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It’s always nice to have a phantom thieves meeting, even if the metaverse is long gone. And while Futaba didn’t picture their next big reunion to be in a KFC, she’s still more than happy to be here.
It’s harder and harder to meet up as one big group nowadays, especially given their steady march into adulthood. Luckily for the Phantom Thieves, all it takes to get them together is Ren announcing that he wants to hang out as a group for all their schedules to magically clear.
The current topic of discussion is university classes, which Futaba tunes out. She’s less than a year away from being a university student, and it’s the last thing she wants to think about. It’s the next level of the game of life, one without Sojiro and well … How about she gets through her exams first?
Her eyes couldn’t help but wander to two boys outside, who seemed to have made the decision to have a conversation despite standing pretty far away from each other.
“Explain yourself, Suguru.” A boy demands, a twinge of desperation in his voice. He’s totally trying to come off as nonchalant, and is failing miserably at it.
The two boys appear to be around the same age as the Phantom Thieves, both taller than any of them too. Those two must be around 190cm — much taller than the average Japanese man. It at least makes it easy to look at them despite the crowd bustling beside them.
“You already heard from Shoko, right? That’s all there is to it,” The other boy — Suguru — says.
The tension between them is palpable, and one that Futaba recognizes.
Futaba taps Yusuke’s shoulder, interrupting his own escape into day-dream land. He startles slightly, which brings a soft smile to Futaba’s face. They both can get quite engrossed in their inner world, and it’s nice to not be the only one in the group with that habit.
“Maybe I’m fujo-ing out, but are those two guys seriously breaking up in front of a KFC?” Futaba whispers, pointing toward the direction of the couple.
If Futaba is correct and this is a breakup, she can’t fault the other boy for seeming so despondent about it. Suguru is certainly easy on the eyes. His face is all sharp lines and chiseled features, perfectly framed with his long, black hair that has layers for days. Seriously, who is his hairdresser?
Suguru appears to have gauges, the jewelry just as black, beady, and beguiling as his eyes. His outfit consists of a baggy black sweatshirt and sweatpants that still does nothing to hide his muscular stature and broad shoulders. Yeah, Futaba would probably be devastated fumbling that handsome of a person too.
The other boy wears a gakuran, and Futaba is not ashamed to admit that she is checking him out as well. Beautiful is not sufficient enough of a word to describe his appearance. His face looks like it was carved carefully from marble by one of the people those ninja turtles are named after; his eyes are a bright, blinding blue that pulls Futaba in despite the great distance between them; his body slender, svelte, but still strong; his legs — wait a minute.
Those pants are way too tight on him. Skinny jeans might be in the modern fashion zeitgeist but goddamn, he looks like his torso is supported by two twigs.
And of course, most obvious of all, is the boy’s bright white hair. Futaba would think it’s weird, but her closest friends — despite being Japanese — have naturally red, blue, and blonde hair. Don’t throw stones from glass houses or whatever.
“Why is the boy facing away from the other?” Yusuke says, motioning toward Suguru. “Clearly this is an emotional conversation. That seems to be a bit rude.”
“Perhaps he cannot face his lover, lest he lose his resolve,” Futaba says, holding a hand over her heart.
“Maybe he’s facing away to amp up the dramatics!” Ann says, joining in on the little watch party. She sips her diet soda loudly as she blatantly checks out the two boys, making Futaba feel a lot better about her own ogling.
“So you’re going to kill everyone who isn’t a sorcerer? Even your parents?” Not-Suguru says.
This catches the attention of the rest of the phantom thieves, all of them snapping their heads to witness what’s going on. Morgana pokes his head out of Ren’s bag to get a proper look, Makoto wipes her hands on a napkin and folds them neatly in her lap, and Ryuji stops talking for once. It’s the most silent the group has been since they came into the restaurant.
Ryuji opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it quickly after receiving some stern looks from some of the group. Yeah, the whole parent-murdering of it all reminds the group of a certain someone, but it’s a general consensus amongst the group to not bring up Akechi in front of Ren — unless they want to murder the mood like Suguru seems to have murdered his parents.
Speaking of Ren —
Futaba glances at Ren, who has a forlorn, glassy look on his face. How cute — it seems that the mention of mercilessly killing people reminds their beloved leader of a certain detective prince too.
She had always thought the relationship between Akechi and Ren was more than it appeared; Akechi would practically drape himself over Joker’s chair when they were strategizing how to infiltrate Sae Niijima’s palace, and she spotted Ren leaning into Akechi’s touch when the rest of the phantom thieves were distracted arguing with each other one too many times for her to call their bond simply platonic.
