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"... Takamaki, what the hell are you wearing?"
Takamaki (because it is her, recognizable as always even through his blurry vision and under the red leather suit and cat mask- and he might not be any sort of fashion guru, but he recognizes an unredeemable disaster when he sees one) tilts her head and blinks in obvious confusion.
"Sk-" she cuts herself off, hesitates.
"... Ryuji? Are you okay?" She asks, and woah, since when are they on a first-name basis again? Is there something he's missing?
Another girl he doesn't know, a shortie with long, violently orange hair and the most sci-fi outfit he's ever had the pleasure of seeing in real life (a massive pair of goggles included) peers at him from behind Takamaki with a frown. "What, the status effect hasn't worn off yet?"
"What in the actual hell are you talking about?" Actually, now that he pays attention to it, everyone around him is all dressed up in some weird outfit or other, all complete with masks. Did he accidentally end up in the middle of a costume party?
... Scratch that, he amends as he takes in the average attractiveness level of the group, it's probably some sort of... mask themed fashion shoot. Or something.
Maybe Takamaki got hired by one of those weird stylists who just need to distinguish themselved at all costs and then proceed to design the most dogshit outfits the world has ever seen.
(He kind of likes the biker one, though. Wait, isn't that the student council president...?)
... Now that he thinks about it, how did he end up here?
Where is here, as a matter of fact?
He looks around as the group of models (?) discusses something-or-other among themselves, noticing with chagrin that he recognizes pretty much nothing about the place and that actually it's kind of really freaky, even for a weird gimmick photoshoot location. It looks a little bit like the Tokyo subway, but all... greenish and broken down, like a horror movie set.
Talk about a weird place to wake up. Did he have some kind of accident?
One of the models, a guy in all black with a white mask that gives Ryuji some serious "french thief" vibes for reasons he himself doesn't really understand suddently walks up towards him, lending a hand that he accepts with gratitude before tugging himself up.
"Thanks, man," he says, and then pauses because uh.
He's not letting go.
(Wait, why is Ryuji wearing gloves?)
"You're welcome. Are you okay?"
The guy's eyes do... something. He wouldn't be able to say what, exactly, it's not like they suddently look all that different or anything, but there is something weirdly intense in his gaze and Ryuji just kind of... looks away, because it's not like he's used to being scrutinized by some sort of intimidating cosplayer who still won't let go of his damn hand. "I, uh. I'm not entirely sure where I am, or who any of you are, or why I'm wearing some sort of leather onesie, if that answers your question."
"Do you know which month it is?"
"Uh... February?"
He closes his eyes with a deep sigh, finally releasing him to massage his temples.
"Dude... you alright?"
"It's October, Ryuji."
"No it's not," he replies with a blink, because what the fuck.
The girl in green hums, tilting her head at him like some sort of curious green and orange bird. "You... really don't remember anything, huh."
He takes a defensive step back, feeling his hackles rise through his confusion. "Remember what! Is this some kinda prank? What, did Kamoshida set you up to this?"
He knows it doesn't make any sense even as he says it- that sounds like an awfully lot of effort just for a prank, that with the costumes and scenography, especially just to make fool of someone whose social life and health has already been ruined forever. Even Kamoshida, the sadistic shitback that he is, probably wouldn't do this- and that's not even counting the fact that it wouldn't even explain how he ended up there, wearing a costume himself.
But Takamaki and White Mask both wince and shoot each other an uncomfortable look at that, and an irrational certainty that this is some sort of conspiracy against him makes its way through his mounting panic.
"Wait, is that actually it? Have you been paid by Kamoshida? Are there cameras somewhere or are you going to beat the shit out of me the moment I let my guard down-"
"Panther," pipes up White Mask, a hint of urgency in his tone, and Takamaki nods.
"Uh, yeah. On it."
Ryuji barely has the time to register something appearing behind her in a flash of blue flames, and then everything goes dark.
Ryuji comes back to the sound of people conversing next to him.
