Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite a pretty shitty first impression, Yusuke isn’t actually that bad a guy. Sure, he's a bit of a jerk, a pretentious weirdo, a huge snob, but he isn’t a bad guy. Him and Ryuji have just been in a kind of strange limbo, somewhere between having an uncomfortable (but not unwelcome) amount of gratitude loitering the air, and being actual friends.

They don’t even text each other one-on-one, not until Yusuke sends a message asking if he knew where Akira was. Apparently Yusuke isn’t yet familiar with Akira’s terrible texting habits. So Ryuji texts back ‘He’s probably hanging out with Ann,’ just to let Yusuke know he doesn’t have to worry about their dear leader lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and he would’ve left it at that if not for the nagging feeling he should maybe probably make up for harassing Yusuke for like, a week straight. Not like it was his fault, or that he was wrong to do so (he was definitely, absolutely in the right), but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put a little extra effort in getting along for now.

So he asks why Yusuke needs Akira.

Apparently it’s to explore Mementos. For art, or whatever.

And just because by now Ryuji has a vague impression of what he knows about Yusuke, as a person, he’s compelled to ask, ‘You aren’t going alone, are you?’

'Of course not,' Yusuke assures. 'It'd be far too dangerous with my level of inexperience.' So at least he definitely has some sense. Still, even though there’s a lot Ryuji doesn’t know about Yusuke Kitagawa, what he does know is that the guy isn’t above pulling some ridiculous stunt for the sake of art. Or whatever. At least, that’s the impression Ryuji’s got, and it’s one that’s held up so far.

'Hold on,’ he texts, ‘I’ll go with.’

“This is the stuff that inspires you?”

It’s a fair question; Ryuji doesn’t know what he expected from the concept of exploring Mementos for art, but trudging through a grimy brain-subway of people’s collective thoughts doesn’t strike him as very artistically fulfilling. Painting Ann? Sure. Painting this? What the fuck. Maybe he could understand if it was all about beating up shadows and using that adrenaline to get the creative juices flowing, but no, Yusuke’s just poking around random corners and sketching out whatever.

Apparently, Yusuke disagrees. “Of course it’s inspiring,” he says. “This is the root of desire; the nature of humanity at its base, stripped to its core!”

“Again with the stripping.” Ryuji scoffs. “Only you could come up with this shit.”

“Actually, it was Akira’s idea. We were here just the other day, but I wanted to ensure certain details were fresh in my mind before I started painting.”

Huh. Second trip in, and it still takes forever.

“In any case, I’ll be finishing up soon enough. Thank you,” Yusuke says, a little too sincere; even with their masks in the way, Ryuji can see some soft look in his eyes. There's something about it that strikes him as sad, almost, and it's... time to keep listening to Yusuke because the guy's still talking. “I do appreciate it, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Aside from everything you’ve already done for me, that you’re willing to assist in my artistic endeavors is… well, there aren’t many who are willing to deal with my eccentricities. You all are a bit strange, in that regard.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Ryuji shoots back, “and don’t get used to it. Art ain’t my thing. But if it’s something like this, I guess I can help out. Just promise me you won’t go in here alone, alright?”

“Of course,” Yusuke says, a reasonable response to a reasonable request, but Ryuji’s pretty sure he’s nipped some kind of catastrophe in the bud.

Chapter Text

Ryuji starts one fine Sunday morning in the worst way possible: by waking up. And sure, he likes morning jogs as much as the next guy, probably more than the next guy, but Sundays are a sacred time for sleeping in. A sacred time interrupted by an untimely text, sent at just the right moment to completely kick him clean out of dreamworld.

'I require assistance in transporting my work,' it reads. It's from Yusuke.

'No,' Ryuji types.

'Unfortunately, I cannot do it myself.'

Probably means he's tried. Probably means he's failed, and is potentially in danger of hurting himself. Still, Ryuji's not going down without a fight - or getting up, in this case. Time to use his trump card.

'Get Akira to do it.'

'I would think our leader has far more pressing matters on his mind! It's not worth bothering him for something as trite as manual labor.'

'And it's worth bothering me!?'

'Yes.'

Unlike some people, Ryuji considers maintaining a healthy sleep schedule a very valuable use of his time. 'Get one of your art buddies to help,' he types.

'I can't.'

'Why?'

'There is no one at this school who fits that criteria.'

Shit. That's sad. And what's worse is the fact that Yusuke probably wasn't even aiming for the sympathy angle.

'You owe me,' Ryuji types, reluctantly rolling out of his bed. At the very least, it's a nice jog to the station.

"What do you think?" Yusuke asks, standing proudly beside his masterpiece. "I would like your honest opinion, if you would."

Well. It's red. It's black. There's a big swirl. It kind of looks like a weird painting of Mementos, if Mementos was more... fluid. And different.

"What is it?" Ryuji asks honestly, because he honestly doesn't know.

"Ah." Yusuke sighs, a grating disappointment in his breath. "You see, this is how I choose to interpret the idea of 'desire'."

"How is it desire!? It's just colors and shapes!"

"These 'colors and shapes' represents the foul charm held deep within the abyss of the heart! It is my perception of desire, formed by my observation of Mementos!” Yusuke makes some grand gesture, looking like the conductor of an invisible orchestra. “Through this manifestation collective cognition, I have grown to understand the intricacies of the heart in a way I had once thought impossible, and now, I will share this raw, unbridled look into the depths of the human psyche with the public at large. My hand holds the mirror of their distorted desires right to their face!"

"Then," Ryuji starts, "isn't this just a weird painting of Mementos?"

Judging from the look on Yusuke's face, Ryuji just did the artistic equivalent of spitting in his cereal.

"You have no aesthetic sensibilities whatsoever," Yusuke accuses.

"Yeah, I could've told you that. If you wanted a good art opinion, you should've called Ann. But," Ryuji concedes, "whatever it is, it does look pretty cool." It's just colors and shapes, but even he can tell they're good colors and shapes.

"Thank you." Somehow Yusuke manages to make gratitude sound like a scripted formality. "In any case, I look forward to my debut at the public exhibition. Surely its patrons will have a far more refined taste."

They don't.

"Woah, weird," says a passing patron.

"It's kind of scary," whispers the girl clinging to his arm.

"Hey!" Ryuji calls, which amps up the couple's modest power-walk to practically a sprint. "Hey, I'm talking to-"

"There is no need to worry," Yusuke interrupts, calm despite the lackluster reception. "That was nothing more than the drivel of unrefined commoners; I needn’t pay any mind to them."

"Commoners, huh?" Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Well, your ego aside, it's still pretty damn rude if you ask me."

"As long as those who are in the know understand my work, I will be happy."

Ugh. His smug self-satisfaction is off the charts. This is why Ryuji doesn't do this kind of art, it's all for old people and rich pricks. And speaking of, here comes a guy that looks like both. "Is he who you're painting for?" Ryuji asks, jabbing a thumb in his direction.

"Perhaps he is," Yusuke says, completely missing the derisive edge to Ryuji's question. Or ignoring it. He walks over to the man, exuding confidence and elegance and poise and obnoxiousness. "I would like your opinion, sir - what are your thoughts on this piece?"

"I can see quite clearly why it was accepted into the exhibition. The technique is excellent," the geezer says, to Yusuke's obvious satisfaction. "However, the composition as a whole is mediocre at best."

"What did you say!?" Ryuji doesn't realize he's taking a step forward until he's stopped by Yusuke's hand on his shoulder. Which halts his feet, but not his mouth. "You don't know a damn thing!"

"My, what a strong reaction. But you aren't the artist, are you?" The old windbag gives him an appraising look before turning his attention to Yusuke. "The title is listed as 'Desire', but that idea is quite overused; some may even call it stale. These brush strokes are splendid given your age, but this painting itself is empty - devoid of meaning. I suggest you take a more critical eye to your work in the future if you truly want to progress as an artist." And with that, the guy turns on his heel and walks away.

"What the eff, man!" Ryuji exclaims, garnering a few alarmed stares, but whatever. "Forget about him, he doesn't know shit."

"But he's right." Yusuke sinks to his knees. "You were right."

"What," Ryuji says.

"This piece is empty," Yusuke continues, some cold realization seeping through his words. "In the end, the mirror I held reflected not the bare realities of the world, just my shallow conception of it! It is just 'a weird painting of Mementos'!"

"Hey," Ryuji tries, but it's too late. Yusuke's on the floor. This is happening.

"These colors, these brush strokes... I haven’t captured desire, desire has captured me! How could I have fooled myself into believing otherwise!? It is as though I have been forsaken by the gods of art!"

"Come on," he tries again, but Yusuke's in the zone. Looks like something they just have to wait out.

"I have no future in this field," Yusuke laments. "This grave mistake shall be the end for me…"

Ryuji kneels next to Yusuke, laying what's hopefully a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now that's bull. You're good at art. And even if you weren't, you're the type that'd work at it until you were. You really gonna give up after some geezer talks shit? That's not like you, man. And get off the floor, jeez, you're so dramatic."

After a long moment, Yusuke heaves out a sigh, visibly composing himself. Still on the floor, but definitely pulling himself together. "You are correct. Surrendering myself to fate after only one failure would be very much unlike me. Still," he says, finally rising to his feet, "being criticized by someone with such a keen eye is truly painful. All the more reason I must break out of my slump, I suppose."

"Alright, that's the spirit!"

"Excuse me,” a security guard says, popping up from nowhere. “Is there a problem here?"

"Nope," Ryuji says, immediately gritting his teeth at the tone of her voice. "We're fine."

"If you insist on making a scene I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she continues, as if she didn't hear him at all.

"There’s no scene here, unless you're gonna make one right now," Ryuji retorts. They were well on their way to calming down before she showed up, so it's pretty garbage she's only showing up now.

"We've been getting complaints.”

"Look, if you got a problem-"

"No need to worry," Yusuke says, back to being all proper and poised. "We'll be taking our leave."

It's probably because he doesn't give the delinquent vibe, but they manage to go without any trouble.

"Sorry," Ryuji says once they're outside, and once he’s calmed down. "You probably didn't want to be kicked out of your own gallery, huh."

"It's not exactly my gallery," Yusuke corrects. "Still, it wouldn't do well for an artist to be kicked out of a museum. Nevertheless... thank you. While your conduct was abhorrent, it was kind of you to speak on my behalf."

"You don't have to be surprised." And maybe that's what's been bugging Ryuji; despite everything so far, Yusuke still seemed slightly taken aback by basic friendship stuff. "Look, that dude had no business tearing into you like that."

Yusuke hums in not-quite protest. "He had valuable criticism to offer.”

"Yeah, and he sucked about offering it. Just because there wasn't meaning for him doesn't mean there's no meaning at all."

"I suppose," he says, still a bit too reserved.

"Why don't we go for a beef bowl," Ryuji decides. "My treat."

