Chapter Text
Useless. Everyone and everything around him were damn useless.
Akechi, that traitorous brat. He should have had the cleaners deal with him the moment the polls had shifted in his favor. Judging from the swing in votes due to Akechi’s sudden disappearance, a body would have done nothing but cement an already certain victory. To think he would turn to the Phantom Thieves. There wasn’t an ounce of pride in that boy.
At first Masayoshi wanted him to be dealt with discreetly but now, he wanted Akechi brought to him. To be made an example of for any who dared to breathe a traitorous thought into existence. The time for mercy had long passed. Akechi should have been grateful for all he had been given instead of reaching heights not suited for those of ilk.
Confined to the car, Masayoshi tapped his foot to the low thrum of an engine. The restrictive fabric of his fine pearl dress shirt caged the sweat at his neck even as the stench of cold gasoline sat on his skin. Was this another symptom of the metaverse? The heat was nigh unbearable.
“What the hell is going on out there!? Why aren’t we moving!?
“I’m sorry sir the traffic is still on-going.”
Masayoshi’s jaw clenched. This couldn’t have been a coincidence. If those thieves had the means to negate Medjed then a mere traffic jam was child’s play. They were trying to cage him. Him, the god-appointed ruler of this world. The man who shall usher in a new era for this country. They should be groveling at his feet, begging for scraps at his behest and yet.
And yet.
Phone against his ear, the lemmings on the other end scrambled. “What about Wakaba Isshiki’s research? Isn't there anything on how to stop a change of heart!?”
“We don’t––” A voice started, then swallowed.
“Spit it out already!”
“Wakaba theorized that one way to get rid of a palace was to stop all biological activity.” Masayoshi lifted a brow. “Basically, sir, we would have to stop your heart and revive you. However, I strongly advise against–––”
“And it’ll destroy my palace? You're certain?”
“According to her research, it should collapse instantly and be fatal to those who are inside, however the risks!”
“Have a method prepared I’ll be there shortly.”
“Sir––!”
Masayoshi hung up and reached for the door as he angled his chin to the buffoons in suits. “You three with me.”
“Sir, we’re in the middle of traffic!”
“We’ll be taking the train. Call ahead and tell them to clear a cart.”
“But sir!”
Masayoshi yanked the incompetent fool by the tie. “I don’t pay you to think, now do as I say and clear the goddamn cart.”
A swallow followed and blearing horns punctured the unsteady quiet. Masayoshi stood in the road, not sparing a glance at the screams and shouts for his attention that solidified what he already he knew. Everyone in this country worshipped him, needed him, chose him.
Those imbeciles within the conspiracy had a weak hand and an even weaker spine. They could never continue his work without him. No, he won’t die. He couldn’t die. God would never allow such a thing to come to past.
No one was going to trap him. No one.
Least of all that backwater ingrate for a son.
“Nothing lasts forever, least of all human hope.”
The darkness thumped. A voice slithered by Ren’s ear as numbness thick as concrete stiffened his limbs.
What…?
Where...?
Where am I...?
Shido leapt towards Futaba...but what happened after that...?
Pinpricks prodded his neck as a voice––as bloated as it was all encompassing, loamed like a tidal wave. “Yet he is his own type of hope, do you not agree?”
“Do not sound so sure of yourself. He is still a child of man, and I am in his heart just as I am in every human heart.”
“And in that heart exists the power to change reality. His will is strong.”
“His nature is stronger.”
Who.
Who is that?
“I agree,” the voice replied, smoothly. “And it has already granted him one victory.”
The shrill voice laughed.
“You call this a victory? A world on the brink of ruin at the hands of not one but two of your champions? Is this all humanity’s goodness has to offer? Two murderers?” A flipper of ice coiled around Ren’s throat. “I didn’t even need to lift a finger as man forged their own chains and labelled their collected weakness a god. This world is riffed with sin and that sin must have punishment.” A shiver dug its talons into Ren’s spine and climbed. The first voice, the writhing dark, drew close and Ren couldn’t fight. “He belongs to me, as does this world.”
A spark of gold burst behind Ren’s eyelids. The voice shrieked. The light shifted the floor beneath him and without ever uttering a word, Ren began to sink. The light smelled like coffee, Leblanc coffee, home. A low, guttural growl raised all of Ren’s hairs and choked his thoughts. His limbs slipped beneath the tepid heat as the other voice, soothing and warm, only hummed.
“Yet, he is loved.” they said, “And that is strength.”
"Or their undoing.”
“We have our terms, abide by it to the end, even you must honor that. It is through his bonds that he is saved, and through his bonds the world shall be saved as well.”
The world...?
“We’ll see about that.”
Bright light speared his vision. Ren tried to follow the voices, tried to see beyond the searing white to the overwhelming auras around him but all that graced his vision in the sea of blue were two butterflies. One gold, and the other black. They fluttered over his half sunken face, then flew out of sight.
Ren’s consciousness began to slip into nothingness when a voice slithered by his ear one last time.
Goro has seen status epilepticus once.
Years ago, when a young boy, not much older than Goro was at eleven, fell during supper into a convulsing heap on the floor. Head jerking, eyes rolled, nose frothed with chunky white vomit. None of the children screamed. Noise didn’t earn them any favors, no matter the reason. So, by the time the caretakers realized what had happened, the boy had swelled bruise-red in the face as he choked for minutes on end. By the time the paramedics loaded the boy onto a stretcher he lost control of his bowels.
There were no comments or questions regarding his safety. No tears, and certainly no worries. The only thing the group of starved children could concern themselves with was how to sneak a portion of the boy’s meal unnoticed. Goro managed to spirit away a rice ball before the competition grew stiff over the meat and never thought about that boy again.
Goro wished he could go back to that time, if only so that he couldn’t feel a thing.
The limo smothered Sumire’s cries beneath its engine as Nijima patted Ren’s cheeks. “Amamiya? Amamiya, can you hear me?”
“He still isn’t waking up!?” Goes Takamaki, horror stretched on her face as she held a sleeping Futaba in her arms. “Isn’t that really bad!?”
Sakamoto was staring, his mouth opening and closing as the limo continued to drive. Kitagawa’s face went pale. “Doesn’t he need a hospital!?”
Status epilepticus occurs when a seizure goes uninterrupted for more than five minutes or when an individual had multiple seizures without regaining consciousness. Goro's thoughts and limbs grew numb pressed under Ren’s weight. Ren’s head rested against his chest as the rest of him remained draped over Nijima’s lap. His skin was warm, pale, and the back of his head left a bloody smear on the fabric of Sakamoto’s electric purple hoodie. Thick iron wafted through every inhale and his stomach lurched.
Airways, breathing, circulation. Ren hadn’t vomited. Other than the dribble of blood on his lip, there was nothing in his mouth and his pulse maintained a steady rhythm.
Less than a week ago Goro felt its steady thrum against his skin as Ren listened on while Goro rambled about another classic he had read that year. Their limbs tangled and still under burning sheets. Basked in words that were felt but never spoken. That night, with the two of them locked in laughter, their scent all over the sheets, had Ren asked anything of him, Goro might have given it to him. Given anything to the person who continually saw something in him worth loving, worth keeping, a precious gem. To Ren, Goro was his hero.
Yet he failed.
Goro gave it his all, everything he had, and it still wasn’t enough.
He wasn’t enough.
Shido’s shadow crumbled to dust and took Goro's victory with him. Goro wanted to kick, to rip, to scream and tear at the fresh leather seats to release even a portion of the rage eating him alive. But instead, all he could do was squeeze Ren’s hand. Hoping, waiting, for even the weakest return.
There was none.
Nijima bit her lip. “How much longer to Yongen-Jaya!?”
“Another fifteen minutes!” Okumura shouted back. “We’re taking a shortcut!”
Nijima wiped the sweat off her forehead as she panted. “Please hurry!”
Goro laid Ren down on the medical bed as Takemi and her assistant swarmed. A small light was shone in Ren’s eyes as Nijima and Goro rattled off facts about the situation. The length of the seizures, how long it had been, additional injuries such as the biting of Ren’s tongue and the injuries to his head. Takemi maintained a steady hand during her examination even as they pelted their words like stones.
“Eri, get the EEG!” Takemi ordered as she fitted an oxygen mask over Ren’s face by lifting his head gently off the pillow. The assistant, who looked not much older than Futaba, flew to the corner of the room. “Ren, Ren can you hear me?” When no reply came, Takemi swore under her breath. “One of you lock the door!”
Sakamoto didn’t wait to be told twice. He sprinted on his bad leg and twisted the lock.
Takamaki and Okumura set Futaba down on an adjacent bed and Takemi’s gaze darted to her without comment. Her hands in a frenzy, Ren was connected to an IV and a heart monitor as a smaller machine with a screen was rolled towards the bed. The assistant, Eri, locked eyes with Sumire but said nothing, instead, she dutifully retrieved every item without hesitation. Sneakers squeaked against clean blue tiles as a net of connected patches and wires slipped over Ren’s curls. Goro knew nothing about how to read an EEG, but the expressions brought on by its erratic static were far easier to decipher.
Syringe in hand, the first dose of medication was injected with the IV, but Takemi’s demeanor didn’t change. It took six doses of the anti-convulsant co*cktail interspersed within the half hour before Takemi stopped holding her breath and Goro along with her.
Takemi stooped low near the edge of the bed. “Ren?” she asked, her voice gentle, but still laced so thick with fear it was a wonder she hadn’t choked on her own tongue.
She briefly brushed what little tuff of Ren’s hair was free from the net as his eyes flickered open. Ren’s gaze was clouded, half-lidded. None of that stopped her from offering him a smile. “Hey there, thought I told you not to get into any more trouble.” Ren’s gaze drifted weakly around the room though he was too weak to move his head. “Do you remember anything? Do you know where you are? Your name?” Ren’s stare seemed to go right through her, and her expression pinched. “It’s okay if you’re too tired right now, how about you rest up and we can try again a little later, alright?” Takemi rested her hand on the top of his head as Ren closed his eyes.
Nijima panted besides him and Goro couldn’t peel his gaze away from Ren’s face.
“Is...he going to be alright?” Nijima asked.
Black acrylic nails dug into Ren’s mattress as the thieves stiffened around him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the police.” Nijima’s next step wobbled, and Okumura caught her arm.
“Listen, Dr. Takemi––”
“Or maybe an explanation as to why you brought him here instead of calling an ambulance,” Takemi said, “I just barely had the supplies to stop this do you understand what I'm saying?” Nijima swallowed. “You all have one chance. One. To explain to me why my patient, who doesn’t have a history of seizures was moments away from dying of one.”
Goro lifted his hood off his head. Eri’s gaze went wide while Takemi regarded his presence with quiet horror. "If you recognize who I am and are at all familiar with the events of the last few hours, then you don’t need me to explain all the reasons why contacting the authorities wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest.” Takemi glared. “You saw the broadcast did you not? As a medical professional, you’re well aware of the hold a particular individual has on our healthcare system and why such a man and his allies might have an invested interest in ensuring Ren’s condition doesn’t see improvement.” Takemi eyed the group. “You know what I’m referring to.”
Takemi huffed, “Broadcasts can’t be trusted these days, after all, you don’t look very missing to me.”
“A shame, since for all intents and purposes, I’d like it to stay that way.” Goro’s gaze drifted to Eri, the assistant who stood closer to Futaba’s bedside.
“Between you and me, I don’t really care what you want.” Her gaze gestured to the unconscious siblings on their beds. “You aren’t my business, they are.”
Nijima hobbled forward with Okumura’s help and Takemi’s gaze creased as it pooled with questions. “Dr. Takemi, please, I know how this looks but I swear to you. We only brought Amamiya here because we didn’t know what else to do. Akechi is right that at the moment, hospitals just aren’t safe.”
Her hand tightened over her coat sleeve. “Are you saying this was done to him?”
“Yes,” Goro said. “No explanation we can provide will be able to satisfy your sense of reasoning but the threat to Ren’s life is very real.”
Takemi’s gaze narrowed, “And how do I know that threat isn’t you all?”
“Um,” Eri said as Takemi’s gaze shifted to her direction. “I can vouch for Sumire; I met Amamiya through her at school. They’re really close.”
Sumire inhaled through reddening eyes and bowed low. “Please, I beg you. None of us mean him any harm...” Her knees wobbled as her fingers tightened over her stockings. “We just want to make sure he’s okay.”
"I know we messed up in the past,” Takamaki said, “But Akechi and Yoshizawa are Amamiya’s best friends. Even if you can’t trust us, trust them.” Taking in her words, Takemi exhaled through her nose. The silence stretched to the rhythmic beats of the heart monitor before anyone else dared to speak. “...Is he going to be alright?”
“I don’t know,” came the dreaded answer. “I administered several doses of fosphenytoin and lorazepam since after the initial onset, Ren continued to have non-convulsive seizures which kept him from regaining consciousness. Without an MRI, it’s impossible to know the extent of any damage. Ren needs the ICU. I can’t administer proper care here.”
“How long?” Goro asked, his voice devoid of anything resembling an emotion. “How long can Ren reasonably stay under your care without endangering his life?”
“I can keep him stable until he’s conscious but if he has another seizure, there'll be nothing more I can do. He’ll need to be placed in a medically induced coma and that can only be done in a hospital.”
Goro nearly crushed the phone in his hand. That was no time at all. Unspecified and left to the whims of a condition Takemi wasn’t equipped to manage nor subvert. Who, after all, could handle the ramifications of a brain processing its own undone death.
Her own hidden frustrations tucked aside, Takemi turned in her seat and hovered above Futaba. She checked her breathing and heart rate before her pointed gaze landed on Nijima. “You, sit.”
