Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Goro hates sharing a bed with you. 

You kick a lot, you hog the blankets, and he's woken up more than once with a mouthful of your hair. Ever since you were younger, it's always been like that. 

"I still can't believe this is your new place."

And you also never shut the fuck up. 

"Seriously, look at this place," you say, pillow tucked to your chest. (That's another thing, Goro thinks. You're very…cuddly. You'd once joked that you're cold-blooded. He remembers calling you a snake and then immediately getting punched and losing his last cookie.) "The rent is probably triple mine."

"It probably is," he agrees, rolling onto his back and nearly elbowing you in the eye. He almost sets his arm around you but catches himself just in time, throwing it over his stomach instead. 

"Gee, thanks." You roll your eyes even though you're smiling. "Not everyone can be a bigshot like you, Mr. Detective Prince."

But he isn't. He's no detective. He's no prince. He is just a fraud, plain and simple.

"Perhaps not," Goro says anyway. "But the invitation still stands, you know." 

He'd offered you to room with him. It's a big place. It's clean and secure, high in the sky and far from any of that grime that you'd once lived in as children. He can easily afford it with his current status, and it is in the heart of the bustling city where you could walk or take the train to anywhere you need to go. 

But you shake your head. "Love ya, Goro, but I like my cheap little hovel. And I doubt my uncle would be very happy with the idea of me moving in with another boy when we're both underage." Still, you roll onto your side to smile at him. "But I'm always down to sleep over."

"I can see that," he says, crammed into his bed beside you. "But I respect your choice. However, I hope you know this offer doesn't extend to meals."

"Aw, why not?" you whine. 

"Because you always eat like you're dying."

"Uh, no?" You jab his cheek. "I'm always eating for two."

It gets his annoyed facade to crack just a bit, and he tries to ignore the way your face glows with victory and says, "What the hell is with your family's genetics?" 

"I dunno." You flop onto your back and sigh. "Maybe we just have really strong dominant traits, and one of those includes big appetites." 

"But why pink?" 

"How am I supposed to know?" This time, you roll over and wiggle your brows. "But we could always try it out. Who knows? Maybe your genetics will overpower mine-"

"No, absolutely not." Goro pretends to gag at the mere idea of producing offspring with you. A bit overdramatic, he knows, but it makes you laugh and bury your face into his shoulder, so he doesn't mind.

You settle into silence after that. Not asleep yet, no. You never were good at falling asleep and neither was he, which could've been the result of many different things that he doesn't care to recall. Besides, he is…kind of comfortable, he supposes. As comfortable as he can be, crammed in this bed that he got sort-of-coerced into purchasing. By you. 

You're a terrible influence, Goro decides, but it is a comfortable bed. 

"...you know," you mumble into his sleeve, "I remember this one time…you told my mom that you didn't want to marry me because you thought marriage was pointless."

Goro hums. "I remember." He'd been busy helping Ms. Karin set up her apartment for your birthday while his mom had taken you shopping. It was-"Ah, I also remember believing your mom wasn't going to tell you."

"Psh, like you could get my mom to stop gossiping," you hum before pressing your face deeper into his sleeve. He's surprised you aren't suffocating. "But still. Do you…remember what you said after that?"

"I recall saying something about how our moms weren't married and they were doing just fine," Goro says. He doesn't need to hear you huff to know it's not what you'd meant. He does. Not word for word, but he does. 

We're together all the time, anyways, he'd told your mother. Why would we need to do all that stupid stuff when we're already together? 

Just remembering that makes Goro's ears prickle (which is ridiculous by itself. What is he, a child?) He readjusts himself, but the new position he's in just invites you in closer, and the breath fanning against his collarbone is really not helping. 

"Why do you ask?" he says quietly. 

You make some kind of 'I don't know' hum that rattles his jaw and his whole damn body. "Just reminiscing." You wiggle just a little closer, still clutching that pillow like it's a lifeline or something. "I still…got your back, y'know? Even if I can't help out with your super serious legal shit."

Goro hums back, this time to quell whatever is clawing at his chest. It's too late in the night to be feeling like this. He has a very important meeting to go to in a few hours, which means he should be resting right now. Not doing…whatever this is.

"I'm flattered," he says, "but you don't have to worry about me. I can handle myself."

And you snort. It feels weird, seeing as you're nearly kissing his neck right now, but it still sends sparks all through his skin and he really, really should not be feeling this erratic at three in the morning. "Okay, Mr. Detective Prince. But if Goro ever wants to relax, your place is only a few minutes from mine."

Goro doubts you understand just how deeply that strikes through him. After all, you know nothing. To you, he'd just moved into the city after securing an internship thanks to his incredible hard work. 

But you also have the same uncanny sense as your mother to know when something is wrong, and you are stubborn enough to cling to your instinct to try and fix it. He isn't worth fixing. If you try to follow through, he'd only ruin everything like always. 

But that is then. For now, Goro tugs the blanket over you both, careful to settle back in the original position. He feels your pillow shift and disappear, feels your hand tug on his shirt until he sighs and scoots closer to let you burrow into him. 

"How the hell are you so cold?" he grumbles. 

"Genetics." You snuggle deeper into his chest, throwing one arm over his torso in a lazy hug. "Now shut up. I'm sleepy."

"This is my bed." 

"Yeah, and I chose it. Therefore, my bed, too." You bump his chin with your head. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

Goro is almost tempted to drive his chin into your skull, but his body is heavy and warm, so he sighs and sinks into the pillows. This is it. In the morning, everything he'd worked so hard for will finally be put in motion. No more time to rest. No more time to indulge in such pointless comforts like this. 

So, in his sleep-laced mind, he allows himself to hold you just a little closer and indulge in your presence. Just for the night, he thinks. Just one last time.

Chapter Text

Considering the hair and the voice and the…personality, Yuuki is understandably surprised when he realizes that you're pretty good with kids. He knows Ayaka isn't the easiest to get along with, but she's been giggling and whispering to you about whatever it is girls talk about. 

"Oh, really?" you gasp dramatically, drawing him out of his thoughts. You're hunched over, carefully dotting nail polish on Ayaka's tiny nails.

"Mhm," Ayaka says, "an' then Syaoran yelled her name really loud because she fell in the dark and thought she died!" She pauses and lets you gasp appropriately, smiling. "But then she came back, 'cause she had the Float Card, and then he hugged her because he was so happy."

"D'aw, that's adorable," you coo before blowing on Ayaka's nails. "Alright, now don't touch anything. Once it dries, I can do the top coat." 

"Yay!" Ayaka throws her hands up in delight. Her face is still slimy from some beauty product you'd given her, but Yuuki has to admit: his sister is basically glowing right now. "Your turn, Yuuki-nii."

"Huh?" Yuuki blinks in alarm. "W-Wait, why-"

"It's spa night," she says with a shrug, "an' that means you gotta get your spa stuff done, too." She wiggles her freshly painted nails at him to prove her point. "Come on!" 

"I-Uh…" Yuuki swallows. "I'm alright, Ayaka. Really." 

You pout, shaking a bottle of clear polish. "Aw, don't be a spoilsport, Yuuki-kun. It's just nail polish." 

Yuuki shakes his head again with just a hint of desperation. "I-I just don't…like getting my nails painted?"

You and Ayaka share a glance before his little sister leans towards you and whispers, "He just doesn't wanna because he thinks it's girly." 

"Oooh," you say, smirking at Yuuki when he gestures for you to ignore her. "Well, that's dumb. Sometimes I dress up as a guy and I don't think that makes me any less girly." 

Ayaka gasps, jerking away from you. "You do? Why?"

"Because I like the fashion." You tilt your head and seem to mull over your words before deciding on something. "The way I express my gender is different from how I identify. I'm still a girl, even if the way I express it doesn't match with what you expect with a girl."

It's a lot of big words. If Yuuki's dad had heard it, he would've scoffed immediately and told you to stop feeding his kids bullshit. Ayaka only stares at you and blinks. "I don' get it." 

"It's complicated," you agree. "Now, how's your face feeling?" 

"Tingly."

"Then that just means you need to wash it off," you say. You move to stand, but Ayaka climbs off your bed with a giggle. 

"I can do it!" She flaps her hands and scrambles into your bathroom. "Just start working on Yuuki-nii's, he likes green!"

The faucet turns on with a loud squeak, and after a sloppy splash, you smile and pat the bed. When he joins, you make no move to try and grab his hand. 

"How're you holding up?" you whisper instead. 

"I'm fine…" he says, massaging his face. "T-Thanks again, though. Seriously."

"Yeah, of course." You nudge his shoulder. "I told you, dude, my place is always open if you need it." 

"I know." Yuuki nods and peels his face away. He'd taken advantage of it before, when practice ended early but the bruises were too fresh to hide properly. "B-But I still feel bad. It's a Sunday."

"Eh, I'll be okay," you say with a flap of your hand. "But…what about you? D'you think they'll be done by tonight?" 

"They better be." Yuuki makes a face. He reaches into his shoe, poking around until he feels the emergency house key in his hidden pocket. "If not, I can still get inside."

He still has to think about dinner, though. Ayaka already finished her homework and his mom is working tonight, so the house should be empty enough after seven…

"How about your hand?" you ask. 

"They'll heal," he answers automatically. To prove it, he holds up his bandaged palms and flexes his fingers, showing off the neatly wrapped white tape. Your face looks anything but pleased. 

"It's been days, Yuuki-kun," you whisper, glancing at the bathroom. "If he keeps up like that, your hands-"

"I-It'll be fine." Yuuki tugs on one loose bandage. The calluses aren't as hard as they should be, but at least they stopped bleeding. You still scowl, but he's known you long enough to know it isn't directed at him. 

"Can't believe that bastard's still around," you mutter. "I'll kill him myself if I have to."

"P-Please don't say that," Yuuki says. "You'd get in trouble-"

"So?" You wave a hand. "I can handle a little prison time if it means Kamoshida stops breathing."

It's the same kind of stuff you'd been saying ever since he met you during his first year at Shujin Academy. It'd been a rainy day, and you were stuck under the school awning with him, waiting for a ride home after clubs. Yuuki still isn't sure what convinced you to start talking to him that day, but he doesn't regret it. 

After all, you're one of the only friends he has. 

"Done!" Ayaka shouts. She's still dripping wet when she charges outside-

"Gah, Ayaka!" Yuuki stops her before she can flop onto the bed. "Did you even dry your face?"

"I couldn't find a towel," she says happily. 

Behind him, you snort and slip into the bathroom. After some digging, you fish a towel out and toss it over her head. 

"You got behind your ears?" you ask as Ayaka starts scrubbing her cheeks. Instead of answering, the girl immediately scrubs behind her ears and stumbles out of the bathroom. Her face looks a little raw, but she's smiling bright anyway. 

"Done!" she repeats. "How do I look?"

"Like the Heavenly Comet herself," you muse. After a quick glance down, you add, "with smudged nail polish." 

You end up having to re-do Ayaka's nails, which take far longer after Yuuki orders a pizza and she refuses to wait long enough to let them dry. In between bites, she continues to chatter about whatever comes to mind, from her shows to a new caterpillar she'd found crawling around the tomato plant in the garden. Yuuki tunes her out with ease, but you seem to listen with rapt attention. 

Really, he should've brought Ayaka to your place way sooner. God knows she needs a better role model in his life than anyone else in his house. 

Yuuki's pocket buzzes when he thinks that, like the world could hear his slight against his parents. 

[Mom]:  Where are you? 

At a friend's. Ayaka is with me. :[You]

[Mom]: I told you not to leave the house. How many times have I told you not to leave the house when your father is like this?

 Sorry. I just wanted to get Ayaka some dinner. :[You]

[Mom]: Come home. Now. 

Are you going to work? :[You]

[Mom]: I SAID NOW. 

[Mom]: Your father is acting insane. I don't have time to watch him. 

Which means it is Yuuki's responsibility. Of course it is. Always cleaning up after one of them because he is the responsible older brother. The man of the house. 

Yuuki almost wants to throw his phone into the wall, only for his calluses to burn in protest. The sting grounds his thoughts, and after a slow count to ten, he rises to his feet. 

"Alright, Ayaka," he says, "we should probably head out now." 

"Aw, already?" Ayaka whines. "But Onee-chan said she was gonna braid my hair!" 

Your brows jump, and Yuuki nearly apologizes for his sister when you laugh and ruffle Ayaka's hair. "Maybe next time, okay? You can even introduce me to your beetle…"

"Mr. Buzzworth."

"Mr. Buzzworth," you repeat confidently. It seems to work, because Ayaka hops off your bed without complaint. As she picks up her belongings scattered around the room, you add, "Want me to walk you to the station?" 

"No, we'll be fine from here," Yuuki says and slaps a hand over Ayaka's mouth. She tries to bite him. He yanks his hand away, grabs her by the head, and forces her into a bow. "T-Thank you for having us."

"Yeah, thank you a lot!" Ayaka cheers. When he releases her, she pops up with a cheery grin and-"Yuuki-nii really likes you a lot-"

Yuuki slaps his hand back over her mouth, face burning. "Okay, that's enough-ow, Ayaka!" 

Ayaka spits and gags, scrubbing her tongue with one sleeve while punching Yuuki's side with the other. "I'm telling Mom that you hit me!"

"I did not-"

"Yes you did!" Ayaka stomps her foot. Yuuki braces himself for another punch when you slip between them, catching her fist and shoving him back in a single step. 

"Hey, violence is a no-no in my house," you say. "And Yuuki-kun paid for the pizza, y'know. What do you say to people who've paid for your meal?" 

Ayaka puffs her cheeks, then quietly grumbles out, "Thank you."

"And?"

"...and sorry for biting you."

"Good." You smile and ruffle her hair again. "And, if it makes you feel any better, I like your brother a lot, too." 

Yuuki is suddenly very grateful that you can't see his face right now. He's not so grateful when his sister gasps and asks if that means you'd be coming over soon to play with her. 

"Maybe in the future," you say before nudging Ayaka to the door. "Now, go home! And say hi to Mr. Buzzworth for me."

"I will!" Ayaka proudly skips out of your apartment. It takes Yuuki a moment to find the strength to move again. He doesn't have to look up to know you're trying your best not to smirk.

"So, you really like me a lot?" you tease. 

Yuuki groans, and as he rushes to catch up to his sister, your laugh chases him down the hall.

Chapter Text

There's already a delinquent in his spot on the roof today.

Ryuji grits his teeth, forcing the door open. He's heard about you before-a first year like him and a member of the drama club. He's seen your obnoxious pink hair walking up and down the halls all the time, and he's definitely heard your stupid voice more than once, arguing with some other idiot about whatever minor thing pissed you off today.

It would've been better to just turn around and leave, but his leg frickin' hurts today and the damn cold isn't making it any better, and he'd already climbed up all these damn stairs and refuses to have to limp all the way back down after hauling his STUPID cast up with him.

So Ryuji slams the door shut and snaps, "Get outta my space, princess."

You barely move. Ryuji's lips curl, but his hip is aching hard. He refuses to massage the throbbing away and limps towards the desk arrangement anyway.

"Oi!" He slams his fist on the row of desks. "You frickin' deaf or somethin'? I said-"

Your head snaps around so quickly, it almost sends your beanie flying. Ryuji isn't quite sure what he expects, but seeing your makeup running from your red eyes isn't it. You're gripping a napkin in one hand, the fabric stained with black you'd scrubbed from your face.

"The hell happened to you?" slips out of Ryuji's mouth before he can stop himself. He wasn't even aware you were capable of crying.

You eye twitches before continuing to wipe away your makeup. "Allergies." After another fruitless wipe, you sigh and fling it into your open bag. "What brings you up here?"

Ryuji's leg feels like it's on fire and some damn third year tripped him on purpose, and he'd wanted so badly to cry when his brace bit into his skin just the wrong way that it made his vision go dark.

Instead, he says, "Why are you askin', huh?"

"I'm making polite conversation," you mutter before rooting through your bag. After a moment, you retrieve another wipe and continue to clean your eyelids of smokey powder. "And I don't plan on leaving, so if you're going to sit up here, might as well be polite."

Ryuji doesn't want to be polite, but the pulsing heat in his side swells to a blinding, crushing pain, and his hand moves to press against the hard plaster strapped over his uniform. White had been the cheapest option and he would never hold it against his mother for choosing it, but it feels like it's mocking him. Bleached, bright white, just like the stupid fractured bone it's meant to realign.

He tries to take a deep breath, but trying to set his foot down feels like a knife carving a hole into his hip. He can't cry. He's better than this, goddammit.

The sound of a chair dragging against the ground startles Ryuji. You shove one in his direction without a word, then kick an extra chair afterwards. Without waiting for him to sit, you return to your perch on a desk and clean off your makeup.

Ryuji slowly lowers himself into the seat. It takes...a lot of effort to properly elevate his braced leg, but he refuses to quit. After some quiet swearing and shoving his bag under his ankle, the throbbing finally stops.
"...thanks," he finally says.

You only grunt, lips inadvertedly pressed shut as you reapply your eyeliner.

Ryuji takes it as a sign to recline in his seat and fling an arm over his eyes. Even in this shitty, plastic chair, he feels like he might fall asleep. He hasn't been able to at home because the injury likes to flare up. Whenever he takes medication, it makes him feel disgusting, and any medically-induced sleep turns into a damn fever dream that wakes him within an hour.

Besides, it ain't like you are making any conversation. Ryuji can hear you digging through your bag, hear the soft click and scrape of the little makeup bottles as you open them. The occasional sniffle escapes you, but you sound like you're holding up well enough.

Ryuji wonders if he should say something. After all, you're a delinquent, and delinquents have to stick together, right? And, from what he's heard from Mishima, you're a good person. A little dramatic, but...

"You'll get used to it."

"Huh?" Ryuji peels his arm away. You're finished, makeup a bit too heavy for his tastes but still nice on you, and you're slouched over to tap on your phone. "Whaddya mean?"

"...your leg brace," you say. Your eyes slide towards him, darting between his leg and face before returning to your phone. "Sometimes when you wear something for so long, you'll end up forgetting you have it until you don't need to anymore."

Ryuji snorts and returns to covering his eyes. "I don't plan on gettin' used to it."

"You shouldn't," you agree. After another side-eye, you say, "but it happens."  You stare at your phone, but your thumbs do not move. "Need a painkiller? I have some."

Ryuji's elevated foot twitches in surprise, and he can't help but sit up a little. "You got drugs?"

"Don't be stupid," you say before picking up your bag. "It's just over-the-counter stuff. Are you allergic to anything?"

After confirming that he isn't, Ryuji is blessed by lukewarm water and two pills of EVE A, and he almost celebrates when something catches his attention.

"What's with the gloves?" he asks.

You look down, like you're almost surprised at the black fabric on your hand. When you try to curl your fingers, your hands begin to tremble. You settle for bending your digits just enough to crack your knuckles with your thumb. "I just think they look cute."

Ryuji makes a face. It's ugly, if he's being honest, but the longer he tries to think about it, the more confused he becomes. He can't remember ever seeing you without gloves on at all. And from the way you'd looked-

"If it helps," you say suddenly, "dyeing your hair helps distract people."

"I ain't dyein' my hair pink."

"Okay, first off-this is genetic. Second-" You jab Ryuji right in the forehead, drawing his head forward. "Everyone already calls you a delinquent. Might as well look the part."

"Says you," Ryuji grumbles before his eyes drift down. You do fit the part-you're in the male uniform, first off, and your buttons are so undone that he can almost see down the front of your shirt.

"Yeah, eyes up here, Sakamoto." You sit back and doublecheck your phone, then groan. "Lunch is almost over, by the way. You plan on staying up here?"

Ryuji blinks, half-distracted by the painkillers kicking in. He'd have to limp his way back down the stairs and that'll take way too long, so he shakes his head. He can afford to skip a lesson or two today.

"Cool." You fish through your bag and retrieve a deck of cards. "You wanna play UNO?"

