Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"If I had to explain myself, I'd say it's simply personal principle that I repay my debts."

Akechi's words from the night before rang once again within Akira's mind, as he watched the others begin to dig into their Christmas potluck. He wasn't very hungry, so he hadn't planned on eating much, but seeing all of his friënds laughing and enjoying themselves was far more satisfying than anything he could have eaten. Seeing all of them together was somehow...
...wait...

...all of them?
No. As much as he hated to admit it, he had a sort of begrudging respect for Akechi; not only had Akira enjoyed having Akechi in the Phantom Thieves dynamic, but the guy had just saved him from yet another round of the Japanese criminal justice system. In all honesty, Akira wasn't even sure if he could survive another trip through the ringer. Crow wasn't the only Phantom Thief that was missing from this picture, though; Yaldabaoth's defeat had come with a heavy price. Akira couldn't help but sadden at the thought, and as the mood changed to match Akira's (as it so often did), it fell to Futaba to say what was on all of their minds:

"If only Mona could be here with us."

At that exact moment, Sojiro walked balk into Leblanc. Everyone immediately turned toward him, almost as if they expected to find their dear, departed friënd in his arms.
No such luck.
What he did have was bucket of offbrand fried chicken, making up for Ryuji's uncharacteristically noncarnivorous contribution. Had he been asked, though, Akira might've admitted that he preferred the previous state of affairs, if only for its comedic value. The Thieves were an off-kilter bunch, and that's what Akira liked best about them. They weren't perfect, nor even were they necessarily very good at working together. They had been brought together by circumstance and shared hardship, and they accepted each other for who they were, warts and all. Haru could be a discount disney princess, while Ryuji would continue his career as a walking punchline, and both of them could still be friënds with the most stereotypical student council president this side of Hawaii. Come what may, they'd stick together and enjoy life to the fullest whenever they could.

Summoning his courage, Akira stood up and said "C'mon, guys. I think Morgana'd want us to just shut up and enjoy this while we can."

"Nah, he'd prolly just keep complaining about how there's no tuna," Ryuji replied with a grin. "The big guy's right, though! What's the use of stressing over stuff when we could be eatin' Boss's fried chicken whatever thingy?"

"Agreed," nodded Yusuke sagely, "let us gorge ourselves on the 'fried chicken whatever thingy' to our hearts' content!"

Makoto sighed audibly. "I swear, you two are quite the pair, aren't you?"

The evening proceeded much as would be expected.

As they all gradually filtered out of the cafë, Futaba decided to approach Akira. This was no big deal, of course; Akira was one of the few people she was 100% comfortable to be around with, but still... a thought just nagged at the back of her mind and wouldn't let go. That thought was making her nervous, but she didn't really understand why. Her heart had been changed, right? Why was she still so uncomfortable talking about serious things? At this point, Akira was practically her brother, so there shouldn't be anything she can't tell him about, right? Even if it's about...
...death...
...again...

No, she couldn't be doïng this now! She was stronger! Was all that leveling up for nothing? Was the change of heart for nothing? No, she wouldn't let it end this way, not if she had anything to say about it! "PULL. YOURSELF. TOGETHER!" she screamed internally. She would do this. She would do this. She just needed to man up, and...or actually would it be...? No, that'd be weird to say... yeah, she needed to man up and walk over there and—

It is at this point that Futaba reälized that she had somehow come to a stop in the middle of Leblanc and most likely had a very stupid expression on her face. She immediately looked away in embarrassment, before asking "Hey, could you please um..."
"..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't do it; too great was the shame of her perceived failure and the embarrassment of walking only halfway to someone. Instead, she defaulted to:
"...come play RTS with me tomorrow?"
Thinking better of her statement, she corrected, "Or wait, actually... could I just bring everything here? I have it all installed on my old laptop, and your room is bigger than mine."

D'oh! Stupid stupid stupid! Why couldn't she just tell him? Why did it have to be so hard? Then again, maybë all she needed was a good night's sleep; she would surely feel more refreshed in the morning, especially if she got to kick Akira's butt in Starcraft ..or maybë a Pikmin emulator? Eh, decide later. Ooh, I think he said yes!

"Thank you, Brain Futaba!" she said out loud, paying no heed to the two baristas' bewildered reäctions. She turned around and cheerfully walked home.

Akira awoke slowly and groggily. This was to be expected. If Akira was beïng honest with himself, Morgana had functioned as his only real alarm clock. The endless insistence on goïng to bed early, combined with Morgana's own uncanny punctuality, had led to restful nights and early mornings. Now, Akira found himself unsure as to whether or not he'd actually gotten any rest. If that wasn't bad enough, the sun looked to already be high in the sky, meaning that the shop should've already opened for business. Boss would have his head for this.

Throwing on some casual attire, Akira hurried down the stairs, quickly finding himself face-to-face with...
Futaba. Huh, not Sojiro?
Oh right, hadn't she asked him to play some weird video game thing today? but...

"How did you get in?"

"Through the front door, where else? Boss let me in when he was opening up."
Seeing Akira's confused expression, Futaba asked "What's with that face? Did I say something weird?"

"Boss gave me the keys awhile ago."

"And you think he doesn't have any spares and can't order more from the locksmith?"

Okay, that was fair. Why didn't Akira think of that? Was he really that off of his game? Perhaps he hadn't reälized how much he missed his furry friënd; it had been a little more than a day prior that Morgana had made his sacrifice, and who knew how long it takes for death to sink in. Akira opted to silently shift to an embarrassed expression, although that may also have been how he really felt in that moment. He could never tell with such things.

"Man, you really didn't know that? But you know everything! Ah, well, doesn't matter. I'm goïng upstairs to set everything up. You can make brunch for us in the meantime!"

Just like that, Akira had survived yet another Futaba whirlwind. He'd better tell Morgana to add— Oh...right. Well, he was hungry, so perhaps making brunch wasn't so bad an ideä. That might take his mind off of things.

"Took you long enough. Here, come see the game! It'll blow your socks off."

Akira wondered how many people even still used that phrase. Wasn't it kinda outdated? In any case, he decided to comply with Futaba's request, putting her meal next to her and sitting down with his own meal to her left. Futaba had somehow connected the TV to one of her laptops, so that is was acting as a sort of second screen for the computer. This was to say nothing of the jumble of cables connected to said computer, or the fact that she was handing him a game console controller that wasn't even connected to anything. Akira could roll with it, though.

