Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

(Not) The Phantom Thieves Group Chat!

[Futaba]

So… are we going to talk about what happened last night?

[Ann]

No, I don’t think so.

[Futaba]

👍

[Makoto]

At least not for now…

[Haru]

Just to clarify, though… no one else was able to see anyone else’s performances? We only took part and saw our own, is that right?

[Ren]

No, suddenly it was over, and then we were backstage looking at that screen with our names. I don’t think we saw anyone else’s.

[Haru]

Well, then. I suppose all we can do now is wait for tonight. I don’t believe it is pertinent to know what happened with everyone else, as long as we know that we all went through similar things.

[Yusuke]

I agree.

Morgana is sitting in a loaf position on the couch when Ren gets out of bed, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. Ren walks cautiously over towards him, gauging his mood as he does so. The other seems to break out of whatever he was thinking and turns his head towards Ren.

“Good morning,” Morgana greets. Ren says it back, still feeling awkward.

“Um… so… how are you feeling?” Ren asks.

“I’m okay. I feel like I got a good amount of sleep, you know, in spite of everything,” Morgana says, standing up and stretching. “What about you?”

“Um, same. I slept and I feel rested. I guess that’s all we can ask for.”

Morgana nods, and the two of them idle in silence, lingering awkwardly to wait for the other to speak.

“So… about that secret hidden underground part of the Metatheater…” Morgana starts.

“We can try to investigate tonight, that is, only if you’re still okay with it.”

“I am. We just couldn’t last night because…”

“Yeah. I know,” Ren says with a wince.

“Well then, that’s settled. We’ll try again tonight,” Morgana says.

“Yeah.” Ren says nothing more but lingers awkwardly. Exactly who is delaying the inevitable talk is unclear, but neither of them move to say what they really want to talk about.

“So… about last night,” Morgana starts, looking off into the distance.

Ren straightens his back and stands at attention. “Yes?”

“I wanted to just let you know that I’m always on your side and I’ll support you in whatever you do.” Morgana looks off to the side, ears bent downwards. “And… I’m sorry for prying when you weren’t ready to talk.”

Ren takes a deep breath and exhales. “It’s okay. I would never have let you in if you didn’t pry to begin with.”

“It’s also… okay if you keep things from me. I’m not entitled to every detail of your life, or anything,” Morgana says, lowering his head and keeping his voice quiet.

“No, but you have a right to know if it’s something that would affect you as well. I guess I just feel like I’m more at a crossroads now than I ever was. But back then the options were clear. Now… I don’t know how anything could turn out.”

Morgana moves his head deliberately so he can look Ren in the eyes. “Well, no matter how next year will look, I know I’ll be happy, as long as I’ve got you.”

Ren gasps theatrically, putting a hand on his heart with enough force it makes a sound, and reaches out to pat Morgana on the head with his other hand. Morgana, to Ren’s surprise, leans into the touch.

“I’ll bet your parents found out, and they’re furious, aren’t they?” Morgana says as he leans his head into Ren’s hand as he allows him to scratch his cheek.

“Yep,” Ren says. “You know how they are. My mom…” Ren stops the scratching and retreats his hands to his side once more.  The words catch in his throat. “She told me…”

Morgana doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, only hums and narrows his eyes in thought. “You don’t have to tell me right now. We can talk more about this kind of stuff later. If you’d like.” He turns his head towards the analogue clock on the wall. “It’s time you got up and ready! We’ve got plans for today.”

Ren looks back at Morgana, composing himself once more. “Right, you want to tag along when Ann and I go to the crepe stand.”

“I want to try what Lady Ann likes!” Morgana says proudly. “That’s one of the fundamental basics to being a perfect partner: showing an interest in their likes!”

“Well. That sounds about right,” Ren says, mainly to himself, as Morgana bobs his head to and fro in delight.

“Crepes for breakfast, crepes for breakfast,” Morgana sings to himself. Ren walks around the attic as he gets ready, eventually joining Morgana in his nonsensical song. The air doesn’t feel as volatile as when he woke up, but he can still sense an undercurrent of what they’re not talking about. At least, it’s a start.

It is a known fact to everyone in the Phantom Thieves that Ann likes crepes, as well as most other unique sweets, just like it is a known fact that Morgana isn’t a cat. Ren isn’t that much of a fan of crepes as much as he might have Ann believe, especially with how much he indulges in her hobby with her. Though, it’s really not all that bad; he enjoys some of the savory ones that he’s tried, and you can’t go wrong with a little strawberries and cream. But some of the crepes Ann has dragged him out to try have an obscene amount of whipped cream and pure sugar that brings a shock to Ren’s system just by looking at it. The cuter it is, the more whipped cream and fillings it’s bound to have.

Ann drags Ren with Morgana in tow all the way out to the seaside park in Odaiba to check out a crepe stand that she’s been following for awhile on social media, but hasn’t had the opportunity to go to, given that she now studies abroad. The stand specializes in unique crepes that ride the coattails of the hottest trends. This week, in celebration of New Year’s and the meteor shower, there’s a special crepe made with blue food dye, whipped cream, sprinkles, and an assortment of fruits to make it look like a sky filled with shooting stars. Ann pulls out her phone while in line and shows him a picture of it. It’s got bits of mango sliced into stars, wrapped up in a bed of whipped cream lined with glimmering sprinkles; just right up Ann’s alley.

After what is nearly possibly an entire hour wasted waiting for the crepes, they sit down with their crepe contraptions at a bench overlooking the bay and the Rainbow Bridge. Ann takes plenty of photos of herself with the crepe, of Ren with the crepe, of herself and Ren with the crepe, of Morgana peeking out of Ren’s bag to sniff at the crepe, and of course, the crepe itself from a variety of angles. Ren feels obligated to snap a photo before he eats it; it looks specifically like it’s from one of those places that goes all in on the aesthetics before they do the taste, relying on the marketing alone to draw people in. Ren patiently waits for Ann to take the first bite, since she’s the connoisseur, to gauge her reaction. Once she stops taking pictures, she takes a large bite, smiling and groaning with her mouth full. Ren follows suit and takes a bite of his crepe, and it’s fine, nothing too special.

“Sho good!” She takes another large bite and makes another delighted sound. “There’s some kind of fruit drizzle in here, too!”

“Can I try?” Morgana asks, fully peeking out of the bag resting beside them on the bench.

“Sure,” Ren says, holding his crepe towards Morgana. Morgana makes a displeased face at Ren, obviously hoping to take a bite from Ann’s, but takes a tiny bite into it anyway.

“Hmm… too sugary. And I can taste the food dye.” Morgana shakes his head and brings a paw up to lick. “But I guess that’s how the Milky Way would taste… probably.”

Ren takes another bite filled with whipped cream, food dyes, sprinkles, and blueberries. Ann makes a strange face at him for biting into the crepe near where Morgana bit from, but Ren just shrugs it off. They eat their crepes in pleasant silence, content to gaze out at the scenery.

“So, you and Morgana seem just fine in spite of the whole performance thing yesterday,” Ann says after taking her last few bites of crepe, gaze focused on the water before them. “That’s good.”

“Well, we sort of live together, so we kind of have to make up eventually. We have small disagreements all the time, anyway,” Morgana says.

“Oh, I see.” Ann takes one last bite of her crepe and balls the shiny blue wrapping up in her lap. “I’m happy for you guys, then.” She fiddles with one of her pigtails and looks to the side with pensive, narrow eyes. “So… what happened, exactly? If you’re willing to answer, that is.”