Nijima perked up against Okumura. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Eri, take her temperature, I’ll be with her in a second.”
Eri bowed as Okumura guided Nijima to a seat, though confusion was knitted all over her features. “My injuries aren’t recent...” Nijima tried.
“Your skin is flushed; your eyes are glassy and you’re shivering despite the insulation. You’re overheating but you stopped producing sweat. You need an IV.”
Nijima faced the doctor owl-eyed as Goro turned on his heel. “The rest of you with me.”
“Hold up––” Sakamoto tried, as Goro reached for the door handle. “Shouldn’t we, you know, wait until they wake up!?”
“Who knows when that’ll be,” Kitagawa murmured. “Even if it’s a matter of simply exhausting herself, Futaba can remain in that state for days on end and then there’s the matter of Ren...”
“Akechi’s right, we have to talk about what happened in that palace, let’s go to Leblanc,” Morgana said, his tail swaying. “Makoto, stay here and get treated.”
“But––” Nijima objected but Okumura squeezed her hand. Her face filled with deep worry Goro had neither the time nor care to give.
Still, Nijima relented and eased into the hands of the confused assistant, likely wondering why they had all stopped to look at the cat, but Goro kept his eyes on her. There were too many unknown elements. That assistant and Okumura’s driver were all avenues for leaked information.
Eri squeaked upon catching his gaze as Goro did little to shield his thoughts. “I don’t need to tell you what can happen to everyone here should my whereabouts become known. If you cannot be persuaded to resist an award billions large, then let me be very clear that the people behind that award are more likely to gut you and everyone you hold dear before you see a cent.”
And even if they weren’t, Goro had nothing but an abundance of time on his hands. Sakamoto’s sweaty garb masquerading as a proper garment might have shielded him from recognition in the busy streets but Goro had learned by now that if anything can go wrong––it will. He should have told Ren to get rid of Yosh*tsune; should have seen that “gift” for the hangman’s rope that it was. Nothing in life was ever freely given, why should heaven or hell be any different?
Taken aback by the stark difference in his demeanor no doubt, Eri shook her head as Takemi’s glare darted at him from behind her shoulder. There was something in Eri’s gaze that Goro couldn’t quite place as she glanced at Ren and then Sumire before her steady eyes returned. “I’m not going to say anything, I promise.” Goro’s own gaze narrowed. “You don’t believe me.”
“There’s little to believe in.”
“There’s no need to be so harsh with her,” Okumura defended. “She just helped save Ren’s life, and if Takemi-san is willing to trust us then we should extend a similar grace.”
Goro’s thin thread of patience frayed. “And how has that extended grace worked out for you so far Okumura? Perhaps I should reach your father for comment.”
“Akechi!” Morgana went.
“Dude!” Sakamoto said.
Okumura’s lids lowered and rose-pink nails curled into the flesh of her palms.
“Please don’t fight,” Eri suddenly said, “Look, I get it, I do. I wouldn’t trust me either if I were you. I just...I feel like I owe Amamiya-senpai that’s all...I’m only here because of him...” Goro stared as Takemi stood straight. “And like you said...I’m screwed no matter what, aren’t I?”
Goro’s lids lowered as Sumire stepped forward. “We didn’t mean to scare you...thank you for vouching for us.”
“I’m so sorry for this,” Nijima said suddenly, “Please excuse him, and the others.”
After casting another glance at Ren’s vitals, Goro walked out of the room without looking back.
***
Yongen-jaya was bursting at the seams as the once sparse streets were littered with pedestrians. Local bars were filled to the brim with drunk fools perched like pigeons on wooden stools. Parents strode by with groceries in one hand and their children in another while the elderly gossiped about Shido’s latest rally.
Flat steam rose from the bathhouse as heavy footsteps trailed behind him. Goro hoped that in the waning cola light. The small blotches of blood on Sakamoto’s hoodie escaped notice.
Hand on the knob, Leblanc’s door swung open, and something crunched beneath his shoe. Goro flicked on the lights and froze.
Coffee beans and shards of glass mangled the hardwood floor. A yellow landline was ripped from the walls leaving a chunk of plaster on its tail. Books and board games were wet and scattered. Broken siphons and drenched newspapers eclipsed the counter. Everything, every vessel that made up Leblanc’s beating heart was ripped apart and thrown at Goro’s feet.
A weight against his back, the remaining thieves pooled at the entry then stilled behind him.
“Oh my god,” Takamaki said as they walked in.
“Boss!” Kitagawa went.
“Holy sh*t...” Sakamoto added.
“Do you think he’s here!?” Takamaki asked.
Every step was an audible crunch that plumed the bitter musk to his nostrils. Outside of their containers, crushed beneath their heels, Goro couldn’t tell the beans apart. Not even by their scent. Sumire inched forward; her eyes wide as Morgana raced down the stairs as quickly as he sprinted up. “He’s not here!”
“We gotta check his place!” Sakamoto said. “Come on! We gotta make sure he’s okay!”
Okumura knelt and picked up the landline in both hands. Her fingers tightened over the shiny edges of the hard yellow plastic. “Ryuji...”
“Do you really think if Sakura were around, he would leave the cafe in such a state?” Goro stated, his voice low. Sakamoto’s shoulders fell.
“No...” Takamaki whispered.
“It seems our contingencies weren’t enough.” Goro reached for his phone and dialed but his fears were met instantly. “Sae isn’t answering.”
“You think...?” Sakamoto asked.
“I know.”
Dread curtained the room. Goro crouched and fished a crossword peeking through a mountain of beans and its filled sections stared back at him. The pages were stained. Its puzzles were barely visible in the brown wash as red ink bled to ripples. None of it was salvageable, a message to the thieves that they should expect Sakura to be in a similar state.
Perhaps Ren and Futaba being absent was itself a mercy.
“Focus,” Hereward demanded through the haze.
Goro lowered the book and tuned into the conversation happening at his back.
“What did we do wrong?” Takamaki asked. “What happened to Shido’s shadow back there?”
Morgana shook his head. “It wasn’t anything we did. Something must have happened to Shido outside the palace!”
“Something like what?” Okumura asked.
“I don’t know,” Morgana said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Goro asked, his back still turned. “When faced with the prospect of a world without his empire. Shido would rather face death than be subjected to a change of heart.”
There was a gasp in the stale air. “You don’t think...” Takamaki asked, her words cut off by the truth. Goro turned to meet her fists balled at his side. “But wait, we grabbed the treasure, didn’t we?”
Sakamoto reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold pin. Goro stared as the overwhelming urge to stomp it to dust arose. “What the heck is this thing?”
“it’s a legislator’s pin,” Sumire whispered.
Sakamoto frowned. “What the hell? So, this bastard really has been messed up from the start!”
Were the multiple orphans he left in his wake not a testament to that?
“I could only imagine the number of crimes he has to his name,” Okumura whispered. “My father only being one of many...it’s possible he preferred to take his own life instead of facing any of it.”
“Then what the hell’s gonna happen now?” Sakamoto asked.
“How are we supposed to rescue Ohya and the others if Shido doesn’t confess?” Takamaki asked.
“We don’t know for sure that Shido has taken his own life, do we?” Kitagawa added, “Perhaps it’s my own assumption but a man such as him, who takes great pride in being god’s chosen might not choose the path of taking his own life.” Goro twitched. Wait. “The dead cannot lead after all and while I don’t think Shido’s a pious man by any means, he is arrogant enough to believe he’ll survive anything.”
Goro could picture it well. Shido’s mocking smile and the glint in his glasses. ‘Believing that I would die like that. Well, aren’t you your mother’s son?’
“Yusuke’s right, we need facts not assumptions,” Morgana said, “Things may look bad now, but let’s gather what we can and figure out our next moves! Boss and everyone else is depending on us!”
The night before his trip to the palace, Goro dreamt of spider lilies in such multitudes that the wind caught on the petals in waves. In the distance, a sea of red dipped and rose near a violet horizon. It was a beautiful sight, and remained so even as Goro lit a match with gloved hands and dropped it in the field.
Bright orange flames licked and spread–––engulfing the peaks nearest to the sun but he didn’t burn. An omen, Wakaba would have said, from Hereward or perhaps a side of him not yet known. A reminder of death’s continued reciprocation for everything Goro held dear. The air grew stiff with smoke, but Goro didn’t move a muscle within the embers. He never did.
If he was there, he was there for a reason. Leather creased as Goro tightened his grip. If he had to pull Shido and Ren out of the inferno himself, then that’s what he was going to do.
Death won’t have either of them.
Haru swept broken glass into the duster as the news continued to reveal little news about Shido and even less regarding those he had captured. Still, she took her time and reorganized the shelves best she could. Haru felt no need to worry as time waned. There was some benefit to having no one waiting at home, she supposed.
They couldn’t replace what was lost. Damaged containers, boardgames, books, and countless beans but Haru believed that Sakura-san would be grateful nonetheless. Wherever he was.
She briefly wondered how her grandfather might have felt when her father closed his store. Did her father assist in shelving away his dreams or did he simply hire someone else to do it? Uncaring, unfeeling hands prying away at her grandfather’s life’s work. No wonder his heart failed him in the end.
Haru even slit her thumb open on a broken siphon. She flinched but only for a moment. Somehow, the pearls of blood beading to the floor felt like penance. A means of undoing the curse brought on by her family’s willingness to fashion itself above others at all costs. On the days when her failures rose above her successes, it was hard to separate herself from the cloth she was cut from. Hard not to see every wrong outcome as another hand dealt to right invisible wrongs.
Everything her family touched, withered. Everything.
Especially if it was loved.
Ann fetched her a clean cloth and bandage that she accepted with a smile. She didn’t need to cause more worry than necessary. They tried not to show it, but everyone was hurt. Haru’s own limbs protested lifting the garbage bags that were featherweights compared to the sacks of soil she toiled to school with daily. It made her feel weak and the events that followed did her no favors.
Once Leblanc was clean, Akechi changed into some of Ren’s clothing and then left without a word. It was no surprise that despite Yusuke’s condition of not entering Mementos alone, Akechi would disregard it given the circ*mstances.
After Ann confirmed via social media posts that Shido had bypassed their traffic jam by taking the train, there was nothing. No updates on his condition or even that he might have been in dire straits.
It was strange. A person as influential and pivotal to the political landscape as Shido having a health crisis so close to the election should have been prominent news but what came instead was an eerie silence.
Yusuke fingers gripped his own arms as he stared into space. Haru straightened her back from behind the counter and rested her palm against its freshly cleaned surface. “Yusuke-kun, are you alright?”
“Ah,” he said, snapping out of his daze. “My apologies...” He covered his face. “It seems that between Boss’s disappearance and Ren’s condition...I appear to be a bit distracted.” Haru wore her question on her face. “My mother passed away from seizures and though I was too young to remember the details. This has all been quite...unnerving...”
“Ah,” Haru whispered.
“Yea...” Ryuji said, “you’d think after fighting shadows, that wouldn’t be the scariest sh*t you’ve ever seen you know?”
“Yea...” Ann whispered.
Haru cast a look at where Sumire was sweeping over to the side. Her fingers trembled lightly over the stick of the polished wood she gripped the mop with both hands. Sumire had smiles for everyone when they approached, but Haru knew how best to arm a smile for others and that words alone couldn’t assuage Sumire’s fears.
But words were all Haru had. Which meant she had nothing.
“Are we really okay with Akechi heading this?” Ryuji asked as he threw another full garbage bag over his shoulder. “I mean I get he’s the detective and all but...”
“We don’t really have a choice....” Morgana said, “The rest of you have to head back home soon...”
“Yea but...”
“We’ll be able to organize more efficiently tomorrow,” Haru asserted. “I agree, when it comes to Mementos, it would be best if Akechi doesn’t explore alone.”
Given Akechi’s propensity for secrets, it was best for everyone else’s sake as well.
Hypocrisy, Milady cooed. How delicious.
"I’m more worried about him than of him to be honest,” Ann admitted, “I mean...we all heard how freaked he was when Amamiya....um...got hurt.”
Haru smiled.
“Kind as always,” Morgana shook his head. “But yea...it was really touch and go for a while...”
“So...it isn’t always like this?” Sumire asked in a small voice, her fingers tightening. Haru couldn’t help but wonder if she was using the mop to divide herself from them.
"We’ve had close calls but nothing like this,” Morgana said, his ears flat on his head. “To think Shido would have an ability like that...”
An unwelcome shudder found a path under her skin at her memories of Shido. His bloated muscles the color of blisters. The way the black soot lined the delicate capillaries of Makoto’s face as she charged fueled by nothing but heightened desperation. The unyielding pain as bones audibly snapped under spiked fists.
Haru tried everything, everything but she couldn’t calm Makoto down. She couldn’t reach the others even as they fell one by one.
It didn’t work.
Why didn’t it work?
Haru still remembered the clogging stench of her own burning flesh from her father’s palace. The way her eyes watered as tuffs of her hair burned. She thought she would never experience a pain like that again.
She was wrong.
Haru felt every snap of her friend’s bones as if it were her own.
Drunk on her own fear, she was unable to push back Makoto before she broke Yusuke’s jaw or crushed Ann’s back. Haru couldn’t reach Futaba when Shido aimed to take her life–––or when he took Ren’s instead.
Ann picked at her sleeves as Ryuji adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow. Yusuke, still gripping his own arms, lowered his gaze to the floor. A dull ache scaled slender fingers as Haru’s nails dug into the counter.
“If Shido’s really gone...or if he somehow avoided getting his heart changed,” Ann dared to ask. “...What are we going to do?”