Why you even have that in your bag, Ryuji doesn't know, but it definitely beats just sitting around doing nothing. With some effort, he scoots his chair closer as you shuffle the cards. "You're on."

Chapter Text

Shiho has heard a lot of rumors. 

She doesn't believe many of them, but…well, you're currently sitting on the opposite bed in the clinic, holding an ice pack to your bruised eye while Ms. Chouno whacks you with her papers.

"How many times have I told you to stop picking a fight?" she snaps. Shiho thinks the English teacher means to be whispering, but being the sponsor for the drama club makes her voice ten times as loud. 

"You mean overall, or-" Your voice is cut off by a thwack!

"And watch your cheek," Ms. Chouno adds. "There are other students resting here, you know."

"You're the one yelli-ow!" 

"Hush!" Ms. Chouno smacks you once before tucking her weapon under her arm. "Don't look at me like that, young lady. This is all on you."

With that, the English teacher marches out of the room, leaving Shiho alone with the Demon of Shujin Academy. You start muttering under your breath a flurry of curses that would've given Shiho's grandmother a heart attack before you snap, "Can I help you?" 

Shiho jumps, face flushing when you glare at her. "S-Sorry. I didn't mean to stare…"

You scowl and readjust the ice pack to glare fully with both eyes. Shiho averts her own quickly, focusing on the ceiling. Is it too rude to roll onto her side? Would you be offended if she turned her back on you? Oh, god, what if you-

"You're on the volleyball team, right?" you ask suddenly. 

The adrenaline that pumps through her isn't your fault and Shiho knows this, but she can't help but tense at the mention of her club. She also can't bring herself to meet your eye when she says, "Y-Yeah. I just…felt too dizzy, so…"

You grunt. The ice pack clinks in your hand, and in Shiho's peripherals, she can see you hunch over to prop your elbows on your knees. "You know Mishima Yuuki?"

Shiho swallows again. "Um, yes…he was at practice earlier…"

The darkness in your glare floods Shiho with dread. Had she done something wrong? Did she just get Mishima in trouble? Sure, she isn't friends with him, but she would never want him to get hurt even more than he usually is. 

Your eyes flicker towards the door before you lean closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Is Kamoshida still targeting him?" 

The panic Shiho feels disappears in a wave of surprise. "Huh?" 

"Kamoshida," you repeat urgently. Your scowl falters, and you check the door again before your expression cracks. In the sharp, gunmetal gray of your eyes, Shiho catches a flash of worry. "Yuuki had to leave early the other day and…and when that happens-"

When someone skips practice, Coach Kamoshida doubles down on 'conditioning' the next day. Shiho knows. She'd only skipped out once earlier this year, and he'd called her into his office to remind her of how important her scholarship was while…Her body shudders without her consent. 

You frown and grip your ice pack tighter. Shiho catches snippets of "I knew it" and "Should've done something-", but her fingers are starting to go numb and her chest feels like it's about to crack. She's skipping today. Holy shit, she's going to be in so much trouble at the next meeting. Shit, oh god-

Shiho hears a loud inhale, her instincts overriding her thoughts as she inhales along with it. After four seconds, she hears a loud haaah and follows suit. In, two three four. Hold, two three four. Out, two three four. In…hold…out…

"Still with me?" 

Your voice startles Shiho, but she manages to nod. As her vision starts to return, she realizes your entire body moves with each breath, clearly telegraphing each inhale and exhale like you're…trying to goad her into breathing too. 

It takes several more breaths before Shiho finally manages to say, "Thank you."

"Yeah, don't worry." You lean back and rattle your ice pack. "Be happy I didn't just throw this shit at you and call it a day."

"...why would that help, exactly?"

"A sudden stimulus usually shocks your brain so hard it stops panicking to try and process what just happened instead." It's a lot of words to get hit with in one sentence, and Shiho is wondering why exactly you know this when the door cracks open. 

"Pssst. Yo, princess." Sakamoto's blond head (which is still kind of a shock to Shiho after a whole month, he matches Ann now) pokes through, eyes darting around before landing on you. He perks up and throws the door open the rest of the way. "I'm here to-damn, what happened to your eye?" 

You snort and wave a hand. "Remember the guy that tripped you?" Sakamoto nods as a smug grin takes over your face. "Remember how he kept on mysteriously losing his uniform and got stuck wearing the girl's uniform because Kobayakawa thought he was just selling his uniform and refused to give him another one?" 

Shiho stifles a gasp as Sakamoto nods sadly. "Finally caught onto you, huh?" 

"Yep." You tap at your bruised eye with a wince before sighing. "So, why are you here?" 

Sakamoto blinks, like he'd forgotten. After a moment, he gasps and snaps his fingers. "Right! I'm here to bust ya out."

"...I'm not being held here against my will, moron."

"Uh, duh." Sakamoto rolls his eyes before smirking. "But I heard Chouno-sensei on the phone earlier with your dad and he said he was comin' to getcha, so…"

And Shiho is treated to the incredible sight of the Demon of Shujin Academy going stiff like a cat caught stealing from a fish basket. You swear and toss your ice pack into the trash, grimacing at the condensation that soaked through your gloves.

"First off, he's not my dad. Second, I don't have my-" You grunt when Sakamoto tosses your school bag at you, then cackle. "Aw, Ryuji-senpai, stealing my stuff from the drama room."

"Yeah, yeah, princess." Sakamoto ducks out, checks both ways, then gestures at an all-clear. "Let's go!"

Sakamoto darts off, uneven gait echoing off the walls. Shiho fully expects you to rush after him and tries to make herself a bit less uncomfortable, but you seem to hesitate. Then you face her and clear your throat. 

"You'll be okay," you say, gloved hand wringing your bag straps. Your stare diverts before you add, "The year's almost over. Just…hold on."

Just hold on. Shiho's brows pinch and a deep, buried, ugly part of her wants to laugh. It's easy, she thinks, to just say that and pretend like it'll fix everything. As if she doesn't have to attend practice still, or that she will have to deal with Kamoshida's hands for the next two years. 

What do you know about it, Shiho wants to ask. What makes you think you understand what she'd been forced to experience here?

Her answer comes in the form of Sakamoto's harried whispers telling you to stop wasting time, and after you leave, she wonders if you'd said the same thing to him after his injury. She wonders if you say the same thing to Mishima after every practice session. Just hold on.

There is a knock at the door. 

"Hey, Shiho…" Ann slides the door open, head half turned to look down the hall. "I wanted to come check on you, but…I just saw Ryuji-kun and that guy with pink hair running away. Did they…"

"N-No!" Shiho tries to sit up, wincing at the pain in her gut. "Sakamoto-kun was just helping her out. I…think."

Ann doesn't seem convinced, but she sighs anyway and slips inside. "I'm not gonna get involved with that." She plops into the bed you'd been in just minutes ago and smiles. "Besides, I found this really good restaurant that I think we should go try out once summer break starts!"

"Really?" Shiho's smile comes easier this time as Ann grabs her phone. It's some kind of fancy buffet and it looks very, very expensive, but Ann has some extra money saved and Shiho knows her parents will be sending her a bonus allowance soon as a gift for finishing her year. 

Finishing. Shiho grits her teeth and smiles when Ann shows her images of the dessert section. She just has to finish, then she'll have a few weeks of freedom. She just has to hold on. 

Chapter Text

Akira hears a lot about the 'Demon of Shujin Academy'. How you're incredibly violent with alleged ties to the police that let you get away with your crimes. How you're, apparently, an easy lay and actually take cash in exchange for five minutes in the alley nearby. How you help sell drugs to students and get them in trouble with the yakuza. 

There's plenty of more, he thinks, but despite all of the rumors, Akira has yet to actually see you in school. And he's pretty sure he should have at some point-according to Ryuji, your hair is naturally pink. 

It's not like Akira plans on making friends with you, really. He's just…curious. His criminal record is enough for students to think he murdered someone. What could you have possibly done to cause other students to spread such bad rumors about you?

"Eh, all'a that's a load of bullcrap," Ryuji says when he asks. His jaw shifts as he glares at his lunch before finally muttering, "The worst damage she's ever done to someone was accidentally poking their eye with a dye brush. And that someone was me. "

It sounds like a joke and maybe Akira is meant to laugh, but there's a softness to Ryuji's tone that makes the transfer student think he wasn't meant to hear that in the first place.

Still, that doesn't sate Akira's curiosity, because when he 'subtly' slips in your name to Mishima, he actually stiffens up and frowns at him. 

"Trust me, she's the least of our worries," he insists. "She's always had my back. Even when…when Kamoshida kept on trying, she helped me out."

He does not elaborate further. For another few days, you still do not appear in school. 

After teaming up with Ann and the whole…Suzui incident, your absence is put on the backburner. Akira has a whole team now and Morgana has approved, which means the first ever heist has some traction. All he needs now are medical supplies. 

And when he tries to figure out just where to get some, he gets tackled to the ground instead. 

"Ow, fuck-" 

Akira groans, thankful that Morgana had stayed at the café as he peels himself off his bag. His face feels a bit lighter, and when he reaches up to check, his fingers hit skin. 

"Sorry." His glasses appear before him, pinched between a pair of gloved fingers. "That was on me. You okay?" 

Akira's eyes follow the gloves to the arm and then blinks at the apologetic smile and wow, your hair is pink.

"...um." You clear your throat, setting the glasses on his chest. "You alright there?" 

And Akira is staring, apparently. He opens his mouth to speak, but the moment he does, there's a loud scuffling and a shout that sounds suspiciously like, "Where are you, you bitch?!" 

It makes your eyes go wide. "Shit, come on!" 

A fist grabs Akira's shirt and he finds himself stumbling after you into the alleyways of Yongen-Jaya while shouts sound behind them. He barely has time to register where exactly you're running until he catches sight of a familiar storefront.

"Wait, wait-" Akira digs his heels in and grabs your arm, dragging you behind him. He practically throws you into Leblanc, but you're quick to shove him out of the way to properly lock the door. After a few minutes, you exhale slowly, then smile.

"Thanks. And sorry," you add. "Didn't want those guys to mess with you."

Akira makes a face as he finally slips his glasses back on. "Friends of yours?"

"Mm…more like disgruntled customers," you say before your eyes dart to his hands. "Ah, fuck. Here, let me…"

You start rooting through your bag when Akira looks down. He's bleeding-he must have scraped them when he fell. "Oh," is all he says. He turns, shuffling towards the sink. "It's fine."

"Mhm, sure." Something crinkles, and he spots you fishing an unopened pack of gauze from your bag. "Here. You know how to wrap your hands?" 

Akira's brow lifts. "Is there a method?" 

Your laugh explodes throughout the empty café, deep from your chest like you're trying to laugh over an entire stadium of noise. "Just let me do it."

Akira decides not to argue and sits on the stool across from you. You're busy fishing through your bag when he offers his hands to you, and he eyes up the generic plastic bottle filled with a mysterious liquid you retrieve. 

"Okay, let me-Oh, wait." You nip the middle finger of your black glove, pulling your hand free from the sleeve. "Let me disinfect…" You trail off in a mumble as you spray your hands with the liquid. After a few vigorous scrubs, you smile. "Alright, doctor's ready to see you now."

The liquid stings when you spray it, and when Akira flinches, his eyes land on your open bag. Between two textbooks are even more unlabeled bottles and an entire medkit. Based on the scars on your hands and the speed you wrap his hands, he doesn't feel surprised. 

"There," you say as you tie the ends. "How's it feel?" 

"...good." Akira slowly curls his fingers. Just tight enough for it to keep pressure on the cuts, but not enough to make his fingers ache. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course." You scoop your supplies back into your bag, then slip on your gloves with practiced ease. "I'm sure that'll heal up in a day or two. Dr. Takemi's stuff is pretty effective."

Akira's brows lift. "You know Dr. Takemi?'

"Yeah, she's got a clinic just around the corner." You snap on your gloves, wiggling out your fingers. "She doesn't really ask questions, which is good because…" You pause and eye Akira's face. "You're my age. I think."

"I'm a second-year student," Akira says, watching your face carefully when he adds, "Shujin."

Your friendly smile falters for a brief second before you chuckle. "How're you liking it?" 

Akira's lips twitch, torn between a frown and a smile. It must settle for a grimace, because you nod in understanding and laugh. 

"Yeah, same." Your eyes flick across his features before you gasp. "Wait, you're the transfer!"

And there it is. Akira braces himself for the probing questions, the backhanded remarks about the rumors or accusations. 

Instead, you grimace and start popping your finger joints. "Yuuki told me about you-" 

That he'd been arrested? Akira guesses. That he has a criminal record for a crime he never committed? 

"-and how everyone's giving you shit for it," you say instead and smile. "Just give it a few weeks. They'll get over it at some point." 

Empty platitudes. Akira wonders if you'd say the same thing to Suzui after everything that happened. In fact, he nearly asks if you know about it when your phone rings. When you check, you swear and answer, smiling sheepishly before turning your back to him. "Goro, I can explain-"

Whoever Goro is snaps so loudly even Akira can hear it from over here: " I'm changing the locks on my door. "

"Wh-You can't do that!" you whine. "It's an apartment!"

It seems to pacify the boy on the other line, because you manage to continue the conversation at a more reasonable volume. From what Akira can gather, you'd been with him before randomly taking off. You mention Yongen-Jaya and even suggest visiting Café Leblanc ("Oh, like Maurice Leblanc? He's the guy who made Arsène Lupin, the gentleman-Stop laughing, Goro. I just like reading-") to try out the menu on his next free day. Then you smile right at Akira and it feels like the air in the café has gone up a few degrees. 

"Also, I just realized I don't know your name," you say. After a moment, you snort and say, "Goro, I'm a big kid. I know better than to follow a stranger into their home-"

"I live here." It slips out before Akira can catch himself. He almost apologizes, but your laugh makes him feel like he passed some kind of test.

"Fuck, never mind." You swing your feet, the momentum causing your stool to sway. "But don't worry. If anything, I drew blood first. No, that was not an innuen-I'm hanging up now, bye!" You hang up and hop off your stool, turning to smile at Akira. "Sorry, I gotta run."

"It's fine," Akira says and nods at your phone. "Sounds like it was serious."

"Who, Goro? Nah, he's just a loser." The smile on your face grows at the remark. "But it was nice to meet you…"

"Kurusu."

"Kurusu-san, then." With a polite bow, you head for the door, adding, "I'll be back in Shujin in a few weeks, so I'll see you then!" 

And, with a final salute, you slip out of the café. The silence only lasts for a moment, and as Akira attempts to process everything that'd just happened, tiny footsteps trot down the stairs. 

"Who was that?" Morgana asks. When he springs onto the counter, his tail flicks in surprise. "And what happened to your hands?" 

"Just…" Akira flexes his fingers again. You'd tied the gauze into little bows. Cute. "Ran into a classmate, s'all."

Chapter Text

Ann really didn't think you would come back for your second year. She'd thought you'd been expelled over the spring, merely to avoid you causing a scene while school is in session. After all, everyone had witnessed the brawl between you and the other student about the school uniform scandal. And for the first month or so, she thinks her theory holds some water. 

Then she forgets about you entirely when Shiho…when Shiho tried to-

But Kamoshida gets his just desserts and Ann feels like she can breathe again, and then you appear in the hallways all smiles and cheers, like nothing's wrong. 

She bottles up that ugly thought real quick when she sees you walking over with the newest band-aid that Principal Kobayakawa slapped over an already bleeding wound. You lift your hand to greet them, but your face breaks out in a wide smile when you take in her current company. "Ryuji!" 

"Princess?!" Ryuji meets you halfway, gripping your hand tight and dragging you into a half-hug, half-chokehold that is filled with so much bro energy it makes Ann wince. "Dude, where the hell have you been for the past month?"

"On a personal break, moron," you fire back before grinning even wider. "And there you are, Kurusu-san. Was wonderin' where you were."

Ann's brows jump when the transfer student gives you a tiny wave. "Same here."

And then your eyes are on her, and a tiny part of Ann's brain braces itself. She'd never really talked to you last year, too put off by your…demeanor. Of course, she knows better than to judge by appearances, but hanging out with a delinquent wasn't going to make her social life any easier.

But you smile at her like you're happy to see her. "And hi, Takamaki-san. How's life?" 

"It's…been life," Ann says carefully. 

You wince and nod. "Yeah, I can imagine. But at least it's over, right?" 

…it is, Ann thinks, but that same ugly voice tempts her to ask if you'd even cared before. 

"So, this is the boy you kept telling me about," Dr. Maruki suddenly says. His smile is a perfect mirror of yours, complete with the slight crinkle under his eyes and a delicate tilt of his head that feels nothing but fond despite the withering glare you send him. 

"Right." You untangle yourself from Ryuji's grip and return to Dr. Maruki's side. With a sweeping hand, you say, "Sakamoto-san, Kurusu-san, and Takamaki-san. All present and accounted for."

"Were you looking for us?" Ann asks quickly. She can already hazard a guess as to why, and your sigh practically confirms it.

"He asked," you say. 

"That's right." Dr. Maruki does his creepily kind smile again. "I was…informed of certain students before beginning my tenure here. And seeing as they were familiar with this school already, I asked if they could show me around the campus."

Ryuji frowns, eyeing up the counselor. "And you agreed because…"

"...because he asked?" You clear your throat and turn on your heel. "But I showed you now, so I'm gonna go-"

"Not so fast, young lady." Dr. Maruki seizes you by the elbow before you can make your escape. "I still need to talk to Ms. Chouno, and you still need to be there with me when I do." 

"And you want me to stick around while you try to butter up my classmates to go to therapy?" 

"No, but-" Dr. Maruki smiles at you as abject horror fills your face. "I'm sure you could do butter than me at convincing them, right?" 

You let out a pained groan and massage your face while the therapist lights up with pure pride. If he hadn't looked barely over his thirties, Ann would've assumed that he was your dad. 

"If I vouch for you, can I burn the pun calendar at home?" you ask. When Dr. Maruki agrees, you wiggle your arm free, readjust your beanie, and sigh. "I know it's kind of a dick move for the school to only offer these services now after…" Your eyes dart to Ann before settling on Akira. "...everything, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't take it just because it was 'too late', y'know?" 

And Dr. Maruki's face again goes soft with pride as he nods behind you. He almost looks…proud. It makes Ann think of parents in Finland and the last time her own dad has even seen her in person, and she grabs onto that ugly thought and shoves that away when you shrug. 

"But that's on you," you finish, turning to Dr. Maruki. He's still smiling at you, and your shoulders hunch before shuffling off. "Okay, now I'm leaving, bye."

You disappear after that, Dr. Maruki adding on with offers of snacks and mental tricks to approve acuity. It's not much of a compelling offer, but your words and his proud face are running circles around Ann's head. You're vouching for a therapist? What happened to the hot-headed delinquent that threw hands with whoever wronged them last year and basically ignored Ms. Chouno's every single warning? And the way he's looking at you-

"So, please," Dr. Maruki says suddenly, "don't be afraid to visit if you ever need someone to talk to! I promise I will do everything in my power to be able to help." The therapist doesn't react to Ryuji's grumbling (or he just ignores it) as he bows. When he rises, he hesitates, then laughs and massages his neck. "Now, do you think you could point me to where the drama club is?"

Chapter Text

"There's…something different about you."

Ryuji looks up from his ramen and nearly chokes. "Wh-Huh?" He forces down the noodles as you tilt your hand on your fist. "Whaddya mean?"

"I dunno." You switch arms, elbow on the table. "You seem…happier? Relaxed."

"Well, yeah." Ryuji points his chopsticks randomly at the air. "Kamoshida's ass got arrested, he's not houndin' my ass anymore…" You're fuckin' back, finally . He grabs that one and casually tosses it in the darkest corner of his mind. Somewhere, in the deep dark corner of said mind, he thinks he can hear his Persona guy laughing. "Soooo yeah, I guess I am kinda happy."

Your lips twitch and you're also not wearing your heavy lipstick like usual. It looks good, he thinks, but you also look good with it, Ryuji thinks. His leg starts to bounce under the table as Captain Kidd laughs even harder.