“Sure!” Morgana answers gladly. “I’ll tell you all about it. So, we started out on a stage that looked like a museum at night, during a heist. Kind of like Madarame’s palace!” Morgana goes on to give his spin on the events of last night, Ann nodding on and looking genuinely invested all the meanwhile. “And… Well, we’re getting better. Slowly, I guess, but I think I understand this guy’s viewpoint a little better now. And I think he understands my feelings a bit better as well,” Morgana finishes, looking up at Ren meaningfully. Ren nods gently.

“That’s good to hear,” Ann says. “Sounds like you guys came out none the worse. As expected of our leader and his right hand man.”

Morgana yowls in delight upon hearing Ann’s backhanded praise.

“You were paired up with… Ryuji last night, right?” Ren asks.

Ann looks away poignantly. “Yeah, I was.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… What was yours like?”

“Well, it went a little similarly to the two of yours. The stage changed a lot. It started out as a sports competition on a track.” The blonde slumps forwards, defeated. “Of course I was destined to lose from the very start with that kind of setup. Even then, I was kind of underestimating him.” Ann tugs at a drawstring on her hoodie absentmindedly. “Before I knew it, I lost.” Ann laughs wryly. “He acted all like he didn’t want to fight a girl. When I had my guard down, he just took my mask off my face.”

“Was it over quickly?” Morgana asks.

“Well… it felt like a really long time, actually. We talked a bit. I brandished my whip against him, trying to fight, to get it over with. But he would just defend himself the entire time.” Ann lets go of the drawstrings on her hoodie. “And of course, I forgot, he’s a runner. I underestimate him.”

“Ryuji has been pretty serious about recovery lately,” Ren says. “I trained with him yesterday. At this point, I’d say he’s almost completely back to the way he was before the incident with Kamoshida. He’s very passionate.”

“Well, that much is true. He’s a very loud guy, saying the first thing that comes to his primitive brain,” Morgana says, self-satisfied.

“I feel like…” Ann starts, but sighs, unable to find the right words. “It’s… hard to explain. But I feel kind of bad for talking about him and treating him like that.”

“He doesn’t seem too bothered by it,” Morgana says. “If he were, he’d have said something by now.”

“I don’t know…”

“And Lady Ann! He’s treated you with more than enough vulgarity in the past! I think it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

“I just feel sort of bad, is all. Not that I’d forgive him for being so eager to leave me alone with Yusuke when we were still strangers trying to gain information about Madarame… Or any of those other times he’s stared at me creepily in the Metaverse… Or made weird comments…” Ann lets out a big sigh and crumples the paper in her lap even further.

“Maybe tell him these things next time you see him,” Ren suggests. “Be more honest with your feelings.”

Ann sighs, shaking her head bitterly. “I guess I feel bothered by it because he was clearly bothered by it,” Ann says slowly, as if coming upon the realization as she utters it. “I never would have known otherwise.”

“This Metatheater thing… I wonder what’s in store for us tonight,” Morgana wonders aloud. “Maybe by the end of this we’ll all be holding hands and singing campfire songs.”

Ann laughs, throwing her head back and smiling brightly. “Like we weren’t already doing that?”

“We should go on a team bonding road trip someday, then we can hold hands and sing campfire songs for real,” Ren says.

“Yeah! Too bad it’s too difficult to get everyone together in one place nowadays,” Ann says. “And probably, it’s going to get even worse when we’re all high school grads.”

Morgana gasps. “How so?”

“It’s ‘cause we’ll be scattered all around… Oh yeah! I forgot to tell you!”

“What?!” Morgana cries, on the edge of his proverbial seat.

“I was accepted into that college in Paris. So it’s official, I’ll be studying abroad in Europe,” Ann declares proudly.

“I’m happy for you, Ann,” Ren says. “Congratulations.”

“Wow,” Morgana utters wistfully. “You’re such a globetrotter, Lady Ann! As expected of someone so refined.”

“Aw, it’s nothing,” Ann says with a cheeky smile, swiping her hand nonchalantly. “I’m kind of just following in my parent’s footsteps. I think they kind of expected it for me because I’m their daughter, or something, to go and study abroad in Europe.” She bites her cheek and looks down at the crumpled paper in her hands. “It wasn’t necessarily an easy decision, though, since I didn’t want to completely leave Shiho behind. But she’s so strong… she doesn’t really need me anymore.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Ann,” Ren says hastily. “She’ll miss you.”

“Thanks,” Ann says with a small smile. “I know she will.”

“And Lady Ann, Paris is perfect for you. You can have all the crepes and pastries you could ever ask for there!” Morgana chirps in.

“Promise?” Ann says eagerly, standing up and throwing away her garbage. Ren follows suit, and they start meandering down the bayfront. “What about you, Ren? Do you know what you’ll be doing after graduation?”

Ren’s shoulders tense up and he can just feel Morgana’s eyes peering holes into him from the bag. “I honestly don’t really know yet.”

“That’s okay. You still have some time to figure it out.” Ann grabs at the railing and stops to lean her upper torso on it. “It’s honestly such a shame that society expects young people to have their lives planned out so perfectly. Even in middle school, I felt that pressure of high school entrance exams, picking out the right school… and then we repeat it all over again for college. It just sucks.”

“Yeah…” Ren says, wistfully. He looks out at the water before him, moving and flowing gently, constantly in motion. “It’s not like any of us can put ‘former Phantom Thief’ as an extracurricular on any of our applications or anything like that.”

Ann chuckles lightly. “No, not unless we want our applications thrown in the garbage at best.”

They stand there gazing out at the water for a few minutes, not saying anything and enjoying each other’s company. The water of the bay glistens and sparkles under the midday sun, even on a cold, wintry day. It’s peaceful, and Ren could stay here like this for hours. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep gulp of air. When he opens them, Ann is staring at him with a pensive look.

“Hm?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Ann says, looking away, out at the bay. “I’m happy we got to do this.”

Ren smiles gently. “I am, too.”

Ann pulls her phone out of her pocket and glares at the time. “I guess this is where I should take my leave. But seriously,” she says, turning her torso to the side to face Ren fully, “I’m glad we got to do this. I know I haven’t been able to chat with you as much as I should… I don’t know if I can even blame that on the time zone differences… But! I still think of you guys all the time, even if we don’t talk all that often anymore.”

“Ann, don’t worry,” Ren says. “Our friendship could never wither away so easily. We’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

“Yeah! What he said!” Morgana chirps cheerfully. “We’ve been through hell and back together, quite literally. Nothing could destroy these bonds!”

“Aww, thanks guys,” Ann says with a bright smile, stroking Morgana on his head with one hand and throwing her opposite arm around Ren in a crushing one-armed hug. “Maybe I should send some postcards. That would be fun!”

“Yeah! I heard that’s what people did in the olden days before technology, anyway,” Morgana says. “We’d love to receive some pretty postcards from you, Lady Ann!”

“Sounds like I need to brush up on my letter writing skills, then,” Ann says, turning her back and waving back to them. “See you later, you two!”

Ren waves to Ann’s back, and Morgana sticks his head out of the bag to stare at her. “It’s honestly kind of weird to think we’ll see her again tonight. But not in reality,” Morgana says.

