Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sleep usually evaded him, even in long train rides like this one. All Akira wanted to do was reminisce. Think. Remember the time he spent during his one year in Tokyo. The friends he made. The experiences they shared.

He wasn’t going home. He was leaving. He supposed he did have a piece of it all. The fitness watch, Ryuji gave him on his wrist, Iwai’s gecko pin on his lapel, Sojiro’s recipe notes stashed safely in his personal journal… What he wouldn’t give to go back.

Ping!

His phone went off, and he quickly checked it, smiling upon seeing Futaba lamenting his absence in the Phantom Thieves group chat. It wasn’t called “The Phantom Thieves” anymore. Not since February. Back then they’d discarded the name in favour of several different stand ins until finally settling on “Akira’s bitches”.

The name hadn’t been his idea. It was Futaba’s actually. Despite her having no desire to be his ‘bitch’, romantically or otherwise, being his surrogate sister. More just riffing off the fact he used to be their leader.

It was funny. If Akechi was still around he would absolutely hate it.

The Mighty Alibaba: WHYYYYYYYYYY!!!
The Mighty Alibaba: IM ALREDY SO BOREEEDDDDDD!!!!
The Mighty Alibaba: COME BACKKKKKKKKKK @jokah

I am speed: dude it already feels so dead without him

art thot: Akira and Morgana are not dead merely temporarily out of reach.
art thot: I am certain we will meet again.

Mom: True, but I do understand what Ryuji and Futaba are saying. I do already miss them even though we spoke not a few hours ago.

Flower Power: I completely agree!
Flower Power: miss you Akira-kun and Mona-chan! 💜

jokah: I miss you all too
^{React: 💜🩵💚💛💙🩷}

fashunista: You’re coming back for summer you hear!!
fashunista: Or I’m coming over there to drag you back myself!!!

Mom: Tell Mona we say hi! Is he reading right now?

jokah: asleep
jokah: [tap to load image]
^{React: 💜🩵💚💛💙🩷}

fashunista: Cute!!!

The Mighty Alibaba: AWWWWWWWW LOOK AT DA SLEEPY MONA

Flower Power: how adorable!

I am speed: dude why he look like that tho

human pretzel reacted 💞 to your chat
human pretzel reacted 💞 to your image

The Mighty Alibaba: wild Sumire spotted!!!

human pretzel: Sorry I’m late to the chat! Practice kept me a while! I completely agree with everyone. I will be sure to miss Akira-senpai and Morgana-senpai greatly while they are away. If gymnastics ever brings me to your area, I’ll come visit!

jokah: we’ll miss you too Sumi

fashunista: Don’t worry, Sumire! They’re coming back for summer whether they want to or not!!

jokah: i feel threatened

fashunista: good! :)

In his chair on the mostly silent train, he smiled to himself. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. His friends had his back, even from a distance. He could handle one more year at Yasogami High.

Drifting off for just a moment, he let his eyelids grow heavy, the white noise and the train movements cradling him to sleep…

…until he jolted awake, suddenly uncomfortable and with his personal space being invaded by someone next to him. The train car was full, and he was sitting somewhere different. What happened?

“Mental shutdowns?”

Ears perked at the snippet of conversation he caught. He craned his neck, trying his hardest to remain unnoticed and eavesdrop more.

“It’s the truth!”

“To a person though? That’s gotta be made up!” The girls laughed. “You’re really into that occult stuff huh?”

Mental shutdowns meant Akechi. That meant Akechi was alive! Listening to that conversation meant…

His heart sank just as quickly as it jumped into his throat. He checked his phone. Blinking white letters stared back at him. Taunting him.

April 9th, 2016.

Oh fuck.

Chapter Text

Still reeling from the very prospect that he’d been sent back in time, Akira let everything play out around him. Reacting, not acting.

Pretended he didn’t know Sojiro when he found his way to Leblanc on instinct. Let Kobayakawa and Kawakami insult him in the office when he went in to get his schedule. Fought back a scowl as he caught a distant sight of one Kamoshida talking to his home room teacher. Stifled the churning in his stomach when Sojiro mentioned a car accident on the way back. He would’ve been too late to save Kasumi even if he had his act together.

Poor Sumire. She must be so heartbroken. Did she even remember? Or was Akira the only one going absolutely insane?

He wondered about the Phantom Thieves. What they were up to. How they felt right now. No one was blowing up his phone with questions and theories, begging for his cool composure to comfort them in a crazy time.

Even master hacker Alibaba had remained silent, so Futaba had clearly become a victim to her Palace once again. Ann was probably still under Kamoshida’s abuse, enduring the hate and shame right alongside Shiho. And Ryuji too, who was still hobbling around on a crooked knee under the scornful eyes of the man who gave him that injury, as well as those of the ones he once called friends. Yusuke was locked away, forced to create art for a foul, money-hungry man, while going hungry himself. Morgana was probably still wandering Palaces, likely trapped in Kamoshida’s dungeons by now. Makoto was monitoring the halls of Shujin Academy, obeying every order to the letter as was given by the principal, a robot accepting lines of code as directions and doing exactly as told. Haru was stuck with an abusive fiancé, an unwilling participant in an arranged marriage that only benefited her father.

And Akechi… Well, he was alive now, that was the only good thing he could imagine about his situation. He was an idol once again. Gazed upon with adoration and awe by the public, enamoured by the sweet, charming smile of the second coming of the Detective Prince. He probably loathed every second of it.

But a puppet to his father, a cruel and wretched evil in the upper echelons of society. Knowing every move he makes is tied to him, and having to obey every command.

Like a dog asked to sic an intruder.

Mental shutdowns and train crashes still flooded the news. He wasn’t sure if that meant he had no memory of the events of the previous year. Or if he remembered everything decided to do it anyway.

First day of school rolled around and it still started pouring. He left his umbrella on purpose, remembering the rain being what led him to two of his closest friends. Once again, he found himself cowering under the awning to escape with the model. When they locked eyes, he saw no familiarity at all. Just polite awkwardness.

The car pulled up. Kamoshida still offered her a ride. This time, Akira leant over and muttered to her quietly.

“You don’t have to go with him, you know?”

Ann blinked at him. Mostly confused, but Akira could see that scared hesitation in those foreign blue eyes. She didn’t say anything back. Just looked at the ground for a moment and played with one of her pigtails, before biting her lip so hard it looked like she would cry and shuffling over to the passenger door.

“And what about you?” the bastard asked condescendingly. “Do you need a ride too?”

For a moment, he contemplated saying yes. He contemplated letting him drive him so he could reach up to the steering wheel and crash his fucking car. But Ann was there and he couldn’t hurt Ann. Plus, Ryuji was running up to them and he needed to land them in the Metaverse somehow to change his heart right?

So he still said no.

“Man! Screw that pervy teacher!” the loud blond yelled as he ran after the car. With a huff, he turned back to Akira—again with no recognition—and continued. “Why did you let her get in the car like that?”

“I wasn’t gonna force her not to,” Akira shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, gripping his phone tightly in one of them. “I told her she didn’t have to go with Kamoshida, but she went anyway.”

If he strained to listen, he could hear his phone chiming “candidate found” in a familiar robotic voice.

Ryuji groaned. “That bastard!” Then he took a moment to properly look at him. “Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He squinted at his lapel. “Huh. We’re in the same grade though. Nice gecko badge by the way. You a transfer or somethin’?”

“Yeah, I transferred to Shujin today.” Met with the robotic voice again, he relaxed his tensing muscles a little more. Now the hard part. There probably wasn’t any guarantee what Ryuji would say next. “What’s that teacher really like? I’ve heard rumours online but I wanna confirm.”

“What Kamoshida?” Ryuji kicked at the ground. “Guy’s a bastard and a perv! All he does is treat the students like trash and walk around like he owns the place! He thinks he’s like the king of the castle or some shit!”

Bingo. They’re on the same page of the same script. He could almost kiss Ryuji for making that so easy.

The familiar pang in his head and the edges of his vision shifting to a mystical purple indicated his return to the Metaverse. He knew it was back the moment the app appeared on his phone. He knew Yaldabaoth was still traipsing around Mementos from that dream in the Velvet Room.

Whatever. Made no difference to him. He’d just have to kill god a second time.

Akira followed Ryuji through their usual back alleys to the school. Ryuji was still shocked by the appearance of the castle. They still went inside anyway.

To say he was a little upset when his thief attire didn’t return to him would be an understatement. He was devastated. It meant he had no way to protect Ryuji when the guards found them trespassing. And they still wound up in that prison cell, threatened by the ambient screams of Kamoshida’s slave dungeon.

“Not again,” Akira groaned, massaging his head as he stirred into consciousness.

“Again? Dude, what are you talking about?” Ryuji asked, just as confused as he looked scared. “You been here before?”

“Nah,” Akira lied. “Not here. But I’ve definitely woken up in a prison cell before.”

“What? You a criminal then?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? That’s the role he’d been given. May as well continue to play it. “I guess.”

“Prisoners!” The guards announced, marching up to their cell. “The King has judged you. You have been charged with unlawful entry. As such, your punishment shall be death. Rejoice and accept his mercy.”

“Aw hell no!” Ryuji shouted. “I don’t wanna die here! No way!”

King Kamoshida, in all his tacky smugness, approached their cell. Akira almost hurled at the sight of him. The hot pink underwear and fur trimmed blanket cape did not compliment each other, not to mention just how ugly he was. And that sickening expression in his hollow, yellow eyes. Disgusting.

“To think it’d be you, Sakamoto,” he drawled. He continued speaking, but Akira could only catch parts of it.

He could recall lunging forward and instantly being knocked back. Cold metal spears were keeping him firmly against the cell wall. Ryuji was on the floor whimpering from the beating he just took. Kamoshida was laughing at them both, lording his supposed greatness over their heads and taking his time before killing them.

Pathetic. He wasn’t even a threat at all. Akira had seen countless adults play that part and do it better than Kamoshida was right now. He had been terrified the first time, but now he was barely phased. He was like a puppy trying to be the big bad wolf.

Akira was so tired. And so angry.

Fuck this. Fuck whatever or whoever sent him back. Fuck Kamoshida and his stupid fucking castle. All of this could go to hell! Fuck playing by the rules! He was going to ruin ‘Igor’s’ god damn game and find a way to do it where no one has to die! To hell with societal reform! He would focus on saving his friends!

Pain.

Sudden, sharp pain.

On his temples. Splitting his skull in two.

The worst headache he’d ever felt in his life.

Akira smiled.

“Come, Arsène!”

Gods above and below he’d forgotten how it felt to be so alive!

The guards were so easy to take down. Arsène was more powerful than he had ever been. Nothing a puny Jack o’ Lantern could do would even harm him. Kamoshida was cowering on the floor of the cell.

“Ryuji! The keys!” Akira shouted as he sprinted for the door.

“Huh? Oh!” It took him a moment, but he caught on. Swiping the keys from the ground and running after the freshly awakened Akira, they locked the cell door behind them and got the fuck out of there!

Morgana. They needed to find Morgana.

If Akira remembered correctly, his cell was on the way out, just past the first bridge with the creepy statue lever. They could handle making it there. He had to find him. He wasn’t going to leave him to suffer.

“Where are we even going?” Ryuji said in what was probably his idea of a hushed whisper.

“I have no idea, but I’m hoping out,” Akira lied. Well, it wasn’t much of a lie. The first time they did this, everything was so much a blur that he wasn’t quite sure where he was going. He just ran, the athlete He definitely just met close behind him.

“Hello?” called a familiar voice. “Is someone there?”

Morgana. Thank god! Akira ran straight for the voice, leaving a startled Ryuji sort of in the dust. Sure enough, staring at him through the bars of a cell, were large blue eyes on a little monster cat. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Joker…” Morgana muttered, those wide eyes brimming with hope. “You remember right? Please tell me you remember!”

Akira hadn’t realised, but seeing his red gloved hand reaching for the keys to his companion’s cell he did. His clothes hadn’t changed back. His resolve hadn’t wavered. He was well and truly a rebel.

In true Joker fashion, he offered the cat a wide grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s get outta here.”

-

“What, you’re just gonna let the monster cat follow you home? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. He looks harmless enough.”

“Hey! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“Morgana, that is not helping your case right now.”

They were talking back and forth outside of Kamoshida’s Palace. For some reason, Morgana seemed to remember everything, while Ryuji did not. It made for an interesting dynamic.

While it was completely normal for Morgana to be as experienced as he was, Joker knowing what he did about the Metaverse when he had only now awakened to Arsène was weird. And Ryuji, while he didn’t question it much, seemed to pick up on that.

“Look, man, you can do what you want,” he backed down. “Just don’t come cryin’ to me when he, I don’t know, stabs you in your sleep or something.”

“That’s just cats though,” Akira smiled. “You have no idea how many times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night because my cat just decided it was a good idea to sleep on my chest.”

“Hey! Watch your mouth, or I’ll do it on purpose!”

Morgana stayed outside for his first day of school. They agreed it would be easier for teachers to notice him if they were getting mad at him for being so late. Everything else played out exactly the same, and Sojiro still got mad at Akira when he returned.

“I got a call from the school,” he said sternly, eyeing him over the frames of his glasses. “Why were you half a day late on your first day?”

“Would you believe me if I said I got lost?” Akira tried with a guilty smile.

“For half a day?”

“I’m not used to the city! I think I accidentally ended up in Odaiba!”

“Whatever.” Sojiro eyed Morgana, who was poking his eyes through the zipper of his bag. “Is that a cat? Wh- Why on earth do you have a cat in your bag?” He sounded more surprised than angry.

“I uh. I found him abandoned on the street and he looked hungry, so I gave him some tuna and then he started following me. I called the number on his collar and got sent straight to voicemail so I brought him home. I hope you don’t mind.”

Sojiro sighed. “I suppose having a pet to take care of will keep you out of trouble… Alright. Fine. Just keep it upstairs when we have customers. And keep it quiet! I’ve got a business to run here.”

“Thank you Sakura-san.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it. I’ll close up for tonight in about an hour. So keep that cat quiet until then.”

“Yes sir.”

Akira retreated up the stairs, quiet on his feet, and set the Mona bag down on the usual shelving unit. Morgana jumped out with practiced grace.

“Man, I forgot how harsh he used to be with you,” he said softly, clearly trying to keep his voice down for Akira’s sake. Akira was very thankful.

“So did I,” he sighed, stumbling over to the makeshift bed and collapsing onto it. “I also forgot how exhausting the awakening is.”

“Yeah, that too.” The feline padded over to the bed and jumped up next to him. “It’s so weird how you have to go through the awakening again.”

“I would’ve thought the weird thing would be being sent back in time in the first place.”

Morgana gave him a look, but was clearly fighting back a smile. “Focus, Akira. We need to figure out why this has happened and why we’re the only ones who remember.”

“I know, I know.” Akira sighed. He stood up to change into something more comfortable. “I ran into Ann today too, and she had no idea either. If she did, she definitely wouldn’t get into a car with Kamoshida.”

“I’m going to scratch that bastard’s eyes out,” Morgana growled.

“I saw Makoto in the library too. She didn’t even look at me.”

“Okay. Let’s think about what we know.” His tail started swishing up and down, resting on the bed for a second before moving again. “We’ve been sent back to the beginning of everything, and so far, we’re the only people who remember anything. Everything else seems to be going exactly the same. Is… that all?”

“I have some things from last year.” Akira said, thumb grazing the gecko pin that had somehow found its way to the lapel of his uniform blazer. “Iwai gave me this.”

“Wait, really?” Morgana peered over at the jacket. “Huh, yeah. I remember that. That’s so strange.”

“I also have…” Akira started rummaging through the cardboard box of things his parents had shipped here for him. “Yusuke’s painting, the calculator Makoto gave me, Futaba’s promise list, I’m wearing Ryuji’s watch, a dog tag? Oh that’s from Takemi. Unlimited service? Oh I am making use of that.”

“Y’know, you have a weird relationship with some of the adults in your life,” Morgana sighed.

Akira smiled at him. “Let’s see here, I also have…” He trailed off as his fingers brushed a familiar texture. Smooth leather with minimal stitching. He tentatively pulled Akechi’s glove from the box.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah.”

“Akira…” Morgana had crossed the floor, rubbing his body against his leg where he sat. “Good news, he’s alive for real this time! That has to make you happy, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

It was so much more complicated than that. Even though Akechi was alive, how could he be sure that he remembered him? None of his friends had any recollection of the events of the past year. So far only he and Morgana remembered. Maybe Akechi had kept his right mind during the events of January, but that was only because… well… Akira honestly wasn’t sure. Perhaps he had no wishes to grant, at least not that Maruki knew of.

Perhaps Akira would try to reach out to Akechi and be instantly turned away as if he was just an avid fan. He would have to look into those eyes and read not recognition or even anger, but the dull, pleasant mask he wore for everyone. He couldn’t think of anything more heartbreaking.

No. He’d wait until the TV station. Unless he reached out first, Akira would wait to see Akechi again.

“Is that your diary?” Morgana asked, tapping at one of the books in the box with a paw.

Sure enough it was. Not the probation diary. He gave that back to Sojiro at the end of his year. His own personal one. The probation diary was for what he did on those specific days. This one held his own thoughts and feelings about the situations he found himself in. He needed to write them somewhere! Otherwise he’d go batshit insane.

Everything he had written last year was in there. Along with Sojiro’s recipe, Sae’s business card, and all the photos he’d printed at the school library. He and Morgana spent some time looking through them, mourning a life they had lived but had yet to occur. The talkative kitty had something to say about every image there was, whether something serious and profound or laughing at Ryuji’s faces until he cried, he was good company. He’d only been away from him one night, but he’d missed him.

Sojiro eventually came up with a dish of food for Morgana.

“It just had to keep calling out in that cute voice, didn’t it?” he grumbled as he set it down in front of the cat. Something in the way his face held a small smile told Akira he wasn’t at all mad about it. “Did you pick a name for it yet?”

Akira nodded, carefully shutting his diary so his guardian couldn’t see what was on its pages. “Morgana. That was the name of my cat back home.”

Said cat shot him a knowing smile.

“Morgana?” Sojiro looked puzzled. “Damn. I was hoping I would get to name it…”

Looking maybe a little dejected, the older man turned back towards the stairs. He set off to leave, announcing he’d already closed up and he was going home. Out of habit, Akira almost called out to say hi to Futaba for him. He saved it just in time. Saying, “Good night, get home safe,” instead.

“Hey, he said that last time too, didn’t he?” Morgana piped up. “I wonder what he would’ve named me if he had the chance to.”

“No idea,” Akira mused, he listened to the sound of the bell chime as the door opened and closed behind his guardian. “Maybe Wakaba. He was close to her after all.”

His cat gave a look that was probably the closest thing to a wince as his kitty face would manage. “I don’t know how I’d feel being named after Futaba’s mum,” he said. “That just feels a little too weird to me.”

“Good thing you’re not then.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

Akira continued going through his old stuff, finding even the chocolates everyone gave him on Valentine’s Day and a few other gifts his friends had given him the day he left. That included all of Ohya’s notes from their various interviews about the Phantom Thieves. The loose tarot card Chihaya had given him to symbolise his future. The Wheel of Fortune. What a cosmic joke.

“Hey, Morgana,” he asked. The cat was beginning to poke around his old desk.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he asked, tilting his head and flicking his ear.

“Do you think we should change all those hearts again?” he asked, running his finger along the card’s edge. “Like, those people in Mementos? All those requests we got last year. I mean, people are still out there suffering. We can’t just let it happen, can we?”

Morgana blinked, about to say something before he stopped himself. He thought for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know, Akira. Is that even the right thing to do anymore? We’d just be sending them back to be imprisoned in the depths.”

“What else can we do though?”

“I don’t know.”

They fell into silence. A silence that stretched longer than either would have liked.

“You should get some sleep. You’re probably exhausted after today.”

He didn’t argue. “You’re right.”

Collapsing into his makeshift bed felt so odd. He’d been so ready to leave this place behind. Maybe ready wasn’t the right word; he would’ve missed it, sure, but he was already preparing himself to be back at his parents’ place in Inaba. Not here, his home. Where his real family is.

Morgana curled up by his side. An idle hand reached over to stroke his fur. He didn’t fight it.

“Akira,” he muttered into the night. “We should find the others I think. Maybe there’s a way to restore their memories. Then we can figure this whole mess out.”

“Wasn’t that already the plan?” Akira said with a tired snicker.

“I should’ve suspected you would’ve already decided that.” Morgana shook his head, clearly fond of his ‘foolish sentimentality’. “And for you I’m sure that means Akechi too?”

He stopped stroking his fur. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Oh yeah. It might just be because I live with you, but you’re an open book to me on that front.”

“Ah.”

He forced himself to continue patting him, trying not to seem affected. He didn’t think it was really working.

“I’ll help you, y’know?” Morgana clarified after a few moments of silence. “I think he deserves a second chance.”

The boy in question probably didn’t want it. He’d probably see this as pity or charity. Something to further stroke Akira’s saviour complex. Another reason to be a hero.

He’d probably loathe that they were having this conversation right now.

Akira honestly didn’t care.

“Thanks, Mona. That really means a lot to me.”

It did.

Chapter Text

Ryuji wasn’t normally the type to judge. After all he’d been through, why would he? He’d been nothing but judged his whole life and it made him miserable. So, when he met Akira and one of the first conversations they shared contained something along the lines of “yeah I’ve been to prison”, he didn’t let that affect what he thought of him.

Then weird glowy shit happened and he watched while the boy he just met literally ripped off his skin and set himself on fire to save him. And he summoned, what, a monster? A demon? And what was with this weird cat thing? Why was Akira so quick to trust it? Is he for real?

He wasn’t great at maths, but something wasn’t adding up here.

Still, Kamoshida had no idea about that crazy other world. And he wasn’t honest to god going to go insane if he kept trying to brush it off like it was just some dream. It wasn’t just a dream, right? I mean, that cat followed them out of there too and now he was living with Akira! It had to be real!

It had to be real. Right?

“Yo,” Ryuji said as he stepped forward from where he leaned against the wall by the gate. Akira turned to him expectantly, even before he said it. Almost like he knew he was going to be there, scanning the crowd of students filtering into the school that morning.

“Waiting to ambush me?” Akira asked, an easy smile on his face, the light of the sun reflecting off his lenses.

“Don’t say it like that man,” the athlete mumbled. Strange. That felt kinda familiar. Why was he smiling right now?

“I think we gotta talk about yesterday,” Ryuji continued, forcing his face back to a frown. “Meet me on the roof after classes. Yeah?”

“Yeah. See you then, Ryuji.”

That was another thing. Ryuji didn’t think he ever told him his name. Akira had introduced himself a bit after the whole incident in the castle, but he never did. Akira seemed to just know him.

Nearly all day Ryuji was subjected to hearing gossip about the “delinquent transfer student”, who he could only assume to be Akira. Apparently he was a criminal—which he knew already—arrested for assault and was expelled from his old school because of it. Seemed like a pretty shitty situation to be stuck in. He felt like he could kind of relate, if only because of the ‘acting violently and regretting it’ way.

Akira met him on the roof that afternoon. As promised.

“Sup,” Ryuji said as the door opened.

“Hey,” was Akira’s reply. He walked over to lean on one of the abandoned desks that had been piled up there.

“People are already talking about you. I didn’t spread anything though, I swear.” Ryuji sighed and shook his head. “Everyone in my class says you got a criminal record, and I mean, you basically told me that yourself. I bet you’ve been told not to associate with me too.”

“Kawakami told me you’re a delinquent,” Akira said with a chuckle. “I guess that puts us in the same boat.” The blond chuckled too.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” Sighing and shaking his head, Ryuji leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about that castle we stumbled into yesterday. What did Morgana call it again?”

“A Palace.” The third voice came out of nowhere, and suddenly, a furry, black face popped out from Akira’s bag. “The physical manifestation of Kamoshida’s heart.”

“W-what the hell?” Ryuji shouted. “Dude, you’re keeping him in your bag?”

Akira just shrugged and the cat continued as he jumped out to stand on the desk, both of them completely ignoring his surprise. “That place is how Kamoshida sees the school. And the people inside are depictions of how he sees the students.”

“Wait, so… they aren’t real people? But I could’ve sworn I saw…”

“No, they’re not real. They just look real because that’s how Kamoshida sees them. Think of them as incredibly life-like dolls.”

“Okay, so we can’t free them like I was thinking then. Alright…” He scratched his head thoughtfully. That was an entire night of pondering down the drain. Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“But they still look like real people, don’t they?” Akira asked. “So, we could just find those people in the real world, right? They must be Kamoshida’s victims.”

He was talking to Morgana. He was definitely talking to Morgana, but both of their eyes were fixed solely on him. Weird.

Ryuji slowly nodded, eyes growing brighter as he processed what his new friend had just said. Were they friends? They felt like friends. “Hey, yeah! You’re right! So, if we go in there and I memorise their faces, we’ll be able to find them at school, won’t we Morgana?”

“Yep, that sounds about right to me. But there’s more that we can do in there than just memorise faces.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“Palaces are someone’s distorted desires taken form. So, if we remove the Palace, we remove those distorted desires. Essentially, we force a change of heart.”

“Woah…”

“So, if we change his heart, he’ll become an honest man,” Akira deduced, though it felt like an explanation.

“An honest man, huh?” Ryuji repeated. “Wait, that would stop the abuse!”

Morgana hummed affirmatively. “That’s correct. And not only that, he’ll suddenly find himself feeling very guilty for what he’s done. He’ll find the need to repent for that guilt, and confess every single one of those crimes.”

“Holy shit! For real?”

“It stops the abuse, and brings him to justice. That’s a pretty worthy goal if you ask me.”

“Hell yeah it is!” Ryuji jumped to his feet in loud celebration. “Let’s go change that bastard’s heart!”

“Slow down,” Morgana scolded. “And don’t be so loud! If we go in there again, it’ll be dangerous. All those shadows you saw Akira and I fight will be after us and you don’t really have any way to defend yourself. We can’t go in unprepared. I suggest we arm ourselves fully before we do.”

Ryuji groaned in frustration. “Yeah, I can see why that’d be important but, can’t we just go in and check? I wanna know for a fact that was all real! I think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t.”

The cat and Akira shared a look. Ryuji had no idea what they knew or what Morgana had talked about since they’d been apart but there was definitely something up. They knew something that he didn’t and it was starting to get on his nerves. Track wasn’t really a team sport, but he always felt like he was on a team. Now, even with some semblance of a team back, he didn’t feel like he was really part of it. It was them, and Ryuji who followed behind like a lost puppy.

Honestly, he kinda hated it.

“Okay,” Akira said before Ryuji could interject. “Just stay behind us, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

He didn’t like it, but he did understand. So he followed as Akira and Morgana, or rather Joker and Mona—codenames were so effin’ cool they were like superheroes!—lead him safely through the castle. Or, safely until it wasn’t that safe anymore.

“Izanagi No Oka-” Joker tore off his mask, partway through calling the name of one of his demons, but one of the guards that had ambushed them grabbed his arm and threw him like a ragdoll before he could finish the name or do anything.

Ryuji winced at the loud crack that he made when he hit the wall, Mona too as he tried to reach for a healing spell with Diego. But the shadows were too quick.

One of the large horses kicked him with its hoof, sending the small cat flying into the same wall.

“Shit no! Guys!”

A hauntingly familiar laugh instantly froze him in place as he watched the guards surround his friends. “To think the intruders I was so worried about would just wind up being you brats again.”

No. No no no! He found them! Shit they were so screwed! They were so gonna die this time!

“Ryuji! Get outta there!”

He didn’t know who called that out. He didn’t even have time to process the warning before the sole of a boot hit the back of his crooked knee. He hit the floor.

“Ryuji!”

Kamoshida laughed.

“How pathetic, Sakamoto! You come back looking for a fight and you’re too much of a coward to even do that?” He could feel the weight of his shoe pressing against his side. Putting him down. Making sure he stayed down. “Do I have to break that other leg too, track traitor?”

“No,” Ryuji almost cried. “No please!”

More horrid laughter. Did he ever stop laughing?

“Nah.” The pressure released. Ryuji dared to look up. Kamoshida’s unnatural yellow eyes bore down on him like two evil suns. “Maybe I’ll pick off your friends first. Make you watch as I break them one by one.”

He walked over to where his friends were cornered. They really were his friends huh? What a weird group they were. A guard in golden armour handed Kamoshida their sword. He pointed that oversized sword directly at Joker.

Joker didn’t even flinch. That was so effin’ cool.

“Leaving your friends to be punished for your wrongdoings yet again,” Kamoshida said, not even the least bit sad about it. “That’s just like you, isn’t it Sakamoto? After all, it’s your fault the track team disbanded. They all hate you, and for good reason too.”

“You bastard…” Ryuji wanted to scream, but his voice was barely even audible.

“Are you gonna let him speak to you that way?” Joker shouted. Ryuji looked at him, confused.

“What?”

“Who cares? He’s just using one mistake to put you down! Don’t let him!”

Kamoshida looked pissed.

“Yeah.” Ryuji clenched his jaw, balled his hands into fists, and pushed himself painfully up off the floor. “I’m not gonna let shit like that get to me anymore. Don’t talk down to me you son of a bitch!”

Pain.

Sudden, roaring pain.

Rattling his skull. Blasting his ear drums off.

He couldn’t hear himself scream.

Recall? Recall what?

Then he did.

Training with Akira in his spot in the courtyard. Playing darts and pool with his friends. Defending everyone against all odds from attacks from shadows. Helping Ann with her training. Chatting with Futaba about Featherman. Eating ramen with Yusuke. Makoto helping him study. Playful arguments with Morgana. Going on runs with Sumire. Helping Haru carry heavy fertiliser to the roof. His friends. His teammates. Nearly sacrificing himself for them to make it out alive.

He’d done this before. He knew this name well.

“William!”

This feeling. He’d forgotten how it felt to have so much fun!

-

They got outta there fast. Even the second time around, the awakening was still exhausting!

“Man,” he panted, leaning against the brick wall of the alley. “That somehow is more tiring the second time! You think this is what it was like for Akechi?”

“Not so loud!” Morgana scolded.

“Glad to have you back, Skull,” Akira said with a smile. The first fully genuine smile Ryuji had seen since… last year?

Honestly this shit was still so confusing. They were somehow sent back to the start of the year before all the Phantom Thief mess began, and he only just now remembered.

“I’m still processing.” He sighed, sliding down the wall, not giving two shits how it stuffed up his blazer. “We time travelled?”

“Yeah,” Morgana said as he sat next to him on the ground.

“And you two knew?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

When Morgana was silent, Akira spoke up.

“How insane do you think we’d sound?” he asked rhetorically, an apologetic smile on his face. “‘Hey Ryuji! You don’t know me, but I know you because we spent an entire year together as vigilante heroes of justice, stealing hearts and kicking ass side by side. Wanna team up and take down your shitty teacher again?’”

“Actually, yeah that’s probably fair,” Ryuji relented.

“Wanna stick to old traditions and go get beef bowls?” Akira asked, holding out a hand. “You’re probably exhausted right now.”

“Yeah, I’m beat.” He took his hand with a tired smile, letting his friend pull him to his feet. “Beef bowls sound great.”

“Hey!” Morgana complained. “Don’t I get a say in what we eat? I want sushi! Fatty tuna!”

“Sorry, Mona, not this time,” Akira laughed. “We did this last year when Ryuji awoke to Captain Kidd. Felt fitting in an ironic kinda way.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about that!”

“How could you forget that? It was a formative moment for me! It set an example for all of my friendships in Tokyo moving forward.”

Ryuji looked at him, blinking in disbelief. “Wait, was I your first friend in Tokyo? For real?”

“Yeah I thought I told you that. You’re my first and one of my best.”

“Aww! ‘Kira!” With all of his body weight, he leaned against the raven haired boy and hugged him. “You’re one of my best friends too!”

“Okay, you’re delirious.” Akira chuckled. “Let’s get you some food.”

They spent as much time as they could at that beef bowl shop on Central Street. Just talking and reacquainting themselves with each other. Ryuji didn’t know what to make of everything. One second, he was certain he was going to die, the next, he suddenly remembered how much the past year had changed him as a person.

It was weird. He couldn’t tell if things were for real. But Akira and Mona were right there with him. And soon, he was sure the other Thieves would be too.

Chapter Text

Now that Akira knew remembering the past year was tied to awakening to one’s persona, he was adamant on reindoctrinating all the previous Phantom Thieves and restoring their memory.

As much as it gave him hope, it also raised more questions than it answered. If remembering last 2016 was tied to their personas, why did Akira remember before he awoke Arsène? For Morgana, it kinda made sense if he squinted. Morgana was basically born with a persona. It stood to reason he remembered everything when he woke up in Kamoshida’s cell, like Akira had on the train. Then, if Morgana had his memories, what about Akechi? He had already awakened to his personae before he’d even arrived in Tokyo. Did he suddenly wake up with his memories too?

In the Velvet Room, the twins were back. So was Yaldabaoth and his horrid habit of disguising himself as Igor, so they would certainly be of no help. Even in the confines of his own heart, he had to act. Funny.

The attendants and their master had no idea they were in the past, yet he could still access all the shadows he’d registered previously. When he asked about it, Caroline only snapped at him. Said that they were being generous and offering him a selection of the compendium out of the goodness of their hearts.

Sure, Caroline. Of course. He’ll get right to crying his tears of joy.

As much as Ryuji wanted to just change Kamoshida’s heart, right now, before he ever makes himself more of a problem, Akira knew they needed Ann. This was as much her fight as it was his. So, the day of the volleyball rally, they decided to make their disdain for the PE teacher very well known.

“Are you trying to get on Kamoshida’s bad side?” hissed an all too familiar, feminine voice as they stood in front of the vending machines in the courtyard. “You’re just gonna get yourselves hurt, you know.”

“So what?” Ryuji countered, whipping around to face her, visibly faltering upon recognising who was talking to them.

“We don’t agree with him,” Akira picked up, fixing her with a look he knew used to intimidate her. “He’s abusive and misogynistic. You can’t tell me you’d just let that go unpunished.”

“But…” Ann fell quiet.

“Just drop it, Ann,” joined another quiet voice, its source hidden partially behind the corner. Shiho. Looking just as battered and bruised as he remembered. “They’re not going to stop. We should just stay out of their way.” Ann huffed a little, but looked like she agreed.

As they were beginning to take their leave, Shiho paused for a moment. Nervously running a hand along her arm, she turned back to them.

“Um, the boys volleyball is down a player for the teacher vs students match today,” she began softly. “Would, um. Would either of you be willing to step in to fill the spot?”

“Hell no,” Ryuji said sharply, like he was offended that she would even suggest it. “I don’t want to be part of his glorified parade of his own ego.”

“Sure. I’ll play,” Akira said not two seconds after with a shrug. His blond friend looked at him with unconcealed shock. He could even feel Mona stirring in his bag, probably with a similar emotion.

“Dude why?”

“Really?” Shiho looked relieved, but there was still that permanent etching of worry in her brow. “Thank you, Kurusu-san. I’ll let Mr Kamoshida know.”

That name coming from her mouth nearly sent him into a blind rage. Without thinking, he stepped forward and lightly caught her arm, getting her attention again.

“Hey, Suzui-san,” he said, as gently as he could.

“Hey! Don’t touch her!” Ann defended, instantly returning to her best friend’s side and slapping his arm away. She was so ready to fight for her. It was admirable, that fire in her heart.

Akira wasn’t even offended by the attack. Simply gave the blonde an apologetic look and continued. “You don’t have to do everything Kamoshida says,” he told her, voice low and steady. “Especially if he’s hurting you. There are other ways out.”

He only realised the weight of his words after he said them. Ann’s features remained fixed in a look of stern, observing anger. Watching as the look on her face morphed from concerned confusion to deep sorrow with a flash of fear, he hoped he didn’t sound like he was implying exactly what he was implying.

Don’t. Please. You have so much to live for.

Let me help. Let Ann help. Let us help.

He didn’t know if it got through to her. He could only hope.

The girls left without another word.

Movement and weight tugging on his shoulder indicated Morgana popping out of his bag. “That was risky, Akira,” he warned.

“Yeah, dude,” Ryuji agreed. “Why would you want to play against Kamoshida? I still remember the hit Mishima took. It looked brutal.”

“That’s exactly why I said yes,” he explained. “Kamoshida hates me more than he hates Mishima. If I can take that hit instead of him or any of the other players, it’ll lessen the pain other students have to suffer.”

“That’s a shit reason. We’re gonna change his heart anyways! You shouldn’t have to suffer his abuse either!”

“Ryuji!” Morgana chastised. “Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry!” He still looked pissed, but he did lower his volume. “I’m just sayin’, we should be focusing on keeping Suzui safe and gettin’ Ann on our side. It’s great you wanna keep others safe too, I’d rather they don’t get abused either. But still.”

He played anyway.

About halfway through the game, when the volleyball team was seriously struggling—he wondered if that was by design—he noticed Mishima was losing focus. Staring off into space instead of at the ball. Form loosening, lacking energy. During a break in the game, he took the chance to approach him.

“Hey,” he greeted casually. “Mishima-kun, right?”

The way the boy instantly froze in fear upset him. Of course. The delinquent transfer student whose criminal record you leaked to the entire population of the school approaches you unprompted. Who wouldn’t be scared shitless in that scenario?

“Are you okay?” Akira continued, not letting his fear phase him. “You’re kinda spacing out.”

“H-huh? I am?” God he sounded so broken. Akira had forgotten how much Kamoshida’s reign affected him. Stuck on the sidelines, constantly demoralised.

“Yeah. You can take a break if you need.”

“No. I need to keep playing. I need to prove myself, prove that I’m strong enough to be on the team.”

“Okay.” He thought for a moment. If Mishima kept fumbling this game, maybe that’s part of what got him hit in the first place. “Do you want me to teach you a little mental exercise I like to do to keep myself energised?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Mishima cocked his head to one side.

“The trick is to slowly chant the word ‘energy’ and then get louder and faster. It really works, trust me!”

“That sounds stupid.”

“Yeah, it sounds stupid but it works. Here, I’ll do it with you? Okay? Energy… energy…”

Akira began to chant, locking eyes with the feeble boy, hoping that if friendship didn’t work, maybe the intimidation would. He’d always been told his stare was intense. Mishima eventually joined, their weird display earning them looks from the other players and spectators. He could see a familiar blond roll his eyes, and the cat in his borrowed bag shaking his head at their friend’s antics.

It worked. Gradually, the broken boy started smiling. Laughing. If only at how strange they were being.

“That’s so weird!” he said between giggles, the chant abandoned. “Why does that work?”

“Psychology, or something. Tricking your brain to do the thing you need from it. You okay now?”

“Yeah, I’m better.” He nodded. “Thanks, K-Kurusu-kun.”

“Anytime.”

The whistle was blown and the game commenced. Mishima seemed more focused and aware, even protecting against a particularly nasty spike from the coach, one Akira was pretty sure took him out before. He was too busy smiling at his victory he didn’t see the next spike until it was a meter away from him and it was too late to react.

Fake glasses fell to the ground and clattered loudly across the gym floor. Akira was knocked off balance, his shoes squeaking as he attempted to regain his footing. The cheering of the pick-me students on the sidelines quickly faded to concerned, and anxious muttering.

Thanks to all that time training in the Metaverse, he held his ground. Head still spinning, he locked eyes with the perpetrator, arms hanging limp and useless at his sides. He glared.

He barely processed the teacher’s reaction. He seemed to tense for a moment, but he hid whatever emotions he was feeling pretty well.

Wetness slowly dripped down his face to his lips. Akira thought it was only sweat until he tasted blood.

“Sorry!” Kamoshida’s insufferable fake ass apology as he came sprinting across the court to his aid. Come on! Learn how to act, douchebag! It’s not that hard to pretend like you actually care about the wellbeing of your students.

“You have an amazing spike,” Akira said, one hand to his bleeding nose to catch the red. Voice low, calm, and measured. Kamoshida blinked at him.

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I guess I got you pretty good huh?” he said, attempting to keep his power in any way he could. “A criminal like you probably deserved worse, but I’m glad you’re still fine enough to make an attempt at humour. Can someone get this guy to the nurse?”

“I’ll take him!” Ryuji was already running over to him, clutching the Mona bag tightly yet still no doubt jostling the poor kitty inside.

“Oh, it’s you Sakamoto,” Kamoshida muttered. “Figures you’d still hang around a criminal like him. Okay, fine. You take him. But don’t use this as an excuse to ditch another rally.”

Wow, the only insult he had for Akira was that he was a criminal and unfunny. Honestly get creative. Akechi said it better.

“Yeah yeah, I won’t.” Ryuji exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Akira. Let’s go.”

“Suzui!” Kamoshida called out as they were headed from the gym. Akira stopped dead in his tracks. “Why don’t you come fill in for the boys while Kurusu is out of commission?”

He could see the way she shrunk in on herself. The way she started running a hand along her arm. The way she slowly inched away from the court. Run. Run away. Get out of here. They locked eyes.

Akira’s grey softened immediately, hoping not to seem threatening despite the blood on his hand and face. ‘You don’t have to do what he says. Please don’t do what he says.’

Shiho planted her eyes firmly on the ground as she brushed past him without a word, filling his place in the lineup.

Ryuji led him to the nurses office.

“Do you think we helped her?”

“I hope so.”

Chapter Text

Akira knew.

Akira knew when he eavesdropped on Ann’s phone call in the Shibuya station. He knew it only spelled bad news. That whole conversation he tried not to worry about Shiho. He needed to focus on Ann.

Akira knew she would jump anyway.

The next day, she did.

He ran after Ann down the hallway surrounded by the screaming faces of their peers. At some point Ryuji joined him. He didn’t know when.

Paramedics were already there. Ann was kneeling down by Shiho’s side. Both of them were in tears. Both of them left in the ambulance.

He failed. Akira failed. Joker failed. Failed to save one person! How the fuck could he expect to save anyone? If he couldn’t save Shiho then how could he save…

Mishima ran. Ryuji and Akira followed. Like the first time. Like it was scripted. Like they were playing on a loop.

“Mishima-kun!” Akira called after him, not entirely there in the moment. “Hey, are you okay?”

“W-what do you want from me?” he stuttered. “I-I don’t know anything!”

“What? Yes you do!” Ryuji accused. Akira held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he consoled. “Breathe, Mishima. Can you do that for me? Just in and out. You can follow me. In… and out…”

They did that for a bit. He could tell Ryuji was getting impatient, so he told him to breathe too. It didn’t matter. Mishima needed some sort of closure on this.

“Okay, now, can you tell us what’s happening?” Akira asked calmly. “Why did you run?”

“I-I saw Suzui yesterday,” he explained. “Kamoshida asked me to get her. He sounded really angry. He must be the reason she jumped.”

“Yeah. That kinda checks out,” Ryuji replied, also significantly calmer than he was moments ago. “That bastard only does things for himself. I’m gonna march right up to that office and give him a piece of my-”

“Ryuji, no,” Akira scolded. He used a tone he only ever used as Joker. That same commanding presence that got everyone’s attention as the Phantom Thieves. He subconsciously hoped it would make Ryuji listen. It did. “We don’t need to do that. We already know what happened.”

The delinquent formed the shape of an ‘O’ with his mouth and fell silent, falling back by Akira’s side.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Mishima asked biting his nails with worry.

“She didn’t look like she was losing too much blood,” Akira told him, trying to use what little medical knowledge he absorbed from Takemi to bullshit his way to knowing she’d be in a coma. “Broken bones sure, but she was still conscious when they got her in the ambulance. I think she’ll make it.”

“She will,” Ryuji said confidently. “She’s strong. And she’ll have A- uh, Takamaki. She’ll be fine.”

“Gee I hope you’re both right.”

They didn’t confront Kamoshida. They didn’t need to to know what he did. Ryuji punched the shit out of a vending machine instead.

“Piece of shit!” he exclaimed. “How can he still be such an effing bastard? God he pisses me off so much!”

“Focus, Ryuji,” Morgana implored from the table where he stood. “We need to discuss our course of action.”

“What’s there to discuss? We know exactly what we’re doing about this!”

“Calm down. We need to wait for Panther,” Akira told him.

“I’m tired of effin’ waiting! Can’t we just go in and beat up some shadows?”

“Sure, but we can’t afford to waste resources too early,” he added. “If we get too reckless in there with only the three of us, we might cause ourselves more harm than good.”

“Like what? We’re way stronger in there than we were the first time!” Ryuji reasoned. “What’s the harm in going for a little training?”

Akira sighed and thought it over a bit. “We’ll go to Mementos,” he compromised. “The first few levels are child’s play. That way, we get to air our frustrations and we don’t go so crazy we injure ourselves.”

“Shit I forgot about Mementos,” Ryuji grumbled.

“We should be fine there,” Morgana pondered. “Plus it’ll keep us from getting mad all over again in case we run into Kamoshida’s shadow.”

“Yeah that’s a good point too, Morgana,” Akira agreed.

“Alright then, Mementos after school, yeah?” Everyone nodded. “I can’t wait to beat the shit outta some shadows. I’ll break ‘em to bits.”

-

The next day, Ann found them. She looked distraught. Upset, traumatised. And absolutely furious.

“You’re planning something against Kamoshida, aren’t you? Everyone knows you two hate him.” she deduced. “Whatever you’re planning, let me in on it too.”

Akira and Ryuji shared a look. Morgana hid atop the vending machines, but he could feel those feline eyes boring into his too. They weren’t going to turn her down this time. They knew she was just going to follow them anyway.

So, he turned to Ann with a stone-faced expression. “What we’re doing is dangerous. You will be tested both physically and mentally. If you join us, you have to be absolutely willing to put yourself in harm’s way. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” Ann said without a moment's hesitation. “Shiho almost died because of him. I’m not afraid to get hurt in order to absolutely crush him. I’m sure.”

Akira grinned, leaned forward, and spoke into Ann’s ear. “Meet us after classes in the alleyway across from the front gate. We’ll talk specifics there.”

Now he really felt like a gang leader. Technically, that’s what he was, wasn’t it? Leader of the Phantom Thieves. All his many confidants around the city, all serving the purpose of helping him and his team in the cognitive world. He was always labeled a criminal anyway. Why not lean into that role?

Ann met them in the alleyway. Akira gave her one last chance to back out.

She denied it.

“As you wish. Ryuji.” Upon his command, the faux blond took out his phone and booted up the Nav.

“What’s that?” Ann asked.

“Before we do this, just a quick warning,” Akira began, ignoring her question. “You’re gonna feel really weird for a bit and nothing is going to make sense. It’s okay. We’re here. You can back out at any time.”

“Oh, okay?”

“Alright, it’s ready,” Ryuji announced.

“It’s showtime,” Akira said with a grin. Ryuji said the keywords. The world around them warped and his head began to feel lighter as the visage of that disgusting castle formed right before their eyes.

Chapter Text

If there was anything Ann had been expecting from the plan of the typical delinquent kid she’d known since middle school and the criminal transfer student, it was not this.

“What the hell is this?” she shouted, staring up at the castle that suddenly appeared in place of her school.

“Calm down,” urged a semi-familiar, deep voice. She turned to see someone who looked kind of like the transfer student, only he was wearing a long black coat and a white mask.

“This is what we were talkin’ about,” said the guy next to him, the blond in a sort of punkish attire with a skeleton mask. Probably Sakamoto, right? “We’re in a different reality right now, one where Kamoshida is king of the school.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Ann stammered. “And what is with those outfits?”

“Just give her a minute or two to calm down,” said a third voice that sounded like it came from below. “She needs to get used to it. After all, this is her first time here.”

She looked around for the source of the voice and was immediately surprised when she found a small, humanoid cat was the one talking. “Is that a talking cat? Oh my god, it’s a monster cat!”

“I should be more used to that by now,” the cat lamented, a sad expression in its cartoonishly large eyes.

“If I had a hundred yen for every time someone called you that, I would have probably a thousand yen by now,” the guy who was probably the transfer student joked.

“Dude, you’d have way more than that.” Okay the skull guy was definitely Sakamoto.

“So, you’re Sakamoto, which means you’re Kurusu-kun, there’s a talking cat thing, and Mr Kamoshida’s king?” Ann tried to get everything straight, but nothing was lining up in her head in a way that made sense.

“Yes,” Kurusu said. “We use codenames here. I’m Joker, this is Mona, and that’s Skull.”

“We’re inside Kamoshida’s heart,” the cat—Mona—explained further. “It’s not safe out here. Just follow our lead and we’ll protect you until we get somewhere that is. We can explain there.”

“I guess I’m just going along with this,” Ann sighed.

“You can still tap out if you want to,” Kurusu offered.

“No way!” Ann was frankly offended by the suggestion. “If whatever’s going on here can help us take down Kamoshida, I am all in! I just… need to figure out how to make sense of all this first.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sakamoto—Skull—roared, pumping his fist in the air. “C’mon, let’s go! Phantom Thieves, roll out!”

Joker seemed to fall into a sort of leader role, giving the other two orders that they followed without question. The three of them displayed an incredible amount of trust that Ann had never seen before. Bouncing off each other in combat and responding to nothing but facial cues and hand gestures when relying on stealth.

More than once, Ann got them caught. More than once, they immediately jumped into a counter attack like it had been planned.

Their teamwork was seamless! She was frankly a little jealous.

When they arrived at something Mona called a safe room, they finally took a break and caught Ann up to speed. Every question she threw at them, they answered. They were in another world where everything is how Kamoshida saw it. It was formed from his heart and its distorted desires, which they could steal in the form of a Treasure at the core of the world. By stealing that, they’d remove the desires and he’d stop abusing people and turn himself in.

“That’s… a lot to take in…” Ann murmured.

“I know what you mean,” Skull related, his mask sitting on the table in front of him. “I was so confused the first time too. It took me a while to fully grasp what was goin’ on.”

“And, those creatures you summon, your personas,” Ann asked, “how do they work? How can I get one?”

“That’s a bit more complicated,” Mona began. “Personas are born from within your heart. You have to come to terms with a lot of things about yourself to awaken one. This guy is different. He awakened his own, but he has the ability to collect more and use them in battle.”

“So then, the one you’re using is yours? What was its name? Uh, Metatron?”

“Not… really.”

He didn’t really talk about it any more.

They mentioned that Kamoshida was here, but also that it wasn’t really him either. Apparently it was his Shadow. A being formed purely from the dark and twisted side of the real Kamoshida, sharing his likeness and his deepest thoughts.

She didn’t really get it until she saw him.

“King Kamoshida!” yelled one of the guards. “The intruders have the princess!”

“Princess?” Ann repeated loudly.

Kamoshida—no, Kamoshida’s Shadow— scanned her up and down. Scrutinising every little detail with those eerie yellow eyes. She felt like he was undressing her in his mind. He probably was. She felt violated.

After a while he scoffed, “How dare you confuse this little intruder for my precious Ann. She would never hang out with rebellious losers like these two.”

“What was that you asshole?” Skull grit his teeth.

From behind a curtain, a scantily clad girl with pigtails and a tiara revealed herself. Giggling like an absolute airhead, she sashayed over to the king. It was absolutely sickening the way she draped herself all over Kamoshida like some kind of accessory. Something in her snapped when she realised that was Kamoshida’s vision of herself.

“What do you think you’re doing with her?” she screamed. “I’m not just some object to show off!”

“But you are,” Kamoshida denied. “You’re mine to use however I want. You like it too. A pretty little thing like you can only hope to receive my affection. You should learn to appreciate it!”

“Excuse me?” Ann’s fist shook. If Joker wasn’t standing in front of her right now, Kamoshida probably wouldn’t live to speak another word.

“You know, about uh… I forget that chick’s name. But it’s your fault she jumped.”

Instantly replacing her anger was shock. Then grief. “What did you do to her?”

“If you had just accepted and done what I asked you, she wouldn’t have had to take your place. If anything, it should’ve been you on that roof instead of her. But then, you’d be practically useless to me without your gorgeous legs.”

The fake Ann giggled a little more, like he hadn’t just threatened her life, and showed off her leg. Hiking one up for Kamoshida to grab at her thigh. Leaning against his body like a touch deprived slut. Ann wanted to puke.

“Fucking asshole!” Skull yelled, a heavy looking club appearing in his hands. “The hell do you think you’re doing! Get your hands off her!”

“You mistreat Lady Ann like that one more time, you'll regret it!” Mona shouted, drawing his own weapon.

“Don’t let him talk about you like that,” Joker turned back to her with determination. Something in those gunmetal eyes was so confident. So fearless. Ann wished she had that bravery.

Kamoshida just laughed. “Why not?” he asked. “She absolutely loves it. Don’t you, Ann?”

“Yeah!” the double drawled, eyes half lidded like she was drunk or high or something. “I loooooooove when you make me your bitch! It’s so naughty!”

Suddenly, she didn’t care that she wasn’t as brave as Joker.

“SHUT UP!” Ann screamed. “Just shut up! How dare you treat me that way! How dare you hurt Shiho! You make me sick! GO TO HELL YOU SCUMBAG!”

Pain.

Sudden, burning pain.

In her head. Building inside her chest.

She couldn’t breathe.

Meet again?

This was the first time she’d heard her!

But it wasn’t.

Officially forming the Phantom Thieves. Trying new styles with Akira. Training with Ryuji. Morgana’s silly little crush. Trying Leblanc’s coffee for the first time. Finally going shopping with Futaba. Yusuke’s many attempts to ‘capture her beauty’. Haru showing her the garden at her house. Getting crepes with Makoto on a summer afternoon. Her and Sumire taking a dance class, just for fun. Her friends. Her teammates. Riding all the highs and lows they endured along the way.

She’d done this before. She knew this name well.

“Célestine!”

This feeling. She’d forgotten how it felt to be so powerful!

-

Ann huffed and puffed loudly as she hunched over in the alley in front of the school. “Thanks,” she groaned, still in pain from fighting their way out of there. She’ll be the first to admit she was a little rusty.

“How’re you holdin’ up, Ann?” Ryuji asked, leaning over like a concerned parent.

“Not bad,” she said. “Not good either, but not bad. God, what the hell happened?”

“We’re in the past,” Morgana confirmed. “We’re the only ones who remember anything and now that we’ve seen it again, we know for certain it’s tied to our awakening.”

“No kidding, huh?” she asked rhetorically, rubbing her head as she stood up straight.

“For real? So like, we only remember ‘cause we’re persona users?” Ryuji said, dumbfounded.

“I’m almost positive that’s what it is,” Morgana stated with a nod. “That being said, we still don’t know why this has happened or what we can do with what we know. All we’ve really decided so far is that we need to find the others and awaken their personas.”

Akira nodded, picking up where he left to continue. “Once we do that, we can play by ear. All I’m really concerned about right now is taking care of the Palace rulers, starting with Kamoshida.”

“Thank god,” Ann sighed with relief. “Was it just me, or did he seen a hundred times more perverted than last time?”

“Oh no I hear ya,” Ryuji instantly agreed. “Bastard was treating you like you’re his property. I wanted to puke.”

“Same here,” Morgana said. “I can’t stand that guy. It’s even worse the second time.”

“I was so close to breaking the Phantom Thieves’ one rule of not killing our targets,” Akira said darkly.

“You and me both.” Ann shuddered. “I feel so violated and he didn’t even touch me. I think I’m gonna go see Shiho now. I need to after all that.”

“Maybe a therapist too,” Ryuji mentioned. “I feel like I need one and I wasn’t even the target.”

“Well, our last therapist did manipulate us into revealing our deepest wishes and then constructed an entire fake reality catered to those wishes by filling the void left by us killing god,” Akira casually described. “So yeah. I think we need therapy for a lot more than just today.”

“I don’t even wanna after Dr Maruki.” Ann rubbed her eyes until she saw stars. “I feel so dizzy. I can’t tell if it’s being tired from the awakening, or overwhelmed by remembering an entire year in three seconds.”

“Probably both,” Morgana winced. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Lady Ann?”

“I’ll be fine, probably.” She smiled. It probably didn’t come through in her eyes.

“Here, I’ll walk you to the hospital,” Ryuji offered. “This guy still has a curfew so I don’t think he can stay out too much longer anyway.”

Ann’s heart leaped for joy. It was so sweet when he did things like that. She didn’t ask him to, he just offered! Ryuji was so thoughtful when he wasn’t being, well, Ryuji.

“Thank you, Ryuji,” she said genuinely. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he brushed off. “I just don’t want you half asleep on the streets. Especially after what you just went through.”

“C’mon, let’s go to the train station,” Morgana announced. “I’m sure we’re all itching to get home.”

Akira and Morgana took the train with them to Shibuya Station. They got off and hugged each other goodbye before heading their separate ways. Ryuji stuck closely to her side the whole way to the hospital, even letting her lean on him on the train there.

She felt like she was going to seriously pass out. Thankfully, the hospital was going to be accepting visitors for a few more hours, so she could probably get in to see Shiho and tell her everything that happened quickly and just go straight home.

She did it last time too. Tell her everything. Ann has no idea how much of that information she actually processed. She’d heard that people can sometimes hear what’s happening around them while they’re in a coma. Having no idea if that applied to Shiho meant she wasn’t even sure if seeing her was doing anything. But it felt right. To be at her side.

Ryuji offered to wait outside the room for her so he could walk her to the train station again. She graciously accepted. She was too tired and too overwhelmed with information to really say anything else. He was one of the only people right now who was going through the same thing. She needed her friends right now. She needed Shiho too.

“Hey, Shiho,” she said softly as she walked in to sit down by her bedside.

Unresponsive, again. She had been since yesterday when she passed out in the ambulance. Ann had been so afraid. Of course, now, she knew she would be fine. Shiho was going to recover! She’d done it before, but it was going to be hard until then.

“I met some good friends today. We’ve technically already met, but it’s a little complicated.”

She turned her head, to make sure the door was still closed. “I think we have some weird power. Whatever it is, we can take down Kamoshida, I know it. We’re going to expose what kind of monster he is, and I’ll watch as he begs for forgiveness at my feet. I almost killed him last time. Now that we’re back and nothing happened, I kinda wish I did. It would’ve been so cathartic to watch him burn.”

Watching the silent rise and fall of Shiho’s chest, she waited. It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes or even seconds that she watched her. The stationary, peaceful expression on her face. How even then it felt like she was bearing the pain of what she’d been through. Ann’s only hope was to see her suffering end.

Taking her still hand, she spoke again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” She ran her thumbs along Shiho’s knuckles. As she did she realised her wrists were bruised. “I should’ve been there. Some friend I am, huh? I’m going to become strong, Shiho. For you. So you can see how hard I’m trying and maybe you’ll try too. Try to recover. Because when you wake up, it’ll be so hard. I want to see you laugh again, Shiho. I love your laugh. It’s so honest and bright…”

She had stopped laughing after a while. Ann was pretty sure she knew why.

“I’m going to become strong so I can hear you laugh again. I want you to be happy. I…”

She couldn’t say it. After all she’d been through in the year that didn’t happen, she still couldn’t say it.

Well, she’d become stronger so she could.

“Please, be safe Shiho. I’ll see you when you wake up, okay?”

Gently, she set Shiho’s hand back by her side and slipped out the door. Ryuji was tapping away on his phone, no doubt to his mum about why he’d be home late. He pocketed it immediately as she stepped outside.

“She’ll be okay, right?” he asked. “That hasn’t changed?”

“I’m sure.” Ann nodded. “She has to be.”

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“We can just send it, right? We don’t need to go through that hell again, do we?”

“Ryuji, that’s not the point. It’s been a whole year since we’ve set foot in that Palace. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t have that whole thing memorised.”

“Sorry, Ryuji. I’m with Morgana on this one.”

“What? Akira, you’re at least on my side, right?”

Hopeful, brown eyes stared in the direction of their leader, who was sitting with one leg over the other on an abandoned desk. The school roof was completely isolated, though Haru’s flowers still thrived—the thought brought a smile to Akira’s face. After what had only recently transpired, people were quick to forget they even had a rooftop. The Phantom Thieves took advantage of their absence.

“I think you’re outvoted here dude,” Akira shrugged apologetically.

“Aw, for real?” the athlete sighed. “I really don’t wanna go through that sex dungeon again!”

“Me neither!” Ann complained. “Be we have to so we don’t accidentally miss something on the way up! I do not want to run around solving puzzles at maximum security level!”

“Ann’s right,” Morgana nodded. “We’re not trying to gang up on you, Ryuji. This is just the best course of action for us. I don’t want to take any risks just because we think we can handle it.”

“Yeah, that sounds fine, I guess,” he grumbled in response. “That place just makes me so mad I wanna throw up. I don’t wanna be in there for longer than we have to!”

“The good news is, I still have all the Will Seeds we collected last time,” Akira said, procuring a gold signet ring with a ruby hammer set on either side of the engraved circle. “Jose turned them into some very useful accessories that we can take advantage of. We won’t need to go searching for them this time.”

“Woah, how did you even get those here?” Ann leaned over with excitement. “I didn’t think that was even possible!”

“A ton of Akira’s stuff from last year made it,” Morgana revealed.

“I wonder if anything of mine is here?” Ryuji pondered aloud.

“Oh my god! We should totally check when we get home!” Ann cheered.

Akira adjourned the meeting for the day. Their only goal was to discuss their plans of action anyway, no reason for them to take on the Palace today, especially while Ann was still getting used to everything. So, they simply spent a couple hours hanging out, like nothing had changed. Like regular, high school friends.

He picked up a few things on his way home and dropped by to see Takemi—or rather, meet her for the first time—when Sojiro allowed him to hang around Yongen at night. He already knew what he was signing up for. Morgana was quick to show his concern, but he justified his recklessness by claiming it was for the medicine.

It was. He needed everyone in peak condition, constantly. Exhaustion is one of the reasons they’d failed in the past. He could not let that happen again.

The Phantom Thieves met again to take on the Palace the next afternoon. Ann and Ryuji had brought their old weapons that they’d found shoved in their closets at home. Specifically, the most powerful one’s Akira could find for them. Fantastic for him that they still had them! He wasn’t sure he could stand to electrocute Black Frost again.

They absolutely swept the floor with the shadows in the castle. It was a bloodbath. They ended up discarding stealth entirely in favour of simply killing the guards before they could raise any alarms. Nothing stood in their way for more than a second before it vanished into a deep, smoky haze.

Panther burned the creepy Shiho shrine once they’d taken what they needed. It was the most intense he’d ever seen her.

Skipping the Will Seeds had been an excellent call. It meant they didn’t have to mess around with those lifts and gears to get to the weird underground area. And they didn’t need any detours. Joker already remembered what keys they were looking for, for the most part, so they were able to loot them off the guards they slaughtered on their way rather than backtracking to find them.

Soon, their route was secured and a window was open and waiting for them in the safe room by Kamoshida’s Treasure.

“That’s the fastest we’ve ever secured our route,” Mona laughed as they collected themselves in the final safe room. A static breeze was filtering in through the open window, ruffling Joker’s already messy hair as it did. “All that’s left is the calling card. Then we can hopefully change Kamoshida’s heart for good.”

“I have a feeling this time won’t be nearly as difficult,” Panther predicted. “We’ve been absolutely killing it so far!”

“Hell yeah we have! I bet Joker’ll take him down in one hit!” Skull cheered, pumping the air with his fist.

“Let’s try to be a bit calmer about this,” Joker suggested. “We don’t know if he’s got tricks up his sleeve we aren’t prepared for.”

“Yeah, yeah, stay on guard,” his companion murmured again. “I get that you’re worried, Joker, but lighten up! Nothing in this Palace so far can hold a candy to us! We’re totally set to face Kamoshida!”

“Candle. The phrase is ‘can-DLE’, Skull,” Mona corrected the mistake.

“Whatever, we’ll take him down for real!”

“Hopefully for good this time,” Panther muttered. “I can’t force Shiho to go through that again. This has to be the last time.”

“Once we deal with Kamoshida, we’ll look into the time travel situation,” Mona promised.

“Geez, where can we even start with that?” Skull asked.

“I have a few things in mind,” Mona assured. “I’m not sure how much truth there is to any of it, but it’s a start.”

“A start’s better than nothing,” Joker said. “We’ll face this beast first, then we can hear your theories. That work for everyone?”

The other three thieves gave him firm nods of understanding.

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, how are our item supplies? Think we need to restock before sending the calling card, or are we okay to go ahead?”

“I still have some energy drinks, but we need some more.” Skull rummaged through his stock. “I can definitely pick those up on my way to school though, so no real dangers here.”

“I’m running low on bombs,” Panther mentioned. “I kinda just started throwing them at everything when my energy ran low for a bit there.”

“We shouldn’t need those for this fight though,” Joker thought aloud. “I can still make some more if it would make you feel safer to have them?”

“Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Alright, consider it done.”

“We still have a bunch of Takemedics from the other day,” Mona said. “Plus, I’ll have way more energy for healing spells if we don’t take on so many weaklings on the way up! We’re set on healing items!”

“Perfect. I’ll make some more bombs and Skull, we’re counting on you to get those energy drinks. Do you need money for it?”

“Nah, you know the Metaverse nets you mad cash! My cut from today will be plenty!”

Nodding, Joker made one final decision. “Alright. Then I think we’re done for the day?” Upon everyone’s confirmation, he stood from the table they were all seated around. “Then let’s get outta this hellhole.”

Climbing down the side of the castle wall to the entrance was more manageable than one may have first anticipated. He didn’t trust himself to make this journey the first time around, but after all the other stunts he’d pulled, this was small potatoes. Once they were in the real world again, the exhaustion of a gruelling day of Metaverse travel washed over them. They rode the train together to Shibuya Central Station.

Ann stopped him before he left for Yongen.

“Hey, Akira? Could I ask you for something?”

Turning to her with concern and sticking his hands in his pockets, he gestured for her to continue.

“Um, so, I know you’re already doing a lot, but…” she started. When her voice gave out, she sighed, closed her eyes and steeled herself, before trying again. This time last year, she probably would’ve told him to forget she said anything. “Could you maybe bring some curry to school tomorrow? If there’s any left. I remember it really helps us in the Metaverse and I kinda need something familiar right now. Of course, if you don’t have the time it’s totally okay, but… please?”

Akira’s eyes softened behind his frames and he took one of her hands in both of his. “Of course, Ann,” he said simply, a friendly smile on his face.

“Lady Ann, this guy will do anything to make sure everyone’s comfortable,” Morgana piped up, perching his two front paws on his shoulder. “You should know this by now.”

“I know, I know.” Ann smiled fondly, casting her eyes at the pavement. “Everything’s just so insane right now and I don’t know how much longer I can go like this. It feels like life hasn’t stopped with the bullshit since Shiho…”

“Lady Ann…” Morgana’s tone was sympathetic.

“And you tried!” Ann said quickly. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could hear the teariness in her voice. “You tried so hard! I see that now! And I’m so, so grateful for it! And I only wish that it had worked! I only wish that I’d realised so I could have done more to- to help her! I…”

“Ann, look at me.” When she did, Akira continued. “You are already so, so strong. You bounce back from everything life throws at you. You even managed to admire someone who was clearly trying to cut you down. None of that progress is gone. It’s all up here.” He tapped a finger to her forehead. The blonde just continued to stare at him. “So what if things are tough? We’re all in this together, and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Akira…”

“We weren’t too late for Shiho because she’s still here,” he continued. “We’ll put a stop to Kamoshida and you’ll be right there by her side to tell her the news when she wakes up.”

After a few moments of prolonged silence, Morgana spoke up again. “He’s right. We’re all suffering the same situation here. We can all make it through this together, and help each other through our pain. And we can start with Shiho.”

“Thanks guys,” Ann sniffled, eyes beginning to tear up. “I… don’t really think this was about the curry.” She giggled apologetically.

“I figured,” Akira said, giving her a smile. “I’ll make some anyway. That stuff has a tendency to help in stressful times.”

“Thanks, Akira.” She reached up and gave Mona a scratch behind the ear. “Thanks, Morgana. You’re both so sweet.”

“Not a problem, Lady Ann!” Morgana chirped. “Pleasure to be of service!”

“Do you want me to walk you to the hospital?”

Ann shook her head at Akira’s offer. “I’ll be okay. At least I’m not dead on my feet this time. I can manage.”

“Okay, message me when you get home.”

“Will do! You as well, Kira.”

Tomorrow was the heist. He couldn’t afford to waste time. Only problem is, he’d just agreed to both make infiltration tools, and Leblanc curry. Akira was a talented man, he was not talented enough to do two things at once.

So, he resorted to praying there would be some left from the day when he got home instead. Just hoping Sojiro hadn’t sold it all and he could bring the leftovers with him for Ann and Ryuji. That, unfortunately, did not end up being the case.

“Sorry, kid,” the manager shrugged, wiping his hands off on a tea towel. “There’s still plenty of ingredients though. I have to head home, but you can feel free to make some. Just remember to wash up after.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Akira smiled. “Thanks Boss. Say h- uh safe! Get home safe!” Fuck. Close one.

“Yeah, sure kid. It’s a two minute walk.” He was smiling when he said it, despite his tone. “Remember to lock up. Don’t burn down my shop, will ya?”

“That’d be a story to tell the parole officer.”

“I bet. Night, kid.”

“Night, Boss.”

Okay. Guess he’ll just have to call Kawakami. He’d already made his way to the pay phone and began dialing when Morgana padded over to question him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he interrogated.

“Calling Becky?” Akira answered. “I can’t make bombs and curry all by myself!”

“Akira. You haven’t met Becky yet!”

Oh. Shit.

“Hi!” greeted the familiar voice on the other side. “This is Becky with Victoria’s Maid Service! Did you want to request me, Master?”

Fuck.

Disguising his voice as much as he could, he grabbed at the first lie he could possibly think of. “Uh, hi. My friend recommended you, said you could cook? Can you come over and help me?”

