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Ren had been in the middle of his philosophy class when his phone buzzed, pulling him back from that hazy stage in between consciousness and sleep. As the old professor droned on about essentialism, he snuck a peek at his phone screen, glad for the distraction. Instead of an invitation to a ramen dinner from Ryuji or some esoteric comment about the trajectory of post-modernism from Yusuke, however, he found a text from an unknown number.
[Unknown]: Hello.
[Unknown]: Would you like to play a game with me?
Despite the odd, unexpected nature of the text, Ren felt himself smile. The last time he had received something so ominous had been his second year of high school, and when he had thrown caution to the wind he’d ended up with a little sister that he wouldn’t trade for the world. With the way Morgana snoozed under his desk now, Ren could almost pretend he was still seventeen, like the last two years had yet to pass.
But they had, and if Morgana was awake now he would undoubtedly tell Ren to ignore the message.
Perhaps it was the lingering rebel spirit inside of him that incited him to response; perhaps it was just how desperate he was in need of a distraction, of something to feed the sleepy adrenaline that saw little reason to stir these days that Ren decided, well, what was the worst that could happen?
Amamiya Ren: Depends. What are you thinking?
It was barely a moment after he slipped his phone back into his pocket that it buzzed again - his unknown caller must have an excess of free time, and he made sure his professor wasn’t looking his way before pulling it out again.
[Unknown]: Spontaneous, aren’t you?
[Unknown]: I suppose that works in my favour.
[Unknown]: We’ll do something simple. In keeping with the spirit of the season - trick or treat?
Amamiya Ren: Were you expecting me to say no?
[Unknown]: There was always the chance of that.
[Unknown]: So? What will it be?
Halloween wasn’t exactly something that Ren thought about often, apart from instructions at his part-time job to stock the Halloween candy or to get into his costume, and his knowledge of it was perfunctory at best, gleamed from the odd American movie. As far as he knew, a treat was typically something sweet, while a trick…
Amamiya Ren: Trick.
He’s called on to answer a question, his attention returning to the room as he offered his explanation of Plato’s writing, stumbling over the end of his sentence as he rushed to finish, a little too eager to see what awaited him. He need not have bothered - he had yet to receive a response, and it wasn’t until after an agonising thirty minutes later when class was dismissed that he finally received a response.
[Unknown]: How fitting. A riddle, then. What gets broken without being held?
Amamiya Ren: A promise.
Amamiya Ren: What did you mean that it was fitting?
Morgana was waking up now, and Ren hurried to slip him back into his bag, the rest of his stationery following closely behind. Just one more lecture before lunch and he would be off to his job stocking shelves at the pharmacy, with nothing but a long afternoon of party-goers looking for a last minute costume fix at the cosmetic aisle or tired office workers trudging in in search of an energy boost awaiting him. It wasn’t too bad, if he was honest, and he reminded himself that the weird loneliness inside him was not only temporary but also entirely irrational. Futaba and Haru had organised a horror movie marathon over the weekend for the group, after all, even if Ann and Sumire would only be joining via video call.
He’d gotten through worse, Ren reasoned to himself as he made his way across the campus building and towards his next class; his final year of high school back in his hometown had felt longer and even more isolating than he could have imagined. It wasn’t as if Ren didn’t know why he felt this way either - that well-worn glove remained snugly at home in his pocket, and as he rubbed the carefully conditioned leather between his fingers, he could already hear the pity in Makoto’s voice telling Ren to let it - let him - go.
It’s impossible, of course. As if Ren could walk through Shibuya without thinking about the not-so coincidental meetings at the train platform each morning, or stop himself from looking over at the entrance of Penguin Sniper each time he was in Kichijoji, searching for a figure that would no longer be there. That melancholy lingers in every jazz record that Ren played on his phone, in every cup of coffee that he brewed for an empty, unfulfilled audience.
Tokyo is a city marked by the ghost of Akechi Goro on every corner, and it was both Ren’s happiness and regret to bear.
He’s one foot into the lecture hall of his next class when his phone finally buzzed again, as if he hadn’t been checking it every other minute on his way over, and his abrupt stop caused someone to knock into him as they scurried past.
“Sorry,” Ren managed, but the other person was already gone, the tail of their light brown coat whipping past as they rounded a corner. Ren didn’t blame them, with class almost starting, but he had bigger concerns.
[Unknown]: Well done.
[Unknown]: I suppose that’s nothing for someone of your ability, however.
[Unknown]: Look inside your left pocket.
There’s a brief moment of panic inside him - it’s where he kept Akechi’s glove, after all - and it’s relieved only by finding it still in its spot. But there’s something else there now, and he withdrew a single playing card that definitely wasn’t there before. The mocking grin of the Joker smiled back at him, picked out from an otherwise nondescript deck similar to the ones easily purchased in convenience stores, but the implication was clear.
