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People were happier today than they had been for the last week or so. But, Akira noted, as he scraped at some rice that was glued to a plate, it wasn't like the uncanny feeling of the last few months. It was all real, and this piece of rice proved it.
In the other reality, the rice would have come right off. Everything there had been just a little bit easier, in ways you could mostly ignore if you wanted to. But it all added up to a stuffy air of happiness that gave today's general mood a bad name.
Things were better this way: moderately happy days, stubborn rice stuck to a plate, fresh hangnail from trying to scrape it off, stinging sensation from the soap and water of the Leblanc kitchen sink running over it—ouch.
...All things from the true reality that Akira and his friends had fought for.
“Oh, right,” said Sojiro. He was somewhere behind Akira at the bar, putting away dishes. “Today's Valentine's Day. No wonder there were so many guys bringing girls in here...”
And it had made for a busy evening, which almost made Akira forget, too.
“...Don't you have anything exciting happening?”
Akira shook his hands dry, which only made the hangnail hurt a little bit worse before he shoved them in his pockets.
“...I mean, you've been here nearly a whole year. Y'know, when I was young, hoo boy...”
The jingling of the front door saved Akira from hearing the rest of that story. With it came a wintry rush of air, followed by a nervous, “Uh... hi there!”
He turned to find Ann waiting just inside the café entrance, flushed and bundled in her red scarf and earmuffs. The fogged-up glass of the door behind her was lit through with street lamps as cold as the wintry air, and her silhouette cut a warm shape against it.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked, her eyes meeting his, and as he drew closer—he got a pang of déjà vu.
...Huh?
“Ohhh,” Sojiro said meaningfully. “You should've just told me. Here, I'll leave the store to you.”
He made his way out from behind the bar. From the back of the café, Morgana also made his way toward the door, with much less enthusiasm.
“Enjoy yourselves," Sojiro teased. Morgana just looked at Ann and left with a long, miserable sigh, his tail held low.
For the first time in months, Akira and Ann were truly alone. In slow motion, it seemed, she walked toward him. When they finally faced one another in the middle of the café, the feeling of déjà vu returned in full force.
The last time Akira had stood here...
“Do you think I'd be happy with this?” Akechi had hissed. His face was more tired than angry, but every line of him was tense. His fists sat clenched at his sides as he looked pointedly away from Akira.
“Good evening,” Ann said now, standing in the same spot and giving Akira a shy smile.
“...I'll make you some coffee,” said Akira.
“Thanks,” said Ann, still breathless from the cold.
“All right, time for part two of your homecoming party!”
Ann sat across from Akira at a booth, leaning over the table as steam curled invitingly from their mugs. The news hummed away on the TV behind her, making comfortable background noise. It already felt much warmer in the café than it had earlier.
“We could use some fun,” Akira agreed.
“Yeah!” said Ann. “We haven't had any ‘us’-time in ages.”
It wasn't that they never saw each other in the other reality. He even went to her room at one point. But everything had been so stressful, he'd barely had time to think about how even that had felt... friendly?
Her invitation to hang out tonight for Valentine's Day was, if Akira was being honest with himself, his first reminder of their relationship in months. But... those were weird times, anyway. Maybe she didn't notice. She was stressed out, too. Probably not a big deal.
“Oh, but first...” she said, face suddenly serious. Akira's heart sank. “I can't believe you turned yourself in. It was like you'd disappeared on me.”
...Oh. That.
“You really scared me, you know?”
“My bad,” said Akira.
“...Okay, fine. I forgive you,” said Ann, and Akira almost laughed at the whiplash of it until she grew serious again. “I feel kinda weird even blaming you for that, though. I mean...”
She looked down at her coffee.
“Between everything, I haven't been thinking too hard about it, but... this is it, right? Everything's back the way it used to be?”
He managed half a nod before she went on, stilted but determined.
“...But... when we got back, it didn't feel like we'd lived the last few months here, with everything... like this.” She gestured vaguely, and frowned. “It was like someone lived that part of my life for me. Then they handed it back, and I had to pretend.”
She twirled her hair nervously.
“So that's why... even though I know you turned yourself in... you probably have that same feeling about it, huh?”
Ann looked back up at Akira, searching his face for... something.
Feeling like the whole turning-himself-in thing happened to someone else, and then he had to live with the consequences? Yeah, well...
“If they get their hands on the perpetrator,” Akechi had said, eyes twinkling in the holiday lights of Shibuya, “there'll be no need for him to turn himself in, no?”