“Of course Master!” she sounded surprised, but definitely wasn’t about to turn down a customer. Not with her lack of requests at this point. “It makes me so happy Master’s friend recommended me! It’ll be five thousand yen! Just give me your address and I’ll be right over!”

Now to wait and think of an alibi. He already knew Kawakami lived relatively close. She never took long to show up at the door, and she’d said so herself at one point. He may as well start on those tools in the meantime.

“Hello?” called Kawakami’s customer service voice from downstairs as the bell signalled her arrival. “Master? Are you in here?”

“One sec!”

“You’re seriously unbelievable,” Morgana sighed.

“Hi Master!” Kawakami greeted when she saw him emerge from the stairs. “My name’s-” And there’s the recognition. Well, he didn’t exactly try very hard to hide it this time. Now he needed to be surprised too.

“Oh, um…” he stammered as believably as he could. Tugging his hair, he muttered, “Hi Ms Kawakami?”

Kawakami sighed. “Did Miss Chouno put you up to this?” she asked with an unimpressed look on her face. “How did you find out I work there?”

Akira raised his hands in mock surrender. “I-I didn’t know, I swear!”

“You specifically requested me. Of course you knew!”

“No! I didn’t! I just… requested someone at random. I thought the name Becky was cute and the thing said you could cook so I called you and just kinda… Don’t fail me, please.”

Kawakami blinked, then rolled her eyes and put her head in her hand. “Geez. I’m not going to fail you. Honestly, your scores are perfect so far.” She sighed. “Alright, look. I’ll treat this as if you had cancelled and-”

“No wait!” Akira stopped her. “Uh, please. I have quite a bit of homework to catch up on, because I only just transferred here, but I also need to cook something for lunch tomorrow cause, I promised my friends I’d bring them some curry, cause it’s really good curry, but my guardian had to leave and there isn’t any made. And I can’t do both at the same time, but if I stay up to do either I won’t get enough sleep and my cat will yell at me.”

“I’m sorry, your cat will yell at you for not getting enough sleep?” Kawakami asked with a raised brow.

Shit. Maybe he went a bit too method on that. “He likes to curl up on my chest at night, but if it gets too late he just starts meowing relentlessly until it happens. It gives me a headache.”

Kawakami sighed. “Surely you have better things to be spending your money on.”

Akira just looked at the floor, trying to come up with another excuse and coming up empty. Shoot, he didn’t want to disappoint his friends, but if he didn’t get these tools and bombs done, it could spell the difference between severe injury and making it out of a battle unscathed. They had no idea how Kamoshida’s power would scale compared to theirs. If someone got hurt because of his own carelessness he’d…

“Fine,” Kawakami relented. “But I hope you know a high schooler shouldn’t be calling services like this. I won’t out you if you don’t out me.”

“Deal. Uh, you don’t have to call me Master, by the way. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

His teacher barked out a laugh. “I think this is the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been at this job.” Her tone suddenly shifted. “But if that’s what my Master wishes!”

“Please, sensei…”

“Deal with the consequences of your actions, Kurusu-kun. Now what did you want me to make?”

Akira handed her the recipe notes Sojiro had once given him and let her skim them over. Her eyebrows shot up and a hint of a genuine smile crossed her face. “This is really in depth. And probably tastes delicious! They sell this here?”

“Sure do. It pairs perfectly with the coffee too,” Akira let himself smile. Maybe it would be easier to befriend Kawakami again than he thought.

“Maybe I should come by out of uniform and let myself be the customer for a change,” she grinned.

“You can take some with you if you want. I don’t mind.”

Tired eyes smiled up at him. “I might take you up on that.”

With all that out of the way and his new maid friend payed and briefed on how the kitchen was set up, Akira returned to his desk and his judgemental cat.

“Well that didn’t go nearly as poorly as I was expecting it to,” he mused. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you for your unyielding faith in me, Morgana,” Akira groaned as he bent more wire. “I’m so glad to have your trust.”

He finished up his little projects before Kawakami finished downstairs. He used the time to actually do his homework, even coming down stairs to ask her a couple questions, hoping to get on her good side. She seemed pleasantly surprised by the turn of events, helping him while the curry simmered. With a small container of rice and curry, she bid him goodnight.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Morgana asked as he finally lay down to sleep that night.

“I think we’re more than ready.”

-

Taking down Shadow Kamoshida was the absolute easiest thing the Phantom Thieves had ever done. Honestly, it was such a let down.

Of course, they knew to immediately take out the cup. Stop him from healing and make this go a whole lot faster. It was a no brainer.

Kamoshida did not like that.

Growing more enraged by the second, he was desperately attacking everything that stood in his way.

Mona hung back a bit, the strategy being to get the teacher focusing on the other three, then he’d swoop in and knock the crown from his head when he wasn’t looking. Still, he could heal from the sidelines when needed for a bit.

Joker was seriously holding back. It would be so easy to bring out Izanagi No Okami Picaro and just slaughter him right then and there. Truthfully, it was tempting. But no doubt myriad truths would kill him and then he couldn’t confess his crimes. Even if they did, he didn’t want to steal that kill from Panther and Skull. In his mind, this was never his fight. It was theirs.

They weren’t even struggling anyway. That persona was for extremely dire circumstances.

In an amount of minutes, that crown had been knocked free from his head, and the now human shaped King Kamoshida was grovelling at their feet.

“Please! Please don’t kill me!” it begged.

“You’re sick,” Ann spat. Summoning Célestine, she prepared an Agilao and held the flickering spell dangerously close to his face. “Return to yourself in reality. Confess all your crimes. Pay the price for what you’ve done. Rot in jail.”

“I will. I deserve to waste away in a cell for what I did to your friend. I’m so sorry.”

“Save it.” Ann yanked the crown from his hands, rested it on her hip, and pointed. “Go.”

Vanishing in wisps of magic smoke, the shadow returned to himself. Akira found himself off-handedly wondering what a change of heart looked like in real time. Was it just like a strange thought crossing the target’s mind? Or was it something more clearly supernatural? Guess he’d never know. He was strangely okay with that.

“Alright, this place is gonna collapse!” Morgana warned. “Let’s get outta here, quickly!”

They ran as the Palace walls crumbled all around them. Evading the falling bricks and the furniture pushed around. Ryuji tripped, cursing something about his crooked leg, but Akira helped him back to his feet in time for Ann to catch a door before it was blocked off. They scrambled to the front in the nick of time.

“The destination has been deleted. Returned to the real world.”

“Oh man!” Ryuji huffed, keeling over in the alleyway in front of the school. “Oh god! My effin’ leg man!”

“Ryuji!” Ann was at his side in an instant. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Yeah I’m good. Just not used to being this crap. Oh man.”

“Maybe that’s a by-product of the time travel?” Akira suggested, kneeling opposite Ann by his other side.

“Yeah…” Morgana thought for a bit. “I had noticed our bodies weren’t as strong as they used to be. Maybe it was only our minds that were transported? Or our subconscious? Or something?”

“Man, that's confusing…” Ryuji mumbled. He began moving his leg back and forth, stretching it out in an attempt to recover from the sprain.

“Need to see a doctor? I could take you to Takemi?” Akira offered.

“Nah, I should be ‘aight. If it hurts tomorrow I’ll take the day off and go see my physio, but for now I’ll just rest it.”

“At least let us take you to the station,” Ann insisted, a pleading look in her eye. It was probably to pay him back for taking her to the hospital to see Shiho after she awakened. How sweet of them. To care for each other so much.

“Yeah… Yeah okay. Thanks Ann.”

“D-don’t mention it!”

Morgana’s tail swished as he spoke with finality. “All that’s left now is to wait for the change of heart to take effect. We can focus our energy on finding the others and swaying them to our cause.”

“I hear ya. Right now though, I think I need a nap,” Ryuji sighed, resting his head against his arms.

“Let’s all get home,” Akira told them, taking one of his sides and helping him stand, Ann holding the other. They all deserved a break. They had a script to rewrite after all this. Gonna take a lot of hard work.

Chapter Text

Kamoshida confessed. In the same thrilling display he had the first time. On his hands and knees, begging forgiveness from an audience that was never going to give it.

In the time up to that confession, what had been so far formed of the Phantom Thieves had made no progress in figuring out what to do. Sure they’d tried, but each attempt to indoctrinate their friends again failed immaculately. All they knew was how things went last time. That seemed like a good amount of knowledge, but they were sorely mistaken.

Despite knowing where Yusuke lived, they were unable to find and approach him at the right time, ultimately deciding it would be better to speak with him during Madarame’s exhibit. Makoto was still in robot mode and, while she was certainly happy to help her peers, she didn’t seem particularly thrilled at anything they said to her. They probably just made themselves seem more suspicious, which might end up working for them when she comes tracking them down.

Haru was much harder to approach than Makoto, being shy when it came to befriending people and likely tentative because they used her last name when talking to her. She probably thought they wanted something from her, which was a fair suspicion to have considering her family’s status. While they probably couldn’t make her join their cause yet, they were still keen to be friends with her and invited her out after exams.

Futaba he’d already been trying to convince. Akira knew for a fact that cafe was still bugged since he found one with Alibaba’s little icon plastered on it. He openly spoke to her once or twice a week when Sojiro had already locked up. She couldn’t understand Morgana probably, so he never really said much to her specifically, but they still spoke. Alibaba had yet to reach out.

They all agreed not to seek out Akechi. If he remembered like they all did, it was likely on sight. The Thieves were worried for their leader. An assassination attempt was made once, after all. Akira wasn’t inclined to agree, but he was outvoted on this one, so he complied.

Sumire was a whole different complication. After all, she still thought she was Kasumi, if her conduct around school was anything to go by. Akira hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with her one on one. Something always seemed to keep them apart.

Well, at least they’d ace their exams!

…at least Akira would! Ann and Ryuji… maybe not.

When exam week was briefly paused for an emergency school assembly, Akira was absolutely fuming. Seeing none other than Dr fucking Maruki introduce himself to the student body on stage did not help the matter. In fact, it made it worse.

He and the other Phantom Thieves congregated in the courtyard to air their frustrations.

“No way the school still hired that nut job!” Ryuji exclaimed, scuffing his foot on the ground.

“Does this mean we’ll have to worry about changing his heart?” Ann whined. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

“If we just don’t teach him about the cognitive world, he probably won't even be a problem,” Morgana pointed out. Akira could feel how his ear flicked in annoyance.

“Unfortunately, it’s a bit late for that Morgana-kun.”

The moment the all too familiar voice joined their conversation, everyone’s heads snapped to the direction of the doctor. Glaring as he approached cautiously. Minds and bodies engaging their fight or flight instincts; and leaning dangerously close to fight.

Maruki stopped a good two metres away from them and adjusted his glasses nervously. “Hello, Phantom Thieves.”

“What do you want, Doc?” Ryuji spat.

“Please, I don’t mean you any harm!” he pleaded. “I believe we’re all in the same predicament here, are we not? I only want to ensure your safety.”

“Not here,” Akira asserted, holding up a hand to stop his friends from hurling a barrage of insults at the councillor. “Leblanc, after school. If you don’t show up, we’ll assume you’re not on our side. You have one chance.”

Maruki’s eyes widened and he nodded his head, speaking quickly. “Yes. U-understood. I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Akira turned on his heel and left, motioning for his teammates to do the same. When they’d all safely hidden out of sight and earshot, Ryuji spoke up.

“Dude, you’re scary sometimes, y’know that?” he said with a shiver.

Akira smiled, confused and innocent, at his blond friend. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb!” Ann accused. “You used the Joker Voice on him!”

Blinking, genuinely stunned, he countered. “I wasn’t aware Joker had a voice.”

“Yeah it’s like, super commanding and powerful! Ask anyone of us, we’re all kinda terrified of the Joker voice.” Ryuji.

Ann slapped Ryuji in the arm, the sound reverberating off the walls around them. It sounded like it hurt. “Ryuji!”

“Ow! What? It’s the truth, ain’t it?”

“But you don’t have to say it!”

“You guys are scared of me?” Akira asked aloud, suddenly self conscious of everything he’d ever done and said as Joker in the Metaverse.

“No!” Ann insisted. “Not really. It’s more like… uh…”

Luckily, Morgana came to her rescue. “The presence you display in the Metaverse is intimidating, to say the least,” he explained. “I think it’d be more accurate to say that you can be very assertive at times. It’s a good quality in a leader, I assure you. It’s part of why we chose you.”

Somehow, even with the explanation, Akira didn’t feel that much better about it. He didn’t want to scare his friends, he wanted to inspire them. But, then again, so far he’d basically been intimidating people on purpose to get them to fill certain roles so events would play out in certain ways. Maybe there was an element of truth to all of that.

He probably flunked the rest of his exams that day. He couldn’t think about anything else.

They took the train to Leblanc together as soon as school let out. He introduced his friends to Sojiro, who appeared surprised that a terrifying delinquent like him even managed to make any. They waited for Maruki. Eventually, he showed.

“Hey, I’m sorry we’re closing soon,” Sojiro said in lack of a greeting.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maruki apologised. “I’m here to see Kurusu-kun. I’m-”

“An old family friend,” Akira finished for him, beaming at him from the stairs he’d basically just sprinted down. “It’s been a while, Takuto-san! We need to catch up!”

Maruki blinked at him, but took the hint. “Yes! I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you sooner! I nearly dropped everything when I heard you were in Tokyo. I hope your family is well.”

Good save, Maruki.

Don’t think he didn’t hear that dig at his family. Bastard.

Sojiro looked him over for a moment, sighed and slipped off his apron. “Whatever,” he conceded. “Remember to lock up when you’re done. And make sure you don’t stay up too late. You still have exams.”

“Of course, Boss! We won’t be too long.”

The bell chimed to signal his departure. Akira and Maruki locked eyes as the other thieves descended the stairs behind him.

“Sorry for springing that lie on you,” Akira apologised, dropping his act in a second. “Sojiro doesn’t fully trust me yet. I thought that was more convincing than ‘he’s my therapist who fucked with reality’, don’t you think?”

“Harsh, but frankly deserved,” Maruki winced. “Would now be a bad time to ask for some coffee?”

“Are you paying?”

“Of course! I’d be happy to! It’s the least I can do to begin to make up for what I’ve done.”

“Hm.” Correct answer. Well done.

Maybe there was some merit to the Joker Voice theory his friends had going on.

He made them all a cup, save for Morgana—for obvious, cat-shaped reasons—and gave Ryuji his favourite fizzy drink he made Sojiro keep on hand. Everyone situated themselves in a booth in the centre of the store. Deliberately, no one sat next to Maruki. Instead, Ryuji straddled a barstool with his soda in hand.

“You remember everything, don’t you Doc?” the athlete asked. “Even down to your change of heart.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Maruki confirmed. “I have no idea why or how but I distinctly remember going through this year’s events once already. I only confirmed that theory when I was at your school for the first time and saw you four in an alleyway fresh from a heist. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I believe you described my actions rather explicitly, Kurusu-kun.”

Akira shrugged. “I thought you might be listening. Call it a hunch.”

“I see. So it was targeted then.”

“That’s the least of your worries, if I’m being honest,” Akira hummed. And he was.

“Why did you even come to Shujin if you’ve already atoned?” Ann queried. “You should’ve known we wouldn’t be happy about it!”

“I prepared myself for that fact when I took the position,” Maruki said. “Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to stay out of it, even if I knew you wouldn’t appreciate my presence. The only thing I wanted after you changed my heart was a chance to do better. I thought, maybe apologising to all of you properly would be a good start to that.”

“So it’s you then,” Akira deduced. “You’re the source of the time jump.”

“I am?”

“If you made a wish to have a second chance, and your persona basically functions on wishes, wouldn’t that mean you’re behind the loop?”

“Azathoth doesn’t answer my call,” Maruki sighed, casting his eyes downward into his cooling cup. “Besides I don’t think this level of cognitive rewriting is something I’d be capable of, even at the height of my power.”

“Then, if it’s not you, what’s happening?” Ryuji asked.

“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest clue. That’s why I approached you when I did. I knew if anyone could figure out what’s going on, it’d be the Phantom Thieves.”

Listening, Futaba? Alibaba? Akira hoped so.

Morgana sighed as his ear flicked with annoyance. “There goes that idea,” he huffed. “I’d thought you’d be our best bet as to who was behind this.”

“My apologies. I wish I knew more.”

“Yeah, well don’t we all,” Akira stated harshly.

“Please, I know what I did to you was wrong,” Maruki started. “And I deeply apologise for hurting and using you all like that. Especially with how I…” He trailed off.

“…threatened Akechi’s life?” Akira finished for him. He’d be lying if he wasn’t angry. He was furious. But he didn’t let that show. He didn’t let even a hint of that come through in his voice. Instead, he sounded sympathetic. Sounded like he understood what he was going through.

He didn’t.

How fucking dare he?

“Yes.” At least he had the heart to feel sorry for it.

“And you broke Sumire!” Ann pointed out. “She was so much happier as herself! Why did you still make her think she’s Kasumi-san?”

“I-if I had the choice not to, I wouldn’t have!” Maruki raised his hands in surrender from the blonde’s sharp glare. “I had already changed her cognition by the time my memories returned.”

“How about a deal, Dr Maruki?” Akira proposed.

“What kind of deal?”

“Prove you’re on our side,” he elaborated, “and free Sumire.”

“Wha- Now?” Maruki looked appalled. “You saw how she reacted in the other reality! I-if I let her free now, she’ll-”

“Have friends to help her overcome it!” Ryuji cut him off. “What don’t you understand, Doc? She’s not alone here!”

“We’ll help her this time like we helped her before!” Ann agreed.

“We’re the Phantom Thieves!” Morgana announced. “We won’t let her feel abandoned and afraid!”

“I…”

“One month,” Akira stated. “One month from now, you will ensure she remembers who she is. And when she does, we will be the ones she turns to. Am I clear?”

Maruki swallowed. “Y-yes. Crystal.”

“Good.”

It was at that crucial moment, Akira realised just how much control the Joker Voice could have.

Chapter Text

“I just realised something!” Ryuji announced one day as the three of them were on the train. “Yusuke’s gonna be a pain in the ass again, isn’t he?”

Ann elbowed him sharply. “Not so loud!” she hissed. “I think this is around when he starts following me. So keep your voice down!”

“Let’s just agree right now to speak with code names when referring to the others,” Akira suggested quietly.

“Oh! That’s smart,” Ann commended. “Let’s do that.”

“Good thinking, Akira,” Morgana praised. “But yes, I had been thinking the same thing. Fox will be a problem if we get on his bad side quickly. Let’s try to keep him happy just for now. It’s not like we need him for information at this point. We already know everything we need to know about Madarame.”

“We should still do that Mementos request,” Ryuji mentioned. “I can’t sit still knowing a government official is stalking his ex. It’s not okay, even if he’s a victim too.”

“Good call,” Akira agreed as they got off the train. “I’ll let Mishima know.”

“And what if we don’t run into Fox at all?” Ann hissed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Aren’t we kinda screwed then?”

“This guy already thought of that!” Morgana stated proudly. “He got his foresight from me, naturally.”

With a roll of his eyes, the tallest boy opened his phone and showed them a confirmation email with two tickets attached. Once blond and blonder were finished gawking loudly, he explained. “I bought these the minute they went live. I figured if all else fails, we have this as a backup.”

“Dude, aren’t those expensive?”

“You said it yourself, Ryuji. ‘The Metaverse nets you mad cash.’ I have more in my savings than I know what to do with right now.”

“Only two though,” Ann sighed. “I’m guessing no Mona and no Ryuji?”

“I figured if he had the choice, he’d rather not go. I don’t mean this in a bad way, dude, but art’s never really been your thing.”

“Hey! I’d go for Yu- Fox!” Ryuji defended. “Just cause I don’t really understand art doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be there for my friend!”

Fair point. Akira felt like an asshole.

“For now, you all need to focus on your exams,” Morgana interjected. “Maybe since you’ve already taken the tests before, you’ll get closer to a passing grade, Ryuji.”

“What?” He gritted his teeth to contain his volume. “I’ll have you know, I can’t study with all this time travel nonsense going on!”

“You’re hopeless, Ryuji.”

“What was that?”

“They’re almost over anyway!” Ann said, trying to keep the mood light. “Tomorrow’s our last day, so let’s just smash it out of the park!”

“Love the enthusiasm, Lady Ann!” Morgana praised at the same time Akira said “That’s the spirit!”

They got off the train only to immediately run into—or in Akira’s case, be ran into—the very boy they had been talking about not a minute ago. Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Oh!” Yusuke exclaimed as he and Akira almost tripped over each other on the platform. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to almost take you out.”

“Buy me a drink first, pretty boy,” Akira flirted on instinct. Why was flirting always his first instinct when he was thrown off?

“Ah, I am afraid I do not have the funds for such an outing,” the artist lamented, the joke going right over his head. “But where are my manners? I am Kitagawa Yusuke, second year at Kosei High’s fine arts division.”

“Huh, we’re the same age then,” Ann said, putting on a surprisingly polished act. “We go to Shujin Academy. I’m Takamaki Ann, this is Sakamoto Ryuji, and he’s…”

“Kurusu Akira. It’s nice to meet you, Kitagawa-kun.”

“Likewise, to all of you.” Yusuke bowed his head slightly in greeting, looking them all over. They were all prepared for the next question. Akira was praying Ann wouldn’t have to deal with that again.

“Forgive my suddenness but, I have something I’d like to ask of you, Kurusu-san,” Yusuke broached.

“Huh? Me?”

“Indeed. You have incredible bone structure.” He closed his midnight blue eyes and nodded to himself with a satisfied smile. “Yes, such an enticing composition. I can see it now! Will you be the model for my next art piece?”

“Wait! Akira?” Ryuji yelled in surprise. Ann shushed him, though she was clearly just as shocked. Akira was too. Did he just manifest that into reality? Who was he? Maruki?

“Truthfully, I had been considering you as my model, Takamaki-san,” Yusuke continued. The girl in question made a startled noise. “But after seeing Kurusu-san so closely, I can sense a lot of depth in those eyes. Rather hard to tell because of those glasses, but, I imagine it’d make for a wonderful portrait if we could take those off.”

“Hopefully not anything else…” Morgana mumbled.

“Uh, um. Thanks?” Akira stammered, tugging at his fringe. Had Yusuke ever told him that? He didn’t think so. At least not aloud. Only one person really commented on his eyes before now and he was…

Maybe this only happened because it was Akira he nearly crashed into. Yeah. That had to be it. A twist of fate. One small difference snowballing into a drastic shift from the original script. Yeah. Okay.

“If you need more time to decide, come to my Sensei Madarame’s exhibit. It’s opening soon.” Yusuke procured three tickets from his uniform pocket and gave them to Akira. “Your friends may come along too, though I doubt Sakamoto-san has much appreciation for the fine arts.”

“Hey! I think it’s pretty,” Ryuji defended. “I just… don’t get all the deep emotional stuff people get from it.” Wow he really had changed since this time last year.

“I see. Well I hope to see you there all the same.” Pausing for a moment to glance at his phone, he gave them an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Sensei’s asking where I’ve gone. I must be going now.”

“Okay,” Ann gave him a friendly smile. “Have a good day! We’ll see you at the exhibit!”

They waved to him as they parted ways.

“That was weird,” Morgana commented.

“For real,” Ryuji agreed. “Didn’t he ask Ann to model for him last time.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groaned. “I’d be happy to do it now if it weren’t for the whole nude thing.”

“Bro, you think you’ll have to go nude?” the athlete asked as the group continued towards their original destination. “Surely not right? Cause you’re a dude?”

“Uh, gender has nothing to do with it, Ryuji,” Morgana corrected.

“Yeah it’s like an art thing,” Ann said. “Something about anatomy? I didn’t really understand it when I looked it up. But it’s pretty common for art students.”

“He was talking about his eyes though, so hopefully not,” Ryuji said.

“Yeah that was odd,” Morgana agreed. “Maybe it’s because…”

His friends kept talking, but Akira wasn’t paying that much attention. Mainly he focused his thoughts on strategising a way to convince Yusuke to join them.

Maybe he could talk to him while at the exhibition? Try and glean from him the details about how exactly it was Madarame was achieving so much with so little talent. Though, apparently Ann had already tried that and he responded poorly. So maybe he’d agree to model and right before they started doing anything, he’d drag him into the Metaverse and force an awakening! No, that’s going against his freedom of choice, he’d never want to do that.

Perhaps he could stall? Maybe just try to immediately schedule a day when Madarame would be home so they could open the security door as soon as possible! Ann had managed to accidentally bring him into the Metaverse, before! Maybe he could recreate those conditions.

After some time, he began to silently wonder if he was deliberating ideas of getting Yusuke to awaken. Or if he was trying to get out of modelling.

It was true he was probably the best candidate for the role. After all, while Ann was the professional model out of the four of them, she wasn’t exactly fond of how things had played out for her last time. Knowing Yusuke, it wasn’t done with any malice or ill intent, but it was still so soon after the whole… Kamoshida incident. He’d rather she didn’t endure anything even remotely similar.

Morgana would be simply seen as any other house cat, and Ryuji wasn’t nearly ideal in the slightest. Not to mention neither of them could sit still for even a second. Trying to paint them would be agonising!

So, logic would conclude Akira the better option. And hopefully he wouldn’t have to take his clothes off to do it. But…

Artists have a near magical ability to draw out the hidden depths of a person’s psyche and display them on a canvas for all to witness. Akira would rather the depths of his psyche to remain hidden, thank you very much. They were hidden for a reason.

They finished their exams. They cleared the request for Nakanohara’s heart—among others. They began scheduling their time.

Akira ran into Haru in the halls as she was struggling to get bags of fertiliser up the stairs. He offered a hand and used the opportunity to invite her out again. She seemed pleasantly surprised.

“Oh! I had assumed you’d forget about that by the time exams had finished,” she said, a bit flustered, adjusting her grip on her bags awkwardly.

“I wouldn’t want to pressure you into it if you didn’t want to, Senpai,” Akira disclaimed, trying not to seem too upset by it.

“Not at all!” Haru smiled. “I’d be delighted to hang out with you all. I just mean I assumed you’d be busy and it would slip your mind, not that you were, uh…” She adjusted her grip again and changed the trajectory of the conversation. “What were you thinking of doing?”

Set that one aside to unpack later.

“My friends and I are going to Madarame’s art exhibition on opening day,” Akira explained. He used his elbow to open the door to the roof—after a valiant struggle—and held it open for his senior as he continued. “It just so happens we have some extra tickets, so I wanted to ask you so we could get to know you a bit better.”

Haru blinked at him. “I wouldn’t want to put you out, Kurusu-kun. I am more than happy to pay for my own ticket.”

“Please, Haru-senpai, I insist. We were the ones to invite you, after all.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you for the ticket?”

“Absolutely.”

Eventually, she conceded. Akira would call that a successful mission. Lucky for him, he had the foresight to purchase two tickets already. Go him! They parted ways after exchanging contact info and she remained on the roof to tend to her garden.

Now to find a graceful first year with blood red hair. Where could she be? His phone vibrating at him snapped him from his scouring the halls.

Skeleton: yo can anyone find Violet???
Skeleton: it’s been like 20 minute s and she hasn’t left school yet
Skeleton: unless i missed her
Skeleton: im at the front gate

Leader: don’t ambush her please

Skeleton: dude dont say it like that

Sandiego: she’s in the practice building
Sandiego: she’s with Dr Maruki
Sandiego: I refuse to go over there so I’m waiting here while she talks to him.

Skeleton: FOR REAL???

Leader: where is here

Skeleton: that bastard

Sandiego: the vending machines in the courtyard

Leader: omw

Skeleton: he better be helping her out like he promised
Skeleton: put him in his place Joker!!

As much as he wanted to “put him in his place”, he did actually care about Sumire. And if she saw him violently attacking her therapist, that would not bode well for dispelling any of the crazing rumours she’d been hearing. Just wait until she heard he drove without a licence as well!

So no. He did not go to the nurses office. Instead he met with Ann and they patiently waited for her chat to finish. They watched in silence through their peripheral vision as she left the office, gave a bow, and set off confidently down the hall.

The way she carried herself… It was so unlike her. So eerily Kasumi rather than Sumire. He hated it.

“So I was thinking about that crêpe shop in Shibuya you wanted to try,” Akira started as she approached the door. He flicked his eyes to where ‘Kasumi’ was a few times hoping Ann would get the hint.

“Huh?” Then it clicked. “Oh yeah! I was thinking if we both go and get a whole crêpe, we could split them and go half and half!”

“So we get to try two flavours!” Akira matched her enthusiasm.

“Exactly!”

“Oh, you’re…” Kasumi noticed them. Or rather, noticed him. He thinks the last time they spoke was back when Kamoshida was still around, outside the guidance office.

“Hey,” he greeted, a polite smile on his face, hands nervously fiddling with his hair. “Yoshizawa, right?”

“Yes! That’s it,” she confirmed, bowing. “I’m Yoshizawa Kasumi, a first year.”

“Kurusu Akira, second year,” he introduced. “I don’t think I’ve ever given you my name.”

“That’s quite alright, Kurusu-senpai. Until now, I’d been guilty of the same thing! Are you his friend?” She turned to Ann expectantly.

“Yeah! Nice to meet you,” she replied. “I’m Takamaki Ann. Second year too, but you can just call me Ann.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Ann-senpai.” She bowed to her as well. Jesus Christ, Kasumi was always bowing wasn’t she? Akira guessed Sumire just saw her sister as overly polite?

Kasumi turned to Akira again, with an apologetic look in her eyes. “I uh, I wanted to apologise for the other day, Kurusu-senpai. Do you remember?”

“Outside the guidance office?” he clarified. “Yeah, I remember.”

“What happened?” Ann asked him, Kasumi answered.

“Well, you see, I said some things that I didn’t really mean,” she explained. “That teacher, uh, Mr Kamoshida.” Ann’s face turned sour. “He had spoken to me about him the moment prior, so I sort of spoke without thinking. I’m sure none of those rumours about you hold any merit.”

“Kamoshida didn’t try anything with you, did he?” Ann asked, concerned for her new(ish) friend.

“Oh, no! Although, now that I think about it, maybe he was trying to manipulate me into a corner so I wouldn’t have anyone to go to if something did happen, in which case I’m glad he confessed.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re safe then.”

“You’re pretty new here too, aren’t you Sumire-chan?” Ann shot him a look, but he had to try it. It was a risk worth taking, no? After all, if her family and friends had been calling her the wrong name for ages and she hadn’t noticed, it could truly be a cognition thing.

Kasumi blinked, seemingly a little thrown off. Perhaps she heard it distorted, like it had happened with her father on New Years. “I’m sorry Senpai, could you repeat that please?”

“You’re new here, aren’t you, Kasumi-chan?”

Better safe than sorry.

“Yes. I transferred here as an honours student for my gymnastics. You transferred here too, I hear. Is that true, Kurusu-senpai?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Not for anything nearly as honourable though.” He caught Ann giggling in the corner of his eye.

Kasumi seemed to relax some of the tension in her body upon hearing the light tone with which the topic was spoken. “Right, what was it I heard again? Murder, gang violence, and elephant tusk trafficking?”

“I also steal the hearts of pretty women,” he joked with a wink. “Ann was my first target at this school.”

“Kasumi-chan, for your own good, run while you still can,” Ann joined in. “He’ll seduce you into joining his harem.”

“Even I can tell you’re joking.”

The three of them dissolved into a fit of giggles. That was when Akira pretended to have an idea. “Hey, Kasumi-chan?”

“Yes?”

“Ann and I and a few friends were planning to go to Madarame’s exhibit in a few days and we have an extra ticket,” he began. “If you don’t already have plans, did you want to come with us?”

She seemed thrilled at the idea, and judging by Ann’s genuine surprise, she hadn’t been expecting it but was thrilled too. “I’d love to! Maybe I’ll find some inspiration for my routine while we’re there!”

“You can find inspiration for gymnastics in art?” Ann asked, a little perplexed.

“You’d be surprised where that kind of inspiration can come from,” Kasumi giggled. “My sister once drew inspiration from a leaf.”

The pair shared a look. He could feel Morgana move around in his bag, probably stirred from his sleep by the giggling, and then made uncomfortable by that comment.

“That’s a story I’d like to hear,” Akira commented.

Kasumi smiled, maybe a little sadly. At least Sumire admitted her sister would be sad if she was actually the one who’d been hit by the car. “Maybe another time. I still have to get to practice this afternoon. Oh! We should exchange contact info.”

One exchanging of numbers later, and a new contact in both his and Ann’s phones, KaSumire bowed again and took her leave. Morgana’s furry face popped up through the zipper of his leader’s bag.

“I take it that went well?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“Yeah,” Akira nodded. “Got her number. Now I’m one step closer to stealing her heart and adding it to my collection.”

“You don’t need any more girlfriends,” Ann joked. “I’m the whole package!”

“I’m swooning.”

“I think you’re lovely, Lady Ann!” Morgana piped up.

“At least someone’s on my side.” She gave him a little scratch behind the ear, to which he pretended to hate, but Akira could feel him start to purr. “Thank you, Morgana.”

Skeleton: any luck?
Skeleton: Violet just sprinted past me

“Who’s that?” Ann pried, attempting to read his screen upside down and clearly failing.

“Ryuji. To the group chat.” It prompted Ann to check her phone as well as he began typing a message back.

Leader: allg
Leader: got her contact
Leader: she’s coming with us to Madarame’s
Leader: Noir too

The blonde currently next to him appeared startled and asked aloud, “Noir too? When did that happen?”

“Just now. About twenty minutes ago maybe,” he offered. The look on his face was proof it wasn’t enough of an explanation. “I ran into her trying to get fertiliser to the roof and offered her a ticket.”

“Well at least they won’t go to waste!” Ann said.

“And we can use the time to get closer to them both,” Morgana added. “If we can get Noir on our side early, we’d be one step closer to getting the gang back together. And we still have a month before Maruki fixes Violet’s memories, so the sooner she sees us as a support network, the better.”

“Agreed,” Akira stated. His and Ann’s phones buzzed again.

Skeleton: aight cool.
Skeleton: i gtg. ma asked me to pick up some groceries for her
Skeleton: i’ll see ya tomorrow

Leader: say hi to ur mum for us

Sandiego: and text us when you get home!!

Skeleton: will do!

“We should probably get going too,” Morgana brought up. “We’ve successfully befriended two previous members of the Phantom Thieves. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, and I have a photoshoot tonight I need to get ready for,” Ann sighed, stretching her arms out behind her as they began walking.

“Oh? Night shoot? A special edition, or just a specific theme?” Akira asked out of interest of his friend’s work.

“Uh, both?” She shrugged, looking a little sad. “I can’t miss it either way. I spoke about it with my agent, but it means I have to miss out on seeing Shiho today. The visiting hours close before the shoot ends.”

“Ann, I…”

“It’s okay.” She feigned a smile. Akira could tell she didn’t really feel it. “I just wish I could see her. She likes having someone there to talk about her day with. And I’m really the only one besides her parents that does, even then they’re extremely busy.”

Ann knew how that felt. Akira did too, not that he’d tell that to anyone.

“If you think she’d appreciate it, I’ll go talk to her,” Akira offered out of nowhere. It really was out of nowhere. He surprised himself, honestly.

“Uh, sure? Yeah! I think she’d like that actually.” She took out her phone and began tapping away, presumably to Shiho. “I think she wants to properly meet you and Ryuji. I talk about you guys all the time!”

“You think she gets jealous of how I’ve stolen your heart?”

“What? No! Not at- it’s not like that!”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s not!”

Their banter carried them to the train station regardless of whether or not Ann actually had a crush on Shiho. Surprisingly, if Morgana had anything to say about that, he kept it to himself, only joining in to poke fun at Ann’s acting, even though she’d gotten so much better than this time last year. When they parted, Ann messaged him the address and room number Shiho was staying at and confirmed she was okay with his sudden visit.

Even so, Akira was growing more and more nervous as he approached one of the reception desk workers.

“Hi there,” the worker greeted in a monotone voice that needed a cup of coffee. “Are you visiting?”

“Yes, uh. Suzui Shiho? Room 118 I think.”

Sounds of acrylic nails tapping a mechanical keyboard. “Yup. Down that hall, up the elevator to the second floor. She’s the eighth door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

“Whatever. Don't get lost. Enjoy your visit.”

Akira had to hide his smile at how much the receptionist’s attitude reminded him of Takemi. If he remembered correctly, Oyamada was about to be even more of an issue for her. Should probably gather his squad and pay him a little visit in Mementos.

“Hello? Suzui-san?” he called into room 118 as he creaked open the door.

The dark haired girl in question turned from staring out the window to face the doorway. She smiled, but her eyes held a certain melancholic sadness Akira had only seen from those who’d danced with death.

“Kurusu-kun, right?” she asked, beckoning him inside and gesturing to a chair next to her hospital bed. “Please, sit. Ann told me you’d be coming.”

“You can call me Akira,” he replied as he did as he was told, setting Mona’s bag down on the floor next to him. “Any friend of Ann’s is a friend of mine.”

“What a coincidence! I was going to say the same thing. You can call me Shiho.” She smiled a little more, this time more light reaching her eyes. “Thank you for checking in on me. I was hoping I’d get to meet you properly one of these days.”

“Well, your wish has been granted! Here I am, meeting you properly!” Way to sound up your own ass, Akira.

Despite his awkward response, Shiho snickered anyway. “I see why Ann likes you. You’re charming, Akira-kun.”

Akira tugged at his hair. Not sure how he could be charming and awkward at the same time, but he’ll take that win. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself Shiho-san. Ann talks about you a lot.”

“Oh really?” Shiho said with a mischievous, maybe even flirtatious glint. “What does she say?”

“Well, it’s mostly how pretty and strong you are,” he answered, matching her tone before letting it shift to something more serious, “but also how much she wishes she was there for you.”

“She was there for me,” Shiho insisted. “She still is. Until now, she’s visited me every day since… the incident. Uh. I admire her dedication.”

“Maybe you should tell her that.”

“Yeah… But I’m not quite as strong as she thinks I am.”

They stewed in the silence for a moment or two. Akira had never really spoken like this with Shiho last time. This could really be his chance to form a lasting bond with her, but he didn’t know how to act around her. He was travelling blind here. None of his personas seemed to know how to help.

With a soft sigh, Shiho broke the silence. “The doctor says I’ll walk again, but it’ll take time,” she said. “Not only that, but it’ll hurt too. I need to be strong so I can walk again. I want to show Ann I can be strong, like her.” She smiled gently at her lap, and then looked up at Akira. He didn’t say anything, just listened to her.

“Did you know she’s putting more effort into her modelling? She wants young girls to see her as strong, so they know they can be strong too! Isn’t that sweet?” Akira nodded, mouth turning upwards as Shiho beamed at him. “She’s so shamelessly kind. I’ve always admired that about her.”

For a moment, she continued to beam. Smiling uncontrollably as she ranted about her closest friend. Then she broke. Not into tears, just suddenly stopped smiling. And that sadness he saw when he entered the room returned to her face.

“Y’know, Akira-kun,” she started, “Ann was the one thing I was upset to leave behind. It wasn’t my family or my passion for volleyball, it was her. I… knew she’d be devastated if it worked. I’m honestly kinda glad it didn’t. I’d have never known what she could do to a man.”

Akira’s eyes widened quizzically at that last statement. “May I ask what you mean by that?” Through his peripherals he could see Morgana stir and poke his head out of the zipper.

“I don’t think it’s really my place to say, but I will tell you I could hear everything while I was out,” Shiho explained. “As long as you keep her safe, I won't tell a soul.”

“So you do know then,” Akira confirmed with a grin.

“Of course,” she said matter of factly. “Promise you’ll keep her safe, yeah? Or I’ll come into that other world myself and track you down.”

“I promise,” Akira said, placing one hand over his heart and holding out his pinky with the other. “Pinky swear.”

Shiho grinned like a child and laced his pinky with hers. “You are now bound by the law of pinky swears. Break this promise and I break your legs.”

“Threat received loud and clear.”

After making a binding vow to protect their mutual friend, they started to talk. Not about anything in particular; their interests and experiences. He learned she enjoyed billiards and that she’d been playing pool online to pass the time. He told her about the Penguin Sniper, to which she immediately insisted he should take her, Ann, and Ryuji once she was discharged.

She also insisted on a board game night and various other group activities she and Ann had never had the chance to experience as a pair. She forcibly added her contact in his phone the moment it was suggested and added her ‘company’ as “friend of Ann” to which he cracked up.

Yeah. He felt like he and Shiho were getting closer.

Chapter Text

Sakamoto: heading out now! see y'all there!

Yoshizawa: Hi everyone! I’ll be running a bit late since my train got delayed but I’ll be there as soon as possible!

Haru: you’re in the Kichijoji area correct? I can have my driver swing by the station and pick you up?

Yoshizawa: Oh! No worries Haru-senpai, I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.

Haru: it’s not a problem Sumire-chan! I’m actually in the area right now for personal reasons. I’m happy to!

Yoshizawa: If you’re sure, it would be a big help. I’m at Kichijoji Station. I’ll head to the taxi pick up area so you can find me easier!

Haru: be there soon :D

Takamaki: just finished up seeing Shiho. Akira and I will be there early
Takamaki: let us know when you get here so we can help you get in <3

Sakamoto: gotcha!! 👍
Sakamoto: say hi to Suzui for me

Haru: thanks Ann-chan! and I do hope Shiho-chan is doing well!

Yoshizawa: Thank you so much Ann-senpai! Send Suzui-senpai my regards.

“He sounds so informal when he’s in a group chat with those two!” Ann giggled as she and Akira walked side by side.

“Tell me about it,” Akira agreed, smiling fondly at his friend’s casual attitude. He loved Ryuji, he really did, but man was that boy laid back. Sometimes it was a wonder if he could be formal at all.

“Do you wonder why Noir calls her Sumire?” Ann asked quietly, moving closer and linking arms with him as they moved through the heavily crowded streets.

He lowered his voice to match hers. “I figure it’s because Noir doesn’t perceive it as being the wrong name. It’s just a hunch, but I think it makes sense as to why it sounds wrong coming from us, but not from Noir. Possibly Maruki’s cognition could also have something to do with it.”

“Wow, you have put some thought into this,” Ann mused. “It really threw me off when they spoke for the first time at school. It is kinda interesting to think about, though.”

Akira nodded mutely as they weaved their way to the front of a pedestrian crossing and waited for the light to change. Just over three weeks before Kasumi would die for good and Sumire would return. Was it so wrong that he was counting the days? Would the true Kasumi find him in the sea of souls and shame him for wanting her destruction? Or would she agree that Sumire should be free to live for herself?

As much as the thought exercise was compelling, there wasn’t any way to truly ask her. Though, then again, that could entirely depend on how well Sumire knew her sister.

Yusuke found them almost as soon as they arrived at the exhibit.

“You came!” he cried, overjoyed.

“Yes! We did!” Ann chirped. “We invited some of our other friends too, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he assured, but he did appear a bit perplexed. “But, where are they? And the one you were with the other day. Sakamoto-san?”

“They’re running late, but they’ll be here,” Akira said. “About your offer…”

“Ah! Yes.” He gestured outward with one arm. “Walk with me and we can discuss.”

Quickly, he turned to Ann. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Ann told him. “Give me your bag. I’ll wait here for the others so I can get them in.”

With a nod, he gently handed her the bag containing the tickets—they’d used his digital ones for the two of them—and a sleeping Morgana. As he turned to leave with Yusuke, he could hear Ann quietly jostle the poor kitty awake. He’d keep her company until the others arrived. And if anyone gave her shit, she’d take them out; not the dating kind. So, he wasn’t too worried.

“Very good. Allow me to show you around the exhibit,” Yusuke continued as he fell into step beside him.

Akira pretended to be in awe at the paintings. Well, not really pretended. The paintings were good, they were only soured by the fact that he knew they were stolen. He could wonder all he wanted about who had actually painted them, but it was likely he’d never know.

“Your Sensei is so skilled,” he said carefully. “How is it he’s learned so many styles?”

“That is a combination of both talent and time,” Yusuke preached. They stood in front of one of the pieces so he could dramatically gesture to it while he spoke. “He has dedicated his life to creating art from a young age and that passion has carried him to where he is now.”

“Has he taken from his students, perhaps?” Akira asked. When Yusuke tensed, he backpedalled. “I mean, surely one man couldn’t imagine all of this on his own. I’d think learning their stories would inspire him to create new pieces.”

“I-in a way, I suppose, yes. Perhaps he has,” Yusuke stammered. “But I don’t particularly think of it as taking if it all comes from him. Everything you see here is masterfully crafted by Madarame’s own hand.”

Lies. Akira had never heard someone spout such bullshit before. Other than Shido and Akechi on TV. He needed to free this boy as soon as possible. He couldn’t stand the thought of him under that bastard’s thumb any longer.

What had Ann said last time? That one of these paintings was his? Truthfully, probably a good handful of these paintings belonged to Yusuke. Ann had never said which painting it was she saw, but apparently it struck a nerve with Yusuke when she spoke of how it made her feel. Then which was it?

At random, he approached a painting that gave him vague Yusuke vibes. “Can you tell me about this painting?”

The canvas was blue with wisps of silver and white surrounding a central figure, a silhouette. Falling like Icarus, a trail of bright red left in their wake as they tumbled towards the misty blackness at the bottom of the canvas. Come to think of it, he only approached this one because its colours reminded him of Fox’s thief attire.

“Ah, Defiant Wings.” Yusuke clearly felt something from this piece, but Akira wasn’t sure it was the same emotion he displayed when gazing upon something he’d created. “A dark time for my Sensei, indeed.”

“Yusuke, there you are,” a frail voice announced upon sight of the boy. Madarame approached them, smile that of a sweet, old man and absolutely full of lies. His eyes twisted in confusion seeing Akira. “Hm? Now who is this fine young gentleman?”

“Sensei!” Yusuke’s eyes lit up. “This is the potential model I was talking about for my new piece.”

“Hello.” Akira smiled as politely as his heart would allow. “I’m Kurusu.”

“Oh!” Madarame looked surprised. “I had thought based on your initial inspiration for the piece that the model would be a woman. My mistake, I shouldn’t have made such assumptions. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Kurusu-kun.”

“Yours as well, Madarame-san.” Homophobic prick. “I can’t wait to work with your student.”

“So, that means you accept my offer?” The blue-haired artist appeared to be ecstatic. When Akira nodded, he gripped his shoulders tightly. “Thank you oh so much! We shall create a true masterpiece to last the ages!”

Madarame laughed that practised, old man laugh at Yusuke’s excitement. “Very good! I look forward to the piece you will create.” He took his leave, gliding over to interact with more happy guests who knew not of the monster they were talking to.

“You were telling me about the piece?”

“Ah! Right, yes. Defiant Wings.” The sadness in his voice returned. For a moment, his eyes gazed over the canvas, but not taking anything in. Then he turned to his model. “Truth be told, I am quite interested to hear what you feel from the piece. I wouldn’t want to cloud your judgement with my own interpretations.”

Akira looked back at Defiant Wings. Something about that name didn’t sit right with him. Defiant? Like rebellion? Then why was the figure falling? Why red? It almost looked like… Shiho.

“It’s dark,” Akira started, “but it reminds me of someone I almost lost. To suicide.”

Something shifted in Yusuke’s expression. “I see. I too get that sense of despair from this piece.”

What was it Nakanohara had said? A student of Madarame’s committed suicide after one of their pieces was stolen. Was this piece perhaps painted by that student? An illustrated representation of their intentions, like a visual suicide note. And Madarame displayed it here for the world to gaze at, unaware of the life that was taken for it to get here.

“Let us move on,” Yusuke brought his thoughts to reality. “Were there any other pieces you wanted to discuss?”

“Um.” Akira gazed around, looking to find something that Yusuke may have painted. Think, Joker. Think. What do you remember? What he had seen of Yusuke’s pieces were abstract in one form or another. Perhaps other than those with a model for reference. But they also had elements of the original landscapes that inspired them. Maybe…

“Let me ask you something, Kurusu-kun.” Yusuke’s voice cut off his thoughts. “Which painting here are you the most drawn to?”

Akira looked around, scanning each piece briefly before skipping over it and moving on. They were all certainly incredible. He wished he could meet the real artists behind their magnificence.

One stood out. Purely black and white, the subject a pianist on a stage. They played their music, the touch of their fingers to the keys represented in the vast pops of colour in abstract bursts scattered across the canvas. Akira couldn’t explain it. He was so completely in awe. Drawn like a moth to the flame.

“This one.”

“I see, Symphony. Quite a beautiful piece, you chose well,” Yusuke declared. “What makes you pick this one, if I may ask.”

“It feels… I don’t really know how to describe it but it feels like it could be everything and nothing at the same time. All the colours weaving in and around the piano and its player. Like they’re weaving the fabric of their reality itself.”

“That’s quite a moving interpretation. I’m certain Sensei would be pleased you feel this way about his piece.”

“There you are Senpai.”

A colourful group of students joined where he and his new(ish) friend were standing. ‘Kasumi’ was confidently leading the pack.

“We were startin’ to wonder what you were doin’,” Ryuji said, then he gave the artist a wave. “Hey there, Kitagawa! Long time, no see!”

“Yes, it has been a while since we met,” Yusuke replied. “Hello to you too, Sakamoto-kun. Are these the other friends you were talking about?”

“Yes!” Ann said with a smile, fiddling with the strap of Akira’s bag. “This is…” Oh. Um. How to get around this.

“I’m Yoshizawa Kasumi,” Sumire beat them all to the punch, bowing politely in greeting.“I’m a first year at the same school as them. Ann-senpai and Ryuji-senpai were telling us about you, Kitagawa-san. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“You as well, Yoshizawa-san.”

Huh. Haru blinked a little, perturbed by the false name, but her face snapped straight back to her usual quiet politeness. So either she’s good at keeping her cool—which was likely—or this was more Maruki bullshit—which was also likely.

“I’m honoured to make your acquaintance myself, Kitagawa-kun,” the fluffy girl said. “I’m Haru. I quite enjoy the fine arts, but I wouldn’t say I’m an avid fan. I’d love to learn more about the craft from you while you show us around, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Yusuke instantly lit up. “With pleasure, Haru-san! Come! This way!”

With that little giggle Haru did when she was satisfied, she set off calmly following their eccentric tour guide. Ryuji followed behind after Ann made some comment that he’d need to learn everything he could if he ever wanted to understand art, and Sumire wasn’t far behind him, looking quite amused by the whole thing. The model fell into step next to Akira at the back of the group, a black cat sneaking his nose out of the bag on her shoulder.

“So? Did you take the offer?” he asked their leader.

“I did,” Akira conceded. “I couldn’t think of another way to get him on our side.”

“I hope he doesn’t ask anything weird of you,” Ann said with a shiver. “I know he’d never do anything to hurt you, but…”

“Yeah… I get it,” Akira reassured. He changed the subject. “There was a painting you spoke about the other time, you thought it was Yusuke’s? Which one is it?”

“Was there?” she asked no one in particular, racking her brain for the memory she needed. “Oh! Yes! I think it’s over here!”

“Oh, Ann-chan!” Haru turned back to face them, startled slightly at her sudden raised volume. “Did you see something you like?”

“Yes! Which piece?” Yusuke asked with enthusiasm. “I’d be delighted to tell you all about it!”

“It’s this one,” Ann motioned to a brightly coloured piece tucked away in one of the corners, tossing a sly smile to Akira over her shoulder. “I’ve seen it online, but I wanted to see it in person.” She turned back to it, gazing at it thoughtfully. The gaggle of teens followed suit.

It was a truly stunning piece. Clouds of red as a backdrop for a rolling hillscape, a yellow sun setting beyond one of them. Splashes of other colours seeped through, but the piece was overwhelmed with the crimson in the sky. Honestly, it reminded him of the merging of Mementos with reality. The first time.

“This one…?” Yusuke asked. It wasn’t really a question. Bingo.

“It feels… angry,” Ryuji said, slowly and quietly. Almost unsure. “I don’t know a lot about this stuff, but I know what anger looks like.”

Kasumi cast him a sympathetic glance. “I get that too,” she said turning back to the canvas. “It’s got this overwhelming sense of frustration. It’s quite like what I see in my head when I can’t get my routine right.”

“It’s… certainly passionate,” Haru said. She tucked her hands behind her back and looked at the floor. She didn’t say anything else.

“There are better pieces than this one,” Yusuke said sharply. “Come, this way. There is still more to be seen.” The artist stalked off, a look of disposition playing on his face behind the forced content smile.

While Ann slid over to their athlete friends to check on them, Haru pulled him aside. “Forgive me if I’m being rude but I just wanted to ask, have I been using the wrong name for Yoshizawa-chan?”

Oh shit.

“Uh, well…” Unable to think fast enough on his feet, she took his hesitation as an answer.

“I thought so,” she said sadly. “I’ll have to apologise to her about it later. I feel so awful about it! Especially after what happened to her sister.”

Akira had to fix this. Fast. “Well, if it makes you feel better, they are twins.” Shit. “Or- they were twins. I’m sure they’ve both been called the wrong name dozens of times.”

“Even still, that doesn’t make it right. I feel I should still apologise.”

“Is everything alright over here?” Speak of the devil and he shall arrive. Or, she in this scenario. “I noticed that piece kind of put everyone on edge, though I can’t quite put my finger on why. I wanted to make sure you two were okay.”

“Oh! Actually my mind was on something else. The art is beautiful,” Haru explained quickly. “I sincerely apologise, I’ve been using the wrong name for you, Kasumi-chan.”

“You have?” Kasumi blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Don’t stress Haru-senpai! I honestly didn’t even notice!”

“Really? Not at all?” Haru asked, puzzled. “How strange.”

“It is, isn’t it,” the redhead giggled. “Though, my sister and I did get confused for each other lots, so it’s not the first time I’ve been called that. I must’ve just corrected you subconsciously.”

“I’m relieved you aren’t upset! Thank you for your understanding, Kasumi-chan.”

“Not a problem! Thank you for coming up to me and apologising, Haru-senpai. Some people just don’t bother.”

Relieved that whatever situation that was sorted itself out quickly, he and the two girls found the rest of their unlikely friends in front of another canvas. Yusuke was lecturing Ann and Ryuji on the symbolism behind it. Both of them had a look in their eyes that was determined to listen, but clearly not absorbing any of the information.

It was like that for every piece Yusuke showed the group from then on. Haru and Kasumi would ask questions Akira hadn’t even thought to ask, and Ann and Ryuji would nod along with completely vacant looks in their eyes. They were trying, he’d give them that.

Most of the pieces they viewed didn’t really stick with him. There was one though. A blindfolded woman with long brown hair. Akira was sort of thankful for the blindfold. He didn’t know what would be worse. Seeing eyes other than his on a person that looked so much like him, or seeing those eyes when they already haunted his dreams.

Eventually, the outing drew to a close. Haru and Kasumi departed, the elder offering the gymnast a lift home—as much as she tried to decline.

“Alright!” Ryuji cheered. “That was so cool! Man who knew all that art stuff would be so interesting?”

“You didn’t internalise a thing Yusuke said,” Morgana said, sighing softly from the bag on Akira’s shoulder.

“Shut up, cat,” Ryuji growled through clenched teeth.

“Anyway,” Ann redirected, “thank you so much for the tickets Yusuke-kun! This was incredible! I’d love to hang out again.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Yusuke said. “And I agree. It would be quite nice to get to know you all better. After all, I will be working on this piece with your friend, so may as well spend some time together.”

“Happy to! Oh! We could go out for lunch next time!” Ryuji suggested. “My treat, of course.”

“Ah! If that is the case, I will be more than happy to!”

Ann giggled behind her hand and Akira let himself smile. Money would probably never be an issue for them ever again, that is all of them except Yusuke. Man could not control his spending habits in the slightest. Even giving him money wouldn’t help. So, when they could, the other thieves all took him out for meals now and again. Akira cooked for him as often as he could too.

“I should head home,” Ryuji said, his phone in one hand. “Ma needs a hand back home. I’ll catch you guys later, yeah?”

“Yeah! Text us when you get home!” Ann chirped, giving him a quick hug and a friendly wave. She hugged Akira too. “I should be off too.”

“Text me when you get home,” Akira repeated with a smile.

“Will do.” Ann grinned. “Later Akira! It was so nice to see you again, Kitagawa-kun! I can’t wait to see the art you guys create!”

“And you as well Takamaki-san,” Yusuke said with a smile.

“Just call me Ann. We’re friends now, right!”

“O-of course! Ann-san then. I will be thrilled to show you the finished product!”

With a satisfied grin, Ann said her last goodbyes and set off towards the station.

Akira looked at Yusuke expectantly. “I should get going too. Where do you want to meet for this painting?”

“Here, let me add you to my contacts,” Yusuke requested, holding out his phone. They both swapped numbers and the artist immediately typed out a message. “This is the address to Sensei’s atelier. Please, drop by whenever you are free and we may start with the creation of this portrait.”

“Thanks, Kitagawa-kun,” Akira said nervously. “I’m looking forward to it.”

-

Akira wasn’t really looking forward to it.

Together, he and the Phantom Thieves made quick work of the first half of that tacky museum. When they reached the locked security door, they enacted their plan: send Akira in to distract Yusuke and open the door. Alone.

Akira’s lock picking skills are on par with—if not better than—Morgana’s, since all of the Phantom Thievery that didn’t happen last year. According to Mona, the lock on that door in the real world may be hefty, but it’s a really simple mechanism. It wouldn’t take too long to pick with opposable thumbs at his disposal. Akira was inclined to believe him.

So, the day after securing that route, he rang the doorbell of the shack. By himself. With no way to contact his backup. Hoo boy.

“Kurusu-san!” Yusuke greeted enthusiastically. “Come in, come in. Allow me to show you to my studio. Madarame-sensei will be arriving home in about forty minutes, but that should give us plenty of time for a preliminary sketch and then some!”

It never failed to surprise him how dingy this place was. And Madarame forced his students to live here? All of them? When he had more than one? Despicable.

“Honestly,” Akira began, setting his bag down by the door, “I haven’t done this before. I’m not sure what to do.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Yusuke informed. “Once we get you in a pose I like, all you need to do is stay as still as possible and leave the hard work to me.”

Akira nodded but he was still unsure as Yusuke began to set out his paints. He just hoped it didn’t show on his face. He sat on the stool in the centre of the room and tugged and moved his hair as he waited, trying to make himself look presentable. Yusuke said his eyes were what drew him to want him as his model over Ann, who was objectively very attractive. And his whole goal before the Phantom Thieves had been to capture true beauty in his art. So why his eyes?

“Depth” he had said. What depth? He’d mentioned removing his glasses too, which scared him more than potentially going nude. He’d gotten so used to the mask he didn’t know what he could really do without it. Always displaying his best face, never breaking the character. Suave, confident, unyielding Joker. That’s who everyone knew him to be.

“That expression!” Yusuke’s sudden exclamation violently snapped him out of his thoughts. “Goodness! My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, you had this intense look in your eyes that was absolutely enchanting. You were so deep in thought. So passionately troubled. I knew it was a good idea to ask you! Please, return to your prior train of thought!”

Huh…

Yusuke was watching him intently, waiting for him to adjust his expression. Then he blinked and asked, “Have I said something wrong?”

“Uh, no, not really,” Akira stammered. “Just- nevermind. You’re very passionate. I like that in a man.” Akira. Stop. Flirting.

“Thank you. Passion is a driving force for the soul of creativity. I am very proud of my craft and the energy I put into it.”

Well, at least Yusuke was dense. Never thought that would be a positive.

“Oh, right your glasses,” Yusuke recalled, standing up again and walking up to him. “May I?” He was holding out a hand.

Deep breath, Akira. Deep breath. In, and out. They’re fake glasses, they don’t even help you that much. You can see perfectly without them. Just… take them off. You didn’t need them for the fireworks festival! Rip off the bandaid. Just-

He took them off, quicker and sharper than he expected to, and practically threw them at Yusuke like it was a live bomb and holding it for even another second would make it explode. There! Gone! Now, the hard part. Being himself.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you do have gorgeous eyes,” Yusuke commented helpfully.

“Uh.” Akira fought to keep a straight face. “Thanks.”

The artist set to work posing his model. “Could you perhaps look a bit more this way? How about you hold your hand up like this? Hm… it’s missing something. The glasses! What if you just hold them here like… Yes! Breathtaking! Such beautiful composition! Now, let us begin!”

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes until Madarame returned. It would barely take him a minute to pick the lock, maybe one to find the door since he didn’t actually know where it was aside from just vaguely somewhere on the second floor. Maybe two to distract Yusuke into following him. He technically didn’t need to drag Yusuke into this again, but he wanted to.

Yusuke was his friend. He’d never abandon a friend. Not this time.

That left him about twenty six minutes of staying perfectly still while his artist friend drew out his inner soul. What would he look like translated from life to canvas? Would he love or hate it? Surely he would find he couldn’t find the inspiration he needed, like the first time with Ann. That way he could feign running off in embarrassment and stumble across the door.

Okay, he needed to stop with these plans to not get on a canvas. In changing Madarame’s heart, it was already certain his likeness wouldn’t be displayed to everyone in the country, and then the world, under the wrong accreditation. And they were going to change Madarame’s heart. They couldn’t stand to leave their friend like this.

So, what was he so afraid of? Revealing his deepest most hidden psyche to his dear friend? He’d sketched him before! He’d probably already seen it! Though, that was a sketch. This was a proper portrait. With so much more time and effort put into it. There was more detail in a piece like that. More to be seen.

And focusing on his eyes. What was it about his eyes that was so enticing? He was pretty sure maybe Ann or Makoto had said something about them last year, and he was definitely certain that Akechi had. For some reason, his eyes were a point of interest for the detective. He could never figure out why.

Someone once said, “the eyes are the window to the soul,” right? Is that why? I mean, Akira had a tendency to stare into those pools of crimson too, but that was because he had a little game with himself to try and get Akechi to crack. Also they were pretty. Everything about that boy was pretty. No! Stop! Focus.

Focus on what? He was just sitting there. How much time had passed exactly?

“Um, Kitagawa-kun?”

No answer. The boy before him was utterly absorbed in his work. Typical Yusuke behaviour.

Guess he just had to sit here and wait out the rest of those twenty six minutes. Waiting patiently for his cue to play the part of the thief. That was fine. No big deal. Just stay in the wings. Just follow the script. Everything was going to work out. Yusuke didn’t suspect a thing.

Chapter Text

Something wasn’t right here. No, something was very wrong. Yusuke had anticipated some difficulties, but nothing like this. He just couldn’t get his nose right!

Here Kurusu was, being his most authentic self, baring the depths of his very soul for him, and he was struggling with his nose. His nose of all things!

Perhaps he was merely overthinking it. Maybe if they stopped here for today and resumed at another time, he would return to this piece with a fresh perspective and finally get things right. Yes, that is what he must do. It would be for the best to rest his creative muscles. And besides, Madarame would soon be returning home.

“Forgive me Kurusu-kun, but, I think we need to resume this another time,” Yusuke sighed, setting his paintbrush into the cup of water at his side.

“Is something wrong?” the other boy asked, eyes flicking instantly to where the artist sat, holding him in the intimidating embrace of his gaze.

“Nothing that can be fixed at this very moment, unfortunately.” Yusuke shrugged in an attempt to not show his anxiousness. “We will simply need to keep in touch so I may continue to paint you at another time. I truly do apologise for the inconvenience.”

Those plastic frames were instantly back over his eyes, deft fingers adjusting them on his nose as he spoke. “It’s no big deal. I get it, art takes time.”

“That is an unfortunate reality I know all too well,” Yusuke lamented with a smile. Kurusu smiled too.

“Would it help if I stripped?” he asked boldly, the light of the afternoon sun reflecting off his lenses and masking his eyes, but not the smug grin on his face.

“I…” He trailed off in a moment of contemplation. “Yes! Perhaps this is what this portrait needs! A look into your empathetic vulnerability through the bare skin of your chest! Why, I was unintentionally being modest for your sake. But you were the one to bring this to my attention! What a fortuitous turn of events! Yes! Strip!”

“U-uh right here?” Kurusu stammered, but his courage did not waver. If anything he was holding back a laugh.

“Yes! Right here!”

“Could we maybe find somewhere more private?” he requested. “Perhaps somewhere without a window directly onto the street?”

As if to illustrate his point, a woman on a bicycle rode by and a man could be seen walking his dog. They did seem perfectly unaware of the two boys in the studio, but if his model were to feel uncomfortable during the process, that would likely make for a worse portrait. He did not wish to put the piece in jeopardy of any kind.

“If you must, there is a bathroom down the hall-” he began, Kurusu cut him off.

“No, a bathroom wouldn’t be a nice backdrop,” he explained. “Is there a room that’s got more pizazz? Something fun painted on the walls?”

“I suppose there is…” A voice that sounded suspiciously like his Sensei’s snapped at him in his mind. “But no, we can’t! Only Sensei is allowed in that room!”

“He’s not here right? Let’s do it there anyway!”

Kurusu stood abruptly and sauntered out the door. Yusuke scrambled to try and stop him. “Wait! No! Kurusu-kun!”

It didn’t take long for him to stumble upon the room with the peacock door. The Shujin student was eyeing the lock with one brow raised and a hand tugging his hair.

“Ah! See! It’s locked anyway. We couldn’t do the painting here if we tried.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Kurusu said smoothly, and from within his blazer he procured two small pins. Biting his lip in concentration, he slipped them both into the keyhole and began to move them around in seemingly random jerks.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Yusuke cried. “Stop that!”

His heart sank in his chest as a familiar voice carried up the stairs. “I’m home!”

“You need to stop that, right this instant!” Yusuke hissed at his model. What on earth was he doing? He wasn’t attempting to pick the lock, was he?

“Yusuke?” Madarame called up the stairs. “What’s going on up there?”

“Now!” Yusuke hissed again, the shakiness in his tone growing more and more frantic the closer he heard his Sensei’s footsteps.

“Relax, I almost got it,” Kurusu assured quietly. As if to prove him right, there was a click, and then a loud thud as the heavy metal lock hit the floor of the shack. “And, bingo. Let’s see what’s behind the curtain.”

Not only was it not a curtain, it was a door, but Madarame had made it to the top of the stairs and was fast approaching the hallway they were standing in.

“Kurusu-kun!”

“Yusuke? What’s going on?” Madarame asked when he made it into view. Briefly, they locked eyes, the guilt from what Yusuke had let his model do no doubt coming off him in waves. He knew. He certainly knew. And that would mean-

He didn’t get to finish his thought before a firm hand took his arm and dragged him into the forbidden room.

“Not in there!” Madarame yelled after them.

Fumbling in the darkness as Kurusu dragged him into the room, Yusuke tripped over his own feet and found his knees came crashing to the wooden floor. He made a pained sound as his model apologised and started searching for the lights. The brightness seared his eyes when they flickered on moments later and to his utter shock, he found himself surrounded by the gentle gaze of many copies of the Sayuri.

“What?” he mumbled in his surprise.

“The Sayuri,” Kurusu whispered from the other side of the cramped room.

“Yes…” Madarame confirmed sadly, shuffling in through the doorway. “I’m… afraid I can’t hide it from you anymore, Yusuke.”

“What is all of this?” Yusuke demanded, rising to his feet and staring his mentor down. The one who raised him to be better than this. The one who taught him the good that can come of art. “Sensei!”

“The truth is…” he started slowly, eyes flicking from him, to Kurusu, then to the floor. “I am in severe debt. The real Sayuri was stolen from me a long time ago by a student. I assume they begrudged my strictness. So, in my depression-induced slump I have tried many times to recreate the Sayuri's majestique, but… they only resulted in replicas. I’ve been struggling for so long to keep the roof above our heads and keep you fed and clothed, Yusuke, but… this is not something I am proud of. That is why I’ve kept it hidden from you. Could you ever forgive your cowardly teacher?”

It was true they had been struggling since the other students had left. But was it struggle enough to forgive this? They were only replicas right? It wasn’t like he was selling them as the real thing.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Akira accused. “So the original was stolen, great. Then how did you make copies? A photo? A photographic memory? Bullshit! I think you still have it!”

“How dare-” Madarame coughed, covering his mouth with his fist and breathing deeply before speaking again. “I do not. The copies were made from a highly detailed photograph in one of my student’s art books.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Highly detailed my ass! Then how do you explain this?”

Without warning, his model reached behind him to the easel that was set up at the far end of the room. Dramatically, he grasped the purple cloth draped over it and pulled it off with a swish to reveal…

“Sayuri…” Yusuke whispered. “This… is the real Sayuri!”

Madarame was silent. Feeling betrayed and confused, Yusuke turned to face him. “Why? You said it had been stolen!”

Madarame was silent. “How can it be stolen and be hidden away here? Tell me the truth! I must know!”

Madarame was silent. “Sensei!” he cried in desperation.

Madarame sighed, and then he procured his phone and dialled a number. “I’m reporting you to my private security. I had it implemented for some particularly eager fans, but it looks like it’ll come in handy here. I can have you arrested on the charges of breaking and entering, trespassing, and blackmailing.”

“Wha- Sensei you-”

“That goes for you too, Yusuke,” he continued to threaten them. “Unless you’re willing to testify against your model for me.”

“Not good,” Kurusu mumbled. In a swift manoeuvre, the boy had grabbed onto his wrist and was dragging him once again, ducking past the old man and running out of the room. “Time to make our exit, Yusuke!”

A bright flash that left his head spinning and suddenly he could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet. His wrist had been released, but now he was in free fall towards a gaudy golden building.

“Yusuke!” Kurusu’s voice, afraid. “Catch him!”

By the time he had registered that he was about to die, someone had caught him in strong arms. Bashful blond hair and a barbaric mask greeted him, adorning the grinning face of his saviour.

“Hey!” the boy greeted. Sakamoto? “Nice of you to drop by!”

“Joker!” Was that Takamaki?

