Chapter Text
Loop 7 - November
Two shots ring out behind the bulkhead door. Despite how desperately Ren had tried to prevent this very moment from happening, the familiarity of it is almost comforting now. There's no surprises this time—everything is unfolding just as expected.
"His signal is gone..." Futaba reports morosely. Ryuji is pounding his fists on the bulkhead door, the echo of each futile strike resonating in the hollowness of Ren's chest. Just like the first time. However, unlike the first time, the myriad 'what ifs' that would plague Ren in the aftermath of this night have already been answered. All the ways he'd wished he'd done thing differently, all the new ways he'd found to fail spectacularly had led him here, back to the same path he'd walked the first time. This is all necessary, he reminds himself, as he turns to run, leaving the tragedy he'd failed to prevent behind him once again.
He has one last plan, and it all hinges on one person: the Goro Akechi of Maruki’s January.
Loop 7 - January
For all the times Ren had repeated this year, this is only the third time he's actually made it all the way to January. His heart thrums with equal parts excitement and dread. He scoots himself out from under a sleeping human Morgana, giving him a few playful pats on his head, and then makes his way downstairs.
The scene that greets him is just as he remembers. There sits Wakaba Isshiki, casually enjoying breakfast with her family, vibrant and alive. It's a glimpse of how the world might have been without Goro Akechi in it. The barrage of complicated feelings is as strong as ever. He smiles at the three of them, and it stings like an open wound. All the same, he can't help the excited shout that escapes him as soon as the bell above the door chimes.
"Goro!"
Goro's eyes widen at the exclamation, then narrow as he beelines towards Ren, no doubt scrutinizing him to determine whether that outburst was the result of some sort of brainwashing. He opens his mouth, retort sharp on his tongue, but then his eyes drift over to Wakaba and he freezes.
"Sorry, I forgot we had plans today!" Ren blurts, a little bit too loudly and to nobody in particular. He rushes to herd Goro out the door, across the street to the laundromat.
"We'll be able to talk here," Ren says, too breathless for his own good.
Goro crosses arms, eyebrow quirked suspiciously.
"Since when do you call me Goro?"
Right, Ren realizes. In his excitement he had forgotten—hardly for the first time—that this is not loop 6 Goro who had called him Ren with a rough edge of affection. This is loop 7 original flavor Goro, who calls him Amamiya-kun on a good day and Attic Trash on a bad one, the one who had only called him Ren in the plastic, almost mocking tone of a fake ally. It was out of character enough to be calling him Goro in this timeline that he almost certainly thinks Ren is brainwashed now.
"I'm not brainwashed!" He blurts out, desperate to prevent his plan from going to shit this early. It doesn't seem like that's enough, so he adds, "I just missed you," as if that's an acceptable explanation and not just further incriminating him.
Goro just sighs and leans back against the row of washers.
"So," he asks, tongue sharp with accusation, "Have you noticed anything strange recently?"
For all that Ren had spent the better part of year planning what he would say in this exact moment, he's an absolute mess now that it's actually come.
"Yes, yes," he sputters, "Morgana is human, Wakaba Isshiki is alive," he pauses, "...you're alive." He sucks in a deep breath. "And any moment now, Yoshizawa will call me from Odaiba. We'll meet up with her and find the source of all this. I promise I'll explain everything, and we can make everything go back to normal, but I need you to promise me something too."
"What—" Goro starts, but right on cue, Ren's phone starts to ring.
Goro huffs an irritated sigh, but gestures for Ren to answer.
"Yoshizawa, you're in Odaiba, right?"
"Huh? How did you know?"
—
"Okay. Start explaining." Goro accosts as soon as they've made their way up the stairs to LeBlanc's attic.
"Um, where should I start?" Ren asks dazedly. His plan hadn't accounted for how exhausted he would be after everything he went through today. His beloved milk crate bed is right there, looking more inviting than it has any right to, and he wants nothing more than to crawl right in and let sleep take him. But he can't. He has time fuckery to explain. He has a plan, he reminds himself, even as he's collapsing forward and burying his face into his pillow.
"You can start with why you know so much about what's going on," Goro hisses. He grabs Ren by the shoulder and flips him over with all the grace of an undercooked pancake. Ren is sure the way Goro is looming over him is meant to be threatening, but it's taking all of his nonexistent willpower to remind himself once again that this is not loop 6 Goro.
"I know because I've done this before," Ren admits, in perhaps the most pathetic, exhausted sounding voice he's ever heard from himself.
"What do you mean, you've done this before?" Goro asks, sounding at least equally exhausted by all of this. He pulls out of Ren's space, settling himself at the end of the bed. Ren, in turn, channels all of his energy into the great endeavor of sitting upright.
"I mean I've lived this whole year before," Ren explains, tugging nervously at his bangs, "We'll defeat Maruki on February 3rd, and everything will go back to normal. Except, I go back to the beginning, back to the day I first arrived in Tokyo. If I die before the year ends I just start over again on April 9th."
"Is it some kind of trick?" Goro wonders, "Is Maruki making you relive the same year, wearing you down until you're willing to accept his offer?"
"I...don't think it's Maruki doing it," Ren says cautiously. He takes a steadying breath. Here comes the hard part. "I think it might be....my own fault."
"Explain," Goro demands.
"When Maruki's palace collapses, all of his changes to reality get undone," Ren begins carefully, "By rejecting his reality we can continue our lives in the true reality as if he had never interfered."
"But?"
Ren continues, tugging nervously at his bangs. "What do you think would happen if I couldn't accept this reality either?"
