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January 9th. Tokyo, or at least a version of it.
Futaba didn't have a ton of experience with parties -- at least the kind that involved real people in real places instead of Final Fantasy XIV raids. Since stepping out of her room, though, she had been to just enough gatherings to know that this one was exceptionally weird.
Nobody had planned it. There had never been a moment when one of her friends had said "Let's get together at Leblanc" and all the others agreed. They had just moved as one, walking the streets and even changing trains on autopilot, because that was what a Phantom Thief did: when everything sucks, go back to Leblanc. The cafe had drawn them all earlier in the day, one by one, as each had confronted the truth that reality wasn't reality. Now it drew them again, together, to confront the additional truth that they now had to do something about it.
Everyone was distracted, and nobody talked much. Just weeks ago, the Phantom Thieves would have fallen into each other's confidences without a second thought. Futaba could call Haru when she needed to cry about missing her mom. Yusuke could text Futaba when, in the throes of self-pity, he became certain he'd never create a single decent work of art. But their week of hypnosis had fucked with everyone's code. Instead of talking, each Thief looked a different direction into their own private grief. Futaba saw it on everyone's faces, and felt it in her own bones: they had forgotten how to reach out.
For yet another thing, Ren wasn't there. Their leader had broken away from them in Odaiba, mumbling that he had something to take care of and would catch up. Yet here they all were, without him, and Futaba wasn't the only one getting worried.
"He probably just went to Untouchable for equipment," said Ann, not convincing Futaba or anyone else.
"You don't think the Doc could've done something to him, do you?" asked Ryuji, who was pacing a groove into the floor behind the counter (Sojiro having sensed the delicate atmosphere and decided to take a long walk).
Makoto sat at a table, hands curled tight around her Buchi-kun pencil case. "I don't think so. Remember, Maruki wants to change our minds. If he wanted to kill us, he could wipe us out of existence with a thought."
"Thanks, Makoto, that's real reassuring. I'm gonna sleep great tonight."
"Don't you think I'm worried about Ren as well?" Annoyance flashed in Makoto's eyes. "If we don't want to spend all evening wringing our hands, we should talk about our next move."
"You all do that. I'm gonna go looking for him." Morgana sprang off the bar, landed lightly, and trotted to the front door. "Um. Could someone get the door, please?"
Haru pulled it open for him, absently giving him a scratch between the ears as he slipped out. As she returned to her seat, a thump drew everyone's eyes upwards.
"Is someone breaking in?" Ann half-rose from the bench. "Ryuji, Boss keeps a bat behind the counter--"
"Don't." Futaba pounced off her stool. She recognized the thump, which had come from just below the attic window. In December, when Ren had been dead, he had sometimes climbed a ladder to get to his bedroom without being seen by any patrons in the cafe. Whenever Futaba had wanted to see him, she would perch at the bar and wait to hear that thump.
"I think it's Ren," she told the five pairs of hungry eyes trained on her.
"I'll go." Makoto stood up. "There's something I really have to say to him."
Ryuji stopped pacing. "Wait, you guys aren't breaking up, are you?"
"I hope not. But...it wouldn't surprise me if he wants to." Makoto pocketed her pencil case and balled her fist instead around a strand of brown hair.
Ann was on her feet. "I need to apologize too. I yelled at him. I didn't know any better."
"Me too," said Ryuji, right as Yusuke said "As do I" and Haru said "I owe him one as well" and Futaba took up a defensive position by the stairs, raised her arms, and shouted at all of them to stop.
"If he climbed in his window," she told them, "it's probably 'cause he's scared of this exact thing happening. He's not ready to face everyone just yet. You can't force that on people."
"Well, somebody needs to check on him," said Haru.
"Yeah! Me. Me needs to do that. I claim family privilege."
Makoto brushed her hair back. "Then couldn't I claim girlfriend privilege?"
"Guys," said Futaba, "this is gonna suck for whoever goes, OK? Did any of you not say something crappy to Ren in the last week?"
Five Phantom Thieves suddenly became very interested in the wood grain of Leblanc's booth tables.
"Yeah, me neither. That's why family privilege. Friends shouldn't fight. Siblings are supposed to piss each other off."
A part of Futaba couldn't believe she was volunteering for a social lion's den like this. A year ago, a conversation this hard would have been grounds for a minimum of 24 hours under her blankets. But her motives were selfish. She'd had a mother when she left her home this morning, and had lost Wakaba in the blink of an eye. Her insides felt like they were twisting their way down a garbage disposal. She needed her key item, and she didn't want to share him. Before anybody else could object, Futaba suavely slipped backwards up the attic stairs, only banging her shin twice on the way.
She spun around at the top. There was the attic room she knew so well: glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, Risette poster on the wall, scraps and tools piled on the workbench, basically-elder-brother sprawled on the mattress. He pushed himself up on his elbows when he saw her. "Oh, hey, Futaba. Did you come to play some games? I still have that secret dungeon of Featherman Seeker you unlocked for me."