“I got it!” And that was Kurusu again.

Yusuke looked around for his model only to find a boy lowering himself down by a sturdy wire attached to his wrist. His long, flowing coat tails billowed in the wind that tousled his messy curls. Elegantly landing on his feet, he pressed some button on the mechanism and the wire retracted. Actually, that would make for a marvellous piece! Where was his sketchbook?

A girl in red with Takamaki’s blonde pigtails came rushing up to him. “Yusuke! Are you okay?”

“I am…” Hang on. Why was he still just letting this potential stranger carry him? “Let go of me!”

“Woah! Sorry man!” The barbaric one set him down as he struggled. “There, no harm done!”

“Who are you people?”

“Easy, easy,” the red woman consoled, removing her cat-shaped mask. “It’s me! It’s Ann! And that’s Ryuji, and that’s Akira. You know us, it’s okay.”

“Takamaki-san… And you’re both…” Yusuke chuckled. “What in the world is happening?”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sakamoto said softly. “We should move somewhere safe, guys. Mona? Where’s the nearest safe room?”

“Back the way we came,” said a new voice entirely. Yusuke glanced down to where it came from only to find some weird-looking monster cat thing with a large head and big blue eyes. The creature—Mona as Sakamoto had called it—continued. “The next one is too far and I’m pretty sure we have to go through puzzles and enemies before we get there. The last one is a safer route.”

“Then we go that way,” the elegant boy—Kurusu—said. Why didn’t he wear this getup for the modelling? It would’ve made for a much more intriguing piece. “We don’t want to put Yusuke in danger if he can’t fight back.”

“Aye aye, Leader!” Sakamoto nodded. “Let’s go then. I’ll cover our ass.”

“Would it kill you to just say you’ll cover the rear?” Mona complained.

“Nah, ass is more fun.”

With not a single fraction of a clue as to what was transpiring, Yusuke followed the masked students through the garish museum. Strange creatures—even stranger than whatever Mona was—occasionally attacked them. Kurusu’s team would take them out effortlessly, Sakamoto staying by his side to protect him. Yusuke mentally apologised for thinking of him as a barbarian. He was quite skilled in combat, even if his methods were more primitive than most.

Eventually, they did reach this safe room they had discussed, and there they all unmasked and explained everything.

“So, this hideous place is the heart of Madarame, the most skilled Japanese artist of the modern era?” Yusuke summarised with a smile. Then he couldn’t contain his laughter any more. Because of course it wasn’t true! Plagiarism! Abuse! Preposterous! But… he did lie about the Sayuri.

The words were forming in his mouth before Yusuke could stop them. “How foolish! Madarame is nothing like what you are describing!”

“He threatened to turn you into the police after we stumbled into the allegedly ‘stolen’ Sayuri,” Kurusu recounted deadpan. “Madarame is no saint.”

“H-he did that in defence of his privacy!” Yusuke defended. “We were the ones in the wrong after you picked the lock to that room! Even after I told you we were forbidden entry!”

“Why do you think he forbids it?” Takamaki spoke up. “It’s because he’s selling those copies as the real thing to the highest bidder! It’s fraud!”

“It’s desperation!”

“Why are you defendin’ him?” Sakamoto yelled. “You’re a victim in all this too! That painting Ann pointed out at the exhibit was yours, wasn’t it?”

“That’s…” Sakamoto was right. Why was he defending him?

Because he owed everything to that man, supplied the helpful, obedient, competent part of his brain. Madarame took him in when his mother died. Fed him, clothed him, raised him. He kept a roof over his head and taught him everything he knew about art. It was because of him that Yusuke found his love for the arts. Because of him he was alive today and living in a nurturing home. Not shipped off to an orphanage at the ripe age of three. Sure he was strict, but…

Is that kind of verbal abuse really just “strict”?

“I knew it,” Sakamoto confirmed. “That bastard!” Yellow gloves pounded on the table, clenched tightly into fists until Kurusu’s red and Takamaki’s pink reached out to take them. Supportive. Compassionate.

“That anger,” Mona said slowly, frowning in thought, “you feel all that towards him, don’t you?”

“I…”

“It’s okay!” Takamaki assured. “You’re allowed to be angry at someone who’s done so much for you! Trust me, we have plenty of experience in that field.”

“Just because they helped you, doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you too,” Kurusu added.

Yusuke made a conscious effort to stay silent, letting his thoughts rule his mind. Were they right? Was Madarame really as horrible as they said? He’d known about the plagiarism, he’d always known. But… it was only ever because of his slump, right? And besides, art teachers were always strict. He’d read as much online, even if… his Sensei at Kosei wasn’t like that… He must be an exception!

Still, he owed Madarame his life. He couldn’t simply throw that debt away all because of a few minor grievances. Could he?

“Let’s get out of here,” Mona said after a few moments of silence. “We need to get Yusuke somewhere safe before we continue our mission.”

All in agreement—including Yusuke himself who would definitely like to get out of wherever they were—they snuck out of the safe room and continued in the formation they had before. Sakamoto—Skull, was his code name—at his side, protecting their backs.

“You really think you owe everythin’ to Madarame, huh?” Skull asked him, a somewhat melancholic look in the eyes behind the mask.

“Of course I do,” Yusuke scoffed quietly. “Even if he’s as bad as you say, he raised me. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father.”

For a moment, he looked sadly down at the ground, then he flicked his attention over to his teammates, currently keeping a few of their enemies busy. He turned back to the artist and spoke earnestly. “I want you to know, I know what it’s like to be abused by someone who’s ‘sposed to care about you. And, I want you to know you’re allowed to hate him. Even if you owe him everything. My dad was… the effin’ worst.”

“It’s hardly the same. I doubt your father was kind enough to take you in when you had nothing.”

“No, I guess you’re right. But, he took me to this marathon when I was little.” Skull’s eyes were lit with a wondrous pain, both happy and soul crushingly upset. “It’s what sparked my love for track. I saw the runners and I knew I wanted to be there, doing that. Running makes me feel free, I owe him for helping me discover my dream.”

That wonder and sadness faded in an instant, replaced with fiery rage. The very same rage Yusuke had depicted in the brushstrokes of the painting they had deduced was once his. “At the same time, I hate his guts. You can do both, you don’t need to feel guilty for that.”

“INCOMING!” someone shouted just a second too late.

Skull braced, using his weapon to block and standing in front of Yusuke to guard him from the wayward blast. It still sent them flying backwards, both laying sprawled on the floor. An unfamiliar laugh but in a familiar cadence bellowed from the stairs above.

No. Madarame.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the distorted voice of his sensei. “You’re trespassing in the museum of the master artist, Madarame!”

“Sen…sei…?”

“Get out of here, Yusuke!” Mona exclaimed, running up to the pair and summoning his power, a gargantuan, intimidating figure manifesting in the space behind him. In a burst of arcane energy, they were both cured of whatever injuries they had sustained.

“Skull! We need you up here! Now!” Kurusu—Joker—commanded, voice strong and domineering, sending shivers down Yusuke’s spine.

“Right!” Skull was sprinting to him in an instant, taking up an attack position on the side Takamaki—Panther—wasn’t already occupying. The strange cat creature that had healed them was at his own side, attempting to help him stand.

“Come on, it’s not safe!” he urged. “You have to go!”

“Sensei?” Yusuke repeated, like he’d forgotten how to say any other word.

Why? Why was he dressed like this? How did he get here? To this hideous world. Why was he so entertained by watching harm be inflicted onto others? Why?

“Sensei!” he called weakly. “Wh-what is going on? What is that attire?”

Madarame, as if just noticing him, turned his head sharply, golden yellow eyes widening. No, that was all wrong. Madarame’s eyes were not yellow. They were a deep and insightful brown. He raised an arm to the monsters, who backed down from the skirmish immediately. The Phantom Thieves followed suit, but remained engaged, ready to jump into battle at any time.

“Ah, Yusuke, one of my finest students,” he announced. “How naïve. The ragged attire of my day to day is nothing but a costume to compliment my act. Besides, someone as publicly worshipped as me deserves to live in something more than that shack! I have another home, under a mistress’s name, of course.”

“Tha… that’s absurd!” Yusuke said. “And the Sayuri! If it was stolen, why did you still have it? H-how could that be possible?”

“Oh, Yusuke, I wouldn’t expect you to be as much of a brilliant schemer as I. How’s this sound? ‘I found the real Sayuri but it can’t go public. It’s yours for a special price, if you’d like it.’ Art snobs eat that stuff up! And they pay a good price too.”

Madarame was selling them? Pretending they were the real thing? Exactly the scenario Yusuke had denied had been occurring in the shadows right under his nose…

“No…”

Sudden emptiness in his heart and an emotional pain unlike any he’d ever felt brought him physically to his knees. He wanted to cry. He wished to expel all that he was feeling and watch his tears wet the floor. But he just felt cold.

“You’re one sick bastard, y’know that?” Skull roared at him, voice sounding so much closer than it had moments ago when he left to fight the monsters. The thieves. Through his peripherals he could see them. They’d come to stand by his side.

“Yeah!” Panther agreed. “The way you treat your students is inhumane!”

“And you throw artistic integrity to the wind with the scam you’re pulling!” Mona jabbed.

They all…

Yusuke looked up at them.

“The value of art is a mere illusion!” Madarame—no, what had they called it? A shadow. Madarame’s Shadow—proclaimed. “It is a tool to accumulate fame and wealth! That is why I pluck talented, but troubled young artists and take their ideas.”

“How could you?” Yusuke wailed from the ground.

“Livestock are killed for their hide and meat, this is no different.”

“And what about Yusuke’s mother?” Joker shouted. Flash of light reflecting off metal as he spun his dagger in his hand. Determined, focused, captivating grey eyes glared at Madarame like they had shot poison darts, the crazed grin forming on his face knowing he had won. But won what, Yusuke was unsure.

This boy… Everything he did was so intense and purposeful. For that split second, Yusuke was utterly enthralled.

And then came Madarame’s grating answer.

“She just happened to have a seizure in front of me,” he said, almost feigning innocence. “It was at that moment I realised, I could steal her magnum opus with no strings attached if I just happened to not make it in time to call the paramedics.”

“What?” Yusuke’s voice sounded more like a quivering whisper than anything of substance, his Sensei’s menacing cackling drowning the pitiful sound out.

Madarame… watched his mother die? But she had been so faithful to him! A loyal student! She had been so passionate about studying the arts under him! Then why…?

Why give him any more chances? This man was a monster who didn’t care for the arts!

Yusuke chuckled darkly, head hanging, hair covering his eyes as he pushed himself to stand back up. “Sensei… I thank you.” Madarame made a questioning noise as his student—former student—raised his gaze to meet his. “You just erased every last ounce of forgiveness I had for you. You are unforgivable!”

Pain.

Sudden, freezing pain.

Ice in his veins. Chilling him to the bone.

He was on the ground again.

Once more?

But this was the first he’d ever heard of this contract!

But it wasn’t.

Seeking guidance from Akira in the midst of his slump. Attempting and failing to get Morgana to stay still while he sketched him. Futaba’s endless and senseless bickering. Haru’s calm and comforting energy. Having Makoto assist him with various other subjects. Getting beef bowls after a Mementos trip with Ryuji. Accompanying Ann to one of her modelling gigs. Truly insightful conversations with Akira and Akechi in the cold evenings of January. Watching Sumire practise and being in awe at her graceful movements. The true Sayuri hanging up in Leblanc’s warm, inviting atmosphere. His friends. His teammates. Capturing every moment he could with his pencil and brush.

He’s done this before. He knew this name well.

“Gorokichi!”

This feeling. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be so inspired.

-

Yusuke had been practically dragged to some random diner in Shibuya. Only it wasn’t random, they’d been there as a group many times in the past. Just the spinning of his head in that moment and the countless surfacing repressed memories was electing to ignore the familiar atmosphere when they’d arrived.

Now that he’d gotten some food and water in his system, he could start to better make sense of things. Sort of.

“Pardon me, but this is all incredibly overwhelming,” he told his friends. They were his friends. They did not mean to harm him.

“You’re all good man!” Ryuji ensured. “Take your time. It was like this for all of us too.”

“Yeah,” Ann agreed. “I seriously thought I was going insane for a second when I awakened. Just rest on it for a bit. It’ll feel more normal with time.”

“Thank you,” he said, almost with tears in his eyes. None fell, but the cold that had been in his chest before now started to feel… warm. “I cannot believe I fell for Madarame’s lies again. I truly am oblivious.”

“Hey, dude…” Ryuji reached a hand out, hovering it above his own in a somewhat supportive gesture. “Uh. Ahem. You’re back now, so it’s all good!”

“Ryuji’s right,” Morgana said from the bag at Akira’s side, the boy in question smiling supportively. “We were all sent back, and you have no way of remembering unless you awaken your persona. You couldn’t have been expected to suddenly stop believing the guy who raised you.”

“Think of it this way,” their leader spoke up for the first time since the Palace, “the second you remembered everything that went down last year, you punched him in the face and called him a ‘pathetic raisin’. I think that says enough about what you think of him.”

“Yes, well,” Yusuke stretched out the uncomfortable tension in his neck,“I believe that was somewhat of an overreaction.”

“Hell nah!” Ryuji denied. “It was cool as eff! I wish I had done that when I had the chance! Gave me chills dude.”

Akira smirked at the blond, not seeming to mind as he gestured loudly to emphasise his points. The athlete had always liked talking more with his whole body than solely his voice. It was quite enchanting to watch his various expressive motions. Entertaining too.

“All we need now is to get back in there and secure our route before we send the calling card,” Morgana informed, bringing the conversation back on track. “We’ll probably have to use that hook again and lower someone down to grab the painting.”

“It was a fake last time though,” Ann recalled. “He swapped the real Treasure out before we got there and used it to try and trap us.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Akira muttered.

“Shit, I forgot about that,” Ryuji drawled. “Nice goin’ Ann!”

“So then we must locate where he would store the real Treasure in the meantime as well,” Yusuke said. “Hm. That will be quite the challenge.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Morgana insisted. “We’re the Phantom Thieves after all! We got this!”

“Besides, worst comes to worst, we just do the same thing we did last time,” Ryuji said. “We know that worked out, so it’ll work out again. Just relax.”

“We should add Yusuke to the group chat,” Akira changed the topic. “We can plan all this later once Yusuke’s recovered. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Oh! You’re right, Kira!” Ryuji immediately whipped out his phone and a few quick taps later, Yusuke’s buzzed in his pocket.

Yusuke frowned in thought, then spoke them aloud, “The existence of a dirty crime gang implies the existence of a clean crime gang.”

He may have instantly regretted his lack of verbal filter when the three prior human members of said crime gang shared a look, before immediately scrambling to type something on their phone faster than the other two. Which left him and Morgana—who was watching with concern from his perch on the edge of the table—to lock eyes and sigh as their shenanigans ensued.

“Dammit Ann!” Ryuji lamented. “I was so close!”

Akira snorted, attempting to hide it behind his hand, about something. Both Morgana and Ann smacked him for it, leaving Yusuke only more confused.

“Oh, shut up!” Ryuji yelled.

As their arguing continued, Yusuke smiled. He had felt he was missing something as of late. It was a crime to forget these wonderful people. He never wanted to forget them again.

Chapter Text

Stealing Madarame’s heart required far more planning than Kamoshida’s. For one, they didn’t just have to locate the Treasure—again—but they had to map out the entire space around it to figure out where he could possibly hide the real one while he switched it with the fake they attempted to steal last time.

It took them a while longer than they expected, but there was still plenty of time before their deadline.

Yusuke was probably way worse off physically than anyone else on the team. Gorokichi used a lot of physical moves, and those drained your energy quickly, especially at the severe and colossal levels. His fast draining energy meant Morgana was healing more often, and when he ran out of stamina, Ann and Akira weren’t far behind, then they were burning through more items. Not to mention, he was malnourished and dehydrated and generally inflexible in the beginning. He couldn’t do much of what he wanted to accomplish with his body.

At least Ryuji was an athlete and Ann had naturally pretty good balance, not to mention Akira’s dance background—which he wasn’t going to mention—or that Morgana was literally a cat. Yusuke had to completely retrain his body.

Once they were pretty certain of the layout and several nights of staring at a map later, they took the chance and sent the card. With the place on high security, it was difficult sneaking around to look for the real painting, but Akira was reasonably sure you don’t just dump six guards in front of a random, mysteriously painting-shaped vase when there is a threat of thievery targeting your museum.

“Do we think that’s it?” Mona asked in a hushed tone.

“Dude,” Skull whispered. “How’d they get it in the vase?”

Fuck if he knew. Maybe they completely missed the mark and this random vase was important for other reasons. They slaughtered the guards and double checked that yes, the real Sayuri was indeed in the vase before they smashed it to retrieve the painting.

“Well that was rather conflict free,” Fox said, gazing wistfully at the painting in his arms. “Though I must admit, I’m curious to see how not engaging in combat with a Palace Ruler affects their change of heart.”

“Oh yeah,” Panther hummed in realisation as they began moving again. Back towards the entrance. “We’ve fought every Palace Ruler we’ve faced up to this point, haven’t we? Except Futaba, but she changed her own heart so it probably doesn’t count.”

“It might not affect it at all,” Mona suggested. “Palaces are based on cognition and we always mention the target will confess their crimes in the calling cards we send. Maybe we don’t even need to convince the Shadow to go back to themselves and they just do it because there’s nowhere else for them to go.”

“Or…” Joker thought aloud, mumbling to himself, “without the core of the world the Palace collapses. And if the Shadow hasn’t returned to themselves, they die. Triggering a mental shutdown…”

Clearly, they heard him, because they all stopped walking instantly, a stiff silence echoing around the empty hall they had just entered.

“Who wants to go beat up Madarame and stop that from maybe happenin’, hey gang?” Skull asked, voice sounding half excited, half really fucking anxious.

They turned back to beat up Madarame. Joker let Fox have the final blow. Together, they all bullied him into returning to himself before they took off with the Treasure in hand.

Madarame cried his apologies on live TV three days later.

The Phantom Thieves decided not to mention the possible egg shells they had been walking on the entire time they’d been doing this, but collectively filed that information away to be dealt with later. Preferably when they had their advisor back.

That, or when they spoke to Akechi. Who had definitely been doing this way longer than they had and was smart enough to figure out if this theory was true or not. If not that, then he was morally dubious enough to test whether or not that was true in his own time.

Speaking of Akechi, their social studies trip was fast approaching. The Phantom Thieves staged a meeting in Leblanc’s attic to discuss their future.

“So, are we ready to meet Akechi again?” Ryuji asked the silent room dumbly. Ann raised a hand to wack him, but her heart wasn’t in it and he dodged it with ease.

“I don’t know,” Morgana said quietly. “Are we?”

“In your experience, remembering the previous experience of this year has been tied to awakening our persona’s, correct?” Yusuke clarified. “In theory, he should already remember, but his appearances on TV haven’t changed from what I’ve seen.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on them too,” Ann admitted. “He seems completely normal. Well, normal as in fake.”

“He’s a good actor,” Akira mused, the fondness in his voice behind an indifferent expression.

“Yeah. And a damn good liar too,” Ryuji agreed. “It pisses me off that he’s still workin’ for that bastard Shido! Those mental shutdowns are still happenin’!”

“It’s not like we can just find him on the street and convince him to stop,” Ann sighed, frustrated.

“I say we just let the meeting play out like it did the first time,” Akira proposed. “If he responds to Morgana or says anything even vaguely passive aggressive, then we know he remembers.”

“What if he just completely avoids us?” Ryuji countered.

“Then we know he remembers.”

Morgana looked puzzled, but he thought about it for a moment and hummed in agreement. “That might be true. He wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid us unless he knew us.”

“Exactly.”

“And if he approaches us, what if he instantly displays hostility?” Yusuke asked.

Akira’s words died in his throat.

“It’s likely…” Morgana said slowly, trying to avoid Akira’s eye. Shifty cat.

“If that happens, we’ll just snap him out of it,” Ryuji reasoned. “We’ve worked together before, we can do it again if it means sortin’ this shit out.”

“I thought you hated Akechi,” Ann insinuated.

“I do!” Ryuji insisted on reflex. “I mean, I did, but I think after everything that happened last year, I kinda relate to him. I mean, I know if I ever got the chance to take revenge on my dad, I’d probably do it.”

A heavy weight settled into the room as the impact of his words truly settled in.

“Do you want to?” Akira asked. “We have time.”

“Nah,” the athlete said, but there was clearly a lingering thought behind his eyes that hinted he may have been lying. “I checked his name, he’s in Mementos. If I’d thought of it last year, I wouldn't have thought twice, but…

“I dunno. It just doesn’t feel right. Changing his heart feels too easy.”

“If it helps,” Ann said, “with Kamoshida, the first time, I could’ve killed him. I wanted to. I almost did.” Morgana and Ryuji seemed shocked, but surely they could recall. Yusuke nodded in solemn understanding. “For me, I thought a change of heart would leave him with the guilt of everything he’d done and he would rot in jail on top of that. He would never feel happy again. That’s a fate worse than death to me.”

“Does my dad deserve that though?”

“I think he does,” Morgana said honestly. “He took so much from you, and he made both you and your mother miserable. He’s the reason you struggle with regulating your anger.”

“I don’t think that deserves a fate worse than death though.”

Silence filled the room for a tense moment.

“How about we change the subject,” Yusuke suggested.

“I know this isn’t a celebration, but,” Akira pointed over to the piles of random shit in the corner of the attic, “I still have that portable stove. We could make hotpot again? Could be… nostalgic.”

“Yeah… Yeah!” Ann smiled. “I think I’d like that. How does that sound, everyone?”

“I’m down for some good food.”

“I will not say no to a delicious meal shared with friends.”

“Good idea, Akira!”

“Then great!” Ann pulled out her phone and began tapping out a list of things. “We can go get ingredients. We’ll leave the setting up to you.”

“Maybe let’s make a bit less this time,” Ryuji suggested. “We couldn’t finish it last time.”

“Ah yes. Such a tragic waste of food cannot be recreated,” Yusuke lamented.

“Ryuji, wait,” Akira said, gripping the athlete’s arm as he was standing to head downstairs with the others. “I could use a hand getting the stove out.” A lie. “It looks pretty buried over there and I nearly broke everything last time.”

Ryuji looked confused for a second before the gears turned a little more in that head of his. “Uh, sure dude.”

Ann and Yusuke shared a look. Morgana hopped off the table and padded over to them. “I’ll keep these two company,” he announced. “They could probably use some of my expertise.”

Thank goodness Mona understood him so well. His other teammates seemed to understand what was going on as well, seeing as they left to gather supplies with no further comments on the situation.

“Alright dude, what is this really about?” Ryuji asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Akira spun his phone idly in his hand. “Was I that obvious?” he asked with a smirk. He knew he was. That was by design.

“Yeah,” Ryuji scoffed. “I promise dude, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I swear.”

“People who say they would probably take revenge on their own father usually aren’t fine,” Akira pointed out nonchalantly. Ryuji clammed up after that, leg bouncing uncontrollably. The raven-haired boy set his phone on the table and leaned over to place an affirming hand on his shoulder.

“Ryuji, I can’t say I understand what you’ve gone through.” He most certainly could, but that’s between you and me. “But, when we started the Phantom Thieves, last year at the Wilton, we all had that someone in our heads who we wanted to change. And everyone since then has had someone they wished to make a better person. Makoto had Sae, Yusuke had Madarame, Haru had her dad, Futaba literally wanted to change her own heart. If your dad is the one you do this for, then he is.”

Still bouncing his leg, the athlete sighed. He didn’t say anything.

“Ryuji, whatever he did to you doesn’t define you. You define yourself. You can make the choice to move past it and work on yourself.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ryuji deflected with a smile. “I admit, I was really hung up on it all for a while. Being in the Phantom Thieves helped, but, waking up without that whole year of… I don’t know, self improvement, it felt wrong. I don’t know how to describe it. When I heard William’s voice, the memories happened all at once, y’know? Was it like that for you too?”

“Yeah… It was a lot at once.” No it wasn’t. Akira remembered the whole time. By the time he awakened, there was nothing else to remember.

Just power. Magic. Control of the game.

“Yeah, like it was overwhelming. I thought I was gonna pass out.” Ryuji noticed his leg was bouncing, placed a hand on his thigh and forced it to stop. “I just… I thought about it a lot. In that engine room, when we fought Akechi, I didn’t really think about how similar we are but, we really are similar.”

“I think we’re all really similar to him,” Akira said. “A lot of us have that abusive or absent father thing going on, and I can tell you for a fact that if I didn’t drag you into the Metaverse with me, I’d be just like him right about now.”

Ryuji’s eyes widened for a moment, then relaxed, an uneasy kind of understanding settling in the atmosphere between them.

“Are we shitty people, Akira?” he asked quietly.

“No.” The answer forced itself out of him before he even had time to process what the question was. “No. We’re doing a lot of good with the power we have. Just because we have the potential to do evil, doesn’t mean we have to.”

Just nodding along with his own thoughts bubbling behind his eyes, Ryuji didn’t say anything. Akira squeezed his shoulder a little harder for a second before letting go.

“Let’s set up for this hotpot, shall we?” he proposed. “We have time to think about this later.”

Ryuji sighed and stood up. “Yeah. Thanks man. For being here through all this effed up shit.”

Akira grinned. “You’re welcome! That’s my role as leader.”

“It’s not just that dude,” the athlete insisted as he began shifting stuff to access the portable stove buried under dusty boxes of old mugs and a random bike for some reason. “You’re a really good friend too. I don’t think you really believe that, but it’s true.”

That one caught Akira off guard. Unable to think up a witty response, he just muttered a half assed “Thanks man” and helped him set up.

Smooth, Akira. Real smooth.

-

They somehow managed to finish everything. However, they still did not have room to finish off with udon. Or porridge, for that matter.

For a while they spent some time just chatting. Talking like they were any normal group of high schoolers, no mention of their world saving pastimes or previous lives. But, when your clean crime gang is destined to kill god, it’s something that’s bound to come up eventually.

Ryuji broke up their happy conversation with a more serious note.

“Oh yeah,” he hummed in thought, “isn’t our month almost up? Has everyone been hanging out with Sumire?”

Akira smiled and raised his brows, pleased with Ryuji’s ability to keep on top of their plan. Yusuke, however, tilted his head a little in confusion.

“Month? Sumire? What is all this about?” he asked.

“Oh, remember how we mentioned that Maruki remembers last year?” she asked, continuing when the artist nodded. “We made a deal with him to make Sumire remember that she’s not actually Kasumi.”

“Ah, I see,” he mused. “I suppose it would be difficult to force her into awakening on her own. And even then, she didn’t remember who she was until January, did she?”

“Yeah, and that would seriously suck to think you’re someone else for so long,” Ryuji said. “So we’ve been making an effort to be her friends early this time. That way, when she remembers, she has more of a support group to fall back on. Like what she did with Akira last time.”

“Well said, Ryuji,” Morgana praised. “I’m impressed.”

“That feels like a back handed compliment but I’m takin’ it.”

“Back to the topic at hand,” Yusuke redirected.

“Right!” Ann chirped. “I’ve been working on some stretches with her to help with my flexibility. I thought it might help with my modelling and also with the Phantom Thieves.”

“Y’know I’ve been training with her too,” Ryuji said. “We go for a run every Thursday and Sunday morning.”

“Oh so that’s why you came to school with her the other day,” Morgana mused.

“Yeah! She’s also been giving me some tips for my knee. I’ve been doing the exercises she suggested and they’ve been really helpful so far!”

“That’s awesome, Ryuji!” Ann cheered, grabbing his arm and shaking it excitedly.

The athlete smiled and scratched the nape of his neck. “Thanks. Feels good to move my body again.”

“What about you, Akira?” Ann redirected.

“I’ve been doing some gymnastics with her,” he provided. “Wednesday afternoons, when she doesn’t normally have training. I did that with her last year too, so it’s good to get that mobility back.” He nodded to Ryuji with an understanding grin, receiving one back just like it.

“I’ve been wondering where those fancy flips came from,” Morgana commented. “She certainly seems to be influencing your theatrical fighting style.”

Everyone chuckled, much to Akira’s chagrin. “Love it or hate it, that’s what it is, Joker,” the cat continued.

As the laughter died down, Yusuke spoke up. “I feel I haven’t been doing my part. I only saw Sumire once, and during that time I’m afraid I was not fully myself.”

“Yusuke,” Ryuji said softly, empathising with his sentiment.

“None of us blame you for that,” Ann told him. “We were all in your shoes at one point or another.”

“Except me,” Morgana sighed. “I’m different from you guys again. Last time I was the one with no memories, this time I’m the only one who started with them. When I woke up in Kamoshida’s cell, I knew who you all were. I was so frightened when Ryuji didn’t recognise me.”

Not the only one. Akira decidedly kept that information to himself.

“Mona, you’re different, sure, but you’re still one of us!” Ryuji insisted.

“Yeah!” Ann agreed. “The fact that none of us really fit in is our whole deal! You’re an important part of our group, Morgana. All the times we thought you died, we seriously missed you. I mean that.”

Morgana’s face twisted in a way that looked like a sad smile, or the closest he could get with his feline features. “Thanks, Ann.”

“Just Ann?” the model queried, a surprised smile on her face. “What happened to the ‘Lady’ thing?”

The cat quickly corrected. “Oh! I’m sorry, do you want me to keep calling you that?”

“No, I don’t mind the change. It’s just, what brought that on so suddenly?”

“Ah… well.” Morgana seemed to mull it over in his mind. Akira had noticed a lack of “everything for the beautiful Lady Ann” in their day to day conversations, but hadn’t really thought much of it. Not inconceivable considering the massive amounts of bullshit they had to deal with right now, but still. Maybe there had been signs he wasn’t paying attention to.

“So, I did have a really embarrassing crush on you for the longest time,” Morgana eventually confessed.

Ryuji made a noise that almost sounded like howling. “He says it out loud! About time dude!”

“Shut up!” Morgana yelled. “I realise I kinda put you up on a pedestal and didn’t really treat you correctly, that’s my bad as a gentleman thief.”

“Thank you, Morgana,” Ann said, smile changing to one of relief as she put a hand on his head, scratching behind his ear. “I’m flattered. And I’m grateful.”

His ear twitched as he continued. “I kinda realised something the day we saw Shiho, just Akira and I. Not really me, but I was there.” Ann nodded, halting her pats to listen intently. They all listened. “Um. It’s probably not my place to say, but I think maybe you have your eyes on someone else.”

Ann’s face instantly brightened. “What? No! No!” she denied. “No way! Shiho is my best friend! There’s no way I would… uh…”

“I didn’t say it was Shiho,” Morgana said with a sly grin.

“It was implied!”

“Wait, you're gay?” Ryuji asked, sounding shocked.

“No! Yes? I don’t know, okay? I didn’t quite have time to figure that bit out while we were fighting a god!”

“Valid,” Akira said, relating completely to her plight.

“Ah, so you may be homosexual as well,” Yusuke mused. “That is quite the relief. I wasn’t sure anyone else would share that quality with me.”

“You’re gay, Yusuke?” Morgana asked.

“I don’t tend to concern myself with the labels but technically I am asexual,” he elaborated. “Though I do find a romantic relationship with another man to be quite an appealing concept.”

“I’m pan,” Akira said simply, maybe a little forced. “I like everyone.”

“Huh… So you can steal more hearts?” Ann joked.

He shot her finger guns. “You know it.”

“Wow. All my friends are gay,” Ryuji said quietly.

“Hey! I’m not gay! Am I not your friend?” Morgana complained jokingly.

“No! What? You are! It was an exaggeration!”

“Using the big words today, are we Skull? Didn’t think you knew what that one meant!”

“What was that?”

“Okay, calm down, you two,” Ann said, quickly de-escalating the situation.

“I believe this has been quite an enlightening conversation for all of us,” Yusuke said. “It is certainly quite pleasing to know I am not alone in my identity.”

“Even if you were, we’d accept you anyway,” Morgana said. “I hope you know that. All of you.”

The three of them; Ann, Akira, and Yusuke looked embarrassed and elated at the same time, all finding something to fidget with to distract from their thoughts. But they were happy. Ryuji seemed to react in some type of way too. Maybe there was something else to unpack there, but for now, it just felt nice to be accepted.

Just for once.

Chapter Text

Waiting out the social studies trip was agony for Akira. Some creepy director hit on Ann again, he and Ryuji were forced to battle with the long cables once more. All that kept him going was the thought that he could see Akechi again. Really see him. Alive. For the first time since February. Since December.

Ninth of June. The day he first met him. His rival. The boy that changed his life. The world’s greatest actor, a performance he could aspire to.

The Phantom Thieves that were present gathered in the hallway of the TV station under the guise of needing the bathroom. Separately at different times mind you, it would be weird if they all left together. It was almost time.

Fuck he was nervous! The others clearly were too, each of them finding something to fidget with. Ryuji couldn’t seem to keep his feet still and Ann was chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. Akira seemed the most composed out of all of them but he was still spinning a pencil between his fingers in an effort to do something to focus his excess energy. Felt like actors in the wings getting over their last ounces of stage fright.

“Why am I so anxious?” Ann asked no one in particular. “It’s just Akechi! It’s not like he could kill us!”

“Actually, he really could,” Ryuji corrected unhelpfully. He was right though, he could. And he would if he realised they planned to get in his way.

“Shut up! I know that!” Ann reprimanded. “I’m just trying to… talk myself out of ny nerves.”

“Is it working?” the athlete asked.

“No.”

“It’s alright Ann, just take a deep breath,” Morgana consoled. “After all, if he really does remember, he’ll realise we can be useful to him. If he knows that we’re on his side, he won’t harm us.”

“He won’t,” Ann said. “I know he won’t. But it’s still a possibility. We don’t even know if he’ll remember.”

“I think it might be tied to being a persona user,” the cat told her. “More than just awakening. Because I was born with a persona, and I still remember all of last year. Including the memories I regained from the depths of Mementos.”

“Oh, so you know all about that velvet place then, yeah?” Ryuji recalled.

“The Velvet Room, yes,” Morgana confirmed. He prodded Akira’s shoulder with his paw. “Speaking of, have you been going? I noticed you retained some of your more powerful personas.”

Wincing, the Trickster answered. “Only once or twice. Lavenza’s split again and I don’t want good old Cuphead finding out what we know.”

Ryuji snorted loudly. “Cuphead. That’s funny.”

“Hmm. You should. I know it’s tough going in there and facing him, but it’d be denying that part of yourself not to nurture your Wildcard abilities.”

That was… unsettling somehow. He still didn’t want to slip up and reveal himself. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he could just force him not to know. It was a manifestation of his own mind, after all. And the human mind was a powerful thing.

“Maybe Mr Detective’s not coming,” Ryuji huffed. “I guess he really did just decide to avoid us completely.”

“Shh! You hear that?” Ann urged.

All of them strained their ears, peering around and scanning every corner of the hall they were in. Nothing.

“Huh. I thought I heard…” She trailed off, scratching her head just behind where blonde hair and been pulled into one of her tight pigtails. “Nevermind.”

“Well if he’s not coming, I guess we should head out,” Ryuji said with a defeated sigh. Akira, with a sinister grin curling on his features, had other plans.

“Sure. We’re getting pancakes after this, right?” he said, loud enough to echo around the area.

“Even when he’s not here, you’re never gonna let him live that down, huh?” Morgana asked with a cheeky smile of his own. “I’m not complaining though. I’ll take some good pancakes any day!”

“Woohoo!” Ryuji cheered. “Pancakes here we come!”

“Alright, fine! Just stop fucking saying it!”

Rounding the corner with a scowl, a well-dressed boy with silky brown hair pinned them all in place with his piercing glare. Spiteful, crimson eyes that held the depth of all they’d seen. Not bothering with the mask he’d worn for so long, knowing it was pointless to those who could see through the cracks.

How his heat had leaped when he heard his voice.

“I’m here,” he spat. “Happy?”

Grinning, Akira said, “Very.”

“Be honest with us, Akechi. How much do you remember?” Morgana asked. Pointlessly, if Akira was being truthful. If the guy reacted with that much hostility to the word ‘pancakes’, he clearly remembered their conversation in Maruki’s infected Mementos where they discussed how exactly they had discovered his deceit. But, he supposed, it was better to be clear with everything than war over subtext. Not that it was anywhere near as fun to share that dialogue, but you take what you can get.

“From the conversation I just overheard because you morons can’t keep your mouths shut,” Okay. Harsh. Don’t insult Ryuji like that, he’s trying his best. “I’d say I remember just as much as you all do.”

“Good!” Ann cheered. “That means we don’t have to tiptoe around false appearances! I’m not a good actor anyways.”

But false appearances was everything the greatest actor was known for! How was he supposed to make his claim to fame now?

“You’ve gotten better Ann!” Ryuji encouraged. “Hell you managed to trick Yusuke really smoothly.”

“That’s not exactly hard, Ryuji,” Mona said quietly, but Akechi clearing his throat brought them all back on topic. “Right, point is, you remember. We remember too. And we want your help.”

Scoffing, the detective gripped his case tighter in one hand. “Really? You want my help? And why should I help you?”

“C’mon man,” Ryuji said, sympathy brimming in his eyes. Akechi didn’t want sympathy. “You’ve gotta be weirded out by this too.”

“Truthfully, I’d rather not have this conversation right here and now,” he replied bluntly. “Perhaps another time. I must be off.”

“Okay,” Ann relented simply. “Akira’s place. Tomorrow after filming. How’s that sound?”

Painfully inquisitive eyes narrowed at her. “And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

She shrugged, but it was Akira who spoke up. “You will. You’d never let this mystery go unsolved. It’s in your nature. Besides, you’re obsessed with coffee.

Glaring him up and down, Akechi hummed in thought. In a single moment, the flick of a switch, a mask over his face and a pleasant smile replacing his unconcealed rage. The actor was gone, transformed into the character of the Detective Prince. Find your light, recite your lines. The show’s begun.

“This really has been a pleasant reunion, but I truly was just passing by. I have that meeting to attend regarding tomorrow’s filming, I hope you understand.” So polite and proper and sweet. All of it fake. Impressive.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Akechi!” Ryuji said, waving and marching off down the hall with a smile.

Ann followed suit, waving and giggling. “We’ll save you some pancakes!”

For just a moment, Akira lingered as his blonde friends took their leave. Then he leaned towards the detective and gave him a send off of his own.

“I look forward to our debate tomorrow, Goro.”

He gave the detective a sly grin, only getting wider when he saw how much he was seething beneath the mask. He winked and spun on his heel, resigning himself to Morgana’s unimpressed yapping as he went after his friends.

-

Akira took special care to ensure he sat in the same seat as he did this time last year. He was absolutely elated when the co-host's microphone was held in front of his face.

“How about this young man here?” she asked in that cheerful announcer voice. “What do you think of the Phantom Thieves?”

Locking eyes with the Detective Prince across the room, he said, “They’re justice itself.”

Akechi sighed, but the smile didn’t drop. He just crossed his legs and feigned interest in his perspective. “That’s quite an extreme response,” he said. “Do you mind if I ask what brings you to be so convinced of this idea?”

“Their first target was a teacher at my school,” Akira continued. “I’ve witnessed their success first hand and I’m certain they are what this society needs to better itself.”

“I see,” Akechi said with a nod. “That’s truly remarkable you have such anecdotal experience with them. But let me ask you this: do you have any clue how the Phantom Thieves change hearts?”

He waited for an answer he knew Akira shouldn’t give. When he was met with silence, he continued. “Precisely. We can’t decipher how they force their victims to confess. It could be anything; from blackmail to brainwashing or hypnosis. So the question is: can these mysterious Phantom Thieves be trusted with the power they have?”

“Yes. Madarame was their second major target and they have yet to waver from their goal,” he stated with conviction. “I’ve seen other, more minor calling cards sent online and seen those changes of heart in others around me. They are just.”

“I see your confidence in them is unwavering.” Probably rolling his eyes in his head, but on the outside, that charismatic, yet perplexed, smile remained. Leaning forward like he was interested in what he was saying.

“Let’s for a moment pose a hypothetical scenario. Say, for example, someone close to you were to receive a change of heart. Perhaps your friend next to you, or a member of your own family.” Akira caught the faintest movement as one of his brows twitched upwards. “The change of heart, as far as my own personal deductions have established, is a complete overhaul of one’s identity and personal agency. Would you still believe in their justice if the victim was someone you were close to?”

Akira thought for a moment, both to decipher what Akechi had truly meant and how to phrase a response. It was clear he was talking about Shido. Akechi didn’t want Shido’s heart to change. He wanted him to recognise him as himself, no personality altering hullabaloo involved.

Yet, he still was never going to get it. No matter how this played out, he was always going to be a puppet. Always had been. It’s all part of the game. So, if there was no possible way to get the revenge he wanted…

If it were his own parents threatening the political climate of Japan, would he still change their hearts? Knowing his father, the answer was certain. And his mother, even less doubt clouded his mind.

“If we’re to assume that close family of mine actually did commit crimes worth punishing,” Akira began slowly, “then yes. The police couldn’t catch them, so there’s no other way.”

“Fascinating outlook.” Eyes closed, jaw tensed. That was clearly not the answer he had been looking for. “You value bringing criminals to justice above your personal relationships with them. Perhaps my colleagues down at the precinct could stand to learn something from you.”

Manipulated by Akechi’s charming act, the audience laughed like the sheep they were.

The hostess ripped the microphone away from Akira, forcibly putting their all too real debate to an end. Pity. It was fun to watch the audience react around him. Ryuji nudged him when the crowd stopped paying attention.

“Dude!” he whispered harshly.

“What was that?” Ann said in the same tone.

All Akira could do was shrug and not look down at his bag on the floor, the contents of which were no doubt staring him down with unamused, blue eyes. He remained silent the rest of the interview, simply watching the world’s greatest actor work his magic.

-

Yusuke was already at Leblanc before anyone else arrived. He seemed to have struck up polite conversation with Sojiro as he sipped his coffee and gazed at the Sayuri he’d placed on the wall. There weren’t any other customers in the store.

Both of them turned their heads to meet the other Thieves as they arrived.

“Hello!” Ann greeted kindly.

“Hey, Boss!” Ryuji said. “You got any curry? I’m starving!”

Sojiro chuckled. “I’ll get some for you. You two want anything?”

“I’ll take a latte, please! As sweet as you can make it!” Ann said, settling down on the barstool between where Ryuji sat and Yusuke was seated already. Akechi’s spot.

“Jamaican blue with caramel then. And how about you?” Sojiro addressed his ward.

“Just coffee, thanks,” he shrugged. He set his bag down with a smile. “Let me help.”

“At least you’ve got some manners,” Sojiro replied. “Get in here and gimme a hand.”

For a while, there was just the casual atmosphere created by the banter floating between the thieves and the man they’d collectively adopted as their father figure. Akira was making everyone’s drinks while Sojiro handled food for Ryuji and Yusuke.

It was like being home. Among the best of friends. The people he chose to call his family. Only a few of them were missing, but he could imagine they were there.

Futaba sitting with her laptop open, trolling some random online or researching her latest hyperfixation. Sumire chatting with Ryuji or Mona or Ann, just happy to be part of something. Haru and Makoto together in the booth, supervising everyone’s chaos like tired parents. And Akechi…

Akechi would find himself sipping a drink alone at the end of the bar. Observing, until someone else dragged him into the fold. Unwillingly pulled into the whirlwind of platonic love and common goals that held the Phantom Thieves together.

He missed it.

How he’d longed to just go back and do it all again. And now that he could, he wasn’t sure it was what he wanted. He never wanted his friends to be pulled apart. He wanted more time. With all of them. Together.

Some things aren’t how you imagined, he supposed. But the show must go on regardless.

Ring.

The chime of the bell at the door signalled the arrival of another customer. Lo and behold, the Detective Prince himself walked in with a charming smile.

“Ah, welcome,” Sojiro said before turning to Akira. “Why don’t you and your friends head upstairs?”

“Actually, I’m here to see them,” Akechi corrected, scratching his head with an exasperated smile, the mask still firmly on his face. “I hope you don’t mind. My apologies for coming so late.”

“Not at all,” Sojiro insisted. “Feel free to serve him then if he’s your friend. I need to head out and stock up on some things for tomorrow morning. Keep an eye on the shop for me, will you?”

“You got it, Boss,” Akira said with a smile.

“Thanks kid.” Sojiro hung up his apron and stepped out through the door, Akechi politely letting him pass, even holding it open for him. “Thank you. I’ll be back soon. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry, Boss!” Ryuji joked. “We’ll keep an eye on him!”

“I’m sure you will.”

With that, the store owner left, and it was just the thieves in the establishment. Akechi’s face changed as the door swung closed.

“Well-”

“What took ya so long, dude?” Ryuji cut him off.

“I have a very busy schedule,” Akechi huffed.

“He’s here now. Don’t give him such a hard time, Ryuji,” Morgana said, tail swishing side to side anxiously as he padded over to him.

“Get off the counter, Mona!” Akira pleaded, wiping down what he could as the cat trailed along its surface. He did jump down to the floor when he reached the end, but now he still had to clean the whole thing.

Akechi was glaring at Yusuke, still sitting in his spot at the counter. After a few long moments, he sighed. “I suppose you called me here to discuss our predicament,” he assumed. “Would it be so much to ask for a coffee while we talk?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Akira said, a Joker-worthy grin spreading on his face as he began brewing his favourite blend.

Minutes later, they were all gathered upstairs. Sojiro had returned with the groceries to close up the store, only to be forced out with Akira’s promises to do everything himself. He did. It was second nature to him by now. I mean technically it had been, what, a year and a couple months? He had Leblanc memorised like a well practised dance.

“I would like to know how much you all remember,” Akechi said immediately, right out the gates swinging. Deep crimson eyes narrowed. “And why is it only you five.”

The detective had purposely sat himself on the opposite end of the table to everyone else. Placing that distance between them and him was probably doing something for his ‘I work alone’ complex. It was also quite likely he didn’t trust them, given what they know now that they shouldn’t have learned to begin with.

“That’s as good of a place to start as any,” Morgana said, ear twitching as he sat on the spare table. “To put it simply, we all remember everything we remembered on March 20th, 2017. From our first meeting and forming the Phantom Thieves to Maruki, and everything in between. It’s just us because no one else remembers yet.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” Akechi hinted, gripping his mug tighter in his gloved hand.

“That’s just it. No one else remembers,” Ryuji said with a shrug.

“We think it has something to do with being persona users,” Ann explained. “‘Cause we all suddenly remembered when ours awakened.”

“How odd that you wouldn’t begin the year with the powers you earned,” the other boy commented. “I had already had my personas for quite some time by this point, and yet, you all had to put yourselves through the awakening a second time.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Yusuke sighed, rubbing his temples. “I cannot stand to imagine how you managed to go through that on your own.”

Akechi tensed, then he tried to hide it by switching his legs to cross one over the other. Akira noticed. “Yes well, let’s not dwell on that now, shall we? The point is, I started this loop on the 9th of April with all of my memories perfectly intact. So perhaps your theory may have some merit.”

“The 9th of April?” Ryuji echoed. “Seems kinda weird don't you think? Why not the 1st of January? Or 20th of March, that’s when the last one stopped, right?”

“You’re right, that is weird,” Morgana agreed. “What happened on the 9th of April that would warrant being the start of the loop?”

Mumbling dispersed throughout the group, but no one really seemed to have much of an idea. Akira knew. That was the day he transferred. That was the day he first arrived in Tokyo. On probation. Something in the back of his mind told him not to say it. To keep it hidden like everything else.

Ignoring that little voice just this once, he spoke up. “That was my first day in Tokyo,” he said. “Not a massive thing but it could be a lead?”

Akechi hummed. “Kind of egotistical to think of this as being centred on you, don’t you think, Kurusu?”

Scoffing, he rolled his eyes and defended himself. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You could be right though,” Morgana said quietly in thought. “The day you got here was the day the God of Control started his game. So maybe he has something to do with it?”

Jaw dropping, Ann blinked in surprise. “You might be right!”

“Man screw that guy!” Ryuji shouted. “We gotta head to the bottom of Mementos and beat the shit outta that stupid Cuphead!”

“How?” Akechi posed. “You barely have enough public recognition to make it down three floors. You couldn’t reach the bottom if you tried.”

“Then perhaps we should simply recreate our rise to fame,” Yusuke mused. “It worked for us once, after all.”

“You do recall most of that rise to fame was fabricated by the conspiracy, correct?”

“Who cares? However we get there, we’re gonna kick some phony god ass!”

Rolling his eyes, the detective leaned forward and set his mug on the table. “And what do you intend to do about Shido? He’s still well on his way to reach his goal, and if you follow your path exactly, he will.”

“Do you still wish to take your revenge?” Morgana asked.

“Of course I do.” He spoke the words like there was no other possibility. “That man must pay.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Save for the wind rustling the trees and far away traffic outside. The detective sat before them, one who had infiltrated their group for the sole purpose of betraying them, expression blank save for vague disinterest. And rage.

More than that lay beneath that mask. There was always more to Akechi Goro than that. He wanted validation. And, as much as he denied it, he wanted friends. Someone to rely on him, and to rely on in return.

“What if we helped?” Akira asked, only for Akechi to glare at him.

“What?” he deadpanned.

“What if we helped you get your revenge?” he elaborated. “Without anyone dying this time. How does that sound?”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you can get this through your thick skull, Kurusu, but I am a contract assassin who murdered your navigator’s mother, and your teammate’s father. What makes you think either of them want me on your side?”

“Oh, but you haven’t done that second one yet. And you won’t need to.”

“I don’t suppose you have a plan to ensure that, do you?”

“With your help, we can definitely come up with something,” Morgana reasoned. “You know the conspiracy better than any of us, so you’re the best person to ask.”

“We were never gonna just leave you alone, Akechi,” Ryuji said, a tried smirk on his face. “You’re one of us.”

“I am not one of you!” Akechi objected.

“Deny it all you want, we’re the only ones who can help,” Ann said with a shrug. “You may as well just accept it.”

“If worse comes to worse, we could always do this the hard way,” Yusuke replied, clearly not understanding how threatening it sounded until the words left his mouth.

Akechi raised an eyebrow in the artist’s direction. “Excuse me?”

“We know all your next marks,” Morgana mentioned. It was mostly a bluff, but partially true. “If we change their hearts before you can get to them, you’d have to go all the way down in order to kill them.”

Akira smirked evilly. Exactly the face he’d imagined his assassin would make before shooting him right between the eyes. “And there’s no escaping the Prison of Regression. Believe me, I tried.”

“You’d trap me in Mementos, is that what you’re implying?”

“That’s putting it bluntly, but yes,” Yusuke said.

“How noble of you.” He chuckled, almost madly. It was the first he’d heard that invigorating laugh since February. Last timeline. “How the tables have turned! The righteous Phantom Thieves resorting to underhanded tactics to force someone to their side!”

“We’re not forcing anything!” Ann defended.

“Bullshit!”

“We just wanna help you! Open your eyes for a god damn second and you’ll see that!” Ryuji yelled.

“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” Akechi was screaming now, voice raspy and chair knocked to the floor, sent flying when his anger brought him to his feet. “I’ve always been fine on my own!”

“Until you’re not,” Akira whispered. Suddenly, the air was still and suffocating. The leader gripped his knees and hung his head.

“I won’t let you die,” he said, straining not to sob. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose him.

He could hear shifting around him. He could feel Mona’s comforting paw on his arm, sense his teammates hovering around him. Fabric shifted and someone—Akechi—sighed.

“You’re a fool,” he scoffed.

“Hey!” Ryuji immediately jumped to his feet. “Akira’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe and you call him a fool? What the eff?”

“He is. If any of you had an ounce of self respect you’d give up on me completely. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your efforts to keep me safe. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Akira said, wiping his tears and looking up. When did he start crying? “You’re strong. It’s your character. And you owe me a rematch, remember?”

Those deep eyes narrowed at him, analysing his face and body. As if taking him apart piece by piece, just so he could assemble him again. Deconstructing the make up of his very soul, puzzling over the facets and how everything worked.

“I suppose I do,” he relented, never losing that sceptical twinge in his tone. “How much has changed?”

“A lot,” Morgana said. “It’ll take more than just one meeting to sort through everything.”

“We’re breaking Maruki’s control over Sumire tomorrow.”

The detective’s eyes widened at Akira’s statement. “Tomorrow?” he repeated. “Well that’s early. Are you sure she’ll be alright?”

“Aw! Are you concerned, Akechi?” Ann teased.

“As a matter of fact, Yoshizawa-san is the most tolerable out of all of you,” he snapped. “I would prefer not to lose that much needed voice of reason in your band of thieves. Goodness knows you need it.”

“That’s not a no!” she sing-songed.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Akechi announced his departure. “I’m leaving. Let me know if anything earth shattering happens.”

“How? My contacts didn’t travel back in time, somehow,” Akira said. “I’ll need your number, Detective.”

Begrudgingly, he did hand over his contact information. He was also added to the dedicated Phantom Thieves group chat, to which he was not too thrilled about the name.

The killjoy in question glared at Ryuji across the table. “Very funny, Sakamoto.” The athlete threw his arms up in surrender.

“Hey man! I’m just tellin’ the truth.”

“He’s right though,” Ann said solemnly. “Killjoy is a bit mean. Go for something a bit different.”

“He’s killed people and you’re worried about being mean?” Akira asked sarcastically, probably the only person in the room who could get away with saying it. Ann shrugged in response.

“That’s boring,” Mona said, underwhelmed by Ryuji’s lame attempt at an insult.

“Correct,” Akira confirmed. “Congrats, Morgana! You can read! That’s better than most cats.”

“Hey!”

“Perhaps there’s a more creative nickname we could call him,” Yusuke pondered.

Ryuji snapped his fingers and grinned. “Wait I got it!”

“I thought Kitagawa said creative,” Akechi drawled, clearly unimpressed.

“I think it suits you, Akechi,” the cat said with a laugh.

“It is quite accurate,” Yusuke mused.

“So that’s unanimous?” Ann asked, mostly eying Akira until he nodded with a resigned smile.

“It’s decided!” Ryuji announced. “Welcome back to the team, Detective Asshole!”

Akechi rolled his eyes. Akira pretended not to notice his lips momentarily quirk into a smile. Welcome indeed.

Chapter Text

“Now, Kurusu-kun, while I-I appreciate the second chance, I’d like to remind you that the chances that this may backfire for you are pretty high.”

“Shut up, Doc!”

“Understood, Sakamoto-kun!”

“Doc, listen,” Morgana said, jumping up onto the small coffee table in the nurse’s office. He was the mediator here. The only one of the current Phantom Thieves that could keep a level head about all of this. “We know Sumire, and we know this is what she needs. She may hide from everyone at first, but she’ll come around. Sumire needs to learn to think for herself.”

“That may be true,” Maruki conceded, wringing his hands together nervously, “but I’m concerned she’ll relapse into that state of depression she was in after Kasumi-san passed. She may have recovered last time, but without her memories of that year, won’t she have less of a resolve to live as herself?”

“That’s a risk we have to take,” Akira spat from where he stood, arms crossed, leaning against the wall beside the door.

“We’re freeing Sumire from your power, Maruki!” Ann declared. “Like it or not, you don’t have a choice!”

“I deserve as much,” Maruki lamented, staring sadly at the carpet.

About five minutes until ‘Kasumi’ would make her final appearance. Take a bow and duck off stage, Ella, you have a quick change before your next scene.

-

Kasumi usually wasn’t called in to see Maruki. Normally, she’d just drop by whenever her schedule allowed it. But whatever the doctor wanted to chat about sounded important, and he’d already done so much to help her. So of course she would swing by!

When she arrived at the nurse’s office, however, she was surprised to find three of her upperclassmen there already. Specifically ones she’d grown close enough with to consider her friends. Odd. She wondered what they were all here together for.

“Oh! My apologies,” she said quickly with a respectful bow. “I didn’t know you all were here. I’ll come back later.”

As she turned to step out of the room, Maruki called for her to stop. “No, no. That’s quite alright, Yoshizawa-san. You may take a seat.”

“Yeah!” Ann chirped cheerfully as she stood from her seat. “We were just heading out anyway.”

“Yeah, no worries!” Ryuji agreed. “We still on to train tomorrow afternoon?”

“You bet, Ryuji-senpai!”

“Awesome! I’ll see you then! Inokashira Park!”

“Bye Sumi-chan!” Ann said with a friendly wave and a hand on Ryuji’s back, ushering him out of the room. “Let’s leave her to her counselling, Ryuji.”

“Oh, right. Bye Sumi!”

She looked over to Akira for help instinctively, who merely shrugged helpfully and gestured for her to do as Maruki offered from where he leaned against the wall. If Kasumi didn’t know better, she’d say it almost looked like he was guarding something. Shutting the door behind him, Akira waved as he and his friends took their leave. He didn’t say a word.

It was somewhat off putting. He wasn’t as carefree as he normally was. He was usually relaxed, but even from her vantage she could see how much tension he was holding in his body. Not to mention Ann and Ryuji had seemed… nervous? Maybe that wasn’t the right word. Kasumi shrugged off her unease and turned back to Maruki.

“What seems to be the problem, Doctor?” she asked. “I mean, why did you call me here?”

“Ah, well you see…” Maruki was wringing his hands together nervously, as if he were the one being counselled at that moment. “Do you remember our first session together, Yoshizawa-san?”

Kasumi’s face softened. She’d been so upset that day, she didn’t know what had been wrong with her! Talking nonsense, crying for no reason. She’d missed so much practice because she couldn’t hold herself together. Maybe Sumire would do that if she had been the one to die, but Kasumi owed it to her to keep pushing forward.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Dr Maruki started wringing his hands together in his lap. “Well, I have to admit, you told me some rather concerning things that I’d like to discuss now that you’re on the path to healing.”

Odd. She didn’t remember saying anything that could be considered concerning.

“Oh,” she said, trying to hide her dejection. “Please go on. If anything I’m doing is hindering me, it could probably explain the slump I’ve been experiencing.” Upon her new realisation, she sat up straight and grinned. “Yes! Tell me, so I can work on myself and improve!”

Maruki smiled softly. “Glad to know you’re eager to take care of yourself.” The councillor fidgeted with his glasses and shifted in his seat, almost like he was uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “See, in truth you told me you wished a different outcome following the events that resulted in your sister’s death.”

Kasumi’s face dropped. “Of course I did,” she said. “Of course I wish that both of us had survived so we could live our dream together.”

“No, Yoshizawa-san.” He tensed and quickly rephrased. “I mean, of course, that would have been the best case scenario, however that is not what you said. What you told me in our first session was that you wished you were your sister, in other words that she had been the one to survive the crash. Not you.”

Would she… say that? Surely not, right? She wanted to live on. To achieve their dream. So why… Why take Sumire’s place when she could continue? To become the champion they’d both always wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, do you mind repeating that please?” she asked.

“You wished to become your sister.”

No she didn’t.

“How…”

Kasumi rubbed her eye, then began blinking rapidly when her contact slipped out of place, attempting to correct it.

“Did your sister wear contacts too, Yoshizawa-san? You were twins, right?”

What did that have to do with this? “No,” she said instead. “She didn’t like the way it made her eyes feel itchy.” No, that didn’t seem right. “I just don’t like wearing glasses. They keep falling down my nose and it gets in the way when I’m practising.”

The lenses felt uncomfortable in her eyes, tingling and making her want to scratch her corneas. Eventually, she simply took them out, placing them back in their case. Left, and right. She’ll clean them later.

“Too itchy?” Maruki asked. “That’s okay, as long as you feel comfortable.”

Yes, but that was strange. She’d never felt itchy wearing her contacts before. She did always have her glasses on hand just in case, but-

As she set her glasses on the bridge of her nose something snapped in the back of her mind. The familiar weight of the frames felt almost natural on her face where she had been expecting to feel… something else. That she couldn’t describe because she had never felt it.

But she had! Hadn’t she?

“Are you alright, Yoshizawa-san?”

“I’m…” fine? No. She was not fine. Something felt very very wrong and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Yoshizawa-san, I want to help you,” Maruki said, speaking calmly and quietly, making no sudden movements. “As I understand it, your sister had much more say over your life than you did being the younger twin.”

“No, I’m the older one. I…” think. No. She was Yoshizawa Kasumi. Eldest daughter, soon-to-be champion gymnast. She could do anything.

“And as the eldest, you had tried to save your sister, correct?”

She… did? It was all a blur.

“Can you describe to me again what you remember from the day of the crash?”

“It was raining,” she began slowly, tugging at her ribbon just to fiddle with something. “S-Sumire and I were on our way home from practice and I… she wasn’t pleased with how she was performing. We had a fight and I ran… no. She… I ran towards the intersection. She saved me from the car. I remember her calling… my name.”

Silence hung heavy in the nurse’s office as the weight of what she said burned itself deep into her mind. She could never forget the sound of her sister’s voice as she said her final word.

Her name.

And it was not Kasumi.

It was Sumire.

She tugged too hard, and the ribbon came undone, sending a wave of bright red hair cascading down her shoulders and back. The headache she didn’t know she was feeling began to subside as the hairs stopped pulling against her scalp.

Glass shattered. Kasumi died. Sumire returned to the light, tears falling freely from her eyes.

“No…”

“Yoshizawa-san, I-”

“Why?” she squeaked. “Why would you do this? I was so happy as Kasumi! I can’t live like this! I can’t be the girl who led her sister to her death!”

Why? Why? Why?

Sumire ran. That’s all she could do. All she was good at. Running from her problems. It was a good thing Maruki didn’t follow her, because she would probably get him killed too!

Not a clue where she was going, she pressed on. It didn’t matter anyway. She could never get Kasumi back. She could never take her place either. She was just a walking second place medal. Thrust into the spotlight now that the girl who cast her in shadows was gone. Unable to fulfil any of those expectations.

She heard voices as she sprinted past people in uniforms. Calling her. Begging her to stop. A cat too? She kept running. Eventually, she left the voices behind.

Sumire pressed open the door to the roof. She needed to think. She needed to breathe. No one came to the roof right? She’d be alone up there. Maybe that slightest bit closer to Kasumi.

The rooftop was not empty.

Crouching in the school’s gym uniform was a familiar third year with fluffy hair, working on a garden bed.

“O-oh! Um!” she stammered, clutching her skirt and bowing to hide her embarrassment.“I-I didn’t expect to run into anyone up here, H-Haru-senpai! I’m sorry. I’ll be going now!” Why did she say anything? Why didn’t she just leave? She wouldn’t have been a bother that way. Stupid, Sumire! Stupid!

“Wait, Kasumi-chan!” Haru called out to her. Sumire wasn’t sure why she stopped. “Please, don’t mind me. I was just about to finish up anyway. I’d be happy to keep you company while you’re up here.”

Haru was always so sweet. So kind and gentle and understanding. Her voice reminded Sumire of those quiet nights with Kasumi, discussing their shared dream in soft whispers while they stayed up past midnight.

“Okay,” Sumire said. “I’d like that.”

For some time, they spent some time without saying a word to one another. Just up on the school rooftop, separately doing their own thing, but alone together. It was nice. Hearing the older girl hum as she tended her flowers. Feeling the fresh air on her face. The smell of the soil. It was relaxing.

True to her word, it wasn’t long before Haru finished up, taking off her gardening gloves and grabbing her water bottle from one of the desks, sitting just adjacent to where Sumire had chosen to sit.

“I often come up here to clear my mind when something’s happening in my personal life,” she said, unprompted. “Tending my garden makes me happy, and no one else really comes up here. So, if you have things you need to think about, I’m happy to listen.”

“Thank you, Haru-senpai, but I really don’t…” Sumire began, but quickly trailed off. She didn’t know what she was going to say originally,

Haru nodded sagely. “That’s okay. You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to. But I am more than willing to lend an ear if you need one.”

Sumire noticed how gentle she was being with her. How calm and supportive. And yet, there was something akin to worry in her eyes. Fear. Did… Haru think she came up here to…

Did she come up here to jump? Sumire wasn’t sure herself. Maybe if Haru wasn’t here for her, she would’ve.

“Promise?”

“Of course, Kasumi-chan. What are friends for?”

Kasumi-chan, she said. So she’d convinced Haru too.

“The truth is, Haru-senpai, that’s… not my name,” she said slowly, fiddling with the ribbon in her hand. Kasumi’s ribbon.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve gotten mixed up again,” Haru instantly apologised.

“No, you didn’t. I told you that was my name because, I was… pretending to be Kasumi. But I’m not. I’m not Kasumi, I’m only Sumire. Stupid, worthless Sumire who should’ve died in that car accident instead of Kasumi!”

She was crying again. Because Sumire always cried. She never cried when she was Kasumi.

“What? Hey!” Haru took her hand, clutching it like a lifeline, but somehow in the most gentle way possible. Her hands were calloused but her nails were perfectly maintained. “Look at me, Sumire-chan.”

It took her a lot, but she did. Her senpai’s eyes were bright and genuine.

“You deserve to live, Sumire,” she said simply. “Not only that, you deserve to live as Sumire. No amount of self deprecation will bring your sister back, but you can honour her memory.”

She paused for a moment, eyes glancing downward while she thought of what to say next. Formulating her words carefully, she spoke again. “I can’t imagine how heartbreaking this is for you, but I’m sure your sister would want you to continue on. You both wanted to be gymnastics champions, right? Why don’t you achieve that dream for the both of you?”

Yes… Gymnastics. This little stint with her acting like her sister was probably the reason her body hadn’t been performing the way she wanted it to. Kasumi had always excelled doing bold, sharp, precise movements that Sumire had never been good at. Yet another thing on her list of why she was inferior to her.

“Maybe…” Sumire chanced a look at her calming upperclassman, finding hope brimming in Haru's mahogany eyes. “Yes. I’m going to improve my technique so I might win on an international level. I’m hoping to achieve our dream, for Kasumi.”

She couldn’t tell if she believed it, or was simply saying it for Haru to hear. She didn’t know a lot of things right now.

“That's wonderful!” Haru cheered, clasping her hands together. “I wish you the best of luck, Sumire-chan. And remember, you’re my friend. You can always talk to me anytime you need someone to turn to.”

“Thank you, Haru-senpai.” Sumire offered a shy smile as the conversation grew quiet for a moment.

“If you don’t have plans today,” Haru said after some thought, “would you like to go somewhere after school? There’s a new place I’d like to try in Shibuya, but I’d rather not go on my own. I’d like you to accompany me.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?”

“Of course, Sumire-chan! I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”

“Then, okay! I would be honoured to accompany you on your excursion, Haru-senpai.” Too formal? Maybe that was too formal.

Regardless of her phrasing, Haru seemed pleased and suddenly being Sumire started to feel less like a burden. Her elder friend may not know everything about her past yet—in which event, Sumire would completely understand if she left her—but for now, she was content to remain her friend.

Heck, Haru invited her, when she had been sure all her new friends would instantly abandon her upon the exposure of her lies. But… if Haru seemed so amicable about it, maybe the others would be too. She had yet to really speak with Kitagawa much, but the others were almost certain to accept her for it if Haru did. She hoped.

Sumire resolved to deal with that later. Right now, she found herself climbing into the train with her sweetheart of a senpai by her side. Both of them stood, despite there being one empty seat available, giggling as they lost it to a tired businessman after a back and forth exchange politely insisting the other girl take it. Haru led the way to the cafe as she told her of her love of gardening and flowers, and her own dream of opening a cafe where everything is homegrown. As they waited for their orders, they discussed more.

“That’s a wonderful idea Haru-senpai.” Sumire praised. “When that establishment opens, I’ll be sure to be your first customer!”

“I’m happy to hear that, Sumire-chan!” Haru giggled. “I’m hoping to learn how to brew coffee and grow coffee beans in the future, but that’s a little difficult considering my current situation.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Sumire lamented. “You are a third year though. I’m sure your studies and preparations for university entrance exams make managing your hobbies very difficult.”

“Right. My studies.” Something in Haru’s expression told her that wasn’t what was actually getting in the way. Kasumi would’ve pressed a bit further, Sumire couldn’t find the courage to ask. So she elected to ignore the lie and change the topic.

“Um. You know, Haru-senpai,” she began. “You’re really good with plants and you’re quite knowledgeable about them too. If you’re growing all the produce for your cafe, you might be able to grow fresh flowers to decorate with too.”

The other girl’s eyes instantly lit up. “Yes! Oh my goodness! What a wonderful idea, Sumire-chan! Oh! And they could change with the seasons as different flowers bloom. What a beautiful way to liven up the restaurant!”

“I’m happy to have helped,” Sumire said with a giggle and a smile.

Then Haru’s smile dropped in a second as the gymnast felt someone approach their table from behind. The server? No, Haru wouldn’t have that reaction in that case.

“Oh, good. You’re only with a girl.” An opulent, bitter voice spoke with the type of disgusting entitlement of someone from old money. A young man with slicked hair and a three piece suit approached Haru’s seat and looked at her down the bridge of his nose. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls.”

“I-I was at school,” Haru stammered, the fear visible in her eyes. “I couldn’t.”

“That’s no excuse,” the entitled man spat. “You should be putting me above everything. Even your studies. Just dismiss yourself from the class and answer.”

“I-I can’t do that! We’re strictly not allowed to answer our phones!”

“Ugh. You’re being unreasonable.” The man sighed, putting a hand to his head. “You’re going to make a scene. Get in the car, now. We’re leaving.”

“I-I’m with my friend! I can’t just leave her,” Haru pleaded.

“Yes you can,” the man insisted. “I’m more important than her. Let’s go.”

What a prick! Sumire cursed herself for thinking so rudely about this person who Haru clearly knows, but it was undeniably true. She had to do something! And she couldn’t trust him to leave him alone with Haru.

