Chapter Text
“This world is not as it should be.
It’s filled with distortion and “ruin” can no longer be avoided.
Those who oppose fate and desire change…
From time to time, they were referred to as Tricksters
Oh. But something seems to be amiss.
You seem to have played this game before… Trickster.
Will you make the correct decision this time?”
The boy struggles to see, the light in front of him is blinding, a brilliance that scorches his eyes. He feels radiant. Absolutely radiant… His head throbs, he can feel the flickering pulsings of his own heartbeat, and it hurts so much. The ground is spattered in a sticky, sickening, sanguine liquid that dyes his vision a vibrant hue. He reaches out, voice hoarse, calling to anybody… Somebody to remember him. To remind him that he’s real. To give him solace. But his flesh twists and burns as he stretches out to the bodies of his friends. He pulls himself up, agonisingly slow, to stand on two feet and move forwards…
Akira Kurusu is supposed to wake up in his cruddy little room back in Inaba. Not on that fucking train to Shibuya again – a whole year and a bit after he left and bid his friends goodbye – a whole year after he watched his life turn to shit at the hands of a God he ended up shooting in the face. A year after meeting the nicest people he’d ever known and leaving them all too soon. A man eyes him with vague, fearful concern after he curses out from under his breath, “for fucks sake.” He knew things wouldn’t go back to normal after his exploits as a Phantom Thief, but he did expect… a month or two break at the very least. He mumbles out a small, half-hearted apology, shuffling in his seat.
His head is foggy, and he shivers, feeling as though he has lost something important. Dread settles into his gut when it comes to a realisation. He died. Everybody died. Yet something is further amiss. Akira despite everything… Can’t seem to bring himself to react emotionally to that fact. Perhaps he was a hollow corpse walking, a body without a heart because he knows that with reason he should mourn his own death, should mourn everybody’s deaths.
But he was more occupied with questions like… Should he avoid everybody he knew and loved from the past? No. Obviously not. He was literally going to live with Sojiro. But that didn’t mean he had to go on to make the Phantom Thieves. He could pretend to be a normal student for a year and live a normal life – right? A voice inside him screams, stupid idea, that’s not an option! And when he spends more than 0.2 seconds thinking about the subject – he can’t help but agree. Not only was he the kind who craved that kind of violent reverie that came with the camaraderie of the Thieves… He doubts that the ever-looming God of Control will allow such a luxury.
At least he basically had a cheat sheet surrounding the goings-on of things.
Neat.
Now there was the dilemma of not getting caught with disproportionate amounts of meta-knowledge, Akira was a certified erudite at being a dumbass, to be frank. He’d always regarded himself as candid and open about his thoughts and opinions besides the whole… secret identity thing. But he was a total idiot at hiding it; which was how he had been saddled with half of his teammates anyways.
So… How to not sound completely and utterly deranged whilst admitting that you’ve lived through something before and that you’ve been friends with everybody for a good year now?
You don’t.
Duh.
He sifts through old memories, quite like choosing the right filter for the right coffee in LeBlanc, it had been a while since he’d visited. In hindsight, Shido was the biggest drama queen he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting, one tiny vague push should NOT have sent that man toppling over like a Jenga tower. And past Akira had been an even bigger idiot. Instead of legging it and hoping that the darkness would conceal his identity – he’d simply gaped there like a fish out of water!
He was grateful in an awful-totally-not-messed-up way though.
The train comes to a stop at the station, and everything’s a blur once he steps off, people stroll by him as he navigates Shibuya like the back of his hand. He half wonders why he had so much plight the first time he came here – like the place wasn’t a complete and utter maze. He feels a buzz from his phone. Oh.
The Metanav.
He’d almost forgotten. He pulls out the device, tapping on the dubious red-eye icon, even though he’s been there and done this… Akira still can’t help but awe a little as everybody slows down to a complete and utter halt. His eyes squint as he spots something in the distance. He expects the fiery blue silhouette of Arséne but something appears slightly off about the shape.
The world continues as was.
He’d… deal with whatever that was later.
When Akira opens the door to LeBlanc, he realised just how much he had missed this place, a sense of nostalgia for days long gone washed over him like baptismal water, even though he can’t help but be slightly cautious when he peers his head in through the door– it’s home. He’s home finally.