"So, this game series is called Civilization," Futaba explained between mouthfulls. "You take control of a specific culture, and you guide them through time, ordering research to be done, building roads, fortifying your military, soön and soforth; if you get the highest score at the end, you win. This particular version is the latest release, and I have all the DLC, so there's more options for who you can play as. I won't deny that I have the advantage here since this is one of the games I like the best, but I have a feeling you'll be pretty good at this one."

To Akira, this sounded fairly intriguing. Making a game out of the concept of sociëty was certainly something he wouldn't have thought of. Not only that, but it directly paralleled their recent experiënces exploring the depths of Mementos. Wait, wouldn't that mean that they, as the people "guiding" sociëty, were effectively playing as Yaldabaoth? The thought was unsettling.

Futaba continued on, seemingly unperturbed. "Since you've never played before, I'll give you first pick of who you want to play as. You choose by clicking this thing here. Great! So, now... who do you want to be?"

After some deliberation, Akira made his selection.

"Huh, really? That's not what I expected you'd choose. Now that I think about it, though, it makes sense you'd choose them; of course Wildcard-Boy would choose the most flexible civ. Alright, let's go!"

As Akira started picking up the game's strategy, Futaba started planning how she would broach the subject of Morgana. Playing videogames was just as fun as always, but even now, she couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming dread... no, dread wasn't the right word. Depression? Aliënation? Grief?
Grief.
And not the Minecraft kind either. Wait, why would she even think about that? Futaba just lost a friënd, one who had helped her overcome her crippling psychological hangups. This was not some guy blowing up a blocky house; this was a 100% real death of a 100% real friënd! Was she so disconnected that she couldn't even think about real life without comparing it to videogames? She should just focus on the game and think about it later. No, that was exactly the sort of thing that made her compare Morgana's death to Minecraft! GET. YOUR. HEAD. IN. THE. GAME. No wait, no, not a game, life doesn't play by videogame rules! No, not play, like it doesn't function by them. It's not predictable, like RNG. No wait—.

Seeing Futaba's suddenly sour mood, that she had stopped playing, and that she had curled her legs up close to herself, Akira decided to give a standard "What's wrong?"

"Sorry, just thinking... about..."

"Morgana?"

"What? But... how did you know?"

"Everyone else is thinking about it too."

"Even you?" asked Futaba, incredulously.

Akira's only reply was a delayed, pained nod. Futaba, unable to hold her tears back any longer, buried her face in Akira's chest, clinging on for dear life. Akira wished he could say more for his adopted sister, but he had trouble enough in normal conversations. As much as he hated to admit it, he was deeply jealous of Futaba; even only having opened up to people for less than a year, human interaction was already second nature for her. Akira, meanwhile, who'd lived with other people his whole life, still couldn't even hold a conversation, or understand his own emotions. Even with all the acquaintances and friëndships he'd made in the past year, he'd chock at least 50% of them up to beïng in the right place at the right time, and the other 50% to people just liking to hear themselves talk.

After she'd finished crying, Futaba blurted out "I'm horrible, aren't I?"
At Akira's confused expression, she continued. "I mean, I asked to spend time with you, but I couldn't even tell you what I wanted to talk to you about. I've been trying to psych myself up for it, but all I could even think about was videogames. How can I be a good friënd if I can't even bring myself to think about him?"

"It's hard for me too."

"If you say so. I feel like I've missed out on a big opportunity or something, though. You two were inseparable, but it seems like all I ever did with him was argue. What would it have been like if we'd been on better terms with each other?"

With a small smile, Akira replied, "I'm glad he knew the real you."

Futaba couldn't help but be touched. "Saccharine as always, brother mine. Still, thanks, I needed that. It's like before: I shouldn't blame myself for everything, right?"

Akira nodded.

"Well, I'm still not doïng so hot," admitted Futaba, "but let's keep on playing. It's pretty fun, right?"

Akira nodded once more, before taking his turn. He'd already built up his navy, so maybë...? Hmmm...

Once Akira had finished, Futaba loudly announced her battlecry. "You're done for!"
Within 2 turns, Akira had been completely decimated.

"What happened?" he asked, incredulously.

"You overplayed your hand. I won't say that it was decided from turn 1 or anything, but it was obvious fairly early on what you were trying to do. Since I knew what your objective was, it was child's play to formulate a counter-strategy. I, on the other hand, played my cards close to my chest. While you expanded and overextended, I was consolidating power."

Akira quipped, "So it's the opposite of real life."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

After deliberating for a bit, Akira decided to speak his mind for once. "In life, you have to overplay your hand. If you don't, no-one will know what you're doïng, and if they don't know what you're doïng, they won't be able to help you. You overplayed your hand just now by freezing up in the middle of playing a game, and that way I could help you." Akira was embarrassed by how awkwardly it came out, but he felt it needed to be said. Futaba and his other friënds were way too cagey about how they felt. Why couldn't they just be straightforward about it? Why were every last one of them so perpetually evasive?

"Oh, so, maybë I couldn't clear the checkpoint because I was playing too evasively instead of forming alliances? Yeah, I can dig it. But if you rush into problems face-first with no backup plans or reïnforcements, that's just asking for disaster! You've gotta make bold moves sometimes, sure, but you've gotta make small moves too, and you need to have contingency plans."

"Maybë it's a balance," Akira ventured.

"Maybë."

They sat in silence for some time afterward.

"Thanks Akira. This really helped."

"Anytime," was Akira's stoïc reply.

"I'm so glad you two get along together," chimed in Sojiro. "After all, it's less work for me."

As Futaba swung the door open, the two knew for certain that they would pull through this. What are siblings-slash-friënds for, if not for dealing with the loss of their supernatural cat mentor? In fact, so strong was their resolve, so oblivious was Futaba, and so emotionally off-balance was Akira, that neither of them noticed the small black figure that scurried through the open door.
When Akira awoke to a familiar feline face, he couldn't open the messaging app fast enough.

Elsewhere, a Pleasant Boi coughed.

Chapter Text

Akechi stared.
What else could he do?