“Yeah,” Ren says in agreement. He suddenly feels his phone buzzing furiously in his pocket with a call from Futaba, wasting no time in picking it up.“Hello?”

“Hey! Change of plans! I want to go shopping in Shinjuku instead this afternoon,” Futaba says.

“That sounds good to me. But what prompted this?”

“Ummmm… I’ll just tell you in person when we get there. I’ll meet you at Leblanc. Got it?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, thanks, bye!” Futaba says, and hurriedly hangs up the phone.

“What was that?” Morgana asks.

“It was Futaba. She wants to go out to Shinjuku instead of hanging out playing video games in the attic,” Ren says, pocketing his phone. “I’m surprised. But also proud of her.”

“Yeah! It’s not like Futaba to suddenly change plans like that.”

“Do you want to come with?” Ren asks.

“Nah, I think I’ll just chill out at home. I had plans to take a nap during that time frame.”

“Fine by me,” Ren says, and zips up the bag more so that everyone can’t easily glance at his bag and see there’s a chatty cat inside. He takes another quick glance out at the bay area, spotting the large dome of the new stadium. They’ll just have to make some time in their busy schedule somehow to go and investigate later.

When they reach Leblanc, Futaba tells Ren she wants to go shopping for art supplies to give to Yusuke, which surprises him in more ways than one. She could certainly always shop online for whatever she wants to give to Yusuke, but also, there’s the fact that she’s never given art supplies to Yusuke to begin with. It surprises Ren, to say the least, that she would go out of her comfort zone to do such a thing, but he isn’t complaining. Rather, he’s proud of her courage.

They brave the stations and the crowds at Shinjuku and find the arts and crafts store that Futaba had found on her phone after going the wrong way only once. It’s a specialty store, but still a pretty large department style store with multiple floors to get lost in. Ren makes sure he doesn’t let Futaba out of his sight as they browse the aisles of paintbrushes and paint colors.

“So, what exactly are you looking for?” Ren asks as it approaches a solid five minutes that they’ve been staring at a wall of bright, colorful paints.

It takes Futaba a second for the question to fully register before she answers. “I dunno. Just something that he might find useful.”

“Well, if you want to get him some paint, I’d suggest just getting him red. He seems to have been using a lot of red paint in his projects lately,” Ren supplies. “But I’m not an artist, so I couldn’t really say which one is the best.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what type of paint is best, or what kind of paint he’d even want. Maybe I should get him some paintbrushes,” Futaba says before turning and rushing towards the aisle with the paintbrushes. Ren rushes along right after her as they enter the aisle filled with all sorts of brushes. Futaba rushes straight towards a large pack filled with an assortment of all sorts of brushes. “Maybe this would be good. Wait… eight thousand yen? Why?!”

“May I ask why you even want to get Yusuke something in the first place?”

“You may, but it doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable to talk about,” Futaba says with a pout as she puts the pack of brushes down. “You know. ‘Cause of last night.”

“I’m sure if you upset him in some way, you can just talk to him and apologize. You don’t really need to give him a gift in lieu of an apology,” Ren says gently.

Futaba walks over to a wall filled with displays of single brushes to buy and starts to fidget with one of them, touching the bristles absent mindedly. “The gift itself isn’t my apology, I just wanted to get him something because I felt bad. And I thought it might help him with his final projects. He seemed pretty determined last night; I’m not even sure I know how exactly I won.”

“Yusuke was determined to win?” Ren asks incredulously. “That sounds… almost hard to imagine.”

“Yeah, I guess I get that,” Futaba sighs. “He was… way more certain about everything than I was. We argued a bit. He said something that made me angry. Then I just… before I knew it, I had somehow summoned a deluge of pixelated boxes to rain down on him. The stage flickered back and forth between reality and a more video gamey version of it, and then we were fighting for real. Then Yusuke told me… something that made me sad. At the last moment, he just kneeled in front of me and asked me to finish the deed. It was all so… fast and sudden. I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened exactly…?”

“No,” Futaba answers hastily. “I don’t.” She puts the brush back in its place to look away from him. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Futaba’s eyes widen and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead suddenly as though she’s just had an epiphany. “Oh, and here I am, spending the time I have with you at a freaking arts and crafts store! I haven’t even asked you how your day’s gone or anything normal people say… I’m so freaking conceited…”

“No, Futaba,” Ren says even as Futaba looks away and brings her hands up to tug at her hair. “I don’t mind this at all. We’re still spending time together. And I don’t mind hearing you talk through your problems with me. Hey, look at me.” Futaba lowers her arms and slowly looks at Ren. “You’re not conceited, okay? I like spending time with you, no matter what.”

Futaba’s face slowly morphs into a soft smile. “Hey, thanks, you big softie.”

“We can always just play games online any other time anyway. But we can’t go out and do things like this through long distance. So, really, it’s a nice change of pace,” Ren says gently.

“Really? You really don’t mind?”

Ren simply nods to reply, and Futaba mimics wiping sweat from her forehead with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Well then. Help me pick out some brushes for Yusuke, because I am completely lost here.”

They end up picking out a couple of brushes and some paint, hoping that the materials will be useful somehow to Yusuke’s project somehow. As they leave the store, Ren suggests they stop by a convenience store and get some snacks for Yusuke as well, since it’s all but guaranteed that he’d enjoy receiving snacks. As they approach the convenience store, Ren is surprised to see none other than Yoshida Toranosuke casually walking out with a shopping bag. As soon as Yoshida locks eyes with Ren, he smiles and brings a hand up to greet him.

“Amamiya-san! It’s so great to see you! Are you staying in the city for your Winter Break?” Yoshida asks, looking more happier and carefree than usual.

“It’s so nice to see you too, Yoshida-san,” Ren says, accepting Yoshida’s outstretched hand to shake. “That’s right, I’m just here for Winter Break, so I've been hanging out with my friends. This is my friend, Sakura Futaba. Futaba, this is Yoshida Toranosuke, a politician I helped out a little last year.”

“Hi,” Futaba says a bit stiffly, waving with a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sakura-san,” Yoshida says with a polite bow. “A friend of Amamiya-san’s is a friend of mine. You know, he helped me out tremendously last year with my campaign. I am eternally grateful for his help.”

“How has your campaign been going?”

“It has been going well, I believe. I’m being accepted more and more in political circles, with far less heckling. People are increasingly stopping to listen to my words, if just for a minute or two. I still have a ways to go, but… I believe I still have time. By the time the next general elections come, I think I’ll be ready.” Yoshida smiles and turns to Futaba. “How old are you, Sakura-san?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You know, the voting age has been lowered from twenty to eighteen very recently. Voter turnout for youth like you two is typically very low. It’s important to use the voice you have, Sakura-san, so I want to encourage you to vote.”

“You want me to vote for you?” Futaba questions.

Yoshida laughs nervously. “Hah, well, wouldn’t that be nice, but I would want you to vote for whoever you think is best and aligns with your values.”

“Okay,” Futaba says, meekly.

“I’ll vote for you, Yoshida-san,” Ren says resolutely.

“Amamiya-san, I appreciate the support, but I would also want you to weigh all the options and vote for whoever you think is best, not just because you know me personally.”

“Maybe.”

Yoshida blinks incredulously. “Maybe?” His face reverts back to his calm smile by default. “Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop that, either. Such is the way of democracy. In any case, how have you been, Amamiya-san? Have you given thought to your future after you graduate yet? A bright and upstanding young man like yourself, I imagine you’ll go far in whatever you’ll do.”

