Work Text:
Goro prides himself on rarely getting sick.
Even back when he was a supernatural assassin juggling schoolwork (which he excelled in) and masquerading as a celebrity detective with weekly TV appearances and interviews, he seldom…no, he rarely comes down with the flu. And this is saying something considering his diet that time would make every doctor in Tokyo squirm: konbini, energy drinks and even a single apple that had been moderately successful in keeping those doctors away.
But as a man in his mid-20s, having survived near-death encounters with one leading to two-month-long comatose, his body isn’t quite as strong as it used to be
Sure, back in the days, he’s got small bouts of low-grade flu every tail-end of winter, sore throats after his long series of interviews in his teenage years or the occasional headache and nausea after spending a long time hunting a hit at the Metaverse. But hell, he managed to recover quickly after forcing his exhausted, ragged body to sleep.
He thinks the constant exposure to different environments in his formative years fortified his immunity. A different adoption agency, a different foster parent, a different home — yes, he had been malnourished, but at least the instability of it all made him stronger, more resilient.
His 7-year-old self would never imagine that years later, he’d be living in a nice two-storey apartment in a peaceful Tokyo suburb with another boy and a talking cat. But even his 18-year-old self wouldn’t, couldn’t, imagine that, let alone entertain the thought of reaching the drinking and getting-your-driver-license age.
So one Friday morning in July (of all seasons, it had to be summer, it felt like a fucking joke), he woke up with a mild sore throat, which he initially dismissed as some kind of latent reaction to the changing season. By the time went to work and sat heavily on his designated table in front of his boss’ office after enduring a packed train of sweaty salarymen, he heard the thunderous coughs and sneezes from the other side of the room and realized with a sinking feeling that he might have caught something from this damn office yesterday.
Just as the realization hits, the door swings open and his boss, a veteran detective in his late fifties, emerges with his burly face half covered in a face mask.
In his youth, Private Investigator Asou is said to be a notorious yakuza man, a closer from the renowned Tojo clan, which raised havoc in Tokyo during the early 90s. He went to prison twice, for charges he refuses to disclose, but somehow manages to open a detective agency in Shinjuku (due to unsavory connections, probably). Now, he’s a single father currently neck-deep in a divorce battle with his wife for the custody of his precocious ten-year-old son, who’s also the main culprit of why Goro doesn’t place his Featherman figurines on his desk anymore.
“Morning, Akechi-kun,” he greets gruffly, coat on his arm and looking absolutely shit. “I have an appointment with a doctor today, so can you finish drafting this report before the weekend?”
“Should’ve stayed at home,” Goro mutters to himself.
“What? Did you say something?” But of course, before Goro answers him, Asou-san shoves him a stack of paper from one of the assistants’ desks. “Oh, Nishiyama called in sick, too. I should have known since he was sneezing at every corner of this room yesterday. Good thing I sent you on the field, eh? Anyway, he was already gone by the time you returned. Seeing you’re spared from this, can you sort this out for next week’s meeting?”
It’s really, truly amazing how therapy works because if the Goro now is the Goro from six or seven years ago, he will either shoot someone or shoot himself.
But instead of flashing his boss the beatific Princely smile, he eyes the stack of paper with mild disinterest. “Unless he’s close to dying, let Nishiyama work for it on Monday.”
Asou rolls his eyes. “Just make him do it then. He’s your junior. And I don’t care if you have to drag his vomiting ass here in the office over the weekend.” He checks his watch. “I have to go. Do your work. And wear a damn mask.”
Too damn late. Goro curses him in his head. The sore throat and the developing headache are making him feel a bit murderous today.
Minutes after Asou-san finally left, Goro ransacks the medical cabinet for any medicine. Turns out he’s the only one in the office reporting for work; even the diligent Uchiyama-san, Asou-san’s secretary, called in sick. Surprise of surprises, probably because of the virus thing infecting them all.
His phone pings just after he pops a paracetamol into his mouth.
Ren: Mona-mona and I will be at the grocery store today to buy food for the road trip
Ren: do you want me to buy you anything? I can stop by the apartment later
Goro: It’s fine. I’m dropping by the supermarket after work anyway.
