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Chapter Text

Sometimes Ren felt like he’d stepped into a video game.

First day in Tokyo? Got lost in a castle. Awakened magic powers. Teamed up with a cat(not a cat), a sassy best girl, and a loud but loyal best boy.

Now he was leading a secret group of magical thieves, changing hearts in the name of justice. Totally normal.

Ren rewatched Kamoshida’s confession that morning—again. Glad he confessed. Glad he was jailed. Glad Ren himself is not the one getting expelled.

Watching that pervert grovel never got old.A darker part of Ren liked it.

Let the weight of his crimes rot him from the inside, he thought. 

It’s justice. It’s right … Even if it feels a little too satisfying.

Anyway, time for school. Ren tucked his phone away and met up with Ann and Ryuji at the school gate.

“Morning, Renren,” Ryuji and Ann said in unison.

“Mornin’ to my best bro and best gal!” Ren beamed.

Morgana peeked from the bag. “Kawakami said there’s an assembly today.”

“Yeah, some ‘support program,’” Ryuji muttered. “Tch. Bit late for that.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “Seriously? They’re only doing this now?”

Morgana scoffed. “Didn’t hear anything about support when Kamoshida was around.”

Ren shrugged. “We’ll see what it is. Mona, time to hide.”

With a grumble, the cat disappeared into the bag. The four headed to the auditorium, where a low buzz of chatter filled the air as students streamed in. Ren caught bits of gossip as they were finding their seats.

“I think there’s a new transfer student. Saw him come out of the principal’s office—total hottie!”

“Oh my god, really? Think we can ask him out?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s a student. Saw a good-looking guy in his thirties—maybe a new teacher?”

The lights dimmed slightly as Kobayakawa waddled onto the stage and cleared his throat. The room quieted—reluctantly. Then, he announced a new school counsellor hired in the wake of the scandal. He mentioned supporting students' mental health after “recent events,” and so on.

Great. Nothing said “we care” like putting out a fire after the house had already burned down. If Kobayakawa, the Egghead principal, had fired Kamoshida and brought in a counsellor months ago, maybe Shiho wouldn’t have jumped.

Still, the guy—Dr. Maruki—seemed decently nice enough. Awkward in a vaguely endearing way. The kind of adult who offered treats and was willing to help others with their best effort. Ren only hoped he didn’t turn out to be a secret supervillain trying to brainwash the entire school or rewrite reality or something.

A chorus of squeals ruffled through the hall as a strikingly handsome boy—about Ren’s age—stepped in with effortless poise. The stage light shone brightly on his soft, light brown hair, in contrast to his sharp, unreadable auburn eyes. He wore the familiar Shujin blazer and pants, a customised white shirt, zebra-striped tie, and black gloves. Just enough to draw the eye without breaking the rules.

Their eyes locked for a brief second. Ren felt exposed—like this boy could see through every layer, down to his bare soul. A strange flutter caught in his chest, uneasy but electric.

Was this what it meant to be hunted… or something else entirely?

“Good morning, everyone.” The boy flashed a plastic, TV-ready smile. “My name is Goro Akechi. I was previously a top third-year student at Kaisei Academy. Pleasure to meet you all.” He speaks smoothly.

Students murmured among themselves. “Wow, top of the most prestigious school in Tokyo? Why is he here?”

“As of today, Mr. Kobayakawa has invited me to transfer to Shujin to support students who are currently struggling academically. I’ll be working alongside Student Council President Makoto Niijima and other Student Council members. Together, we’ll be running an after-school peer support study group. If you’re interested, you can sign up through the council office.”

He nodded modestly.

“However, for some of you... this study group will be mandatory. I apologise if this comes as an unpleasant surprise. Shujin’s goal is simply to ensure that every student has the support they need to succeed. That’s all for today. Any questions?”

Murmurs and whispers rose, tinged with unease. A few students exchanged glances.

Ren caught a faint smirk flicker across Akechi’s face as the boy glanced briefly in his direction.

Huh? Was he going to be one of the “mandatory” students? His grades weren’t bad—he’s easily in the top ten. Still... he wouldn’t mind joining, just to observe Akechi. Purely academic interest, of course.

A girl in the back of the room broke the silence with a bold shout.

“Are you available—for dating, Akechi-senpai?!”

Akechi laughed softly, polished and practised—the kind of laugh that deflects without offending. “What a bold question. Unfortunately, I’m going to be quite busy—with the study group and helping my mother. So, I’m afraid I’m not available romantically.”

The girls swooned. Ren rolled his eyes just a little. The other students threw out other questions, but nothing interested him.

Ryuji groaned. “Bro, seriously? This guy strolls in and every girl’s ready to throw themselves at him.”

He pointed a thumb at himself. “If only they knew I’m a Phantom Thief. They’d be chasing me like magnets!”

Morgana practically leapt out of Ren’s bag. “Ryuji! We are not broadcasting that to the entire school!” he hissed, eyes darting nervously. “Shut up before we get arrested!”

Ren snorted, trying not to laugh. A few heads turned their way.

Ann giggled teasingly. “A new study group, huh? Looks like Ryuji’s getting some much-needed academic support.” She leaned in, smirking. “Maybe ask Akechi for girls’ tips while you’re at it.” 

She paused, then grinned wider. “Or hey—once he turns them all down, they might start noticing our Ryuji instead?”

Ryuji threw his head back. “This is hell! I’m not gonna ask Mr. Smart and Handsome on girls’ tips.” 

He paused to think for a second—then continued with a wide smile. “Actually, you have a point, Ann, maybe girls rejected by Akechi will start to like me .”

Morgana made a theatrical gagging sound: “Not gonna happen, Skull.”

A shout from the back of the room disrupted their conversation.

“Have you heard of the Phantom Thieves? What are your thoughts on them, Senpai?”

Akechi blinked, then rested a hand on his chin—not theatrically, but thoughtfully.

“That is an unexpected question. Phantom Thieves, huh? Is that the group sending those calling cards lately?”

Kobayakawa cleared his throat sharply, an obvious attempt to steer Akechi away from the topic. After all, he was still trying to maintain Shujin’s image and burying the Kamoshida scandal once and for all. But Akechi, seemingly on purpose, ignored him.

“Honestly? I’m intrigued. The power to steal hearts, force confessions—it’s like something out of a fairy tale. They’ve made quite an impact recently. I’m glad that they help bring justice to criminals. But I wonder—”

Akechi’s tone was light, but sharp edges linger beneath. He paused, his gaze sweeping the crowd, lingering deliberately on a few faces, Ren’s included.

“Is their method, this so-called ‘change of heart’, truly justice? The targets were undeniably guilty, but they weren’t always that way. What exactly happens to a person afterwards? Are they still themselves, or just shadows of who they once were? Do the ends justify the means?”

The room fell silent.

He offered a slow smile. “That’s just how I see things right now. Maybe I’ll change my mind, depending on what they do next.”

Murmurs rippled through the students again.

Ren blinked, caught off guard. That was... unexpectedly thoughtful. Akechi’s words stuck with him. He’d never questioned the morality of their actions—not this deeply. They’d done more than the police: saving lives, exposing corruption. Wasn’t that enough?

But something nagged. Something tightened in his chest.

Beneath Akechi’s smooth veneer flickered something sharper—intentional, too clean. Not malicious, just… practised. The deliberate gaze and measured words weren’t casual. They were a message, a challenge.

Was Akechi onto them? Judging silently? Testing the waters? His tone wasn’t hostile or patronising—just curious. Almost too curious.

What is his true purpose?

Ren decided to watch him closely. Not because Akechi looked good—definitely not—but because his gut screamed that this boy was more than he seemed.

The principal cleared his throat sharply again with a forced, awkward smile, cutting Akechi off before his speech grew more controversial. For a brief second, Akechi’s expression stilled—not from fear, but from irritation. Ren’s eyes followed Akechi as he returned to his seat, composed, eloquent, and just a little too polished to seem harmless.

Ryuji leaned back, eyes wide, still thinking about how pale the principal looked during Akechi’s speech.

“Man,” he said, elbowing Ann, “Did you see that? Akechi totally scared Egghead Kobayakawa off. He looked like he saw a ghost.”

Ann gave a small smile. “Yeah... He wasn’t afraid to say what he thought. It was kind of bold.”

Ryuji frowned, scratching his head. “But all that stuff about stealing hearts and ‘ends justify the means’... What’s that even supposed to mean? Talkin’ all fancy—like he was low-key calling us idiots or something.”

Ren snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “Akechi scored a critical hit. Skull.exe has stopped responding.”

Morgana snickered from his spot on the desk. “Heh.” Ann giggled.

“I don’t think he meant it as an insult,” Ann then said thoughtfully. “It felt more like… a real question, you know? Like, what if people aren’t the same after their hearts change? That’s kinda scary.”

Morgana stretched, tail flicking. “Or maybe he’s just trying to sound all smart to mess with poor Skull here.”

Ryuji scowled. “Hey! I ain’t dumb!”

“Didn’t say you are.” Morgana held up his paws innocently, pretending he didn’t give any jab at all. “Just saying your brain’s still rebooting.”

Ann let out a hum. “Honestly? That speech hit me with some surprise-level ethics crisis. Still, I believed we did the right things, like stopping Kamosida abuse”

Ryuji nodded in agreement. “Hec’ yea. We’re the heroes, you know. WE saved the day.”

Morgana replied with a rumble. “I don’t want to agree with Ryuji, but he is right, Lady Ann.”

Ren leaned back, smirking. “And here I thought this was just a regular school assembly. Akechi sure knows how to turn up the heat.”

Their laughter bubbled up, easing the weight Akechi’s speech left behind. Just like that, the group slips back into its usual rhythm—even if their thoughts still linger elsewhere.

As the assembly ends, they file out with the rest of the crowd, heading back to their classrooms. Ren glances toward the hallway Akechi had exited through. He says nothing, but the gears in his mind are already turning.

After the morning classes, Ren grabbed his bag—with Morgana tucked carefully inside—and headed toward the school store. He’d forgotten to pack any leftover curry today, and his stomach was already protesting.

“Don’t blame me if all the good bread’s gone,” Morgana muttered from the bag.

“Guess we better hurry then,” Ren said, picking up the pace.

The school cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos. Students clustered around the bread counter like wolves circling prey. Ren reached for the last yakisoba pan… only to find a gloved hand reaching for it at the same time.

“Oh? My apologies. Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

Ren looked up, meeting the surprisingly familiar gaze. Akechi narrowed his eyes politely, regretfully—but there was a flicker of recognition behind his gaze.

“Yakisoba pan’s popular,” Ren said dryly. “Guess this one’s yours too?”

“Not particularly,” Akechi replied, glancing at the near-empty shelf. “It’s just one of the only savoury options left. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

He picked up a melon pan with a small, resigned sigh. “I suppose this will have to do.”

Ren hesitated. He was partial to sweets and didn’t mind melon pan. And, well… “Tell you what—let’s split them. Half and half. That way, no one has to suffer through disappointment.”

He chuckled lightly. “So… wanna have lunch with me, Akechi-senpai?”

Akechi blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected invitation. Ren wondered if sharing bread with a near-stranger was weirder than he thought.

After a beat, Akechi recovered with a smile. “I’ll take you up on that… transfer student-kun, was it?”

“Ren Amamiya. Let’s pay before someone snatches our bread.” Ren returned Akechi’s smile with his signature smirk.

They paid and headed to a quieter bench near the edge of the courtyard, the din of the cafeteria fading behind them.

Ren started first. “So… you’ve heard of me.” It wasn’t a question.

Akechi nodded, unbothered. “Kobayakawa briefed me. You’re also on the list for the upcoming peer study support sessions. And it’s hard not to hear about the ‘other transfer student.’ The rumours paint you as… quite the delinquent.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, amused. “What if they’re true? I mean, I did break into a castle and rescue a princess once. Totally normal transfer student stuff.”

Morgana shifted ever so slightly in Ren’s bag—as if noticing the exchange. Ren studied Akechi’s expression, searching for any sign of recognition.

Akechi chuckled. “In your dreams, perhaps. You’ve got quite the imagination, Amamiya-kun.”

The laugh was smooth, but something in his eyes sharpened for just a second.

Akechi continued, casually. “You seem harmless enough. And generous, too—you did share your bread. I prefer to judge people on what I see, not what I hear.”

Ren grinned. “So you’re the type to observe, not speculate. Got it.”

Akechi huffed a laugh. “Only in a professional capacity.”

Ren changed the subject with a glint in his eye. “Glad to know rumours don’t sway you. You seemed like someone with strong opinions, anyway. Nearly gave the principal a heart attack back there.”

Akechi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Did I? I was simply offering food for thought.”

“Full of it,” Ren said, feigning seriousness. “Questioning the morality of mysterious vigilantes in front of a few hundred students? Totally normal breakfast banter. Real philosophical feast.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Akechi—louder, more natural than Ren expected. It was almost… endearing.

As the laughter died down, Akechi tilted his head. “I’m glad that my opinion entertains you. How about you, Amamiya-kun? What do you think about the Phantom Thieves?”

Trying to show he wasn’t just teasing anymore, Ren met Akechi’s gaze—steady and unreadable. He had to answer Akechi’s earlier questions with earnestness and care. This was Ren’s response to Akechi’s challenge.

“They’re doing the right thing. The Phantom Thieves aren’t perfect, but they help where the system fails. They only go after people who’ve hurt others, and only do what’s necessary. That’s more than most would.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully—without revealing his identity or knowledge of the Metaverse.

“People change when faced with what’s inside them—sometimes it’s hard to say if they’re the same afterwards. But I believe what the Thieves do helps them face their true selves. So to say, they’re a truer version of themselves after the change of heart.”

He gave a small, almost wistful smile. “Well, if the Thieves are real, that is. That’s just my interpretation, after all. Though maybe I’m just chewing over ideas as much as this bread.”

Ren took a bite of his half of the yakisoba pan, eyes calm yet watchful.

“You really are intriguing. What a thoughtful and in-depth response. You have such deep faith in the Phantom Thieves.” Akechi leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring Ren.

Ren said nothing at first. He tilted his head, meeting Akechi’s gaze with calm curiosity. A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at amusement, but he let the compliment stand.

Akechi continued, “I must say, you’re quite the worthy debate partner. Perhaps we should continue to discuss ideas like this, don’t you think? After all, advancement requires thesis and antithesis.”

“I’d love to prove that theory,” Ren replied.

Akechi raised his left hand to initiate a handshake. Ren met the grip with all the quiet conviction of the Phantom Thieves’ leader.

Akechi chuckled. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times before holding it out.

“Here—my number. Consider this an invitation for our future debate. I’d like to see if your ideals hold up outside of lunchtime.”

Ren took the phone and input his number, handing it back with a small, knowing smile.

“Is this a de-date invitation?” Ren bit into the last of his yakisoba pan, grinning around the bite, waiting for Akechi’s reaction.

Akechi blinked. For just a second, it looked like he was the one caught off guard.

“Aren’t you quite the Joker, Amamiya-kun?” His tone was smooth, but there was the faintest flicker of red in his ears.

A chime rang faintly from the school speakers, signalling the end of lunch break.

Ren couldn’t think of a clever reply fast enough. He kept his poker face steady, hoping Akechi hadn’t seen through him. Did Akechi know? He kept his gaze neutral, casual. If Akechi was playing a game, Ren wouldn’t be the first to blink.

Akechi stood, brushing imaginary crumbs from his uniform. “Well then, we wouldn’t want to be late. I’ll be in touch—regarding the invitation and the study group, Amamiya-kun.”

Ren rose as well, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Looking forward to it, Akechi-senpai.”

As Akechi walked off, Ren lingered a moment, eyes still on him.

From inside the bag, Morgana shifted and muttered quietly, “That guy… there’s definitely something off. And calling you Joker ? Either a weird coincidence… or something else entirely.”

Ren hummed, noncommittal, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hm. Who knows. I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on him.”

“…Because you’re suspicious of him?”

“Because he’s fun to talk to,” Ren replied smoothly, and started heading back toward class.

Morgana sighed. “You’re impossible.”

Goro’s first day at Shujin hadn’t been bad. The faculty accepted him without question. The students were curious—some even intrigued—though a few kept their distance. Principal Kobayakawa barely looked at him—predictably shaken, dutifully compliant.

The younger Niijima approached later in the day, having been caught up in a student council meeting that morning.

“Welcome to Shujin, Akechi-kun,” she said, bowing her head slightly. 

“Quite the surprise to see you transferring here—especially so late in the school year. I imagine Kaisei will manage just fine without its top student.”

Goro offered a mild smile. “Ah, hello to you too, Niijima-san. You give me too much credit. I’m sure they’ve already found someone else to scold for setting the curve.”

Nijima gave a noncommittal hum. “Still, it must be nice—being trusted to lead the study support group, working closely with the student council, and having Sae-san’s full support. Not everyone gets such… confidence.”

There’s an edge under her calm words. Politeness masking wariness. Jealousy? Perhaps. But not bitterness—more a quiet caution born from long-term vigilance.

“Sae-san holds you in the highest regard, you know,” Goro said gently. “She always tells me how capable and reliable you are. She’s even said she wishes more people had your sense of discipline.”

Makoto blinked. For a moment, her surprise showed before she looked away. “I see. Well, I’m sure we’ll work well together.”

“I’m certain we will,” Goro replied smoothly. “We both want what’s best for the school.”

As if on cue, Amamiya stepped in, handing a form to Niijima. “Sorry for the interruption—here’s the registration you asked for.”

She took it with a nod. Before she could leave, Ren added, somewhat sheepishly. “Do you two… have history?”

Goro tilted his head. Why did Amamiya look shy while asking that?

“We do have a bit of a shared past… so I suppose the answer is yes,” Goro replied vaguely. He didn’t like to reveal too much about himself.

Niijima immediately flushed. Her cheeks turned pink.

“It—It’s not like that! We’re not dating!” she blurted, before bolting away with the form, completely forgetting her formality.

A soft giggle floated over from a pink-haired girl nearby, who had been quietly watching. She covered her mouth as Niijima dashed off, face red with embarrassment.

What was so funny about this situation?

…Oh. Amamiya was asking if they had dated. Or were dating.

Goro added quickly, “We’re just family friends.”

Amamiya nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

Why did he look so happy?

Was Amamiya interested in Niijima?

The thought felt… deeply unpleasant. He filed it away.

He waved goodbye and moved on. Though he couldn’t quite shake the faint irritation clinging to his thoughts.

(To celebrate chapter 10 release! Art by Chonkyartto!)

Chapter Text

“…Mementos.”

“Destination confirmed. Beginning navigation.”

The city burned red. Shibuya warped before his eyes—buildings twisting, shadows stretching unnaturally. The crowd vanished. The light changed. Something ancient and wrong pressed against his skin.

He jolted upright, grasping for air.

His mother’s voice whispered sharp and clear in his mind.

“Hide, now. We’re not supposed to be here.”

Then came the monsters—slithering shapes dragging themselves across the pavement like broken puppets. Creatures that didn’t belong in any world, not even nightmares.

A scream cut through the silence.

“Mom!”

He saw her fall. Saw the thing rise from the dark—a beast made of teeth, smoke, and spite.

His hand reached into his bag, shaking, closed around a toy gun—his Proof of Justice .

He pulled the trigger—and the toy fired light.

The monster roared.

Pain.

Not physical, but mental. Like something cracking through his mind, shoving itself into his soul. It ripped open everything he kept hidden: the bruises, the hunger, the shame, the whispered names they called his mother.

“I won’t leave her.”

His scream tore the world in two.

A mask split down the center—gold light on one side, searing blue fire on the other.

“I am thou. Thou art I.”

Two figures stood behind him:

A noble archer, clad in white and draped in a blue cape—every inch the heroic ideal. His eyes shone brightly with justice and righteousness. The fitting ideals for other people.

Robin Hood, he whispered.

A smiling devil, script-like twisted zebra stripes crawling across his body. His eyes gleamed red—equal parts mirth and menace—fitting of a trickster god. The presentation of Goro’s personal justice.

Loki, he cackled .

Robin Hood and Loki.

His truth—his rage—his justice.

“Mom…?” 

She wasn’t breathing.

A blue butterfly fluttered past, its voice barely a whisper:

“Use Samarecarm…save her…”

Her fingers twitched. She drew in a sharp breath.

Goro gasped awake, the red still burning behind his eyes. The butterfly’s whisper lingered faintly in his ears. He pushed a hand through his hair, damp with sweat. His heart pounded, tight with anxiety and trepidation. Without hesitation, he rushed to the kitchen to check on his mother, Fumiyo.

“Good morning, Goro. Ready for breakfast?” she said, eyes half-lidded with her usual gentle warmth. She flipped a pancake sizzling on the pan and slid it onto a plate. He nodded and joined her at the table, still shaken, watching the steam curl off the pancakes like mist from a dream.

She was here. She was safe. For now.

He rubbed his back, trying to dispel the remnants of dread that still clung to him.

They ate in silence, while his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

It had been two years since his first Persona’s awakening. Everything had changed—some for the better, some for the worse. But now wasn’t the time to get lost in memory.

From experience, Goro knew he was the only one with direct, consistent access to the Metaverse. That Metaverse app followed him to every new phone. There was no uninstalling it. No escaping it. Yet recently, he had an encounter with a strange group in mementos: three teenagers and… a talking cat bus?

Even with his experience, he had never seen anything like that.

Thanks to refined stealth and cognitive tricks, he stayed hidden. But they moved quickly, too fast for him to tail. So he waited near the entrance, hoping they’d return.

They returned. When the bus transformed back into what looked like a monstrous cartoonish cat, Goro nearly revealed himself out of sheer disbelief. Was it a Shadow? A specialised vehicle Persona? Some strange cognitive entity?

Whatever it was, it didn’t make sense. Though the group was noisy, from his hiding spot, he only caught fragments—names like Joker, Skull, Panther, and Mona.

He froze as he heard the phrases. “Steal Desires” and “Change of Heart”.

Could they be… the Phantom Thieves? The same ones plastered across social media, the ones his classmates kept gossiping about between tests and club meetings? The ones rumoured to steal desires and make criminals confess their sins. As their calling cards phrased it, “stealing distorted desire.”

He’d dismissed the calling cards as prank calls. But now?

Goro ended this thought after finishing his breakfast. His mother’s pancakes were delicious as always. He then kissed his mother on the cheek and thanked her before heading to his study. 

There was no school today, so Goro had time to focus on his thoughts about the Phantom Thieves. He flipped open the notebook on his desk and reviewed his observations of the strange group he had encountered in Mementos.

***

Grey Crow’s personal observations of the suspected Phantom Thieves:

1# Joker: The boy in the white domino mask

Wears a black trench coat and boots. Black, slightly curly hair.

Weapon: Dagger.

Abilities: Multiple Personas with diverse skill sets.

Personality: Calm, composed, and confident.

(Highly likely to be the group’s leader.)

2# Panther: The girl in the red cat mask

Wears a red bodysuit, blonde hair in pigtails.

Weapon: Whip.

Abilities: Persona uses sleep, healing, and fire-based skills.

Personality: Free-spirited and feisty.

3# Skull: The boy with the silver skull-like mask

Wears a pirate-like black outfit with a red scarf. Blonde, spiky hair.

Weapon: Metal pipe.

Abilities: Persona uses buffs, physical, and lightning-based skills.

Personality: Loud, impulsive, possibly overcompensating.

(Observed difficulty in maintaining tactical subtlety.)

4# Mona: The strange cat-like creature

Small, cartoonish in appearance, with black and white fur like a tuxedo cat. Wears a yellow scarf.

Weapon: Slingshot.

Abilities: Persona uses wind and healing skills.

Personality: Attempts to command the group, though lacks actual authority.

(Maybe a non-human cognitive entity.)

***

Goro made a theory that the Phantom Thieves' method of changing hearts was related to manipulating cognition in some way, considering how they ran around beating up shadows in Mementos.

Goro also wondered how the real people’s counterpart of their shadow didn’t have a mental shutdown, as theorised by him and his mother. Instead, their hearts changed. 

What were their methods? How did they do the so-called “change of heart”?

The results couldn’t be denied. But the method? It bordered on brainwashing. Were the targets still themselves after? Or just shells of guilt, hollowed out and rewritten? The idea settled uneasily in his chest.

Still, he thought of her.

Stable, but barely. Haunted. The weight she carried never left, no matter how hard she smiled.

Maybe… maybe this strange, impossible power could help.

Maybe… they could change her heart.

“Your flag, your alibi… Can you hide behind…”

His phone rang with the opening song of Featherman 5 Royal, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sae-san. He picked up without hesitation.

“Good morning, Sae-san.”

“Morning, Akechi-kun,” came her crisp voice. “I need your help investigating the Phantom Thieves. Some sources suggest their activity may be tied to Shujin Academy. I know it’s late in the school year, but can you transfer in to observe?”

“I’m interested in this group as well,” he replied smoothly. “I can move to Shujin if provided a scholarship similar to my current one. Do we have a cover story?”

“I can arrange the paperwork for your transfer, but that’s the extent of my pull,” she said. “You’ll need to come up with a way to get close to the suspects. I’ll send you the list I’ve compiled so far—along with the principal’s contact information.”

“Understood. I’ll check the email and send you an outline of my approach. And… you can count on me to watch over your sister.”

Sae was silent for a beat. Then, warmer: “I appreciate it. I owe you sushi when this is over. I’ll hold you to that. Talk soon.”

Goro turned on his laptop, opening Sae’s email to access the list. 

His eyes narrowed as he scanned it. Ann Takamaki, Ryuji Sakamoto, Yuki Mishima, Ren Amamiya,…

His eyes stopped at Ren Amamiya.

Probation. Transfer from Inaba. Strong academics. Fast friendship with Kamoshida’s victims.

Rumoured to carry a cat in his bag….Strange

Most suspects struggled in school or had behavioural red flags. But Amamiya? Quiet. Polite. Top grades.Too perfect.

Goro leaned forward. His Kaisei record gave him an opening—he could propose a peer-led study group. Shujin would welcome the boost to morale. Working with Makoto Nijima, who already knew him, would sell the story.

And with Dr. Takuto Maruki coming in as the school counsellor, the students would get the support they needed, while Goro kept tabs on everything from the inside.

An elegant solution…

Only one obstacle remained: Principal Kobayakawa.

Goro exhaled slowly. He didn’t need the man’s approval. Just his obedience. Perhaps another quick visit to his Shadow would be enough—just a gentle reminder.

Goro, dressed in disguise, made a quick trip to Shujin. He opened the Metaverse app.

“Destination: Shujin Academy. Target: Principal Kobayakawa. Distortion: Playground.”

The world warped.

The office looked familiar—but off. The walls pulsed faintly, and the air felt too thick. Kobayakawa’s Shadow stood behind the desk, wringing his hands, muttering: “The black mask?”

“Approve my transfer,” he said calmly.

“I’ll act as a peer tutor. You’ll also hire Dr. Takuto Maruki as the school counsellor. In return, I’ll make sure Shujin avoids any more… scandals. Let’s not repeat the mess from last time. That paperwork took forever.”

The Shadow flinched. “I—I don’t—”

“Think carefully,” Goro interjected, tone light as ever. “You don’t want more eyes on you, do you?”

A long pause. Then a frantic nod. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Goro smiled. “Good decision.”

He left the Palace without looking back. Kobayakawa’s Shadow shrank back, hands twitching nervously.

Back in reality, he returned home casually.

He sent his request to Kobayakawa. Approval came swiftly, as expected.

As the final step in his plan, Goro stopped by Maruki’s apartment. He opened the door with his usual easy smile.

“I could use your help, Maruji,” Goro said quietly. 

Maruki smiled at the nickname—bright, genuine. That was all it took. Maruki didn’t ask for details—at least, not right away. He listened quietly as Goro mentioned Shujin, the recent events, and the need for support.

“I’ll help, Goro-kun,” he replied softly, his voice steady and reassuring.

Goro returned the smile gratefully, a flicker of warmth passing through his eyes. No words were necessary.

Everything was exactly as intended. His withdrawal from Kaisei went through smoothly.

The next morning, Goro packed his bag and checked his new Shujin uniform. He buttoned the blazer, adjusted his tie.

At least the uniform was black. Easier to blend in—or brood properly.

Goro let out a villainous cackle—like a real crow—before stepping forward.

Time to walk into the lion’s den.

Or a den of fools.

Either way, it’s showtime.

Chapter Text

Beneath the focused glow of his desk lamp, Goro flips through his notes, reviewing the suspects’ reactions to the Phantom Thieves’ latest speech:

Main suspects’ reaction to Phantom Thieves' speech:

• Yuuki Mishima: Irritated? Typed furiously on his phone.
  
  
• Ren Amamiya: Impressive poker face.
  
  
• Ryuji Sakamoto: Joked about being a Phantom Thief—sounded half-serious. Otherwise, confused.
  
  
• Ann Takamaki: Seem thoughtful. Nervous, strangely.
  
  
• Additional note: A high-pitched voice from Amamiya’s bag. Between a meow and a child’s whisper.
  
  → Theory: Ringtone? Talking cat?

He pauses, flipping back to the memory of that lunch encounter with Amamiya on Goro’s first day.

Amamiya has been kind. Thoughtful. Funny. Sharper than his grades implied. But vague. Slippery.

He’s joked about breaking into a castle. Lighthearted, sure—but it has felt too deliberate. Is he referencing a Palace?

Is it a joke? A bluff? A flirt?

The thought briefly knocks something loose in his chest—an odd flutter, immediately shoved aside.

Distractions were dangerous.

Still, Amamiya is worth watching. That is why Goro selected him—along with Sakamoto and Takamaki—for the study support group.

Sakamoto and Takamaki’s grades make them easy picks. Amamiya, though academically solid, was transferred from Inaba. Goro can justify his inclusion under the guise of “adjustment support.”

Yūki Mishima, meanwhile, performs well enough to stay off the list. For now. But as the Phan-Site admin, he remains under observation. Goro needs more before justifying interference.

He tutors the rest of Sae’s watchlist students on alternate days, logging every minor behaviour. No one has triggered his “detective” senses yet. Still, he catalogues everything.

He continues to check Mementos—sporadically, carefully. No sign of the Thieves yet. No confirmed targets either. The Phan-Site is quiet.

Goro exhales through his nose.

So far, no movement.

It’s Wednesday, and the study group with his primary suspects is scheduled for tomorrow. Perhaps now is the perfect time to follow up on a certain bold suggestion.

A “de-date,” as Amamiya had called it—half debate, half date. Goro smiles faintly at the memory.

Amamiya is intriguing enough to warrant closer observation. Charming, perceptive, sharp-witted. Sharing coffee might be pleasant… and informative.

He types out a message:

To: Ren Amamiya

Good afternoon, Amamiya-kun.

You once proposed a “de-date”, a blend of debate and… other possibilities.

I thought we might indulge the idea.

There’s a quiet café I rather like in Kichijoji.

Shall we walk there together after class?

From: Ren Amamiya

Sounds like a plan.

Should I bring a notepad… or flowers? 😏

Meet you by the front gates after class.

Goro scoffs under his breath—quiet, sharp, amused.

The audacity.

A smirk tugs at his mouth despite himself. So, Amamiya is bold. Or pretending to be. Either way, he knows how to toy with tone—how to walk the line between joke and provocation.

Flowers? Really?

Goro sets his phone down with a soft click, crossing one leg over the other. Amamiya is playing a dangerous game. Dangerous… and strangely refreshing.

He makes a mental note: Amamiya likes to bait reactions.

Goro will play along—on his terms, and with his own agenda.

Later that afternoon, as classes end and the sun dips toward golden hour, Goro waits at the front gates of Shujin—posture relaxed, perfectly composed.

Students stream past, chattering, laughing, lost in their phones or gossip. He catches glimpses of familiar faces—some from his study group list, others already flagged in his investigation notes.

And then—

“Hey, Akechi-senpai,” came a voice from behind.

He turns.

Ren Amamiya stands there with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a single white camellia.

Goro blinks.

How did he even find the time to get a flower? Goro only sent the invitation this morning. Also, no guy has ever given him a flower before. He has a decent number of admirers, sure—but they’re usually girls. Most boys don’t offer him flowers. They’re too busy being jealous, dismissive, or intimidated to be friendly.

He quickly masks the flicker of surprise threatening to betray him.

“…You’re not serious.”

Amamiya tilts his head, expression unreadable. “You invited me. I thought it was polite to bring something.”

Goro accepts the camellia reluctantly with a touch of suspicion. He tucks it into the inner pocket of his blazer.

What does a white camellia mean in hanakotoba again?

He should know. He is an actor, a master bullshitter, and a walking database of cultural trivia, but not a florist. He hates being out of his depth.

Is this symbolic? A joke? Romantic? Hostile?

He hates not knowing the rules of the game he’s playing.

A flush creeps up his cheeks. Was he overthinking it?

Before he can recover, the background noise shifts. Curious whispers rise from nearby students.

“Wait… is that Akechi-senpai? Why is the delinquent getting a flower?”

“Huh? Maybe Akechi’s trying to give a flower to a girl? Has he changed his mind on dating?”

“We should totally ask him out.”

Shoot.

He’s hesitated too long. They’re drawing attention. He has a reputation to maintain.

Without thinking, Goro grabs Amamiya’s wrist and pulls him away from the school gate, striding briskly toward the train station.

He doesn’t realise they’re holding hands until he reaches for his train pass.

He lets go abruptly, flushing. Damn it. He’s been too distracted—acting on autopilot.

Amamiya stares at him with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard.

Good. At least he’s not the only one flustered.

They walk into the train in silence, both pretending not to think about what just happened. The train rattles steadily toward Kichijoji. Goro sits beside Amamiya, the white camellia still tucks safely inside his blazer pocket.

Goro keeps his expression carefully neutral, but his fingers brush against the fabric, feeling the camellia’s delicate petals beneath. Quietly, he pulls out his phone, pretending to scroll through messages.

In truth, his eyes flick to the search bar as he types, “white camellia meaning hanakotoba.”

The definition appears: “Adoration, perfection, and waiting.”

Goro’s brow furrows just slightly. So, Amamiya’s gesture means respect and admiration—pure, sincere feelings. That’s surprisingly sweet. Yet beneath it all, a faint sting of disappointment lingers. Has he hoped for something more? Something deeper. More... romantic?

Beside him, Amamiya’s gaze flicks over, a curious glint in his eyes.

“Looking something up?” Amamiya asks, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Goro’s lips quirk in a rare, subtle smile. “Just keeping myself informed.”

Amamiya chuckles softly. “A careful actor never lets the audience see the script, huh?”

Goro’s smile deepens, but he says nothing more, turning his gaze back to the window. 

The bell above the door chimes softly as they step into Miel et Crêpe.

The café is cozy and warm, filled with soft jazz playing beneath the low murmur of conversation and the gentle hiss of steaming milk. The scent of butter and fresh coffee wraps around them like a comforting blanket.

A waitress greets them with a polite bow and leads them to a small booth by the window.

Goro gestures for Amamiya to slide in first before following himself, setting his notepad on the table between them like a silent declaration: This is still a mission.

Amamiya glances at the notepad, then back at Goro, waiting for an explanation.

“I came prepared. Notepad full of topics for debate,” Goro answers, his tone light but sincere.

Amamiya smiles faintly, resting his chin on his hand. “Not what I expected. I thought you’d just show up and wing it, like me.” He nods toward the flower in Goro's pocket, a teasing grin playing at his lips. “If it weren’t for your debate invitation, I’d say you were interrogating me, detective.”

Goro returns the quip with a smirk. “Well, Mr. Delinquent, I’m no detective, but I do want to get to know you better. For the debate, of course.” He pauses, then adds with a tone change, “How about we order something first before we begin?”

That much is true. Goro isn’t a detective but a private investigator working with Sae. Maybe it’s a good future career to consider. After all, he does enjoy investigating and analysing.

They both ordered coffee and cakes. The food and drinks arrive quickly. Goro, tired from the day’s school activities, quickly downs his coffee for a caffeine fix, barely noticing the taste. However, Amamiya grimaces after taking a sip.

“Not to your liking, Amamiya-kun?” Goro asks with genuine concern.

Amamiya nods, setting the coffee aside and taking a bite of his cake instead. “I can probably brew something better,” he says under his breath, eyes twinkling.

Goro smirks. “Didn’t take you for a barista. I know a better place for coffee in Yongen-Jaya, though. Maybe I should invite you there next time. Still, I’d like to try your brew—if it’s as good as you claim.”

“Is that place Leblanc ?” Ren asks, his brows lifting in mild surprise. His glasses hide the flicker in his eyes, but the shift in tone gives him away.

Goro nods, tone easy. “Yes. A colleague introduced me to it a while ago. I’ve developed something of a taste for Boss’s coffee.” It isn’t a lie—just a carefully chosen slice of truth. Goro knows Leblanc by other means. But he’s not ready to reveal that. Not yet.