When Futaba had pitched this idea to Yusuke, he had been spurred to create a painting of two star-crossed lovers that, in her opinion, looked like a bunch of blobs on a canvas. Pretty blobs, yes, but blobs nonetheless.
At least he received it better than Makoto, who had politely suggested that Futaba read less yaoi.
“I cannot allow my parents to be a special exception. Besides, those people aren’t my family anymore,” Suguru says.
The phantom thieves aren’t the only ones in the store watching with rapt attention; two boys in volleyball uniforms also seem engrossed with what’s happening.
“That’s not what I was asking. I thought we weren’t allowed to kill if there is no point to it,” The blue-eyed boy says.
“There is a point to it. Significance, too. Even a great cause,” Suguru says, his eyes twinkling with a sort of determination Futaba sees before someone was about to unleash their persona.
“There’s not! You’re going to kill all non-sorcerers and create a world of only jujutsu sorcerers?” The white-haired boy says, tightening his hands into fists.
“What the hell is a jujutsu sorcerer?” Ryuji says, as usual, in a tone that is a little too loud. “And is he threatening to kill all of humanity?!”
“Shh! It’s getting good,” Morgana says.
“You know that’s impossible! There’s no point chipping away bit by bit at something you can’t possibly do!” It’s the first time that the white-haired boy raises his voice.
“How arrogant,” Suguru says, a disdain in his voice that makes Futaba uncomfortable.
She is not alone in this feeling. The phantom thieves all take in a sharp breath when they hear the affront. It’s one thing to be broken up with, but to be insulted too? Double homicide.
“What?!” The other boy shouts. Yes boy-Futaba-is-running-out-of-descriptors-for, stand up for yourself!
“You could do it, couldn’t you, Satoru? Yet you would try to convince someone else that it’s impossible to do something that is possible for you?” Suguru says.
Suguru finally turns to Satoru, their eyes locking together. If the tension was palpable before, it now was able to be cut with a knife. So many things were said in that look — what Futaba would give to understand the silent words exchanged by the two boys.
“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you are the strongest?” Suguru says.
“What are you trying to say?” Gojo Satoru says. There is genuine confusion in his voice, one that Futaba can’t help but emphasize with.
Futaba was confused in her palace and prison once, begging for answers from a figment of her imagination shaped as her mother. But before she can really have an exposition flashback, Ryuji asks Satoru’s question at the exact same time, but a bit more crudely.
“The fuck does that mean?”
“I think he’s asking if Gojo-san’s strength comes from his identity, or if his identity comes from his strength,” Haru kindly offers.
“That still doesn’t make any sense,” Ryuji complains. Futaba can’t be too mad at him — who could have expected such a question from a teenage breakup?
“If I were able to become you, this foolish ideal would become a lot more grounded and real, don’t you think?” Suguru says.
Futaba looks to Ren again, who now drums his fingers on the table. His look is directed toward the window, but she can’t be sure if he’s looking at the breakup or his own reflection. She wouldn’t be surprised if Akechi had said something similar to Ren.
While Akechi seemed to have the same ability to hold many personas that Ren did, she never saw him be able to wield multiple personas at the same time.
Akechi had a three year head start on Ren and still couldn’t match his natural talent and skill. Maybe Akechi too could have achieved his goals, no matter how unfathomly cold they were, if he was given the same power and opportunities Ren had.
It always feels odd to sympathize with her own mother’s killer, but he was just a kid without a support system. If Sojiro wasn’t there for her, Futaba can’t even say she wouldn’t have ended up in a similar situation to Akechi.
“This breakup is getting pretty depressing,” Morgana says, which … damn. If the personification of hope is feeling down, the situation must be pretty hopeless for that Gojo dude.
“I’ve decided how I’ll live my life. Now it’s a matter of doing the best I can to achieve that,” Suguru says.
Suguru turns to walk away, and for a moment Futaba thinks that Gojo will go running after him. Instead, for some reason, Gojo crouches in a fighting stance and starts to make peculiar hand signs.
“Is he throwing up gang signs?” Makoto says.
“I think he’s trying to summon his persona,” Ann nods.
“Are you saying there are other persona users besides ourselves?” Haru says. Judging by Ren’s reaction, perhaps she is onto something. Futaba mentally files that reaction for later.
“Maybe he's trying to challenge his ex to ritual combat?” Futaba says. In another setting it would be just a joke; in this one, it’s also genuine suggestion.
