Chapter Text
Wakaba’s grip is tight on Sojiro’s shoulders as she draws him close, her eyes wide. “Please,” she begs, “if anything happens to me, I- I need to know- that Futaba will- that she’ll be okay-”
“Hey, hey,” Sojiro soothes, putting his hands on her wrists, gently tugging her hands off his shoulders. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
Wakaba scoffs. She grabs his hands, grip tight. “I can feel it. Someone is coming. I won’t- they can’t- they can’t get my daughter.
He moves his thumbs soothingly across her knuckles. “No one is-”
“ I can feel it ,” she hisses, shoulders hunching defensively. Before Sojiro’s eyes, her disguise begins to fail, green bleeding through beneath the pale of human skin.
“How can you possibly know that?” he asks, tugging her closer.
“I can hear their malicious thoughts,” she says, frantic. “Just- Forget that.” She puts her hands on Sojiro’s cheeks. “If something happens to me, I want you to take care of Futaba.”
“ If something happens,” Sojiro says, giving in, agreeing. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect her.”
Wakaba sags, the tension draining from her all at once. She presses her face against Sojiro’s shoulder, boneless. Sojiro runs a hand up and down her back, eyebrows furrowing. He tries not to feel apprehensive about what he’s just agreed to; about what Wakaba had said – but it’s hard. He doesn’t get a lot of sleep that night.
Not even a week later, Wakaba is dead and Sojiro is filled with the bone deep gut-wrenching feeling of regret.
Sojiro gets shown into the bleakest room he’s ever seen. The coloured decorations on the walls are tacky, and the toys scattering the floor are outdated at best. There is a social worker talking soothingly, but Sojiro can’t see who to. As he steps further into the room, he spies Futaba’s familiar orange hair behind the couch she levitates to put between herself and the worker.
“Get out!” she screeches. There are tears pouring down her cheeks. “I want Mummy!”
The social worker backs off as a flying plant pot nearly decapitates him. He doesn’t stop until he’s in the doorway.
“Are you the foster parent?” he asks. Sojiro nods, taking in the man’s rapidly bruising face and the way he rubs his shoulder. “Good luck,” he says, “the poor kid won’t let anyone near her. She just keeps asking for her mother.”
Sojiro just nods again. He’d expected this – Futaba was one of Wakaba’s carefully guarded secrets. Her protective instincts overrode Sojiro’s advice to let her out and about (he thought they were making progress, but then Wakaba started behaving erratically, and he saw her less and less, and then-). The girl has never been exposed to anyone else. Except him, occasionally. That’ll have to be enough.
He sits close enough for them to talk, but no so close as to intrude on her personal space. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, “what’s all the fuss for?”
Futaba inhales sharply, her head lifting to lock onto his face. “Sojiro,” she murmurs. “ Sojiro . Where’s Mum?”
Sojiro falter. “Futaba, listen. Wakaba- your mother is gone.”
She shuffles forward a little even as her face twists, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”
With slow movements, Sojiro lifts his hands to Futaba’s shoulders. “She... she’s gone. Her life has ended.” He doesn’t know how to explain this to a normal kid, let alone one who isn’t entirely human and has had minimal contact with the outside world.
Futaba slums forward, pressing her forehead to Sojiro’s shoulder as she’s seen her mother do countless times. “I felt it,” she whispers into his shoulder; her trembling fingers weakly grip to his shirt. “I felt her vanish.” And of course she did. As Wakaba could, Futaba can feel the emotions of those close to her. “She’s really gone?”
Gently, Sojiro wraps Futaba in his arms. “She’s gone,” he confirms softly, “I’m sorry.”
He holds her as she cries, easing her through her grief.
Dad thunders into Goro’s room and he knows he’s in trouble.
“Dad,” Goro tries, because sometimes it’s possible to appeal to Shido Masayoshi’s sense of humanity.
But Dad is beyond caring for his last remaining son. He kicks over Goro’s toy box, collapsing his tidy room into a mess.