“I work there, actually,” Ren says, voice calm but unreadable—like someone offering a truth with a lock still on it. Then, almost too casually, he grins. “Maybe you should drop by when I’m on shift. My treat.”

Of course, Amamiya works there. He also lives there—upstairs in the attic. That detail was in the case file. But Goro lets the omission pass; he wants to see what Amamiya is willing to share—and what he isn’t.

Goro raises an eyebrow, answering smoothly, “I’ll gladly take you up on that. After all, who could say no to free coffee from such an intriguing barista?”

He doesn’t say it aloud, but the offer genuinely tempts him. Goro may be composed, calculated, and always in control—but he’s also a caffeine addict.

Their conversation feels different from the usual—lighter, more grounded, almost easy. No heavy expectations, no scrutiny he’s grown used to. No carefully veils judgment. No forced admiration. Just conversation. For once, he isn’t being dissected or admired. He’s just… here.

He doesn't expect that from a peer.

Bit by bit, the tension in his shoulders ebbs away. He lets the rhythm of their dialogue wash over him, enjoying the crepe cake. Strange, how something so mundane can feel like a rare relief.

Amamiya sets his fork down gently and leans back in the booth. He looks straight into Goro’s eyes—thoughtful behind his glasses, gaze sincere.

“You’re good at keeping things neat, Akechi-senpai,” Amamiya says mildly. “Your words, your smile. It’s like everything’s rehearsed. In a good way, I guess.”

Goro chuckles softly, tapping a fingertip against his coffee cup. “That’s quite the observation, Amamiya-kun. Are you implying I’m wearing a mask?”

Amamiya gives a small, knowing smile. “Aren’t we all? Everyone puts on a performance.”

A quiet pause settles between them. The soft murmur of jazz fades into the edges of the café’s ambient hum.

Goro stirs the last of his coffee, gaze dipping for a moment. “Is it a bad thing… to wear a mask? Everyone has something to show… and something to hide. Like your glasses, for instance.”

Amamiya chuckles. “You caught me, Senpai. You’re the first to notice.” He removes the glasses with a small flourish, holding them out.

Goro accepts them, sliding them on. As expected, the lenses don’t distort anything. 

“They’re new,” Amamiya says quietly, watching him. “I only started wearing them after moving to Tokyo. After the probation thing… people kept staring. Whispering. I thought maybe if I looked a little quieter, a little blander, they’d stop seeing me like I was dangerous.”

He pauses, voice softening, edges fraying. “They say my eyes are too fierce…like those of a beast.”

For a heartbeat, there’s something unguarded in his expression, something bare, vulnerable, before it slips back into its usual calm.

Goro doesn’t respond right away. He knows better than most what it means to be judged on sight. To build a persona others will accept, whether it fits or not.

He speaks gently. “They’re wrong about your eyes. I wouldn’t call them fierce, perhaps the term is… passionate. The kind that burns with conviction.” He hesitates, then adds, ”I wouldn’t say I… dislike it.”

Amamiya looks at him, caught. His cheeks are tinted with a subtle pink, but his gaze remains steady—unhidden, now that the glasses are gone.

And for a fleeting moment, Goro finds himself lost in those storm-grey eyes.

“But I understand,” he says, quieter now. “I was raised by my mother alone. She used to work at a nightclub. We didn’t have much, and people… talked.”

He taps his knuckle lightly against the table. “I thought, if I could become someone admirable—an ideal prince, perhaps—they’d stop saying such things. About her. About us.”

“…That sounds lonely,” Amamiya says quietly.

Goro offers a faint smile. “It is. But you get used to wearing the mask. Eventually, it becomes a part of you. A part of how you show yourself to the world.”

Amamiya lowers his gaze, thoughtful. When he looks up again, it’s softer. “I’d like to meet the person beneath the mask someday,” he murmurs.

Goro doesn’t respond. He simply returns the glasses, placing them gently in Amamiya’s hands.

A quiet moment lingers—unspoken, but not uncomfortable.

As the café begins to empty around them, Goro clears his throat gently and shifts gears.

They settle the bill, and he brings up the study group arrangement, carefully factoring in Amamiya’s companions.

Amamiya nods, seemingly pleased with the setup.

As they step out into the cool evening air, Amamiya speaks again. “You know,” he says lightly, “you’re very quick to let go of my hand.”

Goro arches a brow, cautious.

“I wouldn’t mind holding it again,” Ren adds.
Before Goro can stop him, he catches his hand, lifts it, and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

He feels the unexpected warmth of Amamiya’s lips against his skin—a shock that shoots straight to his chest. For a moment, his thoughts scramble, reaching for composure even as his heart betrays him with a sharp flutter. He yanks his hand back—perhaps a bit too fast.

“You’re insufferable,” Goro mutters, the words slipping out more honestly than he intended—something he’d never say in front of others, but that feels right in this quiet, unpredictable moment.

Despite himself, the corner of his lips quirks into a reluctant smile, betraying the momentary crack in his carefully constructed mask.

“You can just call me Ren, you know,” Amamiya says.

“I find Amamiya-kun suits you just fine,” Goro answers.

Names are intimacy, and he isn’t ready for that yet. Not yet.

Amamiya only smiles, unfazed by Goro’s bluntness—almost like he finds it endearing. What a strange guy…

Earlier that afternoon, Ren knelt beside his bag with a casual smile.

“Ann, could you do me a favour and look after Morgana for a few hours?”

Ann blinked. “Uh, sure? Is something up?”

Ren shrugged. “Just a little one-on-one meeting. Wouldn’t want a certain someone whispering in my ear the entire time.”

Morgana popped his head out indignantly. “You mean protecting you! That guy gives me the creeps, Ren!”

Ren zipped the bag shut a little too smoothly. “Exactly.”

Ann giggled. “Good luck with your hang-out with Akechi, Ren!”

Then, with all the nonchalance of a seasoned rule-breaker, he slipped out of class early and clipped a white camellia from a neighbour’s garden.

Hopefully, no one noticed.

He tucked the flower into his jacket.

“Flower for my prince,” he murmured to himself—like a blushing princess, if anyone asked.

Chapter Text

Ren walks home with a grin plastered on his face. 

So this is what it feels like... having your senpai notice you? 

He loves that he managed to crack Akechi’s mask in the end. Mission complete.

He tells Morgana about the study group arrangement.

“Oh, we all got assigned together? How thoughtful of Akechi,” he says, voice laced with suspicion. “Think he’ll let me join too? I want to observe him”

Ren hums in thought. “Maybe—if you promise to behave. I could say you’re my emotional support pet?”

“I’m not a pet!” Morgana yowls, his tail puffing up like an angry pom-pom. “And seriously, doesn’t this seem fishy to you? Everyone in that group just happens to be a Phantom Thief?”

Ren chuckles. “Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted us to feel comfortable. It’s kind of an open secret that we’re friends.”

He tilts his head, mock-pondering. “Or maybe… he wanted to hang out with me, but got shy—so he pretended it was for school.”

Morgana makes a gagging noise. “Ugh. You’re hopeless.”

Ren only grinned wider, unfazed. He pulls out his phone to text Ann and Ryuji the update.

Group Chat: Phantom Squad 😩📚

Ann:

how was your date, renren? 😍😍 spill the tea!! ☕️👀

Ryuji:

wait WHAT?? 😱 you had a date and didn’t tell me?! 😭💔

Ren:

akechi invited me for a “de-date” lol 😂

like… debate + date 🤓💬

it was kinda fun. coffee sucked tho ☕️🤢

i got spoiled by boss’s brews ☕️👌

aw he told me we r in the study group tmr 📚 afterclass library 📖

Ann:

omg “de-date” 😂😂

r we at least getting free snacks out of this?? 🍪🍩🍫

Ryuji:

wait, akechi? the new transfer kid? 🤨

when DID you guys even know each other? 🤔

Ann:

lol Ren knows everyone in Tokyo at this point 😎🌆

Ren:

we met at lunch after the speech 🍱🎤

no snacks yet—but i’m negotiating 🤝💸

Ryuji:

ugh studying is the WORST 😩📉

can’t believe i gotta go just cuz i bombed math 🤯📉

Ren:

don’t worry, i’ll sit with you guys 👊

gotta keep an eye on akechi anyway 👀🔍

Ann:

lol r u changing career from thief to spy now? 🕵️‍♂️🕶️

Ren:

I’m Joker Bond, the greatest spy moonlighting as a student 🕵️‍♂️🎭

👀👀👀 i’m watching you, akechi-senpai 😏

Ryuji:

why do you even like that stuck-up prick?? 😤

he steals all the girls and now you too?? 😡💔

Ren:

nah. 😎

i stole him from the girls. 😉💥

Ren:

aw see ya all tmr! ✌️📚

To: Akechi

Ren:

Is it cool if I bring my emotional support cat? He’s well-behaved. 🐾

Akechi:

I’m not allergic to cats. As long as he doesn’t interrupt the study session, and you stay focused.

Ren:

Deal. Also, bring snacks.

Heard bribes improve academic performance 😌

Akechi:

How bold of you. Already demanding rewards, Amamiya-kun.

…I’ll see what I can do.

Tomorrow’s going to be fun.

The back corner of the school library has been cleared for the study support group. Akechi has claimed a table under a sunny window, stacks of workbooks neatly arranged, and pens laid out like weapons in an academic war. He taps one absently, already looking mildly bored—like he’s grading the world and finding it lacking.

Ren strolls in, casual as ever. Morgana sits smugly in his open school bag like a feline emperor surveying his domain.

“Amamiya-kun,” Akechi greets, glancing up. “I see you brought your… emotional support.”

Ren half-expects Akechi to call Morgana a cat—just to watch the inevitable explosion. “I’m not a cat!!!” Morgana would shout, echoing through the library—a moment worth framing. He wonders, not for the first time, if Akechi knows about Morgana’s complex… and is holding back on purpose.

Ren offers a polite smile. “He’s a very quiet student.”

“He looks like he’s judging me,” Akechi remarks, sipping from a paper coffee cup.

Blegh. Instant. Ren makes a mental note: next time, he’s bringing coffee. Real coffee.

“He judges everyone. Builds character,” Ren replies smoothly.

Lie. He is only suspicious of you, Akechi.

“I’ll try not to take it personally,” Akechi deadpans.

Ryuji drags his feet in like he’s marching to a firing squad. “Ugh, I can already feel my brain shutting down.”

Ann trails in after him, flopping dramatically into a chair. “Tell me you brought snacks, Akechi-senpai. Or this group dies before it even begins.”

With a sigh that sounds just a bit too polished, Akechi reaches into a paper bag and pulls out the goods: Hi-Chew, potato chips, and a few chocolate bars—like some kind of snack diplomat.

Ann lights up. “You're the best, Akechi-senpai!”

“I’m honoured,” Akechi replies flatly, but with a ghost of a smile.

“FOR REAL? You got all our favourites.” Ryuji gawks. “Dude’s trying to bribe us!”

Ren leans back, arms behind his head. “I suggested it. Sugar boosts memory retention. It’s practically science.”

Morgana mutters, “He didn’t bring anything for me. Where’s my fatty tuna?”

As if summoned by Morgana’s pitiful meow, Akechi calmly produces a small can of cat treats from his bag and sets it on the table.

“For your… judgmental companion,” he says smoothly.

Morgana perks up instantly. “Tuna!” he yowls, already halfway through the can like Akechi hadn’t been a walking red flag ten minutes ago.

Morgana has been officially bought out. He IS a cat after all. Liar.

Ren stares in disbelief. “You… actually brought tuna?”

“I try to be prepared,” Akechi says, clearly pleased by Ren’s reaction.

Show-off.

With the team assembled and the snacks distributed, they get to work. Akechi hands out worksheets with the precision of a seasoned tutor. Ryuji already looks defeated. Ann groans dramatically, cracking open her Hi-Chew like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

Surprisingly, Akechi’s a good tutor. He breaks things down with clear visuals and simple, targeted explanations. He’s patient—pausing when Ryuji falls behind, but never making him feel stupid.

It’s more than just knowing the material. These techniques take practice.

He must’ve done this before.

Ren can’t help but admire his senpai. 

He might have to start calling him Akechi-sensei.

“Wait… I get this now,” Ryuji says suddenly, staring at his worksheet that has just solved itself. “That’s, like, the first time all week!”

Ren grins, genuinely pleased. “Whoa. Knowledge stat up?”

Ann pops another chip, rolling her eyes. “Don’t celebrate yet. He’s still at Learned, max.”

“Hey!” Ryuji protests at the accusation. “I’m pushing Scholarly now!”

Akechi doesn’t even look up. “Aim for Erudite, and then I’ll be impressed.”

Ren lets out a low whistle. “Didn’t know you were into Featherman 5 Royal, Akechi-senpai.”

Akechi just smirks—neither confirming nor denying. Like a man with too many secrets and a very full watchlist.

The session continues, but under Ren’s watchful eye, he spots flickers of tension—brief moments where Akechi nearly snaps at their collective idiocy before reigning himself in. Ren’s tempted to poke the bear, just to see what happens.

But—for once—he decides to behave.

Instead, Ren leans over casually, eyeing Akechi’s notebook.

“Your handwriting is neat,” he murmurs. “Obsessively so.”

“I find comfort in order, like neat handwriting,” Akechi replies, glancing sideways at him while finishing his notes. “Unlike chaos. Or a certain kouhai who demands edible bribes.”

Ren looks into Akechi’s eyes with challenging intent, lips curling into a smirk.

 “And yet, you delivered.”

Akechi stops his writing and returns Ren’s gaze with a matching smirk. 

“I was… curious if you’re capable of more than meeting my academic challenge with a sugar incentive.”

Did Akechi just…flirt with Ren? How sweet of him.

“Careful, Sugar-senpai,” 

Ren drops his voice to a lower tone, eyes gleaming with interest.

“You’ll make me think you’re trying to get on my good side. I might think that you want something more.”

“I’m not aware you have one,” Akechi says smoothly, though there’s a faint lilt of amusement in his voice. “Yet here we are.”

Ann, sitting nearby, snorts with faux-surprise. She clearly enjoyed this. “Oh my god. Are you two flirting? In a study group?”

Ryuji groans, rolling his eyes. “Man, I didn’t sign up for this weird tension.”

From inside the bag, Morgana makes a dramatic gagging sound. “Ugh, just kiss already and spare the rest of us.”

Ren keeps his poker face, pretending he didn’t hear it. 

It’s just a joke. Just banter. 

Okay—maybe a little flirty. But he can’t help it. Something about Akechi draws that side of him out.

Akechi tries to brush it off, but the pink tint on his ears betrays him. Cute, Ren thinks.

“Just friendly banter,” Akechi says, tone light and even. “If this were flirting, I assure you—you’d be far more overwhelmed.”

Ren, clearly amused and very much enjoying himself, rests his chin back in his hand.

“I just appreciate my Sugar senpai. Is that a crime?”

Across the table, Ryuji chokes on a Hi-Chew while Ann squeals quietly.

Morgana facepalms—well, in a way only a cat possibly could.

Ren leans back again, watching them all interact.

As the study session winds down and worksheets are stuffed into bags—some more crumpled than others—Ann stretches with a yawn and throws Akechi a sideways glance.

“Hey, once we’re done—wanna grab a bite with us? I mean, it’d be kinda rude to accept free tutoring and just dip,” she says casually.

“Wait, I—” Ryuji starts, but Ann swiftly shushes him. Ren nods in agreement.

She leans in to whisper something to Ryuji. He deflates, then sighs in defeat.

“Yeah, you helped us with math and stuff,” Ryuji mumbles. “And the snacks, too. So… hang out with us?”

“Our treat,” Ren adds, sweetening the deal. He really wants to spend more time with Akechi—even if it means sharing him with the others.

Amused by Ryuji’s reluctant gratitude—or maybe tempted by the promise of free food—Akechi smiles politely.

“Oh? I wouldn’t mind. Just didn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing if we insist,” Ann replies with a wink.

Before Akechi can change his mind, Ren jumps in. “Let’s go, then!”

They end up eating at a cheap sushi train with surprisingly good desserts—Ann insisted, and no one had the energy to argue.

Ren notes, quietly amused, that Akechi likes sushi almost as much as Morgana—though he hides it behind perfect manners and picky ordering. His favourites seem to be pickled mackerel and tamago. 

Tamago and saba, huh? He expected something flashier. But of course, Akechi would go for understated options—classic, quietly sharp. Kind of like him.

The conversation meanders. They talk about school, teachers, weird rumours—nothing heavy. Ren lets the others lead, occasionally adding a dry comment that earns a laugh or an eye roll. He prefers listening for now.

Then Ryuji, emboldened by too much fruit juice and a suspiciously sugary dessert, leans across the table.

“Akechi, you know a lotta girls are into you, yeah?”

Akechi doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. I do seem to have a fair number of female admirers.” He says it smoothly, maybe a little too smugly.

Ryuji grins, trying to play it cool. “Sooo… what’s your secret? Any girl advice?” He adds quickly, “—Asking for a bro.”

Ren lifts an eyebrow. ‘A bro,’ huh?

Akechi pauses, momentarily thrown off. Then he recovers with a sip of tea and a small, thoughtful hum.

“If you’re truly curious… I find mystery effective. Speak sparingly. Let silence build tension. Don’t compliment outright—say something unexpected instead. And…”

He rests his fingers lightly on the cup, thinking.

“Give her a nickname. Something strange, but memorable. If it sticks, she’ll think of you even when you’re not around.”

Ryuji nods like he’s in a masterclass. “Okay. Be smooth. Be weird. Use a nickname. Got it.”

Ren stifles a laugh. He doubts any of this will help Ryuji—but maybe he can steal a page or two from the playbook. What can possibly go wrong with Akechi’s advice?

He slips Morgana another piece of tuna before the not-cat can chime in. The last thing they need is relationship tips from someone still failing to flirt with Ann.

Then, glancing at Akechi, Ren puts on his best thoughtful expression and says—sweet, casual, cheeky.

“So, like… calling you my prince would be a good example, right?”

Akechi falters—just for a second. A blink too long.

Then he recovers with practised ease, lips curling into a polite smile that doesn’t quite hide the pink dusting his ears.

“You learn fast… my knight.”

Ann lets out a delighted “Ooooh!”, eyes gleaming.

“Also, try complimenting her eyes—but don’t make it weird,” she adds, grinning. “Advice from a girl.”

Then, with a jab of her chopsticks toward Ryuji:

“And stop fidgeting like you’re trying to wrestle your hoodie into submission.”

The table erupts with laughter.

Ryuji throws up his hands. “I’m bein’ mysterious!”

Just like that, the conversation drifts back to casual chatter. The plates keep coming. Morgana purrs quietly in Ren’s bag. Akechi’s expression is unreadable, but relaxed.

Ren leans back, watching them all. Content, for now.

“You know,” Ann says, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “you’re not so bad, Akechi-senpai.”

Akechi blinks. “That’s… quite the compliment.”

“I mean it,” Ann adds with a grin. “You helped me understand that math problem. And you bribed us with chocolate. That’s a win in my book.”

She pauses, pulling out her phone. “We should hang out again sometime—outside of studying. Here’s my contact.”

Akechi looks mildly surprised, but he nods and hands her his phone without hesitation. “Of course. Here.”

Ren leans over next, clearly enjoying this. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks he’s fun.”

Ryuji groans dramatically. “Oh, come on.”

Still, he pulls out his phone with a scowl and mutters, “Fine. But only ‘cause he helped me not fail. And bought snacks. And girls’ tips.”

Akechi chuckles. “How generous of you.”

Ren shoots him a smirk. “Looks like you’re stuck with us now, Senpai.”

Ann slips her phone into her pocket. “This was fun. Maybe crepe next time?”

“Agreed,” Ren says. “Somewhere with decent coffee.”

“Preferably where I’m not doing math,” Ryuji adds with a grumble.

Akechi stands and adjusts his bag with practised ease. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As they step out of the sushi train, Ann nudges Ren before she leaves. “Didn’t know you were the knightly type.”

Ren quips. “I’m chivalrous, always ready for my prince.” He winks. Ann laughs, then leaves.

Ren lingers beside Akechi and gives him a light nudge with his elbow.

“Thanks, Akechi-sensei,” he says earnestly. “For the snacks and your guidance. I had a lot of fun today.”

Akechi lets out a crooked little smirk—less polished than usual, more real.

“My pleasure, Ren.”

For a second, neither moves. Then Ren smiles and looks away, heart stupidly light.

And somewhere beneath the mask, something real had started to shine through.

After receiving Amamiya’s latest text—complete with a smug little demand for snacks—Goro leaned back in his chair, already scheming how to one-up him. The guy had brought a flower to their last meeting, after all. Clearly, the bar had been set. 

Goro made his way to Maruki’s office and knocked, knowing the counsellor shouldn’t have any sessions at this hour.

“Come in!”

“Maruji-san, can I have your snacks?”

“Of course, Goro-kun!” Maruki chirped, already reaching for the familiar stash of treats he liked to offer to students.

Goro pocketed the bag without hesitation. Why waste money when he could just ask Maruji nicely?

“Also—pass me the cat treats in your second drawer.”

Maruki froze, eyes wide. “How did you—?”

Goro gave a casual glance at the tufts of fur clinging to Maruki’s lab coat. It didn’t take a detective to figure out he’d been feeding the strays behind the school. Honestly, it was the same with Amamiya. Goro was surrounded by cat people.

Good thing he wasn’t allergic.

“Detective’s secret. Thanks, Maruji~,” he said smoothly, strolling out with both snacks and smug satisfaction.

Chapter Text

Ren practically buzzes with anticipation.

Akechi had texted earlier: “I’ll come by Leblanc after I finish.” It’s not their first time hanging out outside of school, but something about tonight feels… different. More casual, maybe.

As the sun dips behind the rooftops of Yongen-Jaya, casting long shadows across the street, Ren blazes through his homework at near-sonic speed. Thanks to Akechi-sensei’s guidance, even the most miserable trigonometry problems fall before his pen like a beaten Shadow. 

With the work done, he turns to the real mission: preparation.

He runs through his mental checklist the way he plans a Phantom Thieves heist:

Appearance: Hair? Still hopeless. A few comb swipes only make it worse. But he’s clean, showered, and wearing something decent. Passable.

Coffee: Grinder, filter, cups, milk, sugar—everything is neatly arranged. His brewing? Boss-approved.

Curry: Not as good as Sojiro’s. But edible.

Emotion: Ready. Probably. Hopefully.

He moves with deliberate calm, but inside, his thoughts are racing. The countertop’s already clean, but wiping it again gives his hands something to do. A voice pulls him back to reality.

“Hey, kid!” Sojiro calls from behind the counter.

Ren straightens. “Yes, Boss?”

Sojiro gives him a look—amused, knowing. “Looking sharp. Expecting someone special?”

Ren relaxes his face, hoping the lighting in this glass would hide his true feelings. “Y-Yeah. My senpai.”

“Mm.” Sojiro raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Well, I’m heading out. Flip the sign and lock up when you’re done.”

Just then, the door chime jingles.

Akechi steps in, bathed in the soft amber of sunset. He looks more relaxed than usual—just a quiet nod and a faint, honest smile.

“Hello, Boss. It’s been a while,” he says.

“Akechi! Long time no see.” Sojiro perks up.“How’s Fumiyo?”

“She’s well, thank you,” Akechi replies. “And you look like you’re doing well too.”

“Can’t complain.” Sojiro shrugs into his coat. “You’re here for Ren, yeah? He’s been pacing around like a caffeinated cat waiting for you.”

“Boss—” Ren mutters under his breath, wishing the floor would eat him.

Akechi chuckles. “He promised me coffee. I had to check if his technique holds up.”

“Right, right.” Sojiro waves toward the counter. “My date is waiting, so I’ll leave you two to it. Come by the store sometime—coffee’s on me.”

“I’ll take you up on that. Good luck on your date.”

“You too, kids,” Sojiro says, already halfway out the door, putting on his signature hat. “Don’t stay up too late—unless it’s for studying... bonding... whatever you kids call it these days.”

The bell jingles again as the door closes behind him, leaving a quiet warmth in his ways.

“So you’ve been waiting for me, huh?” Akechi says teasingly. Smug bastard.

“Been waiting for my favourite customer,” Ren quips, trying to recover the losing move on Akechi’s game. Time to toughen up.

“Not when I’m not paying. Your treat, remember?”

If only he could ask Boss what Akechi likes. A shame.

Ren picks up the house’s blend and gestures to Akechi. 

Akechi simply nods. “No milk. No sugar.”

Ren quietly starts brewing, holding the kettle at the precise angle. His proficiency is skilled — a practised motion. Ren is certain he can nail this. 

The only sounds are the soft clink and clang of the equipment and Boss’s favourite jazz track humming in the background. The no-conversation is warmly comforting, easing the edge off a long day.

As the final drip lands, Ren looks up. Their gazes meet. Akechi is already watching him, burning him with red auburn eyes, like embers behind glass.

Ren wonders what is on Akechi’s mind. Can Akechi see through the calm, quiet mask to the flickering, passionate intensity beneath?

He doesn’t want to break the silence.

He carefully pours the coffee into the cup, not letting his feelings or the liquid overflow. Then he brings it over to Akechi’s side.

“My thanks,” Akechi says, taking a sip and closing his eyes. “Not bad at all, Amamiya-kun. Not that far from Boss. He picked his protégé well.”

“Glad to meet your expectations.” Ren’s smile turns victorious. “Maybe I will exceed that next time. Keep your expectation high, senpai”. Then he gestures toward the kitchen. "Curry?” he asks.

“Not today, but if you have leftovers, I wouldn’t mind taking some home,” Akechi chuckles lightly. “I’m going to pay for the curry, though. Can’t let my favourite café go under.”

“Tip for the barista?” Ren asks, raising an eyebrow.

Akechi reaches into his bag and pulls out a small bundle of Morning Glory. Without a word, he offers them to Ren, his eyes calm and steady—an unspoken message hanging between them.

Ren’s gaze lingers on the flowers; the meaning in hanakotoba is clear to him. A silent confession: I’m paying close attention to you.

Ren’s eyes flicker down to the delicate blue petals cradled in his hands. A faint warmth spreads across his cheeks, almost imperceptible—but enough to betray the calm facade he carefully maintains.

He looks up, meeting Akechi’s steady gaze, and for a heartbeat, his breath catches. 

“Thank… for the tip. The barista appreciates it”. He uses all his Joker energy to convey cheekiness in his tone, though he wonders if his body language betrays his words.

He tucks the flowers gently beside his notes, fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. 

Akechi’s lips twitch into a small, knowing smile—victorious yet restrained, like a player who’s just dealt a winning hand without breaking his poker face. Ren quietly mourns his loss, but why does it feel more like a win?

Then, with a casual elegance, Akechi invites him to a game of chess. He pulls out a chessboard cleverly hidden in a compartment beneath the counter—one Ren had never noticed before.

Ren is a beginner, but his quick mind keeps him in the game longer than expected. Still, Akechi wins.

But the real game?

That one is far from over.

They’re midway through a rematch when a flurry of buzzes interrupts the quiet. Ren blinks, momentarily annoyed. Who’s the third player barging into their moment? Rude.

Akechi glances at his phone, thumb flicking over the screen as he types something back—short, quick. Ren tries not to look, really tries, but his eyes flick anyway.

A glimpse: a crow emoji… followed by two heart emojis.

His stomach drops.

Is Akechi… seeing someone?

The thought strikes harder than he expects. It shouldn’t matter. Should it?

Ren stares at the board, the morning glory flowers still vivid in his peripheral vision. He just got a silent confession—didn’t he? So why did that message feel like a slap?

Jealousy creeps in, bitter and sharp.

He lifts his coffee, sips it like a mask. Then says, far too lightly, “Should I give you a moment? You seem… distracted.”

Akechi continues typing his text without looking up: “It’ll be quick. Just someone I know being dramatic. Nothing important.” His tone is light, but Akechi’s usual smile is gone.

Ren says nothing.

Admit nothing.

Reveal nothing. 

Ren watches the board, the screen, and the boy across from him.

He needs to find out who’s sending those texts.

He heard Sojiro ask Akechi about Fumiyo. This might be a good lead.

The school day drags on as usual, but Ren’s mind keeps circling back to the same question: Who keeps texting Akechi? Finally, the bell rings, and Ren heads to his mandatory counselling session with Dr. Maruki—hoping for some clarity.

As always, the session involves a lot of Maruki talking, and Ren listens with polite nods and well-timed hums. But today, Maruki notices Ren’s distracted expression and offers a Hi-Chew.

Ren’s mind flickers. That’s the same brand Akechi always shares.

He glances around—same chocolates, same chips, even the cat treats Morgana once coveted.

“Dr. Maruki,” Ren says, sipping his tea like it’s no big deal. “Akechi-senpai’s been getting a lot of messages lately. Pretty intense for a study group nerd.”

Maruki laughs awkwardly. “Well, he is a popular boy, right?”

Ren smiles, all calm curiosity. “Mm. I thought the mystery texter might be you.”

Maruki chokes slightly. “W-What?! Me?!”

Ren shrugs innocently. “You two have the same snacks… and cat treats.”

Maruki is visibly sweating now, his voice jumping half an octave. “N-No! I mean—nothing like that! When he was … He’s just my… uh, neighbour. That’s all!”

Ren knows there’s more to it, but pushing won’t help—not yet. He hums. “Neighbour, huh? Lucky block.”

He leans back, letting the mood lighten. “I wasn’t accusing, just curious. I trust you, Dr. Maruki.” 

He gives Maruki a conspiratorial wink, like someone hoping for harmless gossip. Purely for research purposes, of course.

Maruki exhales, relieved. “Please don’t tell Akechi-kun I said anything. He values his privacy—he’s complicated.”

Ren smiles sheepishly. “Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Maruki chuckles weakly. “That’s what worries me.”

Ren then innocently adds, “Oh, by the way… since you know Akechi-senpai, have you ever heard of someone named Fumiyo?”

Maruki blinks, then nods a little too quickly. “Ah. Goro-kun’s mother. She runs a little novelty store in Kichijoji. Quirky place, you’ll know it when you see it.”

Ren brightens, all warmth and gratitude. “Thanks, Doctor. That sounds cool—I’ll check it out sometime.”

Maruki wipes his brow. “Just don’t tell her I told you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ren says sweetly.

Ren leaves Maruki’s office with the thrill of fresh intel humming in his brain.

…Though maybe emotionally steamrolling the nicest man alive just for intel wasn’t his finest moment. Oops. 

He resolves to take this shame to the grave as penance. Hail the true Snack King, long may he reign.

Next time , he thinks, he’ll win the information on his own.

Ren adjusts his blazer like it’s a tuxedo, fingers pushing up his glasses the way he does when donning his mask in the metaverse.

“Operation: Senpaiwatch—Begin!” He mutters, slipping into ‘Joker Bond’ mode with dramatic flair. Now time to gather Mona… no, Felix, his partner.

Ren marches back into his attic like a man on a mission. He gets his phone and types out: Operation: Senpaiwatch.

Morgana blinks with suspicion from behind his shoulder. “…Is this another Phantom Thieves operation?”

“Private mission,” Ren says solemnly, “classified. Ssh.” He holds the index finger over his mouth, gesturing quietness.

“If it’s your private session, it’s 99.99% going to be Akechi,” Morgana says smugly.

“Well, I am not going to confirm or deny your claim,” Ren says. “So are you ready?”

Morgana hops onto the table with a thunk. “We? Ready for what?”

“Operation: Senpaiwatch, where we investigate what Akechi’s senpai is hiding! I will go with the code name Agent Joker Bond. You are Agent Felix, my partner in spying” 

Morgana sighs. “This better not turn into another Operation Maidwatch.”

“You’re the only one I can trust with this,” Ren says with mock-serious gravity. “You’re stealthy, sneaky, and a certified snack scout. I need your eyes, ears—and nose.”

Morgana rolls his eyes. “Fine, Joker , I’ll be your partner in espionage ”

“Let's start with a secret lead. There’s a certain… suspicious store in Kichijoji. We need to make a visit. Someone saw Akechi there.”

Morgana perks up. “Is it the one with the weirdly good gears? I’ve been dying to try that toy wand that looks like it shoots Bless damage.”

“Two birds, one stone. We get some good gear for our team and investigate.”

Joker Bond high-fives… well, high paws with agent Felix.

For the first step, he types down the main target.

“Target: Goro Akechi,” he mutters. “Status: Too composed. Too attractive. Definitely hiding something.”

“Mission: find the mysterious texter. Suspect: Fumiyo”

Joker Bond and Felix begin their adventure down a narrow alley.

Ren—Joker Bond—glances up at the sign hanging above the door:

Memory Lane.

A small, unassuming shop, cluttered with odd trinkets: a music box, an old CD player, a cloudy glass orb, jars of marbles, shelves of retro toys, and far too many questionable costume pieces.

He narrows his eyes behind his glasses, activating his totally real spy vision—or, you know, his Third Eye.

…Wait.

Is that an SP recovery item?

Target acquired.

He pushes open the door.

“Welcome—oh! Ain’t you Amamiya-kun?”

Ren freezes mid-step.

Busted.

“…Hello, ma’am. How do you know my name?”

“Well, a boy with curly hair, glasses, and a tuxedo cat in a bag… You match the description. Goro-chan talks a lot about his ‘interesting kouhai,’” she says with a teasing smile, air-quoting the last part.

Ren schools his expression into one of polite surprise. “So you’re… Akechi-san? Akechi-senpai’s mother?”

“That’s me. Fumiyo Akechi. Nice to meet you, Amamiya-kun.” She gives a warm smile.

Before Ren can reply, her attention shifts—because Morgana has, of course, abandoned all pretence of being a secret agent and is now circling a large, plush cat on the lower shelf like it’s a holy relic. He paws at it, nuzzles it, and lets out a loud, satisfied “Meow.”

“Ohhh, look at him!” Fumiyo crouches down as Morgana rolls onto his back in front of the plush. “So expressive… Is he trained to respond to things like this?”

“Er…” Ren hesitates, defaulting to his best clueless smile. “He’s just very smart. Suspiciously.”

She laughs lightly. “I’ve met a few creatures like that before.” Then, almost to herself: “They tend to show up around strange phenomena. Like the TV world.”

“Huh?” Ren tilts his head.

“Nothing, dear.” She straightens smoothly, offering a wink. “Just old research habits.”

Ren hums politely, but his thoughts itch at the edges.

TV world? That wasn’t just a throwaway phrase. The way she said it—like she expected him to recognise it. She seemed too sharp to just be some eccentric shopkeeper. Friendly, sure. But also… suspiciously well-informed.

Like mother, like son, he thinks wryly. Still, he’s not about to interrogate her. Yet.

“How is Goro at his new school?” She asks, changing the topic.

“He made a speech on his first day,” Ren says, smiling a little. “Kinda philosophical, actually. He challenged the whole Phantom Thieves’ ideal. It was… bold.”

Fumiyo hums, intrigued. “That sounds like him.”

“We’ve talked a few times,” Ren adds. “He started a study group. We’re all in it now. It’s a little chaotic—but kind of fun. There’s talk of another hangout, if he ever stops pretending he’s too busy.”

Her eyes are warm, thoughtful. “Goro always pretends he doesn’t need people, but he’s softer than he lets on.” 

Fumiyo smiles gently. “He’s a bit of a loner. Likes to do things his own way. But I’m really glad he’s made some friends.”

She sets a small trinket down, then adds with a chuckle,

“He sounds a bit mean sometimes—but he cares. He just pretends to be a villain or something. A little act.”

She winks. “I sometimes call him Grey Crow, if you get the reference.”

Ren tilts his head. “Featherman? Grey pigeon? The morally ambiguous one?”

Fumiyo laughs. “Exactly.”

So his mom was worried about Akechi and probably sent texts, including crows and hearts emojis. Make sense.

Morgana gives a chirpy “Mrrrp” and resumes aggressively cuddling the plush. Fumiyo’s smile deepens with genuine warmth.

“He really does like it here. How about I babysit him for the afternoon? I’ll even throw in something from the store as thanks.” Fumiyo said.

Ren shoots a look at Morgana, who responds with a smug tail flick and a not-so-subtle glance at the shelf of tuna cans behind the counter.

“…Wait—leave him?” Ren blinks.

“I’ll go get him some treats,” Fumiyo says brightly, already disappearing into the back.

Morgana immediately flops down on the cat plush like a pampered king. He glances at Ren with a satisfied “Meow” full of meaning.

Ren leans close, whispering when he’s sure Fumiyo is out of earshot.

“…Seriously? You’re my partner in espionage. Tuna’s all it takes?”

Morgana purrs. No regrets.

None.