Ren cursed under his breath, turning on his heel to dash out of the lecture theatre and down the corridor. He knew it was unlikely that he could still find that person from before, even if they hadn’t disappeared in a glance, and the noisy throngs of students in the hallways only made it more difficult for him to focus. Even as he followed the corner, winding his way along paths that his mysterious stranger could have conceivably taken, Ren didn’t spot that same coat again. The crowds of students had eased into a trickle, and any tiny chance Ren had of finding him was likely long gone.
“Ren,” Morgana whispered, peeking out of his bag, “don’t you have a class now?”
“Yeah,” Ren answered distractedly, turning the playing card over in his hand. Was it a warning? A clue? He wondered if it was a prank played by one of his friends, but it seemed unlikely. This wasn’t really any of their styles, whose humour tended to lean towards loud and bombastic on one end or soft and teasing on the other. There’s a subtle wryness that Ren couldn’t explain here, and in another time, he would say the cadence of his unknown texter reminded him of one particular individual alone.
But Akechi Goro was gone, lost in the depths of a Metaverse that had since crumbled, and even Niijima Sae had conceded after a long year of searching. For this world, Akechi Goro no longer existed, his presence seemingly plucked out and forgotten. Ren would know this - he’s had the automated out-of-service message memorised to heart, after all.
Morgana nibbled sharply at his ear, not quite hard enough to injure but definitely enough to hurt.
“Ow!” Ren hissed, rubbing away the pain.
“You were ignoring me!” Morgana retorted, “why aren’t you in class? What’s that in your hand?”
“I -” Ren noticed unhappily that it had been fifteen minutes since his lecture had started, and he sighed, “someone gave this to me. I think it’s part of a game.”
“A Joker card?” Morgana frowned, and then he was gasping, “Joker, you don’t think-”
“I don’t know,” Ren whispered, marching them away from the main corridor and into a small courtyard before they could draw the attention of passing students, “look, let me just…”
He pulled out his phone again, and the lack of new messages seemed to mock him.
Amamiya Ren: Thanks for the card. Is this supposed to be my reward?
Amamiya Ren: Are you on my school campus?
And then, before he could think better of it -
Amamiya Ren: That seems a little stalker-like.
“You’re texting an unknown number?” The disapproval in Morgana’s voice was abundantly clear, “did you ask Oracle about it?”
“Nope,” Ren said. He didn’t have a good reason why either - he’s justified it as Futaba being busy with class, with not wanting to bother her when she was probably neck deep in revision for entrance exams - but the truth was that he wanted to figure this out for himself first. It reminded him of a long lost thrill, and even if there was likely nothing but disappointment at the end of it, Ren felt it was only right that he solved this alone. Even having Morgana around seemed a little like cheating.
[Unknown]: My apologies.
[Unknown]: If you prefer, we can stop here.
Amamiya Ren: No, let’s keep going. What’s next?
[Unknown]: Very well. Once again, trick or treat?
Amamiya Ren: Trick.
[Unknown]: Of course.
[Unknown]: Find me here.
[Unknown] has sent you an image.
It wasn’t immediately clear to him what he was looking at. The photo was of something zoomed in until it was out of focus and all that could be seen were pixelated hues of bright blue, and a dark blob on the corner of the image. It’s foreign, yet arrestingly familiar. It wasn’t quite the deep blue of a room that he no longer visited in his dreams, but it felt painfully melancholic all the same, like a whisper of something at the edge of his mind. The harder he tried to focus on the thought, the more it seemed to evade him.
Amamiya Ren: You’re a terrible photographer.
[Unknown]: You’re welcome to do better.
Morgana was watching him silently from his shoulder, and Ren sighed. “Any thoughts?”
“I think you should talk to someone about this,” Morgana said seriously, and Ren poked his cheek.
“You’re someone,” Ren pointed out teasingly, and Morgana paused, aghast.
“I - yes, well! You - oh, fine!” Morgana huffed, chest puffing out, and Ren couldn’t help but smile at his bravado, “we can do this easily!”
“Exactly,” Ren said, scratching under Morgana’s chin to draw out a long purr.
He didn’t want to check in with Futaba, but he’d spent enough time with her to figure out her first steps. The metadata of the photo told him little - it was taken recently, so there was that, but any geolocation data had been removed. Not that Ren had expected it to be easy; if it was, he would have been disappointed. It’s a sentiment that had him wistful again for a long gone rival, of someone that kept his wits sharp and his attention on edge.
“Maybe it’s a painting,” Morgana suggested, “Fox was talking about abstract art while we were having sushi last week, remember? Maybe we need to go to a museum.”
It was certainly possible, but Ren didn’t feel convinced. Even as a static image on the screen, there was a depth to the hues that didn’t seem unnatural. He’s certain now that it wasn’t the Velvet Room, but the blues almost seemed to glow. “I think those are lights. The planetarium?”
The whiskers on Morgana’s face twitched, “but why the planetarium?”