"This is all your- your- their fault!" Shido shouts.
"All my thems fault," Goro repeats, deadpan, face expressionless. This is not the first time his father has blamed him for everything wrong in his life. Goro knows it probably won’t be the last.
"She- he- that thing took the powers back ! The police will be here in minutes. This never would have happened if you hadn't been born!" And that's a new low, even for Shido. Of his children, Goro has always been the least favourite, but ever since Yu had been disowned and left, Dad had been calmer to him. Almost nicer. Now he can see that is no longer going to be the case. Goro watches as Shido’s fists swing towards him; he knows he can’t do anything to stop it.
Later, he won't be able to recall what happens next.
All Goro remembers is Shido's fist approaching, and a blinding flash of light. The next thing he knows, the police are slapping his father in handcuffs, and he's hidden in a corner beneath his bed, wrapped up in a blanket. There is a snake curled around his neck, hissing soothingly in his ear. It isn’t until he’s in the police station that Goro realises his mother is wrapped around him.
He puts his hands on Loki’s skin and feels them shift to accommodate it. Goro gets comfortable in the child’s room at the station, closing his eyes as he takes a moment to breathe.
Akira moves his feet as he waits for his babysitter to be done getting them ready. Forward and back, forward and back. They slide along the wooden floor where he sits on the sofa.
“Here, Akira,” Yosuke says, holding up Akira’s coat, “let’s get going.”
Akira jumps up with a grin. He takes the coat and slots his arms in, zipping it to his chin. Adjusting his glasses, he waits impatiently for Yosuke to do the same. This is the most excited he’s been in a while.
“We’re gonna go and see Yosuke’s friends?” Akira asks, waiting outside the door for Yosuke to finish locking up.
“Yep,” he responds, popping the ‘p’. He slides the keys into his pocket and holds his hand out. “Alright buddy, you’ve gotta hold my hand now so you don’t get lost.”
Akira takes it begrudgingly, pouting (Yosuke is nice and he’s never been mean, but Akira has learnt it’s better to obey Older People than to suffer the consequences). “I’m nine,” he mumbles. “I don’t need to hold a hand.”
Yosuke chuckles and leads the way, Akira running his fingers along the walls beside him as they go.
The journey to the park passes quickly. Yosuke walks them straight over to his friends, and as they approach, Akira takes them all in. The four of them are all so vibrant and different, he doesn’t know where to focus.
Immediately, Yosuke makes a beeline to the silver-haired kid. “Everyone,” he says, “this is Akira. Kiddo, these are my friends.” They introduce themselves, but he can’t keep track of their names.
“So, Akira,” the girl in green says, a smile on her face. “I’m a regular old human, which is kinda boring, but Yosuke said you’re human too?” She’s prying, digging for secrets. But Akira is barely nine and doesn’t have a lot of experience in social situations, and as such doesn’t sense anything amiss.
Akira’s hand comes up to tug gently on the tuffs of his fringe. “Yeah,” he admits quietly. Some of the kids at school tease him for it, and- “But Mummy and Daddy always say I’m a demon child.”
Everyone exchanges a look with each other before the blond kid steps forward. “Listen,” he says gently, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t a demon.”
“How do you know?” Akira asks – challenges. He tugs harder on his hair.
The other kid’s hand moves to catch Akira’s in his own, pulling it away from his hair. “Because I’m a demon,” he says, “so I can tell you’re not one.”
Akira yanks his hand back, and the other lets it go. Despite the other’s words, Akira isn’t scared. Instead, he feels a sense of calm. He blinks slowly, and then nods, once. If a demon says he isn’t one, then he isn’t. Of all people, they’d be able to tell. But, if he’s not a demon, then when Mum and Dad-
He locks that away in a box, out of sight and out of mind. He doesn’t want to think about that. Instead, he focuses on Yosuke’s friends and listens attentively as the red girl talks about a bird.