...Mostly, they'd been twinkling because he was so damn pleased with himself.
“To think,” he'd said, with a smug little smile toward Akira as the snow fell between them, “I'd get to see you so surprised...”
Akira had been so surprised with good reason.
That was all months ago. A lifetime ago. Sometimes, Akira even felt like it was in a dream. But, true to Ann's words, it was a dream he remembered in place of the harsh reality.
In this reality, the Christmas Eve that had shaped up to be the worst night of his life before taking a turn for the better... didn't get better, apparently. He turned himself in, and spent months in detention. As simple as that. No Akechi swooping in to save the day. No Akechi anywhere, probably, but—Akira's chest tightened in protest at that line of thought.
Come to think of it, Christmas Eve was also the last time he and Ann spent time together romantically.
“You nailed it,” he said, staring down at his mug, which was steaming less and less by the minute.
Ann nodded. They both sipped their coffee, and Akira glanced over at the TV, where a vaguely familiar news anchor was droning away.
“Hey, um...” Ann tugged at her scarf, which she'd kept on even after removing her earmuffs. “I've been doing a lot more modeling lately. And I even get to talk to Shiho sometimes, too.”
She took her time unwinding the scarf from her neck and folding it away in her bag.
“I keep trying not to compare things to how they were in that world, but...”
“It's okay,” said Akira.
“Well... so...” she said, sounding unconvinced. “I've actually been wondering about something.” She smoothed her hair and took a deep breath. “While we were there... we didn't really spend any quality time together, did we?”
There was no way she didn't see Akira freeze at that.
“...It was like I forgot,” he said, and internally braced for impact.
Ann blinked at him for a long, long moment, then flopped dramatically back in her seat. “Oh, thank god,” she said, and giggled breathlessly. “That's such a relief. I was worried I was the only one who totally felt like we weren't even dating.”
Akira laughed, too, from surprise as much as anything.
“It's honestly been one of the weirdest parts about coming back,” Ann said, then startled. “Uh, not in a bad way! I mean, I felt bad that I forgot! I mean, um...” She winced. “...It's probably not great if we weren't together in the ‘ideal reality,’ right?”
As nice as it was to be on the same page about this instead of getting yelled at, Akira had... similar thoughts.
“Maruki didn't know everything,” he said with a half-hearted shrug.
That got Ann's attention. “Huh... I guess you're right.” She crossed her legs and leaned over the table again. “He did only know about Shiho because I told him all about her in our sessions, after all...”
She looked at Akira intently, blue eyes piercing and guileless.
“...And I guess he never really gave you anything you wanted, did he?”
Akira tried very hard not to flinch.
“Since you told us you spent most of your sessions helping him with his research instead, that... that makes sense!”
Ann snapped her fingers decisively, looking satisfied as she sat back in the booth.
It was the same spot Akira had been sitting in when Maruki gave him a pitying look that made his blood run cold. “After really considering every option,” Maruki had said evenly, “do you have any doubts about your views?”
Akira had one point of comparison for the cold, itching dread he felt next: one time when his parents had gone through his room, and he knew they'd found something he wished they hadn't, even when he wasn't sure what it was just yet. He was pretty sure Futaba knew the feeling, too. But this time, it wasn't Akira's room—it was his mind. His heart, maybe. And it wasn't just something Maruki had found there.
“The relationship you two share is very unusual...” Maruki had said, while Akechi stood back near the bar, glaring stubbornly at a spot on the floor no matter how many times Akira looked over. “That's why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together.”
Even now, the thought of Maruki sorting through his memories and finding... whatever he found... brought on a little wave of nausea. To say nothing of what Akira almost agreed to because of it.
Ann snapped her fingers again.
“...And by the time we started dating in the fall...” she mused, “yeah, I don't think I ever mentioned you!” She beamed, golden hair bouncing as she shifted in her seat. “Okay! I feel waaay better about this now. Man, I was really channeling Makoto for a minute there... I'm so glad we can talk through things like this, Akira.”
Akira finished his coffee before replying—down to the last lukewarm drop. “Me, too.”
Ann hummed happily and turned to look at the TV, leaning unselfconsciously over the back of the booth.
“In financial news,” said the news anchor, “in spite of rumors of boycotts, many stores are reporting record chocolate sales in the lead-up to—”
“Oh my god!” said Ann. “Wait! I almost forgot!”
