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Why did she think she could do this? She should have listened to her brain, not her heart and its stupid want for something more . But she’d thought she’d leveled up enough for this, and she isn’t alone, and, and, and–
Ryuji won’t look at her.
He won’t let go of her hand, but he won’t look at her . What does it mean, that he won’t look at her?
Futaba wants to go home. But she’d promised Sojiro and Akira she’d be okay. Promised Ann. Promised Ryuji.
She isn’t sure the promise to Ryuji matters anymore.
It was supposed to be a small group outing. Her, Ryuji, Ann. Two of a pair, they were, determined to add one more pea to their pod. And the worst part is, Futaba wanted– wants –that. But Ann got whisked away at the very last second by her nefarious agency for an emergency fill-in. A plot twist Futaba hadn’t expected, but should have, because of course an outing to Akihabara wouldn’t go like she wants. Like she needs. Never does.
Ann apologized to both of them, said they could reschedule. Ryuji waved her off, professing they’d be fine without her if Futaba wanted to forge ahead. A classic mistake on Futaba’s part–split-ups always lead to trouble. She’d agreed anyway.
She pretended not to see the panic that had flashed across Ryuji’s face as Ann left.
He hasn’t looked at her since.
Now, they’re wandering the aisles of the most cramped game store Futaba’s ever been in, and believe it or not, she’s been in quite a few.
Small places are not her friend. Not with the way the walls seem to close in on her and the noise bounces around her and the people–oh, God, the people. The games are merely a mimic to lure her into the enemy trap. Still, they’ve been in the shop for twenty minutes already, which Futaba is pretty darn good, especially since people keep cramming into the miniscule space. And for once, she can’t blame them; the games on display are fantastic . It even makes her forget about her worries for a hot second.
“Hey, what do you think about this one?” Futaba picks up a case and flips it over. “It has werewolves.”
“Sure,” Ryuji says, even though the answer makes no sense with the question. He flinches when someone brushes by him. It strikes Futaba as wrong, somehow. “Let’s get it.”
He didn’t even look at the game. “Um. Okay.” Any excitement Futaba had gained fizzles away quickly, once more replaced with the suffocating fear that Ryuji doesn’t like her. Suddenly the bright colors and even brighter lights don’t seem so fun anymore. When Ryuji leads her to the cashier, she barely notices that Ryuji’s the one to pay for the game. She barely notices when they leave the shop. She almost misses Ryuji’s question.
“Is there anywhere else you want to go?” Usually, there’s a bounce to Ryuji’s voice when he asks questions. Now, it falls flat. Tired. Bored. Oddly tight, like a spring ready to pop. She knew it; he doesn’t want to be around her anymore. Who can blame him? She can barely stand herself.
“U-um…” Futaba tries to mask her anxiety. But everything she’d scripted for the day fries in her brain. Corrupted data, cannot be saved. Her throat aches from how hard she’s trying not to cry. “N-no.”
“Okay.” Ryuji’s shoulders sag, just a bit, and how is Futaba supposed to interpret that as anything other than relief? “Let’s head back to Leblanc then.”
Neither of them say anything else all the way to the train station. It’s all Futaba can do to keep her breathing under control. There’s no way she’s going to waste her breath on words! But even as terribly as she’s feeling, she does have to admit she feels a little better now that they’re at the end of their adventure with home waiting just on the other side. The knot in her chest loosens just the tiniest bit.
If only Ryuji would look at her. Or say something, even if it’s something incredibly stupid like, Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if ducks could shoot lasers out their eyes? or I had a dream about a giant pink squid the other night . He doesn’t even notice that she keeps peeking at him. His eyes are locked on the opposite wall. It’s a far away enough look that she could probably pull free of his ridiculously sweaty hand to do a jig and he wouldn’t even notice. Before she can seriously consider testing this theory, the train arrives. Futaba jumps; Ryuji barely blinks as it whooshes by.
Boarding is a nightmare. People are packed wall to wall like molecules in a block of ice. If only it were that cold. It leaves them little room to squeeze on and just enough space to be squished against one of the walls. Oh, she wishes they would have waited for the next one, or the one after that, but she certainly isn’t going to be the one to break their mutual silence. It’s a game now. A special form of denial to soothe the sting.