Sojiro has the form he needs gripped tightly in his hand, ready to get in, get out and get home to his kid. This is one of the biggest lies he’s ever told – claiming Futaba has telekinesis and hiding what she really is – but it’s something he’s willing to do to ensure her safety. This is the last document he has to turn in; then they can make the adoption official, and Futaba will become a Sakura.
Just as he hands in the document, there’s a commotion at the door. Everyone watches as Shido Masayoshi is dragged in, kicking and screaming with his son following silently behind. It’s unbecoming of an aspiring politician – Sojiro bets it’ll be on the cover of every newspaper by the morning.
“It’s such a shame,” the officer at the desk says, shaking his head. “He had a good campaign.”
Sojiro doesn’t really care about Shido, though. He’s more concerned about what life that kid is going to have after all this. The public smear campaign against his father will begin sympathetic, but the press will eventually turn against the kid – they always do. He can’t be much older than ten.
“What's gonna happen to his kid?" Sojiro asks, watching as the blank-faced child - too blank for a kid his age - is lead into a separate room from his father.
"The kid'll go into foster care," the officer says as he looks over Futaba's form. "That's what always happens to kids like him."
And suddenly - just like that - Sojiro has a choice to make. Just because his father is an asshole, that doesn't mean the kid should have to suffer. He wants to give this kid the chance he deserves.
“I’m a foster parent,” Sojiro says to the bewildered officer. “Who do I talk to about getting custody?”
He hopes he’s making the right decision.
Teddie launches himself at Akira carelessly, knocking them both to the floor. An oof escapes him as they land on the grass.
“Hello!” Teddie says, leaning on his hands over Akira and grinning widely. “I brought Nana-chan with me!”
Akira’s mouth tugs open in a wide grin. Nanako approaches and, with the vigour all five-year-olds possess, flops on top of Teddie. It knocks him back down, and they crash hard on top of Akira.
“Get. Off-“ He pushes hard on Teddie’s shoulders, wheezing.
“Oops- sorry, Akira!” Nanako leaps to her feet and helps push Teddie off.
“Sorry,” Teddie says.
Akira sits up slowly, wincing. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m good.”
“Anyway,” Teddie says, “Nana and I are gonna get topicles. You wanna come?”
“Yeah!” Akira cheers, brightening instantly. “Let’s go!”
Nanako reaches a hand down to help him up, and once Teddie is standing, he does, too. Between the two of them, they pull Akira up so hard they almost all fall down again from the force of it.
Giggling, Akira puts his hands on their shoulders to steady himself. He pats them both, considering.
Teddie is only a little bit taller than him, but Nanako is... “You’re so short ,” he tells her.
Her mouth drops open. “I’m not!” She protests. “You’re just tall! ”
“I’m a good ten-year-old height,” Akira says. “You’re just tiny.”
“I’m a good five-year-old height,” Nanako copycats. “You’re just tall.”
Teddie laughs. “Guys, You’re both short!”
“You’re not that much taller!” Akira protests, pinching his fingers to show the difference.
Still laughing, Teddie pats him on the head. “Okay, shorty.” And then he takes off ahead of them.
Akira and Nanako share a look. They both have the same thought in mind. As one, they run after Teddie.
He hears their approach. He turns around, and his eyes widen when he sees them thundering after him. “Wh- guys?”
They don’t slow down, and finally, Teddie gets it in his head that he should run. He screams the entire way to Junes.
A member of the fostering agency leads Sojiro into a room. The entire interaction he is about to have with Shido Goro is going to be carefully monitored. He didn’t have to go through this with Futaba, but it was different with her – she didn’t have anyone else; people are clamouring all over themselves to adopt the kid from the news.
“Hey, Goro,” Sojiro says, settling down opposite the kid. “What are you up to?”
Goro regards Sojiro suspiciously – and rightfully so. Goro’s no doubt been faced with countless adults trying to twist him around their fingers - he’s right to be wary. Sojiro tries to relax in the hope that Goro will do the same. Something moves on the kid’s head, and Sojiro realises there’s a little bird nested in his hair. It chirps, and Goro sighs.