But it’s cold. He’s a stranger. Not a friend. This is Sojiro taking care of him– not Coffee Dad. Not even “Boss” yet.
Everything is familiar in this place, but slightly off, like returning home after university– this place doesn’t quite feel as lively as it once was. The man he’s looking at probably isn’t the Sakura Sojiro he’d grown to know over the course of a year. There was a harshness to him, under tired under-eye rings where he expected a soft smile, was a somewhat disgruntled expression.
At least the coffee smells just as good. He could use a cup but he doubts that this Sojiro will let him within five feet of his precious machinery. Akira peers around, no matter how deep in his bones he wants to accept LeBlanc as a safe place, he knows that it isn’t yet. He can’t even let his guard down here. His ears perk up at the conversation two customers have, “What could be going on? Didn’t something similar to this happen just the other day?” Ah. Right.
Those incidents. Frankly, he almost forgot, they had slowed down significantly during the peak of Phantom Thief's popularity. Before Okumura’s assassination.
He felt slightly guilty.
The coffee shop owner stares down at the crossword puzzle in his lap, brows furrowing in contemplation, mumbling to himself. “And down is… The name of a shellfish used in pearl farming.”
Akira piped up, “Try mussel. ” Before he noted further, “or oyster if that one doesn’t work.”
The coffee-shop owner’s eyebrow raises, recognition lighting up in his eyes, along with… well what Akira assumed was amusement. “Right. They did say that would be today.” The customers caught on quickly, announcing their departure, and giving Akira and Sojiro some space. Akira tunes out the ensuing conversation surrounding the incidents, eyes glancing over the bar and to the shelves upon shelves of coffee jars. His eye crinkled slightly and the smallest quirk of a smile flashes in his expression when he spots a coffee jar he’d broken just a few months prior still up on the shelf, undamaged and untouched, his bag feels unusually empty now. But this was his second chance at doing this again. And he’d do it right.
“... Four hours for a single cup of Joe… So, you’re Akira?” Sojiro eyed him with suspicion, causing Akira to shuffle a little where stands, unused to the scrutinising look from his basically dad at this point. He’d… have to adjust quickly.
Akira nods, confirming, and with slightly too much vigour. “Yes! Please take care of me.”
“Are… Are you alright kid?” Now Akira’s confused, Sojiro looks at him with a mildly disturbed expression, had he been too enthusiastic? No. Akira was tearing up. Fabulous.
He pressed the bottom of his palm to his eye, wiping forming tears away, “I’m fine. It was just a long journey. S’all.”
Sojiro doesn’t believe him but doesn’t press any further, thank God. “Right. Anyway . I’m Sojiro Sakura. You’ll be in my custody over the next year. I was wondering what kind of unruly kid would show up, but you’re the one, huh?” A crybaby with a record? Odd. “Have you been told? A customer of mine and your parents know each other and–”
“Yeah. Thank you for taking me in on such short notice.”
Incredulous is the best word Akira could use to describe Sojiro’s expression, “Follow me, then. Good to know kids these days do have some manners. Even if they are criminals.”
The two make their way up the stairs, Akira’s jaw almost drops off his skeleton, surely it wasn’t this bad last time! “This is your room. I’ll at least give you some sheets for your bed.” Gee, thanks Sojiro. “Hm? You look like you want to say something.”
Akira holds back a grimace, “it’s… nice.”
Nope. Not buying that, the older man furrows his brows, “It’s on you to clean up the rest. I’ll be leaving after I lock up each day. You’ll be alone at night, but don’t do anything stupid. I’ll throw you out if you cause any trouble.” Yikes. Alright then.
The ‘delinquent’ offers only a weak smile, about as committal as a serial adulterer, which… frankly in another life he might be. “Of course, Sakura-san,” I wouldn’t dream of it.
The coffee shop owner’s eyes narrowed, “Now then… I got the jist of your situation. You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured and then sued you. Right? That's what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults.” Akira opened his mouth, about to respond, but opted to stay silent. “You did injure him. Yeah? …And now that you’ve got a criminal record, you were expelled from your high school. The courts ordered you to transfer and move out here, which your parents also approved.