"Oh!” Yusuke looks down at his own body, as if suddenly realizing he had one. "I had forgotten."

"What, to eat?"

"I was simply too focused on my work."

"For how long!?"

"Since yesterday, I believe. I'm not usually one for procrastination, but I felt particularly motivated to keep making last-second additions to this piece." Yusuke pauses, a look of deep consideration across his face. "It is Saturday, correct?"

"I worry about you, dude," Ryuji says, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

Despite the fact that they go to completely different schools, and despite the fact that Tokyo’s a pretty big city, Yusuke's somehow incredibly easy to run into. If it was just a matter of bumping into each other at Shinjuku, it’d be one thing, but no - it’s everywhere. Not even his jogging route is safe, Ryuji muses, as he watches a strange and familiar figure crawl towards a thicket of reeds in probably the most conspicuous way possible.

“Hey Yusuke,” Ryuji calls, making his way over. Yusuke waves at him, but it comes off pretty obviously as less ‘hello’ and more ‘shut up’.

“Do you see them?” Yusuke asks, instead of offering any greeting of his own. Which is actually pretty weird since, eccentricities aside, dude's got the manners of a chivalrous grandpa. So it's probably an art thing. Ryuji crouches next to him, trying to align to Yusuke’s line of sight. It takes a little while, but eventually something catches his eye.

“Are you… looking at ducks?”

“Making an attempt, at least,” Yusuke mutters, scribbling in his sketchbook with harsh and furious strokes. “They refuse to leave their natural-woven sanctuary, which makes it quite difficult to observe them. If I could just get a better vantage point...”

Ryuji can tell the exact second a terrible idea enters Yusuke’s mind, because the guy stands up, turning to him with the most blindingly optimistic expression that could possibly exist. “Your arrival is quite serendipitous! Shall we rent a boat?”

“A boat,” Ryuji repeats, already feeling some preemptive exhaustion. “With you?”

“How else am I to get close enough for proper study? I can’t very well sketch while rowing.”

“Carry this, row that, what do I look like, a butler?" It's bad enough Ryuji's forcibly enlisted as a packmule any time Ann goes out shopping. "I swear, I'm gonna start charging you guys. Besides: nuh-uh, no way. Only couples get into those things.”

“On the contrary, I rented one with Akira not too long ago," Yusuke says, proving that Akira really does go along with anything. "We also met a couple that was, in fact, not a couple.”

"How's that something you find out?" Ryuji asks; Yusuke really doesn't seem the type that could pick up that kind of interpersonal nuance. Judging from the chagrin that flashes across his face, it’s a pretty good assessment.

"It was a humbling experience. It seems at times I may be a little… overzealous about my own abilities," Yusuke admits, which means Ryuji definitely has to get the full story out of their mutual friend. "In any case, I've decided to spend the day studying symbolic representations of love in order to further my understanding of how it manifests in the public consciousness."

"So to learn about love," Ryuji starts, in some vain attempt to understand Yusuke's train of thought, "you're… looking at ducks?"

"In certain cultures, the mandarin duck is seen as a symbol of fidelity, representative of an ideal relationship."

"Oh," Ryuji says.

"This is due to the fact that they are the only species of duck thought to mate for life; as such, mandarin ducks play a significant role in matrimonial imagery. Wood-carved ducks are often given as wedding presents, certain designs even going so far as to ensure the figures can only stand properly by fitting together a certain way - no doubt referencing the intrinsic role mutual support plays in relationships."

"Uh," Ryuji says.

"Yet," Yusuke continues, showing no signs of being anywhere near done with his monologue, "because of the stark dichotomy of appearance between the male and the female, colloquialisms exist which use these animals as a base for describing an ‘odd couple’; this contradictory concept of fated, yet ill-matched couples truly encapsulates the contradictory nature of how the general public conceptualizes love, wouldn't you say? The heart truly is a mysterious entity."

"It all goes back to art stuff, huh,” Ryuji says, instead of pretending to follow that whole thing. To him, the duck doesn't look like a representative of whatever. The duck still just looks like a duck. What little he can see of it, at least, considering it's still pretty obscured by the reeds. “How do you know so much about ducks?”

"Before coming to the park I spent the night researching the various wildlife common to this area to determine which should be my subject of study." Yusuke nods to himself. “Research is, after all, crucial to the pursuit of art.”

Well, he certainly knows more about ducks than Ryuji ever would. "Are ducks really the right way to go? Like, when it comes to birds and couples and love, aren't swans what everyone thinks of? I mean, the swan boats.”

"My intention was to capture these animals in their natural habitat; it is through this type of observation that they have been asserted as representations of the monogamous ideal. Swans, while indeed the picture of a classic, romantic elegance, are not native to this area.” Yusuke lets out a sigh, as if it's a personal failing on swans everywhere for inconveniencing him, personally.

"What's that, then?" Ryuji asks, pointing at what's definitely a swan.

"That... is indeed a swan,” Yusuke confirms when he follows the direction of Ryuji's finger. “How curious. Perhaps it escaped from the zoo. Although, the arched wings, the curve of its neck... hm. We should leave. Immediately."

“Why? It’s just a swan. What's it gonna do, flap at- oh shit!” Ryuji yelps as the thing fucking charges.

At the very least, the whole debacle gets Yusuke to forget about the boat rental business.

Chapter Text

The biggest downside to Makoto joining is that shotgun's basically permanently claimed by the only other competent driver in the group. Not always, but it's more convenient to switch two folks than it is to potentially shuffle the entire car around.

There was a brief period of time where Yusuke was their backup driver, but he was actually too good a driver - he just flat-out refused to break any traffic laws. The guy insists on using turn signals in Mementos, he's not exactly the ideal for a group of phantom thieves. Not that Yusuke’s all too torn up about losing his spot to Makoto. In fact, he's put his demotion to good use.

"Is he seriously sleeping?" Ann asks, poking Yusuke's cheek with the handle of his own katana. "I'm kind of impressed."

"Right? You wouldn't think he'd be able to, not with how carsick he gets.” Ryuji shifts, careful not to upend Yusuke from his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the only time he even sleeps. Still, if he drools on me, I'm throwing him out of the car."

"If he drools on me, you're throwing him out of the car," Morgana calls from... somewhere. Wherever his mouth is.

“Instead of throwing him out of the car, you could just wake him up,” Makoto says, less of a suggestion and more of a roadblock for potential shenanigans.

"Should I try?" The slight upturn of Akira's mouth (coupled with his known habit of being a little shit) takes what should be an innocent question and dyes it into a giant red flag. Sure enough, even though everybody's raising some variation of Joker what are you doing, Joker don't, Joker get that foot off the pedal, Joker you're going to kill us, Akira pays no mind. He guns it. He keeps gunning it.

After that, the group comes to the near-unanimous decision that Makoto should take over driving duty; four in favor, one opposed, and one vote abstained because Yusuke miraculously stays asleep, the bastard.

Chapter Text

If he didn't know any better, Ryuji would think Yusuke's following him. Then again, Ryuji usually sees Yusuke first, so the question of who's stalking who ends up being a pretty confusing one. In any case, it's a good thing Ryuji didn't really have plans; getting involved with Yusuke tends to be a full-day ordeal.

"Hey Yusuke," Ryuji greets, lightly bumping into him. For someone who probably doesn't lift anything heavier than a paintbrush, Yusuke's surprisingly well-built. "What're you doing all the way out here?"

Yusuke shifts his bag on his shoulder, holding it somewhat protectively. "Ah, Ryuji. It's good to see you, though I'd rather you be more mindful of other people's belongings."

That's rich, coming from the guy who treats the whole world and everything in it like it's part of his own personal canvas.

"To answer your question, I was just on my way back to my dormitory,” he explains. Apparently, today's the exception to the time-sink rule.

"I'll walk you to the station," Ryuji says, less of an offer and more of a certainty - except Yusuke shakes his head.

"You're welcome to walk with me, but I'll have to warn you, it'll be longer than anticipated. I shall be walking the entire distance, you see."

"Uh," Ryuji starts, thinking back on what he knows about where Yusuke's set up. Not anywhere close, that's for sure. "Why?"

"It appears I do not have enough on hand for a return trip." Yusuke doesn't even have the decency to be embarrassed about it, the jerk.

"Jeez, you're hopeless with money." Ryuji digs through his pocket, grabbing whatever change he has. Should be enough to get Yusuke home, at least. But instead of any sentiment like, ‘wow, Ryuji’s so great for looking after my careless ass!’ Yusuke lets out a huff of irritation.

"I assure you, I am normally quite conscientious when budgeting travel expense! I was simply... distracted."

"Distracted," Ryuji repeats, waiting for an inevitable explanation.

"I had been struck by a sudden desire to revisit my former dwelling, but unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be."

"What, did you lock yourself out?"

"On the contrary, I made sure to leave the house unlocked before I was... relocated.” Yusuke’s delicate pause hangs in the air, weighted by one hell of a life-changing event. “No, it was the state of the house itself that denied me entrance - the door has been rendered immovable by the passage of time, and I lack the skill to repair it."

"So… the door's busted,” Ryuji says. At least, that’s what Yusuke seems to be getting at. “That's a bummer."

"I was hoping to reevaluate myself, perhaps rekindle the passion for art I once held - the passion of an inquiring mind on the hunt for pure beauty. It came so easily, before I... learned of Madarame’s foul nature."

So much of Yusuke seems to go back to Madarame. It makes sense, considering the guy basically raised him (after passively killing his mom) but it’s still absolutely infuriating how much influence that old fraud has over Yusuke. Even when he’s locked up who-knows-where, he’s still causing trouble with his shitty house being a shithole.

"We're still close by, aren't we?" Ryuji asks - it's been a while since they've had to be in the area, but from his hazy recollection, it's just a few stops from where they're standing. "Why don't I give it a shot?"

"I'm not sure you're proficient enough with your hands," Yusuke says. Not as badly worded as it could've been, but something about the phrasing makes Ryuji wince; there's practically nothing he can really say to that without it sounding incredibly awkward.

"Look dude," Ryuji says, electing to just side-step it entirely, "let's just check it out."

"I'd rather you not break the door," Yusuke says, hovering right over Ryuji's shoulder.

"Relax, I got this! My door gets jammed all the time." Of course, usually someone else fixes it, but that's not important.

“Ryuji, don’t break the door," Yusuke repeats.

“I won’t.”

“Ryuji, are you listening to me? Do not break the door," he repeats again, insistent.

“I won’t! Look, sometimes all you need is a little extra push-”

The door breaks.

"Well," Ryuji says, looking at the fruits of his labor. The door swings lightly in the breeze - not ideal for one that’s supposed to slide open. "At least you can get in, right?"

Yusuke doesn't say anything.

"It's not like there's anything to steal, right? This place has always been kind of a dump, anyway."

"We should take our leave before the police are called."