“A puzzle,” the kid answers, playing along; he nudges the box in Sojiro’s direction.
Sojiro picks up the lid, studying it, and his eyebrows rise in surprise. “One thousand pieces,” he says, impressed. “That’s a lot, kid.” Goro just hums, continuing to slot pieces in. “Can I help?” Sojiro asks.
Immediately, Goro narrows his eyes. “I don’t need help,” he says, tone flat.
“Probably not,” Sojiro concedes. “but sometimes things are more fun when they’re done with someone else. Though if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”
Goro studies Sojiro’s face, thinking hard about how to answer. The bird begins to preen his hair. Eventually, he makes his decision, pushing the unconnected pieces towards him.
“You can sort them into outside and inside,” Goro says.
Sojiro just nods, getting to work. It’s progress.
Akira shifts his legs absentmindedly, moving the swing slightly from the motion. His detention has just finished (he hadn’t done his homework, but it wasn’t his fault , Mum had taken away his worksheet) and it’s too late to go home. He has to wait a little longer – just until his parents have gone to bed. He’s too exhausted to face their ire today.
Footsteps approach, and he tenses before he can stop himself. But it’s only Yukiko who sits next to him.
She tilts her head at him curiously. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” she asks.
“Waiting,” he mumbles, moving his hand beneath his glasses to rub at his stinging eyes. He’s so tired.
Yukiko just hums in response and doesn’t press for answers. He likes that about Yosuke’s friends – they know when to pry and when to let it go.
They sit in silence for a while longer before Yukiko jumps to her feet, flipping her phone closed. “Alright,” she says, “you’re coming home with me.”
Akira blinks up at her, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”
“I already asked my parents,” she says, tapping her pocket where her phone is. “Come on – it’ll be warm there, and you can use one of the spare futons to nap.”
That does sound nice. Akira nods, getting to his feet. Yukiko links their fingers and guides him to the Inn, swinging their hands as they walk.
Later, when Akira is sleepily bundled up next to a heater, Yukiko threads her fingers through his hair.
“If you ever get put in that position again,” Yukiko says, and Akira forces himself to listen. “Where you’re just- sitting by yourself in the dark. Text me, and I’ll let you come over. I don’t want you to be alone.”
Akira hums as he nods and his eyes slip closed, feeling content. With Yukiko at his side, he feels safe .
When Sojiro gets home, he does something he probably should’ve done first and sits Futaba down to talk.
“Hey kiddo,” he says to the still grieving nine-year-old. She looks up at him with big watery eyes. “How would you feel about having an older brother?”
Futaba’s mouth hangs open and she blinks wildly. “Are you serious?” she asks. There’s emotion in her tone that Sojiro hasn’t heard in so long.
Sojiro nods. “If he wants to,” he says. He goes on to explain how the system works as best as he can to a nine-year-old not-entirely-human. She nods along, following.
“When can I meet him?” she asks, excited.
Sojiro smiles. “Soon,” he says.
Futaba grins back and throws her arms around him. It’s good to see her happy again.
They want to sell the house.
His parents cite a number of reasons – changing job roles, desire for new scenery, the staleness of Inaba. Akira doesn’t care – all he cares about is the fact that he’s going to have to leave all of his friends behind.
He pretends it isn’t happening for as long as he can, and then someone is there to look at the house.
Mum and Dad give the man and the agent a tour, and Akira does his best to stay out of the way. He stays holed up in his room, running to the bathroom when his parents open the door to let the man see it.
Once it’s over, Akira creeps down the stairs to listen in on his parents giving his entire life away.
“It’s real nice,” the man says with a smile. “I like it a lot. I think my kids will like it too. It’s everything we need.”
“That’s perfect,” his mother says, giving him a grin Akira has never seen directed at him. “I’m glad to hear that.”