Silence swallowed what little hope remained in their eyes.
Haru wanted to assure them, wanted to give them the safety they craved.
But all she had were words.
The kitchen should have smelled like roast beef.
Boss had this way of rendering the fat that made Morgana’s mouth water. The sizzling bubbles of hot oil, the vegetables Boss didn’t know Morgana didn’t like. Morgana didn’t know much about cooking. None of the colorful powders, sticks or leaves meant anything to him, but the smile on Boss’s face, the look that meant he knew Ren and Futaba would appreciate all his efforts, that’s what Morgana loved to see the most.
By now, there should have been strips of meat in his bowl. The best cuts, of course, with good marbling and a hard sear. Morgana never settled for anything less, and Boss loved to give it to him.
If Boss was running late on food, then Futaba or Ren would pry open a can to hold him over. The can stuffed wasn’t sushi that’s for sure, but the fresh milk always made up for it. Futaba making sure he ate before she did make up for it.
Under his paws, the wood flooring didn’t make a peep as Morgana wandered around the house.
That’s when it sunk in, really.
It wasn't the vacant rooms or the quiet.
It was the fact that his bowl was empty.
“What is it that you want for your condition Morgana?” Makoto asked.
His ears perked. It was a dumb question, but he’ll allow it. He only grinned and swiped his tail. “Isn’t it obvious?” Makoto blinked owlishly at him, and Morgana bopped her forehead with his paw. “Just come back alive, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Mona-chan.” Haru’s brows were downturned as she stood at the door. “Are you certain you don’t want to come with Ann and me? I don’t like the thought of you being here alone.”
Morgana shook his head and approached. “No, I’ll be fine, I’m actually heading to the clinic.”
“You think Takemi will let you stay?” Ann asked.
Well, he wasn’t planning on asking.
"My driver will be back soon but...if you change your mind, I’ll leave a window open,” Haru said.
“Thanks...” Morgana said, in case Takemi did manage to find a way to kick him out. He didn’t think he would handle being left in the streets. Not tonight of all the nights.
Maybe I should have gone with Akechi.
I shouldn’t even be here.
I couldn’t help Futaba when she needed me, I couldn’t even move.
What good am I here?
Ren and Futaba still weren’t awake. Ren’s bed was raised slightly, inclined at a low angle, his head against pillows as flat as cardboard as a green band kept the oxygen mask strapped to his face. Futaba on the other hand was okay physically at least....
Takemi didn’t look happy to let them in though, and in the few hours they’d been gone, she seemed to have run out of batteries herself. Back slouched in her office chair, Takemi kept her head down and her arms folded over her lap.
“Sakura isn’t answering his phone...” Takemi whispered.
Haru placed a hand on her chest. Makoto’s exhale stuttered. Arms shaking, Makoto pushed herself upright as Haru spoke. “Leblanc was in complete disarray and Sakura-san isn’t at his home either...”
“Maybe my sis can––” Makoto eyed Morgana, and he shook his head. “Oh...”
“We’ll be looking into it tomorrow,” Haru said, her voice firm. “But we won’t be able to focus unless we know that everyone is okay, please, just take the time you need to recover.”
“But we don’t have time,” Makoto said, “The election results are in four days.” Ann flinched. “I can’t afford to wait. We can’t afford to wait.”
“One day,” Haru said, “If after one day, Takemi-san examines your condition and clears you from this clinic, then I’ll allow it.”
Makoto eyes widened. “Allow it?”
Haru knelt and cupped her hands. “Yes, allow it.” Makoto’s cheeks flushed red. “I do believe my condition means that until you’ve recovered, it’s my orders you should be listening to, isn’t that, right?”
“This isn’t––” Makoto’s eyes searched Ann’s then Morgana’s, “That’s not...!”
Ann gave a sheepish smile and Morgana sat on his hind legs. Sorry, Makoto.
Haru rubbed Makoto’s hand. Morgana didn't really get what about that got Makoto so flustered. It wasn’t a head pat or a belly rub. Maybe it was different for humans. “One day, then I’ll have Takemi-san evaluate you and if you pass, I’ll step aside, but until then, these are my orders.”
Makoto swallowed, her gaze darting around the room after Takemi raised a brow. “O-okay...I suppose those were the conditions I agreed to...”
Haru’s smile only broadened as she squeezed Makoto’s hands. “Get well soon, please don’t worry about us, I’ll make sure everyone’s taken care of....”
Makoto’s eyes lowered. “Even....”
“Yes.”
Makoto sighed. “Why I am not surprised that he’s not taking the night off to rest either. Not with....” Her gaze landed on Ren and Futaba. “Things as they are...” Makoto bit down on her lip. “But...I just want to apologize...for....” She eyed Takemi, “Everything, I truly, truly, wish I had thought of something else; I just couldn’t let Shido have Akechi....”
Haru’s answer was to tuck a hair behind Makoto’s ear. Morgana raised a brow himself. Okay, wait a minute. "No one is blaming you.”
“Yea, things would have been a lot worse if it was Akechi,” Ann said.
Yea, tell me about it.
“Still...” Makoto whispered. “Are you both okay?”
“A little sore,” Ann admitted.
“But its nothing we can’t deal with,” Haru finished.
Makoto’s face creased and Haru’s thumb continued to rub hers. “Do you remember anything?”
“Nothing good…” Makoto whispered, her skin paling. “Bits and pieces…but enough….”
Haru’s thumb stopped. “I see…”
Makoto’s brows drew close. “Actually, um, Haru...I wanted to ask…” She cast a glance at Takemi who, quite frankly, was probably lost about most of it. She didn’t look like she wanted to know. “On second thought, never mind…we can talk later. It’s not important.”
Morgana raised a brow. “…Are you sure?”
Makoto hesitated but nodded, “Yeah…I’m sure.”
What was that about?
Haru gave one last squeeze before she rose to her feet. “On that note, Dr. Takemi, we were wondering if Morgana can stay at the clinic.”
Takemi’s frown returned, “This isn’t a vet.”
And he wasn’t a cat!
Ann stepped forward. “Please? We tried to take him home with us, but he kept hopping out of the windows and coming back here! I think…I think Futaba and Amamiya would feel better seeing him when they wake up.”
Takemi’s expression seemed to soften like that. With a pinch of her brow, she sighed. “Fine,” she said, “But I’m not cleaning up after him, understand?”
Morgana frowned. What kind of uncivilized creature did she think he was? Haru and Ann giggled but it wasn’t funny! “We’re sure that won’t be a problem,” Ann added, “Thank you….and…we’re so sorry again.”
Takemi sighed.
Apologetic and timid, Haru and Ann left. The clinic drew quiet as Makoto adjusted herself on her elbows then laid flat on the mattress. She rolled on her side and faced him before long lashes shuttered an uneasy gaze.
When humans were scared, sometimes they prayed.
Morgana wondered if he prayed a lot when he was human.
But gods or no gods. Boss asked him to look after them both, so he wasn’t going to leave them alone.
Morgana leaped onto Amamiya’s bed and curled at his side. Takemi watched him with tired eyes and her palm landed on his head. “Guess it’s just you and me for the long haul tonight...” She gave a tired smile. “Don’t let me catch you playing with any of the wires, or I’ll lock you in the other room.”
As if that could hold him.
Still, Morgana nodded, and Takemi blinked. “Okay, freaky,” She sighed. “What am I doing...I’m talking to a cat. I need sleep...” Her gaze drifted over to where Makoto, Ren and Futaba were asleep, and she hunched near her desk and waited.
For hours, Takemi waited. Phone in her hand, her thumb dragged across the screen. Morgana curled tighter as Amamiya’s chest rose and fell beneath the sheets. It was hard to tell what Takemi was thinking, Morgana didn’t know her well, but it was obvious she cared. Even with Makoto, she dutifully checked her temperature as Makoto stirred in her sheets. Never knowing she had an audience, Takemi never complained, not even once.
Humans prayed to the gods for strength, but they were already pretty strong in Morgana’s opinion. Stronger than they ever need to be.
A plate of shriveled mackerel was lowered at the door. The fish was severed at the head and more bone than flesh but his stomach growled all the same. Morgana’s ears stood straight as Takemi offered a worn smile and returned to her seat.
If the gods truly did exist...
They were being too hard on them.
December 15th, 20xx
A sharp pain reeled a whimper from between bitten lips. The swollen skin stung when pulled. One limb in front of another, air sticky from body heat and sweat. Kasumi practically swam through Shujin’s halls. Shoulder to shoulder, students flowed in either direction with books and bags clutched to their chest.
Water sprung from her eyes from the bright panel lights, as everyone was all at once too soft and too loud. Their mouths would flap in slow motion. Their words were garbled nonsense. She sucked in air through her mouth and offered a smile whenever she saw their brows knit like she was the one not making any sense.
A migraine, the nurse said. Okumura-senpai said it was normal after a metaverse battle that intense to be sore for a while. That’s what it was, that’s all it was. Kasumi had sprained ankles, broken toes and had dislocated her shoulder more times than she could count. She could handle this too.
"GIVE HER BACK!” Her own voice shrieked. “GIVE MY SISTER BACK!”
Tires screeched on asphalt and the sudden stench of gas made her want to vomit. Kasumi flinched and cupped both ears. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Sumire died in an accident. No one could give her back because no one had taken her. It was just an accident, a random accident that...
Kasumi blinked as her hands lifted off her ears. Her brows drew close at the blank tiles in her memories where March should have been. Her chest felt like someone had grabbed a wooden spoon reached through her ribs and twisted everything inside. She couldn’t breathe, her next step swayed left, and Kasumi slammed a shoulder against the wall bringing waves of pain whenever she rolled her shoulder. Everything felt as if it were echoing from miles beneath her feet. Every voice, every word, all of it collapsed over each other the more she tried to reach and–––
“Sumire!”
Kasumi’s mouth went dry.
Her breath caught on an exhale from the force against her ribs. Kasumi spun around to Eri’s wide eyes. Hands up, palms front, piercings hidden by caramel brown hair, and a side braid pinned to the back. Kasumi took long, deep breaths and clutched her chest. “....☐☐☐☐☐?” Eri blinked. “☐☐☐☐☐!?”
Two hands clasped both Kasumi’s shoulders. “HEY, are you okay?” Came Eri’s voice. “You’re starting to freak me out.”
“I’m sorry,” Kasumi winced, “I have an awful migraine so everything’s sort of…” Kasumi stared, suddenly unable to recall what Eri had said that made her so jumpy to begin with. She really needed sleep. “Jumbled…”
Eri’s expression was sympathetic at least, it didn’t feel as acidic as pity.
“Do you need a painkiller? I have some in my bag.”
“It’s okay, the nurse gave me some earlier.”
Eri twisted her bag over her stomach, “She didn’t give you this stuff.” A small blue-green capsule landed in her palm. “This should fix you right up.”
Kasumi stared, “What brand is this?”
“Don’t worry about it!” Kasumi blinked. “Trust me, this thing kills cramps I haven’t even had yet.”
“Wow, that’s…terrifying actually,” Kasumi managed a smile. “Still, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Eri said, then her face fell. “I know we can’t talk about it at school…but…I just wanted you to know you can count on me. I know we haven’t been friends for long but…” Her fingers tightened with her blazer. “Believe me when I say, I don’t want anything to happen to you…”
Kasumi’s heart swelled and blossomed into a smile. “I should be thanking you for vouching for us. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you weren’t there.”
If Takemi-san knew even a fraction of what Ren went through at school, everyone with a uniform was all but blacklisted. To have the police called then would have been…
Eri’s expression didn’t change, she even struggled to meet Kasumi’s gaze. “…Takemi-san gave me the rest of the week off…She said it’s too dangerous for me to stick around but I wish there was more I could do...”
Kasumi wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. Eri flinched in her arms and Kasumi saw the tips of red ears peak through her hair. “H-huh?”
Maybe it was because Ren wasn’t there that the quiet swelled so loud that ghosts filled the gasps. It was easy to think she was all alone, the the eyes on the walls were all there was in her life.
But she had friends, People who loved her, people who, even without knowing anything, wanted to keep her safe.
And she desperately needed to hear that.
So, so, much.
Kasumi Yoshizawa was loved.
That was all she needed to keep going.
“Thank you,” She whispered into Eri’s shoulder, unable to stop her shaking. “Thank you…”
***
Shadows snuffed bright orange hues flashing from the windows as the train sped into the tunnel. Kasumi was halfway through booking an appointment with Dr. Maruki when a notification appeared on her phone.
A passenger to her left shot her a look when she jumped in her seat. She uttered an apology and with a scowl on his face, he continued reading his book. She was so exhausted. Every little thing was beginning to startle her that day. Eri made it clear that Dr. Takemi didn’t want any visitors, citing not wanting to draw attention to the clinic. It made sense, even if her heart did shrivel between her rib cage.
So, Kasumi got on the train and just…didn’t get off.
Ren used to hate trains. Now it was her fingers struggling to keep their composure. Her mind that couldn’t find peace. The buzzing beneath her skin that urged her to run didn’t have a destination either. Eri’s medicine might have silenced one pain, but not all things could be fixed with medicine.
Dr. Maruki hated that.
And right now, so did she.
Kasumi sat on her still shaking hand and adjusted herself on the navy blue upholstery.
Ann-senpai: Mishima wasn’t in class today
Ann-senpai: I spoke to a few people on the old volleyball team and some of them live near his house
Ann-senpai: they said there were squad cars in the neighborhood yesterday
Sweat pooled in Kasumi’s palms as she stared at the screen.