Ryuji’s fingers twitching in her grasp has her glancing upward in spite of herself. At first, her only thought is That’s not Ryuji. But of course it is, because there’s no one else besides them with an obnoxiously bright dye-job. The whole set of his face, though, is all wrong. A jumbled up slide puzzle. Like before, his eyes are fixed on nothing, but the corners pinch into little creases, and there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck to grip his jaw. Futaba wonders how he hasn’t cracked a tooth from how tightly it’s clenched. The worst part is what she can hear . She shouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of the clattering train and chattering people, not to mention her headphones, but she hears a rattly breath that comes out too short.
Oh. Oh. Futaba’s watched herself in mirrors enough times to know what’s happening. Morbid curiosity. She’s also spied on Ryuji–all of the thieves–enough times to know a tell when she sees one, even if she’s not sure what it’s telling. A different kind of curiosity.
Ryuji’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack . That explains so much .
Suddenly, she’s feeling so much better about the day. Well. Not about Ryuji, but the fact that it isn’t her fault . She thinks. She can figure that out later.
“Hey, look at me.” Her voice is a little strained, but it gets the job done. Nervous eyes glance at her before flicking away again. Without letting go of his hand, she wriggles her way into his line of sight. “I said look at me .”
Ryuji freezes, biting his lip again, but he looks at her. Oh, yeah. Her guess is right on the money; while she has the attention of the meatsuit his brain drives around, there’s not much going on behind those big brown eyes. Knock knock. Nobody’s home.
“Okay, good,” she says, even though it isn’t. “You’re okay, we’re okay. You don’t like trains?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “Me neither! They’re like a super hard dungeon teeming with enemies! But it’s okay because we’re together.”
A quick squeeze to her fingers tells her that she hasn’t lost him yet. Good. Because if Futaba’s being honest with herself, she’s barely holding on to her own thread. Almost out of life points. If Ryuji weren’t feeling so bad, too, she’s pretty damn certain that she’d be the one having a panic attack.
She continues monologuing all the way to Yongen-Jaya. Anything to keep them both distracted and tethered to his hellish plane–train–of existence. As they finally, finally, step out of the station into thankfully empty streets, Futaba spread out one arm and takes a deep breath. “Freedom.” Ryuji doesn’t say anything, but she hadn’t expected him to. He still looks like he’s about to come apart at the seams. Futaba takes control of player one and tugs him along to Leblanc.
They barely get through the door before Sojiro’s onto them. He barely gets a glance in before he’s setting down his crossword. “What happened?”
If Futaba hadn’t been so worn down, she would have laughed at how quickly Akira spins his head. It’s like he’s possessed. He must have popped it, because he grimaces and presses his hand against it. He’s quicker on the uptake than Sojiro. “I got them.” Stepping around the counter, he ushers them both towards the stairwell.
Ryuji makes a beeline for Akira’s bed as soon as they’re up the stairs, tucking himself into the corner with no hesitation, as though he’s done this a million times. Perhaps he has. Futaba knows she’d go to Akira if she felt poorly. In fact, she has. Several times now. What piques her interest, though, is the way Morgana slinks into Ryuji’s lap without a word. The way Ryuji’s hands automatically start smoothing down the fur. The duo are so normally at each other’s throats that the flipped switch is downright bizarre. Unscripted. A glitch.
Akira barely glances at them before turning to Futaba. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She keeps her answer simple. “Too many people. Too high-level for me. Us, I guess.” She peeks around Akira at Ryuji, who keeps his head ducked and face hidden. Morgana’s murmuring to him, but she’s still too far away to make it out. “I didn’t think crowds got to him.”
“They don't.” Akira grimaces. As much as his blank slate of a face can grimace, anyway. Futaba would love to program a model of him just to see how many wacky faces she could give him. Her attention surfaces as he speaks again. “Not usually, anyway. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Futaba takes a moment to run through the diagnostic checklist. Jittery, check. Fatigued, triple check. Nothing sounds more wonderful than curling up with her stuffed unicorn underneath her weighted blanket.
It also doesn’t seem as bad as it usually does after such a scare. The anxiety’s still there, yes, but dulled. Maybe she’s getting better. The more logical answer is that the variables are different–someone needed her more than she needed them. Ryuji needed her. Later, once she’s recharged, she’ll run a control test.
But, right now, Akira is waiting patiently, expectantly, for an answer. “I’m okay,” she answers truthfully. “Better now I’m at home base.”
