Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Akira woke up on the train to Shibuya, and cracked the most shit-eating grin towards the woman across from him. Not that he meant to, he was more staring at his reflection in the glass, seeing himself a year younger, skin unblemished by a year’s worth of fighting. The last time he was conscious in this round was on that penultimate night when he punched Shido’s lights out. He was going on probation anyway, might as well earn his sentence. 

The train slowed to a halt, allowing nervous commuters to relax. The reoccurring train incidents were once again a worry to the masses, word of misconduct floating along the air as the news started up once again. Akira spotted the newspaper on the stands, and while the headline just repeated what all he had heard in the radio, the photo underneath was what really caught his eye.

Goro Akechi ( that bastard ) flashing his signature plastic smile to some no-name TV host, plastered across the front page. A girl next to Akira, around his age, was gazing dreamily in the same direction.

“He sure is easy on the eyes… Oh, Akechi-kun…” The girl sighed. Honestly, she looked like hearts were coming out of her eyes, as if they were in some children’s cartoon.

It’s hard to see a person the same after you know their whole story. Akira could look at that piece of paper and tell you everything that was wrong with it, every flaw and imperfection in Akechi’s face, every little detail that he had yet to stamp out.

“Real heartthrob, that Akechi. Like, wow , y’know?” Akira said, tilting his head towards the fangirl next to him. Unfortunately, she was no longer standing there, instead replaced by an elderly man who gave him a look of confusion and disdain. Yikes, great way to start off the day.

Finding the Ginza line for his transfer wasn’t nearly as hard this time around; a year’s worth of navigating the Tokyo Railway had served him well. It gave him the time to make it to the Sakura residence before the delivery man did. He didn’t need to hear what was about to happen.

The house looked the same as he remembered. Nothing big ever happened in Yongen, except for all the comically insane events that went down inside of the café, but it seemed not even the weather could affect the building . Even the doorbell, which he used a total of one time, sounded the same as he remembered. Akira waited for a few seconds after pushing the button, letting the silence ring in the space around him before speaking.

“So… I know that you’re not planning on answering the door, Futaba, but I just thought I’d introduce myself. Um, I’ll be staying in the attic above Leblanć for the next year, just so you know. I haven’t met up with Sojiro- …I haven’t met up with Sakura-san yet, but I know he’s in the café right now. So. Yeah.” 

Akira let out a pathetic laugh, lightly kicking his foot against the asphalt of the road. “It’s funny, I don’t even know if you can hear me right now. I guess this is just a shot in the dark!” He dragged a hand down his face, taking his glasses with it. Somewhere in his mind, he thought that he’d ought to just throw them in the trash now. They served him no purpose but to be there to hide behind. Akira slipped his glasses into his pocket. “Ha… I’ll be taking my leave now. Bye, Futaba. You know where to find me.” 

The house looked the same; rain or shine, in happiness or in sorrow.

—

Akira lingered at the door of Leblanć and stared at the sky. He knew that it was going to rain. This was a fact. And knowing that he’s stepping out that door, knowing that he’s going to get soaked to the bone, knowing that everything will go to hell after that, no other way about it, doesn’t give him as much pause as it should. So he got on the train. From Yongen-Jaya, to his transfer in Shibuya, and all the way to Aoyama-Itchome, until he gets spit out from the underground, taking refuge under that fateful awning in front of some no-name store.

He took a deep breath, taking in the heavy scent of the rain around him, and pulled out his phone. The Meta-Nav was staring at him with its creepy little eye, just waiting for him to open it. And he does. He opens it, and seals his fate, pretending to forget about it as he watches Ann take off her hood, shaking her head lightly to get stray droplets of rain off of her. He pretended to forget about that stupid goddamn app as he watched Kamoshida roll up in that blue car of his, the one that costs more than any teacher’s salary should allow. However, the app couldn’t stop him from speaking.

“ Don’t let him get to you. ” It was nothing more than a whisper, directed to no one in particular, but Ann still picked up on it; looking back at him for but a moment as she moved to get into Kamoshida’s car. 

The sound of tires rolling along wet asphalt faded into the familiar sound of Ryuji’s run. He tore past Akira, skidding to a stop as the car drove just out of view.

“Damn! Screw that Kamoshida –”

Name.

“–He sees Shujin –”

Location.

“–Like his own personal castle , or some shit!”

Distortion. Beginning navigation.

The Metaverse smelled different from the real world. It’s not something that you could notice, really, but you go in enough times, you make enough memories, and suddenly a change in the air means a spike in adrenaline, a slight boost in your step as you round the corner and see a castle where your school should be.

“What… the fuck ?!” Ryuji was not taking it well. Go with the flow, man! Shujin Academy is a palace now, haven’t you heard?

“Hm. The sign over there says Shujin… But I think this is a castle? Unless they did some remodeling between now, and mid-day yesterday…” Akira mused to himself. Ryuji gave him a look of disbelief, and gestured wildly towards the building.

“ That ,” He yelled, “is not a school! What the hell man?! Don’t you like, go to Shujin?! You’re wearing the uniform! We’re both second years!” 

“Ah… I’m a transfer student… Today was supposed to be my first day, however…” Akira trailed off, showing a carefully crafted look of confusion towards Ryuji. 

“Transfer student? I didn’t even know we were getting one of those…” Ryuji scrunched up his face, looking at Akira in suspicion. To put it kindly, Ryuji didn’t have many friends. To put it unkindly, no one at Shujin liked Ryuji. Not until Akira came along. 

Awkward silence hung in the air for a second before Akira spoke again. “Should we… head inside..?” 

“Yeah, yeah-” Ryuji steeled his face into a serious resolve, “We have to investigate. This is totally freaking weird, dude. If this is some sort of school event, it’s not a good one, in my book anyway.”

Akira doesn’t remember anything from that point onward, not until he welcomed Arsène back into his brain. The Metaverse, being what it is, works wholly in the subconscious. You’ll never know something’s gone, until it isn’t. Similarly, he never knew how empty his brain felt without Arsène, until familiar blue flames were curling around him to split his head open. That horrible migraine that came with hearing Arsène’s voice felt like the long awaited scratch to an itch, something that he’d been putting off for so, so long, that it was almost unbearable to wait any longer. 

When he ripped the mask off, Akira didn't even flinch. Sure, there was blood. There was a lot of it, and there were pieces of his skin that came off his face, stuck under his fingernails. It wasn’t noticeable under all the blood either way, but Akira felt the sting as he started to use up his SP, felt exactly how the phantom pains will ache in a few days, after he’s been in the Metaverse long enough for them to start to seem real.

Somewhere in the very depths of his mind, he knew why the adrenaline coursing through his body felt like pop-rocks in his veins. For one, the decaying cell they were being kept in was cold, cold enough so that a hot breath was visible in the air. Cold enough, so that there was a dull kind of pain that lingered on all of Akira’s joints, digging its claws into him with every passing moment.

…But there was something missing. The thrum of energy wasn’t the same, didn’t pack enough punch, didn’t keep him on his toes enough. He felt weak . Arsène was at his lowest level, and Akira was used to having literal gods at his beck-and-call. 

Bide your time, little thief. Good things come to those who wait. Soon, you may fight with the strength of the divine once more.  

Nevertheless, he and Ryuji were out of that cell in a flash. While Akira lacked power, he certainly knew his way around a fight. It was nice to actually see Kamoshida behind bars with his own eyes, as compared to his final moments before the police arrived to cart him away. 

As much as Akira loved the thrill of a solo battle, it was a relief to find Morgana in the cell block. He loved his cat, but it was a little bittersweet to see him like this, and know that he wouldn’t be seeing Mona on the regular for the next few days. However, with the not-cat on the team, the things he could now do were endless. Especially when Morgana tried to teach him what a Hold-Up was. 

“Hey, Curly Hair! Follow my lead!” 

“I’ve got a better idea, Mona.” Akira cracked a grin, tuning out Morgana’s protests over the code-name. He’d been told by Futaba, somewhere deep in Mementos, that there was almost a visible spark in his eye whenever he was about to do something reckless. As if it was a manifestation of how much he shouldn’t be doing whatever he was about to do. 

“ Lend me your power. ” 

Maybe he was reckless. Maybe he was impatient. Maybe he could hear Arséne’s disapproval in the back of his mind, in place of his consciousness, but Akira didn’t care. 

Mona started to shout something, most likely objections and insults, but the shadow spoke before he could finish.

“Ugh— You again? Couldn’t get enough, huh? Give me one good reason, wild card…” It was glaring at him with a wrinkled face, speaking in an annoyingly high-pitched voice. 

Akira placed a hand on his hip, waving his gun slightly as he spoke. “That’s not what you normally say. Wanna take it from the top?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever… ‘ I am thou, thou art I, ’ or something…”

Akira claimed the mask that the shadow now was, and made an effort to not look Morgana in the eye. …But Mona was staring at him like he had just hung the moon and the stars, with awe and horror. 

“What… just… happened?” 

“Hm? Oh, I asked the shadow very nicely to be mine. And it did. So now it’s one of my Personas.”

Ryuji interjected from a few feet away. “Dude! Why do you get two Personas, and I get none! What the hell!”

“He’s not supposed to have more than one anyway, Blondie!” Morgana shouted. “Anyway. You have an incredibly special ability, Curls. It’s something that needs to be handled with the utmost caution—”

“Don’t sweat it kitty, I know what I’m doing.”

“I am not a cat! And my name isn’t Mona!”

“Well, my name isn’t 'Curly Hair', but do you see me pitching a fit?”

—

After Ryuji and Akira had managed to escape the Palace and said their (temporary) goodbyes to Morgana, the Meta-Nav spat them out right in front of Shujin Academy. The building was quiet, meaning that they most assuredly were late to some class, as opposed to mid-lunch. Ryuji’s head was swiveling around on a stick, quickly casing his surroundings as he tried to process what just happened. 

“Hey, is that the celebrity from the news this morning? The, uh, detective or whatever?”

And sure as shit, Goro fucking Akechi was walking towards the school, trailing just a step behind Sae Niijima. Funnily enough, Akira wouldn’t have believed that it was Akechi, if not for the eye contact he was holding with him, the very intense eye contact with him. Akira couldn’t help but wink at him. What! It would be fine , Akira was the only one who remembered the events that were to play out in a few months, and surely Akechi would just think of him as another one of his fans. But that oh-so familiar flash of searing anger tore its way across Akechi's face, the flash that he'd never been able to hide, the flash that made itself known every time Akira decided to be dumb, or reckless, or just outright self-sacrificial.