Ryuji-senpai: sh*t
Kitagawa-senpai: The police presence at my school has increased also
Haru-senpai: Are you unsafe?
Kitagawa-senpai: not at the moment but the growing tension is suspicious
Kitagawa-senpai: there’s still no news on Shido despite this
Ann-senpai: this is all so crazy
Ann-senpai: what are we going to do?
Haru-senpai: Without Ohya-san and Nijima-san, we’ll have to rely on Akechi-kun for information
Ryuji-senpai: wait he’s not in this chat is he?
Haru-senpai: Not with his current number
Haru-senpai: it’s just a precaution for now since our deal extended to Shido’s palace alone. With his condition unknown, we don’t know where we stand with Akechi-kun or his intentions.
Haru-senpai: so please keep that in mind when interacting in the other group chat.
Precautions…
Ann-senpai: has anyone heard from him at all?
Ryuji-senpai: tried messaging him this morning, nothing
Kitagawa-senpai: I had a similar result
Haru-senpai: as did I I’m afraid
Haru-senpai: Sumi-chan?
Kasumi winced.
Kasumi: I haven’t tried yet admittedly
Kasumi: But I’m going to right now! I’ll let you know if I hear back
Ryuji-senpai: dude should at LEAST let people know he’s alive jeez
Kitagawa-senpai: maybe he doesn’t feel the need to update us until he has something worthy of an update
Haru-senpai: or he’s in Mementos
Ann-senpai: all night?
Ann-senpai: Isn’t that dangerous
Yusuke-senpai: He does have more experience with that sort of thing
Experience. Right…
Kasumi still didn’t know how to wrap her head around it all. What kind of monster would make a murderer out of their own son? Make them kill their own sister’s mother? How long had Futaba and Akechi known? It couldn’t have been the entire time, that much she knew but…
Haru-senpai: Akechi-kun’s history is exactly what I’m concerned about
Haru-senpai: For now, I think a few of us should return to Leblanc and wait there
Haru-senpai: If Nijima-san or Sakura-san come back, that’s the first place they’ll go
Haru-senpai: If possible search the internet for any clues we can use for a trip to Mementos
Haru-senpai: My father’s company has a gala tomorrow night in anticipation of the election results, I’ll be attending to see if I hear anything regarding Shido’s condition
Ann-senpai: a gala?
Haru-senpai: Yes. Usually it’s an annual event hosted by the stockholders and investors.
Kitagawa-senpai: which means members of the conspiracy will be present.
Kitagawa-senpai: away from public scrutiny, they won’t resist conspiring with each other in a somewhat public setting.
Haru-senpai: that’s my hope, yes.
Haru-senpai: So Ryuji-kun, Ann-chan do you mind waiting at Leblanc?
Haru-senpai: Take your computers and please search the forums and let us know if anything suspicious arises.
Ryuji-senpai: got it
Ann-senpai: I’ll make sure he stays on task
Kitagawa-senpai: That would be greatly appreciated
Ryuji-senpai: Oh come on!
Kasumi giggled.
Kasumi: I believe in you both !
Haru-senpai: as do I
Haru-senpai: Sumi-chan I have a favor to ask
Kasumi blinked.
Kasumi: Sure, anything!
Haru-senpai: Well, traditionally, for this Gala it’s expected that I carry a plus one. It’s good for the company image given the recent tragedies that I don’t attend alone. I was wondering if you would be free to attend with me.
Haru-senpai: I understand this is extremely short notice and if you’re still feeling unwell then I can ask Vice-President Takakura.
Ryuji-senpai: hold up, why bring a girl as your plus one??? Why not me or Yusuke?
Ann-senpai: you know why Ryuji.
Kitagawa-senpai: Why?
Ryuji-senpai: You know, what, yea, ok.
Ann-senpai: he learns
Haru-senpai: In any case, do let me know your answer before tonight if possible so we can find a suitable outfit for you
Kasumi: I’d be happy to Haru-senpai!
Haru-senpai: Thank you, I appreciate it
Haru-senpai: I would have carried asked you Ann-chan but since Makoto still isn’t well if Nijima-san and Sakura-san return to Leblanc, I wanted someone there to explain what happened in Shido’s palace and better answer any questions.
Ann-senpai: you can count on me!
Haru-senpai: I’ll let you all know how it goes. I’ll be busy all afternoon preparing but please let me if anything happens
Haru-senpai: and inform me immediately if any of you hear from Akechi-kun
Haru-senpai: Yusuke, given the police presence at your school please for now, lay low until we have more information to go on
Kitagawa-senpai: understood.
Ann-senpai: What about Makoto and the others?
Haru-senpai: I contacted Takemi-san this morning and she requested that we avoid going near the clinic for now.
Haru-senpai: Mako-chan’s fever still hasn’t broken and Ren and Futaba are still unconscious. However, I did let Takemi-san know we’ll be at Leblanc if anything happens and to let Mako-chan know once she's awake.
Ann-senpai: I guess that makes sense…
Ryuji-senpai: damnit, I hate how f*cked this all is right now
Ryuji-senpai: what the hell is going on?
Haru-senpai: I don’t know
Haru-senpai: but we’ll find out
Haru-senpai: no matter what
***
Dry boots on cold concrete. Construction still barred most of Odaiba’s backstreets but the ramen shops and nearby bookstores were as lively as ever. The aroma of the rich beef broth loosened the knots in her stomach since, even after circling the area twice, she still hadn’t summoned the courage to message Akechi.
Munin? Goro-senpai? She still wasn’t sure and whenever she asked he never gave an answer. Which, from what she knew of her friend meant to ‘do whatever she wanted’ which was about as clear a go as she was ever going to get.
How are you?
Terrible, she already knew that.
Please let us help.
Arguably worse, if he wanted help, he wouldn’t have ignored all the Phantom Thieves that morning.
She couldn’t quite place a finger on why she was so nervous but she would be lying if context didn’t have something to do with it. To know what he had gone through, what he had done….
“I’m sorry we didn’t inform you sooner,” Haru-senpai whispered. Her breath rolled into puffs in the chilly breeze. Their backs chilled against the door of the roof, Kasumi winced at the biting winds but Haru hadn’t flinched. Instead, she angled her gaze to the soft white cotton adorning the sky. Their fluffy tips reminded her of Haru’s hair.
“It’s not exactly an easy topic to broach,” Kasumi admitted.
Haru hummed, her eyes still trained on the clouds. “Now, that you know, do you see him differently?” Her question felt like a pair of plyers snipping at her rib cage.
Metaphoric sheers in hand, Haru-senpai smiled. “I’m sorry if I’m being a tad forward, I’m just curious is all.” Curiosity wasn’t all it was, even Kasumi could tell that much. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Two options, which meant Haru-senpai would have gained insight into her heart no matter what she chose. No wonder Ren-senpai said most two-way choices were a trap. Still, it’s not like Kasumi sensed any ill intentions from her but in honor of her friend Kasumi manifested a third route where there was none. One that gave her what she needed, even if it was the last thing she wanted. “You hate him, don’t you senpai?” Haru’s gaze fell from the sky, a slow caramel comet, back to earth.
“Whatever for?” Haru asked.
“Your father…” Kasumi’s stomach curled the moment it left her lips. There was no stronger feeling than hating the person who took something precious from you. Shido taught her that. “He killed your father.”
“Does that change anything or you?” Haru asked. Another rebuttal, one as heavy as an ax on her rapier.
“It does,” Kasumi whispered. “But I’m not sure how…or…what….” Haru’s smile never left the equation, even if Kasumi’s felt shaky at best. “You must think poorly of me to say that…”
Haru shook her head. “Not at all, if anything, it’s a relief.” Kasumi’s eyes widened. “There are many who celebrated my father’s death, even those employed at my home.”
“Oh.”
“My father was far from the man he used to be,” Haru said, “Most days I don’t think the person I’m mourning truly existed by the time he passed or if he ever did.”
“Even so, that doesn’t mean you can’t miss him…” Kasumi whispered.
“I often wonder if it’s him I miss or the ideas I had of what our future could have been.”
“Does it matter?” Kasumi asked. “You still lost him…No matter what you didn’t deserve that.”
“That’s kind of you to say, thank you,” Haru said, “Then I hope then you understand why it’s so important to me…that I don’t lose anyone else.”
As the day waned to a deep purple, Kasumi couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else on Haru-senpai’s mind. Something someone better at conversation could have gotten to the bottom of.
Sighing aloud, Kasumi bit the bullet.
Kasumi: can we talk?
It was a simple enough start, she supposed. Overthinking wasn’t going to do her any favors. She half-expected it to go unanswered when not even a minute later, her phone buzzed.
Akechi-senpai: what is it?
Kasumi: !!!
Kasumi: oh my gosh you actually replied.
Akechi-senpai: do you often send one way messages?
Kasumi: well no, but
Kasumi: you’re not answering anyone else, so I thought…
Akechi-senpai: an intentional move on my part, I assure you
Akechi-senpai: so again, I ask, what is it?
A small smile bloomed, despite herself and Kasumi lingered by the bookshop as her stewed-cherry red gloves zipped across her screen.
Kasumi: are you okay?
Kasumi: I know it’s a stupid question but humor me? Please?
Kasumi: did you sleep last night? Eat anything?
Akechi-senpai: you’re right, it is a stupid question.
Akechi-senpai: and I implore you not to waste any more of my time with them.
Ouch, but as expected of her tutor…
Akechi-senpai: This does save me time however, as I was about to contact you
Akechi-senpai: do not attend the gala.
Akechi-senpai: if that’s all then we’re done here
Kasumi: wait
Kasumi: how did you know that I was going?
Akechi-senpai: Given the company’s rocky image, Okumura wouldn’t risk looking weak by attending on her own. Takamaki being more experienced in the metaverse means she’s better kept around in case of an emergency which leaves you as the only viable option. Your honor student status and capabilities as a gymnast means you won’t look too out of place as a guest.
Akechi-senpai: and considering you know what gala I’m referring to without asking, then I can assume you and the thieves already discussed this
Akechi-senpai: likely in a chat room I’m not apart of.
Busted. She really was no good at this.
Akechi-senpai: President Takakura will likely try to dissuade Okumura from attending all together.
Kasumi blinked.
Kasumi: huh? Why?
Akechi-senpai: because Takakura is about to make a statement tomorrow about Okumura HQ’s ties to Shido’s criminal network.
Kasumi almost dropped her phone.
Akechi-senpai: as of now, your identity and connection to this group has been circ*mstantial. If you show your face to a room full of conspiracy members, it’ll put a target on your back once Takakura goes public.
Kasumi: but we need to find out what happened to Shido
Kasumi: I’m okay with the risks.
Akechi-senpai: Your father isn’t.
Kasumi’s blood froze solid.
Akechi-senpai: And neither would Okumura once I explain the stakes.
Akechi-senpai: this isn’t a discussion nor am I entertaining a debate
Akechi-senpai: you aren’t attending.
Kasumi: what about Haru-senpai? If what you say is true wouldn’t she be at risk anyway?
Akechi-senpai: Yes.
Kasumi: But we can’t let her get hurt either. That’s not right
Akechi-senpai: Were you under the assumption that I cared about what was ‘right?’
Akechi-senpai: or did you forget who you were speaking too?
Kasumi: we either share the burdens as a group or we find another way
Akechi-senpai: Okumura’s well being isn’t my concern
Kasumi’s fingers tightened over the case.
Akechi-senpai: if you have complaints about the straits she is in, you can file them at the cemetery.
Akechi-senpai: we’re done here.
Given the radio silence that followed her questions, he meant that too. Kasumi paced around the store until people inside began giving her strange looks. Bowing less than gracefully, she scurried over to the station.
Akechi has always been difficult, no matter what she called him but this…callousness was new to her. No…maybe not new, but still foreign nonetheless. They needed information that was unavoidable, but…was it right to risk Haru to get it? Or worse to endanger Ren by waiting too long?
Feeling the painkillers waning, Kasumi reached out to the only person she could.
“Sumi-chan?” Haru’s voice was smooth, warm. “Is everything alright?”
No, not at all.
Not in the slightest.
A faint scent of vanilla rode the ash-clogged air of Mementos.
The others never mentioned it before, likely overpowered by the scent of ground coffee beans and Ann’s perfume. Without them, it was just her, a scent no one noticed but one that belonged all the same.
The ache from Shido’s fight was bone-deep. Every swing of her axe stained already tired muscles and her knees gave way more than once. But the satisfying crunch interlocked with the melodic screams from the shadows made the effort worth it. Her goal made it worth it.
An evening at most was all she had to find Jose. Any longer and she’d no longer be able to justify her absence.
Her axe sang with shrill shrieks with each clacking step of her heel. While its fine metal scraped the crusted iron of the track, shadows fled under its sharp melody. Her heart galloped with every panicked step and Haru giggled as their tiny stubs for legs rounded the corners. Shido’s palace made her stronger but it still wasn’t enough.
It never was.
Because it made him stronger too.
Her weapon slippery with black blood, Haru raised the ax head off the corroded tracks and collected her prize. Opals, grooved silver, and sapphires. Nothing she needed, but they were still resources for her team. Ryuji could sell them and get some more funds for his mother or they be used to hold Yusuke off while he waited for his stipend.
Haru even dared to take care of a few Mementos requests on her own. Nothing the team would notice, not while they were preoccupied with Shido and the others’ health. It was the least she could do after breaking their trust in the manner she had but she was through not following her heart.
Akechi held all the power.
As much as Haru wanted to believe Akechi would choose to atone. His words had little sway over her. With no evidence to tie him to Shido’s crimes beyond a single recording from Futaba, he could weaponize his position within the public eye and prosecuting office. Dangle their friends in exchange for Makoto testifying in his stead. He could walk free, unharmed, with everyone else powerless to stop it.