“He’s already killed two people, and is planning on killing more?” Morgana says. “Wow, he must be one evil guy.”
“Well, not all killers are evil people,” Ren says a little too passionately.
“Maybe he’s going to kill him!” Ryuji chuckles, throwing his crumpled up napkins toward the trash can and missing. “Come on guys, it’s just a breakup. I mean, he’s also threatening to kill all of humanity, and I’m a little concerned about your lack of reaction to that, but maybe they are LARPing—”
“If you want to kill me, then kill me. There would be a point to that,” Suguru says.
The phantom thieves all turn to Ryuji and start to lay on him, as if Ryuji is personally responsible for the situation.
“Way to speak things into existence, Ryuji!” Morgana complains.
“That totally killed the vibe, dude,” Futaba says.
“Your sudden clairvoyance has not spelled good fortune,” Yusuke declares.
Ryuji groans, and rakes his fingers through his hair.
“Seriously, guys, is no one else a little concerned about Suguru’s threats of genoci—”
“Guys, look!” Ann says, interrupting Ryuji and redirecting all their attention to the window.
Satoru’s hands drop to the sides of his body before clenching into fists. Anger is written all over him in clear, fluorescent calligraphy. His body moves to follow Suguru, as natural to him as breathing, before he startles into stopping himself.
Even in the broad daylight, under the banner of the unforgiving sun and society surrounding him, tears start to fall down Satoru’s face. He’s gorgeous even in his desolation, dejection, and desperation. His hands crawl up his body and toward his face, covering his face as he cries into them.
None of the Phantom Thieves know him, nor do they ever have any intention of introducing themselves to him. Nevertheless, they feel for him. They too know what it’s like to beg someone to see the light, only for them to choose self-destruction.
The mood remains sour for a moment, each Phantom Thief stewing in their own thoughts, before Ren inevitably swoops in to save the day.
“In front of a KFC is crazy,” Ren chuckles.
The rest of the Phantom Thieves follow suit, laughing at the absurdity of it all. This hasn’t been the weirdest thing they’ve ever seen, not by a long shot.
“It’s a crime to do that in front of the holy house of American fried chicken,” Futaba says. No one but Ren finds the joke particularly hilarious, but that’s a win in her books.
“I am inclined to agree on that matter,” Haru says. She resumes eating her fried chicken with a fork, tossing some bites to Morgana when she thinks nobody is looking.
“This all reminds me of this psychology class I’m taking,” Makoto says. “We’re currently on the topic of interpersonal relationships and how we navigate them. The coursework is very fascinating. It involves—”
Futaba tunes out Makoto’s impending pedantic rant, and instead listens in on Ann telling a story to Morgana’s rapt and Ren’s casual attention.
“I was once broken up with right outside of my apartment. You should have seen it. He walks me to my building and kisses me, which is immediately followed by ‘I don’t think this is going to work out.’ Right after our nice date? Right after you kissed me goodnight? Like, come on!”
“Someone breaking up with the great Lady Ann?” Despite his kitty face, Morgana still manages to look appalled. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I thought the same thing too! He wasn’t even that good-looking too-”
“This meeting today has inspired me,” Yusuke says, taking Futaba’s attention away from Ann’s story. He steals a napkin and starts to scribble on it. “I have a spark for creation.”
“Because of the breakup?” Ren says. “Or the interior of the store?”
“Yes, the interior of this store!” Yusuke beams, proud that Ren so easily figured it out. “The stark red and white provide such a contrast to one another—”
“Is no one else concerned about the mass murderer on the loose?” Ryuji grumbles, to the attention of no one. It’s not long before he shrugs his shoulders, admits his defeat, and goes back to consuming an unhealthy amount of fast-food.
“Hey guys!” says Sumire, walking into the restaurant with a hurry. “I’m so sorry I was late. Practice went overtime, again.”
The Phantom Thieves all say their own greetings to her, waving Sumire towards them. Their conversations continue as Sumire sits next to Futaba and starts to rummage through her bag.
“Do you think the employees will care if I eat my own food?” Sumire says. “It’s just that our next competition is really close, and our coach is being really strict about our macros.”
“I’m sure they aren’t paid enough to care,” Futaba says, earning her a giggle from Sumire.
“You know,” Sumire starts, “I came across this guy while walking towards here. White-hair, very tall, and surprisingly pretty for a boy. He was crying really hard, like he had just gotten broken up with.”
Futaba grins wolfishly.
“Boy, do I have a story for you.”