"Look, it's fine, this used to be your place! It's not like anyone's gonna care! Come on, let's just..." Ryuji gestures towards the now (permanently) open door, stepping through as he does. Yusuke, after heavy deliberation and a heavier sigh, follows after him. He seems to perk up once he's inside, though. There really is nothing to steal, not since the police confiscated everything, and all the empty space just emphasizes how run-down the house really is.

"It feels like a lifetime since I've lived here," Yusuke murmurs, trailing a hand across the aged walls. "The memories remain, even if the physical fixtures are absent. This was the corner I was made to sit, whenever I acted out of line.”

“Oh,” Ryuji says, unsure whether that’s a thread to pursue. It sounds harmless enough, but given what he knows about Madarame… before he can make a decision either way, Yusuke’s already moving ahead, leaving Ryuji to trail behind.

“Over here was a bookshelf, filled to the brim with various tomes; art compilation books for the most part, but there were a few manga tucked away as well.”

“I didn't know you read manga,” Ryuji notes, mainly just for something to say.

“All of them were incredibly dated works that could have been justified as a study in period pieces and developing artforms; I doubt they would suite your tastes, though you no doubt know of them. Still, the dramatic lines and dynamic composition were more than enough to amuse a child.”

With how matter-of-fact Yusuke is about recounting his life, it comes off pretty normal; Ryuji doesn’t know if the warning bells sounding off in his head actually exist or not, but there’s something in him that wonders if Yusuke was ever actually allowed to just be a kid.

"This is also where we would gather to eat when the atelier still had a large pupil count,” he continues, gesturing to a space that, even empty, looks pretty cramped. “Sensei is particularly fond of salty food, so-”

Yusuke cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. “What am I saying," he says to the near-empty room. "Why do I still treat that man as my mentor? How long will I allow him to control my life?”

"Dude, you okay?" Ryuji asks, taking an uncertain step forward. Yusuke’s… really not looking so good, and there's something in the way he holds himself that makes him look smaller than he should.

"I- I'm fine," Yusuke says, clearly not, but making a valiant effort to compose himself. With a steadying breath, he turns his attention back to the room.

“The truth of the matter is, I used to paint simply for the joy of painting. Back then, I only saw the superficial beauty of the world - I could not see the grime beneath," he explains. "After learning the truth behind Madarame’s actions though, everything changed. I strove to fight back against the newfound ugliness I saw, and to display my talent to those who mocked me; I needed to do whatever it took to validate my artistic ability.” Yusuke trails a hand against the wall again, but there’s no nostalgia to the motion. Grief, maybe. “Ultimately, I began to emulate that which I had so deeply despised in Madarame.”

"No way,” Ryuji says, immediately. “You guys are completely different.”

“Are we, though? I’ve waxed poetic about capturing the human experience, about broadening my own horizons, but in the end it was in pursuit of praise. Top prize in the next exhibition?” Yusuke laughs in some self-directed disdain. “What a joke. It appears I am doomed to follow in his footsteps.”

“Like hell you are!” No way Ryuji’s gonna sit back and let his friend talk himself into a downward spiral, especially not about this. “The fact that you're painting your own stuff means you're already on a completely different level - you saw how he was."

"But there must've been a time when that man had pure aspirations as an artist,” Yusuke says. He sounds reasonable, a calm logic despite his distress that's awful to hear. “You know, Boss told me something very interesting when I was staying at Leblanc,” he continues. “He said... he didn’t believe Madarame took me in for my skill alone. I suppose now that I think about it, there would be no way to know whether or not I would have been talented. What could he have thought when he looked upon me, I wonder?”

"It doesn't matter what he thought," Ryuji insists; whatever went through Madarame's head doesn't change what he did, not for a second.

"It matters to me," Yusuke admits, a little too vulnerable to be a proper retort. "Even after learning of his true nature, a part of me still believes in my former mentor. I simply cannot come to terms with the stark dualities presented to me; the humble house and that loathsome Palace, the kind teacher and the fiendishly deceptive artist... although I know of the darkness that has tainted his heart, I,” Yusuke’s breath stutters, caught with too much emotion, “I miss him.”

Oh, fuck.

“It seems even the workings of my own heart are inexplicable.” Yusuke doesn't even seem to be talking to Ryuji, too engrossed in his own thoughts. “How can I capture the purity of the human experience when I myself…”

"Hello?" A voice calls, before Ryuji can even attempt a response. "Is someone there? I’m coming in."

“Aw, crap,” Ryuji hisses, looking for a place to hide, but to no avail - Madarame didn’t even spring for closets, the stingy bastard.

“I told you the police would come," Yusuke says, sounding resigned.

“Who cares, we gotta get out-”

“Ah,” comes the same voice, now from the doorway. “I was wondering who could have been in here.”

Ryuji’s already got a dozen excuses at the tip of his tongue, but when he turns around, he’s surprised enough that everything just flies out of his head. “What are you doing here?” He asks, staring at the old man from Yusuke's last exhibition.

“I could ask the same of you,” the guy says. Fair point, but fuck off. He turns to Yusuke, regarding him with a light curiosity. “Are you perhaps still caught in your slump?”

"How do you know about that?” Yusuke asks. It’s something Ryuji would also like to know, because that’s a suspicious kind of specific.

"I know a great deal about you, Yusuke-kun,” the man says, continuing his trend of being really fucking sketchy. "You’ve made a name for yourself by patterning your work after the beautifully detailed “Sayuri”, but that painting at the exhibition was quite different from your usual portfolio. Have you begun trying out new styles?"

After Yusuke doesn’t respond, Ryuji takes it upon himself to challenge him with a belligerent, "What's it to you!?"

“If you’d like," the guy continues, ignoring Ryuji, "I can advise you - materials, themes, et cetera. You seem as though you could use a helping hand right now."

"What are you trying to pull-"

"Ryuji," Yusuke snaps, in a tone that usually means 'shut up'. Lucky for him, the old man doesn't seem bothered at all.

"Most of your painting was done while living in this residence, correct? Your current lack of patron must be what is holding you back. Please-" the man reaches into his coat, pulling out his wallet- "take my card. I’ve made a living investing in promising young artists like yourself, Yusuke-kun.”

"Director of the Japanese Art Support Foundation… Akiko Kawanabe?" Yusuke reads, the awe in his voice signaling… something. "But why have you chosen me? You criticized me so harshly back at the exhibition."

"Because I feel you have talent," Kawanabe says. "Now, my foundation can provide you an environment that will allow you to focus on developing your skills; if such a lifestyle interests you, we can talk further at a later date. I have business I must attend to, but I hope to hear from you soon." Kawanabe nods, and walks right out the door as if he wasn't just trespassing on Yusuke’s former house.

“What the eff!” Ryuji explodes, once the guy’s out of earshot. “Who the hell does he think he is!”

“The director of the Japanese Art Support Foundation,” Yusuke answers, somewhat distant. “He must be serious in his interest if you weren’t able to scare him off.”

"Don’t make it sound like some I'm some hired thug," Ryuji shoots back. "Anyway, this whole thing seems fishy. Are you really gonna let another asshole yank you around?"

“I…”

“You’re not actually thinking about it, are you!?”

"When will you learn that mindlessly rushing into a situation can lead to disastrous, long-term consequences!" Yusuke's words echo through the empty house, not with volume, but with a harsh intensity. "You don't seem to understand; my future as an artist hangs in the balance! If I cannot overcome this obstacle my life is forfeit! Passion alone may fill my heart, but it cannot fill my stomach - and if absent entirely, corrupted into a passion for mere accolades, I don't know what will become of me! Art for the sake of art is far superior to art for the sake of material gain, but I..."

It’d be a lot easier to dismiss this as more of the usual dramatics, but Yusuke's... upset. Really upset. Has been for a while, really. And yeah, Ryuji doesn't really get the whole art thing, but he gets that it's important, so maybe his usually methods of charging ahead aren't really helpful here.

"Shit," Ryuji says. He rubs the back of his neck, awkward and unsure, before shuffling close enough to lay an arm around Yusuke's shoulder in a one-armed half-hug. "You're really taking this hard, huh."

"I don't know if what it is I want is even a possibility anymore. The pursuit of capturing beauty seems to be some nebulous, unattainable goal from someone hopelessly naive now that I've become aware of how tainted the world is." Yusuke leans against Ryuji, almost knocking their heads together. He’s not that used to this physical contact deal, is he. "This patronage, it could be an incredible opportunity for me. Or it could send me down the same path as Madarame. I've been blinded by the need for validation, set adrift by the whims of the public while simultaneously ignorant to its desires - if the gods of art haven't yet forsaken me, they would do well to do so. Could this be my chance at redemption? Do I deserve it?"

"You never needed it, man.” Ryuji does his best to leave no room for argument; it’s not like Yusuke’s done anything wrong, after all. “What's there to redeem?"

Yusuke obviously disagrees, judging from how he scoffs, but he doesn't voice it - instead, he just shakes his head. "I do not know what manner of fortune you bring, but you seem to attract extraordinary circumstances, Ryuji."

"Nah," Ryuji says, "it's all you. Guy’s interested in your art, after all." Ryuji lets out a sigh, debating whether to step away or not. But Yusuke hasn't moved, so he won’t either. "Look, I’m… I’m sorry. We both know what it's like having a shitty adult have way too much control over your life. I mean, Madarame was a way bigger influence on you than Kamoshida was for me, but it just… it fucking sucks, and I don't want you getting messed up by that again. I still don't like this, but it’s your decision, and I guess you’re gonna be the one who knows what you need. He's got good taste, at least,” Ryuji adds, angling for some response. He doesn't really get one. "Hey," he tries. "If you do end up meeting up with him, take someone with you, alright?"

"He's a man with a very prestigious background," Yusuke says, finally. It’s not quite a rebuttal, just an objective statement that doesn't really matter.

"He's just another shitty adult who isn't entitled to you or your work."

"Well,” Yusuke considers, “I do think having to rein in your temper will force me to proceed with due caution."

Who's babysitting who here, honestly. "I'll behave," Ryuji insists, "but if you're that worried, it doesn't have to be me - anyone's fine. Just don't get caught with that guy alone, not until you’re sure about what his deal is."

Yusuke... laughs, which is a little unexpected. "You… you're so kind," he says, some raw timbre to his voice as he leans just a little further into Ryuji.

Chapter Text

"I'm kind of surprised you actually brought me," Ryuji confesses, glancing around the restaurant. It's real classy, almost as nice as the place of their group's first celebratory dinner. Nice enough that Ryuji's been getting a handful of dirty looks from customers and staff alike. Whoever that Kawanabe guy is, at least he knows how to show off.

Yusuke gives him a small smile, and there's something about the slight upturn of his mouth that seems disproportionately pleased. "It was a request made while you held me tenderly in your arms-"

"Dude."

"-how could I possibly deny you?"

"Dude," Ryuji repeats. "Why would you say it like that."