Let’s see. The establishment wasn’t too crowded but there were a lot of staff members bussing food and drinks to the tables around the store. There wasn’t anything on their own table except some glasses of water, some serviettes, and a fake flower arrangement as decor. Kasumi would just tell the man to leave. She couldn’t do that. What could she… Oh!

Making a show of it, she reached to take a drink from her glass only to lose her grip, gasping and letting it hit the ground and shatter on the hardwood floors. Then she stood up and loudly proclaimed:

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, sir! Did I spill anything on you? Goodness I’m so terribly clumsy! Let me try to get that for you!”

“How dare you-”

Without letting him utter anything but noises of offence, Sumire swiped her unused serviette and attempted to wipe the water that had splashed up onto his dress jacket. Her own uniform was soaked, she could feel it. She let it just stay that way.

Haru, trying to hold back relieved laughter, stood up as well. “I’ll go get a worker to help clean up,” she announced and swiftly escaped the situation before it got any more out of hand.

A member of the cafe’s staff arrived to clean up the broken glass and an older man—clearly the manager—approached Haru’s harasser and asked him to leave. Haru was thankfully far away from the scene, pretending to blissfully examine the cakes in the display, unable to hear the abuse he hurled her way.

Sumire apologised profusely to the staff and manager and retrieved Haru from her refuge when the coast was clear.

“Thank goodness he’s gone,” she sighed as they walked back to their table. “Thank you so much Sumire-chan for your help! I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“Don’t mention it, Haru-senpai. I just couldn’t keep letting that creep harass you.” She wanted to ask about him. Kasumi would ask about him.

Haru deflated as they returned to their seats, decisively staying quiet as the same staff member from earlier replaced Sumire’s shattered glass with a new one. The younger girl instantly felt bad.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, Haru-senpai,” she recovered quickly, even though she hadn’t asked her to. “It’s probably a sore subject. Forget I mentioned anything, actually.”

“No, I… I want to talk about it.” Haru took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. Another waiter came by with their drinks as she prepared herself to speak, so Sumire thanked them for her. The fluffy-haired girl poured them both a cup, then picked up her little spoon and started stirring her tea without actually adding anything to it.

“So… I never did tell you my family name, did I?” she asked.

Sumire thought for a minute, then shook her head. “No, I don’t think you did,” she said. “When you introduced yourself to me, you just said I could call you by your first name.”

“Yes, well. I did that for a reason.” Haru continued stirring. Sumire listened to the delicate tinkling as the spoon hit the china. “My family is actually quite well known, you see. A lot of people who seemingly want to be my friends are actually speaking to me for some ulterior motive or to get close to my family. I prefer to be genuine with my friends rather than needing all the masks and pretences, so I don’t introduce myself with my full name often.”

Sumire nodded, taking a sip of her absolutely delicious tea. Geez, Haru really knew her stuff. Though, now wasn’t the time to compliment that.

“Part of being the only child of such a wealthy family means that I’m subject to what my father asks of me for the good of the company he runs. That man just now was Sugimura Keiji. The man my father has arranged for me to marry.”

Sumire almost dropped her cup for real. Eyes widened, jaw tensed to keep it from falling to the floor with the shattered glass from earlier. Marriage? At seventeen?

“Oh my… Haru-senpai, I-”

“It’s alright.” The girl offered her a sad smile. “I had honestly expected something like this to happen eventually. But I have to admit, it’s quite… um…”

Infuriating. Annoying. Crushing. Disheartening. Heartbreaking. All words that crossed Sumire’s mind, yet remained unspoken. It was so much. Too much. She couldn’t imagine being forced to marry someone she didn’t love, much less someone she actively disliked.

“Um, Haru-senpai,” she said quietly, interrupting her senior’s interior monologue. “I know I’m probably not the best person to come to for advice, but I truly consider you a close friend. So, um, just like, what you said to me on the roof. You can talk to me anytime you need someone to turn to. Uh, that is, if you want.”

Haru looked as though she would cry of joy, a melancholic smile gracing her features. “Thank you, Sumire-chan. I really am glad I have you as a friend.”

Friends. Sumire had never really had many friends. Sure she spoke regularly with Kasumi’s friends, but they were just that. Kasumi’s friends. To them she would always be ‘Kasumi’s little sister’, nothing more.

Other than Kasumi, Haru was the first close friend she’d ever had, Akira, Ryuji, and Ann not far behind. But, with Kitagawa becoming part of their group now, and her busy training schedule, she didn’t see them all that much.

Maybe one day she would seek to fix that, and hopefully form much deeper bonds with them. But for now, one step at a time, Sumire would make her own way in life.

Starting with Haru, and her first real friendship.

“Me too, Haru-senpai,” she said, adjusting the way her frames rested on her nose. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

“Queen is a problem,” Akira grunted, setting his bento down on the cafeteria table and sliding into his seat.

“Dude, for real!” Ryuji yelled, only to receive an elbow to the ribs from the blonde next to him. “Shit. Sorry. She followin’ you again? I saw her snoopin’ the other day.”

“Yep,” Morgana piped up as he was slipped some food to keep him quiet. “Just as poorly might I add.”

“Maybe we should get Violet to give her some lessons in stealth,” Ann joked.

“Or Crow,” Akira mentioned. “Point is, we could either call her out and reveal ourselves, or we wait for her to approach us.”

“Do ya think she’d report us if we reveal ourselves too early?” Ryuji asked, leaning in to keep his voice down.

“No I don’t think so,” Ann thought aloud. “I think her main goal was proving we were good people. If it turned out we weren’t, then we’d be in trouble.”

“It’s a good thing we actually are good people then, huh?” The athlete nodded as if reassuring himself. “Okay, we approach her then, yeah? The sooner the better?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Akira admitted, spinning a single chopstick in his hand instead of eating. “But she’d probably rather go in on her own terms. If we give her more evidence, then she’ll approach us sooner. And sooner Queen remembers, sooner we can focus on Oracle. We’ve already left her longer than I’d like.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. It’s bullshit she has to suffer in her own head like that.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Ann agreed. “Then we finally have our strategist back and someone who might be able to make sense of this whole time travel situation.”

“Noir at 5 o’clock.” Akira’s keen observation brought everyone quickly from their hushed, unofficial meeting back to banter in seconds—something about a game none of them had played but Akira remembered Futaba ranting about. “Hi, Haru-senpai,” he greeted with a casual smile over their forced conversation.

“Hello Akira-kun!” Haru smiled back. It looked forced. “Ryuji-kun, Ann-chan. Do you mind if I sit with you today? Sumi…chan is out catching up with her practice today.”

That was a weird place to pause.

“Not at all!” Ann said, pushing out the seat next to her with her foot. “Go ahead, Senpai!”

“Thank you so much!” The older student gently set her bento down and made herself comfortable in the seat Ann had chosen for her. Dumbly, the thieves all looked at her expectantly, while she merely fiddled with the edge of her sleeve sheepishly. “Um. You needn’t interrupt your conversation for my sake. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No it’s not that,” Ryuji said at the same time Ann said “You didn’t! It’s just…” Haru hid her giggle behind her hand as the two glared playfully at each other.

“Is something bothering you, Haru-senpai?” Akira asked the question they were both clearly thinking.

“Hm? Oh, no! Everything’s perfectly fine! Don’t worry about me,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I was actually wondering about Kitagawa-kun. I haven’t heard from him much recently. Is he alright after the situation with his teacher?”

Ryuji winced. “He’s been better, I’m sure, but I think he’ll pull through. The three of us have been hanging out with him. Keep him company.”

Haru cocked her head to the side in question. “Just the three of you?”

Ann winced and gave her a sad smile, one she clearly didn’t have to fake. “Yeah… Sumire-chan has been distracted by her practice lately and we haven’t had the chance to hang out much.”

“Pardon me, but I’m sure you mean Kasumi-chan, right?” Oh fuck!

Ann and Ryuji stared at her in disbelief, so it was up to Akira to speak up and save the situation. “About that…” Haru turned to him with concerned curiosity. “Remember when you asked me if you’d gotten her name wrong when we went to the exhibit?”

Haru nodded. “I do. Why do I get the feeling that was a mistake?”

“Well, not necessarily… Okay, so, her name is Sumire. When her sister died, Sumire felt so strongly that it should’ve been Kasumi that survived the accident, not her, so she started to think she was Kasumi. It was a trauma response, that’s what Dr Maruki told us. Because she didn’t think she deserved to survive.”

“Oh my,” Haru gasped. Akira was starting to get the sneaking suspicion her surprise was a bit dramatic. But then again, this was shocking when he first learned it too. “That’s horrible! Of course she deserved to survive. It’s simply dreadful she would think such a thing.”

“I know, right?” Ann agreed.

“Though, I have to wonder, what made her change her mind?” Haru continued, tapping a finger to her chin in thought. “Did she let you know when she told you?”

“She didn’t really tell us anything, actually,” Ryuji said, far too truthfully. Akira saw him flinch as Ann kicked him under the table at the same time a scolding meow “Ryuji!” was emitted from his bag, which he quickly muffled.

Haru was sitting there with a pleasant smile through it all. Why did he have the feeling she knew something they didn’t? She shouldn’t, right? There was no reason for her to.

“That’s a shame. Perhaps I should ask her when we go out for tea next,” she hummed.

“I think it’s a little much to just bring up, isn’t it?” Ann deflected with a laugh. “I mean, maybe it’s best to wait until she comes to you first.”

“Hm, that might be true. I certainly don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” Haru seemed to think on it for a moment before nodding her head. “I’ll simply wait for her to tell me on her own then. I normally use the nickname anyway, and that can be used for both names!”

That was true. Then maybe it was all in his head. The two had gotten pretty close during the exhibit. He must’ve missed it when they started hanging out more often.

For now, as much as they all loved her, Haru wasn’t their focus. Sumire’s rediscovery of who she is didn’t go nearly as they expected. Not only did they need to pivot to accommodate it, but they needed to do so while keeping Makoto both on their trail and off their case. Leading her on so she could figure out who they were, but not so well she’d become suspicious of their true motives.

Stick to the script, and you know what to expect. They learned that the hard way.

-

That evening, after Makoto had turned in to go home—same time everyday, six on the dot—Akira and his sworn rival found themselves in a relaxing game of pool at the Penguin Sniper. He still needed to bring Shiho here when she fully recovered. Perhaps she and the detective would get along.

He knew he’d respect her dedication to her sport, at least up until… the incident. Shiho didn’t take shit from anyone, and always stood up for her friends. A real white knight.

Maybe they’d be great friends if Akechi spent any time as the Detective Prince around them anymore. They’d probably be better off almost like siblings the way he actually acted.

“So I take it your plan failed,” the asshole mused with an entertained smirk.

“Spectacularly.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

With a satisfying click, Akechi sent the white ball flying, sinking two others into their pockets with ease. He backed away from the table, clearly impressed with himself and motioned for his playmate to take his turn. Akira studied the balls and formulated his strategy, a puzzled expression crossing through his eyes.

“You really didn’t expect her to reject the reality where she caused her sister’s death?” the detective continued. “Clearly you didn’t put much thought into this plan of yours, did you, Kurusu?”

“I knew she’d reject it, that’s in her character,” Akira said. He could feel Akechi narrow his eyes at him. “I just hoped she wouldn’t run from us completely.”

“So you admit that was a possibility you had considered.” Akira didn’t dignify him with a response, instead moving to another end of the table to line up his shot.

“You’re lucky she didn’t do anything stupid,” his rival continued bluntly. “After what’s happened at your school I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Akira took his eyes off the table to send him a look, before turning them back and making his play. “Don’t say that. She’s my friend, y’know? The girl who jumped.”

“Hm. She wasn’t among your confidants last time, was she? I would have thought I’d have noticed in that case.”

“No, she… Did you stalk me last time?”

Shrugging like it was normal, he continued. “I kept tabs on you, yes. I needed to after I figured out who you were. I kept a list of all your contacts and determined the likelihood of each of them being in your little group.”

Akira burst out laughing, earning a few looks. Clearly nothing caught their eyes because they weren’t stared at for very long. “All of them?”

“All of them.” Akechi furrowed his brow. “You keep some weird company, Kurusu.”

“Hey, Iwai’s actually pretty chill when you get to know him,” he defended. “And he’s a great dad to Kaoru-kun.”

“Your relationship with an ex-yakuza was actually the least surprising connection I discovered. I was referring to your homeroom teacher.”

“Ah.” Akira’s eyes darted away for a moment before he held up a finger and started elaborating. “In my defence, she’s a trained massage therapist and a professional massage does wonders for the body after an afternoon running around the Metaverse.”

For the first time in his life, Akechi looked genuinely horrified. A mere split second where that final mask cracked. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not what it sounds like!”

“I’m sure.” Rolling his eyes, Akechi stepped up to the table and took his turn, letting Akira marinate in his silent judgement.

“If this is your plan to ‘fix the future’ I’m not entirely sure I wish to be part of it. All this attempting to re-recruit your old party members may have worked for you until now, but if you deviate too far, you’ll run into unfamiliar territory,” he said. But it wasn’t an insult, not completely. It came across more like a challenge. A call to prove to him he could make and execute a plan that could work.

He already had. Twice. He could certainly do it again. And he knew just what to do.

Rewrite the script. Awaken Queen early. Then Oracle, Noir, and Violet.

Save everyone.

-

When he pitched the idea to his team, he received no hesitation. Which was odd, because he expected someone to counter him with what ifs and strange time travel speculations. But this time, no one had any objections.

That was likely to change when their advisor was back on the team with their collective braincell ready to tell them they were all idiots and going to die at twenty-five. But until that happened, they were cruising with Akira’s batshit insane plans and dramatic one liners that sounded like they had to be rehearsed.

The Phantom Thieves spent the afternoon wandering Shibuya in seemingly random directions, completely opposite of one another. Splitting the party meant three of them could keep an eye on their stalker while the others did their best to avoid her.

Or at least, make it appear as though they were avoiding her.

Their goal was to somehow get Makoto back to Yongen, but she had yet to do that before. Even last year when the spying was a problem, she never followed him back home. Maybe it was some weirdly noble respect of privacy despite literally spying on him, but regardless, it made this a bit harder for them.

Right now, Ryuji and Akira were trying their best to loudly discuss their very illegal plans without alerting any actual authorities.

“Almost finished gathering the supplies,” Ryuji reported, managing to remember his lines so far. “Next calling card will be an absolute masterpiece, as Yusuke would say.”

“I think it’s almost time to head to the hideout and meet with the other thieves,” Akira said, stressing his words to ensure Makoto would pick up on them. If he could gain her interest by literally proving her theory correct, they could lure her out.

“Roger that, Leader,” Ryuji saluted, a massive grin on his face, the pair laughing about it like it was a silly inside joke. Passer-bys would believe that’s what it was. Makoto would hopefully pick up the difference.

They took the long way to the station, stopping a few extra places to loiter for a bit and once to check out the cinema advertising for a movie neither of the boys got to see when it came out last year. They both agreed to schedule time to see it when it did come out.

Waste as much time as possible. The other thieves would have taken the cue to book it to the station and regroup, hopping on the next available train and getting to the hideout as quickly as possible. It was only when they got their confirmation message from Ann that they actually set off to their destination.

Girl in red: on the train!
Girl in red: we’ll see you at Leblanc

Jonker: understood

And off they went. Both of them intentionally not taking notice of the familiar girl boarding their train just a few doors down. Clad in the Shujin uniform and holding an upside down manga to hide her face.

Oh, Makoto. Not to be rude, but Akira had a few notes for her.

Find your lights, everyone. It’s showtime.

Chapter Text

“Hey there, Niijima-senpai.”

The immediate greeting as Makoto stepped into the retro looking cafe in the middle of some alley was completely unexpected. She’d employed every strategy she’d ever learned about stealth! How had they noticed her?

Well, that didn’t matter now. She knew exactly who they were and she had the upper hand in this situation, even if she was on their turf.

“Hello,” she greeted sharply, putting on her bravest face. Stay calm. Don’t back down. You are in control here.

“Coffee?” Kurusu asked, holding up an empty mug. No one else had spoken since she entered the establishment. Just kept their eyes trained on her. Menacingly.

Sakamoto had some manga in his hands, turning the pages but not actually reading. Madarame’s former pupil—Kitagawa Yusuke, as her research had led her to discover—was holding a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil, looking at her as though she had interrupted, the tip of the pencil on the page but not moving an inch. Takamaki was holding her phone in one hand and patting a sleek black cat with the other, a cat whose bright blue eyes were eerily focused on Makoto’s every move.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” she declined politely. “I can assure you I don’t plan to stay long. Where’s your guardian?”

The criminal transfer shrugged and set the mug down, resuming whatever he had been doing behind the counter. He almost looked like a normal high school part timer. Correction: he did look like a normal high school part timer. Not someone whose favourite pastime was stealing hearts.

Either he was an excellent actor, or he was genuinely unfazed by his criminal background. Makoto would soon find out either way.

“Went to get cigarettes,” he said nonchalantly. “And not a moment too soon. It’s my understanding you’ve been keeping an eye on me, isn’t that right, Senpai?”

His words threw her off. More than his words, it was something about that voice. So direct, so sure. Commanding, even. She almost didn’t notice the glances his allies sent his way. It sent chills down her spine to hear it. She steadied her mind. You’re in control. You’re not a pushover. You’ve got this.

“It was for good reason,” she defended.

“Yeah right,” Sakamoto scoffed under his breath. The cat meowed at him, clearly annoyed at his comment. Almost like it was scolding him. What an odd animal.

“I’m sure you’re simply worried I may actually be the delinquent in all those rumours,” Kurusu said, words dripping with sarcasm. “I did assault someone after all, didn’t I?”

“Regardless, I’ll be out of your hair soon,” she continued, unfazed. “I have reason to believe you four are the Phantom Thieves.”

Her statement didn’t get nearly the reaction she had been anticipating. No gasps of shock or threats to change her heart. No begging her not to report them. No… nothing. Kurusu smiled at her sardonically.

“You’re not going to report us, are you?” he asked. Although, he asked as though he already knew the answer.

Gods above, that voice was intense!

“Uh, no.” You’re not a pushover. “At least not yet. There is just one thing I wish to ask of you first. Do this and I will drop my investigation and delete all evidence I have.”

Kurusu grinned, almost maniacally, leaning over the counter and resting his chin on his hands. “Go on. We’re all ears.”

“There is a target whose heart I want you to change. Do this, prove your justice. Then I will drop all charges.”

“Drop all charges?” Kitagawa repeated. “You’re not the police. You can’t arrest us.”

“No. But I can turn you in,” she threatened. “I have piles of evidence against you and several police connections. You’d do your best to listen to me.”

“Who’s the target? A mafia boss?” Takamaki asked. She was probably joking, but the accuracy sent Makoto into shock.

“Y… yes. How did you-”

“Truth be told, Niijima-senpai,” Kurusu cut her off, that voice again, “we’ve been trying to take him down for a few days now. We noticed the students being scammed into smuggling drugs at our school. Yusuke’s too, and I’m sure there are several others. Figured we’d do something about it.”

Oh. Wait.

If the Phantom Thieves were already pursuing the exact target she was going to give them, didn’t that already prove their ideals were just? Sure, they had yet to follow through with the deed, but the idea had been there in their minds to begin with.

Of course, they could just be lying. As much blackmail Makoto was threatening them with, they seemed to be completely relaxed. Kurusu was their leader, that much had been clear from the start. He was keeping his cool so well that it was starting to creep her out. It was something in his face. The eyes? And something about the voice that sent shivers up her spine.

Meowing that almost sounded like laughter brought Makoto from her thoughts. The thieves were exchanging satisfied smiles with each other.

“Don’t think that gets you off the hook,” Makoto said. Get back in control. Don’t let them walk all over you. “Until I see results, this recording can go straight to the police.” She showed them her phone, the first frame of an incriminating video she’d captured, paused and ready to play.

Kurusu’s eyes narrowed at the screen before he waved it off. “We understand your threats and I can tell you with full confidence you won’t need to send those anywhere.”

“You sound so confident,” Makoto observed. “What makes you so sure, if I may ask?”

“You may not, but you just did.” Her heart leaped into her throat. Stop, Makoto! It’s just a voice! He’s just a guy! Definitely not a terrifying criminal like all the rumours made him out to be. Though, she was gradually coming to see the merit behind those rumours. With a grin, he answered anyway. “Because you need us to bring safety to your peers. Something you can’t do. How unfortunate. The student council president offers her help to the student body, and she doesn’t end up being able to keep her promises. You turn us in, I’m afraid this mafia boss will continue to reign over the city.”

That cut deep. Deeper than Makoto would like to admit. She was not just a good girl pushover. She was not useless. She was going to assist, whether the Phantom Thieves liked it or not.

“So, you’ve been trying to take him down, as you say,” she avoided his insults completely. “Why haven’t you?”

“We’d love to, we really would, but at the moment, we can’t get in.”

“In where, exactly?”

“To steal his heart. We can’t get in.”

“I see… So you currently can’t get close enough to him to steal his heart?”

“Exactly. You catch on quick, Niijima-senpai,” Kurusu praised. No, don’t preen at that. It’s a shallow compliment to gain your favour. Don’t let him hold your pride over you like that.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

When Kurusu’s sly smile turned from almost tame to a wild, unsuppressed grin, Makoto thought she may have made the wrong choice to offer her help. Yet, she had said it now, so she had to commit. If there was something she could do to help the students of her school, she would.

“We were hopin’ you’d say that!” Sakamoto beamed, finally shutting his mostly unread manga and throwing it down on the table.

Takamaki’s cat—or maybe Kurusu’s since this was his place of residence—meowed in a way that almost sounded akin to laughter. The other teens in the room turned their heads in its direction and the model actually nodded like she was understanding what it was saying.

“Let’s walk and talk, Senpai,” she said, standing and motioning the others to do the same.

“Boss’ll be back in five minutes or so,” Kurusu said. “I’ll catch up with you guys. You know what to do. Just follow the script.”

Kurusu’s team led her out of the cafe and back to Yongen Jaya station, on a train and straight back to Shibuya Central. All the while, they were jumping back and forth between each other explaining the situation to her with more detail than she could possibly find on the matter.

“His name is Kaneshiro,” Kitagawa muttered, the artist’s distaste clear in his voice. “His targets all lead back to Central Street.”

“It starts off like they’re offerin’ you a high paying part time job, but that’s all bullshit,” Sakamoto added, piggybacking off his teammate. “They actually get you to smuggle drugs and then blackmail you into payin’ ‘em.”

“It makes me sick,” Takamaki spat. “How they take advantage of people like that. Young people who don’t know any better. And Kaneshiro’s at the head of it all, treating Shibuya like his own personal bank.”

Makoto had never pictured herself agreeing with Takamaki on anything. But this? This was something they could agree on one hundred percent.

“Alright, so where do you need me?” she asked, not following what they were implying. “If you know so much about his operation, how is it you can’t steal his heart?”

“Ann and I stand out too much,” Sakamoto said, pointing to his hair nonchalantly. “No one would blackmail us into smuggling drugs. And Yusuke is… uh…”

“I’ve been told I’m eccentric,” Kitagawa supplies himself. The cat in Takamaki’s bag—why was the cat in Takamaki’s bag?—meowed as if to agree. “If you say so. I don’t see a problem in admiring such beauty.” Wait, did he just respond to the cat?

“The mafia goes after people who don’t stand out,” Takamaki said, ignoring Kitagawa’s strangeness. This must be what Sakamoto meant about him. “You’re definitely pretty, but you’re less likely to stand out. It’s more likely they’ll approach you over any of us.”

“What about Kurusu-kun?” Makoto asked. “He wouldn’t stand out too much either. Why not use him as the bait for your plan?”

“Our leader has a slightly different role,” Kitagawa said in lieu of an explanation.

Either, he had a different role, or they didn’t want to potentially endanger their leader. Great! Why not sacrifice the girl who’d been stalking you instead? That’d both get rid of her, and keep her off their tails. Two birds, one stone. She never should have trusted them!

“Once you’re approached and offered the job,” Takamaki continued as they came to a stop in front of the Hachiko statue, “ask them to take you to Kaneshiro. Then, call this number on your cell phone.” On the screen she held out was a contact saved under Kurusu Akira. Makoto quickly took out her own cell and saved the number under the same name.

“From that, we can follow you and keep you safe,” Sakamoto assured. “We’ll be stickin’ around the entire time, so don’t worry. We got your back.”

“I’m still confused about why this has to be me,” Makoto said honestly.

“Because Kaneshiro knows your family.” That voice. Holy shit. She reeled around, spotting Kurusu appearing out of the blue behind her, a friendly smile on his face.

“What?” she asked in shock. “What do you mean by that?”

“Your sister’s a prosecutor right?” Kurusu asked like it was common knowledge. She didn’t just hand that information out on a silver platter! How did he know that? He answered as if sensing her question. “One of my friends works with her on a regular basis. I can see the family resemblance. You have the same eyes.”

“That friend would be Akechi Goro, right?” she asked as a wild guess. It had to be Akechi! No one else remotely Kurusu’s age worked with Sae so frequently. Unless Kurusu was friends with the director which she highly doubted.

“Round of applause, Niijima-senpai. You’re quite in tune with your intuition.” Why did she feel like he was mocking her?

“I also happen to be acquainted with Akechi-san, for reasons I’m sure you can interpret for yourself.” She was done with this cocky thief and his bullshit. How did he know so much about her life, and yet he remained a complete enigma? She wasn’t even aware Akechi had the ability to befriend anyone in a nonprofessional manner!

“We should get going,” Kitagawa said, checking the time on his phone. “I don’t think that part time job will be out looking for students to recruit for much longer.”

“Oh right!” Takamaki exclaimed quietly. “Go, go! You know the plan! We have your back.”

“We’ll be right behind ya!” Sakamoto assured.

And so, Makoto was left to loiter around the shopfronts on Central Street, pondering just what the hell she was doing with her life. It was almost six. She should have been getting home soon so she could study and make dinner. But no. She was stuck trying to take down a group of thieves even the police had somehow not managed to catch!

Why was that anyway? It had been relatively easy to narrow their group down as suspects. Though, she supposed maybe she had somewhat of an advantage, being at the scene of their first calling card and witnessing their first change of heart. But it was like they didn’t even try to hide it! The moment she was tasked with discerning their identities it was like they’d decided to be the most suspicious people ever.

Hold on.

Abruptly, she stopped flicking through the book she had been perusing as a thought she had not considered crossed her mind. What if their suspicious behaviour had been intentional from the beginning?

Many delinquents from time to time would hang out on the roof. But to do so after the incident that had happened? Not to mention, her close friend being among them. And the hushed conversations that had seemed almost a little too easy to eavesdrop on. A stage whisper, some might call it. Meant for an audience to perceive.

Kurusu knew way too much about her. They’d already begun investigating the exact target she wanted to request. Somehow they managed to notice her following them.

Could she have been set up?

“Hey, girlie! Whatcha readin’?”

The raspy drone of a man in a running jacket, with gold chains hanging from his neck caught her completely off guard. She thought she would jump out of her skin.

“Sorry, girlie. Did I spook ya?” he asked condescendingly. A wide grin spread on his face as he leaned in closer, the stench of cigarette smoke invading her nose as he did. “Huh, a tough read. Lotsa big words. Y’know, you seem smart, girlie. Just the kinda person we’re looking for.”

Regaining her composure, and remembering what her task had been, she shut the book and set it back neatly where she found it. “What do you mean, exactly? You’ve been looking for me?”

“Yeah sure, girlie! I’m recruitin’ for a real nice part time job,” he said. Jackpot. “Pay’s good, and we could use a smart girlie like you. Wha’d’ya say?”

“Oh! That sounds quite worth my time! Would I be meeting your boss by any chance?”

The thug’s face scrunched. “Whatcha mean, girlie?”

“Will I be meeting your boss? Kaneshiro, I mean.”

He did not like that.

Immediately, the act was dropped and he was leading her toward a back alley. No matter how tempting it was to let her fear get the better of her, she kept a stone face and kept insisting.

“I need to speak with Kaneshiro.”

“Shut it, I need to make a call. You stay right there, got it?”

Funny. She needed to make a call too.

She’d never know how Kurusu did it, but it seemed all the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

-

Scratch that! They had a thousand different pieces and they were all from different puzzles! What the fuck was happening right now?

The plan had gone well until she got to Kaneshiro and it started going horribly, horribly wrong!

Now the boss of the god damn mafia had several pictures of her in increasingly uncomfortable situations that would absolutely ruin her! Expelled! No university! She would never get into law or the police force if those pictures got out! Not to mention how it would affect Sae’s reputation!

And now the Phantom Thieves were caught up in it too? Oh this was not going well at all!

She counted herself lucky Takamaki wore Suzui’s jacket around her waist like an accessory. Now she was running around pulling it around herself as much as she could. Every nerve in her body was shaking violently. She felt like crying.

“Hey! Mak- Niijima-senpai!” A voice. Familiar, concerned. Scared. Takamaki was holding her shoulders as she collapsed in the alley they’d escaped to. “H-hey! Can you hear me?”

“Please, Makoto! It’s us! We won’t harm you,” Kitagawa pleaded.

“This is BULLSHIT!”

“Ryuji, calm down. You’ll only scare her more.”

“Makoto?” Takamaki’s hold was grounding. Steady enough to keep her from falling, but not so tight she felt she couldn’t move.

“Takamaki…”

“Makoto! Oh my god, we are so so sorry!” The other girl instantly jumped into an apology, talking so fast she almost couldn’t hear a thing she was saying. “We had no idea this was gonna happen! If we did, we never would’ve gotten you involved! Well, we needed your help, but not like this! We didn’t want you to get assaulted like that! When we change that bastard’s heart, I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of his Shadow! I almost don’t even care if we kill him this time! Haru will if we don’t! He has to pay for what he’s done to you. Drug smuggling is one thing. Blackmail is another. This goes too far. I’m so sorry, Makoto we never should have-”

“Stop… Please… Too loud…”

“You okay dude?” Sakamoto reached out. To comfort her, she was sure. She didn’t see that in the moment. In the moment, her life flashed before her eyes and she recoiled from his touch, retreating deeper into Takamaki’s arms. “What? Dude?”

“Oh,” Kurusu muttered, covering his mouth. “Oh no.”

“It’s okay,” Takamaki said, almost cradling her senior as she slowly pulled herself back together. She felt like a child. “It’s okay. We’ll protect you. You’re safe.”

Safe. She was safe.

Makoto pulled herself free from the model sheepishly and pulled her arms through the sleeves of her borrowed jacket. She had only lost a shirt. She’d be okay. She hoped.

“Th-thank you…” she managed.

The boys, wary of how close they should get to her, all sat on the ground in a sort of semicircle, about a metre away. Enough distance between them for her fight or flight not to kick in.

“Are you okay?” Kitagawa asked. “Hm. Not an ideal question. How about, will you be okay? Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

She nodded in a weak answer to the first question. Then she whispered a soft “Water…?” Sakamoto jumped up to fetch it almost immediately, and was back with a cold bottle in less than a minute.

“That was fast… Thank you…”

“No problem. I am kinda good at going fast.” He squatted back down where he’d sat as she drank.

Something tentatively rubbed against her other hand, taking her by surprise when she turned to see the cat Takamaki had brought with her trying to rub its head into her leg.

“Mona,” Takamaki scolded. “Don’t.”

“No. It’s okay,” Makoto ensured, reaching her hand back out to pat its head gently. It purred and climbed into her lap. For support. She began stroking it soothingly as it meowed. “Mona, huh?”

“Morgana, but we call him Mona for short,” Takamaki explained. Morgana meowed again, a happy trill sound, but there was almost something like understanding in his tone. His tone? Seriously? He’s a cat! “He likes you.”

“I’m glad. Cats aren’t normally a fan of mine.”

“Mona’s a special case,” Kurusu said. “Did… I’m sorry if it’s a painful conversation but… did they…”

“No. No they didn’t, thank god,” Makoto answered. “But, it probably would’ve gone there if you hadn't shown up when you did. So… Thank you for that. I’ll… I’ll drop my investigation. You don’t have to worry about changing his heart and you never need to speak to me again. Consider it my debt to you repaid.”

“What? No!” Takamaki said suddenly. “I mean, no we can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. I’m sure you have plenty of bigger hearts to change.”

“No, not yet,” Sakamoto stated simply. “Right now, he’s our biggest target. And after what just happened, I won’t be happy until he’s rotting in prison. It’s personal now.”

“As much as I wish none of that had happened, we need to use this situation to the best of our ability and get in close enough to change his heart,” Kurusu said, adopting a firmer stance. Switching into leader mode, Makoto recognised the figurative mask falling over his face. “Makoto, I know it’s a lot to ask after what you just went through. But you may just be our ticket inside his heart.”

“Wh-what? Inside? What do you mean?”

“It’s rather a long story to explain,” Kitagawa said. “It’s much easier to show you first, that is, if you’re comfortable enough to do so.”

Morgana shifted in her lap, turning to face the boy and meowing combatively. Like he was participating in the conversation.

“We have to do this,” Kurusu said, indignantly staring down the cat. “If we don’t we probably won’t be able to change his heart.”

The cat meowed again, this time turning to the messy-haired boy. “I hate it too, believe me.”

“Are you guys… talking to the cat?” Makoto asked aloud, more perplexed than she ever had been about anything the thieves had done. She was ignored as the cat in question kept meowing defensively.

“She’s our way in,” Takamaki agreed with Kurusu’s earlier statements. “And we have to help her somehow!”

“Dude, we need Queen back. We’re going to die without her,” Sakamoto said.

“I’m quite surprised we haven’t already,” Kitagawa agreed.

Utterly confused by this whole conversation, Makoto struggled to spin any ounce of sense from their words in her mind. She felt as Morgana began shifting his paws around against her thigh as he looked to be thinking about something before hissing and meowing begrudgingly. The thieves seemed to light up.

What in the honest fuck was going on?

“Try not to be too shocked, okay Makoto?” Takamaki said to her now. That was another thing, when did she allow them to use her first name? Without honorifics too. Perhaps it was simply the severity of the situation they were in.

“I-I’ll try?” she said, not meaning for it to sound like a question. “May I ask what is going on?”

Kurusu had retrieved his phone and was tapping away at the screen. Then he brought it up to his lips and muttered three key words.

“Kaneshiro, Shibuya, bank.”

“Beginning navigation.”

His phone chimed and suddenly the world was spinning again. Makoto jostled Morgana by accident, causing him to jump off her lap as she gripped Takamaki’s borrowed jacket tighter around her form. Shutting her eyes and muttering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, Sis, I’m sorry! Save me-”

“Hey, hey. Makoto.” Takamaki again. Holding her shoulders. Grounding her. “We’re still here. It’s just us.”

Slowly, Makoto opened her eyes, but instead of meeting the familiar face of her underclassman, she was met with a woman in a red mask.

“AHH!” She jumped back, out of her grip. “Who- Who are-”

“Makoto, it’s just me,” the woman said, removing the mask immediately to reveal Takamaki’s cool blue eyes. “It’s Takamaki. Ann. You can call me Ann, by the way.”

“Takamaki!” Makoto stammered a bit. “Ann! Ann-san. Uh. So that must mean…”

In her panic, she had barely registered the presence of the other masked teenagers. Now that she’d seen Ann was one of them, it wasn’t hard to identify the others. The one she knew was Kurusu raised his red gloved hands to show her he was not a threat.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain, but this is where we steal hearts,” he said. “This is where we become the Phantom Thieves.”

“You give really good pats, by the way,” interjected an unfamiliar voice.

“What?” she turned to find a humanoid cat-like creature with a large head and round eyes staring at her with a smile. “What the fu-”

“That’s Morgana,” Ann said calmly.

“Mona on this side,” Morgana—the cat—elaborated. “I hope you’re alright enough for this, because we have a lot to explain.”

Mona, the cat and apparently an actual member of the Phantom Thieves, started explaining what was happening around them. Distortions and cognitive projections of the world and the people in it, all centred around one man. That man, in this case: Kaneshiro.

A world inside one man’s heart. It was beyond crazy and completely supernatural, but she could see the logic behind it beginning to solidify in her mind. Her own cognition, perhaps.

Yeah, she was not saying that joke out loud.

“I see,” she said instead. “I think I can kinda get the idea behind it. It’s like a… an alternate reality. A version where everything is how the ruler desires.”

“Exactly,” Mona confirmed.

“And you change hearts by taking out the centre of this world?”

“In a nutshell, yeah.” Mona shrugged. “There’s a bit more that goes into it, but that’s the basic gist.”

“Kaneshiro’s centre is up there,” Kurusu jumped in—or Joker as he was referred to in this Metaverse. He was pointing a gloved hand up to… what looked like a UFO or flying saucer, but on closer inspection was a flying building. All the flying bills from the walking ATMs were going directly towards that building. No wonder they couldn’t get in, it was so high!

“So far nothin’ we’ve tried gets us anywhere close,” Skull continued for him. “We think you can help with that.”

“Now that Kaneshiro has those… pictures of you, and one of us,” Fox said slowly, “we should be considered customers of his bank now. As customers, we should have the authority to be let in.”

“You… intentionally sent me to be blackmailed by him?” Makoto said without thinking. She almost felt betrayed.

“Not like that!” Panther pleaded. “We never intended for you to be harmed in the way that you were! I would never allow that to happen to anyone else ever! We just… it…”

“We knew Kaneshiro would take an interest in you because of your sister,” Joker saved her. “And, we’re thieves. We have the money to pay for his silence should we run out of time.”

They… just had three million yen… lying around? She supposed the fact of them being thieves was true.

“Okay,” she said, steeling herself and brushing out the wrinkles in her skirt. “Let’s do this.”

“Are you okay?” Morgana asked, the concern in his voice mirrored in the eyes of the others. “You sure you can keep going?”

“I’m not a pushover,” she claimed. “If I can be useful to you guys, I will be. Let’s get into this bank.”

The floating building lowered itself to meet them as they approached, even building its own ramp to get them up there. They ascended, Joker driving up the ramp with their cat—who can also turn into a car but that wasn’t by far the weirdest thing she’d seen all day.

Demanding to speak with Kaneshiro, the Phantom Thieves guided her through the hallways, protecting her from the lurking security on all sides. Only when they entered a meeting room with a large pile of money on the desk did they see that bastard's ugly face.

Makoto froze. Her mouth clamped shut. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sis, help me, please!

“Makoto,” Panther said, taking her hand firmly. Grounding her. Holding her through this. She had her other hand resting on her whip. Makoto wasn’t entirely sure what she could do with it in this situation, but she wasn’t going to say anything to the girl who had powers she didn’t. This was not her field of expertise.

“Back so soon, Niijima-chan?” Kaneshiro gloated. Makoto felt like puking. “I knew you would come around. We were having so much fun before your little friends came along and stole you from me.”

“That… was not fun.”

“Not for you, maybe. But it was very fun for me. All those juicy little pictures of you will make you quite a good source of income for me!”

“Bastard!” Skull yelled through gritted teeth.

“Drop the ‘man behind the curtain’ act and face us yourself, you coward!” Joker taunted.

“Three weeks not long enough for you?” Kaneshiro asked. “I’d be willing to give you a loan. The interest is ten percent a day. Pretty sweet deal, don’t you think?”

“Three hundred thousand yen a day? No thanks,” Panther said simply. “We’re not taking that. Come out and fight us!”

“Hm, what a shame,” Kaneshiro fake pouted. “I’ll have to call my security on you.” Suddenly, three of those masked security guards from before appeared in a flash of purple smoke and started closing the distance between them.

“How unfortunate. I was hoping to have mastered a new technique before our next battle,” Fox lamented, reaching for his sword, but not even seeming at all afraid of the encroaching threat.

“It’ll be good rehearsal though, right?” Joker shrugged with a laugh.

Watching the Phantom Thieves effortlessly cleave through muscular demon-like creatures was mesmerising. It happened in the blink of an eye, over before the fight even began. She didn’t register until after the fact, when she was being dragged back out into the hallway, that Panther didn’t even let go of her hand.

“Let’s get outta here, Makoto!” she was saying.

“Wh-what was that?” Makoto stammered as they ran. “Was that the persona power you were telling me about?”

“Yep! We need to get out of here!” Mona was saying. “Security level is through the roof. If we face too many enemies we might have a problem here!”

Joker was leading them through the winding layout of the bank. Was it just her or were they going the long way back to the entrance?

So close! Almost free!

“Not so fast.”

Their path was blocked by more demon creatures. They were surrounded, kept in place as a purple skinned man slowly approached them.

“You’ve gotten yourself in quite the pickle, haven’t you?” he said condescendingly.

“Kaneshiro,” Mona hissed.

“Down, kitty,” Kaneshiro scolded. “It takes a lot of work to manage a bank like this, so I’ve made it my policy to get rid of clients who are more trouble than they’re worth. And you’re all on my hit list, I’m afraid.”

Makoto swore she could almost hear Skull growl as she whispered a terrified “No…” Hugging Ann’s jacket tighter around her form, sinking deep into herself. Walking backwards into the protective barrier of Phantom Thieves.

Kaneshiro, with filthy lust in his eyes, stared her down with a grin. “Oh, not you my dear. You’ll actually be quite useful to me.”

Makoto stiffened, gasping in fear. Joker stood in front of her, brandishing his knife. A dangerous look in his eyes. Staring the boss down.

“I’m going to have you sell your body for me!” Kaneshiro announced like it was the most revolutionary plan in the world. “You’ve already been so kind as to take some marketing photos for us. You’ll make back that three million in no time!”

“Stop… please…”

God she was so helpless.

“Actually, your sister is quite the gorgeous specimen. I’ll be sure to make her my personal slave when you start taking clients. Such a shame too. She could have been so successful if her sister hadn’t gone and ruined everything for her.”

“Don’t…”

“And when I get bored of her, I’ll just sell her off too. Don’t you think it would be a great family business for you to run together?”

“Do not talk like that about my sister.”

Pain.

Sudden, nauseating pain.

Making her dizzy. Skin glistening with a cold sweat.

She wanted to throw up.

Once held?

She had never held such power!

But she had.

Going on fun outings with Ann wherever struck their fancy. Talking history with Yusuke on their trips to the museums. Sumire’s fast learning when teaching her aikido. Learning what Futaba found interesting and discussing psychology. Playing card games with Akira and Morgana on quiet days at Leblanc. Seeing action adventure movies with Ryuji at the cinema. Haru. Everything she did with Haru. Haru and her beautiful smile and her terrifying backhand when they played tennis in the evenings. Her teammates. Her friends. Driving them all away when dangers arose.

She’s done this before. She knew this name well.

“Agnes!”

This feeling. She’d forgotten how it felt to have a purpose!

-

Shadows died. The room was spinning. The lights in the ceiling were becoming too much. Every hit she dealt was becoming too much. It was all so painful.

Queen went down.

“Fuck!”

“Makoto!”

“Holy shit.”

“Makoto, are you okay dude?”

“Mona, are you sure you can’t heal her?”

“She’s at full strength! There’s nothing I can do!”

“Joker! Eyes on the road!”

Queen was being jostled around in a warm minivan. Someone held her tightly as her head pounded. It was the absolute worst migraine of her life! And that’s including her awakening!

She wasn’t sure when they returned to reality. But when they did, she was brought immediately to a bright room.

Her brain said it was a hospital until she noticed the various papers and clutter. A hospital room would never be this untidy. She was pretty sure. Well, she was sure there was some system of organisation here, just not one she could make out at this current moment. Fuck, her head was killing her!

Gradually, the pain began to subside. She could differentiate between individual voices, and recognise who they belonged to. Her friends. Boy was she glad to see them!

“Makoto!” Ann cheered, eyes instantly lighting up as her own settled on them. “Look! She’s waking up!”

There was a woman standing over her. Dark hair and smokey eyes with a goth sense of fashion under a stark white coat. She was pretty sure Akira had mentioned her at one point. Maybe. What was her name? Temi? Taeki? That didn’t sound quite right.

“Hey,” the doctor said, looking uninterested, but still performing her job. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, sore,” Makoto answered hoarsely. She tried to examine the sensations throughout her body. “Tired. Bit of a headache. Ugh… My limbs feel heavy.”

“Hm.” The doctor started to note some things down on a clipboard. As she did, Makoto chanced a look at her friends. They were all gathered in the small doorway of this tiny room. Must be a doctor’s office somewhere. Why did they bring her to a general practitioner and not just straight to the hospital? Was it because Akira knew her?

“What do you remember?” the doctor asked.

“Um…”

“Relax, kid. I know. I don’t care what kind of fight you got into or what laws you broke. Whatever you tell me will never leave this room. I just need to know what caused whatever’s going on here so I can help you get better.” Oh, so that was why.

Akira was going to get some choice words from her later.

“I remember… the awakening.” This doctor probably didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but wrote it down anyway. “Then everything suddenly hit me all at once and I couldn’t keep my head straight. But I remember protecting Akira. And punching that ugly fly’s stupid face.” A few of her friends snickered quietly. “I think I remember the drive? But I wasn’t fully aware of anything. I just kept hearing people talking around me.”

“I don’t have a clue what half of those things mean.” The doctor turned to Akira specifically. “Is that about what happened?” When he nodded with that cocky smile, she turned back with a sigh.

“I’m Dr Takemi Tae,” she introduced herself. So that was her name! She was close… sorta. “Your friends brought you here after ‘work’ in a panic because you suddenly got this migraine and were displaying symptoms of a high fever.” Work. She guessed that was technically correct. “Are you still in pain now? Can you sit up?”

“Not as much,” she answered honestly, slowly bringing herself to sit on the small cot she’d been laid out on. “It’s still a little bit there, but it’s manageable.”

Takemi nodded. “Alright. You all can wait in the other room,” she told her friends. “I just need to run a few tests and see if I can figure out what this is. After that, I’ll prescribe you some pain killers and you’ll be free to go.”

“Thank you,” Makoto bowed her head politely.

“Thanks Doc!” Akira thanked, far less formally. “I owe you!”

“When don’t you owe me, Guinea Pig?”

Not… going to comment on that one just yet.

Unfortunately, Takemi was unable to diagnose what happened to her. In hindsight, she couldn’t have expected her to. After all, it was probably some crazy Metaverse magic that had something to do with the very real very not science fiction time travel they had done.

Oh boy. They had actually travelled through time!

Her head hurt.

-

“So Takemi really couldn’t figure out what it was?” Akira asked later.

They were in Leblanc now. It was closed and most of the lights were off. Makoto sat at the middle booth with her friends all around her. Most of her friends. No Futaba, Sumire, or Akechi if she counted him.

No Haru, much to her dismay.

Though, she supposed it made sense. None of them would be part of their team right now, so of course they didn’t remember. Apparently, however, Akechi did remember and was simply choosing not to join them out of principle or a grudge or something in a similar vein.

“No,” she answered his question solemnly. “Just a freak migraine of incredible intensity. She also said something about radiation poisoning, but I think that’s just the nature of my persona’s abilities. She gave me some Takemedics, but she doesn’t know if there’s much else she can do.”

“Does it still hurt?” Ann asked, her voice coming from where she perched in the booth behind her.

“Not as much. It’s just a little bit of pressure, nothing I can’t handle.”

“How are you feeling, Makoto?” Mona asked, ear twitching and eyes narrowing in concern. “Apart from the pain I mean. A lot just happened for you.”

“Yeah no kidding,” Ryuji agreed, running a hand down the cat’s back absently. He seemed to enjoy getting pats a lot more than last timeline. Makoto wondered what kind of inner self reflection must have happened to bring that on. “We understand how weird it is. I mean, that headache thing didn’t happen to any of us, but it’s a lot happenin’ in your brain and it’s hard to keep up with. Plus there’s what that bastard Kaneshiro did to you.”

“Ryuji!” Ann hissed across at him.

Makoto just nodded. “It’s… yeah. It’s a lot.” She started to wrap Ann’s jacket around her more. Shoot, she needed to return this. It wasn't even Ann’s. It belonged to Suzui.

“Perhaps we’d do best to continue this discussion another time,” Yusuke suggested. “Makoto, how do you plan on returning home tonight?”

“Oh, I was just going to take the train.”

“I’ll walk you!” both Ann and Ryuji offered at the same time. She was flattered and also shocked by their shared chivalry, unsure if this was a new inside joke they’d developed while her timeline amnesia had gotten the better of her.

“Th-thank you, but-”

“I suggest you let them,” the blue-haired artist cut her off. “They both offered to walk me back to the shack when I reawakened and wouldn’t let up until I agreed.”

“Hey, I know how exhausting remembering an entire timeline is!” Ann defended. “If it wasn’t for Ryuji walking me home, I would’ve collapsed on the street somewhere!”

“And who helped Ryuji?” Makoto asked. If Ryuji had walked Ann home, there was no way she could’ve walked him home.

“Akira walked me home,” Ryuji answered.

“Wait, then… who walked Akira home?” Now she was asking purely out of curiosity.

“Uh…” Ryuji was stumped.

“I walked myself home because I don’t need no man,” Akira joked.

“Technically, I walked you home,” Mona countered.

“Doesn’t count. You’re a cat.”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“Yeah… I am.”

Laughter erupted from the table, followed by ramblings of jokes that turned into tangents. Makoto did her best to join in, but now that the adrenaline of the awakening and experiencing the Metaverse had died down, she could feel her body begin to slump in her seat. Ann’s soft hand caught her shoulder.

“Let’s get you home,” she said. “Ryuji! We’re taking Makoto home.”

“Alrighty!” he slid himself from his own seat and prepared to set off. “Text us when you get home, Yusuke.”

“And you as well,” the artist said. “That reminds me, we should add Makoto to the group chat.”

“Oh, shit, yeah!” Ryuji said.

“Totally slipped my mind,” Ann sighed to herself. “We’ll get your contact on the train. Let’s just focus on getting you home for now.”

“Text us when you get home, Makoto!” Akira called out to her.

“You too! Wait…” More lighthearted giggles from her friends. Ah screw it! She was too tired for this.

Tired or not, however, she knew one thing for certain. She had never been so happy to see a group of people in her life. Finally, she could truly say she had friends again.

Chapter Text

Skeleton added Niijima Makoto to the chat
Skeleton has changed Niijima Makoto’s nickname to Momkoto

Momkoto: Ann and Ryuji just dropped me home. Thank you for everything today. I couldn’t ask for better friends.

Girl in red: of course Makoto. We’d never leave you after something like that

Skullington: I’m not too far from you
Skullington: just shoot me a text if you ever need anythn

Momkoto: Thank you so much.

Skullington: im home too btw

foxy art boi: I am as well
foxy art boi: Makoto we will always be by your side. Nothing will change this fact

Girl in red: just got home
Girl in red: i have an early shoot tomorrow so im going to sleep
Girl in red: good night everyone ☺️

Momkoto: I think we’d all best follow Ann’s example. We’ve all had a long day.

Skullington: ok mum

Jonker: Mona says night

Skullington: night Monamona

Detective Asshole: Welcome back Niijima.

Momkoto: Thank you Akechi. It’s good to be back.

It was near midnight. Akira collapsed onto his makeshift bed, feeling the crates beneath him sigh under his weight.

“Geez, you look spent,” Morgana said, padding over to him with concern in his vibrant eyes. “You okay?”

“I feel so bad for Makoto,” he said honestly, his groaning voice muffled by his blanket. “I should’ve done better.”

“Oh no, Akira.” He felt the cat jump up to sit by his side on the mattress. “There was nothing you could do. It was all luck, and we’re lucky we got there when we did.”

It wasn’t luck. It was scripted.

“This didn’t happen last time,” Akira reasoned, rolling onto his back to speak up at the ceiling. As if there was some god up there that would hear his cries. There wasn’t. He killed it. “We did everything by the book, so why is everything different?”

“It’s not that different. We still managed to save Queen in the end. I’m worried about how she nearly passed out though.”

“Me too. That hasn’t happened before.”

Why? Why? Always ‘why’!

Never did new information give them an answer. It always just led to more questions. What happened? Time travel. But how, and why? What’s changed? How could they keep everything from falling apart? How could he save everyone?

“It’s not healthy to be thinking about this now,” Morgana said after a minute, the silence eating away at both their minds. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“I’ll try, I can’t guarantee anything though.”

“At least you’re trying.”

Sleep evaded him, as usual. Even as the hours ticked by and Morgana’s soft breathing urged him to shut his eyes and go to sleep, he just couldn’t. He could feel the tug and pull in his mind, the chains begging him to succumb and return to his shackles and his cell. He wasn’t going to. In fact, he actively refused.

He stayed up. Speaking to Alibaba for nearly an hour. Hoping that the more he talked to her, the sooner she’d reach out. She didn’t respond. She never did.

-

“Okay,” Akira said, with as much authority as he could muster, “let’s review what we know.”

Assembled before him around the table in the attic were the six other current Metaverse users, Akechi included. Maruki excluded, although he didn’t technically count to begin with. All of them were slightly uncomfortable, but all of them knew this had to be done. Especially to help catch Makoto up to speed.

“Last year ended March 20th,” Morgana began. “Akechi and I both woke up with all our memories intact on April 9th, the only difference between us being that I was trapped in the Metaverse by then. We don’t know how or why we were sent back, but since then we’ve all been slowly regaining our memories whenever we awaken our personas.”

“Makoto got really sick when she reawakened,” Ann pointed out. “How are you doing, by the way?”

“I’m okay. Nothing I can’t handle,” Makoto ensured. “Dr Takemi’s painkillers have been super helpful.”

“None of you have experienced that level of exhaustion during your awakenings, have you?” Akechi asked, one hand to his chin as he thought aloud.

“No,” Ryuji answered. He had seen everyone awaken too, same with Akira. He was one of the best witnesses. “Just the normal amount. It still hurt like a bitch, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Hm.” Akechi continued to tap his chin, eyes vacant as he was lost in thought. “What’s different so far. I’ve personally been trying to keep things mostly the same, but I know the same can’t be said of you all.” He broke from his concentration on his train of thought to stare at the leader from the other end of the table, a fierce look in the eyes that held such incredible depth. “So what have you changed?”

“Nothing too major,” Morgana answered for him. “Timing mostly. The confessions still happen on the same days, but we send the calling card much earlier. We can get further down in Mementos than we could last time, no doubt due to the extra Mementos requests we’ve been taking to train ourselves back up. The only major things so far are that Sumire remembers who she is and we’ve befriended Haru a bit early.”

Akira noticed how Makoto’s posture perked up at the mention of her girlfriend, eyes widening and the hint of a smile crossing her features. She did school her face back to a more professional expression, but it was uplifting to see her happy like that.

“What happened to Makoto was different too,” Ann spoke up. “Things went way further with the blackmail this time than it did last.”

“Elaborate on that,” Akechi demanded.

“No.”

Taken aback by the girl’s boldness, all Akechi was left to do was stare at her until she folded. Which, of course—if Akira knew Ann—she wouldn’t. Yusuke was the one who saved them both from the perpetual stalemate.

“All you need to know is there are photos of her that now exist that didn't in our last timeline,” he said simply.

“I see. My apologies.” For as deadpan as his tone was, Akira could tell he meant it. Akechi was out of character here, and he never apologised out of character.

“There’s another thing,” Akira said to side step the topic. “An outside party knows who we are, and I presume she knows we’re time travellers too.”

The room went dead.

“WHAT?”

Mostly dead. Save for Ryuji and his loud reaction that got violently shushed by his seat partner, the ever strict Makoto.

“I don’t know if she knew last time, I wasn’t super close with her, but she explicitly told me she knows and that she’s on our side,” Akira elaborated.

“Who is it?” Makoto asked quickly.

“It’s Shiho, isn’t it?” Ann asked, looking defeated.

Nodding, Akira responded. “Yes. It’s Shiho.”

Makoto sighed and slumped in her seat, Ryuji looking frantically between her, Akira, and Ann. Yusuke didn’t seem to be affected, or at least if he was he wasn’t showing it. Akechi just grimaced in annoyance and rubbed his temples.

“You’re hopeless, Kurusu,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“What’s done is done,” Yusuke said wisely. “Shiho-san has already learned this information and it’s impossible to get her to forget it. Perhaps it is best that we simply accept this fact and agree to move on with the matter at hand.”

“Yusuke’s right,” Mona agreed. “So far it looks like we don’t know all that much about what happened to us and why. I think it’s best we focus our energy on finding the rest of the Phantom Thieves and getting them to remember us.”

“Is it entirely worth changing all these hearts to achieve that?” Akechi asked.

“Whaddya mean?” Ryuji slurred.

“All that’s required for a persona user to remember is their awakening, correct? So, with that in mind, is it really relevant to change the hearts of the criminals you changed in the past to get there? Why not simply leave them be?”

“For starters, Kaneshiro still has dirt on us, so we need to get out of that situation before our three weeks are up,” Akira explained. “Secondly, why wouldn’t we? We’re helping to fix society, right?”

“No, I think I get where Akechi is coming from,” surprisingly Makoto muttered quietly under her breath. “We gained Shido’s attention by changing the hearts of his underlings. If I remember correctly, Kaneshiro was the tipping point with that before the fake Medjed was fabricated to boost our recognition.”

“But without that recognition, we can’t get to the depths of Mementos,” Morgana countered. “The God of Control is no doubt still down there. I don’t feel comfortable leaving it there to control society as it pleases.”

“Effin’ Cuphead, dude,” Ryuji growled. “You think it’s the one behind this time situation?”

“Could be,” Ann said, “but it’s dead, isn’t it? We killed it, and Maruki took its place.”

“But Maruki said he wasn’t behind it either,” Ryuji pointed out. “So what is?”

“Keep in mind we cannot trust Dr Maruki”—Akechi spat the name like it was venom—“at his word. He’s lied to and used us all before.”

“Are you implying this is his doing?” Makoto asked point blank.

“No,” he responded simply. “I’m just saying we can’t trust him.”

“I second that,” Akira muttered, gunmetal eyes staring directly into the detective’s. One blink and he’d disappear. He was not playing that scene again.

“Either way, that was not the point of my initial statement,” he continued. “The point is: if you spend all your time trying to replicate the events that have already happened, you’re going to miss what’s right in front of you.”

“Which is…” Ryuji started, intending for Akechi to fill in the blanks. He didn’t. He simply stared down the athlete, and everyone else at the table.

There was a depth in that gaze. So captivatingly powerful and beautifully sharp. A stare that could kill, if stares could do such a thing. Cunning, clever, and utterly unafraid.

What did he know that they didn’t? What information was he refusing to share? Akira could only wonder, perhaps he’d already solved the mystery they were scrambling to piece together. He was a detective, after all. A fake, but a detective nonetheless.

Just as a magician never reveals his secrets, the world’s greatest actor never breaks.

“So what can we do?” Ryuji asked when Akechi refused to budge. “Are we seriously just in the dark until we get everyone back?”

“Seems like it,” Morgana sighed, a tired expression in his usually vibrant eyes. “I think we’ve covered all we can for today. Leader? What do you think?”

“I think you’re right,” Joker said. Everyone around the table snapped to attention. Including, much to his surprise, Akechi. “Let’s call it here for today. Some of us have a Palace to take on tomorrow and I don’t want us to be here all night. Are you sure you won’t be joining us, Akechi?”

Akechi flashed him a sardonic smile. “Terribly sorry, but I’ll have to pass on that little expedition. You all have fun though!”

“Thanks! We will,” Akira said, matching his energy before flipping the Joker Voice back on and resuming his orders. “Then I think we’re done here. This meeting is adjourned.”

Gradually, everyone began to take their leave. It was starting to get late and everyone had school the next day, so Makoto was particularly fussed about getting everyone home. Goodbyes were said along with the customary ‘text us when you get home’ from whoever was quickest to say it, and everyone was out the door.

Akira didn’t fail to notice how Akechi lingered for a few minutes outside Leblanc after he shut the door. However, just after stealing the courage to ask him to stay for a drink, he was gone.

-

Crashing through the doors of a safe room midway through the bank, the Phantom Thieves huffed and wheezed, all of them majorly out of breath. Panther was leaning against Fox limping as blood oozed from a fresh wound in her side. Queen was a whimpering, muttering mess in Skull’s arms. Fear turned into a full on, real life panic attack.

Shit. This was not going well.

“We’ll be safe here,” Joker said quickly. “Skull, set Queen down over there. Mona, tend to Panther. Fox, do we have any amrita sodas left?”

“No, we don’t,” Fox said, shaking his head as he helped Panther sit on one of the chairs at the meeting table. The others carried out their orders wordlessly. Everyone looked terrified. “We used them all trying to negate her ailment in the battle.”

“Shit. Hold on, Queen. I might have some awakening incense. Here. Fox, try this.”

“It won’t work!” Panther cried as he handed it over and the kitsune-masked boy headed to where Queen lay on the sofa. “This is more than just an ailment! She’s having a real panic attack!”

“Panther, hold still!” Mona urged, trying to concentrate on the spell he was casting.

Without even a second to respond, someone shoved him harshly. Joker turned to confront Skull, who was absolutely fuming beneath the mask. “What the HELL was that, dude?” he yelled.

“What?” Joker muttered uselessly.

Skull just continued to shove him and raise his voice. “You’re supposed to be the leader! You call that leadership? What the hell is with you today man?”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t what? Huh? What happened to unanimous decision, Joker? Do we not do that anymore?”

“Skull, it was an accident-”

Skull didn’t want to hear it. “An accident? An accident? Like it was an accident when Fox got knocked out in Madarame’s Palace? Like it was an accident when you ran Panther raggard in Kamoshida’s? Like it was an accident when Panther almost fucking died fighting Shido last year? Do you remember that? Cause I do!”

“Ryuji.” Someone else was calling his companion’s name. Neither of them registered it enough to pay them much mind.

“What we’re doing is dangerous, Skull. I thought you knew that!”

“It’s not just the danger anymore, Joker! You’re being reckless for no goddamn reason! You know all our weaknesses! Why would you swap Panther into that fight?”

“Ryuji!”

“I had to do something to keep Queen safe,” Joker defended. “She was breaking down, we needed backup!”

“We could’ve handled it if you had just-”

“Ryuji!”

Panther was between them in an instant, one pink glove on either of their chests and pushing them apart with all her strength. Icy blue eyes glared at them both under the cover of her red mask. Commanding their attention, and drawing them in.

Both boys went silent.

“That’s enough,” she stated firmly. “Joker only told me to protect Queen, I took that hit on my own. It just happened that everything spiralled out of control from there.”

Skull looked down at where her injury used to be, concern plastered on his features. “But, it hit your weakness. Queen would’ve lived that hit, you could’ve died!”

“I know that, and I took the hit anyway,” Panther said. “Look at me. Take a deep breath.” She took one of his hands gently and breathed with him. Joker almost felt like he was intruding on a very personal moment. He almost wanted to leave. Almost.

If it weren’t for his investment in the two of them, he would’ve.

“There,” Panther consoled. “Better?”

“A bit,” Skull admitted. He then dropped Panther’s hand and rubbed the nape of his neck, stepping past her to face him. “I’m sorry, dude. I shouldn’t’ve said those things just now.”

“It’s okay,” Joker said with a small smile.

Skull was right. Joker had been getting reckless. More and more so as time went on. And now that he had all of his personas and they were so much more powerful than they had been before, he was more likely to do something foolish.

But foolish was exciting, and exciting was fun. If drama would follow, why not keep at it? This game was about to get a lot more entertaining.

“How’s Queen doing?” Panther asked, prompting the three of them to migrate to where Fox—and now Mona—were attempting to help their advisor out of her panicking state.

“Nothing’s working,” Fox said, a bit of panic of his own starting to creep into his voice.

“I’ve tried with Diego too,” Mona provided. “Nothing I can do helps.”

“Queen,” Panther tried, looking hesitant to reach out and touch her. “Hey, can you hear me? We’re safe now. Can you speak?”

No response. Queen was a mess of tears and short breaths, muttering to herself something he couldn’t fully catch. Her eyes had a far off look in them, as though she wasn’t fully there. A dissociative state. If they didn’t do something soon, she might start to hyperventilate. They were running out of options.

“If this isn’t an ailment,” Joker mumbled, thinking out loud, “then maybe we can…”

He rifled through his pockets once more, eventually procuring a large vial of pink mist. He uncorked it quickly and let Queen inhale as much of it as possible. Eventually her breathing slowed down and her eyes fluttered shut as she drifted to sleep.

“Great, knock her out,” Skull deadpanned. “Was that really the best solution?”

“I couldn’t think of what else to do and we were running out of time before she passed out anyway,” Joker reasoned. “At least this way we know it’s an ailment and that we can wake her up.”

Mona made a sound akin to a growl in his throat. “I can’t say I like this solution,” he grumbled, “but I agree that it’s better than the alternative. Let’s let her sleep for a few minutes and wake her up if she doesn’t wake up on her own.”

So, they did just that, each of them slowly building their strength back and resting up after the crazy fight they’d just endured. Did he seriously forget Sui-Ki knew ice skills? No, no he couldn’t have, he used Sui-Ki all throughout Okumura’s Palace once he figured out how to fuse it. So did he just forget in the moment then? That didn’t sound like him either.

Panther was strong. He knew she could handle it, even if it did hit her weakness. Still, he felt kinda bad calling her out for a battle when she was weak to what they were fighting. He should apologise to her later.

About five minutes of quiet self care and internal questioning went by before Queen woke up, groaning and holding her head as though she was in pain. Joker was the first to notice her, but Mona got to her faster.

“You okay Queen?” he asked.

She brought herself to a sitting position, blinking and letting herself adjust before responding. “Yeah… Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened to me back there.”

“You were hit with fear,” Panther recapped. “We think being hit with an ailment like that caused you to spiral and fall into a genuine panic attack.”

“Oh. I see.” Her lips pursed together into a thin line. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more useful to you in that fight.”

“No, you did plenty,” Joker said, kneeling down to catch her eye instead of leaving her to stare at his shoes. “It happens. You’ve only recently experienced something awful. You’re allowed to be scared.”

The bank safe room went silent for a while. He could hear his teammates shifting around behind him, the rustling of their clothes and the sound of their shoes against the floor. He wondered what they were thinking. How they felt about what had happened and how things were going as time progressed. Probably not good right now.

“Do you need to turn in for today?” Joker asked. “We still have plenty of time.”

“No,” Queen stated, willing her energy back into existence. “No, I’ll be fine.” She looked at him hopefully. “Do you have any coffee, Joker?”

The leader smiled. “I’ll grab some for you.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

They spent a bit more time holed up in that safe room, both waiting for Queen to recover, and recovering themselves. Skull and Panther decided to keep their bodies warm by doing some stretches Sumire had taught them together in one corner of the room. Fox was working on a sketch of some kind in one of the chairs on the edges and Queen was sitting at the meeting table with her coffee. Joker and Mona were surveying the maps they’d gathered, planning their next best route with what they had in their memory banks—pun unintended. Okay, the pun was intended.

“You know,” Queen said contemplatively as she sipped from her thermos, “it never really occurred to me how much money we get from being the Phantom Thieves. At least, not until you said you could pay for Kaneshiro’s silence, Joker.”

The leader looked up at the mention of his code name. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “I was shocked too. But it pays for Mona’s diet so I'm not unhappy about it.”

“Hey!” the cat yelled in offence.

“I’ve been kinda wonderin’ about that too,” Skull said from the floor where he and Panther were stretching. “I mean, what does everyone spend it on?”

“What a wonderful question,” Fox mused, tapping his pencil on the binding of his sketchbook. “I use my Metaverse money to buy art supplies and for emergency train fares.”

“Why don’t you buy food?” Panther asked. “You’re always hungry. I mean, that’s what I spend mine on. Sweets and clothes. I bought some really nice red heels the other day! Joker, I have got to show you them when we get back!”

“I’d like to see them too!” Makoto said enthusiastically. “I’ve always thought red is a great colour on you, Panther.”

“Aww! Thanks Queen!”

“I wish to see them as well.” Fox brought his fingers up to frame Panther, sweeping up and down her body as he examined her form. “A statement shoe like that would make for an interesting line of focus in my next piece.”

“I-I’d like to see the cool shoes too,” Skull said. “I buy shoes too sometimes. Not ones like that. Running shoes usually.”

Panther grinned. “Get some red ones next time! Then we can match.”

“O-okay. Sure! Yeah! That’ll be cool!”

“I think Skull could pull off red heels,” Joker joked, fitting his name like a glove.

“Dude, no! I’d trip and break something!”

“I could teach you to walk in them!” Panther suggested with a giggle. “You’ll be a natural, I’m sure of it!”

“What about you, Queen?” Fox asked the original asker of the question.

“I’ve been putting most of my cut into savings,” Makoto said. “Or, I did. I’m sure that’s changed since the whole time travel thing, but I’ll be sure to do that again. I want to see about moving into my own place after graduation.”

“Smart thinking, Queen,” Mona praised. “You wouldn’t happen to be moving in with Noir, would you?”

Queen went bright red. Probably bright enough to match Panther’s new shoes! “H-hey! I-it’s not like… straight away! She has other stuff to concentrate on!”

“Like what? Like running the company?” Mona smirked.

“Yes!”

“Well, that won’t need to happen if we can keep President Okumura alive,” Joker said pointedly, matching Mona’s mischievous grin.

“Well, w-what about you Joker?” Queen stammered. Joker’s smile dropped a little.

“I… I don’t really like spending money on myself,” he said with surprising ease.“I like getting gifts for people.”

“Oh yeah! Like that little mochi pillow you got for me!” Panther recalled, perking up. “I found it the other day! I was surprised, but I just put it on my bed with my other fluffy pillows!”

“Yeah! I found those sunglasses you gave me the other day too!” Skull piped up. “I didn’t even realise I shouldn’t have them until later. Weird.”

“I went looking for the vase you gave me last year as well,” Fox mentioned. “It didn't even occur to me at the time. I had simply found an absolutely gorgeous arrangement of flowers at the florist in the underground mall and thought I must display them in my dorm. What a happy accident I had forgotten you gave it to me last year or I wouldn’t have bought them.”