He found himself tied to a chair in an interrogation room. This was nothing new of course; after all, not a soul had so much as spoken to him in... how long? It was impossible to tell, but Goro put his bet on somewhere around a day. He'd stared at the wall for hours, fallen asleep, and woken up, all without any interaction with another human being. It was understandable; he'd confessed on Christmas Eve, so the station was likely taking a break to celebrate the holiday. He didn't mind missing it, as he was never much one for festivals, but he was rather annoyed that he'd been tied up. He confessed of his own free will, hadn't he? Why would he leave? Even if he did want to leave, why not just lock the door to the interrogation room? Why tie him up so uncomfortably like this? Surely, this was against police procedure. Ultimately, though, Goro decided it'd be best not to ruminate on such things; he had a quite the tall tale to confess to, and it was going to take a lot of effort to convince his former colleagues of its veracity. It would be quite the challenge, but Goro felt that he was nevertheless up to the task.

Just then, the door slammed open. "Well, look what we've got here. Man, two teenagers, for the same crime, in the same year?" The man shook his head in mild disbelief. "Oh, but the other one was innocent, wasn't he?" he asked, growing angriër. You just set him up!" he yelled, slamming the table in an attempt to intimidate Akechi.

Akechi, however, remained unfazed. "Yes. I assure you that this is not a prank or a stunt; I am the culprit behind the mental shutdowns." Donning his trademark pleasant smile, he offered "I assume you've already read through my confession? That should save us both some time."

"I wish that I could agree."

Akechi was suddenly on edge. "I'm sorry?"

The officer grunted. "Don't get me wrong, you make a compelling case. But come on!" The officer walked around the table to yell in his ear. "Cognitive worlds? Using fake weapons to kill monsters? Special powers?" The officer kicked the chair onto its side, the whole weight of it landing painfully on Goro's left arm. "Don't expect me to believe that nonsense!"

This was most definitely not following procedure. Akechi reflected on his attempted betrayal of the Phantom Thieves. Perhaps this treatment was a fitting punishment for making Akira go through the same. "I assure you, officer, it's all true. I can corroborate my story if need be. If you'll refer to the citations portion of the confession, then I—"

"Don't bullshit me!" yelled the officer, kicking the chair once again. He crouched down, putting his mouth almost to Goro's ear and lowering his tone to a menacing hum. "You're protecting someone, aren't you?" Standing back up, he shouted "It's that Phantom Thief kid isn't it?"

"Surely you reälize that I was the one who brought him in. I intended to use him as a scapegoat for my crimes. The only reason he was ever detained in the first place is because I made it happen! So tell me, officer: what exactly am I trying to protect him from?"

After sitting the chair back upright, the officer barked "Alright, out with it! I know you were working together!"

For once speechless, all Akechi could muster was a simple, dumb "Huh?"

"I know my men, and my men do not make mistakes. If they arrested that kid, he was up to something."

"Not only is that an incredibly faulty line of reasoning, but if you'll recall, I was the one who ordered them them to—"

"You're gonna pay for wasting my time!" growled the officer, punching Akechi hard on the right side of his face. "You hear me? My men do not make mistakes. They do not arrest innocent people. If they were arrested, they were up to something."

"But what if they're led by a crooked cop? Say, for example, a self-admitted serial killer with shady connections...?"

There was a short pause. "...Clearly, there is no reasoning with you. I had hoped you would be more coöperative."

"Likewise. I've already confessed to everything, and the fact you can't accept it is telling."

"I'll send someone else tomorrow. Maybë then you'll feel like actually coöperating with us. For your sake, I pray that you do."

The gruff officer exited through the door, closing it and once more plunging Goro into near-total darkness. It felt...comforting. This was a world in which you could commit the most heinous crimes imaginable and never get caught, one in which you could simply be minding your own business and suddenly find yourself unlawfully imprisoned. The police, the government, the mafia, schools, banks, hospitals, the media, the economy... they are all corrupt beyond repair. While some grew up in loving homes, Goro never had a family to call his own. While some inherited vast sums from their parents, Shido had given Goro jack squat. There were so few things he could find comfort in in this unforgivable, unfixable world; at least for now, he would have the dark.

Elsewhere, three nerds, two gardeners, two athletes, and a model walk into a cafë. A cat says the punchline to a bad joke.

Chapter Text

When the news announced the prosecution of Shido, the gang went silent.

When Sae confirmed it, they erupted into cheers.

"So it's finally happening..." muttered Makoto.

"Yeah!" shouted Ryuji. "About time that jerk got what was comin' to him."

"There's so often been so much apathy in our society, that I half-expected this would not take place."

"Well said, Inari. Time for the Japan Diët redeption arc!"

"Don't get your hopes up," cautioned Sae. "Shido's party still won the election."

"Won't the prosecution tarnish their reputation?" asked Yoshizawa.

"It'll be easy for them to throw a bad apple under the bus and just continue as normal. Justice is served, but the ripple effects remain, at least for now."

"Geez you're a downer," groused Ryuji.

"To steer away from that subject then, I was under the impression you'd invited your mother to our little gettogether. When is she coming?"

"Oh, shit, is it too late to ask her to come?"

"I can't think of any reason why," said Sojiro. "Call her up. You can use Akira's room." Akira silently nodded from behind the counter, where continued to wear his uniform, undaunted by the fact it was nearly 22:00.

"Thanks a million boss-man!"

As the muffled sounds of Ryuji's call wafted down from the rafters, the Phantom thieves enjoyed themselves thoroughly, downing the most refreshing decaf Sojiro could muster and nonnegligible amounts of dubiously-legal alcohol. Yusuke refused to partake, of course, as he knew the ill effects of teen consumption of alcohol on neural connections. Boss' coffee much sufficed regardless, in having the additional effect of its warmth in contrast to his unadorned and chilly torso. He had failed to forsee the effect of the deepening winter on the ambient indoor temperature of the shop. Doubtless sensei would sc—
No, he wouldn't, would he? Sensei was publically disgraced and behind bars in temporary custody. The atelier was in government hands, to be granted to Yusuke upon maturation, and despite his warm feelings for the man, there was no doubt that he'd killed his mother for personal gain. He tried to convince himself it was better this way, but he just...couldn't. All the better reason to enjoy his time with his friends, he supposed.