Before Yusuke gets a chance to respond, there's a shift in his attention to some point behind Ryuji; that must mean old art guy's here.

"Ah," Kawanabe says, making his way over. "I see you've brought your friend." To his credit, he seems to take Ryuji's presence in stride. Ryuji glares harder. "Come, I’ve ordered your portion as well. Please, eat."

"Before that," Yusuke starts, which is Ryuji's cue to slowly put his chopsticks down, "there is something I would like to ask. Just who are you?"

"An interesting question." Kawanabe leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. Isn't that supposed to be rude? Shouldn't some hotshot in the art world have better manners? "Broadly speaking, we’re responsible for scouting and nurturing talented youth involved in the art world," he explains. "We offer free scholarships, mediate study abroad programs - we also connect young artists to customers."

"So, what," Ryuji says, "you're like an agent for artists?”

"That's certainly one way you can look at it," he confirms. "At a time, even Madarame participated in our organization."

Alright, why the fuck would he even bring that up. But, Ryuji reins in his first instinct of kicking some old dude’s ass, instead shooting a glance over to Yusuke. He looks stiff, hands clutched together to the point of white knuckles, and he’s just so... transparent. For a guy that comes off as pretty reserved, there’s something visceral about how he shows even a second of emotion.

This is honestly why Ryuji wanted someone to come along. Sure, he’s not exactly the strategic type, but Yusuke just really gives the vibe of someone who needs an anchor. Now that Ryuji’s here though, he's not sure he's the best person for the job. Maybe Akira would’ve been a better choice, someone who’s good at exuding an atmosphere of general support and who doesn't get carried away when things get tense. But Akira’s not here, Ryuji is, and he has to do something to help out.

He kicks Yusuke’s chair.

In Ryuji’s defense it’s not a hard kick, and it does get Yusuke to look up and make some eye contact, which is a definite improvement from his split-second of obvious turmoil. Ryuji takes the opportunity to catch him in a meaningful look; no specific meaning behind it, just some nebulous sentiment of ‘hey, someone's here for you’. Yusuke, at least, takes it to mean something. Or, maybe he does? In any case, he turns back to Kawanabe.

"Madarame was involved with your organization?" Yusuke asks, voice careful and steady.

"A good many benefited from his time working with us,” Kawanabe says. If Ryuji was in a charitable mood, maybe he’d appreciate how candid old art agent is being, but he’s not and he doesn't. “We were aware of the dark rumors about him, but we could never have seen his confession coming. I suppose it’s likely he was deceiving us that whole time…"

"Yeah. Great job with that." Maybe it’s a cheap shot, but it’s one Ryuji feels no qualms about taking. Still falls into the realm of behaving himself, probably.

Yusuke lets out a heavy sigh, the kind that usually foreshadows one heck of an incoming soliloquy. “In the past,” he starts, “merely the desire to paint led me to seek beauty. Now, I find myself constantly weighed down by the search for awards, the praise of others.” His grip tightens as he shakes his head. “When did this ugly attachment fasten itself upon my work? Was it created under the guidance of that man, or did his downfall merely draw my attention to it? How much is his influence? How much is my weakness?”

Jeez, he’s really… Ryuji knew he was messed up about that kind of stuff, but it’s just not right that Yusuke can't get a break. If it’s not a crisis about the guy who raised him being a fraud who plagiarized his damn work, who made him think it was okay to be used like that, it’s a crisis about some ‘true meaning of art’ bullshit. While that’s some lofty dilemma that flies clear over Ryuji’s head, he can at least recognize it as something important Yusuke needs to figure out before he can move on from any of this.

Kawanabe makes a sympathetic sound. “It would be wasteful to let your talent dry up,” he says. “Our foundation would gladly support you. Not only a former student of the infamous Madarame, but someone with those looks… there is definitely a market for you.” He nods to himself, as if coming to some kind of decision. "We’ll sell you as the ‘tragic, handsome artist’.”

"Wait a second, hold on - what?" In literally any other situation, Ryuji would've burst out laughing at such a melodramatic descriptor. It fits, actually, and he honestly feels robbed that he can't find it funny.

Yusuke looks just as shocked. "I am wondering the same," he says.

"Having your ideas stolen by Madarame, losing a place to live, hungry, for food," Kawanabe lists with an almost clinical detachment, "that unstable air about you makes for the perfect tragedy. A story like yours will sell even to those who don’t understand art."

Hearing Yusuke's life just laid out like that, it's just awful, made worse by how damn callous the bastard is about it. "Are you freakin'-"

Wait a second. Ryuji promised to behave, didn't he.

“If you don’t have a story in the modern climate, nobody will even mention your name,” Kawanabe continues. “Don’t worry, we’ll handle the details. But in return, you must sell your work through my gallery. We will take a mediation fee, but you’ll be granted steady revenue and a nice customer base as well.”

“Do not mock me,” Yusuke seethes. “Tragedy? Looks? Story!? That has nothing to do with my art! I am not some commodity for you to sell, nor am I satisfied with my work attached as some- some tawdry gimmick for some larger farce! I reject your offer!”

Kawanabe scoffs. “How immature.”

“Excuse me!? How dare-”

“It seems you haven’t learned anything after all,” Kawanabe says, the condescending bastard. “Is wealth really that horrible? And beyond that, how long will you continue to chase those illusions of yours? Purity, art-”

"He said he ain't buying," Ryuji snaps. In his humble opinion, there’s nothing worthwhile about whatever else Kawanabe has to offer.

Kawanabe proves him right, saying, “Not a wise choice, if he truly has the resolve to use art to make a living.”

Yusuke recoils as if struck, sputtering out, “I have that resolve! However, I also believe such a life should only come via proper assessment!”

“In that case, I have an opportunity for you.” Kawanabe takes out a flier, sliding it over to Yusuke. “My foundation will soon be holding a competition for young artists from around the nation; we’ll bring customers from around Japan to see the next great talent. There will be a great deal of pressure on you, should you enter. I wonder if you have what it takes to withstand a skill-based assessment of that magnitude.”

“You can just go to hell!” Ryuji’s practically shouting, but that’s not important - what is important is letting this smug bastard know just how wrong he is. “Yusuke’s on a whole different level from you assholes!”

“I look forward to seeing his work, then.” Kawanabe stands up, looking down on them like the asshole he is. “It seems there’s no use in any further discussion. You can have them send the bill to my office.” He walks away, leaving them to stew in mutual outrage.

“That avaricious bastard,” Yusuke curses, the first one Ryuji’s ever heard from him. “Why is it that all artists talk about is money, money, money!? Has the true meaning of art been lost!? Is it truly possible to create art in such a society?”

“That guy doesn't think so.” Ryuji shakes his head in disgust. “Can you believe him!? Who does he think he is, saying all that crap!”

Yusuke’s also looking pretty fed up, still, and this actually feels like the first time they've really been in sync. At least, the first time unrelated to fighting shadows. “This meeting has left a bad taste in my mouth,” he proclaims.

“He got us both pretty pissed off, didn’t he.” So much for behaving himself. Ryuji rubs at the back of his neck, taking the time to think over what just happened. “I was supposed to be looking out for you, but that didn't stop me from shooting off my mouth. So, uh. Sorry about that.”

"Don't be,” Yusuke reassures. “It's quite heartening to be the subject of such confidence. I will do my utmost to live up to it.” He looks determined now, a definite improvement from the pervasive air of uncertainty that’s been following him around. “I… I will partake in Kawanabe’s exhibition. I am going to display my ability and prove him wrong.”

“Damn right you will.” Ryuji claps a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. After a second of hesitation, Yusuke returns the gesture.

“Come, let us go home,” Yusuke says. Before he gets up, though, he casts a glance at the array of fish in front of him. “Actually, we should eat first. The sushi has done nothing wrong, after all - it’ll be a refreshing palate-cleanser."

Hell yes! "In that case, I'm not holding back!"

"Then neither shall I."

"We're gonna make that old man pay for our valuable time, yeah?" Ryuji grins, nudging Yusuke with his elbow.

"Absolutely," Yusuke says. 

Chapter Text

"I've painted over the same canvas countless times," Yusuke laments, kind of muffled since he's got his face buried in his hand. It's a good thing Leblanc's empty, otherwise Sojiro would probably have to kick them all out. "It's starting to look like a performance piece! 'The Failed Artist', a fitting finale for the end of my career!"

"Calm down," Akira says, sliding over a cup of coffee.

"I will not." Yusuke's obviously sulking, even as he moves to take a sip. "I have the resolve, I have the passion, I don't understand why the vision continues to elude- my, you've improved your technique," he notes, blinking in surprise.

"Maybe we can talk you through it," Ann offers, resting her arms on the table. "You're trying to figure out what to paint, right? What do you usually go for?"

"Anything that exhibits a pure beauty."

It's a pretty standard answer from Yusuke. Considering his last painting, it's also a pretty mystifying one. "You think Mementos is beautiful?" Ryuji asks, incredulous.

"There can exist a pure and terrible beauty. Not to mention, while my previous work dealt more with the abstract, the collective unconscious of humanity's desire is privy to some fantastic lighting." Bringing up the Mementos painting maybe wasn't such a good idea; Yusuke looks even more despondent now. "That endeavor truly was empty, in hindsight. Instead of reflecting the darkness of other people's hearts, I was merely reflecting my own."

"Does it matter?" Akira asks. "It looked cool."

"You truly think so?" Yusuke demands, focusing intently on him. "What were your thoughts? How did it make you feel?"

Akira shrugs, nothing more to say, and Yusuke slumps forward in defeat. "Look at me, so eager at even the slightest prospect of validation. How shameful."

"Look, it's not a bad thing to care about what others think," Ryuji tries, giving Yusuke a light pat on the back. "You can't live life by it, but you've got to do stuff for people beyond just yourself if you want to succeed."

"Maybe... you're taking this art thing too seriously?" Ann hedges. "I know it's serious, and this is coming from someone with no art knowledge, but I'm not so sure about capturing 'pure beauty' - maybe you're just painting what you think is beautiful."

"She might be onto something." If Ann has no art knowledge, Ryuji's awareness is in the negatives. He can't really contribute to art-talk, so he's pretty much useless here. Still, there's something he's been meaning to ask for a while. "Why did you get so hung up on Ann anyway? I mean yeah, she's a model, but I wouldn't call her a 'pure beauty' or whatever."

"Then you must be blind." Yusuke's assertion quick and decisive, surprising enough that it puts a stop to Ann's attempt at giving Ryuji a black eye. Everyone leans in, intrigued to where this could possibly be going.

"Even as a stranger I could see her resolve," Yusuke explains, matter-of-fact. "Ann carries herself with purpose, a strength that is arresting to behold. She reads as someone who understands the darkness of the world, and is determined to light her way through it regardless. It's quite stunning."

"Wow, uh, thanks?" Ann laughs, a little uncertain, fiddling a bit with her hair. "It's kind of embarrassing to hear all of that..."