Joker smiled at the mention of his old part time job. He hoped Hanasaki was alright on her own. Maybe he should take the job again. He didn’t need the money, but it could be fun regardless.

“I wonder why exactly we’ve kept all these things, even through the reset,” Queen said, and then muttered under her breath, “I wonder if I still have that motorcycle figure.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “We kept our weapons through the reset too, but only the strongest versions of them. Could it be something to do with our cognition of us having them?”

“Perhaps, but I distinctly remember purchasing some gouache paints last year that I couldn’t find anywhere during my search for the vase,” Fox countered.

Mona hummed. “Then perhaps it has something to do with the cognition associated with the items, if it even is related to cognition at all.”

“This may be a stretch,” Queen began, “but could it be because they’re all gifts?”

Joker wasn’t sure she was right, but he thought about it for a moment and it did actually start to make sense. Or, maybe his brain was still fried from that fight and he was pretending it made sense. Either one worked. Method acting, or whatever.

“Let’s add that to the list of theories we have about whatever’s going on here and keep moving,” Joker said authoritatively. “We have about half of this place left to go and if we can put our braincells together to remember those codes in the vault, we might be able to get to the Treasure tonight.”

“Oh shit! The codes!” Skull yelled, hitting himself in the head as though it would help him remember.

“Hoe equals nineteen!” Panther supplied helpfully—the first word in English—as they collectively began to make their way out the door.

“Hoe as in the farming implement?” Queen asked, confused.

Joker, trying his best to stifle his laughter, just laid a comforting hand next to her spiky shoulder pads and said, “No. Not quite, Queen.”

“I’m confused as well,” Fox said. “What does farming have to do with a bank?”

Mona sighed and rolled his eyes in exaggerated disbelief. Skull shook his head in confusion. Neither of them did much to hide the smile that proved they found it funny too.

-

Thankfully, they got through the vault before the night came to an end.

Ann had been right. Hoe did equal nineteen if all the letters were added together. H was 2, he remembered that. Ann only remembered what O and E were because apparently one of the pages they had found the first time read that H and O was ten, and she made herself laugh by adding E to that to make nineteen. Through their combined fabulous hoeing, they deduced exactly three letters.

Makoto remembered everything else. Numbers were not Akira’s strong suit, okay?

Although they spent most of it trying to rack their brain for information, it only took them half an hour to get to the Treasure Room. At least they didn’t have to fight anything else! Especially not after almost losing Ann.

No one would die. No one.

“Makoto and Ryuji are set,” Morgana announced, padding over to the desk where Akira was working away to replenish some of their burned supplies. His legs hurt too much to do anything else. “They’ll be ready with the calling cards Yusuke made whenever you give the signal.”

“Perfect,” Akira said, not looking up. “Thanks Mona.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw the figure of a black cat jump up to sit in his spot on the desk. Concern graced his expression. “You sure you’re doing okay? Something’s put you on edge lately.”

The thief set down his pliers and adjusted his fake glasses, meeting his companion’s feline eyes. Joker grinned.

“Life is more thrilling on the edge, don’t ya think?”

Chapter Text

Shibuya Central Street was overrun with confusion. Adults and teenagers alike all gathered around traffic signs and shop windows and back alley walkways. Every surface littered with dozens of red and black cards, each of them reading the same thing.

“To Sir Kaneshiro Junya, the money-devouring sinner of gluttony.
You have for too long sustained your power over Shibuya, your filthy scams targeting minors prolonging your greasy clutch on its citizens. You are a fly on dirty money, a consumer of the resources you hoard, a stain on humanity.
Thus we have decided to end your crimes and force you to confess with your own vile tongue. We will steal your distorted desires without fail.
From,
The Phantom Thieves”

Akira smirked. Makoto, Ryuji, and Yusuke had out done themselves.

“Inmate!”

The familiar shrill voice of the angry warden pulled him from his admiration of his friends’ work. Backlit by the glow of the cell door, the twins stood. Justine carried her compendium with her usual blank stare, Caroline with her arms crossed, one hip popped and an expression on her face that told him she was positively fuming.

“You haven’t been answering our summons, Inmate,” Justine accused monotonously. “Our master is displeased with your progress, or rather lack there of.”

Rolling his eyes, Akira kept walking, hoping to simply brush past them and go help Iwai as he’d intended. Caroline didn’t let him, suddenly extending her baton and taking a good swing at his shins.

“Ow!” he cried as he stumbled to the ground.

“Don’t ignore us, Inmate!” his assailant scolded, standing over him by only a head even as he was sitting on the concrete. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d be begging to get into the Velvet Room so you can resume your rehabilitation as instructed!”

“I don’t need your rehabilitation,” Akira growled. “I’ll avoid the ruin my way.”

“That’s unacceptable!”

“Accept it.”

Pushing away her baton with his hand, he brought himself to his feet. He dusted off his jeans and started back towards Untouchables.

“The master is not going to like this, Inmate,” Justine warned. “He’s willing to give you a chance to get on the right path. You are close to taking steps in the right direction, you simply need a little guidance.”

“You’d better consider taking his generous offer! Or there’ll be hell to pay!” Caroline backed up.

“Sure, I’ll consider it.” Akira mimed thinking it over, placing a hand on his chin the way Akechi always did. A smile tried to fight its way onto his face at the thought of the detective, but he kept a straight face.

“Alright, I considered it. No.”

“Wha- hah? Hey! Inmate, get back here!”

He left Caroline to be a sputtering mess, hearing Justine’s voice of reason telling her to leave him be. Good. He didn’t need to deal with them right now. Not right before a heist.

“Hey there, kid,” Iwai greeted unenthusiastically when he opened the door to the enthusiast shop.

“Hey Iwai-san,” Akira responded.

“You seen all those cards?” Iwai continued with a stony expression. “Shit’s insane. Wonder how they do it.”

“Yeah, crazy.”

“Anyway, I need you to watch Kaoru. I’ve got some shit I need to take care of. Not a word to him about what we do, okay?”

A wide grin spread across Akira’s face. “Got it.”

Kaoru was ecstatic about the calling cards. It was all he spoke about for most of their time together. Akira was more than happy to entertain some of his theories. It was hyping him up for the fight to come. Not that he needed it.

-

The fight was almost easier than Kamoshida’s. In all honesty, the bodyguards were a pain for a little bit, but with a little magic from Panther, Célestine put them straight to sleep. Queen got a few good hits to Kaneshiro’s face in the meantime. As retribution.

After not even five minutes, he was already accepting his defeat.

“All I wanted was a place to belong,” he sobbed, laying on top of those massive gold bars like a dragon protecting its hoard. “Don’t you all want that too?”

“That’s the most bullshit excuse!” Panther raged. “You don’t belong here! You just bully your underlings into doing what you want! Shut up with your whiny attitude already!”

“Don’t worry, Kaneshiro,” Queen spat, looking down her nose at him. “You’ll be somewhere you belong. I hope life in prison teaches you a thing or two.”

“I don’t understand,” the Shadow continued. “You could have so much money! So much power! Why not abuse your power to its fullest extent?”

“We’re nothing like you,” Joker said, leering over him dramatically.

“Oh, you don't get it, do you?” Kaneshiro sneered, an evil smile curling on his twisted features. “There’s someone else, just like you. And they’re using their powers for their own personal gain.”

“If you’re trying to scare us with that, don’t bother,” Queen said darkly, arms crossed and both feet planted firmly in place. A pose of power and defiance. “We’re well aware of our rival and his impact on the Metaverse.”

“Our goals may not always align, but,” Fox explained, matching her expression, “we are, in fact, working with him at the moment to achieve something far greater than societal reform. You are nothing but a side project. It would be wise of you to accept your defeat and return to yourself in reality.”

“Confess your crimes, you sick bastard!” Skull insulted.

“Don’t even try to get under our skin,” Mona warned. “You’ve done that enough and look where it landed you.”

Kaneshiro’s Shadow grumbled a little, unenthused by the lack of reaction to his words. “Fine,” he relented. “Just remember, you’re about to earn the attention of the wrong people by doing this. You have been warned.”

Mona was already waiting for them in car form the moment Kaneshiro’s Shadow faded from the Metaverse. The five remaining Thieves fell into quick formation at Joker’s command and lifted one of the heavy bars of the Treasure into the back.

Queen split off before it was fully secured. After assuring they no longer needed the extra hands she sat in the driver’s seat starting the engine, ready to go.

“That wall there opens straight up to the outside!” Mona instructed, flicking his headlights on and off to indicate the wall he was referring to. “This place is unstable right now, so if you just ram me into it at full speed, it should give way!”

“It should?” Queen repeated loudly as the rest of the team clambered into the passengers’ seats.

“We don’t have time to worry about it! We gotta move!” Skull yelled.

“Drive!” Panther screamed, jumping in the door right as a large chunk of falling debris landed in the place she had just stood.

Screeching tires and the sound of the engine roaring to life as they sped off in an instant. The sudden motion threw everyone but the driver backwards into their seats, Joker having to grab the handle above the door to keep his balance.

Per Mona’s prediction, the wall gave way, and pretty soon they were plummeting towards the ground.

“Mona!” Queen yelled. “Did you have a plan for this?”

“Just gimme a second!” Mona responded, effort clear in his voice.

What would he be putting so much effort into anyway? It’s not like cars could fly- Wait! That’s right! Morgana could turn into a-

“Yes!”

With a single celebratory yowl, Mona’s form shifted and changed. Suddenly the car’s interior became rounder and the mechanical roar of the engine was replaced by the whir of blades. As Joker blinked the wonder out of his eyes, he realised Mona had become a helicopter.

Wow. He thought that was a Maruki reality exclusive. Could cognition have something to do with it?

“Holy eff man! I forgot you could do that! This is so cool!” Skull cheered.

“It is far less crowded this time as well,” Fox observed. “As much as I adore our companions, this is a far more enjoyable experience.”

“Where’d the Treasure go?” Queen asked, looking behind her at her passengers.

“Don’t worry! I got it,” Mona assured.

Joker looked down. Dangling below them about five metres was the gold bar, secured by a rope to the legs of the helicopter.

“This is some crazy Deja vu,” Skull commented as they descended.

“How bout we focus on getting to the real world in one piece,” Panther said wisely, taking out her phone and tapping away at the Nav.

The moment Mona’s not so cat-like feet touched the ground, she activated it. Reality began to shift and change around them as they landed back in Shibuya Station Square. Akira squinted against the harsh light of the sun. It seemed while they were off doing their work, officials had cleaned up all the calling cards. At least the ones here.

Shame. Oh well, didn’t change how many pictures were circulating online of the mess his team had made.

“Whew!” Morgana meowed with relief, stretching out his paws and back on the ground by his feet. “That was a much better landing than last time!”

“Is everyone alright?” Makoto asked with a tired smile. “No one’s ass cracked?”

“Hah hah,” Ryuji laughed sarcastically. “Good one, Makoto.”

Yusuke sucked in a gasp. “Makoto said ‘ass’,” he pointed out. “What uncharacteristically vulgar vocabulary.” She giggled, but didn’t say anything.

“Where’s the case?” Morgana asked.

Ann held it out. “I have it,” she said. “We should probably get going. Doesn’t it look a little suspicious for a bunch of teenagers to have a case like this?”

“Agreed,” Yusuke said, stretching out his neck. He did take a fair few hits in that fight. “Shall we head back to Leblanc then?”

Akira nodded as all eyes turned to him, asking their Leader’s permission. He set his bag down low enough so their feline teammate could jump in and announced to everyone: “Let’s go,” before turning on his heel and leading them toward the Ginza Line.

-

“Any word from Kaneshiro yet?” Ann asked, setting down her latte as the Phantom Thieves recuperated in the attic. Makoto shook her head solemnly.

“No. I think it took him about a day or so last time,” she wracked her brain, rubbing her temples a little as if to help her remember.

“Are you okay, Makoto?” Akira asked. She looked up at him, red eyes brimmed with confusion, tiredness, and just general disbelief.

“I’m alright,” she assured. “I haven’t experienced any more of my symptoms today, but I took a Takemedic this morning just to be sure. I think I’ll be fine.”

“I meant mentally. How are you holding up?”

“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly and rubbed the nape of her neck. “Yeah, I think I’m okay. I think mostly I’m just overwhelmed. I’m not entirely sure what to do to be perfectly honest.”

“Neither are we, Makoto,” Ryuji related, a comforting lopsided grin on his face. He looked tired too. They all looked tired. But he was still so ready to cheer his friends up. Akira respected that. “We’ll be okay. We just gotta stick together.”

“Yeah,” Ann agreed, leaning into Ryuji’s shoulder playfully. “We’ve already been friends for a year now. We may be back in the past, but we’re still the same people we worked so hard to become. Nothing can take that from us.”

“We truly have been through many hardships together,” Yusuke lamented. “All the more reason to stay by each other’s sides now.”

Meowing contemplatively, Morgana added his own words of wisdom. “Your emotions aren’t bad, nor are they invalid by any means. We’re all going through the pains and stresses of reliving our past. It’s just… much more bearable to do it together.”

“You’re not alone,” Akira said simply. “We’re here for you.”

Makoto smiled, tears beginning to well up in her eyes as they sparkled with newfound warmth.

“Thank you all. So much,” she whispered. Her stiff posture relaxed and she released the fabric of her skirt that she’d been bunching in her fists. Their advisor tried to keep herself composed. Blinking and looking up, refusing to let the tears fall, but ultimately failing in the end.

“I just wish Haru was here,” she sniffled.

Akira’s sad smile instantly morphed into a grin. “You would, you’re so gay for her.”

“H-hey.” Makoto laughed tearfully at the teasing, relieved that some of the tension had been eased.

“You so are! Don’t deny it!” Ann bandwagoned.

“Stop that,” she demanded, but there was no anger in her voice. “When did you guys even figure out we were together?”

“Oh, it was around the time you took that hit for her down in Mementos,” Morgana recounted smugly. “Y’know? When we were up against that yakuza guy?”

“Oh…”

“Your love was so powerful even Ryuji managed to notice,” Yusuke commented ironically.

“Wha- Hey!” Ryuji said, a red dusting of embarrassment on his cheeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, there were signs,” Morgana continued.

Makoto sighed. “And I’d thought I’d done so well to hide it too.”

“Nope,” Ann giggled. “I think even Akechi noticed after a while.”

“Oh god.” Her head fell into her hands.

“Jury’s still out on Sumire,” Akira offered in an attempt at comfort.

“What about Futaba?”

“Are you kidding? She was the first to notice!” Ryuji grinned.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, she is Oracle. She does see everything on the battlefield when she’s navigating from Al Azif,” Yusuke hummed.

“Speaking of Oracle,” Morgana said slowly, hesitant to bring the mood back down after the light-hearted interlude. “We should start to plan. She should contact us when Medjed begins to target us.”

“Can we afford to wait that long?” Makoto asked, clearly concerned. “I’m afraid of what may happen if Akechi’s theory turns out to be correct.”

“I was kinda thinkin’ the same thing,” Ryuji admitted. “Won’t it be bad if everyone keeps gettin’ sick after they awaken?”

“I wouldn’t describe it as being sick exactly, it felt more like… nearly fainting of exhaustion. Coupled with a rather bad migraine.”

“I could describe what I experienced quite similarly,” Yusuke said. “To a far lesser extent, I admit. But even so, it could be true that the symptoms remain the same, but simply increase in intensity as time goes on.”

“So it’s better to get everyone sooner rather than later,” Morgana pondered. “Is there any way we can contact Haru and Sumire and gently push them towards working with us?”

With everything going on, they’d been seeing the girls less and less. What was good news was they seemed to be growing rather close with each other. Sumire seemed to be slowly becoming comfortable with herself, especially without the burden of the Metaverse on her shoulders.

Haru likely was still dealing with being betrothed. If they could get their hands on Sugimura’s full name—perhaps with Futaba’s help—maybe they could see if he had a shadow in Mementos. If they could recruit her that way…

Ann’s eyes suddenly went wide, and Makoto already had her phone in her hands. It seemed both girls had had the same thought as he had.

“Sugimura,” Makoto tried.

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Sugimura, Okumura Haru’s fiancé,” Ann tried instead.

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Shoot.”

“Aw man!” Ryuji groaned loudly, having pieced together what they were trying to do, and became incredibly upset that it didn’t work. “Maybe he doesn’t have a Palace?”

“It’s possible, but it’s more likely we just don’t have enough information,” Morgana sighed. “Maybe we could try to track down his first name, but it could take some digging.”

“This would be so much easier if we had Futaba,” Ann groaned. “She’d find him in two minutes flat.”

“Perhaps, in that case, it’s best to wait for her,” Yusuke proposed. “If having her in our ranks again would make recruiting the others much easier, maybe we should focus on her first.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Makoto sighed. “I promise it’s not entirely for selfish reasons, but I’m eager to have everyone back.”

“Sure,” Ryuji said with a grin. “Not for selfish reasons.” He gave her an exaggerated wink to imply a secret kept between them.

“I swear it’s not!” she defended with a sad smile. “My main concern is this remembrance illness. If I almost passed out, what’s the next person going to go through?”

The question was rhetorical, but no one seemed to have an answer. None of them had any idea what was in store for them. They’d tried following their past actions, but it seemed there were consequences they weren’t fond of. So even the plot couldn’t be trusted.

Akira had better think of a plan to get the others back. And he’d better think of it fast.

-

A satisfying thunk as the dart Akira sent flying sunk directly into the centre of the target he was aiming at. He stood back with a smirk and turned to his game partner, raising a hand for him to high five as they swapped. With a deadpan stare, Akechi did.

“You’ve improved,” he commented.

“One would hope so after a year playing,” Akira said with a smirk, his fingers idly twirling one of the darts he’d just collected.

“Yes, it has been a while. I’m surprise you haven’t grown tired of it.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He raised a brow at him, holding his eye as the detective lined up his shot. Glancing at the board only for a second, he reciprocated his gaze firmly, letting his first dart fly. Landing a perfect bullseye.

“Wow…” Akira muttered softly in awe.

Akechi was smirking now. “Close your mouth, Kurusu. You’ll start catching flies.” He turned back to the board and landed another.

“How are you so good at this?” Akira asked, still enchanted by his companion’s skill.

“Practice.”

“Makes perfect right?”

He could feel him roll his eyes, even when he was facing away from him. “No one is ever perfect. You of all people should know that by now.” Another bullseye. The detective collected his darts.

“I think you’re pretty close.”

Akechi lowered the hand he’d raised to tag out, a sour look on his face. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not,” Akira said with a smile, forgoing the routine high five and taking his position. “I think you’re incredible, Goro.”

Thunk. Single 20. Shit.

“Perhaps you should stop thinking about me, and start thinking about the target, Kurusu,” Akechi hissed, arms crossed, crimson eyes boring into the back of Akira’s head.

His pointed use of his family name stung a little, it always did. Akira was pretty sure Akechi knew that. Took pride in it, even. But it was okay. He’d accepted long ago that he was never again going to use his first name. And that was okay. He wouldn’t force him to.

In the uneasy silence their conversation had fallen to, Akira landed two triple 20s, getting them back on track to beat their 701 game. He turned back to his companion to switch. Akechi pushed past him.

“Good save,” he muttered, raising his dart, aiming for the board.

“I’m a gifted improviser,” Akira mused, putting his hands in his pockets and letting the laid-back persona fall into place.

“So I’ve heard.” Bullseye. “Is that really the skill you’re relying on? Your talent for bullshit?”

“I have to at this point,” he huffed. “I try to use my knowledge of the future, I try to plan ahead. All it does is blow up in my face.”

Bullseye, again. “Perhaps you’re focusing on the wrong thing. It’s quite obvious things have changed drastically since last time. I wouldn’t waste my time trying to follow some premeditated path.”

“But you always have a plan.”

Again, directly hitting the centre of the target. Akechi turned to him with his darts between his gloved fingers and an emotion in his eyes Akira couldn’t quite place. The obvious choice seemed to be anger, but it wasn’t right. This was something else.

“A plan is different from having blind faith in preconceived ideas of the future,” he spat. “Think for a second, Kurusu. Do you honestly expect events to play out the way they did last time?”

“I was kinda hoping they would, yeah,” Akira admitted. “For the most part.”

“For the most part?” Akechi repeated, questioning and mocking.

“I refuse to let anyone die.”

Conviction, determination, foolishness. Call it what you will, Akira had never spoken with more assurance in his life.

No one would die. He wouldn’t allow it.

Akechi raised a brow, seemingly unimpressed. “And how do you plan on making that happen, Kurusu?”

“I don’t know.” Despite the sentence itself, he spoke the words with the same bold assurance he had the line before it.

“Well isn’t that just marvellous?” Akechi boasted sarcastically, shoving the darts into his hands. “Your turn. Don’t fuck this up.”

Akira breathed in, then out, and took his mark. The score was 111. He could do this.

Line up the dart, engage your muscles, and let it fly. It is an extension of your body. A physical object to touch and feel, connect with. Imagine success in your mind before you begin.

Akira threw the dart.

Bullseye.

A sly smile wormed its way onto his face. He had this.

“Y’know, Goro,” he said. “My ability to improvise is what’s kept me alive for so long. No amount of planning or scheming could have prepared us for what happened last year.”

Another dart. Triple 20.

“No matter who gets hurt, or what new hurdles are thrown our way…”

Final throw. One.

The game was won, and Akira turned to his companion, staring into his expectant, blood red eyes.

“If this new world wants so badly to throw away the script, whether I wrote it or not,” he began again, “then I’ll improvise. Could be a fun challenge.”

Akechi scoffed. “So you’ll throw caution to the wind in favour of fun?”

“The show must go on,” Joker smiled.

Chapter Text

Unknown: who the hell are you???

Akira stared at his phone as the screen nearly blinded him in the dead of night. It would be incorrect to say he was shocked to see Futaba reaching out to him, he’d seen this coming a mile away. What he was shocked by was the severe lack of her usual drama. No “greetings, I am Alibaba”. No “hello, leader of the Phantom Thieves”. Just “who are you”.

She knew who he was, obviously. But she was clearly still confused.

Not only that, she came in early.

A whole month early.

Kurusu: you know that one Alibaba

Unknown: i know a lot but none of it makes sense
Unknown: your name is Kurusu Akira
Unknown: you were arrested in Inaba for assault
Unknown: you were sent to live with Sojiro under probation for one year
Unknown: you attend Shujin Academy

Kurusu: that all sounds pretty normal to me

Unknown: i’m not done
Unknown: you’re the leader of the Phantom Thieves
Unknown: you Phantom Thieves are time travellers

Kurusu: correct

Unknown: how do you know me

Kurusu: the time travel helps

Unknown: prove it
Unknown: prove to me you’re a time traveller

Kurusu: normally this is the bit where you ask me to steal your heart :/

Unknown: not until you prove you can time travel

Kurusu: what? i knew who you were immediately. that not enough?

Unknown: nope

Kurusu: aight I’ll play your game Alibaba
Kurusu: y’know the sunday shopping program?

Unknown: ye?

Kurusu: this weekend
Kurusu: i don’t remember what the other set is but one of them will be a cursed tools set
Kurusu: straw dolls and nails
Kurusu: some real jjk shit

Unknown i was bout to say

Kurusu: i figured you might

Unknown: ahhh shuddup!!!!
Unknown: you don’t know me!!!!!

Kurusu: yes i do

Unknown: we’ll see if you’re right first

! Kurusu: we have your back Alibaba

Futaba never responded to her own name in the beginning. The name Alibaba was all she used, at least with them. Not that it mattered. His last message failed to send anyway.

He double checked his prediction with Chihaya just in case. He was right.

Unknown: you were right

Kurusu: I was right
Kurusu: does this mean you’ll ask us to steal your heart?

Unknown: idkkkk
Unknown: that’s so scary o.O
Unknown: but I’m also pretty sure its the only way to help me so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Kurusu: Alibaba
Kurusu: we won’t do this if you don’t want it
Kurusu: but please believe me when i promise you that you wont regret it

Unknown: …
Unknown: lemethinkaboutit

Kurusu: you know where to find me

Akira called a meeting.

“Futaba reached out to me.”

“Woah, what? Already?” Ryuji shouted in surprise.

“But it’s June!” Ann exclaimed. “Medjed isn’t even a problem yet!”

“This is quite early,” Makoto agreed. “I wonder why she did that instead of offering a deal like she did last time.”

“Scared the hell out of us,” Ann recalled, twisting a ponytail around her finger. “We were expecting it this time, but I guess she has other plans.”

“She hasn’t asked anything of us yet,” Akira clarified.

Yusuke hummed and Makoto’s brows furrowed. The artist spoke what they were all thinking. “I wonder why that is. It doesn’t seem like her to seek out social interaction without reason.”

“Well, Akira’s been kinda… talking to her,” Morgana admitted, much to Akira’s dismay.

“What?” Makoto asked simply.

With a quiet sigh, Akira explained. “Futaba has the whole place bugged, I don’t think that includes up here. Correct me if I’m wrong, Alibaba.” He knew he was right. It was in the script. “A couple times a week I’ve been talking to her. She knows we’re the Phantom Thieves but she knew that the first time too. This time she also knows about the loop.”

A hush fell over the assembled Phantom Thieves, each of them quietly falling into their own mind as they mulled over what their leader had just said. Akira watched them.

Watched as Ann fell backward in her seat, playing with her hair as she stared blankly at the table. Ryuji couldn’t seem to keep his leg still. He seemed too distracted to try. Makoto bunched the fabric of her skirt in her fists, creasing her perfectly ironed pleats until they were no longer the image of perfection she displayed. Yusuke couldn’t decide what to look at, dark eyes darting from one thing to the next as he processed his thoughts.

Morgana looked directly at Akira. An emotion he couldn’t name emanated from his piercing blue eyes. It made him squeamish. He didn’t know why. He had to look away.

“Alibaba?” Makoto asked finally into the dusty air of the attic. “Are you there?”

The other thieves began looking at the leader’s phone where it sat on the table, waiting for her response. Of course, none came.

“I guess there ain’t any bugs up here then,” Ryuji said aloud.

“Perhaps,” Yusuke agreed. “Or perhaps she’s just intimidated by the presence of so many of us.”

“If there were bugs up here, she’d have been listening to all our meetings,” Morgana brought up. “She’d be more used to us.”

“Or she’s asleep,” Ann proposed. “She’s always been a bit of a night owl. Maybe she’s just not up right now.”

“All possibilities we should account for,” Makoto thought aloud, tapping her chin in a manner not dissimilar to how Akechi or her sister did when thinking. “Regardless, I think it’s safe to say we’re all unanimously on board with taking her request, correct?”

Everyone gave their advisor a sharp nod, eyes determined and bold.

“Alright then,” Akira said, a smirk creeping its way onto his features. “Let’s wait for her decision.”

-

Alibaba reached out to him again a few days later.

Unknown: ive thought about it

Kurusu: hey Alibaba
Kurusu: what’s the consensus?

Unknown: im going to let you steal my heart
Unknown: if you can help me stop this…
Unknown: feeling
Unknown: maybe i can learn to forgive myself

Kurusu: thats the spirit
Kurusu: I’ll let my team know

Unknown: what do you get out of this Mr Phantom Thief

Kurusu: ?
Kurusu: i dont follow

Unknown: you’re doing so much for me
Unknown: what do you get?

Kurusu: my friend back

-

“Phantom Thieves.”

The echoing voice of Futaba’s Shadow boomed all around them the moment they entered the sandy tomb. The Palace still didn’t see them as a threat yet. While it didn’t the first time either, this could be a problem if something had since changed.

Akira had thought she might be more likely to be threatened since he clearly knew her. Maybe she’d be sceptical? Obviously that didn’t translate to threatening.

“What took you so long?” the Shadow asked, appearing before them like a ghost, decked out in the same Egyptian-inspired attire.

“Hey Futaba,” Ryuji greeted with a smile. Clearly happy to see his friend again.

“Do you… remember us?” Makoto asked for the group.

“But of course. You all remember, don’t you?” She tilted her head to the side, an emotionless expression on her face, but still curious. “We were friends in a past timeline.”

“So you do remember,” Mona confirmed aloud. “Then why doesn’t the real you remember?”

Futaba’s Shadow closed its glowing yellow eyes and put a hand to its chest. “I am a Shadow, the true self. What the Shadow becomes once it is accepted is something you are all familiar with. The power you use within these cognitive worlds.”

“Persona…” Yusuke whispered in awe. “So, our personas are our shadows?”

“Yes, they were,” the Shadow said with a nod, opening its eyes again to stare Akira down. “The true self remembers what the masked one does not. To accept the truth, you accept the memories you have repressed. Break from the control, and free yourself from the performance and false pretence.”

“Woah…” Ann said. “We’ve been using our shadows this whole time. I thought most persona users couldn’t have Palaces.”

“We used to think that, but we were wrong. Take Dr Maruki for example,” Makoto reasoned. “And, the people down in Mementos don’t have Palaces, but they have shadows. Perhaps it’s similar?”

“Just because we never saw your shadows doesn’t mean you never had one,” Mona said in way of explaination. “Maybe, if we tried, we could go down now and find one of the others in Mementos, or in the Prison of Regression. I doubt Sumire and Haru have Palaces of their own.”

“Did you know about this, Mona?” Ryuji asked. “Aren’t you some kinda crazy being of hope or whatever?”

“I feel like maybe I should’ve…” the cat said slowly. “I did completely lose myself after I left the Velvet Room.”

“If you wish for the real me to remember,” Futaba cut them off, “you must bring her here. She must accept her true self to recall the timeline past.”

“We should get to the first safe room,” Akira said, trying to wrap his head around everything they learned. “We can figure out our plan of attack there.”

The Pharaoh nodded. “I cannot accompany you there, but I will be waiting for you and your decision.”

Thankfully, no giant rolling boulder stopped them from scrambling up the stairs to the first room. Everyone took a place around the table to discuss their options.

“Let’s review what we know,” Makoto told them, ever the logical advisor. “Futaba wants us to change her heart, but doesn’t consider us a threat. Futaba’s Shadow remembers last year. Futaba’s Shadow wants us to bring Futaba herself here so she can awaken. Anything else?”

“Futaba’s Shadow is the precursor to her persona,” Mona added. “We’re essentially talking to a young Al Azif.”

“That’s a lot to keep straight in my head,” Ann mumbled. “And I’m not even straight!” she added as a joke. Makoto smiled widely as the others giggled, but kept them focused.

“So, do we listen to it?” she asked.

“Bring Futaba here?” Ryuji asked. “I dunno. Seems awful risky doesn’t it?”

“I agree,” Yusuke said. “Besides, if we leave now and bring her in this very moment, we don’t know if the Palace will try to keep us out.”

“That’s true,” Ann said. “I’d rather not endanger her if we can. She’s not built for combat, with or without a persona.”

“But if Al Azif wants to awaken, then Futaba must want it too,” Mona reasoned. “Maybe in some repressed part of her psyche she knows we’re her friends.”

“Can we count on that to keep us safe though?” Makoto asked, scratching her temple. “We can’t really afford to take any risks in here. We can’t summon our personas if we don’t have our masks.”

“Maybe you all can’t. But I can.” Mona crossed his arms, standing on the table with a confident grin.

“Oh yeah, you transform even if we don’t!” Ryuji gasped in revelation. “Nice going Mona!”

“We can still fight even without our personas.” Yusuke flicked his sword from its sheath with his thumb, the partially exposed blade of the katana glimmering in the artificial light. “It will be a challenge but not one we can’t overcome.”

Makoto nodded in agreement. “And that’s assuming we’ll remain like this the entire run. Futaba still doesn’t want us poking around in here, at least to an extent. Her subconscious need to hide away is what transformed us last time.”

“There’s still so many variables left unknown,” Akira mused, crossing his legs on his stone chair. “It’s probably safer if we secure our route to the Treasure and bring Futaba with us when we give her the calling card.”

“I can agree to that,” Mona said.

“Me too!” Ryuji cheered. “I’m kinda psyched to see how this goes, not gonna lie.”

“It’ll be weird without access to our personas,” Ann said, clearly a little worried, “but it could be fun! Count me in too!”

“I will pour my heart and soul into my sword,” Yusuke announced. “May it carve our path to victory in saving our beloved friend.”

“I could use the extra aikido training,” Makoto said. “And I agree wholeheartedly. Better to keep Futaba safe, especially when we don’t know what prolonged stays in one’s own Palace can do.”

“Sae seemed to manage it fine. And Futaba did it the first time too!” Ryuji recalled.

“Actually, so did Maruki,” Mona realised aloud.

Akira’s eyebrows shot up. “I wonder if that’s because he’d taken Cuphead’s role as God of Control.”

“It’s possible, but talking about it won’t tell us for certain,” the cat mumbled. “Let’s just focus on Futaba for now. Though it sucks how much we don’t know.”

“We should talk to Futaba’s Shadow,” Makoto urged quietly. “I think she’s waiting for us to make a decision.”

With the whole team in agreement, the unmasked Phantom Thieves emerged from the safe room. As she had promised, the frail Shadow of their friend was waiting for them in the stairwell.

“Have you come to a decision?” it asked as they all gathered outside the door.

“We have,” Akira spoke, summoning the courage he felt as Joker despite his lack of mask.

“Then what is your plan?”

Plan. He didn’t like the word plan. It implied a script that was to be followed, and mistakes that were sure to be made. When the audience has witnessed the forming of a plan, it was sure to fail immaculately. So was he the audience, or the character off stage?

He was beginning to feel unsure.

“We’ll secure our route through your Palace first,” Makoto explained when Akira—the leader—didn’t speak up. “Your subconscious has attempted to trap us before. We want to minimise the possibility of danger for you.”

The Shadow nodded. “A wise play. There are still many things she doesn’t wish for you to see.”

Akira tugged at his hair uncomfortably. He understood that feeling all too well.

-

“Check.”

“Shit.”

Akechi’s smug expression sent rogue thoughts spinning through Akira’s mind as they sat cross-legged on the floor of the dusty attic. The thief surveyed the board to see how he could get out of this, coming up empty time and time again. He didn’t let his frustration show on his face.

“And I thought you took this game seriously,” Akechi drawled. “Your mask is slipping, Joker.”

Sometimes he hated how well Akechi knew him. At this rate, he was sure to- Oh! Bingo!

“Castle to E6 and this is mine,” Akira announced, taking Akechi’s piece and replacing it with his own. “Your turn, Detective.”

“Was that really the best decision, Kurusu?” Deft fingers glided gracefully across the board, moving the pieces with ease as Akechi’s bishop took Akira’s castle. “Check.”

“Fuck. Um…”

“This ‘no plan’ strategy of yours doesn’t seem to be panning out too well for you does it?” Akechi taunted, a sly grin forming on his face as his finger circled the rim of his mug, long since emptied earlier in the evening.

Struggling to find other ways to dodge the check, he shifted his king further behind his line of defence, out of the range of Akechi’s pieces. For now at least. Soon the older boy would break through those defences and he’d lose again. But he would try. And if he just tried hard enough, he’d eventually win.

Akechi blinked, puzzled for a second, but refusing to let it show. But Akira could tell. He moved a pawn forward and passed his turn back to Akira. He moved his remaining castle to defend the king. Akechi took his final bishop. Akira took his queen.

Just as the smirk was sneaking its way onto his face, it fell. Akechi was smiling too. That smile he did involuntarily when a plan was falling into place.

Akira sensed he had made a mistake.

Akechi moved his pawn one more space to the other side of the board, promoting it to a queen now that the previous one was dead. That’s it. Akira had nowhere to run.

“Checkmate.”

“Damn,” Akira breathed. “I walked right into that one didn’t I?”

“I think the heat is getting to your head,” Akechi teased. “Do you feel faint, by chance?”

“It’s not even that hot yet,” Akira whined playfully.

“Perhaps you have a fever then. Does your back alley doctor do house visits? If she takes patients this late, of course.”

“I’m not sick!”

Akechi’s face morphed from devious smile, to serious frown. “I’m serious, you know. About this strategy you’ve decided to take on. It’s reckless, even for you.”

Akira grinned mischievously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Akechi rolled his eyes, extending his arm out to point at him. “Focus, Akira. If you keep this up…”

But Akira wasn’t listening. Unfortunately for whatever point Akechi was trying to make, his eyes were trained on his wrist where his sleeve had shifted from the motion, and where a glint of silver could be noticed in the dim light. He grabbed for his arm, immediately recognising what it was.

“What is this, Detective?” he teased, revealing the jewellery piece in its entirety. “Is this the bangle I got you last year?”

The brunet attempted to pull his arm free, an embarrassed glow of pink on his cheeks, barely covered by the concealer he was still wearing. “What of it, Kurusu?” he spat. “Don’t think I’ve begun to cling to your foolish sentimentality as you have!”

“You so have!” Akira shot back, not even denying what he assumed Akechi thought was an insult. “Why else would you wear it everywhere?”

“Its only significance to me is in how it can assist my image!” he insisted.

“And how does it do that, Goro? Do tell.”

“Do you want me to stop wearing it?”

“No, no. You keep it on. It looks nice.”

Akechi crossed his arms, looking away and refusing to acknowledge how his face flushed. Cute. He was cute.

The hours ticked by and, eventually, Akechi left. Morgana returned while Akira was cleaning up a few minutes later and promptly started annoying him into going to sleep. Which he certainly tried, mind you. He was just too excited. Only three more of his friends left. And once they all were together again, they could go kick some false god ass!

But when sleep finally did come, it wasn’t of his own free will.

Iron clamped down on his wrists and ankle, the heavy stillness of the atmosphere filled only by rattling chains and a distant piano. A singer whose name he did not know and face he could not see began her melodic requiem somewhere in that endless void. Locked in another cell, perhaps. He might never know.

“Inmate!”

A loud bang ruptured his eardrums and interrupted his quiet basking in the music he’d long forgotten. Gunmetal eyes shot open and he stood from the cot he’d been laying on.

He glared at the wardens and their master with scorn.

“Trickster,” Yaldabaoth drawled, clearly frustrated, though the mask he was wearing never did anything but smile. “As much as you have been trying to evade your rehabilitation, you seem to be progressing towards it in gradual motion.”

Akira rolled his eyes.

“Hear that, Inmate?” Caroline jabbed smugly.

“Our master is offering words of praise,” Justine observed, “despite your lack of deserving them.”

“However,” the fake Igor continued, “as it stands, there will be no way for you to avoid the ruin that awaits. Death is inevitable.”

“Fuck you,” Akira spat.

Caroline swung at the bars again. “Watch your mouth, Inmate!” she yelled. Justine’s eye widened in her only display of emotion he’d seen from her this timeline.

Igor just laughed.

“The will of rebellion in your heart is strong, but you are yet to reach your full potential as a Trickster,” he said. “If you are to win this game, you must nurture your strength here as much as you nurture the bonds you have with your friends.”

“I’m not playing your god damn game, Igor,” he said with just as much malic. “Find a new Wildcard to play my role.”

“Ah, but it is your destiny to play this part,” Yaldabaoth countered as if he hadn’t been the one to choose that destiny. “You cannot run from this, try as you might.”

“I don’t need to run. I just need to sit back and watch the show.”

“So, you intend to let the world be engulfed by ruin. What a shame. I am disappointed in you, Trickster.”

Caroline gave the bars another whack. If he’d had his hand just a bit lower, she would have hit him. “How dare you disappoint our master, Inmate!” she shouted.

“Such rudeness,” Justine agreed monotonously.

But Igor was wrong. Akira didn’t intend for the world to fall. He intended to let someone else step into the spotlight for once.

Chapter Text

Futaba had no idea what to do about the stranger Sojiro had taken in.

Mere days after he’d moved into Leblanc’s attic he found one of her bugs. She had hidden those so well too! What was this guy, a psychic? Was he playing with cheat codes?

It had been a joke, but slowly it started to make more and more sense. He started talking to her. To her. Through the bugs! Like he knew her! He said he asked Sojiro, but from how cagey their shared guardian was at the time about revealing information to him, she was pressing X to doubt.

After that, it became very apparent very quickly how very not normal this guy was. Not just through the conversations he had with her, but with his friends, with Sojiro, with his fucking cat! Seriously, this guy had full on philosophical debates with his cat. And the cat seemed to respond. It was so weird, and Futaba knew weird.

When some guy called “Takuto-san” showed up one day, it was revealed that this guy was a time traveller. A fucking time traveller. What in the Dr How hell?

And now, he and his party were in her room. Asking to speak to her. To steal her heart.

Ohhh she was probably gonna explode!

“There! Now steal it!”

Futaba shut her eyes tightly, shaking violently as she stood arms out like an idiot in front of the Phantom Thieves. She heard them shift all around her. Someone closed the door of the closet she just came out of.

Uh oh. This was terrifying! What were they gonna do? How did they change hearts? Was it gonna hurt? She could deal with the pain if it meant being free!

Right?

“Futaba.” A deep voice consoled her, sending a brief shiver down her spine that hopefully just blended it with all the other shaking she was doing. The leader, she realised. Kurusu.

“It’s okay, dude! Open your eyes.” Someone else now. More energy, a bit raspy. One of the first that Kurusu had recruited, as far as she could tell.

She didn’t want to. It was better if she just stayed in the dark and they did their thing around her. She could bring herself to shake her head, but no sound came out when she tried to explain it.

“We need you to see something before we change your heart,” said another voice. Kinder, more understanding. Still energetic but it seemed gentler. “It’s okay! We won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, she did. They were there. People; the Phantom Thieves. All around her. But they weren’t scolding her. Or pointing and calling her names. They weren’t accusing her of anything. Not a murderer. Not a burden.

One with messy black hair and glasses was in front of her. Coffee. He smelled like coffee. He held up a red and black card. “Read it,” he said, in that deep voice.

Kurusu Akira. The leader. Sojiro’s ‘part timer’.

Good to finally see him in person. Not just in a mugshot she found.

He seemed… calmer. Less intense. They probably had him take his glasses off for the photos. He was smiling, perhaps it was more of a smirk, but it seemed genuine. Like he was trying to help her. Make her feel comfortable. With the hair and the frames, his eyes were almost completely missable. She wanted to thank him for that. She hated eye contact.

She took the card. A calling card. It read;

“Sakura Futaba,
Whose wrath is directed to the wrong target,
You have spent far too long drowning in loss and self sabotage. We will steal your distorted desires and prove to you the truth behind your mother’s death.
Let us show you the depths of the cognitive world and help you use it to heal your psyche.
Your friends,
The Phantom Thieves.”

After reading it aloud she looked up. “W-what do you mean show me? Heal my psyche? You use the cognitive world to steal hearts, I figured that much out already. Do you drag all your targets there?”

The leader smiled again. “You’re a special case.”

“Your mother researched cognitive psience, right?” asked one of the others. She hadn’t spoken yet, voice measured and firm. Her hair was short and dark, eyes sharp, looking directly into Futaba’s until she had to look away. “Don’t you want to know what she learned?”

“But she always got so mad at me for peeking at it,” Futaba whined.

“Not this time,” said the raspy boy. The fake blond one. “This time it’s your discovery instead of hers. She can’t get mad at you for that!”

“Please, Futaba,” Kurusu said, holding out his hand for her to take. “It’ll help us to change your heart. You’ll be okay.”

Hesitating for just a moment, she took his hand. She couldn’t tell you why, she just did. Something drew her to him. Call it a gut feeling, call it spidey sense, call it whatever. She just… did.

She barely felt a thing as the world spun around her. Pulling all of them into another realm with the use of a few simple words. Her name. Her house. Tomb?

That’s right. She was going to die here.

No. She had friends. They were going to help her.

Friends? That had been written on the card, hadn’t it? And Kurusu had said he’d get his friend back by helping her. Was… was she their friend?

-

“Woah…”

Futaba stared in awe at the sandstone structure around her. Little holographic flashes flickered along the walls, bits and pieces she recognised from different places. Dialogue from a game she recently completed. A stray line of code she’d altered in a different one to make it harder. Lines from Phoenix Rangers that lived in her head rent free.

Ancient architecture fused with cyber punk type vibes. That was so cool!

“So, this is what my cognitive world looks like,” she whispered in awe.

“This is what you believe your room is. A tomb in which you’ll die and remain for centuries.” The voice that spoke was one she has not heard before, not even through the bugs, boyish and confident. Had there been someone else in her room she hadn’t seen?

“Wait, who was that?” She asked looking around at the Phantom Thieves. Kurusu pointed down at a… cat…? Bipedal cat creature. “Who’re you?”

“Hey, at least you weren’t called a monster this time!” the blond boy commented.

“That’s a start,” the cat said. The cat. Said. Holy shit. “I am Morgana. I’m the sixth member of the Phantom Thieves.”

“Oh my god, a talking cat!” Futaba almost squealed. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or confused or both. Probably both. Instinctively, she reached for its ears, to which Morgana didn’t seem too enthused.

“Ah! Hey! Let me go!” He writhed around in her grip.

“You’re like some kinda anime mascot character!” She ignored him. “Or like a video game character! Do you have magic? Are you his guide?”

“You already know the answer to both of those questions.”

Her own voice. Wait, huh? That was her own voice! But not? Not quite. Something was just wrong about it.

Futaba released the kitty and reeled around in time to see herself—in some skimpy Egyptian style outfit—appear out of thin air behind them. Her eyes. Bright yellow. Why did she recognise eyes she’d never seen before?

“I commend you Phantom Thieves,” the double continued. “And I thank you. Soon you will be one step closer to reuniting with your friend.”

“H-hey that’s what you said too,” Futaba pointed accusingly at Kurusu, but backed up when he turned to face her. “Y-you said you’d… get your friend back… if you helped me. Am… Is…”

No, Futaba. Don’t ask that. It’s selfish and presumptuous. They probably just need you for your skills. Then they’ll dump you on the nearest street corner with the other undesirable children.

“You are,” he said simply, like he knew what she was going to ask. “And you’ll remember soon, don’t worry. We’re here to help.”

Here to help. Right. They were helping her. But why should they help someone who killed their own mother?

“Murderer!”

“You’re a plague!”

“Don’t come near me!”

“You killed her!”

Futaba collapsed. It was worse! So much worse! Were they normally so loud? Was it because of her presence here?

“Sakura Futaba.” Her own voice cut through the others like a sharpened blade. “What happened to your mother? What do you remember?”

“I… I killed her…” the girl wept, clutching the sides of her head tightly.

“No!” The other her snapped. “Try again! What do you remember?”

“She… jumped into the road… because of me?”

“Do you really believe that to be true?”

“It is… It’s the truth. I was a burden on her. And I’m still a burden today!”

“No! Try harder! Remember!”

“I… I can’t!” So loud. Too loud. Can’t concentrate. Can’t think.

“Sakura Futaba!” boomed her double. “What do you remember? What did they tell you?”

“They told me I drove my mother to suicide!” Futaba yelled, tears streaming down her face, pooling in the lenses of her glasses. Slowly she stood, dragging her bare feet along the sandstone, internally screaming at how it threatened to tear at her skin. “I did it! I’m the reason she’s gone!”

“Do you believe that to be the truth?”

“Shut up!” Futaba was shocked by how much power was behind her tone. Her throat burned. “You don’t get to decide what I believe! You can’t bring her back! She’s dead! I killed her!”

“You deny the voice of your true self?”

“You’re not my true self!”

Silence.

Sudden, deafening silence.

Not even the quiet hum of electricity. Not even the sound of falling sand. Nothing.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Futaba suddenly felt faint.

The one with yellow eyes sighed. Then smiled.

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” the double said, emotionless in tone and expression as she began to levitate. “But you leave me no choice.”

“H-huh?”

“Let me show you who you truly are.”

Futaba fell, but she didn’t land. Someone caught her, a pair of strong arms and a concerned face amongst dark tangles of hair. Kurusu, she realised. She heard footsteps and shouts from the others, but was too disoriented to focus on any of them.

Then her voice.

“I am a Shadow, the true self. No one can hide from the truth forever. Eventually, the delusions will shatter.”

Groggily, Futaba pulled herself to her feet, leaning on Sojiro’s ward for balance. Then she got a good look at what her alleged other self had become and almost fell right back down.

A vile, Eldritch Horror of a creature with tentacles that ended in eyes. Floating a good five metres off the ground with a terrifying, toothy smile. A singular, large eye the same golden yellow the double’s eyes had been stared upon them from the centre of its ghastly face.

“Holy shit!” the blond boy screamed.

“Futaba’s Shadow!” observed the brunette fearfully.

“What in the ever loving dungeons and dragons?” Kurusu murmured. Futaba was reasonably sure she was the only one who could hear it. Then something in his very character changed. Like a switch had been flipped. A mask pulled over his eyes.

“Makoto! You’re in charge! Focus on incapacitating it! Use whatever items you need!” he commanded. Where the hell did that energy come from?

“Roger!” came the girl’s reply. “Ann, debilitate it! Yusuke, I need our agility raised!”

“On it!” the blonde chirped the same time the boy said “Copy that.” Both of them pulled something from their pockets and crushed or threw it, bursts of light shrouding both them and the enemy they were facing. Like something out of a video game! This whole place felt like a video game!

“Mona, you’re our healer, conserve your energy,” Makoto continued, instructing the cat who gave a nod and readied his sword. “Ryuji, keep the weaker shadows away from Akira and Futaba.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Ryuji shouted with a grin and a salute, bolting immediately to the nearest stairs where Futaba could see what looked like possessed mummies climbing up to reach them. With a swing of a mace, they were sent flying into the abyss below.

“Hey,” a calm voice called to her. “Futaba, are you with me?”

Kurusu looked concerned. Worried. Like he wanted her to be okay. “Futaba.”

“Y-yeah…”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. Can you stand on your own?”

Futaba opened her mouth to answer but something in Kurusu’s expression stopped her. She only registered it as shock in time for it to fade and for him to pull out a gun. Where the heck did he get a gun?

He pulled her close and covered her ear with his hand. A couple loud bangs later something dissolve into black smoke behind her.

“Eyes sharp Ryuji!” he called to his teammate.

“Shit, sorry man!” came the boy’s reply.

Turning his gaze back to her, he tucked his gun back into his pocket—men’s pockets, seriously what the heck?—and supported her weight with both arms. “You okay?” He asked again.

She didn’t answer, only continued to stare up at the monstrosity her other self had become. “That… th-that can’t be me.”

Kurusu shifted to follow her gaze, something unreadable crossing his expression before he turned back to her. Grabbing both her shoulders—where did his gun go?—and forcibly turning the small girl to face him. Him, not the monstrosity in front of them.

“Look at me.” Instinctually, Futaba began to crane her neck to look behind her. “No, no. At me,” Kurusu redirected gently. “She is as much a part of you as you are a part of her. That doesn’t mean you’re a monster. You're not a plague. You’re just scared.”

Blinking, Futaba’s gaze locked on him in confusion and awe. His hold was firm and comforting, but not so tight she couldn’t leave. His voice was soft. He wasn’t mad at her. She felt like crying. Ah shoot, she was crying.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Kurusu’s hand slowly moved to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. Something made him stop. He was looking over her shoulder. At the monster. Eyes wide with fear.

“Hey,” he said with more urgency, stopping her from turning and looking. “You know I’m from the future right?” She nodded. “Well so are my friends! We’ve all got like magic spirits and stuff like in MoMo’s Strange Journey. It’s how we travelled back in time.”

“Wha-”

“And Mona’s a healer. It’s some real RPG type stuff. It’s how we steal hearts! The cognitive world can be dangerous without them so it’s a good thing we have them and can protect you.”

Protect her?

In a flash of blue fire that somehow didn’t burn, the boy in front of her abruptly changed from the stiff uniform of his high school to something straight out of an anime. Domino mask with exaggerated eye markings sat on his nose where his glasses once were and the texture of his hands changed as she no longer felt his warm skin through the thin fabric of her sleeves.

“W-what?”

“Finally!” shouted one of the girls behind her.

Kurusu didn’t resist this time when she turned around. Slack jawed she realised that all the Phantom Thieves’ clothes had changed.

“Panther, cast High Energy!” Makoto commanded, clad in spikes and leathers reminiscent of a biker.

Recognisable only by her blonde pigtails, Ann responded. “Persona!”

Before Futaba could get her bearings, the girl in skin tight red tore off the mask that had appeared. A tall figure with a similar likeness danced between her party members, an aura of blue surrounding them each in kind. Was that what Kurusu had meant by ‘spirits’?

But, the other one had called her Panther? Was that a pseudonym? Superhero names and spirit powers? That’s so cool!

“So you altered my cognition to return your personas to you,” the eldritch being taunted. “Clever, but you’re still out matched.”

“Agnes! Checkmate!” Makoto called on her own spirit—or was it persona?—and cast some sort of debuff on the horror.

“Let me guess,” the thing taunted. “Fox, Hyakka Ryouran. Mona, Miracle Punch. Panther, Blazing Hell. Queen, Atomic Flare.”

The four thieves faltered, hands freezing against their masks, stunned by their strategy being read so easily. Makoto stammered, trying to formulate a comeback.

“I’ve analysed your abilities. There is nothing you could do to surprise me,” the creature said smugly.

One of the eyes on the end of its stalks began to glow an icy blue, aiming its eerie gaze at the thieves fighting against it. In a blast of light and a sudden chilling breeze, the attack it was charging fired. There was a scream and the girl in red collapsed.

“Panther!” Ryuji yelled in distress.

Makoto was dusting snow off her leather corset. “Mona help her!”

But the cat was frozen in place, hindered by a thin layer of pure ice. No one had time to act before another eye began to glow. This time a bright orange, it aimed specifically for Yusuke—who seemed to be the only one unaffected—and sent a blast of fire, knocking him to the ground as well with a pained howl.

“Fox!” Ryuji cried out again, abandoning his post to run to his side.

“Skull! Stay focused!” Makoto reprimanded.

“I know all your strengths and weaknesses,” the creature sneered. “It won’t be long before you all fall to my superior skill.”

“Why are you attacking us?” Makoto asked, voice verging on desperation. “We’re here to help! You didn’t seem to have a problem with us before!”

“The denial of truth does not shatter its existence,” the shadow proclaimed. “I am the truth born of the heart; a living manifestation of the mind and soul. Eyes to see all that is rejected and scorned. No truth will escape my sights.”

All the creature’s many eyes directed straight towards Futaba. Ominous and unblinking. “You deny my existence. You deny my presence as part of your soul. Your willful ignorance only serves to strengthen me.”

“She’s done nothing wrong!” Kurusu defended her. He was still right next to her, holding her up. Protecting her. Like he wanted her around. Like he wanted to keep her safe.

“Nothing? She chooses to deny her truth! Chooses to live in solitude and pain! Chooses to waste away in a tomb of her own design! She remains stubbornly unwilling to drop the act forced upon her by those who directed her to madness! When will you learn your actions have consequences?

“Truth cannot be evaded forever! Soon you all will realise the struggles inflicted by the parts we play! Soon it will all be clear that this whole game is-”

Abruptly, the monster stopped. It grinned, the stony surface of its skin crinkled and warped unnaturally as its expression distorted. “You sly dogs, you had me monologuing!”

What?

Makoto attempted to get her team back on track. “Try to ground her!”

“A planned heist always fails, Queen.”

Did it just…?

“Shit! Shit!” Ryuji chanted in panic, jumping up to fend off the encroaching mummies and give his allies room to breathe.

“Eyes up, Skull. You’ve got company!” the Shadow taunted again.

“Joker! I’m getting overwhelmed here!”

“Wait,” was all he said. Low and steady. Expectant.

“The power of friendship won’t save you now.”

“W-wait!” Futaba stammered, surprised at her own conviction despite her shaking legs.

“Oh?” The mummies stopped attacking, the many-eyed creature raising an eye stalk for them to hold.

“I… I get it now,” she said, taking one unsure step after another. “You… you are me. You’re a nerd. And a drama queen. And a jokester who quotes references no one else gets.”

If beholders had eyebrows, the creature would be raising one of them at her right now. She kept walking. Kept taking shaky steps forward until the thing that came from her heart was right in front of her, a few metres in the air.

“I’m you, and you’re me. I didn’t want to admit that, but I can’t deny what’s undoubtedly the truth.”

“And your mother,” the Shadow said. “What of her?”

“She…”

“Remember. What actually happened that day? Did she really die by your hands?”

“She…” Did she? It was so hard to recall. Whenever Futaba tried to remember that horrible day everything went fuzzy. She remembered the car, the road, her mother’s silence as she fell towards the oncoming traffic. Silence? No. But was she screaming? Futaba’s head hurt.

“Calm down,” her Shadow urged her. “Think. You didn’t push her, so why did she jump?”

“She… didn’t.”

“Then what happened?”

Suddenly everything clicked. “She collapsed! It wasn’t suicide! The letter was a fake! Maternity neurosis? Completely made up! My mum loved me! The men in suits lied!”

The beholder smiled.

Floating.

Numbness.

Then the static electricity shot through her fingertips. She felt lightheaded.

Her eyes hurt.

What knowledge she lost?

What did she lose?

A lot.

Finding new and creative ways to mess with Sojiro with Akira. Mona sitting peacefully on her lap as she gamed. Being dragged around Harajuku by Ann for the first time and every time after. Delving into information rabbit holes with Makoto’s concerned but intrigued supervision. Teaching Ryuji how to be a beast at fighting games. Awkward but fun safe room conversations with Sumire. Figuring out how everything always related back to Akechi. All the playful arguments she had with Yusuke. Helping Haru discover her unique and somewhat surprising taste in music. Her teammates. Her friends. Guiding them all through danger and victory.

She’s done this before. She knew this name well.

“Show me, Al Azif.”

This feeling. She’d forgotten how it felt to be so free.

-

The beholder was gone. Just like her mother. That was okay. She remembered the real her. That’s all that mattered.

She remembered.

She remembered everything.

Her head became too heavy for her neck. All the floating screens were too much. The data before her eyes was too much. It was all so painful.

Oracle went down.

“FUTABA!”

“Joker!”

“I got her!”

All Futaba could remember was falling. She didn’t hit the ground, and she couldn’t tell when the falling stopped. Only that it did.

She fell and there were voices. And then black. She was tired. So, so tired.

-

First she could hear the hum of electricity. Then the pins and needles slowly faded from her body. She could feel the lumpy mattress she was laying on under her back, how the hard surface beneath held her body.

The voices faded in next. A muffled mumbling of unintelligible words said by people around her. She focused on the noise, ignoring the way her skin tingled and her head pounded as she gradually understood what they were saying.

“Wait! She’s waking up!”

“Futaba?”

“Futaba? Are you alright? Can you hear us?”

“Don’t crowd her. She needs to breathe.”

She fluttered open her eyes only to quickly shut them again. Whatever room she was in right now was way too bright. She couldn’t hear herself think.

“Everyone be quiet. You’ll overwhelm her.” That same pointed and vaguely sarcastic voice reprimanded the voices of her friends.

Her friends.

They came for her.

“Sakura-chan?” the woman said, voice softer but she’d leaned in closer. Futaba could feel her warm breath and heard how her clothes rustled as she moved. “My name is Dr Takemi. You don’t have to open your eyes, but I’d like you to let me know you can hear me. Speak, raise your hand, or nod if you can.”

She opened her mouth. No sound came out. She raised her hand instead.

“Good,” Dr Takemi said. “Can you sit up?”

In way of a response, Futaba pushed her upper body up, drawing her knees slowly in to keep her balance. She squinted her eyes open. Slowly this time.

The doctor was very much not what she’d expected a doctor to look like. Slender face and limbs with smoky makeup around her eyes. Dead straight hair and a general air of not giving a shit about anything. Coldly, she studied her, making Futaba want to shrink in on herself. Feeling squeamish as every detail was placed under scrutiny.

Then the doctor blinked and the harsh air was gone, replaced with calm professionalism.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked.

“S…Sakura Futaba,” she croaked in response.

Takemi nodded. “Good. Can you tell me what you can see?”

“A… a clinic.” How specific did she want her to be? “Um, a desk behind you. The chair you’re sitting in. Akira, Inari, Ryuji, Ann, Makoto. The computer. With some very important looking information on there.”

“Alright, you seem perfectly lucid now,” Takemi cut her off. “How’s your pain level?”

“Like a… solid 8.6.”

Takemi raised her eyebrows, but was otherwise emotionless. “10 being unbearable or barely there?”

“10 being unbearable.”

She hummed and wrote on her clipboard. “How much do you remember about what happened to you?”

“Well…”

Sighing and leaning forward, she clarified. “Allow me to rephrase. I am well aware of what it is you do and I don’t plan to reveal that information to anyone. What you tell me will not leave this room. I simply want to know how to help.”

Oh. That was… nice of her. How did she even know? Was it Akira? It was probably Akira.

What the hell did she remember anyway? She spent so long unawakened in this new reality that all the days were starting to blur together. What day was it? What year?

“What’s the date?” she blurted instead of answering the doctor’s question.

“Answer my question and then I’ll answer yours,” she chided.

“Oh,” Futaba said dumbly.

She recounted what she remembered about her Palace. The time travel stuff she left out. She couldn’t remember if what she was saying was from this time or last time. But hopefully everything was confusing enough that this Takemi lady wouldn’t be able to piece together that they were time travellers to begin with.

Holy heck they were time travellers.

That shit was still insane to her.

“Well as crazy as what you’re saying sounds, your symptoms and situation line up with what your friend Niijima-san said last time,” the doctor said after a while. “Other than the fever and whatever remains of your migraine, you seem perfectly fine. Perhaps a little exhausted. I’ll prescribe you some pain medicine after a few tests. Do you have any trouble getting to sleep most nights?”

“Uh… I don’t exactly have a normal sleep schedule, but I can get to sleep pretty easily when I need to,” Futaba replied.

“Hm,” the doctor hummed, jotting something down. “That should be fine for now, but if you find you’re still this exhausted in a month or so, come back and see me again.” She turned to the doorway where her friends had gathered. “Now, you can all go wait out there. You don’t need to hover in the doorway like vultures.”

“Hey,” Akira chuckled, feigning offence.

“Can you blame us, Doctor?” Makoto asked sheepishly. “We’re worried for her.”

“She’s fine, I can assure you.”

“Before we continue the tests and stuff, could you potentially answer my question now?” Futaba pressed.

“Of course. It’s the 10th of July.”

The 10th of July.

Wait the 10th? Of July?

Holy shit she was so early!

Dr Takemi ran her tests, prodding her with questions and supplying tasks before writing something down on her clipboard with a vaguely bemused expression. Or maybe it was just a blank expression and Futaba was just paranoid. She didn’t know! She was too autistic for that!

Drugs were supplied for the haunting migraine and she was sent on her way. They were greeted at Leblanc by a near panicked Sojiro.

“Futaba!” he exclaimed, quickly setting down the mug he was holding and rushing around the counter to greet her.

“H-hi! Sojiro!” she said before she was enveloped in a hug. As fast as it happened, it stopped, her father figure letting go with a worried look on his face.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?” he blurted, each question more frantic than the last.

“Sorry to scare you like that Boss. We received a message from Futaba that she wasn’t feeling well, so we went to help her,” Makoto lied easily.

“Wha- You messaged them?” Sojiro asked in disbelief.

Unsure what the plan was here, she nodded, electing to stay silent. Akira picked up the slack.

“We’ve been messaging back and forth for a while,” he said. “She must’ve looked through my paperwork to find my number. I think she wanted to make sure I wasn’t a murderer.”

“I can 100% Futaba Certify that he is not a murderer!” she chirped matter-of-factly.

“We found her collapsed in her room,” Ann said rather convincingly. “The boys took her to the doctor, and that’s when we came to tell you.”

“Okay.” Sojiro was calmer now, clearly processing what he was being told. Less worried now that his adoptive daughter was standing right in front of him. “Did the doctor say anything about her condition?”

“No nothing much,” Makoto said. “Just described a lack of energy and a migraine.”

Sojiro noticeably relaxed at that. “Oh thank god. That happens from time to time. As long as you’re awake now and you’re okay, I’m happy.”

Futaba felt giddy. “Yeah! I’ll be fine. I mean, I got outta the house finally, right?”

“Yeah…” Sojiro smiled, ear to ear. He adjusted his glasses, attempting to subtly wipe the tears from his eyes.

“A-and I know I’ll get better!” she said confidently. “I have Akira, and all these losers!” Ryuji and Inari let out an offended “Hey!” before one of the girls shut them up.

“Yeah. You do.”

Sojiro eventually left them to themselves, claiming it was too much excitement for him. Futaba called him old—which was true—and said she’d make Akira walk her home—which he would offer to do but she liked to feel powerful. When he left, the other Thieves sat her down and described the situation to her.

“Woah…” she said. “So this is a time loop we think?”

“We think,” Mona repeated. “We have no proof it’ll repeat again, but I have my suspicions.”

“How plot convenient we all remember when we awaken. And annoying.”

“It’s exhausting,” Ann agreed.

“I guess Akechi was right in his theory,” Makoto observed. “The remembrance truly seems to be getting worse for each consecutive awakening.”

“Akechi remembers?” Futaba whined, rolling her eyes. She noticed how much she was struggling to put energy into her voice and facial expressions. She was so tired. “Makes sense, but I wish I could stick it to him by thwarting his plans right now.”

“We’re trying to work together this time,” Akira said, a pleading look on his face.

“I could’ve figured that. He’s been coming over an awful lot more than last time.” Akira looked at the ground. “Oh? Did I say the quiet part out loud?”

“Anyway, you must be tired,” Akira changed the subject quickly. “Don’t worry about Medjed. They won’t be a problem for a while. Just take all the time you need and get back to us when you can.”

“Yeah…” As if to punctuate his point, she yawned. “But you haven’t heard the last of me.” It was a relatively empty threat. She was too tired to think about it right now.

“Text us when you get home, Futaba!” Ryuji said with a grin.

She smiled. She forgot what it was like to have friends. “I will. Akira, I require a companion.” Akira was already on his feet. They walked back together, rekindling the relationship of the sort of almost kind of siblings they once were.

Chapter Text

Seven down. Two to go.

Soon they’d all be together again and the Phantom Thieves could finally put a stop to this madness that puppeteered them from the shadows.

All they got to assure them Futaba was still alive was a quick text that read “am hom” followed by “passing out noe” and then radio silence. They hadn’t even added her to the chat.

Finals came and went. Akira aced every test. As did Makoto. Ann thought she did better than normal. Comparing their answers for English, Akira was certain she at least aced that one. Ryuji was… Ryuji about the exams. Hopefully with Makoto’s extra study sessions he did better at least.

“Should we do the fireworks festival again?” Ann asked the other Shujin students of their group as they piled onto the train. They’d all decided to hold a meeting that afternoon. Exams were over and they could all relax now. Makoto didn’t even need to stay late for student council duties.

“Why?” Ryuji questioned grabbing one of the handles overhead to stabilise himself. “Ain’t it just gonna rain again?”

Ann hugged her bag sheepishly. “Well, yeah probably. I just… We haven’t had much of a chance to celebrate as a group since Yusuke joined. And now we have Makoto and Futaba too. She’ll probably be out for a while but… I just thought we could use a chance to be high schoolers, y’know?”

“Ann’s right,” Makoto pondered. “We’ve all been extremely busy these past few weeks. It’s probably a good idea to spend some time for ourselves. Now that exams are finished, we can do so freely.”

“That’s a great point, Makoto,” Mona meowed quietly. “I’m not sure about the rainy fireworks though. Isn’t there something we can do instead?”

“A night in?” Akira threw into the crowd. Ann clasped her hands together, eyes wide and sparkling.

“Slumber party?” she squealed in delight.

Ryuji stuttered, forming seemingly random syllables before he could string together an actual sentence. “Uh, s-sure? I’d have to check with my mum. I don’t want to leave her alone all night without warning.”

“Y-yeah! Of course, just like. We haven’t gotten to have a proper slumber party yet!” Ann giggled. “The only time we got anywhere close was in Hawaii, and Mishima-kun got sick.”

Akira and Ryuji both winced. “Oof,” the leader said. “I’m gonna tell him not to drink tap water this time.”

“For real. Good call, dude,” Ryuji agreed.

“I’ll have to talk with my sister about it, but I’d be thrilled to,” Makoto chimed. “I’ve actually never been to a slumber party before.”

“Really?” Ann gawked. “Not even with Haru?”

Blushing only a little, the girl shook her head and shrugged. “We were both so busy we never had the time. Eiko tried to convince me to once or twice, but that was during the fight with Sis, so…”

“I guess I haven’t been to a slumber party either,” Mona said in contemplation.

“Aren’t you with this guy every night?” Ryuji teased, gesturing to Akira. “Ain’t that just a forever slumber party?”

“It is so not the same!” Ann said, playfully mad and whacking his arm lightly, both of them grinning ear to ear.

They caught up with Yusuke at Shibuya and informed him of their plan. He seemed surprised and intrigued.

“A slumber party?” he said with wonder in his eyes. “What a pleasant idea. I must admit my only experience in the field is sharing a room with some of Madarame’s other former students. Even so, I believe this will be an exciting experience for us.”

“Wait, has no one else ever been to one before?” Ann asked in shock. “Ryuji?”

“Nah man. I don’t run with that sorta crowd,” he answered, then rubbed his neck and amended. “Except for you and Suzui, I guess.”

“Akira?” Her piercing blue eyes turned to him next, searching his for an answer. In lieu of a response, he tugged at his hair and glanced off to the side. “Wow. I thought for sure you would’ve been popular at your old school.”

They boarded the next train as Akira debunked her theory. “Not quite. I had friends, sure, but we never stayed overnight at each other’s houses.”

He wasn’t allowed.

“A slumber party, eh?” Sojiro pondered as they pitched the idea to him. “Aren’t you kids a little old for that kinda thing?”

“No way!” Ann denied. “You’re never too old to spend a night with friends!”

Akira’s guardian sighed and shook his head. “Well alright, just don’t go making a mess of my store. I’ll see if I can get some extra ingredients for you kids to use when I go shopping tomorrow.”