Calling across Ryuji's vacated place to their gymnastic companion, he asked, "Yoshizawa-san, why didn't you ask for your parents to come?"

"Oh, um...my parents are...my parents." She grimaced slightly. "They aren't terrible, but they just...never seem to care about me. It's always 'Kasumi needs to practice more! Kasumi needs to eat healthy! Kasumi needs to do this, do that,' just...ugh. I do need to do those things, but they never ask how I'm doing, who my friends are, where I spend my free time, unless of course I stay out too late, then they're all 'A consistent schedule is necessary for blah blah blah' and it's suffocating!" The dancer took a deep breath to steady herself. "Besides, if they came, everyone would be on edge, since I can't guarantee they'd keep any secrets on 'those Phantom association criminals'."

"They disagree with our methods?"

"No, it's not like that; they just don't pay enough attention to really have an informed opinion."

"Makes sense."

"I'm going with them to the shrine tomorrow, though!" she said, cracking a smile.

"That's good." said Yusuke, sagely. "Leader, a refill of my sleepy Hawaiian, if you would."

"Coming right up," he said, sporting his trademark toothy grin. Even if not personally predisposed to such things, Yusuke could definitely see how such a playful yet focused attitude could have wooed the contortive athete sharing their Sylvestrian sit-in of sorts. Romantic entanglements truly were fascinating, he supposed. Wait...

He furrowed his brows, refocusing on the conversation, curently centered around...foreign depictions of lucky cats? What?
"All I'm saying is that it's a complete misunderstanding of the symbol!" Ann was explaining. "They should at least try to do some reasearch on it before they sign off on it."

"From my travels, I've noticed some Westerners are more conscientious than others," Sae pointed out. "I think it's likely the people you're referring to aren't truly representative of the population, or even of professional artists."

"If I may?" cut in Yusuke. "Cultural exchange is rarely ever consistent in high-fidelity rendering. The Thai and American countrysides alike simply never learn what Kanji mean, so can you blame them for leaving the words on the cat blank, or for misspelling the characters? How many dramas set in other countries contravene social conventions those lands rely upon? My own study on European impressionism doubtless failed to fully inculcate its ideals. Nijima-san, where exactly did you go when you were helping with international cases?"

"Anchorage and Vancouver."

"How well do you think our storytellers understand those places?"

"Not very. When I got back, I read a story about Anchorage where the main characters took the train everywhere." Sae snorted at the memory.

"You see, Ann? If the important parts are gotten across, that's sometimes all you can consistently hope for."

"But isn't this an important cultural symbol? These details matter."

"It is indeed important, tied to our Sinitic cultural heritage. Let me ask you a question, though: is Big Bang Burger representative of what American households serve their children?" Ann paused in thought. "The details only matter when there are people to pay attention to them."

"Ughh, this is why I need to have someone keep me from drinking too much sakë..." said Ann dejectedly.

"Oh! That was what I wanted to say earliër. If Leader can invite Yoshizawa san, and Ryuji his okaa-san, then perhaps you...?"

"Scheduling conflict," she ground out with her face on the table.

"Tough, buddy. Sorry," consoled Futaba.

"Wait, Lady Ann has a boyfriend? Why didn't anyone tell me? I've been making a fool out of myself this whole time!"

Ryuji returned downstairs to peeling laughter. This confused him greatly.

"Uh, guys, what did I miss?" he asked.

"I'm serious!" protested Morgana, which made everyone laugh harder.

"Whatever."

Haru laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll tell you later."

The way Ryuji saw it, they couldn't not stay for the countdown. Who knew when next they'd all get to do hang out together for the new year? Makoto was a senior, and Akira's old folks would probably try to claw him back away from Sojiro. Plus, his mom was finally getting to meet the team. It was allll coming together.

"I know this is go'nna sound pretty stupid n' all, but I just gotta say it. All of ya'...this team, you uh...you mean a lot to me. I'm glad I met you guys. Haru and Akira and that weird dude Yusuke and Ann...wait, where's Ann?"

"She was worried about missing the last train, so Sae walked her to the station awhile ago," answered Makoto, "and I'm sure all of us feel the same."

"Hear! Hear!" cried Haru, raising yet another a glass of sakë.

"Dude, what is with you? Haven't you had a bajillion cups already? How are you not passed out?"

"Natural endurance, I suppose." She smiled brightly, "Why don't I come sit with you two?"

"Uhh, sure." Ryuji glanced questioningly across the table. His mom smiled and nodded.

"Everyone get ready!" shouted Futaba from the bar. Morgana jumped onto the Nijimas' table to get a better vantage point on the TV. Joker and Yoshizawa clasped their hands together. This was it, the sum total of a hectic year spent breaking rules and taking names.

"10!"

The velvet room attendant reflected on his life. In truth, he'd come to terms with his origins, but not with his form. Always being stuck as a cat never felt...right to him. Even so, he had friënds who cared more about who he was than what he was. He had a family that, though now distant, had shown him that he was worth something. He had a home, a warm place to sleep, and a life ahead of him. He was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"9!"

The wildcard holder reflected on his life. He had his misgivings about how they'd handled Shido, especially when it came to Akechi. At the end of the day, he'd committed terrible crimes, but he'd been a victim too; abandoned by his family and blessed with power, how close was Akira to the same fate? Even so, he had a family of sorts beside him now. He had a person he could cherish even when they were apart. His prospects, once so dismal, were now looking up. He was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"8!"

The former athlete reflected on his life. Not everything was perfect in the end, what with his leg still several surgeries away from him being in running shape again. His prospects for the future were honestly pretty dim, and he expected to be working full-time at a fast-food job in a couple years. Even so, he had the thieves, buddies that'd stick with him no matter what. He had the old track team, and that dork Mishima. His mom was safe, and no-one at Shujin would need to go through what he did. He was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"7!"

The fashion model reflected on her life. Obviously, she wished she could've stayed with the thieves, but Shiho's situation both made it unwise for her to take the train late at night and had caused her parents to act more protective. Some scars never fully heal, and so was inevitable that Ann would be the one to come to her. Even so, the both of them were having a nice time with her folks, and Ann's past transgressions were forgotten. The thieves had been successful, and she knew they were having a great time, even without her being there. Everyone she cared about was alive and well, and justice had been served. She was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"6!"