Ren sighs, long and theatrical. “Traitor.”

Fumiyo returns with a few cans of cat food and some dried fish treats. “Here we go. Don’t worry—I’ll take excellent care of him. He already seems to love it here.”

Ren gives her a sheepish smile. “Yeah. He’s got good instincts.”

And absolutely zero loyalty.

Still, it solves two problems: a lighter grocery bill and some guilt-free shopping time.

He gathers a few items, including the traitor’s requested wand, collects Fumiyo’s contact info (for “pet pick-up,” obviously), and heads for the exit.

Morgana doesn’t even look up. Betrayed again—for the Akechi.

“Before you go,” Akechi-san says, rummaging behind the counter, “take this too.”

She holds up a delicate pendant—an old-fashioned key suspended on a red thread. The key itself is tiny, rusted just so, and shimmers faintly when it catches the light. There’s something oddly compelling about it.

“It’s one of our oldest pieces. People say it helps with… unlocking things. Decisions, maybe. Or thoughts you’ve tucked away,” she adds with a wink.

Ren blinks, staring. “Uh… magic key?”

She laughs. “If you believe in that sort of thing. I’ve always been interested in symbolic resonance. Funny how people project meaning onto objects like this. Sometimes that alone is enough to shift your mindset.”

He turns it over in his palm. “Cool. Thanks.”

“It suits you,” she says. “A mysterious key for a mysterious boy.”

Ren tries not to react. “Guess I’ll try not to lock myself out of anything—metaphorically or otherwise.”

“Wise,” she says, eyes twinkling. “And if it ever glows—maybe let me know.” 

As Ren steps out of the store, Fumiyo asks him earnestly.

“One more favour—could you keep Goro company? Maybe follow through on that group hang-out you mentioned?”

Ren nods. That’s an easy request.

Ren smiles. The mysterious texter is Fumiyo Akechi.

Has to be.

Case closed.

This is where your secret ends, Goro Akechi.

Mission Complete.

Quest Rewards:

• “Divine Key” – May open most locks (or hearts?)
• “Magic Wand” – ??? (possibly Bless damage?)
• “SP Regen Band” – Subtle aura of restorative
• Various strange trinkets
• Fumiyo Akechi’s contact info unlocked.
• Side quest unlocked: Operation: Senpaifriend 

Ren, hoodie half-zipped, returns to Memory Lane to retrieve his not-cat.

“Morgana?” he calls.

Before Fumiyo can emerge from the back, someone else steps out from behind a rack of novelty scarves.

“Looking for something?” says a familiar voice, smooth as silk and twice as smug.

Ren smiles. “Hello there, Senpai.”

Akechi raises an eyebrow. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this. “Amamiya-kun. So you’re the one who left your cat with my mother.”

Ren tugs at his hoodie strings. “Technically, he left me.”

Right on cue, Morgana pads out from behind the counter with the slow confidence of someone who’s spent the evening being worshipped. He leaps up beside a stack of feathered hats and meows, loud and self-satisfied.

Ren points. “See? No loyalty.”

“He’s been spoiled,” Akechi mutters. “Mother calls him her new shop assistant.”

“Oh,” Ren says, dry. “So you’re jealous.”

Akechi gave him a flat look. “Don’t project.”

Ren shrugged, all innocence. “Right, right. I’ll be taking my emotional support companion now.”

Morgana didn’t move. Instead, he flopped dramatically onto the counter, tail curling into a perfect question mark.

“So,” Akechi said casually, “how did you find this place?”

Ren deadpanned, “Just happened to stroll past.”

Akechi squinted, unconvinced.

Fumiyo emerged at that moment, holding a bag of neatly packed items. “Oh, you’re here! Goro-chan, did you say hi to your kouhai properly?”

Ren coughed into his fist. Akechi replied with heavy dignity, “We exchanged pleasantries.”

Morgana finally hopped into Ren’s arms like a smug loaf. Ren took the care bag, bowed slightly to Fumiyo, and backed toward the door.

“I’ll be back,” he said to her—then glanced at Akechi and added, with a wink, “for the shop, of course.”

Akechi crossed his arms. “Just make sure you pay next time. Mother gave you too many freebies.”

Ren’s just about to fall asleep when his phone buzzes.

Alibaba?

📱**[New Message – Alibaba]**

Alibaba:

💻 🚨 WRONG.

Target status: MISIDENTIFIED. Operation: FAILED. 

💻 1 betrayal cat. 1 emotional casualty.

Retry, Joker Bond?

Ren:

who r u

WAIT how did u know?!

hello??

Hello???

Message cannot be sent.

Chapter Text

Goro Akechi tapped his pen against the table, sinking deeper into thought. Of all things, he hadn’t expected Amamiya to stumble into Memory Lane—let alone meet his mother. Lady Luck must have blessed him… though perhaps with a sense of humour.

Amamiya had left the cat behind.

Or rather, the cat had stayed, despite its owner’s clear reluctance. Goro’s lips curled at the thought. Morgana, stranded in his mother’s store, exposed. A perfect opportunity for his most trusted confidant to… examine the peculiar creature.

Curiosity traps the cat, he mused with a sly, villainous chuckle.

“So,” he said aloud, barely glancing up, “can you hear Morgana talk?”

Fumiyo smiled into her teacup. “Nope. His meow is pretty cute, though.”

Goro frowned, not annoyed, but intrigued. “So just being in the Metaverse isn’t enough… There must be another trigger.”

“My working theory?” Fumiyo tapped her finger against her chin. “Either you need an awakened Persona, or you have to cognitively know that the cat can talk.”

“Like hearing him speak aloud in the Metaverse first…” Goro murmured, eyes narrowing. “I’ve seen a cartoonish, talking cat in Mementos. Follows the Phantom Thieves. Transforms into a bus. Absurd, but… Morgana—or Mona—it might be the same …It might be him.”

Fumiyo nodded, thoughtful. “Worth investigating. And if you find a good hiding spot next time,” she added with a wink, “I wouldn’t mind tagging along. Strictly for research, of course.”

“I’m ninety per cent sure it’s Amamiya, Sakamoto, and Takamaki,” Goro said. “The motives, the movements—it all lines up. The talking cat’s just the final nail in the coffin.”

Fumiyo leaned back in her chair, gesturing toward the cat plush in the corner. “By the way, Morgana’s been acting weird around the stuff you brought back from the last Palace. He’s obsessed with that charm—keeps batting at it like it’s laced with catnip.”

“Odd,” Goro muttered, brow furrowed. “Must be tied to the cognitive realm somehow.”

“Otherwise?” Fumiyo laughed. “Completely normal. Sleeps all day, judges me from the counter. Oh—and he loves fatty tuna. Would probably sell out the Phantom Thieves for a can.”

Goro smirked. Noted. “Useful. Tactical bribery, then.”

He leaned back in his chair, the gears in his mind whirring like a well-oiled doomsday clock. Time to strike.

Just you wait, Joker 

Grey Crow: Mastermind of Shadows, the investigator

Operation: Catch the Joker Red-Handed

(Because, of course, he wears red gloves. The audacity.)

Objective: Observe the Phantom Thieves after school and confirm identities.

• Step 1: Delegation.

He couldn’t afford distractions—not when the thieves awaited him. Tutoring duties? Not his problem. That burden would fall to the student council. Makoto Niijima, the ever-dutiful pushover good girl, wouldn’t say no. She probably saw it as a civic duty.

Grey Crow’s claws were free.

• Step 2: Surveillance.

He would tail Amamiya, Morgana, Sakamoto, and Takamaki—disguised, of course. Subtle. Untraceable. 

• Step 3: Capture evidence.

Preferably a picture. For blackmail. Or backup. Or his future memoirs.

And all while delivering an internal monologue. Every good villain deserves a monologue.

Attempt #1: The Crepes Stand Catastrophe 

Operative: Goro Akechi - Grey Crow

Location: Harajuku

Target: Ann Takamaki

Disguise: Casual nerdy university student with sweater vest

Status: Compromised.

Goro had just arrived at the crepe stand Takamaki often frequented when disaster struck.

“Heyyy, Akechi-senpai!” Ann greeted him brightly, waving him over like they were old friends. “No tutoring today?”

Goro blinked. “Ah, just taking a break. What about you, Takamaki?”

“Just call me Ann,” she grinned, all effortless charm. “I just visited Shiho, my best friend. Let’s get crepes together!”

Goro tilts his head. “If you insist, Ann.”

Names were tools. He’d sharpen hers until it worked for him.

Before he could protest, she’d already latched onto his arm and dragged him toward the stand. She ordered a double chocolate crepe without hesitation. He, under social pressure and duress, opted for a coffee-flavoured one—hopefully not too sweet. 

They ended up at a nearby table, half-shaded by a garish umbrella. The crepe was… tolerable. Sweet, but tolerable.

“So,” Takamaki began casually, in the exact tone of a panther stalking a particularly juicy secret, “how’s it going with Ren? You guys still hanging out?”

Goro held back a sigh. “We’re… close these days,” he replied smoothly. “Just coffee and chess. That sort of thing.”

Takamaki’s eyes sparkled. “Aww.” She leaned in. “You know, Ren’s been reading chess strategy books in class lately. I totally get why now.”

He allowed himself a smug little smile. “He’s yet to beat me, but it’s nice to see he’s studying.”

Deflect, deflect. Shift the spotlight.

“So you mentioned seeing your best friend, Shiho, isn’t it?” he asked, tone perfectly neutral.

Takamaki blinked, then softened. She told him about Suzui’s recovery and their friendship—how isolation had led to an unexpected connection.

He hadn’t expected… this. A moment of raw sincerity. So, unlike the image of a cheerful airhead he’d assumed.

Takamaki slightly blushed at the mention of Suzui. Interesting. Goro, as a good mastermind/investigator, mentally noted it down. Cover took a blow, but he got good information.

But Takamaki wasn’t done. A grin curled like a panther ready to pounce.

She giggled. “Anyway, let’s go shopping after this! I’ll help you pick something good. Seriously, that sweater vest makes you look like a grandpa.”

His eyes twitched. It’s practical, he thought.

He opened his mouth to decline, but she was already dragging him away.

⸻

[Later – Inside a Harajuku Boutique]

Takamaki held up a sparkly pink bomber jacket and pressed it against her reflection. “What do you think?”

Goro folded his arms awkwardly by the racks. “It’s… definitely attention-grabbing.”

She turned, eyeing him. “Don’t give me the polite answer. I want the real one. Full honesty.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really want it?”

“Yup.”

He glanced at the jacket. “It looks like something out of a 2000s mean girl movie. All sass and attitude. Unless that’s the vibe you are going for. Also, that shade of pink is awful on you. Try the red one. It might suit you better.”

She stared. Then burst out laughing—loud and unrestrained.

“Oh my god, you’re so mean!” she beamed. “I love it.”

He blinked. “You… do?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re always super polite and smooth, but honestly? You’re way more interesting when you drop the act a little. That’s why Shiho’s my best friend. A little mean, super honest.” She giggled.

“…Duly noted,” Goro said.

Takamaki grabbed another jacket and held it out to him.

“Now your turn. Let’s see what you look like in something that doesn’t scream retirement plan vibes.”

Goro sighed, but didn’t pull away.

“Fine. But if you make me try on anything risqué, I walk.”

“Got it, Akechi-sensei!” Takamaki laughed, nudging him toward the changing room.

He gave her a deadpan look. He rolled his eyes and sighed internally.

“I’m trusting you with my dignity.”

“Big mistake.”

She winked, and he let himself be dragged off.

Mission Outcome: Failure.

Cause of Compromise: Crepes. Gossip. Unexpected shopping ambush.

Unexpected Discovery: Ann Takamaki is surprisingly tolerable. Possibly dangerous.

Note to Self: Sweater vest judgment still stings.

Attempt #2: The Billiards and Darts Disaster 

Operative: Goro Akechi - Grey Crow

Location: Kichijoji

Targets: Ren Amamiya, Ryuji Sakamoto, and Morgana

Disguise: Local otaku, featuring a Red Hawk Featherman hoodie

Status: Compromised.

Goro—undercover in an outfit he usually reserved for lounging at home—had successfully tailed his targets into Kichijoji. This was his turf. He knew all the hidden corners, all the quiet angles of surveillance.

Everything was going smoothly until they entered Penguin Sniper.

With no other option, Goro followed—face mask on, hood up. He was just another nerd killing time. Harmless. Invisible.

Or so he thought.

As he paid for a session, a hand tapped his shoulder.

“You dropped something.”

Goro turned.

Amamiya stood there, holding out Goro’s IC card holder. His grey crow sticker gleamed mockingly from the surface.

It must’ve slipped from his hoodie pocket.

“Thank you,” Goro said, voice low and carefully masked.

Amamiya tilted his head, gaze sharp. “So what’s my great senpai doing here, wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer?”

Busted.

“Just here for a game,” Goro said coolly. “And… It’s chilly.”

It was not chilly. The edge of summer lingered in the air.

Amamiya raised a brow but didn’t comment. Instead, he smiled.

“Ryuji’s here. Let’s play nine-ball? You already paid, right?”

“…Sure,” Goro replied darkly. “I look forward to your crushing defeat.”

They met up at the table. Sakamoto waved, cue stick in hand. “Yo! You’re here too, Senpai? Sweet. More people to lose to.”

Goro smiled pleasantly. “It’s refreshing to see such optimism.”

Morgana was curled up in a chair, tail flicking. No one questioned the cat. Stranger things existed.

The game began. Goro lined up a clean shot, one leg stretching across the table in a dramatic lean.

CRACK—The 9-ball dropped clean into the corner pocket.

“Daaamn, nice shot,” Sakamoto whistled, impressed despite himself.

Amamiya, meanwhile, said with far too much amusement. “Nice view, too.”

Morgana, deadpan. “Ren, seriously? Stop staring at Akechi’s ass.”

Goro pretended not to hear, ears burning.

Sakamoto squinted at Amamiya. “Seriously, bro?”

The game went on. Goro continued to crush them with barely a flick of effort.

Sakamoto whined after missing an easy shot. “Ugh! I think this cue is cursed or something.”

“You’re gripping it like a baseball bat,” Goro offered helpfully. “Not everything is solved with brute force.”

“Gee, thanks, Akechi-sensei,” Sakamoto grumbled, but didn’t argue.

As they swapped turns, Goro switched hands. Amamiya, observant as ever, asked, “Trying to be nice to us?”

“I am using my dominant hand now,” Goro said.

“…No, you’re not.”

A pause.

Goro’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How observant, Amamiya-kun. Fine. Next round, I’ll go all out.”

They moved on to darts. Goro destroyed them again. Bullseye after bullseye.

Goro won again, of course. Sure, he failed at tailing them. But at least he’d trounced the Phantom Thieves at their games. He had one-upped Joker.

Take that.

Sakamoto groaned. “Are you sure you are not secretly a hitman?!”

Goro smiled with a barely concealed smugness. “Would you prefer I go easy?”

Sakamoto glanced at Amamiya. “Our sensei’s terrifying.”

“He grows on you,” Amamiya replied, twirling a dart.

Mission Outcome: Failure (with minor ego victory)

Cause of Compromise: Dropped IC card's case.

Note to Self: Secure all items. Never underestimate Joker’s disturbingly sharp perception. 

Attempt #3: Tactical Surveillance Derailed by Track Idiot

Operative: Goro Akechi - Grey Crow

Disguise: Minimal. Joggers, a cap, and sunglasses.

Target: Ryuji Sakamoto

Mission Objective: Follow quietly from school to a Metaverse-adjacent location.

Status: Crashed. Literally.

He didn’t even make it out of the gates before a human wrecking ball named Sakamoto slammed into him full speed, chest-first. Goro staggered back. His hat flew. His sunglasses skewed. His cover: obliterated.

“Dude! Crap, I’m so sorry! Akechi-senpai?! You okay??”

Goro considered pretending to faint. Too dramatic.

“It’s… fine,” he said stiffly.

“You running too? C’mon, let’s go! We’ll make it a race!” Sakamoto grinned, already bouncing in place.

This was not the plan. But he wasn’t about to back down from a challenge.

Five laps and one ramen bowl later, Goro knew far too much about Sakamoto’s past:

About the track team, the fight, and the expulsion.

About how his father used to come home drunk, loud, and angry.

How he’d hit Sakamoto’s mom when she spoke up.

How Sakamoto started standing between them. Took the hits himself, sometimes.

About how his dad finally left. And how they made do.

And how Sakamoto, for all his recklessness, still came home and helped with housework so his mom didn’t have to

He said it all like it was no big deal.

Goro should’ve been annoyed. Instead… he listened.

He still talked too much. Still ran like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts.

But there was something in how Sakamoto spoke about his mom. The quiet pride. The guilt. The care.

Goro found himself listening. Not just out of obligation, but… understanding.

It surprised him.

Sakamoto was more than a loud idiot. He was, unfortunately, decent. 

Against his better judgment, he said quietly, “It’s… good that you’re helping your mother. Not everyone would.”

Sakamoto blinked. Then nodded. “Yeah. She deserves better. Least I can do, y’know?”

He didn’t press for more. Didn’t dig. Just slurped the rest of his ramen like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Goro didn’t say that he’d been raised by a single mother, too.

Didn’t say she once nearly left him behind in this world.

Some stories weren’t fit for public record. Not yet.

Sakamoto slurped the last of his broth and stretched.

“Y’know, you don’t have to keep callin’ me Sakamoto. Just Ryuji’s fine.”

Goro glanced at him, considering.

“…If you insist.”

But in his mind, he still filed him as Sakamoto. For now.

Mission Outcome: Failure? Unclear.

Note to Self: Ryuji Sakamoto is suspiciously friendly and surprisingly a good son. Suspect level of sincerity: alarmingly high.

Additional Observation: I may have… crashed into friendship. Literally.

Attempt #4: Mementos Stakeout Mayhem

Operatives: Goro Akechi - Grey Crow & Fumiyo Akechi - Cipher Raven

Location: Various Mementos entrances (five known points), Upper Floor – Mementos

Disguise: Urban stealthwear, oversized hats, and a suspicious amount of snacks

Mission Objective: Catch the Phantom Thieves entering a Metaverse access point, obtain photographic proof, and test the Morgana theory

Status: Partial Success

Progress Report:

✅ Morgana confirmed as a talking, transforming being. (This means the real hallucination was Amamiya’s gaze in Attempt #2. Noted) 

✅ Fumiyo now hears Morgana (unlocking observation tier 2: Talking Cat Level)

❌ Missed entry points into Mementos—no usable footage

❌ Camera fails again—curse you, metaphysical mechanics

New lead: Phantom Thieves investigating Madarame

Fumiyo adjusted her comically oversized hat and shoved another handful of senbei into her mouth.

“Operation: Mementos Stakeout, brought to you by Cipher Raven and Grey Crow.”

Goro shot her a flat look. “…You’re enjoying this too much.”

She grinned. “Let me have this, Goro. I’m officially the cool one for once.”

“That’s debatable,” he muttered, returning to his binoculars.

They rotated through all five known access points before finally spotting the Phantom Thieves inside Mementos—upper floor. They had missed the entry point. No clean shot of the thieves entering from the real world. A shame.

The thieves were mid-conversation—something about Madarame and student abuse. Goro’s eyes narrowed. Potential next target. Noted.

He attempted to snap a photo with his modified camera.

“Of course,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. “No pictures. I figured a mechanical camera might work, but no—Metaverse logic strikes again.”

Fumiyo popped another senbei into her mouth. “I can sketch something real quick. It won’t be perfect, but spooky enough to scare ’em.”

In the distance, Morgana transformed from a bus to a bizarre mascot. The shift was surreal, even for seasoned Metaverse travellers.

Fumiyo leaned forward, eyes wide with academic glee. Goro knew that look. She was absolutely planning a future kidnapping—with fatty tuna as bait.

“Let’s move, we don’t have all day!” Morgana shouted, ears twitching.

Fumiyo blinked. “…Did the cat just talk?”

Goro didn’t bother to look up. “Welcome to the deep end, Mother.”

She deadpanned, “…I liked it better when he just meowed.”

Mission Outcome: Partial Success

Note to Self: Try a different kind of camera next time, or set up hidden cameras at the access points in the real world.

Cipher Raven’s note: Restock fatty tuna, called Amamiya to bring Morgana over for…research.

Attempt #5: Amamiya’s Flirt Ambush – Unplanned Encounter

Operative: Goro Akechi - Grey Crow

Location: Ichiryusai Madarame Exhibit

Disguise: Art student chic – glasses, cardigan, stylish mess

Mission objective: Investigate Madarame for cognitive abnormalities and secure keywords

Status: Compromised. Emotionally.

Goro was supposed to be undercover. Supposed to be focused.

His intel on Ichiryusai Madarame was solid:

A trail of vanished apprentices, ruined careers, a suspiciously timed seizure that claimed one particularly talented mother. No smoking gun yet, but the stench of exploitation clung to the edges of every report. Yusuke Kitagawa, the current student, denied all mistreatment, despite the stress lining his face and the too-thin arms folded beneath his uniform.

Goro filed that detail away and moved on. His job here was simple: scan for Palace keywords, confirm the distortion, and leave.

But then—

“Hey,” a smooth voice cut in. “You look really good with glasses.”

Goro froze.

Slowly turned.

Amamiya Ren. Sultry tone. Lazy grin. That unmistakable glint in his eyes.

No. Impossible. He doesn’t know it’s me.

I am unrecognizably stylish today. My disguise is flawless. I am a spectre. A ghost. A random handsome stranger.

He forced a calm smile, hiding the swirl of panic beneath. “You too. The symmetry complements your features. You’d make an excellent art subject.”

Just throw art words. Throw all the art words.

Amamiya smirked. “Glasses really do change a person’s whole look. You here to study art—or to admire mine?”

Goro’s brain: Abort. Abort.

“I’m here for… artistic appreciation,” he replied stiffly. “It’s for a university assignment. I’m analysing the Sayuri’s emotional palette and… layered intimacy.”

That sounded like Kitagawa. Why did I say layered intimacy?

Amamiya tilted his head. “Emotional palette, huh? And here I thought you were just here to enjoy beautiful things.”

Goro’s brain stalled. Then—

“…I’m a fan of striking composition. Balanced forms. Expressive lines.”

Stop. Stop talking.

Amamiya grinned. “Mmm. Sounds like you’re describing me, pretty boy.”

I was being seduced by my surveillance target. This was an entrapment.

Before he could respond, Takamaki stepped into view.

“There you are, Ren.” Her eyes scanned Goro’s outfit, the glasses, and the fluster. She smirked. “Already cheating on Akechi-senpai?”

Amamiya popped a candy into his mouth, all innocent charm.

“Not really,” he said. “Just giving compliments to a pretty art senpai.”

Morgana poked his head out of Takamaki ’s bag, completely done with everyone. “We’re done here. Let’s go. Ryuji’s waiting.”

Amamiya gave Goro a two-finger salute. “Nice to meet you, senpai~”

And they left.

Goro stared after them, stunned.

…Does he know?

Was that on purpose?

Does he flirt with every cute guy he meets?

Amamiya is bisexual. Or gay. Probably gay.

A disaster either way.

And now, my disaster.

Clearly, he needed a disguise so ridiculous, so absurd, that Amamiya would never recognise him again.

Yes.

Something unthinkable.

Something cursed.

Something like…

Attempt #6: Lady Akira – Disaster Disguised as Success

Operative: Goro Akechi - Grey Crow as Akira Kurusu

Disguise: Female student. Wig. Contact lenses. Light makeup. Choker.

Status: Complete infiltration… and total psychological ruin. 

Mission objective: Observe the Phantom Thieves infiltrating Madarame’s palace 

“Just a little contour,” Fumiyo giggled, enjoying herself a bit too much. “You’ll blend right in. My dear Goro-chan~”

Right. Blend in. With flawless foundation, styled curls, and eyeshadow that made his lashes pop. He looked like a secret magical girl from a shoujo manga. (Fitting, really—he did have Persona powers.) The flawless transfer student who captures all the love interests. Just missing a talking pet sidekick.

Fumiyo let him borrow her old uniforms, dreamily telling him how she used to have many suitors due to her impeccable appearance and make-up skills, but her heart only belonged to a certain lady. 

She teased, "Go get 'em, Crow! Leave 'em all raven-ing for you!"

Goro cringed internally. Mommmm

He didn’t even like the wig. The long hair itched.

Still, he endured it. All in the name of reconnaissance. 

Objective: Follow the Phantom Thieves from a distance. Stay invisible. Observe.

As he walked in Shibuya to look for the group, Yusuke Kitagawa suddenly cupped Goro’s hand, musing.

“The curvature of your hands conveys such elegance,” Yusuke murmured, awestruck. “Your beauty dances on the border between masculine and feminine—ambiguous, ephemeral. You’re the perfect subject. I must paint you. With Takamaki-san, of course… Ah! Where is my manner? My name is Yusuke Kitagawa.”

Goro froze. Goro.exe encountered a critical error.

“I—what?” he managed, voice carefully pitched higher.

Before he could bolt, another voice—familiar, smooth, and way too amused—cut in behind him.

“Ak—”

Goro’s stomach dropped.

“Akira-chan. Is that you? Akira Kurusu!?”

Oh no.

No, no, no. He couldn’t possibly—

Goro turned slowly. Ren Amamiya stood there, all lazy charm and sparkling eyes, like he was starring in his own romance drama with Akira-chan as the love interest and Kitagawa as the rival.

“I don’t believe it,” Amamiya said breathlessly. “You used to live in Inaba, right? We were childhood friends! You always traded me melon bread for yakisoba pan during lunch!”

Hmm, how oddly specific. Coincidence?

Amamiya took a step closer, gaze soft with faux nostalgia, teary eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again… since your family moved to Tokyo.”

Goro decided to go along with this.

“Right. It’s been a while,” he said, carefully. “Yakisoba pan and melon bread, huh? That’s… oddly specific, Ren-chan.” Goro smiled—sweet and dangerous.

Amamiya’s smile was unreadable. That particular curve of his lips—too soft to be mockery, too sharp to be casual.

Did he know?

Or was it just a coincidence?

Goro lifted his chin. “You do have a strange memory for details.”

“I think that’s your line, Akira-chan,” Amamiya said, still smiling.

There it was again—that gleam in his eye. The one that said nothing, and everything.

If he was pretending, fine. Let’s see how long he kept it up.

Goro exhaled softly through his nose. He turned his head slightly—just enough to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Morgana whispered from a bag nearby, his pupils huge, interrupting their conversation. “Who is this, Ren? She is so pretty.”

Takamaki stepped in beside him, eyes narrowed in amusement. “So this is Ren’s new crush?” She tilted her head. “Poor Akechi-senpai. He’s got competition.”

“No, no,” Amamiya said quickly. “Akira-chan’s just my childhood friend. That’s totally different.”

Takamaki blinked. Then beamed at Goro. “Well, any friend of Ren’s is a friend of mine. I love your choker!”

“Thank you,” Goro smiled. Or tried to. It came out mostly with teeth.

Sakamoto stopped short when he saw Goro. His jaw moved, then didn’t. His brain visibly rebooted mid-sentence.

“H-Hey…” he said, voice cracking. “I’m Ryuji Sakamoto. Wanna, uh… hang out sometime? Mind if I call you… my princess?”

A beat of stunned silence passed.

“I mean, uh—your eyes are, like, sharp. Emotionally sharp. In a good way. Like a hawk. And you’ve got… good muscle tone! Do you work out?”

Goro’s smile twitched. He mentally filed “you’ve got a good muscle build” as the worst pick-up line he’d ever heard in months. Possibly ever.

Morgana cackled softly: “At least call her Lady Akira if you’re gonna be weird about it. Have some class.”

“Oh, right! Lady Akira! Would you, uh, wanna go to the gym? With me? For… mutual gains?”

Amamiya, deadpan: “He’s asking you out, Akira-chan.”

Goro turned slowly. Stared. Smoothed his skirt with deadly precision. Then shook his head.

Takamaki exploded with laughter.

“You used that line? For real?” She struck a pose and threw on a mock Ryuji voice. “‘You got a good muscle build’? What are you, her personal trainer?!”

Goro wished he could erase the muscle from the dictionary, for real.

She leaned toward Amamiya, whispering. “Five bucks says he offers to spot her on bench press next.”

Morgana added to the chaos. “Akechi-sensei would be so disappointed. He gave you such a ~good~ lesson on pick-up girls. Is this your performance, Skull?”

I am Akechi-sensei. I didn’t expect my advice to be used on myself.

Amamiya giggled. “Akira-chan, you’re totally Ryuji’s type—strong, tall, mysterious… You could bench press his feelings.”

I could bench press your smug face, Amamiya, he thought darkly.

Sakamoto froze on the spot. Probably died from embarrassment. 

Goro tilted his head.

If Sakamoto knew the truth…Could someone already dead die again?

Kitagawa, seemingly unfazed, clapped his hands together. “Both of you must model for me. At Madarame-sensei’s studio. I insist.”

Takamaki was surprised. “Uh, both of us?”

Amamiya’s smile was polite, but didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a bold request.”

Then, a subtle gesture—tapping his lap.

A signal?

Goro answers gingerly, pretending to be shy. “I would love to help… If it’s just my hands.”

With a sweet smile that screams: no further questions.

“I’m not getting naked,” Ann said flatly.

“Of course not,” Kitagawa said, offended. “Your form is best appreciated clothed.”

“…We’re still not stripping,” Takamaki repeated.

Kitagawa bowed solemnly. “I swear on my brush.”

And just like that, they were all walking to the stations, heading off to Madarame’s shack.

Mission Status: Ongoing (…successful so far?). Accidentally became the heroine(?) of a shoujo romance.

Note to Self: Never disguise yourself as a girl again. 

Never give Ryuji flirting advice again. He will use it on you. Worse: it will be sincere.

Additional Notes: “You’ve got a good muscle build” is officially the worst pick-up line ever recorded. Worse than being called a grandpa. Unforgivable.

(To celebrate 1K views! Credit? Me paid by your support <3)

Chapter Text

Honestly, Ann thought, this was getting out of hand. 

She glanced between Yusuke and Akira as the artist insisted on their joint modelling session.

This was bad. The Phantom Thieves needed to access a locked door that hid something crucial—but dragging Akira into the Metaverse? That was never part of the plan.

She tried to reroute. “Uh… both of us?”

Ren smiled politely, “That’s a bold request.” 

Then, almost imperceptibly, he tapped his lap once. 

A stealth signal.

Ann caught it instantly. “Go along. Joker’s on the move.”

She caught a glimpse of Ryuji, who was still gawking at Akira, probably thinking of the next pick-up line. 

Sorry Ryuji, Akira really hated your ‘I like your muscle’ line. No one was surprised.

The subtlety of Ren’s move made her grin. No drama, no commands—just quiet, cunning control. Classic Joker.

Alright, Ann thought, Ren’s taking charge. Let’s see how this plays out.

Akira replied quietly with a sweet smile, “I would love to help… If it’s just my hands.”

That smile. Ann almost whistled. Sweet and dangerous—like the villainess in a drama she enjoyed

No wonder Ryuji was down bad for her.

As the group moved toward the stations, Ren slipped Ann a quick wink, as if to say, Trust me. 

It wasn’t the commanding presence he wore as Joker, but it had its own gravity. 

They all piled onto the train, chatting and teasing, but Ann stayed alert. Ann knew Ren was up to something again. She can see it in his eyes. 

Her phone buzzed.

Group Chat: Phantom Squad 😩📚

Ren: meet up at the combini later for snacc 😉

Ryuji: think I can buy st for Akira-chan? 💭

Ann: u can think about it later ryuji 😂

Ann: let go w/ us 3 + mona  so u can buy ur “secret snacc”

Ren: good thinking 👍

Ren: need to treat my cbf (childhood best friend) right

Ann rolled her eyes. “CBF,” huh? Cute nickname.

The dynamic between childhood friend, new crush and mysterious artist type? That was going to be interesting.

She decided to simply observe for now. She could feel the incoming drama. 

The Phantom Thieves all gathered at the combini after Ren’s text, leaving Yusuke and Akira to keep talking about the art philosophy while they waited. Ann was impressed. Akira could actually keep up with Yusuke. That alone was worth a raised eyebrow.

They huddled in a quiet corner of the combini, trying to avoid attention as they grabbed their snacks.

Ann and Ren got a bit of extra for Yusuke, considering the artist’s tendency to forget about earthly needs like food. 

Ryuji, meanwhile, bought a protein bar and a protein shake. For Akira, apparently.

Ann mentally shook her head. Ryuji, you are supposed to pick snacks for Akira, not for yourself.

Ren started the meeting with a serious tone.

“We need to revise our plan to infiltrate Madarame’s locked door.” 

Morgana chimed in, clearly worried.

“Yeah, Akira is just a normal girl. We can’t drag her or Yusuke into the Metaverse. Madarame’s palace is full of traps and shadows.”

Ryuji added. “Yeah! We gotta keep her safe!”

Ann nodded. She still remembered following Ren and Ryuji into Kamoshida’s castle. She’d been lucky nothing bad happened that time.

Ren said sharply, “I keep an eye on Akira. I am the strongest Persona-user out of us after all. The three of you can watch Yusuke, if things go south.”

Ryuji looked like he wanted to object, but stopped himself. 

He probably wanted to be the one protecting Akira—but Ren had a point. Joker was the strongest, with his multiple Personae.

Ren continued, “Morgana, I want you to get into that locked room while the rest of us keep Yusuke and Akira distracted. We need proof that Madarame is hiding something. I’m counting on you guys.”

“Yes, leader,” Morgana said. The others nodded along.

Then, Ren tapped his cold drink against the shelf thoughtfully. 

“And Ryuji,” he said, voice too casual, like he was brushing it off.

Ryuji turned with a deer-in-headlights look. “Yeah?”

Ren didn’t answer right away. He tapped his cold drink once more, eyes still on the shelf. Then:

“Maybe… don’t start with a gym talk next time.” 

Ryuji blinked. “Huh? But ain’t I supposed to be like… saying something unexpected? That’s what Akechi said, right? And it’s, uh, part of who I am?”

Ren finally glances up. 

“Just saying. Maybe considering what Akira likes, too? More fair that way, yeah?”

He smiled faintly. “Don’t aim to impress. Aim to connect.”

Ann tilted her head. That was… surprisingly thoughtful. Maybe even sweet.

But the weird part? The way he said it, like he already knew what would happen, like Ryuji’s success didn’t really matter.

Maybe Ren knew who Akira liked?

But there was definitely something beneath those glasses, hiding just under the glare of the fluorescent lights.

And Ann had a feeling Ren was watching way more than he let on.

“Yeah, Ryuji,” she said, patting his back, “you should follow our leader’s advice. Maybe just… don’t flirt at all.”

Ryuji groaned. Loudly.

But judging by the way he was already sneaking a glance at the door, he wasn’t giving up anytime soon.

Whatever happened next, Ann knew one thing for sure—this mission was already more complicated than it looked.

They regrouped at the station. Ryuji offered Akira the snack, clutching it like a hopeful puppy. In return, he received a crooked smile and dagger-sharp eyes. “Thanks,” she said, voice flat enough to file metal. Yusuke, on the other hand, nearly cried with gratitude over the extra snacks Ann and Ren brought. 

Everyone walked to Madarame’s place together in silence. It was a short trip.

As they arrived at the studio, Yusuke wasted no time; he adjusted the studio lighting and set out the canvas. 

Yusuke planned to say something about clothes, but under Akira’s death glare, he held back his tongue. 

Yes, Yusuke, no nude.

Instead, he pointed his brush toward Ann and Akira, tone reverent.

“Hold your pose. The light glints off your lashes like morning dew on tempered steel. You are elegance incarnate. A living duality—fierce and delicate.”

Ann raised an eyebrow. Was he… flirting?

She glanced at Akira, who winced like she’d just been slapped by tempered steel. That made two of them.

Yusuke wasn’t done.

“Your beauty is…” he breathed, eyes wide and unblinking, “ephemeral. Like the last petal of a rose caught on the wind.”

Okay, wow. Yusuke was going for it. She hadn’t expected their first meeting with Ren’s mysterious childhood friend to involve this much poetry—or flirting that sounded like a haiku with a crush.

Ryuji, seated awkwardly to the side, looked like a soda bottle about to explode.

Then—kaboom.

Ryuji practically launched out of his chair.

“Y-Yeah?! Well, uh—your smile’s got all those teeth!” he blurted, eyes locked on Akira. “White. Like a plate. Or a bowl. Fresh outta the dishwasher. Clean. Shiny. Y’know.”

Silence. Absolute silence.

Ann choked on her own breath. Ryuji failed to take his teacher’s advice again. Not Akechi, but Joker, the master of charm. At this point, no one could teach the himbo how to flirt. 