It was weird, that a pen clattering on the sidewalk sealed his fate. The smallest hole in his pocket, sending him into the casket and burying him deep. One way or another, Akira's pen was on the ground, and Akechi was already bending down to pick it up for him, now close enough to do so, and sporting his classic plastic smile once again. Sae was too far away to hear what Akechi could— would say, and Ryuji was staring at some girl sitting by a window, so no one but Akira heard the words muttered to him, dripping with sugary sweet malice. 

" You'll call me if you know what's good for you, Akira. " 

Fuck. 

Ryuji cocked his head over at Akira right as Akechi had passed him the pen, watching as the detective speed-walked to catch back up with Sae Niijima. “Why the hell do you know Goro freaking Akechi! Just who are you, bro?!”

 Fuck!

Chapter Text

Missing almost the entire first day of school did not give Akira any bonuses to his reputation. Mishima had already set the rumors in motion, which meant that all he heard walking down the hall was poorly-concealed whispers about his supposed crimes. 

Before school, in between classes— Hell,even at the train station; Akira had just learned to tune it all out. For the past few days, he’d pretended like he was in his own little world, unaware of anyone else around him. That may have been why he didn’t notice his classmates huddled around the window of the classroom, the one that looked out into the hallway where you could clearly see people walking to and from classes. 

The whispers swelled as Akira made his way towards the classroom door, almost at a normal speaking volume by the time he slid open the door to head home. 

“Ah, Kurusu-kun, I was just looking for you!”

Standing there, surrounded by a crowd of Shujin students, was once again, Goro Akechi. In his school. Which the famous ‘ second coming of the Detective Prince ’ did not attend. With his stupid tan jacket, folded over one arm. 

Who was letting him in here! 

This had to be a safety violation of some sort, especially with the sheer boiling rage in Akechi’s eyes; only serving to singe Akira for daring to look him in the eye. 

“ The transfer student? And Goro Akechi? What’s he doing around someone like that?” The whispers swelled, hitting Akira in his left ear. 

“Akechi, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“No honorifics? Wow… how disrespectful…” Once again, the whispers leered at him.

There were only so many things that his brain could handle, not all of his neurons could fire at once, or something like that. Akira was a little more absorbed in what game Akechi was trying to play with him, and not how to address him in such a way that accurately described their relationship. 

“Hm? Kurusu, have you forgotten?” Akechi flashed a smile, “I’m here to walk you home! We’ve got things to discuss anyway, no?”

That evil bastard. Using his fame to coerce Akira into talking to him. Despicable. 

“Oh, of course! How could I forget? All my fault, Akechi- kun .” Akira smiled, forcing out the end of the sentence through gritted teeth. No one paid any mind to Akechi dropping the honorific, this was such a double standard!

“It’s completely fine! I’m sure you have a lot of things on your mind, anyway. Shall we depart?” Akechi offered his arm to Akira, breaking through the threshold of the classroom door.

“Sure.” Akira took it.

For all the energy that it took Akechi to show up at Shujin and hunt Akira down, there was not much discussion going on as the detective initially had implied. Hell, Akira didn’t even let go of Akechi’s arm until they were going through the train gate and had to pay the fare. They just sat in silence, until the two exited the train at Shibuya station.

“Leblanc is off the table. Sojiro doesn’t like me yet.” Akira hummed.

“Mementos?”

“Wonder Twins.”

“Hm. Kichijoji?”

“I’ve never been there before.”

Akechi’s brow furrowed at that, his nose wrinkling slightly along with it.

“My place then.”

The detective’s apartment was bland, cold, and positively wrecked. There were things strewn all over the room, a hole in the wall that was somewhat fist sized, and a pillow in the middle of the room, ripped open with the stuffing spilling out.

Akechi kicked the pillow as he walked by, sending stuffing scattering about as it hit the wall. 

“Well,” Akechi started, sitting down on the edge of his beat-up mattress, “Let’s get down to business.”

Akira pulled a chair from Akechi’s desk and spun it around so that he was straddling it, leaning forward onto the backing. “Couldn’t bother to clean up before you came to get me?”

“Fuck you. What’s the last thing you remember before waking up.” Akechi was not asking a question, he was demanding an answer. That asshole.

“Straight to the hard questions! Let’s see… I remember clearing Shido’s palace, then going down into Mementos Depths, defeating God… and then going to jail. The others got me out of the slammer about a day before Valentine's Day, and then I got on the train to go home at the end of March, and woke up here.”

Akechi did not look pleased. 

“Answer me this– Did you see me on Christmas Eve?”

“How the hell would I have done that? You died, don’t you remember?”

The air was stale, almost uncomfortably warm as Akira waited for Akechi’s response. 

“...I see. Well then, Akira,” Akechi spoke, almost talking down to him. “You seem to be missing almost two months worth of memories. After Yaldaboth’s defeat, reality was rewritten for a short while by Dr. Maruki, who–”

“‘Maruki’? I don’t know a ‘Maruki’. Are you feeling okay, Akechi?” Akira moved to put a hand to Akechi’s forehead, and had his arm promptly slapped away.

“Take this seriously .” Akechi seethed, a familiar expression of anger and impatience plastering his face. “Either your mind was rewritten with the rest of reality, or you are not the Kurusu Akira of this timeline. Barring the events of Sae’s palace and… onwards, what was our last meeting? I suggest you answer wisely.”

“I served you coffee at Leblanc, and we played a game of chess. Just like always. Really, Akechi, are you feeling okay? This is worrying, even for you.”

Akechi stood up and walked over to where Akira was sitting, tipping the chair he was in forwards. 

“ You are not the Akira I know. You are some other version of him, from a similar fucked up timeline, placed in his shoes by some cosmic entity.” Akechi sneered.

“Hey, don’t get your tie in a twist because I’m not the original goods– What’s two months in the grand scheme of things anyway!”

Akechi dropped the chair, sending Akira tumbling backwards, almost off the seat entirely. He paced back and forth in front of the bed, taking off his tan blazer and throwing it across the room.

“If you had just called me like I asked , we would’ve been able to figure this out a hell of a lot sooner–”

“I don’t have your phone number, Akechi! How the fuck was I supposed to call you!” Akira exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh, Jesus Christ !” Akechi shouted, swiftly turning on his heel to grab Akira’s phone from his breast pocket. He quickly unlocked Akira’s phone (how the hell did Akechi know his password?), fuming as he aggressively typed something in. “There. Now you have my number. I will be texting you soon. Now get the hell out of my apartment, Akira.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m leaving already. Bye, Akechi. See you… whenever you decide to harass me at school again. I guess.”

The sound of a thud followed Akira as he roughly pulled the door closed behind him, presumably Akechi punching another hole in the wall. How did his neighbors not complain? 

—

It was evening by the time Akira made it home, late in the evening as well; only a few hours before the trains stopped running. The door clicked shut at the same time Akira stopped something from hitting him square in the face, snatching it out of the air mere centimeters away from its intended target. 

“You can lock up on your own now, kid. I’m not waiting up this late for you anymore…” Sojiro grumbled from behind the counter, taking off his apron and folding it over his arm. 

Akira looked over the key in his palm as Sojiro brushed past him out the door, mumbling as he flipped open his cigarette box and shook one out. “ ...He even know how worried I was… Look at the time… ” drifted on the chill air of the Yongen streets, just barely audible through the cracked door, having not closed all the way when Sojiro pulled it shut.

Akira quickly flipped the sign on the door to ‘ Closed ’, and shut the door; flicking off the lights, he moved to lie down on one of the booth tables, which was usually what Akira did after business hours. He’d clean it later.

It was quiet in Leblanc, the only noise in the cafe was the faint hiss of the stovetop, keeping a pot of curry simmering overnight. He stared at the ceiling, tracing the lines of the ceiling lights with his eyes. Though they weren’t on, the mosaic glass was still visible from the lights outside; no matter how late it was, the city never slept.

“Yikes. I have got to stop involving myself with the local eccentrics… Ha…”

Akira laid in the quiet for a few moments, listening to the idle noise around him.

“Times like this, I almost miss the cryptic Alibaba messages; Eh, Futaba?” He laughed, somewhat pathetically. 

The silence rang in the air, coating him like a blanket, until his phone buzzed next to him. Must have been Ryuji, texting him about the palace. 

Unknown - 4/7

How do you know that name.

23:04  

Akira dropped his phone on his face, making his glasses dig into the bridge of his nose. 

“Holy shit.”

He sat up and walked around the room, doing laps around the bar. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit! Futaba,” Akira laughed, “This isn’t supposed to happen until August! What in the world are you doing!” 

—

Unknown

And how do you know my identity?

23:08

—

“…Would you believe me if I told you I was a time traveler..?”

—

Unknown

No.

23:08

—

“Fair enough. Hm… Oh! Featherman, Featherman Season 9 comes out on April 25th. That’s in a few weeks, how about I tell you the season’s plot twist? Then would you believe me?” 

—

Unknown 

…Go on…

23:09

—

“Episode 7. 36:42. Grey Pigeon is alive.”

Akira’s phone started to buzz, increasing in frequency as the seconds went by, almost vibrating off the table after only a few moments.

–

Unknown - 26 Unread

YOU ARE LYING TO ME

23:10

WHAT.

23:10

I DON’T BELIEVE YOU

23:10

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU FINDING THIS INFORMATION

23:12

I LOOKED AT WORKDREAMS INTERNAL FILES LIKE SIX TIMES AND NOTHING

23:12

ANSWER ME GODDAMNIT

23:12

…If you’re lying to me, I’m telling Sojiro that you’re some creep-o stalker that’s harassing me.

23:16

[Error; This number does not exist.]

–

Akira laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes, shoving his phone into his pocket as he walked up the stairs to his room and collapsing on his bed. None of anything that happened during the day was how things originally went, and it hadn’t even been a week! What was that saying about a stone tossed into a lake?

–

Waking up in The Velvet Room was always a gamble, Akira never knew if he was called there to get some cool new ability, or almost get killed.

“Hey, Inmate– Wake up!” At least that was familiar.

Akira trudged over to the cell door. “Caroline, Justine, always a pleasure… …Igor. You’re a little late to the game, no pun intended.”

“It would seem that you are early, Inmate.” Justine spoke, leafing through the compendium. “I believe I owe you access to this now?” She handed Akira his copy of the book through the cell doors.