"That's how you've been seeing Ann all this time?" Ryuji asks.

"Of course. Isn't it the same for you?"

Oh man, this is an uncomfortable conversation to navigate. Ryuji waffles a bit, weighing between the decision of 'friendly malice' versus 'egregious sincerity'. "I get what you mean," Ryuji admits, in the end. "Ann's been through some shit and done some incredible things, she's pretty inspiring."

"She's strong," Akira adds.

"Wow, jeez, this is... it's really weird. Thanks, guys."

"Don't let it get to your head," Ryuji's quick to say. Ann crumples up a napkin and throws it at him. She sure can aim, when they're not in Mementos.

"Anyway," Ann continues, "I can't believe you thought all that before we even knew each other."

"It kind of makes sense." Now that Ryuji thinks about it, as bad as Yusuke is about actually reading people, he's pretty intense about filling in the gaps. It's been hit or miss, judging from Akira's boat story, but in this case it looks like a bullseye. "We all met pretty soon after-"

There's an uncomfortable pause as he cuts himself off, glancing at the two other Shujin students in the booth. This isn't the best topic for him to handle, probably.

"You are under no obligation to tell me," Yusuke reassures. "I understand if it is a difficult subject."

Ann lets out a light breath, almost too subdued to be a sigh. "It's not something we're trying to hide, it's just - it was a tough time for all of us, and I almost lost someone important to me because of what Kamoshida did." As long as it's been, there's still something a little raw in her voice. "I don't know if you were paying attention, when whole scandal about the Shujin teacher was big news..."

Yusuke shakes his head. "I must admit at the time I was much too preoccupied with art. After becoming aware of his significance to your group, it felt somewhat underhanded to research his wrongdoing without your knowledge."

"It's no big- well, it was a big deal,” Ann amends, “but it's fine if you want to know. Fair warning, it's... kind of dark?"

"If you all are willing to share, I'd be more than willing to listen."

Ann nods. After a second, she nudges Ryuji. Which means she wants him to handle this part. After a quick glance to see if she's sure, he crosses his arms, trying to think of where to begin.

"Long story short," Ryuji starts, "Kamoshida was the worst. Calling him a piece of shit doesn't even begin to cover it. He was totally caught up in some power trip about being the only guy who mattered in the whole school - his palace was an effin' castle, and he hated anyone that didn't bow to his every whim. The one time I really stood up to him, he broke my leg and took out the entire track team. Before this guy," he gestures to Akira, "even got to Shujin, he spread all sorts of rumors; we're pretty sure he was trying to get him to drop out. As for Ann..."

"He was trying to force me into a relationship," she says. "When I kept making excuses, he... took it out on my friend. He could burn in hell for a million years and it wouldn't make up for what he did." There's an authoritative certainty to her tone, a firm conviction that has almost a solid weight to it. "When we first met, I was kind of struggling with how to be strong. I wanted to be as strong as my friend was. I wanted to be as strong as Shiho, and strong enough for Shiho. I didn't really understand how to do that until pretty recently, when we said goodbye. Akira was there, actually!" She grins, turning towards him. "He must've felt totally awkward."

Akira shrugs, looking pretty unbothered by the memory.

"I'm not sure I was actually all that stuff you said when we first met," Ann confesses, "but I think I'm getting there."

"On the contrary, what you've said confirms it."

"Man," Ryuji says, "I never knew your thing about Ann was that deep. All this time I thought it was some kind of 'love at first sight' thing, and you gave up after seeing how she really is."

"Oh, you are really asking for it-"

"Utterly impossible." Yusuke single-handedly derails the incoming argument with just two words, which is actually pretty impressive.

Ann laughs, surprised and... weirdly pleased, considering she got straight-up shot down. "That's a relief, but hearing you say it kind of pisses me off."

"If you still think of Ann like that, why haven't you asked to paint her?" It feels like such an obvious question it's not worth asking, but Ryuji just can't figure it out.

Yusuke looks... kind of embarrassed, actually. "There's been another dilemma I've had to face," he admits, as if two major crises weren't enough. It's got to be big if he hasn't monologued about it until now. "As I've furthered my attempts to broaden my own horizons in regards to the spectrum of human nature, I've been made increasingly aware that my quest for artistic fulfillment has led to some unfortunate truths. It seems I'm prone to becoming an unwelcome participant in a stranger's life, rather than the magnanimous deliverer of artistic opportunity I once thought."

Ryuji had honestly written that stuff off as just how Yusuke was, a static and solid fact of life; the way he gets completely swept up by some art whatever used to be kind of exasperating, but now Ryuji sees it as an endearing constant. Or, he did. It just goes to show even for stuff Yusuke doesn't seem to be thinking about, he's overthinking it.

"Even if I manage to grasp at the true meaning of art, I find myself wondering if people will care," Yusuke continues. "At the same time, does hindering my own pursuit of art merely show that this pursuit is a foregone conclusion? I hadn't realized just how sheltered my existence had been, but perhaps my contributions are not welcome. Perhaps they aren't significant enough to be paid any mind." He sighs, grip tightening around the now-cold cup of coffee in front of him. "I feel... paralyzed. Of course I can't paint Ann in this state, any work I produce would be a shoddy facsimile of her likeness, an insult to both her and my own perception of her. Perhaps my heart has become too clouded."

"It ain't clouded, dude," Ryuji says.

"Are you sure?" Yusuke challenges. "Painting used to be all I desired - I needed nothing else in life. But now? I have become overwhelmed by a need to prove myself to Kawanabe, to the world."

There's something different about Yusuke now. Sure, this whole thing has been heavy, but while there's occasionally been some theatrical vibe to his dramatics, there's something more subdued here.

"I looked down on Madarame for focusing so intently on fame and money, yet I too yearn for some evidence that my art is worth creating. In truth, there's a part of me that regrets declining Kawanabe’s offer." He laughs. It’s a sharp, unhappy sound. "I said I had the passion, but perhaps this proves otherwise. My heart has been clouded, no longer content with solely the creation of art - now, I am consumed by frivolous worldly concerns."

Akira pours another cup, sliding that one over too. "You've really grown, Yusuke."

Yusuke stares at Akira, dumbfounded. "What?"

"He's right," Ryuji says. "Ain’t nothing wrong about doing your best to make a living."

"And you're trying to figure out how to reach the most people while staying true to yourself. That's pretty passionate." Ann gives Yusuke's shoulder a light pat. "Besides, you shouldn't ever feel like nobody cares. Even if the whole world won't look, we'll want to see it."

"Oh. Really?" Yusuke asks, actually genuinely surprised. Legitimately freakin’ shocked. "Even if it's not perfect?"

"None of us are heavy on the art stuff, but we'll always be rootin' for you, y'know? Maybe what we've got to say won't be the most insightful shit," Ryuji laughs, shooting a glance over to Akira, "but you can count on us anytime you need to."

"I see..." Yusuke murmurs. He finishes the rest of his coffee in silence, withdrawing into himself. Sometimes he just needs the time and space to process stuff.

Ryuji spends the rest of his time in Leblanc chatting idly with Ann and Akira. Mostly Ann, while Akira makes the occasional comment. When they all part ways, Yusuke still seems to be deep in thought.

Ryuji hopes Yusuke finds what he's looking for.

Chapter Text

"So you’re taking everyone to see it, huh?" Ryuji asks, admiring the painting in front of him.

"Of course," Yusuke says. "Art for the sake of art doesn't preclude feedback." He stands next to his work proudly, but there's something different in the way he holds himself. He doesn't look as eager as he did before - he's content with what he’s done, regardless what people have to say about it. Doesn't stop him from asking, "What do you think?"

"I like it." It's hard to put into words, but he'll try for Yusuke. "The other one was cool, but this one's... warm. It feels nice to look at." Ryuji pauses, stewing a little in just how silly he sounds. "Look, I did say I wasn't good at the art thing-"

"On the contrary, your response was everything I could've hoped for." Yusuke takes a step back beside Ryuji, and they both stare at the painting together. "When I was enmired in my slump, I lost sight of something important. I was so preoccupied with the darkness in humanity I neglected to paint the full picture." He laughs as Ryuji groans at the pun. "My entire reason for painting was due to the impact 'Sayuri' left upon me. During particularly difficult nights, it was there to soothe my sadness, almost as a ray of light cutting through the somber darkness."

"She's always been there for you, huh," Ryuji notes.

"She truly has." Yusuke smiles, taken by some distant memory. "I had wanted to create a similar beacon of hope for others, but it seems I lost sight of that goal. That is, until you all reminded me of it. Receiving a similar comfort from cherished friends, it made me realize the only way I could move forward from this painting was by incorporating what was missing from it. The true nature of humanity; Desire- and Hope."

Huh. Ryuji didn't even think to look at the title.

"This light," Yusuke continues, "is all of you. The title lists hope, but in my mind, it’s a much more concrete thing. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that until now."

"Oh man," Ryuji snorts, elbowing the boy beside him. "You are such a sap."

"Your influence, I assure you." Yusuke elbows him back, nearly knocking Ryuji off balance. "The tortured artist is a tired trope, no?"

"I'm inclined to agree," comes a voice from behind them. It's Kawanabe, because he just loves sneaking up on people, apparently. Ryuji's got his guard up, ready for whatever garbage the old guy has to say about Yusuke's work. "It's a good painting."

Wait, what.

Yusuke blinks. "Excuse me?"

"It’s not trying to be eccentric for the sake of being eccentric, like its first incarnation. To think the same painting can change this much. 'Desire and Hope'... humans are creatures that possess both." Kawanabe turns to face Yusuke, fixing him in some appraisal. "It seems you understand that."

"Alright," Ryuji interrupts, because he's pretty tired of all this, "what's your deal?"

"Was this your intention all along?" Yusuke asks.

"I apologize," Kawanabe says, not looking sorry at all. "Although my intent was to encourage you, it was rather crude. Still, I believed that this ploy needed to be done in order to ignite your competitive spirit. Spite is a wonderful motivator, I've found - it tends to make things simple. Though, something tells me you would've been fine on your own."

"Not on my own," Yusuke corrects. "But that aside, why would you go through this charade? What’s your objective?"

"I wanted to do something for you as another person who is free from Madarame’s chains. That’s all."

Ryuji is entirely lost. "Okay, what?"

"Madarame held a grudge against me for supposedly stealing his customers from him," Kawanabe says. "He caused me no end of hardship, placing every roadblock he could in the path of my artistic career. The heart of man is painted with desire, even if it’s coated entirely in black at times. However, it seems you have the strength to not look away from it, and chose to stand up against it.” He shakes his head. “If only that man had your strength."

"You mean..." Yusuke trails off, uncertain.