In other words, they got rid of you for being a pain in the ass.” Yowch. Not entirely inaccurate though. Akira was sure that his parents would throw him to literal wolves if it meant saving their tarnished repute. Not that that mattered now that he was on probation. Word travelled ever so quickly in that little town and since everybody knew everybody– getting on the bad side of people was a surefire way to become an outcast. Maybe it was mean, but a small part of Akira was half happy that they’d experience the same shit they sent him out here to experience, even if they were his parents. Not that they’d acted as such. “It’s best you not talk about anything unnecessary. I am in the restaurant business, you know. Behave yourself for the year. If nothing happens– your probation will be lifted.”
“I’ll… try to keep out of your hair. Sakura-san.” Akira put on his most award-winning attempt at an Akechi-smile. About as real as his glasses and with a voice as smooth as honey. He knew well that it wouldn’t work on the guy, but it came all too naturally, and couldn’t hurt to try.
Again, of course, he wasn’t buying it, “Cause any problems and you’ll be sent straight to juvie.” Sojiro scowled a little, owch, the fake niceties probably struck a nerve. And it wasn’t even that Akira wanted to get on Sojiro’s nerves, or was particularly trying to suck up to him, he supposed he was just awkward after being so used to a bit of pampering. Inconvenient at worst. “We’ll be headed to Shujin tomorrow. We’ll be introducing ourselves to the staff there properly– there’s rarely a place that’ll accept someone like you– you know.”
“Not that that’s unusual.” Akira grumbled.
Sojiro almost laughed, “Your ‘luggage’ arrived a little while ago. I brought it up here for you. I’ll leave you to it.” Somehow, that remark seemed to cheer up the coffee shop owner, mirth glazing his gaze.
Right. First order of things, clean up this dump and get it livable before doing anything else. Otherwise, he’ll be dealing with dust in his face and breathing problems for days. And he refused to let a repeat of the first piss-poor attempt at cleaning recur. There would be no awkward coughing on the trains!
A whole five and a half hours passed before Akira was anywhere near satisfied with the state of his room. Five and a half hours could seriously give Kawakami a run for her money, Akira added, gleefully. Whilst it didn’t sparkle, all the dust had been thoroughly eliminated from the hardwood, leaving a warm rustic colour that he didn’t know the wood was capable of producing.
It felt almost like home. Almost.
Sojiro was in absolute awe, the sight of the well-cleaned attic nearly enough to blast the glasses from his face, he peered over the frames inspecting the dust. Well. The lack of dust. “What the heck?” He mumbled, in his who-knows-how-long of working here, he hadn’t expected anything near this magnitude of a cleanup, maybe a light dusting or wipe down here and there… Nothing on this sort of level. It almost looked like the brat had taken a power washer up there with him, when he turned to Akira, he half expected the other to be donned in full cleaning attire. “I heard you making all sorts of noise up here, but I didn’t think you were cleaning.”
“Sorry, was I making too much noise from upstairs? I hope I didn’t disturb any of the customers,” Akira looked genuinely sheepish, a little nervous if anything.
Contemplatively, Sojiro hummed, “It’s only natural you’d want to keep your own room tidy, actually, this room’s probably never looked better.” There was a slight slump in Akira’s shoulders, and Sojiro couldn’t tell if he was hesitant towards the praise, or just tired. He assumed the latter. “Why don’t you go to bed for tonight? You don’t have anything better to doing, right? I’m going to close up shop and get out of here myself.” He added, sternly, “I won’t be the one looking after you if you get sick staying up too late… You got that?”
He doubted the kid would take his advice, but what was the harm in giving it anyway?
Of course, Akira would not be taking that advice in the slightest. He rationalised that it was fine though, because with the events of tomorrow, and meeting Kobayakawa and Kawakami for the first time that he’d be exhausted no matter how great a sleep he got tonight. Plus, he had so much to do, so much work and so little time. He wanted to be far more efficient this time around after all.
He let himself fall silent, quieting his breathing so he could hear Sojiro’s footsteps and the sound of LeBlanc’s doorbell chiming with movement before the door closed, and then waited another minute or two before he dared move from the spot he stood. He peered down from the attic staircase, a rubbish attempt at hiding anyway, but when he finally was satisfied with the lack of Sojiro-presence he made his way downstairs.
It took a little bit of digging around before Akira could find what he was looking for, after all, she’d hidden them exceedingly well. Which wasn’t much of a surprise when she likely had permission from her father to do so. But Akira would not let this search go for nought, and finally, he scrounged up his little prize, an electronic bug.
