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"I'm going to show you who the useless one actually is!" Morgana cried.
"Alright, then! Bring it on!" Ryuji goaded.
Akira stood there helplessly as Ann moved in to intervene, eyes widened in panic as he registered none of the continuing argument. This is bad. You're the Leader. Do something! Ann shouldn't be the only one intervening here, you useless piece of shit! he chided himself, desperately trying to will himself to come up with the words to smooth this over.
His mouth finally got the message to open at seeing Morgana turn, and hearing the word "goodbye". Give some Leader-esque speech, he instructed himself. Something's wrong here, this isn't like them, just use those smooth talking skills and calm them both down. You're the Leader of the Phantom Thieves, what the hell are you good for if you can't even stop infighting?
"Calm down," was what finally left the Leader's lips. No one seemed to notice his voice cracking.
Ann backed him up in a desperate plea. "Morgana, wait!"
Morgana glanced back a moment, lowering his ears. "...see you." And with that, he darted out of the attic.
Akira could only hear static in his head, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. He was completely unable to focus on the continuation of Ryuji's hissy fit. "He... He left me," he gasped under his breath.
"...Akira, are you alright?" Futaba asked, finally noticing what she hoped was only a weird lighting glint from his glasses.
The raven haired Leader suddenly felt 5 pairs of eyes trained on him, and he quickly blinked the tears away and straightened up in the spotlight. A Leader doesn't panic. You were useless enough, they'll panic, too. Fix this. NOW.
"I'll find him," Akira said confidently, immediately moving past the others to walk down the stairs before anyone could see the non-answer as suspicious. He didn't even pause at the questioning look from Sojiro, waiting until the front door closed behind him and he was out of the line of sight before bursting into a sprint.
"Morgana!" he cried, paying no mind as the clouds steadily parted and allowed the midnight rain to trickle out, a threat if he stayed out too long.
" MORGANA! " he screamed, turning the corner to check by the movie theater, hoping the tears finally falling wouldn't obscure his vision too much. He had to look, he had to find him, he had to do his job as the Leader.
"...Morgana," he wept, finally falling to his knees at the end of the familiar neighborhood. He was gone. He left. And if he didn't catch him on the way out, he knew Morgana was the one he learned to be crafty and elusive from, he'd have no hope of finding him until he wanted to be found.
The rain began to pelt down, cold and somber as it plastered his hair to his head. A stark contrast to the saline and the warm pouring down his cheeks and gathering at his chin before falling into oblivion. I froze. I faltered, and I failed him, Akira thought, sucking in a throaty, desperate sob. I should have stepped in when Ann did. Ann shouldn't have to do my job for me. I'm... I'm supposed to help my team. I help them. That's what I do. That's what I am.
He curled up on the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees as whimpers escaped his lips. He wanted nothing more than to make himself small, shrink and shrink and shrink until there was no hope of anyone seeing him. Not that he ever let the others see him as anything but worthy of the trust put on him and his position. This is fucking pathetic. The confident, surefire Leader of the Phantom Thieves, in the fetal position on the concrete because of a mess HE caused , he thought. No wonder he left me. They all would, if they knew someone this weak and unstable was leading them.
He wouldn't let them see him low for a moment. They trusted him with their lives, for some godforsaken reason. He would never dare to let them see the fire in his heart go out, never let them see his rebellious spirit wither and die in his chest, never let them see the mask slip, and have nothing underneath. And he was a helper, all day, every day. He was what they needed from him, he was kind and bold, fearless and gentle, charming and proficient, and he never allowed himself to be anything but what they needed from him. Every waking moment was the Phantom Thieves, every day was what he needed to do to be a better Leader, like they deserved. It's who he was.
He was Joker, plain and simple, in and out of the Metaverse, because if he wasn't, he was absolutely nothing.
Eventually, after what he deemed far too long to be feeling sorry for himself, Akira rose, wiping his eyes. Crying won't fix this. Go back. Form a plan with them, and clean up the mess your inaction made. He obeyed himself, leaving no evidence behind of the massive mental breakdown as he returned to the now empty Leblanc. They left, too… He didn't allow himself the luxury to cry over them leaving him all alone after such a failure from him. No doubt they were fed up with waiting for him to fix things. He'd leave him, too. He sent a text to the group chat after reading their excuses for abandoning him reasons for needing to go home, reporting that he'll begin looking again as soon as the rain let up. Deep down, somewhere in his chest, a pang of resentment threatened to surface. He had to be the ONLY one to do anything, just because he was the Leader? No one else was willing to look? But he knew this was his role in life now, and he let that feeling go as quickly as it came.
Akira sat on the bed in his sopping wet clothes and closed his eyes in thought. If he slept, it would be morning sooner, and he could determine what his next move would be. But was that useful? No, no, it wouldn't do. He instead moved to his desk and opened his toolbox. He would double down as their Leader. He didn't do enough to solve it. Ergo, he wasn't enough.
He was Joker, the Leader of the Phantom Thieves. And from that moment on, it was his heart's greatest desire to begin to act like it.