Ren looks away sheepishly, fidgeting with his bangs. “I’m not sure yet… I’m still weighing all my options…”

“That’s okay. You have time to figure everything out, even if most of society might say you don’t.”

Ren’s shoulders relax. “Thank you.”

“Well, I don’t want to be wasting too much of your time proselytizing on the reasons why you should vote. It was nice to see you again, Amamiya-san. And it was nice to meet you, too, Sakura-san.”

“You too, Yoshida-san. Good luck with the rest of your campaign.”

Yoshida waves politely at the two of them as he turns to leave, disappearing in the crowd. Futaba waits to speak up again until they’ve entered the store and are staring at the aisle of multicolored snacks. “Wow, I didn’t know you knew a politician so personally, Ren.”

“Yeah, I saw him giving speeches by Shibuya station and stopped to listen to him. He had some interesting stuff to say, even though no one was really listening.”

“Are you into politics then? Wanna be a politician someday?”

“I wouldn’t really say so, no,” Ren says with a wince as he picks up a container of long biscuit sticks coated with a cocktail of spices and chemicals to taste like salad. “Does Yusuke like this flavor?”

“I think so. I don’t think he’s too picky,” Futaba says as she puts it into a basket she procured somewhere on the way in. “Anyway, I think it’s good to be informed though. But it’s all so complicated. You know, politics.”

“I feel pretty much the same way,” Ren says. He spies a pack of butter shortbread cookies and puts that into the basket too. “Besides, the main thing I learned from my time with Yoshida-san was the art of public speaking. How to project your voice for an audience, how to hook them in. Stuff like that.”

Futaba walks down the aisle and grabs some melon pan to throw into the basket. “So… is it true that you don’t really have plans for after graduation yet?” Futaba asks, and her tone is careful, delicate.

Ren lets out a sigh that he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “Yes. I… threw away my entrance exam applications, too. My mom found out recently and wasn’t too happy about it.”

“Oh,” Futaba supplies helpfully. “I’ve been there. Um… you know…” She trails off, not finding the words.

Ren walks past Futaba and puts some matcha flavored biscuits into the basket. “It’s okay. I know.”

“But…”

“It’s okay. Really,” he says, without looking at her.

“Okay. Well, I’m here for you. We all are, you know,” Futaba says gently. “I can only return the favor.”

They pay for their basketful of snacks for Yusuke (and a few things for themselves, too) and head back to Yongen-Jaya. They talk about movies, anime, video games, and silly things that've happened to them recently. It’s nice to chat with Futaba in person about such random things again, even if the conversation is usually one-sided, with Futaba doing most of the talking.

They stop talking once they deboard the train to Yongen-Jaya, until Futaba breaks it once they’ve emerged outside of the station. “Hey, Ren. I wanted to ask what you really thought about the wish stuff. Since we’re face to face and all right now. Just… give it to me straight.”

“Uh,” Ren says, eloquently using the tactics he’s learned from Yoshida. “Well, it feels a bit like a big burden on all of us. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Yeah, I think we’re all a bit stressed by the idea. We’ve seen all the wish tropes that have been done and can ever be done in the history of the world. Like, the genie gives you your wish, but distorts it. Or the man gets his wish but finds that it’s not what he wanted in the first place. And then there’s be careful what you wish for, all that fun stuff.” Futaba lets out a laugh, more to herself than anything. “I guess all those are basically the same trope, but told slightly differently.” Futaba slows down in her pace and starts to take lackadaisical strides. “But anyways… I wanted to know, what would you wish for? If you could.”

“We were gonna wish for a trillion yen and use it to improve society, weren’t we? To keep it simple.”

“Yeah, but,” Futaba says, contorting her face with a strange smile, “if that wasn’t what we were doing anymore, what would you wish for?”

“If you tell someone your wish, it won’t come true. That’s one of the basic tropes of wishmaking.”

“Welp. You got me there!” Futaba says cheerfully, but she easily masks her discomfort. There’s a beat of silence as she looks away, placing her hands behind her back and looking down towards the ground. “You know, this whole thing’s been making me think about this time last year. I can’t believe we all fell prey to Maruki’s reality too quickly and easily, but you were never easily swayed. So I kind of think you’ll win this. You’d be the best person to win, I think.”

Ren’s body involuntarily freezes in place at Futaba’s insinuation, because only Morgana really knows about Ren’s hesitation last year. His own dilemma, his own forbidden fruit, his own god-given trial. The others all marginally know that Akechi disappeared last year after he magically appeared, but never really sat down to put two and two together about the exact circumstances of his reappearance.

“I don’t know,” Ren says, after willing his body to move again. “We’ll just have to see what happens.”

Futaba quirks an eyebrow inquisitively, looking behind her as Ren takes longer steps to reach Futaba’s pace once more. “Yeah, I guess so,” she says tentatively.

Right on time, Leblanc’s awning comes into view, and the conversation ends there. They spend some time in Leblanc together eating Sojiro’s curry for lunch before parting ways, at least until they see each other again in the Metatheater.

It’s another chilly night in the attic of Leblanc, a familiar and welcome mundanity, and Ren decides to spend some time studying before bed. Studying the materials he has of the Metatheater, that is. He spreads out the two pieces of proof of the Metatheater’s existence outside of the Metaverse on the desk; the ticket and the map Lavenza had made for him using that very same ticket. He holds up the ticket to the light, admiring the way light seems to pass through the blue color as if it were translucent. The text on the ticket has changed as well to say that he has admission to act two tonight. He’s pretty certain that that’s not how plays work anyway, performing acts of the same play on different days, but he’s never actually really been to one anyway. When all this is said and done, he should go out and watch some bunraku.

He sets the ticket down and moves on to study the map in front of him. He traces with his finger the path of the side entrance they had used yesterday to the backstage area. They traverse a long hallway just to get to the backstage; there appears to be only a few connections the walkway has to some secret rooms; probably staff rooms, but the map unfortunately does not have any markings or indications of what room is what, which makes it frustrating to read. It’s more of an architectural floor plan than anything.

“It’s getting late. We should get to bed before it starts,” Morgana says as he leaps up from the floor to the desk. He sits his behind right down on the map.

“You’re sitting on the map,” Ren says, weakly tugging at the map to try and safely free it from Morgana’s weight.

Morgana looks back down below him and steps off of the map. “Sorry.” Then he remembers what he’s here for. “But anyway, we should go to sleep now.”

“In a few minutes,” Ren says absently as he traces the halls with his finger.

“Fine,” Morgana huffs. “Actually, I think I’m going to go downstairs tonight. Good night.”

“Wait,” Ren calls out as the not-cat hops off the desk. “I want to talk about a plan for tonight.”

Morgana stops, sitting down on the floor. “What are your thoughts?”

“If there’s ever a good opportunity tonight to break off from the group, I want us to meet in that hallway that takes us backstage,” Ren says, bringing the map down for Morgana to see and pointing to said hall.

“We can certainly try,” Morgana says, nonchalantly licking his paw. “But also… when might a good time even be?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see. Even if we don’t make it down tonight, we can try again tomorrow, with the knowledge of what we learned from tonight.”

“Alright. I’ll just wait for your signals and follow your lead, Joker.” Morgana turns towards the stairs.

“So, you’re going to sleep downstairs tonight?” Ren calls out.