“My Compendium, thanks, Justine.” Akira paused for a second, waiting for either Caroline or Igor to speak. “...What, no fusion tutorial? I’ve got a Pixie and a Cait Sith ready, don’t tell me I wasted a thousand yen for nothing!” He leaned against the bars, raising an eyebrow in Igor’s direction.

Caroline whacked the bars, almost hitting Akira in the leg. “Our Master is unable to speak right now, Inmate, so why don’t you just shut up and leave!” She shouted, whipping around to face Akira.

“... Don’t think you’ll need it, anyway… ” Justine mumbled, slightly covering her face with her clipboard.

“...Alright. I’ll head out now. You know where to find me!”

—

Akira went down to Mementos first thing when he woke up, braving the railway in the bright and early Sunday morning. 

“What the hell are you doing, Inmate!?” 

“Caroline, Justine.”

There were the twins, standing by the door to The Velvet Room, looking like they wanted nothing more than to vault over to where Akira was standing and kill him.

“Something is wrong, Inmate– very wrong. This is not–”

“I know, Justine. I know this isn’t how the old ‘ Game of Fate ’ is supposed to go, but Akechi remembers as well, and there’s no way I can defeat Yaldaboth right now.” 

“So what, you’re just going to wander around Mementos now?! Go talk to your confidants instead of killing time–” Caroline stormed up to him and jumped up to grab Akira by the ear, dragging him down to her height. “– and stop being a loser !” She yelled, making his ear ring as he recoiled backwards.

“ Ow – Okay fine ! I’ll go, I’ll go! I’ll see you two at the Palace…” Akira trailed off, holding a hand to his ear as he left Mementos. It was still ringing when he reentered reality. What the hell.

—

In theory, the trolley problem was almost laughably easy. Better to do something than nothing. Better one than five. But, as Akira sat in Ushimaru’s class on April 15th, willingly doing nothing, and trying his hardest not look at the window that had a view of the courtyard, he thought that whoever said that it was easy was a heartless bastard.

“ Oh my God! ”

Akira felt like vomiting.

“ She’s going to jump! ”

He didn’t remember the rest of the day.

—

Entering a Palace for the last time always made Akira’s heart pound. The knowledge that one wrong step could royally screw over everything that had happened until now. Ryuji and Ann had unlocked their Personas, Morgana had been living with Akira in Leblanc since the infiltration had started, and they were finishing with a week to spare. 

“Hang on a second, guys.” Akira said, walking over to the Velvet Room entrance. “I’ve gotta do something.”

Akira leafed through his pocket-compendium, searching for the Persona he needed.

“Justine, I need Izanagi-no-Okami Picaro.”

“Can you pay the fee, Inmate?”

“Here.” Akira pulled the required yen out of his pocket and handed it to Justine.

“Very well. Continue to work towards your rehabilitation, Inmate.”

“Alright,” Akira shouted, turning back towards his teammates, “Let’s go.”

—

Fighting Kamoshida was a breeze. The entire infiltration, Akira had been using Personas that were on his level. Pixie, Jack-o-Lantern, Cait Sith, Arsene; All of them tailor made for a balanced battle experience. Izanagi-no-Okami, however, could probably finish Kamoshida in one turn. 

“Panther,” Akira spoke, turning towards her, not paying any mind to Kamoshida’s demonic transformation, “Do you want to fight him normally, or would you like me to let you have the final blow?”

“The second option sounds great , Joker.” Ann gritted, tightening her grip on her gun.

“Alright! If you’ll excuse me then, Izanagi-no-Okami Picaro! ” 

Morgana turned to look at him in horror. “ Joker – Where did you get a Persona like that?!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it Mona! Just focus on keeping my SP up. I’ve only got two shots with this thing without a refresher.” Akira laughed.

Morgana slowly nodded at him, jaw almost dropping to the floor.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Concentrate. He had limited attempts at this.

“ By the Myriad Truths! ”

One hit. Two. Three. Half of Kamoshida’s HP was gone, and his trophy was destroyed. No way for him to heal up anymore. Ryuji tossed Akira a coffee, and Morgana slung a Garu at Kamoshida.

Before Ann could react, Cognitive Shiho came trotting out, almost sending Ann into a blinding rage. Akira was afraid of this. Ideally, he would have been able to finish all this before Kamoshida got the chance to call out any of his attendants, but Myriad Truths could only do so much damage at once.

Unexpectedly, Ann shoved an Ofuda in Akira’s direction. “Make sure I get the last hit in.”

Akira crushed it in his palm, letting the effect wash over him. “Will do.”

One hit. Two. Three. Kamoshida was on his last legs now.

“Mona, Skull, guard. Let Panther have this one.”

The two proceeded to guard as Ann dropped her weapons and started to walk towards Kamoshida, crushing something in her hand, and pulling off her gloves. You could hear a pin drop, with how quiet the room was; save for Ann’s heels clicking on the stone floor.

Ann punched him square in the face, again, again, and again , ripping away the last of Kamoshida’s HP piece by piece. Bloody knuckle by bloody knuckle. “ Fuck. You. ” 

When he de-transformed, he was black and blue, and fully unconscious. Ann snatched the crown off his head, and pulled Kamoshida’s limp body off the floor by his ugly pink cape. “I hope you suffer, you son of a bitch.” She wiped her brow, smearing blood on her face as her torn up knuckles oozed from the damage.

Ryuji was the first one to speak as they left the Palace.

“...Ann, are you… okay?”

“I am now, Ryuji. I am now.”

—

Collapsing into bed after clearing a Palace was almost like falling onto a pile of clouds on a warm summer’s day, Akira could ignore the holes in his sheets, and the springs jutting out of his mattress out of pure exhaustion. Morgana was staying with Ann for the night, as extra moral support, so there were no pointy bones and cat fur in his face for the night. The sleep was amazing too, it was almost like blinking one moment and feeling fully refreshed the next. 

Mid-blink, however, Akira’s phone rang. Who the hell was calling him at 3:30 AM on a Thursday?

“Hello..?” Akira answered, groggily.

“ I have to whisper, because Sojiro is sleeping- ”

“Futaba?”

“ Who else! ” Futaba hissed, “ Episode Seven. ”

“...What?”

“ Episode Seven, thirty six minutes and forty two seconds, Grey Pigeon is alive, you’re a time traveler, and if you don’t help me out, I’m telling Sojiro that you’re a Phantom Thief. ”

“...And this couldn’t have waited until morning?”

Chapter Text

“…And this couldn’t have waited until morning?” Akira said, rubbing his eyes and flicking on the lamp by his bedside. 

“ I mean… probably? Look— don’t question me! I’ll tell Sojiro! I will! All your Phantom Thievery; Exposed!” 

“Futaba,” Akira started, furrowing his brow, “The Phantom Thieves haven’t been on the news yet, it’s still April.”

“Yeah, duh. News doesn’t go live until May… May… What…? Ugh … my head… ” Futaba trailed off, getting quieter and quieter until a loud thump was heard from her end, followed by silence.

“Futaba? Futaba !” Now Akira was awake.

—

Name, Place, Distortion. Akira wasn’t supposed to be in the sandy desert for months, much less by himself, but here he was in Futaba Sakura’s tomb. It wasn’t as hot in the cognitive world as it would be in August, making it a little more bearable as he walked through the sand. It took hours . He missed the Mona bus at times like this, it prevented blasts of sand from embedding itself in his hair. 

Futaba’s Shadow was waiting for him by the entrance, sitting calmly on the steps outside the pyramid. She glanced at him as he stepped onto the wooden walkway, shaking the sand off his boots as he strolled towards her nonchalantly. The closer to the steps Akira got, the more fidgety Shadow Futaba got, messing with the hem of her dress until Akira was only a few feet away. A moment passed, and then she couldn’t take it anymore; whipping her head around to look at him, Futaba jumped off the stairs and—

—

“I’ll say, Akira’s got balls for skipping this much of the day.” Ryuji strolled up to where Ann was sitting in the courtyard, handing her a bottle of soda, and sitting down across from her. 

“Ugh, I wish he would have told us! It’s not helping his reputation either…” Ann complained, opening her drink with a hiss. 

Silence settled over the area as the two ate, Ryuji nibbling on a bun from the school store and Ann tucking into a bento.

“Hey, Ann–”

“Oh, Ryuji–” 

“Sorry. You can go first.” Ryuji said, setting his food down on the bench he was sitting on.

“Alright…” Ann started, looking everywhere but where Ryuji was. “About the Palace.”

“I was gonna ask you– how ’re you holding up after all that?” The blond leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs.

“I’m fine, Ryuji. Better than before, even.” Ann sighed. “…Have you noticed it? Akira?”

“Yeah. Yeah I have. I’m worried, Ann, there’s somethin’ up with him, I swear–” 

“He blinked and killed a Palace Ruler. I know we haven’t been doing this for long, but there’s something he’s not telling us. That is not normal.” Ann finally looked him in the eye, gaze filled not with suspicion, but with concern. “I… I don’t want him to think that we’re not trustworthy, Ryuji. I can’t have another Shiho on my hands. Not again. Whatever Akira is involved with, whatever he’s going through, no matter how bad it is. We have to stick by him.”

—

–and… tackled him? 

“Akira!” She yelled, almost barreling him over in a tight hug, “You’re early, you’re early, you’re early!”

“ Futaba …” Akira breathed, breaking out in a grin and hugging her back as tight as he possibly could, spinning around with the momentum of the embrace. Six weeks without his sister was hard enough, Akira could barely take it, and now here she was; trapped in her own mind, but still here . There was no way in hell Akira was letting her go again.

Futaba shoved him backwards, holding her hands out in front of her in a ‘ stop ’ motion and looking at Akira with suspicion. “You’re… early? Akira, it’s April. What’re you doing here?”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you here! You, uhm … you also figured me out already, in the real world. And then proceeded to pass out. So now I’m dealing with your palace today, hopefully before I have to go to school!”

“You don’t exactly make it hard to figure out, y’know…” Futaba mumbled. “But the fact still stands, you’re incredibly weak– how do you expect to even step one foot in the door?”

—

“Where the hell did Akira get that kind of Persona!” Ryuji exclaimed.

“Uh, isn’t he some kind of Wildcard? That’s what the shadow said, right?” Ann replied, confusion lacing her words.

“Yeah, but… but…! But I don’t know! It’s just not normal, man! There was nothin’ in that damn palace that strong, and even if there was , there’s no way Akira’s gettin’ it by normal means–”

“ Ryuji! ” Ann shouted, slamming down her lunch onto the plastic bench. “Just… just drop it, okay? We’re doing good, we’re helping people. For all I care, Akira could summon the Messiah himself, and I would not bat an eye. If it becomes an issue, we’ll deal with it then.”