The artistic savant reflected on his life. There were things he couldn't change that soured what had once been happy days spent with Madarame. Lies, murder, and falsity stained it all, and from his days as his sensei's favorite student, all the other artists he knew resented him. Even so, the thieves had provided for him an emotional safety net of sorts. He had a community of diverse individuals from whom he could draw both inspiration and enjoyment. He was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"5!"

The student council president reflected on her life. The school hadn't fully recovered from the coach's abuses and the principal's death. Her sister still worked for what she had come to understand as a fundamentally corrupt and discriminatory system. Even so, the two of them had reconciled. The thieves she had so feared had become her most trusted companions. She had friënds for the first time in years, and she had her family back, all while doing real good in the world. She was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"4!"

The l33t pro gamer hacker reflected on her life. Her mom was still dead as a doornail, and Morgana had given them quite the scare. After so many years not attending school, she was likely missing a lot of key info and stat upgrades that her peers would take for granted. Even so, she had a dad, a brother, and a talking cat, like some kind of superheroine! She was the most famous hacker in the country, and it didn't have to be at the expense of her normal education anymore! She was living large and in charge. She was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"3!"

The corporate heiress reflected on her life. Her dad died before he could change his ways, all to help a crooked politician frame her only real friënds. Even among those friends, she never truly felt like she fit into their ensemble. Even so, there were bright spots among them. Joker had helped her immensely with the school garden and her efforts to move out from under her father's shadow. Ann had been a critical sounding-board for her public appearances. Akechi, as hateful as he had been, provided valuable legal insight on positioning her inheritance. Ryuji was there to give her the support she needed, day-to-day. She put her hand over his. She was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"2!"

The criminal detective reflected on his life. He could hear the rest of the force participating in the countdown, even through the cell door. He and his worthless father could likely finally relate to one another about something. It wasn't all roses, sure. Even though the interrogator had been switched out for one that was willing to hear his confession, the new guy kept trying to give him an out of some kind. Plea deals, claiming to have been undercover, the works. He didn't want an out. He wanted to bring Isshiki and all the rest back to life. He wanted to watch the light leave his father's eyes. Even so, if he were honest with himself, this was the best anyone could have hoped for, with every wrongdoer in jail and the crimes unable to be covered up. Akira would avoid prison to fascinate spectators for quite awhile hence. He was happy with where things had ended up. Mostly.

"1!"

The adults in the room reflected on their lives. This year had been a whirlwind, and their charges showed no signs of deviating from their eccentric paths. All three felt like they had aged 5 years over the course of the 2016th year of our lord. However, just as the Westerners believed in the man who recovered from getting locked in a tomb, so too did they see the tremendous rebirth of their children's lives. Where once a lonely and maladapted teen once stood, now there was a community of competent and supportive individuals, all thanks to the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. With joy in their hearts, they braced themselves for all the craziness of the new year, come what may.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The fingers curled on a primate's hand.

Chapter Text

When you enjoy being with someone, it's never the big flashy parts that matter. It's the quiëter moments that truly make the experiënce worthwhile. That was probably why Ann found herself strangely dissatisfied when she came to this shrine. It was as if she was expecting something strange and otherworldly to happen, and all she got was this lousy kimono. The journey here had been more enjoyable than actually being here, and she couldn't even think of anything decent to wish for. Turning to the side, she smirked apologetically at Shiho.

"Funny seeing you here!" called a voice behind them. Turning, she saw...
...her ex.
Crap.

"Heh heh, yeah, what uh...what a coincidence..." she stammered, nervously looking from Shiho to Akira and back to Shiho.

Shiho grabbed her wrist, gently. "It's okay. He didn't know. Like we talked about."

Ann slumped her shoulders. "I guess I just still feel bad about it."

"What am I missing here?" asked Morgana from atop Akira's shoulders.

"If I have my timeline right here, it's a miscommunication-based premature rebound and reconcilliation type thing, right?" supplied Yoshizawa to shocked stares. "What?"

"I'm just surprised you got that so quickly," said Ann. "Most people wouldn't think—"

"Yeah, well, most people are dumb! My sister always...never mind. Sorry for bringing down the mood."

"You didn't," said Akira and Shiho simultaneously. They looked at each other for a beat...and suddenly began laughing.

Ann didn't understand what the joke was, but seeing both her bffs enjoy themselves together was already at least ten times better than their time at the shrine so far. If she had to wish for anything, she'd wish to have this happen more often. Maybë, just maybë, she could watch as her girlfriënd forged her own bonds with the people that had come to mean so much to her over the past year. Looking sheepishly at Yoshizawa-chan, Ann was surprised to see a similarly buoyed expression on her counterpart's face. Where she might have expected annoyance, or perhaps a blank stare from the girl that never seemed like she had her head in the game, she instead saw the same mix of hope and embarrassment she now felt. A traitorous thought crossed through her mind.

Maybe the two weren't so different after all.

That thought occupied the mind of the girl who called herself Kasumi Yoshizawa. Though the fashion model in front of her hadn't bothered to stick around Leblanc for what had eventually become a sleepover, she felt closer to her than she had only two days prior. The mysterious force known only as the Metaverse, even in death, seemed to be pulling the strings of their lives closer. Well, it was either that, or Kurusu's abs. Put off by the girl who seemingly never had her eyes on the prize, Kasumi had previously thought very little of her, especially with her inability to guide her best friënd (apparently girlfriënd!) away from suïcide. Now, though, Kasumi wondered whether she ever took the time to understand the blonde, and if she should come to visit the couple more regularly. She would have plenty to talk about with the fellow athlete Suzui-san, at least. It was a nice thought.

"Ann, didn't you say she was coming with her parents?" was the ice bucket that brought her back down to reality. "Should we go meet them?" asked Shiho.

"Ooh, yeah, Akira, take us to see your girlfriënd's parents!"

"Actually, guys," cautioned the athlete, "that might not be such a good ideä. They can be a bit..."

"Stifling, right? You said last night."

"You don't know the half of it," groused Morgana. "They never shut up on the way here!"

"No, that's not it. They just have very...traditional ideäs sometimes."

"All the better to expand their world," offered Akira with a reässuring smile.

"W-well, only if Shiho is up for it, I'd say." The couple nodded in response.