Morgana made a hissing sound like he’d just been personally insulted. “You’re getting worse.”

Ann looked at Morgana properly. Was that… a key on his collar? Weird. It glinted too clean, too sleek—nothing like an old-fashioned one. Out of place, even for Morgana’s usual accessories. She made a mental note to ask about it later.

Yusuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your cat’s reaction—his tortured yowling” he said, mournfully, “is a reflection of my feelings toward this… unrefined art of compliments.”

Ann couldn’t stop laughing. This was actually happening. This was her life.

Ren just shook his head, slow and solemn like he was witnessing a tragedy. 

He sighed dramatically, then tapped his drink. Twice. Same rhythm as last time. 

Ann caught it. A signal. Just like at the station. 

She arched a brow. So this was how he wanted to play it.

“Look, Ryuji,” he sighed, putting a hand over his heart like some drama club knight. “Let me demonstrate properly.”

He turned to Akira with a theatrical flourish, voice smooth as silk. “Your smile,” he said, “is sharp as a dagger. Pierced me right through the heart. Bleeding out, but no regrets.”

And in the background—just a flick of the tail—Morgana vanished.

Good job, Ren. Tactical flirt deployed. Chaos enabled.

Akira-chan blinked. Slowly. Like a computer buffering. 

Ann swore she saw her eye twitch.

Ann squinted. Was that… blush? Oh no. Joker won, didn’t he?

Ren looked smug—obnoxiously proud, even. Of course, he was. 

The worst part? He kinda earned it.

Ann snorted. “Okay, a little much.”

Yusuke looked personally offended. Like someone had just insulted his ancestors.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head like a disappointed professor. “You’re both missing it entirely. Her smile is not a weapon. It is a fleeting crescent of moonlight reflected on midnight glass. Haunting. Illusory. Aching with beauty. That is the essence of her charm.”

Silence again.

Ryuji opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “…Bro, what?”

Ren gave Yusuke a slow, impressed nod. “Ten out of ten. What a beautiful poetic description!”

Akira rubbed her temples like she was in physical pain.

Ann grinned. “I don’t know what’s better—Yusuke’s art poetry, Ren’s morbid dagger metaphor or Ryuji’s plate comparison.”

She leaned closer to Akira with a wink. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to us.”

Though if Akira-chan kept looking that flustered, Ann was starting to suspect someone had a crush.

Or trauma?

…Probably both. 

Since almost everyone had taken a turn complimenting Akira, Ann figured she might as well join in—hopefully cheering Akira up in the process.

“Let me demonstrate, too.”

She rested her chin in her hand, mock-sultry. “You know, Akira-chan, your presence is as bright as… stage lighting.”

She gave a playful pause, then fluttered her eyes with dramatic flair.

“Soft, yet blinding. I’d totally ruin a photoshoot just staring at you.”

Akira snapped out of her fluster at Ann’s comment. Her lip twisted up slightly.

Ann raised an eyebrow. Was Akira up to something?

Ryuji broke the tension with a muttered, “Yo, are we just throwin’ random words for compliments now?!”

Ann answered with a grin. “We’re just appreciating Akira-chan—or Lady Akira, as you so dearly call her, Ryuji.”

Ren cheerfully winked. “All the compliments for my dear childhood best friend.”

Unbothered, Akira stayed quiet for a minute. Her face slowly relaxed as she regained composure.

She looked up with a pleasant smile, eyes sharp with calculation.

“Thank you, everyone, for your compliments.” Her voice was even and smooth, polite—but not warm. “I suppose I should have a turn as well?”

Ann tensed. A compliment? From her? This was going to be good.

Akira stood up, stepping out of the pose Yusuke had arranged. She walked toward Ren with deliberate calm, then lifted his chin with a single finger.

“Oh? You’re bleeding out, are you?” she purred.

Her voice dipped—silky, amused. Her finger slid from his chin to the centre of his chest.

“Then let me offer you a bandage,” she said sweetly. “Or would you prefer I keep cutting—just to see how sincere your wounds really are?”

She tilted her head. Her smile was too soft to be kind.

Then—poke.

“Red would look lovely against that pale skin of yours.”

The room went still.

Ren opened his mouth—

Nothing.

Tried again. Just a small, confused “Huh.”

A pause. Then came the blush.

Full flush. Glasses fogging. 

Ren.exe: crashed & rebooting. 

Ann blinked. Then muttered, mostly to herself, “Wait. That was kind of hot?”

Yusuke commented thoughtfully: “Ah… the scarlet bleeding forms a vivid, passionate vision. Such duality—merciful and merciless. It is art.”

Akira smiled sweetly: “Oh dear. Did I overdo it? My mistake.”

Ryuji stared at Akira, pale as the protein shake in his hand.

“…I think I’m still in love,” he whispered.

Ann slapped his arm. “Ryuji. No.”

Akira had definitely won that whole “compliments” thing with her villainous lines. Ren was fluttered and flushed—bleeding out, no regrets. And Ryuji? He wasn’t even the target, and still got stabbed in the heart again.

The mood shattered with a sudden shriek.

“WHO OPENED THE DOOR?!”

A screech echoed through the studio like the villain in an opera. 

“DAMN STRAY AGAIN?!  SHOO! SHOO!”

Loud thumps followed—smacking, whacking, chaos erupting just offscreen.

“Help!!! Help, please!!!” A faint sound. Is that Morgana?

Another scream echoed.

“IF YOU RUIN ANY OF MY ARTWORKS, DAMN CAT, I’LL SUE!!!” 

“We need to help Morgana!” Ren shouted as he snapped out of his stupor, already heading for the hallway.

They all rushed to the unlocked room at the end of the corridor where the sound came from.

Madarame was chasing Morgana with a broom like he was casting divine judgment. He swept the broom up and down as Morgana dodged with feline grace. 

“STOP! He is my friend!” 

Ren yelled, his voice sharp and unguarded, breaking his usual Joker’s calm demeanour. But the older artist didn’t stop swinging — completely enraged by Morgana, blind with fury. Ren then lunged to shield him and got swiped by the broom in the chaos. 

Poor Joker.

CRASH!

An easel toppled in the chaos, revealing a painting—

A woman with a soft, mysterious smile, her eyes gentle as they gazed at the grey clouds.

It looked… familiar.

Wait…

“Is that the Sayuri…?” 

Yusuke’s voice trembled. “Sensei… why do you have the real Sayuri?… You told me you lost it.”

As if on cue, Morgana’s paw tugged at a cloth draped over the rack.

Another painting slid forward—Then another. And another. 

All of them—Sayuri.

“Why do you have multiple copies?” His voice cracked. “Have you LIED to me this whole time?!”

Madarame froze mid-swing, eyes wide. But only for a second.

Then the broom hit the floor with a THUNK.

“You little—” he snarled, rounding on Yusuke. “You insolent brat! You have no right! Those are my paintings! I made them mine! I raised you, and this is how you repay me?!”

Yusuke flinched, but stood his ground.

“They were my mother’s,” he said, voice breaking. “The Sayuri was hers. You said— You told me—”

“I SAVED that painting! I SAVE you! You’d be nothing without me, you ungrateful brat!”

Madarame pointed the broom at the group like a housewife chasing her cheating husband.

“You and your damn cat — you’re all criminals. Trespassers. Thieves. How dare you sneak into my storage room and steal my paintings? I’ll have you all arrested!”

And Madarame stormed off to the office.

Ann’s eyes widened as she saw Ren reach for his phone.

“Ichiryūsai Madarame, Madarame’s shack, museum,” Ren murmured.

Before anyone could react, the room twisted and warped—they were teleported away.

🐾Operation LD (Locked Door & Legendary/Ludicrous/Lethal Distraction)

(ft. Agent Joker Bond and Agent Felix)

After the combini meeting, Ren and Morgana discussed a secret operation between the two of them. After all, Morgana was Joker Bond’s true partner in espionage—Agent Felix.

“This plan is legendary, Joker!” Morgana cheered.

Ren then crouched and slipped a small key onto Morgana’s collar, like a spy handing off sacred intel.

“Only for this mission. Don’t lose it. It’s from my future mother-in-law.” Then he winked, “Might help you open the door.”

Morgana swished his tail proudly.

“You can count on me, partner.”

As Morgana approached the locked door, the strange key glowed faintly, heating up like a dimmed light bulb.

Then—click—the door opened easily.

What a strange key, Morgana thought. How did Lady Fumiyo even get this?

He slinked into the storage room, pawing at a dusty cloth covering a rack.

Beneath it, identical paintings of Sayuri lay hidden—one after another.

What the hell was this guy playing at?

Madarame’s footsteps neared. Showtime.

Morgana darted out just as Madarame appeared, broom raised.

“WHO OPENED THE DOOR?!”

Morgana rolled his tongue out, taunting the fraud with a silly dance.

“DAMN STRAY AGAIN?! SHOO! SHOO!”

For the final touch, Morgana lifted a hind leg toward one of the Sayuri paintings—no damage done, just a threat.

“IF YOU RUIN ANY OF MY ARTWORKS, DAMN CAT, I’LL SUE!!!”

Morgana gasped and leapt off the painting dramatically.

“Help! Help, please!!!” he cried, voice echoing down the hall.

Footsteps thundered as everyone ran toward the scene.

SMACK. The broom hit the floor inches from his tail. 

Morgana darted toward another Sayuri, baiting him. Madarame swung—missed—and knocked the painting off the rack himself.

That’s it, he thought, I’ve made it. This is peak performance.

Mission accomplished.

They were about to see the truth.

And Morgana? He was going to lap up every second of it.

Chapter Text

Whatever Amamiya’s plan was, it was clearly reckless—half-baked at best. Goro wasn’t meant to be part of this—left alone to reveal himself now.

He screamed internally. Loudly.

The puzzle pieces in his mind clicked into place.

They’d used Takamaki as bait—a model, to be exact—to gain access to Madarame’s studio. Goro had tagged along, introduced as Amamiya’s childhood friend—Kitagawa’s idea, not his. He hadn’t realised it at first, but even the ridiculous “compliments battle” had been deliberate—a ploy to distract Kitagawa while Morgana, armed with Fumiyo’s key (Why she gave it to Amamiya, he still didn’t know), snooped through the house and unlocked the storage room. There, he uncovered multiple identical versions of Sayuri. Kitagawa’s admission that his mother was the true artist sealed the deal. Then, just as Madarame called the police, Amamiya transported everyone, including Kitagawa, into the Metaverse.

Honestly, did Amamiya even stop to consider the risk? Disguises were the obvious solution. Proper ones. Like Goro’s. And the police—desperate for Phantom Thieves scapegoats—might not bother looking too closely. They’d arrest them all. As mortifying as it was—being complimented while cross-dressing—it still beat getting arrested.

Goro didn’t care if they were in jail.
…Okay. Maybe he cared for his students a little.
Especially when they smiled and called him "Akechi-sensei" like they meant it. That was dangerously soft of him.

Also, how convenient. A magic sidekick cat with lockpicking skills. 

And of course, Amamiya and his friends(not Goro’s friends) had to torture him smugly—with horrible flirtatious compliments the whole way through. This was truly the most painful, disastrous shojo romance drama that Akira-chan, the main lead, had ever suffered—surrounded by an unhinged harem, betrayed by her own beauty. 

So, naturally, Goro—the heroine-turned-villainess—delivered the fatal flirtation, striking down the harem’s overconfident leader.

Karma is a dagger in the heart, he mused—bleeding out with no regrets.

At least Amamiya had the sense to flee using the Metaverse. Their sudden disappearance would raise further questions, sure—but Madarame would just look like a delusional, paranoid artist ranting about invisible intruders and non-existent art thievery to the confused police.

The world twisted and turned, warping around them as the Metaverse took hold. Most of the group clutched their heads, dizzy from the sudden shift. Goro barely flinched—two years of experience dulled the disorientation.

He used the moment to his advantage, slipping on his long coat (a recent loot that didn’t disappear in the Metaverse) to obscure his outfit. His usual helmet would mask most of his face, and thankfully, the baggy pants did enough to conceal… certain details. Hopefully.

Good enough. Goro didn’t want to explain why Akira was a guy and why he dressed as a girl. 

As the Metaverse settled into place, all eyes locked on Goro.

Takamaki, Sakamoto, and Morgana stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, scanning him from head to toe like he was some rare, bizarre, endangered specimen on display. Goro was well aware his outfit looked like an out-of-season Featherman villain—but the attention was irritating all the same.

Kitagawa, forgetting all about Madarame’s betrayal, pulled out his notepad. He began sketching, murmuring something poetic about the outfits and the grandeur of the place—then lost inspiration halfway through. Art was a good remedy for family trauma, apparently.

Amamiya— Joker, ever composed—wore his best poker face, his thoughts hidden behind the mask and the calm, unreadable gaze. Like he had the best hand and didn’t want to reveal it.

Then Takamaki broke the silence. “Wait—Akira, you’re a Persona user?” 

Goro nodded. He sighed internally. Be curt and evasive. “I suppose you are, too.”

Takamaki continued to press: “For how long?”

Goro said tersely, “Longer than you have, I assume.”

Morgana narrowed his eyes, tail twitching. “Yeah? Then, how come I’ve never seen you in the metaverse? The other and I’ve been wandering around here for a while.”

Goro tilted his head in mock surprise, channelling Fumiyo’s tone. “Talking cat creature?”

“I’m not a cat .” Morgana snapped. “Answer the question.”

Goro kept his voice dry. “I can hear you talk now. I’m good at hiding—perhaps that’s why you missed me.”

Amamiya cut in. “We should start moving to the saferoom. It’s not safe to stay idle here.”

Morgana’s tail flicked like he still wanted answers, but when Amamiya spoke, he fell silent. Noted.

The group nodded in agreement, and everyone started walking with Amamiya’s lead. 

Perfect time to redirect. No more questions for me.  

Goro asked the thieves quietly, not to attract the shadows’ attention. 

“Keep your voice down. What are you all doing here?”

That caught them. The thieves were startled by his questions—stunned in silence, unable to give a response. They glanced awkwardly at each other, urging someone to speak. Amamiya, the ever-calm, took the lead. 

“Beating up shadows, exploring a bit, Y’know… casual metaverse stuff.” He shrugged, smooth as always.

Goro rolled his eyes internally. 

Evasive as ever, Joker.

Amamiya coughed, steering the topic to dispute the tension. “Anyway, we can talk more later, my dear childhood friend.” He winked. “Since we were in the metaverse, let's use codenames. I’m Joker. They are Skull, Panther and Mona.” 

Joker pointed at the members as he introduced their names. It’s not like Goro didn’t know, but he appreciated the gesture. Then, he nodded toward Goro’s mask. 

“Since you have a black bird mask… how about Karasu or Crow?”

Karasu or Crow. Same thing  

He didn’t have the energy to be clever.

“Crow,” he said. Easier to call. Close enough to Grey Crow, anyway.

Amamiya turned to Yusuke. “You’ll need one, too.”

“Yes,” Yusuke said, all serious. “Something poetic… befitting this grim, surreal landscape.”

He glanced around, eyes narrowing. “This place… it feels like we’re standing in the soul of a wicked villain.”

Joker and Mona launched into a brief explanation of Palaces and the Metaverse. Goro barely listened—he knew all of this. Instead, he quietly adjusted his gloves.

A brief silence settled over the group again.

Until Sakamoto—Skull broke it like a baseball through the glass.

“Aren’t you kinda… flat?” He blurted. 

Goro froze. His cape was covering everything—how the hell did Skull notice?! Was it the way he stood? His voice? Something else? His mind spiralled in five directions before channelling it all into a single, withering glare.

“Excuse me?” Goro said, voice cool with mock irritation.

First, Sakamoto flirted with Lady Akira, but now he mocked her chest size just because she didn’t return his affection. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. 

Perhaps it wasn’t just the pickup lines—maybe it was the unfiltered, tactless nonsense that doomed the himbo’s romantic prospects.

Skull stuttered. “No offence! I just thought girls usually…”

SMACK.

Takamaki—Panther elbowed Skull hard in the ribs. “That’s rude.”

“Sorry—I—err—forget I said anything.” Ryuji hunched, shivering slightly—half from shame, half from Goro’s death glare.

“Don’t worry,” Panther said with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Goro didn’t blink. Which one?

Did she mean Akira was a boy? Or that Akira was Akechi? That he had a weird taste in compliments? 

Or all of the above? 

Or— something even worse?

Whatever it was, at least she didn’t out him. That… was something.

Goro took a deep breath to ground himself, calming his turbulent thoughts. 

So this was their team. Loud, chaotic, barely coordinated, glued by Joker’s leadership. 

Like a group project doomed to fail—except somehow, they weren’t failing. They were moving.

Together. Damn it.

Then—

“So the little rats have arrived. I’ve been expecting you.”

The sharp, condescending voice cut through the air like a blade.

Shadow Madarame stepped into view, clad in a gaudy yellow kimono patterned like a cheap curtain. His topknot curled unnaturally, shaped like a paintbrush—absurd, theatrical. He looked like a washed-up kabuki actor who was a little too desperate for attention.

Of course, the theatrics ended the moment Madarame opened his mouth. The absurd turned real. And yet, the ridiculousness of his appearance didn’t make him any less imposing.

Everyone except Kitagawa shifted into a battle-ready stance, weapons drawn, bodies tense with anticipation.

Kitagawa, still unacquainted with the Metaverse’s logic, blinked in confusion. 

“Sensei… Is that you? Why do you dress in such… an outfit?”

Shadow Madarame scoffed, tone scathing, like a general berating a disloyal soldier.

“I am just a shadow of Madarame—but you offended the real me. You ungrateful brat. I spent all my resources to raise you, and this is how you repay me—bring the thieves to break into my house and steal my paintings. ”

Kitagawa answered almost immediately, but his voice had changed—guarded, quieter. The artist’s usual grace was gone. His words were raw and stumbling—like he barely believed them himself. With each word, his voice strained, cracking at the edges of hope and despair.

“What do you mean? I just wanted to ask… Why do you have so many copies of my mother’s painting? You told me—told me you lost it. You knew how much I loved the Sayuri. How it inspired me. And still… you lied to me.”

Shadow Madarame’s voice was cold, dismissive—like Kitagawa’s anguish was a mild inconvenience.

“What you said to the real me was disrespectful, but since you are here… I'll let you in on a secret” 

He grinned—wide and hideous—then gave a dry cough while adjusting his gaudy kimono. 

Goro rolled his eyes internally. Here came the unskippable villain monologue.

Madarame's voice turned smug, gloating.

“What people want… are stories. Illusions. They want to discuss the meaning and the story behind the gaze. I, her sensei, told my student to change it. I wanted her to make the woman in the painting look toward the mysterious clouds—add mystery, and keep people guessing. But she refused. So I took the painting from her. I added the cloud myself. That’s how you sell art.”

A beat of silence. 

Kitagawa paled, blood draining from his face, words draining from his throat.

Shadow Madarame resumed his rambling, ignoring his student’s reaction. 

“Everything created is for me. That woman. You. Every student I’ve ever taught. Livestock. You all exist to produce art for me—To feed my rise as the king of the art world!”

He burst into laughter—sharp, booming, far too cruel for what he’d just confessed.

Goro stepped forward. His voice sliced through the tension like a blade—sharp, clear, and vicious.

He wanted his theory to be wrong. He wanted Madarame to deny it.

But he already knew.

“So you did something to Yusuke Kitagawa’s mother after all” 

Goro looked at Kitagawa directly in his eyes, conveying the solemnity of the situation as he continued

“I looked into you before any of this,” Goro said coolly. “There was a female art student who died of a seizure. Officially, natural causes. But the timing?”

Madarame scoffed. He didn’t deny it.

Goro gave Madarame a razor-sharp look. “Sayuri appeared right after. A brilliant painter had died, and suddenly you claimed her work and her style?”

Kitagawa was frozen in shock. His voice came in a murmur, barely audible. “Wait, sensei, you… killed my mother?”

Shadow Madarame’s smile twisted.

“I wasn’t her killer. Fate claimed her—I merely accepted the gift she left behind. Her death was… convenient. I didn’t have to lift a finger to save her. Why should I have? That painting—my masterpiece—was born from that moment.”

He chuckled. A wet, arrogant sound.

Kitagawa clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

Shadow Madarame continued, drunk on his ego.

“She insisted on clinging to her precious ‘original.’ But in the end… I perfected it. And now, the world adores my Sayuri.” 

Kitagawa’s voice wavered. “You called us livestock... Is that all she—me—was to you? My mother? Me?”

A beat. 

Then his voice broke like a cracked canvas—raw, furious, grieving.

“YOU changed my mother’s painting for your own selfishness? 

YOU watched her die—and you did nothing! 

What is WRONG with you?!”

He gasped, breath ragged.

“I—I CANNOT forgive you.”

Kitagawa staggered back, gasping. As his scream tore through the room, his mask began to glow, on the verge of awakening.

But before his Persona could fully awaken… something else answered first.

A chained, smoke-shrouded, hound-like creature with too many teeth—Goro saw it every time he closed his eyes. It whispered temptation, fanned the darkest urges, and encouraged its victims to act on their hate and fear—to serve their most hidden desires. The one that had nearly corrupted his Persona when he first awakened two years ago.

“Dread?...” Goro said aloud, his voice drawing the group’s attention to the strange creature.

Shadow Madarame bolted at the sight of the creature, disappearing with a cry of “Deal with it!” as his minions followed.

Dread remained—now latched tightly onto Kitagawa’s mask—just as it had once clung to Goro. Its cursed, sinister aura pulsed outward, black smoke coiling from its claws like writhing tentacles. The nightmarish hound let out a low, guttural howl; its mouth stretching into a too-wide grin full of teeth, far too many to be anything but wrong. It whispered to Kitagawa in a voice both manipulative and luring, every word steep in darkness and temptation. 

In response, Kitagawa knelt, clutching his face like it hurt to breathe. He muttered something about avenging his mother… and punishing art-defiling crime. 

“We need to fight that thing now,” Goro shouted. “He’s in danger!”

No hesitation, Goro called forth Loki to cast Debilitate, followed by Robin Hood’s Kougaon. The spell slammed into Dread, burning holy light into the creature’s shadows.

Dread hissed, reeling back.

“Dread can’t deal with Bless.”He barked. “Used those!” 

Joker responded instantly, unleashing a radiant strike of his own, mirroring Goro’s attack.

Completely staggered by its weakness, Dread was struck by an All-Out Attack the moment Joker snapped his fingers. The team moved in perfect sync—blades, fists, and magic crashing down in a storm of coordinated strikes.

Joker lunged in first, his dagger sinking straight into Dread’s neck. Skull followed, slamming his pipe into the creature’s ribs with a roar. Panther’s whip cracked through the smoke, coiling around its legs and pinning it down.

Mona stayed back, healing Yusuke, whose face was pale and mask trembling.

The creature changed the target from Kitagawa to the new improvised team-up. Now Goro could go all out on this creature, but first…

“Keep him steady!” Goro called out. “Dread targets those on the verge of awakening. It only possesses experienced users if their minds are unstable.”

CLACK. He fended off Dread’s claw attack.

“If Dread takes over, it’ll twist his Persona—make him act on the worst in him.”

CLINK. He countered a bite, hitting Dread’s teeth.

“He won’t be himself. And if he gets to Madarame first—”

Goro dodged a tail swipe, unable to finish his sentence.

Joker, understanding his implied words, shouted out a curt command. “Panther, talk to him! Mona, we need you to heal—now!”

Panther ran to Kitagawa, kneeling beside him. Goro couldn’t catch everything she said, but her voice was steady and firm.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” she said. “He hurt you. Let us help make it right. Let him rot in jail for what he did.”

There was no time to listen further.

Goro charged—no more hesitation. Gripping both red, serrated blades tightly, he struck with fury and precision, each swing syncing with Joker’s graceful slashes, Skull’s heavy swings, and Morgana’s well-timed shots—like a conductor orchestrating violence.

But Dread retaliated with Eiha. He hadn’t swapped out Robin Hood, so that mistake earned him a swift knockdown.

“Tch—damn it,” he muttered.

Panther stepped in, casting Agilao across Dread’s flank.

Then—Kitagawa moved. Calm now, focused. Goemon, his Persona, was finally in full form. 

“I will honour my mother—and my art—the right way. You have no right to decide that for me.” Kitagawa said in a steady voice, filled with all his conviction.

The cleave was clean, final. Dread howled.

Wounded and howling, Dread crumpled, then fled—dissipating into smoke with one last glance. Like it was saying, “This isn’t over.”

Everyone stood still, catching their breath. 

The danger had passed.

Kitagawa broke the silence with his quiet words; his pace was slow but full of resolve.

“Crow and Panther, thank you for helping me to see and accept the truth… I’ve known… or suspected all of sen—Madarame’s crimes. The thievery, the abuse,... However,… I turned my eyes away. Told myself it was temporary. That I could endure it. I stayed quiet.”

He held back a choke as his voice cracked. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Today, knowing the truth that Madarame defiled my mother’s paintings—the last trace of her—and watched her die. I can’t ignore it anymore. I want him to pay. For everything.”

A heavy silence followed. His body trembled, but he kept going.

“That creature —Dread—it terrified me. It reminded me how much of a coward, a liar I was. It reflected every fear, every doubt I buried. It whispered to me… told me to hurt Madarame. To end him… And for a moment, I think I nearly followed its words.”

His gaze shifted to Panther.

“But she listened. No judgment. She reminded me of the right path—to join the Phantom Thieves, to steal Madarame’s heart, and let him rot in jail.”

He finished his speech with a smile.

“Thank you. All of you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Goro blinked. He hadn’t expected such raw emotion from Kitagawa. The artist must’ve been through far more than he let on.

Goro gave a small nod, acknowledging Kitagawa's gratitude.

Everyone was sniffing.

Even the unshakable Joker. 

Even he, himself, held back from such... sentiments.

Panther wiped away her tears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be there for you when you need me.” 

She grinned. 

“Not the nude thing, though.”

Everyone laughed.

Kitagawa, composed once more, declared, “From my outfit design… call me Fox.”

No one objected.

The tension melted. The group slipped into light banter and new nicknames.

Perfect. Time for Goro to think.

Fox had just admitted they were Phantom Thieves out loud. Goro didn’t even have to ask. An opening served on a silver platter.

“So,” he said casually, “you guys are Phantom Thieves, huh?”

Everyone turned toward him. Joker opened his mouth, about to respond—

“Wait,” Skull interrupted, squinting. “Crow???”

“HUH?!” Morgana did a double-take, bobblehead whipping around.

Somewhere in the chaos, his coat had been shredded—leaving the truth embarrassingly exposed. A cool breeze slipped through the tear in his long coat, brushing against his skin-tight outfit. 

Goro wished he could disappear on the spot.

Surprisingly, Joker and Panther didn’t seem fazed. Of course, they already knew.

Face burning, Goro froze.

For a split second, Goro hesitated. He wanted to stay. To explain. But the shame was louder than reason.

Then he ran. 

No way was he explaining this right now—not while in disguise. A humiliated one, at that.

At least his mask was still on, hiding his true identity.

The group chased after him, but with Crow’s experience, they couldn’t catch up. 

Getting close to the entrance, he activated Mententos—a safe zone with five different exits. Enough to cover his tracks and disappear before they could follow.

The Phantom Thieves and Yusuke returned to the real world. They ran around to look for Akira. However, their effort was for naught—Akira was nowhere to be found. 

Ryuji frowned, scanning the street surrounding Madarame’s studio. “Akira’s not here…? Where the hell did Akira go?”

Everyone slowly shook their heads, still catching their breath from the chase.

He turned to Ren, eyes narrowing. 

“Wait a sec—you knew Akira's secret? Why didn’t you say anything?”

There was a flicker of hurt in his voice—Ryuji looked like he’d just been cheated on by his best bro. Ren answered calmly, letting out a small sigh. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

Then, more quietly, he added. “Does it really matter? Akira helped us with Dread. What would’ve happened to Yusuke without Akira?”

Slightly offended by Ryuji’s remark, Ann put her hand on her hip, looking directly at Ryuji and speaking in a serious tone.

“Stop being so judgmental, Ryuji. She can choose to dress however she likes—to be whoever she wants to be. That's her choice.” She huffed. “Akira didn’t lead you on or try to charm you. She even rejected you. Why do you care about that so much?”

Ryuji looked away from Ann’s gaze, scratching the back of his head.

“…I'm sorry, guys, I feel like an idiot. I thought Ren tricked me by not saying anything.” He exhaled sharply. “I don't know, man. This is so confusing.”

Ren blinked slightly while keeping a neutral expression. He nodded at Ryuji’s apology. In response, Ann dropped her hand off her hip, relaxed her posture, and added gently. 

“Ren and Akira didn’t trick you, Ryuji... Like Ren said, it’s just Akira's secret—it’s not ours to tell.”

“Yeah… I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” Ryuji sighed. “I’ll say sorry again when we meet again. I shouldn’t call Akira out like that.”

Yusuke spoke gently, adding his opinion. “Beauty transcends form. Whether Akira is a boy, a girl, or something else entirely—it doesn’t change the fact that Akira helped me. So I agree with your leader. What matters is the soul, the will behind the action.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, deeply in thought about the situation.

Morgana popped out of Ren’s bag and joined the conversation.

“Akira might be kinda suspicious, but what Akira did was brave. Honestly? Pretty admirable,” Morgana trailed off, but then continued with his speech. “And Akira is strong with two Personas. If Dread ever shows up again, we’ll probably need Akira's help. That dog was seriously scary.” 

The accursed name hung in the air, leaving behind a thick, uneasy silence. They’d barely driven it off—but that was with Akira’s help. There was no guarantee that it wouldn’t return. Then, realising that the tension got too tense, Morgana redirected the conversation with his usual snark.

“Too bad your big, dramatic reaction probably scared Akira off, Ryuji.”

Ryuji groaned. “Tch… Guess I messed up again, huh?” 

Morgana twisted his tail. “Well, you’ve got Akira’s contact, right? We can still talk then.”

Ren replied calmly, “Akira didn’t give it to me.”

Ann blinked. “Wait—what? You didn’t even ask? I thought you two were, like, long-lost childhood besties.”

Ren shrugged nonchalantly, face unreadable as ever. “Akira didn’t give it to me willingly, so I’ll wait until Akira’s ready.”

Everyone looked at him expectantly, but Ren didn’t explain any further.

Ann leaned closer to Ren, whispering. “You know more than you’re saying, don’t you?”

Ren whispered back softly, almost wistfully. “It’s not my place to say anything that Akira hasn't chosen to share.”

Then, after a pause, he gave a small, unreadable smile. He told the group.

“We’ll discuss more on this tomorrow at Le Blanc.”

He glanced at Yusuke.

“Yusuke, you just awakened your Persona, so take a break for today. We will text you more about the details. Ann will give you our contact.” 

The group walked home in heavy silence, still processing everything that had happened—Akira, the mysterious Persona user… and the strange monster that he called Dread. 

The name lingered in the back of their minds like smoke that wouldn’t clear.

Later in the evening, Ren was alone in his room, twirling a pen between his fingers—the same little trick that amazed his friends while sitting on his bed. He paused to glance at the sticker.

A tiny grey crow.

He murmured to himself: 

“Even here… always just one step ahead… you’re still my senpai, huh?

What are you hiding?

Thanks for your help… Maybe next time I’ll get to say it to you, face to face.”

Ren thought of how he had met his senpai at Shibuya Station.

Ren hummed a happy tune—everything had gone according to plan. The Phantom Thieves had successfully gotten Yusuke to agree: he and Ryuji would join as Ann’s “managers” for the photo shoot, acting as her protection detail. Together, they would all head to Madarame’s studio.

Until Yusuke Kitagawa suddenly bolted.

Ren blinked. What?

Why are you running?

Has Kitagawa just found a new muse and abandoned Ann? This might ruin their plan.

“Wait!” Ren called, sprinting after him.

In his rush, he nearly tripped over something on the ground. He stumbled, steadied himself, then looked down.

A pen with a tiny grey crow sticker.

Ren smiled faintly. Akechi must have dropped it. It was almost adorable how that guy stuck Grey Crow stickers on everything.

Instinctively, he activated his Third Eye.

The world dimmed to black as tarot cards lit up above the heads of people he knew—those he’d formed bonds with. Best perk of this OP skill? It let him peek at people’s Arcana and spot hidden details in both the real world and the Metaverse. Downside? It took focus—tricky when you’re running or mentally wiped.

Shame he couldn’t use this to… get a peek underneath. That would be very useful. Tactical. Strategic. Definitely.

Oh. Justice Arcana found. Mission accomplished.

“Ak—“

He was just about to call out, but paused mid-syllable. There, standing ahead, was a girl he didn’t recognise.

She wore a beige coat over a crisp white shirt, a black bow, a skirt, and leggings—stylish, but unfamiliar. Long, dark brown hair framed a sharp, almost ethereal face. Her dark eyes and smile were sharp enough to pierce through his heart. He could bleed out with no regrets.

Beautiful, Ren thought vaguely. The kind of beautiful that leaves you a little breathless. As striking as Akechi, if he were more honest. Whoever did her makeup deserved a medal—it was immaculate. If he weren’t already in love with someone, he might have fallen right there. 

Still, his heart skipped a beat.

But why did this girl freeze on the spot when Ren nearly called Akechi’s name out? Not the kind of freeze you do when a stranger calls your name. The kind that says, ‘You saw through me.’

Ren narrowed his eyes, looking closer. Same hand shape. Same nervous tic—tugging at her hair with her left hand. Same polished leather shoes.

So Akechi dressed up as a girl. A hobby, maybe. If that were true, Ren wouldn’t mind dressing up with him sometimes—for fun, of course. Maybe Akechi had some reason—a school event? Weird bet?

Or maybe it was one of their strange games where Akechi dressed in disguise, daring Ren to see through it. He had won that game twice already: once at the Penguins Sniper and another at the art exhibition. They were always playing some kind of game, after all.

Still… she was kind of pretty. Not that it mattered. Not really.

Time for a cover story. A half-truth would do.

“Akira-chan,” he said instead, voice light. “My childhood friend.”

He mentioned the yakisoba pan and melon pan, the bread they shared at their first meeting. Just a little breadcrumb of a message. Not enough to expose Akechi on the spot—but enough to say I know.

Joker’s honour.

The pen slipped fully into his pocket, a quest reward for his silence.

Chapter Text

Today was Saturday, and that meant no school for Ren. He spent the morning helping Sojiro at Leblanc. All the seats filled quickly as customers came in waves. Ren and Boss took turns brewing coffee, refilling curry, and serving orders. 

The evening finally came as the last customers left the cafe. Ren washed the last dishes behind the counter. He quietly reflected on everything that had happened over the past week as he wiped down the counter.

After the encounter with Akira, the Phantom Thieves had a serious discussion in Ren’s attic. 

Yusuke had joined their ranks. He wanted Madarame to confess everything. Not only plagiarism but also the abuse, manipulation and exploitation of his students. 

No one argued. They all agreed.

As for Akira… They’d decided to delay that conversation until after Madarame’s change of heart. No point speculating when Akechi hadn’t revealed himself, and the threat of Madarame suing them—cat included—was still looming over their necks. 

Everyone was also unsettled by what happened with Dread. But based on Akechi's words, Dread only targeted mentally unstable individuals, especially people on the verge of awakening their Personas. That meant the group should be safe… as long as no one had a breakdown and no more bystanders were dragged into the Metaverse.

In the worst-case scenarios? They fled. Fast. 

With that, the Phantom Thieves resumed their infiltration of Madarame’s palace. They secured the route to the treasure, sent the calling cards, and collected the treasure just before the palace collapsed. 

During the mission, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Crow, maybe? But every time Ren tried to track him down, the brooding senpai was either gone… or simply didn’t want to be found. 

In the end, Madarame had a complete breakdown on Live TV. He cried his eyeballs out while begging for forgiveness. It was pitiful but deserved. He dropped all charges. No lawsuits. No threats. Just public humiliation.

Ren was relieved. Another strike on his record might’ve meant expulsion from Shujin. That would mean goodbye to his new friends. And crush. 

That would be disastrous.

Still, what stuck with him most was Akechi. A silent hero who saved Yusuke from Dread without any recognition. He just slipped in with a disguise, fought hard, and then vanished. 

Akechi would never admit it, but he always prioritised others' well-being. Ren knew that. So did everyone else. It showed in how many students he’d quietly tutored through their worst subjects, how many problems he listened to, and how often he made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

Ren wanted to believe in Akechi’s intentions. Whatever they were. 

After all, it was Akechi who once said that he judged people by their actions. And he lived up to his words, as always. His senpai could not be this cool… could he?

The bell jingled, disrupting his line of thought.