“Yeah, I think so. A little space sounds nice right now.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night. I’ll see you in a little bit anyway.”

Ren watches Morgana pitter patter with light steps down the stairs until he no longer can see him. As he places the ticket and the map back in his coat pocket, his fingers brush up against a familiar leather weight in his pocket, something he often carries with him in a pocket, secretly, even in public. He hurriedly pulls the glove out of the pocket, an action that makes him feel guilty every time, and touches the leather with his fingertips absentmindedly, tracing lines up and down the cool surface. The motion is calming to him, a comfort to his senses when he starts to feel a hollowness set in. He doesn’t know how or why he started doing it, but he prefers not to think too hard about it anyway.

Certainly, if the owner of the glove saw him pathetically clinging onto it like this, he would laugh derisively at him and call him a sentimental fool, then threaten to make him return the glove to him. He’d say the words, but he wouldn’t do anything about it. He’d just turn around and leave. That’s the way Ren’s imagined it in his head.

He places the glove back in the pocket like nothing happened. He doesn’t particularly care if Morgana sees him doing it because he has a few times before. They don’t ever talk about it, which is best. He gets ready for bed alone and goes to sleep alone in the growing darkness. The group chat is surprisingly quiet for once.

Ren wakes up on the train heading towards the Metatheater for the second night in a row, slumped back in the seat and looking up towards the top of the car, the very car that would normally be filled with idle chattering. But now it’s just silent as the Phantom Thieves look at anywhere else other than each other, a similar feeling as the kind of atmosphere from the train ride back from yesterday. Morgana wakes up in the seat right next to him, but he chooses to stay for now. He notices that, though he is currently in his much larger and cartoonish Metaverse form, he lacks the black mask that covers the top half of his face.

“So, we’re all back here for round two,” Ann bravely speaks up. “I hate blacking out and finding myself here, it’s so disorienting.”

“At the very least, with the rate we’re going, we should be done with the performances and all that business tomorrow,” Makoto says. She is also in her Metaverse outfit, but lacks the metallic mask covering her face. “So long as we follow the same schedule we have been.”

“Wow, and someone will get the big prize, too,” Futaba says.

After the train ride, a kuroko guides them to the side entrance they had used yesterday. Ren keeps his eyes out for the secret but actually not really secret doors. He notices there’s writing written on some of the doors, but the candlelight in the halls is far too dim to make out the writing. Once again, they’re taken to the waiting room from last night, no puppets to be seen this time anywhere. Ren takes the opportunity while they wait to investigate the room, pulling trinkets and candelabras, hoping he’d just happen upon a secret entrance, though he finds nothing much of interest. There’s a TV screen on the wall he doesn’t remember seeing from yesterday, though. He’s just about to give it up and sit down on one of the plush blue chaises when a kuroko comes in with a letter presented on a plush pillow.

The Phantom Thieves can only gape at the letter, waiting for their leader to take the initiative and open the letter. Ren plucks the letter from the pillow it’s needlessly presented on, an ostentatious and frivolous detail, and takes some time to inspect the envelope. There’s a blue wax seal, like one you’d see in a historical drama, with the letter ‘D’ written out in elaborate cursive, and already Ren knows who the letter is from. He points out the wax seal to the others before he carefully pulls up the seal, not wanting to damage one of the fanciest letters he’s ever received. He reads the letter aloud to the others.

Dear Phantom Thieves, 

I want to congratulate you on a fantastic first performance; your efforts made the opening night such a resounding success. The star is shining a little brighter than before now, thanks to your efforts. Please give it your all tonight as well. I will be watching from afar, so be sure not to disappoint.

I also want to invite you to our little intermission performance tomorrow night. We will also be having a small gala as an opportunity for you all to enjoy your time in the Metatheater to the fullest. Attendance is entirely optional, though I hope to see each of your faces there.

Yours truly,

The Dramaturge

“I think I shall be going to this gala tomorrow. Who else will be joining me?” Haru asks.

“I think we should all go,” Makoto says. “We’re getting a break, but we shouldn’t let our guard down.”

“We still have to get through today!” Futaba exclaims with a low groan of frustration in her tone.

The kuroko that had presented the letter to Ren slinks away, only to be replaced with the entrance of a group of kuroko, each of whom approaches a few of the Phantom Thieves and wordlessly tries to communicate to follow them. One approaches Ren with a small bow and flicks their wrist in a come hither motion. Ren, Haru, Ryuji, and Futaba slip out of the room in a solemn and silent single file line, leaving the others in the room.

The kuroko lead them down the hall to a group of doors Ren recognizes from the map he had studied, figuring they were other dressing rooms. There’s a yellow star with each of their names on the doors, including the names of those who have already lost in the performances. Ren follows the kuroko to the room with his own name on it. It’s a spacious room with red marbled walls with black accents, with a plush red carpet beneath his feet. There’s a vanity towards the center of the room with the lightbulbs surrounding it, and a long plush chaise to lounge on in the corner, with an end table and another flat screen on the wall nearby. He walks over to the long chaise and notices that there’s another little letter on the end table, waiting for him along with a red carnation, curiously streaked with black around the tips of the petals, as opposed to the typical white you would find.

Dearest Joker,

I look forward to your performance tonight, and I hope you will perform to the best of your abilities. I saw this carnation growing in our garden, and was reminded of a quote from Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale:

Of trembling winter, the fairest

flowers o' the season

Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors,

Which some call nature's bastards

I felt drawn to this carnation as it reminded me of you. Please accept this carnation as a token of my gratitude for your hard work thus far. The star surely wouldn’t be shining as bright as this without your contribution.

Yours truly,

The Dramaturge

Ren’s very first thought upon putting the letter is: did everyone get a note with a flower like this? Really? And did the Dramaturge find out a way to indirectly call him a bastard? He picks up the carnation and feels his cheeks heating up despite himself. The time he spent making flower bouquets at Rafflesia meant he had to be aware of all the meanings of flowers. Though red carnations are popular in bouquets to and from mothers, he knows that they are also for being symbols of romantic love and admiration elsewhere in the world. A red carnation with black streaks, furthermore, is completely unheard of in reality. He gently touches the petals, admiring the way the soft, ruffled petals of the carnation feel on his fingertips.

Suddenly, the door opens and another kuroko enters the room, standing straight with one hand in front of its torso. Ren knows by now that usually means to follow the kuroko to wherever it needs to take you. He sets the carnation down gently on the end table and follows the kuroko out of the room to the stage, behind the curtains. He is told to stand on an X again, facing towards the east. He hears some footsteps behind him as someone else it directed to stand on the X right behind him to his back. He resists the urge to look behind him, because though the faceless stagehands don’t seem to be able to talk, he’s sure they would find a way to punish him for not following directions, even if they were never explicitly laid out.

“Our first performance of the night will be Amamiya Ren against Okumura Haru.”

The lights cut out once again leaving them in darkness to start with, he supposes so that they won’t try to look back at one another and try to communicate or anything before things have to start. He hears a mechanic whirring sound, unsure of what or where it comes from. Then the spotlight comes on and suddenly, the setting is set to a masquerade ball, with faceless wooden cutouts of men in elegantly tailored suits and women in fanciful dresses encircling the two of them.

Haru turns around to face Ren just as he is and bows to him, placing one arm in front of her torso and the other behind her back. Extending her purple gloved hand for Ren to take, she asks, “Shall we dance?”