She dove into her bag and dug out a gold and red box with a flower-shaped bow.
“Sorry, I should've given you these way earlier. Better late than never, right?”
“Handmade?” Akira teased. He probably wouldn't want them if they were.
Ann shook her head. “What, were you hoping for that?” If she was annoyed, it was hard to tell, because the next moment she was grinning as she said, “Well, next year then. I'll make them from scratch, with plenty of love.”
By the time Akira grabbed a chocolate (not bad) and offered one to Ann (she took two), her mood seemed to have soured again.
“Urgh,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate. “I really didn't want our first Valentine's Day to be a bummer. I feel like I'm screwing this all up...”
“You're doing great,” said Akira.
Ann shook her head again. “You're so sweet, but...” She swallowed her bite, paused, and then nearly jumped up again. “Hey, I know! There's one other thing I forgot!”
Akira was starting to get tired just from watching her. Still, he couldn't help but smile as he watched her dig through her big white bag once again, and surface with...
...a DVD?
“Chocolate's the best, of course,” she said, pushing the plastic-wrapped box across the table, “but you knew that was coming. Heeere's your real surprise!”
Akira barely had time to squint at the man and woman on the cover before Ann went on.
“It's the movie we saw together last summer! Love Possibly! Don't you remember?”
Ah. The rom-com.
He nodded sagely. “True love knows no social status.”
Ann beamed. “You were such a good sport, coming with me to such a girly movie when we weren't even dating yet.” She bit her lip. “I bet we'd enjoy it even more now, though. So... how about it? Wanna go upstairs and watch?”
The orchestra swelled as the female lead stared forlornly past the camera, the effect only slightly dampened by the low resolution of Akira's ancient TV.
“I know how hard you've worked for the social standing you have, and... I'd never ask this of you,” she said, her gentle voice sounding slightly fuzzy through the old speakers. “I care for you too much.”
Akira sat on one end of the bench that was usually against the attic wall. It had taken some rearranging to move it so he and Ann could comfortably sit next to each other during the movie. But Akira was a big strong guy, or whatever, and did what he had to do while Ann unwrapped the DVD.
...And now Ann sat on the opposite end of the bench, hands folded in front of her face in concentration as she focused wholly on the movie.
“You know...” she said, still watching the screen, “this actress reminds me of Shiho. Around her eyes. Do you see it, too?”
She gestured at her own face, then at the screen, incomprehensible.
“That dark, soulful stare...”
Akira tried to follow. “Uh...” he said.
Ann finally tore her attention away from the movie long enough to frown at him. “What, you don't?” She looked flustered, and turned away again. “W-Well, I guess I notice these details more, as a model and all...”
By the time the credits rolled and the screen went dark, Ann was wiping at her eyes. Akira dutifully brought over a box of tissues, which now sat between them on the bench.
“Having the courage to say how you feel, when you feel it...” Ann sniffled. “That guy was pretty admirable by the end. I could learn a thing or two from him.”
Back in the summertime, when they saw the movie in theaters, Ann had made very different comments—something about girls wanting perfect, cinematic romances. Akira thought he understood why she liked these kinds of movies before, but...
“...You don't see yourself in the girl?” he asked, rubbing his neck.
“Huh?” Ann blinked at him, pausing for long enough he was scared he'd have to repeat himself. “I'm not comparing myself to the guy,” she said finally, sounding offended. “I'm just... um...”
The DVD case sat on the table in front of them, near the TV. Ann squinted down at the man and woman on the cover.
“...I don't know,” she said.
After a long beat of silence, she leaned back with a sigh. Her pigtails spilled over the back of the bench.
“To be honest,” she said, “it still made me cry and all, but... it didn't hit the same way as before.” She turned her head slightly toward Akira. “What did you think?”
“Needed the magic of the cinema,” Akira agreed.
“Yeah... you're right. It's just not the same. From the big screen to a guy's crappy TV...” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh god, you know what I mean. Anyone's crappy TV—I mean, your TV is great! I just...”
Ann covered her face with both hands.
“Ugh...”
“No worries,” said Akira. “Vintage life isn't for everyone.”
Ann dragged her hands down her face. “You always manage to be so cool about everything...” She shook her head. “It's kind of annoying, honestly. I wonder what it would even take to get to you.”
Akira looked down at his lap and shrugged. He thought, dimly, of snow falling in Shibuya.