Ren decided not to admit that it was his first though was because he’d always wanted to go there on a date, but it was a fair question. If this game he was playing wanted to point towards Ren’s previous activities as the leader of the Phantom Thieves, then the planetarium held little meaning. He couldn’t be sure of that, of course, but it was unlikely that the Joker playing card was a mere coincidence. Mentally, he ran through the list of locations that they had visited in the Metaverse, but even that seemed to come up short. Ren doubted the photo was attempting to capture the flashing light shows of Sae’s casino or Okumura’s factory space station.
“There has to be a theme,” Ren said, enlarging the photo on the screen futilely and only finding more pixelation, “something that connects it to Joker. It has to be somewhere in the real world too, for that picture to be taken.”
Maybe it was a connection to his confidants. Iwai’s shop? Takemi’s clinic?
“What’s that in the corner?” Morgana asked, pawing at the edge of his phone screen, “it looks like a line.”
Ren frowned, scrolling over. Almost imperceptible was the tail end of a lazy wriggle, a faint, translucent stroke that seemed nearly luminescent with the blue hues in the back. It reminded him of-
“Jellyfish,” Ren whispered, straightening suddenly. In his chest, his heart seemed to squeeze into itself, “the aquarium.”
It seemed to made sense. He wanted it to make sense. Ren wanted the connection between the clues to be Akechi, for the cool, detached voice of this stranger playing this game with him to belong to Akechi as well. It’s not the first time that he saw the traces of a boy who was no longer there, the lingering ghost of a wish that beckoned him forward to chase, but like each time it happened, he ran. His feet were already headed towards the train station, Morgana slipping back into his bag as he yowled for his life.
“Joker!” Morgana admonished once Ren had slipped past the fare gates and sprinted into the train, the closing doors just about missing the tail of his coat, “what was that about?”
The carriage was thankfully empty at this time of day, dotted only by a handful of commuters, and Ren collapsed onto one of many open seats. His watch told him it had only taken him eleven minutes to cross the university campus and jump onto the train - Ryuji would have been proud of him.
“It’s the aquarium,” Ren gasped, even though he knew it explained little. In retrospect, he needn’t have rushed, but the prospect of Akechi being more than just a forgotten memory had pulled him forward, and impulse etched deeply inside of him.
Morgana was shooting him a look now. He’d always been privy to Ren’s confessions and private ennui, and Ren was thankful when Morgana decided on settling himself more comfortably in Ren’s bag, his judgement carefully withheld.
“Let’s have an early lunch later,” Morgana said instead, closing his eyes around a put-on yawn, “it sounds like we’re going to have a really long day ahead, and you’ve still got a shift at the shop after.”
Morgana let Ren wordlessly scratch behind his ears for the rest of the train journey - Ren suspected that it was a kindness for Ren’s nerves more so than it was for Morgana, and the long hour towards the aquarium was passed in an otherwise comfortable silence.
For the balled up tension that continued to curdle inside him, Ren expected something dramatic awaiting him when he exited the station at Shinagawa. Instead, Morgana proved to be right, and Ren fought through the mundane crowds of tourists going about their very ordinary day, not at all conscious of the emotional storm brewing inside him. The path towards the jellyfish tank were easy to retrace; he had only replayed it a hundred times or so in his mind, after all, scrutinising each casual word and gesture that Akechi had offered in search of evidence that could further condemn or exonerate him.
He’d never found anything, not even in the years that had passed. In the end, all Ren could see was just another boy, seeking the comfort of solace in a quiet moment sheltered from the world.
“For his rebellion against the Gods, Prometheus was chained to a rock as punishment, condemned to spend eternity experiencing the torture of an eagle eating his liver,” Akechi once recited, deep blues lights reflected in deeper eyes as he smiled at Ren.
“Not the trivia I was expecting to hear at the aquarium,” Ren had answered a lifetime ago, and when he leaned in closer then, Akechi had reciprocated.
“I went to the beach once, as a child. I remember watching jellyfish being washed ashore, and how some tried to throw them back into the sea while others dragged them onto hot rocks and giggled as they collapsed and evaporated under the heat of the sun.” There was a quiet storm that brewed in Akechi’s gaze as he spoke, a gravity that sharpened each word from his lips, “the reality, it seems, is that cruelty is a fact of this world. No justification for it is necessary - it simply is.”
“I disagree. We can always choose kindness, regardless of the choices of others.”
“Is that so?” In the low light of the space, Akechi’s smile seemed to take on an edge, “even if it was an injustice committed against you - you would accept your executioner with open arms?”
Ren had known it was a goad. He had thought of the careful lies that Akechi spun, of how they were juxtaposed against the raw honesty that escaped regardless. Don’t mistake kindness for weakness, he once wanted to say, but the rebuke was easily drowned out, the seeds of desperation always having been there.
“It depends. They might have their reasons,” Ren had whispered instead, his response a silent plea that went unnoticed, a peace offering that was lost in cold, detached laughter echoing in the metal bowels of a ship.