“Man… I don’t like thinkin’ about my friend like a bomb waitin’ to explode…”

—

“You remember The Velvet Room, right? All of my Personas that’d joined my ranks are saved into this book, and for some reason, it didn’t reset with the rest of everything else.”

“Like a detachable harddrive! Separate, but with the same data as the main unit! Are you telling me that you’ve got insanely OP Persona’s at your beck and call right now?!”

Akira called out Izanagi-no-Okami Picaro, having him float calmly in the air.

“Remember this guy?” Akira said, gesturing backwards.

“Holy shit! That thing’s stats are probably off the charts!” Futaba’s eyes were almost visibly gleaming. Knowing her, she wanted nothing more than to analyze every aspect of the thing, down to the last atom.

Akira dispelled Izanagi-no-Okami as Futaba grabbed him by the wrist, running towards the Palace entrance and dragging him behind. 

“There’s no time to waste, you’ve gotta get to school! Hurry up and clear the dungeon, Joker! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go !”

—

Navigating the Palace was easier the second time around, not to mention how much faster the puzzles were with Futaba’s help. She couldn’t enter the Safe Rooms, so Akira didn’t tend to spend much time in there; opting to sit outside the door when he needed to rest. It was hard to see the things in Futaba’s cognition.

Everything bad that had ever happened to her was played out in picturesque detail on the stone slates, and while this time it wasn’t shown to a crowd of seven, it was still gruesome. Akira didn’t comment on Futaba’s perpetual look of discomfort, if she wanted to address it, she would on her own terms. There was no use pushing the topic before she was ready.

They were more than halfway through the Palace now, getting closer and closer to the top of the pyramid when Futaba stopped in her tracks, crumpling to the ground and bringing her knees to her chest.

“Alright.” Akira sat down next to her, talking into the space in front of the two. Futaba hated eye contact with a passion . He didn’t want to risk making her more upset with an accidental glance. “It’s time to talk, Futaba. Your terms, or mine; I’ll let you decide.”

Futaba was silent for a second, clearly trying to speak, but choking on the words as she lightly rocked in circles.

“I– It’s just– I can’t trust my own mind , Akira– Do you even know how that feels? I remember that I love my mom, and that she loved me, but… but I see her here, screaming horrible, horrible things at me, and I can’t help but change back into who I was before you came along to help.”

She was looking out into the distance now, seeing something that Akira couldn’t.

“She’s here now, actually.” Futaba pointed to the empty space in front of her, crumpling a little bit as she did. “My mom, that is. Wakaba. She looks just like she did when she jumped in front of that damn car. When I– When Shido killed her.”

Futaba let her arm drop, letting her forehead rest on her knees.

“It’s funny,” She laughed, meekly. “I can’t seem to get her screams out of my head.”

Akira sat in silence as Futaba cried, sobbed, screamed into the chill air of the pyramid. It echoed off the sandstone walls, making the sounds of sniffles the only thing heard for a while.

‘How sickeningly poetic,’ Akira thought. He made sure to speed through the rest of the Palace after that.

—

In all his hurry, Akira didn’t account for the fact that there was a real-world aspect to Futaba’s palace: her bedroom door. In the Metaverse, it was a big green elevator with caution tape and a succinct ‘ KEEP OUT’ sign on it. An elevator that would not open unless the real Futaba Sakura was willing to let Akira into her room. Someone she had talked to a grand total of two times. Shit.

“Well, Futaba, the rest is pretty much up to you.”

“Aw, man…” Futaba mumbled. “I’ll try my best from in here, Akira! I’ll… I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’ll do something! I promise you!”

“And I’ll try my best from outside. I swear, I won’t let you rot in here.”

“...Pinky promise?”

Futaba held out her hand, pinky extended, looking anywhere but Akira with a nervous expression.

“Pinky promise.”

—

It was still dark out when Akira returned to the real world, which he thanked his lucky stars for. Even though his trip through the Metaverse had thoroughly exhausted him, physically and emotionally, there was still a chance that Akira could make it to school. If he had to leave at 6:25 for the train and it was now… 20:56?! Sojiro was going to kill him. He’d been missing all day, no note, no call, no nothing. And Sojiro still hated him. He was fucked.

The drifting noise of the TV from downstairs reached Akira’s ears, giving him a spur of the moment idea.

“ ...More news… mental shutdown… train schedules… ”

The trains ! Akira knew where Akechi lived now, and that guy was a professional liar! The evening trains were still running, and Akira’s window was perfectly person sized, making it easy to slip out into the back alleys of Yongen and make it to the station undetected.

It took Akechi an appallingly long time to open his front door. Akira was standing there for almost a whole five minutes before the other man deigned to say hello.

“You look like shit.” Akechi stood before Akira in his pajamas, solid black t-shirt draping over fuzzy navy blue pants, adorned with tiny Featherman characters in neat rows.

“Are those Featherman characters?”

“Goodbye, Akira.” Akechi started to close the door, glaring at Akira as he did.

“Okay, okay, wait–” Akira threw himself through the threshold, shoving Akechi out of the way and stumbling inside. 

“This is breaking and entering, you know. I should call the police.” Akechi grumbled, closing the door and pulling out the same chair Akira sat at last time he was in Akechi’s home for him to sit in.

“I fucked up. I think, at least.”

“Nothing new…” Akechi grumbled. “Alright then, out with it. What did you do now?”

Akira winced. “I… finished Futaba’s Palace?”

“You what .”

“I finished Futaba’s Palace. It took the whole day, from when it was dark out in the morning to just now, and I think Sojiro is going to kick me out.” Akira squeezed his eyes shut, cracking one open to see Akechi’s reaction.

“Are you,” Akechi smiled, “ fucking kidding me?”

Silent rage. The worst kind. Akechi took a deep breath, grimacing as he spoke.

“Do you even know how badly you could’ve just fucked things up? I don’t know what kind of world you’re living in, Akira, where you can afford to just… do whatever you want, whenever you want, but things have to happen a certain way . I’m sure you’ve already figured that much out.” 

“I’m well aware of what ‘has to happen’ Akechi, well aware. Do you think I enjoyed letting Shiho fall? Do you think I enjoyed letting Ann get harassed by Kamoshida? Do you think I fucking enjoyed watching Ryuji almost get killed, while I watched and did nothing ? Don’t talk to me about what has to be done. You have no idea.”

“ I have to kill people, Akira! ” Akechi hissed. It looked like he wanted to scream at Akira, an almost feral expression on his face. 

“...I’d hope you don’t think so low of me as to believe that I ever enjoyed murdering innocent people.” He spat at Akira, sneering.

“We’re both just puppets, huh...” Akira kicked his foot against the carpet, tapping his toe on the ground before speaking again. “Ha… I have no idea what I’ll tell Sojiro when I get back. You think I can crash here when he decides to kick me out?”

“I’d rather sauté my innards and eat them with a broken plastic spork I found in a blazing dumpster. Besides, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about him asking any questions. Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Akira checked over his arms and torso, only to find huge black and blue bruises covering his body. While War Cry healed his wounds in the Metaverse, Akira still remembered taking those hits; the slash to his side, the gunshot to his shoulder, the knife that hit his forearm. All now horribly bruised and discolored. 

“Here.” Akechi threw him a jacket. “For the train. Don’t get questioned by cops, avoid them entirely if you can.”

“Thanks, Akechi–”

“Leave. Now.”

“Okay.”

It was 2 hours to midnight when Akira returned to Leblanć. There wasn’t a customer in sight, which was normal, but Sojiro wasn’t stationed behind the bar either. The lights were still on as well, which made it all the more confusing, and worsened the splitting migraine he’d developed on the train. The clattering of the bell on the door sounded a thousand miles away as Akira walked in. Was it hotter in here than when he left? Sojiro must have turned the heating up for some reason.

Vaguely, Akira recognized the pink collar of Sojiro’s shirt sitting in a booth, facing him from where the older man was sitting. Everything was blurry. Really blurry. Sojiro was moving now, to where? Akira couldn’t tell. Sojiro was probably saying something. Probably something important, but Akira couldn’t hear him through the ringing in his ears. His vision swam, black spots dancing in his eyes as waves of nausea rolled over him. Akira tried his very best to keep the bile in, really. But there was only so much he could do before vomiting on the floor. 

The last thing Akira thought before crumpling to the ground was, ‘ Sojiro is going to kill me, ’ blacking out promptly after.

Chapter Text

The sharp springs of Akira’s beat-up mattress were the first thing he felt when he came to. Not the cold towel on his forehead, not the thermometer in his mouth, but those goddamn springs. His eyes were somewhat crusted shut, gunk continuing to blur his sight after he tried to look around his room.

“Hey, take it easy,” Sojiro was walking up the stairs towards Akira, holding a bowl of something and a fresh towel. “I’ll get grey hairs at this rate…”

“Like you don’t already.” Akira mumbled, trying to rub the fuzz out of his vision after sitting up.

“Watch it.” Sojiro huffed. “Care to explain where you were on Thursday? Care to explain why you look like you got hit by a semi-truck? Care to explain, Akira , why you walked in my door, threw up on the ground, and then blacked out?” He set the bowl down on the table with Akira’s TV, hollowly thudding against the cheap plastic top. 

“Shit– I can go clean that up, I’m sorry–” Akira tried to swing himself out of bed, intending to grab the cleaning supplies from under the bathroom sink and clean up the floor, hopefully before his stomach acid corroded away the wood polish on the floorboards. Keyword: tried. Stars danced in his vision as he stood up, threatening to take him down to the ground once more. Luckily enough, Akira managed to fall back onto his bed, ending up in a sitting position as the black spots faded from view.

“Are you deranged? Is there something wrong with you? Kid, you’ve been asleep for almost two days, and you’re trying to clean? ”

“...My bad?” Akira winced, scrunching up his shoulders with a nervous grin.

“ Your bad? ” Sojiro looked at him in bewilderment, at a loss for words past parroting back Akira’s own. Eventually he recovered, leveling the same look that Futaba gives– gave Akira whenever he did something stupid in his direction. “If you want to help so badly, you can work in the shop tomorrow. Let’s call it your punishment for sneaking out.” 

With that, Sojiro left back downstairs, shaking his head exasperatedly. Akira fell backwards onto his bed, staring at the deep brown of the ceiling beams.