Crap.
She'd definitely get an earful during lunchtime...
...but maybë it wouldn't matter, she thought as they walked back away from the shrine. "Hi there!" called a grinning Ann, heedless of decorum. "Are you Mr. Yoshizawa?"

She knew Akira had probably made a wish, but she found herself regretting stopping this from happening more than she did not making a wish. Something strange and otherworldly had happened today...an impossible miracle granted, and she couldn't find a reason to wish for anything but the company of her closest friënds. To think about it, though, she wasn't sure how long that'd be able to last. Before her feet left shrine property, she wished for that, at least: a chance to keep sharing happy days with the people that had made her life so worthwhile.

"I can't believe them!" shouted a frustrated gymnast into her phone.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Ann ameliorated.

"No, you don't get it! It was the whole time after you left. Eventually, I just had to leave. I'm taking a walk in Odaiba right now, if anyone cares."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Man-of-Few-Words offered. Kasumi appreciated the gesture, she told herself.

"There's an English saying," supplied Shiho, "about leading horses to water but not beïng able to make them drink. I'm sad to hear about their attitudes, but I don't want to stress your relationship, and I'm glad they're mostly fine otherwise, from what I hear."

"It's not just that, though. It's like everything good about them came from a monkey's paw! They look out for my well-beïng, but they only ever talk about how it'll make me look. They don't take an interest in my life outside of sports. When they ask if I miss my sister, it's always my 'nyeh-san' like they're making fun of her! Like they're making fun of me! If we hadn't been famous enough early enough to have leverage, would they even have let us...would we even have been us?" the gymnast gripped her waist in a shiver that wasn't from the cold weather.

"You're you, no matter what," said her stoic statue of a boyfriënd.

"I know that!" cried Kasumi, stomping on the sidewalk in a fit of frustration. "I—"
She cut herself off as she gazed upwards, seeing an impossible crystalline sphere supported by a lattice of beams. "W-what?" she stammered, distraught. "Uh...guys?" The surreal vision faded to pure blue sky. "Um, I'm sorry. Could I come by Leblanc to talk about something that just came up? It's uh...it's weird."

Akira was having an unusually lively discussion with the person he'd already christened his favorite of their post-theivery cadrë. It would've been difficult for him to name anyone he knew with a better sense of humor. Nothing really connected them, save for their olympic king teacher and the blonde model sitting beside Shiho, but he felt a deep sort of kinship with her, like they were coming at things from a similar angle, through a similar lens.

"I'll explain it all later," Shiho had promised Ann, but Akira wasn't sure even the smartest man in history could remember all the joke topics they'd gone through. He was happy for them, though. Especially after the disaster that was his attempted romancing of Ann, it was good to see them reconciled and back together.

Into the shop walked his own better half, who approached them and whispered, "This is a thing we might, might need to talk about somewhere less public."

Oh. "Let's use my room. Ann, should Shiho come?"

Aw, crap; that wasn't a facial expression he could read, but there seemed to be no verbal answer forthcoming. Eventually, Shiho just rolled her eyes and followed Yoshizawa upstairs.

Akira shrugged and followed.

Bringing up the rear, Ann got straight to the point: "So, what's the deal?"

"Basically, out in Odaiba, right by that cancelled stadium project, there was something that seemed to just kinda...wobble in and out of existence."

"What'd it look like?" asked Shiho.

"It was this big gold crystal ball on top of like...uh, do you know the Canton tower in China?"

"...not really."

"Here, let me pull it up on my phone." She showed it to them. "It's like the body of that, but a giant gold ball instead of the antenna."

"Yeah, that's pretty weird," supplied Ann.

Morgana spoke up. "That definitely sounds like a palace."

"Good thinking, bringing us up here first."

"But how? the Metaverse is gone. Who could be the ruler?"

"Why don't we check it out?" asked the once and future Joker.

"The rest of the team is busy celebrating the new year, aren't they?"

"I won't touch any of the exhibits," quipped Joker, holding up his right hand.

The other humans laughed. "Welcome back, fearless leader," said Ann.

"Wait a minute," cut in the volleyball player, "are you goïng now?"

"Yeah, and you should probably hang b—"

"Then I'm coming." Her conviction brooked no argument.

"It was here, you say?" asked Shiho's slumberbuddy in front of a tall tarp-covered fence in Odaiba.

"Yeah. It seemed like it was just behind this fence here."

"I mean, I'm not seeing anything?"

Shiho wasn't seeing anything either, but she assumed that was just because she hadn't been to the cognitive world of her former classmates' adventures. During that time, she'd had her entire life subsumed by recovering enough to play volleyball again; from the Shujin rooftop, to the hospital, and back, and through the lonely months away as she relearned both physical and emotional independence, she hadn't had time to even talk to anyone not on her team or in her new class, let alone commit the most notorious string of crimes in modern Japanese history. Even now, as on top of things as she felt, she wasn't sure if she'd ever have the guts to do such a thing. She was only here to get a little peek behind the curtain, and then she'd be satisfied enough to back away.

"Mm?" interjected Morgana unevenly. "Meow meow mrau nyah rr meow." He was likely saying something.

"Does it feel like any of the other palaces we've been to?"

The cat went on at length about...something. He launched into almost a minute of meowing, with the others paying rapt attention. In all honesty, it felt deeply embarrassing to be standing around while everyone else listened to a supernatural cat she couldn't hear, even if she trusted Ann enough to know she wouldn't make this all up out of thin air.

"Okay, I'm not sure what the cat's saying right now," hedged Shiho, "but Ann, when you explained this stuff to me, you said you used an app. What happened to it?"

"It disappeared on Christmas Eve when we killed the Holy Grail," answered her anchor to reälity.

"Why does that sentence make sense?" sighed Yoshizawa.

"Also, don't interrupt Morgana when he's explaining stuff!"

"Sorry," responded Shiho sheepishly. "I just thought that if Yoshizawa-san was the one to see it, maybë she still has it?"

"Huh," said the girl in question, "I hadn't thought about that. I guess I never actually checked it for myself after Akira told me it was gone."

The cat talked more, ending with a louder meow than normal.

The gymnast frantically took out began scrolling through her phone. "It's there! Wait, but...hmm?"

"What's the issue?" asked the aptly-codenamed Joker.

"The UI changed color, and it's all...glitchy. Look," she said, giving her boyfriënd her phone, "See how you can't select the entry field?"