The glass panel of the aquarium’s tank was equally cold under his touch. He wondered if the jellyfish today were the same as the ones here two years ago, if they held those same memories like witnesses to a grand trial.
“Ren,” Morgana whispered, so he exhaled, pulling his thoughts away from the ghosts of days long past, an imprint that only he could see.
“I don’t think there’s anything here,” Ren answered as he took out his phone. To his disappointment, there were no new messages.
“Are you going to take a photo?” Morgana asked, and he nodded. He didn’t have the eye for composition that Yusuke did, but he lined his camera up to capture a fluther of jellyfish that floated by, their blooming shape framed by soft aquarium lights.
Amamiya Ren has sent an image.
Amamiya Ren: Here.
[Unknown]: Well done. I expected nothing less.
So he had been right, and the quick response that he received stung more than the brief relief that it offered. If the answer was the aquarium, then -
Amamiya Ren: Who are you?
He knew he was being rash. If this stranger had a name for Ren to know, then they would have introduced themselves from the beginning. The next moments that passed trickled by painfully as he waited, and Ren barely registered the feeling of Morgana pressing his paws against his shoulder as a gesture of comfort.
[Unknown]: Nobody of importance.
Amamiya Ren: I’d like to determine that for myself.
Amamiya Ren: Are you someone I know?
Amamiya Ren: A friend?
[Unknown]: Would you like to continue playing?
The question stared up at him, detached as it waited. Ren exhaled, grounding himself in Morgana’s unwavering presence. The shadow of Yaldabaoth and Maruki’s manipulations hung over him still, and his anger at being played with never quite left him. But Ren needed to know if the other person was just masquerading in Akechi’s voice as a joke in poor taste, or if they knew something about Akechi that Ren didn’t.
He must had taken too long in his thoughts - a second message came in.
[Unknown]: Is this game not to your liking?
Amamiya Ren: I’m tired of being fucked with-
He shook his head, hitting backspace and starting again.
Amamiya Ren: Make me a good deal.
[Unknown]: …
[Unknown]: I understand.
[Unknown]: What would you like?
Amamiya Ren: Information.
[Unknown]: …
[Unknown]: Very well. It has been said that information wins wars.
[Unknown]: I will answer one question for every round that you win.
[Unknown]: However, I cannot divulge anything about my identity. That is my condition.
Amamiya Ren: Fine.
Amamiya Ren: Why did you choose the aquarium?
[Unknown]: Do you not like it? I find it calming to watch the fish swim.
Amamiya Ren: Is that all?
[Unknown]: No.
Amamiya Ren: And…?
[Unknown]: I’ve answered two questions now. You would need a third win, if you would like me to answer that.
Ren swore softly under his breath.
Amamiya Ren: Fine.
Amamiya Ren: What’s next?
[Unknown]: Very well. As a gesture of goodwill, a treat.
[Unknown] has sent you an image.
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t a voucher for some recently opened cafe in Minato. Ren checked the message log again, but sure enough - the unknown number had said it was a treat. Could he believe that, though? Over his shoulder, Morgana sniffed, his damp nose pressing against Ren’s cheek.
As if reading his thoughts, a second text came in.
[Unknown]: It’s nearly lunch time, isn’t it?
[Unknown]: I hope you have a good meal.
Ren supposed he didn’t have a reason to decline. Besides, there might be an opportunity for another clue at the cafe, even if he didn’t know what to look out for.
“They’re not going to poison me,” Ren reasoned aloud, though it did little to dissuade the scepticism from Morgana’s face. He wasn’t going to tell Morgana that he wasn’t entirely convinced either, however, “at least, not in public. I’m not important enough.”
Morgana made a noise of disagreement, “it could be a trap for something else.”
“Yes, but,” Ren heaved this bag higher up on his shoulder, “I am hungry.”
He laughed softly as Morgana groaned, not at all feeling that lightness himself. If anything, Ren was feeling quite silly as he made his way out of the building, pushing past the barricades and the cool, robotic tones of the overhead speaker telling him to have a nice day.
They spent the train journey over to Minato debating who the mystery texter might be.
“It’s probably not someone from the Velvet Room,” Ren considered, “Justine and Caroline have sent text messages before, but this doesn’t seem like the kind of prank that Lavenza would pull.”
“Of course not! Lady Lavenza would never-” Morgana cleared his throat, embarrassed, “I mean, no, I don’t think so. Could it be someone else? We still didn’t find out anything about Jose, but what if there were more of them?”
“It’s not Jose.” Morgana shot him a look, and he glanced away, staring at a bright yellow advertisement about cram school or whatever, “I spoke to him last night.”
“Joker, were you-” Morgana tugged at his ears, pulling them downwards “were you in the den again?”
“Only for a while. I wanted to play Tycoon.”
It’s not the complete truth. Ren also sat at the construction of Penguin Sniper by himself, watching the the static copy of an eighteen-year old Akechi Goro laugh with Niijima Sae, frozen in his dreams as a never aging memory. Akechi had not acknowledged him when Ren told him he was older than him now, but then he never did.