One by one, the Phantom Thieves arrived, hands full of snacks and hotpot toppings. They greeted him with the usual “Renren!” before heading upstairs, setting up the celebration to mark Madarame’s change of heart. Ren flipped the shop’s sign to CLOSED, then grabbed the large pot he borrowed from Sojiro.

Time for a hotpot party. Too much heat for the weather—but hey, that was the fun. Right? They probably weren’t going to get burned anyway... Probably.

When Ren came upstairs, everything was placed on the table. Ren put the pot on the movable stove and poured the broth over it.

Everyone chatted about the mission, the Palace collapse, and how Yusuke brutally decimated the counterfeit paintings during the “final boss fight” with Madarame’s paintings. As he had declared: “Fraud is no art.” Wise words from their eccentric artist. The mood had lightened.

Ann popped a sweet potato ball into her mouth and finished it in one bite. Then, grinning, she said casually, “So… are we finally gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” She leaned toward Ryuji. “The one and only Lady Akira, who broke this poor guy’s heart.”

Yusuke, unfazed, was chewing meat like it was his final meal. He must’ve been starving.

“You’re still hung up on Akira? I thought you got the whole crush over ages ago.” Morgana snickered.

Ann chimed in. “Akira was probably Ryuji’s first real crush. I guess Ryuji has a type.”

Ryuji groaned, nodding his head while sipping his soda in silence. Ren internally rolled his eyes. He thought Ryuji would’ve moved on by now. As if Ryuji could match Akechi’s challenge—the way Ren could. Still, he kept his irritation to himself. Ryuji wasn’t a threat.

Ann patted Ryuji’s back. “Well, if things don’t work out with Akira… How about moving on to another person?” Oh, right. There was one person Ren could think of. 

“...Niijima senpai?” Ren offered. She was a bit serious, but with a soft side. Ren remembered how flustered she got when Akechi mistakenly hinted they had “history”. That was hilarious.

Ann grimaced. Ren blinked. Did they… have actual history?

Morgana answered with a snicker. “Strong, serious,... Kinda scary in a hot way. Definitely Skull’s type.”

Ren nodded, voice mock-serious. “I heard she can ride a motorcycle. Imagine her scooping you up with her strong arms and—ZOOOOM—you’re riding into the sunset.”

At 'strong arms' and 'motorcycle', Ryuji’s eyes sparkled. He went quiet, clearly picturing the scene in too much detail.

Yusuke added thoughtfully, “If she does ride a bike, I’d like to draw her. There’s a certain untamed beauty to a girl in motion.”

Ryuji perked up. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. But you gotta help me win her over. Gimme some of your fancy art girl advice.”

Yusuke tilted his head, considering. “Hmm. I’m not sure what qualifies as girl advice. But… actions speak louder than words. Perhaps you could express your heartfelt feelings by painting her on the canvas. Let the brush speak for you. No words can be compared to that.”

The table went silent. That was… oddly sincere and poetic.

Ann blinked. “Wait—that’s actually good advice.” She turned to Ryuji. “No cheesy lines. Just show her how you feel.”

Ryuji gave a dramatic thumbs-up. “Yusuke, you’re my second-best bro now.”

Yusuke smiled gently. “Then I hope it works out.” He slurped more udon.

Ren mentally filed that away. A heartfelt action, huh?… Maybe he could use that tip, too.

Morgana gagged like he’d swallowed a hairball. “Ugh. Enough daydreaming about motorcycle girlfriends—we’re supposed to be talking about Akira.” He then sat straight up, posing all serious. “So we haven’t seen Akira after that first meeting. So… any ideas on how to find her—him, I don’t know, them?”

“Let us stick with they—them for now, since we don’t know how Akira wants to be preferred as,” Ann announced.

Everyone nodded. Ren knew the correct pronoun was he, but Ren wasn’t going to say that aloud to expose Akechi. “Maybe they only show up when there is a threat like Dread?” He suggested.

Ann sighed. “Yeah, but I don’t want to summon Dread just to meet Akira…”

The mood soured like leftover broth. Ren resisted the urge to call it 'dreadful.' Even Morgana would groan at that one. He quickly changed the subject—this was supposed to be a party, not a cemetery.

“Why don’t we make theories on who Akira is? It might help us track him down.” 

Morgana crossed his paws. “Fine. I’ll go first. Akira’s probably like me—able to change between forms, wandering between the Metaverse and reality. Their stable form in reality is probably human, like how mine is a cat.”

Ann countered gently. “But, Morgana, Akira was always a human. They were Ren’s childhood friends, remember?”

Morgana put his paws on his hip. “Exactly! That further proves that I’m human, Lady Ann.”

Ryuji snickered. “Nah, doesn’t sound like it. Y’ probably just a cat.”

Morgana yowled, tail straightened up. “Hey! That’s rude, Skull.”

Ann tilted her head thoughtfully, ignoring the bickering between Ryuji and Morgana. “Maybe they’re a pop idol! Like, the super famous Rise. That’d explain the disguise and all the secrecy. They’re just hiding in plain sight, blending in with us.”

Ryuji lit up. “Yo, yeah! They look pretty enough.” Then, with all the tact of a brick. “Or, maybe they just want to observe stuff, you know—”

“Ryuji. No.” She elbowed him hard. “Take that back before I drown you in this broth. Do not suggest such vulgar things!"

“You deserve that.” Morgana cackled at Ryuji’s pained reaction. 

Ren stirred the pot slowly, hiding a faint smirk. Akechi would never do that. He’s way too uptight to snoop that low.

Yusuke, ignoring the drama sparked by Ryuji’s comments, added.

“Perhaps… It's their performance art. Their way to express their souls’ yearning for beauty.” Yusuke paused, then nodded serenely. “I am inspired by such beauty. I might try the art of cross-dressing myself…”

Ren nodded inwardly, too. At least someone appreciated the art of cross-dressing. Maybe, he and Akechi could start a club. If only Yusuke were in the same club

Ren deadpanned, sipping his drink. His turn to speak finally came.

“I want to marry my childhood friend legally! I shall invite you all to my wedding.”

The room erupted. Ann gasped in mock outrage, slapping Ren on the shoulder. “Shut up, Ren!”

Ren only smiled; he meant what he said.

Morgana snorted. “That’s the most Joker answer I’ve ever heard.”

Ren shrugged, dropping his real theory on Akechi’s reasoning.“Or my good childhood friend gets a little… overprotective. Like keeping us safe from threats.”

He paused for dramatic effect—then continued with a deadpan tone.

“A bit too protective… somehow ends up wherever we are. Always with a convenient excuse.”

A beat. He didn’t smile. Just blinked slowly.

Ann squinted. “Wow, okay, that does sound a little bit too over-protective. Like a sweet, endearing guardian angel?”

Morgana swished his tail. “Maybe Akira is Ren’s secret bodyguard, that's more realistic. Just… cares too much, so they followed us?”

Ryuji grinned. “Or they just like Ren a lot. Childhood friend stuff, y’know? Renren’s always sweet. Everyone likes him.”

Ren liked Ryuji’s answer, not that he’d say it out loud. He just smiled, lopsided and real.

Yusuke, solemnly as ever, added: “A friendship that transcends time and space with the pure intention of protectiveness. Truly marvellous.”

Ding.

The bell rang just as Yusuke finished. 

Oh right. Akechi had said he was stopping by to pick up his umbrella. Ren had totally forgotten. He tugged at his bangs, his usual nervous tic. “I forgot Akechi was coming… Do you mind if he joins?”

Ann perked up. “Of course not! There’s plenty of food. We should totally invite Akechi next time, too.”

Ryuji and Morgana both nodded in agreement.

Yusuke tilted his head. “Akechi? Oh, he’s the senpai who tutors you all at Shujin?”

Ryuji replied earnestly, “Yeah, that’s him. He’s kind of a smug jerk sometimes, but he’s good at teaching. Even I can understand trigonometry now—and I’m a blockhead.”

Morgana snickered. “Can’t believe we’ve lived to hear you say ‘trigonometry.’ Akechi really is a miracle worker.”

Ren hurried down the stairs, trepidation twisting in his chest. He prayed no one upstairs had an eureka moment, piecing together the truth about Akira in sight of Akechi.

Trust went both ways, and Ren wasn’t going to be the one to expose Akechi.

Akechi stood by the door in his usual short blouse—a bit too formal for someone his age. He must have come straight from helping at Memory Lane.

They exchanged a brief, quiet greeting before Ren gestured for him to come upstairs. Akechi agreed with a small nod.

“Welcome, Akechi-senpai! Sit here with me.” Ann waved brightly at Akechi, patting the empty seat beside her. They must’ve found an extra chair while Ren was away.

Akechi paled. Just for a second.

His eyes flicked toward Ann—then to the stool—then back to her. 

But his mask slid back into place.

“Thank you,” he said politely, taking the seat beside her with practised ease.

Ren watched him, unsettled. Why that reaction? Did Ann suspect something? Was she close to figuring it out? Judging from her casual chatter and cheerful tone, it didn’t seem like she had—yet. He introduced Yusuke as the artist who had painted Ann for his art project. As expected from a gossip enthusiast, Ann began the whole Akira story—how they met through Yusuke, how they swept her off her feet—leaving out the Metaverse.

Akechi listened with polite interest, but Ren didn’t miss the cracks in his act. The way his fake smile froze. The stiffness in his posture. The tight grip on his hand beneath the table.

Ren covered his mouth to hide the grin threatening to escape. Watching Akechi squirm in silence was almost too satisfying. Almost.

Well, it’s not like Akechi didn’t know the story. He was the protagonist of the story, after all.

Ann was laughing. “You should’ve seen it, Akechi. Ryuji butchered both your advice and Ren’s.” She swirled her drink dramatically. “‘I like your muscles’? ‘You’ve got all those teeth like a plate’? What a disaster.”

Akechi, with an unreadable expression, looked at Ryuji with fire in his eyes, ready to burn Ryuji to ash with his roast—the perfect revenge.

“Let me get this straight—you looked them in the eye and said their smile reminded you of… a clean plate .”

Ryuji stiffened, arms crossed in defiance. “Yeah? What about it?! It was a clean compliment! Smooth and shiny!”

“Of course,” Akechi replied flatly. “Who wouldn’t want to be compared to kitchenware?”

Ann slapped the table and doubled over with wheezing laughter. “Oh my god, he’s not gonna survive this.”

Akechi ignored her, voice cool and composed as he went in for round two.

“And the ‘I like your muscles’ line? What were you doing, trying to sell her a gym membership? You do know flattery isn’t a bench press, yes?”

He added dryly, “I didn’t give you girl advice so you could star in a fitness commercial.”

Ren couldn’t hold back anymore—he finally burst out laughing. Morgana snickered behind his paw. Even Yusuke politely hid his smile behind his hand.

Ryuji sank into his seat. “Dude, I panicked! Okay? I thought I was supposed to be unexpected!”

Akechi sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Unexpected, not disconnected. I expected something relatable. But what? You gave them… a protein bar sale pitch?”

He sighed, tone shifting into that of a disappointed teacher. “I was going to offer you more advice, Ryuji. But honestly? You might be a lost cause.”

Ren shook his head in mock disappointment. “We tried. We all did.”

“You’re all just haters!” Ryuji groaned, head in hand.

His ego? Burnt. Charcoal black. Could he recover in time for another girl’s quest?

This hotpot party is way hotter than Ren expected.

Ann picked the story back up, recounting the moment Ryuji “accidentally” figured out Akira was a boy, right before he ran off in embarrassment.

Ren caught a flicker of something behind Akechi’s calm eyes. He said nothing, but his gaze lingered a moment longer than usual.

“So,” Ann turned to Akechi with a grin, “what’s your theory on who Akira really is?”

Akechi’s eyes narrowed just slightly, thoughtful. “Maybe they just wanted to help Ren and his friends without being recognised. If they're his childhood friend, it tracks.”

He paused, lips twitching into a faint, unreadable smile.

“Or he could’ve simply found you all interesting and decided to tag along.”

Then, he deadpanned—

“Or maybe they're a secret police officer. Here to arrest you all for not finishing your homework.”

A pause.

“Have you finished Ms Kawakami’s assignments? You seem awfully free to party and gossip.”

Ryuji broke into a sweat. ”Errr, yeah, I’ll do it soon, I promise, Akechi-sensei.”

Ann’s sweet smile deepened. “Halfway there, Akechi sensei.”

Ren met Akechi’s gaze with a grin. “Already done. Maybe you should give me harder work, Sugar-sensei.”

Akechi’s lip curled into a smirk. He leaned in, just slightly, voice low and deliberate. “Oh, you want me to challenge you, huh? Is this too easy for you?”

Ren leaned in too, a mischievous glint in his eye as he dropped his voice to match.“Maybe I want to study you, instead. That's way harder than schoolwork.”

Their eyes locked. An electric current sparked in the space between them, charged with teasing and daring.

Akechi’s smirk softened into a chuckle. “Then I’ll crush you with both. Let’s see how long you last. You’ll be begging for extra credit by the end.”

With theatrical flair, Akechi pulled off his right glove—

Did he always wear his gloves? At a hotpot party?

—and threw it toward Ren. 

“Take this as my challenge,” Akechi declared.

Ren caught it, holding the glove close to his heart with a wide grin. 

“I accept.”

Ryuji groaned. Morgana rolled his eyes. “They’re going at it again…”

Ann giggled while Yusuke drifted off, murmuring something about the art of a rivalry duel.

As everyone finished off the hot pot toppings, Ren pulled up a freezer bag and announced, “Popsicles or homemade crepes?”

“Crepes!” Ann’s eyes sparkled at the mention.

Yusuke chuckled. “A freezing refreshment to soothe the summer heat would be delightful.”

“Heck yeah, give me a popsicle, dude!” Ryuji grinned.

Akechi replied coolly, “A popsicle would suit the weather.”

Ren handed out their respective desserts—adding a bonus fatty tuna treat for Morgana, who purred in satisfaction at the offering.

Yusuke explained to Ann that eating crepes was a form of artistic expression, and wanted to paint the moment to prove it. Meanwhile, Ann and Ryuji got into a light-hearted debate over whether popsicles or crepes were the superior summer treat.

But Ren’s attention was elsewhere.

He adjusted his glasses, letting the light obscure his eyes as he quietly observed Akechi.

Akechi peeled the wrapper with practised grace, then pressed the popsicle to his lips and gave it a slow, absent-minded lick.

A streak of white liquid trailed down from the edge. 

Ren’s brain screeched to a halt.

Akechi’s tongue followed the drip in one smooth motion, trailing from the base of the stick to the tip before slipping it halfway into his mouth.

A few droplets lingered on Akechi’s lower lip—shining like they were mocking Ren personally.

Was this popsicle stick making fun of his panic? This was NOT funny.

Ren looked away—barely. Just in time. His sanity, however, was hanging by a thread.

This was not the time.

Not. The. Time.

But his body betrayed him.

Before he could stop himself, Ren reached out and wiped the sheen away with his thumb.

The moment froze. Akechi blinked.

Ren blinked back. His hand was still there. Still touching Akechi’s soft lips.

He yanked it away like he’d touched fire.

“Uh. You have…” Ren gestured vaguely to his mouth.

Akechi’s expression was unreadable, but his ears were a little pink.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Ren was burned alive in the closet of shame. Someone please toss him into the fridge.

Fortunately, Morgana was too engrossed in his tuna, and the others were too busy arguing about desserts to notice. Ren had just cashed in a get-out-of-jail-free card from what could have been a very awkward interrogation of his questionable actions.

As everyone finished with their dessert, they started to clean up the table. However, Yusuke’s gaze lingered on Akechi—a bit too closely for an uncomfortably long time, to Akechi’s visible unease.

Uh oh, had the artist figured it out? 

Ren must do something…

“You look familiar…” Yusuke murmured, tilting his head. “That sharp gaze, those features… Are you related to Akira, perhaps? Do you have any siblings?” 

Akechi’s body jolted lightly at the question. Ren could see a cold sweat on Akechi’s neck. 

“Hmm… maybe Akira is my sibling. Or cousin.” Akechi said it lightly, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know who my father is, so who knows? I might have one or two brothers and sisters wandering around. Tokyo’s small, right?”

Ann raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking between Ren and Akechi with interest. Her gaze lingered on Ren a second too long—then she smiled slowly, almost knowingly.

Ren winced internally. Whatever she’d decided, he prayed she was wrong.

Yusuke tilted his head. “You resemble him. Almost eerily so. Would you consider modelling for me? I require someone who exudes both elegance and menace.”

Akechi paused, keeping his awkward smile while hiding his shaking hand under the table. “I’ll… take that as a compliment?”

Uhm… This is not going great.

Think, Ren. You need to act. Now.

Ryuji cut in with his loud words, oblivious to the tension. “Yo, if you do have a sister, hook a bro up!”

Good job, Ryuji! Crisis averted. You chaotic himbo! You‘re my best bro!

“If I had a sister, she’d have better taste,” Akechi said coolly with a pointed look. “Besides, Akira’s suffered enough.”

Ryuji laughed it off, completely missing the warning glare. “Come on, just let me talk to her! If she hates me, I swear I’ll back off.”

Ren grinned teasingly. “If you want to become Akechi’s brother-in-law, you'd better increase your knowledge stat, Ryuji. Need to impress her family, y’know.”

Ryuji groaned at Ren’s words. 

Ann giggled. “Yeah, Ryuji. Need to ace the next exam. I’ll cheer you on.”

Morgana flicked his tail and looked at Ren, ears twitching. 

Ren gave some leftover hot pot and curry to Yusuke, tactically distracting the artist from looking more closely at Akechi. Yusuke beamed at the offering, whispered something poetic about ‘curry as salvation,’ and retreated to his dorm. His muse? Mercifully, forgotten. Mission accomplished.

Akechi relaxed his body, letting a small sigh of relief at the sight of the distracted, intense observer. 

Their secrets survived for another day. 

As the group finished tidying up and saying their goodbyes, Ren passed Akechi the umbrella and gave a casual wave.

But he wasn’t done for the night. Not yet.

Time to debrief with his partner in espionage—Morgana, codename: Agent Felix.

Morgana sat on the edge of the bed, grooming his fur with meticulous pride. Ren sat beside him and reached out to scratch behind his ears. Morgana leaned into the touch, purring softly, before he pulled back purposely.

“Do you think Akechi is Akira’s brother?” Morgana asked. “After what Yusuke said… I realised they look kinda similar. Same sharp eyes, just different hair and eye colour.”

“Who knows,” Ren said with a shrug. “Akechi did say that he doesn’t know his father. He might have a brother or sister out there.”

Morgana went quiet. His tail stopped flicking. He turned away, then spoke again, more seriously this time. 

“The Akechis—yes, Lady Fumiyo included—are suspicious. Remember when you left me at Memory Lane?”

Ren nodded. 

“I used the chance to snoop at their store. I’m pretty sure a lot of goods in there are from the Metaverse. That’s probably why I felt so drawn to them.”

Ren raised a brow. “Are you sure it wasn’t just the fatty tuna?”

Morgana’s ears dropped slightly. “Okay, maybe the tuna did distract me. I’m sorry that I bailed you that day… but it gave me time to investigate.”

Ren smiled. “It’s fine. Fumiyo gave us a lot of freebies anyway.” 

“Oh! That’s right—one of the coats there looked almost identical to Akira’s. Same cut, same fabric.”

Ren kept his expression neutral, steadying his breath. Inside, he was tense. Was Morgana starting to connect the dots? Should he say something?

Morgana flicked his tail again, thoughtfully.

“Maybe Akira is the one who brings the Metaverse goods to the store. If he's Akechi’s secret brother, it would make sense.”

Ren exhaled quietly. Morgana was curious—but meowing up the wrong tree, for now. That was… fine. A visit to Memory Lane was inevitable anyway. And honestly? He didn’t mind seeing Fumiyo again. Gaining favour with his potential future mother-in-law wouldn’t hurt.

Morgana perked up. His eyes locked onto the pendant around Ren’s neck.

“Also, remember the key that you lent me? It glowed and warmed up when I picked the lock at Madarame’s place. Maybe it helped open the door.”

Ren blinked. Huh? The key never reacted like that for him. Maybe it only worked on Morgana. Ren should report it to Fumiyo—she had asked for updates.

Without a word, Ren stood, then kneeled in front of Morgana with mock solemnity. He lifted the key and draped it around Morgana’s neck like a king bestowing a medal to his knight.

“Joker Bond, your partner in espionage, hereby entrusts you, Agent Felix, with a sacred mission: to guard the divine key of Lady Fumiyo. Its mysterious unlocking abilities might be vital to our future operations. This shall be the symbol of our unbreakable vow. I trust you with this sacred mission, Agent Felix… ‘til fatty tuna do us apart.” 

Morgana blinked, stunned by the ceremony. His eyes shimmered with emotion.

“Joker! You and your dramatic flair…” 

Still, he puffed up with pride. 

“You are trusting me with this… and with her.”

Ren smiled, soft but firm.

“Because you didn’t tell the others. And because I trust you.”

Morgana wiped away his tears with his paws, then, putting his paw over his chest, knightly swore his vow.

“But very well. I, Agent Felix, accepted this vow. The key shall be our emblem of trust.”

Ren grinned. “Then, let's make a trip to Memory Lane this week.” 

Hopefully, Akechi will come clean before Morgana figures it out on his own.

Later that night, fresh from the hot pot party, Goro collapsed into the stool behind the reception counter of Memory Lane. Fumiyo was watching the news on their old but functional TV. 

He rested his chin on his palm, eyes narrowing as he flipped open his notebook.

Time to sort through this week’s nonsense. 

Where was his favourite pen? 

He paused, rechecking his bag. Odd. He always kept it tucked in his pocket. He frowned slightly, then let it go.

The TV buzzed loudly in the background, cutting through his thoughts.

“Tonight’s feature: rising political star Masayoshi Shido, now a candidate for the Minister of State, promises a full investigation into the mental shutdowns. He vowed to uncover the truth behind these threats to our nation’s peace…”

“Urgh…” 

She groaned, holding her head and wincing as if in pain.

Goro rushed to her side, supporting her back with a worried voice.

“Mother, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m okay… Just feel a bit dizzy, that's all… I’ll take a seat.”

Goro sighed with relief. He guided her toward the seat where he was sitting and then turned off the TV, then went to the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water and a small snack—something to help.

Her expression softened as she smiled gently at Goro.

“You have something you want to tell me, don’t you?”

She was sharp, as expected of someone with a brilliant past.

“I think our time’s up,” He said plainly. “No more tests or theories. I’m going to show myself to them.”

She took a slow sip.

“So soon?” She sighed softly. “I suppose the more we delay, the worse it will be. I wish we had more time to test for safety and effectiveness.” She glanced back at him. “You’re certain about their modus operandi?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I observed their moves in Madarame’s palace. Find the core of the palace, send the calling card, and steal the treasure the next day. Simple.”

He leaned back with a tired breath.

“I still can’t believe we didn’t figure it out sooner. Someone must be guiding them. Morgana, most likely.”

“Morgana,” she murmured with a small smile. “A curious cognitive being. Do you remember the key we found? It glowed when he was near. That’s why I gave it to Amamiya-kun—on the theory that it might open more than just doors.”

His brow furrowed. “So you did give it to him… I saw the key hanging on the cat’s neck at Madarame’s. That must be how he picked the lock.”

She gave a little shrug, eyes unreadable.

“Morgana’s flexible. I’m certain he can open anything with the key’s help.”

Goro leaned back, took a deep breath and said quietly. 

“It showed up again.”

She didn’t need to ask what it meant. Her voice dropped.

“Dread?”

He nodded. “Almost took Kitagawa. I managed to stop it… with the Thieves.”

She let out a slow breath and moved closer, placing a hand lightly on his back.

“Then, it’s time,” she said gently. “I’m proud of you, Grey Crow.”

He offered her a small smile.

“I’ll approach them in the metaverse during the heist of their next target. Let’s close up the store.”

Together, they finished cleaning up. He walked to the front door and, with a flick of his wrist, turned the sign to CLOSED.

Chapter Text

Another quiet afternoon in Ren’s attic meant another simple yet sophisticated chess match with Akechi. 

Ren sat on an unstable stool, his body rocking slightly as his fingers curled around a pawn, calculating his next move. Meanwhile, Akechi lounged on the worn-out couch, one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the table, and chin resting in his hand. He stared at Ren with his sharp, crow-like gaze—as if already ten moves ahead, waiting for the perfect moment to claim victory. Ren met that look with a quiet resolve, keeping his piece steady despite the calculated taunt of the cunning corvid. To be a worthy rival, he couldn’t back down from this challenge. The match wouldn’t end until he was the last one standing, victorious in Akechi’s game of chess.

Yet his attention was caught by the soft sunlight that shone on the pretty boy's hair. For a fleeting moment, Ren could only admire the ephemeral vision: a devil disguised as an angel, an edge too sharp for such a gentle glow.

Akechi looked amused by Ren’s dazed expression. “Stop getting distracted—unless you want to lose to me that badly.”

Ren’s gaze drifted from Akechi’s hair to his eyes, lips curled into a grin. “What if that was a tactic to keep your guard down?”

Akechi replied flatly to the light provocation. “As if I’d get distracted by your silly antics.”

Ren placed his pawn on the most strategic square. Akechi mirrored the move with a pawn of his own. The game unfolded like a dance between two rivals: each move countering the other’s attack, each step charged with domination, and each gaze sharp enough to pierce through all the hidden intentions. A nearly endless rhythm that swept the board clean—until, at last, Ren delivered a checkmate—a well-deserved finale after ten continuous losses ever since the beginning.

Akechi’s teeth clattered slightly despite his calm demeanour. His hands clenched at his sides, gripping his gloves tightly enough to make a squeaky sound.

“This one doesn’t count. You distracted me.”

Ren chuckled at Akechi’s denial. “So you admit that my tactic worked?”

Akechi answered with a grin of his own, sharp and unyielding. “Don’t get so cocky, Amamiya-kun. It’s only your first win among a series of losses. I’ll be the winner next time.”

They locked their eyes, unwilling to back down…

Knock knock.

The sound snapped their attention away from each other. Ren looked up to find that Sojiro had knocked the wall lightly. Morgana walked up from behind and gave them a side eye, full of feline judgment.

After greeting the two boys’ attention, Sojiro chuckled slightly, giving a dry remark. 

“Kids these days… Is this how you bond? Chess match? I didn’t know rivalry could be this intense. What's up with the constant staring? You didn’t even notice when I first came here.”

A beat.

Ren and Akechi both looked away. As if they had never been staring. As if they’d never looked at each other at all.

Akechi and Ren tried to speak at one point—then paused. Ren beat him to it.

“It—it’s pure strategy. I need to assess my rival’s intentions, Boss.” Ren stammered, trying too hard to sound casual.

Akechi, still looking away from Ren, added quickly, trying to patch the crack in his composure.

“I—I need to keep my eyes on Ren. He’s unpredictable. Does things without warning. I can’t be caught off guard. Again.” 

Then he laughed. A bit too awkward to be convincing. 

Morgana deadpanned. “Right. Pure strategy. Keep up with that excuse. When will you admit it’s more than just that?”

Sojiro looked at the not-cat with a smile. “I don’t know what he is saying, but it looks like he agreed with me.”

Ren groaned internally.

Shut up, Morgana! Akechi can hear you talk, but I can’t tell you that. Yet.

The implication was too embarrassing to acknowledge. 

Akechi still looked away from Ren, barely keeping a straight face to fake ignorance. His hand hovered over the chessboard, then withdrew slightly, as if touching it might expose him.

Ren might be bold when he flirted, but he hadn’t yet found the courage to back it up.

Sojiro, unbothered by the awkwardness, waved them off. “Anyway, Ren, I leave the store to you. Gotta restock the café.”

Ren nodded at Sojiro as he left.

The silence filled the room as they put the chessboard away. Akechi left without a word. 

Ren stayed at the store, looking after the café as if nothing had happened. 

Like nothing had changed—though deep down, he wished it had.

That night, Ren was still wide awake when his phone buzzed. He picked it up.

Sugar Senpai:

Rematch at my place tomorrow after school

I won’t lose again

Bring Morgana. Mother misses him

Ren:

Morgana says meow 🐾

Translated: I love fatty tuna🐟

Your knight and his partner cat shall be in your way 🐈‍⬛ 

See you soon, my prince 👑 

Sugar Senpai:

Very funny, Joker

Don’t be late

He kept reading the texts over and over again. His cheek was dusted pink, his body light from the giggles that still lingered. The shabby milk crate bed creaked beneath him as he rolled over.

Akechi invited him to his place. Maybe even in his room.

Unlike Ren’s attic—an open space that everyone could walk in from the cafe—Akechi’s room probably had a door. And Fumiyo could take care of Morgana. 

That means quality private time together. Alone. 

Would Akechi let Ren stay over if he missed the last train? They could stay up all night, talking about everything and nothing until the sun came up.

Imagine what would happen…

“Akechi texted you?” Morgana cut in, disrupting Ren’s sweet daydream.

Ren put his phone away, looking at Morgana. “Yeah, how do you know?”

Morgana smirked in that unmistakably smug cat way. 

“You have that dumb, dazing-out look. Definitely Akechi.”

Damn, he got called out again. This observant not-cat must have seen through his poker face. 

He pushed up his glasses with a finger, a corner of his mouth quirking upward.

Time for Joker Bond mode. The unreadable spy.

“You are right, Agent Felix. Akechi-senpai invited us to his place tomorrow after school. You can resume your investigation on Memory Lane and Madame Akechi. Also, she promised fatty tuna.”

Morgana nodded, strangely unbothered by the mention of “fatty tuna”. 

“Good! Time to check it out again, confirming our Metaverse’s shop theory.”

Ren’s two fingers touched Morgana's paw: the perfect high-paws, their signature spy’s agreement.

Ren murmured. “This mission shall be named Operation: Senpaiwatch II.”

Morgana flicked his tail, holding his head high. 

“Let me name it this time, how about... Operation: No Distract, Fatty-Tuna No More.”

Ren looked at Morgana with doubt in his eyes. He felt tempted to press the X button for some reason…

Morgana flattened his ears in defeat, and his tail stopped moving.

“Okay, maybe Operation: Some Distract, Fatty-Tuna A-little.”

Ren responded with a determined look. “Let's keep it short. Operation: Behind the Fatty Tuna.”

Morgana looked away and sighed, tone slightly laced with disappointment. “Have to admit you’re good with names. I guess… I’m not good at this.” 

Ren only smiled gently as he scratched Morgana’s head. 

“Your name is good, just a bit long. I just helped you shorten it. Believe in yourself, Mona.”

After listening to Ren’s words, Morgana stayed quiet as he leaned toward Ren’s touch. Morgana opened his tiny mouth—then closed it again. Until—

“Fine, we’ll go with this,” Morgana said finally with his usual snark.

They made a mini outline of the mission.

Operation: Behind the Fatty Tuna

Targets: Goro Akechi & Fumiyo Akechi

Operatives: Joker Bond & Agent Felix

Main objectives: Finding out about the Akechi’s secrets (Metaverse relation and more) and gathering evidence.

Side objectives: Joker Bond winning the second chess match & Agent Felix resisting the fatty tuna temptation

Current ongoing quest: Visit Memory Lane

With the current information and plan set, Ren and Morgana were satisfied for now. 

Operation: Behind the Fatty Tuna would begin tomorrow. But tonight, they could rest. Ren turned off the bedside lamp as Morgana curled up beside his shoulder. 

Before Ren drifted to sleep, he heard Morgana’s whisper.

“Are you sleeping?”

Ren tried to move his lips, but sleep had already pinned him.

Morgana continued his sincere confession quietly.

“I feel like I can finally be someone important as Agent Felix. I want to prove that to you…Thank you for believing in me… Goodnight, Ren.”

Ren’s lips curled into a soft smile, already halfway into sleep—but something about Morgana’s words lingered in his dreams.

The following day, Ren and Morgana arrived at Memory Lane as soon as Ren finished school. Ryuji was sad that Ren rejected his running-ramen bro hang-out session. Sorry, Ryuji, rival senpai—no wait, mission before bro.

The store was filled with various goods as usual. Several patrons visited but ended up buying nothing. One of the collectors ended up buying a big bag of music boxes that made a weird sound when opened.

Goro dusted the shelf with an unreadable expression, drifting away with a thought. Meanwhile, Fumiyo tended the reception register, counting the checked items. She seemed off-kilter—so unlike the vibrant and playful impression Ren had of her. Her customer service smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Maybe she was tired from the long day of work, Ren thought. Yet something about her gaze… felt soulless. The light didn’t reflect her irises—not like before.

After the last customer checked out, Fumiyo waved at Ren, then turned to Akechi. “Amamiya-kun is here, you can leave the shop to me and Morgana—our new mascot.”

Goro replied with a small sign. “Mom, Morgana’s is Amamiya’s… emotional support companion. We can’t just claim him as our mascot.”

Fumiyo stroking Morgana’s head—Wait, when had he gotten out of Ren’s bag?

“They say black cats are good for spiritual protection. Some studies even say they are symbols of hope… We are lucky to have him, are we?” Fumiyo smiled more genuinely, but the weariness was still there. Her right hand rested on her chin while her other hand continued petting Morgana. 

Same habit. Like mother, like son.

Morgana meowed cheerfully at her comments, rubbing his head. The compliments must have boosted his ego hard. At this point, Fumiyo didn’t even need fatty tuna to charm the not-cat. 

As if he could listen to Ren’s thoughts, Morgana winked at him. A signal for Ren to play along.

Well, the mission was still on. Morgana might help him find out Akechi’s true intention.

Ren grinned cheekily. “Morgana told me he’s happy to be the store mascot. I can always bring him over.”

Fumiyo returned his gesture with a small smile. “Bring him here more often, Amamiya-kun. I always have treats for Morgana.”

Morgana was going to have a full tuna feast, judging from her reaction, mission success or not. 

Ren nodded, then lightly bowed, a gentlemanly way. “You can call me Ren, Madame Akechi.”

Fumiyo slightly blushed, her voice light in awe. “How sweet of you, Ren-kun. You can call me Fumiyo, too.”

She then looked at Goro, who was still cleaning the shelf, saying casually.

“Goro-chan, you should let him call you by your first name, too. You are quite close these days, aren’t you?”

She winked at Ren. Akechi glared at her, but she just giggled. Dead stare immune. 

Akechi grumbled in defeat. “Fine, Ren, if you can prove yourself to be a worthy chess opponent, maybe you can earn your right to call me Goro.”

He then looked at Ren, eyes sharp with challenges.

Nice! Quest rewards for side objective updated: “Goro-senpai’s first-name privilege.”

Ren’s smile curved higher, one eyebrow lifting in reply. “Can’t wait to win another chess match, Akechi-senpai... Or should I say Goro-senpai.”

Goro froze mid-dusting. The dimmed lighting couldn’t hide his dusted pink ears. He quickly recovered, resuming his task.

“You-you haven’t earned that yet, Amamiya-kun.” He stuttered.

Ren tilted his glasses slightly, hiding his amusement over Akechi’s reaction.

Fumiyo coughed slightly, gathering their attention. “You can both go for your… chess match now. We got this.”

Morgana gave Ren a paw up. A signal for “Trusting me!”

Ren prayed that Morgana would be lost in the dark, distracted by fatty tuna. It wasn’t time for Morgana to find the truth. Not yet.

Not when he had a game to win.

Akechi sighed, untying his apron with quiet finality. His eyes met Ren’s—then, without a word, he grabbed Ren by the wrist and pulled him upstairs. Ren’s heart rhythm was lost at the warmth of Akechi’s hand.

Akechi’s room was what you would expect from a straight-A student. The shelves were packed with books, folders, and notes. They were organised into similar subjects, all in alphabetical order. Ren couldn’t believe his senpai was secretly a librarian at heart. 

...Wait.

Was that a Featherman poster?

Ren squinted. Red Hawk and Grey Pigeon, fighting side by side in their most dramatic battle poses, with the rest of the rangers supporting them in the background.

Never mind, Ren took back his words. Akechi’s room was unexpected. Ren tried to look around. Perhaps he could find clues on a suitable gift for Akechi's upcoming birthday. Something thoughtful and matched his senpai’s taste.

Ren used his Third Eye. A laser toy gun named “Proof of Justice” was highlighted. 

Wait, was this the same gun that Crow used? 

Ren quickly looked away.

Good thing he was the only one allowed in here. Secret safe… for now.

Behind Ren, Akechi cut in with his dry and unimpressed remark. “What? Is my room too clean for your attic trash standard?”

Busted. 

Ren probably looked like a third-rate spy, scanning the room around like he was casing the place. Agent Felix would be disappointed.

Still, Ren gave a lopsided smile, like a kid who was too excited for his school trip. “Just admiring. Neat, obsessively so, like your handwriting."