This is the worst day of Akira’s life. He’s eleven years old and he’s going to lose everything – his friends, Yosuke, the Amagi Inn. He’ll be alone, left to fend for himself against his parent’s rage without the kindness of his friends to keep him standing.
“Then, if you’d like,” Mother continues gleefully, “we can get this sorted out immediately, and you can have the house as soon as possible-“
“I don’t know,” the man says, expression suddenly shifting. “I’m... not too sure.”
Akira hardly dares to hope.
“I don’t understand,” Father tries, “you said the house is everything you need.”
“I. I did say that.”
“What’s changed?” Mother presses, taking a step forward.
The man lifts a hand to his own head. “I don’t know. It just... doesn’t seem right all of a sudden.”
He leaves not long after that, the deal not struck, a hapless estate agent following in his wake. All Akira feels is relief.
It isn’t long before that feeling evaporates into nothing as his parents turn on him.
“Get out!” Mother screams, her nails leaving jagged lines down Akira’s arms. “You- you did something. You demon child-“
Father is there in an instant, pulling Mother away, putting himself between the two of them like a shield. As if he thinks Akira would hurt either of them – as if he thinks their only son is capable of it. He doesn’t even know what he did.
“Get away from us,” Father hisses, pushing Mother into another room. “You’re evil . An abomination -“
Akira doesn’t hear the rest of what Father says. He’s already out the door and gone.
Akira: I nneed help
He sends the message before he’s finished processing what’s just happened. His fingers had typed it automatically, knowing he can trust the person on the other side of the phone entirely.
Yosuke: wat do u need
As always, Yosuke’s reply is instant.
Akira: Hurts
Yosuke: were r u
Akira looks around, taking in where his feet have taken him.
Akira: Park
It had been instinctive to come here – he doesn’t think he’s ever seen either of his parents set foot in it. He sits on a bench and waits, staring into the distance.
The expression on Yosuke’s face is thunderous as he walks up the path towards him, but Akira isn’t worried – he knows Yosuke’s anger isn’t for him.
“What did she do?” Yosuke asks, kneeling in front of him.
Wordlessly, he pulls up the sleeves of the jacket he doesn’t remember putting on. It’s not that bad – he’s had worse. Mother’s fake nails had sunk in and tugged, but they probably won’t scar.
Up until that point, Yosuke had been a flurry of movement, but Akira’s wounds make him still. He examines the cuts, carefully taking one of Akira’s arms into his hands and twisting it gently. From his pocket, he pulls out half a cabinet of medical supplies and starts cleaning up Akira’s arm.
“I can’t believe she did this to you,” Yosuke spits, his tone harsh even as his hands are gentle.
Yu moves to sit next to Akira on the bench. Akira didn’t even know he was here. “What reason could she possibly have to do this to her own child?” Yu asks.
“I don’t know,” Akira whispers. “There was a man, buying the house, but- he just- I don’t know .”
Yu puts a gentle hand on Akira’s shoulder. “Your parents are selling the house?”
Akira shakes his head. “No. No, he. He changed his mind. And then- Mum...”
“You can’t stay there anymore,” Yosuke insists, angry. “This isn’t- it isn’t right . This is fucked up.” Akira’s heart skips a beat at the prospect of getting away from his parents, but he knows it doesn’t work like that. Yosuke and his friends have tried before, but it didn’t work. He’s stuck with them until he’s eighteen. Or until he’s dead. Whichever comes first.
Yu runs a soothing hand down his back, and his breath hitches. “It’s okay,” Akira whispers.
“It isn’t ,” Yosuke hisses.
“There’s nothing anyone can do,” Akira mutters.
Yosuke finishes bandaging Akira’s arms in silence. As soon as he’s done, he drags Akira against his chest in a tight hug. Yu’s hand never leaves his back, even as his shoulders begin to shake.
If, when Akira pulls away later, the front of Yosuke’s jacket is wet, that’s no one’s business except theirs.