"Madarame and I got back a long way.” It’s spoken with a gentle, careful tone - not an admission, but an explanation. "First as classmates, then as teachers at the same art school. He used to have a noble spirit, but in the end, even the art world has its share of politics. Those who are cunning win. Our hearts were stained black in that manner. But,” he gestures to the Yusuke’s painting, “the human heart is a strange thing. It can’t completely separate black from white.”

If he was careful before, Kawanabe handles his next sentence like he’s defusing a bomb. But, casually. It’s a weird mix of the two. “I was shocked when I heard that he took you in. He never liked children, you see.”

Yusuke looks conflicted, an almost unwilling interest too obvious on his face. “Oh?”

“This happened just before we cut all ties from each other, but I got a call from him. He was panicking that the nearby clinics were closed and that his kid had a fever.”

“It was summer.” Yusuke’s distant; he’s not actually that quiet, but there’s something a little soft to his tone. Weathered, maybe. “At first he was terrified that I’d somehow exposed myself to the more toxic pigments in his studio.”

The two of them are grieving for a man who’s still alive. Which doesn’t make sense, until it kind of does. Ryuji feels like an intruder at a funeral, if funerals could be for the potential of a person.

After an appropriate length of shared mourning, Kawanabe lets out a weighted sigh. “I don’t want any more losers like me or misguided winners like him being born from this world. That’s why I started this foundation. So how about it? Would you like our support? Without the overbearing marketing production, of course,” he says, a somewhat sardonic grin on his face.

Yusuke takes some time, really thinking it through. Still, he comes to a decision surprisingly fast. “It’s a truly kind offer, and I thank you for your generosity. However I must respectfully decline.”

"What makes you say that?" Kawanabe asks, probing without a challenge to it.

"I am not Madarame." Yusuke speaks with conviction, with assurance. "I have made mistakes, and will no doubt keep making mistakes, but they will be my own to make. I won't be stained with desire. After all, I can see hope. If I am lost, they will extend their hands. If I am wrong, they will chastise me. As long as I have my rays of hope to guide me," he says, looking at Ryuji, "I will be fine."

After a second, Kawanabe starts chuckling. "Madarame really did have a good eye." And with that, he leaves.

"What a strange man," Yusuke notes, which is some straight up pot-calling-the-kettle-black shit right there.

"Sure is," Ryuji agrees. "How're you feeling?"

Yusuke stares at his painting, deep in thought, but not lost in it. "Madarame was a terrible man who did terrible things," he says. "He exploited me along with countless others, ruining many lives in the process. My fond memories of him have been tainted, and yet, perhaps I will never be rid of them. It may impossible for me to ever be fully free of his influence. But, I refuse to be defined by it; I cannot ignore the fact that he cared for me, nor can I cling to it. I feel... refreshed," he decides.

"Glad to hear it,” Ryuji says, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "You sure about this though? Sounded like a pretty sweet deal you passed up."

"It is a tad wasteful for me to decline, but I believe it's for the best. I feel contradictory, but that’s the human heart, correct?" Yusuke leans in a bit, extending what was originally intended as a brief instant of friendly contact into what’s suspiciously close to a hug. "It must have been troublesome dealing with me."

"Nah, not really. Besides, no way I'd just leave you to deal with that crap."

"I know," Yusuke says, smiling as he does. He just looks really happy now; it’s nice. "Thank you, Ryuji. If you're ever in the mood to entertain a selfish request, I'd love to paint you someday."

"What, me?" Ryuji stares, dumbfounded. "Why!?"

"Do you remember when we first met?" Yusuke asks. "I must admit, I was..."

"You were a real asshole," Ryuji supplies.

"Yes," Yusuke concedes with minimal fuss. He must be really building up to something. "Back then, I would've been happy to never see you again. Now, I'd be happy to see you every day. Such a development holds a certain beauty, doesn't it?"

"Uh, I guess?" Ryuji rubs the back of his neck. The whole concept is a little embarrassing, honestly - both the idea of being painted and the reason why. "I ain't so good at sittin’ still, but maybe I can give it a shot."

"Excellent."

"I'm not stripping, though."

"Ah. I see."

"...Don't look disappointed," Ryuji says.

Chapter Text

Things get pretty exciting for the Phantom Thieves. Things in general tend to be pretty exciting when they're actually doing shit, but it's a whole 'nother level when all of Japan is at stake, and having to escape from the exploding ship of someone's mind sure is wild.

It's... terrifying. There's a split-second where it looks like there's actually no escape and Ryuji's legitimately fuckin' scared they're all going to die in this goddamm self-aggrandizing shit tyrant's brain and no one will even know. Or, Sojiro would know. Sae would know. His mom wouldn't know.

But then, Makoto sees the lifeboat. It's far, but it's a chance and he grasps at the lifeline they're miraculously given. Even though there's cognitive brain-ocean between where he is and where he has to be, even though his leg's throbbing in some untimely reminder of how out of practice he is (not to mention why he's out of practice), he's got this. He jumps down. Crouches low. Breathes deep. Takes off. He runs down the slow-sinking deck, launches himself into the air-

-and makes the jump. Pretty cool, if he says so himself.

Behind, he can hear his friends cheering him on as he moves to lower the lifeboat, and it's down. Looking over his shoulder he can see everyone making their way over, Ann already helping Futaba in, and he shoots them a thumbs up. And then there's fire and noise and some overwhelming force that knocks him off guard and he goes flying - he barely even have the time to think, oh, shit. It's the last thing he's aware of before he passes out cold.

When he comes to, it's to a mouthful of grass. Compelling evidence that he's still alive, at least. He sputters a bit and pushes himself up, trying to figure out what happened, where are the others, are they alright?

He hears them. He can't really figure out what they're saying, can't tell if it's because they're too quiet or if he's just too addled, but that doesn't matter. He drags himself upright and towards their voices. They're not actually that far, which is a relief, but the scene he stumbles on is a confusing one. They all look pretty miserable, actually, even though they should be celebrating another successful heist, right? A quick headcount turns up everyone, so he's got no clue what's going on.

"Uh, guys? What happened?" He asks.
Everyone looks up, and there's some kind of shift, a rapid-cycle of too many emotions to parse before everyone seems to settle on the consensus of fucking pissed.

"Ryuji!" Ann yells, marching up to him. "What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Uh," he says, not really getting where all this is coming from.

"I can't believe you did that to us, you big jerk!"

"What are you talking about, what did I do!"

But it turns out no one's in the mood to be reasonable, they're in the mood to yell, and boy, does Ryuji get an earful. Ann leads the girls on what's one hell of a tirade. It's barely coherent and doesn't make much sense, especially since all of them are kind of just shouting over each other while Ann's shaking him by the shoulders but also kind of hugging him, and Futaba's got him in a headlock (but it's also kind of a hug?), and Makoto's definitely lecturing him about who knows what, and at one point he swears he can see tears threatening to fall from Haru’s eyes and he feels like garbage even though he doesn't know why.

Eventually the girls storm off, which leaves him with the rest of the guys. It's not much better.

Yusuke looks furious. If he was just mad that'd be pretty easy to handle, but this - it's a cold fury, one Ryuji doesn't know what to do with, and Yusuke just glares. He keeps glaring as he marches up to Ryuji, and honestly, Ryuji would be expecting to be decked if that wasn't such a not-Yusuke thing to do.

Ryuji gets pulled into a spine-crushing hug.

"You're terrible," Yusuke says, before unceremoniously ending all physical contact and following after the girls.

"What," Ryuji says, "the fuck."

"It's your own fault," Morgana says.

"Like hell-!"

"We're glad you're okay,” he interrupts, ruining the perfectly justified rant Ryuji was about to go on. He can't even be properly mad, not with how damn sincere Morgana sounds.

Akira, the only true friend he has, gives him a solemn and comforting pat on the shoulder. "Give them time, they'll come around."

"This is such bullshit. What're they so mad about, me saving everyone?!" Ryuji sighs. "At least I got you on my side, man."

"I'm mad too."

"Come on!" Ryuji looks at Akira in betrayal. To be honest, he doesn't even look that pissed, but who knows with him.

Well, whatever. It's a huge headache, but Ryuji can wait for this whole thing to blow over.

It blows over pretty fast, actually.

Kind of.

Akira's still legally dead so he doesn't have to go to school, but the rest of the team does. Minus Futaba and Morgana. In any case, the next day Ann's waiting by the gate and practically tackles him in a hug the second she sees him. Which almost makes them late for class. The one time it wouldn't be his fault, too. She even slams a packet of yakisoba pan against his chest - hard enough it should be a pulverized inedible mess, except it’s not - and glares as if daring him to turn it down. He doesn't because hey, free bread, but it seriously feels like he's slipped into some parallel universe. It's not even Friday, so he has no idea how she got her hands on it.

The weirdness continues into lunch, when they all gravitate towards the roof. Even if it ain't their hideout anymore it's a nice place to get away from the crowd. Except, maybe the background chatter could've distracted from the slight tension that still fills up the air around them.

"We should just go out for lunch," Haru suggests suddenly. "My treat."

"What, like, just leave?" Ryuji asks. "I'm all for it but..." He looks at Makoto, the one most likely to raise a fuss.

"That's a good idea, actually," she says, instead of raising a fuss. This is Makoto Nijima, president of the student council, the biggest advocate for academic success and all that bullshit, being perfectly fine with just leaving. "We need a break from school," she decides. "I can get us the necessary materials from our respective teachers, but I don't think any of us can focus at the moment. This'll be a good distraction."

Ann, fully onboard, loses a bit of excitement at the prospect of self-study. Still, she turns to Haru with a huge grin. "Hey, do you know anywhere with like, really nice pastries? A place that won't kick out students or give us any trouble."

"Jeez, you're making lunch sound like some kind of black market deal." Well, Ryuji's not really one for being someone else's impulse control, and honestly, he's not gonna start now. "So, where to?"

"We could reserve a private room in a five-star restaurant. That way, we can have a little privacy because it’s what the clientele typically expects." Haru smiles, completely unaware of the awed looks everyone sends her way.

God, she's rich.

So, one good thing about apparently having a near-death experience: free food. It's even better than the restaurant the Phantom Thieves went to after their first heist because there's no one around to be a huge jerk; it’s just the four of them - him, Ann, Makoto, and Haru - in a room with lots of food.

It's also nice because soon enough, they all start talking like normal. Occasionally Ryuji catches someone looking at him a little too long, like they're making sure he's still there, but it's leveling out to their usual dynamic.

After what's probably her third slice of cake, Ann stretches with a satisfied sort of sound. "Man, I feel totally refreshed!"

"This was a good idea. Thanks, Haru," Makoto says, and Haru beams in response. "I'll bring some of the spread to Leblanc, they shouldn't have to miss out on this."

"Grab some sushi, I'm pretty sure Morgana's gonna riot if you don't." Looking at all the food in front of them - holy shit, there's so much - really makes Ryuji wish Yusuke was around. He didn't respond to the quick "we're skipping, come with" text Ryuji sent, which means he's probably way too focused on art. Which also means he probably forgot to eat again.