Goro: You’ll be staying at Leblanc tonight, correct?
Ren: Yep. Yusuke and Futaba will be bunking with me and Mona in the attic
Ren: Makoto will pick us up tomorrow morning
Ren: Do I still have time to take your heart and change your mind? :)
Goro: I’m afraid the infiltration route has not been secured
Ren: :(
Ren: Consider this as a calling card anyway :)
Goro: Take care, Ren.
As far as Goro is concerned, the annual Thieves summer road trip that started six years ago, will always belong to Ren and his friends. Yes, in the same year they all rejected Maruki’s reality, Joker and his restless band of thieves saved the world yet again by destroying Jails and fighting Monarchs or something (Goro couldn’t care less about the technicality of it) while he himself had been languishing in juvie, licking his wounds and wondering how the hell he was alive again. Even as Ren moved back to Tokyo for college, the group (plus Sumire this time) made it a point to have the road trip as an annual tradition while visiting old friends along the way, friends that apparently include oddly enough, an AI girl and what’s even more odd, a retired PubSec officer.
When his feet led him back to Ren’s life again, Ren had invited Goro to come with, assuring Goro that he and the group had talked about it and unanimously decided he could join if he wanted. Ren didn’t count Goro’s vote, however, and his answer was plain, straight-up “No”. Years assimilating to a normal life after rehab and juvie, and somehow ending up as Ren’s roommate, led him to some encounters with some of the Thieves individually, but he can tell that the group, as a whole, is still at a loss on what to feel in his presence. He himself felt like walking on eggshells around them. His therapist thought it was a good thing for some reason, but before she can elaborate why, Goro instantly told her they should move to another topic and they hadn’t discussed the matter since.
Even if by some random moment he wanted to join them this time, out of curiosity and nothing more, his developing flu had other ideas.
----
It’s half past 5 pm when Goro decides to finally go home. He manages to plow through twenty pages of paperwork before collapsing on the couch for a nap. Never mind that his suit will crumple or how dirty the couch was. For all his trouble, he wakes up with a pounding headache, a low-grade fever and a strong desire to strangle Nishiyama for somehow being a carrier and starting it all.
Good thing there weren’t any clients today, he thinks as he dons a mask. But when he passed by the door, it was because his boss had somehow forgotten to flip the CLOSED sign to OPEN before he left. Apparently, Asou-san had been too sick to remember, and Goro himself is too sick to even care or check.
The apartment he shares with Ren is one train stop away from Shinjuku, and thankfully, there was a small supermarket on the same block. Checking his watch, he surmises that Ren and Morgana should have been at Leblanc by now. Good, at least he wouldn’t catch this virus from Goro before the big trip. For all Ren’s cool bravado about the trip, Goro knows he’s very excited and anxious about it. Just last week, he hauled four packed grocery bags from a supermarket sale to supply his “Joker’s Kitchen”. Morgana proudly informed Goro that Ren was the designated chef for the road trip and was quite eager to replicate the delicacy of each city or prefecture they visited.
Goro may not be as good a cook — he spent his teenage years on konbini and microwaved foods, and on sushi if Sae and his older colleagues were feeling charitable, but a few years in juvie forced him to pick up some life skills that include feeding himself with a well-balanced meal. He knows his way across the grocery aisle and even learns a thing or two from Ren on identifying the good fruits or vegetables from the pile. What’s a few days without his fussy roommate and his loud cat? Goro did just fine when he was alone for the good part of his life — a week is nothing.
An hour later, he walks inside an empty apartment with two grocery bags in tow, immediately feeling the cavernous silence as soon as he flicks the hallway lights on. Already, he can feel the heat burning behind his eyes - a terrible reminder that he only has limited time to prepare a pot of chicken soup to sustain him before the fever takes his body down.
So he ties his hair in a loose ponytail and walks straight to the kitchen like a man on a mission, quickly opening cabinets to search for the pans, ladles and bowls.
“Hey, Akechi!”
“What the fuck.”