The corner of Akira’s mouth curls upward, and he pats the top of her head. The warmth and weight of his hand smooth over the frayed edges nicely. “Good.”
She tries peeking around Akira again. “Is he okay?”
“He will be,” Akira says, as though it were he who had been on the train with Ryuji and not her. He glances back towards the bed. When he shares a look with Morgana, his eyes narrow, just enough for Futaba, Queen of Noticing Things, to notice. Whatever decision he’s trying to reach doesn’t take long to come. “Hang on.” Leaving her near the stairs, he pads over to the bed and crouches next to it. The soft murmures between he, Morgana, and Ryuji are still too soft for Futaba to hear. The small zing of anxiety– they’re talking about her! –is tamped only by the urge to stamp her foot– it’s not fair!
But it doesn’t take long for Akira to return to her. “Futaba, this is important, okay? Can you keep this a secret?”
“Scout’s honor,” Futaba answers, in spite of never being a scout.
Akira nods, appeased. Raising his hand, he twists one of the loose curls dangling in front of hsi glasses. “Have you heard of age regression?”
Regression . Well, there’s a familiar word that she never thought she’d hear out loud, let alone from Akira, let alone about Ryuji . Barely half a beat passes before she ducks around Akira to flop onto the bed. “We have a baby!? ”
Ryuji’s head flies up in alarm. If she’d thought his eyes were wide before… Behind her, Akira shuffles closer to the bed. “Calm down, Futaba.”
“But baby!” She pulls herself up into her usual perched position. Logically, she knows there’s no reason for her to be so excited. After all, it’s pretty clear that Ryuji regressed from stress, and that’s not a whole lot of fun. She assumes. But at the same time, she wants him to know it’s okay . That he can do what he needs to feel better.
Still, maybe it is a bit much, given the circumstances. “Sorry, Ryuji.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. When he does, his voice comes out soft, softer than Futaba’s ever heard it. “‘Sokay. ‘Cited.”
“Of course I am!” She flings her arms out, whacking Akira in the stomach. She pays the quiet grunt no mind. “How can I not be with an itty bitty kiddo to play with?” She pauses and tilts her head. “ Are you itty bitty?”
A shrug from Ryuji. From Akira, “That would be a yes.” The floor creaks as Akira walks away from the bed.
While Akira does whatever it is he’s doing, Futaba rests her chin on her knees and lowers her voice. “Do you want me to go?” To her surprise and glee and relief, Ryuji quickly shakes his head. She beams. Not that she’s going to tell anyone, but she doesn’t think she’d feel too good alone right now. The irony isn’t lost on her.
Ryuji stops petting Morgana long enough to pat the spot next to him. Futaba wastes no time in scrambling to sit next to him. “How on earth are you so cute?” Even as she’s giggling at how quickly his ears turn red, she’s filing that information away for later. Her brain is buzzing at mach speed to process everything.
“He’s cute when he wants to be,” Morgana concedes, pushing his head against Ryuji’s hand. “He knows how to use it to his advantage.”
Even though he doesn’t say anything, Ryuji’s face twists. Then he mutters, almost too quick and too quiet for either of them to catch it. “‘M sorry.”
“What?” Futaba blinks owlishly while her stomach sinks. She thinks she knows where this is going. “Ryuji, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Uh-huh.” Fingers drumming nervously along Morgana’s back, Ryuji is nothing but nervous energy again. “Messed today up.”
“No, you didn’t.” Futaba loops her arm around Ryuji’s. “We’re still hanging out, aren’t we? And,” she adds as Akira returns with a bag and sits at the foot of the bed, “we get special rights to boss this nerd around!”
“You do that anyway,” Akira points out. He opens the bag, but doesn’t take anything out. His eyes flick to Ryuji. “Do you want…?”
Ryuji ignores him. “Wanna keep hangin’ out,” he tells Futaba earnestly. “‘M sorry if you thought I didn’t.”
Futaba blinks again in surprise. He’d picked up on that? What else does he notice? Still it tugs the knot of worry from before completely free. “It’s okay! You were feeling pretty blegh, huh? You could have said something.”
“ You didn’ say anythin’.”
“Because I thought I was gonna mess it up!” Futaba pokes Ryuji’s cheek. “We’re a couple of silly geese.”
For the first time that day, Ryuji cracks a smile. “Uh-huh.”
Akira scratches his leg. “Wasn’t Ann supposed to be with you?”