"Not to sound cheesy, but…" Your smile grows, a crinkle under one eye and that stupid tilt to one side that makes the hair spill from behind your ear. "I'm glad."

"Okay, 'nough about me." Ryuji sets down his chopsticks and squints at you. "The hell happened to you? You're startin' to freak me out."

"What, I can't tell my friend that I'm happy for him?"

Ryuji snorts. "Nah, you can, but you almost always follow that shit up with an insult or somethin'." He braces himself for some kind of laugh or witty retort, but your eyes flash with panic. "W-Well, I mean-"

"Nah, I get it." Your smile falters before you shrug. "But I'm being serious. Glad this year isn't gonna be an absolute pain in the ass like last year." 

It will be. Between Kamoshida getting kicked out and the Phantom Thieves forming ( and hey, you're finally back! ), this year's starting to look up for him. Of course, he'll have to worry about grades or whatever, but that's nothing compared to finally giving shitty adults what they deserve!

"Speakin' of," Ryuji says quietly, "where the hell were you, droppin' off the radar for the entire spring like that? The hell happen?" 

"Aw, were you worried about me?" you coo. 

"I-Of course I was!" Ryuji's ears are starting to burn, but if you're going to be weird today, then so will he. "Last text I got from you scared the crap outta me. Shit, if Mishima hadn't told me you were comin' back, I woulda thought you were dead."

Which…might be a bit of an exaggeration. You'd texted him saying you would be back after a few months, that you were 'taking a break' or whatever. He can get that, but he'd also gotten the text at three in the morning, and you had ended it with a sentence that he's pretty damn sure you could never say aloud without exploding. 

'If something happens and I don't come back, I love you. See ya.'

It took several frantic texts to Mishima to learn that he'd gotten something like that, too, and then a whole month for Ryuji to finally calm down.

"Oh," is all you say. Your face loses its teasing smile as you prod at your ramen, eyes darkening. For a brief moment, Ryuji thinks you're going to just get up and leave, but you let out a heavy sigh and smile at him again. You look tired. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you worry, y'know?" 

Ryuji snorts and picks at his own bowl. It's getting kind of soggy. "Yeah, yeah. S'long as you don't pull that shit on me again."

"I would never." After a moment, you push your bowl away. "Also, d'you wanna go on a date?"

"Uh, define 'date', princess," Ryuji says, "because last time we 'went on a date', you dragged my ass to some borin' museum about a washed up actress."

"She wasn't washed up," you argue. "She was a prolific actress from her days on the silver screen-"

"Who ended up blacklisted because she was a shitty person, I know, I know," Ryuji recites for you. 

Your smile grows as you tug your beanie down over your ears. "See, you learned something! But, also, no, it's not gonna be like that." 

What it will be, he learns when you pull out your phone, is an art gallery filled with works by some big hotshot named Madarame Ichiryusai. It's guaranteed to be filled with stuffy old guys and folks who will most likely sneer at you and Ryuji the moment you walk through the doors. Definitely not the kind of scene he would ever enjoy. But you, for some awful reason, do, and…

"Ugh, fine," Ryuji groans. He massages his neck, already feeling those judgemental stares he's going to get in the future. When he looks back at you, you're smiling so hard he worries his face will set itself on fire. "But," he adds quickly, "you're payin' for whatever the hell we're gonna get for lunch. I'm thinkin'...wings."

"I can do that," you say and smile again. "So it's a date?"

"Y-Yeah," Ryuji says and fuck, Captain Kidd's banging his fist against his chest and cheering him on. "It's a date."

Chapter Text

Hifumi does not mean to be nosy. She is just trying to enjoy a regular meal in the restaurant, nipping on celery sticks as her mother angrily barks on her phone outside to her agent about the next photoshoot. A small shop that serves fingerfoods isn't exactly her normal stop (it's unrefined, Mother had said), but the customers are a blend of street goers and fancier folks returning from Madarame's exhibit. Mother had expected the man in question to be here and hopes to rub elbows with him, but he has yet to appear. 

It's a nice place to peoplewatch, though. And that pair of boys in the booth across from her are just…so loud.

"Seriously, I don' get what the big deal is," the blond groans as you (a friend? a partner?) wipe your fingers clean. "None of it was really interestin' to me. It's just some paintings."

"Art isn't just about how it looks," you say. "It's about the message behind it, y'know? What materials they use, how they developed it, how it makes you feel…hell, even the name of the piece. All of it comes together to make something that leaves a lasting impact on its viewers."

"All it left me with was a headache," the blond grumbles. 

The friend (Hifumi really can't tell at this point. Every time you smile at the blond's jokes, the blond looks like he just won a marathon) smiles and reaches over to pat his head. "It's called 'stimulating your mind', Ryuji. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

The blond, Ryuji, groans and bats your hand away. Hifumi, with her totally-not-nosy stare, still sees the way he blushes. 

"Next time," Ryuji says, "we're goin' somewhere I wanna go."

"Oh?" You tilt your head curiously. "And where would you like to take me, oh so cool Ryuji-senpai?"

Senpai? Hifumi almost gasps, chomping hard on her celery. So the blond is an upperclassman dating an underclassman? Isn't that inappropriate? 

"I-Uh, I dunno." Ryuji slumps back, heel bouncing. "Whaddya wanna do?"

Hifumi grimaces in sympathy. Wanting to go do something but refusing out of fear that the other party will be bored and upset at you. That must mean you and him don't hang out that much outside of school. Is this your first date? Interesting place to go, she thinks. Still, he's fumbling! He needs to figure out a place to go and-

"I don't really care," you say and smile. "I just like being with you, y'know?"

Hifumi muffles her gasp, face burning. Ryuji is just as red.

"H-Hey, no fair!" he says and kicks you under the table. "I thought you got all that weird shit outta you already."

"I could make it worse," you offer. Before Ryuji can pull away, you snatch his hand and squeeze it tight, a reverent light on your face. "Oh, Ryuji-senpai, you're absolutely incredible and I adore every waking moment that we spend together! You are my second half. Without you, I am nothing!"

Every sentence makes Ryuji turn red, but Hifumi's blood goes cold. She recognizes those words. That's a direct quote from one of Mother's movies- Temptation , she recalls. It's not that famous compared to some of Mother's other movies, but…well, it certainly explains your sense of fashion. 

"A'ight, I'm not takin' you out on a date ever again," Ryuji groans and rises from his seat, dragging you along by the hand. "C'mon, let's go."

You snort and swing your conjoined hands just as the front door swings open. Hifumi's mother storms right in, muttering and swearing under her breath, and your eyes dart between her and the door before doubletaking. "W-Wait a sec-"

"Nope, come on!" Ryuji jerks your hand tight and drags you outside. Hifumi's mother pays the pair little mind. 

"Can you believe this, Hifumi?" Mitsuyo hisses as she drops into the booth. "Those insolents bastards, mocking me for a bunch of lies I had no part in."

Hifumi swallows, kneading her hands in her lap. Should she tell her mother about you? You seemed like a superfan, being able to recognize the woman from a single glance. "U-Um, mother-"

"Did you order yet?" Mitsuyi asks. She digs through her giant purse, fishing out a small compact mirror and some powder. "Celery's good for you, dear. No fat, no salt. Remember, you have an interview later today. Don't want to look too bloated on the camera."

Celery tastes like nothing. Celery feels like candle wax in her mouth every time she swallows, and it does nothing to fill her painfully empty stomach. Hifumi's chin tilts, but Mitsuyo clears her throat and gently taps the underside of her own chin. 

"And chin up, dear," she scolds. "Don't want your double chin on camera, either."

Hifumi straightens up quickly as her mother continues to ramble about the menu and the dingy atmosphere. 

Personally, Hifumi thinks the menu looks new and exciting, and nobody here gives them much of a second glance, which is all she could really hope for most of the time. Those thoughts she takes and tucks them in a small box. When Mitsuyo asks her if she'd seen Madarame, Hifumi can only shake her head. 

"Bah, disappointing," Mitsuyo mutters and tucks her mirror away. "Let's go, then." 

"But we haven't eaten-"

"We can eat at home." The woman grabs her purse and gestures quickly. "You need to get ready for your interview."

Hifumi gulps and scrambles after her, grabbing a final stick on the way out. Who knows when she'll get to eat?

Chapter Text

Yuuki really wants to tell you about the Phantom Thieves. He really wants to tell you so, so badly because you're you and Yuuki, for all his meager skills, is absolute SHIT at lying. 

"Do you really think this shit's about Madarame?" you ask. You're busy scrolling through the Phansite, so you can't see Yuuki's face twisting to desperately keep himself silent. "I mean, it wouldn't surprise me, but…that'd be fucked up if it's true."

"Yeah…very," Yuuki agrees. He's been keeping a close eye on those posts for a reason. The posters are anonymous, but being the moderator of the website has its perks. "A-Aren't you into that kind of stuff, though? Like, celebrity drama or whatever."

"I mean, kinda?" You close your phone and shrug, replacing it with a worn out journal filled with doodles of fancy clothes. "It's just weird. I went out with Ryuji to go check out Madarame's exhibition and I thought it all looked really cool, but it…gave off a weird vibe? Like, I wanted to enjoy it, but it made me uncomfortable." 

All Yuuki can really process is, "You went out on a date with Ryuji?" 

Definitely not the thing to focus on. You can have male friends, duh, that's fine. Seriously, Yuuki is pretty sure you only have male friends. It's totally normal. Plus-

"Eh, more like I got to drag him along and we got wings afterwards."

-you're either asexual or dense. Yuuki has yet to figure it out. 

"But, I mean, it'd be fucked up," you say. "I spent money on exhibition tickets, which would go back to his pocket. At least with Ikari's stuff, she doesn't get any residuals."

Yuuki grunts and continues scrolling through the Phansite's posts. The one you'd been looking at is still sitting at the top of the forum, and most of the comments are pretty unhelpful, but a small notification pops up in the corner of his phone. When he taps it, his brows shoot up in surprise. 

Nakanohara Natsuhiko? He'd been one of the most recent targets for the Phantom Thieves. Why in the world is he…Yuuki's brows furrow, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Your weird sixth sense must have kicked in yet again. He seriously needs to figure out how you do that. 

God, it would be so much easier he could tell you about the Thieves. You could probably sniff out targets like a bloodhound. 

"You good, Yuuki?" you call out. 

Yuuki jumps, face pink. "Y-Yeah, sorry, I just…" Am having an absolutely awful time right now, betraying your trust after you'd helped me through so much with Kamoshida and my parents. You're his closest (only) friend, but that also means he shouldn't have to burden you with all of this. Yuuki is finally being useful. He can't just foist this on you after you had a crisis for an entire spring! Maybe when the Phantom Thieves make a better name for themselves and take out bigger targets, he'll tell you. He's sure you'd be impressed by then. 

Not that…he really has a chance with you. Even if he ever got the courage to try and confess that he likes you, he thinks it would just go right over your head. 

"Yuuki." You snap your fingers in front of his face. "Yuuukiiii. Hello?" 

Yuuki nearly headbutts you when he jumps. "Yep, still here, sorry!" 

"Uh huh." You sit back, throwing your legs on his lap and taking up the entire bench. It's the normal position you and he take whenever you share a bench, and Yuuki kind of regrets it now. "You doin' okay? Getting enough sleep and all that?" 

Yuuki rolls his eyes. "Are you getting enough sleep?" 

"Nope." You readjust, leaning against the back of the bench with your arms crossed. "How much time is left until lunch ends?"

"Twenty minutes." Yuuki pats your shin. "I'll wake you up later."

"Beautiful," you mutter, "you're the best."

Yuuki smiles and returns to monitoring the website. He can't quite tell you about the Phantom Thieves just yet, but that doesn't mean he can't help you out in other ways.

…he wonders if you'd ever make a request on the Phansite.

A buzz sounds from your pocket, and you don't bother opening your eyes until your phone is inches from your face. "...oh, motherfucker," you mutter before bouncing your leg on his lap. "I gotta go to the drama club. Wanna come?"

"Are you in trouble?" he asks. 

"Nope. Kurusu-kun asked if I had some spare material to give him." Your shirt hitches up as you stretch, and you lazily pull it back down while Yuuki internally weeps. "Told him I would in exchange for some free coffee."

Yuuki scrambles after you as you start shuffling towards the clubroom. "I-I didn't know you and the transfer student were friends."

"I thought I told you I ran into him when I got back to town?" you say. When he shakes his head, you shrug. "Oh. Well, I did. Nice kid, all things considered." Then, caught in a yawn, you mumble, "I bet he's one of the Phantom Thieves."

"Huh?!" Yuuki covers his mouth as the students look their way, only to quickly avert their glares when you scowl. "What-uh, what makes you say that?" 

You shrug again, this time turning to watch him as you walk backwards. "Guy just shows up, makes friends with two-slash-three of Kamoshida's most infamous victims, then gets the guy arrested." Your momentum swings you around and slings your arm over Yuuki's shoulder, dragging him in close. "I'm telling you, Yuuki. Guy's a Phantom Thief."

Shitshitshitshit-"I-I think your intuition's a little off," Yuuki forces out. "If he already has a record, w-wouldn't it be safer to just lay low and live a normal school life?"

"Nah, because you're already in trouble as is. It's like how in Wicked-" Yuuki quickly braces himself when he hears your quick inhale. "-everyone always calls Elphaba a weirdo because she had green skin and no matter how many good things she tried to do, she was punished for it. Like, she has her whole song about how she decides to embrace being evil because everyone only saw her as such." You sigh wistfully, barely out of breath. "Fuck, I wanna listen to that again. Remind me to make you listen to it at some point."

"But it's in English."

"There's a Japanese recording, too!" Yuuki groans as you give him a firm shake once more. "Come oooon, I bet I could get Ayaka to listen to it. She'd love it."

"Please don't," he whines. "She really got into insects lately and keeps bringing them inside the house." 

"Okay, then give her something else to focus on. Like a musical."

"No." 

You pout, but you're quickly distracted by the state of the drama clubroom. It looks like someone had set a bomb off in the supply closet, scattering hundreds of items that Yuuki knows you'd worked on last year. There's nobody else inside right now and nobody should have ever gone into the room until later today. 

Yuuki braces himself when you inhale. He's heard your screams of rage before. He'd heard you plenty of times at his games last year. If-

"Well, shit," you sigh and flick the lights on. After a cursory glance at your trashed projects, you sigh even harder and turn to Yuuki with a tired smile. "I gotta clean up. You don't have to wait." 

"A-Are you kidding me?" Yuuki sets his bag inside the room, rolling his sleeves up. "C'mon, just-uh, just show me where the stuff goes." 

Your lips waver before your smile grows. "Can I play Wicked over the speaker? I'll even put on the Japanese cast."

Yuuki's grumbling translate to assent, apparently, because orchestral music suddenly blasts through the club room. Even without lyrics, you hum along, cutting yourself off to tell him all kinds of trivia and information about the show, then the book the musical is based on, and finally the actual book that led to the spinoff in the first place. It gets to a point that he can't hear most of the actual lyrics to the musical, but he doesn't complain. If it gets your mind off of someone trashing your hard work, he'll manage.

Chapter Text

If Ann could be described as exquisite, Yusuke thinks that you can only be described as divine. Blurring the boundary of gender expression, hiding bold hair color behind shabby accessories and harsh make-up. But slumped over the counter, one cheek on your folded arm and eyes blissfully shut, you look like nothing more than a cat sleeping in the lowlight of the café. 

Yusuke's fingers twitch. He'd only come here to talk to Akira regarding their plans to take on his Sensei's…Madarame's Palace, and he's learned his lesson about drawing strangers in public without their permission.  

…but if he's quick enough-

"Ah, are you another one of his friends?" 

Yusuke blinks as an older man meanders through the back of the store. Sakura Sojiro, if he recalls. Akira's current guardian. 

"Yes." Yusuke stiffens his shoulders as he bows. "Is he still upstairs?" 

"Asleep, probably. Just like this little brat." At that, Sakura-san scoffs and moves towards you. There's a half-filled cup of coffee by your elbow. "Hey, Maruki, wake up. This isn't a bed and breakfast."

Your body twitches, face scrunching before your eyes finally open. After frantically darting around the café, your body slowly relaxes as you sit up. "Sorry," you mutter, throat dry. Your foot hits a cardboard box on the ground beside your stool, but you barely seem to notice. "Wha' time is it?" 

"Nine o'clock precisely," Yusuke answers. Your face twists as you begin to stretch, popping joints and groaning all the while. Now that you're sitting up, he catches sight of an open sketchbook, half-filled with sketches of fancy dresses. "What were you doing?" 

"...sleeping, I guess?" you say. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pass out."

"Uh-huh, sure," Sakura-san says. He sets a glass of water before you, then gestures for Yusuke to join them at the bar as he pours another. Closer now, the Kosei student can make out the details of your sketches, from materials to measurements and sources of inspiration. Many are from musicals and plays that he's only heard in passing from Madarame. 

"Is that yours?" he asks. 

The journal vanishes before he can even blink. You hold it closer to your chest, brows pinched before slowly setting it back down on the counter.

"Uh, yeah," you say and slowly peel your hand away. "It's…just some ideas." 

'Just some ideas' is an understatement. When you allow Yusuke to look through the sketchbook, he finds each page absolutely filled with both Eastern and Western fashion of several eras. Many outfits come with detailed notes on historical significance, symbolism, and ideas on how to build each piece for theatrical quick-changes. What little space is left is filled with drawings of snakes and some boys he doesn't recog-

"Huh?" Yusuke blinks in surprise when you jerk the sketchbook back. "You know Sakamoto-san?" 

"Do you?" you fire back before wincing. "Sorry, I mean yeah, he's my…wait." Your eyes harden quickly, one hand curling in a fist. "Do you know him?"

"He is…an acquaintance," Yusuke answers. Your expression only darkens, but he is only telling the truth. "He, Akira-san, and Takamaki-san attended Madarame's exhibit while I was there." And, now that he recalls, Sakamoto had mentioned not wanting to go when Yusuke offered tickets because he'd 'already seen all of that lame crap anyway'.

Your jaw drops before you scowl. "Can't believe that asshole went to the exhibit again without me! 'Just some paintings' my ass." 

Yusuke gets the distinct feeling that Ryuji is in trouble, but he is saved from intervening by a loud HISSS!. 

"What's she doing here?!" Morgana hisses. His body looks comically large with how harshly his fur puffs, and his tail lashes so fiercely Yusuke wonders if it will break. 

You, on the other hand, sneeze hard and groan. "Seems I'm not wanted here…"

"You allergic to cats?" Sakura-san asks when you sneeze again. 

"All kinds of dander," you grumble. "Why do you think we keep snakes? They don't shed." 

Yusuke frowns. "But-"

"Fur. I mean fur." 

Morgana only growls and takes a step down the stairs. "Oh, I'll give you more than just a runny nose, you bi-MRAOW!" Akira frowns as he lifts the cat by his scruff, tucking him close to his chest like a baby. Morgana hisses and spits, but his trimmed claws barely make a dent in the teen's skin. "Let me go, you jerk! She's evil. Evil!" 

"Wow, never heard that one before." You slide off the stool, kicking the box at your feet. "These are for you, by the way." 

Akira tosses Morgana back up the stairs, then pries open the box. Inside, Yusuke spies several half-used props and supplies fit for a costume store. 

"I  would've brought you more," you say as Akira starts sorting through the goods, "but a lot of the stuff got damaged, so…"

"This is still more than enough." Akira lifts the box up and offers up a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course." You give him a thumbs up, which then points at Yusuke. "Also, why's he telling me that you and Ryuji and Takamaki-san went to the art gallery?" After a moment, you turn to Yusuke entirely. "Actually, better question: who're you? You're not in Shujin."

"No, I attend Kosei High." Yusuke tilts his head, gaze drifting to the copious amounts of keychains and buttons on your bag. "I'm Kitagawa Yusuke, a…student of Madarame-san."