Ren returns her bow and takes her gloved hand to kiss. Haru lets out a pleased giggle as she guides their hands up to position and starts by taking the lead as they start to circle around the stage to the beat of a waltz that begins to play.

“This is quite nice,” Haru says with a smile. Ren can only cautiously return her smile. “It’s entirely too bad that the context is so unordinary.” Haru dips Ren expertly, and Ren can only step in line and follow her tune. She giggles once more, feeling carefree. “Wow, I’ve always wanted to do something like that. Thank you for indulging me, Joker.”

As the song continues, Ren starts to feel antsier, eyes darting back and forth to where their hands are connected. As long as they are both showing their hands, there’s no way that either of them can suddenly do anything underhanded to catch them by surprise. By the time the song comes to an end, Haru’s smile has morphed into something entirely different; a forced on grimace, the undercurrent of something sinister lying underneath.

They step apart as the song ends and before Ren can even process anything, Haru’s axe is being hoisted up in front of his face. The wooden cutouts of the elegant dancers begin to slowly close in on them, trapping them in their miniature carousel.

“I’m sorry that I must put an end to it. I truly was having fun, but…” Haru’s axe, sharp and glinting in the spotlight, grows closer to the side of his face, blade facing vertically towards the floor.  “I think I want to put an end to this before it becomes drawn out.”

With her left hand, Haru reaches up to grab Ren’s mask. Instinctually, Ren swerves to the side away from Haru’s axe, spinning out of the way and through an appearing gap next to him between the cutouts. As he regains his balance, he looks down at his hands and sees that his dagger has materialized once again. At the center of the dancer’s waltz, Haru stands with both hands readily placed on her axe, hunched over in a battle stance with a determined face.

“Noir… You’re…?”

“Joker, our infallible leader. I have so admired your determination as a leader,” Haru says as she begins to slowly walk over towards Ren. “If only some of those leadership qualities could rub off on me. You know, nobody at Okumura Foods seems to be capable of taking me seriously. Nobody seemed to believe that such a day would come, when the soft-hearted, gentle daughter would have to take over the company, all because my father wanted to keep the company in the family.”

Ren readies his stance in a defensive position, placing his arms out and in front of him, ready to protect himself when needed. Ren’s not sure how to completely defend himself against a battle axe, but he figures his dagger will just have to do.

“You know, he always told me since I was a child that he wanted to keep the business within the family,” Haru continues, eyes darting away. “Naturally, I think you can imagine how surprised I was when I learned that he was now suddenly dreaming of a political career.”

Ren can sense Haru struggling to keep the sadness at bay as she talks about her father. “Noir…” 

“My father was an opportunist and a visionary capable of thinking years into the future, which is part of why I believe the company grew so much in a short period of time. That’s why he had the next twenty years of his life planned out,” Haru says, and then she takes the first swing.

The thing about Haru’s battle axe, though, is that it is significantly heavier than Ren’s dagger, which means that what Ren lacks in pure power and strength, he makes up for in speed and agility. Haru’s attacks are easy to predict as it takes awhile for her to wind up and swing. However the sharpness of the axe makes it no less terrifying to see up close. Haru’s axe connects with Ren’s dagger in a satisfying clink as Ren holds it horizontally in front of him to protect a swing to his side.

“The first step in his twenty year plan was to have me engaged and married to someone of a particularly strategic political family in order to help him gain those connections to further his political career,” Haru yells, affected by the rage the words make her feel. Even her yelling voice comes across as a stern, yet still polite and proper lady, but Ren can make out the difference. With a grunt, Ren musters up the strength to push Haru away with his dagger and jump away backwards, where a throne with a kingly mannequin figure sits. Next to it is a much smaller throne where a princess in an elegant purple dress sits.

“The next step in his twenty year plan was to have me conceive and birth a child to my husband, a suitable heir to Okumura Foods, a boy. If I gave birth to a girl, I’d just have to try again until I gave birth to a boy, all while my father was pushed further and further to conform to the deplorable behavior of his political party,” Haru yells before she gives a low swing that misses Ren, chopping off the princess mannequin’s head instead.

“Haru, you can’t know this for sure,” Ren says, forgoing codenames, in a desperate attempt to snap Haru out of her fervor.

“No! But I do know it, Ren!” Haru bellows despairingly, clutching both hands onto her axe and slouching forwards slightly. “It’s all true!”

“How? How do you know?”

“I read it for myself with my own eyes, in my father’s handwriting,” Haru says, covering up her eyes with a palm as the other loosely flails to her side, grasping her axe. “I went looking through some files I shouldn’t have, going through his things for the first time in over a year. My father… I can’t believe he’d say such things…” She lets out a sob as she lets go of her axe, tumbling to the floor with a clink, falling along with it to her knees. “I can’t believe he’d do such things…”

Ren drops his dagger to the floor in turn as he approaches Haru softly, leaning down on his knees to reach Haru’s level on the floor. “What happened?”

Haru removes her hand from her eyes as she meets Ren’s eyes with teary, red eyes. “I went snooping through my father’s things and found out some things I shouldn’t have. I suppose that’s par for the course, though.” She wipes the tears away from her eyes and puts on a brave face, smiling, though her eyes betray her. “And I suppose that I was already somewhat aware of all of this, too. I just decided to turn a blind eye to it all… This is ridiculous. I’m sorry.”

The beauty thief composes herself, grabbing her axe and rising to her feet, then, with a quick and smooth one handed swing to the side with her axe, beheads the mannequin of the king. It comes flying off and rolls near Ren’s feet. It’s just a mannequin head with no discernable features, but the sight of it still feels nonetheless eerie.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” Haru says with a weak smile, idly dusting off her pants and shirt as if she got them dirty. “I, um… would you like to continue? I’ll try to keep a level head from here on out.” Her eyes dart off to the side. “Though, if you would prefer not to, I’d also understand… I got carried away, after all.”

“No,” Ren says, rising to his feet as well, picking up his dagger. “Noir— give me your best.”

Haru can only gaze in surprise at Ren. Composing herself with a light clearing of her throat, she places both hands on her axe and widens her stance. “If you say so, Joker!”

With a clearer mind, Haru’s swings are faster and more frequent than before. Ren is completely on the defensive, jumping out of the way backwards, darting around all across the stage. They go like this for a while, Haru swinging, and Ren defending with his dagger every so often around the stage, until Ren’s heels hit up against a set of marble stairs towards the back of the stage. The stairs appear to lead to nowhere in particular, but he takes the steps backwards and up the stairs, much to his disadvantage as they’re climbing the staircase to nowhere. From a taller vantage point, Ren spots a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Recalling the puppet’s explanation from yesterday about the only limit during performances being your imagination, Ren wishes he had a grappling hook right as they’ve reached the top of the stairs.

“Looks like there’s nowhere else for you to run. Any last words, Joker?” Haru says, mustering up her most villainous voice with a lethal smile.

He feels the weight of the grappling hook conjure up in his left hand. “Hold on,” he says, grabbing Haru’s middle center as he shoots the grappling hook towards the chandelier, disarming her in the process as she involuntarily lets go of the axe. They swing through the air together back to center stage, Haru giggling lightly all the while. Upon landing, Ren grabs Haru’s hands and mirrors their dipped position from earlier.

“Looks like I was no match against our infallible leader after all,” Haru says with closed eyes and a smile. “It was fun, though. I never thought a friendly duel could be so thrilling.”