“She had to leave.” Futaba pouts. “Evil agency swept our princess away to another castle.”
“I see.” He fiddles with the clasp on the bag. His eyes flick to Ryuji. “Did she know?” Ryuji’s face burns. When he shakes his head, Akira sighs quietly. “Did you know?” This time, Ryuji turns his face to the wall. It’s the answer Akira was afraid of, if his frown is anything to go by.
As much as Futaba wants to ask, she pockets the questions for later. “Akiraaaa, we’re thirsty.”
The frown turns upside down. “Oh, are you?” Tapping the bed to get Ryuji’s attention again, he asks, gently, “Water or juice?” A complicated feeling crosses Ryuji’s face. All scrunched up with feelings that have nowhere to go. Instead of saying anything, he holds up one feeling. Akira nods. “Okay.” To Futaba, he says, “I’ll get you juice.”
“How come I don’t get a choice?”
“Do you want water?”
“...no. But make it orange juice!” she demands. Akira ruffles both of their hair before leaving them be. Futaba exhales loudly through her nose. “He’s so fussy.”
“Bubba’s the bes’.” Ryuji rubs his eye. “Taba’s bes’, too. ‘N’ Momo.”
Morgana flicks his tail. “Yeah, you better not forget about me.”
“Don’t bully the baby, Momo.” Futaba reaches over and squishes his cheek.
“I’m not!” Morgana whines, bristling. It makes both Ryuji and Futaba giggle.
When the laughter subsides and Ryuji’s placating Morgana with more pets, Futaba picks up the bag. Something rattles around inside. “What’s in here?”
“Um.” Ryuji hesitates. He must decide the contents aren’t worth secrecy, because he follows up with, “Baby stuff.”
“Can I see?” Once she has the go-ahead, Futaba peers inside. It’s about what she’d expect from a baby bag, but if she’s being honest, she’d expected more . A few sippy cups, a pacifier, a blanket. Tucked away at the bottom is a bottle that looks like it’s never been touched. But that’s all. No toys, no nothing. Does Ryuji not like playing when he’s regressed? Have they just not figured out what he likes to do yet? Maybe he just likes cuddles? Maybe he has more stuff at home? As much as Futaba already knows, she has next to no information about Ryuji’s specific brand of babydom. Later, she’ll poke and she’ll prod so she knows everything about it. Right now, though, she frees the blanket and wraps it around Ryuji’s shoulders. “Ooooh, this is so soft!”
Some of the tension in Ryuji’s body drains away. He shifts a little closer to Rutaba. “Mhm. Bubba got it for me.”
“That was super nice of him, huh?” Futaba rests her head against Ryuji’s. “We’re super lucky to have him.”
A frizzy head pokes up over the railing. “You two talking about me?” Akira asks as he rejoins them. In his hands are two water bottles and a cup of juice. He hands the juice to Futaba.
Futaba sips her juice. The coolness soothes a dull ache in her throat that she didn’t realize was there until now. “Just about how much of a dork you are.”
Akira scoffs as he grabs one of the sippy cups with water and hands it to Ryuji. “Takes one to know one.”
“Hey!” Futaba nudges Ryuji. “What do you think, bub? Who’s the bigger dork?” Ryuji sips his water quietly before pointing at Akira. Futaba crows in delight while Akira gasps and presses his hand to his chest. They can see the edges of a smile from behind the spout of the cup. Mission accomplished , Futaba thinks. She nudges Akira with her foot. “We wanna watch something.”
“Oh, do you?” Akira raises an eyebrow. “What’s the magic word?”
She leans towards Ryuji again. “Can you help me, bud?” Nodding, he whispers something into her ear. Grinning wildly, she also points at Akira. “Abracadabra!”
With an overexaggerated sigh, Akira slides off the bed and grabs his laptop. While he’s setting it up, Futaba gently taps her fingers against Ryuji’s cheek. “Thank you for sharing this with me, baby. And for spending time with me. I’m sorry today wasn’t a very good day.”
“‘Sokay. Ryuji slides down until he can rest his head on her shoulder. “‘S better now. Lots of ‘sperience points.”
“You’re right! You’re so smart, bub.” As they all settle in for an episode of Sonic–she’s not surprised in the slightest–Futaba mulls it over. All of her worries from the beginning of the day seem more like a dream than reality. Deleted. And with this li’l guy by her side, it won’t be long until they level up, together.