Your body tenses, and for a moment he thinks you're about to ask him all the normal questions about his privileged experience working under such an incredible artist. "Oh, congrats…" is what comes out instead. When Yusuke looks at your face, you're looking over to Akira. "Is he…y'know?" 

"He knows," Akira answers. 

"Oh, god." And then you're back to looking at him, brows furrowed. "I'm-Well, I want to say I'm sorry, but I'm sure you hear that a lot." You start to pick at the studs on your leather gloves, grimacing. "You'll…find a place. Once it's all done and over with, at least."

Yusuke blinks, watching as your fidgeting grows. "Thank you?" 

"You're welcome." You nod to yourself, seemingly pleased, then check your wrist. You're not wearing a watch, and you let out an annoyed growl before checking your phone for the time. "I'm going now, by the way. Text me if you need stuff. Oh, and it was nice to meet you, Kitagawa-san!" You speed out of the café before Yusuke can respond, leaving him to try and process what just happened. 

It sounds like you're well aware of Kaneshiro's misdeeds. You certainly aren't a Phantom Thief (he would have recognized that shade of pink even if you'd been in a Thief outfit), and he doubts you'd known his teacher in the past. How strange. "Is that normal?"

And miraculously, somehow (like he can read Yusuke's own mind and answer him without even thinking about it), Akira shrugs. "Yes." He shake the box at him and smirks. “Want to see what she brought? It’s some supplies from drama club. There might be some paint in there.”

And Yusuke perks up. “If you don’t mind.”

Chapter Text

It's supposed to be a nice and easy interview. His representative wants him to get his face out there, to both spread his name and entice his own generation into picking up law. It's a cheap tactic to make Goro more marketable, and the only reason he'd agreed to do it is because it'd get him out of classes for a day. And partially because you'd told him your school would be there on the same days that he will be, and he would like to investigate the classmates you consider friends. 

The man in charge of his fitting gives him a light pat on the shoulder. "Alright, we're all good for today, Goro-kun. Thank you very much!"

Goro gives him a pleasant smile and a quiet farewell, then lets it drop the moment he's alone. His skin aches from all the pinching and adjusting, and the fabric of the shirt they left him in felt so unpleasant it also made his ears ring. Overstimulated, you would have said. Don't worry, I get it too. 

And, as if just thinking about you summons you, his phone chimes. 

[:3c]: hunting your ass down like a bloodhound rn, incoming in 10

[:3c]: 9

[:3c]: 8

I'm in the back. Please don't try and find-

"Hey, there you are!" 

Goro rolls his eyes and tucks his phone away. "Did you sneak past security or something?" 

"What? No," you say as you skip up to him. "I just told them that my teacher went back here and I needed to get her before she caused any trouble." 

A blatant lie, but Goro doubts the security would have cared considering you're in your hyper-feminine uniform today. The short skirt does (according to you) wonders to your legs and waist. Hm. Maybe he should get the name of the guard before he goes. 

"So," you say, dragging him from his thoughts, "how'd it go? You look pissed."

"About as well as can be expected." Goro falls into step beside you as you backtrack your way through the halls. "They wanted to try putting me in bright purple."

"Bright purple? Why?" You make a face at him. "You'd look like a giant bruise. If they wanted to go for any cooler, darker colors, why not green?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Goro flicks your shoulder. "In fact, I'm surprised you didn't try to break into the wardrobe department to look at the clothes."

"It's a news station ," you say flatly. "They won't have the cool stuff I'm looking for. Like-" You stop, eyes darting down the hall like a cat spotting a bird. "Oh, wait, hey! RYUJI!" 

Goro stumbles as you drag him by the arm. He catches voices discussing something about a pancake and roller coasters, growing louder the closer they get, and he braces himself quickly when they round the corner and come face to face with a trio of students. 

"Yo, princess!" The blond (who Goro assumes is Sakamoto Ryuji) raises a hand. He moves like he plans on throwing an arm over your shoulder, stopping only when he makes eye contact with the detective. His arm goes limp, then awkwardly hides itself in his pocket. "And, uh, who's this?" 

"This," you say with all the flourish of a circus showman, "is my partner-" And Goro nearly smirks at the way Sakamoto's face flashes with pure panic before you continue. "-in crime, Akechi Goro." You give Goro's arm a little wiggle before letting go. "Goro, these are my classmates." 

Rattling off their names reveals that, yes, he's tried to hunt down their Shadows in Mementos in his free time. According to you, Mishima Yuuki is busy at home, but he can settle for half. "It's nice to meet you all," he says, inclining just enough to be polite. "And I apologize for butting in on your conversation. They tend to lack a filter when it comes to socializing."

"I'm going to make you go bald in your sleep." You elbow Goro to drive home your point before carrying on. "But, speaking of, were you guys talking about pancakes?"

"Dome Town," Takamaki corrects. "We were planning on going to check it out after this." 

"Oh, yeah!" Sakamoto perks up. "Dude, you wanna come with? They've got some of these wild roller coasters I wanna go on. It's gonna be sick!" 

An invitation to go somewhere that Goro is clearly not invited to. It makes sense, seeing as he was (quite literally) dragged into the conversation. He readies to excuse himself, but you shake your head anyway and smile anyways. 

"I promised Goro I'd hang out with him here until he was done," you say with a lazy shrug, "but if Ryuji throws up, Takamaki-san-"

"I'll make fun of him for you, don't worry," Takamaki promises. The conversation carries on from there, filled with gentle ribbing and light-hearted plans to go visit some underground mall Goro has never visited. He almost assumes you've forgotten him, but each light brush from your hand against his says otherwise, and he tries to reciprocate the balancing act by smiling and adding his own comments about other places to visit in town. 

But Goro's focus keeps returning to the last member of the trio: Kurusu Akira, the probation student. He hasn't spoken a word since the conversation started, but his eyes are watching you carefully. Not in a way that annoying, lovesick (digusting, pedophilic-) people do, but…

Like he's confused. 

Goro frowns and clears his throat, cutting you and Takamaki off in the middle of a discussion about hair dye. "Not to end things so rudely," he says, "but I do have a briefing to get to. May I…"

"Oh, shit." You glance at your bare wrist and growl at your own habit, then settle for grabbing your bag. "Right, sorry. Have fun in Dome Town, guys!" 

Sakamoto goes for what looks like a hug before aborting quickly when he glances at Goro. Takamaki give you a brief farewell. Kurusu gives you a tiny, imperceptible nod, and Goro outright grabs your hand and gives them a pleasant smile. 

"I look forward to filming with you all tomorrow," he says, and with a tug on your hand, continues on his merry way. 

It takes five steps before you say, "You're doing it again." 

Goro's eye twitches before he focuses on his face. Every miniscule muscle under the skin is wired tight, and it takes a few deep breaths until he can feel it relaxing. When he blinks, you're watching him with a frown. 

"Probably should have introduced you to just one, huh?" you say because of course you think it's on you. "I know Ryuji's a bit much to handle, but-"

"Kurusu-kun," Goro cuts in before you can start rambling again. "He's the student with the assault record, right? The one you ran into when you came back to town?"

You blink, then tighten your grip on his hand. "Why?" 

And that's another thing Goro can't help but feel thankful for; it isn't an automatic jump to Kurusu's defense, nor some kind of tease about Goro being jealous. No, it's the automatic trust in his earnesty. While your instincts are nigh-omniscience, you're also stupid. (Stupid and soft-hearted. Goro is kind of convinced that you can't truly hate someone. Even when he listens to your rants, you always end it with a frustrated "I mean, I get why-" and talk yourself back from the seething hatred he would have felt in that moment.) You trust him to intervene when your instincts say otherwise. It's worked ever since you were kids, and he's not about to ruin it now.

"I'm not sure," he admits. "There's just…something off. Not about his record, but-"

"Like he's hiding something," you say quietly, "right?" 

Goro squeezes your hand. "Your instincts are as impeccable as ever."

"Thanks." Your tiny smile fades, brows pinched in thought. "It's weird, though. I told Yuuki that he might be a Phantom Thief last week, right? I was joking, but now…it won't stop bothering me." When you explain your little theories, Goro can't help but agree. The timing is far too close to be a coincidence. And, if he had a Persona, it's no wonder why Goro can't find any of their Shadows in the Metaverse. 

"Speaking of…" Goro says, "what are your thoughts on the Phantom Thieves?" 

"Managed to get Kamoshida arrested, so they're fine by me," you answer automatically. "Outside of that…No idea. Kinda fucked up that they can just do that to people. Like, what if one of them just decided they didn't like me? Would they change my heart, too?" 

Of course not, Goro almost says. You don't even have a Shadow. "If they somehow did," he says instead, "I would avenge you."

"Aw, Goro!" Your smile is almost blinding, even in his peripherals. "I'd avenge you, too." 

Goro rolls his eyes, but he still gives your hand another firm squeeze as his thoughts drift. No Shadows…he can still work with that, he thinks. If they even try to search up your name in Mementos, he will hunt them down one by one and make them regret it. But for now, he needs to continue his investigations, and Kurusu Akira seems to be the perfect starting point.

Chapter Text

Makoto is running out of options. In fact, she could say she's hitting rock bottom, because she's sitting in the student council room with you. 

You, the Demon of Shujin Academy, who actually inherited the title from her after someone caught you in a fistfight with someone from Kosei in your first two weeks of school. Makoto still has no idea what caused it, but since you were both students from prestigious academies that did not want students fistfighting in Shibuya to be on their records, the incident was buried in paperwork. Didn't stop the rumors from spreading, of course, and she's not above listening to them from time to time. 

Specifically, the rumors that you worked with the yakuza extorting the students in Shujin. 

"Am I in trouble?" is the first thing you say, "because I haven't done anything since I got back." 

Makoto almost scoffs. You're out of dress code (and have been ever since you became a Shujin student), but that's not a priority right now. "You're not," she says, "but I wanted your help with something."

Your eyes narrow. "If you're going to ask if I know anything about the Phantom Thieves, I don't."

"That's-" Definitely also something Makoto is considering. The only thing that keeps you off the suspect list is your absence during the first few weeks of the school year. "-not it, either. Please, just let me finish." 

"...okay?" You sit back and wave a hand. "What's so bad that you need my help?" 

Makoto clears her throat. Good. At least you're willing to listen. "Principal Kobayakawa has asked me to look into certain incidents involving our students being threatened by an organized crime unit-"

"And are you-" Your jaw catches, stopping yourself with a deep breath. "Sorry, continue?" 

"...and," Makoto continues carefully, "I wanted to know if you knew anything." Your eyes harden, and she quickly adds, "I know listening to rumors is the last thing I should do, but rumors are the only things I can go on at this point."

I'm desperate goes unspoken. Compared to the other two delinquents of the school, you're the only one who she could possibly ask for help.

Your face twitches, flitting between anger and offense and a thousand other expressions before finally settling on a confused frown. "Sorry to disappoint, then, senpai. I don't really know much about it." 

The earnesty in your tone both surprises and disappoints Makoto. Well, there goes one lead-

"But," you say, "you might have better luck with Ms. Chouno. She's got her ear on everything in the school, and she's pretty friendly with sex workers in Shibuya."

"S-Sex workers?" 

"Yeah." You shrug off her alarmed face. "If there's anyone out there who might have information on organized crime nearby, it'd probably be them. Honestly, they're pretty nice when they aren't busy."

"I-Wait." Makoto holds up a hand, blinking quickly. "You…talk to them?" 

"You'd be surprised by the amount of illegal shit I used to hear while doing their nails," you say. Makoto almost wants to ask why you even know how to style nails when you always wear gloves, but you're drumming your fingers on the table, lips pursed with thought. It's more focused than she's ever expected you to look, and the longer you stay silent, the more severe your grey eyes become. Whatever is running through your head must not be pleasant. Makoto is about to try and snap you out of it when your body jerks itself awake. You curl your hand into a fist, leather creaking before finally saying, "I can give you Mika's number, if you want. She's…not hostile, if you're nice enough."

"I-Wh-" Don't look a gift horse in the mouth! "That would be great," Makoto says automatically while reigning in her wild thoughts. This sudden turn-around is…suspicious at best? A trap at worst. Even as you give her your number and a promise to text her whatever you hear next time, the president can only frown. What are you playing at?

Chapter Text

Mika's in the middle of her nightly destressing in Crossroads when an annoying, familiar face slides onto the stool right next to her. 

"Whatever happened to being banned from here?" she asks. 

"I wasn't banned, " you correct with a chipper smile, pink hair hidden under a new, plain wig, "I'm just not supposed to be here for my own safety."

"Uh huh." Mika sits up, both to stretch her aching spine and eye the pale, pretty face hanging next to you. She keeps glancing around like she expects someone to mug her every time someone enters the club. "And who's this?" 

The girl's sharp, red eyes narrow on her. It's the same judgemental glare all those stuck-up bitches give her, and Mika wonders just what she's looking at: her squared face? Her prominent, sharp nose? Mika's gotten used to the stares (they do, unfortunately, make her one of the top sellers in her job), but to get it from a girl who's younger than her feels a bit disrespectful. 

"This is my girlfriend," you say and promptly duck, dodging the sharp swat from the girl behind you. "Correction: this is the girl I was telling you about. The one who was asking about…y'know."

Oh, Mika knows. It's the bastard that eats up all the money she makes in a night and the same bastard that made her think that you were dead when you disappeared last spring. She frowns and glances at Lala, still busy sending drinks out to customers, then waves a hand for the new girl to sit. She remembers her manners well enough to not ask for her name, but something about her eyes seems familiar.

"Okay," she says, "what's up?"

The new girl, apparently, is looking for information about you-know-who and his favorite targets: vulnerable high schoolers. She asks about the blackmail, about how many students have fallen for his tactics, if there's anything she can use to bring him to justice. It's…honestly a lot for a third-year in high school to be digging into. Unfortunately, Mika knows very little about that side of the business, but she gives what she can about streets to look out for and when. 

"Hope you're not planning anything funny," Mika says once she finishes, glaring at you specifically. You've been oddly quiet this whole time, just watching the stranger with a weird look on your face. "Boss is pissy enough as is." 

The new girl makes a face as you blink out of your reverie. "I'm being safe, don't worry."

"Do you have a history with him?" the new girl asks. 

"Eh, sort of?" You spin on your stool to give her a cheerful smile. "Moreover, is any of that useful?"  

Mika has to give you credit; you're good at controlling the conversation when you need to be. She watches as you and the new girl converse, saying something about a principal and Phantom Thieves and nothing about yourself. It's cute, but Mika can only wonder if the new girl even knows why you look so at home in Crossroads. She obviously doesn't know about your spring escapades. 

Which…well, Mika only knows the rumors, but almost everyone in Kaneshiro's grip has heard about the beautiful sakura that slipped through his fingers. 

A large figure drifts towards the trio, and you cut off just as Lala clears her throat, hands polishing a glass. 

"Hi, Miss Lala!" you say excitedly, beaming. "How's the store? I hear some guy got kicked out by you because he kept stealing peoples' drinks." 

"Nice try, dear," Lala says. She sets her glass down with a thunk, eyes narrowed. "You remember what your daddies said: no hanging around here past sundown." 

"Yes, ma'am…" You slip off your stool like a wet towel, but you perk right up and sling an arm around your classmate, gently poking her collarbone. "By the way, Miss Lala, this is my girlfriend-"

"Okay, we're leaving." The new girl ducks under your arm and makes a precise strike to your ribs, and as you wheeze, she gives Mika and Lala a polite bow. “Thank you for your time.” Before you can recover, she makes a line straight for the door, forcing you to chase after her with a groan and goodbye wave that only Lala returns.

“Seems to be doing just fine,” the older woman hums. 

Mika only scoffs and massages her temples. “She just got lucky.”

Chapter Text

When Skull had seen that doppelganger of Ann in Kamoshida's Palace, he'd felt pissed. When he'd seen all those portraits of Kaneshiro's students ( victims ), he'd felt disgusted. But when Skull hears your name spilling out of Shadow Kaneshiro’s mouth in the same breath as 'losing his highest selling whore', he loses himself. 

It's not even him who tries to attack first. Captain Kidd bursts into existence without pulling off his mask, rearing back on his pirate ship and trying to flatten everything in the room. Skull, admittedly, doesn't remember much after that. He just remembers hearing everyone yelling until they finally dragged him out of the Palace. 

"What were you thinking?!" Morgana yowls, tail lashing wildly. "You could've gotten us all killed with your recklessness! Do you have any idea how much you set our mission back?!" 

Ryuji doesn't answer. In fact, he doesn't even hear him. His mind is still caught up on Shadow Kaneshiro's words: " If I hadn't lost that pink-haired bitch to that stupid lizard, I woulda had me a fortune by then! " It…it can't be you, right? There's no way you'd be wrapped up in something like this. As much of a 'delinquent' you are, you're still a dedicated student-hell, you're probably the biggest reason why Ryuji's not flunking out of Shujin. You never would've let yourself get trapped like that. 

…right? 

"Leave him alone, Morgana," Makoto says, face tight. "What's done is done. We just need to focus on fixing it."

"Like we can, " Morgana grumbles. "The security in that Palace is going to be air-tight for a few days." His tail lashes as he lifts a paw to his chin, head tilted in thought. "But I do have an idea. He mentioned losing someone, correct? If we could distract him with-”

The cat doesn’t even get to finish. He yowls as Ryuji practically shoves him off the handrail, bouncing harmlessly on his feet. That doesn’t stop him from rounding on the blond with a hiss, or the others from shouting in various levels of dismay. 

“Ryuji, what the hell-”

“What are you doing-”

“-you asshole-”

It grates on Ryuji’s ears. It digs into his femur and starts to burn and burn until he can almost imagine it snapping, can almost feel the squeeze of the cast over his leg that he kept on taking off when he knew he shouldn’t because “it won’t heal properly” and and and-“Shut the hell up!” 

The strangers around them turn at once, their whispers and questioning glances only growing as Ann hisses at Ryuji to get himself together. He, however, does one better. He rounds on his feet and stalks away, muttering something about going home. 

He barely gets out of the station before he grabs a phone, barely thinking as he dials a number. It only takes two rings, just as it always does.

“ Yo, what’s up? ” 

“H-Hey-” Ryuji grimaces at the scratchiness in his throat. "Hey, uh, are you busy?"

" I'm at my… " You trail off, clasping a hand over the speakier. Still, he can hear you say, " Hey, can Ryuji come over? ", pause, then happily report, " Wanna come over? "

So he does. It's a nice, cozy little apartment complex in Kanda, and it's only hitting Ryuji now that he's never been to your house. He's pretty sure you used to live alone in your first year, but he guesses you moved. And when he's buzzed in and arrives at your apartment door, he's right: you're in your pjs and Dr. Maruki is cooking away in the kitchen with the frilliest, most you- altered apron he's ever seen. Where did you even get that much lace?

"Ah, Sakamoto-kun!" Dr. Maruki greets with a wave of his chopsticks. His brows pinch, mouth wavering before finally giving him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, if I'd known you were coming, I would have started cooking earlier."

Ryuji has to blink himself out of his shock. "I-Uh, nah, it's alright, Doc-Uh, Maruki-san…sir?" What exactly is he supposed to call him? It's not like they're in school right now, and his mom would probably smack him the second he gets home if she hears him disrespecting someone in their own house. "I'm not hungry."

"Just let him cook," you whisper quietly as you nudge him inside. "He won't let you leave until he sees you eat."

The inside of your apartment is…well, weird. There's furniture, but it's a weird mix of leather and wood that even Ryuji, as bad as he is at anything involving style, look completely out of place together. It almost reminds him of his own house, cobbled together with secondhand furniture and whatever smaller goods his mother could get ahold of. The small, round table (which he assumes is meant to be a dinner table despite being only big enough for one person) is already clogged with textbooks and homework, but you're quick to clear it up. 

"We're going to my room," you announce. "If you need any help, just yell."