We can’t change his heart.
We can’t beat him in a fight.
We have nothing to hold him accountable.
And Makoto knows this.
Shido’s attack might have brought out Makoto’s fear but it didn’t create it. It’s why they entered such an unequal agreement. They were at the mercy of Akechi’s whims, and the very prospect of that boiled her blood.
Akechi didn’t get to make her friends afraid.
No one did.
Time was of the essence, not only did Ren require urgent care, but the election results were in three days. Three.
Exploiting Akechi’s weaknesses was all they had, few as they were.
Milady hummed. “All is fair in love and war, hm?”
Cryptic as ever, Milady said little else. Her pouch full, Haru continued her track through Adyeshach. The blood orange hues flinted fleeting sparks of pain behind her eyes. So many floors down, her leg muscles were screaming. Haru healed them just to keep going, just to keep moving, but when the shadows stopped running––her heart skipped. Her grins stretched and the leather of her gloves creased with her tightened grip.
In a single swing, Haru exchanged her axe for her gun. Her ax vanished from between her fingertips and was replaced by the smooth metal of her launcher.
The shadow spasmed. As it arched its back, a woman with skin as pale as moonlight emerged from the cherry energy hovering on folded knees. Her black cloak shrouded her back as a wide hat black as ink sat on her head. With gold, emerald, and turquoise metal around her neck, the shadow’s eyes narrowed under her barrel.
Defiance. She liked that.
It was better when they didn’t run.
***
“Oh hello, pretty lady!”
Jose waved from atop his arctic bumper. The metallic gold star-shaped balloons snugly attached to its truck were almost glowing in the dim corner. A hand content and wrapped around a drink with colors of a waning pink sunset. His warm smile made Haru feel less cold about her presence there. “You’re by yourself today!”
“Yes, I am,” Haru said, “I hope that’s alright with you.”
“If it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me! Whatchya got there, miss?”
Haru reached into her pocket for the last remaining spool. Its scarlet thread wrapped around its center, humming with a power she couldn’t reach. The last of its kind. Jose’s golden eyes became wide shining circles. He finished his drink and got off his jumper as Haru knelt in front of him, presenting the spool in between her fingertips.
“I was told this thread had the ability to restrict another’s power, however, when I used it recently…” Her throat felt like sandpaper recalling the memory. The way Makoto crushed the spool under her heel. How it did nothing, not even activate before turning to dust. “It didn’t work as I had hoped. It made me realize that perhaps it’s not useful in its current form. I was told the person who used this was able to incorporate the status ailment into their weapon, I was hoping you’d be able to help me with that.”
Jose round cheeks formed an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Wow, you guys sure find amazing stuff. It’s not like any forget ailment I’ve ever seen!”
“Would you be able to help me?”
Jose scooped it into his hands. “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before,” He gave a pensive look. “But I wanna try! Give me a few minutes Miss! Can I have your gun please?”
“Of course,” Haru handed it over with little fanfare. “Thank you so much, Jose, is there anything I can give in return?”
He shook his head. “Just being able to work with new things is a reward enough! Wait here!” He scurried towards the truck and left Haru leaning against the warm bumper. Heavy steps trodden upon the silence as shadows scurried at the mouth of the tunnel. An easy fix.
Why hadn’t she tried this sooner? Journeying to Mementos on her own to gain strength. Had she tried the moment she awakened, and drifted off the set path a tad sooner, perhaps things would have ended differently at Shido’s palace.
“Power has it’s price, name yours,” Milady cooed.
Under Akechi’s power, Makoto’s capillaries burst into bloody flowers in the whites of her eyes. The color of her skin was marked by a permanent bruise as soot-lined fine cracks along her face and neck.
It was a power fueled by fear. By hate.
Akechi’s power.
Her fingers tightened over her sleeve.
Was that all there was to it?
Haru recalled the vacant look in the rust of Akechi’s eyes as he squeezed Ren’s still hand. The same rust that brightened under Shido’s faux praises. The same color she imagined, that his mother once carried. A mother he did everything for, even from the grave.
No, hatred wasn’t all there was. That was never the case for him.
That’s why this should work.
The walls of her stomach clamped just as Jose closed his trunk.
“All done Miss!” Jose strained as he held her launcher in both hands. Its once bare silver was adorned etchings of with bright red asters about the sides of its base. Jose flipped a single black switch on the side of the gun, and the asters and their vines went away. “I added a new mode to your gun! Once it’s on, any shots fired will have that forget ailment you brought me! But it was super hard to get the settings right,” He co*cked his head and shoulders to the side. “I tried to make it work though so you only get one bullet per fight so make it count!”
One bullet per fight. That was more than enough.
It was a part of her now.
Haru could hardly believe it. “Thank you so much, Jose.”
“Always happy to help!” He cheered returning the rifle. “Just make sure to stand back when you do! It packs a punch!”
Haru giggled and petted the top of his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”
***
What little pride Haru had attained for herself quickly soured. Sumire’s call had confirmed what she had feared. A situation Haru had predicted that morning, under the sheets, when Takakura’s number jolted her awake to an ink-black morning.
“I’m sorry,” Takakura said, his voice accompanied by the sound of someone pouring a drink.
“It’s too early for that don’t you think?” She mused.
“I typically do business in the US, you see,” Takakura said, his voice fond. She had truly grown used to leaning on him. The silence, however, was not something that could be filled with fondness alone.
“Despite the risks, you’re willing to honor my father’s last wishes?” She whispered.
“No sane business would,” Takakura admitted, “But the day he handed me that envelope, for the first time in years, I finally recognized the man in front of me. The same man that in my youth, I would have followed without hesitation .”
“And now?” She whispered.
He exhaled, “Now, it’s his daughter whom I have sworn to look after, and for your sake, I’ll cooperate with any investigation that arises.”
“Then understand that it is also for the sake of my future that I must attend that gala,” Haru said. “I won’t shy away from the things father has done. If anyone is to take me seriously when I am to lead, then I should start by showing strength now.”
A huff of approval followed a long drink. “That pleases me to hear, perhaps with time, you’ll do better than the both of us. But there’s strength in humility too Haru, never forget that.”
Takakura and Sumire’s conversations clouded her thoughts as she strode from Center Street.
Akechi should not have known about her father’s contingency.
Haru anticipated he’d learn about the gala and her potential plus one, but knowing about the risks and dangers themselves confirmed a sickening truth. Her father didn’t act on natural remorse, his shadow was coerced.
Given specific instructions ahead of his change of heart. It should make her angry. The knowledge that he was used and discarded via senseless murder but all Haru felt was sour bile creeping up her throat. As night rolled over the city. Stars hid behind sheets of grey. In the center of Shibuya street, the sight of smiling children steadied Haru’s heart. With little warmth moving between her ribs, Haru entered her limousine and made her call.
“Akechi-kun.”
“Okumura,” Akechi said, on the other end of the line. “I take it you’ve spoken to Yoshizawa?”
“I have,” Haru hummed and lifted her chin to the lumpy clouds tinted black. “My apologies for the sudden call, I was hoping a conversation would be easier like this rather than over text.”
“Easier to appear as though you’re operating under the guise of cooperation I suppose.”
“Cooperative,” Haru chewed on the word, “Is that what you’d like our relationship to be? Because if so, I believe you and I can come to an arrangement of sorts.”
There was a pause, though Akechi seemingly wanted her to believe it was intentional. “What kind of arrangement?”
“You want Sumi-chan excluded from the gala isn’t that right? All I want is a favorable condition in return.”
“Excuse me?”
“I do believe you heard me Akechi-kun.”
“Am I correct to assume then that you still desire to take Sumire to this event knowing that it could endanger her life?”
“Desire it? No, not at all, but it’s my understanding that the only person truly opposed to the idea is you.” Haru said, “Sumi-chan and the others understand that risks are necessary, and we’re all putting ourselves on the line in one way or another.”
“I highly doubt the others are as aware of the ramifications as you are.”
“Even so,” Haru said, “There’s trust to be levied there, trust I believe, as you so proudly proclaimed, you have little of,” Haru said. “Unless, of course, you agree to go to Mementos with me on the 17th, and at no other point, do you enter alone.”
“And how are you to enforce your demands hmm? Last I checked your resident tracker was still unconscious.”
“I suppose we’ll have the chance to test the limits of my resources then.”
“This isn’t a negotiation Okumura, hostage or otherwise. Yoshizawa is capable of making her own choices. If she agrees to go to the gala despite my warnings then her consequences are her own.”
“Is that so?” The palatable silence remained uncut until Haru sliced it herself. “That’s a shame. I had hoped you would have been better…than your father’s son.”
The silence that followed wasn’t like any other, no, the echoes on the other end signaled defeat. The subtle grinding of a clenched jaw, the scraping of nails along a marble counter.
Though those sounds settled low in her gut. Her smile wasn’t warm enough to burn the sour feeling brewing beside it. Plush seats cushioned her spine as the Okumura headquarters loomed overhead. A shadow––a reminder of what she could have become in another life.
Or perhaps, still in this one.
“See you on the 17th, Akechi-kun.”
December 16th, 20xx
***
Stiff legs shuffled down the streets as sparks of pain shot up from his ankles. Damn, punks nearly broke his leg. His ribs were probably bruised to hell and back. His head could use an Advil or two, maybe the whole bottle. His split lip burned in the cold air but it was still air he got to taste.
Two days. They kept him in that hell hole for two days, yelling, screaming, grafting bruises from low punches to the sternum all the while he never told them a damn thing. Taught them a thing or two in fact. They were sloppy. Torture might work on civilians, but any government worker worth their salt knew good information never came from it. Desperation tended to skew details. Courts never gave a damn as long as they had a body to toss into a cell, but they weren’t looking for a body. Not his anyway.
Sojirou wiped his lip with his fist. If he was younger, he could have buried his flinch and then some. But age arched his back and brittled his bones. It’ll be a month, maybe two until he can move without pain. It didn’t matter, though. They let him out, and now, he had kids to find.
The cold wind snipped at his ears and opened wounds beneath thin clothes. Damn, bastards dragged him out without even a coat on his back. If he had a phone, if he could hear Futaba or Ren’s voices over the phone, then his heart might have stopped racing long enough to buy a coat at the underground mall. Instead, he boarded the first train he saw and headed straight to Yongen-Jaya.
Sojirou knew something was wrong when Leblanc opened without its bell. Instead of a high chime and subtle clank against wood, what greeted him instead was the familiar scent of a dark roast, cardamon, and an invasive lemon. His back groaned with his first step on freshly mopped floorboards when two kids, the blonde ones, Ryuji, and Ann, shot up from behind their computer screens at the the second booth.
“Boss!” Ryuji went.
“You’re back!” Ann added as they both left the booth.
“Where were yah!?” Ryuji blurted.
God, volume. “Not so loud,” Sojirou groaned as he massaged his temple. “Lockup, bastards dragged me in the second they saw the calling card.”
“Oh god,” Ann whispered. “You’re hurt…”
“Heh, I’m alright. Don’t you worry about it.” What a sweet girl. Shame, she, and Ren weren’t better friends. “Where’s everyone else? How did it go?” Both kids shriveled and the cold on his skin sank bone deep.
“We…Um…” Ann stuttered. “We don’t really know…” Sojirou’s brows drew close as he leaned against the counter for support. “We fought Shido and everything but something went wrong…and we’re not even sure if it worked...” Sojirou’s face went slack. “Something happened to Shido while we were in his palace. We don’t know if he did it on purpose or not….”
“But he probably did 'cause he’s a f*cking coward,” Ryuji interjected with a stomp. “Ain’t no way it was a coincidence!”
“But we don’t know,” Ann stressed. “You and Nijima were gone, Ohya’s still gone too, so we’ve just been waiting on more news…”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Damnit. If this isn’t over then…
Slowly, he took some of the weight off his bad leg and leaned left. “And the others? Where are Ren and Futaba?”
Another look passed between the two before Ann sighed. “They’re at still Takemi’s…”
His heart sank. “Still? W-hat? What happened??”
“Futaba’s okay! “Ann blurted. “She’s okay, she just wore herself out is all…”
Ryuji nodded. “She saved all our asses, and totally ripped Shido a new one too!”
A smile crept on his lips. That’s my girl.
But Ann’s expression didn’t lift when he did. She didn’t smile at all. “…But before that…Shido surprised us with this really strong move and…when he went after Futaba…Amamiya pushed her out of the way and got really hurt.” Sojirou stood.
“Hurt? How hurt?”
Ann’s face pinched. “He…kind of…sort of…died?” Sojirou barely caught hold of the counter before the wind left his lungs and his legs with them. Ann’s hands flew out. “But it’s okay! Futaba fixed it!!”
“What?”
“She did a thing and brought him back and he was okay!” Ann tried, “But the metaverse is sort of weird, so, when he came back, his body just…didn’t know what to do…so…” Her voice wobbled. “He ended up having a seizure.”
Sojirou stared.
“You could not have said that any worse, holy sh*t,” Ryuji breathed.
“But Haru said to make sure he knew everything!”
“Not that!”
Their voices drifted into empty noise. His ears rang and the news sent a rod of hot iron right through his chest. When he slumped to his seat, his eyes landed on the olive green apron hung up on the wall. Moth-eaten straps, stained on its underside, barely a rag worth cleaning with. Yet it was the same one Ren wore without complaint.