"I mean, literally always." He'd left the window swinging open, letting in cold winds; Futaba pounced across the room to close and latch it. "But I think we need to talk more than we need to do that."
Ren gestured at one of his wooden chairs. "You should spin that around and sit on it backwards. Then say let's rap."
"OK, objectively hilarious," said Futaba, doing exactly that, "but Ren, you don't need to entertain me. I came to see if you're all right."
Ren's head flopped back down onto the pillow as bitter resignation crept into his voice. "Why wouldn't I be all right? I've only spent an entire week tracking down the people I love most in the world and causing them all deep psychological pain on purpose. No big." He rubbed his eyes. "This is weird, me lying down and you sitting up. I feel like you're my therapist. Which is a touchy subject right now."
Futaba spun the chair around again and tented her fingers. "Tell me about your mother," she said. "Or, you know. More about that thing you just said."
"I get that therapy is important. I'm really glad it's been working for you, and I won't let one therapist turning into a demon god sour me on the whole profession."
"Ren. Not that thing."
This wasn't Futaba's area of expertise at all. Ren was always the one who did this for her, and for everyone else besides. But this was the point three-quarters of the way through the game when the main character is out of action, and a side character has to step up. I can do this, she thought. I can be Ren for Ren.
"It really sounds like you want to talk about this," she said. "I think you should."
"You'd listen?"
"What are basically-sisters for?"
"Even after what I did to you? What I took from you?"
There it was. Futaba trained her eyes on him and tried to make it clear she wouldn't look away.
"You know what's funny? I've been to jail. I've been to court. I've been dead. I've been terrified for my friends' lives more times than I can count. I had to watch the man who ruined my life almost get elected PM." Ren stared at the ceiling. "And I'm pretty sure this has been the worst week of my life."
Futaba sat still, heart pounding, hoping every moment that she was doing what Ren would do.
"Let me show you how every day has gone." Ren mimed talking to an imaginary person standing next to Futaba. "Hey, Ryuji! You know how you're my best friend and you've stuck by me through thick and thin? I'd like to show you I appreciate you. How, you ask? By reminding you that you're not really on the track team because some dickshit broke your leg, and you can't do the one thing that makes you happiest."
He rolled over and widened his eyes as though seeing someone else standing in the corner.
"Ann! That's a nice best friend you've got there. It would be a shame if something were to happen to her. Like, say, some big-haired asshole telling you that she had to leave you and her whole life behind because some other big-haired asshole raped her."
It took all of Futaba's WIS score to keep from piping up. She hated to let Ren compare himself to Kamoshida in any way, even in passing, even in jest. But he needed her to listen, not talk.
"And we can't forget you, Morgana!" Ren sat up. "You've been there for me literally every step of the way. You've helped me with so much. You only ever asked for one thing in return -- a pretty small thing, given all the magic fucking spells we sling around every day -- but sorry, little buddy, it's not in the budget. Maybe next year."
Futaba scooted her chair back as Ren threw his arms wide. "Yusuke! You know how every day you open my eyes and teach me new ways to see the beauty of the world? How about I repay you by reminding you all about how your plagiarizing, backstabbing sensei let your mom choke to death on her own vomit?"
He was on his feet now, pacing, throwing hands like he was fighting his own shadow. "Haru, you're actually good, you can go. Oops, just kidding! Your dad is extra dead. But look on the bright side, if he'd lived, he would have sold you to a domestic abuser for campaign donations. Yeah, you're sort of a walking billboard for the concept of bad things happening to good people. Sorry!"
Ren sat heavily back on the bed, squeaking its springs, and grabbed his hair in both hands. Futaba winced as two clumps came loose.
"Makoto. God, Makoto, I love you so much. I never expected to meet someone who'd make me so happy. You're so much better than I deserve. I...I killed your dad. I killed him all over again because I didn't want to be without you."
I will not cry, Futaba told herself sternly, rooted to the chair. He wouldn't cry.
But then he did. And not halfway. One second Ren's face was screwed up, halfway between anguish and a Joker smirk, and the next it was damp with salt tears and snot. He folded, arms around his knees, into a heap on his unmade sheets.
"Futaba," he said brokenly. "I'm so sorry. I should have turned around that day I saw you in Akihabara. I should have left you with your mom."
Futaba thought she had gotten to know Ren well. Now she realized she'd missed something enormous. Even in the real world, his Joker mask was bolted on. He helped everybody today and left himself until tomorrow. And he'd swaggered and wisecracked and backflipped through it all, until he couldn't anymore.
He had an instinct in his head that always told him what people needed, a blessing and a curse. Futaba hoped some of it had rubbed off on her. She stood up, went to the bed, and tossed the pillow to the floor. She sat cross-legged where it had been. Wordlessly, tears unceasing, he lay his head in her lap. It was what he would have done: just be there.