Morgana didn’t call him out on his lie. “Well, I want to play Tycoon too!”
“You wouldn’t let me stay up past 11pm,” Ren said, dodging a swat from Morgana’s paw, “it doesn’t count if I’m asleep. Anyway, if I was in danger from that side, wouldn’t Lavenza tell me?”
Ren had not felt the tug on his soul calling for his return in a long time, but he knew the Velvet Room was still there, the warm weight of the key forming in his mind as he focused.
“I guess,” Morgana said unhappily, “but who else could it be?”
Maybe the playing card and the aquarium were just coincidences - as far as he could tell, the cafe didn’t seem to bear any relation to his life as a Phantom Thief, but it was an argument that was difficult to buy. Whether that was because he missed that thrill, now absent in his peaceful life, or because his instincts had figured out something before him, Ren didn’t know.
“It’s probably not a hacker that’s figured it out from the data on my phone either,” Ren added instead, “if it’s connected, then it has to be someone that knows me.”
Tokyo Tower loomed close by as they left the station, and Ren pulled up his phone for directions to the cafe. No new messages still, he noted, but at least the cafe wasn’t too far away.
It didn’t take them long before they arrived, and the cafe seemed like the trendy sort of place that Ann - and Akechi - would like, with its tall windows and a lush abundance of plants. It was at least twice as big as Leblanc, and even though it was only a little past eleven, more than half of its tables were already occupied. A waiter greeted him cheerfully as he entered, leading him towards a small table near a bushy dumb cane plant.
Ren tried to scrutinise the menu for clues, but it seemed perfectly ordinary with its tidy columns. In the end, he settled on ordering a trio of salmon onigiri and fed one of them to Morgana under the table as he watched the cafe with anticipation, sure that something might happen. A fashionably dressed pair a few tables away from him giggled, taking a dozen or so photos of their food from various angles as they chattered.
Ren tried not to think about Akechi’s stupid food blog - and failed miserably.
The blog looked the same as it always did, another piece of Akechi frozen in permanent stasis. It’s the same photo at a patisserie that greeted Ren when he pulled it up on his phone, the last update posted in the late days of October 2016. Ren remembered being there with Akechi, the tip of his fingers caught on the edge of the photo. Akechi had complained loudly about Ren getting into his shot, only to post it anyway. He scrolled down, finding the comment that had asked about the other person in the photo. Akechi’s reply was still there, a friendly response of ‘colleague’ punctuated with a smiley emoji.
Ren smiled at it forlornly. In retrospect, he wondered how many photos Akechi had with other people captured in it, if he even had any at all. Whether Akechi sincerely meant it - whether those hours they spent in Leblanc pouring over case notes on the Asakura murder had been more than just a temporary distraction from Akechi’s plan - Ren would never know. He wanted to think that Akechi’s laughter then had been heartfelt, that their time spent together had been as much a reprieve for Akechi as it had been for him, but it’s a thought he entertained with guilt.
‘Sentimental saviour complex,’ was what Akechi had spat on that cold evening in February, each syllable drenched in disdain. Maybe that was Akechi’s true thoughts.
Morgana nipped at his fingers, the last of that onigiri gone.
“Seems like there really wasn’t anything more to this,” Ren said, scratching under Morgana’s chin.
“Hmm,” Morgana purred, “maybe.”
Disappointment had already set in when he called the waiter over to pay. It occurred to him that maybe the coupon was fake, that the trick was a bit of humiliation when it’s rejected at payment, but even he had to admit that he was grasping at straws. That theory was quickly scrapped when the coupon was accepted, disappointment settling in.
“Thank you for your continued patronage!” the waiter beamed cheerfully, and it gave Ren paused.
“What do you mean?”
The waiter blinked at him, “the voucher? It’s a promotion from our main cafe in Kichijoji - it has to be purchased in store.”
Ren stared, “oh - right. Sorry, a friend gave it to me - what’s the name of the cafe?”
Somehow, he knew the answer even before the waiter spoke.
“Miel et crepes?”
The memory of sitting there with Akechi two years ago in October was clear in his mind, and he swallowed the edge digging at his throat. “Right, I remember now - it’s a few doors down from Penguin Sniper.”
“That’s the one! Anyway, did you want a receipt?”
He shifted in his seat, feeling uncertain, “actually, I could go for dessert. Can I have the seasonal special and a cappuccino?”
“Of course! I’ll be right with you.”
Morgana waited until the waiter was gone before poking his head out from under the table, “hey, you don’t think…?”
Morgana had known about all the times he met up with Akechi in Kichijoji after all, whether it was the cafe, the jazz club or the darts place. If there was one place where the presence of Akechi’s ghost was the most salient in its demands, it was Kichijoji.
“I don’t know,” Ren said honestly, and he looked at the post on Akechi’s blog again. It was definitely Miel et crepes, and the date of posting was 31st October 2016. That made today the two year anniversary of the post - the likelihood of it all being a coincidence seemed improbable now, and something inside him surged, the connection to Akechi growing more certain by the minute.