“...But it's nice that you're so easy to talk to,” Ann went on. “I mean, you watched a lame, girly movie with me again, let me say mean things about your TV...”
When Akira looked back up at her, she was smiling, but it was a self-deprecating kind of smile.
“...And you've listened to me bring up Shiho every five minutes without even complaining once. Haha...”
She trailed off, staring into a dusty corner of the attic. Akira, reflexively, looked at his phone. 8:30PM. How was it only 8:30PM?
“All in a day's work,” he said, and put his phone away, only to find Ann watching him.
“You're going home next month, aren't you?” she asked abruptly.
Akira nodded. “Time for long-distance,” was all he could think to say.
“...Right. It's... gonna be weird,” said Ann, chewing her cheeks. “You... already seem like you're a million miles away. Are you really okay?”
Akira felt a wash of cold at that. He stared at the black of the empty TV screen.
“My hometown's not that far away,” he joked.
If Ann got the joke, she ignored it. “You're not just cool all the time because you're afraid to tell me things, right?” She was staring at the TV screen, too. Their eyes met in the reflection. “You know... you know that you can trust me with whatever you're feeling?”
The glare of Akira's glasses in his reflection made his face look like a blank, unreadable slate, even to himself.
“...Of course,” he said.
For a minute, the only sound in the attic was the creaking of the space heater.
“Okay,” Ann said quietly.
Ann came back up the stairs from a bathroom break carrying, to Akira's surprise, her scarf. She'd left it down in the café, but now stood at the top of the stairs, re-wrapping it around her neck.
“Well... I should probably head home for the night,” she said, flipping her hair free before moving to adjust her coat. “Don't want to miss the last train or anything.”
“You don't have to...” Akira began, even though he had no idea where that thought was going.
“It's okay,” she said with a smile. “I mean, we have school in the morning.”
Akira nodded, and with the addition of her earmuffs and bag, Ann looked ready to leave. But then... she hesitated.
“We're so out of practice that I keep forgetting, but...”
She shifted her bag on her shoulder.
“...I guess this would be the part where you kiss me goodnight?”
Akira blinked.
“Right,” he heard himself say.
Right. She was right. That's what time it was, even if the evening had ended up being sort of weird. She was kind, and beautiful, and in the end, they got along. They were dating, and he should probably have some thoughts about kissing her right now.
...
...Why didn't he have any thoughts about kissing her right now?
“You know what?” Ann's smile had turned self-deprecating again. “Don't worry about it.”
Before Akira could wallow in the feeling of being the worst person on earth, she waved and turned to leave.
“I'll see you at school, Akira.”
It took ages for Morgana to return that night. In the meantime, Akira cleaned up and got ready for bed, which was enough to make his hangnail from earlier start stinging again. He sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone mindlessly and pressing his finger into the pocket of his pajama pants until the stinging faded.
Finally, when Akira was well past sleepy, the familiar tapping of paws came up the attic stairs. Morgana approached as proudly as ever, but said nothing. He hopped up onto the bed next to Akira, facing the opposite direction.
“...I hope you had a nice evening,” he said tersely.
“I'm sorry,” said Akira, and meant it.
Morgana bowed his head, tail lashing back and forth. Then, abruptly, he turned to face Akira, tail held high.
“Well!” he sniffed. “I can't tell you or Lady Ann what to do, so as long as you're both happy, I guess that's all that really matters!”
Coming from anybody else, it would have sounded sarcastic, but in Morgana's chivalrous tone... it seemed like he meant it.
“You'd better have something amazing planned for White Day,” he said seriously. “If you end up doing something last-minute for her—”
Akira tugged at a strand of his own hair. “...What about a quiet White Day with the guys?”
“Huh?” Morgana stopped and blinked at him. “What do you...?”
Realization dawned on his feline face, then... outrage.
“No way! Guys are supposed to give girls chocolates on White Day!” He arched his back threateningly. “You can't just back out of your part of the deal when Lady Ann has already given you hers! What part of ‘gentleman thief’ isn't clear for the leader of the Phantom Thieves!? I'd expect such selfish behavior from Ryuji, but from you, I'd hope for better. It's hard enough for me to see her with another, but if you break her heart, I—”
Akira's phone buzzed with a new message. Morgana seemed undeterred as he checked it.
FROM: Ann
> Hey...
> Do you want to go grab coffee after school tomorrow?
> Someplace that isn't Leblanc, I mean.
Sure. <
> Thanks.
> I'll see you.