All of a sudden, she also knew what he would say.
"Are you giving up?" she asked, stroking his hair.
That got him to take off his fake glasses, dry his eyes, and stare up at her. They faced each other upside-down. "Stealing my lines now, are we, Phoenix?"
Futaba flicked his forehead. "Do not quote Ace Attorney at me. I got you into Ace Attorney. Answer my question. Are you giving up?"
"I don't think I know what that means anymore."
"Lies. You just said you should have run away and left me. After everything that happened today, you're suddenly deciding Maruki's right?"
"I don't know!" Ren closed his eyes. "I think he's wrong. But I had no right to make that call for everybody. It was just...it was the looks on all your faces. Everyone with these vacant smiles like they barely knew me. Like they remembered me from somewhere, but couldn't place where. Even Makoto. Even you."
She kept stroking his hair so he wouldn't pull any more of it out. It's like a visual novel, she told herself. Just pick the right choices. He's counting on you.
"I panicked. That's all it was. I didn't want to be alone again."
"Did you ever think maybe we wanted you to find us?" asked Futaba.
"Huh?"
"It started on New Year's. When we showed up at that empty shrine." She shivered at the memory. "I was still happy after that, hanging out with my mom, but all the time it was like something was crawling under my skin. And there was a voice. Muffled during the day, but at night, it sounded like Prometheus. It kept screaming at me: this is wrong."
Ren was silent in her lap.
"If you hadn't come to find me, I don't know what I would have done. Gone nuts, I guess. Again."
"I never thought of that."
"Yeah, well, for the most selfless person I know, you can be pretty self-absorbed." Futaba blew a strand of hair from her eye. "We're all badass persona users. Of course we all had the same weird itchy feelings you and Akechi did. We all came to Leblanc this afternoon because we knew things were wrong."
"But if it hadn't been for me, you could have found your way there in your own time..."
"Nope. Blocked. Self-pity reflected, no damage." She felt herself gathering steam. "And another thing: this reality Maruki made is kludged all to hell. Do a thought experiment with me. Imagine I get to the otaku store and there's only one limited-edition Blue Swan figurine left on the shelf. But wait! Shinya appears at the other end of the aisle. Our eyes narrow. A tumbleweed rolls past for some reason."
Ren pulled his head from her lap and sat up. She scooted to join him so they were both leaning against the window wall. She asked, "In the Doc's perfect world, who gets the figurine?"
"I didn't know you were into philosophy."
"I wasn't. But then I learned you can solve philosophy problems by shooting lasers at God."
Futaba rejoiced to see Ren's tears dry as he pondered the question. He wiped a sleeve across his face. "Well...I suppose he could have the store owner find another one in the back."
"I said it's a limited edition figurine. If everyone who wants one gets one, it's not limited edition anymore. And then literally what is even the point of being alive?"
"OK, fine. So he picks one of you to get it, and makes the other one not want it anymore."
"Yeah, that's what he'd do." Futaba noticed a box of tissues on the shelf near the bed. She passed it to Ren so he could stop using his sleeve. "He'd probably pick me, because he knows me better. So now Shinya doesn't want it. And maybe wanting the toy wasn't a big deal, but it was still an irreplaceable part of what makes him Shinya. Even if he thinks he's happy, some part of his brain is in revolt over that little thing that went missing."
This next part made her heart race, but she had to drive the point home. "This is gonna happen every single time two people come into conflict. What if instead of a toy, it was two girls who wanted the same guy? That day I said I liked you, but you were already with Makoto -- what would he have done then?"
"That is a frightening point," Ren admitted. "He could've changed me to be OK with dating two girls. Changed both of you to be OK with sharing me. Or changed one of you so you didn't like me anymore."
"And wouldn't that suck to have someone implant that in my head? Instead of realizing on my own that we're better as friends because you're such a geek you somehow make me look cool? Think of all the personal growth I'd have missed out on."
Ren made a mock-wounded gesture. "So you're saying that in the long run...the only way to ensure a world of perfect happiness is to eliminate free will altogether."
"Ding ding ding! In the Phantom Thief business, we call that the full Yaldy." Futaba smiled, showing teeth. "That's why we can't just sit back and relax in Maruki's brain jar. We have to stop him. Thanks to you, we all realized that while we can still do something about it."
Ren was silent for a moment -- long enough for Futaba to perceive the second, greater silence where the Phantom Thieves waited below.
Her not-brother grabbed the tissue box and blew his nose on what looked like half its contents. "I guess I'd better go talk to them."
"You're the leader." She shoved him off the bed. "Go lead."
Ren started toward the stairs, but turned around halfway. Back at the bed, he patted Futaba softly on the head. "Thanks for coming for me," he said. "+10 affection points."
That jerk, Futaba thought, smirking to herself as she followed him down. How does he always know?