The seasonal special turned out to be a kabocha mont blanc, and Ren thought it looked pretty good. He took out his phone, pulling out the camera and lining up the dessert into frame.
“Mona, wait, put your paw here.”
“What?”
“Quick, before someone else sees.”
Ren snapped the photo, careful to keep Mona’s paw on the edge of the image. It wasn’t quite the same as the one on Akechi’s blog, of course, but it should be good enough as bait.
Amamiya Ren has sent an image.
Amamiya Ren: What do you think? Good enough for a food blog?
[Unknown]: Haha.
[Unknown]: What makes you think I’d know?
Amamiya Ren: Just a thought.
Amamiya Ren: So?
[Unknown]: I suppose it passes.
The reactive evasiveness was such an Akechi-like reaction that Ren had to smile at that, even if he hadn’t proved anything yet. Judging by the frown on Morgana’s expression, he probably failed to hide it at all.
[Unknown]: As thanks for the photo, I’ll permit another question.
Amamiya Ren: Why are you doing this?
Amamiya Ren: Playing this game, I mean.
[Unknown]: Let’s call it unfinished business.
Amamiya Ren: What does that mean?
Amamiya Ren: Am I unfinished business?
[Unknown]: What do you want the answer to be?
Amamiya Ren: I want the truth.
[Unknown]: Even if it may be a burden?
Amamiya Ren: As I said - I’ll decide that myself.
He didn’t receive a response for a while, so he busied himself with checking the image of the coupon as he chewed on the pastry. There wasn’t much detail to be discerned from it, apart from some marketing fluff text and a large barcode. Still, if this cafe was new, then it meant this stranger had been there recently. It felt too deliberate, the connection, and he brightened up slightly as he ate the pastry, certain that this was at least a clue.
Feeling emboldened, Ren sent another text.
Amamiya Ren: Happy anniversary.
“Joker,” Morgana said in warning, so Ren plucked the candied ball of kabocha off his plate and fed it to him.
[Unknown]: Haha.
[Unknown]: Let’s continue our game - trick or treat?
It’s a deflection, but it wasn’t confusion or outright denial. He had to be on the right track.
Amamiya Ren: Trick.
Amamiya Ren: But just so you know, I have a shift in an hour. I won’t be able to run around Tokyo.
[Unknown]: Sounds dreadful.
[Unknown]: But I will take it into account.
[Unknown]: Give me a moment to prepare.
The moment turned out to be several moments more, so Ren paid his bill and left, making his way towards the train station for the fourth time in a day to head to work at Ikebukuro. Morgana was right - the day was already feeling very long, and it was barely half past noon.
“Why would anybody want to pose as Akechi?” Morgana started, sticking his head out of Ren’s bag the moment they entered the train carriage.
“Exactly.” More importantly, why would anybody want to pose as Akechi to him?
“What do you mean-” Morgana paused, scowling, “Joker, you don’t think that’s actually Akechi, do you?”
Ren shrugged, not quite wanting to admit that he did. Morgana understood anyway.
“Joker, you said - Maruki -”
“I know, but it’s Akechi,” Ren exhaled. When had Akechi ever let a minor inconvenience like death stop him from getting what he wanted? “no one else knew about our dates- our outings, I mean. Other than you and Futaba, and I really don’t think this is a prank from either of you.”
“But why now?” Morgana pressed, “if he’s been alive this whole time, why wait two years?”
“That’s what I’d like to know too,” Ren said, although he found that he didn’t particularly care. If Akechi was indeed alive, then what more would he need? Morgana made an unhappy sound in worry, and Ren sighed, “it’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”
The monotony of heading into his shift at the shop almost felt jarring in light of this revelation, and Morgana hopped out to look for a hiding spot like he normally did, leaving him by his lonesome. Ren greeted his colleagues in the staff room, changing into his costume as he let their conversation about Halloween crowds and stocktaking wash over him.
“Magician, huh?” Ren commented idly to himself as he checked his uniform in the mirror. The cheap fabric and the poor imitation of boundless skies printed on it felt very silly on him, and he thought about Jose and his strings of stars, of the quiet calm in those secret corners - he desperately wished he could feel a little of that peace inside himself now.
“Ah, Amamiya, you’re here!” his manager called out in greeting, and Ren sighed, pressing down on the futile wishes that threatened to crush him.
It’s a little after the second hour of his shift before he’s finally rewarded for the wait, and he slipped behind a rack featuring discounted cosmetics to sneak a peak at his screen.
[Unknown] has sent you an image.
[Unknown]: White to move.
It’s a static screenshot of a chessboard from an online site, because of course it was. Ren checked his surroundings quickly before he scrutinised the image for a long moment. He could see that black was close to checkmate in three moves, but he was a little too rusty to figure out a good escape. Chess was something that always felt exclusive to him and Akechi alone, after all, and it’s been a long time since he had last looked at a board with the intention of playing. Even when Makoto had caught him staring at it wistfully and offered to play a match with him, Ren could never bring himself to accept her offer, too conscious of his own distraction from longing.