"I-Wait, your room?" Dr. Maruki almost drops his chopsticks in surprise. "You-"

"I'll leave the door open, calm down." You heft your school supplies in your arms and smile at Ryuji. "C'mon, down here."

Ryuji hesitates at the threshold of your door. Your actual room is neat and tidy, with the only mess being a small, open medkit and the textbooks you lazily drop next to your school bag. There's nothing… girly about it, he guesses, but it still feels kind of weird just walking right in. Even more so when you flop on your bed and pat the empty space next to you. 

"So," you say once Ryuji finally sits on your bed, "what's wrong?"

"Wh-Wrong?" Ryuji scoffs, puffing up his chest. "I just wanted to hang out. Can't friends do that?" 

And he's asked to hang out plenty of times before. It shouldn't be any different. 

You only raise a brow and hug a pillow to your chest. "You do realize you have a giantass bruise on your face, right?" 

"I-Huh?" Ryuji touches his cheek the same moment you grab your mirror from your nightstand. There is, in fact, a giantass bruise forming on his face. "Crap, when did I…" 

You were just in the Metaverse, idiot, he tells himself. He must've gotten hit during his little…meltdown. 

Memories of Shadow Kaneshiro's words hit him like a damn fist to the face, and he must be scowling because you immediately sit up. "What happened?" you ask quickly. "You're not in trouble, are you? Do you need some ice?" 

"Nah, nah, calm down," Ryuji says. He tries to wave it off and gives you his best smile, but you're squinting at him and doing that weird, creepy stare that always leads to you asking him something stupid. He won't let you get him this time, though. "I just…I wanted to ask ya somethin'."

You blink quick, stare vanishing behind a cheerful smile. "What's up?" 

Ryuji opens his mouth, then stalls. He knows what he wants to ask, but there's that uncontrolled part of himself in Captain Kidd that's tying up his tongue. Where were you when our first school year ended? he wants to say. Why did you disappear? Why did you leave me? We're friends, aren't we? Why why why- But he chokes those down and tries to focus. This is serious, and there's more pressing concerns than you just going on vacation for a month or two. "You, uh…" he starts off, "ever know a guy named Kaneshiro Junya?" 

The moment he asks, he wishes he could take it back, because your eyes go wide and you tense like you're about to go sprinting out of here, but then you squeeze it shut, inhale, and sigh. When your eyes finally open back up, a shiver runs up Ryuji's spine. Slowly, you rise from your bed and creep towards the door. You peek out and, after a few seconds, turn and quickly shut and lock the doo-

Ryuji's pulse skyrockets. In his head, he can almost imagine Captain Kidd setting off fireworks. 

You press your back to the door, eyes steely and making Ryuji suddenly wish he was just a little bit more prepared for this. What this is? He has no idea. Maybe he's jumping to conclusions, but what else happens when you have two teens in a room with a bed and one of them looks like they're ready to tear the other into pieces? It doesn't help that it's you, his good friend who he may or may not have had a few awkward dreams about. Those have never left the confines of his mind, but now they're all crashing into him so hard he might pass out. 

"Ryuji," you call and fuck, he can't tell if he should be nervous or excited. You hook a foot under your chair and drag it over so that you can sit across from him. You hold out your hands and he drops his own in there almost instinctively, allowing your fingers to curl around his. This is it, he thinks, holy fucking-"Are you a Phantom Thief?" 

Ryuji nearly hits himself when he rips his hands away. "WHAT? Nooo, whaaaat?" He waves a hand and snorts hard, curling his fingers into his pants to keep them from shaking. "Whaddya mean, 'am I a Phantom Thief'? There's-hah-no way! Haha, ha…haAH-"

He outright yelps when you lunge, planting your hands outside of his hips and leaning in so close that the excitement that had disappeared when you asked returns full force. Ain't exactly how he imagined it-shouldn't he be the one leaning in, not leaning back?-but you're so close that he just wants to lean in and get it started. 

"Are you a Phantom Thief?" you repeat. For a brief moment, your stare softens with concern, and that hot-blooded excitement Ryuji feels melts into something soft that makes him want to reassure you that he's fine. "Because Niijima-senpai asked me a few days ago about this and then I heard from Mika that some Shujin students were getting in trouble and if that student is you- "

"Woah, no, hey," Ryuji cuts in when your knee starts to bounce. “I ain’t in any trouble with the guy.” Which is a complete and utter lie, but you already look like you’re about to start crying and he really does not want that.

You squint, eyes darting around his face. Whatever you see, you must decide it’s enough, because you flop back into your seat with a sigh. “Okay, good. I was gonna say that that is not a person to mess with.”

“Man, why the hell would you think I was involved with that kinda shit?” he asks, kicking your shin. 

“Uh, you were the one who asked first,” you counter. “If anything, I should be asking you that. Why’re you asking me?”

Ryuji opens his mouth, ready to explain, only to falter again. How the hell does he explain the Metaverse to you, let alone everything involving Kaneshiro’s shitty Shadow? He himself has enough trouble understanding how it works, and he’s learned from plenty of botched study sessions that he is definitely not a good teacher. And now that he’s thinking about it, he never really asked if you liked the Phantom Thieves. He’s sure you do…right?

“If I said I was a Phantom Thief,” he starts carefully, “what would you say? Y’know, hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically?” you echo. When he nods, you purse your lips in thought, then answer faster than he expects. “I’d probably stop being friends with you.”

“I-What? F’real?!”

“You do remember who my very good friend is, right?” you ask and duh, of course Ryuji remembers. It’s the bastard with a mop haircut who looks way too comfortable being around you. “If, hypothetically, you were a Phantom Thief, I’d pull back just to keep us both from getting in trouble. I’m not a snitch, but I don’t exactly agree with their actions, either.”

Ryuji blinks, mind still caught up on that pretty boy detective. “W-Whaddya mean?”

“I-I dunno.” You chew on your lip. “I mean, I’m not sure how they’re doing it, but it reminds me of those mental shutdown cases that’s been happening around town, right? A sudden, cognitive shift in a person that causes a drastic change in personality. Obviously, there’s no physical harm done, because I’m pretty sure Kamoshida would’ve been missing a few teeth or limbs, but, like if  they were messing with someone through their thoughts-” You stop, no doubt due to the way Ryuji’s looking at you like he just got hit with a pop exam. “I just…think it'd be safer to not be friends so that you wouldn't get in trouble and I wouldn't get arrested. Hypothetically."

Not be friends. Welp, that just solidifies Ryuji's decision. He…guesses he can understand that. You've put in a lot of work to get to where you are today, and he wouldn't want to drag you under just because you were friends with a delinquent like him. 

"So," you say, drawing him back in, "does that, like, have anything to do with why you think I'm involved with Kaneshiro?" 

Ryuji almost grimaces. Maybe he should lie. He did just say he didn't want to drag you down, but-

"Because if you are, hypothetically, targeting Kaneshiro Junya, I would approve." 

"Huh?" Ryuji perks up. "F'real?" 

"Of course I would. He…" Your expression wavers, proud smile sinking as the light in your eyes dim. For just a second, Ryuji wonders if you're about to pass out when you blink and squirm in your chair. "Guy's bad news, and when people play outside of the rules, it's only fair for the opponent to do the same, y'know?" 

A wave of relief crashes into Ryuji just then, sending his heart tumbling and rolling through his system as he nods quickly. "Yeah, I getcha. Trust me, we'll take care of that bastard." 

Your brows twitch before you snort. "...fuckin' knew it." 

"Huh?" Ryuji tilts his head, but when he meets your eyes, he swears he can feel his heart freeze. 

He never understood how your eyes do that, how they seem so harsh and cold in one moment then look like… this the next. He doesn't even know how to explain it. You're only looking at him like you just figured something out, like you just got the final winning card in Uno, or like that one time when he pretended to be your boyfriend for the entire day to take advantage of the couples' AND birthday discounts. You'd kept looking at him like you were afraid he would disappear if you blinked. He didn't get why then and he doesn't get why now, but he sure as hell would cuff himself to you just to keep your eyes on him. Just on him. No one else. Not that detective prince, not Mishima. Just…oh. Oh, fuck.

"Uh, Ryuji?" Fingers snap in front of his face, jolting him from his thoughts. "You good there?" 

"Huh?" Ryuji blinks quickly, heart pounding even faster when he meets your soft gaze again. "I-Uh, y-yeah! Yeah, I'm good! F-freakin' great, haha…" 

Totally great. Perfectly fine. He's had crushes before, but what he'd felt towards someone like Ann feels like a pebble compared to the giant boulder crushing his ribs. He'd seen you nearly every day for the past year, gone with you to every show you asked. He never could say no, and from the first time you spoke with him on the rooftop to now, his heart would beat just a little bit faster until it felt like Captain Kidd would come bursting out of him whenever he so much as saw you. Maybe Morgana and the others were right, maybe he is an idiot. How did he not notice before?

The thought of Morgana and the Phantom Thieves bring his thoughts to a halt. You'd been in Kaneshiro's Palace. A cognitive version of you, sure, but it's still you no less. If that fat bastard touched you at all, he swears he'll- he'll -

"Lilium!" 

Ryuji twitches when you rise from your chair. Your back is to him as you scoop something off the floor, and when you turn around, you're holding a pile of black noodles in your-The noodles shift. A rounded head with beady gold eyes appears, tongue flickering lazily as you giggle. 

"Aw, poor baby must've missed me," you coo as you tickle the snake's jaw. "Sneaking in under the door when I had it closed, you lil' rascal." 

Ryuji watches as the snake inches towards your face, rubbing its little snout against your cheek while you smile, and he's definitely screwed because he feels a little flare of jealousy in his chest at the sight. Jealous. Of a frickin' snake. He is so, so screwed. 

But when you turn to him, that same light is in your eye, and he swears he feels Captain Kidd light fireworks in his brain. "I gotta put him back before the other one escapes," you say, tilting your head towards the door. "You wanna see his enclosure? I made it myself."

And because you're you , Ryuji rises to his feet and stretches, trying to act like he didn't just realize he might love -He finishes off his stretch with a loud, satisfied groan. "Yeah, sure. Show the way, princess."

Does it matter that Dr. Maruki is literally standing there when you open the door? Does it matter that, for once, the good counselor looks angry? No, because as far as Ryuji is concerned, he would happily punch Dr. Maruki in the face if it means getting to stay by your side.

Chapter Text

Akira thinks there's something weird about you. 

He doesn't know how to describe it. Things just…don't add up. Maybe it's intuition. Maybe it's undeserved. Maybe he's just too high-strung after having to deal with a legitimate yakuza lord when he's only sixteen. But when Akira comes back after meeting with his friends and finds you sitting inside Café Leblanc, he can't help but feel like he might be in danger. 

You don't even greet him when the bell chimes, your eyes too glued to the newsfeed as the anchors talk about Kaneshiro Junya's influence around Shibuya. They talk about his victims, how men have disappeared trying to pay his debts, how even students were starting to fall prey to his terrible grasp. 

Akira eyes your shoulders, watching them hitch ever so slightly. Against his back, Morgana squirms in his bag. The teen braces himself for some kind of bitter hiss, but all the cat says is, "She's here."

You twitch in your seat, head whipping so fast it nearly knocks your beanie off in the process. There's a single, brief flash of panic, but it disappears without so much as a blink, and you lift your hand to greet him. "There you are! Was wondering where my favorite barista went."

"Oh?" Sojiro hums from behind the counter. "So I suppose you won't mind if I head out for the night, hm?" 

"You are?" You sit up, arching your back. "Then I should head out, too."

And maybe it's the exhaustion and curiosity on his mind, because Akira says, "I don't mind you staying," like he's some overeager tween trying to convince a girl to hang out when his parents aren't home. The way Sojiro smirks at him absolutely does not help.

You still hesitate, sinking back when Akira sets his bag on the counter. "You sure? I don't mind just swinging by tomorrow for a cup."

Akira only shakes his head. "I'll make you some now and walk you home." His eyes nearly dart up to the mugshot of Kaneshiro Junya on the screen behind you. He catches himself and settles for meeting your eyes, ignoring the approving nod Sojiro gives him. "It's not safe to be out alone."

This time, you lift a brow, and he almost worries he might have offended you when you finally sigh. Your body almost seems to deflate in relief. "Thanks, then." 

"I'll leave it to you, then," Sojiro says and, once again, unsubtly nods at Akira. It's the most approval he thinks he's ever seen the old man give that isn't related to his cooking. After giving out his well wishes and reminding the probation student to lock up properly, he heads out of the café, leaving Akira with the pink-haired delinquent. For another brief second, your eyes sharpen, sizing him up before you smile. 

"So," you say, "coffee?" 

Morgana sneaks up the stairs as Akira brews you a cup. It still unnerves him that, despite the encroaching heat and humidity of summer, you down the scalding cup like it's icy cold. He's sure you burnt your tongue in the process, but you just keep going until the cup is absolutely empty. 

"Ahhh," you sigh once you set it down. "Feels good." 

"I take cash tips," Akira offers. He takes your cup to wash in the sink as you snort. 

"Sure, I'll just…" Your voice trails off as the news report continues. There's street interviews on Shibuya now. Someone's holding up one of the Phantom Thief calling cards, chattering excitedly about how they must be real and how they're totally going to follow the thieves now! It makes Akira smile. At least, until he sees your calculative stare. 

He really doesn't get what Ryuji sees in you. Every time you do that little squint, it's like you're trying to pry apart the news with a pair of forceps and a scalpel. 

"You don't seem happy," he says aloud. 

You turn your head ever so slightly, just enough for him to see that look vanish in your eyes once more. "Just thinking, is all." When the commercials start to roll, you turn in your seat and rest your chin on your hand, smiling. It feels innocent and friendly, but his neck prickles. "Can I ask you a question?" 

An outing. It sounds innocuous enough, but Akira's own intuition is starting to squirm with discomfort. Is it because he didn't form some kind of bond with you like he has with his other confidants? He swears he can feel one just out of reach, but not once does that mysterious voice whisper to him whenever you speak, as if it's cowed into silence by your mere presence. There's something off with you and he just can't figure out why. In a way, it's as freeing as it is unnerving.

But you're still staring at him, waiting for some kind of answer, so he nods. 

"So," you start off, "have you ever heard about the Collective Unconscious?" 

Akira's lip twitches before he says, "Not really."

"Mm." You sit up and scoot closer. Finally, that creepy glint is replaced with excitement. "Wanna hear about it?" 

And this is something familiar, letting someone ramble to him about their problems and ideas while he adjusts his responses to help them along. So Akira settles against the counter and gestures for you to continue. 

"To, like, boil it down, it's a theory that all of humanity shares some intrinsic thoughts and ideas, called archetypes. There's also things like the Shadow of the Self and stuff." You pause to take a breath, gloved hands drumming against the counter. You look like you're about to continue, but you seem to rein it in and shrug. "It's a lot more complicated than that, but Dr. Maruki probably knows more if you're interested."

"Did he also promise you free snacks if you helped him with his research?"

"Hah! No, no. That was more my mom's thing," you say before glancing at the tv. "I was just…thinking about it. This and the mental shutdowns." 

Akira's lips purse. "And the Phantom Thieves?" 

"Maybe. Maybe…" Your lips curl before you let out a frustrated growl. With a fluid swipe of your hand, shove your beanie off, rake your fingers through your hair, and pull it back on before he can even catch a glimpse of the rest of your head. "I don't know. It's been bothering me. Like I'm looking at a script but someone decided to whiteout all the characters' names so I don't know who's talking." Your brows furrow hard. "Does…does that make sense?" 

"...no," Akira admits. "Not really." 

"That's fine. I'm focusing more on the whole 'changing hearts' thing. I was talking to Ryuji a few days ago, right? And I was thinking, 'it must be a cognitive thing that they're affecting' because cognitive behavioral therapy is a thing. However, it's not like someone just sat the targets down and forced them to go to therapy, it's like-like…" You gesture vaguely to the air, like you're waiting for some kind of sign. When nothing comes, you shake your head out. "I don't know. I feel like I'm close to something. Maybe they're brain surgeons or something. Or-or some kind of hypnotist…" Your back straightens. "Wait. That might actually be something."

"That the Phantom Thieves are hypnotists?" Akira asks. 

"N-No, I mean…" You squirm in your seat, eyes darting around the wall like you're looking for a camera or something. Whether it's from the caffeine or excitement, he can't tell. What he does see is your eyes go to your bare wrist, growl, then reach for your phone to check the time. "I should…probably get out of your hair." 

"That eager to run from me?"

"More like I feel bad taking up your time," you admit casually. "That and your coffee. And I don't think your cat likes me all too much."

"Who, Morgana?" Akira glances cautiously at the staircase, where the cat's blue eyes seem to stretch wide before he scurries up the stairs. "He's just…catty."

"Eugh, ew, no more dad jokes. I hear them enough at home." With that, you slide off the stool, grabbing your bag. "Thanks for the coffee again, Kurusu-kun. If you need me, just-"

"Wait." Akira tugs off his apron, slipping around the counter before you can protest. "I said I'd walk you home, didn't I?"  And now he really sounds like an overeager tween. It's almost depressing. He has his reasons, though, and all of it has to do with the officer being interviewed right now. Kaneshiro Junya's influence is vast, he says, and with his absence, the crime rate will spike now more than ever while other criminals attempt to steal what he left behind. 

It's not safe. Especially for you. 

You, thankfully, don't protest, and as Akira locks the door to the café, he realizes that this is technically the first time he's ever hung out with you alone since your first encounter. Most of the time, your conversations were just short, friendly banter in the school halls. Outside of school, though…he doesn't know much else about you. Huh. 

"You don't seem happy."

Akira catches your tired smile in his peripherals. It disappears when he faces you, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes either.

"Just thinking," he says, and with the quiet snort you let out at your own words being thrown at your face, he can't help but add, "Can I ask a question this time?" 

"Sure, go ahead."

"Where were you when the school semester started?" 

Akira's heart falters at your empty stare. That's not what he meant to ask. Not at all. He knows how to read a person and where their boundaries lie, and he knows he just vaulted so far over yours that he could qualify for the Olympics. Is it possible for confidant ranks to break? He doesn't even have a bond with you and yet he's sinking into the red-

"Yeah, I should've expected that," you sigh. Your shoulders go slack and your stance slouches until you hit Akira with an exhausted smile. "You're friends with Ryuji, after all."

You don't speak for the first ten minutes of your walk. Akira doesn't push you. He just follows at your side as you start taking random alleyways and paths, leading him somewhere deeper into the city. Even at night, the humidity clings to his skin and dampens his palms. Just the humidity, he tells himself, nothing more. 

"I'll answer your question, by the way," you say fifteen minutes in. "I'm just trying to think. And…uh, we're going to Shibuya." 

"Shibuya?' he echoes. "Is that safe? Kaneshiro-"

"-is arrested and I want to go somewhere," you cut in sharply before stopping. He nearly runs into you as your shoulders hunch. "Sorry, I just-If that's alright with you. I just wanted to go somewhere. You don't have to follow. I just don't feel like turning in just yet." 

"I'm not letting you walk through Shibuya alone," Akira says quickly. Your hair sticks out like a sore thumb and he clearly upset you, so it's only fair. He thinks about all of this and adds, "Ryuji would kill me if I did." 

It makes you laugh. Nothing big, but it at least feels genuine. "I don't think Ryuji's the one you should be worried about." 

It takes roughly thirty minutes to get to Shibuya on foot. The crowded streets and bustling nightlife forces Akira to hover close to your back, but you seem right at home, slipping through the people without fear. Against the flow, you lead him towards the seedier storefronts, then dip into an alleyway untouched by the streetlamps. He almost wonders if all your friendliness was a cover to murder him until you stop at a door and crouch. 

"Wonder if they changed the lock on this," you say before plucking a pin from your beanie. With a few careful flicks and a twist of your wrist, you laugh. "Guess not." You nudge the door open and give Akira a sweeping bow. "After you, good sir."