The shadow sat bolt upright with a gasp. He looked around in a panic, watching the darkness quickly begin to recede at the farthest reaches of his sight. He felt like the sights were familiar, but it felt... Off. Yongen Jaya, his brain offered. You live here now.
He slowly got to his feet, and looked up at the larger-than-life building overtaking his... Hideout? No, no, that's not it. It never was. This was always his theater. He was always an actor here. Not just any actor, the lead actor. He had special privileges the other cast members didn't, and that brought a smirk to his face as he opened the door to return home.
He felt oddly confused, like he should recognize this place as something… Else. What was that word he thought earlier…? Something starting with an H? Ugh, it was gone now. But he supposed it didn't matter much. He entered the grand entrance hall, his shoes clicking on the polished tile, every stride filled more with confidence, every step feeling more and more like he belonged here.
He still couldn't shake the odd, dull feeling that something was... Wrong here. I... I built this place, the shadow thought. It's MY theater. But… But I don't think I did it gradually, like I should have. It feels... Sudden. I've been here all my life, but I just got here.
Did I resist building this place? Did I rebel against it?
That thought stuck in his mind as he walked down the hallway, observing the entrances to the many stages for his many productions. Rebellion... He was rebellious once. But not anymore. He was suddenly reminded of the role he was cast in. That's right, he was the Leader of the Phantom Thieves, at one point. Or, the other him, at least. He knew vaguely about him, and felt like the more time he spent here, the more understanding he'd have for their connection. But whether he truly knew the other him yet or not, they were both leaving that career behind. They were actors now. And yet they always had been. They needed to work on their role. They were giving nothing but a piss-poor performance.
Character study, he explained away to himself. Simply a way to understand the role. Not that it did any good, I'm failing at it miserably.
He was interrupted by Morgana. Just as this place had suddenly appeared and always existed, he knew he had never met his castmate, and had known him for so long. He knew what the not-a-cat wanted, he had always been in tune with everyone else's roles before, and what they were truly like out of character. He had always been cast in this role, in the heroic Leader. But now, he wasn't so sure how to do that for them.
"...I'm working on it," the shadow said.
"You'd better," Morgana said. "I'm losing my patience with you fast."
"You can't rush art~" the shadow joked effortlessly. The role was called Joker. Maybe this was how to give the performance Morgana had always and never asked for?
Morgana scoffed, looking displeased. "Find a way. You've been holding up the show long enough. Director said you get 30 in your dressing room, then right to Stage 5. Don't disappoint me AGAIN today, just get your character straight for once."
The shadow watched the feline pad off, slowly sauntering towards the backstage area and winding through the prop rooms, the costume storage, the script rooms to take his break. He was lucky to get that much, with so many productions, and him failing at getting into character for them all. The director of that one must be feeling generous.
Or perhaps they couldn't have their monkey too tired if he was to dance.
The shadow opened the door to his dressing room. He was the only one to get one. It was never here. He had always lived in this room. He was conflicted by the duality. He... He still couldn't shake the sense that this wasn't normal for a Palace, that he hadn't built it the way most Rulers do. It had been constricted, brick by brick, for years , but before it was finished, a rebellious something had prevented him from finishing and moving in. Whatever it was, it had left too quickly, too suddenly, and left him with this uneasiness about what he was supposed to do now that he had always and never been here. Like he had always been an actor, but when faced with being an actor or a Phantom Thief full time, he had chosen wrong . Like all of this simply wasn't meant to be.
The shadow's sallow eyes stared helplessly in the cracked vanity mirror. Nothing stared back. He was an actor, he reflected what others wanted to see, he had nothing of himself to reflect on. He knew this to be true. He looked to the ratty couch his Treasure rested on. He knew just what it held. He hoped they would come to take it, leave his carefully constructed theater nothing but a rubble heap. He knew he'd never let that happen.
He sat in his chair, picking up the script to read over it and prepare for another humiliating rehearsal as a lead actor that couldn't act. He'd be playing the role of student Akira again, taking the exam while Morgana fed him the answers. Student Akira is... Mild-mannered? And a bit timid now and then… No, he's sassy and sarcastic. Unless that's just me again. Ugh, which was it?
Ryuji opened his door, eyebrows knit in frustration as he wore a frown. "Director says you're on in 10, Akira. Better get ready."
"I'll be right there, my dear, one last line read," the shadow reassured.
"...Make it quick," Ryuji spat before closing the door.
The shadow looked one last time at the empty mirror as he slowly rose to his feet. The others called him Akira, unless he was playing Joker, then he earned that name. He never bothered to correct them, it was a minor inconsistency, and they were angry enough. Besides, how would he? They were all just calling him by his roles. He had no alternative to offer, he wasn't Akira or Joker, he wasn't helpful and couldn't be called Helper, or smart and could earn Nerd, or capable enough for the name Leader.
Deep down, when he tried to look at himself, he simply wasn't anything. And that was what he was supposed to be.