Akechi sighed softly as if he’d expected this to happen. “I can’t believe I invited the agent of chaos to my room… Let’s start the game.”

Ren nodded in reply. And thus, the second match began. This time, the board wasn’t just chess; it was the battlefield of dignity, pride, and first-name privileges. 

They set up the chessboard on Akechi’s study table, dragging in the extra chair from the kitchen. Then, with a quiet wave, Akechi signalled for Ren to take the white side this time. 

Interesting. Why did he give Ren the white side? A gesture of respect? Did he want to see what Ren could do with an advantage?

Ren followed Akechi’s gesture and sat with a nod.

This wasn’t their usual game. The stakes were much higher when the prize was “Goro-senpai”—the first-name privilege that Ren had been longing for. 

Ren carefully placed a pawn on e4—a safe, flexible opening.

Akechi mirrored it with practised ease—his usual response.

The match continued with a similar rhythm. Moves and pieces were exchanged more viciously despite the quiet tension in the room. Ren played more aggressively this time, advancing with risky gambits as reckless as Joker himself. Meanwhile, Akechi stayed defensive, building his walls as high as his ego. 

For a moment, Ren felt like they were the only two people in the world. All Akechi’s attention was on Ren, and all Ren could feel was Akechi’s presence. He secretly wished for this moment to last forever. 

Still, he needed to focus on the game to earn his victory. Akechi’s strategy was meticulous, leaving few openings. But Ren had studied him long enough to anticipate the next move. 

Letting Ren observe so many of his matches had been Akechi’s quiet downfall. Changing sides didn’t change his habits, didn’t change who he was deep inside.

The match came to an end as Ren advanced his lowly pawn to queen, a force that threatened Akechi’s king. Ren had earned his place. Not just on the board, but in this room, this space, this quiet part of Akechi, he hadn’t let anyone else see.

“Checkmate!” He cheered. His effort had paid off.

“You win, Ren,” Akechi sighed, thoughtfully contemplating. “You have surpassed my expectations in this game… I clearly underestimated you. Your ability to observe, to adapt, and to improvise—it’s infuriating and yet… fascinating. Is this how you can always see through me?

Ren knew this wasn’t just about chess. This was a metaphor about the true game that they’d been playing all along, from the first time they met. The game of secrets, masks and disguises, where the victor was the first to unmask another. 

Akechi had finally admitted it with an acknowledgement of Ren’s capability.

Ren looked straight into Akechi’s eyes, his voice calm but resolute. “I might have won this game, but our duel isn’t over yet.”

A matching confession in return. Ren knew that Akechi was hiding his identity, and he hadn’t figured out the truth, or more specifically, Akechi’s true intention. He hadn’t won their true game yet.

A moment of quiet when they acknowledged the unspoken truth between the lines.

Still, looking at Akechi's reaction didn’t feel victorious. What Ren truly wanted wasn’t a checkmate or a show of dominance. It was trust. The kind that would let Akechi reveal what was beneath the mask. The kind that would allow Ren to call Akechi freely, as only Maruki and Fumiyo had. 

And that was the match he had yet to win.

Ren said sincerely, tone light and warm. “I would like to continue my competitions with you. Judging my win only on chess is not fair. Why don’t we compete in other games? Like billiards or darts, for example? A battle of dexterity?”

He then tilted his head, grinning.

“Or the Big Bang Challenge—you know, the one where you eat a mountain of burgers in record time.”

Akechi made a disgusted face at the comments.

“I like the idea of more competitions, but I passed on the greasy burgers.”

Akechi put his hand on his chin, lost in thought. It was an oddly adorable habit.

“How about the one who wins can ask for anything. For you, you can ask for my first name privileges. For me…” He smirked, “Well, you have to find out for yourself.”

Ren watched him, unsure whether to be excited or afraid.

Akechi didn’t elaborate. He just smiled—too innocently.

Ren replied with enthusiasm, “Sounds like a good deal. To be honest, I’m curious… but I won’t lose.”

Their handshake sealed the challenge, an extension to the game they had already played and the unspoken war that they had already begun. 

This was when the battle truly began. Rivalry is War.

As their handshake ended, Ren started packing away the chessboard, still smiling to himself.

Knock knock.

Ren looked up as Akechi opened the door. Fumiyo stepped in with a dish of senbei and nuts. Her expression was still laced with weariness, but her smile was soft and genuine.

“Let's have some senbei and tea before you leave, Ren-kun! I prepared them just for this special occasion,” she hummed, giving Ren a little wink.

“This is the first time Goro-chan has brought someone home. Have to celebrate, you know.” 

Ren nodded at the suggestion and followed Akechi toward the kitchen. Meanwhile, Akechi gave her a sidelong glance, murmuring something too low for Ren to catch. And yet, she beamed at his words. 

She must’ve wanted her son to be more open, huh? Ren had found a supportive ally in his first-name-calling war.

On the kitchen counter, Morgana curled himself on the same cat plush that he’d loved from the last time. The not-cat looked at them with a smug expression. Fumiyo must have spoiled him rotten with fatty tuna.

He took his time looking around. Everything about the common space was functional but not decorative—high-quality but never flashy. A few eccentric kitchen gadgets stood out, like a pancake maker shaped like a cat’s paws and… an automatic soup stirrer?

A fitting place for the nerdy senpai and his quirky mom.

They gathered around the table, munching on the salty but slightly sweet senbei—Akechi’s personal favourite choice of snacks. Ren told her about the chess match and their future competitions as part of the duel.

“So… no more chess matches, now you boys are competing over… everything?”

Fumiyo widened her eyes in disbelief. 

They nodded.

Is it weird to have a rivalry relationship with his senpai?

Morgana murmured to himself. “Of course. First a chess match, then a sword fight next? What kind of kouhai competes with their senpai? Rival kouhai? Rival senpai? This is ridiculous…”

Ren flashed a toothy grin. “Just a competition. Akechi-senpai challenged me to a duel with his glove… at a hotpot party.”

He pulled Akechi's glove out of his pocket, waving the glove like a stolen treasure prize—and this time, Akechi didn’t try to take it back.

Akechi made a matching canine smirk. “I gave Ren the challenge that he asked for. Schoolwork is too easy for him. So, as his peer study leader, I have to give him what he wants.”

Fumiyo gave a small huff, lip pouting. “Here I thought you guys were getting closer. That’s why I suggest the first name thing, not… a full-blown competition.”

Akechi stuffed his mouth full of senbei. “He hasn’t earned his right, yet. No competition won, no first name.”

Akechi, who lowered his guard with his mom, was strangely casual and domestic. His body let go of the usual tension he held in tight. Ren looked at them with a small passing wish. Could Ren be part of this family, too? To be welcomed here, unlike his current home situation. With Morgana, too, of course. 

Ren’s eyes gleamed dreamily. “Don’t worry, Fumiyo-san, I won’t lose that easily.”

Morgana rolled his eyes, clearly done with everything. “Here we go again.”

Summoned by Morgana’s meowing, she gave his ear a light scratch. The not-cat melted at her touch.

“What will your next competition be then?” She asked.

Akechi tapped his finger on his chin thoughtfully. “We haven't decided yet.”

Ren had been practising billiards and darts a lot for extra technical damage. How does that work? No ideas. Just typical Metaverse’s magic shenanigans. Maybe another rematch was not a bad idea.

“How about darts and billiards? But this time it’s just us two. No Ryuji or Morgana.” He suggested, casual as ever.

Akechi’s eyes glinted at the suggestion, his lip curling viciously. 

“Not bad, I beat you fair and square last time. Tomorrow evening, then. Ready for your loss again, Amamiya-kun?”

They hold their gaze at each other, completely unwilling to back down—until Fumiyo broke it with a cough.

She placed her finger on her chin, deep in thought. “So… you boys are going to be alone together, right?”

Her eyes gleamed with interest as they lingered on Morgana. She sipped her tea, a bit too slowly to be innocent.

“Then, can Morgana stay at my shop as the lucky mascot? I can keep an eye on him when you… settle things.”

Morgana nodded in the background. A signal to go along with this.

That was a good deal. No one was going to judge him for… watching Akechi bending over the billiards table like last time.

Ren grinned. “Sure, as long as you feed him fatty tuna. You can keep him here for tonight. I’ll pick him up tomorrow afternoon.”

Well, it’s all up to you now, Agent Felix. Good luck with your mission.

Morgana placed his paws atop his head. The feline agent saluted.

Ren waved goodbye to his favourite partner in espionage, the mysterious shopkeeper and his rival senpai. 

Before he left, Fumiyo gave him a bag of senbei and a small enamel pin that read “Best Kouhai” next to a black cat holding a white camelia. 

“It suited you,” she said innocently as she pinned it to his jacket. 

Ren smiled, trying not to blush.

He went home alone with an empty bag on a barren street, thinking about the current Operation: Behind the Fatty Tuna. 

Morgana had the perfect opportunity for snooping around. Maybe they’d learn more about why Akechi helped the Phantom Thieves. Out of everyone, Ren believed Morgana would be the one to keep their secret. Morgana hadn’t told the Phantom Thieves about Fumiyo Akechi, keeping his promise as per their vow of trust.

As for his mission, he’d made progress. First-name privileges? That could wait. Patience is a virtue—and he had plenty of it. 

The results of their next matches didn’t matter. He wanted Akechi to keep looking at him like they were equals—like Ren was the only one who truly met Akechi’s challenge.

That alone was good enough for now. No point in being greedy and wishing for more.

Even if it was just another silly match, Ren couldn’t help the way his heart lifted at the thought of seeing him again.

The next evening, they walked from school to the train station together. With Morgana still with Fumiyo, there was no third wheel this time. 

As usual, Akechi let out a small grumble.

“Ann dragged me shopping again. She said my wardrobe screams ‘retirement plan’—called me a grandpa, too. Unforgivable”

Ren chuckled at the accusation. Well, it wasn’t like Ann was wrong. Akechi’s fashion statement was on the mature side, but Ren didn’t mind at all. Actually… he kind of liked it, if he dared to admit it.

“...Ryuji crashed into me as soon as I left school. And somehow I ended up having five running laps with him and a ramen session. Am I slowly becoming a gym-bro?...”

Ren laughed at that. Akechi must have been infected by Ryuji’s golden retriever’s energy. Perhaps they should have another group hang out together, like the last sushi meet-up. 

“...and your artist friend, Kitagawa, always waits for me at school and asks me to be his model with Ann. Am I a replacement for Akira-chan? Seriously…” 

Uh oh. Yusuke might have no romantic attraction toward anyone—as he once claimed—but his sharp instinct could unravel their secret. Ren must keep the artist distracted with curry, snacks, and maybe even more painting trips in Mementos with Morgana. 

Akechi continued to ramble about his peer support’s duties. Ren hummed and listened, letting out a small smile at their casual, peaceful moment.

He thought back on how his daily life had changed now that Akechi was here. Ren studied harder—hard enough to top the school leaderboard. He didn’t need to attend the study group anymore. And yet, he still stuck close to his rival senpai, teasing and trading jabs—while Akechi flirted right back. Morgana groaned, Ann cheered, and Ryuji gave up entirely.

Just another normal school day for Ren.

…If you didn’t count breaking into criminal mind and stealing hearts.

And yet—someone disturbed that quiet moment.

Someone followed them from behind, covering her face clumsily with an upside-down comic book. 

Is that… Niijima?

Akechi gave a knowing look to Ren, flicking his gaze toward her. 

Ren nodded. 

In a blink, they ran as fast as possible. 

She bolted after them with unexpected speed—martial artist’s black-belt level, apparently.

Ren panicked. Was she investigating them like some kind of Detective Princess? Did she suspect him of being the leader of the Phantom Thieves?

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

She nearly caught up—brushing her hand on Ren’s shoulder—but they hopped on the train just before the door slid shut, leaving the student council president out of breath at the platform as the train moved on track.

They breathed out in relief, wiping sweat from their face.

Akechi rolled his eyes. “Persistent girl, keeping following us these days.”

Ren crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “Why did she follow us?’

Akechi clicked his tongue and shook his head. A no, then.

Why did she follow them? Weird. And a little suspicious.

…Was she jealous? Did she like Akechi or something? 

Ren frowned, immediately regretting that line of thought.

No, that couldn’t be it. She’d said there was no romantic history. Besides, she didn’t even like Akechi. Probably.

He filed the thought away anyway—Niijima’s drama could wait. This evening was their match.

As they arrived at Kichijoji Station, they happened to run into the quiet, polite kouhai Ren had befriended recently—not the Detective Princess trailing them with an upside-down comic book, at least. Yoshizawa cheerfully greeted them, slightly flustered behind her glasses.

“Good afternoon, Amamiya-senpai and Akechi-senpai,” 

Akechi returned her greeting with a light nod. “Hello, Sumire. Out for a stroll?”

Ren smiled and waved his hand. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Why did Akechi call Yoshizawa by her first name? Time to ask that question.

Ren asked cheekily, no longer shy like he was with Niijima and Akechi back then.

“Do you two… have history?”

She blinked her doe eyes innocently, a shy girl at heart.

“Yes—we’ve known each other since he helped my sister. A lot’s happened since then…”

Goro’s eyebrows slightly twisted, cutting her off with a pleasant smile. 

“We are not dating or having a romantic history. We’re just acquaintances.”

Her cheeks were dusted pink as she waved her hands frantically. “Oh, you mean that kind of… history. I’m not interested in him that way… He doesn’t want to say this, but I consider him my brother.” 

After the bold claim, she quickly looked away, her blush lingering—like she was surprised at herself.

Akechi rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct her. Ren let out an invisible breath he’d been holding. Whatever their relationship was, he trusted her enough to drop the perfect mask. At least, she wasn’t interested in him that way.

Ren’s body relaxed from the built-up tension from his battle-ready mode. He let out his lopsided smile. His only opponent was Akechi this time.  

Akechi looked at her with an unreadable expression.

“How did you know about him? You didn’t tell me about this at all.”

She meekly answered. “Amamiya-senpai helped me out before, too. Then we became friends and I teach him gymnastics occasionally.”

Ren nodded in agreement. They were just casual friends after the chance meeting on the subway.

Akechi frowned slightly but schooled his expression into neutrality before Ren could read it. Was he annoyed that she didn’t say anything, or was he jealous? If so, jealous of whom? Ren wasn't sure. But then again, he hadn’t told Akechi about her either.

She covered her mouth with her hands, giggling softly. “Amamiya-senpai, you seem to be closer to Akechi-senpai than I expected.”

Before Ren could say something vague to insinuate something more, Akechi cut in. He told her about their competition and their next match at Penguin Sniper.

Shame, missed opportunity.

She peeked at her phone and smiled mysteriously, all shyness gone. “Then let me join you and be the judge of the match. It’s fairer that way, isn’t it?”

Akechi let out a low, derisive chuckle. “Not bad, Amamiya-kun can’t cheat or make excuses that way, huh?”

Ren looked at Akechi’s eyes full of challenges. “I could say the same to you, senpai.”

Then he turned to her. “It’s more fun with you there, Yoshizawa-chan.”

Well, no more alone time with Akechi, but perhaps he could learn more about Akechi from her. They… seemed close after all.

She smiled sweetly. “Please call me Sumire like Akechi-senpai. We’ve known each other long enough… and I don’t want to be mistaken for my sister.”

At the mention of her sister, Sumire looked away, her smile fading. 

Ren decided not to press. “Okay, you can call me Ren, too.”

They then walked to Penguin Sniper together. As they chatted, Akechi’s and Sumire’s phones buzzed at the same time. 

Akechi picked his phone up with a small, irritated sigh. Sumire giggled as she checked hers.

Ren’s gaze flicked to Sumire’s phone. Just long enough to catch a name glowing on the screen.

Futaba?

His intuition told him there was more about this Futaba than met the eye. He mentally filed that information for future investigation. Right now, he needed to focus on the first match.

Sumire was a decent match judge, setting rules fair for both players. Though she was slightly distracted by her phone, and kept giggling at the two of them for some reason.

Unbothered by her presence, their games continued, each one ending in a draw between the two rivals.

Ren was thrilled at darts, consistently hitting triple 20s with his high proficiency. Meanwhile, Akechi dominated in billiards with his excellent technical skills. 

Akechi smirked as he bent over to line up the perfect shot.

“Seems like I don’t need to use my left hand for such an amateur.”

Admittedly, Ren was… slightly distracted by the view. Did Akechi know of Ren’s mischievous gaze—and take advantage of that?

That killer pose should be illegal, Ren thought, as his shot went wide, completely missing the pocket again.

Sumire looked up from her phone, cheeks pink but voice steady.

“What if the final round was blindfolded? That’d separate the… noobs from the… pros.”

Noobs and… pros? Where did Sumire start to use internet slang?

Still, with his Third Eye, a blindfold couldn’t cover anything. This would be an easy win.

Ren quickly agreed, snatching the golden advantage. “Not a bad idea, the match will end in a draw if… There is no special rule.”

Akechi protested. “It’s not fair then, it’s just a game based on luck if you can’t see anything.”

Before Ren could say anything, another ping sound cut through his thoughts. She glanced at her phone and blushed harder. 

“A-Actually, forget the blindfold. That’s too unrealistic.”

She cleared her throat and still stumbled over her words. 

“Um… what about… hand-holding? While throwing. That way you can—uh—control the opponent’s posture?”

Ren was caught off guard, his smirk slipping. His heart raced as he remembered their first de-date—when Akechi grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the school gates. He had been speechless by the boldness—no warning, no hesitation. All he remembered was the roughness of Akechi’s glove, the strange warmth that melted his rationality, and the way their fingers had intertwined. It was an unforgettable moment. 

Could he still make an accurate shot with that kind of distraction?

As if he could sense Ren's weakness, Akechi smiled in quiet triumph.

“Hand-holding isn’t a bad idea. I’m left-handed and Ren’s right-handed, so we can still use our dominant hands. It's perfectly fair.”

Before Ren could protest, Sumire clapped her hands together, still visibly pink.

“Well, that’s settled. Let's use the special rule for the last game in darts.”

Uh oh, this isn’t going where Ren expected. How could he focus with a distraction like that? His chance to even the score was slipping away, just like his concentration.

Ren reluctantly held Akechi's hands with a gentle grip. He took a long, deep breath as he made a throw, trying to ignore the unexplained feeling from the touch.

30 points.

There was no way he could win with this.

It was Akechi’s turn; he made a firm, steady pose—about to throw another bullseye, as if the shot was meant for Ren’s heart.

Ren murmured to himself, cheering Akechi on with a name he hadn’t yet earned the right to say out loud. He knew he shouldn’t say it—not yet. 

But the temptation was too strong.

“Go go Goro-senpai.”

Akechi faltered. A faint pink crept into one ear—his eyes narrowed, fingers twitching mid-throw. The dart slipped—landing on a 20.

Akechi never missed, not that Ren had seen. Was he… embarrassed to be called by his first name? This was the second time Ren called him so. He mentally filed that for future tease, hiding his creeping smirk.

Sumire announced with a bright smile on her face, forgetting all about her shyness.

“So this ends in a draw. Do you want another rematch?”

She glanced at her phone, then added cheerfully,

“I can help moderate another match like this. Count me in!”

Akechi clenched his hands, then slowly unfurled them with a long exhale. He didn’t respond right away. His eyes flicked toward Sumire’s cheerful grin, then looked away.

“Fine,” he said at last, tone even. “You can help us decide our next match.”

Ren nodded in agreement. Whatever her plan was, it came with the best intentions.

For a moment, she looked surprised at her boldness, but the way the two senpai listened made her stand a little straighter.

Her smile brightened. “Nice! Let’s gooo—wait, that’s the right term, right?”

Ren blinked. Was Sumire secretly a gamer all along?

She giggled nervously. “I’ll make a group chat and we can text about this!”

They waved goodbye and left Penguin Sniper. Ren trusted Sumire to make the game fair, but the special rule was… strangely suspicious. It was unusual for her to be so bold. He had a gut feeling there was a mastermind behind this plan.

Well, it had been an unusual day—twice, their alone time was interrupted.

Was it a coincidence? Or is it fated to be?

Either way, he’d be ready for the third strike. 

Ren arrived at Memory Lane the next afternoon. Morgana was sitting at the counter next to Fumiyo, waving his paws at customers with a satisfied meow. He had embraced his identity as the shop mascot, hired officially by the lovely single mom in the local neighbourhood.

Fumiyo greeted him at the door with a gentle smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Hello Ren-kun, here for Morgana?”

Ren returned the gestures earnestly, “Yeah, thank you for taking care of Morgana. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

She covered a small giggle. “I should thank him for bringing in customers.” Then she blinked. “Oh, right, I need to get something. Can you help me look after the store?”

Ren nodded. 

She went to the back of the store. Morgana let out a small sigh as his tail stopped moving.

“I haven’t found any solid intel for our operation yet, but Lady Fumiyo seemed… depressed. She sometimes dozes off while looking after the store.”

His eyes shifted to the back of the store, where she was.

“I’m worried about Fumiyo, Ren. I can see her sadness despite how well she tries to hide it. Can I stay here longer to keep her company? It’s for the investigation as well.”

As if he could understand Ren’s reluctance, Morgana added in with a determined look.

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. It’s just the mission. We’re partners, right? ‘Til Tuna do us apart.”

Ren smiled, petting Morgana’s head. “‘Til Tuna do us apart… I’ll trust you to take care of her.” 

Fumiyo came back, giving Ren more senbei. He then asked her to keep Morgana, and she accepted willingly. 

Ren waved goodbye to them, and yet his heart couldn’t stop worrying about her. Fumiyo indeed seemed a bit off. Ren hoped Morgana could find out the reason.

Quest Updated: Investigate the root of Fumiyo Akechi’s sadness.

Sumire—Love Agent Violet, completed her duty to escalate the rivalry between the two senpais. She quickly submitted her report to Futaba—Love Agent Alibaba. 

[Secure Channel: Operation: KouhaiWatch] 

Sumire:

Mission succeeded!

Target Joker Bond: flustered at physical contact.

Target Grey Crow: emotional critical hit detected. Aim destabilised

Not according to plan, but it ended in a draw like we wanted

Also, this spy thing is fun, Love Agent Alibaba 🤭

Futaba:

Congrats, Love Agent Violet, I’ve taught you well. Muehehe

You shall understand the power of romantic espionage 🕵 

Sumire:

You’re absolutely right

Target Joker Bond’s ultimate weakness is hand-touching 😊

Like that first de-date footage you showed me

Futaba:

Hehe I told you so 😈

Let’s go to stage two of Operation: KouhaiWatch

Time to escalate to school-wide competition, baby 😎

You got the deal with the student council president?

Sumire:

Yeah, the auditorium’s booked

What games first?

Futaba:

How about an arcade game session?

Grey Crow could shoot Joker Bond’s heart

Bam bam fall in love~~~ 

Sumire:

Haha, I got that, it’s from Host Club!

I’ll text them

Futaba:

Hehe

Futaba has sent you the Akeya: Love is Rivalry plan

That’s a fitting reference for them. 

Sumire:

Who will confess first is their game, isn’t it?

Futaba:

That’s right!

Akechi + Amamiya = Akeya

Our ship shall sail forward.

Chapter Text

[11:11 PM - Location: Alibaba Command Centre (Futaba’s Room)]

In the dark room where the only light source was from the computer’s screen, her glasses reflected the light—hiding her mischievous gaze as she tracked the surveillance targets. Love Agent Alibaba opened the file to recheck the plan they had devised.

C:/Documents/ShippingLogs/Akeya_LoveIsRivalry/Op_KouhaiWatch.doc

Click!

Loading Akeya: Love is Rivalry plan.doc…

Operation: KouhaiWatch

(Because both of the agents are cute kouhai cheering for their beloved senpai <3)

Operatives: Love Agent Violet (Sumire Yoshizawa) & Love Agent Alibaba (Futaba Sakura

Targets: Joker Bond (Ren Amamiya) & Grey Crow (Goro Akechi)

Targets' status: Both are in deep denial of all romantic subtext (even the clueless Love Agent Sumire can feel the tension - This is deadly serious!)

Mission Objectives:

• Escalate the homoerotic rivalry tension.
• Keep the game/chase going as long as possible - romance will bloom as foretold by extremely-reliable-romance-animated sources.
• Get them flustered at each others.

Ultimate goal: The targets will fully fall in love, kiss, and stay together happily ever after. The perfect ending for every romance!

---

Event: Darts & Billiards Showdown 🎯🎱

Notes for selves:

• Hand-holding is an innocent move, but it’s extremely effective against Joker.
• First-name usage from Joker is Crow’s deadly weakness. Deploy with caution.

---

Futaba put on her headphones, cackling out loud. Hand in mic, she made an announcement, Akeya: Love is Rivalry’s style.

---

[Game Result Announcement from Love Agent Alibaba]

“The result of the Darts & Billiards Showdown… Violet wins! They both flustered! The match ended in a draw.”

Love Agent Violet: I did it! Let’s goooo to the next match!

Agent Felix, Ren’s partner in espionage, was on duty with Operation: Behind the Fatty Tuna. The space under the table felt colder, emptier—no sleepy, sassy not-cat to narrate his every move like before. He couldn’t help but miss the warmth of his fuzzy friend.

He sighed, taking out his phone—time to invite his other partners in crime to witness his duel with Akechi. Ren had high confidence in this match. He was guided by the master of Gun About, Shinya, after all. Akechi and Sumire have already agreed for more people to join in—the more the merrier, right?

Group Chat: Phantom Squad 😎📚

Ren: I’m gonna have a competition with Akechi at the Arcade in Shibuya after school today.

Ren: You are welcome to join @Phantom Squad. Need witnesses for my glorious win against Sugar-senpai😎

Ren: Also, Morgana isn’t coming with us today. Don’t worry, he’s getting spoiled rotten.🐈‍⬛🐾🩷

Ryuji: HECK YEA, no annoying cat!!😆 Let’s go to the arcade together 👋🏆

Ann: Is this another chess foreplay again? Your games are seriously so sus, Renren 😏

Ann: Are your sure those aren’t “dates”😜

Ann: Also, good for Mona 😻

Yusuke: Ah, the duet of duality between kouhai and senpai. Two sides of the same coin, evenly matched. Refuse to give in to one another in this rivalry. I must draw this…

Ann: Are you really typing an essay on their duel, Yusuke?🤣

Ryuji: For real, my bro 🥲 Pls don’t

Ryuji: Too long, can’t read 😭

Yusuke: Ah, my apologies, I got too excited. I’ll come tomorrow.

Ren: Don’t apologise, Yusuke, Ann and Ryuji were just teasing 😊

Ren: Oh, forgot to say. Sumire Yozoshisawa, our judge, will be there tmr too

Ren: She’s Shujin’s first-year gymnast. Pls be nice to her, she’s shy🥰

Ryuji: Gymnasts kouhai? Is she cute? 😳

Ann: Is this Lady Akira all over again? 🤦‍♀️

Ren turned off his phone. Ann and Ryuji were at it again. Sumire was no doubt Ryuji’s type: fit, toned, and sweet. They were similar to each other: kind, genuine and interested in athletics. If Sumire and Ryuji ended up together, he could already see them all hanging out—with Akechi by his side. Double-date, but not really.

Ren bit back a laugh at the thought. Ann turned her back with a knowing look.

“It’s Akechi, isn’t it?” She whispered.

“Maybe, maybe not," he whispered back, winking at her.

She smiled at that, then went back to her phone to text with Ryuji. 

Well, Ryuji might have a chance. There hadn’t yet been someone actively pursuing Sumire. She would be the one who appreciates Ryuji’s muscle flirt line, from one athlete to another. In the worst-case scenario, Sumire would reject Ryuji gently, and they would all still be friends.

What could possibly go wrong again this time?

Ren yawned and twirled Akechi’s pen between his fingers—a secret prize he kept close. He glanced down at the little grey crow sticker on it with a glimmer in his eyes. 

See you soon, Akechi-senpai.

Ren met up with everyone at the arcade after school. The weekday crowd was thin. Only a few people were scattered between the machines. Sumire wore a new pink beret today, humming something about “love agent”. Ren wasn’t sure if this was a new fashion trend or just Sumire being Sumire. It looked nice on her. Ren gave her a thumbs-up, and she giggled. She closed her eyes and balled her hand on her skirt—finally blurting out.

“I’m Sumire Yoshizawa—a first-year gymnast. Nice to meet you all! Please call me Sumire!”

Ann grinned at the shy gymnast. “Aww, you are so cute. I like your beret, by the way. Just call me Ann, then. I’m a year higher than you, but don’t worry too much about formality.”

“You can call me Yusuke as well. Your beret indeed fits your vibrant aesthetic.” Yusuke declared.

“Thank you, Ann-senpai, Yusuke-senpai!” Sumire relaxed her hand with a smile.

Ryuji stood there, mouth agape. Cupid’s arrow landed another bull's-eye—straight through the himbo’s heart. Another sweet-but-strong girl. Classic. History repeated itself, nothing unexpected. 

His face turned tomato red. He gingerly handed Sumire a chocolate bar from his hoodie, fumbling with words.

“I’m Ryuji Sakamoto. Just—just call me Ryuji… Here, for you, Gymnast-kouhai.”

Oblivious to the flirt hidden in the gift—or the nickname—Sumire took the chocolate without hesitation. Her fingers brushed his. Ryuji blushed deeper.

“Thanks for the chocolate, Ryuji-senpai!” She cheered.

“No worry, you look…”

Before Ryuji could finish his words, Akechi hit him with a warning glare—crow-certified sharp. A stern, concerned look from an overprotective brother. A silent dare: Don’t finish what you are trying to say.  

Ryuji covered. All the potentially sincere—but definitely disastrous flirt attempts were frozen on their running tracks. It seemed like he had yet to cool down from the hot pot party’s roast. A pity.

“Nothing! Haha… erm, shall we start with the games?” He said, scratching his head.

Ann giggled, smashing Ryuji’s back teasingly. “What? You aren’t going to compliment Sumire? What about… her hair, for example.”

“Come on. Why are you still making fun of me even though I didn’t say anything?” Ryuji groaned, hands covering his head in defeat.

Yusuke chimed in, poetry-mode ready. “Your hair is the colour of a crimson rose reflected by the rays of the sunset. The smoothness is softer than silk, delicate like late dew on the petals. A pure heart beauty—worthy to be captured on the canvas.”

Sumire smiled sweetly at the compliments. “Thank you, Yusuke-senpai… you look… like an idol… with your handsome face and tall figure.”

Seeing how Sumire was blushing from Yusuke’s haiku, Ryuji opened his mouth, ready to fire back, loaded with jealousy.

“Your hair is—“

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

The loud, continuous buzzing from Ryuji’s and Sumire’s phones snapped everyone’s attention.

Ryuji unlocked it. With just one look at the screen, his face went pale immediately. Without a word, he shut it down—shoved it deep into his pocket. 

Ren tried to sneak a peek, but the angle was terrible. A shame. 

What did Ryuji see that terrified him that badly? A hacker threat? Blackmail? His internet history? 

If Morgana were here, he would probably cackle at the blonde’s suffering. Ren almost missed the sound. 

Meanwhile, Sumire sniffled a laugh while looking at her phone, cheeks pinkened. Must be something cute. Like Morgana’s picture. Probably.

Ryuji stayed quiet after that. Everyone gave Ryuji a concerned look—except Sumire, who was still occupied by her phone.

Ann blinked. “Uh… you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He muttered, voice cracking.

Akechi tapped on Ryuji’s shoulder with just his index finger, then leaned in to whisper. Was he being cautious… or was there an unknown listener? Like Niijima?

“You’ll be fine… as long as your interest in Sumire stays strictly platonic.”

He exhaled, his gaze shifting from Ryuji to Sumire’s phone.

“Someone’s jealous.”

Before Ren could ask Akechi who this jealous person was, Sumire looked up from her phone, clapping her hands.

“Alright, everyone. Let's gooo! So for this match…” Completely unaware of the tension from Ryuji, she explained the Gun About’s match like a seasonal gaming YouTuber. Her confidence had bloomed from the acknowledgment of her senpais, further elated by the mesmerising rosy poetry from the eccentric artist.

The rules were fair with the hand-holding continuation. Ren had practised holding a warm coffee cup, replaying yesterday’s hand scenarios over and over and over again. The rough touch shouldn’t flip his heart upside down this time. He’d already cleared the hand-level. He even touched Akechi’s lips. It should be easy, he told himself. It’s just skin-to-skin contact. It shouldn’t fluster him anymore. 

(He prayed that the practice rounds were good enough.)

Still, her gaming knowledge was suspiciously detailed for someone who focused only on gymnastics. Did she have a gamer friend feeding her intel? Or did she simply do her research?

Everyone nodded in agreement—well, except for Ryuji, who brooded in the corner, looking longingly at Sumire.

Ren said nothing. He’d investigate after the match was finished.

[17:17 – Surveillance Log: Alibaba’s Command Centre]

Futaba squealed loudly at the image of Sumire blushing in a pink beret. The iconic hat had arrived fast, thanks to express shipping. A bit costly(bye-bye snack allowance), but it was totally worth it!

“Sumi-tto Sumi-tto Sumi Sumi~♡”

She sang cheerfully, waving her hands in idol-cheering style—then switched tabs, stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth. Satisfied with the poor himbo’s reaction on-screen, Futaba cackled loud enough to scare her monitor.

Target Skull’s status: Terrified to death. Soul’s confirmed to exist body.

A wise hacker once said: The dirtier the internet browsing history, the more effective the 'reminder’. Futaba simply followed the proverb—delivered a well-timed memory nuke. Her ultimate weapon in the war of love against a potential rival.

This epic gamer had way too many hours logged in dating sims. A low-level obstacle like jock-himbo should have been a tutorial boss. 

Maybe deploying a distraction… like Detective Princess (aka Niijima-senpai) wasn’t a bad idea after all. A kind-hearted protagonist should help her rival find a different love interest. That would guarantee Futaba’s route to the true happy ending.

[Update: Mission Objectives]

• Assist Detective Princess and Skull in their romantic union
• Clear potential rival flag

Anyway, she needed to focus on the game set for this match. She monitored everything through Alibaba's surveillance systems. Akeya's shipping mission came first. Detective Princess deployment… could wait.

[Camera feed: Ren and Akechi locked in full focus, fingers on triggers in the middle of the Gun About game]

Crow wore his usual deadpan expression as he moved with deadly precision—clean and calculated headshots.

Joker drew his gun with a smirk, relying on instinct and speed—enemies dropped before they even fully spawned.

Both gamers have different play styles and strengths. Yet their scores stayed neck and neck. They could be a true equal power couple. Well… that was it if they stopped their weird homoerotic shounen rivalry. 

Futaba blinked hard, pushing her glasses up. Could she picture herself joining the group next time? Being in a romantic relationship with Sumire, flexing her gamer skills, eating crepes, laughing, joking, and taking pictures together? Would they accept her? 

She shook her head. No more distracted thoughts. Eyes on screen, she observed the match with the intensity of a hawk.

Wait—

Did Joker’s eyes just glow red? A glitch? A camera error?…Or some kind of cheat vision? Like Superman's laser eyes or the weird gaming X-Ray vision.

She blinked again. The red eyes were nowhere to be seen. Just another sleep-deprived hallucination, like usual, probably. She should have gone to bed earlier instead of… surveilling the targets. Maruki wouldn’t be happy if she didn’t follow a proper schedule again.

Another head shake, harder this time, she hugged her knees to herself even tighter.

Focus. Futaba—Alibaba. Mission first. Prioritise them. No more distracting thoughts. Time to spice up the match. There would be no progression if their focus were only on the game, not on each other. She texted Violet.

Futaba: Love Agent Violet, they are immune to hand-holding. Time to up the ante. Increase their body contact, just say to nerf their aim.

Sumire: Okay!

“Um… Let's pause the game to add another special rule. How about…”

On the screen, Violet’s cheek was dusted pink with the same shade as her beret—unable to continue. Cute, Futaba’s mind supplied. What was so embarrassing about explaining the body touching rule? It was a valid, tactical strategy according to reliable animated sources (aka Featherman).

“...body-touching to—um—nerf your rival’s aim. I mean, limit it. No direct sabotage, like pushing the gun away. Just—just having increased body contact—to restrict the opponents’ movement.” She said finally, almost tripping over her words.

As soon as Sumire finished, Joker's glasses fogged up, yet they couldn’t hide his blush. Meanwhile, Crow kept his neutral face, but his shaky hand gave away his nervousness.

Targets’ status: Flustered. Tension: Delicious, can smell it from behind the screen.

S-tier suggestion. Alibaba was a natural at this matchmaking game. With her surveillance skills maxed out, she was unstoppable.