“ Eat your soup! ” 

So that's what was in the bowl. It was slightly cold now, but nothing beat Sojiro’s cooking. Akira remembered a day in the rainy season, he got caught mid-storm; no coat, no umbrella, and wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. Needless to say, he caught a nasty cold. Sojiro dug out the portable stove from Akira’s room to make him soup. Chicken noodle, one of the old ladies down the street hand-made the noodles as well. 

Would he still get that cold now? So many things had already changed, so early into the year, would anything be the same? For all he could try, people would be people, and there was no guarantee that Akira would even have the same friends, the same connections.

His train of thought was pushed to the back of his mind as Akira checked his notifications. Many missed texts from Ryuji, and even more from Ann.

—

Ryuji 

Dude! Where are you WTF!

9:45

If you were skipping school, you could’ntve told me???

9:48

Ugh. Ann is correcting my spelling.

9:49

Why is Kawakami walking up to me?me.

12:13

Akira. Dude. What did you do…

12:13

YOU'RE IN A COMA?

12:16

[ Missed Call From - Ryuji ]

[ Missed Call From - Ryuji ]

[ Missed Call From - Ryuji ]

[ Missed Call From - Ryuji ]

[ 9+ Other Notifications]

—

Ann

Akiraaaaaaa where are youuuuuuu :(

9:40

Did you really have to pick today of all days to skip??

9:44

Ryuji sucks at typing lol

9:50

RYUJI IS RUNNING AT ME LIKE HE’S FROM TERMINATOR

12:18

Terminator is an American movie if you didn’t know!!

12:19

OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?

12:22

AKIRA?

12:22

[ Missed Call From - Ann ]

[ Missed Call From - Ann ]

[ Missed Call From - Ann ]

[ Missed Call From - Ann ]

[ Missed Call From - Ann ]

[ Missed Call From - Ann ]

[ 9+ Notifications ]

—

…Maybe Akira should tell them that he was alive.

—

Ann, Ryuji

Hey guys what’s up lol

18:23

Ann

AKIRA WHAT THE HELL

18:23

Ryuji

BRO

18:24

Ryuji

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

18:24

Ann

ARE YOU OKAY??

18:24

Yeah I’m great why what’s up

18:26

Oh

18:26

Ann

OH????? WE WERE TOLD YOU WERE COMATOSE

18:26

Ryuji

??? WE WERE TOLD HE WAS IN A COMA

18:27

Ann

That is. THE SAME THING RYUJI

18:27

lols

18:29

Ann

AKIRA.

18:30

Okay okay!! Seriously I’m fine guys, I went into the 

Metaverse and I used up too much energy. Didn’t work out 

well when I ended up going out right afterwards.

18:33

Ryuji

What’re you doing in the Metaverse??

18:35

Oh there’s this place called Mementos

18:36

You can ask Morgana about it,

he can explain it better than I
18:36

That is, if you still have Morgana

18:38

…Do you still have Morgana?

18:39

Guys?

18:40

…WHO HAS MY CAT?

18:42

Ann

He says he’s not a cat!

18:43

You guys are evil. You know that?

18:44

Ryuji

Hey man, I was takin’ a piss, don’t blame me…

18:45

Ann

TMI, Ryuji. 

18:46

Ryuji

My bad

18:46

…Anyway, I’ll be at school on Monday

18:47

And I will be taking Morgana back at that point!!

18:48

—

Monday came and went; Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and most of Friday did too. All leading up to Akira starting to drift off to sleep, now feeling and looking a whole lot better than before, just to be jolted awake by his phone’s ringtone. He’d never bothered to change it away from the default settings, never felt the need to, but it always tended to grate on his nerves after a while.

“Hello…?” Answering the phone half asleep was getting far too common for Akira nowadays.

“It’s me.” Akechi. Of course.

“Hello, Akechi.”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to state who I am, Akira, however I’ve called to inform you that you will be spending the day with me tomorrow. Cancel your other plans, assuming you have any.”

“And do I get a say in any of this?”

“What do you think?” 

“Alright. Are you picking me up, or...?”

Akechi scoffed into the receiver. “I’ll meet you in Shibuya. Central Street. 10 AM. Don’t be late.”

“And if I am?” Akira teased.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” The line went dead as the other man hung up, and Akira could not tell if Akechi was joking or not.

Akira never noticed just how much he relied on other people to fill the space of his room, never noticed until there wasn’t anyone to even try. Really, he never spent much time in there anyway. How did he stay sane with this kind of silence? With this kind of space? Akira checked his notifications, double checked, triple checked. Nothing. It was all too quiet. 

Akira got to Shibuya at 9:45, sitting on a bench outside the station as he nervously looked around for Akechi’s arrival. At some point, he had tried to mindlessly scroll on his phone, ignoring the people passing by him as the minutes were to hopefully fly by, yet he couldn’t keep his eye off the clock while his mind raced. It was a hearty 10:05 before Akechi walked up to where Akira was, holding a to-go cup of coffee.

“You’re late.” Akira all but vomited out.

“You never asked me to be on time.” Akechi countered.

Akira sighed, standing up begrudgingly. “Well? Where are we off to, mister detective? Do I get to know now?”

Akechi took a sip of his drink, taking his sweet time before responding to Akira’s question, even starting to walk into the train station before calling over his shoulder. “Keep up, you wouldn’t want to miss the train now!”

Akira grumbled under his breath, hopefully insulting Akechi quietly enough so that he wouldn’t hear from where he was. However, the smallest twitch of his shoulders gave Akira the idea that he could’ve possibly heard at least some of it…

Typical of Akechi, all attempts that Akira made to converse while walking to the train were met with stone cold silence, save for the twitch of an eyebrow every so often. Akira had the courtesy to respect the silent bubble of the train, he wasn’t that uncouth, but in his last futile attempts to get Akechi to talk to him, Akira had missed the announcement to where exactly the train he was getting on was headed. How wonderful. 

The two ended up getting spit out at a completely unfamiliar place, filled with busy streets and tall buildings that surrounded them on either side.

“Welcome to Kichijoji.” Akechi stated, throwing his now empty drink cup in a nearby trash can.

“Real busy, eh?” Akira mumbled, trying to avoid the wave of people that had just come out of a popular store, and were streaming past him like a school of fish.

“Only during the day.” Akechi hummed, cryptically. “Follow me.” 

Akechi wove through the hordes of people like a natural, not running into anyone, while also making it seem like he wasn’t actively going against the flow of traffic. It was an effort just to keep pace with him; Akira was clumsy, always had been, always would be, and he ended up having to apologize to many more people than Akechi did.

Akira was led to a cozy cafe, slightly elevated off of the ground with a small patio outside, holding a few tables and chairs on it. It looked mostly empty, save for the staff inside, but Akechi surveyed the place like he was going to have to fight tooth and nail just to get a seat.

“Sit, I’ll order for us.” Akechi demanded, not waiting for an answer before heading inside the store.

He ended up at a table near the fencing, not right next to the stairs that he took to get up here, but not on the sheer opposite side of the patio. Akechi returned with a coffee for Akira, and two plates of some sort of cake, which he set down on the table.

“Looks great, thanks!” Akira said, going to grab the silverware from the other man’s hand.

“Not quite,” Akechi said, pulling his hand back slightly, just out of Akira’s grabbing range. “We’ll talk first, then eat. I’ve provided you with a drink that you may consume as an appetizer.” 

Akira dropped his arm in defeat, resting his face on his other hand. “You’re so weird, Akechi…” The words came out somewhat slurred, his palm was digging into his cheek, squishing it into his teeth and limiting his jaw-based movement. In return, Akechi flashed him one of his signature plastic smiles, all faux cheeriness and concealed rage. Before the detective could speak, words from passersby reached them.

“I feel like I know that guy from somewhere… The one with the brown hair looks awfully familiar…”

Akechi grimaced slightly as Akira glanced over to where the stranger on the street was standing.

“...It seems this location won’t work for this kind of conversation, shall we–”

“Nah. Here, hide behind me?” Akira walked over to where Akechi was sitting, shielding him from the road. “I’ve got a way to get ‘em off our back.” He tugged off his glasses, placing them smoothly on the other man’s face. The look of sheer, abject horror on Akechi’s face was one that Akira would treasure for the rest of his life. He tore his hands through the brunette's hair, tangling and fluffing up the normally silky smooth shag that Akechi typically wore.

When he was finished, Akira all but danced back over to his chair, sitting down to admire his work. 

“I’m never getting these tangles out, do you hear me? What have you done. I will be billing you for my inevitable hair appointment. I know where you live.” Akechi was looking at Akira with sheer hate in his eyes, something that was almost wholly hidden by the light reflecting off of the plastic lenses. Was this what Akira looked like normally?

“Hey, it worked, right?” Akira lazily pointed over to where the few people who had stopped had started to disperse, saying things that neither of the two could hear. “Now we can talk like you wanted to.”

“...I suppose this is fine.” Akechi gritted out.

“That’s the spirit!”

“Be quiet.”

“How rude…”

“ Akira ,” The detective hissed. He tended to do that a lot, break character with Akira, snap, hiss, or plain threaten him. “Now is not the time for mindless drivel. Everything today has been a test for you, to see if we’d even end up having this conversation here and now.”

He sighed, taking off Akira’s glasses and folding them to place on the table, folding his hands together. 

“…Unfortunately, you passed with flying colors. So now, I extend the offer. Let’s make a deal .”

Chapter Text

“A deal. Sure, why the hell not.” Akira said, sarcastically going for a handshake while raising an eyebrow. “I’d love to hear more about what I’m signing myself up for Akechi, if you would be so kind.”

Akechi stared at him with all the unenthusiasm he could possibly muster, glaring at Akira through his eyebrows. “Do you always have to be so difficult, Akira? It seems I should bring a roll of tape with me on our future outings, in case I need to say something without being interrupted.”

“Future outings?”

“How perceptive of you. Yes, future outings. I need to see what makes you different from the Akira of this world, where he went, and why we’re reliving the year.” Akechi stated, laying all his cards on the table. “I refuse to live in a… time loop .” He spat, disgust fluttering across his face.

“And how do I benefit from this?”

“For one, I won’t kill you, and expose your secret to the media–”

“Okay, let’s not be hasty –”

“Shut it. And two, this isn’t your world. These aren’t your friends, only different versions of the ones you once knew. Things are not how you remember them, people aren’t how you remember them. Especially now that you’ve gone and meddled with things. Luckily, you have me. I know how everything turns out, how the cookie crumbles and whatnot. For your cooperation, I offer you insider knowledge, a leg up in a world you know nothing about. Do we have a deal?”