Sojirou was going to surprise him with a new one. Hand stitched, with his name on the front. Every day he promised he’d give it to him and every day it sat in a dusty old box under his bed. He told himself it was fine, that there was always tomorrow. Ren was never supposed to go where he couldn’t reach.
Without warning, his voice croaked.
“…Ren…died?”
Ann and Ryuji flinched, their eyes shifting from each other to where he was on the seat.
“Hey…he’s okay now,” Ryuji said suddenly. “Takemi’s got him and she knows her stuff…right?” He turned to look at Ann with downturned brows. “Right, Ann?”
“Yea!” Sojirou scrubbed his face with his palm, unable to catch a single breath. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have––”
“Don’t…” He muttered. “Ren asked me to take Futaba and I brought her back myself. I’m sorry you kids keep paying for my mistakes....”
“No!” Sojirou lifted his head in surprise. “That’s not it at all! Futaba saved us, all of us!” Ann said. “If you had kept Futaba away, none of us would be here right now…” Ann rested a hand on her chest. “I know you’re scared…and I’m really sorry I scared you but…they protected each other…just like you taught them to.”
Ryuji stepped close. “This isn’t anyone’s fault but that bastard Shido!”
It was then that Sojirou looked, really looked beyond the counter. To the straightened siphons missing their pairs, to the half-empty misaligned bean containers. To the side wall that housed a crater of missing plaster. Little details that bit by bit, told him everything he needed. Those kids must have found a mess. Yet, to an untrained eye, it was spotless. They made an effort to ensure Futaba and Ren didn’t lose more than they had to.
Somehow, it all managed to wrangle an impossible smile. “..No…I didn’t teach them anything.” They both flinched. “Those kids…they’re incredible all on their own.” He paused. “And you lot are pretty special yourself.”
Both their cheeks turned rosy as Sojirou beat his busted leg into shape. “Now come on,” he said, “let’s go see them.”
Dry skin and stripped pores housed dark circles under Tae’s reddening gaze. The kids to his left jolted under her glare but it softened so fast, he almost missed it.
“Sakura,” she breathed.
“Hey Tae,” Sojirou said.
Tase slipped under his side, placed one of his arms around her neck, and guided him inside. Take-out containers piled the small garbage behind the desk and Sojirou’s eyes widened at the half a dozen coffee cups stacked on its surface. The delivery prices alone…
“Thanks for looking after the kids for me,” he murmured as she got him a seat.
Her wary expression creased into a tired smile. “Thanks for giving me one less thing to worry about.”
Worries…right.
His heart in his throat, Sojirou looked ahead to where his kids were sleeping on their beds.
Everything about it looked so...wrong.
Ren’s face was still and his limbs weren’t dangling past the thin sheet. Futaba slept on her back which she didn't do, ever. It was always on her side, or her stomach especially after she and Morgana shared a bed. He was never too far out of reach for her wiry arms.
Futaba’s right hand was empty and near the bed’s edge. If she hadn’t been asleep the whole time, he might have thought that she was reaching for Ren. He laid down on his less aching knee between both bunks. Futaba stirred and groaned, but didn’t wake up. He angled a look over to Ren, an oxygen mask over his bare face. Lips bitten red. It was hard to believe with his height that he could ever look so small.
Futaba, despite her constitution, never really got sick.
It was as miracle as far as he was concerned, a picky diet like hers didn’t leave many avenues for nutrition. Still, he did his best, but with as little exercise as she got. He was more worried than most about what a cold might do to her.
At least she didn’t put up a fuss if he told her to rest. Once she was out, it was like she ran out of batteries that one. Ren on the other hand did anything but rest when he got sick. Sojirou half expected him to get out of bed, say he was fine, and be halfway out the door before anyone could stop him.
Sojirou scooped Ren’s limp hand in his own and the stillness almost crushed him.
He really isn’t getting up.
Morgana’s eyes shone like bright blue spotlights from Ren’s bed. Relief sparked behind them as he gave Sojirou a wary nod. Looks like Takemi wasn’t the only one who didn’t get any sleep.
The Nijima girl, Makoto, was asleep at the far end of the room. Her bed fitted along the back wall. Skin covered in sweat as she gasped and groaned in her sleep. Due to her constant tossing, she was the only one of the three who was moving at all.
God, what did Shido do you three?
“Futaba’s going to be okay,” came Tae’s low voice. “Her blood pressure is a bit elevated but…she’s young, it should even out with continued rest.” Sojirou reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Futaba’s ear. “She honestly could go home with minimal supervision. I’d keep her on fluids just in case she’s out for another day.”
“That’s a relief,” Ann whispered.
“What about Amamiya and Makoto?” Ryuji asked.
Tae sighed. “Ren seems to be responding well to the anti-convulsant, his vitals are good, his oxygen levels are back to normal, and the EGG shows stable activity for now but I won’t know his full condition until he’s conscious…”
“Whaddya mean? If the medicine’s working shouldn’t he be okay now?” Ryuji asked.
“It’s not that simple,” Sojirou said.
“Since Ren’s seizures don’t have a reported cause it’s impossible to tell if something won’t trigger another one. Even then, seizures in general can change a person’s mood state, and cause intense migraines, depression, and nausea and that’s without getting into the medication side effects…until the extent of his condition is known and we get proper treatment for him at a hospital…”
Sojirou squeezed Ren’s hand. “We won’t know for sure what we’re dealing with…”
“Yea…”
Sojirou sighed. “And Makoto?”
“Re-bandaged her old wounds and gave her medication for the pain. She has a high fever and I’ve been bringing it down with fluids and cold packs but it’s her nightmares that concern me.” Her gaze met his. “Is there a relative or family member of hers I can speak to?”
“Just her sister,” Sojirou said, “And she’s not available right now…”
“Not available or ‘not available’?” Sojirou gave her a look and Tae massaged her temple. “I see…” Her eyes drooped low and her head bobbed against her palm.
“You need sleep, Tae, did you get any at all the last two days?”
Tae yawned, “between the screaming no, not much.”
“Screaming?” Sojirou asked.
“Makoto was screaming?” Ann asked, horrified.
“Like I said,” Tae went, “I need to talk to a relative of hers but yes, she was. She didn’t wake the others, though not sure what could.”
Sojirou stared, “I’ll take them, go home, and rest.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ve been worse,” she mumbled. “The average med student would agree.”
Sojirou rubbed his head. “I don’t doubt that, but I’m being practical here. If things go south, this can drag on for weeks at a time, and the kids need you at your best. They can’t have that if you’re passing out on us.” Tae’s gaze lowered.
“Could it?” she asked, her gaze stuck to her feet. “Drag on for weeks at a time?”
The kids didn’t know what to say and neither did he. “I don’t know, but if it does, we’ll need all the help we can get.” Takemi’s expression was downtrodden and he couldn’t blame her. Ren and Makoto’s conditions were gambles in their own right. Fevers were unpredictable, and if Makoto’s nightmares were as bad as they were made out to be then the mental toll wasn’t to be taken lightly.
Still, he couldn’t be the father of two stubborn kids without being a bit bullheaded himself.
“Just tell me what they need, what I have to do, and any warning signs to look after. You can check in after you’ve had some rest.”
“We’d have to set up IV’s in their rooms…” Takemi murmured. “Ren can’t be left alone. Until he’s coherent he’ll need to have someone monitoring him constantly.”
“We can take turns,” Ryuji said, “That way everyone can rest up!”
“It’s a good plan Tae,” Sojirou urged. “it’s not perfect, I won’t pretend it is but right now, you’re the best shot we got at keeping everyone safe, which means we got to keep you safe too.”
“Let’s get them to your place first,” Tae said, “Then we’ll talk.”
As always, plans were easier said than done. Transportation proved to be more difficult with his bad knee and back in the picture. Even Futaba, normally a feather weight proved too much for him.
Ryuji, bless that kid, did most of the heavy lifting. He carried each of them back and forth from the clinic to the house. First, Futaba, then Makoto and then lastly, Ren. Space wasn’t a problem either. Makoto took Ren’s room while Ren was held up in Sojirou’s bedroom. Futaba, of course, was in her own room, sleeping on her side, a pillow placed under her arms and her favorite blanket drawn up to her waist. Curtains drawn tight to Tae’s instructions.
Tae had just finished shifting Ren’s limbs into the recovery position and reattaching his IV when she sauntered out of his room with both hands in her coat pocket. “Being confused, tired, and irritable are all common post-seizure, but if he’s staring excessively or just completely unresponsive then…”
“Hospital,” Sojirou muttered. “Yeah, I know, don’t worry.”
It sounded hollow, but that couldn’t be avoided. The last few days were nothing but worry, especially for her. “Thanks Tae, I mean it. I won’t stop owing you at this rate.”
Tae didn’t tear her gaze from the door. “So you too huh…?” Now that the other kids were out of earshot. He knew it was coming eventually. “How long have you known?”
“Not long, a month at most,” he murmured. “Guess you got me beat on that front huh?”
It shouldn’t have surprised him. Tae was always the more observant one of the two. More willing to act where Sojirou didn’t. Whether it was Ren that told her or Tae herself confronting him, it all led to the same outcome. There was a trust between them that Sojirou envied most days. He couldn’t be upset though because it was a trust she earned.
“Are you upset?”
He shook his head, “I’d have no right to be.”
“No right? You have more of a right than anyone,” Tae murmured. “If he…” Tae cut herself off. “If he didn’t come back…”
“Tae…” Sojirou said. “I knew, and I didn’t stop him either. The when doesn’t matter at this point.”
Tae pressed her lips together and then exhaled. “I suppose it doesn’t...” Her fingers tightened over the lining of her lab coat. “Call me, if there’s anything else, and I mean it, anything else.”
“I know Tae, I know. Go get some rest.”
Tae’s lids lowered before she walked down the hall and her heels echoed down the steps. Sojirou peered past the borders of the bedroom door as Morgana walked past him and jumped onto the bed. His body to Ren’s back, Morgana curled onto the spot and never took his eyes off him.
“Taking the first shift?” Sojirou asked, and the little fella nodded his head. “You want me to rest up too is that it?” Another nod and something told him Morgana wasn’t asking either. The mattress groaned and stunk of mothballs and coffee as he sat on the edge of the bed. His bed wasn’t the cold hard floor or a cutting metal around his wrist but it wasn’t comfortable. He had half a mind to fetch Ren’s mattress but he couldn’t put that poor kid’s knee through any more hell.
“Two days with those bastards…and you wanna know what was on my mind the whole time?” Morgana’s ears stood straight. “It’s the damnest thing, really. There they were taking liver shots on me, yet all I could think was how I never told the kids that I loved them. Not once.” Morgana’s wide eyes groused when Sojirou lowered an open palm on his head. “Kept telling myself that they already knew that but my old man never said it and hell if I knew what he was thinking…”
Morgana meowed, it was something encouraging he was sure, but the gesture only proved his point. Actions, sentiments, they could only do so much. Some people just needed to hear it, and there was no getting around that.
“So I hope you don’t mind…if I stay up with you a little longer…” A little pout was his reply but there weren’t any rebuttals at least. It felt strange asking for permission, but penance, forgiveness, maybe it didn’t matter where it came from. “I’ll go whip up something for the kids to eat before they head home …if anything happens come get me okay?”
Morgana nodded and Sojirou offered a smile. Looking at Morgana, it almost felt real on his face. “Thanks.”
Lead-lined veins glued Makoto to the freezing tiles.
The room was damp and littered with needles. Her limbs were boneless, her neck ached, and frostbite nipped at the skin beneath her wet clothing. Split nails curl into wet grooves but she can’t summon the strength to get up or run. Not before they came back. The door was a gaping maw to the dark gullet of the hallway. Not a single beam of light bled past its edges. Shivering, Makoto curled into cramped muscles when echoing footsteps met ringing ears.
A whimper slipped free from shredded lips as her abdominal muscles clenched. Lime budded at the back of her throat and she forced it down with a dry swallow. The clicking of high heels sent her heart into a frenzy.
“Sis?” she went, calling past the curtain of ink when a red stare greeted her in the dark.
Makoto’s heart fell into her stomach. Her limbs slid above slippery tiles. A silver revolver in hand, Makoto watched as her own face entered the room. Low-cut Shujin skirt with a third-year button that fastened a sleeveless blazer. Chestnut hair untouched compared to the wet mop that was on her head. A stony hand wrapped around her throat as she stared up the stout of the barrel.
“You had to have known this was how it was going to end,” It spoke, contempt burning brighter than the red lights shaking above them. “The people don’t want your justice. They never did.”
“No, please––”
She aimed her gun between her eyes.
And someone else fired.
Gelatinous matter splattered onto the tile as red lathered Makoto’s vision. The viscous paste burned. Slimy chunks drooped down her face as chewed flesh and bits of bone beaded off the ends of her hair. Her double slumped to the ground with a hard thump. Its corpse coated the tiles in a sheet of shining red. An eye sat inches away from a bullet-blown cheek loosely connected by webs of flesh. Compared to the mash of grounded meat on the titles, there was no longer any resemblance.
Amamiya stood at the door, eyes a glittering gold, a red glove on a gun rippling with smoke. His stare was unwavering, he didn’t bat an eye at the corpse with half a face bleeding at his feet. His lips were flattened to a line as he aimed his gun at her face.
“So. What?”
Bang!
Hair damp, Makoto’s eyes flew open as her hand peeled off the heavy sheets crushing her lungs. Air, she needed air but she couldn’t swallow enough past her own screaming. Beyond the sound of rushing blood, fast footsteps skidded to a poor stop as Boss slammed his shoulder against the open door. Makoto jumped. Had she been on a higher bed and not a futon, she might have stumbled right over the edge.