He detached the device from the underside of the table, eyeing it with a wonderous curiosity, although he knew it was a rather simple machine. He assumed Futaba had them installed in case something less than fortunate were to transpire in the operating hours of LeBlanc, or even a break-in attempt at night, used as a sort of extra safety net so Futaba could rest her worries far easier whilst Sojiro was absent. Akira twiddled the device in his hands, wondering whether it would play audio as well and if not maybe that was a well-needed upgrade. A nice surprise for burglars that could ward them off if Akira wasn’t there.
He just had to put his faith in Futaba answering. And Akira could trust Futaba. Right.
Delinquent transfer student he may be, Akira was not keen on startling the poor girl, considering her nervous state and the time of evening it was. So, whilst keeping his voice low and hushed, he spoke. “Futaba Sakura? Futaba Sakura? Can you hear me? Can you say something from this bug or not?”
An “eep!” sounded from ones, possibly from Futaba pressing the wrong button and accidentally unmuting herself, unexpectant of Akira figuring out her machine and its location so quickly. Akira paused.
“If you can hear this, can you please message my SMS,” he pleads– recounting his phone number. Twice over. He seriously doubted she’d be in the mood or mental space to accept speaking over cafe bugs, so something like texting should be a nice compromise, hopefully.
He sat there, silent, for the next ten minutes. He’d give it one more try, one more time before giving in for the night–
A ping.
Jackpot.
Alibaba opened a private message with you.
Alibaba: who is this?
Me: The new attic dweller Sojiro’s keeping
Me: Akira Kurusu,,, that is.
Me: Just call me Akira. It’s easier
Alibaba: Ur awfully calm about the fact LeBlanc’s bugged.
Alibaba: Howd u even
Alibaba: ugh
Alibaba: I had those well hidden!!
Alibaba: mortified
Alibaba changed your name to ‘AKira’
Alibaba: shut
Alibaba: shit*
Alibaba changed your name to ‘Akira’.
Akira: shut
Akira: Actually. How’d you set your name to Alibaba on my phone already.
Alibaba: Im built different
Alibaba: SO, spit it out, how did u find the bugs??? Delinquent boy
Akira: “Delinquent Boy?” owch okay.
Akira: I’m wounded </3
Akira: Alibaba’s a funny name by the way
Akira: Also you you really didn’t hide then all that well to be honest sakura
Alibaba: dont call me that
Alibaba: I dont even know you
Alibaba: how do you even know that name
Akira: Dug through your mail ;P
Akira: I doubt Sojiro’s got a girlfriend no offence so I’m assuming you’re his kid
“Assumed” his ass. Akira knew very well who she was and what her and Sojiro’s relationship was. But really what good would it do to give that away immediately. Even though really it wasn’t something you needed to be a genius to figure out.
Akira: Futaaaabaaaaa?
Akira: Futaba please respond I ddid’t mean to scare you off :(
Alibaba: ddid’t lol
Alibaba: thats so much worse than shut
Alibaba: youre so weird u know that?
Alibaba: who even said you could use my first name
Akira: So you do at least admit that its your name :3
Akira: You said not to use Sakura
Akira: So Futaba is the obvious choice for me to go with duh
Alibaba: And not my username?! I set it to this 4 a reason yk?
Alibaba: never use :3 again
Akira: Okay,,, Alibaba. :3
Akira: Why do you even have the place bugged thats weirder than me calling you by name
Alibaba: wha t do you want from me??
Akira: Doging my question I see
Akira: Dodging*
Alibaba: Doging
Akira: shut
Alibaba: u answer me and i answer you?
Akira: Sure
Akira: I want to be your friend
Akira: Is that too forward???
Read: 22:32.
Akira: Heyyy!!! Answer me!!!! Damnit!!!
You cannot message this number.
Akira: Okay then be that way
You cannot message this number.
Akira: Take your time and talk to be when you’re ready. I know you can read this
You cannot message this number.
Well fuck. Honestly, Akira hadn’t a clue what he was expecting there, but it went better than honestly expecting considering the fact he didn’t get blocked right off the bat. All he could hope was that Futaba didn’t immediately snitch on him to Sojiro and get him kicked out day one for trying to chat up his daughter. No matter how pure his intentions of friendship may have been (and perhaps a platonic partnership in crime) he doubted his guardian would take that very kindly. Which would… Ugh.