They reluctantly pushed themselves against each other, eyes darting away. Futaba cheered, whistling at the sight of Crow missing his aim and Joker’s sneaky look at his rival. Doki doki! Please fall in love already! She chanted. Panther laughed at their reaction. Sumire hid her giggle. Fox sketched their intense expressions like it were a life-or-death drama. (Could Futaba have a peek? The screen was way too blurry.) 

Meanwhile, Skull still looked at Sumire quietly in the corner, unbothered by the over-the-top rivalry. 

Sorry, Skull, can’t give up Sumire. But I feel you.

Still, watching Joker and Crow’s awkward tension gave her that same slow-burn romance vibe she loved—until they suddenly locked back onto the game, dead serious again. Too focused on “one-upping” each other, as they so-called. 

Body-touching rule? Completely forgotten. Romantic tension? Still buried under eleven layers of rivalry and pride.

She slumped back with a sigh. Ugh, wrong genre. No new reaction. No romantic chemistry explosion. Nothing between them had changed. 

Just another draw. Another silent battle of tolerance. A contest of who could bury their feelings deeper. Maybe they were better actors than lovers, or rivals as they so-called. Like that anime where romance became psychological warfare.

Time for the Great Alibaba to change strategy. 

Futaba: Change of game, Love Agent Violet, maybe Dance Dance Revolution?

Futaba: A change of environment = A change of feeling?

Futaba: No combo count, so Crow can have a chance to win?

Sumire let out a sigh, a bit too soft to catch with a casual eye. She then tilted her head, twisting the end of her hair.

“Umm… maybe we could settle this with something else? How about a dance battle?” She then pointed at the Dance Dance Revolution machine. “Yes, this game. Everyone shall be the judge? The combo doesn’t count. More fun this way!” 

Ann nudged Akechi’s shoulder with a wink. “You definitely can’t beat Ren in dancing. Renren is an expert.”

“I can vouch for that, too. Renren is an expert dancer!” Ryuji added.

Akechi raised a brow at Ann’s and Ryuji’s claim—he looked at Ren with interest.

“I’m not an expert in dancing, but I won’t lose to Ren.”

Ren pushed up his glasses with a teasing grin. Joker’s mode on.

“It’s my showtime!”

With dramatic flair, he twirled on his feet. He pulled down his glasses and gave Akechi a wink. 

Futaba squeaked at the flirt.

“Dramatic as always,” Akechi rolled his eyes. 

Sumire cheered, “Game on! Free Style DDR!”

Futaba cackled. This is getting good. She dashed to the kitchen for more popcorn. A dance battle between two rivals? Romance level-up incoming. No doubt.

Goro and Ren ended up battling to the infamous Jazz song that Goro knew by heart. A small advantage, but not enough to guarantee a win. 

(Is winning truly the point?)

According to Ren, a slow-paced rhythm game was challenging since the notes were harder to hit more accurately. But it wasn’t like the combo points were counted, anyway. 

Goro opened with forceful, deliberate stomps—revealing his true nature. A jarring contrast to the smooth beat. Meanwhile, Ren matched his every step, tiptoeing on the dagger edge—even in Joker’s tall boots. Had he really brought a pair with him? Goro wondered. A quiet, graceful performance that never tried to outshine, despite its brilliance. A reflected mirage, a mirrored duet, opposite and yet perfectly in sync. An invitation from a partner to a partner, a dancer to a dancer.

Admittedly, Ren’s dance was... mesmerising. A force of attraction that Goro’s eyes failed to resist. Like the whole arcade belonged to just the two of them in that moment. A yearning that was never voiced. A secret he kept for himself.

The music wrapped around them like an invisible red thread—pulling the two souls together at the pinky tips. The game was a dance, but the dance was a silent confession beneath every step.

This isn’t a competition, but a partnership. I see what's beneath your mask, past the wall of ego. You moved my heart with your actions. So, I respond now, with every spin, every flourish on this dazzling board just for you. Do you understand what I’m saying without words? Can you see what is truly behind the steps? Can you finally drop your mask? 

Can I call you… by your first name?

Goro’s lips twitched, curling just slightly. It was impractical and imperfect… but it was real.

Is this what it feels like? To have someone who truly wants to understand you? Someone whom you can see a part of yourself reflected in reverse?

All his bitterness had hardened into armour. He’d forged a stronger mask to survive: the perfect prince, the calm tutor, the soft-spoken student. No one liked the real him, the one with a sharp tongue, the biting wit and unfiltered spite.

Ren smiled back at him, equally crooked. A matching bare, vulnerable side from the curly-haired boys. His heart rhythm sped up despite the song’s slow beat. His wall couldn’t help but crumble at the haunting, mysterious gaze—the same one that crept up at any chance he let his guard down. 

Is it okay to… let Ren in?

The slow dance finally ended with an outro. What matters most is how you bring joy to life… and Goro would live true to it. Living in this moment, no need to overthink things. 

He had decided what he wanted to do.

They ended a dance with a well-timed bow and breathless laugh. Everyone clapped and cheered. It was so loud that it attracted all the Arcade’s patrons' attention. 

Sumire’s doe eyes gleamed dreamily at Ren and Goro.

“That was beautiful!” she exclaimed.

Ryuji nodded at Sumire’s comment, still looking at the two dancers. Their dance move made him forget about his new crush.

Ann said thoughtfully. “I agree. So hard to decide on the winner. I thought Ren would win… but you both overwhelmed the dance board.” 

“The true beauty of the duet is how their moves complement each other. Judging them separately is unjust. I propose a draw. Not because one was better, just the dance was simply incomplete without each other.” Kitagawa voiced his artistic critique.

“Alright, our final verdict… Another draw! Are you happy with the result?” Sumire said.

They both nodded and high-fived. The dance was admittedly fun… more than “one-upping” the infamous Joker. He doesn’t mind doing it again. 

Maybe… Rivalry isn’t war, but a journey of trust and understanding. It’s soon time for that question.

Event: Gun Duel and Dance Duet 🔫🕺 🕺 

Notes for future selves:

• The key to romance… is not physical touch, but emotional resonance?
• Joker and Crow were having fun. Not flustered as planned… but progress nonetheless!

[Game Result Announcement from Love Agent Alibaba]

“The result of the Gun duel and Dance duet… An overwhelming victory for everyone. Skull, good luck with your love quest next time! You simply picked the wrong opponent!”

Love Agent Violet: Eh? Love-quest? Wait—does Skull like Panther? Or… Fox??

Ren was still giddy from the dance duet as they walked home from the arcade, daydreaming of Akechi’s dance move. Ryuji stretched his arms and sighed dramatically, adding to the conversation.

“Man, I’ve got the worst luck with girls. Maybe I should join an idol group or something. Just to be more popular.” 

Ann snickered. “Sure, Ryuji. I can introduce you to my agent. Maybe you can dress as a girl—”

Ryuji protested immediately. “Stop your track right there! I want to win girls—fair and square. As a man, you know.” 

Everyone laughed at Ryuji’s honest, flustered reaction. Ren wouldn’t mind being a girl just to win someone’s heart, though.

Ryuji continued with a beaming grin, puffing his chest. 

“Or I should just say I’m a Phantom Thief. You know, the cool hero group everyone admires—”

“Sakamoto-kun, isn't it?” 

His words dropped as soon as Niijima interrupted them. The Detective Princess walked up, looking straight at the big-mouthed thief. Guilty as claimed, loudly.

The air shifted. Sumire paled. Yusuke stiffened. Ann frowned. Akechi kept his face neutral. Ren shifted on high alert, ready to counter.

All eyes were locked on the student council president. No one uttered a word. 

Silence.

Ryuji swallowed hard. He nodded, sweating profusely. 

Unbothered, she folded her arms and continued. “So you’ve admitted it,” she said flatly. “You’re a Phantom Thief. Is that your confession?”

“What—No,” Ryuji stuttered, “I mean—no. I just said I’m a big fan of the Phantom Thieves.”

Even while trembling with fear, Ryuji still blushed—struck again by another sweet-but-dangerous girl. His eyes flicked from her strong, toned arms to her sharp, dissecting stare—then darted away just as fast. The match-making angel clearly had no mercy.

Ann stepped forward, planting herself between Ryuji and Niijima, hands balled tightly. Her voice cracked like an Agi Spell—bitter, blazing, and unforgiving. The same one she’d used on Shadow Kamoshida.

“What is your business with us? Ain’t you oh-so busy with your so-called ‘student council president duties’? Or is this another one of your little investigations, Detective Princess ?” 

The mocking hit like a slap. Nijima’s face flushed red at the nickname—a fitting one for the prissy, nosy student council president that Ren had dubbed.

Akechi snorted. Ren caught the reaction and smiled smugly. Naming approved.

But something was off. Ann wouldn’t be that angry unless it was about Shiho… or something that cut even deeper. What had truly happened between them?

Niijima recovered and countered, nearly spitting at Ann.

“Then explain this. Why are you with Kitagawa Yusuke? The last known student of Madarame, the latest Phantom Thieves’ victims.” 

Akechi stepped in front of Ann, wearing that same composed mask, mocking politeness with an icy tone.

“Kitagawa drew Ann for a school project. We had a hot pot party. Things snowballed from there—just a group of high school friends hanging out. Are you so lonely that you have to bother us, Niijima-san?”

Niijima flinched but didn’t back down. She replied coldly. “Just making observations.”

Sumire straightened, finally breaking free from the chain of silence.

“They came at my invitation,” she said quietly but firmly. “Niijima-senpai, please stop accusing them. Ryuji-senpai only made a joke.”

Niijima narrowed her eyes at Sumire. The timid but determined kouhai refused to back away from the intense gaze. They stayed like that for a while—

Until Niijima looked away with a sigh.

“…I see, I apologise for interrupting your hang-out. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

The Detective Princess then turned and walked off. 

And yet the heavy tension remained.

Sumire had been brave to stand up for them. But was that all it was? Did she… know?

Still, they should be more discreet. Couldn’t risk the Detective Princess sniffing out the truth. Especially not when her sister was the one investigating the Phantom Thieves.

Event: Defend against the Detective Princess.⚔️👸 

Notes for future selves: 

• The match-making plan with Skull and Detective Princess backfired. Oops. 
• Detective Princess caused so much drama… What should we do?

[Secure Channel: Operation: KouhaiWatch] 

Sumire: Let's add Dr. Maruki to the operation. He might help with… Niijima-senpai’s situation.  

Futaba: 😔 Yeah… or we’ll have to cancel the auditorium battle.  

Futaba: I’ll try to distract her with a fake thread, dragging her investigation out.  

Futaba added Dr. Maruki to the group chat.  

Maruki: Oh, hello there, Futaba, Sumire. Do you need me for something?  

Futaba: Welcome to Operation: KouhaiWatch, Maruki!  

Futaba: Your new codename is Dr. Snacc 🍫 This is Love Agent Alibaba (me). Sumire is Love Agent Violet 💜  

Sumire: We need your help to get Detective Princess (Niijima-senpai) to make peace with Joker Bond (Ren-senpai) and Grey Crow (Akechi-senpai).  

Maruki: Wait, hold on. What’s this operation? Code names?? Is this another gaming quest?  

Futaba sent “Akeya: Love is Rivalry.doc  

Maruki: …I see. So I’m helping them make up with Detective Princess. But—I’m not forcing them into a relationship. That’s… not right.  

Futaba: We know, we know. Just help patch things up!  

Futaba: I know you secretly ship them though 😏 (Your secret’s safe with us, btw.)  

Sumire: Thank you, Dr. Snacc! We owe you a big one! 

Maruki: Wait, how did you know Alibaba?

Futaba: The usual way, Dr. Snacc

Maruki: I’m glad I’m not your enemy… I’ll try my best.

Maruki’s office was the same as ever, shelved with notes and snacks. However, the atmosphere dropped to a few degrees as Goro glared at Nijima, who sat directly across from him. Ren observed them quietly while Maruki gathered his notes.

Whatever Niijima’s plans or motives were, Goro hated them all. This good girl pushed over has been following him everywhere like a lost puppy—not a hunting hound as she thought of herself. For example:

• Shujin: his shared lunch and tutoring session with his kouhais (Ren, Ann, Ryuji, sometimes Sumire).
• Memory Lanes: just doing his job, helping his mother out.
• Inokashira Park: his biking session & jogging with Ryuji and Ren.
• Le Blanc: his relaxing time with his coffee and his favourite barista. (How dare she!)

Hiding behind a plant pot? Wearing shady glasses and a moustache with a female Shujin’s uniform? Not bothered with a hat? Or a wig? Walking directly behind the targets with no discretion? 

These attempts were horrible and idiotic, as judged by someone who once infiltrated the Phantom Thieves by cross-dressing—so flawlessly that he had an unhinged harem flirting at his teeth. Seriously. He rolled his eyes internally. She might as well yell: ‘Hello? I’m a stalker. Just pretend that I’m not here.’

And yet, he and Ren had to undergo a “friendship reconciliation” session with her under Maruki’s guidance. Maruki requested, and Goro wouldn’t decline. He might be Maruki at school, but he is also Maruji at home.

Maruki, as kind as usual, offered Hi-Chew, chips and soft drinks. To his disappointment, no one touched the offering. All eyes continued to lock on each other in dead silence.

Maruki coughed, voiced his professional therapist’s concern that Goro knew too well.

“Let’s talk about any... misunderstandings. You first,… Akechi-kun.”.

Goro narrowed his eyes at Niijima, voice sharp enough to dissect the student council president.

“Explain why you followed us, Niijima-san. And what's up with the Phantom Thieves accusation? I thought we were… acquaintances. On friendly terms, at least.”

Ren pushed his huge fake glasses up. The light flare hid his irritated expression. Classic tic.

Niijima sweated bullets, losing all her usual bravado. An official authority’s presence, like Maruki, was very effective on the lawful, pretentious social harasser.

“I just happened to pass by… and you all ran, so I… ran after you. That’s all.”

Sick of her made-up bullshit, Goro slammed pictures of Niijima's ‘allegedly stalking’ on the table. He wasn’t a sloppy investigator like a certain someone.

She stammered. “ It—it was really a coincidence. I just happened to pass by.”

“With an upside-down comic book?” Ren raised his brow, clearly not convinced.

Her eyes darted away, then she finally replied.

“…Reading upside down improves imagination. It’s… a practice routine.”

“Right, it’s not like you’re nosy on our business, obviously,” Goro said flatly.

Goro gave more evidence of her mischief, but she kept denying it all. The argument never stopped. Maruki tried to intervene but had no luck. No apology or admission on Niijima’s side. Until—

“Fine, I have evidence of Sakamoto admitting himself to be the Phantom Thief? I suspect you all are involved. Are you happy now?” She finally snapped.

Of course, the day would come when Sakamoto got them caught. What a surprise! 

Ren jolted, slightly rattled at her words. 

Joker just got betrayed by his teammate! Ha, imagine how that feels! Goro mused.

Still, how dare she prey on them? They’re his, not hers, to toy with.

“Ryuji Sakamoto obviously wanted to brag. It’s his ‘charming’ tactic to get girls, apparently. I can’t believe you believe him and investigate us just for that, Detective Princess.” He deflected with a half-truth, half-mock. His signature move.

Her eyes went wide, mouth agape. An amateur detective wannabe got misled easily. A shame. Even Ann would’ve seen through that.

“Well, he seemed very convincing when he claimed so. I… apologised for my unbecoming actions.” She said, finally. 

Then, they shook hands, making a mutual agreement: She stopped harassing them, and they wouldn’t call her Detective Princess or be hostile. Maruki breathed out a sigh of relief. The Niijima drama stopped… for now.

Right, Goro needed to keep an eye on her and contact a certain hacker to… eliminate the evidence she gathered. As an insurance measure. 

In the background, the Shujin’s students murmured as they peeked through Maruki’s windows.

“Guys, did you just see Amamiya, Akechi and Nijima arguing in Dr. Maruki's office?” Students A acclaimed.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that too. I wonder what it’s all about…” Student B replied.

Mishima shook his head and chased them away. He couldn’t let the rumours affect the Phantom Thieves. They were his saviour, after all.

Ren’s phone buzzed. A text from the group chat from Sumire and Akechi.

Group chat: Royal Gaming Trio 🎮👑❤️

Sumire: I have exciting news! The auditorium is now officially booked and approved for the pop quiz game show this Friday. 

Sumire: I am the main organiser for this actually. Would you like to join as participants? 

Sumire: This will be the highlight of your competition if you want to join. No pressure!

Ren: Sure, I will join Sumire-chan.

Ren: What about you, Sugar-senpai? Can you beat me in trivia?

Akechi: I wouldn’t say no, of course. Not when you challenged me, Coffee-kouhai.

Akechi: Also, @Ren Amamiya meet me at Jazz Jin at 7 PM. Alone.

Akechi: I sent you the address. Have some business to be taken care of before I can come.

Ren: Deal! I’ll see you soon, my prince.

Sumire: Have fun, senpai!

Ren’s thumb hovered over the keyboard, tempted to type and ask on the spot. He stopped himself in time. 

Alone? Is Akechi going to… confess? Like the morning glory’s bouquet? Or… something more?

A dozen possibilities played out in his head. Ren’s heart sped up in rhythm. He really couldn’t wait for tonight. 

Ren wore his best casual outfit, the one that his professional maid/homeroom teacher washed and ironed. He arrived at Jazz Jin on time, and yet Akechi was nowhere to be found. Weird. What had kept him so busy that he was late?

Ren sent a text to Fumiyo to check on Morgana.

Ren: How are you doing, Fumiyo-san? And Morgana, too? 🐈‍⬛ ❤️ 

Fumiyo: We’re doing well! Morgana’s doing an excellent job of attracting customers.

Fumiyo: He’s gotten a little… chonky. Maybe too many snacks?

Fumiyo: I’ll try my best to help him in shape again. Mommy’s promise!

Ren snorted. Morgana would be so upset if someone called him “chonky” in addition to “cat”. 

Ren: 😹 Please don’t call him that! (I love the nickname, though.)

Fumiyo: No problem, it’s a secret between us, then. 😉 

Fumiyo: Things get a bit busy, so I forgot to ask. Did you see anything strange happen to the key on Morgana’s neck? The one I gave you?

Fumiyo: Morgana took good care of it, by the way. A loyal feline partner!

Is there a good answer for this without outright saying: ‘My cat is not actually a cat but a guy. He can talk and fight in the magic world. The key glowed and warmed up like a lightsaber when it helped him pick the locks. Oh, and he can turn into a bus and has a crush on a human girl, too. Nothing’s too weird about this.’  

A mini-truth will do.

Ren: Not sure, I had a lot of good luck thanks to it. Lucky key for lucky cat!

Fumiyo: Nice! Also, have fun with your date with Goro-chan, lucky boy!

A hand tapped Ren’s shoulder. 

“What are you smiling for?” 

Akechi stood in front of him in Shujin’s uniform. What had kept Akechi so occupied that he had no time to change into his casual clothes? 

“Just texted your mom. She’s very sweet. And funny,” Ren replied with a smile. 

“Of course she is. Let’s just go in.” 

Akechi grabbed Ren’s hand, dragging him downstairs. The warmth lingered on Ren’s hand even after he let go. 

They sat in the middle of the bar. The jazzy tune wrapped around the place with its gentle, melancholic hug. Only a handful of patrons visited, giving the bar an intimate, almost secret feel. It reminded Ren of Le Blanc. Not just the cozy, vintage atmosphere, but the charming uniqueness to it. Even the owner, Muhen, had the dry-but-secretly-caring vibe like Sojirou. No wonder this place became Akechi’s personal favourite.

Akechi took a sip, then said softly, almost sophistically.

“Since all the matches so far ended in draws… Let's fulfil both of our conditions early. It’s not like our duel will end, isn’t it?”

Ren nodded. A win-win condition. He didn’t want their duel to end. He was also curious about what Akechi wanted to ask.

Akechi looked away, continued in a whisper. “You can call me Goro. Just in private… when it’s just us two. Can’t let… others call me that yet.” 

He tried the name on his tongue, officially, finally. 

“Goro-senpai…” 

He blushed, holding off his giddy mood. His patience had paid off.

Akechi—no, Goro stirred his drink slowly. Resting his chin on his hand, he said thoughtfully.

“This is my question for you...”

Ren held his breath. He could feel his heart beating against his chest.

“…Why did you call me Akira Kurusu?”

A vulnerable, quiet beat. 

The question wasn’t just a question. It was a confession and invitation of trust and understanding. A layer of secrecy was revealed. 

Goro knew that Ren knew. A name for a name. Truth for truth. Ren answered the question honestly.

“It’s a name that I would have if I followed my mother after the divorce. Well, if she’s still there… or alive.” 

A moment of silence. 

Akira Kurusu was something very personal that Ren hadn’t shared with anyone, even before his probation in Tokyo.

“Akira Akechi has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I don’t mind changing my name to that.” He joked to lighten the mood. 

Goro choked a little on his drink, then regained his composure.

“You’re fine as Ren Amamiya. Actually… it suits you more than you realise.”

He continued swirling his drink absently, as if gathering his words in the concoction of thought.

“Ren for lotus, a symbol of purity and cleansing. Amamiya for a rain shrine, a sacred and spiritual image. A fitting name for a thoughtful, patient, reliable and sincere person. Someone who stands up for justice, fighting for himself and others. Something… Akira Kurusu doesn’t quite describe all of that about you.”

He looked at Ren, his dark brown eyes lightened by the dim light of the bar.

“You have that effect. You listen and observe. You act when it matters. That’s who you are. Not some delinquent. Not Joker. Just… Ren Amamiya.”

He glanced away again, added finally.

“Ren Amamiya is the truest name to your character… I like it.”

Ren smiled at that. Goro must have given this a lot of thought. This was an acknowledgement from Goro. He stayed true to his words ever since they first met. 

I prefer to judge people on what I see, not what I hear.

Ren raised his empty cup. “Thank… want another drink?”

“Sure, Ren,” Goro called Muhen for another drink.

They stayed up in Jazz Jin, talking about everything and nothing at all. Their rivalry competition was still ongoing, but the deal was fulfilled early. Was this result planned from the very beginning?

First-name sub-quest cleared. Justice Arcana ranked up!

Chapter Text

“Bye, mother! Sorry—late for school."

Goro shoves a toast into his mouth, grabs his bag, and dashes through the door—Whoosh! All the paperworks is up in the air like live-action movie confetti. Dramatic and flashy as always! She giggles at the leftover mess from the whirlwind of a performance. Those are the paperworks they have worked tirelessly on together. On the counter, Morgana lies flat, snoozing his way through the flashy show.

Are cats meant to be sensitive to sound? Jumping on the subtlest whisperer?

…Well, Morgana is technically not a cat. Not when he softly nudges her during his catnap.

The stage light of the morning play passes through the window’s curtain—illuminating her never-changing brown hair. A few wrinkles on her weathered skin are highlighted. A subtle glimpse into her shrunken eyes, despite the layers of makeup.

She finishes her breakfast on a single chair at a table of four. Her little crow has flown away, leaving the raven mother waiting in solitude. With only her, the nest is too barren, too empty. She misses the other presence—the one who was too late to save. Can she protect everyone this time? If only she had stepped out sooner…

She catches herself, lips tightening. What-ifs can never change the present or the future.

She sighs. No time for fleeting thoughts. She hums a familiar tune from the distance past. A melody from someone who was no longer here.

Que será, será.
Whatever will be, will be 
The future's not ours to see…

She casts her magic—a familiar motion of washing, cleaning, dusting and wiping.

In a blink, the kitchen is spotless. Everything belongs where it should be. A skilful mother doesn’t need the three fairies or eight mice for help.

Well… perhaps the soft purring of a magic feline makes the work less lonely. Purring has been scientifically proven to promote self-healing. Black cat is—indeed—the symbol of hope.

Time to clean up Goro’s room, as she has promised. Hoping he doesn’t mind a little bit of snooping. What could hold Morgana back from snagging a dangling piece of fatty tuna? What could stop a curious mom from checking her son’s secrets? Irresistible!

Swish! Swept! Squeak!

Only a book's left on the floor. She picks it up, flipping it with a grin.

A picture of Ren making coffee with a little smile? And a dried camellia from their first de-date, too? How sweet of him to keep it in good condition!

Let’s put the book back on the investigation shelves, or so-called by Grey Crow the Mastermind. Honestly, it looks more like a rain shrine dedicated to the pure Ren Amamiya. An obsessive, loving collection of a very devoted, slightly obsessive fan. Or—in anime terms—a private obsessive collection of a yandere investigator who couldn’t stop looking into his only target.

The said board is filled with the luck—or unlucky—kouhai’s miscellaneous. Lost items, maybe? And—A tuft of curly black hair tied into a red ribbon? How sweet and endearing.

Seriously, her son should stop denying his feelings. Who would keep a topless snapshot of Ren applying sunscreen at the beach?

…And why does that particular picture have a white smear across it? Highly suspicious.

As a good mom—no as a dutiful assistant, she should end her son’s tormenting feelings. Let’s start by helping them spend more time together. Purely professional interest. Not personal at all.

She revises her devious plan. No one has yet caught on to her mischief. Not when she’s already in the shadows, hands rubbing together while pulling the strings. Or phone. To give instructions to a certain kouhai.

Fumiyo: Hello, lucky kouhai, how was your date at Jazz Jin?
Ren: It’s been nice. I have yet to win that duel between us… But he finally lets me call him Goro-senpai! ;)
Fumiyo: Congratulations, Ren-chan! I know you got this! Also, Goro’s birthday is coming soon. I could use extra hands for the surprise party ;). Can you introduce me to your friends for the tasks? ;)
Ren: Leave it to me, Lady Fumiyo. I’ll add you to the group chat. This knight will serve you well. 

She smiles, scrolling through the news while waiting for Ren to send her the contacts. They will be here to help her, Takuto included.

Everything will be fine. She won’t be alone. Not anymore.

Ren paces around the room like a caffeinated cat, as Sojiro has dubbed him. His thoughts swirl around with contrasting ingredients. One clashes with another.

Ummm… Akechi’s birthday is coming soon, and Ren has yet to find a suitable present… What should he give?

Something Featherman-related? But that will out Akechi’s nerdiness.

A drawing? But he is no Yusuke…

Flowers? Ren knows all the blooms well. All have deep meaning and affection.

Another bouquet? Ren’s imaginary Goro sneers. Sentimental fool!

Ren aborts the ideas. Also, the petals can’t last forever, like… his longing and respect for his senpai.

What to do? What to give? Another matching gun? Another pair of gloves?

The clock was ticking. The hand kept moving. Like a cruel countdown to the quest that he had yet to complete. He sighs. He isn’t even sure that Akechi will like it. Maybe he should settle for… this.

He stares at the box he has wrapped.

This will do.

He texts the thieves as Fumiyo requested, like a dutiful knight he is.

Group Chat: Phantom Squad 
Ren: @PhantomThieves Akechi sensei's birthday is coming up! This is Fumiyo Akechi, his mom.
Fumiyo: Hello, you can call me Fumiyo. Easier that way. Will you help me set up the surprise birthday party for Akechi?
Fumiyo: I’ll send the address to my place. 
Ann: OMG, it totally slipped my mind. 
Ann: I’ll help you, Fumiyo-san! 😀
Ann: Need to hurry up and buy a gift, too
Ryuji: ‘Course. I’ll always help a mother in need! I owe him for my passing the exam anyway.
Yusuke: You can leave the decorative task to me, Fumiyo-san. I bought these new ribbons, which are perfect for the occasion.
Yusuke: Also, Fumiyo-san, can you be the model for my next school project? The topic is about maternal love. All I wish to do is to observe how you interact with your son.
Yusuke: I want to understand why my mother smiled at me that way... I couldn’t remember anything about her. All I have left is her last painting.
Ann: Oh, Yusuke… 
Ryuji: 😭Yusuke, my bro. I’ll hug you
Ren: 🤗 
Fumiyo: You must have been through a lot, Kitagawa-kun. Of course, I would love to help. 
Fumiyo: We can start the modelling after this party. Just direct message me.
Yusuke: Thank you, everyone. I’m not sad. Her gentle look confused me. I want to know the true meaning of it.
Ann: ofc Yusuke, you’re welcome 😇 
Fumiyo: Hmmm, also, can you find a way to distract him, Ren-kun? Can’t let him find out about this.
Ren: A coffee lesson, maybe? It’s my turn to be the sensei? XD
Fumiyo: Haha, I like that. I leave it up to you, Ren-chan~
Fumiyo: Now, everyone. So here is the plan.
…

The bell rings, marking the end of the class. The students bother him with question after question, request after request. Akechi-san, what is the answer to this problem? They follow up. How do you solve this? They inquire. Your type of girl? Do you want to hang out with us after school?

What an annoying gargle of flies! They're only interested in his fake bullshit prince-like image. They can’t see his other Loki side—all bitter, sharp and pointed. They don’t even try. Don’t bother to care. All are empty gestures on the surface. He replies to them all with a pitch-perfect, practised smile. No, thank you. A tad bit too sharp like his blade.

Fake. They are all fake. All these fakers are playing the game of social etiquette. They are all bitter poison behind honey-like sing-song words. No trace of sincerity. Only vanity and selfish desire.

And yet, a kouhai shows up. I want to know the person beneath the mask, he whispered. Our duel isn't over yet. A voice full of determination. A wish to know. He observes. He stays within the boundary, always waiting.

A small step to open that door, Goro offered a name. A key to his trust. Let's see, said kouhai soon. 

Grabbing his books, he strikes out of the classroom—pointing, ignoring all these sycophants. They aren’t worthy of his time or efforts. He goes through things that have been on his mind.

Right, the Niijima stalking incident. He had been so occupied with that investigation that he woke up late. They made a deal; she had been minding her own business. No clumsy stalking detected. And so have they respected her, no name-calling. 

Still, he wants to find her reasoning behind this. Can’t let her knock off the phantom thieves of the board —his soon-to-be chess pieces. 
He made a trip to the palace yesterday for the Shujin principal for interrogation. With Crow’s sharp glare, the Humpty Dumpty shadow cracked under the pressure. 
“It’s not me—I promised!” It stuttered, yolks spilled, scrambled with fear.

The egghead principal was off the suspect list.

(That trip made him late to Jazz Jin’s meeting with Ren. Damn it! But that wasn’t the main point.)

According to his hacker lackey’s information, Nijima has a clear interest in the Shibuya blackmail case. Does the good-girl pushover finally have the balls to stick up for the poor, threatened students? Maybe her friends are part of this. Or she simply grew a conscience overnight. Finally regretting her sin of apathy and ignorance—trying to fix the fence after the pervert Kamosida’s castle was set ablaze by Ann’s fury.

Her stalking might have stopped, sure—but her ongoing, lingering hawk-eyed gaze on Ren is extremely irritating. How does Goro notice? Well, he has eyes—her un-pheasant up-and-down eye movement lacks all tactical discretion. This is a clear case of sexual harassment by ocular assault. The victim—Ren Amamiya—is clearly uncomfortable, disturbed… and pretending not to notice, like the peak-perfect Joker he is.

Why do people normalise this behaviour for females? Truly, society is rotten—if Niijima can ogle Ren without consequence. This is ill-eagle—

BAM!

Everything flies off. Books, gloves, pen, pineapple, apple strudel, and—another pen? (Where does the pineapple come from? And why does the rhythm feel so cursed?)

“...Goro senpai?”

Ren lies on top of him, glasses askew. Their bodies touch. Their eyes meet. Their breaths exchange. Goro felt the heat, the sweat, the heartbeat. He feels dizzy from the sensations.

His body stays on the floor. But his heart rate? Completely goes off the roof.

For a mere second, the globe stops spinning.

The world is Ren Amamiya. Ren Amamiya is his world. Only Ren. Ren Amamiya.

The heat creeps up. His ears pinked. They stay frozen in time.

The students flock around them, cawing and clucking at the commotion—birds of a feather, squawking together.

“Are they fighting again?”

“Who do you think will win? The Shujin prince or the knight delinquent?”

“I bet on the delinquent. He’s already had a track record!”

Snap awake from the daze, Goro quickly pushes Ren away—fixing his shirt and tie. They cough, both looking away nervously.

Rolling his eyes internally, Goro quickly picks up everything on the floor.

“Let’s go, Ren. To Leblanc?” He suggests.

Ren nods, face still flushed.

They leave the scene in a hurry. And yet the rumour still brews in the background. A cauldron of gossip and speculation.

The train is rolling on its track. The carriage is jam-packed with students. They stand next to the door, side by side. The tension still thickens from the previous… collision. They tighten their lips, looking away until—

“Are you interested in making coffee yourself? I can teach you.” Ren asks, looking at Goro.

“Not really, isn’t there a point to learn?” Goro replies. Ren could always make coffee for Goro. Just for him. He could keep an eye on Ren that way.

“Well, if you can make it, maybe we can compete over it.”

Goro isn’t confident in anything kitchen-related. He nearly burnt the kitchen down last time from the pancake attempt—or black flop, a more appropriate name.

Uhm, it’s edible… The not-burnt part. His mother commented, full of compassion.

Still, with Ren's supervision, it should be okay, right?

“Sure. It’s a deal then,” he says.

Goro shakes Ren's hand. In the worst-case scenario, he’s going to wing it.

The conversation drifts to Ren explaining the basics of coffee. Something about moistening the coffee’s ground with a drizzle before the real brew. His thought slips, what he sees isn’t the words formed from Ren’s lips but the moisture. They glisten as he licks his lip. 

What is it like to touch them? To devour them? Soft? 

As he’s just about to lean in—he quickly grabs the pole, successfully stopping himself from the urge. That was… dangerous.

The train changes the track. The curly bang flicks at the sudden movement—obscuring the glasses. Without thinking, Goro brushes the bang, putting on Ren's ears.

Ren leans into the touch with a soft smile, tugging at the corner. His eyes glint; the cloud reflects on his glasses. Goro can’t look away. His attention’s caught by those soft, long lashes.

Was this what it felt like—to be lost in someone's eyes?

“Distracted?” Ren blinked, said lazily. “What is the ideal temperature for coffee again, Goro-senpai?” 

Goro’s already half-forgotten the theory. “Depends on the blend.” He makes up on the spot, hoping he can get away with this. “Should be lower than boiling temperature for most of them.” 

Let's hope his straight face keeps everything at bay. He can’t afford to let Ren know how close he’d come to unravelling him with a single glance. 

“That was correct, but…” Ren’s smile turns into a wicked smirk. “Distracted by my beauty, Goro-senpai? You didn’t even notice I never taught you that.”

“I simply know a lot. Your so-called beauty isn’t that distracting.” He replies coolly, eyes narrowing, “I have to outsmart Ren-sensei, don’t I?” 

Ren blushes at the Ren-sensei. The steam fogged up his glasses. 

Goro grins viciously at that. He pokes at Ren’s face. 

“Too early for you to play sensei, coffee kohai.” 

“You haven’t graduated from my coffee lesson yet.” Ren pouts. 

And yet he can’t hide the smile creeping up. A tricky but affectionate Cheshire cat’s grin. Goro laughs at that. 

“I’ll be sure to learn everything. Maybe I can even be your personal barista.” 

“I’ll wait for that day then. But let’s continue. So—” Ren explains the coarseness of coffee grind for the drip making method. 

The train continues on its course.  Despite people leaving, they still stand side by side. They haven't yet reached their destination, not when Goro hasn't learnt the theory behind it. He listens, but does his mind truly think about the lesson?

LeBlanc's dots with patrons, like strokes on a quiet painting. While Sojiro serves their orders, Ren guides his barista-in-training.

Goro sighs in defeat while looking at his eleventh attempt.

The coffee doesn’t even look like coffee. The colour comes out as a light brownish; it’s in the same shade as his hair. A bit of the dark ground sank to the end of the cup. A jarring contrast to the lightness of the liquid. 

Is this coffee a representation of himself? A failed attempt with an off-putting smell. An unwanted mistake. A coffee that fails to be a coffee. 

Even the thick cream and sugar can’t mask the wrongness.

He almost laughs at the thought—until Ren grabs the cup and sips anyway.

“I think this can cure scurvy,” he grins. “Anything that tastes sour has vitamin C. It’s practically science.”

Goro smashes Ren and his dumb joke. He clearly didn’t take this seriously. 

(Or did he? Was this his attempt to cheer him up?)

“I see what you did there.”Goro scoffs. “Spit it out before you actually get scurvy from this garbage.”

Sojiro looks up from the counter, chuckling at the two boys. 

“I’ll trust you kids for the cafe. Time to make more curry in a hurry .”

He vanishes into the kitchen. Goro rolls his eyes at the dad’s joke in a fury.

Ren? He laughs like nothing bad had happened. With no worry. Not at all.

Goro dumps the mess in the bin. He wouldn’t waste his time musing over this. Coffee, not coffee or whatever.