"Should we try the voice search feature?"

A tap of the screen resulted in a blare of audio static, which quickly dissipated. The cat briefly meowed.

"Oh yeah," said Ann, holding a thumbs-up. "Good thinking, Morgana!"

"It still works!" shouted Yoshizawa. "That one!" The athlete pointed at her phone. "The name fields are all weird, but I don't think I recognize it!"

Another touch of the screen suddenly transformed their surroundings. The way that had once been blocked was now an opened gate, and beyond it lay...a wonder of modern engineering. True to her former classmate's word, from a glass office building rose a tower of interlacing struts, supporting a golden ball high among the clouds.

"H-how can this be possible?" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice. Turning, she saw...a living, breathing cartoon plushie.

"Ohhh! You're so cute!" she said, scooping the critter up into a hug.

"I don't think he wants to be," said Akira waveringly.

"Could you please put Mona down?" her girlfriënd asked, gently.

"That's Morgana?!" Shiho yelled, recoiling from the cat. "Um, sorry for hugging you?"

"No, I...I get it," he said sullenly. Wow, now she felt bad.

"What were you saying before, by the way? It seemed pretty long and involved."

"Just that each palace's specific properties and physical bounds are unique to the ruler; this one isn't really like any of the others, but the others weren't like what came before each of them either, so it didn't mean much that it felt different."

"Yeah, I think I can understand that."

"Look, I didn't want to be the one to say this," Ann cut in, "but...look at this palace! What in the world is it even supposed to be?"

"I guess we were lucky that the normal nav stuff was broken," said Yoshizawa; "I'd never have guessed what this distortion was."

"Alright, people!" said Morgana. "Remember, codenames only. We can't risk discovery by someone with powerful enough cognition to outlast the Metaverse."

"What about the new member?" asked Joker.

"Our new member should probably choose her own name. After all, everyone else did."

"Temporary member" corrected Shiho; "I'll only be here the one time, I hope. I just want a bit more context on this whole Phantom Thieves setup you all have. Anyway, for a codename, I guess I'd choose... Sat-Am?"

"As good as any. I'm Mona, and they're Joker and Violet. Got it? Alright...move, people!"

All of them entered the waiting glass elevator at the base. It slid shut with a soft hiss and began to move upwards on its own. As it neared the top, they saw...a salaryman in a strange black-and-white mask. He said, "The Phantom Thieves, correct?"

Everyone but Shiho nodded.

"Excellent, we are expecting you. Please follow me to the check-in desk."

As they were walking, Yoshizawa leaned in towards Joker. "Hey, is this where...?" Joker nodded. "Crap. Mona, how are our chances of making it to the palace ruler?"

"Almost nothing. We're looking at foes stronger than any we've faced...I think. Besides, even if the ruler sees us as a potential threat, the shadows aren't making any moves, so there's no reason to rush."

The eerie faux-professional cut in, "You are meant no harm in this place. We only wish to give you your requisite rightfully-designated inventory items. There it is!" he said, pulling out a cardboard box from behind the front counter.

Looking inside the box, Shiho saw...a collection of comically large keys of various shapes and colors. Bewildered, she could only think to say, "Thank you! We'll...uh...we'll be goïng now."

"No."

Immediately, alarm shot through the group. "What?" shouted Ann.

"I'm sorry, but Shiho Suzui may not leave this place at this time, much less with inventory items not meant for her." Additional not-people dropped from the ceiling of the atrium to the rear of the group.

Mona began barking out orders "Panther, grab Sat-Am and move! Violet, Joker, help me cover them."

Joker smoothly answered with orders with his own, stance becoming relaxed as though slipping back into a routine. "Violet, focus on offense against the one closer to the exit. Mona, masukunda, then split healing between us and them; priority to Sat-Am, then me. Panther, save your magic for emergency heals."

Witnessing the well-oiled machine of the Phantom Thieves begin to work its magic was itself a magical experience, somewhat dampened by her girlfriënd immediately slinging her over her shoulder as she frantically sprinted towards the exit. Shiho idly mused that probably, no-one ever actually got to properly see it when—

THUD! went the fist of the not-person construct against her girlfriënd's solar plexus, dropping Shiho painfully down to the immaculately-waxed floor. As they began to close in, Joker's team only managing to down one of the four, Shiho felt a strange sereneness where she knew she should feel bottomless fear; perhaps she was feeling that, but all she could think of was her itchy face. "You are not of this world," said a voice, "but you see now that you can belong here, if you choose to." The skin on her face was like a hot iron pressing onto her skull, heating up more and more, to intolerability. "The champion of a lost land, you must choose your own path." Her skin was burning. "I am thou, thou art I. Willst thou bow to threats from beyond the beyond, or join with the outcasts to forge life anew?"

"Come, Nay-Mariner!"

Chapter Text

"Okay, what is goïng on here?" asked Futaba upon reëntering LeBlanc.

"Interpretive dance." was Joker's enigmatic response from behind the bar. It did little to explain the fact that there was an unconscious person slumped over a barstool as Ann, Sumi, and Morgana frantically crowded around something on the counter nearby. Joker set down standard curry/coffee in front of the unconsious person, to a predictable lack of reaction. Futaba went over to poke the dozer on the cheek a few times, which seemed to trigger the 'waking from slumber' event.

"Hello sleepy NPC; I think your food's ready."

"Oh?" startled the woman. "Uh, thank you."

"Don't sweat it, lol."

"Real high-level behaviour, sis," said her brother from the serving areä.

Futaba was briefly briefly taken aback by his comment. She really had come far, hadn't she? She talked to a stranger with no preparation, and she didn't break a sweat.

Wait, this was distracting her.

"What's the commotion about?"

Morgana piped up. "There's a new palace, and the Shadows donated this box of documents to us."

"...what."

"There's actually some that mention you, I think..."

"WHAT."

"Oh yeah, here," said Ann, holding out a stack of papers.

Futaba cautiously walked over and took the documents from Ann, turning them over to reveal...a hospital summary.