Her battered heart and tired lungs slowed with each exhale.
Recognition bled to the forefront, as Boss, Sakura, approached with hands raised and a cautious look. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” She swallowed a gulp of air, then another, as her fist beaded around thick leaf-green sheets. “That’s right take a few deep breaths.”
“Boss…” Makoto said, her voice strained. Even as low as it was, it hurt. “Is…this real?”
His expression softened. “Yea, I’m here…”
Her breathing slowed, Makoto slipped a cool hand beneath her bangs and drank in her environment. The unfamiliar sandy wallpaper, stained oak dresser, and closet. The clear IV bag was hooked to a stand as a persistent warmth emanated from her temple while buried beneath sweat-drenched sheets.
“Oh,” Makoto echoed, her legs granite pillars too heavy to lift now that the adrenaline had passed. Her arm slumped to her lap. “Are we at your house?”
Sakura cracked a small window and then pulled the curtains back tight. It was dark in the room but the light from the halls cut the shadows to a cooling gray. “Yea, I’m letting Tae get her rest. You’re in Ren’s room.” Sakura paused sensing her next question. “It’s the 16th, you’ve been out for two days.” Makoto paled. Two entire days? “Are you hungry? I made rice porridge, it’s got chunks of pumpkin in there.” His lips curved to a smile. “The kids told me that was your favorite.”
Her unsteady stomach gurgled. “Yes, please, thank you Sakura-san.”
“You got it right the first time when you called me Boss,” he said playfully. “Sit tight, I’ll go get it.”
Sakura left the room and a whirlwind of nutmeg, cinnamon, and cardamon followed with notes of coffee leaping behind. The porridge was excellent. Salty tepid broth with chunks of honey-sweet pumpkin lathered in grated apple, bitter leeks, and bits of egg so silky it melted on her tongue. Makoto adjusted the wooden tray on her lap as she lowered an empty bowl. Her cheeks burned from her ferocious eating as she met his gaze. Sakura chuckled.
“Another?”
“I-if that’s okay.”
“Of course, Futaba and Ren don’t like pumpkin or green papaya so, this batch is all yours.”
Makoto blinked. “O-oh, I would have been okay to go without, you didn’t have to go out of your way.”
Sakura raised a hand, “I wanted to. Making soup is the least I could do.” Sakura retrieved the bowl and stood at the doorway. “…Talkin’ about it helps you know.” Makoto shriveled. If only it were so simple. Before leaving the room, Sakura’s hand raked the back of his head. “Sorry, I’m probably the last person you want to hear that from but it’s true. Nothing good comes from keeping it all in.”
He was right of course and that truth had already hurt her team. Makoto didn’t think twice when she pushed Akechi out of the path of Shido’s spell. It was instinct, her legs moved on their own, and before she could process what was happening. White hot pain impaled the space between her ribs.
Memories superimposed the present. She was in the interrogation room under its blinking spotlights. At her father’s funeral buried under curls of sandalwood incense. A heavy booth slammed her head onto the hard ground as helicopters swarmed like wasps. Cold hands yanked her head and arms while syringes with plump needles were jammed into her neck. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t see. For a few terrible seconds, there was nothing.
But when her final memory was of her sister’s back, shielding her as a man carpeted the floor with his blood. Makoto’s blood boiled so rapidly that vessels snapped in her face. Stinging sensations traveled down her limbs as petals of blood bloomed bruises on her skin.
Her gaze lowered to the sheets and the interlocking compound leaves that adorned them. The worst part was how present she was. How justified it all felt. Makoto, in theory, knew what she was doing and who she was hurting but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t make herself stop because she wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel as afraid as she had that day…and anyone who defended him meant nothing.
The tunnel vision, the glass shard memories, the self-justification, the feeling that she could do anything without consequences.
That…was a psychotic breakdown?
That was the power born from Akechi’s heart?
A shiver crept under her sheets.
What did that say about him?
Or…me?
Akechi’s abilities weren’t the only puzzling element at hand. The mysterious voice Amamiya followed still had no discernable answer. There was still so little known about Amamiya and Akechi’s time in the metaverse, that a part of Makoto regretted the deal she had struck. Amamiya was right. Trust wasn’t so easily forged when there was a power imbalance, and Makoto was naïve to believe otherwise.
There was no use worrying about it now. Without her phone or her sister, she had no way of contacting her team. All she could do was rest.
The residential area of Yongen-Jaya was such a different area from both the motel and her home. Out there, the air swelled with soft distant laughter. A stark difference from the high whine of cars in the inner city. Makoto found herself drawn to the stories of the people behind the voices she heard. A part of her hoped, perhaps, childishly, that the Phantom Thieves inspired laughter like that in others.
That the hope they wanted to cultivate existed somewhere, even if she couldn’t see it.
Porridge in hand, Makoto finally took the time to deconstruct Amamiya’s room. If she could call it that. There was nothing that indicated it belonged to anyone. Bare walls, clean floors, scattered brown envelopes on the low study desk beside two mechanical pencils and a pen. Crumbled paper in the waste bin and not much else. Come to think of it, the attic was similar with the exception of the turtle. The doll was so large it was easy to forget there was nothing else there.
Her palms warmed by heated ceramic, Makoto watched as Sakura shuffled past. His brows lifted closer to the creases on his forehead. “Need something?”
“…I…um,” She paused, “Had a question if you don’t mind.”
“Hm? Sure, go ahead.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that Amamiya doesn’t keep many things…I mean compared to Futaba’s room…” Makoto watched his face fall. “I’m sorry I’m just…with things as they are…I feel as though I’m no closer to understanding him now than I was six months ago…”
Sakura sighed. “Yea…” He said. “Ren…he…keeps a lot in. Half the time I don’t know what’s going through his head but…he means well….or at least tries to.” Her gaze settled on the porridge in front of her, her thumb gliding over the bone-white ceramic. “Still, what happened to you shouldn’t have happened at all.”
“That isn’t your fault…”
“He’s my kid, everything he does is on me.” That sounded like something her sister would have said, even back then. “I... don’t know how to reach him…” He shuffled bruised hands. “Wish I could give you more to work with but…”
“No, it’s okay, you’ve given me a lot to think about as is, thank you,” Makoto said, earnestly. “And…I understand what you mean…some gaps just feel impossible…especially with family…” Makoto met his gaze. “Have you tried talking to Akechi?”
“Not exactly a talker that one.” If only that were true… “But no…I haven’t. I have a feeling it won’t do much good.”
“What do you mean?”
Sakura’s jaw shifted before he shook his head. “It just won’t.” Hm? What was it that he wanted to know? “Besides, Akechi has often gone out of his way to let me know when something was wrong with Ren. I can’t rely on him for everything. Whatever you need from Ren, you’ll only get from Ren. I can’t tell you how to get him to trust you…but I can say going around him is the last way to do that.”
Makoto smiled. “Sounds like you do know a tip or two.”
The corner of his lips tugged into an uneasy smile. “Thanks…” He rubbed his neck. “Morgana’s in the other room. He’s been watching Ren for me while I cook…I’ll take over so you can have someone to talk to.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“It’s nothing,” He said, “And…your sister’s a piece of work but…it was the idea of losing you that got through to her in the end. So don’t give up either, alright?”
His words coiled around her chest. “…Do you…” She winced. “Do you think she’s okay?”
Apologetic, Sakura kept his hand on the coffee-stained wood of the door frame. “Trust me, when she wants her way, she knows how to get it. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you…”
“You’re welcome.”
Opulence and power.
Those were the words that defined that evening. Striking kimonos of the highest order silk were paired with furs that adorned slender necks. The darkest of blacks and pearliest whites so sheen Haru saw the rainbow split under the lights.
Soft baby greens, pinks, and blues. Winter colors. Haru herself was dressed for the occasion. Pink carnations, the flower of defiance, adorned her white silk and matching pink band. She had to commend her stylist for such a beautiful piece on such short notice, especially when she delivered all she had asked. Most of the men in contrast wore expensive suits with accents complimenting their pairs. Alone and amongst vipers, Haru stood out like a baby chick.
Hawkish stares clung like razor-sharp talons on her back. Cocoons of light lit the auditorium in long strip lights that arched with the dome. Beams made up the majority of the ceiling, it gave the room a natural expanse and a sense of freedom where there was none. White pillars and gold leaves adorned the corners. Large leaves in stout pots for a pop of green in the winter.
Servers in black and white suits glided by with trays of sunset-colored drinks, Haru reached and took a glass by the stem unchallenged and made her way throughout the room. In it, there were pockets of people rather than a crowd. Clusters of faces and names Haru only knew in passing. None of the voices floating around her sounded familiar.
All except one.
“Are you in position?” Came Akechi’s voice.
“Mhm,” Haru confirmed, keeping her fingers on the glass to avoid subconsciously touching her hair and by extension her ear. When Akechi texted her an address to meet with no further instructions. Haru hadn’t known what to expect after their last call. While not uncommon for him to lose his composure, Akechi tended to be rather leveled outside of the metaverse. Still, Sumire was his friend. A friend whom, no matter what he said, he cared for deeply.
However, instead of rage or indignation, at the underground Inn, Akechi greeted her with a still expression. It would have been unnerving, if not for the cracks beneath the surface.
His normally well-kept skin was dry. Ren’s glasses framed half moons and hair drawn back into a messy ponytail. Without Ryuji’s hoodie on, Akechi resorted back to his black hoodie and mask. Though it suited him, Haru couldn’t quite understand his demeanor anymore than she had the meeting. Haru took her seat opposite him as two drinks, one dark, the other with sliced jalapenos and salt around the rim were placed in the center of the table.
“Might I ask what this is about?” Haru asked.
Akechi reached for the cola and then slid a small blue box forward. “Insurance.”
Haru took a sip of the bright green drink. A refreshing mango with a subtle burn. It stung her throat with notes of ginger, it was pleasant. A fortifying heat. “So this is about Sumire?” Haru lowered her glass. “I believe I made my stance clear.”
“That you have,” Akechi replied. “And this is mine.” Haru lifted the lid of the box and uncovered thin wires and a small transparent earbud. “This is a microphone, you’ll wear it at the gala. Not only will this ensure both ends of the deal are met, but it is also for efficiency. You know nothing about the world you claim to inhabit.” Haru gaze flickered to him. “Names, connections, whose in bed with whom, you’ll have an hour at best to find what we need and you have no idea where to even look.”
Haru rolled the salt on her tongue. “While I admit that your insight would be helpful and it’s the best strategy overall. How do I know you won’t use what you hear and act out on your own?”
The silence lingered as Akechi’s gaze burned like a candlelight. A warning, a promise. “You don’t.”
Her hand curled over her knee. Flames scorched her throat and turned her words to ash. Even now, clad in layered silk and fine rose petals in her hair, the fire still simmered low as guilt hung like the weighted jewels around her neck. Now that she was here, Haru was happy that Sumire was not.
Before her nausea could snowball, Haru slipped by the groves of people and kept her ear above the soothing piano.
As noteworthy the outfits of those who were present, the names of those who were absent were also carried throughout the room. A woman wrapped in a bright plum kimono patterned with white cherry blossoms and pearl stakes in her hair spoke loudly, drunkenly, about how ashamed it was that Akira Konoe could not attend.
Other notable absences included Ohya’s publishing house, the heads of the Nanjo and Kiriju groups, mayors of surrounding cities and towns, and even a few presidential candidates who would soon be handing their victory over to Shido.
A slender man with slicked-back hair as dark as his tux stood, stone-faced with a woman with waist-long brown hair and a stare the color of blood linked in his arms. Her kimono looked extravagant, though the scowl on her face soured the look. Bright white with accents of plum embroidery. It looked better suited for a wedding than a gala. The pin on his pocket indicated him as a presidential candidate, but which one? She had no clue. Haru bit her lip. She truly was out of her element.
A woman with a black fur laid eyes on her and laughed into her hand, a month ago, perhaps even two, she might have shrunk away from that gaze.
Not today.
“Well, at least I’m not the only one alone tonight.” A voice huffed behind her.
“Stop.”
Haru paused. “What is it?” She said, her voice low.
“That woman’s voice, strike up a conversation. Her husband is in the conspiracy. Bring her a drink and get her talking…it sounds like she’s had a few already so this should be easy.”
He gathered that much information from such few words? How often did Akechi have to do this?
Haru took a breath and collected a red wine from a nearby server and offered it outstretched. “Excuse me,” she said. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re also low on company tonight.”
The woman observed Haru behind long lashes. Her hair was done up like a mountain peak, pinned and adorned with silver trinkets and rubies that matched her dress. She was one of the few not in traditional wear, instead, her ruby gown rippled like a hibiscus flower in bloom. Outer beauty aside, Akechi was right. The glassy-eyed woman had a few too much to drink. Yet, as suggested Haru offered another one with a smile. “I happen to think I make for a decent companion if you’ll allow.”
“Well, aren’t you a doll,” She drawled. “It’s nice to see you again dear.”
“Likewise,” Haru said, certain she’s never met this woman in her life. “Your dress looks stunning.”
She took a sip of the pink Moscato. “Thank you, I had it prepared months ago, I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.” She huffed, “It deserves to be appreciated by someone.”
“I agree,” she said easily. “Was there some trouble getting here?”
“Always trouble getting anywhere,” she sighed. “If you want some advice dear, never marry a man both useless in bed and in life.” Haru would have choked on her drink had she taken a sip. “Months in preparation for this night, and he goes and leaves with barely a day’s notice, honestly, the nerve on him.”
“Was it work?”
“Either that or he’s busy disappointing some other woman.” She finished her glass and Haru replaced it within moments. “Thank you, it’s honestly such a hassle to attend these things, the least he could have done was a week’s notice at least.”