Holding up a hand, Akira turned down the offer. “No need, Boss. We can take care of that.”

“Huh? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, I have a job, and Ann has a job. We can cover everything we need ourselves.” Akira explained. Technically, they all had a job. A very high paying job at that. But Sojiro didn’t need to know that yet.

“My sister gives me an allowance I can spend every month,” Makoto tacked on. “I’d be happy to pitch in.”

“Oh! Same!” Ryuji said quickly. “From my mum though. I don’t have a sister.”

“I’d make a contribution as well, but…” Yusuke trailed off. Ann gave him a pointed stare.

“What did you buy this time, Yusuke?” she asked.

“A makeup pallet I passed by in a store reminded me of a friend. I simply had to buy it.” Yusuke smiled softly. “Alas, makeup is not an art I am skilled in and I am no longer in contact with them, so I am unable to give it to them as a gift.”

“Yusuke bought makeup?” Ryuji leaned in to mumble to Ann and Akira.

“I thought he couldn’t get any gayer,” Akira joked at the same volume. Ann nearly snorted, attempting to hide it behind a cough while Ryuji settled on an awkward half laugh, gazing at Yusuke’s unbothered smile as Makoto chastised him for the impulsive purchase.

“Well, as long as you kids know what you’re doing,” Sojiro said reluctantly. Then he waved them off. “Anyway, we’re still open. You can all hang out upstairs, just remember to keep the cat quiet.”

“You got it Boss,” Akira said as the thieves made their way into the attic.

Refreshments and snacks were shared and general chatter filled the room for a while. Makoto for once was taking a break from studying and instead talking to Ryuji about a Yakuza manga he was reading, Mona at his side appearing just as interested. Yusuke was being lectured by Ann on makeup and how much work truly goes into product choice and application. A lecture he actually appeared to be thoroughly intrigued by.

Softly, Akira smiled. Happy to see his friends happy. For once.

Eventually, Mona padded over to him. “Anyway!” he said loudly to get everyone’s attention. “What’s on the agenda today, Leader?”

Akira blinked, the smile vanished. Replaced by a more serious expression. Not harsh, but serious.

“Oracle is out,” he said. “Last time it was only for a week. Who knows how long it’ll be this time.”

The Phantom Thieves had settled into their roles too, the tone Akira had adopted moulding them to be attentive. Makoto, as usual, spoke up with her theories she had already crafted on the matter.

“My guess is two, maybe three,” she said. “Based on the severity of my own symptoms and how long they lasted compared to Yusuke’s, I concluded that the length of time the user is afflicted near triples with each consecutive awakening.”

Yusuke was nodding slowly, a hand on his chin and eyes closed, even though Akira knew he hadn’t the slightest clue what she just said. Next to him, Ann looked politely confused.

“Wait… huh?” Ryuji asked aloud. Mona audibly sighed.

“I mean that I was sick—for lack of a better word—for about four days after my awakening. Yusuke only felt sick for two. Not even that.”

“Holy shit.”

Makoto smoothed her skirt down where she’d been crumpling it in her hands. “If I’m right, Futaba is dealing with a level of exhaustion her body has never experienced before. She passed out for a week when the exhaustion was normal. It has to be at least three times the severity at this point!”

“Akechi and I didn’t awaken and didn’t experience anything of this remembrance illness you all seem to be getting,” Morgana chimed. “I can only hope Haru and Sumire don’t have it too bad.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about them too,” Ann said sadly. “Sumire has been too busy to make our training sessions lately.”

“Yeah mine too,” Ryuji mentioned. “Said she had some big meet coming up.”

Akira perked up a bit at that. “She was chosen again? That’s awesome!”

“Ah, did this meet of hers happen last time as well?” Yusuke asked.

“It did,” Makoto answered. “But if I remember correctly, Sumire’s results weren’t exactly stellar.”

“She was pretending to be Kasumi that time,” Morgana said in her defence. “She’ll do better this time. She must. Right?”

“Well she hasn’t awakened yet either, and her results started to improve based on her acceptance of her true self, correct?” Makoto countered.

She was right. Akira hated that she was right.

He changed the subject.

“I wanted to talk about Mejed.” His team snapped back to attention.

“Their threats were empty, were they not?” Yusuke mentioned. “Their purpose was to bring the Phantom Thieves into the public eye.”

“Exactly,” Akira agreed. “And we need our name out there if we’re to get far enough down in Mementos to beat Cuphead up.”

Mona nodded. “I’m still not sure if he’s behind it, but he could be the reason we’re all back here. And he doesn’t want us to remember. That’s why we get sick whenever we do.”

“It’s a sound theory,” Makoto praised, patting his head gently as she stared into the table. “If all goes well, Futaba should wake up well before their cleanse deadline.”

Everyone shared a knowing smile, sending glances to each other across the table.

“Then we can put on a show,” Akira smirked.

Glad to see the Phantom Thieves were still on the same page.

-

Long after the meeting was over, they just hung out. Playing games and chatting away, like any normal high schoolers. It was nice. Akira thought they didn’t do this nearly enough last year. They just had no time. But now, they had all the time in the world.

Eventually they trickled out one by one. Yusuke had to go back to make the dorm curfew, with Makoto accompanying him to the station, citing that she wished to maintain a regular sleep schedule. Like a nerd. Ann had a night shoot to attend so she was next to leave. When it was only him left, Ryuji shuffled up to him like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“So, uh, hey dude,” he said awkwardly. “I… I have somethin’ I wanna talk about. With you.”

Mona stood up from where he was laying comfortably on the sofa. “Oh, is this a private conversation? I can go for a wander if you’d prefer,” he offered.

“Uh, yeah, please Mona if you wouldn’t mind. Sorry, it’s just… it’s a lot and I don’t really think I want everyone to know just yet.”

“Okay!” He leaped down and padded over and out the window. “I’ll be back in like an hour or so. Have fun you two.” And with that, the cat vanished into the night as dark as his fur.

“So…”

“So…”

They stewed in a strangely awkward silence for a few moments. Then Ryuji broke it.

“Dude… I think I might be gay.”

Akira blinked for a second. That wasn’t what he’d expected. Everything he could think of was pointing towards the exact opposite, and yet here they were. Completely out of nowhere, Ryuji coming out to him.

“You… you think you’re gay?” he repeated stupidly. Not the time to be off guard, Akira! Focus. You gotta comfort your friend.

“W-well yeah, maybe,” Ryuji said with a shrug. “Prolly, uh bisexual, isn’t it. Right? That’s the one where you like two genders, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Akira blinked away his confusion. He shifted the spare booth table further out of the way, sat on the sofa, and patted the spot next to him. “Here, sit down. Let’s talk.”

They sat on Akira’s sofa. Just to talk, one on one. Work out this vulnerable moment together.

“How did you realise?” the blond asked him.

“Ooh, um.” How did he realise? “Long story short, I had this crazy crush on some guy in my class back in Inaba. I didn’t really know that’s what it was until I was talking to an older guy about it.”

“Older guy?” Ryuji exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

“Not like that,” Akira assured. “Tatsumi-san. He runs the textile shop in town. Crazy good craftsman. I had a lot of respect for him.” A smile began to form across Akira’s face. “Growing up he made some stuffed animals for the kids around town. He used to…” Not relevant. He dropped the smile. “He said he had a very similar experience when he was my age. Taught me what it meant to be queer and how to live without seeing it as a burden.”

“Wow. You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s not. Not by a long shot. He told me, you never stop discovering things about yourself. That it’s scary, and that’s okay. As long as you have people who got your back, you can make it through any struggle.”

His grin returned and he gently nudged his best friend’s shoulder. “I got your back, Ryuji.”

“Thanks man,” Ryuji returned the expression for a moment before it dropped again. The gears in his mind were almost visibly turning.

“Is it wrong to like two people at once?”

“It… depends. It’s not wrong to like them both, but if you choose to pursue them both, it’s better to make sure they’re both aware of it.”

“Don’t cheat, yeah wasn’t plannin’ to. I know I say a lotta shit, but that’s a dick move for real.”

“Damn. My dreams of starting my own harem have been crushed. Thanks Ryuji,” Akira joked.

“Anytime dude!”

The pair laughed, a strange tension hanging over them like an awkward cloud. Truthfully, this was the most vulnerable Akira had been since his awakening. It was nice. To feel safe.

“Who are they, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“…Ann and Yusuke.”

Eyebrows shot up and a mischievous thought crossed his mind. “Really?”

“Yeah, I dunno! I just. They’re so nice, and they’re both really pretty. Yusuke has no clue about what’s happening around him but I find it kinda… I dunno. Kinda endearing? And I mean, Ann’s a freakin’ model! How can you not like her?”

“I mean yeah, she’s gorgeous,” Akira started, leaning forward with a grin. “But there’s definitely more than that, isn’t there?”

Ryuji’s blush deepened and he rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. “W-well yeah! Of course! She’s totally awesome! She’s funny, and she’s talented, and she’s a powerhouse in the Metaverse.” Propping one leg up, he leaned on his knee, staring at the floor like it was the very girl he was talking about. “She’s so strong. Emotionally and physically. I mean, I can’t help liking that about her.

“And Yusuke is so passionate. He speaks so dramatically and with so much emotion, I could listen to him talk about watching paint dry or somethin’. He’s also just so incredible in a fight and he moves so…”

Akira raised a brow and smirked teasingly. “Go on.”

The athlete instead brought his hands up to meet his face. “What should I do?” he asked, muffled by his palms.

“Tell them,” Akira urged. “You three would be so cute together.”

“I’m not ready for that, dude!” Ryuji sputtered in self defence. “I mean we have all this time travel bullshit to deal with. Not to mention school and Phantom Thief shit and all the regular normal shit as well. I don’t even know if they like me back! How the hell am I supposed to fight with them if there’s this awkward tension between us?”

“The same way Mona and Ann fight together,” Akira retorted calmly.

“That’s different!”

“It’s exactly the same.”

Ryuji shook his head. “I dunno what I’m gonna do,” he muttered solemnly. “I dunno if I’m even ready for that kinda stuff yet. You’re the only one I’ve told so far.”

Deflating a little, Akira wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulder. “That’s okay,” he assured. “You don’t have to be. Just know I got your back when you are.”

The athlete smiled at him. “Thanks man.”

A minute or so passed and the conversation evolved. Moving away from the topic of his coming out, Ryuji settled into just being him. Akira couldn’t be more proud.

He walked him to the train station and waved him off, wishing him safe travels home.

Back in the attic, Mona slid in through the open window and landed on the bed by his feet. “So, what was that about?”

Akira grinned. “Nothing important,” he lied, scrolling through the group chat messages confirming everyone was home. The cat seemed to not believe it, but he shut off his phone and pulled up the covers before he could protest.

“Good night, Morgana!”

-

Knowing full well what was happening that day, Akira kept his Sunday free. He gave Morgana the task of checking in on Futaba and seeing how she was doing. Alone, he boarded the train to Odaiba.

By the scaffolding of an unfinished stadium, he found exactly who he was looking for.

“Hey, Sumire,” he greeted casually, snapping her briefly out of her sulking.

“Oh! Kurusu-senpai!” she replied startled. “Hello.”

Akira cocked his head to the side, his concern for her wellbeing showing clearly on his face. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine…” Sumire hesitated, bringing her arms in to hug herself. “Actually, no. I’m not. Not really.”

“What’s going on? I can lend you an ear.”

She shook her head. “No, really. I’ll be okay. You don’t have to waste your time comforting me, Senpai.”

“I insist.” He didn’t give her a choice and slid up to her side. “How about you join me for lunch? Where do you want to go, my treat.”

Giggling softly, she began to walk—more of a nervous shuffle really—towards the train station. “Are you sure? I have quite an appetite. Even Haru-senpai finds it alarming at times.”

“I can still cover it, I assure you,” he said, falling into step next to her. “You and Haru-senpai seem quite close.”

She nodded, lips pressed together. “We are. She’s talked me off the ledge once or twice, and I’ve helped her with some of her own personal issues. I think I needed someone to look out for me like she does.”

Akira’s eyes went wide. Had she- Did Sumire-

Her eyes matched his for a moment and she quickly became flustered. Talking a mile a minute, she backpedalled. “I-I-I don’t mean that in a literal sense! I swear I meant that figuratively! I’m sorry, I should’ve chosen better wording! I know you’re close with Suzui-senpai, it was rude of me to not take your feelings into consideration. My sincerest-”

“Sumire,” he stopped her. “It’s okay, I promise. As long as you’re alright, I’m perfectly happy. Besides, we’ll have all the time we need to talk about it if you want to.”

“O-okay. Alright. Yes! Let’s go to lunch! Lead the way Senpai!”

True to her word, Sumire ate a lot at the diner. Just an absolute monster, gulping down dish after dish. The massacre resulted in a somewhat hefty bill—that barely put a dent in his Mementos earnings—and a neat stack of empty plates at the end of their table.

“What did I just witness,” Akira said. A joke to alleviate some of the horror.

Sumire started shyly playing with her hair. “As a gymnast, I have to stay in shape if I want to be at my best. I train a lot, so I work off a lot of what I eat, so I have to compensate so my weight doesn’t change too much.”

Eyes lit up. What a perfect segue.

“Speaking of gymnastics, I heard you were chosen to represent your club in the upcoming meet,” Akira said smoothly. “You must be excited.”

Sumire looked down, hanging her head as if she were trying to hide behind her hair. Like she was trying to pull it across her face like a velvet curtain. “It was today, actually,” she corrected.

“Oh, that’s right, my mistake. How did it go?”

“Not… great,” she replied, pressing herself further into the booth’s seat. “I completely messed it up.” She looked like she was about to cry. Akira leaned across the table, reaching out to comfort her, falling short just before his fingertips reached the other end. Sumire clutched her hands to her chest.

“I’m sorry, Senpai. I shouldn’t be forcing my struggles on you,” she apologised. The boy quickly shook his head.

“No, Sumire, you can talk to me,” he insisted. “I promise you; I will not judge you or think any less of you no matter what you tell me. I want to help you as much as I can. You can trust me. I keep my promises.”

Hesitantly, she looked at him over the frames on the bridge of her nose. Then at his still open hand on the table. Adjusting her glasses and with a shaky sigh, she nodded. She didn’t take his hand.

“I… haven’t been getting the best results lately,” she explained, “and today seems no exception. I messed up a crucial trick in my routine in front of everyone. I did a disservice to everyone I do this for.”

“What about yourself?” Akira posed.

“What? I’m sorry I don’t get what you mean.”

“If you only do gymnastics for others, your heart isn’t truly going to be in it.” He withdrew his hand and tugged at his hair. “It doesn’t matter how much you want the approval of your coach or to impress someone, if you don’t love what you do, you won’t end up doing it to your fullest.”

“But I do love gymnastics!” Sumire countered, slamming her hands on the table, rattling plates and cutlery. “It’s our dream to compete at a global level! So why can’t I get there?”

“Is it your dream, or is it Kasumi’s?”

Falling silent, Sumire stared at him, hands sliding off the table and back into her lap. Across the table, Akira knew he’d said the right thing. It may have struck a nerve, but it was an important epiphany to have. She needed to learn how to perform for herself, not for her sister.

“Just something to think about,” he shrugged. “I'll handle the bill, as promised.”

Gathering his things and sliding out of the booth to leave, Akira offered Sumire one last smile. “If you ever need someone to talk to, Sumire, you should swing by Leblanc. It’s a small cafe in Yongen. The owner is my guardian. Just ask for me and I’ll be there.”

“Oh, um, thank you Senpai,” Sumire said softly, standing and offering him a bow. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ll be sure to come by when I have the chance.”

“I look forward to seeing you there.”

They parted ways at the diner’s entrance, Sumire heading further into the city. To meet Haru, she told him, and she assured him she could get there safely. As for Akira, he headed for the train station, a hopeful feeling blooming in his chest that she would be alright.

-

“Slumber party!”

Ann’s squeals of delight were surely all Yongen could hear as she jumped from futon to futon in utter delight. They had ultimately decided to hold their slumber party on the last day of school. It wasn’t raining and there wasn’t anything in particular they were celebrating, it was just better to not have school the next day and have Makoto on their backs at five in the morning to get to school on time.

Sojiro had been kind enough to close the store early for them, so they didn’t have to worry about bothering customers for the rest of the day.

“Ann be careful,” Makoto scolded, but there was no real force behind it. She set her book in her lap and looked at her with a smile from the safety of Akira’s bed. “We just set those up.”

“Sorry I’m just really excited!” she giggled. “I’ve always wanted to have a slumber party with more people!”

“What exactly does one do at a slumber party such as this?” Yusuke asked, observing from the sofa and laying his sketchbook down next to him.

“Anything really!” Ann answered. “Play games, watch a movie, group therapy, eat snacks, pillow fight.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Morgana stopped her. “Can we circle back to group therapy?”

“What? Conversations at gatherings like these can get really deep sometimes!”

“Eh, what’s there to get worked up over?” Ryuji shrugged. “We all already know pretty much everything about one another anyways.”

Not everything.

“Maybe we will, maybe we won’t,” Yusuke mused. “What matters is that we spend this time together.”

“Agreed,” Makoto said, leaning back against the wall with a sigh of relief. “It feels like forever since we were actually able to do anything for fun together.”

“Technically, it was,” Morgana said. “Those moments only exist in our memories now.”

The air in the room noticeably flattened.

“I didn’t wanna bring it up, but I think you’re right,” Ryuji said. He flopped down unceremoniously on the futon he’d already claimed—right by the sofa where Yusuke was sleeping. “Everything’s been really full on since we all started remembering. I keep telling myself it’s a dream and I’ll wake up again for real, but I never do.”

Ann moved to sit next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He tensed a little before relaxing and looking away in embarrassment. How had Akira never noticed that before?

“It’s been hard for all of us,” she said, oblivious to how Ryuji reacted. “What matters is that we’re in this together. We have each other!”

“Indeed,” Yusuke hummed. In what was likely an effort to be included, he placed a hand on Ryuji’s head rather than his shoulder. The way Ryuji’s face heated at that—Akira had to force himself to keep a straight face. “As long as I have all of you, I am certain we can make it through this together.”

Makoto nodded, smiling sadly. “It won’t be too long until we have everyone back,” she said. “Soon we can truly start figuring out what’s going on.”

“I have my theories,” Morgana began. “At first I-”

Akira interrupted him. “Let’s not get caught up talking about work,” he suggested. “This is supposed to be fun! Let’s wind down and just enjoy ourselves. I bought some board games in Akihabara that I’m dying to try!”

“Is that so?” Makoto raised an eyebrow, bookmarking her page and standing. “I think you’ll find I am the queen of board games, no pun intended. I bet I can beat you all with my hands tied.”

Until the sun set they played board games. Makoto had proven herself correct in her statement as she wiped the dusty attic floor with all of them. It was fun. A lot of fun.

They were taking turns in Leblanc’s bathroom, changing from their school uniforms to their more comfortable sleepwear. Akira came up last to the sounds of his friends chattering away.

“Yusuke! I brought my makeup kit!” Ann chirped.

“Yes!” Yusuke shouted in pure glee. “Please, Ann, teach me the ways of your art!”

“We need a canvas.” She turned to the boy at the top of the stairs, a villainous look in her eye and her grin wide. “Akira,” she sing-songed.

“Yeah okay,” Akira shrugged, pretending not to be creeped out by her sudden switch.

“Dude?” Ryuji yelled, though it sounded like a question. “Why not Makoto?”

“Our skin tones don’t match,” Makoto succinctly explained.

“Right!” Ann agreed. “And Yusuke’s a guy, so if he wants to try makeup on himself, he won’t know how to best flatter his face shape.”

Yusuke nodded sagely. “This seems a reasonable decision. Very well, Akira shall be our canvas!”

Abandoning his dirty uniform in his hamper—that was really just a cardboard box either he or Becky took to the laundromat every week—and sat himself on the floor where Ann was beginning to set up. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t worn makeup before,” Akira commented with a shrug.

Ann’s jaw dropped. “No way!” she shouted. “Really? Why didn’t I know this? Is that why you were so willing to do this?”

“Well yeah.” Akira shrugged playing it off. “I did some performance stuff for a bit in my hometown. I’m sure you know how lights make your skin look weird without it.”

She made a noise at that, indicating she now understood. “Yeah I get it. I think stage makeup is a bit different to photography makeup, but I get it.”

“I had no idea you were a performer, Akira,” Makoto mentioned. Oh fuck. “What kind of performance did you do?”

“Um. Y’know. School plays and things.” He wasn’t even in the drama club. “Basic stuff.”

The room was uneasy for a moment, everyone feeding off the energy Akira was giving out. Or rather, not giving out since he had violently shut himself down and was very clearly not saying anything to answer her question. He wasn’t going to talk about it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Ryuji said after a moment, doing his best to salvage the mood from earlier. “I mean you’re always so dramatic in the Metaverse.”

“That’s our leader!” Morgana preached. “Always putting a theatrical spin on our daring escapades! Such flair is pivotal to being a Phantom Thief.”

Morgana was right. It was part of why he’d accepted the role in the first place.

Some of the lighthearted atmosphere restored, Ann tutored Yusuke on her techniques, the artist being thoroughly entranced by every product. Asking multitudes of questions and analysing every detail.

Akira found himself under a similar scrutiny as when he was modelling for him before they changed Madarame’s heart. Only this time he felt more comfortable. Likely due to the simple fact that the mask remained, despite his lack of glasses. It was Ann he was paying close attention to. Not him.

In the background, Ryuji and Makoto picked up a fighting game and were versing each other on the old console Akira had. Morgana sat in Makoto’s lap, commentating the games like it was an Olympic sport. From what he could hear, it seemed pretty neck and neck, maybe skewed a little in favour of Ryuji. Futaba had taught him well.

Futaba… They should check in on her soon. He made a mental note to send Morgana for reconnaissance again in a day or two.

“Ann, I must ask, what is this?” Yusuke muttered. As the canvas Akira’s eyes were closed, but he could only assume he was holding or gesturing to something. “How is this different from foundation?”

“It’s concealer!” Ann replied. “Here let me show you something magical!” With a few sound effects and instructions, Ann dabbed some of the product on his face and blended it into the foundation she had already applied. She finished with a fanfare and Yusuke audibly gasped.

“It’s as if he’s glowing!” he exclaimed. “Perhaps I can utilise this technique in my portraits to enhance them.”

“You absolutely can!” Ann said in encouragement. “Makeup is kinda like painting if you think about it.”

“What about this?”

“That’s lash glue. We probably won’t be using it, unless we’re going full on with this look.”

Akira winced and opened his eyes. “Please don’t,” he begged. “Lash glue irritates my eyes. Got some on my waterline by accident one time and was crying the whole show.”

Ann’s face scrunched with sympathy. “Ouch. I hate that for you. For your sake, we won’t do that. Okay, Yusuke, when you’re contouring your face…”

Falling silent once more, Akira listened. He absorbed the sounds of the people around him. People he cared for so much. He was glad they’d decided to do this. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d missed out on through all the drama of last year.

Technically it was this year’s drama too, but they knew what they were up against this time.

He would spend eternity with these crazy thieves. He would never give them up for anything. They had stolen his heart.

“Now, we add just a touch of white to the inner corners…” Ann tapped a small brush against his skin.

“My, that really does enhance the eyes so intensely,” Yusuke mused. “He looks so ethereal.”

“Makoto! You bastard!” Ryuji yelled across the room.

“Uh oh!” Morgana narrated sassily. “Looks like Skull is no match for Queen’s Fist of Justice!“

“What is it that Futaba always says?” Makoto asked herself rhetorically. “Oh I remember. Get good!”

“Best of twenty-three!” Ryuji challenged.

“You’re on!” Makoto accepted.

Akira tuned back in on the beauty class he was taking part in. Ann was showing her student a selection of coloured products, from lip glosses to matte lipsticks. Yusuke selected one he believed would compliment the look nicely and Ann turned back to her canvas.

“Kira, pucker your lips.” He did so. She swiped a nude toned lipstick across his lower lip. “Go like this.” She rubbed her lips together. He copied the action. She smiled brightly at him as she surveyed her work.

“And we’re done!” she announced. “I present to you: the glam Akira!”

Noticing Ann’s artistic addition to his face had been completed, the other three paused their game to look over at them. Everyone was marvelling at Akira as though he was the next Treasure they planned to steal.

“Woah dude,” Ryuji muttered.

“You did well, Ann,” Makoto complimented. “He looks like he could be a different person.”

“Oh trust me,” Morgana remarked, “this isn’t even nearly as different as he can look.”

“The hell does that even mean?” Ryuji exclaimed. Akira just laughed. Dude would probably implode if he ever stumbled upon him working at Crossroads.

“Can I see?” Akira asked his model friend. The girl in question was already taking out her phone to snap a picture of him, turning the screen around to show him.

He had to admit, Ann’s makeup skills were far better than his own. She had managed to enhance his features without greatly altering the way his face looked with contour. His eyes were what really made the look pop, a deep purple base with a sort of lilac shimmer near his inner corners. The shadow faded out to a brighter pinkish shade near the wing of his eyeliner, that flicked up in a flawless manner that appeared effortless.

Apparently the colours were similar to the pallet Yusuke had bought on impulse. It reminded him of Haru.

“Damn I’m sexy,” Akira said. Mostly just to get a laugh out of his friends, but he knew he was right. In his defence, his vanity worked. His friends were laughing.

“Hey man, you said it, not me,” Ryuji replied, somewhat thrown off.

Akira made a show of blinking up at him with a pout. “You don’t think I’m sexy, Ryuji?”

The athlete turned a shade of red that would rival Joker’s gloves. “H-hey! That ain’t what I said!” The rest of the thieves began laughing again. “For real guys! I-I ain’t attracted to him!”

“Sure, Ryuji,” Mona said, sarcasm clear as day. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

At some point, everyone ended up in a circle on the floor, drinking soda and just talking. Occasionally staring at Akira’s glammed face that he had yet to take off. Ann offering—threatening—to do Ryuji’s next. No Phantom Thief business to worry about. No god they needed to kill. Just high school friends hanging out in an attic.

It felt normal.

“I know we kinda touched on this last year, but what’s everyone doing after this whole Phantom Thief thing is over?” Ann posed the question. It got everyone thinking. Akira ignored how the pit opened up again in his stomach.

“Well, for me,” Ryuji began, “I think I still wanna do proper rehab for my leg. If I’m ever gonna run again, I’ll need it. But I’m hoping I wouldn’t have to go too far. I still wanna spend time with you all.”

“I’m not sure how possible that would be,” Makoto informed him solemnly. “Not with my schedule at least. Nor Haru’s for that matter. We both have our studies to attend to. I’ve already started saving my Metaverse funds to buy the same apartment I got last year. It was a nice place that was close to my university.”

“It saddens me that so many people will be leaving,” Yusuke said, “but I will be sure to keep you all in my heart. Not to mention, even if it will be hard, it will not be impossible for us to spend time together.”

“Yeah!” Ann agreed. “I mean, the Internet isn’t going away any time soon. And I probably won’t be leaving to study abroad until I graduate anyway.”

“What do you want to study, Ann?” Morgana asked. “You’re already an incredible model.”

“Aw, thank you,” she giggled. “I think I want to study business management. I know I can’t be a model forever, and there are so many shitty people who take advantage of young models like me. So, I want to start my own agency! I’ll scout young aspiring models and give them a safe place to hone their craft!”

Makoto nodded in approval. “That’s very admirable of you, Ann.”

“Yes, I can certainly see why that would be something you’re passionate about,” Yusuke agreed.

“It suits you,” Akira said. He wasn’t sure how real the smile on his face truly was. Ann didn’t seem to notice, beaming back at him gratefully. No one seemed to notice.

“What about you, Akira?” Makoto turned the question on him, startling him for a moment. “What do you want to do next year?”

Next year… What did he want to do? Better question; what could he do?

“There’s not really much to do in my hometown,” he admitted. “Hopefully I’ll just finish school peacefully so I can move back here. After that, I don’t know what I can do.”

“Your criminal record will be cleared, won’t it?” she pressed. “Sis mentioned that the woman in your original case came forward.”

“We don’t know if that’ll happen this time,” he countered. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

That certainly brought the mood down.

“Ann, is this perhaps what you meant about group therapy?” Yusuke asked to break the tension.

“Yeah sorta,” she admitted in response.

Laughing awkwardly, Akira made an attempt to shift the focus. “At this rate, I’ll end up being Joker forever,” he said.

Makoto rolled her eyes somewhat fondly. “I have to admit, the mask is a good look for you.”

“Even the lesbian finds him sexy!” Ann cheered.

Said lesbian sputtered some half syllables before landing on, “That is not what I said!”

Akira shrugged, building on Ann’s joke. “I just have that effect on people.” He punctuated his statement with a wink, Makoto responding by launching the nearest pillow in his direction.

The tension eased as they continued to joke around. Pillows were thrown around and being used like swords or shields. At one point, Ann found a way to twist up a blanket and use it like a whip, making her completely unstoppable in the fight.

That was when Ryuji had the idea to wield his pillow more like his club, and suddenly everyone was leaning towards their Metaverse weapons of choice. Akira and Morgana with the home turf advantage used their knowledge of the surroundings to gain the upper hand. However, Morgana wasn’t used to fighting while forced to be on all fours.

Yusuke got a good hit on Ryuji, knocking him to the ground with a loud noise.

“Now’s our chance for an All Out Attack!” Morgana yelled, seemingly on instinct.

“Let’s do it!” Joker commanded and now everyone was ganging up on Ryuji.

Laughter filled the air as the fight continued. When things eventually wound down, they all went to bed grinning ear to ear.

-

Not long after the school break began, Akechi and Akira met up outside a large building that read: ‘Odaiba Ice Rink’. They’d agreed they wanted to try something new, this was the first thing Akira could think of.

Neither of them had ever been skating before. That meant neither of them had any clue who would be better at it, as they had no experience to base their judgement on. Still, it didn’t stop them from making it a competition to begin with.

Skating was kinda like dancing right? I mean, like, balance and stuff is a big thing. Even if in dance you’re technically not moving as much. But it had to be similar right? Yeah. Let’s go with that.

“This had ought to prove interesting,” Akechi said, his pasted on grimace still not hiding the amusement in his voice.

Unable to resist, Akira threw a wink his way. “Think you can keep up with me, Detective?”

Said Detective glared at him, but the grin was telling of what he truly felt. “As a detective, it’s my job to keep up with petty thieves like you,” he retorted. “The real question is if you can outrun me.”

Akira grinned right back. Now that was more like it.

They paid the entry fee, changed into their rented skates, and hit the ice, both boys clinging to the wall for dear life. Other skaters passed by them, all at varying paces, the more seasoned of them racing each other further towards the centre while those at Akira and Akechi’s skill level were moving like snails—arms out and pigeon-toed.

Much like Akechi himself; currently gripping the side barrier with both hands, trying to keep one leg from slipping out further than the other. Akira wasn’t faring much better, in his total honesty.

“How these people learned to do that is remarkable,” Akechi commented as he motioned to one of the skaters in the centre. Following his line of sight, he saw a group of girls, one of them holding her leg aloft while she spun in place, her friends ensuring no absent-minded skater accidentally lost an eye.

“I could do that with some practice,” Akira said smugly.

Akechi raised a brow at him. “Oh really now?”

“Of course I could! You’ve seen me in action. You know I could nail it.”

“I know you have good balance,” he said. “But I have yet to see you do anything close to dance, let alone figure skating. You’ll likely fall on your ass the second you lift your foot off the ground.”

Any normal person would identify that as an insult, and they’d be partially right. But Akira chose to interpret that as a challenge.

With a smug grin and about forty percent of the grace of a trained ballerina, Akira engaged every muscle in his body as he lifted one leg off the ice. Holding his arms out in third position to balance out his shaky arabesque.

“How the fuck are you holding your leg up like that?” Akechi demanded.

“I did dance for like, six years or something in my hometown,” Akira explained, attempting to hold the position as he slid along the ice. He had to set his leg back down when he got too ambitious, the unstable ground being unfamiliar to his body.

Akechi raised his brows at him, “Oh? So that’s true?” he said, surprised.

“Yeah. Why would I lie about that?” Akira did his best to force down the memories that attempted to push themselves into the spotlight. Not now. Don’t think about it now.

“I had assumed it was a gimmick. Perhaps you were simply naturally agile and flexible.”

“I wish,” he chuckled. “I trained for my Metaverse abilities long before I ever knew of its existence.”

“Funny.” There were likely more loaded compliments Akechi wanted to give, but he had no chance to articulate his thoughts before his feet slipped out from under him and he collapsed on the ice.

Akira tried—and failed—to hold in his laughter.

“Oh ha ha,” Akechi snapped sarcastically. “I bet you're so thrilled to have found another thing you’ve bested me at aren’t you, Joker?”

“Hey,” Akira said between chuckles. “I’m just as new to this as you are.”

Using the barricade for support, the detective slowly managed to pull himself back to his feet. “So you’re naturally gifted, then. Forgive me if some of us have to work for everything we have.”

At that, Akira frowned. “I’m still not good at this,” he mentioned. “I’m one wrong step away from falling on my face.” He skated around to Akechi’s other side when he tried to turn from him. “That’s what makes this exciting! I’ll mess up and try again and fail until I’m eventually okay at this!”

As if to punctuate his point, the blade of Akira’s skate got caught in an uneven piece of ice and he toppled onto the ground.

“Hm,” Akechi hummed, looking down at him with something like disdain, pretending he wasn’t trying to hold on a laugh. “Maybe there is some merit to your flimsy argument after all.”

Akira laughed, pulling himself upright again the same way Akechi had. “I’m sure any actual figure skater will look at me now and cringe at my poor technique.”

“I just look at you and cringe. I don’t even worry about your technique for anything.”

Akira grinned. Akechi totally thought he was hot.

“Except when it comes to anything in the Metaverse,” he said instead.

“Only because you’re reckless abandon with which you do absolutely everything will one day get one of your precious sycophants killed. I for one do not wish to be present when you have to deal with the repercussions of your actions.”

Oh please! The Phantom Thieves knew how to handle themselves. No one was going to die. Not on his watch. Never again. He refused.

Instead of saying anything that reminded him of the engine room, he said, “Like you care about my ‘precious sycophants’.”

He probably didn’t. Akira knew that. That didn’t matter. He didn’t need Akechi’s help to save his friends. He could do that himself.

-

Alibaba: wassup bitches

The message came about two and a half weeks into summer break with no warning. Morgana woke him that morning with more force than usual.

“Futaba’s awake!” he exclaimed, jumping onto Akira’s chest and forcing all the air out of his lungs. “Check your phone, Joker! Check your phone!”

“Okay, okay,” Akira grumbled sleepily, pushing him off despite his offended gasps and sitting up to check the group chat.

Skeleton: sup Taba!!

foxy art boi: Good morning, Futaba. Welcome back.

Alibaba: WHO NAMED YUSUKE FOXY

Skeleton: joker

Alibaba: goddammit kira!!!!!

Alibaba: you did this to poor inari
Alibaba: now he’s a meme
Alibaba: I hope ur proud of yourslef

Jonker: …
Jonker: now make ryuji sans

Alibaba: heheheh

sans undertale: what is this???!?
sans undertale: eff it I’m looking it up

Detective Asshole: don’t.

Alibaba:oh this could only be sketch man
Alibaba: HI AKECHI

Detective Asshole: Hello, Sakura-san.

Alibaba: ew that’s Sojiro
Alibaba: call me Futaba
Alibaba: nerd

foxy the fox pirate grr: Why has my name changed?

sans undertale: how to unsee glowing blue eye

Jonker: that’s what you get for lying

Momkoto: I see you’ve woken up! Glad to have you back Futaba.

Alibaba: thank >:3
Alibaba: Alibaba is here to wreak chaos

Ur Mom: Why?

Alibaba: comedy

Pankechi: Are you fucking serious?

Alibaba: >:3

Girl in red: now that’s comedy! 🤣
Girl in red: welcome back Taba!

Alibaba: kira and ann get to keep their names because they’re already funny

Girl in red: 😘

Jonker: 😎

Pankechi: You are all imbeciles.

Akira was grinning ear to ear. It was finally starting to feel like home again with Futaba active. He should go check on her.

Apparently the girl herself had beaten him to it. Halfway through his breakfast, she walked in with her hands tucked behind her back.

“Hello,” she said calmly.

“Futaba! Good morning! Welcome back!” Morgana meowed excitedly.

Sojiro was flabbergasted. “F-Futaba! You- how did you get here?”

“Walked,” she answered simply, sliding into the chair next to Mona and scratching behind his ears. “It’s like two minutes away from home.”

“Yes but, how did you leave the house?” their guardian continued. Futaba pursed her lips and thought about her answer.

“We haven’t told him yet,” Morgana said quickly, knowing Akira couldn’t explain without Sojiro clueing in that something was going on. “I don’t think he’s ready for that conversation yet. Give him some time to adjust.”

“Well I… I’ve been talking to Akira and… I was ready to.” It wasn’t the smoothest lie, but it lined up with what they’d already told Sojiro thus far.

“She added herself to our group chat a while ago,” Akira added, only exaggerating a little bit. “We’ve been talking to her whenever we can since then. We send photos to that chat too, so she knew what we look like and our names and she knew I live here.”

“I could’ve learned those things even if you didn’t send photos,” Futaba added, adjusting her glasses. With a grin and a roll of his eyes, he continued.

“I didn’t expect her to come out of her shell so quickly. I guess her trip to Takemi’s actually ended up doing her a favour.”

“Yeah I suppose so,” Sojiro agreed. Wiping a tear from his eye, attempting to disguise it as adjusting his glasses, he turned to Futaba and grinned.

“Futaba, I’m so proud of you,” he said earnestly. Futaba beamed back at him, bouncing her legs joyfully.

He poured them both a coffee and they melted into the moment, chatting about school and summer and whatever. It felt like everything was finally falling into place again. The family was back together at last, Sojiro and his adoptive children—one legally and the other not quite—and their talking cat companion. For as long as the summer lasted, they would be happy.

Chapter Text

There was a loud thump as a large stack of books landed on the spare table in Leblanc’s attic, startling the gaggle of thieves gathered around it. The eldest among them wiped the sweat off her brow and announced her entrance by diving head first into business.

“Now that we have our navigator back, we should revisit what we know.”

Makoto stood at one side of the meeting table, laying out notebook upon notebook on its surface. Neatly written theories and pieces of information they knew on every available space of every available page, smaller words or passages highlighted and colour coded in order of importance. On one of the open pages, she had documented a timeline of events. What happened this time, versus what happened last time. Comparing the two and outlining their differences.

“Holy shit, Makoto!” Ryuji exclaimed, rightfully in shock and awe. “Have you even slept?”

“Of course,” Makoto replied simply, missing the point of the question. “This has taken me weeks to compile. My sister believes these are study notes for my entrance exams.”

“How did you even find the time for all this?” Futaba asked, eyes skimming through the pages of one of the other books. “Holy crap! Maruki remembers?”

“Oh yeah,” Ann said, like she had forgotten and only just recalled upon the younger girl’s mention. “Did we forget to tell you that?”

“Yes?” Futaba shouted. “Is this a problem? Is he behind the reset?”

“Not that we’re aware of, though we can’t rule him out just yet,” Makoto said, staring down at her work. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Akechi. We can’t trust him.”

“Your notes say the change of heart carried over,” Futaba added as she continued reading. “Not even a blip in Mementos? Wow.”

“Yeah we got nothin’,” Ryuji said, a little disheartened. “He helped us get Sumire to remember who she is, but other than that, we’ve been avoidin’ him.”

“Wait… I think I remember him being here at one point or another,” Futaba said, tapping the page rhythmically. “Yeah I overheard your conversation through the bugs. That’s totally insane he remembers at all. I didn’t think he’d keep his persona after everything.”

“We have no idea how he did that,” Ann told her.

“He would’ve needed a persona to change Sumire’s perception of reality,” Akira brought up. “I guess there’s that?”

“Is he a problem though?” Futaba asked again.

“It seems likely he’s not the cause of the reset,” Morgana said, “but I’m still not totally convinced.”

Yusuke set his cutlery down on his empty plate, one that once held a heaped serving of curry and rice. “We truly have no choice but to trust him at his word for now,” he lamented. “Although, there isn’t much I can add to the conversation. I haven’t spoken to him once this year.”

“For now we’ll see that as a good thing,” Morgana decided. “Makoto, what else have you gathered so far?”

“Aside from the fact that we’re way ahead of schedule? Nothing.” She slumped into the closest chair and cradled her head. Exhausted and distraught.

“I have no idea how we got here or what’s happening or why we even remember anything at all!” she rambled. “If we were put here by a malevolent force, it would make more sense for them to erase all traces of the previous timeline. But if it was a benevolent force it would be more beneficial for all of us to have our memories from the start! Yet we sequentially remember everything that’s happened to us? It doesn’t make sense!

“Not to mention each of us get sick after the remembrance, which wouldn’t make sense if whoever or whatever put us here was on our side. But nothing I can think of is even remotely logical for if it’s an entity that isn’t on our side! It’s like they can’t even control whatever god-like abilities they have!”

“Wait, ‘god-like’?” Futaba repeated.

“‘Control’?” Morgana said in the same tone.

Akira’s eyes widened, flicking between each of his friends as the realisation dawned on them.

“If Dr Maruki took the position of God of Control after what happened on Christmas…” Ann said slowly.

“…then who’s got that position now?” Ryuji finished.

“Maruki took the position instead of us because we wished not to take it,” Yusuke muttered. “So who stepped up?”

A long drawn out silence followed the group’s collective realisation. Futaba chuckled awkwardly, just to cut the tension.

“So! Anyone know of any other persona users who just so happen to want to reverse time and may have possibly noticed the wacky shenanigans happening in January-February?”

“I don’t know if there even are other persona users,” Morgana said, shaking his head. “I think there are, but Igor never confirmed anything and Lavenza was a little stressed when I met her. Now I can’t even contact either of them.”

Makoto turned to the resident wild card in hopes of an explanation. “Akira, could you possibly confirm? You still have access to that room, don’t you?”

Tugging at his hair, he replied. “Lavenza is still split and the real Igor isn’t there. I wouldn’t be able to get a straight answer even if I tried.”

She huffed and put her head back in her hands. “How will we ever find out who took over for Maruki?”

“I have another question,” Futaba interrupted, raising one hand as she held a new notebook open in the other. “Your notes say you think we might be in a time loop situation. Constant resetting, like this new entity is tryna clear new game plus. Do we know that for sure?”

Makoto shook her head, clearly confused by the girl’s wording but getting the point nonetheless. “We have no way of knowing for sure. But, if we’ve been reset once, it’s a possibility we could be reset again.”

“So it’s just a potential groundhog’s year for now,” Futaba reiterated. “Is this the first loop?”

The third year blinked as if thrown off by the question. Morgana answered for her. “We don’t remember any others.”

“We don’t remember any others,” Makoto repeated, wide eyed and distraught. One by one, the thieves realised what that meant.

“Oh my god…” Ann whispered, covering her mouth she realised.

“You couldn’t possibly mean…” Yusuke’s words died on his tongue. He knew the answer to his own question.

“We’re dealing with amnesia here people,” Futaba said. “Who knows how many loops we’ve forgotten! This could be the first, or it could be the hundredth! We have no way of knowing!”

“Holy shit…” Ryuji muttered with a shaky voice.

“That is certainly alarming,” Yusuke mumbled.

“No way!” Morgana’s fur bristled. “You mean we could be stuck like this for centuries?”

“It’s not impossible,” the girl said with a shrug. “Usually this kind of time loop is limited to like a day or so. Maybe a week. The fact that it’s looping a whole year isn’t something I’ve seen before.”

“You mean in fictional media, right?” Makoto asked, a little frantic, leaning forward on the table, one eye twitching. Definitely a few more grey hairs on her head after this whole conversation.

Futaba cracked a smile. “Yeah, of course. If I’d been caught in a time loop before, I would’ve told you all by now.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Makoto slumped back into her chair.

“If we’re going to have a good chance of solving this, we need to figure out if we’re looping for sure and if this is the first loop or not,” Futaba explained. “Once we have that bit figured out, we can try to look for evidence of who or what is behind it.

“I think we’re already on track with the God of Control, so all we need to find out is who currently holds the position. Could be someone new, but our current suspects are Dr Maruki, and Yaldabaoth.”

Pain.

Sharp, searing pain pierced Akira’s brain. Like he’d been shot through both temples. Like during his awakening. But worse. Much, much worse.

With a cry he lurched forward, clutching his head in both hands and panting. Sweating. Head spinning. Black spots invaded his vision.

In the Velvet Room, ‘Igor’ laughed.

“Akira?”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Akira what’s going on?”

“Hey, stay with us man!”

He could hear the voices of his friends, but they sounded distant. He felt weak. Lightheaded. So much pain.

Gradually, he came to on the floor of the attic. When did he end up on the floor?

“Akira!” Ann was the first to notice his lucidity. “Are you okay?”

“What on earth happened?” Yusuke asked.

Shaking his head and rubbing his temples, he let Ryuji help him sit up as he replied. “I have no idea.”

“Was it something Futaba said?” Makoto asked. “Is it a wild card thing?”

“I might have an idea…” Futaba said in thought. She crouched down next to him, hugging her knees as she did so. “We were discussing what may have started the loop, and I mentioned the name of the first God of Control. If this is like a ‘the one who must not be named’ situation, that could be it.”

“Does that mean…?” Yusuke trailed off.

Makoto’s eyes widened. “We might have our answer.”

Tail moving from side to side, Mona confirmed what was on everyone’s minds.

“We know who’s behind the loop.”

-

“Are you certain?”

Serene music filled the atmosphere of the Jazz Jin late that evening. Akira had invited Akechi—or rather demanded to see him—to talk about what the Thieves had learned earlier that day. The detective seemed… sceptical.

“It has to be it,” Akira said, setting his half empty glass back on the table. “Why else would my body react like that?”

“Sudden migraines are not uncommon, Kurusu,” Akechi told him. “There’s a myriad of other medical reasons for an untimely burst of pain such as that.”

“But it’s too much of a coincidence!” Akira insisted. “Can you think of a different culprit for the situation we’re in?”

“Perhaps I can. Or perhaps,” the boy leaned in towards him and stared daggers into his soul, “I think there are more immediate issues we should be concerning ourselves with.”

Akira sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment and letting silence overtake the conversation. Gentle melodies sung by their favourite singer floated through the atmosphere, tranquil and ethereal. He felt warm.

“Kurusu,” Akechi snipped, bringing the boy to open his eyes and face him. “Aren’t you a performer?” he scoffed. “You could at least act like you give a shit.”

“I do,” Akira said firmly. “Futaba is dealing with Mejed as we speak. It’ll be easy for her.”

“Mejed is not the issue.”

“Okumura is?” Akira asked. Akechi stared at him in disbelief. “Or do you mean to tell me the problem is Shido?”

“The problem is that you’re still being reckless.” He set his glass down quietly, posture stiff and jaw tense. Sharp eyes bore into Akira’s, pinning him in place. “You think you can afford to be showy with this because you think you know what’s happening. Allow me a moment to humble you because you do not. Plain and simple.”

“Of course I don’t,” Akira replied. “I only saw so much last year, I can only imagine what you’ve been through.”

Akechi’s eye twitched. “Don’t turn this on me. I don’t need your pity.”

“You’re right, and I’m not pitying you,” Akira insisted. “I care about you, Goro.”

“I’m fine, you don’t need to waste your time fussing over me, Kurusu,” he snapped.

“Too late! I’ve been fussing over you since before the loop!”

Akechi’s face twisted into an unsettling mix of his princely smile and an indignant glare. “How kind of you.”

The band had moved on to a new song, a richer sound with more base. It sent waves through his chest as his body longed to get up and pull the detective into a dance. Spin him around and hold him close. Let the music take them over.

Strange. That was the first he’d actually wanted to dance since he was twelve.

But of course, people do crazy things for love.

That had to be what it was right? Love? A twisted, broken kind of love, but love nonetheless. Distorted and complicated, two rivals bound together by the whims of fate and trapped in a labyrinth of torment.

“I’m going to fix this,” Akira told him defiantly. “I’m going to save everyone I can. Including you.”

“Some people don’t want to be saved, Kurusu,” Akechi sighed. “One of these days you’re going to have to learn that.”

Without another word, the detective stood from his chair and retrieved his briefcase from the seat next to him. Akira watched him, noticed how his anger wasn’t as vicious as it always used to be, and yet the stillness was much more intense. Quiet rage used to mask something else. Something desperate to set itself free. Something maybe even melancholic.

Exchanging a polite farewell with Muhen on his way out, the detective vanished, leaving his rival alone in the club with his thoughts.

Perhaps he could.

Akechi was keeping his cards close to his chest, just as he always had. Akira was looking forward to learning what else he had up his sleeve.

-

Ann threw open the door to Leblanc sometime in the third week of vacation. Normally it wouldn’t be very strange to see any of the Thieves drop by unannounced, but what caught Akira off guard was seeing her hair down. No pigtails or bright smile. She stormed up to the counter and slammed a few hundred yen on its surface.

“Ann, are you-” He was immediately interrupted.

“I need your coffee, right now please,” she said, clearly mad at something, but it probably wasn’t him. If it was, she wouldn’t be asking so politely—if you’d call that polite at all—so he was probably safe. For now.

“Okay. Do you need to vent?” he asked calmly as he started on her favourite. The absolute sweetest blend they could offer, only a touch sweeter than Akechi’s.

“I’m bleeding and I hate it.”

“What do… Oh.”

He could hear Sojiro’s quiet “hoo boy” as it clicked for Akira what she meant. He had one shot not to mess this up. For Ann’s sake—and his—he’d better not.

“Okay, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make this for you? Do you need any painkillers?”

Ann’s obvious sigh of relief was the most comforting thing he’d ever witnessed right at that very moment. “Please,” she said softly as she turned to slide into the booth behind her.

It wasn’t long until her drink was ready and he brought it to her with a side of ibuprofen.

“Sit,” she said. “I need hugs and Shiho’s unavailable.”

“Okay.”

Ann didn’t touch her drink as she waited for it to cool. Just gripped Akira tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. The bell chimed a few seconds later and a familiar orange haired girl entered.

“Hey,” she deadpanned.

“Hi,” Akira responded with the same level of enthusiasm. “Ann’s dying.”

“I’m bleeding out,” the model mumbled in corroboration.

“I heard. Hey Ann.” The blonde lifted her head to see Futaba procure a sheet of pills—Takemi’s medicine specifically—from her hoodie pocket. “I brought the good stuff.” Her eyes lit up.

“You’re the best Futaba!”

“Hey, don’t make it seem like you’re doing drug deals in my store,” Sojiro warned.

The hacker laughed evilly. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“So Ann gets drugs,” Akira said. “What do you get?”

“A future, undefined favour that will come to fruition at a later date.”

“Don’t care. That’s future Ann’s problem. Gimme the drugs!”

“Alright, alright,” Sojiro lamented. “As long as it’s only painkillers.”

His guardian began shuffling around, picking up the slack while Akira was preoccupied. Futaba slid into the seat across from them and set her laptop on the booth’s table. She typed away, fingers clicking against the keyboard making satisfying noises.

It was quite a pleasant atmosphere.

Gradually, Ann’s vice grip on him loosened as the painkillers kicked in and some of her agony was eased. Akira pat her hands with his free one. “Feeling better?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, sliding off his arm and setting her elbows on the table, sipping at the coffee that had just cooled to a suitable drinking temperature. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump on you like that.”

“No, it’s okay.” He was about to say he understood but that was definitely a lie. So he just settled on that for now.

“I actually almost went after Ryuji before coming here,” she continued. “But Ryuji doesn’t have coffee.”

“Why Ryuji?” Futaba cringed. “That boy doesn’t know how to act around women normally, let alone when she’s hormonal.”

“Ah… well it’s… I… Don’t worry about it. He’s just… fun to be around, y’know?”

No way. No way!

Akira could not fight the grin that formed on his face. Futaba looked at him for clues and almost instantly put it together. A grin formed on her face as well.

“Ann!” she exclaimed, nearly pouncing on the table.

“What?” Ann cried.

“Ann!”

“What?”

“You like him?”

“NO! No! I-it’s not like that!”

“Sure.” She dragged out the word, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

“It’s not!” Ann defended.

“Denying it is only hurting yourself,” Akira pointed out.

Ann stammered over the start of a few different words, all of them defending herself in some way, but eventually gave up and lay her face on the table to hide how red it was becoming. “What do I do?” she mumbled into the wood.

“Don’t ask me!” Futaba said with a cackle. “I don’t do boys.”

“I do,” Akira smirked.

“Yeah we know you do, Akira.”

“So, should I just pretend I’m not hearing this conversation right now?” Sojiro asked from behind the counter and Akira suddenly remembered they had an audience.

“Don’t tell Ryuji!” Ann yelled, sitting up quickly and then cradling her head when she realised she probably did it too quick.

Sojiro chuckled. “Don’t worry, he won’t hear a peep from me. I’m too old to get involved in teen drama. As long as no one gets hurt, it’s fine with me.”

Futaba cackled at the two embarrassed teens at the opposite side of the table. Aside from said embarrassment however, Akira was positively elated.

Ann actually liked Ryuji back! That was two out of three of the cutest potential throuple ever! All that was left was to somehow get Yusuke in on this too and find out how to get at least one of them to let their mutual feelings slip.

“So, are you gonna tell him?” Futaba asked, leaning on her hands.

“No!” Ann protested. “We already have so much going on! What happens if he says no? Heck, what happens if he says yes? And I still like Shiho! A lot! I don’t wanna make this any more complicated!”

The model’s head fell back on the table with a soft thump.

“Careful. You’ll get brain damage,” Futaba joked. Ann simply groaned in response.

“Don’t worry about it,” Akira told her. “These things take time. Just move at your own pace and tell him when you're ready.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” she huffed. “Why do I have to fall for anyone who’s nice to me?”

“Are you saying I’m not nice to you?” Futaba asked with a teasing smile. “I’m so nice! The nicest! Why don’t I have women clawing at my door to date me?”

“You’re like a sister to me, Futaba.” Ann lifted her head to smile shyly at her. “If not for that, I probably would have fallen for you too.”

“I’ll take it!”

“What stopped you from asking Shiho for so long?” Akira asked curiously.

“Kamoshida mostly,” she said with a grimace. “Before that, I don’t know. Anxiety I guess. Then her rehab. And moving away. There’s so much going on, I don’t wanna throw another thing at her.”

“How is she, by the way?” Futaba asked, voice softening. “Suzui Shiho, right? I’ve never met her.”

Ann smiled again, picking at the skin around her nails as she spoke. “She’s recovering. Actually, she’s nearly finished with her rehab! She’s still thinking about transferring schools. I’m gonna miss her when she leaves, but I agree that it’s for the best.

“I don’t actually remember where she ended up last year. I should remember! I’m such a bad friend. How can I not remember where she went? Apparently her parents were thinking of moving to a smaller town anyway. I just hope the people are nice, wherever it is she goes. She deserves a team that’ll actually have her back.”

“Okay.” Futaba seemed to be getting mildly uncomfortable, shifting her weight and unsure how to handle the situation. “Emotions are high. What do you normally do when you need to distract yourself?”

Ann itched her scalp. “Usually Shiho drags me out. We get our nails done and then we get ice cream afterwards.” She sighed wistfully and rested her chin on her hand. “But you guys don’t have to do that. I know you’d probably rather stay home, Taba. And Akira, Boss needs your help.”

“Nonsense,” Sojiro said with a chuckle. “You kids deserve to do something fun every now and then. Don’t waste your summer worrying about working.”

“Yeah! Sojiro’s old but not incapable!” Futaba cackled.

“I think Akira is a bad influence on you,” the capable old man sighed.

“And I spend plenty of time at home,” she continued, ignoring their shared guardian. “I need to get out of my comfort zone more. Actually socialise with people.”

“Okay,” Ann relented, trying to hide the way she broke out in a grin. “If you guys are happy to.”

The three of them made their way to Shibuya, Ann leading them to a nail salon that practically had her name on it. Pastels of all kinds decorated the walls and even photos of fashion models hung on the walls. Akira wouldn’t be surprised if Ann herself ended up there one day.

“Welcome!” the chipper clerk greeted them with a large smile as they entered the salon. She seemed quite young, maybe college age, her eyes lined with bright makeup and matching the nails she’d probably done herself. She seemed to light up with recognition upon seeing Ann. “How may I help you today?”

“Hi!” Ann smiled back, at least attempting to match the girl’s energy. “We’re here for manicures, what time slots do you have available?”

Consulting a computer situated on the front kiosk, the clerk relayed the information.“I don’t have another appointment until two-thirty, and Ise-senpai should be done with her current client in about ten minutes or so. We should be able to fit you in now!”

Ann scrunched her face a little. “Are you sure the two of you can work on three people in forty minutes?”

“Three?”

“Two,” Futaba corrected. “I don’t want anything fancy. I’ll just chew them ’til they break.”

The clerk blinked for a second, her mind short circuiting as she realised that meant it would be Akira getting the second manicure. Then she snapped back to attention and smiled again. “Then yes! It should be no problem!”

Akira was surprised. He was half expecting some kind of opposition at the thought of a guy getting his nails done. And yet, this girl wasn’t giving any. She was thrown off for a second, sure, but she almost sounded happy about it.

“Just your usual gel nails, Takamaki-san?” the clerk asked. So she did know Ann. She must have come here with Shiho a lot.

Ann nodded. “Yes please, Kimiko-san. And for Akira as well.”

“Perfect. Takamaki and…” The clerk gave Akira an expectant look.

“Kurusu,” he finished for her.

“Kurusu,” she repeated, typing both their names into the computer. She turned to Futaba next. “Are you sure you don’t even want a polish? I don’t want you to feel left out while your friends have theirs done.”

Futaba seemed to consider it. “Sure. Why not? Do you have green?”

“I don’t think there’s a colour we don’t have!”

“Then sure! My name's Sakura Futaba by the way.”

She didn’t stutter once that whole interaction! Akira was so proud of her!

“Sakura,” the clerk repeated, typing the name in the system. “I’m Kimiko Aoi. Please follow me, and I’ll get you set up.”

Kimiko led them to a few desks by the back of the studio, the group passing by the other nail technicians and their gossiping clients. A few eyes caught sight of Akira as he strode past confidently. He paid them no mind.

“Please have a seat,” Kimiko gestured, pulling up an extra chair from an empty desk. “I’ll return shortly. Please feel free to browse our catalogue for any designs you might like.”

As the teens made themselves comfortable, Ann grabbed the catalogue and shoved it into Akira’s hands.

“You have a look,” she said. “I already know what I want.”

Flipping through the pamphlet, he was overwhelmed by how many choices there were. So many different shapes and nail art designs ranging from simple and minimalist to extremely high detail. He chuckled awkwardly.

“I think I’m having decision paralysis,” he joked. Ann giggled.

She looked about ready to give her two cents on the matter when Kimiko returned with several polishes in her hands.

“Ise-senpai will be with us shortly,” she said, taking her seat on the opposite side of the table. Setting out the polishes in a row, she spoke directly to Futaba. “I’ve picked out some of my personal favourite green shades. Are there any here you prefer?”

“Ugh, don’t give me options,” Futaba mumbled, looking exactly as overwhelmed as Akira felt. Kimiko simply smiled in response.

“Take your time,” she said. “In the meantime, we can clean up your nails and apply your base coat.”

Kimiko spent a few minutes doing just that, refining the half-chewed shape of Futaba’s nails and filing them smooth. She was talkative as she did so, asking her current client and Akira how they both knew Ann and making general small talk.

Ann carried most of the conversation. Futaba was still a bit anxious in social settings and Akira was never much of a talker either. At least not with his friends. The story they stuck with wasn’t far from the truth. She had met Akira because he sat behind her at school, and she had met Futaba because Akira was staying with her father.

“Oh, are you not from Tokyo, Kurusu-san?” Kimiko asked.

Shaking his head with a small smile, he replied politely. “No. I’m from a really small town in the country. My parents wanted to send me to the city to finish high school so I would have a better opportunity of getting into a good university.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. Even he believed it for a split second. Acting is believing.

“A shame they didn’t come with you,” Kimiko said with a frown.

“They can’t leave town much because of their jobs. Futaba’s father is a family friend.”

One of those statements was technically true. The other couldn’t be further from the opposite.

“Ah, I understand.” She probably didn’t have the faintest clue. “Alright, Sakura-chan. The time has come for us to make a decision.” A rather swift change of subject.

“I think I have it narrowed down to these two.” Futaba pointed to two of the six polishes Kimiko had chosen. One a more muted, khaki colour that matched the jacket she wore in the cooler seasons. The other a brighter shade of lime green.

“Both good choices!” Kimiko praised. “If you can’t decide, what we could do is use this for most of your nails, then put the brighter one on your ring finger as an accent nail. What do you think?”

“Ooh!” Ann said in a sing-song tone. “That’ll look awesome, Futaba!”

“Really? O-okay then! Sure!”

“Excellent! I’ll get started right away!”

As Kimiko began laying down the first coat of Futaba’s colour, another nail technician came over and took a seat at the second desk. She was older than Kimiko, probably about Takemi’s age if Akira had to guess. A warm skinned woman with a messy bun and a bright smile. Akira assumed this was Kimko’s coworker she had been talking about earlier.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ann-chan,” she said in greeting.

“No worries, Nakamura-san!” Ann replied. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been great, thank you. What are we doing today?”

“I was thinking a pink French tip with little hearts.”

Akira smiled. “That’ll be cute,” he said.

Nakamura gave him a smile. “I completely agree. Let’s do it.” As she was setting up, she turned back to Ann and asked, “Who are your friend’s here? I don’t believe I’ve met them before.”

“You haven’t,” Ann said, shaking her head. “This is Kurusu Akira, and Sakura Futaba. I met them both earlier this year.”

“Sup,” Futaba said awkwardly. Akira smiled and offered a small wave.

“It’s wonderful to meet you both,” Nakamura replied. “I have to ask, whatever happened to your other friend? Shiho-chan?”

Ann’s face fell. “She’s uh…”

“She was caught in an accident, Nakamura-san,” Akira explained. “She’s alright, but she’s in the hospital recovering right now.”

“I see. A nice girl like Shiho-chan doesn’t deserve to be cooped up like that. I hope she makes a full recovery.” The woman seemed to sense Ann’s sorrow and quickly changed the topic. “It’s nice of you, Kurusu-kun, to accompany the girls while they get their nails done. Something I wish my boyfriend did for me at your age.”

Ann laughed. “Akira isn’t my boyfriend, Nakamura-san. He’s just a good friend.”

“And he’s getting his nails done too,” Futaba supplied helpfully.

Nakamura’s eyes widened, then she smirked. “Even better. What kind of design do you have in mind?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Akira answered honestly. “I was hoping the professionals would be able to recommend something.”

“We certainly could,” Nakamura said, turning her head to Kimiko quickly to urge her to continue.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Kimiko asked.

“Red and black.”

“We could do something similar to what Takamaki-san is getting.” While Futaba’s nails were curing under a UV lamp, Kimiko flipped through the pamphlet Akira had abandoned on the desk ages ago. “Like this, see? But let’s say red instead of white and we could add some black stars. How does that sound?”

With a large grin, Akira said, “Sounds perfect.”

The remainder of their time at the salon was enjoyable. Ann spent most of it catching up with the technicians and feeding Futaba and Akira all of the relevant drama going on in their lives. To Akira’s delight, Kimiko had been personally impacted by a person whose heart had been changed by the Phantom Thieves in Mementos about a month ago. Nakamura didn’t seem entirely certain of the vigilantes, but Kimiko was wholly on their side. The teens had shared knowing looks with each other at that before launching into their own discussions of the Phantom Thieves at Shujin. As though it was merely gossip picked up in the halls and they weren’t the ones who had posted those cards in the first place.

After their nails were finished and paid for—Akira’s treat—Ann showed them to the ice cream parlour she and Shiho visited after their outings. Akira paid for their ice cream too and they sat at a small table enjoying casual conversation. It was the kind of mundane fun Akira was beginning to fall in love with. Why had he ever spent so much time worrying about rehabilitation in the first place?

-

Gaming with his nails done was proving to be more difficult than Akira had initially anticipated.

“Hey, Akira,” Futaba mumbled, setting her controller down after beating him in Punch Ouch for the fifth consecutive time that evening. She hugged her knees and looked at the floor. “I was looking over some of Makoto’s notes today.”

Akira tilted his head to one side. “Yeah? What about them?”

“She mentioned you’ve started to get closer to Su- to Noir and Violet.” She quickly amended her mistake despite the fact that no one was here to overhear them. Except Morgana who’d taken an interest in their conversation and slinked his way up to them.

“Some of us have, yeah,” Akira confirmed. “I don’t get much of a chance to talk to Noir, but I think Makoto talks to her on occasion.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Futaba joked quietly, a small smirk finding its way onto her face.

Morgana continued for him. “The rest of us hang out with Violet every now and then. Except Yusuke I guess, he’s only really met her once and he didn’t have his memories back then.”

“Well, maybe we could… I thought about it and…” Fiddling with the hem of her shirt, she stumbled over her wording, eventually growing frustrated and blurting it all out at once. “Can we invite them to the beach?”

Akira blinked. Morgana seemed confused. “The beach? Wait like what we did last year?”

“Yeah! Um. We could… get to know them better?”

“It probably would make us a bit closer by the time we need to run through Okumura’s Palace,” Mona thought aloud.

With a nod and a shrug, Akira agreed. “I don’t see why not,” he said.

He didn’t fail to notice the way her eyes lit up and the smile on her face grew.

-

“You can’t keep avoiding us forever, Inmate!”

Caroline’s obnoxious shouting invaded Akira’s ears, causing him to wince as he walked from the station towards the Penguin Sniper. There she was, rhythmically hitting her baton against her hand as she stood menacingly beside the barred door of the Velvet Room.

“The longer you put off your rehabilitation, the worse your punishment will be,” she threatened. “Your bonds and personas are strong, we’ll give you that, but you’re only hurting yourself here. Our master is very displeased!”

“I’m just not interested in whatever role Igor wants me to play,” Akira said.

“You don’t get a choice, Inmate! You’re already playing it, whether you like it or not!”

“Maybe I want someone else to be cast for once then. Have you considered that, Caroline?”

The young warden looked stunned for a moment. Then she collapsed her baton and opened the door, shouting inside. “Justine! Get out here now!”

Akira watched as the other twin, Lavenza’s other half, strolled out of the door with her clipboard in hand. “What is it, Caroline?” she asked.

“Tell the Inmate about the thing that you told me the other day.”

Justine blinked slowly. Surprise, Akira guessed. “Very well. Inmate, we have begun to feel as though something is amiss in the fabric of this reality.”

“No, you feel like that! I feel perfectly fine!”

Looking unimpressed, Justine looked over the pages on her clipboard. “Caroline, you told me that same day that you started feeling ‘woozy’ every time our master mentioned the game.”

“I did not!” her twin protested.

“The point is,” Justine turned back to him, “we believe something has been altered in space and time, and you appear to be the centre of it.”

“Me? Really?” Akira asked. It wasn’t all that surprising in the grand scheme of things. He did start with his memories intact, even if he probably shouldn’t have. Not to mention Cuphead’s strange obsession with him.

Justine nodded. “Indeed. It is quite strange, and yet, I cannot shake the feeling.”

“I have to admit,” Caroline began, “I thought it was weird that I already felt like I knew you when you first entered the Velvet Room. But, I keep feeling this…”

As she trailed off, her twin fixed her with a sharp look. “Feeling what, Caroline?”

Heat rising to her face, she stomped on the ground and extended her baton. “It’s nothing!” she denied. “There’s absolutely no dread in my system at all! I’m as confident as ever!”

Frowning, Justine sighed. “I see.”

“Whatever! Inmate! You have your rehabilitation to do! You cannot win the game otherwise!”

Akira rolled his eyes. Yeah, right.

“Of course,” he lied with a smile. “Nurture my bonds, right?”

“That is correct,” Justine supplied. “We expect a visit from you soon. If you have the time, care to step inside now?”

“Welp! I’ve got a date to get to, so I gotta go. Peace out you two! Great job keeping me in line and on the right path and stuff!”

Akira booked it down the promenade towards his original destination.

He wanted to trust the twins, really he did. They had done so much for him last year. And he did honestly miss Lavenza. Their time together had been short, yet he still found he’d grown fond of the girl. The fusion of his two wardens.

He had half a mind to fuse her in the beginning, but after he’d considered it, he knew he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough to face Yaldabaoth. Not right away. Not without his friends.

So he would wait.

He would let this game play out. He would play up his rivalry with his fellow Wildcard. He would let others around him step into the spotlight.

Joker didn’t need to be the lead to be the hero.

“Have you reconsidered your foolishness?” Akechi asked him later that night, his dart sinking into the centre of the target, winning them the game.

“I never reconsider foolishness, Goro,” Akira said, smiling lazily. “Foolishness is so exciting, don’t you think?”

“Not when it gets someone killed.”

Akira’s expression hardened. “No one is dying. Not when I have the power to save them.”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “Shut up about this stupid saviour complex already.”

A hint of a smirk tugged at Akira’s lips. “Make me, Detective.”

Chapter Text

Futaba took down Mejed with ease the day of the cleanse. It was on their website just as it had been the year before. As it turned out, she’d been spending most of her time since waking up revising her Futaba Cannon 1.5—as she called it.

The post on Mejed’s site stayed largely the same. Calling them out and displaying the mark of the Phantom Thieves for all to see. She even found some of the other more troublesome members and leaked their information to the public along with the first guy.