Ren hoists Haru back up so they stand face to face normally. “We could always pick up fencing together.”

“Hmm… that sounds nice,” Haru says with a nod. Her eyes are still closed.

Without flourish, Ren reaches his hand out to take off Haru’s mask. Only then does she open her eyes, revealing a tiredness he had not noticed before in her eyes.

“Amamiya Ren is the winner of round two. Thus concludes our second performance.”

The curtains fall around them, engulfing the stage in darkness, two tired figures facing each other.

Morgana and the others had watched everything that happened on the screen from the comfort of the safe room they were instructed to wait in. It was awkward for those in the room to watch everything unfold, but they couldn’t pry their eyes away, no matter what their conscience said. The entire spectacle felt like watching a costly production of a TV show detached from reality, except you knew these people. You couldn’t cheer either side on, only watch, steeped in your sympathy, as someone you knew started crying.

Shortly after the broadcast cut off, Haru came into the room Morgana and the other losers from last night’s round, mask missing and hair tousled, gripping tightly on her hat. The room was silent, no one knowing what to say.

Ann stood up from her seat and guided a slightly bewildered Haru to sit down in her spot, gently brushing her fingers through her hair to get it more under control. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine,” Haru murmured, looking down at the hat in her hands. “Oh, Mona,” she says, looking his way, “Ren said he wanted to meet you in the hall. For that important thing you had planned.”

“Oh, what do you two have planned?” Makoto chimes in.

“We’re going to see if we can try to infiltrate the basement area. Lavenza told him there’s something important down there, but she doesn’t know what yet,” Morgana says. “We’d invite everyone to come along, but it’d just draw a lot of attention.”

“We get it,” Ann says with a wave of her hand. “You’ll have to fill us all in after you get in, and we’ll fill you in on what happens with Ryuji and Futaba.”

“Thank you, Lady Ann,” Morgana says with a bow.

Morgana makes his way into the hallway, looking left and right cautiously as he makes his way further down to where Ren’s dressing room must be. He spots a tall figure clad in black lurking in the shadows up ahead and almost dashes to the shadows fast enough to leave tire marks on the carpeting before he realizes it’s Ren. He waves for Ren to come over, staying in place near an end table he could quickly hide under if one of those scary masked freaks come walking by.

Ren comes over and gets Morgana to follow him down the hallway with the dressing rooms with their names and back into another hallway dimly lit with candles. He follows him through the door in the hallway into a dark room. Fumbling around in the darkness, Ren finds the lightswitch to light the room, showing them nothing but a storage room for props. He sees some track hurdles, naked mannequins, and boxing gloves.

“What are we looking for in here?” Morgana asks incredulously as he examines a familiar abstracted painting of Yusuke, half covered with a tarp. His ears bend back at the sound of a particularly loud creaking sound. “What was that… oh, okay.”

Ren motions for Morgana to follow him through the door; it’s just a normal door leading back out to the grand staircase area, no special puzzles or bells and whistles for them to figure out.

“Why even have a prop storage room there,” Morgana mumbles under his breath. “This theater makes no sense.”

“Take a close look at all of the engravings in the marble around here,” Ren commands. “Let me know if you find anything of note.”

From out in the grand staircase area, they can faintly hear the sound of yelling, cheering, hollering, and all sorts of loud vocalizations from the audience. As Morgana looks around the fanciful marble engravings on the pillars and handrails, he can’t help but think about what Ren and Haru had just had to go through. He sneaks a glance at him, investigating the water fountain feature towards the center of the staircase where there’s a gap between the two sets of stairs. He looks, just as Haru had said, ever infallible. Even when he had seen him yesterday at perhaps one of the lowest he’s ever seen him in awhile, he hardly showed any particularly strong emotions. It seems like whoever has the most stoic approach to this whole thing has been the winner so far. And Ren, the ever enigmatic leader, is perhaps the most stoic of them all.

Ren leans dangerously over the handrailing to touch a star engraving in the stone facade above the fountain. To both of their surprise, the star presses inwards like a button, and the floor begins to shake as they hear a sound like an ancient stone mechanism moving for the first time in years, something they both have heard before. Ren turns towards Morgana with a satisfied smirk and a thumbs up. Morgana cannot return the thumbs up in the typical fashion, on account of the fact that his cat’s body doesn’t have thumbs, but he nods in an encouraging manner at him.

The fountain at the center of the staircase room retracts back inwards to reveal a set of stairs stretching down almost seemingly endlessly into darkness. They both look down at the stairs, then at each other.

“So, how did you figure it out?”

“I just felt like touching everything, and that star engraving seemed to stick out in an obvious way. And as it turns out, it was just that simple, reaching out and pressing down on it like a button,” Ren says, placing a hand on his hip as he looks downwards at the staircase. He lets out a low whistle as he peers into the endless abyss. “I don’t suppose we have anything to light our way?”

Morgana joins Ren’s side to look down the staircase. “Hmm… I don’t think so.”

“Wait. Maybe…” Ren trails off, screwing his eyes shut, when suddenly an old lantern materializes in his hands from a swirl of golden shimmering dust. “Huh, it worked.”

“Okay, now we’re cooking!” Morgana mewls happily. They take the steps down into the depths below cautiously. He takes a glance at the lantern in Ren's hand with a pout. “Do you think I can do that too…?”

“Man, why do I keep getting pitted up against the girls?” Ryuji whines to himself as he dodges another one of Futaba’s laser beam attacks. “I don’t wanna hit you!”

“Well then, Yellow Renegade, sucks to lose!” Futaba says as she aims at Ryuji from up on her vantage point at the top of a desert bluff with her laser gun. “You’ll have to give it your all if you want to defeat me, the Green Oracle!”

Ryuji groans at Futaba’s usage of silly superhero names, though honestly, he wouldn’t mind running around in a yellow suit and mask and fighting bad guys together with Futaba under different circumstances, like in a video game, or something. He dashes over to the bottom of the bluff and grabs onto some perforations jetting out of the rock like a perfect rock climbing wall and forcefully climbs his way up to where Futaba stands. As he hoists himself up and over the edge, he feels a cramp seize up in his bad leg, resting on the ledge with the other still hoisting him up on the edge. All he can do is let out a groan of pain and wait for the pain to subside, screwing his eyes shut, leaving him completely vulnerable to any attacks.

Suddenly, he feels a pair of hands grab onto his shirt and drag his torso with all their might onto the top of the ledge. “Is it your leg?” Futaba asks. Ryuji cannot see her eyes under her goggles but he senses genuine concern in her tone of voice. All he can do to answer her question is nod, looking at the ceiling of the stage, noting the metal catwalks and lights above them, reminding him that his surroundings are fake, even if they look so real.

Futaba crouches down closer to Ryuji’s eye level. “Oh… Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, I just gotta wait for it to subside,” Ryuji says, voice strained.

“Okay,” she says, and crashes backwards so she’s sitting down on the ground, legs pulled up to her chest.

“You could literally just take off my mask and end it here,” Ryuji mutters against his arm, resting on his forehead. “It’d save me the humiliation.”

“Nah, I don’t think I wanna do that. I wanna play at least somewhat fair.”

“How heroic of you,” Ryuji says. “You’ve been trying to get me to play superheroes with you this entire time. Don’t you just wanna call it quits by now?”

“No, because you’re holding yourself back, and that doesn’t sit right with me,” Futaba says, standing up once again. “All because I’m a girl, and also because you think I’m weaker than everyone else.”