His matches with Akechi, after all, was never really about chess itself.
Amamiya Ren: Sorry, I don’t know what that is.
[Unknown]: Are you serious?
Amamiya Ren: What do you mean?
[Unknown]: You don’t know what a chessboard is.
Amamiya Ren: Is that what it is?
Amamiya Ren: I wouldn’t know. I’ve never played chess.
[Unknown]: …
[Unknown]: Is this a trick?
Amamiya Ren: I don’t know.
Amamiya Ren: Aren’t you the trickster here?
The automated bell chimed as a large group came into the store and Ren returned his phone into his pocket, feeling a little smug with himself as he greeted them. If it was Akechi on the other side of the screen, then he wouldn’t be able to call Ren out without exposing himself. Ren could almost imagine the razor smile Akechi wore, sharpening in tight annoyance as Ren teased him. The plastic image of the proud Detective Prince rarely cracked, but Ren had thought himself quite adept at coming close.
Except, of course, in those last months, when the crumbling remains of porcelain revealed another shell underneath, this second one made of simmering fury and silent rage.
It’s a lonesome thought, and one made worse by a passing cosplayer dressed as Sherlock Holmes. Ren never had the chance to see if Akechi ever changed Ren’s contact information on his phone back, or if the label of Watson remained on a two-year-old phone that hadn’t been charged or looked at for just as long.
His own phone remained silent as well, and Ren counted each passing minute as he unpacked a carton of bandaids. The self-satisfaction he felt had already fizzled out; a few shelves away, his colleagues chatted about popular rituals online to get rid of haunting ghosts, and he listened glumly, wishing they would talk about how to summon them instead. A ghost he could see would be easier to talk to, at least.
Another two long hours and more than a dozen shelves arranged in painstaking neatness later, Ren sat down in the break room at the end of his shift with a can of cheap green tea, delighted to finally see another message in wait on his phone screen.
[Unknown]: I apologise, perhaps I was mistaken.
[Unknown]: We can consider this round forfeit, if you prefer.
[Unknown]: I’m not sure if your silence is due to work or agreement to my proposal.
[Unknown]: Should I keep waiting?
Amamiya Ren: I had work.
Amamiya Ren: A forfeit seems to imply my loss.
Amamiya Ren: I’m not sure how I feel about that.
[Unknown] has sent you an image.
[Unknown]: The option to respond is still there.
Ren rolled his eyes, scrutinising the board again. There’s a feign he could make with his bishop, but…
Amamiya Ren: Fine.
Amamiya Ren: Queen to B6
[Unknown]: What?
[Unknown]: You can’t do that. Your Queen is blocking Black’s Rook to your King.
Amamiya Ren: I did say I didn’t know how to play chess.
Amamiya Ren: You should give me another chance.
Amamiya Ren: I know I would.
[Unknown]: You would what? Give yourself another chance?
Amamiya Ren: No.
Amamiya Ren: I would give you another chance.
Amamiya Ren: As many as you wanted, truth be told.
Amamiya Ren: During chess, obviously.
[Unknown]: Obviously.
[Unknown]: Not that I would need it.
Amamiya Ren: Obviously.
Amamiya Ren: I’m just saying.
[Unknown]: Fine.
[Unknown]: You have another chance.
Amamiya Ren: Thanks.
Amamiya Ren: Bishop to C4.
[Unknown]: Why would you do that?
[Unknown]: You’re giving away your piece for nothing.
Amamiya Ren: Fine, fine.
Amamiya Ren: Bishop to F7.
[Unknown]: Very good.
Amamiya Ren: Amazing what a second chance or three could do, huh?
[Unknown]: You are, of course, aware that chess does not normally offer extra chances?
Amamiya Ren: Not if you’re playing with me.
[Unknown]: That seems incredibly naive.
He’s staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as Akechi’s cold voice rung in his mind when Morgana’s whisper pulled him from his thoughts.
“Joker,” Morgana jumped onto his lap, claws digging gently into Ren’s thigh, “are you - are you, um, still playing?”
“Just chess,” Ren said, pulling Morgana close to him so he could bury his face in Morgana’s fur. The last text felt like bait, but Ren wasn’t at all sure what to say in response to that. Hadn’t Akechi always accused him of being soft? Too sentimental too sacrifice a chess piece or a friend, too naive, too blind to the true ugliness beneath a pretty mask, “shall we go home?”
It’s that cold winter night in February all over again, and he sent off one final text.
Amamiya Ren: I trust you.
He didn’t receive a response immediately, but he wasn’t at all surprised. Resigned to another few hours of silence, he waved goodbye on his way out of the store before stepping out into the late autumn evening, the wind chill cutting against his cheeks.