On the news, however…

The small TV in Leblanc announcing Medjed’s defeat turned to static. The teenagers gathered in one of the booths turned to it expectantly, while Sojiro’s eyes went wide.

“What the?” he muttered. “This thing finally broken?”

“Check check, this is Oracle!” spoke the heavily distorted voice of their own navigator as the screen flickered to a bright red, the flaming logo of their group displayed prominently in the centre. If she hadn’t announced herself, Akira wouldn’t have been able to place her. “Oh, good. We’re live.”

Oracle cleared her throat.

“To the hackers who call themselves Medjed, we are the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Your cowardly threats do not intimidate us. Your disgraceful cleanse will never come to fruition. We will protect Japan and all its citizens as we do not enact justice for clout.

“We are the Phantom Thieves. We are unseen. We will expose evil.

“This has been Oracle! Thank you for listening to my humble announcement!”

The screen flickered briefly back to static before the image of the news announcer appeared again. He looked positively baffled, jaw hanging open and brows raised.

“I-I…” he stammered to the camera. Someone off screen could be heard telling him they were back on air and he quickly schooled his expression back to normal. “I-it seems the Phantom Thieves had more to say to Medjed after all. Medjed still has yet to issue an official statement regarding these events, however, it appears the cybersecurity of Japan will not be an issue if this ‘Oracle’s’ claims are to be believed.”

Akira turned to survey his friends’ expressions, all of them stunned to absolute silence. Ann was covering her mouth with her hand, her iced coffee still in the other. Ryuji’s mouth was agape, excitement clear in his wide eyes. Makoto’s face turned thoughtful, bringing one hand to her chin and pursing her lips into a thin line.

“What a bold proclamation,” Yusuke muttered after a long moment of silence.

“This has to prove their existence now,” Makoto said. “One of their members just spoke directly to the public.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Sojiro said with a huff. “Looks like this whole Phantom Thief business just got a lot more complicated.”

The light jingle of the bell signalled someone’s arrival. Everyone in the room turned to see Futaba shuffle inside, doing her very best to contain her grin.

“H-hey!” she stammered. “What’s going on, friends?”

Oh, she was leaning into her awkwardness so Sojiro would believe she was still adjusting to being social. Cute.

“Hey Futaba,” Ryuji grinned.

“You just missed it!” Ann exclaimed, a wide smile of her own on her features. “The Phantom Thieves totally owned Medjed! They interrupted the news program!” Wow, Ann had really come into her own as an actress. Maybe now she could star in those action movies she’d always wanted to be in.

Morgana smiled directly at their navigator. “It worked,” he said.

“Wah?” Futaba cried, the excitement clear in how she flapped her arms. “Did they?”

Sojiro shook his head solemnly, still visibly baffled. “It was like a superhero monologue from one of your shows.”

“Eh, I’ll probably find it online later,” she shrugged. “What did it say?”

Raising an eyebrow, Sojiro questioned her. “I didn’t know you were interested in whatever they’re up to.”

“How could I not be?” Futaba countered. “They’re for real life vigilantes! Kicking names and taking ass! That rules!”

Their guardian sighed. “Well as long as you don’t get mixed up in any trouble.”

It was way too late for that.

They were already on track to fight god!

At one point or another, the group migrated up stairs, gathering around the spare booth table and grinning widely at each other. Futaba was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“That was so cool!” Ryuji cheered, doing his very best to keep his voice down.

“My Futaba Canon 1.5 was a resounding success!” Futaba announced with a laugh.

“You should start calling it the Oracle Cannon!” Morgana suggested. “That’s gotta open up a good few areas in Mementos. If we keep that up we might not even need to go after Shido!”

“That may be ideal,” Makoto hummed. “However, there is no doubt that we’ve gained his attention now. We can expect he’ll start targeting our group at any moment.”

Right on cue, Akira’s phone began to ring. He checked it quickly, intending to ignore it and pocket the device again. However, he then saw the contact was Akechi Goro. Specifically, his unmonitored burner phone used exclusively for messages and calls to the Phantom Thieves.

“Yes my dear detective?” he said into the receiver, holding up a hand for the others to quieten down.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Akechi all but screamed at him.

“That depends. Are you stupid, by any chance?” Akira deflected.

“He saw that broadcast,” Akechi continued, ignoring the boy’s comment. “He’s going to come after you at full force. It won’t just be a mental shut down, he’ll tear you apart! Why do you always have to be so fucking dramatic? Don’t you have any tact?”

“Is that Akechi?” Yusuke asked, a look of concern in his eyes. He was sitting closest to Akira. He could probably hear everything the boy was saying. Judging by how Morgana’s ears flattened, he could too.

“Can you put him on speaker?” Makoto asked.

Akira nodded. “Hold on, Goro. The others want to talk to you.” He didn’t wait for an answer, tapping the button and setting the device on the table.

“Hello, Akechi,” Makoto greeted.

“Hello, everyone,” Akechi sighed. “May I ask why you decided to humour Kurusu’s horrible idea?”

“It actually wasn’t his idea,” Futaba said cheekily. “It was mine. Oracle Cannon 1.5, baby!”

“His showy flamboyance is rubbing off on you. It was still a horrible idea,” Akechi said dully. “Whatever. What’s done is done. You all need to be prepared for the worst when it comes to any request you find on your site.”

“Yeah we get it,” Ryuji huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll be careful about Okumura.”

“Not just Okumura, Sakamoto. Any request.”

“Why any?” Ann asked. “Do you think Shido will try to mess with some of our Mementos missions?”

“It’s possible,” the detective confirmed. “I believe he may have entertained the idea of sending me to give your smaller targets psychotic breakdowns in the past. Now that you’ve shown yourself to be more of a threat than he thought, he may actually take action on that plan.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us this until now?” Morgana asked, loudly surprised.

“I didn’t believe it would be relevant until now,” Akechi countered. Suddenly, his voice shifted. No longer the monotonous, utterly done-with-it assassin, but the pleasant cadence of the Detective Prince. “I’m afraid I must be going, but I do hope I managed to inspire some caution in you. Well, take care now!”

He hung up. The group cringed.

“That just felt wrong,” Ann grimaced. Next to her, Futaba was shaking her hands like she’d had a bucket of water thrown on her. “I always forget he can just change his personality like that.”

“It never fails to send a chill down my spine,” Yusuke agreed.

“You said it, man,” Ryuji sighed.

“Regardless, we should heed his warning,” Makoto reasoned. “It’s likely we’ll be receiving more requests than usual because of the attention this has garnered.”

Futaba shrugged. “Sorry! Didn’t think about that. I was just so hyped to get back in the game that I sorta lost the plot a bit.”

“Don’t sweat it Taba,” Ryuji said. “Akechi’s right; what’s done is done. And just for the record, what you did was effin amazing!”

Futaba grinned widely, happy her hard work was being rewarded with praise.

“So what’s our next move?” the athlete asked, turning to Akira. “I mean we can’t go for Okumura can we?”

“No, we can’t,” Yusuke confirmed. “And yet, we can’t leave Haru in her situation either.”

Chancing a glance across at their advisor, Akira could see the way Makoto stiffened. Sat up straighter and bunched her skirt in her fists. Lips pursed in anxiety. Worry. Refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

“I agree,” Ann said to fill the silence. “And Sumire too. I know we changed her cognition and she’s not pretending to be her sister anymore, but she still seems so…”

“…sorrowful?” Yusuke finished.

“Yeah… It’s just… Sumire…”

Futaba brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them and shifting her weight from side to side. “I kinda get what she’s going through,” she said quietly. Everyone turned to her with a dawning realisation.

“Futaba…” Ryuji muttered, the sympathy the others were all feeling voiced in a single word.

“She blames herself…” the girl continued. “She believes she’s responsible for Kasumi’s death. And she thinks she can never escape that guilt. She feels trapped in her own subconscious.”

Of course Futaba would understand. She was probably the sole member of the Thieves who understood Sumire the most.

They both felt responsible for the loss that turned their life upside down.

“Futaba…” Makoto said, voice mimicking the tone Ryuji had used not a moment ago.

“We need to help her,” Futaba said confidently. “She needs to remember she has people on her side.”

Akira leaned over, placing a hand on his sister’s knee. “We will. I promise.”

“The real question is; how?” Makoto sighed, brushing out her skirt. “Our best bet is likely to find out if Haru’s fiancé has a Palace or if he’s in Mementos. But I still haven’t managed to track down his first name.”

“That’s because you don’t now how to use Google!” Futaba chided playfully. Tapping on her phone for less than a minute, she mimicked a fanfare he recognised from a video game and loudly announced her findings. “Sugimura Keiji. Son of Sugimura Daichi, prominent member of blah blah blah politics and stuff. Wah bam!”

“Huh,” Ann hummed. “That was way easier than we thought.”

“Not every piece of unknown information needs a master hacker to track it down,” the girl explained. “You can find anything on the internet.”

Yusuke quietly pulled out his phone and opened the Nav, speaking the name they had just learned. The phone chimed seconds later with a helpful “Candidate found.”

“Woah, we got a hit!” Ryuji exclaimed.

“Mementos,” the artist said as the keyword.

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Then he has his own Palace,” Morgana said in thought. “What could that be?”

“I dunno,” Ryuji said. “Apart from how controlling he was of Haru, we don’t know nothin’ about the guy.”

“Maybe… a puppet show?” Ann said, voice pitched up like she was asking a question.

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Hmm, that was a good one,” Futaba grumbled.

“You may not be far off,” Makoto thought aloud. “What about just a normal theatre?”

“Conditions have not been met.”

“Okay, so it’s not that either,” Morgana sighed.

“What about a game? You control games,” Futaba said, the way she contorted her face indicating she knew it was a stretch.

“Conditions have not been met.”

Yusuke hummed in thought before trying his own suggestion. “A ship?”

“Conditions have not been met.”

Akira could feel the way the sudden tension in the room eased as quickly as it had arrived.

“This is no good,” Makoto said, slumping in her seat. “We just don’t know enough about him to make an accurate guess.”

“I’ll be inviting Haru and Sumire to our beach outing at the end of the break,” Akira mentioned. “I hate to bring work into it, but maybe we can try to get some info from her.”

“That may be our only option,” she said, a heart-wrenching sadness on her face.

“We have no clue even where this Palace would be,” Morgana said, tail flicking side to side in frustration. “It can’t be somewhere easy like Shibuya, can it?”

“Conditions have not been met.”

The cat groaned loudly. “Dang it! I was hoping that would work!”

“Let’s revisit this another time,” Yusuke proposed, pocketing his phone to effectively halt any other guesses for now.

“Yes, let’s,” Akira said, leaning forward and rubbing his temples. “If we spend too long on this, we’ll just end up going in circles.”

“Agreed,” the artist said with a nod. “For now we must simply wait until we can speak to Haru.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up on him in the rumour mill in the meantime,” Akira offered, thinking about the Crossroads shift he had the following evening. Surely Ohya would know something about him.

“Well, we callin’ it a day?” Ryuji asked, prompting all eyes to fall on the leader.

“Yeah,” he said with a defeated sigh. “Let’s get some rest.”

The Thieves dispersed, a couple of them hanging back for half an hour or so before they too headed home for the afternoon. The attic quickly felt empty without them, the warmth of his friends—his family—fading in their absence. As he usually did after meetings like those, Akira found himself helping out in the cafe as his phone buzzed in his pocket, alerting him of everyone’s safe arrival home.

Eventually, Sojiro hung up his apron and announced he was leaving for the day, telling him to lock up as usual. A realisation dawned in the boy’s mind and he grinned widely.

“Say hi to Futaba for me,” he said as his guardian headed for the door.

Just like the first time he said it, Sojiro turned to him with genuine surprise. That look faded into one of deep gratitude. “Yeah. Sure kid.”

As the bell signalled his departure, Akira’s phone buzzed again in his pocket.

Memester: been a minute hasn’t it?
Memester: how many times did you almost mess up and say it when you shouldn’t have?

Broker: too many

Memester: HA

-

“I thought we’d agreed you were going to cease your recklessness.”

“I agreed that I am reckless. I never agreed to stop.”

Akira set down a freshly brewed cup of coffee on the counter in front of Akechi, letting the steam fog up his glasses and smirking wildly at the detective. Scarlet eyes fixed him with a pointed glare as he rested his chin on his gloved hands.

He’d neglected to talk to him much down here before now. But now, Futaba knew better than to listen to their conversations.

“You’re going to get someone killed,” he stated harshly. “Isn’t that the very thing you’re striving to prevent?”

“It is,” Akira hummed, removing the black frames and wiping them clean on the corner of his apron. “But believe me, no one is going to die.”

“You cannot be certain of that.”

“I can try.”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, the detective picked up his mug and took a sip of the brew. Akira loved watching the way his eyes fluttered shut and a soft smile appeared on his face whenever he took that first sip. It was no different this time.

Akechi’s face returned to its prior scowl the moment he realised his guard had dropped. “This is precisely why I cannot condone your actions.”

“I don’t understand why that’s relevant,” the thief said flippantly.

“I don’t need your rescuing!” Akechi snapped. “I don’t need your help! I’ll go out on my own terms. If I die trying to exact my revenge on that bastard of a man, then so be it.”

There it was. Finally. Acknowledgement of the fate Akechi had once met. Neither had done anything but elude to it with vague metaphors or comments that beat around the bush. But now that Akechi had mentioned it…

“Many people die this year, Goro,” Akira said, voice softening. “I have a chance to stop it. Why would I waste that chance?”

“And yet you let me do my job without so much as raising a finger to stop me.”

“You and I both know there’s no way I’m convincing you to stop,” Akira reasoned. “If I thought I could, I would have tried months ago.”

“So when the victims are faceless and nameless to you, it doesn’t matter,” Akechi said. “But when it’s me, suddenly you’re a paragon of pacifism.”

“I won’t let you die again.”

“I already told you,” he spat. “Some people don’t want to be rescued. I don’t want to be rescued. So you can stop playing the hero and actually fix your mess.”

“Our mess,” Akira corrected. “We’re all in this together. I’m sorry, Goro, but I can’t accept that you don’t want to at least try to live longer than seventeen.”

“You accepted it in February just fine.”

Akira tensed. “You were already dead in February!” he snapped. “You aren’t dead yet!”

Under the scrutiny of Akechi’s narrowing eyes, Akira tugged nervously at his hair. He bottled up the emotions that threatened to spill, refused the tears that threatened to run freely down his cheeks. He wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

“I mourned you, Goro,” he said, looking away to gather himself, then looking back. He had so many things he wanted to say, but the words got caught in his throat when he opened his mouth. Stage fright struck like lightning when he looked into those scarlet eyes.

“You shouldn’t,” the detective told him. “I’ve killed people, Kurusu. I am a living representation of everything your little group stands against.”

“You’re my rival,” Akira added. “A perfect character foil. You are just like me.”

“I’m nothing like you,” he snapped.

Akira deflated, a disbelieving expression on his face, scanning the other boy’s tensed body. Picking it apart for signs of deceit. He couldn’t find any, but this was the world’s greatest actor sitting before him after all.

“I don’t think you believe that’s true,” he said.

-

Summer break was coming to a close.

With Oracle’s announcement, the vast majority of Mementos had opened up to the Phantom Thieves. Requests began to flood the PhanSite, along with many people praising them and offering their support.

They certainly weren’t without their haters. Akechi had still mentioned his dislike of the group to the media earlier in the year, likely as per Shido’s command. Many people still sided with the second Detective Prince.

It wasn’t long before Mishima saw fit to add the poll to the Site regarding their next big target. Against Akira’s wishes even. Unfortunately for him, Mishima seemed to believe he knew what would be best for the Thieves’ image. He didn’t even stop to consider the risks.

“I’ve been trying to get him to take it down,” Akira mentioned to the group at their meeting the next day. “He won’t budge.”

“Not only that, but check out all these requests!” Ryuji added and began to read some from his phone. “‘I think my boyfriend’s cheating on me. Change his heart.’ ‘My boss keeps cutting my shifts.’ ‘Landlord discriminating against foreign tenants.’ That one might be worth lookin’ into actually.”

“I've been checking the Site too,” Ann said. “Most of them are just petty grudges or minor inconveniences. It’s gonna take a lot of work to sort through them all.”

“Hey, Akira,” Morgana muttered. “If you mentioned to Mishima what kinds of requests we can and can’t do, maybe he’ll moderate the Site to make finding them easier.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Akira said.

“We’ll have to spend more time in Mementos to keep up with the increased requests too,” Makoto hummed. “Once a fortnight isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

Akira nodded, tugging his hair as he thought it over. “We’ll need to go in every week. Maybe twice a week depending on how quickly we run out of steam down there. I’ll need everyone to put in their best efforts gathering intel on any requests you find.”

“Roger that, Leader,” Ryuji said as the others all nodded in agreement.

Futaba sighed, bringing her knees up to perch on her seat. “So much for summer,” she muttered under her breath.

-

By some miracle, the Phantom Thieves still managed to find time to spend at the beach. The sun shone down on Akira as he trekked along the path toward where Ryuji and Yusuke had already gathered, towel over one shoulder and Mona bag over the other, the cat in question making his distaste for the heat very known to the thief who was holding him.

“You’re so lucky Akira!” he groaned, continuing his approximately twenty minute tangent about the weather. “You don’t have to deal with having fur in this heat! If it wouldn’t make me look like a naked mole rat I would just want it all shaved off! It’s so hot, I think I’m dying. Akira. When I depart from this mortal coil, I leave all my thief tools to you. Futaba can have my coin collection. She’s always appreciated their shine. Tell Ryuji I’m sorry for calling him an ape. Tell Ann-”

“You’re not dying, Mona,” Akira cut off with a giggle.

“You don’t know that!” Mona yowled in disagreement.

“What’s that cat yappin’ on about this time?” Ryuji asked as the two approached their earshot.

“He thinks he’s dying.”

“It’s so hot!”

The false blond shook his head. “Dude, it’s no hotter than normal. Yusuke’s in a hoodie.”

“The hoodie is to protect myself from the sun’s rays,” the artist explained. “As much as I wish to feel it’s warmth directly on my skin, I am unfortunately quite fair and burn rather easily. It’s quite a thin garment anyway. It wouldn’t provide much warmth in the cooler seasons, which makes it perfect for this occasion.”

“Dude, just wear sunscreen,” Ryuji said.

As the boys bickered—lovingly—Akira fished out a bottle of water and a small bowl from the non-Mona section of his bag. He poured a little of the liquid into it and held it up for the cat, who perched on his shoulder to drink it.

“Akira you’re a lifesaver!” he exclaimed. The boy only shook his head with a smile.

“Now we just have to wait for the girls to get here,” Ryuji said.

“That reminds me,” Yusuke recalled, “you mentioned inviting Haru, Sumire, and Akechi didn’t you? Did any of them accept, perchance?”

“You can’t just say ‘perchance’,” Akira laughed.

“The eff does ‘perchance’ mean?” Ryuji yelled.

Yusuke furrowed his brows in confusion. “It makes grammatical sense in the sentence I used, does it not? Why can I not say it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Akira deflected. “Haru and Sumire are coming, but Goro said he ‘didn’t have time to waste on childish frivolities’, so we probably won’t be seeing him today.”

“That does sound like him, doesn’t it,” Yusuke said.

“Why’d you invite him anyway?” Ryuji asked. “He seems kinda pissed at us lately. I mean, he’s pissed at us all the time, but… you know what I mean. He’s been extra pissed.”

In lieu of any appropriate response, Akira simply shrugged.

He knew why he invited him. He truly enjoyed spending time with him. Whether that was at their usual haunts in Kichijoji, or somewhere entirely new, he found that any experience was ten times better with Akechi at his side. Rivals. Character foils. Perfect reflections of one another. An unspoken bond keeping them together despite all else.

Akira didn’t need to share that with anyone else.

“Ah, here are Haru and Sumire now,” Yusuke said, bringing him back to reality.

“Hello everyone!” Haru waved with a bright smile, her younger friend trailing slightly behind her. Both of them appeared somewhat nervous, but happy to be there.

The two were both wearing their swimwear; Haru’s set a pale blue bikini with large pink bows, matching the large bow on her sun hat. And Sumire’s was a one piece with an understated shape and a red fabric wrap hanging loosely around her waist. They both looked incredible in their chosen looks.

Haru smiled at them, offering a polite nod when her eyes landed on Yusuke. “It’s so good to see you again, Kitagawa-kun. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been excellent, Haru-san,” Yusuke said with a sad smile. “It is a delight to see you both again.”

“It has definitely been a while,” Sumire said shyly, tugging at the wrap skirt around her waist. “I hope you’ve been doing alright, after… um…”

Yusuke’s face fell slightly. “Yes, well, it hasn’t been easy since Madarame’s confession and subsequent arrest, but I’m faring well. Moving to my school’s dorms was truly the best decision I could have made for my creativity and my mental health.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up!” Sumire said quickly.

“Not to worry, Sumire-san,” he insisted. “I appreciate your concern.”

“Yeah, plus he’s got us,” Ryuji chimed in.

“Indeed,” Haru agreed. “You all seem to be good friends. To be honest, I can’t help but feel like we’re intruding on your gathering today.”

“You ain’t intruding at all,” Ryuji assured her.

“Ryuji’s right, you absolutely aren’t,” Yusuke told them. “I was overjoyed when Akira mentioned he had invited you.”

“They’re being so formal,” Morgana meowed quietly from Akira’s shoulder. He’d finished with his drink and decided to stay silent for most of the conversation. “And they can’t hear me. It’s so unnerving.”

“Oh! Kurusu-senpai, is this your cat?” Sumire asked quickly with a smile, appearing relieved for the opportunity to change the subject.

“He’s so cute!” Haru beamed, reaching out to pat him. “What’s his name?”

“Morgana,” Akira told her as the cat in question accepted the pats graciously. Haru’s eyes lit up in recollection.

“Like Morgana le Fay!” she exclaimed.

“Uh… sorry, Morgana le Fay?” Ryuji asked.

“You’re so uncultured, Ryuji,” Morgana sighed. The blond had to clench his fists and kick the ground to not openly blow up at the talking cat.

Yusuke began to explain. “A character in Arthurian legend, I believe. She is often depicted as a sister to King Arthur and is a powerful enchantress, if I recall.”

Haru nodded enthusiastically. “She’s usually a healer or magician of some kind. She’s almost always a benevolent force who guides and aids King Arthur on his journey.”

“A healer and a guide, eh?” Akira gave the cat a sly smirk. A smirk he could see being returned through his peripherals.

“Hey, what time are the girls s’posed to be getting here?” Ryuji asked. “I’m sweatin’ balls just standin’ here.”

Checking his phone told him that they had arrived at the station roughly five minutes ago. They shouldn’t be too much longer. He dutifully relayed the information to the group.

“Oh thank god,” Ryuji sighed.

“Does this kind of thing happen often with your friends?” Sumire asked curiously.

“Not especially, no,” Yusuke answered. “I think maybe our newer addition to the group may be holding them up.”

“Newer addition?” Haru repeated. “Have we met this person?”

“Nah you haven’t yet,” Ryuji said. “She uh… She used to be a shut-in, so she doesn’t get out much.”

“I see.”

Sumire glanced quickly at Haru before taking over for her in the conversation. “How did you all meet her? I mean, if she was a shut-in… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be making assumptions like that. Please ignore me.”

“No it’s alright,” Akira assured. “Futaba’s my guardian’s daughter. She got curious about me and started messaging me on and off. Eventually she felt safe enough to meet my friends and I in person.” The lie was as smooth as butter, scripted and ready in his head for situations just like this. All the best lies are built on an element of truth.

“That’s wonderful,” Sumire said. “I’m glad she feels safe enough to go out now.”

“Agreed,” Haru said with a smile. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She can be… quirky at times, I must warn you,” Yusuke said.

“I’m sure it won’t be anything we can’t handle,” Haru told him.

“Would Futaba-san be the very same Futaba you were telling me about last time we trained together, Ryuji-senpai?” Sumire asked, turning to the athlete with inquisition. Ryuji nodded but didn’t have much chance to say anything before a voice interrupted.

“There they are! Hey guys!” The bright sound of Ann’s voice could be heard a few hundred metres away, the rest of the group turning to see her waving with the other two by her side.

Sumire’s eyes widened as the other girls approached, a red flush rising to her cheeks as she tapped Haru’s shoulder and whispered something to her. Akira could pretty accurately gauge the nature of their conversation from the way the fluffy-haired girl’s posture stiffened and a blush of her own spread across her face. He chuckled quietly, keeping it to himself.

“Sorry we’re late,” Ann said with a huff as they got closer. “Futaba suddenly got really nervous.”

“I think the idea of meeting completely new people in person scared her,” Makoto said before turning to the not-yet Phantom Thieves of the group. “Hello, Sumire-san, Haru-san. It’s good to see you both again.”

“Y-you as well, Makoto-san,” Haru stammered. “And you must be Futaba-chan? I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

“I’m glad to meet you myself as well, Futaba-san,” Sumire added. “Ann-senpai, Akira-senpai, and Ryuji-senpai have been telling me about you.”

“Y-yeah! Uh huh! Nice to meet you!” Futaba said with an awkward smile, standing beside her key item, ready to go into hiding at a moment’s notice.

Now, Akira could understand if it was just an act, but he knew Futaba well enough to know when she was legitimately nervous. Came with the territory of being basically her brother. But Futaba knew Sumire and Haru. Why would she be anxious around them?

Unless… Oh! He was so teasing her about this later.

“You’ll have to excuse her,” Yusuke explained with a sigh. “The nerves are a result of her previous living conditions.”

“N-nobody asked you, Inari!” Futaba squeaked.

“Shall we find a spot to set up?” Makoto asked the group.

“Let’s!” Haru agreed. “I believe I saw a spot not too far from here. With any luck, it might still be free.”

“Lead the way then, Haru-senpai,” Ryuji said with a grin, tacking the honorific on the end last second.

The day was overall quite pleasant, even if their attempts of gaining information from Haru were largely fruitless. Every time one of them asked about romance or Ryuji’s unsubtle “hey who was that guy I saw you with the other day?” Sumire would swoop in with excuses and misdirection. Like a knight in shining armour, defending her from any line of questioning that would make her uncomfortable.

After the third time Sumire shut them down, Akira found himself locking eyes with Makoto across the circle, clutching her skirt in her fist and pursing her lips together into a thin line. Subtly, enough for no one else to notice, he shook his head. She returned it with an understanding nod, relief leading her to unclench her fists and smooth over her skirt with her hands.

He mumbled his orders to Morgana. He parroted them to the rest of the group.

“Joker says to stop asking about Sugimura,” he said, shaking his head. “We don’t want to make Noir any more uncomfortable.”

The Thieves exchanged some looks but everyone silently agreed to drop it. They would have to find their intel another way.

Between splashing around in the shallows of the ocean and playing volleyball on the sand, the group let themselves relax and unwind. Haru found a brightly coloured shell that she delightfully showed to Sumire, prompting Ann and Yusuke to both immediately propose collecting more. The four of them eagerly skittered along the beach in their hunt for the beautiful things.

Ryuji challenged Makoto to a sandcastle building contest and roped in Akira as his teammate. Makoto, in a fit of competitiveness, grabbed Futaba as her own and then coerced Morgana into being the judge. She also used her connection as one of Ann’s close friends to have her fetch shells for decoration, with the promise of adding them to her collection when she was done with them.

Ryuji tried to do the same with Yusuke, however, the artist was more concerned with their shoddy work thus far. And so, he instead insisted on coaching them to build a sandcastle inspired by gothic architecture. It did not go as planned and Morgana easily named Makoto and Futaba the winners.

At some point in the day, Futaba’s skin began to grow red at a concerning rate. No matter how much sunscreen she applied, she would continue to burn. Yusuke generously offered his hoodie to help cover her exposed skin.

“Oh, how kind of you Kitagawa-kun,” Haru said, smiling gently from where she sat. Even though she was under the umbrella, the shade had moved and now there was not much escape from the sun.

“D-dude, ain’t you gonna burn now?” Ryuji asked, a redness of his own spreading across his face as the artist took off his shirt.

“It’s likely, but I’m not as pale as Futaba is, perhaps simply the sunscreen will work for me,” he explained, oblivious to his blond friend’s anxiety and the way his eyes darted up and down his figure. “Ryuji, would you be able to assist applying this to my back?”

“S-sure dude!”

Akira chuckled quietly as Futaba leaned in to mutter something in his ear. “Isn’t Ryuji supposed to like Ann? Won’t she be crushed if he turns out to be gay?”

Shaking his head with a knowing smirk, he replied, “Don’t worry about it.”

The missing girls—Ann, Makoto, and Sumire—returned carrying drinks for the group. In Makoto’s arms was a large half watermelon.

“It’s already split, but I thought maybe we could share it,” she said, placing it carefully on a towel so no sand got on it.

“Geez, Makoto, ain’t that heavy?” Ryuji said, quick to clear his mind and concentrate on anything but what he was doing.

“A little, but you know I am stronger than I look,” she responded, looking at the position the athlete and the artist were in.

Ann passed Akira his drink, but didn’t make eye contact. He noticed how she gazed off towards the boys too, a twinge of jealousy in how she scrunched her nose.

“You certainly are,” Sumire agreed, either not noticing or deciding not to comment on the situation. “I train a lot myself and even I struggled with it a little.”

“You know, Makoto-san, you are far more toned than I expected,” Haru mentioned, a light pink dusting the bridge of her nose. “You almost look like you could do gymnastics yourself!”

“Uh, w-well, I don’t know about that,” Makoto stuttered, her own blush rising to her cheeks. God, all of Akira’s friends were gay! “I-I have trained in aikido and regularly exercise to stay in shape, so…”

“Oh! That makes sense,” Haru said nodding. “Do you also train with Sumi-chan?”

“No, not in particular. I know Ann, Ryuji, and Akira do sometimes, but not me.”

“You should join me for a training session sometime, Makoto-senpai!” Sumire offered, beaming. “Actually, I’d like to train with everyone. You all appear to be very athletically built for students our age.” Her eyes widened. “O-of course, I mean that in a friendly way! It’s not a bad thing at all!”

Ann chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck, finding her seat next to Makoto. “Well, that’s mostly thanks to your training, Sumire-chan! It helps me stay in shape for my modelling.”

“Oh, I don't really do that much. It’s mostly flexibility conditioning and core workouts, but your arms look incredible too!”

“Don’t they?” Ryuji cheered in agreement, the cap of the sunscreen snapping shut in his hands. “Honestly, she’s so strong! And she can run in heels!”

Ann began blushing wildly at his praise, playing with her hair and insisting they stop.

“Oh my,” Haru exclaimed. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Ann-chan.”

“H-hey, I’m not that scary, am I?”

“Yeah dude you kinda are. Good scary, I promise!”

Futaba leaned into Akira’s side once more, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh I see,” she muttered mischievously. “I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”

“Let the matchmaking commence,” Akira said in the same tone.

Makoto chuckled softly, too far away to hear their exchange. “You know, I was a little nervous when I saw you run in those heels the first time,” she recalled. “I could never do the things you do in heels.”

“W-what?” Ann squeaked. “W-well Su-” She cut herself off. “I-I bet Sumire could run in heels too! She has much better balance than me, being a gymnast and all!”

Nice save, Panther.

“I mean,” Sumire said quickly, a little anxious being put on the spot. “I-I’m sure I could learn to, but I don’t wear heels all that often, so I’d probably just land on my face if I tried.”

Yusuke hummed in thought. “Don’t Akira’s shoes have heels?” he asked no one in particular.

“Kurusu-senpai, you wear heels?” Sumire asked, sounding a little surprised.

Akira’s posture stiffened. “They’re not really heels, guys.”

“But they have like a three inch heel!” Ann disagreed. “That’s more than Ryuji can walk in!”

“Hey!” the athlete yelled in offence. “I could walk in a three inch heel! How hard could it be?”

“It’s harder than you think, Ryuji-kun,” Haru said with a giggle. “That’s about the height I wear for important functions. Much more comfortable than some other heels, but still not easy to adjust to.”

“At least they’re not stilettos, I suppose,” Morgana meowed with a sigh. “It’d be hard to do all those fancy flips in those, wouldn’t it Joker?”

Akira grinned. “I’d pay to see Ryuji in stilettos,” he said.

“What?” the boy barked.

“How much?” Ann asked, intrigued.

“Hmm… a thousand yen.”

“Are you guys betting on my ability to wear heels?” Ryuji asked, absolutely flabbergasted.

Futaba’s eyes lit up. “Five thousand yen you can’t get Ryuji to walk in heels in a month!” she announced, pointing to Ann with an evil grin.

“You’re on!” Ann retorted, matching her pose.

“I’m getting in on this too!” Akira bandwagoned. “I’ll match five thousand.”

“Are we seriously gambling right now?” Makoto sighed.

Haru offered her a sheepish smile. “In all honesty, I’d like to see where this goes. I’ll match Ann-chan’s five thousand. I believe you can do it!”

“Thank you, Haru-senpai!” Ann beamed.

“Hey! Do I not get a say in this?” Ryuji shouted.

“Nope!” Futaba smirked. “Just sit back and accept your fate.

“You get a cut of the winnings if you can learn to walk in heels in a month,” Akira bribed. Ryuji grumbled in vague agreement to the terms.

“Alright, now the rest of you!” Futaba prompted. “Sumire, you getting in on this too?”

“U-um. Do I have to?” she stammered shyly.

“We won’t force you,” Yusuke assured, “but I’ll admit, this is quite humorous. I’ll take Ann’s side for this bet and match the five thousand. A month is quite a long time.”

“With what money?” Ryuji cried.

How about the money from their Mementos run yesterday? Surely Yusuke couldn’t have spent fifty thousand in one day.

“Ah, that is a good point.”

Unbelievable.

“I'd be happy to help you, Kitagawa-kun,” Haru offered. “We are betting on the same side, after all.”

“That is quite generous of you, Haru-san. I graciously accept your offer.”

“I don’t think a month is long enough,” Makoto said. “Ryuji just doesn’t have the dexterity for it. I’ll be betting for Futaba’s side.”

“Yes!” Futaba cackled. “Join the dark side!”

“Geez this is getting out of hand,” Morgana sighed.

“Hm…” Sumire ran a hand through her hair, contemplating something. “I think a month won’t do. Not for Ryuji-senpai at least. I’ve trained with him for a while now and I know his balance isn’t that great, no offence, Senpai.”

“Wow… I can’t believe Sumire betrayed you like that,” Mona teased. Ryuji clenched his fist.

“I’ll be joining Futaba’s side in this bet,” Sumire concluded.

“And so it is decided!” Futaba announced. “Your time begins tomorrow and concludes on the 29th of September. I wish you the best of luck.”

As the sun set on their day at the beach, Haru and Sumire bid the group farewell. Everyone was packing their stuff and were preparing to set off not long after them when Akira noticed Futaba admiring the horizon. He walked over to stand at her side, gazing out at the orange sky and the reflection cast on the water.

“Remember last time we were here?” Futaba asked quietly, pulling Yusuke’s thin hoodie over her hands until he couldn’t see her fingers.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, a smile warming his face. “This was where you officially joined us.”

“Yeah, for completely selfish reasons,” she said. “All I wanted was to find my mum’s research, and even now I’m nowhere close to doing that.”

“Well yeah, but we all had selfish reasons to join the team,” Akira reminded her. “Makoto wanted to change Sae’s heart. Haru wanted to change her father’s. Ryuji just wanted girls for a bit there. Mona wanted his memories back. Everyone had a reason beyond just ‘change the world’ when they joined.”

“What was yours?” Futaba asked him curiously.

Akira thought for a minute. What had been his reason? Was he fighting for anything specific? Or was he just wrapped up in it all from the beginning? Following a script given to him by a cosmic producer. Was his conviction the first time around simply an act?

“Try not to get arrested again,” he said, forcing a chuckle. “I changed Kamoshida’s heart because he was going to get me expelled. If I got expelled, I thought Sojiro would kick me out and I’d have nothing again. I’d have to turn to actual crime to stay alive.

“But we changed his heart, and I made some friends. Actual friends who had my back. I stayed with the Phantom Thieves because I didn’t want to lose that.”

“Aw, Kira!” Futaba nudged him playfully. “You’re not going to lose us. I’m a lot harder to get rid of than you think.”

Of course he would never lose them. Their bonds were unbreakable. Everlasting.

“Hey! Nerd siblings!” Ryuji called to them from their set up, which looked to be mostly packed when they craned their heads to look at him. “You gonna come help us or are you gonna stand there lookin’ at the water?”

“Yeah, yeah! We’re coming, Ryuji!” Futaba called back in feigned annoyance, trekking back through the sand with a smile.

Akira took one last look out at the ocean, breathing in the salty air. Watching the setting sun was always so relaxing to him. There weren’t many places to do that in Tokyo. From the hill at the top of town, he could see the sun set over Inaba every evening.

That was probably the only thing he missed about that wretched place. The sun. And the sun was right in front of him now. Here he could watch the setting sun with his family.

His true family.

-

Akira knew Akechi. He’d like to think he knew him quite well, actually.

Sure the boy was the world’s greatest actor, but he was still Akechi. Strong sense of justice, extremely competitive, intelligence beyond his years, and as cunning as a fox.

Akira knew Akechi. Which is why when he saw Akechi getting on the train bound for Aoyama-Itchome, he knew something wasn’t right.

Why when he followed Akechi to the gates of Shujin Academy, he knew something was definitely up.

And why when that very same school gate suddenly warped into a tall hedge and wrought iron he knew something was actually very wrong.

Clearly Mona did too.

“Crow!” the cat said almost immediately, catching the black-masked figure off guard. Leaning out from his perch on his leader’s shoulder, cartoony eyes narrowed. “What are you doing! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“How did you get here?” Crow growled in response. “Were you following me?”

“Crow, I can explain,” Joker tried.

Mona had other plans. Jumping to the ground he hissed, “Don’t bother, Joker. He’s clearly still considering betraying us. Even after everything you’ve been through?”

“I’m not-” A patrolling shadow cut off their argument, forcing the quarrelling thieves to disappear into the shadows of the alleyway until it passed them. Crow had forced himself to calm down by the time they emerged from their hiding places.

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand much less believe me, but I’m not here to kill your principal,” he said in a harsh whisper.

“And why should we believe you?” Mona countered, calmer as well, but firm. Standing his ground with his arms crossed. “What else would you be doing here? This is his Palace, is it not?”

Joker checked the Nav. Sure enough, the keywords were staring back at him:

Kobayakawa Hayabusa, principal, Shujin Academy, garden.

So the school was a garden to him.

How intriguing.

“It isn’t safe out here,” Crow snapped quietly. “Follow me.”

Without another word, he slipped out of the alleyway and made a dash for the wall of hedges and its elaborate arch entrance. Mona looked conflicted, wanting to be able to trust him, but unsure if he could do so in good conscience. If the news was to be trusted, Akechi had been giving people mental shutdowns as regularly scheduled.

The feline thief looked up at his leader for guidance. Joker nodded, and dashed over to crouch behind the wall where Crow was waiting for them. Mona did the same.

Silent as the wind itself, they skulked through the ironically beautiful landscape of Kobayakawa’s mind. Every shrub, every flower, every leaf was perfectly maintained. Perfectly trimmed. Perfectly sustained. Unlike the students at the school he was supposed to protect.

Some hedges were shaped like people—students he realised—lining the walls that would be the corridors in the real world. In a courtyard near the entrance of the gardens, waterfall fountains lined the pavement, white daffodils grew from the grass. And the centrepiece.

Nearly ten feet tall, a shrub trimmed to mimic the shape of a person. Large and intimidating, standing in some sort of power pose.

Kamoshida. Decapitated.

His leafy head lay on the ground by the pedestal the hedge was growing from. Still fixed in his smug, ugly grin. Joker was insanely close to calling Mada to burn it to ash.

“That’s…” Mona whispered.

“…Kamoshida,” Joker finished.

“Wow. It’s been awhile.”

Crow nodded shortly. “Was like this last time too. I assume you all had something to do with that.”

Of course. Kobayakawa cared about nothing more than the image his school displayed to the public. As an Olympic gold medalist and the coach that took the volleyball team to nationals, Kamoshida was a massive part of that. Now that he’d confessed his crimes, the principal would hate to be associated with him. He damaged the school’s reputation irreparably.

“This way. There’s a safe room,” Crow said, navigating the two thieves around the griefed statue and through an arch, covered in the same white flowers and sealed by an iron gate that warped and shifted unnaturally.

The trio stood rather than sat at the dilapidated picnic bench in the centre of the room, Mona using one of the long seats to elevate himself. Both thieves stared at Crow across the table.

“Well?” the cat asked pointedly. “You had better start explaining yourself.”

“I intend to.”

Crow explained.

Joker believed him.

Kobayakawa was not going to die.

-

Hawaii was fine.

Nothing much changed. The only major difference was that the Thieves actually knew Haru a little and got to spend time with her on the trip. But, due to her role as a third year supervisor, they didn’t get to spend much time with both Haru and Makoto together. The first time they did, they were reprimanded by one of their classmates for spreading the third years too thin among the other second years.

Makoto decided it would be best to heed their advice, even if she was noticeably upset about it.

Mishima didn’t get sick this time due to Akira’s warnings. Ryuji and Ann still spent a night in the boys’ room. Despite their own warnings to their roommates not to abandon them, they still ended up locked out of theirs. Akira somehow lost their card game and wound up sleeping on the floor.

“Haha! Sucked in!” Ryuji had bragged, soaking in the victory he lost last year, even if he was only sleeping on the couch.

If Akira had had it his way, he’d have suggested Ryuji and Ann share a bed. However, given neither of them had confessed their feelings, he didn’t think their relationship was at that stage yet. So he kept the thought to himself.

Sumire ran into them at the gift shop once again. She had mentioned this time that she’d been able to spend some of her time off practice with Haru, since they were both in the country. Akira was glad she at least had a good time, even if she looked like she had barely slept and her eyes were red and puffy.

“I’m really working on my performance,” she’d said when he asked. “I can’t afford to mess up again. I’m going to train harder than ever.”

Sumire’s resolve was beginning to strengthen. She was almost ready.

Their journey back to Japan went off without a hitch. If anything, Akira would almost rather he stayed home. Maybe Akechi would have appreciated the company. Or maybe, he revelled in the peace and quiet brought about by the majority of the Thieves being absent. It was more likely the second option.

Upon arrival, jet lag hit him like a truck. Even with a decent sleep on the plane and a short nap between the airport and Shibuya Station, all Akira wanted was to curl up in bed and hibernate for a day or two.

“Welcome back,” Sojiro greeted as he stepped through the door, wheeling his suitcase behind him. “How was the trip?”

“Wow,” Morgana commented from Futaba’s lap. “You look like you could use a nap.”

“I’m exhausted,” he responded truthfully. “I have souvenirs.”

“Ooh! Gimme your tourist trinkets!” Futaba jumped up from her seat, arms outstretched, leaving a jostled Mona to jump quickly onto a bar stool instead. She’d informed him before he left that she still had the keychain he gave her the first time. He wasn’t particularly fond of that gift either. It was a panicked last minute decision he had made before really getting to know her. Kinda tacky and kinda cliche.

This time, he gave her a sarong he’d found in a store by the beach, green with flowers and palm leaves. “For the next time we go to the beach,” he said. “So you don’t get burned so easily.”

“Oh.” Futaba surveyed the fabric in her hands, running her fingers along it. “This is actually a really thoughtful gift. Thank you!”

To Sojiro he gave authentic Kona coffee beans. Last year he’d complained about one bag not being enough, so this year he bought two. If it loops again, he’ll probably get three. For continuity’s sake. He loved it, just like last time.

His gift to Morgana last year had been disappointing. He’d barely even consider a lei an appropriate gift when all it did was cause the kitty strife. So, this year, he put a little more thought into it.

“Mona stay still,” he said as he approached him. He arched his back instinctively.

“If you’re gonna put another one of those lei things on me I don’t want it!” he cried. “They’re itchy and they make me sneeze!”

Instead, he held up a small wooden carving of a fish hook. Apparently an important symbol in Hawaiian culture and said to bring good fortune and strength to those who wear it. Akira thought it was perfect for Mona, and had another more humorous meaning considering his feline appearance.

“Oh. Is that for me?” Mona said, aggressive stance slowly relaxing as he realised what he was holding. His eyes lit up instead as he started to knead the surface he was sitting on in excitement. “It looks so cool!”

“I said hold still!” Akira said with a laugh.

After a small struggle, he managed to tie the wooden carving to his collar. It dangled off the yellow leather like a pendant as the cat’s face filled with pride.

“Is that a fish hook?” Sojiro asked. “Did you get a carving of a fish hook for your cat?”

“That’s hilarious,” Futaba commented, still grinning as she wrapped her new sarong around her neck like a scarf. “It looks super cute though!”

“I agree,” Akira said with a grin. One that quickly turned to a yawn. “I think I need a proper sleep.”

“Geez, already?” Sojiro asked, pretending to be annoyed. “Well, you go take care of yourself. Take the cat with you if you can. We’re technically still open.”

“Did you text everyone you’re here?” Futaba reminded him.

“No. I’ll do that.”

“A’ight! I’d stay longer, but Iono-sama’s Pikamon stream starts in about five minutes ago, so I gotta make like a tree.” With her gift and a bright grin, she strode out of the cafe, promising to text Akira when she got home despite the short distance.

As Akira was getting himself settled down for bed, Morgana was looking at his new accessory, using the powered off screen of the boy’s laptop like a mirror.

“It looks handmade,” he mentioned, still smiling ear to ear. Probably. Hard to read a cat’s face, but he was clearly overjoyed.

“It is,” Akira confirmed, sitting on his makeshift bed as he tugged his shirt on over his head. “There was a guy near where we stayed that did them. He told us what it symbolised.”

“It’s a symbol?” Morgana asked as he moved to sit next to him. “What does it mean?”

“Safe passage,” he answered. “Said to bring fortune and strength too, but I mostly got it for the safe passage part.” He smiled and nudged him gently. “You’re my guide, remember? Without you, I wouldn’t have thought to start the Phantom Thieves.”

“Really?” Mona’s eyes sparkled. “You really do value me, don’t you?”

“You’re family to me, Morgana,” he said. “I don’t care if you're a cat, a human, or a being of humanity’s hope, you belong by my side. Nothing will change that.”

“I… Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to hear.”

“I have a bit of an idea.”

“Okay, but still. I’m so happy I met you guys.”

Akira smiled. “I’m happy I met you too.”

Yawning and stretching his body, the cat moved to curl up next to the pillow on the bed. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day for you.”

Tiredly setting his head down, Akira did just that.

-

It was already near closing time when he woke up. Morgana was still out like a light, so he quietly slipped down stairs to help Sojiro pack up and get ready to open the next morning.

“Are you sure you want to be working right now?” Sojiro asked as his ward was prepping ingredients for tomorrow’s curry. “You know you’re allowed to relax and have a day off. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Yeah I do, but I feel restless if I don’t have something to do,” Akira said. “Plus, I enjoy working down here. It’s peaceful.”

A ringing from his pocket interrupted their conversation. He excused himself and stepped out from behind the counter, leaving Sojiro to finish putting the clean dishes away.

“Makoto!” he greeted with a smile. “What’s up?” She didn’t waste a second with her answer.

“Principal Kobayakawa is dead!”

His smile vanished.

“What?”

Chapter Text

“What?”

Akira gripped his phone tightly. Eyes dark. Confusion bubbling in the back of his mind before distorting into something like anger. Sojiro even momentarily paused what he was doing to throw a concerned look his way, one eyebrow raised in vague interest.

“My sister told me just now,” Makoto said over the phone. She sounded just as shocked. Just as breathless. “They found his body in his office. But it doesn’t make sense, right? Wha- why would-”

“I’m calling a meeting,” Akira cut her off, migrating his way upstairs so his guardian couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “It’s okay, Makoto. We’ll figure this out.”

Mona stirred on Akira’s bed, questions falling on deaf ears as Akira began to pace around the attic, apron thrown into a forgotten heap on the table. “Akira? What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“But what about Akechi?” Makoto asked on the other line. “He didn’t just betray us again, did he?”

“No.” Surely not right? He was a good actor, but he wasn’t that good. Akira would like to think he’d learned how to read him by now. “No, I'm sure if he wanted to betray us he would’ve waited to kill Okumura. Kobayakawa just isn’t nearly as important.”

Morgana’s fur stood on end as the puzzle pieces clicked in his mind.

“Well that’s harsh,” Makoto mumbled.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. He’s a pawn in Shido’s society. Or, he was a pawn in Shido’s society.”

“No, I understand.” There was a pause. Akira could picture how she pursed her lips when she was nervous. “Are we meeting tonight?”

“If everyone isn’t jet lagged to hell and back, yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll wait to hear from everyone.”

The moment he hung up the bell rang downstairs.

“Akira!” Futaba yelled up to him. “Hi Sojiro. Akira! I’m comin’ up!” She was already basically at the top of the stairs, ignoring Sojiro’s confused remarks.

“Taba please tell me you listened to that call.” Akira never thought he’d be begging his sister to invade his privacy. But, you know what they say. Never say ‘never’.

“I did. That’s why I’m here.” She scooped up the cat almost immediately, cradling him like an emotional support stuffed animal. “Why’d your principal have to die? I was in the middle of watching a really awesome nuzlocke! Iono-sama named her Sableye ‘Alibaba’.”

Morgana seemed more perturbed by the situation than he was about being held. “Kobayakawa’s dead?” he asked. “Is that true? How can that be true? Akechi wouldn’t betray us like that again, would he? He promised us he wouldn’t!”

Akira firmly shook his head. “No. He has no reason to.”

A message was already typed on his screen. He just had to hit send and summon the company.

Jonker: emergency meeting. how jet lagged is @everyone?

sans undertale: I can be there dude

Girl in red: how much of an emergency?

Jonker: kobayakawa is dead

Girl in red: I’ll be there in 20

foxy the fox pirate grr: Would anyone be able to assist me with the train fare?
foxy the fox pirate grr: I was not expecting the sudden meeting and I’m afraid I’m a little short

sans undertale:I’m already on my way to ur dorm dude
sans undertale: I’ll help u out

foxy the fox pirate grr: Thank you Ryuji. That is most kind of you

Ur Mom: I’m already on the train. I’ll see you soon.

Jonker: Goro
Jonker: you too

There was a moment when no one sent anything. Akira had been waiting to see if the detective would respond himself. He could already see he was lurking. Akechi started typing.

Pankechi: I’m outside.

Downstairs, the bell signalled someone’s arrival. Futaba squeaked and hid behind her brother. Greetings were exchanged with their guardian before Akechi climbed the stairs.

Silent eye contact for a brief second. Akira couldn’t tell what he was thinking. After all, he was the world's greatest actor. Akechi’s gaze fell to Futaba.

“Futaba-san,” he said slowly. “Glad to see you are feeling well.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling alive,” Futaba snipped. Akechi inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

“Did you do it?” Morgana asked, frazzled and impatient in the girl’s arms. “You didn’t, right? There’s no way you would’ve!”

“That is something better for me to explain with everyone present,” he responded, speaking in the same careful tone and deliberate pace he had greeted Futaba with. He was treading lightly.

He didn’t do it.

Akira was certain.

The Thieves arrived. One by one—or in Ryuji and Yusuke’s case, two by two—they ascended the stairs to the attic with grim expressions.

First was Makoto, who glared at Akechi as though she could shoot daggers from her eyes. Taking her usual seat at the table, she put herself between him and Futaba. Akechi stayed leaning against the window, pretending not to notice her silent aggression.

Ann came up next, looking like death and holding a half-empty iced latte. Judging by the colour, it was a lot stronger than her usual blend. She waved at everyone with a plastic smile and slumped into a chair. If she was wary of Akechi, she was too tired to show it.

Lastly, Ryuji and Yusuke made it. It was clear even to Yusuke that the tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Ryuji shot forwards, glaring at Akechi like Makoto had, only the daggers in his eyes were charged with lightning. Yusuke attempted to catch his hand and stop him, but barely missed as his fingertips brushed the boy’s clothing. Ryuji’s hands slammed against table in anger instead.

“I thought you were on our side, asshole!” Ryuji shouted.

“Ryuji, keep your voice down!” Makoto scolded in a harsh tone.

Akechi closed his eyes, breathing in and letting out a deep sigh for a moment. Just a moment. When he spoke his voice was low and measured. Words chosen carefully as if walking on broken glass. Metaphorically, he was walking on broken glass. “I am on your side.”

“Then why’s Kobayakawa dead, huh?” Ryuji said in something close to a stage whisper. “If it isn’t your fault who’s effin fault is it?”

His body tensed but he kept his breaths even. “I can assure you the death of your principal was not my doing this time.”

“This time.” Futaba mumbled. Akechi’s gaze darted to her for a split second, but he pointedly didn’t otherwise react to the comment.

“Then why was it that both Morgana and our leader found you in his Palace before we left for our school trips?” Yusuke asked. It wasn’t quite an accusation more than it was a genuine curiosity, but it somehow straddled the fence between both.

“I was going to ask the same, actually,” Makoto said coldly, tucking a hair behind her ear. Now that was an accusation.

He glared at her, but it was clear—at least to Akira—that his anger wasn’t entirely directed towards her. “Ever since I woke up in this alternate past I have been foolproofing a method of convincingly faking the deaths of those I was supposed to assassinate via mental shut down,” he explained, shoulders tense and teeth clenched. No, not angry. Frustrated. “As I have already explained to your leader and your cat, I have been convincing the shadows their lives are in danger and telling them to leave the country.”

“What about the psychotic breakdowns?” Makoto interrogated. “People don’t typically die from those.”

“Those aren’t as easily faked,” Morgana jumped in. “While it’s not ideal, I agree with Akechi on that one. Though he’s mentioned he’s been limiting the psychotic breakdowns as much as he can.”

“I have to. They’re too unpredictable. Unnecessary collateral is almost a guarantee.” He grit his teeth and clenched his fists. “I had thought I was doing rather well, but it appears Shido has been suspicious of me from the start.”

“And now he knows for certain you aren’t doing what you say you’re doing,” Makoto finished his thought, but the detective shook his head.

“Not necessarily, but it’s not unlikely either.” He ran a hand through his hair and his red eyes twitched. “Shit.”

“Wait, so you’re in real danger now, ain’t you?” Ryuji asked, most of his anger appearing to have faded.

“I was always in danger, Sakamoto,” he scoffed. “It's just clear now how much closer that danger actually is.”

“He was always going to kill you. It’s just that now he might do that a lot sooner than he originally planned.” Futaba pointed out boldly. Akira caught the glare Akechi sent her way, but he also saw the apprehension in his face. He was willing himself not to snap at her. It was almost… nice of him.

“Exactly,” he said.

“So what do we do about this?” Ann posed, tapping the side of her takeaway cup with her nails.

“Excuse me, we?” Akechi sneered.

“Yeah we,” she reiterated. “We’re not letting you die again. Not if there’s anything we can do about it.”

Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes at her, staring with a ferocious intensity. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You don’t have to,” Futaba mentioned. “We’re gonna do it anyway.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Shido is too powerful.”

“And? That didn’t stop us last time,” Mona said with a smirk. As close as a cat could get to a smirk at least.

“And it ain’t gonna stop us this time either!” Ryuji finished with a fist in the air.

Yusuke shook his head with an endeared smile. “Honestly, you should just let us at this point. Even if you say no, we’ll still find a way to help.”

“I figured as much,” Akechi sighed. “See this is why I never tell you these things. You’re all sentimental lunatics!”

“And yet you keep coming back to us,” Akira smiled. “Aren’t you sick of this song and dance by now?”

Akechi stared at him, the emotion swimming in his eyes remaining completely unreadable save for the scowl on his lips. His brow furrowed and he let out a scoff.

“Whatever. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need a plan.”

Akechi was right. He was often right. And thus, they sat around the table in the attic, plotting. Watching plan after plan come together and fall apart. Writing and rewriting the script they had spent so long trying to make their own. It would work this time. It had to.

-

It was four in the morning.

They had only just finalised the basis of a plan that might actually work. After many scrapped attempts and several members of their ranks falling asleep or going slightly mad, they’d done it. They were maybe thirty percent of the way there.

Perhaps thirty percent was too generous. It was far closer to thirteen.

At some point—after Sojiro had come up to check on them before he left—Akira and Ryuji had dragged out the futons they’d used for their sleepover earlier in the summer. Between Futaba and Akira, they had enough spare clothes for everyone to sleep in. It wasn’t like the trains were running and Akira wasn’t going to make Mona drive them all home through the Metaverse.

It wasn’t a very restful night. And most of their body clocks were out of whack from the jet lag anyway.

Akira didn’t sleep. He was explaining to Ann—who was the first to pass out—the thirteen percent of a plan they’d landed on.

“Is that really going to work?” she whispered lazily. “It’s such a huge risk.”

“We took a risk last time and it paid off,” Akira told her, voice hushed in an effort not to wake the others. “I think we can’t afford to take the safe option here.”

“You’re right… Fuck…” She rubbed her eyes, smearing half removed makeup further into dark rings around them. He got the sense she didn’t exactly care. He silently passed her a makeup wipe anyway. She took it gratefully. “This isn’t fun anymore.”

Akira opened his mouth to retort—say something witty to cheer her up, or something insightful to shed a positive light on the situation—but he closed it before he said anything.

Wasn’t fun, she said. Was it ever supposed to be fun? It was always a game, that was the nature of the story they were telling. But were they the players, or merely pieces being puppeteered by higher beings? Forced to follow directions they didn’t wish to obey. Sticking to a script. Speaking lines of rehearsed dialogue with no real choice in the matter at all. Merely actors in a cursed performance. Merely NPCs.

“It isn’t…” he said instead of whatever he had wanted to say before. “I wish we had more time.”

More time.

What a sick joke. A time traveller wishing for more time. Although it wasn’t as if the flow of time was something he could control.

“Go to bed,” mumbled Morgana’s tired voice somewhere else in the darkened attic. “Worry about it tomorrow.”

Ann only sighed, pulling Futaba’s shirt down where it had begun to ride up on her torso and curling into a ball on her futon. They were one short. Akira hadn’t expected this many guests to stay the night so soon and hadn’t bought more as a result.

Futaba had left at two to go home, wishing to spend the stressful night in her familiar bed in her room. She would be back when she woke up. Akira was certain of that.

Still, even with Yusuke on the sofa, they had one less futon than there were people. And as much as Akechi had insisted he sleep on the hardwood floor, Akira was a very persuasive person. So there he lay, facing the wall on Akira’s milk crate bed. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Even as everyone lay silently around him, Akira didn’t sleep.

He could feel the chains pull at his mind. Heard the chorus of metallic chimes echo as though he were in a large, empty room. Imploring him to fall into a restless slumber so he could face the conniving man with the long nose, hiding behind a desk and a pair of wardens who did not work for him.

As always, he refused their summons.

-

Luckily for them, the school was closed the next day. Due to being considered an active crime scene, no doubt. It was where they found the body, after all.

Luckily for the Shujin students, that is. Akechi and Yusuke were not as fortunate.

“No dude, I’m gonna walk you to school,” Ryuji insisted again through the bathroom door.

“I can’t let you do that, Ryuji,” Yusuke said again, the door clicking as he emerged in his uniform. “It’s early. We were all up late last night. You should get some more rest.”

“I’m used to wakin’ up early,” Ryuji countered. “I used to go for a run every morning. This is nothin’!”

“Even so, I cannot let you-”

“Please just decide before you get on my nerves even more than you already are,” Akechi cut them off. His coffee sat on the counter, still steaming and yet half empty already. The detective didn’t look any less pissed about the situation.

“I see,” Yusuke hummed. “So Akechi is one of those people who are grouchy in the mornings.”

“Dude, he’s always like that,” Ryuji sighed.

“Yeah, he’s just extra like that in the morning,” Akira said with a smile. A smile that only grew when Akechi shot him a glare over the counter.

A new set of footfalls on the attic stairs announced someone else had woken. Akira pried his eyes from the detective’s deadpan stare and wished Makoto a good morning. She waved wearily in response.

“Good morning. Ryuji, Akira, we don’t have school today,” she said, quick to get to the point. “Sis texted me.”

“Yeah. Ma called me earlier to let me know,” Ryuji said, giving her the same look of concern he had been giving Yusuke all morning. “Uh… You okay? You look like hell.”

“I feel like it,” she agreed, collapsing into a booth and resting her head on the table. Akira wordlessly began brewing her usual blend before she could even ask. “I barely got any decent sleep last night. I kept thinking about this plan and how dangerous it is, trying to come up with alternative solutions even though I know this is our only option. I just…”

“Don’t overthink it,” Akechi told her harshly. “The more you think, the more you panic. The more you panic, the more likely you are to fail in the moment of truth. And we cannot afford to fail.”

“Oh so now you’re willing to accept that we’re a team!” Ryuji teased, a smug grin forming on his face. The detective only scowled in his direction.

“You may gloat all you want but I’m not joining your merry band. I never have, and I never will. My only interest is in fixing whatever mess you started after my passing, seeing as it’s my problem now that my body is suddenly functional.”

Ryuji and Yusuke both winced. Makoto raised her head off the table to get a better angle as sympathy filled her gaze. Akira fumbled the pot he was holding, drops of scalding water landing on his other hand, burning and reddening the skin visibly where it trickled down the contours of his wrist.

It was agony.

Akira didn’t flinch.

Gently, he set the pot down on the counter and rolled up the sleeve of his injured hand. He strolled over to the sink by the TV and ran the water cold. The burn’s screaming mellowed into a soothing hum as the temperature eased the pain.

“Akechi, I…” Makoto started saying.

“Stop right there,” Akechi snapped. “If you’re going to apologise to me, don’t. I’ve had enough of you all and your self-righteous sympathy. I don’t need your pity.”

Makoto pursed her lips together and tried a different strategy. “This isn’t our fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Akechi mocked. “Last I checked, you all were the ones who messed with forces beyond simple sleazy teachers and totalitarian dictators. Clearly, when we defeated Maruki, someone else stepped up to the plate. And none of you could stop that from happening.”

“Hey! You couldn’t either, jackass,” Ryuji said.

“The difference being that you were the ones who wished for Maruki’s ascension in the first place,” Akechi countered. “I wished for no such thing then, and I didn’t wish for a reset now.”

“We’ve already established that the culprit is Yal- …Is Cuphead,” Makoto amended. Akira gave her a smile. “We didn’t wish for there to be a new God of Control, so we can only assume the old one wanted its position back.”

“Okay, I’ll humour you.” Akechi stood from his stool, taking his now empty cup and Makoto’s full one before Akira could run it to her table himself. He sat opposite her, setting both cups down in front of them.

“Let’s say the power vacuum caused the original false god of control to return,” he began, watching her face intently. He grabbed the handle of Makoto’s cup and tipped the coffee into his old one. “We change Maruki’s heart, reality is reverted to the way it is intended to be. If your theory is correct, that would include reinstating the Holy Grail as the God of Control. Except, you all saw to it that you put a permanent end to that false god.”

He tipped the coffee back into Makoto’s cup and turned to the barista behind the counter. “Kurusu, would you hand me an empty mug?”

Just where was he going with this demonstration?

Mostly out of curiosity, he walked around to set an empty mug on the table. Then he leaned against the counter to watch the exchange. A captive audience to the world’s greatest actor.

“When you all fought the God of Control, he faded from existence, and his influence on reality faded with him,” Akechi said, holding up his own mug.

Then he dropped it to the floor. It shattered on impact, sending ceramic shards flying across the room. Ryuji flinched. Yusuke clutched his hand in response. Makoto watched Akechi with a disturbed look in her eyes. Akira simply sighed.

Now he had to clean that up.

“Where do you suppose that power goes now that he is out of the picture?” Akechi picked up Makoto’s mug once again. “If the Holy Grail is not alive to accept that position, then I ask you this; How did it come back to life? Who revived it?” He poured the coffee into the fresh mug Akira had fetched him, setting it on Makoto’s saucer and pushing it forward for her.

“Someone had to reverse the effects of your battle with the God of Control in order for it to have returned in the first place. In order for that to be possible, someone else would have to hold the position. I don’t believe that person would simply give up their new post when they could instead shape reality to match their desires.”

Akira met his eye. There was an intensity to the look he gave him that made him feel seen. Seen in the sense of being watched. Observed. Like the critical eye of a detective, breaking down his mannerisms and piecing them back together bit by bit. Looking for some tell to prove a lie. Finding out what made him tick so he could use it to squeeze out information.

But Akechi already knew him. He already knew he had nothing to hide.

“So, you are suggesting someone other than Cuphead could be responsible, even with all the evidence to the contrary,” Yusuke stated, crossing his arms in ponderance.

“Evidence doesn’t mean much when the culprit is the one forging it,” the detective said simply, breaking from his staring contest with Akira to meet the artist’s gaze instead. Released from the detective’s hold, the barista fetched the broom to sweep up the broken mug. “Need I remind you of the evidence stacked against you regarding the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns?”

“That’s different!” Ryuji defended. “That was all just a coincidence!”

“It was, until it wasn’t. And right now, every move I make in the Metaverse is calculated to mimic the movements of your group as closely as possible.”

Makoto stiffened, scrunching her skirt in her fists. “How much is Shido trying to pin on us?”

He glared at her. “Everything.”

The shards of Akechi’s representation of Yaldabaoth were pushed cleanly into a dustpan Akira had set on the floor. He shook his head as he handled the mess. “The culprit behind the reset isn’t important right now,” he mentioned. “If it’s not Cuphead, we’ll figure it out after we’ve seen this through. I won’t make any decisions without Noir and Violet with us.”

Akechi crossed his arms and his legs with a look of resignation on his face. “Fine. You can focus on gathering your remaining companions, if you believe that will help.”

Shooting him a look, Akira let himself grin. “You like Violet. Don’t lie to me.”

“I tolerate Violet. She is by far the least idiotic of the lot of you.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Morning guys,” a new voice joined the conversation. Morgana jumped up on the stool next to Yusuke. “What happened here?”

“They’re fighting again,” Ryuji said in lack of an explanation.

“Akechi dropped a mug on the floor in a demonstration of the passing of power between the various Gods of Control,” Yusuke said, actually answering the cat’s question.

“I am not explaining it again.”

“You don’t have to,” Morgana said confidently. “We know who’s behind everything now.”

Raising an eyebrow, the detective fixed the cat with an inquisitive look. “Are you certain of that?”

Before Morgana could ask what he meant by that, a high pitched ringtone cut the tension in the room like a well-sharpened blade. Procuring the guilty device, Akechi scowled at the screen

“Everyone shut the fuck up.” The detective answered the phone with a monotonous greeting, staring intensely at the wood grains in the table. “Good morning, Sir.”

Akira’s eyes went wide.

Noticing Ryuji gearing up to retort, he sent him a disapproving look and muttered a single word. “Skull.”

Ryuji shut up.

Much to his own dismay, Akechi had a thankful look in his eyes. “Yes Sir. Everything is proceeding as intended,” he said to the bastard on the other line, returning to his staring at the table. “Yes Sir… Of course Sir… Understood.”

Makoto bunched the fabric of her skirt in her fists until her knuckles turned white. Morgana’s fur stood on end. Yusuke held his cup aloft, as if afraid the simple act of setting it down would create too much noise. Ryuji’s arms slowly wrapped around his torso, hugging himself uncomfortably.

One by one they had realised—just as Akira had—who was on the other end of that conversation.

Akechi’s eyes darkened and his brows furrowed. “Sir, with all due respect, that won’t be an issue. They’re hopeless without their leader. Cut off the head and the body dies. Once Okumura is taken- …Of course, Sir. My apologies.”

Hopeless without Akira.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

The Phantom Thieves would be the cockroach Shido couldn’t kill. No matter how many times he crushed them beneath his heel.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something. This kind of event isn’t something to be planned haphazardly… Rest assured, Sir, it will be done… Thank you, Sir.”

A few moments of silence before Akechi set his work phone down on the table where he had set his gaze for the duration of the call. He was stiff, moving almost robotically. Tense from anger or fear or both. He looked like he wanted to scream. Or kill something.

He lifted his head to face the others, flipping the switch to the charming prince he pretended to be. “My apologies that you had to witness that. I think I’ll spend some time in Mementos this morning before I head to my interview. Now, I’d best be off. Kurusu, please inform me how much I owe you to replace the mug.”

Standing, Akechi collected his things and set the remaining empty mug on the counter for Akira to take care of.

Ryuji shivered. “Dude! Don’t do that!”

Akechi glared at him instead. “Would you prefer I skewer you instead of the Shadows?”

“No! I mean don’t just change like that! It’s really freaky.” he clarified

“I have to admit it is rather unsettling,” Yusuke agreed.

“Wait, ain’t it dangerous for you to go down there alone?” Ryuji asked, the words that Akechi had actually said finally registering in his brain rather than simply how he had said them.

“You’re kidding.”

“He’s been going down there alone for years, Ryuji,” Akira reminded him, cleaning the mug from Akechi’s demonstration in the sink.

“Yeah but…” The athlete scuffed the floor with his foot. “Ain’t it the principle of things? I mean, we made the rule last year that no one would go in alone, right? That we’d all go to the Metaverse together?”

“You made that rule for your little group,” Akechi scoffed. “I’m not one of you. Therefore, your flimsy rule doesn’t apply to me.”

“I think we may eventually need to abandon that rule anyway,” Makoto sighed, tracing a finger around the rim of her cup. She had yet to take a drink. “If we want to go ahead with this plan, it’d be the most efficient way to do so. We’d run out of time otherwise.”

Bump that thirteen percent of a plan up to fourteen. Makoto had an excellent point.

“I suppose we are rather powerful now,” Yusuke said, tapping his mug with a finger as he thought aloud. “And it is true that breaking into smaller teams would be beneficial if we were to be short on time.”