Where he ends up is…empty. Ceiling panels pepper the floor, walls crumble and choke the humid air with dust. Through it, Akira can smell the rusting metal of pipes and window frames, heightened only by the fresh scent of earth and greenery. As you lead him through the floors, he catches glimpses of life drawn on the floors and walls, painted symbols that must have meant something to whoever broke in. On the highest floor, you lean against the door to the roof, sigh, then promptly kick it down with so much force that Akira's own body aches in sympathy. 

The rooftop itself seems to be teeming with plantlife. It must have been a rooftop garden, abandoned along with the rest of the building. Without any working lights, he's forced to rely on the lights from several stories below as he follows you to the edge of the roof. You sit onto the ledge without hesitation, and Akira finally follows your example when you pat the ground to your side. 

It's odd, he thinks as the crowds shift. Thousands of heads bumbling around, ignorant of their stares, chatting the night away. Up here, the nightlife of Shibuya looks like nothing more than a colony of ants. 

"I used to come up here a lot," you say without a hint of fear. "Kaneshiro's men couldn't find me whenever I sat up here. I used to tell myself that I'd just live my days out here, like a bum, but then I'd think about everything and head back down after, like, an hour." You let out a short laugh and lean over to watch the crowds. "But it's kinda nice, right? Just a fun place to hang out when you don't want to be bothered?" 

Akira watches you, both out of caution in case you fall and curiosity. You're admitting to being one of Kaneshiro's victims? Just like that? Why?

"Because you asked." Your eyes twinkle, a flicker of gold from the neon lights that disappears the moment you stare at the clouds. "I left because I was emotionally tired and I almost died. Maruki thought it would be better if I stayed with him for a bit until things were safer. That's…about it, really." 

It takes a moment for the words to catch up to Akira. "You almost died?" 

"Yeah. Wouldn't be the first attempt on my life but…" You shrug. "Y'know."

No. No, he does not know. Akira's been arrested and has a criminal record but he hasn't been-Well, he has almost died in the Metaverse. A few close calls with the wrong Shadows has put him out of commission more times than he cares to admit. 

But dying at the hands of a little pixie feels almost comedic compared to the hands of a human. 

"So," you say and nudge his side, "the healthy response to this should be 'You're very brave for telling me this. Thank you'."

That does sound like a healthy response to this. When Akira opens his mouth, he says, "I was arrested for assault."

Also wasn't what he meant to say. It's almost impressive how painful the embarrassment is the moment he shuts his mouth, like someone just took his heart and set it ablaze. You don't seem to be startled by it, at least. "I heard from Yuuki," you say, eyes darting from his face to the cityscape. "I imagine you assaulted some bigshot, huh?" 

"How could you tell?" 

"Intuition." Your eyes twinkle once more when you chuckle. "And, also, that's why I disappeared for a month. I bit some guy so hard I drew blood, then him and all his friends…" 

'I made sure that bitch knew her place,' Shadow Kaneshiro had sneered. ' She's a fighter, I'll give her that, but that don't mean crap when you have a whole city under your heel.'

In the lowlight of the billboards, your eyes have gone dull. Empty. Akira didn't even think that was possible for you. After all, you were the one who gave it your best, who smiled like your life depended on it. Everyone who Akira trusted their opinions on thought you were incredible, trustworthy. Someone they could easily turn to with their problems because…you knew exactly what role to play. 

"...life sucks," he says quietly.

"...it does." Your head slowly droops as you lean forward to eye the crowds below. "At least up here, I can pretend that it doesn't. Just for a little while." You take a single, shaky inhale before sitting up with a grimace. "That got really dark really fast. Sorry."

"Don't be." Akira almost squirms under your gaze. He wonders if he looks just as tired as you do. He certainly feels as much. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one who feels like that."

"Yeah, you don't need to pretend in front of me. Honestly, it scares the shit out of me that you can do that." You nod to yourself, apparently satisfied and missing the flash of panic Akira knows crosses his face. What do you mean by ‘that’? "You sure you don't want to join the drama club?" 

"No thanks." He clamps down on the panic hard, stuffing it behind a smug little smile. "I hear there's a demon there."

Your head snaps up so quickly, Akira worries you might've hurt yourself until you bark out a laugh and-and it's weird. Very weird. With the way your eyes soften now? If that's how you look whenever you aren't dissecting his every word, when you're looking at him like he's a friend …he can see why Ryuji likes you so much.

"Alright, enough depressing topics," you announce. "What other weird icebreakers can we do besides trauma dumping on each other?" 

Akira hums in thought. How does he normally initiate confidants? He tends to just stumble into them like it's…

"Do you believe in destiny?" you ask suddenly, ripping the thought right out of his mind. "Like, fate."

"Not…really." Memories of his arrest churn in the back of Akira's mind, almost numb under your curious gaze. "Why?"

"Just thinking." You finally break the impromptu staring contest, nodding in satisfaction. "I don't either, but I still think it's interesting that, after fate threw all of this horrible shit at me, some good things still manage to happen. It makes thinking about the future easier, if it's real."

Akira's eyes flutter before he hums, leaning over just far enough to catch your gaze once more, just a hint of his usual bravado and charm finally coming through. "So it was fate that we met?" 

"I would think so." You barely flinch at the suggestive question. "Maybe our fates were intertwined, and that we were destined to be together here. Perhaps…" Slowly, you close the distance between him, eyes darting from his lips to his eyes and tensing every muscle in his body under your overwhelming charm. "We're soulmates?" 

Uh oh. Akira blinks, trying (and failing) to come up with a response. Agree? Disagree? You are best friends with Ryuji and Mishima, and Akira isn't dumb enough to pretend like one of them isn't in love with you. This is what he gets for testing his luck with someone he doesn't have a bond with. Whatever Arcana you're in, he seriously needs to find a Persona for it. But he still needs a response, so he settles on the most classic romance trope he can think of: "Star-crossed lovers, perhaps?" 

And that makes you snort and sit back, dispelling the sudden tension he'd felt with a single laugh. "That would imply that one of us is going to die at the end of this, Kurusu-kun. Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy for a reason." 

Akira lets out the rest of the tension with his own chuckle. "Guess I should study a bit more before exams start, then."

"Probably." You wiggle in your seat, squirming like an overeager puppy. "It's a common misconception, though! Over time, the perception of Romeo and Juliet's story has been misconstrued as a beautiful romance, highlighted by their struggle to defy their families' expectations, only to perish in the end. It doesn't help that the perception of tragedies is so negative."

"How come?"

Your mouth opens, falters, then twists nervously. "It's a really long explanation. I don't think you want me to dump all of this on you." 

Akira blinks, and it takes him a moment to remember that this is only the second time he's hung out with you. Bonding over trauma is simple enough, but over something he may not share a genuine interest in is a bit harder. Odd, he thinks. It feels like…longer. Like he's met you before or…or had this conversation with you already. Like you were…

Syzygy.

Akira's heart plummets. He jerks back, eyes flying to the roof entrance. There's nothing there, but he swears he can feel the cold, cloying air of the Velvet Room creeping across his skin, pinned in place by Igor's unblinking stare. His pulse quickens with adrenaline, the same panic he'd felt when they'd fastened cuffs on him returning tenfold. He's in trouble. 

It takes a moment for him to convince himself that he's safe. After all, Igor isn't capable of leaving the Velvet Room. If it was important, Caroline and Justine would have come for him. He knows there isn't an entrance here, but-

A low, ominous rumble shakes the building, startling Akira out of his panic. You let out a swear just as a warm droplet splats against his forehead, hopping to your feet. "Goro's place isn't far from here," you say, giving his shoulder a gentle swat. "You got an umbrella?" 

"Nope."

"Same. Hope you're good at running in the rain, then." Lightning arcs across the sky. For just a second, Akira swears your eyes are glowing like the sun as you offer a gloved hand to him. "Ready?" 

Nope. He grips your hand tight and pulls himself up. "Ready." 

Chapter Text

Goro remembers when you lost your first tooth. 

Mainly because you'd lost it in a brawl with another kid who'd pushed Goro down the stairs. You ended up on the floor inches away from him with blood dripping from your nose and your mouth, but you were also on top of his pusher, tearing out fistfuls of hair and screaming like a demon straight out of hell. 

Goro thinks that that might've been the first time he felt something more than his normal, protective love for you. He also recalls that, after that fight, he'd experienced his first ‘dream’. You'd been in it, pinning him down with that same feral smile and…It was a very awkward week.

Goro is only thinking of this because he used to be the one to always patch you up after your fights, and now he's laying on his bathroom floor with a towel stuffed in his mouth while you're sitting next to him lotus-style, needle in hand.

"Ready?" you call. 

"Mhm," Goro grunts out. 

Fingers prod at his side, stretching the skin around the gash across his back. "Okay, starting… now- "

Goro tries not to make a sound as the needle pokes his skin. He forces the urge to grimace and snarl down down down until his toes curl with discomfort. Another poke, another tug of his skin. One stitch down. 

"Y'know," you say, voice remarkably steady as you begin the next, "this would be a good time to tell me what the hell you did to get a cut this bad."

Goro rolls his eyes and says, "Mrph," which roughly translates into " No ", which is the same answer he's given you for the past two years. 

"Interesting answer to give to the doctor patching you up," you huff. Another tug, another grimace. "You owe me at least that much."

He does, but he spits out the towel just enough to grumble, “Can you just focus, please?”

“Hey, I’m doing just fine,” you say and pierce his skin again. “I know how to handle a needle.”

And he doesn’t doubt it. Why else would he have asked you to sew him back up? Still, Goro doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being right, so he reminds you that you had to look up how to sew a human fifteen minutes ago. Plus, you threw up in the kitchen sink before that.

“Oh, forgive me for not being able to stomach you bleeding out all over your floor,” you snap just as he winces. Your hands still, gently pressing into his skin to try and numb the sensation before glaring again. “I was about to apologize, but you deserve that. You’re being a dick.”

A flicker of guilt flutters in Goro’s chest, but he sinks his teeth back into the towel and sighs, “Jus’ hurry up, please.”

You try. For all of your confidence with a needle, you keep your phone nearby and unlocked at all times, just in case an emergency happens and you need to look something up. You mutter apologies every time he twitches because of course you do, and he reaches back to grab your knee. He gives it a firm squeeze and glares at you until you roll your eyes. “Okay, okay, almost done. Just one more.” 

In the end, the Giant Slice that had hit Goro takes twelve stitches. He still doesn’t know how he made it back to his apartment without passing out from blood loss. It’s not like his Persona knows any healing spells. All he remembers at this point is hearing your voice, reminding him that tonight was movie night and to hurry home already. A hallucination he must have conjured up on the brink of dying, he thinks, but at least it worked. 

Even if you're mad at him now. 

"Think you can make it to your couch?" you ask. "I want to mop up this place before the blood starts to…dry, I guess."

"Jus' leave it," Goro mutters. Just imagining the effort makes his stomach curl.

"Well, you can't sleep in here," you say. A soft touch ghosts through his hair before you sigh. "Come on. I'm gonna wrap you up and move you to the kitchen."

Goro doesn't protest, swallowing the discomfort as you start to push him up. You're warmer than usual (or he's just cold from, well, blood loss ), and he decides the reason why he shuts his eyes is because he's exhausted and not because you're currently shirtless. "Why are you shirtless?"

"Not the biggest fan of wearing a shirt soaked in blood," you say as you fasten the gauze around his torso. "It was one of yours, anyway. I'll just steal another one.”

"Don't you dare."

"Considering you keep lying to me, I think I deserve to steal your entire closet," you bite before muttering, "Not like I would want to. You and your… vests. "

Of all the things to focus on…Goro blinks his eyes open just to stare at you. There is anger in your scowl and the way you tighten the knot just a little too tight, but you slip in a joke at the last moment and step back from the anger you deserve to feel towards him. It was his role to hold onto grudges between you and him, to remind you that not everything should be forgiven and forgotten. 

You deserve to be mad at him. Goro shuts his eyes in defeat, slumped against the back of the cabinets as you sit against the opposite wall. You have every right to be mad at him. 

"Goro, you know I trust you, right?" you call out weakly. "And you trust me, right?"

Goro swallows and forces out, "...I do."

"Okay, good. So, you trust me when I say that I think you're going to die if you keep on doing whatever it is you're doing…" Your voice wavers. It takes Goro more effort than he cares to admit to keep his eyes shut. "Right?" 

You should hate him, he tells himself. You should. He doesn't deserve to have your help, your support, your love- A quiet sniffle is all it takes for Goro's eyes to snap open. You're already trying to wipe it away, about to apologize when he blurts out, "I'm sorry." 

Your shoulders hunch in offense. "N-Nope, don't-not when I'm crying-"

"I'm not apologizing because you're crying," he says right after because he knows you and knows you're stupid and think everything is your fault. "I'm…apologizing because I was wrong." And because as much as he doesn't deserve your support, he knows he wouldn't be able to stop you if he tried. 

"Oh." You sniffle again, nose wrinkling. After a moment, you clear your throat and say, "Does that mean you're gonna tell me what the hell you've been doing? Or are you just gonna say it's for my own safety that I don't know."

Goro musters up the energy to roll his eyes, then actually tries to think. It wouldn't be safe to tell you everything. He doesn't want his father going anywhere near you. Knowing you and your creepy sixth sense, though, you'd stumble across something eventually and get yourself in trouble. And…well, he remembers Ms. Karin and her experiments with Dr. Maruki. 

"...do you remember that theory you told me?" he asks. "About how the Phantom Thieves were able to initiate a change in heart?" 

Your brows furrow only for a moment before your entire body lurches upright. "You're kidding. "

"Nope."

"But you said-" 

"I…lied." Goro grits his teeth as he tries to sit up. He doesn't really make it far, but you cross the distance for him and grab his hand. "I didn't think it'd get this bad." 

Your grip on his hand tightens, dropping to sit in the gap between his legs. "But you're saying it's true?" 

"...yeah. And it's dangerous, which is why I haven't told you, because I know you'd try to find some way to investigate on your own."

Finally, your lips lift in an amused smile. "Calling me a nosy bitch, huh?" 

Goro only rolls his eyes again, but he can't help but mirror your smirk. "I know I'm right." 

You hum, eyes drifting down to the gauze around his torso. "Is it…bad to say I had a feeling?" you ask as you start to wring your hands. "I knew something had to be going on. There's no way you were getting banged up from climbing…well, minus the-"

"The ankle sprain was because I landed wrong." Barely off the ground, too. It was a humiliating injury to admit to, which is why Goro never did. 

It gets a quiet snicker out of you, even as you sit back to stare at the ceiling. "Another world influenced by cognition…" you whisper in awe. "Knew I was onto something earlier when I told Ryuji."

Something twinges in Goro's gut. He knows you've had your theories, but knowing that subjects of interest had heard it-No, no. You know better than to let things slip out like this. 

"This is a secret, by the way," he still says, to which you roll your eyes and lean forward until-

"I'm not an idiot, Goro." You peck him between the brows, then rest your forehead against his and sigh. "I'm just glad you told me. At least I know you aren't getting stabbed in a back alley or something." 

Goro doesn't have the strength to tell you he's basically fighting in a back alley against a bunch of monsters, but it doesn't matter. He just relaxes into the gesture and soaks in your warmth. 

"...can I see it?"

There goes the peace. "No."

"I'm gonna try to find a way to go over, Goro, you know that."

"You won't be able to."

"So there's a specific way?"

"...N-"

"Is it on your phone?" 

Goro's eyes fly open, and all he manages is a sharp inhale before your face lights up so-so beautifully it destroys whatever protests he has left. You always are, whether you're smiling or sobbing or elbow deep in the ugliest monstrosity that you call a dress. And now, high on the fact that the lies he'd woven for years snapped under a single tear, he thinks he would bleed himself dry if it meant keeping you like this.

You tense when his finger brushes your cheek, tucking a stray chunk of hair behind your ear. He’s close enough that he could just…kiss you, if he really wanted. 

But he’s also dying of blood loss, so he pats your cheek and mumbles, “I fucking hate you,” before his body hits the ground. He thinks he hears your panicked shout, but his mind is already going dark.

"Goro, I swear if you die on me now, I'll bring you back just to kill you myself-Why are you smiling?!"

Goro just blinks. He should feel a bit more worried, he thinks, but he’s sure he’ll be fine. He has you.

Chapter Text

“You never take your gloves off, do you?”

You blink out of your nap, eyeing Yusuke as he stares at your hands. The gloves are different from the last time he saw you, more mesh and velcro than pretty lace and bows. He imagines it must be to avoid sweat. Smart.

“Is that what you’re into?” you ask. “Fingers?”
“No.” Yusuke glances at the half-finished outline of his canvas. He’d already drawn out your frame sprawled across the couch, languid and content like a serpent sunbathing. “There are different features in every person that I find appealing. I was merely stating an observation.”

You huff and close your eyes. “Mm.” After a moment, you flex your hand. “I do take them off if I have to. When I shower and stuff.”

“When you shower?”

One sharp eye snaps open. He can feel your heavy stare from the corner of his eye, but he just focuses on outlining the beanie pinned to your hair until you look away. “Yeah. Don’t exactly like wearing wet gloves.”

Yusuke imagines it would feel terribly unpleasant, like when he’s trying on specific cotton blend shirts. “Why do you wear them, then?” 

“Why do you-” You cut yourself off, exhaling slowly as you draw your arms in. He almost protests, but you maintain the same posture as before and he’d already gotten your arms and hands drawn, so it won’t make much of a difference. “It’s just…fashion. You have an eye for aesthetics, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ve been told what I find beautiful to be a bit…bizarre.” 

Your lips twitch, a friendly smile drawing his attention from his canvas. “Yeah, Ryuji told me. That’s how you guys became friends, right? You chased down Takamaki-san and begged her to be your model.” 

Yusuke hums, head tilting. “Takamaki-san has a natural beauty that is rarely found in Japan.” 

“Didn’t you also ask for her to model nude?” You let out a light little laugh when he nods. “Very forward of you, Kitagawa-san. Impressive.” 

“Are you being sarcastic?” 

“No. I appreciate it when people are straight-forward. Makes my job easier.”

Is that so? Yusuke knows you’re a fan of theater, which often encompasses an in-depth knowledge of human emotion and the ability to portray them on stage. Granted, you seem to favor working backstage than under the spotlight, but he digresses. If you appreciate candidness, then…The young artist leans over to look you directly in the eye. “Would you like to model for me, then? Nude, I mean.”

“Nope.” You stretch out your arms, wiggling your fingered gloves at him. “Trust me, if you saw me naked, all the magic would be gone.” 

“Magic?” Yusuke eyes your outfit, your long sleeves and skirt. Quite conservative, especially for one such as yourself. Now that he thinks about it, he has yet to see you in anything other than long sleeves. Maybe you just prefer them, much like himself. He returns to the portrait with brows furrowed. “I doubt that will be an issue. Beauty lies beyond the skin.” 

He hears the rip of velcro pulling velcro and looks up just as you tighten the strap of your gloves. “Thanks, Kitagawa-kun.” You flex your hand so tight it begins to tremble, relaxing only after a deep sigh. “Still not going in nude. You’ll have to pay me, first.”

Chapter Text

Café Leblanc is haunted and it’s all that new kid’s fault.

Futaba growls and tugs on her roots, glaring at her screen as the error pop-up reappears. This is the fifth time her antivirus software for her bugs has been shut off like this and she’s really starting to debate if she has the strength to step out and check on the hardware herself. 

( You don’t, you useless child. ) 

But what can she do, then? She can’t ask Sojiro to grab them for her, he doesn’t even know they’re really there. Besides, he’s awful with technology. He’d probably break something without even trying. 

But she can’t afford to not do something. If she wants the change of heart to work, she needs to make sure she can reliably contact the Phantom Thieves and not risk everything falling apart because of some stupid ghost ruining her plans. 

( You always ruin everything you touch. )

“Stop it,” Futaba hisses before hammering away on her keyboard. 

hey are you awake :[Alibaba]

its still not working and its driving me insane :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: It isn’t?

[Spider Murphy]: That’s insane. I’ve checked over all of your stuff and I don’t see anything wrong. 