At most though, this was a minor setback, an inconvenience at most, and it wasn’t as though she’d hide away forever. (At least he hoped she wouldn’t anyway). He was overthinking this anyway. Go to bed, Akira , a distant thought beckoned. Morgana’s pestering came to mind. But still, he felt as though he was forgetting something…
Akira wandered aimlessly back upstairs, his head pounded as he fell pathetically onto the “bed” (which really, wasn’t anything more than a matress on top of a couple crates, bound to mess his back up). A notification rang out from his pocket, his eyes fell shut, and he succumbed to slumber.
The velvet room looked wrong. So, so, incredibly wrong.
It did not resemble the jail room that he had once grown so accustomed to, but rather, the cabin of a steam train. He donned his usual thief attire, black coat and white domino mask and all, and his head pounded. He was unsure whether he should expect Igor and Lavenza or the twins and Yaldaboth, or somebody entirely new – if not for the iconic hue of ultramarine across most surfaces he would have assumed this was something alien entirely.
The door opened, and an unknown-yet-familiar male voice chuckled, and Akira’s eyes blew wide open.
A split image of himself.
He was clad in blue, a neat and prim version of him, somebody he could’ve been – donned in a train conductor’s garb. His heeled shoes tapped against the wood of the floor, a steam whistle sounded from the distance, and Akira could hear the hum of a thousand souls through his bones. Perhaps he had mistaken this place for the velvet room. Perhaps this was his palace.
Then, the taps of four feet came from behind the other him, Caroline and Justine in what seemed like train attendee uniforms; the two stood shyly behind the mirror self. He half expected the God of Control to walk in next but…
Nothing.
Just he himself, his mirror image, and two attendees.
This other him was missing an eye – his right – covered by an eyepatch with golden embroidered initials. R.A. An oddly wistful expression adorned his features as he took pause to examine Akira. This duplicate spoke softly, “Trickster, welcome back to the Velvet Room.” He realised now that this unknown voice was indeed his own, albeit not reverberating through his bones, like hearing oneself through a recording. A discomfort nestled deep within his gut.
Caroline took a step away from his mirror self to approach Akira, “so, you’ve finally come to –” Inmate. “Passanger. You kept us waiting! The train almost left without you.”
Justine dutifully noted, “this place is always moving, the you in reality is however stationary. Fast asleep.”
“Just because our master isn’t here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sit up straight! No matter how familliar this guy says you are to this place!”
Akira obeyed, moving into a sitting position, this was… wrong on so many levels. “What’s going on?”
The other he smiled, a serene expression overtaking the muscles in his face, pulling long gloved fingers through black hair, the ends of the strands of dark turned to a silvery moon-shade. Now he looked distinct from Akira – a different person almost. His eyes flickered with amusement at the gawking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Akira Kurusu. Or… Myself I should say. You can call me Ren, and I am you, as you are me.”
“This is… The Velvet Room… Right? Why does it look so different?”
Slyly, Ren took Akira’s red gloved hand into his blue, helping to hoist him up to meet him by eye. “I understand you must have a lot of questions. I can’t say I don’t. But this place is everywhere at once, always moving, it reflects your state of mind. One that is never at rest. This place is sustained by a being far stronger than Igor or Yaldaboth, the being whom is Igor’s own master is trapped away, a myriad of butterflies that keep a far worse malevolent force at bay.” His lips pressed together thinly, “I’m not entirely sure why Igor is missing, unfortunately it seems that these two cannot hold themselves together without him. That’s why they’re twins once more.”
“...Okay then.” He had dealt with weirder… right? Akira eyed the twins, noting a lack of fondness in their expressions, “Do they…?”
As though the impostor had read his mind, he answered, “No. They don’t remember you, unfortunately, as they aren’t the Caroline and Justine of your world.” A garbled announcement sounded over the intercom, “Ah, the train shall come to a stop soon. But there are worse things that should happen if you are to fail. I’m… I failed before I could begin. Maybe you could do better, even if you have made mistakes, please.” The look Ren gave Akira was pleading, his hand coming up to touch Akira’s left cheek, dancing along his cheekbone.
“It seems you don’t have much time left here, please get up and get out there. Save this doomed timeline.” Justine looked lost, almost afraid, as though she were looking to him for guidance. Akira’s mouth opened to respond, but as he did, Ren’s finger moved.
And jabbed right into Akira’s eyesocket.