Goro can only glare at the cat, who languidly jumps to the kitchen counter, nonplussed at Goro’s reaction. Morgana’s eyes, however, zero in on his face.
“What’s wrong with you? You look pale.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” Goro mutters under his breath, quickly turning away. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Ren at Leblanc by now?”
“Yeah, but I decided to hang out and relax here for a bit while Ren finishes his errand across town. I can go to Yongen-Jaya by myself, y’know”
“You'd better, because there’s no way in hell I’d escort you there.” Goro resumes taking care of groceries, re-stocking the fruit bowl while acting as normally as possible. He immediately stifles a series of coughs rising out of his throat, but as a result, his shoulders begin shaking violently
“Hey, are you really okay?” Morgana asks.
“I’m fine,” He clears his throat. “Pollen allergy and whatnot.”
“You’re wearing a face mask.”
“A very astute observation,” Goro says. “As I said, just a bad reaction to pollen.”
“Heh, to think you’re not so immune to allergies after all.” This time, Morgana climbs to the counter where he’s currently organizing his ingredients. Goro absent-mindedly pushes him away, but the cat is faster, dodging his hands with ease. That or Goro’s reflex is more sluggish because of the flu.
So Goro does what Ren usually does when the cat is being extra pesky in the kitchen. He turns on the sink and points the extra rubber nozzle at Morgana. Water attack never disappoints.
“Gahh!” The cat shakes himself dry once he lands on the floor. “That was uncalled for!”
“You were asking for it.” Goro begins fiddling with the stove to start the water boiling as the chicken rests. “Isn’t it time for you to leave?”
“Augh, you’re the worst.” Morgana narrows his eyes at him. “Seriously, though, you look really bad. Are you sure it’s not just the allergies?”
“Maybe I’m turning out to be allergic to cats all along. Fuck off and let’s see if this will all disappear.”
He feels Morgana’s eyes boring on his back but chooses to carry on. If the cat continues to push it, Goro would have to take drastic measures. One that will cost him and his wallet heavily, the likes of fatty tuna and salmon roe
“Fine.” Morgana declares at last. “It’s time for me to leave anyway, but Ren will check up on you during the trip. You know that, right?”
“He’ll never suspect anything if you keep your mouth shut.” Goro levels the cat with a stern eye. “Keep this between us and I’ll get you sushi for a week straight once you get back.”
“A week straight?!” Morgana’s eyes glitter for a second before it settle into weary acceptance. “Okay, you have a deal. Just…take it easy, alright?”
“Have a safe trip, Mona.”
And that ends that.
----
On one of those rare times he gets sick, Goro dreams of his mother.
He is six years old again, huddled in a futon and clutching his Featherman laser gun to himself, even if the solid grooves and edges dig painfully against his heaving chest. His mother had just replaced the lukewarm towel on his forehead with a cold one, and he gazed up at her with a smile, assuring her that he could still protect her from the bad guys.
“I’m sorry, Go-chan.” His mother smiled her sad smile. “I have to leave you alone for a while. Mommy has to work.”
He nodded because that’s the only thing he could do, aside from hugging his toy even tighter.
“I’m going to get you some onigiri later. Oh, and that Squeeze Squeeze Featherman Orange Juice you like so much! So close your eyes and I promise that once you open them, I’ll be right here.”
He closed his eyes, but when he opened them after a long while, of course, Mother wasn’t there and the whole apartment was covered in shadows.
He noiselessly cried because his head hurt so much but like a good boy, he forced himself back to sleep, brushing away the snot and the tears.
Maybe she’ll be here when he wakes up for the second time.
----
Goro opens his crusty eyes as the sunlight streams through the windows of the apartment’s living room. He doesn’t remember falling asleep on the couch.
The night before, he managed to cook a decent bowl of soup. Well, by decent, he’s not particularly sure. He lost his ability to taste by the time he had his first spoonful.
But it settled in his stomach heavily and he hadn’t run straight to the restroom yet, so he figured it was edible to say the least.
After popping a couple of flu medicines and emptying the lemonade can, he reaches for his phone across the table. It’s down to 5% battery. 9:15 AM. The camper van should have left Tokyo by now.