[Spider Murphy]: I’d offer to go check the hardware for you, but…

doubt we’d be able to explain whats going on to sojiro :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: Yeah…

[Spider Murphy]: Do you really think it’s that new guy’s fault, though?

its gotta be :[Alibaba]

dude talks to himself/the cat all the time first off :[Alibaba]

secondly he’s a you know :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: Yeah, I know.

[Spider Murphy]: But I’ve been thinking, right? 

[Spider Murphy]: I get weird tech problems whenever my brother visits the house. Not always, but this one time we tried to record him dyeing my hair and the video came out super bad. 

bad how? :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: Super corrupted. 

[Spider Murphy]: You couldn’t even understand half of the stuff we were saying.

weird :[Alibaba]

wait you have a brother?? :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: Yeah! 

[Spider Murphy]: Well, he kinda just goes by whatever pronouns a person calls them, and I got used to calling him my brother as a joke that it stuck. 

[Spider Murphy]: But I mean

[Spider Murphy]: At risk of exposing him, though

[Spider Murphy]: He goes to Leblanc. 

he does??? :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: Yeah. He’s friends with the new guy. 

[Spider Murphy]: Apparently his pet cat hates him. 

 wow is he that hateable :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: No, I think the cat just hates him specifically. 

[Spider Murphy]: Still, when was the last time your bugs went out? Maybe he was there.

Uh…last thursday apparently? :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: Okay one sec, let me text him.

Futaba cocks her head as she waits. A person is screwing up the bugs with their mere presence? That sounds ridiculous. Then again, cognitive psience is ridiculous and yet Mom…

[Spider Murphy]: Okay so not to make him sound evil or anything

[Spider Murphy]: But he was definitely there on Thursday. Apparently he picked up some coffee to bring to his boyfriend.

…huh :[Alibaba]

your brother isnt a demon or something right :[Alibaba]

[Spider Murphy]: He’s into musicals. Does that count?

100% :[Alibaba]

Futaba huffs and pulls up the messenger program she uses for the Phantom Thieves. So maybe you’re screwing with her system. Fine. She has other ways of gathering information on you. 

And yet, the second she taps into the new guy’s phone to read his messages, another roll of thunder rattles her window, taking the power out with it. 

“AAAHH!” Futaba throws her arms over her head. Behind her, something slams into the wall, then clatters against the floor. “What the-” She holds her hands before her, grasping at air. “Oh no, my phone!” 

She spins in her chair, grumbling in annoyance as she massages her eyes. It’s too dark to see. The power should have kicked back on by now! Does she have to go reset it herself? How annoying. 

Futaba slips out of her seat and shuffles towards the door, pouring all of her focus into fumbling her way down the stairs and not the hushed voices making it past her headphones. Just auditory hallucinations. They aren’t real. They’re something her mind made up, just like the cluster of shadows at the bottom of the stairs. They aren’t real, too, and she can walk through them just-

The shadow slowly turns. Lightning illuminates a pale face and glowing red eyes, cruel and certainly demonic. 

Futaba screams. The demon screams back. 

It is the fastest Futaba has ever run in her life.

Chapter Text

It happens innocently. Just one simple morning in summer, when Takuto manages to make you an incredible American-style breakfast. You're not usually up at the same time as him, but you're apparently going to go meet with a friend to “go on an adventure” and have to take the early train to beat the traffic. Still, you're moving quite groggily, so when Takuto sets down a cup of fresh coffee for you and you mumble out a, "Thanks, Dad,", he tries not to panic. After all, it has happened on two separate occasions, and while the first one was spat with pure and utter disdain, the second had been followed up with panicked and harsh denial.

So Takuto braces himself for it, that quick and instant correction to remind you aren't his child. It's not like he doesn't know that. You've met your actual father before. Takuto has met him a handful of times himself. And when you stand next to Takuto, the physical differences couldn't be any more apparent. So he just sits down, picks up his own utensils, and starts to eat.

When everything is finished, you mutter, "Today marks a year since I moved in."

Takuto's heart almost stops. He remembers. Move-in day had actually been three whole days of non-stop activity, from unpacking to emotional breakdowns until you were both so exhausted trying to build your bedframe that you fell asleep on the floor with him.

"It has?" he says. When you nod, he hums and smiles. "Time flies, huh?"

A wrinkle forms between your brows as you clench your hand. You aren't wearing your gloves, but he keeps his gaze firmly on your face when you ask, "...do you regret adopting me?"

"Of course not," flies right out of him before he catches himself. Now that he's looking at it, the bags under your eyes seem heavier than before, and you keep drooping towards the table like you're about to pass out. He knows you've been having some rough nights, but..."Why do you ask?"

Your fingers curl, trembling from the force. Usually it takes you a few hours of stretching to get rid of the tremors. It's too early in the morning for this. "I just...I don't know. I caused you so much trouble when I was younger. I kept on running away, a-and I was such a dick to you every time you tried to reach out and I-I thought-I just-maybe it would've been better off if you never adopt-"

Your words disappear under a tidal wave of gasps, jaw clenched and glaring at the table like you're trying to set it on fire. Tears still escape; you glare at those too, and Takuto almost thinks it might start evaporating. Always too proud to cry out loud. Too proud or...too scared.

Takuto rises from his seat, steps around the side of the table, and crouches right in front of you. It makes his knees crack in protest, but it also makes you snort, so he decides it's worth it.

"I...forgot that today marks an entire year," Takuto admits, "but that's more because...well, it feels right. Like you've been living here forever." He chuckles when your eyes snap towards him, a sharp, gunmetal gray that you'd inherited (the only thing you'd inherited) from your actual father. "Not that I'm trying to make an excuse, but-" But he'd considered you family the moment Karin let him hold you. It'd only been once, but you'd grabbed his shirt so tight he thought he would have to let you keep it just to get away. The memory makes Takuto smile. "-this house was always yours. You just had to move in."

Your eyes shimmer, even as you roll them hard. "Okay, okay. I get it. Don't have to make it so dramatic." You clear your throat and reach for your coffee, mumbling something about not wanting it to get cold before draining it in one harsh gulp. “I gotta get ready.”

Then you are out of the room, leaving Takuto to clean the mess up on his own. When you emerge, you’re dressed in exercise clothes he’s never seen before. You drop by the front door to tug on some sneakers, then grab the handle.

“Be safe,” he calls out of habit. He knows you won’t respond - never have in the months you’ve lived with him, but it never hurts to be consistent. A reliable, consistent foundation is key to developing trust with your children…even if you aren’t his. 

So Takuto carries on cleaning and nearly drops the plate when you come stomping back to hug him. At this awkward side angle, your head hits his shoulder, but you still work to snake both arms around him and basically head bump him like a cat trying to get his attention. Unfortunately, the metal plate on the front of your beanie makes it hurt more than it should, but Takuto doesn't mind when you mumble,  “I’uv you,” into his sleeve. 

For a moment, all Takuto can hear is the rush of the faucet before him, hot water barely noticeable compared to the sudden warmth blooming in his chest. You’re still hiding your face in his shoulder. Meeting your genuine expression of emotion with teasing will only convince you to never do it again. Maybe when you’re older, off on your own, living happily with friends and a nice job and maybe even a partner, he will tease you for it. For now, he smiles and presses a quick kiss atop your beanie, then squishes his cheek over your head. “I love you, too.” 

Your grip seems to loosen, only to double down a second later. All too soon, you’re pulling away to readjust your beanie, patting your pockets to make sure everything is in place. “Okay, I’m leaving now. Bye.”

“Alright,” Takuto says with a laugh. “Be safe! And be back in time for dinner!”

Chapter Text

It’s not the first time Kaoru’s seen you like this. You’ve swung by the house plenty of times before, obligingly sitting down to let him help you while Dad went out to deal with some ‘sudden business’ he has to take care of. It’s died down since you moved in with your…Uncle? Legal guardian? The doctor that used to work with your mother. He was able to keep you out of trouble for a while when Dad couldn’t. So, what happened now?

“You’re staring at my arms, aren’t you?”

Kaoru flushes as you continue brushing purple goop into his hair. Since he opted to forgo bleaching his hair first, the most it will do is tint, but you insisted that his hair would look beautiful on sunny days. Still, you’ve dyed and cut your friend’s hair plenty; the purple splotches on your arms isn’t dye.

“Sorry,” Kaoru says quietly. “I was just…surprised.” 

“Really?” You smile at his reflection. “I’ve been bruised pretty bad before.”

“Yeah, but…it’s been a while.” Kaoru follows your splotchy forearm, brows knitting. “Did you get in another fight?” 

“Nah, if I got in a fight, I wouldn’t be this banged up.” You nod, confident and apparently forgetting what you looked like after The Incident that forced you to move in with your current guardian. “Do you remember my friend?”

“The detective guy?”

“Yeah. I found this abandoned subway system that I wanted to go check out, so we went in.” 

Kaoru’s nose scrunches. “That sounds really dangerous.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I brought him along.”

Sometimes, Kaoru forgets that you are pretty stupid. “But you still got pretty hurt,” he says pointedly. “What in the world happened?”

“Oh, so-” You set the brush back in the bowl and hold up your hand, forming a steep slope against your other arm. “There was, like, this wall covered in papers and graffiti, right? I leaned against it and-” You push the straight arm back, forcing the slope to crumble alongside it. “Boom. Everything came falling down.” You let out a triumphant laugh, missing Kaoru’s mortified face. “Buncha stuff fell all over me, went tumbling down the hill, landed on the train tracks. Stuff was wild.”

“I-What?! More than wild ,” Kaoru shouts. “Are you okay?! Did you break anything?!”

“No?” You hold out your arms as proof. “Just a little banged up. Goro carried me back home and made sure I got some rest.”

Kaoru almost wants to poke your ribs, just to see if you’d react, but he settles for a low groan. “Did you at least go to a doctor?”

Finally, you drop your arms and shrink back, laughing nervously. “I…no?” 

Unsurprising. You’re practically a walking pharmacy with all of the emergency supplies you keep in your bag. Still, you tut and pick up the brush, pointedly glaring at the back of Kaoru’s head as you return to your work.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you say and smear more dye into his hair. “If it was an issue, I would have called.”

No, you wouldn’t. Kaoru bites his tongue quickly, but the bitterness lingers. Early memories were fraught with rage, with slammed doors and an empty room that he never stepped foot in. You only came home when you were too scared to face your current guardian, when you had no other choice.

It’s gotten better, but it’s only been a few months. Kaoru doesn’t know how long it will last. 

The sound of the front door unlocking startles Kaoru from his thoughts. “I’m home,” Dad calls lazily. 

“Welcome back,” Kaoru returns. The bathroom they’re in is right by the door, so he waits until his dad appears in the mirror to smile. “I’m getting my hair done.”

You chuckle and tap the brush against the bowl. Somehow, you’d pulled your sleeves down to hide your forearms when he wasn’t looking. “Yeah, want me to touch up your head, too?” 

Dad scowls, and years of witnessing his bad temper first hand makes Kaoru’s back tense. It isn’t directed at him, though. It never is. 

“Did you take something from my store the other day?”

Your brow furrows in genuine confusion. “Uh, no? I haven’t been around since…last time I visited. Why?”

“...just wonderin’.” He pushes off the doorframe and shuffles deeper into the house. “Don’t get any of that shit on the floor.”

“We won’t!” Kaoru calls.

“No promises!” you say at the same time. When you meet his gaze in the mirror, you and he break out in a fit of giggles. He all but forgets the bruises coating your arms.

Chapter Text

Goro is never taking your stupid ass back to Mementos again. 

No, no. Who is he kidding? This was his own fault. How did that phrase go? Fool me twice, shame on me? He should have known you’d managed to pull this kind of shit somehow.

“Get back here, asshole!”

Goro ducks under your metal pipe, the force of the swing enough to make him grimace. Strapped up in riot gear that you swear you didn’t steal from your father, you look every bit as threatening as an actual soldier. Armed with real steel and a pistol, you might actually cause some damage.

So he braces himself, and the moment your swinging leaves you open, he tries to not punch your teeth out. 

And he succeeds!

Because your furious eyes soften into fear, face twisting with betrayal as a broken Goro? whimpers in his ear. His momentum grinds to a halt, and he has two seconds to wonder if the mere threat was enough to snap the brainwash when your eyes erupt with heat.

Goro’s heart flies in his throat in time with your upswing, bending back just enough for it to ghost his chin. His next attempt nearly catches him across the jaw. The one after that leaves him open to a blow to the chest. 

Why isn’t it working? Why can’t he hit you?!

Goro is almost tempted to experiment, but he knows he won’t be able to dodge for long. Fine, then. What can he do to snap you out of it? Shoot the ground? Maybe the gunshot would startle you? 

No, he can’t risk that. Plus, it’d be a waste of a bullet. 

What would distract you, though? You were always easy to annoy, but-

“IKARI MITSUYO IS INNOCENT!”

You go rigid, Goro’s shout echoing off of Mementos’ walls. He keeps one hand on his sword, ready to strike, but your brows are starting to twitch. Your mouth follows suit. Then, you drop your arms and gawk at him, blurting out, “What the hell do you mean she’s innocent? A dozen different staff members on set gave their testimony about how she used to harass that poor girl! We literally watched the four hour documentary together. You took ACTUAL notes!” 

For once, Goro is grateful to hear your familiar rambling about your stupid guilty pleasure. The moment he exhales, though, his entire body crumples. You catch him before he hits the ground, but the sudden pressure against his ribs makes him groan even louder. 

“Shit, sorry,” you gasp. “What happened? Did I hurt-no, rest area first. Sorry, this’ll hurt.” 

You half-carry Goro back up the path as fast as you can, all but throwing him into the rest area he’d discovered earlier. Your duffle bag of supplies lay untouched under one seat, and he hears the rattle of several suspicious bottles before you return with two in hand. “Are you alive enough to do an experiment?”

Goro massages his tender chest and aching ribs before frowning. “With what?” 

“Painkiller,” you say as you hold up an unmarked bottle with an orange lid. The blue one, you say, “Regular ass vitamin C.”

“Seriously?” Goro eyes the orange bottle. Common knowledge tells him that would be the vitamin bottle, given the larger size and lid color. 

“Just letting you know.” With that, you pop the orange lid off of the bottle and give him two capsules. They go down with a single swig of water, and as you wait, the throbbing pain in his chest begins to ease. “How do you feel?”

Goro frowns and carefully inhales, stunned by the lack of pain. “Well enough,” he says as he presses against his ribcage. “What kind of experiment was that?”

“A lazy one.” You rattle the orange bottle. “What pill do you think you got?” 

“...The painkillers,” he says. “From all the rattling earlier, I imagine you swapped containers.” 

“I did,” you say before holding up both bottles. “They’re both Vitamin C.” 

Goro’s brows knit in confusion. “Placebo effect?”

“I assume so.” You make a vague gesture at the walls around you. “The Metaverse is built around cognition, right? If you believe in something hard enough, it becomes real. Knowing that there is the presence of a painkiller would make people more likely to imagine its effects.”

“And this is relevant because…”

You grip one bottle tight, face twisting with confusion. “I think I was brainwashed earlier. That’s what was happening, right?”

“You could tell?” he asks. 

“Sort of. I just remember seeing the Shadow, then…” You hesitate, then groan in frustration. “I don’t know how to describe it. When you said that shit about Mitsuyo and I heard in my head ‘What? No, Goro would never say that!’, I knew something had to be wrong. You’d never…”

You…Goro stares as you continue to mutter. You’d snapped out of your own confusion just like that? He knew it’d be a bit of a shock, but it also means you were so sure he’d agree on your stance about the woman that it shocked you out if it when he lied.

…wait. 

“Besides, I thought we agreed she-ow!” You jerk out of Goro’s fingers, gripping your roots. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Experiment,” Goro grunts before making a fist. “Don’t move.”

You move before he can punch you. “Hell no, what kind of experiment is this?!” 

Goro sits back with a frown. So he’s able to hurt you? Could it have been a byproduct of the brainwash? Or was something else going on? 

If you believe in something hard enough, it becomes real.

Faint memories stir in Goro’s mind: days spent scrapping with unruly foster siblings, nights spent back to back in shared beds. You’re stupid. Soft-hearted. Above all else, you trust him to intervene when your instincts say otherwise, so…”Why did it not work?”

At your confused face, Goro does his best to relay his thoughts, to which you only agree. “It can’t be on you, either,” you mutter, “because you know I’d do the same.”

“Then the only other option would be Mementos itself,” Goro says. From the way you frown, he imagines you’re feeling the same as he feels. 

Eventually, you groan and rise to your feet, unbuckling your bulletproof vest. “We should get out of here. You need to rest.”

Your hands make quick work of the riot gear, shedding the kevlar and stuffing it into the duffle bag alongside your medication. It leaves you in just boxer briefs and a sports bra, and though Goro’s seen you naked before, your bare shoulders still draw his eye. Waxy patches of skin cover much of your back, stretching down your arms and the tops of your hands. Time and a stringent skincare routine has lessened the worst of it. He’d asked you once if you would ever want surgery for the rest.

“ Hell no, ” you’d said while painting his nails. If you’d flipped his hand over, you would have exposed the matching scars overtaking his palms. “ I’d have to invest in a whole new wardrobe. ”  

A strange pressure builds in Goro’s chest the longer he stares. He’d allowed you to come to Mementos to rebuild trust after that Giant Slice. He doesn’t regret it, either - if there was ever anyone he could trust to guard his back, it was you. 

But your night-omniscient instincts are going to catch up one day. You and your adoptive father are too persistent. One day, you’ll make the connection between the mental shut-down cases and the mechanics of the Metaverse. One day, you’ll realize the boy you’ve shed far too much blood for has done the same for his own selfish goal. 

Goro doesn’t know what will happen when you do. He doesn’t want to. When you’re fully dressed and offer a hand, he takes it and gives it a tight squeeze. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Your silver eyes practically sparkle as the Metaverse warps around you. “Your treat?”

Together, you and he land in the empty alleyways behind his apartment, and he flicks you directly on the metal plate of your beanie. “As long as you don’t make a fool of yourself.”

You recoil as if you’d been punched. “How dare you!” you say with a smile. “I would never dare ruin your reputation, Mr. Detective Prince.”

Chapter Text

“...You’re not gonna ask what happened?”

Akira’s fingers still, cotton ball hovering over your cheek. For the first time since you’ve arrived, you’re actually looking at him, but the usual vigor and life behind them seem dimmed. 

“...Tempted,” he admits before dabbing the soaked cotton ball against your skin, “but you seem like you’ve been through enough.”

You flinch, the hydrogen peroxide hissing. The foam turns an unpleasant shade of pink, the blood bubbling underneath. “Yeah…” The tension finally breaks, and the frothy mix of blood and peroxide spills down your chin. You absently wipe at it with the back of your sleeve. “Probably.” 

Akira returns to cleaning your cheek, watching the peroxide dry before applying the steri-strips. It matches the one crossing your temple. The rest of the cuts along your left bicep and shoulder have been neatly covered in Featherman-themed bandaids. Gauze smothers your right forearm. Despite how deep the cut looked when you first came stumbling in, you seem just fine as you work on cleaning the scratches along your upper thighs. 

A soft thump lands on the counter, Morgana sighing as he sets down the third pouch of first-aid supplies Akira usually keeps on his desk with the other Mementos supplies. “Here,” he says, tail flicking. “That’s all I could find.”

Akira nods, nudging the pouch towards you. “Thanks.” 

“Mm, yeah, thanks.” You pick up the bag, prying it open as a tired smile grows on your face. “You’re so smart! Makes me want a cat.”

Morgana bristles, tail lashing, but whatever smart comment he has about not being a cat seems to die as you pull out more bandages. After a moment, he grumbles and sinks into a crouch, glaring at you from behind Akira. “She’s insane.”

“Don’t be mean,” Akira scolds as he digs for a bigger bandage for your shins. At your confused stare, he says, “Morgana called you ugly.”