"I'll take some of this to Kosei," Ryuji decides, grabbing some of the other leftovers. This place is a little too classy for aburaage, but he also orders some fancy fried tofu to-go. Folks here don't really seem to get the concept of carryout, but Haru makes it work. It's hard to argue with her.

Going to Kosei is always a bit of a hassle. He's gone a few times to check out Yusuke's stuff, or to make sure Yusuke's actually eating, but every time it's like some ridiculous one-sided game of hide-and-seek unless Yusuke's actually responding. By now Ryuji's figured out it's almost always a toss-up between dorm or studio, but it's still annoying.

This time, Yusuke's in the studio. Alone, which is kind of surprising since there's usually someone else at work, but what's even more of a shock is how Yusuke's not even painting, just staring intently at a blank canvas.

"Hey," Ryuji calls, startling Yusuke out of some kind of daze. "What gives?"

"Gives what?" Yusuke asks. Then, "Why are you here?"

"Check your phone, dude."

He does, skimming through the myriad texts sent to him. Mostly from Ryuji.

"Oh, that's a shame," Yusuke says when he scrolls to the end. "I suppose I was too lost in thought to receive your summons."

"Yeah, well, it's not much but I brought you some food." Ryuji holds up the bag, which looks more like some weird gift with how nice it is. It's seriously wild how fancy take-out can be when it's from a five-star restaurant.

"You..." Yusuke trails off, unreadable despite how dramatic he usually is, which is kind of jarring. He lets out a sigh. "As always, you make everything exceedingly difficult."

What the hell is that supposed to mean! "Wait, are you still mad?" Ryuji asks, because he genuinely can't tell.

"Yes. What you did was unforgivable."

Well, at least he doesn't keep Ryuji guessing. Still, this is bullshit. "I'm not going to apologize for saving everyone's ass!" He insists, hating how defensive he sounds. This isn't even something he should be defensive about!

"You shouldn't have to," Yusuke agrees, continuing his trend of being really damn confusing. "If anything, you're the one who deserves an apology, as well as an explanation. It's what I've been so preoccupied with, in fact."

Well, there goes all of Ryuji's momentum. "Uh, alright."

It takes a while for Yusuke to get the words out, even though he's apparently been thinking about it so much.

"I fully acknowledge how irrational this is," Yusuke starts, finally, "but the fact of the matter is you didn't have to experience the utter horror that comes with the possibility of loss. Worse, you didn't even realize the potential of our grief. You waltz back in, none the wiser, leaving us to wrestle with all these- these feelings. Shock, despair, a sudden painful and unrelenting hope, I'm so..." Yusuke takes Ryuji by the shoulders, staring at him with a little too much... something. "I'm still so relieved you're safe."

"Way to make a guy feel loved," Ryuji says. "Why couldn't you guys have just said that, huh?"

"The fact that you can be so nonchalant indicates that you still don't understand." Yusuke lets his head fall to Ryuji's shoulder, and Ryuji instinctively pulls him close. "I'm so relieved you're safe," Yusuke repeats, this one even more raw, choked with too much emotion to parse, "and I'm furious you've put me through such a harrowing experience. More than that, I'm furious with myself for not being able to convey the depths of the feelings I have towards you. Despite everything I've said and done, you don't seem to know your worth, which is an unconscionable failure on my part. I wish you could understand how much you mean to me; this divide between us is absolutely torturous."

"Uh." Ryuji's traitorous heart is beating way too fast for what's called for, and it's making what's already a weird situation even weirder. "What?"

"I am no stranger to the intensity of emotion, but now I'm at a complete loss," Yusuke continues, a little muffled since he's still buried in Ryuji's shoulder. "For the first time in my life I find myself not wanting to capture it, but to create it in a way completely independent from my artistic interests. I want to make you feel, Ryuji. Specifically, I want to make you feel as I do. And I... I do believe I love you."

What the fuck.

Yusuke laughs, though it's anyone's guess what the sound actually means. He pulls himself back, still close enough that Ryuji's got his arms around him (should they not be?) but now Yusuke's actually making eye contact. "I hope you won't think any less of me for how inarticulate I am about such delicate matters. Of course, you are not obligated to return my affection, but please, acknowledge it." Yusuke closes the distance between them (what the fuck) and presses his lips light against Ryuji's cheek (what the fuck) before pulling away and picking up the bag of leftovers Ryuji must've dropped at some point (what the fuck).

"Thank you for the food," Yusuke says before leaving. He shuts the door behind him, some strangely mundane punctuation to close one hell of a talk.

"What the fuck," Ryuji says to the now empty room.

Chapter Text

"He kissed you!?"

"It was on the cheek!" Ryuji insists, trying to keep Ann from shouting it for all of Tokyo to hear. He's wielding that fact as some sort of defense, but he's not quite sure how or why.

"He kissed you," Ann repeats, but at least this time it's at a reasonable volume. She leans forward, arms resting on Leblanc's well-worn table. "Wow."

"Yeah, 'wow'! I'm just really confused, it came out of nowhere!"

Ann and Akira shoot each other a look.

"What," Ryuji says. "You guys think so too, right?"

"Well," Ann starts, drawing out the word in a way that puts Ryuji on edge, "in hindsight it's not that surprising. I mean, basically the first thing he said when we met was that he wasn't into girls. Plus, he's been pretty attached to you, y'know?"

Akira nods, the traitor.

"What's that supposed to mean," Ryuji sputters out. His mind is going into overdrive, backtracking through his entire relationship with Yusuke at light-speed. "He hangs out with Akira all the time! He hangs out with all of us! Didn't you guys go shopping for clothes last week!?"

Ann groans, immediately taken by the memory. "He spent so much time tearing into whoever put together the displays! I thought for sure we were going to get kicked out! He was right, though… actually, in hindsight it was pretty funny. Wait, no, that's not what this is about." Ann shakes off the sudden flood of retrospective fondness, focusing back on Ryuji. "Look, weren't you the one he took to that really important meeting with some art guy? The one before summer break? I would've gone with Makoto. Or Akira, maybe. It was kind of weird that he went with you."

"Ann has experience with that sort of thing too," Akira points out. "She talks to agents all time."

"What, you don't think I'm the best choice to go with!?"

"You’re not," comes swift and decisive from the both of them. It kind of stings, even though Ryuji had the same thought.

"You guys are the worst," he says, to Ann's obvious displeasure.

"Hey, you're the one who called us for this big 'emergency meeting'! What exactly do you want from me!"

"I don't know, I just need someone to help me think this through! I mean, what if- what if this is just a big misunderstanding?"

"Uh," Ann says, "how?"

"I don't know! Like, what if this is just Yusuke being Yusuke?" Ryuji tries, grasping at half-formed thoughts and scrambling together some sort of plausible explanation. "What if he's saying love as in like, friend-love? Sure, friends don't usually kiss each other on the cheek, but what if Yusuke does?"

"He's never kissed me on the cheek," Ann says skeptically, but in the way that makes it sound like what she really wants to say is, 'you're an idiot'.

"Me neither." Akira gives Ryuji an appraising look. "It sounds like he's in love. Boyfriend-love."

"We don't know that for sure!"

"Ryuji," Morgana says, jumping up onto the table, "you're being really dense right now."

"Okay, let's back up for a bit. Hear me out." Ann puts a delicate hand on Ryuji's shoulder, and it feels like she's trying to console him or something, it's weird. "Doesn't the art meeting thing show he's had some pretty strong feelings about you? For like, a while? Out of all of us, you're the one he wanted there."

"I mean, I asked him to take me-"

"Yeah," Ann interrupts, "and he took you. He didn't have to, y'know. So think about it. There must've been more hints he's been feeling this way, right?"

Now that he kind of knows what to look for, Ryuji can kind of remember all sorts of little details that seemed pretty innocuous at the time, but pretty obvious in hindsight. A lot of casual contact that might've lingered too long, a lot of fond looks that might've had something more behind it, and oh god, Hawaii.

But.

Maybe he's just biased now? Maybe he's reading into stuff way too much? Out of everyone Ryuji can't possibly be the best person there is to delineate between how Yusuke acts and what he says and what's really going on in his head. "How does this help!" Ryuji yells.

"We're making this way too complicated." Ann pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a heavy sigh. "How do you feel about Yusuke?"

"I don't know, I care about him?" Ryuji tries. He's never really had to put the nebulous feelings he has for other people into words, especially not under so much stress, and no matter what he says he feels kind of ridiculous, it just never even comes close to how he actually feels. "I want to look out for him," he says.

Nope. Still not right.

"Isn't that how you feel about all of us, though?" Ann asks.

"Are you trying to get us together or not!"

"I'm not trying either way! I just think it'd be way better to figure out what you actually want and go from there. Wait, do you..." Ann takes a second, building up to something Ryuji knows he's not going to like. "Do you want me to be setting you up?"

"Uh," Ryuji says, not knowing the answer and not sure if he even wants to.

"You're overthinking it."

Ryuji lets out a startled yelp as Makoto slides into the booth, crowding against Ann. "Why are you here!?"

"I called her," Morgana announces, the little shit. He doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "For a problem as big as your love life, we're going to need our strategist on-hand. This could affect the whole group!"

"She's on speed-dial," Akira supplies, after everyone casts an uncertain glance at Morgana's lack of opposable thumbs.

As great as Makoto is at planning shit out, she's not exactly his go-to for romantic advice. Come to think of it, no one is. This is terrible. But, maybe objective logic's what he needs here.

"Alright, let's hear it," Ryuji says, resigned to the inevitable train wreck of ill-informed advice.

"I don't see what the problem is," Makoto says, "you either turn him down, or you don't."

"It's more complicated than that," Ryuji insists, "we don't even know if he actually likes me or not! Like, like-like."

Makoto looks genuinely surprised at his point, like it's something that never even occurred to her. "I was under the impression that was the case. Did he say anything that implied otherwise?"

"Well, no, but..." Ryuji trails off, and it's just. Too much to put into words. "You're bad at this," he says, and she bristles with indignation. "I don't know why Morgana bothered calling you, the only person that could possibly be worse is Futaba."

"You rang?" comes a familiar voice as Futaba herself bursts through the doors of Leblanc.

"No!" It's basically a reflex, instinct based on what Ryuji knows about who Futaba is as a person. "Why are you here!"

"Uh, this is my dad's shop. Duh."

"Did you ever... unbug the place...?" Ann asks, suspicion incessantly tugging at her tone.

"No comment." Futaba bounds her way to their booth, draping herself over the back of Ann's seat. "Anyway, if you want my advice-"

"I don't," Ryuji's quick to interrupt, but it's useless. Futaba's on the warpath and he's going to have to hear what she has to say whether he wants to or not.