He gingerly removes the towel from his forehead and checks his temperature by placing the back of his hand against his neck. Still hot. His mouth tastes like shit. His head is stuffed with hundreds of balloons. Why balloons? No reason. His head just feels heavy and light at the same time.
He looks at his phone again, rubbing his eyes. No calls from Asou-san. The old man’s probably too sick to even check his phone, let alone fire orders at Goro. He did have one message from Ren
> 8:42 AM<
Ren: just left tokyo. the gang says hi!
The cat kept his word. Goro is willing to put as many overtime as he can so Morgana can get all the fatty tuna he wants.
Ren: forgot to tell you that I fixed you up some curry yesterday morning. It’s on the freezer
Ren: we’ll camp in Nagoya tonight and eat the same curry
Ren: call me later and let me know how it tastes
Goro: If I really have to.
Goro: I know it’s late for me to say this, but have a safe trip.
He doesn’t expect a reply anytime soon, so he takes the time to clean up his mess - an empty bowl of what remained of his dinner, a basin of water where he’d wrung dry the towels last night, a box of tissues and face masks and his blanket that fell from his body at some point during the night.
His phone buzzes again, and he squints at it.
Ren: hey, even if you’re not here, you’re still a beloved customer of Joker’s Kitchen :)
Goro groans and it’s not because of the fever.
----
Naturally, there’s only so much you can do in a day when you are sick. The only time Goro leaves the couch is when his body demands it. The route was a monotonous path either to the restroom or to the kitchen, smelling like mild curry, Ren’s residual presence and an unintended heaven-sent gift to sate his empty stomach.
His condition remains the same, more or less. In one of the rare bouts of sickness, the recovery is bound to be a long and messy one. Like during that time when he was in fifth grade, he got sick in an empty house when his foster parents were out for a vacation. Because of that, he had to miss three whole school days. When his foster parents returned from vacation and learned about his “tardiness” from the school, he was promptly wheeled back to the agency with another record.
After popping another tablet for the headache, Goro arranges his makeshift bed on the sofa, throws the blanket over himself and leaves the world behind again.
----
He was nine years old, and it was Christmas Eve. He remembered waking up to the sight of snow falling gently against the window, with some of the snowflakes getting stuck and frosting the glasses.
The room he is lying in has two double-deck beds: four boys each had his own spot. There came a time when the orphanage had to squeeze in more, and he himself slept with a four-year-old boy who was up crying and snivelling all night, missing his mommy. He tried to comfort him in his own way, but what can a boy who also misses his own mother do? A week later, the little boy was taken to another agency, and Goro realized he hadn’t even learned his name.
He came down with a terrible flu that Christmas. If there’s any indication of the distant laughter and music downstairs, the little party the custodians of the orphanage set up is already in its full swing.
It was probably the shadow playing tricks on him, but when Goro looked around the room, he swore he saw a figure standing behind the curtain.
“Mom…” he croaked out loud in the empty stillness of the room.
The figure continued to watch him. Goro willed his body to move and managed to lift his arm, reaching out to the figure….
----
Goro’s eyes open to an empty, dark apartment, throat parched.
He wills his body to stand, driven by hunger pains, but before he can stand up, a dizzying spell overwhelms him, and his body slumps back to the couch.
Fucking pathetic. This takes him back to the time when he was recovering from the hospital before his 19th birthday. Unable to move his limbs and stewing in regret and self-hatred.
He’ll just close his eyes in a bit.
Maybe this time, he’d finally meet mother.
----
In that state between waking and dreaming, the wall of the apartment bleeds crimson before blending to the shadows. The floor dissolves — or rather, morphs into cold metal. He can briefly hear the sound of distant waves, the echo of the bulkhead snapping shut as he leans his tired body against it.
“…you wouldn’t say no, would you?” he hears himself asking, pleading. A bitter echo that made his chest hurt.
He hears the quiet answer from behind the wall. Hears the conviction behind it, an understated promise only the two of them know.
Satisfied, Goro faces the puppet of himself and looks death in the eye.
The bullet piercing his heart is both judgment and a reprieve.