“It’s cold,” Morgana huffed, squirming in his arms. Ren took off his hat and scooped Morgana inside it - the residual warmth from wearing it for hours in a heated shop was hopefully better than the flimsy fabric of his school bag, and Morgana seemed to agree, curling inside contently, “aren’t you freezing, Joker?”
“I’m fine,” Ren lied. The flimsy cloak around his shoulders did little to block against the wind, but he didn’t feel like hanging around outside any longer, the draw of his bed proving too strong after such an emotionally exhausting day. Besides, “it’s only a short train ride home.”
“If you’re sure…” Morgana started hesitantly, so Ren patted him on the head in assurance.
Dusk was beginning to settle in the city, but the buzzing crowds around him didn’t ease. Ren was only vaguely conscious of them as he passed around them, each group huddled close together in search of heat. The station was thankfully warm, but he ducked into a kombini to buy two hot cans of coffee, slipping one of them into his hat for Morgana to hold. Ren amused himself with the lecture that Sojiro might give him if he saw Ren drinking that, and the wait for the train didn’t feel as long as it normally did.
He’s lucky to get a seat as commuters filtered out - in his arms, Morgana had already fallen asleep, and Ren settled him on his lap as he watched each station pass by them in a blur. At each stop, he tapped on his phone screen to check for new messages, only to be disappointed each time.
It wasn’t until after they pulled out from Harajuku did his phone finally vibrate again.
[Unknown]: That seems unwise.
[Unknown]: But that’s really up to you, isn’t it?
[Unknown]: Let’s play one final round.
[Unknown]: Before you decide, look up.
Overhead, the announcement of the train’s arrival in Shibuya station rang out. As it came to a stop, Ren glanced up, the face of a ghost staring back at him.
No - ghosts didn’t age. The boy watching him was not the eighteen year old high school student that chased him from the corner of his dreams; his hair was shorter now and the features that marked his face had become a little more mature from the passage of time, but it was still unmistakably Akechi Goro.
“Shit,” Ren swore under his breath, jumping out of his seat and hurtling out of the train carriage, “A - Akechi?”
He’d spent the day increasingly convinced that Akechi was here, that the unknown number texting him couldn’t have been anyone else but him, but none of that had been enough to prepare Ren for this moment. How long had he imagined this, after all, to one day find Akechi’s face in the crowd again? Ren felt the heat of a thousand wishes burn through him, the lamentations and regrets of yesteryear tight around his chest as he sprinted forward, until he was close enough to know for certain that Akechi was here, here, here.
“Hi,” Akechi cleared his throat, shifting as he spoke, his voice blunt and cold and warm and everything that Ren had been chasing in his dreams for years, “you - what are you wearing?”
What?
Ren blinked at him, the storm of thoughts in his mind coming to an abrupt halt.
“You bastard,” Ren choked out, “you disappear for years and - and that’s the first thing you say to me?”
“It’s distracting.” Akechi wasn’t looking at him, his gaze fixed on the bottom hem of Ren’s cloak. Uncertainty and doubt were rarely words that Ren would use to describe Akechi, but it was evident in the tension set in those shoulders, in the way his hand was clenched around his arm.
Fuck it, Ren thought, and he pulled Akechi into a crushing hug.
“Ren-”
“Shut up,” Ren said wetly, his eyes stinging as he failed to hold back a sob. He’d never known how deep his greed could run until now - Ren wanted to hold Akechi close against him until his skin was imprinted with Akechi’s heat, until his lungs was full of nothing but the faded scent of Akechi’s musky cologne. He wanted to ask Akechi a hundred questions about why he left and why he came back, he wanted to demand explanation after explanation until he could drown himself entirely in Akechi’s very real presence, until the void left behind from longing could finally be satiated, “you owe me. You’re real. You’re here.”
“I do. I am. I’m here.” Akechi whispered, soft in a way he had never been.
“Joker!” Morgana’s muffled voice yelled out, the moment between them broken as Morgana wriggled free, circling around them as his eyes widened in disbelief, “Akechi?”
“Morgana,” Akechi said stiffly, “it’s been a while.”
“You don’t say!” Morgana huffed, “Ren’s been waiting for you this whole time!”
Akechi didn’t say anything in response to that - instead, his expression turned odd as he looked at Ren. Ren felt himself flush with heat, and his fingers fisted deeper in Akechi’s coat. A familiar beige coat, Ren realised.
“It was you this morning, wasn’t it?” Ren swallowed shakily. The riddle during his morning lecture felt like a distant memory now, “at school. With the card.”
“I wanted to see you,” Akechi said tightly, “I wanted to know - no, I needed to know if you remembered.”
Ren realised Akechi was asking if he remembered him.
“You’re kind of hard to forget,” Ren laughed, the bundle of nerves inside him frayed on each end, the logic of the day’s games falling into place, “I hope this isn’t a trick.”
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Akechi exhaled, “if you’ll have me.”
“Of course,” Ren smiled.
For once, it seemed like time was on his side.