"-you've got to keep in mind that Inari's the kind of guy who thinks too much. Even when he's not thinking about it, he's thinking about it, so he always means everything he says. He waited a whole day after your dramatic near-death experience for his big confession, didn't he? So stop worrying about how he feels, he's already told you."

That's... actually a good point. Not really a point Ryuji wants to be as good as it actually is, but when she puts it that way, it's hard to argue against.

"Just focus on yourself, for now," Futaba continues. "Don't be an idiot and mess this up."

Normally Ryuji would jump to his own defense, but right now he just groans and slides forward over the table, letting his head fall to it with a dull 'thunk'. "I don't want to be an idiot and mess this up! That's why I'm trying to talk it out!"

"I think I have a way to make it simple, if you don't mind hearing my advice."

When Ryuji looks up, he sees Haru, because apparently this is something everyone's going to get involved in. "You're here too?" he asks, but at this point he really shouldn't be expecting anything else.

"I called her," Makoto explains. "Like you said, I'm not exactly the best person to consult when it comes to relationship advice. I think Haru understands the subject much better than I ever could."

"I'm sure that's not the case," Haru demurs, taking a seat next to Makoto, "but this is all rather romantic, isn't it? A phantom thief getting his own heart stolen... by one of the people who saved him, no less! And I think the best thing you should do in this situation is... listen to your heart!"

"Okay," Ryuji says, and he just doesn't have the heart to tell her how useless that was, "thanks."

"She has a point," Ann says. "You haven't told us anything except for how confused you are."

"Yeah," Futaba agrees. "We could probably get this over with if you talked about your feelings, for once."

"I don't know what to tell you guys, I've been saying how I feel!"

Ann shakes her head. "You said you cared, but I don't know, isn't that a little vague? We're not going to get anywhere if you don't actually work with us."

"Why don't you want him to be in love with you?" Akira asks, and it's a moment of epiphany for everyone in the room, even Ryuji himself. It just cuts through all the bullshit that he can't even begin to muster up any response but the truth.

"This is just..." he sighs, burying a hand in his hair. "This is just too important. This is just way too important for me to handle, and I don't want to mess this up. I don't know anything about love. We're in high school, this is like, way too big! I can't be trusted with something like this, too much can go wrong."

"Oh, I see," Makoto says, suddenly looking a lot more cheerful, what the hell. "I think being overwhelmed by a stressful decision is making it so you can't conceptualize the possible outcomes."

Ann snaps, realization lighting up her face. "Oh, yeah! Sometimes I can't figure out what I want from a dessert menu and I just end up getting nothing, it's the worst."

"Let's streamline the process," Makoto continues, ignoring what's a pretty bad case of false equivalence. "Consider the worst case scenario and best case scenario for both choices. What's the worst case scenario if you turn him down?"

An actual concrete question actually is helpful for giving Ryuji something to focus on, even if it's something he doesn't really want to think about. But, he really has to think about it, doesn't he. "Worst case scenario," Ryuji says, "I break his heart, make things totally awkward, he ends up hating my guts and leaving the group-"

"Not gonna happen," Futaba cuts in. "Inari's our friend too, y'know, we wouldn't just let everything fall apart."

"Alright. Fine." Ryuji's not feeling so great about that considering this wouldn't be the first time everything fell apart in a group he was in, but he'll ignore the pervasive certainty of doubt if only so they can get on with this exercise. "Worst case scenario, it's awkward for a long time and you guys have to do a lot of damage control. Best case scenario, I turn him down and everything's normal, I guess?"

"See? Not so bad," Ann says, encouraging. "How about dating?"

"Worst case," Ryuji continues, "we get together, I mess up, and Yusuke gets hurt."

"We hurt each other all the time," Morgana says, as much of an admission as it is an accusation. "It's not the end of the world."

"But this is different, I'm just..." just what? Scared, maybe. Terrified, more like. Ryuji can't let himself be another thing that goes wrong in Yusuke's life. But Morgana's point still rings true; there's a lot people can just work out. So maybe not so different after all?

"We're getting off track." Makoto interrupts, dragging Ryuji out of his own head. "Best case scenario?"

"Best case scenario, we're... happy," Ryuji says. And that's all he really needs to say, the ache of potential almost too much to even think about.

"Do you think you'd be happy with him?" Haru asks, gentle, but from the way she smiles it looks like she already knows the answer.

"Yeah," Ryuji admits. "I think I would."

Chapter Text

Ryuji asks Yusuke to meet him in Shibuya.

It's a good place, he thinks. Not too far from Shujin, not too far from Kosei, and the student pass means neither of them have to worry about fares. But this also isn't a conversation he wants to have out in the open, surrounded by strangers, so he asks to meet up at a nearby shrine. Konno Hachimangu isn't the most private place there is, but it's quiet, and it's easy to find somewhere in it pretty free of people - especially if they're meeting when adults are still at work and students are busy with club shit. Or something.

It's also just a really nice place. Scenic. And maybe Ryuji wants to talk somewhere that has the potential to be kind of romantic; the grey winter skies are working against him mood-wise, and they're having this conversation while waiting on some pretty heavy shit to go down, so an oasis of calm removed from the bustle of Shibuya seems appropriate. Ryuji's pretty sure the shrine itself doesn't have any significance, romance-wise, and maybe he should've made absolutely sure there wasn't some unfortunate history attached that could be misunderstood in some spectacularly disastrous fashion, but he's sure he would've heard if there was anything too bad about the place.

Walking from Shibuya Station way earlier than he needs to, Ryuji checks his phone just to make sure, and luckily, the shrine's just known for being old. It's dedicated to some war god, but he doesn't have to worry about Yusuke bringing a sword and being ready to throw down.

Probably.

Still, Ryuji's got enough time to let all that sudden doubt seep through. Across the street there's the crimson torii gates of Toyosakai, vibrant against the dreary skies, and what the hell, an inari shrine's probably better than a war shrine even if it's embarrassingly heavy-handed. So he just. Changes up the plan.

When Ryuji sees Yusuke walking over, right on time, looking pretty casual and relatively unarmed, he can't help but feel some measure of unnecessary relief. He also feels... a lot, struck by a split-second of embarrassment, residual fluster from the last time they saw each other, a hiccup of intense realization and what the fuck, holy shit, this guy, this guy's in love with him? It's almost too much to handle. Is this how he's going to feel all the time? God, he hopes not.

"Yo," Ryuji calls, trying to get his heart under control. He waves Yusuke over, and doesn't quite succeed with the heart thing.

"It's good to see you," Yusuke says, a greeting that's way too sincere with a gentle smile lighting up his face, and like, fuck. "You weren't waiting long, were you?"

"Nah." Ryuji's been waiting for half an hour, but nobody needs to know that. "Thanks for meeting up with me, I just... I wanted to talk about stuff? I'm still trying to process, y'know, the whole thing," he admits.

"That's understandable," Yusuke says, which doesn't seem like the most typical post-confession response to go with, but, that's Yusuke. "I had tried to make myself as clear as possible, but I am willing to further clarify my feelings to the best of my ability."

Jeez, this is sounding a lot more like a job interview than anything else. But, Yusuke treating it as not a big deal kind of anchors Ryuji and gets him feeling a little less nervous about the situation... kind of. As they meander down the path to the shrine, Ryuji curses the fact that he was so caught up with the whole location thing that he didn't really plan out what to say. Shit. At least there's no one around.

"I guess I was wondering... what you want from me?" Ryuji asks, finally. He just, he has to know, before anything else.

"What I want... that's a rather vague question to ask, isn't it? I suppose in the context of what my intentions were, my confession was born from a selfish desire for you to be aware of the feelings I have towards you." Yusuke huffs out a breath, a small cloud that dissipates into the cold air. "Isn't it strange? I've been so preoccupied by the nature of desire, and here I am, once again caught in the throes of it."

"You say it's selfish, but is it? I mean, you telling me that stuff..." Ryuji shoves his hands into his pockets, ducking his head because he just can't say it face-to-face. "Like, not gonna lie, it took a while before I could really think about it, but it made me happy to hear that from you. To like, know you care that much. It's- it's nice," Ryuji says, trying not to cringe at just how much of a goddamn understatement that is.

Yusuke hums, tilting his head in thought. "Though that certainly plays a rather large role in why I told you, it doesn't truly capture my motivations. I want you, Ryuji."

After several seconds of having a goddamn heart attack, Ryuji manages to choke out, "You have to know how that sounds." When he looks up, Yusuke's looking like he usually does, like he didn't just deliver a line from some kind of harlequin romance whatever the fuck. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"It's not that I'm particularly interested in your body. Well,” Yusuke amends, “perhaps a little. I do want to paint it. But in the context of what I would want from a romantic relationship, there's nothing concrete I'm after; simply being with you would be enough. In the end, you could say that I just want to love without restraint, and to be loved in turn."

Shit. Fuck. If that's being selfish, Yusuke's gotta be some kind of saint, apparently. What did Ryuji do to deserve this? How could someone feel this way for him, of all people? There just, there has to be someone who could handle this better, someone who could give more back, and it's overwhelming, it's terrifying, it's just too much, but with the fear of being on the other side of so much trust in being someone worth this kind of regard, there's something in him that wants to be worth it, wants to work to being worth it. Ryuji doesn't know shit about love, but fuck, this might be something like it.

Ryuji steels himself. He's already decided he's not going to run away, so he'll face this head on. He shuffles closer to Yusuke, reaches out to join their hands, and does his best to look Yusuke in the eye. "I'm... honestly not sure how this is gonna go, but I want to make you happy, and I want to be happy with you, if you're really okay with- with being with me," Ryuji finishes, stumbling a little as he does. It's pretty lackluster, he thinks, but Yusuke stares at him with shock, awe, and just a devastating amount of fondness. Shit, this is going to take some getting used to, but... that's something to look forward to, almost.

"Oh," Yusuke breathes, "I had hoped, but to be faced with reciprocation... it's quite overwhelming." He laughs a little, and it's just. Fuck. Ryuji can't help but grin in response, probably looking like an idiot because of how nice it is to be the reason for that kind of joy, and how suddenly, achingly fond it makes him feel.

Yusuke leans down, bumping their foreheads together. "I didn't think I could possibly feel more for you than I already did, but as always, you defy expectation."

"Dude, what?" Ryuji says. He's a little distracted by the proximity, and a lot affected by Yusuke being so damn corny.

"You are quite the charmer, it seems."

"Yeah, well," Ryuji huffs, "don't get your hopes up, I'm not gonna be that good at this whole romance thing."

"But you'll try. That's what I love about you, Ryuji."

He just says it, completely matter-of-fact, as if he's not dropping a huge fucking bombshell every time he does. No restraint at all, apparently. "What the hell, you're so..."

There's a lot Ryuji could say, but it just wouldn't be enough. Nothing's enough, it feels like. He still doesn't have the words to put together just what he's feeling. But that's okay. He reaches up, and pulls Yusuke into a kiss.