He closes his eyes, embracing the peace and freedom. Feels a gentle hand pressing against his forehead, his mother finally welcoming him home...
“He’s still burning up.” The voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Or perhaps, he’s the one underwater?
“It’s this bad, huh?” Another voice chimes in.
He blindly turns around and presses himself against the warmth of the hand before darkness claims him one more time.
---- —-
The first sensation he becomes acutely aware of is a heavy, small thing pressed against his chest, purring like a low-humming engine. Just that, he already knows the culprit.
He opens his eyes blearily, and true enough, Morgana is curled up against his chest. At the sight of Goro, his whiskers perked up. “Oh, you’re awake.”
“Cat” Goro acknowledges, hating how brittle his voice sounds. He looks around and reaches out to the box of face masks he kept from last night…or from two nights ago. One’s sense of time, when sick, is fucked up.
“Call me cat all you want, but you’re an idiot,” Morgana mutters, wisely jumping out of the way as Goro attempts to sit up to put on the mask. The sun rays cutting through the window pierced the fog of his sleep-addled brain.
If Mona is here, that means….
“Ren left for a while to buy some breakfast,” Morgana tells him, reading his mind.
“Shit. Did you tell him?”
“Uh, yesterday he tried to call you multiple times, but your phone was dead,” Morgana says. “That made him worry, so I simply told him you might be possibly sick with an allergy and well, the next thing I knew, he gathered the whole group and announced that he’s going to take the bullet train back to Tokyo because he thought something terrible had happened to you.”
Goro just stares at the cat, willing his sluggish mind to absorb what he said.
When he’s able to process it, he can only spit out, “Wasted the fucking trip at my expense. Pathetic.
“He was really worried, you know. And we both know how stubborn he can get. Anyway, we’ll meet with the group in Kyoto, at least by the time you’re well enough, so don’t think you’re ruining anything.”
“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” Goro insists and tries to sit straight. By his sheer willpower alone, he manages not to flop back to the couch.
Morgana watches him, clearly not impressed. “Just accept the help. This doesn’t make you any weaker in his eyes.” The cat just licks his paw. “If anything, Ren weirdly enjoyed taking care of you. You’re not being a burden.”
Goro scowls. “You’re presuming things.”
“Deny all you want.” Morgana gives him a sly look. “Last night, your body says otherwise.”
Goro feels his stomach drop, and he knows it’s not due to the nausea. “What? What the hell did I do?”
A cheshire cat-like grin (how irritatingly apt) spreads across Morgana’s face. “Sorry…Not telling. That’s a secret between Ren and me. Also, Ren made me swear.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Goro says through gritted teeth.
Before Morgana can reply, the door of the apartment opens, and Goro braces himself with bated breath as Ren walks in.
“I’m home,” he calls out cautiously, quietly, probably thinking that Goro is still asleep. When he sees that Goro is awake but miserably slumped on the couch, his gray eyes widen slightly. “Oh, hey. How are you feeling?”
Goro avoids looking at him, still conscious of what Morgana hinted at earlier.
Without waiting for an answer, Ren goes to their kitchen bar to place the groceries, humming to himself Rise Kujikawa's latest single hit Goro wouldn’t admit out loud that he also likes.
Morgana can be many things -- annoying most of the time, but he can be annoyingly perceptive too. “I’ll take a walk outside to get some air,” he slyly winks at Goro. “Wouldn’t want to catch your virus and get myself sick for the trip.”
From the kitchen, Ren says. “Cats don’t catch human viruses, but go ahead.”
When Morgana slinks out through the cat door, silence settles over them like a blanket, punctuated only by Ren cutting something on the board and his cheerful humming. As if he didn’t just ditch a vacation he spent weeks planning just for Goro.
Goro owes him this one so he has to be the one who’ll break the comfort of the silence one way or another. “You didn’t have to go back.”
“You’re right. I didn’t have to.”
“But you did. And now, we’re adding this to a growing list of things on why your friends hate me.”
“Aww, are you getting concerned with what our friends think of you?” Without waiting for Goro to answer, Ren continues. “I keep telling you: They don’t hate you. It’s not like you willed your body to get sick, knowing who you are.”