Goro is thirteen years old and Sojiro wants to give him some stability to his life. He’s has been Goro’s foster parent for about a year now – he thinks it’s time to ask him the Big Question. It’s nerve-wracking.
Sojiro approaches his kids, who are lounging on the couch playing a game. Today, there is a bearded dragon on Goro’s shoulder. Goro pauses the game when he notices the man, much to Futaba’s dismay.
“Hey, kiddos,” Sojiro says. His eyes lock onto Futaba for a moment before moving back to Goro. “I just want to ask Goro a question – then you can get back to your game.”
“Do I have to leave?” Futaba asks, her thumbs in constant motion over the controller buttons.
“That’s Goro’s decision,” Sojiro says, and raises his eyebrow at the other kid. The bearded dragon lifts it’s head to look at him with it’s weird eyes.
Goro is silent, tilting his head as he considers it. “She can stay,” he decides on.
“All right!” Futaba cheers and presses their sides together. “Ask your question, Sojiro.”
The man chuckles. “Okay, here goes.” He clears his throat and sits in the chair next to them. “Goro, theoretically, how would you feel...” He pauses, thinking. “If I asked you to become an official member of the family?”
“You mean become a Sakura?” Goro asks. His eyes are wide, disbelief clear on his face, as if he didn’t ever expect to hear that question. At his side, Futaba inhales sharply and grips Goro’s arm, her feet stamping as a grin spreads across her face. The bearded dragon climbs up into Goro’s hair and rubs it’s chin against his skull.
“If you want to,” Sojiro confirms. “It’s alright if you say no – it won’t change anything. Regardless of your answer, you’ll still be-“
“Shut up,” Goro snaps, his expression contorting. Sojiro does as he wishes, falling into silence. “Theoretically,” Goro says quietly, eventually, eyes darting to Sojiro and away again. “I’d like that a lot.”
Tension drains from Sojiro’s body. “Okay,” he says, and repeats: “Okay.” He reaches across the gap between them for Goro’s hand, and his kid meets him halfway. In his hair, the dragon turns in a semi-circle to watch Sojiro.
On his other side, Futaba is ecstatic, and she reaches over to shake Goro. “You’re gonna be my brother!” she yells, laughing.
“I already was,” Goro reminds her, but he’s smiling too, and his other hand takes one of Futaba’s.
Sojiro squeezes Goro’s hand before letting go, getting to his feet. “I have to go and make a phone call, then,” he says, “you two get back to your game.”
As he exits the room, Futaba’s excitement hasn’t let up, and Goro’s is still mounting. He knows they won’t be getting back to that game for a while.
The next day, a stranger enters Sojiro’s cafe. It’s just the two of them, the cafe not long open.
“You know Goro is a demigod,” the figure says. Their gaze bores into Sojiro’s soul.
“Yes, of course,” Sojiro answers, but he’s tense. If they’re planning on hurting his kid, he’ll take them down.
“Do you know who his godly parent is?” the figure asks.
“He hasn’t told me,” Sojiro admits. He’s curious, but he won’t force Goro to tell him.
“Why don’t you look it up in his records?” they press on.
“I want him to trust me enough to tell me,” Sojiro says, but his eyebrows furrow, suspicious and angered. “Why does this matter? Who even are you?”
The figure chuckles and leans over the counter to crowd Sojiro’s personal space. “My name is Loki,” they intone, “and I’m Goro’s godly parent. Just know that if you ever hurt him I will know about it, and I will end you.”
Sojiro’s heart is beating wildly in his chest. His first encounter with a godly being and he’s being threatened. But even so-
“If I ever hurt Goro,” Sojiro says. “I’d let you end me. It’d only be what I deserve.”
Loki studies his expression before laughing. They pat Sojiro’s cheek. “Oh, I like you,” they say. And then they’re gone.
Years later, Sojiro knows it’s going to be a long day when someone he hasn't seen in over a decade steps into his cafe.
"Well, I'll be damned," Sojiro says, surprised. "Dojima Ryotaro. What are you doing here?"