Meanwhile, Ren refills the cup with new coffee grounds. A fresh attempt. This time, he keeps his rival senpai closer from behind, nudging his head on Goro’s shoulder. Ren whispers.

“You need to hold the kettle higher and pour more gently.”

He guides his hand up. The water forms a thin line—a nearly invisible one—all buried in the fog from the heat. 

“When the flow is too strong—the water can’t linger on the ground. And thus no flavour comes out.”

Goro shivers at the deep voices. Ren’s hands are still held on Goro’s wrist. The kettle feels much hotter, and yet his skin burns from the human touch. The temperature is warm enough to melt the icy wall over time, with patience. 

They drop the kettle down together. Ren still rests his head on Goro’s shoulder. The liquid drips slowly, reflecting a golden colour like the afternoon sun despite the darkness. One tiny drop at a time—

Until it all builds up to a small pool of coffee. Actual coffee.

At the twelfth attempt, the cup of coffee is—indeed—the coffee in a cup. An achievement that could be held up high in the air. Something to be proud of.

Ren takes a sip.

“Hmm~It’s not bad at all.” He hums, then passes the cup to Goro,” Try it. It’s our combined effort, together.” 

Goro lets out a small smile at the taste. It isn’t perfect... but it isn’t bad. The result somehow tastes sweeter despite the initial bitter note.

“It’s passable. We make a better team than a rivalry, do we?” He replies, finally.

Ren laughs, raising his hand. Goro hits it with a high-five with a chuckle.

Nice!

As if on cue, Sojiro comes back with a big pot of curry. He drops it on the counter with a Thump. He looks at the two of them, grinning.

“Smells good. Can I?”

“Sure, boss!” Ren hands it to Sojiro.

“Not bad.” He chuckles. “Huh. Didn’t think my student would end up better at this than me. Guess all that teaching Akechi stuff was for nothing.”

Goro smiles at the unexpected praise. Making coffee with Ren doesn’t bother him, not even with that infuriatingly smug Joker expression on his face.

Sojiro continues while adding chocolate, a final touch to the curry. 

“Boys, you missed Fumiyo’s call. She asked you guys to come to help the store.”

He then pushes them away with a shoo! “Go, I’ll clean up the store.”

Ren looks at Sojiro with a quick nod. A signal?

“Let go go, Goro-senpai”, he chants, grabbing his usual Shujin bag—which is a bit bigger than usual, oddly enough.

“You and your corny joke.” Goro sneers, but it has no bite.

They walk to the train station hand in hand. A step closer to something more intimate.

The thieves have arrived at Memory Lanes, the infamous miscellaneous store in Kichijochi. Most of the items are stored in cardboard boxes, leaving room for the birthday preparation. Morgana walks out of the room, flicking his tail with his catwalk.

“Lady Ann!” He greets. Ann returns the greeting with a friendly wave. 

Is it just her, or—Morgana looks… rounded? Like a tuxedo fluffy soccer ball.

“Hello, 'been a while—how are you going?”

“All going well. We miss you, Mona.” She holds back a snort. “Fumiyo must have taken care of you well. You look... healthy.”

“Of course! I've gotten fatty tuna every day! Lady Fumiyo is the best mom!” Morgana cheers, completely unaware of her subtle jab.

“You look fat, cat!” Ryuji raises his hand, pointing his finger at Morgana. 

Morgana jumps on the kitchen table, sitting in the chair. He yowls at a plate of salad. 

(Why does this scene look familiar?)

“I’m not fat. You’re skinny because your mom didn’t feed you, Skull!”

As expected, Morgana and Ryuji get into a verbal fight. Loyal dog vs. sassy cat fight. Typical.

Yusuke muses, ignoring the ongoing match.“The roundness strikes the golden ratio perfectly. Where is the canvas? I need to draw this.” 

With a single brush, Yusuke finishes a circle for the body, another for the head. With those lines, people can already tell it was Morgana.

“Stop fat-shaming me!” Morgana cries. “The vet said I'm still in shape.”

“Morgana’s technically a bit overweight. But a good workout at my shop should be A-O-Kay!”

A middle-aged lady who looks like an older female version of Akechi walks up from the counter.

“Oh, right, I’m Fumiyo Akechi-san.” She continues with a bright smile. “Nice to meet you all. Goro's been talking about you. Since we don’t have much time left until they come back—let's hurry! So—“ Fumiyo gives everyone a role. Ann for setting up the food, Ryuji for bringing out the table and chairs, and Yusuke for decorating the place.

Everyone is busy with their task, well, except Morgana, who pretends to be the manager while slacking off. 

When no one’s looking, Ann sneaks a bite of the cake from a hidden spot. She licks the frosting off her lips. Yum~

As if hypnotised by the cake, Ann’s about to get another bite until—

Cough!

Fumiyo gives Ann a side-eye glare—sharp, like Akechi-senpai. But then the look softens immediately with a Ssshhh!

Oh, right, no snacking. 

With a sweet smile, she backs off for the cake.

Fumiyo smiles at Ann. “Good girl”, she whispered. She then turns her back and shouts. 

“Takkun, have you gotten the snacks and drinks for the kids?” 

Maruki pops his head out of the storage room. Wait—why is Dr Maruki here?

“Of course! This is the first time we celebrated Goro’s birthday with such a big group.”

He walks out with a big box of a variety of snacks. He then hands it to Ann.

“Dr Maruki, you know Fumiyo-san?” Ann tilts her head.

“Oh, right—yes,” Maruki stutters, wiping a sweat. “I’m the neighbour. Been helping them out.”

Ann raises her brow at the doctor. Why was he so nervous? It’s not a strange question… Unless?

“Ohhh, do you like… like Fumiyo-San?” Ann winks at Maruki.

He winces at that. “No, it’s not like that. We don’t think of each other that way. She's like a sister to me.”

A sister, huh? Isn’t that more than a neighbour? Ann gave that doctor that look.

Elaborate!

However, Maruki keeps quiet. 

“Okay,” she replies instead of pressing. They really need to finish setting up the party. Quick. The questioning can wait until the next counselling session.

In a flash—she unzips the box—placing all the sweets and chips on the tables.

Well done, Ann! You got it!

“Hurry, guys, they are coming soon.”

Ryuji carries the last chair. He whines in pain as his leg jerks. Maruki quickly supports him, helping the ex-athlete. The doctor is as kind as ever.

Yusuke hangs the last velvet blue and purple ribbons on the walls. He sticks some star stickers in different sizes. They glitter in the light and shine in the dark. 

“Magnificent!” Yusuke exclaims, finger brushing among the cotton clouds. The galaxy sky wall is completed. What a dreamy image!

A knock. Ann walks up and opens the door. Sumire comes in with a big present. 

“Sorry, Madame Fumiyo, I have trouble finding the items you requested.”

“It’s okay, leave it behind the table.” Fumiyo then raises her voice. “Everyone, are you ready? They are coming? Are you ready?”

Everyone nods, standing in place. Ann quickly put the candles on the cake and lit them up. 

She holds her breath.

As soon as Akechi and Ren walk in, everyone cheers.

“Happy birthday, Akechi-kun~”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

“Happy birthday, Akechi-kun~”

What is in front of Goro is a grandiose sky decoration hanging with tacky ribbons. The thieves bundle together like balloons. Kitagawa pops confetti. Ryuji whistles. Ann cheers. Morgana meows. Sumire claps her hands. Maruki laughs with Fumiyo. They all smile at him.

Oh, right, today is his birthday. It completely slips his mind. 

Ren looks at him sideways with a knowing grin. Of course—the sneaky bastard plans this whole circus.

“Really, mother. You gathered everyone at a grand feast just for a birthday party," he said flatly, though losing his edge.

“Don’t be such a downer, Goro-chan,” Fumiyo replies, “Your lovely mother took a lot of effort to host everything. For my little prince.”

Goro grumbles. He prefers to spend birthdays alone with Ren, Fumiyo, Maruji—and maybe the cat. But since his mother took so long to organise everything, he’ll take it. She’s always tried her best to show her love for him, despite everything. 

He's glad that she… no—everyone is here for him at this moment. They care enough to come to this birthday and set things up.

In a flick of her hand, everyone sings the infamous song. Familiar but not really. His classmates sang this among themselves, but never only for him. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to Akechi. The words and different tones all mix into a single melody. A galaxy of symphonies.

“Blow the candle, Goro-chan!” Fumiyo cheers, laying her hand on top of Goro.

For the first time, his birthday has that many people. Even Kitagawa, whom he doesn’t know that well, is in the middle of the party.

Goro looks at everyone with a small tuft of a smile on his lip. He closes his eyes, weaving his hands together. A prayer to make a wish upon the star. 

Then he blows the candle with a Whoosh! The flames go off in a single blow. 

“Thank you,” He says, “You don’t have to do everything for me, though. Just a wish, it’s okay”

“Come on! Stop frowning, uncle.” Ryuji calls out. 

“That’s right. You look like a grandpa with a frown. Relax!” Ann teases.

Ren takes out a camera, ready to snap a picture.

“Akechi-oujisan, smile!” 

Goro flashes his teeth wildly, showing a more genuine part of himself.

Snap!

The Polaroid comes out. He looks nicer in a wider smile than the practised one for his prince-like image.

“At the age of eighteen, I'm too young to be called an Oujisan .” Akechi deadpans. “Unless you all want to be my niece that badly.”

Ann laughs. “Why not? We won’t stop until you act like someone our age, uncle.”

Everyone giggles at Ann’s sassy comment. She’s sure good at roasting.

“Your maturity is a side you should be proud of,” Yusuke says thoughtfully. “It’s the beauty of the soul that has been experienced through a lot of hardships. So being old is not a bad thing at all.”

“I agree with Yusuke. Maturity is what I like from you, Akechi-senpai.” Ren grins teasingly.

“Thank you, nieces,” Goro replies sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s cut it up,” Fumiyo announces, knife in hand.

Ann, still holding the cake, walks up with a big grin. Everyone is cheering. Until—

Flop!

Ann trips on the ribbons. The cake lands on—Nijima? When did she get here?

The cake splashes everywhere. The white cream covers her body and face. Her bra can be seen through her shirt—in which Goro has no interest at all.  

Maruki and Fumiyo rush to get tissues, like the responsible adults they are. Ann and Ryuji ogle at the look, blushing hard. Sumire and Ren sniffle with a giggle. Goro nearly laughs out loud—but he holds back just in time. 

What a sight! The high and mighty student council president is covered in… cake! How humiliating.

(If he remembers correctly, the internet has degenerates who actually get off to this in a sitting. Unbelievable.)

Her face turns red at the ongoing stare. She chews on her lips and covers her chest in embarrassment.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to.” Ann says while still blushing. 

“It’s okay,” Nijima replies awkwardly. 

Fumiyo and Maruki come back with towels and tissues, helping her clean up the mess.

“Here, you gift, Akechi kun. Happy birthday from my sister and me! Sae said sorry she couldn’t come,” she says awkwardly, hand pushing the gift to Goro.  

Then—in a flash—she dashes away.

The leftover cake lies on the floor. A sad sight to look at.  

What a waste. This could have fed a whole family.

“Did you invite Nijima-san, mother?” Goro asks.

“Yes, but how did she get in? Did I forget to lock the door?” Fumiyo taps on her chin thoughtfully. 

Maruji raises his hand. “It’s me. I opened the door for her.”

Fumiyo smacks Maruji on his shoulder. Ouch! He yelps.

“Should have told me that earlier, Takkun. You scared me off.”

“Sorry, sorry, everyone was busy, so I did it. That’s all.” Maruji scratches his head.

“Apologies accepted.” Fumiyo huffs.

“Sooo,” Ann says, “so no cake?”

Ryuji grumbles. “Guess not.”

“I’ll help to clean up the mess.” Sumire volunteers, already scraping the cake off the floor. Ann and Ryuji join in to help the kouhai. 

“How about we make pancakes. It’s fast—and we can top it with whipped cream. Do you have the ingredient?” Ren suggests.

Fumiyo replies cheerfully. “Yes, I’ll always have it in stock. That’s my signature dish. Let's go to the kitchen and make some.”

In a whip, the batter is ready.

“A tip. Never overmix the batter. Just a gentle folded motion.” Fumiyo, the cooking mama, instructs.

She puts salted butter—then pours the batter. The bubbles rise. 

“That's the perfect time!”

Flip!

Everyone swallows their saliva. The fragrance is irresistible.

Flip by flip, the pancakes are ready, steamingly hot.

“Ready for the delicious pancakes?” Fumiyo announces after topping them with whipped cream.

“Yes!” Everyone cheers.

Everyone shares the pancake. Morgana feasts on another can of fatty tuna. 

Goro got a text from the hacker gremlin, Futaba:

Happy birthday, Grey Crow! Age-levelled up! Also, Sojiro said happy birthday, too.

Goro smiles. It has been a… happy birthday for Goro.

As Fumiyo turns her back to the kitchen, Maruki’s phone rings. He picks it up.

“How is she going?” Sojiro asks.

“She’s doing well,” Maruki replies. “Maybe we don’t need the thieves' help, after all.”

“I hope things go well, too. Bye, Dr. Maruki.”

“Bye, Sojiro-san. We’ll see how it goes.”

Maruki turned off his phone, going to the kitchen to help Fumiyo with the dishes.

The party ends. As everyone leaves, Ren drags Goro to the corner of the room.

“Here, for you!”

Ren gives him a side-bag with a grey crow sewn on the left side. 

“You… sewed this?” Goro asked, his eyes flicking to the pricked scars dotting Ren’s fingertips. It must have taken a lot of time and effort. How did Ren have time to prepare this with all the Phantom Thieves' business and endless part-time jobs?

Ren nods and continues.

“This time, try not to drop it. The bag has a hidden slot. And the pen—”

Click. A well-crafted lockpick slipped out of the pen.

“—Figured you’d find a use for it. Purely for the shop's business, of course.” Ren grins as he flashes his pen cheerfully.

This will be an extremely useful tool for school and palace scavenging. A two-in-one tool. Just the way he likes it. 

“...Thanks,” Goro accepts both gifts with a small grin that he doesn't bother to hide. Slinging the strap over his right shoulder, he finds the side bag sits comfortably against his hip.

It doesn't look bad on him at all.

"Hello, Detective Prince, should I give you a magnifying glass to complete the set?" Ren says teasily.

Goro shoots back, "No, I have my own, Gentleman Thief Leader."

Goro holds the pen up for a closer look. It's still in good condition, even the ever-familiar Grey Crow's sticker. So this was how Ren recognised him. Even his flawless, unrecognisable crossdressing—all thanks to his mother's witchery-magic makeup—couldn't cover that slip-up. He's glad that Ren's kept everything quiet. The pen is Ren's symbolic quiet confession, and the bag is the protection against future slips—or drops—like the IC card. A very thought, practical gift.

There is no need to hide anymore. Time for the truth—something he has held back for too long.

Goro’s voice drops low, calm and deliberate. “You can come out now.”

Morgana walks out from behind the counter, the key on his neck catching the light like a silent declaration of peace.

“So you know, too,” Ren asks.

Morgana nods, “Yes, Fumiyo and Akechi told me everything. They can hear me talk this whole time, you know that, right?” 

Ren blinks; he doesn’t expect Fumiyo to be able to hear Morgana talk, though.

Fumiyo grins. “Morgana told me everything. About the phantom thieves, about how you guys wish to help people. I think we share that common goal.”

Goro walks forward, all calm and smug. “In exchange for information, we made a deal to help Morgana find his true identity. And in exchange for the help… we would like you, Ren Amamiya and Morgana to help us.”

“So do you want me and Morgana, not the rest of the Phantom Thieves’ members?” Ren asks, eyes widened.

“Yes, for now,” Goro nods.

Fumiyo grins teasingly. “He's too embarrassed to admit that he is Akira-chan.”

“Mother!” Goro glares at her.

“Sorry, our mission needs tactical discretion.” Fumiyo’s tone turns serious. “Just you two should be good enough—for now.” 

“So,” Goro says, pointing between himself and Fumiyo, “Will you join forces with Grey Crow and Raven Cipher?”

“Sure,” Ren smirks, “ I, Joker Bond, will join your mission.”

They shake hands to seal the deal. A firm shake—an alliance forges in rivalry, and a spark of chaos yet to come.

Chapter Text

Goro’s phone buzzed; he slipped it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

“It’s Sae-san. Can you and Morgana start first?” He said.

Fumiyo gave a mini thumbs-up, and Morgana bopped his head. Goro nodded in return as he walked to his room. Some conversations should be kept private; it hadn’t yet had the time to reveal everything. 

He closed the door with a click and accepted the call. 

“Hello, Sae-san, do you need me for anything?”

“Happy Birthday, Akechi-kun. Sorry that I couldn’t come to the party. I was busy with the new investigation on the youth blackmail.” 

Sae spoke slowly, her voice cracked in every word she spoke. She must have been truly overworked—and yet she still took the effort to wish him a happy birthday. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that you still remember my birthday.” 

He replied sincerely, something that he rarely did. They have been working partners for nearly two years. He owed a lot to her, and the same was true in reverse. Where would the current Akechi be without Sae?

“I’ve heard the rumours, too.” He continued, offering his insight—hopefully being helpful to this situation. “They blackmailed Shujin students into shady business. Is that right?” 

It was something Goro had heard of while investigating the Phantom Thieves. He planned this to be an experiment—to see how the Phantom Thieves worked on their investigation. If possible, he wanted to hand this case over to them. If the culprit died from a mental shutdown, the world had one less evil. That was his justice.

“Yes, that’s right. Although their crime scope is more than just Shujin, they also target any students around Shibuya.”

She released a sigh after she finished the statement. The situation was more serious than he expected. A heavy silence lingered between them—until Goro broke it.

“Should we involve the Phantom Thieves on this? I have gotten the leader to work with me, like we have planned.”

“Yes, I’m glad things worked out with your kouhai.” Sae laughed, then, as if spotting a perfect opportunity, she teased. “Unless you two are more than that already? Did he ask you out the last time you left me for Jazz Jin?” 

“We aren’t like that!” Goro denied immediately, flustered. “He is just… a rival. An annoying one that beat me in chess.”

“Ah, sorry—right, I have to keep everything as natural as possible,” Sae corrected herself. Her laugh softened to a giggle, tone shifted to something more solemn and serious. “Thank you for your help as always, Akechi-kun. Let me know if you need me for anything.”

Goro fidgeted with his gloves, trying his best to calm down. This wasn’t the time for unnecessary emotion. “Thanks again, Sae.” He said, “I’ll see you at the office.”

With a quick tap on the screen, he ended the call.

As Goro went into his room for the phone call, Ren asked Morgana and Fumiyo.

“So, how and when did you start working together?" 

Fumiyo winked at Morgana, signalling him to talk. Morgana jumps on the table and straightens his back, mocking solemnly. It was his turn to shine as a storyteller. “It all started when…”

***

It was the evening after Memory Lanes closed. Flopping on his exclusive couch, Morgana sat in a cat-spread pose. His thick fluff covered the whole spot. Relax, lick his paw. He must act like the casual, friendly neighbourhood cat. Agent Felix was both the professional feline spy (not a cat!) and the mascot of Memory Lanes (where’s he was the starred full-time employee).

With this perfect cover, he, Agent Felix, would rock this mission. 

Everything was in his paw.

Hiding his giggle, he stared at the soft, kind-hearted Lady Fumiyo. She has been standing on the kitchen counter, eyes glueing to her phone and fingers smashing keyboards. Paragraphs and paragraphs were written in lighting speed—and in a seemingly group chat.

He tilted his head to have a closer look. Raven Cipher… Is that her username?

He squinted his eyes, trying to read more. But she tilted her phone just in time, blocking his view of the screen. Damn it! Time to change tactic. He curled up beside her, narrowing his eyes—a pretending cat-nap. Convinced by his purfect act, she relaxed, distracted by whatever she was doing, again. Finally, he saw texts—but it was so blurry. So much that nothing was distinguishable.

What was there to hide, Lady Fumiyo? Morgana wondered.

Well, whatever, there was no time for idle thought. It was his job (as a spy) to find out. Stretching his body, he jumped down from the counter. 

Plop!

Oops! That was loud. The landing was less graceful than he expected.

Nervously, he turned his back. Luckily, she still hadn’t moved from her spot at all. He released a sigh of relief. Good! Time to move to the storage room, the one that she had been hesitating to walk into for some reason. He never had a chance to look into it under her watchful eyes.

This was the perfect opportunity to investigate. 

He nudged his head; the door creaked and opened with a single touch. He walked inside, looking up with his tiny kitty head. Shelves were filled with books and miscellaneous, with grey webs covering the corners. A giant, hairy spider glared at him with piercing red eyes—as if he were the prey, not the other way around. He shivered under such an intense look. 

Otherwise, the room looked normal—or so it seemed. He raised his paw, which was—strangely enough—not dusty at all. Weird, this was so, so weird. Why was the dusty room’s floor this clean? Did that mean Fumiyo came here quite often, and the dustiness was just a cover? 

Deep in thought, he dug through the files in the lower nearby box, the one that was accessible to his small cat form. The documents were filed carefully—well, a bit obsessively organised to be exact. The topics were mostly related to biology, physics, and fashion.

As if called by his feline intuition, his paw stopped at an article with a picture of a bold-headed politician with orange shades. How shady, truly. His eyes quickly scanned through the cut article, word by word. 

‘The cognitive mental health science project led by Dr Takuto Maruki was cancelled due to funding relocation, as directed by Diet member Masayoshi Shido. Many researchers protested against this decision by rallying in front of the construction in Odaiba. However, the decision wasn’t retracted.’

So his suspicion wasn’t unfounded; Fumiyo Akechi was familiar with, or connected with, cognitive science. First, the store’s atmosphere has an eerie feeling, probably from all the odd trinkets: something that was too similar to the loot the Phantom Thieves have collected. He missed the clue because of the cat plush distraction. That unmistakable, impossible-to-ignore cat plush, something he would dive into in a heartbeat. He felt the irresistible pull as if it were a palace treasure—wait, could the cat plush be a palace treasure this whole time? 

He didn’t expect Dr Maruki to be involved in this, considering how he was specialised in mental health. Maybe there was a connection between mental health and cognitive science. 

The second hand on the wall was ticking down, matching Morgana’s nervous heartbeat. Fumiyo’s laughter reached out from the kitchen, distracted from her own task—but would she stay distracted? Everything reminded him how little time he had left to investigate. He should hurry and look for another evidence. This wasn’t convincing enough to prove anything.

He filed the information away and proceeded to two different articles, both were clipped together with a picture of a lady in her 30s with short black hair and glasses.

‘The research centre in [blurred] was caught up in a gas explosion. Many researchers were unfortunately injured and passed away. The police were in the middle of an investigation to catch the real culprit.’ 

‘The tragic car accident in [blurred] claimed the life of a leading cognitive researcher [blurred]. The cognitive community mourned for the loss of a young, promising, talented woman.’

That was… unfortunate. His chest tightened from sorrow. Too many injuries. Too many lives were lost. He swallowed hard. They didn’t deserve this. There must be some force stopping cognitive research, perhaps related to that shady politician. From his understanding, any public interest in cognitive science was shut down—either by cutting funds or staged accidents. 

He made a mental reminder to tell the Phantom Thieves to be more discreet. Their lives were, after all, hanging on the thread of secrecy. A single slip-up, potentially from Skull’s loud mouth, could spell death for the whole team. The evidence laid bare in front of his eyes, screaming that fact out loud. 

Heart still racing from fear and trepidation, he flipped to the next article, which was also the last one of the bunch. 

‘Congratulations to Fumiyo Akechi, for winning the first prize lottery winner in the year of [redacted].’

He frowned. Lottery winners tended to choose not to publicise due to safety concerns. Was she clueless, or did she know the risk and do this anyway? Was this a cover-up for a sudden influx of wealth?

Still, winning a lottery was a nearly impossible feat. Either her luck was insane—or she had cheated in some way, likely metaverse-related. Morgana pulled the papers away to keep as potential evidence. Maybe this was how she proved on legal means to open Memories Lanes. 

Using his paw, he pushed the paperworks away and checked out the red bag next to the box. As he unzipped the bag, a loom of brown hair dropped down. His breath hitched. Was that—

Akira’s uniform and wig? 

Wait—so Akira was Akechi. Did Ren know? Why did he keep everything quiet? Questions crashed through Morgana’s mind, overwhelming him. He stood still, whiskers frozen mid-air. The costume sat there mockingly, making fun of his inability to connect the dots. The truth was under his nose this whole time—well, a bit too literally this time. 

“Figure out everything?” 

Fumiyo crossed her hand, leaning against the door while staring at him. He shook his head and said nothing. It wasn’t like she could understand him—

“I can hear you talk, Morgana,” Fumiyo interrupted his train of thought with a sing-song. She acted a bit too calm for her skeleton—or secret—being discovered. Did she expect him to discover this?

“You could hear me talk all this time?” He replied in a high-pitched voice, shocked by the relevance. How was she able to hear him talk? And when so? She acted so normal, as if she didn’t know anything at all. 

“I couldn’t at first, but after seeing you in Mementos, I can now.” 

She smiled sweetly, as if she hadn’t done anything wrong at all. Well, it wasn’t like Morgana’s intention was pure anyway. It was a battle between one spy versus another. He was simply outmatched by an experienced actress. 

“So Akechi is Akira. And you are both experienced with the metaverse. This store is just a way to make money from it, with the lottery winning as a cover-up,” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. 

“All correct! Well, we had a different name in mind, actually. But since Ren called Goro that, Goro is Akira now,” Her grin grew wider as she continued. 

“I could tell you everything later~. But…” Her eyes glinted. He shivered at that. “Since we are honest with each other… hmm, I would like to run some tests. Come with me!” Before he could respond, she shoved him forward playfully. He followed her half reluctantly, half curious, wondering where this cooperation would lead to.

“So we reached an agreement, in which I kept their secret from the thieves and helped out with her… experiments.” Morgana concluded the story, though his hair stood up at the word ‘experiments’.

“Experiments?” Ren narrowed his eyes, looking at Fumiyo suspiciously. A wordless way to say ‘what did you do to my friend without being rude.’  

“I’m innocent!” She raised both her hands up, voice light and clear, “I’m simply asking him to try to transform into a bus in the real world, test some items' effect, dress him up for photos, and… maybe give a bit too much snack?”

Well, that didn’t sound like something bad at all—just a typical meddling mom’s thing. A bit too much, actually. Ren bet Morgana was terrified of dressing up parts. The last time Ann brought Morgana along to a photoshoot (he insisted on coming), the director forced him to put on outfits after another. He was so exhausted that he collapsed on set. Followed by Ann's panicked call, Ren had to come and bring him home, with the softest school bag of course. 

“I will never forgive the director and the Akechi,” Morgana mumbled bitterly, having a traumatic flashback. 

Ren patted Morgana's back, a bro-to-bro message of ‘it’s okay’. Morgana relaxed his posture at that. 

“Sorry, sorry, no more dress-up. You’re just too popular. Look how many followers and likes I got from this.” She held the phone, showing the picture of Morgana with a big red bow tie. Was this a reference from a delivery witch anime?

“It’s cute,” Ren said finally. 

Morgana groaned while Fumiyo just giggled.

Goro tapped on Ren’s shoulder—when did Goro even come out of his room? Ren jerked up; his glasses went askew. He quickly fixed his glasses as Goro sat next to him. Goro smirked smugly at Ren’s surprised reaction.

“Shall I continue from here then?” Goro said calmly. Seeing that everyone nodded, he continued. “Maybe it’s better if I tell you the story from our first contact with the Metaverse and Dread two years ago…”

Ding ding! The clock marked 6 PM sharp. The shopping centre in Shibuya buzzed with people in October. Goro held his mother's hand as they went down the storefront lane. Advertisement boards were plastered everywhere, screaming to be paid attention to. Goods and items covered the shelves. Everyone seemed to be wrapped up in their own business; they pushed and crashed into one another without looking back. No one really cared about the struggling-but-happy family of two. 

And the two couldn't care less, they simply enjoyed one of the days when they were both free. 

Goro had been juggling multiple tutoring jobs, and yet he still managed to stay at the top of his class. Meanwhile, his mother had been happily working at the new cleaning place, a better place compared to the nightclub. People liked to judge her for her past, whether they were neighbours, classmates, or strangers. They didn’t know a damn thing. What right did they have to judge her? 

Goro tightened his grip as such thoughts crossed his mind. She rubbed his hand lightly—her attempt to soften his frustration. He relaxed with her simple touch.

Well, things had turned out better, with Maruji’s help and his new tutoring job. They meant to celebrate by going shopping with their hard-earned money. 

“Have you thought about what you want to buy, Goro-chan?” She looked at him with a small smile.

“Not yet, I already bought the new Proof of Justice with extra tip money from the parents. Still keep the old one you gave me as a memento.” He said cheerfully, a rare expression reversed only for her. 

“Destination confirmed. Beginning navigation,” a strange digital voice announced flatly. The world twisted as if on command. 

With a blink of an eye, everything turned red with twisted swirls. Was this the shopping centre lighting effect? As he rubbed his eyes, the colour went back to normal—but not really. The street looked the same, and yet it wasn’t. Huge velvet veins popped out of the mossy, mouldy wall. 

Goro reached out to touch out of curiosity; the cold vein pulsed to the touch. He yanked his hand immediately. How come something felt so dead and yet alive at the same time? It was so wrong, so grotesque. Was he even in Shibuya? Or somewhere else completely? Did they get spirited away?

“Mom… where are we?” Goro asked, his voice trembling.

Fumiyo’s eyes swept the area as she spoke in a low voice. “The Cognitive World. If I’m right, we need to hide. Now!”

“Cognitive—?”

Before he could finish, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into shadowed corners, hiding away from the open area. She put her index finger on her lip. Goro nodded along and tightened his lips. 

In the hall, normal, living humans were replaced with some strange, dark, shadowy creatures that slithered, sniffling for prey, perhaps. Black marks were left on the floor as they dragged themselves slowly. 

Whatever these creatures were, they didn’t seem benevolent at all. It was a good thing that they hid from them. 

“Let’s move carefully,” Fumiyo whispered. “We need to find a way out. And those things out there? They’re called Shadows.”

Goro stared at her and nodded again. All the questions about why and how she knew this could wait.

They moved quietly, ducking behind broken signs and shattered glass. Despite the danger, they found strange chests scattered around—filled with old coins, medicines, and bundles of cash, which were surprisingly a week’s worth of his income. Did he get lost in a video game? And most importantly, was it ethical to pocket these items? What if those belong to someone else?

He looked to his mom's side. Surprisingly, she had already filled her bags with everything within eyes' range like a professional looter. Was she familiar with this place? She acted a bit too calm for something this absurd just happened. Like she’d done this before. 

Had she?

Distracted, she stumbled on a vein and fell. Goro held her back just in time before her face landed on the floor.

He quickly checked on her. Unfortunately, her ankle twisted.

Suddenly, a massive, monstrous entity emerged from the shadows. The air grew heavy the closer it moved to them with its beastly, nightmarish body.

“Use Proof of Justice!” Fumiyo shouted.

Adrenaline surged, and he grabbed the toy gun and fired with hesitation. The barrel burnt to the touch. A blinding beam of light was shot; it was extremely realistic, as if the movie had become real life. The blast staggered the creature—

But only for a second. It roared, recovered, and lunged toward them. 

“Run, Goro!” 

Fumiyo cried, shoving him aside as the blow struck her instead.

“No! Mom!” He screamed, falling beside her crumpled body. “I won’t leave you! I’m here to protect you!”

The monster hit him. He flinched backwards, frozen mid-way due to the pain flaring in his ribs. Then came something worse: the monster reached into his mind. A splitting, unbearable pain exploded behind his eyes, like claws tearing open his darkest, wounded thought that he buried deep in his heart.

No.

He had to fight it.

Fight back, Goro. Do something. Anything.

Memories crashed over him like a tidal wave. His mother cried behind a locked door. Teachers looked away from the bruises and scars. The rumour. The whispers. The laughter when they learned what she did to survive. The bully. The shame. The way they had to fight for everything.

“I won’t leave her.” He yelled.

A raw, primal scream tore from his throat. It was time for him to reclaim control of his thoughts. His fingers clawed at his mask, tearing it off his face. Two voices echoed in the darkness of his mind.

“Remember what you stand for, Goro. You survived and rose above it to protect everyone you hold dear. Hold on to your justice.” An angelic voice whispered.

“Never forget how they dirtied her name, used you, and lied to you. All these pretentious sinners.” A devilish voice screamed.

“Rip off the mask, Goro. Let the world see what it made you into.” 

Both the voices merged into one. 

“I am thou. Thou art I.”

The pain reached its peak. His mask split cleanly down the centre: one side glowing gold, another flickering with blue flame. Blood ran down his cheeks, but quickly burned off by the twin flame.

“From the heat of rage and justice, we awaken…”

Like a firework, light cracked and exploded—blinding his vision. 

Two figures stood behind him:

A noble archer, clad in white and draped in a blue cape. His eyes shone brightly with justice and righteousness. The fitting ideals for other people. Robin Hood, he whispered. 

A smiling devil, script-like twisted zebra stripes crawling across his body. His eyes gleamed red—equal parts mirth and menace—fitting of a trickster god. The presentation of Goro’s personal justice. Loki, he cackled.

Robin Hood and Loki. They are his truth, his rage, his justice.

Goro rose slowly, steadying his breath. The fear didn’t vanish, but it no longer owned him.

“You invaded the wrong head,” he said, voice low and dangerous while pointing his gun forward. 

“Robin Hood!”

A gleaming bolt of holy energy blasted through the monster’s chest.

“Loki!”

A curse, black fire spiralled upward, engulfing the monster alive.

“You don’t get to touch me or her,” he growled. “You can’t control me.”

The beast screamed and staggered. Goro stepped forward, flanked by his Personas while delivering the final strike, a mirage of shadow and light.

Hit by the powerful attack, the monster howled and fled without a trace.

Relieved by the left monster, he dropped to his knee and panted. The glow around him slowly faded. 

“Mom…?”

He crawled to her side, shaking her. No response, she wasn’t even breathing. 

“No… no, no. Mom—please!”

Tears streamed down his face as he pressed her chest deeply, counting to thirty under his ragged breath. He tilted her head back and gave two breaths. And repeat—until she woke up.

A shiny blue butterfly fluttered past, illuminating the dark space. Its voice was barely a whisper.

“Use Samarecarm.”

As if drawn by the unseen grace, Goro called out Robin Hood and cast the spell. A soft golden light wrapped around Fumiyo. Her fingers twitched as she drew in a sharp breath. 

Alive. She was alive. 

He wiped his tears away with a smile. “Never leave me again,” he said.

Opening her eyes slowly, she reached out with a pinky finger. He returned the gesture and wrapped his finger around it. 

It was their promise.

“I tried to find that blue butterfly to express my gratitude,” Goro said, setting his glasses on the table. “To my disappointment, I couldn’t find it.” Goro took a sip of water after he finished the story.

“That reminded me,”  Ren tapped on his chin, reminiscing. “A blue butterfly whispered to me when I had my first awakening to save Ryuji, too.”

Morgana asked as his tail curled to a perfect question mark. “Do you think it can be related to me somehow?” 

“It could be. Your eye colour is very similar,” Goro answered thoughtfully. 

Ren nodded in agreement. “I think so too. Maybe finding it will help you uncover your true identity?”

“Sounds like a good lead,” Morgana’s eyes shone with hope, “but how do we find the butterfly?”

Silence. 

No one had an answer at that moment. Morgana’s tail drooped as he lowered his head.

Fumiyo gave Morgana a light pat, “If the butterfly visited Ren before, we’ll probably have a chance to see it again.” Seeing how Morgana perked up, she continued. “Now, onto the main point. We would like you to help us with the blackmail case in Shibuya.”

Ren wanted to ask more about what happened after Goro’s awakening, but that could wait. It was getting late.

“I already have a lead on who the boss might be,” Goro said. “But—we shouldn’t go for them yet. We’ll start with the smaller targets first. In the worst-case scenario, I’ll join your group of thieves to defeat the boss.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Ren teased, smiling mischievously. “Is that how you are going to announce yourself as Akira-chan?” 

Goro’s eyebrows knitted together, though he eased them as quickly with a deep breath. Too bad Ren caught it anyway; he smirked victoriously.

“I would like to avoid it, if possible. I technically have a different metaverse outfit, so we can work around it,” Goro said, finally. 

Ren could continue to keep the secret when it involved another person’s dignity.

“Okay,” Ren said simply.

“I don’t like to keep secrets from the thieves,” Morgana admitted, his tail flicking with concern, “but it wasn’t mine to tell, so I’ll keep quiet—as you wish.”  

They continued to make a realistic plan for taking down the Shibuya blackmail case until it was time for Ren and Morgana to go back to Le Blanc.