...the patient, while still in a coma, remains stable. DNA analysis was collected using blood, extracted from the vein in the patient's left arm, and no change in status was witnessed as a result of the test. Blood was submitted en masse to the personal identification office, to be analyzed by a third party according to their secure database. Patient failed to show correspondence to any known living individual in Japan. Expanding to persons declared dead, a match was found. Patient is 99% match with Wakaba Isshiki, last known to reside in Tokyo, before declaration of death in an irregular manner.

Futaba's eyes grew wide as she clutched the paper with an iron grip. Was there an earthquake goïng on? She needed to sit down.

She sat down...on the floor...in the middle of Leblanc.

"Futaba?" asked Sumi. "Are you okay?"

"I...uh..." She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Deep breaths, sis. In...out...in...out..."

Futaba complied, feeling comforted by the presence of her brother. She slowly closed her eyes, feeling the gentle cycling of life-giving wind through her lungs, curing her panic status effect little-by-little.

The gamer girl opened her eyes, and immediately, they began to fill with tears.

"Akira...she's alive." She moved to hug him tightly as the tears began to flow. "She's alive!"

"Who's alive now?" asked a newly-returned Boss, carrying groceries.

Her moment of catharsis interrupted, Futaba fell silent as her strength left her.

"Could someone explain for Boss what's goïng on while I look through the rest of this?"

Shiho spoke up, but not in the way Morgana wanted. "It's still really weird that you talk."

"Someone? Anyone? Boss can't hear me."

"Just give him the hospital report," said Ann with a sigh.

Before anyone could, Yusuke arrived.

"I see that there is something of a commotion going on. Would anyone mind—"

Morgana cut him off. "New palace, shadows gave us a box, one of the documents says Futaba's mom is in a coma somewhere."

Yusuke pinched his brows together. "I see..."

The resultant silence lasted for almost half a minute, only brought to an end by Shiho's question: "Sorry, I'm a little behind here. Why did you think Futaba's mom was dead again?"

"Wakaba's alive?" asked Sojiro, dropping his groceries. "Let me see that!" Snatching the paper from his adoptive daughter, he frantically began reading, eyes growing wider and wider before suddenly dropping down to the floor and giving his most vigorous bearhug to his two wards.

"Was there anything else in the box?" asked Yusuke.

"A few things, but they all turned into documents when we left the Metaverse, so I'm just looking through them now. There's some stuff for Ryuji, a bank account registered to Haru, and a list of instructions for me. Oh! I think this police voucher is yours."

"Police voucher?" Yusuke walked over and picked up the document in question, scanning its contents. "It purports to give me access to funds from the liquidation of Madarame's secret estate, and the ability to move back home."

"Well that's good," said Ann. "Didn't you hate the dorms?"

"Well, yes, but...I befriended a classmate of mine. It would be a shame to no longer see her on a regular basis. She even came with me to visit Madaramë today."

"I'm surprised they let him have visitors."

"He's been well-behaved. Regardless, I suppose I should pounce upon this opportunity; after all, I will have a dorm room regardless of whether or not I have access to the atelier once more."

"I really hate to ruin anyone's day here," said Shiho, "but it has to be pointed out. These documents come from a very questionable source. How do we know they're real? Even if they are real, couldn't they be manipulating us?"

"There's an easy way to check," said Akira, as calm as ever.

"Yeah," said Boss, "let's just call the hospital and ask. What was it, Hirosaki General?"

A world-renowned painter sat in cuffs in a dungeon. It was hardly a novel experince for the man; he'd been here for the better part of a year at this point, waiting to stand trial for murder and plagiarism, although the public only seemed to care about the second part. Truly, the fickle masses had their ways of living, and he had made the decision to let them do what they wished with his health and legacy. How could he feel anything but the most deep shame at his actions, and how else could he atone for such heinous living?

Who was that at the door? Ah, it must be the warden's guards. "You have a visitor, prisoner," said a guard. "On your feet."

Madaramë dutifully complied, arranging himself (and arraigning himself) for the march towards the only taste of freedom he would get: the visitors' station. As they walked there, he mused upon who it could be that wanted to see him today. Since the two-week period between his adoptive son's visits had only half elapsed, the less frequent incomers were the more likely candidates. His business associates? A victim of his?

Yusuke calmly picked up the telephone. "Hello, father. I thought you might want an update on recent happenings."

"I confess that I am surprised, Yusuke. Have you decided to change your schedule?"

"No, father, but I thought you should know that a veritable bounty of good fortune has passed our way."

Madaramë merely hung his head contritely. "I scarcely think I have any good fortune left after everything, Yusuke."

"You wanted me to have the atelier, yes?"

The plagiarist nodded. "They said they would hold it in trust."

"It appears that I have been granted leave to move back in, along with access to your...other assets. I won't be doïng so, for the moment, but when I do, I may bring a companion."

"The girl from last time?" A faint smile grazed his face. "Ah, young love."

"I'm afraid not, but we can save that discussion for a later date. I should also mention that the documentation was part of a larger cache, which held boons for my associates as well. I'm of course happy for all of them, especially the athlete with previously-dismal prospects, but...well..."

"What is it, my son?"

"Upon newfound revelations, I find I no longer have company in mourning dead parental figures."

Guilt laced through the prisoner, his gut churning as tears brimmed in his eyes. "My deepest apologies."

"I don't mean to prod at your wounds while you're still repenting. It's just...I need to talk to someone. I need to express how it feels, when someone else's mother seemingly revives, but I know that mine will stay buried for all time. I want to be happy for her, but I can't help but feel an inescapable pull into a pit of jealousy."

"If...if I may, son?"

"Please, give me the words I need."

"I can't," Madaramë sighed. "All I can say is that jealousy does awful things to a man, and that you shouldn't surrender yourself to it. Do you think my students haven't attempted to murder me when I got famous off of their hard work? They now rot beside me in jail. Besides, having seen your work together, I am sure that if you told her your problems, your friënd would understand. If not her, then another of your little group: do it, and you will end up far better off than I did, consumed by madness in self-imposed isolation."

Now, it was Yusuke whose eyes watered. "Thank you, father...and..."

Maradamë listened caringly as his adoptive son gulped nervously into the telephone.

"...and thank you for caring. You always did, even when you stole my work, you...you were...are...my father. A far better father in many respects than some which I have come to know."

"Of course, my son." A rare opportunity to smile at his past actions. "Was there anything else you needed to talk about?"

Elsewhere, an inmate struggled with his bonds.