Ren’s voice is perfectly neutral, but Goro knows him enough that he masks his hurt. Trust Goro to say the worst possible things to the only person who cared enough to do this much. It was just himself projecting ugly fears and nasty thoughts….just everyday Akechi.
“I apologize. It’s not fair to you nor to them.” Goro leans back against the back of the couch, feeling more tired than ever before. He doesn’t even notice Ren approaching him with a tray of water and soup until the glass of water is in front of him.
“It’s alright. I was also being an ass when I said I didn’t have to return here. I’m sorry.” Ren sits beside him after putting the tray on the table in front of them, then turns to Goro with a sheepish smile. “Start over?”
It’s been months since either of them spoke this phrase again — Goro after his propensity for fucking things up and Ren’s propensity for taking things too lightly as a twisted coping mechanism. As Goro’s therapist would always say, they can always start over, and when Goro used the phrase for the first time after an argument, Ren happily took to it and followed suit.
But when Ren says it this time, Goro can’t help himself from rolling his eyes, excruciating headache aside. “You didn’t have to go back,” he repeats, fixing Ren a flat stare.
“I didn’t have to, but I want to,” Ren says like it’s the simplest thing in the world to say.
“Idiot,” Goro scoffs under his breath, pointedly ignoring the strange flutter in his chest. He instead crosses his arms against it. “It’s not like I’m at death’s door. This is merely a flu and nothing worth fussing about, let alone ruining your vacation for.”
“Yeah, well. I can’t really enjoy my vacation if I spend every minute wondering why you’re not picking up your phone.” Ren leans back against the sofa as he absently twirls the locks of his hair. “Reputation of Joker’s Kitchen is on the line. I nearly burned a curry last night reheating it. If Futaba tells Sojiro about that, the old man would ban me from Leblanc for who knows how long.”
Exaggeration of the century. In everything but name, Ren is already a Sakura. When given the chance, Sojiro is ready to fight for it in court.
“Did it ever occur to you that I could infect you too?” Much to his chagrin, Goro realizes that Ren isn’t even wearing a face mask right now.
Ren tilts his head toward him and gives him a lazy smile. “I can handle anything you give me.”
“Yeah? And what happens if you spread this shit to the others?”
“It’s going to be fine. They all had their flu jabs.” Ren thinks for a moment. “I took one too, remember. Last month, you dragged me by the ass to Takemi’s clinic, and because of all that commotion, it slipped from both our minds that you also had one scheduled that day. Must be the reason why you caught a nasty strain this time.”
“At the very least,” Goro closes his eyes tiredly. He feels he’s going to black out any moment. “Can you please wear a face mask?”
To his relief, Ren relents. He heard him stand up from the sofa, followed by the sound of crinkling plastic. When Goro opens his eyes, Ren is already wearing a face mask and holding a Kool Fever pad to place on Goro’s forehead.
“Now that I granted your wish, can you grant mine and try to be a good patient?” Ren asks, the face mask failing to hide the smirk on his face.
And so, Goro lets Ren place the pad on his forehead. Ren’s look of concentration and gray eyes somehow hold him in place, and he feels like a pinned bird, not even daring to breathe. Goro can’t remember the last time he went to the bathroom. Up close, he must’ve looked so terrible…
“There. All done!” Ren says cheerfully, straightening and just as quickly, walking away. Goro exhales the breath he’s been holding and steals a glance at Ren, at his perpetually disheveled hair brushing against ears that are, somehow, tinged with red.
Wait…is he embarrassed? Isn’t Goro the one who ought to be flustered here?
“You should start eating your soup before it gets cold.” Ren continues, still not looking at him and seeming to be busy looking inside the freezer.
Gingerly, Goro takes the bowl and begins digging in. He isn’t sure whether it’s because his sense of taste returned overnight or Ren is just insufferably good at cooking, but this chicken soup is the best damn soup he ever tasted in his whole life.
Ren is all too happy to give him seconds.