"Is it so unusual for a guy to come and visit an old friend?" Dojima asks. He sounds sincere enough, but Sojiro can tell the smile on his face is forced.
Back in college, he and Dojima had been good friends. They weren't in any of the same classes, but being dorm mates is enough for anyone to form a friendship. He was at Dojima's side when he’d asked out his future wife, and Dojima was at his that time he got alcohol poisoning and couldn't leave his bed for anything. Like most friends Sojiro has had, they ultimately ended up drifting apart. Sojiro hasn't seen the man since college.
He slides Dojima a coffee he knows the man used to enjoy. "What are you really doing here?" he asks.
Dojima accepts the coffee and sighs, long and deep, his smile falling. "There's this kid," he begins, and Sojiro already doesn't like it. "His parents died and- it's a real messy case, Sakura. Real messy. I temporarily have custody, but he needs someone who can give him the support he needs, and with my job and Nanako, I won't be able to give it to him."
It's true that Sojiro used to be a foster parent, but he’d stopped doing it for a reason. After Futaba and Goro, he would get the occasional kid, but they didn’t stay for long. The problem with that is all three of them ended up getting attached, and it was hard to let the kid go. Sojiro didn’t like to put Futaba and Goro through that, so he requested to be taken off the fostering list.
But Futaba and Goro are older now, and he hates seeing a kid suffer when he knows he can help – that’s the reason why he took in Goro in the first place. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have the room.
Sojiro lets out a sigh, turning to face Dojima fully. “Tell me more about the kid,” he requests, knowing he’s going to give in hook line and sinker.
In the same world, mere hours later, in a different part of Tokyo, a figure is thrown through a portal. This place looks familiar to him, but he knows, instinctively, that it’s different.
He looks around desperately, looking for any sign of the world being torn apart and rebuilt, of it being shackled worse than the place he had just left, everyone doomed to be a puppet- but there is nothing. The streets look the same as they always do at night - drunkards and partygoers, late-night businessmen and midnight shoppers bustling about.
He doesn’t know what to make of it. The last thing he remembers is his teammates – his friends, his family – falling, one by one. They were dropping faster than he could heal them – faster than any of the team could. They were managing – they were coping – but then their leader went down and didn’t get back up and he knew it was all over. He remembers that he was the last one still standing when the god had sent out a blinding beam of light.
He doesn’t understand why he’s alive. He doesn’t understand why he’s here . He doesn’t understand where everyone else is.
Maybe this is a punishment. He knows now, remembers all of it. He knows the mission he was supposed to complete, and he failed. This is game over. There is no reset. He can’t bring back the dead.
Tokyo is the same until it isn’t.
A door appears before him. Not only is he able to see it, but it’s a now familiar blue. The door swings open, and twin figures step through.
Even as they glare at him, their stares cold, he knows their names.
“What are you doing here?” Caroline demands, a stick in her hand.
“I don’t know,” he answers. He remembers that the twins were always good to him, if a bit bratty. Igor made them to respect each other.
“You don’t know ?!”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Justine adds.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” he repeats. Honesty has always been a good policy with them. “We were in a fight. When I woke up, I was here.”
Justine hums, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t think he poses any threat, Caroline.”
“I agree with you, Justine,” her sister says, but her eye is still locked onto him, striking deep like daggers. “So long as he causes no trouble and stays out of our way, I don’t see why he can’t be allowed to stay.” Her sister nods in agreement.
“Stay out of your way?” he asks. The twins are the same as he knows them, but so obviously different. He doesn’t know if their goal is the same here – he doesn’t even know if the god is still a player, or if they’re split for a different reason.
“We don’t know what it’s like where you’re from,” Caroline says, her eyebrows lowering and her lip twisting. “But here we have a duty to protect someone.
“Do not get in our way.”
She vanishes into the night, Justine going with her, leaving Morgana with more questions than answers.
Where is he supposed to go from here.