldn't she keep her gob shu-

"It's good to have you around, Green," Ryuji commented.

"Huh?"

"You look at things differently," he elaborated. "We've been all going at this for months, with nobody to talk about this stuff but one another, and now we kind of… think similar thoughts, and feed each others' insecurities."

"Wasn't there Crow-san before me?" Sumire asked. "His perspective is… unique too, in a different way."

"We are more alike in thinking than he would dare to admit," Yusuke commented. "A non-zero body count is a significant difference, yes, but once he lost all reasons to oppose us, we've managed to bury the hatchet remarkably quickly."

"Do you think I…" Sumire attempted to come up with a non-insulting turn of phrase, "Do you think I'll end up similar to you all?"

"Maybe," Ann replied. "But I think you'll mostly absorb the good stuff."