Tummy full and the pad cool against his forehead, Goro leans back against the couch, feeling extremely content and a little sleepy. He still feels warm all over, but he suspects it’s not just because of the fever anymore.
His eyes begin to grow heavy, but they flutter open when he hears Ren walking towards him, thankfully still wearing his mask. He kneels beside the table to clear away Goro’s empty bowl and glass of water, his shoulder facing Goro.
Maybe it’s the fever that makes him stupid or sappy or both, but Goro wills himself to lean forward until his forehead bumps against Ren’s shoulder. Ren freezes at the sudden contact, but immediately relaxes. After a brief pause, he gently pats Goro’s head until they part from each other.
Sometimes, or always in their case, gratitude need not be said.
Goro settles back to the sofa, eyes remaining shut, as he pulls the blanket over him. “I’m going to recover soon, so you and the cat should catch that afternoon train,” he says in a tone that leaves no argument.
“You can’t just kick me out of our apartment,” Ren jokes but Goro is already drifting back to sleep, wondering if everything that has ever happened — waking up to a not-so empty apartment and to Ren and Mona’s gentle care, and perhaps everything that came before that, like from the moment five years ago when he decided to walk into Leblanc and back to Ren’s life, had been nothing but a dream.
If it is, he allows a smile to worm its way onto his lips. After all, even if he wakes up alone later and realizes this was nothing more than a fever dream, it is still a nice one.
----
HOURS BEFORE:
NOT THE PHTANMTOMS
Joker: train departing in a minute.
Joker: sorry again, guys. Joker’s Kitchen will be back soon.
Panther: I’m so happy you guys made it!
Violet: Have a safe trip, Senpai. See you again soon!
Queen: Safe trip to the two of you.
Queen: I’ll keep an eye out for the group so you don’t have to worry about us
Skull: Man, you don’t have to sound like my mom.
Skull: See ya, bro. And while you’re at it, sock Akechi for me
Skull: For letting his guard down and getting sick!
Noir: It’s not like he can help it, Ryuji-kun
Skull: this is because he stopped running with me every weekend
Oracle: hey bro since you’re going back to Tokyo, please drop by leblanc and bring the eyemask I left in your attic
Oracle: Queen brought her buchimaru one and i’m going to need my featherman to survive this roadtrip
Joker: will do
Fox: I hope Akechi gets well soon enough.
Fox: Not even the wildest of imagination can conceive of him being sick
Oracle: totally.
Oracle: maybe it’s one of the reasons why our dear friend/leader Joker was so quick to desert us
Joker: ?
Oracle: hey take a picture of him drooling.
Oracle: I’ll make it a permanent wallpaper on his work laptop
Joker: nope
Oracle: you just want him for yourself
Panther: fr fr
Queen: At any rate, take it easy on the train, guys.
Violet: Haru-senpai and I will be taking over the kitchen for the meantime, Senpai. Don’t worry.
Violet: Joker’s Kitchen intern reporting for duty!
Skull: And I’ll help!
Oracle: okay, everyone. first mission: get ryuryu away from the stove!
Ren peers down at his phone fondly before a paw reaches out to his hand from the bag
“He’s going to hate you for this,” Morgana whispers for the tenth time.
“Nah.”
“I’m serious. He was really being weird about the whole thing.”
Ren shrugs and scratches Mona’s cheek. “I just need to make sure he’s alright.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate further. Morgana understands. He is Ren’s non-human best friend for a long time, and he is also Goro’s best friend without either of them realizing it. Otherwise, Morgana would be berating Ren at this moment from the comforts of the camper van with either Ann or Futaba as his spokesperson.
Morgana says instead, “He made me promise, you know. So I won’t tell.” When Ren says nothing, he continues with a sigh. “Why am I even trying to talk you out of this now? We’re already in the train, and both of you are too stubborn for your own good.”
Ren just smiles down at his friend and reopens the group chat.
Joker: Thanks again for indulging me, everyone.
Knowing Goro, he’ll probably recover quickly enough and wouldn’t be relying too much on Ren because this is Akechi Goro he is talking about, but at least Ren’s going to be there, ready to make up for the time when he wasn’t.