Akechi stuck out his hand, resting his elbow on the table. He’d laid all of his plans out for Akira, fully transparent, to his benefit. Akechi knew that Akira would’ve said yes to a deal either way, to his own detriment or not, but here he was, telling the truth.

Or was he? There was always something with the detective, a lie of omission hidden under layers and layers of a carefully crafted facade, and there was probably some now. Akechi’s face showed no signs of betrayal, but then again, when did it ever? There was something behind the cold of his eyes, something that Akira was just a sliver away from grasping, something that maybe he could come to understand if he actually agreed to this deal.

“Deal.” Akira shook his hand.

“I’m glad you’re capable of seeing reason. I will be contacting you at a later date, likely after that gym teacher of yours has confessed.”

“Alright. Now that you mention it, that’s right around the corner, isn’t it?”

“You’d know better than me, Akira.” Akechi stood up, pushing in his chair. “Well then. Until next time.”

“See y’later, Akechi.”

—

The morning of May 2nd filled Akira with curdling dread, and bubbling excitement at the same time, reacting similarly to orange juice and milk in his stomach. Ryuji met him just before the gate, waiting at the vending machines to catch Akira before he headed into class.

“Yo, Akira! Today’s the day, man!”

“Ryuji, hey! Did you hear about the assembly? ‘Supposed to be right after lunch, at least, that’s what I heard.”

It was not what Akira heard, but what Akira knew would come to pass. 

“Dude, really? Do you think it’s about… y’know…” Kamoshida, the expulsion, Shiho, all the things that they’d been doing that were toeing the line of legality— Ryuji could be talking about any one of them.

“Nah,” Akira responded, shifting the bag on his shoulder, “I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

Akira had curry for lunch, curry that was nearing closer to room temperature in the plain black box Sojiro had handed him before Akira walked out the door, eying him carefully. It’d been a little while since his stunt with the Metaverse, and Sojiro was still keeping a sturdy gaze on him. 

There was little to no reason for Akira to remember all of this in such detail, virtually none at all, yet he couldn’t help how his mind strayed if he stopped focusing on the little things. All the incredibly fucked up things he’d witnessed seeped into the cracks of his mind as if they were fungi worming their way into rotting wood. Ann and Ryuji’s laughter had thrown him back to palaces to come, carelessly chattering away in Safe Rooms while the team took a breather from fighting shadows. The question was, should he involve his friends this time around? 

The things that Akira inadvertently roped them into haunted him. Shido’s palace, the depths of Mementos, dying, he had to wonder if it was safer to leave them all out of this in the first place. Kamoshida’s palace was unavoidable, but realistically, Akira could finish the rest of them on his own. 

He stirred his curry, moving it from left, to right, and then smoothing the rice out evenly. How would he even tell them? Doing it at the buffet seemed too cruel, no need to put a damper on a celebration… Would it be better to do it here and now?

“Guys,” Akira started.

“What’s up?” Ann whirled around to face him, forgetting about the crepe she had in her hand. 

Unfortunately for Akira, he was made very presently aware of it, as the filling flung out of it, hitting him squarely in the face. The whipped cream slowly slid off of his glasses and fell onto his lap, letting him see Ann poorly stifling laughter behind her hand.

“It’s in your hair, bro!” Ryuji cackled, pointing a finger at Akira while nearly falling off of his seat. Ann soon joined, unable to hide her laughter anymore. He could not deny the smile that played across his lips as he started to wipe his glasses off with the napkin that Sojiro had packed along with the lunch.

“I think I’ll go wash this off,” Akira laughed. “I’ll see you guys at the assembly.”

“Wait– Weren’t you goin’ to say somethin’?” Ryuji called after Akira, who was rounding the corner out of the courtyard.

“Don’t worry about it!” He called back over his shoulder, just before entering the building. 

—

Bonds , a voice that sounded eerily similar to Justine’s chided, are your strength. Do not sever them over a mere train of thought.

Kobayakawa’s words droned, similar to how a fly would buzz around a piece of old fruit. On and on about whatever topic they had gathered for, Akira was not paying attention. Instead, he was glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes before–

“Mister Kamoshida!?”  

Before that .

There was something off this time, in place of soul crushing guilt, Kamoshida’s eyes were full of… fear? He looked at the student body with sheer horror, as if they were wild beasts simply waiting for the right moment to tear him to shreds. He stuck close to the walls as he made his way to the stage, shuddering as he faced the crowd. 

When he started to speak, Akira took that as his chance to sneak a glance at his friends. Ryuji looked confused, per usual, but Ann? Ann had a look in her eye, one that was nearly incapable of being put into words. It was cruel in nature, but not in an angry way. If Akira had to guess, it was a look of grim satisfaction– stemming from Kamoshida having the tables flipped on him, for once in his life.

Kamoshida’s words delved into mumbling, incomprehensible through the microphone he had grabbed as he stared holes in the floor. Ann was the first to say something, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

“I can’t hear you.”

Stone cold, and said with an icy glare. Ann shut Kamoshida up with a simple phrase. Hell, the people surrounding her shuffled out of her way. No one wanted to be in the crossfires of whatever was about to happen. And his response to it all? His response was heard . You could hear Kamoshida’s screams from the courtyard, lamenting what he had done, and what he would do, after he left the school. 

The silence that reverberated inside of the gymnasium was more chilling than the words that were just spoken. All of the Shujin students loved to gossip, it was practically built into the school, but in these few moments, there was nothing to do but steep in the gravity of what Kamoshida had just admitted to.

“You’re pathetic.” Ann spat.“If you were truly sorry, you’d atone for what you’ve done, you craven bastard .”

—

Akechi

I think I messed up the timeline again.

18:32

Akechi

Nothing new. We will discuss it 

at our next meeting.

18:33

Not now? It’s pretty simple, I can

type it in a few minutes.

18:33

Akechi

Please recall whom you live adjacent to. 

18:35

—

The first two weeks of May came and went;

Kamoshida was arrested, Morgana had now officially started living with Akira, and most importantly, The Phantom Thieves were now an official group! Morgana had introduced the other two to Mementos not long after, and thus, the first whisperings of Ichiryusai Madarame’s name were heard. Finally, the fateful May 14th rolled around, bringing the first hints of the rainy season with it.

“Hey, guys?” Ann started. The group was heading into Shibuya after school, planning on having a quick meal at the diner, and discussing who to target next in their Phantom Thief escapades. “I think there’s someone following us.”

Akira hummed. “You’re right, I’ve felt someone’s gaze on us since we got out of the train.” 

“What a creep…” Ryuji muttered.

“Care to catch him?” Akira tilted his head towards Ann. “Just stand off to the side, and Ryuji and I will stay outta sight until the guy tries to approach you.”

“Whoa… That’s smart, dude!”

“Thank you Ryuji. Ann, what do you say?”

Ann had already ducked off to the side, standing by a bench as she pulled out her phone. “I say scram, don’t wanna let him see you guys, right?”

Seeing a familiar head of navy-blue hair weave through the afternoon crowd filled Akira with a sense of nostalgia that was not unknown to him. Yusuke was almost a full head above everyone else walking past him, which meant that his surveying the crowd for Ann was crystal clear. 

Ryuji nudged Akira, nodding in Yusuke’s direction. “Think that’s our guy?”

“Seeing as he’s walking up to Ann right now, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Shit– We gotta get over there!”

Ann shifted as Yusuke walked up to her, furrowing her brow at her phone as he reached out a hand towards her, and ultimately relaxing when Akira and Ryuji stepped in front of her. 

“Do you need something?” Akira said, catching Yusuke by the wrist. He’d always felt kind of bad for Yusuke– really, the poor guy looked shocked when he’d first been confronted about his creepiness. This time, Akira was sure to be–

“Yes, you are just the person I was looking for!” 

What?

Yusuke slid his arm ever so slightly out of Akira’s grip, grabbing his hand earnestly and pulling him closer. “I was going to ask your friend here where you had gone, if not for your contact information too, but I simply beg of you! You must be the model for my next painting!”

“I– Me? You want me ? To model?” Akira was incredibly confused. This was supposed to be Ann’s thing, where they’d send her off to model, try to weasel some questions out of Yusuke, and subsequently fail! Sure, a couple of people who had hired Ann for a photoshoot had asked him to participate as well, but to catch the eye of Yusuke of all people? His charm must’ve been higher than he thought.

“Ah, so this is where you’ve wandered off to, Yusuke.” Madarame’s voice sounded from the street, where he sat inside of the car that was chauffeuring him around. “When you said you were chasing inspiration, I didn’t think you meant literally! Consider this a lesson: While we may chase as we like, women are quite–”

Yusuke cut in before Madarame could finish. “I’ve actually asked this man right here, Sensei. But please, what were you going to say about a lesson?”

“...I suppose it wouldn’t apply to you, then. Very well, hurry and finish up here. Our destination awaits.”

“Of course, Sensei. Here,” Yusuke turned to Akira once more, pulling out a ticket from his back pocket, and scribbling something down on the paper. “A museum in Ueno is displaying my Sensei’s work for the rest of the month, so here’s a ticket for opening night. I’ll take your answer then. Farewell!”

“Wait, can my friends come? They enjoy the arts as well, I’d hate to leave them out.”

Yusuke thought for a moment, before fishing another two tickets out of his pocket. “...Don’t let them cause a disturbance.”

Yusuke got into the car, and drove away, taking Madarame with him, and leaving Ryuji and Ann to stare at Akira with confusion.

“Um. Care for a ticket?” Akira laughed, awkwardly.

“I don’t really care about that, I wanna know what he wrote on that ticket!” Ann said, elbowing Ryuji out of the way to look over Akira’s shoulder.

“What the hell– Your elbows are so boney, that hurt!”

“Be a man, Ryuji,” She joked. “Well Akira? What’s on it?”

“Huh. I think it’s his phone number.”

—

Yusuke

Hello, is this the guy with the blue hair who 

asked me to model for him yesterday?

16:20

Yusuke

Indeed! Thank you for reaching out.

I had expected to not hear from you

until the exhibit’s start.
16:25

Amazing! Sorry for the vagueness,
you didn’t really introduce yourself 

when we first met earlier!

 Can I ask your name?

16:27

Yusuke

My apologies, I am Yusuke Kitagawa.

And you are?

16:28

I’m Akira Kurusu , but 

please, call me Akira.
16:29

Yusuke

Very well, it is nice to be

acquainted with you, Akira.

16:30

Yusuke

Have you given any thought to my proposal?
16:32

I have! I’m inclined to say yes, but I’d like to 

chat with you more about it before I fully agree to

anything. The exhibit starts tomorrow, correct?