“Well, I’m just sayin’, you never did join us—” Ryuji starts, before he cuts himself off.

“Just proved my point there, ol’ buddy ol’ pal,” Futaba says, turning her back from Ryuji so that he sees the hands holding her laser gun behind her back. “The only limits in this world are your imagination, and it kinda seems like you have none.”

A slope connecting the top of the bluff to the floor ascends through the trap doors in the stage, and Futaba steps over Ryuji to walk down it. When she steps off it, the slope disappears back into the stage. “You can meet me down here whenever you’re ready.”

Ryuji groans and grabs onto his pipe, using it to hoist himself back up to stand. He looks down at the bottom of the stage, where Futaba just looks up at him through her goggles, expression indiscernible yet he can sense the smugness emitting from her. It’s a long way down and jumping, which is what his instinct told him to do at first, would probably actually break his bones. He screws his eyes shut and imagines a slope like Futaba’s appearing out of the floor for him; he starts to hear machinery whirring and then he sees a slope rising, a triumphant feeling bubbling in his chest.

He runs down to where Futaba is, wincing only slightly at the slight pain he still feels in his bad leg as he does so, and swings his pipe in her general direction. Futaba yelps and flinches with her hands placed in front of her, a transparent green forcefield appearing around her as she does so. 

“Woah!” Ryuji utters, amazed. “That’s pretty cool!” Excitedly, Ryuji makes swings towards Futaba, getting blocked by a convenient forcefield that appears each time. It becomes a little bit of a game between them as they laugh together, trying different speeds at which the force field appears and disappears. “Could you teach me how to do that?”

“You just kind of have to anticipate where the attack will land and imagine a force field protecting you. It’s not that deep.”

“Hmm… okay… uhh…” Ryuji grunts, trying to follow Futaba's advice, but he can’t make it work out.

“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Futaba declares. She raises her laser gun to Ryuji’s head. “It’s about time you conceded, Yellow Renegade. Admit it! I can be just as good a fighter as anyone else!”

Ryuji throws his hands up in the air and sighs exasperatedly. “Yeah, yeah. You are. Just claim your win already.”

Futaba snickers playfully and tears off Ryuji’s skull mask without any further ado. She turns towards the black void where the audience must be and hoists his mask up triumphantly. Ryuji can only stand there, watching her bask in her victory with a small smile. Around them, the curtains fall, cutting the lights off and leaving them in the dark. They idle there for a few seconds before lights on the floor of the stage illuminate the way backstage. A pair of kuroko are waiting, one to escort Ryuji to the waiting room the others must be in, and one to escort Futaba back to her special dressing room.

When Ryuji enters the waiting room to join the rest of the Phantom Thieves who have lost so far, he’s greeted with lukewarm smiles. Ann waves weakly at him and pats the spot on the couch next to her. Ryuji plops down on the couch, letting all his weight collapse downwards onto the seat, earning him a protest from Ann when the couch cushions move with him. Makoto, sitting closely next to a downcast looking Haru, asks how he’s feeling, to which he says his foot is feeling better now. Immediately after the TV screen makes a sound and shows them the board so far. Haru and Ryuji's names are crossed out, leaving only Futaba and Ren left.

“At least it’s almost over. And we get a break tomorrow!” Ann says in an attempt to ease the tension in the room.

“I do hope it’s a break and not a trick,” Makoto says, leaning forwards and resting her head on one hand.

It’s only until then that Ryuji notices Morgana is missing. “Hey, where’s Mona?”

“Oh, he’s with Joker, investigating the theater to see if they can find some secret basement thing,” Ann supplies.

“They never did say when to expect them to be back,” Yusuke says, investigating an empty tea pot in the corner of the room. “I do hope they’re alright.”

“Well, I think—” Makoto starts, but then is interrupted when the door swings open and both Morgana and Ren come running through, slamming the door shut behind them.

“Hi guys,” Morgana says after he catches his breath, “We’re back in one piece.”

“Woah, what happened?” Ryuji hollers, taking in their appearance. They look relatively untouched, if not shaken and breathing hard.

“We got to the basement, and it’s kind of a labyrinth down there. So many turns and empty rooms… There are also shadows down there. Hostile blobs searching the perimeter, like the ones in Mementos, but we could avoid them easily enough, ‘cause we’re Phantom Thieves after all…” Morgana pauses to catch his breath, having said everything way too fast. “Um, but, uh, we kind of saw the Dramaturge face to face, at least we’re pretty sure that guy was the Dramaturge… It’s… phew… anyway, we should probably go now.”

“No need to say that twice,” Ryuji says, already jumping to his feet.

“Mona, stay with everyone else and bring them to the side entrance while I go get Futaba, she must still be in her dressing room,” Ren orders. Morgana nods and gives Ren a confident smile, no doubt feeling like he’s in charge of them all now since Joker gave him the go ahead. Ren runs out of the room, and then Morgana beckons everyone to follow after him to the exit so they can leave.

It makes Ryuji’s leg pain sting to run as fast as he normally would want to, so he trails behind the others at the end, monitoring Yusuke’s speed as well so he doesn’t get caught up in wanting to stop and look at anything. They somehow don’t encounter any kuroko as they make their way down the hall to the foyer area where the staff entrance is. But they arrive before Ren and Futaba, so they wait for a couple heart pounding minutes for them to appear before exiting the building.

“Where are they?” Ann whines impatiently, crossing her arms.

“Oh, I hope they didn’t get caught by this Dramaturge person…” Haru whispers.

They wait another minute or two before Ren and Futaba come running down the hall, Ren trailing behind Futaba. They’re met with a chorus of questions asking what happened, but they stay silent.

“Okay, let’s bounce!” Futaba says, pointing straight ahead to the door and leading the line out the door.

“Are you both alright?” Makoto asks, following hurriedly after Futaba. “You seem a bit shaken.”

“We’re fine, we just had a close encounter with a kuroko, now let’s scram,” Futaba says, rattling off other adjectives for words that mean to leave hastily as she runs.

Ryuji once again trails behind at the end. Ren waits patiently behind them all, waiting for them all to leave. 

“After you,” Ryuji says, holding the door open.

“No, after you,” Ren says with a saccharine smile.

“But I insist!” Ryuji says mockingly.

“Just go, Ryuji,” Ann yells behind her. Ryuji complies and follows after the others, holding the door open behind him for Ren. He follows on after Ryuji, tailing the group slowly.

“So, what happened with Futaba?” Ryuji yells back at Ren as they run.

“We got stopped on our way back. It was nothing too bad. They just let us go,” Ren says, looking down at his feet to monitor his steps as they run down the stairs. “I mean, that was always the plan. It’s not like we’re meant to be trapped here.”

Ryuji faces forward in order to see where he’s going, but Ren can tell his face must look incredulous. “Futaba seemed a bit jittery. Like, more than normal.”

“Yeah,” Ren says.

“So what happened that freaked her out?”

“Oh, well, we were cornered suddenly. But we were let go, so… no big deal.”

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Ryuji says with a roll of his eyes. The train, still docked in the position they left it, fills their view, so they stop talking.

They meet the rest of the thieves at the train and head on in. The train, thankfully, leaves the station as soon as the doors are closed with everyone accounted for. Ryuji cannot remember anything else that happens after that because soon after, he wakes up in his futon to the sound of his alarm clock in the morning, leg still stinging slightly.