"...ince he was affected by dormina, we know for sure it's not a status effect. Which could explain why armrita didn't work either." Says a boyish-sounding voice he doesn't recognize.
"Okay. But what is the problem, then?"
Oh, that's... Takamaki, isn't it? He realizes that this might actually be something worth easedropping to.
(Normally, he'd feel bad over it, but he's pretty sure he has been kidnapped, so- fuck these people, seriously.)
There is a noncommital sound, the one usually associated to an uncertain grimace and a shrug.
"If I had to hazard a guess, I think it might be related to his cognition. He got hit with Forget so many times in the last few hours that his cognition of himself has shifted temporarily. Remember that time Queen got stuck as a mouse inside Oracle's tomb because she'd grown to expect getting targeted by Mot?"
"Let's... talk about something else." And that's definitely Nijima, embarrassment lacing her tone. "Anything but that? Please."
He cracks an eye open, suddently becoming deeply aware of the fact that he's lying down on a plastic bench inside a train stop.
The costumed weirdos from earlier are there as well, too busy talking to each other about things like cognition and shadows and what have you to realize he's awake.
Also, there is some sort of monster cat, because the day clearly needed to get weirder, now didn't it?
"If it's really the same phoenomenon, some time away from the Metaverse should fix the issue," it (he?) says, identifying himself as the owner of the higher pitched voice from earlier. "But we can't just drop him at his place missing more than eight months worth of memories and hope his mother doesn't ask any questions."
"He can stay at our place for a little bit," pipes up White Mask. "I'm pretty close with Mrs. Sakamoto, I reckon I can get away with letting him stay over for a few days."
Wait. What about Ma?
Goggles nods. "And Sojiro will understand, as long as we explain the situation to him."
"Yeah, well, at this point the real issue is more how to get Ryuji to cooperate. I can't exactly blame him for freaking out, but we can't just knock him out and drag him to LeBlanc either. This guy" a vague handwave towards White Mask, "cannot afford having the police called on us, and I don't actually want to hurt him."
"Aw, Mona. So you do care." Before Monster Cat can answer, however, Goggles waves a hand dismissively. "But, well, we can just ask him. He's been awake for a while, after all."
Ryuji freezes as everyone turns to look at him.
Crap.
The explanation they give him makes no sense, except for the fact that it does explain pretty much everything he has experienced ever since he woke up the first time and that it lines up with what they were talking about while they thought he was asleep.
Still, between all the supernatural bullshit and his alleged amnesia, it's kind of hard to wrap his head around it.
"How do I know you're not bullshitting me?"
White Mask, whose name is apparently Amamiya, snorts. "Alas, you caught us. Mona is just a hyperintelligent toddler with hirsutism that we roped into a needlessly complex kidnapping scheme." He turns to the rest of the gang, and somehow Ryuji just knows he is raising a haughty eyebrow under that mask. "I don't want to hear anything about a rag drenched in chloroform being more direct, guys. Where's the pizzazz? The drama? We would be the laughingstock of the entire phantom thievery scene if it weren't for me spicing it up."
Takamaki rolls her eyes. "You will end up arrested one of these days, and I'll be there to laugh at you when that happens."
"Love you too." Amamiya turns back towards him. His smile looks a little bit evil, but Ryuji gets the feeling that might just be how his face is. "Now, do we have your cooperation on this?"
"So all I have to do is spend one night at your place and I'll get my memories back," he repeats.
"Well, the sleepover isn't a requirement, but we figured you might not want to worry your mother any further."
A few thoughtful seconds pass, before Ryuji sighs. "Sure, what the hell. It's not like the day can get any weirder, can it?"
As it turns out, it can get weirder. Because, even without counting the curious cartwheels his brain is doing in his skull at the sight of a normal cat speaking like a human, Amamiya lives in a restaurant's attic.
"Uh. What the fuck?"
"I'm on probation," he says casually, as if that explains anything as he opens the door and nods at the man behind the counter. "Hey, Sojiro."