Goro blinks at him, considering this.
"So, what, reality just spits you out at the closest point in time you're willing to accept?"
"Um, something like that, yeah."
The thing is, after spending so much of this loop with the version of Goro that hides all of his expressions under a veneer of pleasantry, it's actually refreshing to see his true feelings show so plainly on his face. Ren almost wants to savor it. Except, well, the look Goro is giving him is. Ah. Not great.
"Why?" he hisses.
Ren just shrugs. "Why any of this?" He gestures vaguely at everything. "The metaverse, personas, why any of it?"
"Why you? Why do you get decide where reality gets to start and end?"
"It's not like I meant for this to happen. I can't help feeling the way I do about things. Surely you have your own share of regrets about everything that happened."
"In any case, if what you said is true, then you already know the solution, right?" Goro says, articulating each syllable like he's putting a great deal of effort into speaking and not shouting.
"Well..."
"Accept it," Goro says, this time with less restraint, "Defeat your ridiculous delusional therapist. Accept reality. Let time move forward."
"Let you die?"
"Let me die."
Ren has spent enough time with enough versions of Goro Akechi to hear the fear and remorse under the thick shield of bravado.
"Here's the thing," Ren says, ignoring the way Goro groans like he can't believe this conversation is still going, "You remember how I promised to explain and fix everything and in return I asked you to promise me something as well?"
"No," Goro replies coldly.
"I want to make a deal with you," Ren pleads.
"No. Fuck you," Goro spits, and the harshness of his tone grates against all of Ren's senses like the claws of his gauntlets against the rusted tread plates of the engine room floor. Ren braces himself against the wave of despair and looks up to meet Goro's disdainful eyes.
"Fine," he says, "I won't make you promise me anything, but at least hear me out."
Goro doesn't say anything in response, just slouches back a little more onto his elbows and closes his eyes, waiting for Ren to continue. All things considered, this is one of the better responses Ren has gotten trying to reason with Goro. He lets that thought give him the confidence to go on with explaining his plan.
"This time, I did everything the same as I did the first time," Ren says, "but the other times, I tried to change things. I thought, maybe I had the chance to fix my mistakes—to make a timeline that was better for everyone. And sometimes it felt like I really could! But a lot of the things I tried didn't even make a difference, or just made things even worse."
"Figures," Goro mutters, but doesn't offer any further commentary. By now he's fully reclined, his legs dangling awkwardly off the side of the bed. He's got one arm draped over his eyes to block out the light. Loop 6 Goro had spent so many evenings like this, dozing off in Ren's bed. On one rare occasion, he'd managed to coax loop 5 Goro into joining him here too. It's hard to differentiate them now—the Goro who fell asleep curled up into Ren's side after they'd stayed up late playing video games together, who was willing to give his life for him—the Goro who he'd talked into staying behind after a Phantom Thieves meeting to listen to antique jazz albums on a record player he'd spent way too much money on, who had laid his head in Ren's lap and let him gently run his fingers through his hair while the music played, and still went ahead with his plot to murder him. All his memories bleed and run together. The Goro he knows. The Goro in front of him. The Goro of the next loop, who doesn't know any of this yet.
"So, you've replicated your original actions. But it doesn't sound like you're done with this. So why?"
"I needed a baseline," Ren explains.
"For what?"
"For you."
"What do you mean?"
"I want to try one last time," Ren declares, "I want to go for one last loop, and I want you to help me plan it."
"Why should I?" Goro complains. He's swung a second arm up to cover his face completely.
"Because it's not enough for me to want to change things," Ren continues, "If you're not involved, is there even a point? I mean, it's a plan to save your life, shouldn't you be the one in charge of it?"
Goro actually laughs at that—a dry, bitter chuckle. He sits himself back up and fixes Ren with a long, calculating stare.
"How many times have you repeated this year?" he finally asks.
"Seven, counting the first one," Ren says, holding up the amount on his fingers for effect.
"So it took seven times for you to ask how I feel about any of this?" Goro accuses.
"No, it took one!" Ren shouts, digging his fist into the mattress in desperate frustration, "The very first time I went back, I tried to reason with you. I gave you a chance to choose a different fate for yourself, and you tried to kill me! So I tried again in the next loop. I went straight to you and told you everything, and then you did kill me! And then I still tried to reason with you in the 5th loop, but you just turned it into a challenge!"
"What about the 4th loop?" Goro asks, in a tone that says he knows Ren didn't just skip that one by accident.
"We didn't meet in the 4th loop," Ren says as nonchalantly as possible. Goro mercifully does not ask him to elaborate. He takes a moment before continuing. "I really thought the last one was going to be different," he sighs, "and it was different. I finally got you on my side. I gave up everything else just to see what it would take, and it worked. I thought if the two of us could take down Shido and get that out of the way, then I could take care of everything else after. But...it wasn't enough."
"Couldn't survive without your little friends after all, hm?"
"We didn't survive without them."
Goro doesn't say anything else, just stares pensively into the middle distance between them. Ren takes a few steadying breaths, gives into the need to scoot himself closer to Goro, but resists reaching out to him, clutching at the sheets instead.
"You can tell me all you want that I should give up," Ren says, unable to hide the tremor in his voice, "But I know you. I can't just abandon the part of you that wants to live and change and be better. The part of you I know can learn to trust me, that—" he chokes on his next word, but he's not sure if he should say it, anyway.
"The part of me that wants you to call me Goro?" Goro suggests, tone sharp, eyebrow quirked accusingly. But Ren catches that particular choice of phrasing.
Wants.