16:34

Yusuke

Correct. I look forward to seeing you there.

16:34 

Chapter Text

“Madarame. Madarame, Madarame, Madarame. Why does that sound so familiar?” Ryuji kicked a stray rock as the group walked the streets of Ueno.

“He’s a popular figure, Skull. The news has talked about him multiple times, maybe you’re just remembering him from there?” Morgana said, poking his head out of Akira’s bag.

“I dunno, try looking him up?” Ann replied.

“I am, but all I’m getting are news articles and people’s blogs. This one says he’s starving his pupils to indoctrinate them into the art world. Think it holds any cred’?” Ryuji joked.

“Well, hang on. There was that guy in Mementos who mentioned him, right?” Akira said, turning to face Ryuji.

“Holy shit. Maybe this blog isn’t lying! That guy from the other day did look a little skinny…” Ryuji trailed off in favor of more feverishly scrolling on his phone.

“Well, look alive! We’re at the museum already.” Akira laughed, spinning back around to face the building in front of them. Yusuke was leaning against the wall outside of the building, surveying the passing crowd as they entered the museum. Akira paused for a second, dramatically whispering to Ann before continuing on. 

“How much do you think he’ll let slide in the hopes of getting me to model?”

Ann laughed, “If you can get him to overlook Morgana, I’ll give you 500 yen.”

“I’ll take those odds.” 

Akira strolled up to Yusuke, waving as he approached the man. “Hello Yusuke! This place looks really cool, I’m so excited to see what’s on display!” 

“Akira, hello! I am glad to see that you made it here safely. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to show you the exhibit as just the two of us..?” Yusuke questioned, holding out his arm slightly for Akira to take. 

Akira smiled, glasses shifting on his face as he readjusted the Mona-Bag. “That sounds great! One thing before we go, though…”

Vaguely, Akira thought he could hear Ann mutter an excited ‘ Oh my God’ under her breath. Hopefully, her face and subpar acting wouldn’t reveal his low-stakes ploy before he’d even started enacting it. 

“It’s my cat.”

“...Sorry?”

“My cat– He’s in the bag right now, actually, but I just– I can’t go anywhere without him right now.”

“Hm. Forgive me for being impolite, but–”

“ Please , Yusuke,” Akira was laying it on thick, fake tears forming in the corners of his eyes whilst he batted his eyelashes. His maxed out charm was for nothing if he couldn’t get this to work. “I really can’t leave him alone, he’s very sick right now–”

“Hey! I am not frail, Joker!” Morgana yowled, shifting around inside of the bag in protest.

“ –Just listen to his voice! He’ll stay in the bag, I promise!” It was all or nothing, and Akira never half-assed anything as incredibly funny as this. He let a stray tear slide down his cheek, sealing the deal and successfully becoming 500 yen richer. 

“I suppose it’s alright. I’d quite like to meet him at some point, maybe when he’s recovered from his… cat sickness?” Yusuke said, looking at the bag hesitantly.

“ I am not a cat! ” 

“I’m sure he’d be fine with it! He’s very friendly.” Akira said, walking with Yusuke into the museum. 

The exhibit was beautiful, something that he hadn’t quite gotten to appreciate the last time around. Yusuke took him through a methodical path around the museum, talking in depth about the details of every painting, down to the brushstrokes that were visible. There was also a… more than healthy amount of praise for Madarame not-so subtly weaved into his words, but Akira chose to ignore that.

The tour settled to an end as museum guests started to trickle out, sunset trickling in through the large glass windows as Yusuke and Akira stood near the exit of the building.

“While I didn’t have nearly as much time as I would’ve liked–” Yusuke began.

‘It’s been three hours, my friends are gone, and probably think I’m dead at this point, but no, please, we can spend more time looking at paintings until security throws us out!’ Akira thought, giving the other man a polite smile.

“–I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless.” He paused, flicking his vision away from Akira’s face as he continued to speak. “Have you, perhaps, given any thought towards..?”

“Hm? Right, the modeling! Of course, I’d love to do it. Send me a date and time, yeah?”

Yusuke’s face lit up with excitement. “Right, of course! I shall send you information promptly. Farewell, Akira!” He said, before scurrying off back into the museum.

“Blegh– I thought I was going to suffocate in that bag, Joker!” Morgana said, bursting his head out of his cloth-prison as Akira walked back towards the station.

“Sorry Mona,” Akira laughed, “I’ll buy you some fatty tuna on the way home.”

“You better…” Morgana grumbled, before diving back down.

Akira checked his phone while waiting for the train, wondering where Ann and Ryuji had wandered off to whilst he was being whisked around by Yusuke, and saw a few unread texts waiting to be read.

—

Ann, Ryuji

Ann

Akira it’s been like. An hour and a half.

17:34

Ryuji

Ann and I are outta here dude… 

I almost died of boredom

17:36

Ann 

And I’m not giving you that 500 yen

because flirting with him is cheating!!!

17:37

Ryuji

Was he rlly flirting??

17:37

Ann

I’m sorry did you not see the

batting of the eyelashes? 

17:38

Ryuji

Damn... I support u bro! I love gay people!!

17:39

Ann

You’re the gay people, Ryuji.

17:40

[+9 More Unread]

—

The assembly that happened at school the next day was new. To Akira’s knowledge, there was nothing remotely like this that happened in May– but here he was, in the gym, waiting for Kobayakawa to come onstage. He could barely see the top of someone’s head peeking out from the wings of the stage, but it was no one familiar to him. Well, as familiar as the top of a head could be. Eventually, Kobayakawa made his appearance, clearing his throat into the microphone to silence the gym.

He mumbled some apologies to the students and nonsense about keeping up the school's image, all which Akira, in typical fashion, tuned out. He went on for a bit, before stopping to gesture at someone from across the stage.

“–Doctor Maruki!”

Maruki? A man in a lab coat and glasses walked on stage, surveying the crowd of students as he went up to the microphone stand.

“Hello! My name is Dr. Takuto Maruki– but you already knew that, haha..!” Maruki placed a hand on the back of his neck, awkwardly laughing into the open space. Just who was this circus clown, and why was he here now? “Until November 17th, I’ll be Shujin Academy’s therapist. I understand that many of you were victims of unfair circumstances, so please, feel free to come and see me in the Nurse's Office if you need to talk at any time. Thank you for having me!” Maruki bowed, hitting his head on the microphone and recoiling backwards from the force. The student body laughed, but Akira stayed silent, chewing on something in his mind. 

He swore that Maruki made direct eye contact with him, the whole time.

—

“Excuse me, Kurusu-kun!” 

Akira turned his head towards the shout of his name, putting a pause on the conversation he was having with Ann and Ryuji. It was that creepy therapist, speed walking towards him with a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry— Do you need something, Doctor?” Akira was cautious. This was the most notable change from his memory so far, definitely something to bring up with Akechi. 

There was a flash of something in the man’s eye before he spoke again, smiling again without the nervous tinges from before. “I just thought I’d introduce myself to you all! The school has asked that I specifically see you, as you were directly involved with Kamoshida.”

“And if we don’t?” Ryuji said, crossing his arms as he looked at Maruki. 

“Erm, I hate to say it like this, but you don’t really have a choice…?” Maruki scrunched up his shoulders, looking apologetically at Ryuji. “The school was very insistent on this, Sakamoto-kun. Sorry!”

“Cool, I guess…” Ryuji grumbled. 

“Well,” Akira interrupted, “It was very nice to meet you, Dr. Maruki. We’ll be taking our leave now, but I’ll be sure to stop by sometime soon.” He hoped the caution wasn’t showing in his voice. 

“Ah, forgive me for keeping you! It was wonderful to meet you all. Goodbye!” Maruki rounded the corner back into the building, waving to other students as they called out to him fondly. 

“That guy was weird.” Ann said, leaning on the railing of the courtyard pathway. 

“Totally.” Akira replied. 

—

The days came and went; Akira went with his friend’s to Yusuke’s to model (fully clothed), Ryuji asked one too many wrong questions, Yusuke threw them out, Akira was informed that he would be modeling nude next visit, and promptly texted Mishima for dirt on Madarame. Akira was meeting with a man he’d seen in Mementos soon after, and then they were in. 

Palace exploration was nothing new, it never really was, but Akira had decided to switch back to Arséne in combat. Izanagi-no-Okami Picaro was to be used for special circumstances only . Besides a few of the stronger Persona’s that Akira took along the way, that was all he was working with. 

They were resting in the Safe Room, just after discovering the giant door blocking their way forward. Ann was splayed out on the couch whilst Ryuji was hunched over the table, all pitching ideas for how to make Madarame change his cognition. 

“My paws are pretty versatile, I can pick the lock and then open it for him to see!” Morgana pitched. 

“How’d you even get in there ‘n the first place?” Ryuji huffed. 

“I could go back to model for him?”

Ann lifted her head from the couch, turning towards Akira. “You’d be modeling nude, y’know. Do you really wanna go into the Metaverse in your birthday suit?”

“Balls out while fighting.” Akira joked. “But I wouldn’t really; I’d find a way around it.”

“Oh, I got it!” Ryuji said, snapping his fingers and sitting up. “You could wear a shit ton of clothes and, like, strip tease for him! That way Mona could sneak in before Madarame got back!”

“Skull. There is no way that would ever work.” Ann scoffed.

Akira sighed. “Also, I only have 3 shirts, total. Including my uniform. I think that’d be the worst ‘strip-tease’ ever.”

“We really need to go shopping, Joker. Seriously.” 

“Anyway,” Akira started, “We should head out for the day, we’ve done all we can do for now. I’ll text Yusuke tonight to determine when, and I’ll come up with something. Mona, I still think you should be the one to pick that lock. Panther, Skull, stay on stand-by inside the Palace— just in case. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that we might need to get out of Madarame’s war path quickly when he sees that door open.”

—

There was a hint of nervousness that flooded through him as Akira stood on Yusuke’s doorstep, waiting for him to answer the door. Madarame would be home in a mere thirty— no, twenty- nine minutes, and Akira had all that time to waste, just so they could get some measly door open. Morgana was ready to slip inside the moment Yusuke made his appearance, and Akira was only hoping that his plan wouldn’t fail miserably. 

The door slid open, Yusuke standing behind it, and Akira panicked; forgetting every little step of his finely detailed plan, before blurting out–

“I brought lunch!” 

Akira held up a greasy bag of food, and cursed everything that had ever led up to the position he was in now.