Said man kind of looks like he knows how to turn people into toads and doesn't just because it's bad for business, and Ryuji can't help but grin nervously as a steely gaze stops on him.
"Uh, hello? Sir," he squeaks out, feeling all his hair standing on its end as "Sojiro" stares at him like one would at a two-headed cockroach.
The man's gaze moves to Amamiya, incredulous in a way that Ryuji actually feels should be offensive. "Alright. Whatever shenanigans you two are planning, I have to inform you that buttering me up with uncharacteristic politeness will not work."
"I'm afraid shenanigans have already happened. He's got amnesia."
"Sojiro's" brow immediately furrows in what Ryuji recognizes as worry, but Amamiya quickly raises his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Don't worry- it's Metaverse nonsense, not head trauma. Remember the mouse?"
"That was a rat," replies the man, automatic in a way that suggests this to be an old, ongoing argument, before his shoulders drop slightly and he sighs. "But, I think I get it. Is there anything I can do?"
"It should get better in a couple days at most, but I need him to stay here for the time being. Is that okay?"
The man sighs again, pointing at the stairs with a nod. "Go to your room before I change my mind. And don't forget to warn Mrs.Sakamoto!"
Looking at his photos and messages, there is no denying anymore that this is indeed his life now.
Even if they had changed the date on his phone and managed to fake the hundreds of messages and friendly banter between him and the Phantom Thieves, the photos are one piece of evidence he finds he just cannot dismiss.
He finds himself feeling... honestly pretty jealous of this Ryuji who apparently has a group of friends who actually enjoy spending time with him, but also kind of guilty for forgetting them to begin with.
For a long second he finds himself enthralled looking at a picture of Takamaki trying to force a flower in his hair, Amamiya lounging next to them and holding proof of her previous assault in his own hair, before he shoots a look at the real one, sitting on the mildly lumpy sofa as he spins some tale to his mother about a study session that ended too late and can Ryuji stay the night, pretty please?
After a few seconds, Amamiya huffs in relief as the negotiation apparently does its job. "Can confirm that mission 'Sleepover' is a go."
Morgana looks at them both critically from his perch on the guy's bed (which consists of a futon on a bunch of crates, and suddently Ryuji feels much less embarrassed about the state of his room). "Very well. Now, to bed you go. It's been a long day for all of us."
They spend thirty minutes arguing about allowing talking cats to dictate one's sleeping habits, before they capitulate in front of pointy canines applied directly to their ankles.
Mrs.Sakamoto: is mr.sakura okay with it?
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: I already asked him and he gave the go ahead.
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: We do promise not to get up to dubious practices and unsavoury shenanigans.
Mrs.Sakamoto: riiight~
Mrs.Sakamoto: I was your age too once you rascals
Mrs.Sakamoto: teenagers attract shenanigans like honey to bees!
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: Ah, you know us too well, Mrs.Sakamoto.
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: Well, I can promise not to get up to *too many* unsavoury shenanigans?
Mrs.Sakamoto: hmmm. I already believe that far more!
Mrs.Sakamoto: and I told you, yuuka is fine ^_^
Mrs.Sakamoto: ah, whatever
Mrs.Sakamoto: have fun you two (^з^)-☆
Mrs.Sakamoto: be safe and try not to make too much noise~
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: Er.
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: Sure.
♤Let's Dance Boys♤: Okay.
Ryuji wakes up cold, mildly confused as to why he's in Ren's room, and with a killer headache the likes of which can only come from the sudden resurgence of months of suppressed memories.
To Morgana's horror, the first thing he does upon standing is throwing up on the floor.
"Oh my god. My ma totally thinks we were-"
Ren is pointedly avoiding looking at him.
Which is well enough, because Ryuji is too busy catching up on every embarrassing message his mother sent him and feeling increasingly horrified over it.
"Yep."
"And we can't even correct her on it because there's no way we can tell her that the reason I didn't answer all evening-"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh, shit."