“I did not!” Morgana snaps just as you laugh.

“I don’t think he did.” You give Morgana a little kissy face - well, as best one can when their face is covered in bandages. “Right, Mr. Morgana? I’m lovely.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Morgana grumbles and lifts a paw. You mimic him and offer a fist with a grimace, and to Akira’s surprise, the cat actually sniffs your knuckle. “She looks like she got in a fight. What in the world happened?” 

You look down at your fist. Without your gloves on, your waxy scars are on clear display for the cat to see. “Does he scratch?” 

“A little,” Akira says before glaring at Morgana, “but he’s harmless.”

“How dare-” Morgana freezes as your fingers uncurl. Gently, you run your fingers up the bridge of his nose, then between his ears, and for as long as Akira’s known the cat, he’s never seen him melt so fast into your fingers. “Oh…ooohhhh, that’s nice.” 

Your smile grows as Morgana leans into your fingers, scratching under his yellow collar. “Aw, and here I thought he hated me.” 

Akira chuckles. “Yeah, Morgana, I thought you hated them.” 

Morgana growls, though it melts into another purr with a curl of your fingers. “I may have my reasons,” he huffs, “but not even I can ignore a fair maiden in need.” At that, he fully lays down on his belly, eyes closed in bliss. “Especially this late at night.”

Fair point. You’d called him at two in the morning, asking him if he could help you out since Dr. Takemi was out on business, and when Akira opened the door, you were leaving a blood trail all over the floor. 

Akira nudges your knee to draw your attention. “Am I not allowed to ask why you’re out this late, either?” 

“Nope.”

“Fine…” Akira doublechecks your calves. When he finds them unharmed, he rises from his crouch and dusts off his hands. “You definitely owe me, though.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You pull away from Morgana, ignoring his petulant little mrewl to pick up the discarded trash from the bandages. “Whatever you need, no questions asked.”

“Wha…hey!” Morgana swipes at your arm as you slip off the stool. “Hey, get back here!”

“Hold on, hold on,” you say, leaning over to pick at the pieces that fell on the floor. “Let me actually clean up first, buddy.” 

Akira offers to help, but you seem content to clean up the mess that you…technically made. He still takes over scrubbing the dried blood off the floor and counter, if only because you can’t afford wetting all the bandages you just applied. Eventually, Café Leblanc is nice and tidy as it should be at 02:37 AM, and its current resident sinks onto the barstool beside you in victory. 

As peaceful as it is, though, Akira can’t stop his mind from racing. What the hell happened to you? It wasn’t one of Kaneshiro’s men, was it? Considering how you’re missing your gloves and your beanie, you don’t seem like you planned on going outside tonight. Did you tell Akechi? Mishima? Why’d you come here? 

“I really do appreciate you not asking, by the way.” You’re still busy petting Morgana when Akira flinches, but there’s a little smile on your face that just screams ‘saw that.’ “Goro would’ve interrogated me like an actual cop and Yuuki…” 

“Would’ve freaked out?” Akira offers.

“Maybe. But…well…” Your petting slows, Morgana blinking slowly as your eyes lose focus. It returns a second later, but it’s enough to make the teen sit up with concern. “He knows first aid because of, um, Kamoshida, but I didn’t want to worry him. I didn’t want to worry either of them. Goro’s busy being famous and Yuuki’s just now getting over all that stuff. Ryuji’s…”

Morgana freezes. Akira waits with baited breath. 

“He’s busy doing his own shit,” you finish with an awkward shrug. You smooth the space between Morgana’s eyes with your thumb, soothing the cat into falling back asleep. “A-And I can’t tell Da-uh, Maruki, y’know? Definitely can’t tell Iwai, either. Those two can’t be any more different, but when they actually get along, they’re a nightmare together.”

For a moment, Akira is distracted by the fact that you almost called Dr. Maruki Dad and that you flat-out referred to Iwai by name. He knew you lived with the psychologist, and he…shouldn’t be surprised you know the gun store owner, but still. You knew him all the same. 

He clears his throat and gently elbows you. “Isn’t that a good thing?” he asks. “That means they care.”

“Well, yeah, but-” You finally stop petting, hands flat against the counter as you sigh. After another breath, you spin to face the teen, looking incredibly confused. “I mean, I know I have problems, but I can take care of a few by myself.”

Akira’s brows lift as he gestures to your heavily bandaged self. “Clearly.”

You give him a shove, but your laughter sounds a bit warmer and real. “Yeah, yeah, fuck off.” This time, you use both hands to pet Morgana, the cat practically flopping onto his side with satisfaction. “But…” you continue quietly. “Do you know what I mean, though?” 

“Yeah…” Akira rests his elbows on the counter, brows knitting as he recalls his arrest record. “Sometimes, it feels like I’d be adding to their problems if I brought up my own stuff.”

Morgana’s eyes flutter open as you say, “So sometimes it’s better to just stay quiet.”

Akira only nods. Under Morgana’s piercing blue eyes, he feels almost nervous, so he squashes the cat’s head with his own hand and is swatted for his efforts.

He takes over the petting as your hands return to your lap. Morgana rarely allows himself to be pet for so long.

“Do you ever talk to anyone about that?” you ask after a moment. “I know Maruki can be a lot sometimes, but I promise he means well.” 

Akira snorts. “I’ve tried, trust me. Life’s just been busy and…no offense to your dad, but it’s different trying to share with an adult compared to someone my age.”

You don’t react to the ‘dad’ comment minus a little quirk of your lips. You rejoin Akira in petting Morgana, each accidental brush of your fingers against his tickling his skin. “Well,” you say as you give one of his paws a squeeze, “I’m your age, so if you want to cash in on this favor I owe you now, I’m all ears.”

And, for one fleeting moment, Akira feels like he’s back on that rooftop, watching the people scurry stories below as you dangle your feet over the edge. The same night you teasingly called him a soulmate. The same night you told him to stop acting, that you can tell he’s putting on a mask and it scares you. 

And even if you aren’t telling him the whole truth, something in him thinks you’re trying your best to keep your own mask off. 

So he tries to relax, tries not to curate the best answer for you, and-

“Woah, okay!” 

Akira can barely see you over the tears suddenly blurring his view. He uses his sleeve to mop it up, but it just keeps coming and coming until another napkin is pressed into his hands. 

“Okay, okay,” you say as a hand soothes his trembling shoulders, “so…we’re both really not feeling it, huh? That’s fine. Let it out. I did the exact same thing with my dad when I moved into his place. Well, not my dad, but - well, he calls it a backdraft, like when fire explodes after you throw open a window, since all the oxygen rushes in?” 

Akira tries to snort as you ramble, only to gag on his own snot. “You sound just like him.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to make you feel better.” Your hand presses against his shoulder, and he manages to see your brows furrow with concern. “ Are you feeling better? That sounded like…a lot.”

Akira doesn’t know how to respond. It was? Wasn’t? He doesn’t even know where it came from. After the whole Medjed stuff was resolved, he’s been having a nice, normal life…as normal as someone with an arrest record and access to the Metaverse can be. 

But he can’t tell you that now, so he just says, “I’m alright...”

The warmth of your palm against his back lingers before giving him a harsh pat. It hurts enough to draw his attention, and he watches as you pull away and massage your own bandages. “Shit, if that’s what you look like when you’re ‘alright’, then I’m alright too.”

Akira can’t help but snort. As he scrubs a napkin across his face, he spots Morgana’s pitying stare and awkwardly waves him away. “I’m fine,” he insists, “and tired.”

“Yeah, I imagine.” With another gentle pat, you slip out of your seat. “Get some rest, alright? I won’t charge you for this one, but-”

“Wait, wait.” Akira’s brows knit as you readjust your shirt. “You’re going home?”

You blink, and had you been literally anyone else, he would have thought you were joking. “...Yeah?” 

Akira looks down at your ripped shirt and shorts, more dried blood than actual fabric, then at the clock. Wandering the streets at three in the morning is bound to get you arrested, but…

Sometimes it’s better to just stay quiet. 

He gestures for you to wait, disappears upstairs, and comes back with a sweater. It’s not his, but some old one he found in the attic that Sojiro said he could keep. Cafe Leblanc | Coffee & Curry stretches across the back, printed underneath a generic outline of a coffee cup. “Catch.” 

You do, then panic when you hold it out. “Wait, I don’t-”

“If you still feel like you owe me,” Akira says quickly, “then come by tomorrow. I have a friend who’s very anti-social and I’m helping her learn how to socialize.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” Morgana mutters while you snort.

“I’ll take that.” You move to try and pull on the sweater. The second you wince, Akira takes the sweater from you and tosses it over your head, then tugs it down while you wriggle your arms into the sleeves. If you feel his knuckles accidentally brush the absolute territory, or the way he violently jerks away , you make no comment. You just adjust the bottom of the sweater so that it falls mid-thigh, then flap the sleeves swamping your hands. “Ooh, okay. I like this. I hope you don’t want it back because this is adorable.”

“It is.” Akira tucks his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat. “You look good.”

You pause in your flapping, eyes darting from his face to the floor. He can’t tell if you know you’re smiling, but there’s something sheepish about it that makes his neck warm. “Hah, thanks.” After a moment, you laugh and tug your sleeves back. “Alright, that’s enough of that. I’m heading out now.”

Akira follows you to the door, both to see you off and to lock it once you’re out. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, holding up your phone with one sleeve. “I’ll text you when I get home, yeah?”

“Or, just call me and stay on your phone so that I can tell if something happens?” he offers.

You lift a brow. “I thought you said you were tired.”

“I can stay up long enough to make sure you get home.” Akira shrugs when you try to swat him. “Or I’ll text Akechi-kun about-”

“Fine, fine!” you sigh dramatically, annoyance belied by your smile. You flash your screen at him, his number just a dial away. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Akira returns your smile with his own. “Yeah. See ya.”

As you head out, Akira hears a low grunt. Morgana pushes his phone towards the counter, tail flicking lazily. “I’m impressed,” he says once the teen picks up his phone. “I wouldn’t have helped her until she told me what happened.”

“Well, you know what they say about cats and curiosity.” Akira dodges Morgana’s irritated swat as he unlocks his phone. “And what happened to never ignoring a fair maiden in need?”

“Hmph, I only said that to gain her trust!” Morgana angrily stomps his little paws, glaring at the café’s door as his tail lashes to and fro. “There’s something strange about her. I don’t know what, but I can tell. ”

“Y’know, you can just say you liked being pet by her.” 

“I-I did not! It was just a strategic move to get her to lower her guard!” Morgana manages to scratch Akira’s hand this time, hissing. “And it’s not like you were any better! I saw you falling for her wicked charms like that idiot, Ryuji, crying just because of a few words.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Just a few words of reassurance that you would support him had him bawling like an idiot in front of Morgana. That isn’t befitting for someone like the leader of the Phantom Thieves. No, not at all. 

So the brave, cool, showoff that is Joker pokes his tongue out and says, “You’re just jealous,” just as he answers your call. “Hey, tell Morgana that he’s just jealous of me.”

“ Oh, is he jealous that you touched the absolute territory? ” Akira freezes. Even though he can’t see you, he can imagine your smug smile all the same. “ Because I don’t mind him sitting on my lap, as long as he doesn’t scratch.” 

Akira’s eyes widen as Morgana perks up, sauntering towards his phone with his head held high. “Hah! Who’s jealous no-YEOW!”

“... Did you just push your cat off the counter? ”

Akira leans over the counter to see Morgana puffed up and hissing on the floor on the other side. “Nah, he just fell.” He hurries up the stairs before the cat can scratch his heels. “Anyways, about tomorrow…”

Chapter Text

Akira seems pretty confident that the person he invited to help Futaba get used to strangers will do wonders for her. She assumes it’ll be someone quiet. Soft-spoken. Maybe a loser nerd like that Mishima guy.

But then she sees your hair and all bets are off. 

“I know you!” Futaba blurts out. “You’re Kalmia!”

And it’s weird. She’s never met you, no, never, but she can tell from the way your eyes flash like the edge of a knife that she already messed up. 

( Stupid girl, it’s all your fault- )

She grips the edge of her stool. She could make it behind the counter in two seconds, she’s timed it before. And Akira’s here. He wouldn’t let her get hurt, right? It was his idea. He-

You blink, and whatever scary glint you had vanishes as you laugh. “Ah, no, that was my mother,” you say. Your voice sounds…weird, like Ryuji when he’s trying to talk ‘softer.’ “You must be Sakura Futaba, yeah? Kurusu-kun told me about you.”

Behind the counter, Akira nods. “All good things.”

Futaba squints at him. “You better. I know where you live.”

You…snicker, saying, “Oh, I like you. This’ll be fun.” Then you just sit down, elbows on the counter and radiating the same cool confidence Futaba’s only ever seen from a protag in her manga. All the bandages on your face only adds to it. “I don’t think you need my help at all.”

It makes Futaba puff up, smug. “Hmph. Easy.”

“Really?” Akira lifts a brow at her as he serves you a glass of ice. He doesn’t even need to look when he pours the cold brew over it. “Wanna go out to the store then for me? We’re out of creamer.”

Futaba seizes at the thought, but you flick him for her. “Don’t be a bully,” you scold. “If she doesn’t get you here, I’ll beat your ass at school.”

“Won’t you get kicked off of the school trip?”

“As if I’d get caught.” You flick a droplet at him before turning to her. You don’t make eye contact, but it’s still enough for her to understand that you’ve turned your attention to her. “So, you’re the daughter of the guy who runs the place, right? I think he mentioned knowing my mom through yours.”

“...Really?” Futaba squirms. What could she say about that? You’re not a Phantom Thief, so she shouldn’t risk it, right?

You seem calm, though, smiling and fidgeting with your gloves. “Yeah. She was a freak of nature. Probably very hard to forget her face, too.”

Futaba knows. She also knows that your mom called Mom a schizo bitch before dropping out of her research, and that Mom was half-distracted trying to figure out what yours meant when she said it’s mostly genetic. 

Not that the Isshikis should judge, considering Futaba’s traffic cone of a head. 

But you’re still talking, so she tries to focus. The moment you do, you wince and press a hand to your side. You’re fully dressed, not an inch of skin below the neck exposed despite the heat, so she can’t tell if it’s a cramp or something.

Akira must know, though, because he clears his throat and says, “Still hurt?”

“Just a little.” You flap a hand after a deep breath. “Oh, that reminds me! Where’s Morgana?”

“He’s sleeping,” Futaba says before turning to Akira. “Why are you turning red?” 

He’s not, really, it’s just the tips of his ears going pink, but you’re turning back at him with a wide smile. “Oh? How lucky for you.” 

Futaba shifts in her seat. “Why’s that?”

Akira pushes his glasses back up as the blush spreads. “Oh, noth-”

“He’s jealous that he can’t touch my thighs,” you say breezily.

“Absolute territory?” Futaba stares at her oh-so-fearless team leader as he goes still. “Wow, I knew you were kind of a pervert but I didn’t think you’d be that bad.”

You sit up with a gasp while Akira quickly shakes his head. “So he is a pervert?” you ask before jabbing at finger his way. “I knew it. I bet you’re into stripes, too.”

“He’s into femdom and MILFs,” Futaba offers just as he opens his mouth, holding up her phone. “I saw him looking it up a bunch of times a few days ago.” 

The café goes quiet. Between your wide eyes and Akira’s mortified stare, Futaba can’t tell if it’s a good quiet or a bad quiet. Did she mess up? Was that not funny? Or-

“Do you have access to his search history?” you ask suddenly.

Futaba blinks. “Yeah, why?”

“Show me-Hey!” Futaba flails, but it’s too late - Akira holds her phone way overhead with his freakishly long limbs, stone-faced and dodging her every swipe. She even aims for his shin, only for him to sidestep her kick and slip behind her. “Give. It. Back!”

Just to be an asshole, Akira uses his free hand to stop her at arm’s length. When she tries to lunge, he releases her and drops an elbow right on her head. “Nope.”

Futaba growls, watching as he drops her phone into his pocket. “This is bullying! I thought you were supposed to be helping me!”
“Yeah,” you chime in from your seat, “I thought you were supposed to be helping her.”

“I am,” Akira says, elbow digging into her skull. When she ducks and lunges for his waist, he just casually grabs one arm and slips out, stopping her again with a palm against her forehead. “I’m not hurting her.”

“You’re being a jerk!” Futaba shouts because he definitely is. This wasn’t part of the deal! How is this supposed to be helping her?!

She finds out when she hears you clear your throat. “Do you want my help?” 

Futaba freezes for just a moment. Crap. Was this the whole plan? To teach her how to ask for help from strangers? Goddammit, that’s smart, but also really, really mean. Why couldn’t they have just done this without stealing her phone?!

“I-I…” Futaba grits her teeth. Just do it. It’s not hard. She was able to get the Phantom Thieves to help her (by blackmailing and threatening them but whatever-), she can do it again. Besides, you’re waaaay less scary than those guys. You can’t use the Metaverse. So it’ll be fine. 

“I need your help.” 

But maybe she should be a little worried, because hearing you say, “That was perfect! Good job!” with so much warmth it makes Futaba’s knees a little wobbly. 

“Yeah,” Akira says as you join his side, “that was good, Futaba.”

Futaba scowls as she jerks away from his hand. “No thanks to you…”

“Actually, I think it was definitely thanks to me,” the asshole says before turning to you. “Right?”

“Right.” You casually lean over and kiss Akira’s cheek, then fluff his already-fluffy hair. “Good boy!” 

Which…huh. Futaba glances between the idiot that’s been living in Sojiro’s shop and you. Maybe she read the relationship wrong, because Akira is starting to blush at an alarmingly fast rate. Like, medically concerning. 

“But, f’real-” Futaba startles out of her thoughts as you toss her phone to her. She catches it against her chest, then looks up just as you flash another cheerful smile at her. “I hope this wasn’t overwhelming or anything. Kurusu-kun told me you had a lot of trouble carrying out conversations with strangers, but you seemed to handle it just fine.” 

Futaba’s stomach knots, and she focuses on unlocking her phone as she mutters, “It was nothing.”

“I mean, I think it’s super impressive and you should be really proud of yourself,” you say just as cheerfully, “but if you want, you can pay me back by telling me what else Kurusu-kun’s looked up.”

Maybe Akira is still stunned from being called a good boy, because he doesn’t react as Futaba nods. She unlocks her phone, opens the usual program she uses to access his phone, then-

“Huh?”

-receives an error message. The same error pop-up that appeared whenever her old bugs in the shop broke have finally returned. 

I get weird tech problems whenever my brother visits the house. Futaba’s breath hitches. Not always, but this one time we tried to record him dyeing my hair and the video came out super bad.

“Something wrong?” you ask, fake gasping as you nudge Akira. “Did he break your phone?”

Akira shakes out his head, blinking. “I did?”

“U-Uh, nope! No, it’s fine!” Futaba clutches her phone tight, eyes wide. “Just perfect. Don’t worry about it.”

Akira doesn’t seem convinced, but you nod and elbow him again. “And sorry for springing that on you. It was only fair for bullying poor Futaba-chan.” 

“...Uh-huh.” Akira ducks his head, pushing up his glasses as a devious smirk grows on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my revenge one day.”

“You can’t act all cool and suave when you literally froze from being called a good boy,” you say as your own smile begins to spread. “And what was that about being into MILFs?”

Akira’s smirk vanishes. “Why don’t we ask Akechi-kun?” 

Your own smile drops. “You wouldn’t.”

“ Try me. ”

The silence that breaks out between you and her fearless leader’s staredown makes Futaba’s stomach turn. So you’re Kaoru’s brother. Kaoru’s freaky brother who manages to make her tech break whenever you’re around, and who’s close with the detective that’s been chasing after them. The freaky, pink-haired brother, related to the woman who told Mom that she could see the ‘truth’ about people - their Shadows, as she said in her interview with Mom. 

Futaba fidgets with her phone, mind buzzing. She needs to find Mom’s research and fast, or else something’ll happen and it’ll be all her fault.