Chapter Text

Yusuke looked like he was more interested in the bag than he was Akira. 

An absolute win for him! So far, Akira’s plan was going off without a hitch, and it was always better to count the small things than to get hung up on the major losses.

It was a simple way to victory, but the steps were perfect. First; blind Yusuke with the offer of food (see: plastic bag from Lucky 7’s), then kill time while eating, and finally– open the door for Madarame’s eyes to view! It was flawless, completely and wholly. 

“I thought,” Akira started, fake innocence dripping off his words, “that we could start with a meal…? I’m not quite sure how long a painting would take, so I thought that it was better to be safe than sorry.”

“A work of this caliber will take many hours, yes. My deepest thanks for bringing lunch, for I would have nothing to offer if either of us were to hunger.” Yusuke was on autopilot at this point, preloaded responses simply blurting out of his mouth. 

Akira laughed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and stepped inside with a smile. The plan was, officially, halfway there.

—

In the brief moments that Akira fell out of the air, a few seconds before Yusuke landed right on his ribcage, he wondered if he owed Yusuke some sort of financial compensation for what he was just subject to in the name of messing with Madarame’s cognition. But then, speak of the devil and he shall appear, Madarame’s shadow was strolling up in that blindingly gold outfit, spewing the same bullshit-filled lies he always had.

Yusuke’s awakening always stuck with Akira, clinging to his memory like rice paper to water. It fit him so well, unlike his other friends. Most of his comrades simply fell to the ground with screams, or in Makoto’s case, shattered the floor with a single stomp. Yet it was always so out of character for them. Haru wanted to stand up to her father, but she collapsed in a heap; Ryuji wanted to be as strong as he once was, yet faltered anyway– but Yusuke? 

Yusuke danced with that skull-splitting pain, made the world spin with him instead of around him, and when he fell to the floor, he took the sky with him– scraping the skin off his fingertips as he clawed himself back upright, ripping off his mask and staring his teacher down through blood-filled eyes. He ripped through shadows with his sword like he was smearing paint on a canvas, and Akira thought to himself that this image, once again, would stay with him for a long, long time.

Silence hung heavy in the air in the moments after the shadows dusted away in the wind, only the sheathing of Yusuke’s sword mixed and heavy breathing audible in the silence.

“We’re done for today.” Akira said, pressing a Goho-M into Yusuke’s hand. “Crush that, and it’ll take you back to the entrance. I have something to check on, but I’ll meet you all there.” He turned, walking towards the Safe Room to quickly move towards where he needed to be.

“ No. ” 

…Until Yusuke muttered something from behind him.

“Sorry?” Akira turned back around, watching Yusuke sway on his feet while leaning on Ryuji.

“I can still keep fighting. Sensei… Madarame needs to be exposed for his wrongdoings.” There was grit in his eyes, the same gravely resolve that Yusuke always had after surviving a particularly grueling attack. This Yusuke was a beast on the battlefield, carving through enemies with blades of ice as he waited for someone to heal him on a spare turn.

“I can’t let you do that.”

But that wasn’t the Yusuke who was needed right now. 

“It’s a hazard for any of us to continue further for today, not just you. We’ll rest, regroup, and continue on in a few days.” Akira walked closer to the rest of the group, crushing the ball of smoke for Yusuke. “You’ll be the first to know when we go back in, okay?”

The Goho-M erupted around the four, blanketing them in hazey-brown smoke as they were transported back to the entrance. Silence rang out as the fog cleared, heavy in the air as Akira stood in place, waiting.

The thud of metal boots from behind him broke that carefully maintained peace, and with a wave of his arm, Goro Akechi cleared away the last whisps of smoke between the two. Akira turned to face him, watching the Black Mask walk towards him languidly, mockingly clapping as he strolled closer.

Akira gasped in fake amazement, placing a hand over his heart and slightly turning to the left, all whilst still looking in Akechi’s direction. “What’s this, another Metaverse user? How shocking!”

“Fuck off, Joker.”

“Goodness, how crass! What kind of delinquent would speak like that?”

“I wish it was November. Sae’s palace can not come fast enough.” Akechi folded his arms, glaring at Akira through the eyeholes of his helmet.

“I’m sure you’ll manage until then.” Akira joked, returning to his normal pose and posture. “I assume you’re here for reasons other than to menacingly walk towards me in your… more interesting outfit?”

Akechi scoffed. “I’m merely observing. You seem close with Kitagawa. Care to share what happened before you entered the Palace?”

“Hm? He wanted to paint me, I gave him a meal and some light conversation. Maybe a few articles of my clothes were removed, but that’s just how being a model goes, y’know?”

“Still, there was no reason for you to take off your shirt so… so wantonly . Have you no decorum?”

“Were you spying on us?” Akira held back a laugh.

“Unimportant. I was in the area to enter the palace.”

“Whatever you say, Crow.”

“Anyway. You wanted a meeting, no? We can discuss safely in the Metaverse.” 

Akira hummed, looking towards the cognitive-sky in the palace. “That’s right, but what did I want to talk about..?” At this point, it wasn’t a question of what he wanted to talk about, but what he could talk about. Akechi hated deviations in the typical flow of events, hence why Akira didn’t tell him about Cognitive-Futaba remembering everything from before, but now there were a few things that he wanted to bring up. Yusuke’s antics, the difference in Kamoshida’s behavior, both small things that could mean much more.

“Kamoshida was acting… different after we changed his heart.”

“Well, that’s expected. Different how?” 

“I think I took his HP away too fast. He was… I don’t know how to explain it without it sounding trivial. He was acting more afraid than regretful, if that makes sense. He still went on the same monologue, but I don’t think– …I don’t know. It was different, that’s all.” 

“Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. Try the same thing with Madarame, see if it happens again. For now, I’d say there’s no concern.” Akechi spoke, furrowing his brow as he tried to puzzle apart any deeper meanings behind it. “You should be catching up with Kitagawa and the rest of them by now. I’ll see you in June.”

Akira shrugged, walking backwards towards the Safe Room. “Will you? Maybe I’ll pick the aquarium for my trip. Who’s to say?” He laughed as Akechi grumbled under his breath, strolling into the room as the other shouted things at him while the door closed.

“I know where you live , asshole.” As Akira tugged the gold and black door closed, Akechi’s voice followed him while he paused in place, taking a second to think. Was the door already open when he walked in…? It was slightly ajar, looking back on his prior conversation. Maybe he’d forgotten to close it all the way the first time he came in. 

—

The rest of Madarame’s palace went smoothly. Yusuke fought alongside the team with everything he had, though he took Mona’s spot on the party– kicking the not-cat to the bench. 

As for the final fight, Akira played support; healing his teammates when needed, and supplying them with buffs when he could. Akechi explicitly told him to dispose of Madarame as fast as he could, to check for a pattern, but Akira wanted to test his own hypothesis. 

Besides, how would the Detective know? Unless he was in the room when the fight went down, Akechi would be none the wiser. (He was, in fact, in the room. Akira saw something move on a balcony above the group when Madarame first mentioned Black Mask, and Akechi ignored his texts for a week afterwards). Yet still, Madarame made his public announcement with fear in his eyes, a tremor in his steps, a shake in his voice. (Akechi started responding to his texts again after it aired).

Finally, it was June 9th, and the topic of post-TV studio destinations was being discussed. Morgana yowled about wanting pancakes, and Akechi (who had been standing in place around the corner for fifteen minutes, Akira knew this for a fact , as Akechi told him his intention of doing so after he won a game of darts– presumably as an attempt at a cool one-liner) took that as his entrance, cheerily inquiring about pancakes to a group of judgemental teens. Oh, how wonderful the butterfly effect was.

By that time again tomorrow, the Shujin branch of the Phantom Thieves were sitting in a TV studio, watching the second Detective Prince get interviewed. Predictably, the rest of the group was paying very little attention to the goings on in front of them, but Akira was staring raptly at Akechi.

Not for any good reason, of course, but only to make the man very mildly uncomfortable while he sat on the horribly colored set. In fact, he was so invested in trying to make Akechi break onstage, that he didn’t notice the TV host approaching him with a microphone, intent on using him as an audience participant.

“You there! Alright young man, what’s your opinion on the Phantom Thieves? Criminals, or crime fighters?”

Akechi smiled in his direction, his signature grin plastered on his face. Akira knew it was full of lies .

“It’s complicated, I would say.” What even was Akira’s stance on the Phantom Thieves? With a year's worth of knowledge under his belt, plus a few months of this second try, everything was utterly, truly complicated. “They work in a grey area. I mean, what they’re doing isn’t illegal, but to call it legal is a bit of a leap.”

“Then why support them at all?” Akechi called from the front of the room, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Sorry– I couldn’t help but throw in my two cents. However, say your friend’s behavior drastically changed overnight. Everyone knew them as a model citizen, yet they suddenly start admitting to things you thought they’d never do– would you not think that someone had forced, or otherwise coerced them into saying something like that?”

“I think that all of the discussion around the Phantom Thieves is only serving to make a three dimensional problem into a two dimensional discussion.” 

“...Well! That’s all the time we have for audience questions, thank you for your participation!” The hostess interjected, clearly trying to cut off the topic before anything too problematic was said on live television. Akechi was still looking at Akira though, and gave him a quick wink before returning to his interview. That smug bastard. 

Akira didn’t stick around after the interview ended, Akechi already had his phone number, and Ann was taking Morgana to a modeling shoot. All he was waiting on was Ryuji, and he was in the bathroom, leaving Akira plenty of time to aimlessly roam the hallways of the TV studio. At least, aimlessly until someone whipped around a corner, running into him face-first.

“Ack–! Sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?” The person who had ran into him had long, vivid red hair, going down to the middle of her back.

“All good, don’t worry about it.”

“Great! Sorry again though, I’m a bit turned around in all these hallways– would you happen to know the way to the break room…?” She readjusted her glasses as she spoke, sheepishly smiling after.

“Oh, I don’t work here, sorry. I’m just waiting around for my friend to get back from the bathroom. I can help you look though?” 

“That would be amazing, thank you very much! Pardon me for asking, but your uniform; are you a Shujin student?” 

“Yeah! I’m a second year there, my name’s Akira Kurusu. Why do you ask?”

“That’s amazing! I start there after summer break as a first year, so I guess that makes you my Senpai!” She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Oh! Where are my manners, my name is Yoshizawa! Sumire Yoshizawa.”

“I’m sorry, you’re who? ”

And there was Goro Akechi, rounding the corner that Yoshizawa had came from mere moments ago.