“Let’s not worry about that for now,” Morgana meowed. “We’ll have plenty of time to iron out the details once we have everyone back.”

With a roll of his eyes, Akechi once again strode towards the door. This time, it was Akira who stopped him.

“Wait,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

“What?”

“What?” Morgana echoed.

“Why?” Ryuji barked.

“I’ll come with you,” Akira repeated. “Morgana will too.”

“I will?” the cat in question shouted in shock.

“It’ll be faster if we drive than it will if you’re stuck in the underground on foot.”

Akechi looked as though there was something he wanted to say. Instead of voicing his opinion, however, he clenched his jaw and kept his mouth shut.

“That is true…” Makoto said. “I think it would give us all peace of mind if we knew someone was with you.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Akechi complied. “Fine. Whatever,” he spat. “As long as neither of you get in my way, you’re welcome to come along.”

He left without another word, giving Akira precisely until the next train to Shibuya to catch up to him. Akira grinned, mentally accepting his silent challenge.

Leblanc wasn’t supposed to open for another hour and Sojiro usually only came in thirty minutes beforehand. With that in mind, he asked Makoto to let him know he’d gone out and that he’d be back before noon. Still pulling on his overshirt and Morgana running at his side, they followed Akechi towards the train station.

-

The screams and wails of the Shadows as the Monabus tore around bends and flew through the tunnels of the Mementos underground. Crow was holding on to anything he could reach for dear life as Joker took turns at speeds he probably shouldn’t and ran over every enemy he could find.

“Jeez! Joker be careful!” Mona complained as he nearly ran head first into a wall, screeching to a stop at the last second before speeding off in another direction.

“Sorry, Mona!”

“Is driving seriously the only thing you aren’t good at?” Crow yelled, annoyed. “It’s becoming clearer by the second why Queen took over for you when she joined your petty group!”

Joker chuckled. “In my defence, my only experience driving is in Luigi Kart.”

Mona made a noise that sounded like grumbling. “Even then, I think there’s some cognition there that allows you to drive in the Metaverse. I don’t think you’d be able to if you got behind the wheel in reality.”

“Precisely what I had been thinking,” Crow murmured. “I wonder just how far cognition can be pushed in this world. If enough people perceive someone as having an ability they don’t possess, perhaps they may develop such an ability as a result…”

In the beginning, Joker had never really thought about that. But as his Metaverse experience grew, he began to… experiment.

“This place is fascinating,” he said instead. “It’s a shame it’ll all be gone once we defeat Cuphead again.”

Crow’s gaze turned to him. Joker could feel those sharp eyes boring into the side of his head.

“Yes,” he said, voice devoid of intonation. “Truly a shame.”

“I feel like I should know more about the intricacies of how this world works,” Mona said, carving away some of the tension in the car. “That’s the whole reason I was born! To be your guide! But my memory was scrambled and now I’m fighting my own mind to tie up the loose threads myself.”

“I’ll get the Velvet Room back to what it should be,” Joker promised. “When I do, you can ask Lavenza.”

Mona hummed. “The rules of the room may prevent her from telling me everything. I’m technically neither a guest or a resident. I was made to live out in reality. That’s where I’m needed.”

“You both speak of the Velvet Room rather nonchalantly,” Crow hummed. “Truth be told, my experience with it is limited. I have only met this Lavenza once.”

“A Wildcard without access to the Velvet Room,” Mona grumbled. “Something about it doesn’t sit right with me. It’s true that only one guest is usually allowed at a time, but I thought exceptions have been made in the past. Maybe I’m remembering wrong…”

“Do you know anything about the other guests, Mona?” Joker asked, eyebrows raising. If there were other guests, that meant there were other Persona users! If these other Persona users were still around, they might know something about the reset!

“Only that you’re not the first, Joker,” Mona said. “I’m sorry, I wish I knew more.”

Joker deflated, hanging his head before quickly remembering to keep his eyes on the road. The car swerved a little.

“How very upsetting,” Crow chided. “I’m not certain other Persona users are involved here. If there were other Persona users who remembered their version of events from last year, surely they would have made themselves known by now.”

It was possible. Or…

“Or maybe this other Persona user is responsible.”

“Doubtful,” Crow shot down instantly. Joker sent him a look through his peripheral as he continued. “If it was another Persona user, this plan of yours would be entirely unnecessary.“

“And?” Joker smiled. Change the subject. “What do you think of it so far? The plan, I mean.”

He scowled, but he answered regardless. “It is half baked at best,” Crow complained.

“And at worst?” Joker asked. He chanced a proper glance to his right at the black mask. The metal track caught in Mona’s wheel the second he did, wresting control from him and earning a yowl from the poor cat. Joker pat the steering wheel as an apology.

Crow clutched the handle on the ceiling tighter as he answered. “At worst it’s a reckless gamble that puts both of our lives in extreme peril.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Joker said with a shrug, hitting another Shadow as he did. “I mean, I’ve escaped death before. Multiple times, in fact!”

“When were the other times?” Mona asked, confusion and alarm clear in his tone.

“The fight against Shido, the fight against Maruki, the whole… thing with Cuphead…” Joker listed. “Oh, and I could never forget the int-”

“-the interrogation room. I know,” Crow interrupted, less angry than he was frustrated. Like he’d simply lost a game of chess. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“How did that look for you?” Joker asked excitedly, pure curiosity overriding his common sense for a moment. “Was the cognition believable? Did it look real when you shot me?”

“Stop!”

“But I wanna know!”

“No Joker! Stop the car!”

Eyes went wide as Joker slammed his foot on the breaks. He hadn’t even realised he’d stopped looking at the road until Crow had yelled at him. He almost ran Mona straight into the platform.

“Oh. The platform.”

“Thanks, Crow,” Mona sighed, his form shifting as the boys got out. “We can head down here. If I remember correctly, the next floor is a safe room.” Upon hearing that, Crow stopped.

“You two go. I’ll stay here for a bit,” he said.

The feline’s ear twitched. “What? But we’ve already been on this floor for a while. You stay here too long, the Reaper will no doubt show up.”

“Precisely,” he answered plainly, eyes narrowing behind his visor. “In case you do not recall, I came here to let off some steam, and watching Joker run over Shadows with his frankly terrible driving is just not cutting it for me. I need a challenge.”

Had Crow ever fought the Reaper before? Joker wasn’t sure. He was certain he could handle it, but alone? It had taken the Phantom Thieves nearly all of their strength to take it down! Even then, Joker was certain they only got out of there due to sheer dumb luck.

Joker had never considered trying to take it down alone. If anyone could do it, it would be Crow. But something about just letting him do that didn’t sit right with him.

“Okay, then let us stay with you,” Joker proposed. “You’ll need the back up if you get in over your head.”

“No, I won’t. You said it yourself, I’ve been coming here on my own for years. I don’t need a team to slow me down.”

Joker scoffed, putting his hands on his hips and playing up his annoyance. “When have I ever slowed you down? If anything, you should try to keep up with me!”

Crow couldn’t hide how his lips quirked up at that. “Please. I won’t let myself lose to you again.”

“Wanna bet?”

As they continued back and forth, Mona looked between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match. Staring at one before switching to the other and back again. Eventually, he sighed and crossed his tiny arms, shaking his head.

“I’m going on ahead,” he told them, cutting their banter short. “You two have five minutes to figure out whatever’s going on here between yourselves. If you don’t come down after that, I’m coming back up to check on you. Hopefully you don’t kill each other before the Reaper gets to you.”

“Understood,” Crow said shortly, giving him a curt nod before turning to Joker expectantly.

Joker gave him a grin. “Loud and clear, Mona.”

He could practically feel the way both of them rolled their eyes.

“Sheesh. Don’t wear yourselves out.”

And with that closing line, Mona left, exiting down the escalators to the level below them.

It didn’t take long for them to find their rhythm. Bodies moving in perfect sync as they ripped the masses of Shadows apart, one by one. Neither really needed to summon their Personas at all. Conversation was able to occur throughout their dance with ease.

“Is that really what you think of them? That they’re hopeless without me?” Joker asked, prying his knife from a Shadow with a twist. The creature dissolved behind him as he did. He didn’t have to mention who he was talking about. Crow already understood.

“Would I be wrong to think that?” Crow challenged. Joker couldn’t see it, but he knew he had one eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” he answered with a chuckle, spinning his dagger idly in his hand. “So wrong! I’m surprised you had the capacity to be this wrong!”

The masked assassin simply rolled his eyes at him, wordlessly firing at another approaching Shadow. “Whatever. I fail to see how this is relevant.”

“Of course it’s relevant.” As he shot a Shadow that was milling about behind them, Joker’s smile grew soft. “My friends are strong. Their resolve is the most powerful magic I’ve ever seen. Even after everything, they still want to keep fighting. They didn’t need me to decide that. They made that decision on their own.”

“One decision hardly qualifies them as being able to function without their precious leader to direct them,” Crow scoffed.

“They can function without me.”

Sighing, the detective shook his head. “Agree to disagree.”

“Why are you so insistent on antagonising my friends?” Joker asked, lowering his gun and beginning to feel frustrated.

“I’m not antagonising them. I’m annoyed by their care-free spirits and general incompetence. One day, it will get them killed.”

“Or, one day you’ll realise that their optimism and compassion make them strong.”

Crow used his saber to cleave through another Shadow. Joker felt there was maybe a little more force in that strike than usual. “I’ll admit that certain individuals in your little group are skilled. Oracle, for example. I have never seen a more capable hacker, and she managed to attain that level of skill at age fifteen. Frankly, it’s incredible. However, the same cannot be said for many of your other teammates.”

Joker fiddled with his dagger, the gleaming blade spinning fluidly between his fingers. “Maybe you’re just not looking in the right places.”

Crow gave him an unimpressed look. “Even if your friends are functioning members of society, I cannot imagine a world in which they manage any form of progress in your absence.”

“I can.”

“Even Queen is heavily reliant on your judgment. They are sheep pretending to be wolves. Without you they will fall apart.”

Joker’s cockiness faded, replaced instead by a very genuine seriousness. “What do you think my plan is for when I get hit with an ailment? What do you think my commands would be when I go down in battle?”

“As if you’d let that happen. You’re too stubborn for that,” Crow deflected. Joker circled back immediately.

“It has happened,” he said. “And it will happen again. If my team was unable to function independently of me, we wouldn’t have made it through Madarame’s Palace, let alone save the world.

“That is why I have faith in my friends. Because they understand how dangerous our situations are and they understand how to work around my absence. They have understood for a very long time.”

Crow’s expression twitched as he searched his face for the lie. This time he didn’t find one. So he scoffed and carved another Shadow to pieces before he spoke again.

“Either way,” he drawled, “if you want this plan of yours to work, it’d be smart if Shido remained unaware of that. He has to believe the Phantom Thieves will no longer be a threat if you are dead.”

“That we can do,” Joker confirmed, his cocky smirk returning. “We’ve done it once before.”

The sound of chains dragging along the tracks brought their conversation to an end. It was so distinctly different from the chimes they made in the Velvet Room. These chains could only belong to the Reaper.

Wearing matching grins, the Persona users readied their weapons.

“Hey Joker.”

“Yes, Crow?”

“Don’t slow me down.”

Joker’s grin widened.

“Try to keep up.”

-

“Akira?” Morgana mewled in the middle of the night. “Are you awake?”

It had been about a week since the principal’s death. Not that it meant they were any closer to having a coherent plan. Maybe that fourteen percent had increased, but only to seventeen—eighteen, max.

They really had a lot of work to do.

“Yes,” he responded groggily. Even if the chains had stopped attempting to drag him down, he still found it difficult to sleep without seeing that sickening blue. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about Sugimura,” the cat began quietly. “We haven’t gotten any closer to guessing his Palace but… I think I might know where it is.”

Akira suddenly felt far more awake than he had a second ago. “You think? Where?”

“I’m not sure, but…” His tail swished from side to side and his ear flicked in agitation. “When I was with Haru last year—when I ran away—there was this office between her home and the Okumura Foods HQ she would avoid at all costs. When I asked her about it, all she said was ‘he doesn’t like it when I bother him at work’. At first I’d assumed she was talking about Okumura, but that doesn’t make any sense. I think she was talking about Sugimura.”

“You think he works there?”

“I’m not sure but it’s the only lead we have. I’m going to go there tomorrow and check it out.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You shouldn’t…” Morgana paused, his tail swishing side to side the way it did when he was thinking hard about something. “Actually, that may be a good idea. It’d be wise for all of us to know the location in case one of us gets pulled in by accident. I’ll direct you.”

After school the next day, Akira stood before the building with a blank expression, Morgana shifting uncomfortably in his bag.

“This is it,” he confirmed quietly. “There’s definitely a great deal of distortion here. I can feel it.”

“The real question is whether or not it belongs to our target,” Akira said, fishing his phone from his pocket and entering the office’s name into the Nav. Please be it. Please be it.

“Candidate found.”

“That’s it!” Morgana cheered, hopping up onto his leader’s shoulder in excitement.

Akira chuckled, giving him a pat on the head. “Well done, Morgana,” he praised. “Now all that’s left is finding the keyword.”

“We should tell the others we found the location,” Morgana mentioned.

Akira nodded in agreement. “I’ll text them the address. Maybe we can all figure it out in our own time. We still have something to do.”

Morgana nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go meet up with the others.”

Chapter Text

Tired.

Haru was so tired.

Tired of the expectations. Tired of how she was being treated. Tired of feeling trapped in her own life.

And yet, she wore a smile and endured it. Because even if she could ask for help, no one would heed her call.

Except for one.

Yoshizawa Sumire. Where had this sweetheart been all her life?

The pair walked to the station, falling in perfect step with each other. Sumire always matched her pace, determined not to fall behind her senpai. So, Haru took care to walk slower today. Judging by how heavy her breathing was, her training had been particularly hard on her.

Ever since falling short in her gymnastics meet this past summer, Sumire had been taking her training more seriously. Taken extra lessons from other experienced teachers that her own coach recommended. Trained until her body gave out under her or her mind brought her to tears. Whichever came first.

Haru wasn’t sure it was healthy, but she admired her perseverance nonetheless. Another victim to the crushing weight of people’s expectations.

Sumire would help her if she asked. But she could never ask anything of Sumire. She was already dealing with so much.

“Thank you again for accompanying me today, Haru-senpai,” Sumire said between heavy gulps of air.

“Of course, Sumi-chan! I was happy to come,” she responded sweetly. “I can already see your improvement from the last time I watched your practice. You’ll be champion material in no time!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure…” Sumire glanced downward, looking disappointed in herself. “I lost my balance near the end there.”

“You were just tired,” Haru assured her. “You’ve landed that trick before. Today was just an off day.”

Sumire gave her a look, forcing a smile. But Haru could tell from her lack of enthusiasm and lack of response that she didn’t believe what she was saying was true. It upset Haru every time the girl doubted herself.

In Haru’s eyes, Sumire was truly incredible. Beautiful and talented and strong. Why couldn’t she see that in herself?

“Anyway, it’s lucky you know this neighbourhood.” Sumire changed the subject. “I would be too nervous to come here on my own.”

“Yes, well…”

They were in a more upper class part of town than Sumire was used to. The instructor she had come here to see worked out of a gym in his own home. Based on the sheer size of his house and the area he lived in, Haru could tell he came from old money.

He had recognised her on sight. Even struck up a conversation while they were waiting for Sumire to change. To her surprise, he was genuinely lovely. He didn’t attempt to use her to get to her father, gave her tea he brewed himself, even offered to include her in their lessons if she wished. She had graciously declined, of course. Even if she was still flexible from her ballet days, she couldn’t possibly keep up with her underclassman’s training.

As for the area itself… she wasn’t very comfortable here. This was near where her betrothed worked, and the building itself they would need to walk past on their way back to the station. With any luck, he would be buried in his work, too busy to notice that she was anywhere near him.

“Haru-senpai?” Sumire’s concern freed her from her thoughts. “Why have we stopped?”

Oh. She had stopped?

Returning to her senses, Haru found herself staring fearfully up at a blocky building. An office building. One she recognised. One she was supposed to stay away from.

“Haru-senpai?” Sumire asked again, a sense of urgency rising in her tone as she noticed her companion’s grim expression. “Is everything okay? Does it have something to do with this building?”

She just couldn’t keep anything from her, could she? She didn’t want to rely so heavily on her underclassman when she already had so much to deal with, but… If telling her would make her happy…

“This is…” she started before scraping what she was going to say and starting again. “Do you remember the man I keep… having quarrels with?”

“Yes I do,” Sumire nodded, a sense of understanding in her eyes. “Your fiancé, right? Sugimura?”

“Yes.” Haru brought her arms around herself as she continued. “Sugimura Keiji. This is where he works. He… doesn’t like it when he’s seen with me here.”

“Sugimura’s office…” Sumire said slowly, staring up at the building before them. Then her gaze snapped back to her friend’s, something sharp in her scarlet irises. “That’s not fair.”

“Huh?” Haru couldn’t bring herself to say anything more, taken aback by her friend's sudden fury.

“How come he’s allowed to approach you in public and call you during class, but the moment you do anything similar, he sees it as an attack!” She wasn’t quite yelling, barely even raising her voice. But she was angry, her words harsh and her prior exhaustion seeming to have faded completely. “Engagements are supposed to be a contract of trust! No one should be treated like that! You shouldn’t be viewed as lesser just because you’re younger or because you’re a woman!”

Haru tried to offer her a calm smile, but her attempt was shaky at best. “It’s fine, really.”

“No, it isn’t,” Sumire’s voice softened a little as she took both her senpai’s hands in hers. “I know you, Haru-senpai. Forgive me for being out of line, but that fiancé of yours is a terrible person.”

“He really isn’t,” Haru lied. She knew it was a lie. She knew Sumire knew it was a lie. “He doesn’t treat me all that badly.”

“He treats you like an object!” Sumire said. “He’s horrible! It’s like he thinks you’re his property! Like he can control you! He’s treating your whole engagement like he’s playing dollhouse!”

“Beginning navigation.”

The robotic voice took them both by surprise. For a moment, Haru thought maybe Sumire had left the navigation app running from when they were trying to find the instructor’s house.

But then the world around them began to flicker, and her head pounded as something purple flashed across her vision.

“Wha-”

“Haru-senpai?”

When Haru looked back up at the girl, she too was clutching her head, staring just beyond her with something like horror on her face. Had that strange sensation happened to her as well?

“Haru-senpai, do you see that?”

Realising Sumire wasn’t simply staring into space but rather specifically at something, Haru turned to look behind her. She was sure they were now wearing matching expressions because what stood behind her was no longer the dreadful office she feared. It was instead a brightly coloured, several storey house.

The walls were constructed of yellow brick, something uncanny about their uniformity, even where there was the texture of damage. What little landscaping was done surrounding the front entrance had ceased to simply look well maintained. Instead they looked fake. Like cheap sculptures bought as decoration from a store. Even the entrance itself changed, now appearing to be made of clear plastic rather than glass.

Curious, Haru walked forward, placing a hand on the door. With a click, it swung open, as if inviting her inside.

In a strange dissociative state, Haru accepted the invitation. A nervous Sumire trailed behind her. She followed, calling her name as they wandered the halls. She couldn’t clearly hear anything she said until her thin hand gripped her arm.

“Haru-senpai, where are we going?”

Blinking slowly, the older girl shook her head. “I don’t know. Something just… came over me.”

“This place is weird, Haru-senpai!” Sumire said, nerves acting up and leaking panic into her tone. “Let’s just get out of here! I-”

“There you are! Don’t walk off like that! It’s not safe here!”

An unfamiliar, boyish voice caught both girls off guard. Not only had they been transported somewhere supernatural, there was a mysterious third person here who had been looking for them. Why did they sound like they knew who they were?

“W-who’s there?” Sumire called out, jumping backwards and clutching Haru’s arm for dear life. “Sh-show yourself!”

Eyes darting to every corner of the room, Haru kept a lookout for their stalker. As she did, she noticed how the room felt… strange. Painted walls with wooden furnishings neatly placed around it. A cohesive colour scheme tied together the soulless art to the rug on the floor to even the flowers arranged on the desk by the door.

They were in a study. Someone’s office. But whose?

“I’m down here,” the boyish voice replied.

Both girls looked down. Before them was a round-eyed, bipedal, cat-like creature. Sumire gripped her arm tighter as it spoke again. “Hello.”

“AHH! It’s a monster cat!” Sumire screamed.

The monster cat sighed. “I guess I owe Joker five hundred yen,” it muttered.

“It’s… strangely cute,” Haru commented, pulling her best friend a little closer, just in case.

“Cute?” the cat repeated. Then it shook its comically large head and introduced itself. “I am Mona. I promise, I’m not here to harm you. I’m a friend. I will guide you safely out of here.”

“Mona,” Haru tried the name. It felt like one of those names she’d heard before. She couldn’t put her finger on why.

The cat—Mona—nodded. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but you’re no longer in your reality. This is another world, projected by someone’s mind. It’s how they perceive the world around them.”

“We’re in another world?” Sumire cried.

“We are.”

“How did we get here!”

“Well,” Mona started, shifting his weight from side to side, “we don’t really have time for a full explanation, but it has something to do with your phone and the location you were when you were pulled in. I can explain everything properly later, but first we need to get you out of here.”

Haru had no idea how to feel about the predicament she had found herself in. She ultimately figured it would be of greater benefit in the long run to just agree with what the talking cat was saying.“Thank you, Mona-chan.”

“Haru-senpai, are you sure we should trust it?” Sumire asked, still trembling and still clinging to her friend.

“I’m the only thing you can trust here,” Mona told her. “Follow me, and please be as quiet as you can.”

Hesitant to let this creature take the lead, Haru watched it closely as it opened the door and peered back into the hallway they were just in. Sumire’s hands trembled in her grasp, so she wrapped her other hand around them as well, showing her she was there for her.

She would protect this girl. No matter what dangers were present in these plastic halls.

“Coast is clear,” Mona whispered. “Let’s move.”

Haru squeezed Sumire’s hand, and followed the creature into the hallway.

-

It took them longer to reach the foyer than she’d expected. Just how dazed had she been? It was a terrifying realisation to reach when these monsters were patrolling and she had been wandering mindlessly all that time!

Haru had never zoned out like that before! She wondered what that was all about.

“We’re almost there,” Mona reported. “The exit is just up ahead.”

“And just where do you think you’re going, darling?”

The tone of that familiar voice brought her to a sudden halt. Sumire stepped on her heel, sputtering a quiet apology immediately. But Haru barely heard it. She honestly didn’t care. She was too busy worried about-

“That’s right, Haru. You’ve been found out. You know you’re not supposed to go where Master doesn’t want you to be.”

Haru felt sick.

Slowly—afraid any small movement would prompt another barrage of insults—she turned. Standing on the very top step just down the hall was the very man she feared would find her.

Brown vest and matching pants. A white button down with a ruffled collar. Slicked back hair and an expression of arrogant smugness.

“Sugimura!” Sumire squeaked.

Mona stood between him and the girls, raising his sword above his shoulder in an attacking stance.

“What do you think you’re doing with these ruffians?” Sugimura spat, slowly walking towards them, one stair at a time. “You don’t belong with trash like them. You belong on the top shelf of my collection, darling.”

“Wh-what?”

“Haru, that’s not your fiancé,” Mona said, still staring him down. “It’s his Shadow. The distorted side of himself he’s repressed.”

“Haru, darling,” Sugimura—the Shadow?—ignored him. “Be a good girl and come to me. I’m not done playing with you yet.”

So vile. Haru felt even after a hundred showers would never be clean.

“Leave her alone!” Mona shouted.

Making a noise of disgust, the Shadow looked down his nose at him. He clapped his white-gloved hands twice in succession. “Servants, dispose of this rodent.”

Around them, several monsters appeared from nothing. Both girls screamed.

Mona was quick to jump into action, slicing through each one before they could get anywhere close to Haru and Sumire. All the while Sugimura continued to approach, slowly. Menacingly.

It was only when he reached the bottom step that Haru noticed his eyes. Not brown. Yellow. Unnaturally bright and almost glowing. No, they were glowing! She pulled Sumire closer to her, their hands still linked.

Haru tore her gaze from her betrothed upon hearing a cry of pain from the nearby battle. She looked over just in time to see Mona be kicked to the ground.

“Mona-chan!”

“I’m fine!” Mona coughed. “The exit is right there! Just run for it!”

“But we can’t just leave you here!” Sumire cried.

“I’ll be fine! Just-”

The monster kicked him again. Haru didn’t have time to react before she felt Sumire tug on her hand. And heard her scream as she let go.

“Sumire!” she called, watching as another monster dragged her away, throwing her like a ragdoll into the reception desk. “Don’t touch her!”

“Come now, Haru,” Sugimura taunted again. His voice was closer now. Too close.

Haru turned on her heel, halting almost instantly. He was right in front of her. Smiling down at her. He reached out a hand to play with her hair. She hated when he did that!

“You don’t need these toys,” he continued. “I’m the only playmate you need.”

She heard Sumire gasping and coughing. She was in pain. Her friend was in pain and she was just standing here! Stop standing there, Haru! Do something!

“Let’s go, darling,” Sugimura commanded. “I’d like to play a little game with you.”

Haru…

…snapped.

Slapping his hand away in a single movement, she muttered something. “Don’t touch me.”

“What was that, darling?” Sugimura said the pet name as though he had laced the word itself with venom. She hated when he called her that.

“I said don’t touch me!” she repeated, louder. “I don’t want to ‘play a game’ with you! I don’t want to be around you!”

Sugimura inhaled and exhaled, looking at her with pure contempt. “I won’t ask you again, darling. You know I don’t want toys that don’t do as they’re told.”

SHE HATED WHEN HE SAID THAT!

“I’m not your toy!” Haru yelled. “I don’t belong to you! You make me sick, Sugimura! I HATE YOU!”

Pain.

Sudden, harrowing pain.

Her mind was reeling. Heart pumping so hard she feared it may burst.

She couldn’t think.

Once again?

Was this not the first time she had chosen this path?

It wasn’t.

Late night movie dates with Ann. Akira helping her garden on the rooftop. Visiting unique cafe spots with Yusuke. Futaba helping her rat out the shady employees in her company. Wandering Kichijoji with Sumire. Morgana comforting her about her fiancé in those first few days. The way Ryuji stared Sugimura down whenever they noticed him in public. Makoto. Everything about Makoto. Her drive. Her sense of justice. How she’d hold her hand when it got too dark. The cute way she pursed her lips when she was deep in thought. Makoto and her beautiful eyes, dark like the blood that flowed through her veins. Her friends. Her teammates. Finally knowing what it felt like to be appreciated for who she was.

She’d done this before. She knew this name well.

“Lucy!”

This feeling. She’d forgotten how it felt to be independent!

-

It was hot. So hot. She was sweating, and yet she felt cold. Her head was pounding. Just static waves of thoughts and emotions and memories. Too much. It was all too much.

Noir went down.

“Haru-senpai!”

“Diego! Diarahan!”

“Poor Haru. So pathetically useless, even after all that trouble to cut your strings.”

“Leave her alone you worm!”

“Sumire, we have to go!”

“How dare you speak to her that way!”

“Sumire!”

Voices. So many voices. Laughter. Music. Haru didn’t know what was real anymore. Even when they returned to the real world. Someone was cradling her gently. Fiery red hair blocking the sun from her eyes.

“Haru-senpai!” someone pleaded. “Haru-senpai, stay with me! Please!”

She couldn’t anymore. It was so much. Another voice joined the cacophony.

“Yoshizawa-san? Okumura? Fuck!”

“Akechi-san? Why are…”

Akechi… That unfortunate prick.

“Akechi! Call Akira! We have to…”

Akira… Her friends. That’s right. But, she felt different. Something had changed.

The voices kept talking around her, but she couldn’t keep up. She let the world fade to black around her as her eyes drifted shut.

-

When Haru woke up, she was greeted by the bright white of what she could only assume to be a hospital. The soft electrical hum of various equipment accompanying her ringing ears as she tried to focus on her senses.

Her mouth was dry. She tasted metal. Blood, she realised. Probably hers. She couldn’t smell much of anything. Chemicals maybe. It was too hard to tell when the very act of breathing felt like hard labour. She could feel the way her clothes clung to her skin, drenched in sweat, the same way her hair stuck to the skin of her face and her neck. As the voices talking around her began to sound recognisable, she slowly opened her eyes.

A choked sob. “Haru!”

“Mm… Makoto?”

“Haru-senpai! You’re awake!”

A petite girl with red hair was at her side in an instant, clutching her hand tightly and fussing over her. “I was so worried! Are you hurt? Is it bleeding? Can I help you?”

“Ssu… Sumire.”

That’s right. They were close. But they had only just met? What was going on?

“You can help her by taking a step back and letting the professional work out what happened,” deadpanned a woman with dark makeup. Sumire stepped back apologetically.

“Sorry, Doctor. Uh, go ahead, please.”

As the doctor helped her to sit up on the small cot she’d been lying on, she got to survey the room they were in. Small, cramped. Clutter on every surface. Definitely something closer to a general practitioner’s office rather than a room in the hospital. Actually, she recalled Akira mentioning he knew a doctor. So that’s one thing she could assume was real.

Speaking of, Akira was there, standing in the doorway surrounded by a few concerned faces of their friends. Sumire, of course. And there was Ann, and Futaba, and Makoto.

Makoto with her beautiful blood red eyes on the verge of tears. The happiness she felt to truly recognise those eyes again. Haru could almost cry herself.

“Are you alright?” the doctor asked, bringing the girl to focus back on her. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Oku… Okumura Haru,” she answered hesitantly.

“Alright, Okumura-san. How’s your vision? Can you look here for me? And here… Hm.” The doctor started writing things down in her notepad. Haru tried to keep herself from stressing. “How’s your pain? How do you feel?”

Haru concentrated. It only made her head hurt more. “Ngh… My head hurts quite a lot. And my body feels heavy, like it’s made of lead… I think I taste blood.”

“Hm.” The doctor set down her clipboard and grabbed a wooden stick from somewhere on her desk. “Open for me.” Haru obliged and the doctor held her tongue down, shining a light into her mouth. It tasted like sand.

“You don’t seem to be bleeding, so that’s a good sign.” She put her tools away and picked up the pen again. “My name is Dr Takemi Tae. I’m a friend, and I know who you all are. I don’t care what you tell me, just know that this is only so I can properly examine you and nothing you say will leave this room. With that in mind, what can you remember about what happened?”

Ah. So Akira did have contacts who knew his true identity. She could only hope they were trustworthy. She trusted Akira, but she wasn’t sure about trusting everyone he surrounded himself with. It was his idea to befriend Akechi, after all. And, well…

Her father was still alive. For right now, he was still with her. Was that right?

Time travel. What a cruel, beautiful thing. While Haru’s father was alive and well, Sumire’s sister suffered the fate determined for her. Did that mean it was the same for Futaba’s mother?

Was she still one of Akechi’s victims?

She cooperated with Dr Takemi, detailing everything she remembered about her awakening. To her merit, she didn’t seem entirely phased by the supernatural elements to her story. Granted, Haru could make an educated guess that she was not the first of the Phantom Thieves to have this conversation with her.

Haru elected to leave out time travel in her explanation. It was harder to explain something she still was uncertain about.

Judging by the look Akira flashed in her direction, she made the correct call.

As Haru stepped out of the office carrying some pain medication Dr Takemi had prescribed, she noticed a familiar mop of brown hair in the chairs of the waiting room. She stopped abruptly and stared at him. Akechi stared back.

“Akechi-kun.”

“Okumura-san.”

Uncomfortable silence stretched on for a few moments. Neither one wanted to anger the other and none of their friends were willing to speak either. Did he even think of them as friends? Or were they still merely tools to him? Suspects. Scapegoats. Did it matter? It seemed like it mattered to Akira.

Akechi was the one to break the silence.

“I’m glad to see you are well,” he said formally.

“Yes. And I’m glad to see you are also,” Haru told him stangnantly. “I truly hope it stays that way.”

Akechi raised a brow and threw her a glance that said he wasn’t convinced those were her true feelings. “You look like you need some time to adjust. I’ll take my leave now that you’ve woken up.”

“I wish you a safe journey home,” Haru told him on instinct, though it was still just as stiff as the rest of the conversation had been.

Akechi rolled his eyes, gave Akira a silent nod, and exited the building.

The room was quiet for a few minutes after he left. Haru could hear the doctor slide into the roller chair behind the front desk and begin typing away on a mechanical keyboard, likely filing her documentation for Haru’s visit just passed.

Slowly, Sumire slid up to her side, taking her hand. Haru wasn’t entirely sure if it was a gesture to comfort her, or her seeking comfort herself. It was likely it was both.

“Um… forgive me for being forward, but,” the gymnast began slowly, “would someone please explain to me what is going on?”

“Yeah, we probably should do that, shouldn’t we?” Futaba said, voice hoarse, probably from her dehydration. The very thought reminded Haru of her own lack of proper fluids today. It was dark outside. How long had she been out?

“Let’s get back to Leblanc,” Akira said, placing a hand on Futaba’s shoulder. He then turned to the doctor. “Thanks again, Doc. For everything.”

The gothic woman let out a chuckle. “No need to thank me every time. You Thieves have helped me plenty. It’s only natural I return the favour.” She looked up at their leader sternly. “Be safe now. If you bring me another passed out teammate I’m going to assume you’re not taking your job seriously.”

Akira could only give her a sheepish grin as they made their way outside.

Of course. If this happened because Haru awakened, and if Sumire has yet to… Sumire would be Takemi’s next patient. Had this happened to all of them? How cruel.

When the Thieves arrived back at the cafe—already closed. She truly had been out for hours—they sat down in a booth with plenty of coffee and curry to last them through the explanation of events.

Haru knew most of this already, but it was nice to confirm what had happened this year and what was a newly discovered memory of last year. Sumire bit her tongue for most of the recounting.

“Should… should we tell her?” Futaba asked Akira quietly. “Sumire isn’t a Persona user yet.”

“She knows we’re the Phantom Thieves now,” Morgana argued. “I think we can trust her.”

“Yes, but the main issue is should we tell her about the situation we’re in?” Makoto posed. “It might be too much for her.”

“She deserves to know!” Ann mentioned. “She’s part of it now.”

Haru was growing tired of this. She understood their concern, but she hated that they were talking about her like she wasn’t sitting across the table from them. Gripping her hand tighter, she made their decision for them.

“Sumire, we’re from the future, I think.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

The other thieves fell silent. Haru continued. “I couldn’t remember until earlier, but we’ve lived through this year once before. Kamoshida, Principal Kobayakawa, all of it. I… I don’t know why we’ve been sent back, but we have been. And I think my friends might know how to fix it.”

“Fix it? From the future?” Sumire asked, almost too quietly to hear. “Haru-senpai, I don’t understand.”

“It’s true,” Akira told her. “All of it. It’s how I knew about your gymnastics meet this summer. It’s how I knew about your dream. It’s how I knew about… about Kasumi-san.” Sumire flinched. Haru squeezed her hand.

“It’s a bit hard to explain, but we promise we’re here to help,” Makoto said. She pursed her lips, like she did when she was thinking hard about something. Haru couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she remembered the habit. “We don’t really need to worry about it right now. It can take some time to get used to it, and Haru still needs to recover from her awakening.”

“How long will that take?” Sumire asked.

“We… we don’t know,” Makoto said, hanging her head.

Sumire tensed in her seat, straightening up and tightening her grip on Haru’s hand. “And after that? What will you do?”

“We’re going to steal Sugimura’s heart,” Futaba told her. Haru raised her brows. That was different. A welcomed difference, but it certainly strayed from what she could remember.

Haru recalled her father’s pitch black tears as his body collapsed on live television.

Perhaps different was good.

“We don’t expect you to come along,” Futaba continued, “but that’s what we plan to do.”

“Haru-senpai?” Sumire turned to her. “Are you going to go with them?”

“Of course,” she responded. “You were right, Sumire. He’s a terrible person. I refuse to let him victimise anyone else.”

Sumire dropped her head to stare into her lap, tightening her grip once again on Haru’s hand. Her palms were sweating. Haru couldn’t blame her for being nervous.

“And, I have another question,” she said, quickly raising her head again. “Akechi-san. When he… When he found us in the alleyway he spoke as though he knew you. Is he one of you?”

Everyone winced, tensing up at the mention of his name. All except Akira, who looked as though he almost expected this question. Haru, both in shock at the revelation and out of necessity to allow her friends time to conjure an explanation that wouldn’t get Akechi imprisoned, spoke up.

“Wait, Akechi-kun found us?” she repeated dumbfoundedly.

“Yes,” Sumire replied after a moment of hesitation. She could tell there was some animosity between them, although she couldn’t possibly know the reason behind it. “He saw you collapsed in that alleyway and came running up to help us. I was… shocked that he seemed to understand what was going on.”

“I told him to call Akira,” Morgana continued when Sumire struggled to find the reality of the situation. “It was pure coincidence that he found us at all. I was hoping I could get you both out of there before either one of you awakened. We’ve noticed the exhaustion is much worse than before. I wouldn’t have been able to help you on my own.”

“You did more than enough Mona-chan,” Haru consoled. And it was true! Her memory was still fuzzy, but she could recall how frustrated he’d been when she first met him in the Metaverse. With the Thieves and with himself. This time he’d been so much calmer. They had suffered far less injury and he was guiding two defenceless people! It was a major improvement!

“Still,” Mona said, giving her a thankful smile, “I wouldn’t have been able to carry you both on my own. I’m just a cat.”

“But you found Akechi,” Akira remarked. “And if he wasn’t there, then you would have found a way. I’m sure of it.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Sumire tried. “Is he one of you?”

“Not… exactly,” Makoto said slowly. Akira picked up the slack.

“He’s a Persona user like us,” he said. “He’s not part of our team but he does remember the time travel stuff. We haven’t always… seen eye to eye in the past, but now we have a common goal to work towards. It’s a very complicated relationship.”

“I see…”

Sumire was running her free hand through her hair in the way she did when she was getting overwhelmed. A distant look in her eyes as she stared at the group without really seeing what was in front of her.

It was then that a strange realisation hit Haru. She could read Sumire, she’d known her for months now. Spent almost every day with her since that time on the roof. She could decipher what she was thinking. Yet the others could not. Not even Akira.

It had been Haru that had gotten to know her as Sumire. It had been Haru that talked her off the ledge. It had been Haru who was cheering her on from the sidelines at practice.

Haru knew Sumire better than anyone else did.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she declared. “I think I need to go home and rest.”

“That would be ideal, yes,” Makoto said.

“Agreed. And I think Sumire needs to process what she just learned,” Morgana added.

“I’m sorry,” Sumire whispered. “I think I need some air.”

Without another word, she let go of Haru’s hand and slipped out of the cafe into the night. The sound of the bell seemed to echo in the silence.

“I hope we didn’t scare her off for real,” Ann mumbled. “Is it safe for her to be out alone right now?”

“I should go check on her,” Akira said, moving to stand, but Haru stopped him.

“No, please allow me,” she insisted. “She doesn’t really know you this time. I’ll go talk to her.”

Something about the way Akira looked at her. It was something close to guilt, but not quite there. There was something sad in his expression that gave her pause, something like… Grief? Dismay? Remorse? Haru couldn’t settle on a word for it. Either way it felt out of place.

She could wonder about it later. Right now she needed to comfort her friend before she got on a train and left.

Haru could see Sumire’s loose red hair as she trekked down the alleyway towards the train station. Running after her, she called out.

“Sumi-chan!”

Surprised, the gymnast stumbled to a halt, watching with wide eyes as the elder girl approached. Haru slowed down when her head started to spin, and stopped all together when her vision went blurry for a second. She blinked the fog away and realised Sumire was now in front of her.

“Haru-senpai, are you alright?” she asked in a mildly panicked tone. “Is that illness getting to you? I can go get the doctor if you need! Wait just one-”

“No no, I’m okay I promise,” Haru informed her. “I just shouldn’t have run like that after today. I’m fine now.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Sumire retracted her hands and clasped them together in front of her, looking down at her shoes.

“I came after you because I’m worried about you,” Haru told her. “I can imagine what’s going through your mind right now and none of it is particularly pleasant. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise,” she replied quickly. “It’s just… a lot. The Phantom Thieves? Time travel? Another world with strange doppelgängers and talking cats? I don’t think I’ve really processed any of it.”

“I can understand,” Haru said sympathetically. Guiding her friend—her best friend—to a bench on the path, she sat down as she spoke. “The first time I learned all this, I was almost completely alone. I only had Mona-chan to guide me and a Persona lacking conviction. I didn’t have the others helping me until they came looking for Mona-chan in my father’s Palace.”

Massaging her temples, Sumire leaned forward where she was sitting. “Your father has one of those places too?”

Chuckling lightly, Haru said, “Yes.” The response was a groan of confusion and disbelief.

“I hadn’t met you that time,” Haru continued. It almost felt like she was reminiscing on something that had happened so long ago. And yet it felt like it was only yesterday, and also like it had never happened at all. Like a dream. “I wish I had. I get the feeling we could have been close in that timeline too.”

“Then, we weren’t friends?” Sumire asked sadly.

Haru shook her head. “Not in the sense we are now, no. We did become acquainted with one another towards the end of the year. I hold some of those memories quite fondly now that I can recall them. I wish we had had more time to become proper friends.”

A soft smile on her face, Sumire leaned in, lightly nudging her shoulder. “We’re proper friends now, aren’t we?”

Beaming, she replied. “Of course we are!” She nudged her back and giggled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Something caught Sumire’s eye and her smile faltered. A voice interjected before Haru could look for herself to see what was the matter.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Makoto!

Haru stood—too fast—and smiled widely. “Not at all, Mako-chan!” She ignored the way her head spun as her lack of iron punished her for loving her girlfriend. “I’m delighted you’re here!”

Quickly enveloping her in a hug, Makoto held her steady. As if she was afraid to let her go. “Me too,” she said with a smile.

“You two are close, aren’t you?” Sumire asked. Haru noticed the way she shrank into the bench.

“We are,” Makoto responded, keeping an arm on her back despite dropping the hug. “We didn’t really get much time to explain everything earlier, but we grew really close last year.”

“Right,” Sumire said with a nod and a smile. She stood up and bowed. “I hope we can become friends too, Niijima-senpai. Despite everything that’s going on.”

“I hope so too, Yoshizawa-san,” Makoto said.

Why did this conversation feel so stiff? Haru could understand Sumire’s jealousy. She had rarely ever talked about how she liked women due to her fiancé always hovering around like a pretentious mosquito. From her perspective, she had been suddenly replaced by an older best friend Haru had just reconnected with through time travel powers and memories she didn’t currently possess. She felt as though she was being abandoned.

However, Makoto’s apprehensive diplomacy didn’t have a clear origin. It was true that she could simply be mirroring what Sumire was giving her, but Sumire wasn’t as tense as Makoto was. Sumire seemed more disheartened than agitated. So why was Makoto acting this way?

It wasn’t as if Haru was romantically involved with Sumire. She didn’t cheat on Makoto by accident.

Wait. That wasn’t what Makoto thought, was it?

“I just realised, I should formally introduce you to one another!” Haru perked up, as if suddenly coming to a realisation. “Mako-chan, this is Sumire. My closest and most beloved platonic friend who has helped me platonically in many ways. Sumi-chan, this is Makoto. My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sumire repeated, taking in a breath and blinking quickly.

“Hold on, you two aren’t in a romantic relationship?” Makoto asked in a similar tone.

“You have a girlfriend!” Sumire’s eyes lit up like fireworks or stars. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I thought you had replaced me now that your memory had returned.”

“Not at all, Sumi-chan!” Haru assured. “There will always be room for you in my life.”

“Thank you! Um.” She turned quickly to Makoto as another thought processed in her mind. “Niijima-senpai, you thought Haru-senpai and I were… together?”

Makoto closed her eyes and sighed. “I will admit, I did think for a moment that there may have been something between you two during Haru’s amnesia.”

Sumire laughed, partly out of awkwardness, but mostly because she was amused. Haru was laughing too, for the very same reasons. Eventually, Makoto was also laughing, even if it was due to her embarrassment.

“I knew you liked women, Haru-senpai, but your fiancé was always so overbearing I thought you’d never be able to pursue anyone else,” Sumire said.

“So did I,” Haru giggled. “Mako-chan and I only got together after we targeted my father. Once his heart was… changed and all the legal matters were resolved, there was no reason for Sugimura’s family to keep the engagement, so I was free to pursue whoever I wanted.”

As she said it, Haru took one of Makoto’s hands in both of hers, pulling her in even closer and smiling sweetly. She couldn’t help but stare down at the pavement, however. Spending so long away from her, without being together, it felt odd to be so affectionate with her again.

That would be something they’d have to talk about. Haru loved her girlfriend dearly. She would do anything for her. Horrible things, really. Impossible things. She would rearrange the stars if she asked her to. Pluck every single one and wrap them in decorative paper. Give them to her as a bouquet. A little conversation about their unique situation would be easy, compared to that.

Sumire was beaming at them. “I’m so glad! I promise, you will be free again! Um…” Her smile dropped as she lost herself in thought.

Makoto squeezed Haru’s hand. “Yoshizawa-san, is everything alright?”

“Um!” She took a deep breath, in and out. “I know I’m not one of you, a-and I know I don’t remember what you’ve been though, but… I want to help!”

“Help?” Haru repeated, unsure if she was interpreting her words correctly. “Do you mean…?”

“I want to join you!” Sumire nodded. “I-in the Palace! I know I’ll probably just slow you down, but I can’t- I refuse to stand idly by while my friend gets hurt. I can’t just wait when I know you’re all in there, fighting for your lives while I’m just… not doing anything. I can help! I know I can help! I’ll find… something! Please just take me with you!”

After a moment, Haru nodded. “I’ll talk to everyone,” she said.

Sumire’s eyes lit up. “You will?” She twirled her hair around her fingers.

“Yes, I will,” she confirmed. “I can’t speak for them, I’m not sure what they’ll say, but I will talk to them.”

Makoto pursed her lips, looking at Haru for a moment then down at the concrete. She wasn’t certain it was a good idea to bring Sumire with them. She was worried, for her safety or her mental health or both. Worried maybe having a powerless person in their team would slow them down too, maybe? Haru certainly wasn’t worried about that. Her best friend was strong, far more fierce than the other Thieves knew her to be.

But Haru could also tell there was a hesitation in the way Makoto held her tongue. In the way she didn’t immediately voice her thoughts on this idea being dangerous. Sumire may awaken in Sugimura’s Palace. Haru had thought so too. As much as she would hate to put her friend in emotional distress knowingly and willingly, she also selfishly wanted her to remember.

Remember her hardships. Remember her joys. Remember the year she spent under the false pretence that she was someone else. And learn, and grow, and accept herself as she is now. Someone she could be proud of. Someone Haru was proud of. Someone Kasumi would be proud of.

Sumire bowed to them. “Thank you, Haru-senpai!”

Haru reached out to hug her, letting go of Makoto’s strong hold. Nearly tripping over in the process, landing in her best friend’s arms. She giggled sheepishly.

“Haru-senpai! Are you alright?”

Makoto sighed, a small smile in her voice as she spoke. “Let’s get you home, shall we? I’ll let the others know.”

Nodding she let the girls escort her to the station. Arm in arm with her best friend and the love of her life, she smiled. This time loop—or whatever it was—truly terrified her. But… maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all. She had grown closer with someone she hadn’t known very well before, and now her father was still alive. Still breathing. Still a terrible person, but he was alive. She could help him!

And Makoto. Makoto still loved her. Still cared for her. She could tell by the gentle touch of her fingers as they graced her skin and the fabric of her clothes. The soft look in her blood red eyes. The way her voice broke when she woke up in Dr Takemi’s office earlier that evening.

Yeah… Perhaps it was selfish of her to think this, but…

Haru liked it here. She could get used to this.

Chapter Text

At first Sumire was thoroughly overwhelmed. Too much of what she had learned contradicted what she knew. Or at least what she thought she knew.

Truth be told, she hadn’t been paying the Phantom Thieves much mind. They were just a prank that spiralled into an urban legend. That’s what she told herself. Because if they were real… Would they be able to change her heart if they were real? Did her heart need changing?

Haru had told her a couple days after her… remembrance? Was it? She’d told her that she didn’t need to change. That she was already a good person. Just a good person with bad memories. A good person who had experienced bad things. Nothing was wrong with her. She wasn’t a burden.

Sumire wasn’t sure how much she believed that.

But, regardless of the statement’s truth, she refused to be a burden on the Phantom Thieves. Her friends. Were they her friends? She wasn’t sure.

She would help them anyway.

She owed them that much.

It took Haru nearly two weeks to recover. Apparently this was not normally how long it took. Sumire felt like she should be concerned about this fact, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. Was it a time travel thing? Was it something to do with the Palaces? This Metaverse everyone kept mentioning? Something far more powerful? Something Sumire didn’t yet have the context for?

Her head hurt trying to unpack it all.

As time marched forward, Sumire was growing restless. She’d noticed the strange app they spoke about on her phone, complete with the keywords for Sugimura’s Palace in her search history. Had she triggered their travel there somehow? Was it her fault Haru was sick?

No, no. Stop. Haru told her it was fine. It wasn’t her fault. Right?

Right…

She couldn’t just go in. She’d be useless there by herself. All she would do is cause more problems than she would solve. Knowing her, she’d go and get herself hurt or killed or worse… Would it be so bad if she got herself killed? She wouldn’t be a burden anymore…

Yes! Yes it would! Haru would be devastated!

Stop Sumire! Bad Sumire!

Focus.

One night, Sumire had a dream.

It was bright, blindingly so. White as far as the eye could see. She was walking, aimlessly. But she kept hearing a voice. Calling her. Guiding her.

She couldn’t hear what it was saying. All she could do was follow.

But it felt… warm. Familiar. Like a blossoming sensation in her chest. Ethereal, and gentle, and kind.

When she woke up, she felt it still. Wrapped around her heart like a woollen blanket.

Haru called her that day.

“Haru-senpai!” she greeted, a little tired out from practice, but as happy as always to hear from her. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you Sumi-chan,” her senpai giggled. “I wanted to talk to you about something I spoke about with my friends just now. Do you have time?”

Sumire sucked in a breath. She spoke to them? About letting her come with them? “What did they say?” she asked hopefully.

“They would be delighted if you joined us, Sumi-chan.”

Delighted? If she joined them?

“Really?”

“Yes! Can you come by Leblanc when you can? Akira-kun thinks it’s best if you’re reintroduced to everyone now that you know who we are.”

Sumire’s eyes glanced up at the clock. Quarter to six. She hummed in thought.

“I can be over there at about 6:30?”

“That’s perfect! We’ll see you then!”

Okay. So, she was running to the station it would seem.

She bid a hasty goodbye to Coach Hiraguchi and sprinted out the doors, running down the street at top speed. She could use the extra training, especially if she was going to be joining the Phantom Thieves in their strange other world to fight evil with strange powers. She needed to be able to keep up with them.

Kasumi would mention this was good cardio. They could use the jog to the cafe as a cool down after the practice they had just endured.

Even as she ducked and weaved through the crowd, keeping her pace and her breathing in sync, she found herself skidding to a stop at every crossing. Look left. Look right. Look left again. Check the lights. Look left. Look right. Okay, you can go now. And then she was off.

She was sweating and panting as she stood in line for the train. She had just barely missed the last one. It was starting to feel like she was standing there for an eternity before the next one finally pulled into the station. She rode that train for another eternity before finally reaching Yongen-Jaya.

As Sumire stepped out onto the platform a thought occurred to her. Did she even know where she was going?

She had the name of the establishment, sure. But she had never been to the district before, the night Haru had gotten sick remaining the only exception—and even so she had been rather stressed and not entirely capable of seeing things clearly. She wasn’t familiar with its streets. Its alleys. Its people. But somehow her legs kept moving. Kept leading her.

She considered multiple times stopping to ask someone for directions, or plugging the cafe’s name into a navigation app. And yet she did neither.

Her instincts guided her. One step after another. Walking confidently down unfamiliar paths until she stood under a quaint red and white awning.

The sign on the door announced the establishment was open, but still she paused. Was she really doing this? Was she really prepared to dive head first into a mysterious other world with people she barely even knew to begin with? How long had they known her without her knowing them? How much did they know?

But they trusted her, didn’t they? Enough to let her tag along at least! Was she one of them once? In… another time? Or a… a time that didn’t happen? A rewind or a repeat or something? It was still so unclear. Something told her maybe the Thieves weren’t entirely sure either.

Stop stalling, Sumire! Just open the freaking door! You’re making them wait!

Steeling herself and breathing in sharply, Sumire finally pressed open the cafe’s door. The bell chimed pleasantly as she did. The surly looking man behind the counter raised a brow at her.

“Welcome,” he said. “You one of Akira’s friends? He mentioned they were expecting another.”

“O-oh, um.” Sumire wasn’t sure what kind of greeting she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Geez, this man had probably been staring at her through the glass that whole time! Stupid! “Yes. Um, where is…”

The man’s face turned surprisingly warm as he smiled and tilted his head to the back. “They’re just upstairs. Don’t worry ‘bout a thing. You’re free to just head straight up.”

Shrinking a little, the girl gave him a small bow and meekly mumbled her thanks. Not wanting to overstep, she quickly scurried the way he had pointed and up the stairs. As he had assured her, the Phantom Thieves were at the top, gathered around a table and chattering amongst themselves.

Her shoes were silent against the wooden flooring on her way up. Of course, Haru noticed her first despite it.

“Sumi-chan! You made it!”

“Um, hello, everybody!” Sumire said with a shy smile. She knew these people, didn’t she? Even if she didn’t know them all that well, a version of her did. Right? Was that how that worked? “I’m Yoshizawa Sumire, but… um, you knew that already. Um…”

“Hi Sumire,” Kurusu replied with a grin, saving her from stumbling over her introduction any more than she already had. “We're the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

“We’re thrilled you could make it Yoshizawa-san,” Niijima said with a smile. She was seated next to Haru, holding her hand and pressing against her side. It was rather cute to see them together. Sumire had never really considered Niijima to be into cute things.

Then again, Sumire could see the little panda pencil case on their side of the table that she knew wasn’t Haru’s. So, perhaps she had misjudged her.

That was beginning to become a trend with her lately. Misjudging people.

“Please, sit down!” Ann beckoned, patting the seat between her and Haru. “I’m so excited to have you back! Uh! I mean-”

“She surely must have pieced it together by now,” Kitagawa mused as Sumire followed her instructions.

“Yeah, don’t stress about spoilers,” Futaba agreed. “We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Yeah! Like this new Palace we gotta explore,” Ryuji said.

Sumire was already beginning to feel overwhelmed, but she was determined. “Haru-senpai mentioned you haven’t stolen Sugimura’s heart before. Is that correct?”

Morgana—the cat she was still getting used to—nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Truthfully, it’s been a while since we’ve navigated a Palace we haven’t been to before. We need to remain vigilant. I managed to map out a small section of the dollhouse with my Persona while we were escaping, but I still don’t know where the Treasure could be.”

“I can analyse the place when we get there,” Futaba mentioned. “It doesn’t look very big all things considered. We should have plenty of time to clear it before October.”

“That’s if we don’t run into any complications,” Niijima warned. There was something in her tone that gave Futaba pause. The group looked a little uneasy for a moment before Haru played it off with a smile.

“We can worry about that later,” she said sweetly. “We don’t have a moment to lose!”

Kurusu turned to her, then looked at Sumire. “Are you able to infiltrate the Palace today?”

Jumping a little, she nodded. “Today? Um. Yes. I… I’m ready.” She poured as much conviction into her voice as she could muster.

A smirk appeared on Kurusu’s face, mischievous and confident and sharp. Something about it gave Sumire chills. It was uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t explain. “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road!”

-

Even in pastels the office was intimidating. Looming above their group as they approached, it did wonders in making Sumire feel small, even though she had grown used to the big city. The atmosphere of the place did not help. Not the strange purple sky or the way everything around them was made of plastic.

She jumped as flames of blue cloaked her companions, even though she had been warned. Haru—no Noir, right?—gave her an apologetic smile from beneath her black mask.

“Wow, you all look so…” Sumire mumbled, “so cool.”

She should apologise for slowing them down. No, Sumire stop. It’s fine. You won’t be a burden to them. You’re their friend, right? At least you will be. At least a version of you is. That had to mean something, right?

Right…

She followed them inside.

Kurusu—or, Joker in this world—adopted a sort of leadership position in the Metaverse, despite Noir and Queen being older than him. She wondered if it meant he’d been using these powers longer, or if there was a unique quality to his Persona that gave him a leg up on the others. Or maybe he was just the one best suited to the position. More experienced and knowledgeable. He certainly carried an air of confidence Sumire didn’t notice as much in the real world. He was the perfect image of a rebel leader.

Sumire admired him for that. It made sense. All her grievances about him, everything she’d thought of as odd or strange. This explained all of it. The time travel and the Metaverse.

Sumire had never told him about Kasumi. Never even mentioned her name. Never mentioned what had happened. And yet he knew. They all knew. The same way they had known Sugimura was bad for Haru, they knew Kasumi’s death was troubling her.

There was something both comforting and unsettling about that revelation. On one hand, at least they hadn’t been stalking them or something. Haru had certainly been concerned about that at one point, and given her family’s status, it wasn’t an outrageous concern. On the other hand… Sumire was still uneasy. The questions of ‘how much did they know?’ and ‘how much was she supposed to know?’ and ‘what was she missing?’ kept circling her brain like sharks. And she knew Noir had said they knew her but how well? And for how long? And was she one of them? Did she even have a Persona like they did?

“Sumire?”

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at Mona’s voice. Joker ordered him to remain at her side. He was looking up at her with those bright blue eyes. Concerned. “Are you alright?”

Sumire pasted on a smile and nodded. “I’m fine!”

Focus, Sumire. Stop slowing them down.

Mona didn’t seem… convinced. He dropped it anyway.

Even staying with the backline team, far behind the main infiltrators, Sumire could feel the way the energy shifted when the Shadow arrived. The Thieves all took a fighting stance, Joker motioning silently for the backup team to join them.

Sugimura stood halfway up a flight of stairs, placing him above them and the weaker shadows in the room. A scary looking creature stood a couple steps below him, likely protecting him. Like Mona was protecting Sumire. She tried to keep herself together.

“Haru, darling, you’ve returned to me!” The Shadow’s smile quickly fell as the remaining Thieves took their stances. Sumire stuck close to Mona, mimicking the others in an effort to keep attention off her. “And you’ve brought along even more trash. How delightful. This is why I prefer you to stay on your shelf, darling.”

“Enough!” Noir shouted. Sumire startled. “I am not your property and neither is anyone else! Where is your Treasure!”

“Oh? Not mine? But darling, we’re engaged! You may not have my name but you soon will. And then you will be mine for eternity.”

“The Treasure, Sugimura!”

It wagged a finger at her. “Tut tut! So needy.”

“Leave her alone, you bastard!” Skull yelled.

The Shadow looked offended he had even spoken to him. He didn’t have a chance to form a rebuttal before the others piled on.

“Yeah! She’s too good for you!” Oracle cackled.

“If you even look at her I’ll break your neck!” Queen threatened.

“You’re disgusting,” Joker said.

“Talking back? Who do you think you are?” The yellow-eyed projection of Haru’s fiancé sneered as it spoke. “Such impudence is worthless to me. I don’t want toys that don’t do as they’re told.”

Whatever witty remark Joker had been concocting died on his tongue as his body went rigid. There was no time for anyone to react as the Shadow’s bodyguard aimed its attack directly at him.

“Joker!”

“Senpai!”

The leader of the Phantom Thieves was sent flying on impact, several pieces of furniture being knocked over before he eventually landed in the rubble of what was once an ornately decorated wardrobe. Slats of broken wood and sawdust held his unconscious body.

For a brief moment, there were only the panicked screams of his teammates. Then a single voice cut above the noise.

“Mona! Keep him stable,” she barked. “I’m switching in. Resume combat as normal!”

“Yes Queen!” cried several voices in almost perfect unison.

Sumire’s eyes lingered on Noir for a moment, watching her ready her axe with a cold fire in her eyes. Then, spurred on by instinct alone, she followed behind the cat-like creature, determined to help however she could. She had to help! How many more people were going to wind up hurt because of her?

“Diego!” Mona called, voice barely audible in the chaos of the fight behind them.

A halo of green magic hovered around Joker as Sumire hauled his limp form out of the rubble, the scrapes healed but he was still out cold.

“Senpai! Senpai wake up!” she cried desperately. Balling the lapels of his coat in her fists. Staring at his eyes through his mask, hoping they would open. They did not. She felt around his neck. Please, please, please let there still be a pulse!

“He’s alive,” Mona confirmed. She found his heartbeat a moment after. He was alive. It didn’t scare her any less.

Always a witness. Always a bystander. Always loss after loss after loss!

Sumire heard Noir scream.

Then enough was enough.

So many people were being hurt because of her. So many people had been hurt trying to save her. Joker standing up to Sugimura’s Shadow. Noir taking this hit for her now. Noir when she awakened to save her. Mona when he came to rescue them. Her mother when she died giving her life. Kasumi when she died to save her.

No more! She wouldn’t let anyone else be hurt! When would the next person die? Today? Tomorrow? When would she be able to save herself?

This ends now!

Pain.

Sudden, blinding pain.

Radiating in her mind. Sending her soaring through the heavens and beyond.

She couldn’t see.

Accepted before?

Had she done this before?

She had.

There was not much, but she knew them. Visiting many places with Akira. Getting fashion advice from Ann. Meeting Ryuji by chance on a run. Hearing Morgana talk for the first time. Makoto’s concern for her after Kamoshida. Her admiration for Yusuke’s eccentricity. Finding her first friend her age in Futaba. Haru’s gentle welcome when she first joined them. Akechi’s ruthlessness and sheer skill inspiring her to work harder. Her teammates. Her friends. Learning the truth and accepting the person she was.

In a sense, she had done this before. In a sense, Ella was hers. But she was Kasumi’s. Kasumi had been the one to awaken her.

She’d do it again. But she’d do it as Sumire.

“Odile du Phénix!”

This feeling. She’d forgotten how it felt to be herself

-

Funnily enough, Violet couldn’t remember anything that happened after her awakening.

The only thing she remembered was the voice in the blinding void. The guiding warmth.

She was so tired.

“…san? Yoshizawa-san, can you hear me?”

A voice? Who…?

“Yoshizawa-san, stay with me here. Can you hear me? Can you speak?”

She could hear her. The dark-haired woman in a lab coat that hovered above her. She tried to open her mouth and answer, but the only sound she made was a cry of pain.

It hurt! It hurt so much! Everything was on fire! Everything was ice cold! Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she screamed until her voice was raw.

The words faded again. Muffled and unintelligible. Voices speaking far away, whispers in a cacophonous room. The pain was unrelenting.

“Hey.” The doctor’s voice brought her briefly back to reality. “Look at me.”

Blinking the tears from her eyes, Sumire settled her weight into where the woman was cupping her face. She couldn’t focus. She could barely see.

“Look at me,” she said again. Slower. “I know it’s hard. Try to focus on me.”

She couldn’t focus.

She couldn’t see.

Was she really that untalented?

“Yoshizawa-san. Stay with me here.”

She was trying. She was so… tired. Her body felt so heavy.

“Hey!” the doctor raised her voice. “Yoshizawa-san. Keep your eyes open. Look at me. Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me.”

Her eyes were closed? So that’s why she couldn’t see.

Wait she asked her to blink. She could… she could do that. Why did blinking take so much effort? One… Two… She did it. She noticed the doctor’s hands relax. Just slightly.

“Good. Stay awake, Yoshizawa-san. If you go to sleep, you might not wake up.”

She might not… wake up…? Kasumi… Kasumi didn’t wake up.

Sumire was awake.

Sumire didn’t want to be awake.

“Guinea pig, I need you to…” the voice faded back into nothing as her focus slipped again.

Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep.

Why not? Kasumi slept. Kasumi was still asleep. Wouldn’t it be nice to see her again? Wouldn’t it be nice to fall asleep?

No.

Kasumi would scold her for dying now. She’d find her in the afterlife, smile at her and pretend she wasn’t about to cry. She’d say;

“Silly! Since when does Yoshizawa Sumire give up? You have so much to live for.”

If she had the power to, she’d probably force her back into mortality.

She was stubborn like that.

“Sumi-chan!” That voice. “Sumi-chan open your eyes! Please!”

Her eyes. She’d closed them again.

Fluttering them open, she reached for Haru. It didn’t take much for her to catch her fumbling hand. She squeezed it tightly. So tightly she thought maybe her nails were piercing her skin.

It was grounding, the pain. Different from the pain pounding against her skull.

Connection.

Haru. She… she knew Haru, didn’t she? They were close this time. She cared about her even before they remembered. She cared about her even after she had remembered and Sumire remained clueless. She cared about her still.

Sumire relaxed her grip.

“Sumi-chan! Sumi-chan, please! Hang in there!”

She was trying! She was trying… It was just so… She could barely hold on anymore.

Sumire barely felt her head hit the pillow. She… let go…

“Silly! Since when does Yoshizawa Sumire give up? You have so much to live for.”

Kasumi…?

“You’re a phoenix, remember? Rising from the ashes? You still have a dream to build.”

But I’m not as strong as you, Sumire answered in her mind. She could feel the way Kasumi giggled.

“Now that’s just wrong. I’m not as strong as you. You’re still out there, living a life I can only dream of. I couldn’t do that. I was so focused on our training I forgot to make time for myself. And I forgot to make time for you.”

But it’s my fault that you died, Kasumi!

“Wrong again. Seriously, Sumire. You’re smarter than this.”

If I hadn’t run off, you wouldn’t have been hit by the car. It is my fault.

“I’m the one who chose to… That doesn’t matter now. We can’t spend our limited time arguing over who is and isn’t at fault. I reached out because I wanted to tell you that I believe in you.”

You reached out? So, I’m not dead? I’m not going insane?

Soft laughter again.

”No, not yet. But you are dying, and I can’t let you do that. Not again. I’m going to save you this time.”

This time? Not again? Have I died before? Is this another time travel thing?

“…I probably shouldn’t have said that. That’s my burden to carry. I will tell you another time. For now you have to get back out there. You have a world to save, and friends to fight for.”

Friends…

Kasumi was smiling. She could feel her smiling.

“Yes. Friends who need you right now. Friends who don’t want to lose you.”

Kasumi?

“Yes?”

I miss you.

“I miss you too, Sumire. We’ll see each other again. Just not now. It’s not your time.”

But who decided that? If I’ve died before, who’s changing fate to keep me alive?

“Don’t worry about that. I trust you can figure that out on your own in due time. I love you, Sumire. Now get out there and knock ‘em dead!”

“…mire? Sumire?”

“Knock them dead…” Sumire mumbled in a lack of a response.

“Yoshizawa-san, are you with me?” The doctor. Sumire’s eyes flickered open.

The pain had… not quite subsided but she could at least breathe without wincing. She could at least think. She could at least speak. That was something. She answered.

“Yes.”

“Good, how’s your pain level? Scale of one to ten, a ten being the worst pain you have ever felt.”

“Ten.”

The doctor hummed, then turned to Akira. “Get me the painkillers in that same cabinet. Green bottle labeled ‘Takemed-X’.” The boy disappeared without another word. Oh. He was okay. He was okay! The last thing she remembered was him unconscious in her arms.

How long had sheen been out?

She was still so tired. The medication helped, even if it did take forever to kick in. But still, all she wanted to do was lie back down and get some sleep. But she had almost died! She spoke with Kasumi again! Geez, if she had spoken with Kasumi again, maybe she did die, at least for a bit there. Maybe Odile du Phénix fit her more accurately than she thought. Rising from the ashes of death, born anew.

A new Persona. A different Persona. Part of her missed Ella, a part of her that felt strangely similar to the part of her that missed Kasumi. But, Odile was hers. Uniquely hers.

Sumire could feel her. The space she occupied in her heart. Warm and bright. She was a beautiful dancer cloaked in feathers of cinders and ash, the holy fires still roaring in her chest. She was everything Sumire had chosen to ignore when she realised for the first time she was not who she pretended to be. The part of her being that longed to carve her own path instead of following the one left for her by her dead twin. Be her own person, free from the confines of her elder’s image.

A long gone version of Sumire would have been scared Kasumi would contempt her for that. She knew better now. Kasumi was proud of her.

It was dark outside when she finally had enough strength to leave the clinic. How long was she out?

“You were unconscious for most of the day, I’m afraid,” Haru answered as though hearing her thoughts spoken aloud. “Your father called, so I said you were staying with me so I could help you with your studies. And that telling him must have slipped your mind.”

Sumire smiled as much as her dwindling energy would allow her to. “Thank you, Haru-senpai,” she said softly. She was leaning against her, her senior allowing her to stay upright as they shuffled to Leblanc to wait for her driver. It wasn’t as though the trains were running, after all.

“But…” She probably shouldn’t have asked this, but something in her was curious. “… what would you have done if I…didn’t make it?”

Haru noticeably stiffened. “I knew you were going to make it.”

A lie. Or perhaps wishful thinking. Sumire knew she had died before. So she must have been in that exact bed on this exact day in this exact situation before. And Haru would have promised her father she was alright. That she was safe. And she wouldn’t be.

She was too tired to think about this.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Sumi-chan,” Haru said sincerely. “I’m sure you’re tired and a little ill, but I’m glad you made it. You are truly a dear friend to me and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Exact your revenge upon those who wronged me, probably,” Sumire replied tiredly. It had meant to be a thought she kept to herself, but it startled a chuckle from the girl, so she was honestly rather happy it slipped out.

“Yes, probably,” she agreed, giggling. “My driver will be here soon, Sumi-chan. When you get home you can rest as much as you need.”

Yeah…

Rest sounded nice.