“Did he tell you what was so urgent?”
“No, never does, just arches his back over that computer in his office.” The woman hiccupped and something sour bursts in the air. She covered her mouth. “Ah, pardon me…I have to…” she paused, snapping her lips shut. “Excuse me.”
She scurried away from Haru as fast as her heels would allow. Haru stood as the sounds of the room dove beneath the wave that was her thoughts. Though she had acquired what she needed…
That…
That did not feel as satisfying as she had hoped.
“So, the IT president is absent, remember those photos I sent you earlier, have any of them shown up?”
Haru took a careful look around the room. “No, not that I can see…” She said, then she met the face of a man she did know in the crowd.
Worst yet, he knew her too.
“Haru…”
A single presence hollowed her out where she stood. “Councilor Seta.” She said, maintaining her smile as the burly man made his way over. A black suit fitted over a broad chest. His pea-green tie suited him, though even that was paper thin. Though dressed for the occasion, what stood before her was a shadow of the man she once knew, though that itself had been brief. Sunken cheeks, dark eyes, and bony fingers for such a large man. With his gray peppering dark hair, there wasn’t an ounce of Sugimura in him.
“It’s good to see you,” He said, “It’s been a while since…” He paused. “Well, it’s been a while. How have you been?”
“Ah, yes…” Haru said, her tongue heavy. “I’ve been well, thank you for asking.”
Sugimura was still in the hospital, still wasting away on a bed, unresponsive and inert. As for her, his prospective bride, Haru hadn’t gone to see him once. She knew he was waiting for it, an acknowledgment of the only thing that tied them.
He cracked a smile. “I just wanted you to know I would have been honored to have you in my family, despite all that’s happened.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” Haru said, reaching for some semblance of strength. “But Councilor, if I may be honest…while I do not wish ill on you or your family. I don’t believe things would have turned out the way you had hoped. I was never interested in marrying Sugimura.”
For months Sugimura was at the center of her nightmares. His oily smile and wandering his hands. His too-tight squeezes and jarring tugs. As robbed as Haru felt of her closure, of her justice. To know he could never do that to another woman again was…
A relief.
Councilor Seta’s brows bowed. “Yes, I’m aware. President Takakura and I discussed that sometime after Sugimura got ill,” he said. “My sentiment remains the same, I’ve heard about your presence in board meetings even at such a young age, to take an interest in the company in that manner. You’re exceptional, I would have been happy to welcome you into our family and I’m sure your father would have been proud.” Knots rolled tighter in her stomach. “I’d love to spend some more time to catch up but I’m afraid I must take my leave. I came here to see our new prime minister, but he seems to not be in attendance.”
“Oh,” Haru said, “Are you referring to Shido-san?”
“Of course, those polling numbers far outweigh what anyone would hope to supersede at this point.”
“It was my understanding that Shido enjoyed events like this.”
His brow raised, but he seemingly declined to press further. “Ah, I suppose Okumura and Shido were acquaintances…but you’re right. His absence tonight is a tad odd. I was informed that he had a bit of a health scare, but I was told it was relatively minor.” He paused. “Seems strange he’d miss the event but perhaps his doctor wanted to take precautions.”
“And what of the Phantom Thieves?”
He raised a brow. “Pardon?”
“I couldn’t help but notice not many people seem to be discussing them in relation to Shido.”
“Why would they?” He asked. “They’re just criminals.”
Haru’s fingers clamped the stem of her glass and pain sparked from her bandaged thumb. “But if Shido-san truly is responsible for the mental shutdowns, then Sugimura’s condition––”
He scowled. “And what would you know of my son’s condition?”
Ah, there was the family resemblance.
“Overstepping your boundaries was a habit of your father as well Haru, do not make his mistakes.” He turned his shoulder to her. “Now if you would excuse me.”
With that, he left.
How peculiar. Nearly an hour of exploring, and listening, and not one mention of the Phantom Thieves or Shido’s calling card. It was one thing for the news to not be discussing the calling card, but this far away from the public eye it was strange to not hear a single mention of it.
Even stranger than listening to a man grieve his son, ear shots away from his killer.
There were countless men like Sugimura in the room…and she almost brought Sumire here.
Never again.
I won’t stoop to Akechi’s level.
I won’t stoop to my father’s.
Perhaps using others is a form of strength.
But it won’t be mine.
“Akechi-kun,” Haru said suddenly.
“What is it?”
“I’m not leaving,” She said, “Once Takakura makes the announcement. I’ll stay.”
The people weren’t talking, but with her presence, she’d make them talk.
The conspiracy won’t escape justice.
They won’t escape her.
And no matter what else happened, she wanted them to know that.
Elbows on the counter, Goro tuned into the voices in his headset flat keys brightened under the laptop screen. Alongside the cacophony of voices grazing his ears, Takakura’s voice echoed throughout the room from the television secured on the wall. Yoshizawa-san’s station to be exact, one of the few directors who weren’t in Shido’s pocket.
Takakura’s interview and subsequent confession were met with stunned silence and resoundingly little fanfare. Confessions of his prior eliminating rival food chains, sabotaging management, and customers alike. The crowd murmured amongst themselves, the hosts exchanged concerned looks, but none of that mattered more than the overwhelming truth.
Shido was still alive.
Had Shido died, the conspiracy members would have attended the gala as a means of consolidating power. A desperate attempt to introduce their clientele of the new status quo. It was all too quiet. There were no large sums of money being moved or sudden press for the new golden boy of the conspiracy. There was never any need to because their leader hadn’t fallen.
If Shido managed to circumvent his change of heart, there wasn’t even a shadow left to destroy. No results on the app, Mementos or otherwise.
Goro laid eyes on the pair of glasses occupying his counter and ice pricked his veins.
Numbness tingled his fingertips as he continued to comb through the gala’s audio. Distant chatter, meaningless gossip, but occasionally there were names, nuggets of information. Seeds that could field fruit in the metaverse. Goro scrubbed his face his palm, and heat radiated from his temple. AC was on full blast and he was still overheating. He had gone days without food or sleep as a child and now with age, his body had grown spoiled.
“I’ll be leaving the gala shortly, is there anyone else that has caught your attention?”
Goro lifted his palm as a sneer twisted his lips.
“No, that’s all.”
There was a pause. “Akechi-kun.”
“What is it?”
“It was…wrong of me to use your friendship with Sumire-chan in that manner…whatever my feelings towards you, I should have never leveraged her safety and for that I’m sorry.”
Okumura spoke with all the subtly of the axe she so clearly wanted to drive through his skull. A feeling that was growing dangerously mutual. Okumura could apologize until she was blue in the face, anyone willing to leverage the safety of another was liable to do it again.
And should she ever.
Well.
Ren might not lift his blade in his own defense, but Ren wasn’t here.
“If you’re looking to be absolved of your sins, Okumura I suggest you look elsewhere.”
“Absolution…” She drew out the word. “Is that why you’ll be turning yourself in? Atonement?”
No.
“We have greater concerns than the state of my soul Okumura,” Goro said.
“For once, we’re in agreement. It’s as you said, there’s too much at stake to wait an entire afternoon.” Goro raised a brow. “The others will join us after school. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
Goro tapped a solitary finger on the counter. It seems that he wouldn’t have to wait long at all to test a particular theory after all.
Nobody liked regrets.
Personally, Sojirou had enough of them for a dozen lifetimes at least. Words that he should have said, people that deserved a second glance. He was an idiot through and through in his youth. A proud one at that. No matter how explosively things ended. He didn’t really change, not until he met people worth changing for. Wakaba, Futaba, Ren. All of them entered his heart with the subtly of a bulldozer. The take-no-prisoner types always did.
So, Sojirou wondered if years from now he’ll regret this night too.
Makoto was as sharp as her sister. Sojirou knew what he’d unearth if he mentioned his suspicions about Ren’s behavior. So, he didn’t and though it’s been hours since then, it’s been on his mind ever since. Seated in the chair by Ren’s bedside as he slept, the light in the hall bleeding a jagged strip of light through the door. Nothing else to do but stew in his choices. Sleep wasn’t an option so this would have to do.
Sojirou lifted his gaze to the black ceiling and pinched his eyes shut. God, he could use a smoke.
Lowering his head, Sojirou nearly jumped out of his skin, and Ren jumped with him.
Seated upright in his bed, head in his hand, Ren sat quietly, waiting, watching and Sojirou couldn’t believe it. One minute Ren was asleep and the next, he was up without so much of a creak of the mattress.
Sojirou got to his feet. “Ren?” A low groan left Ren’s lips. “Hey, hey take it easy…” One eye covered, Ren lifted his head, and his gaze searched the room. What was it Tae had said? “Hey, can you say your name back to me?” Ren turned to him with a vacant stare. “…Do you know where you are?”
Sojirou’s heart pulled. He’s just staring. Eyes searching the room, searching him. Ren’s chest rose and fell unevenly. His hair was damp. The whites of his eyes were too bright. When Sojirou took a step forward, Ren’s whole body curled like a stray cat.
“You’re okay,” he said, softer, stepping back. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk yet.” Ren’s shoulders unwound. Forget running, he might put up a fight. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Ren observed quietly from the bed as a dull ache climbed up from Sojirou’s knee. “I’m just going to make a phone call okay? I’ll be right back.”
Sojirou stepped out into the hallway and dialed Tae’s number. She picked up on the second ring and spoke as Sojirou paced out in the hall. “He should gain more awareness with rest. The problem is in making sure we’re not spooking him.”
“Easier said than done, the kid thinks he’s in a house with some stranger, of course, he wants to run.” Sojirou rubbed his scalp. “Can I get him something to eat at least? He might calm down if he gets some food in him.”
“No, not until he’s fully alert. Keep an eye on him, talk to him…keep him calm, encourage him to ask questions. I’m on my way.”
“Alright, see you soon.” Sojirou exhaled through his nose and shoved the phone back in his pocket as Ren’s leg twitched and jerked under the sheets. Back arched, he seemed to be making himself as small as possible.
With his head a mess and his back a pretzel. If Ren ran, there’d be no way Sojirou could catch him. He could run into traffic, to the train station, on the tracks. “It’s alright, I’m just going to sit here.” Ren inched away once Sojirou crossed the threshold so he gestured to the chair and dragged it closer to the door. “I won’t get any closer, I promise.”
Seemingly content with that arrangement, Sojirou took his seat. Now off his knee, he finally had time to think. Sojirou toyed with the idea of bringing Morgana back into the room, but if a stranger made Ren want to book it then a talking cat would send that kid flying.
No, Sojirou just needed to get him back to sleep.
With a goal in mind, under Ren’s gaze, Sojirou gave him another smile.
“Don’t worry, your dad knows you’re here.” Ren perked up. “You’ve been asleep for a while, kid, got us scared for a minute there.” Ren blinked. “He told me you got hurt protecting your sister, do you remember that?”
To his surprise, Ren nodded.
“…She’s ok?” Ren asked, his voice low.
“Thanks to you yea, she’s doing just fine.” Just like that, all the tension bled from Ren’s shoulders. “She’s asleep in the other room.” Ren’s gaze shot past the door. “She’s resting…and you need to rest too, you wanna see them both again, don’t you?”
Expecting another nod to come as quickly as the first instead Sojirou was met with a wince. Ren’s hand shot up towards his face and Sojirou grimaced. “I know, I know it hurts, that’s why you need your sleep. Your head will feel better when you do.”
Ren drew his knees up, his limbs trembling. Sojirou’s leg started to bounce. “Do you want another blanket?” No response. “Is it too bright? I can turn the hallway lights off and bring a night light in.” Heavy labored gasps racked his chest all while Ren wouldn’t meet his gaze. He couldn’t give him any medicine, couldn’t provide water or food, all Sojirou could do was watch.
Time dragged but the pain seemed to settle much to his relief. The whole affair seemed to drain Ren of whatever fight he had left. Ren picked at the bandage where the IV was secured, his eyes drooping, his head bobbing. Tae should be in Yongen soon and he wasn’t any closer to getting him to relax.
Sojirou spotted Ren’s phone on the dresser and the gears started to turn. “…Hey…” Ren’s gaze lowered. “How about this…if I can get your old man on the phone will that make you more comfortable?” Ren hesitated. His fingers picked at each other; his eyes shifted. Sojirou offered him a smile and his own phone. “Here.”
Ren gingerly took the phone and held it up to his ear. “Ah, I haven’t actually, just one second––” He slipped the phone out of his grasp and dialed his cell. “There, I’ll give you both some privacy…”
Sojirou’s own phone vibrated in his pocket, keeping a safe eye on the room from a distance, he answered from across the hall. “Ren?”
Ren croaked, if he hadn’t been a stone’s throw away, it would have been impossible to hear him. He fidgeted under the sheets. “…Sojirou?”
“I’m here, son. How are you feeling?”
His expression pinched. “Head…hurts…I don’t know where I…” He swallowed, his eyes searching, panicked. “Come…. please?” Pain spiked through his chest.
“I know where you are, don’t worry. Tae, remember Tae?” There was a nod instead of a reply, poor kid. “You’re there right now because we need to make sure you’re okay. I’m already on my way… I’ll be there when you wake back up. With all your favorites to boot.”
“…Really?”
“Yea,” Sojirou leaned against the wall. “Rice porridge with fresh eggs from that farm you and Futaba like. Beef tongue for a hot pot we can do after you’re both on your feet…Hell, I’ll even get some ox tail and a Wagyu roast for Christmas this year. I’ll even let you decide how to season it.” Ren smiled. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Another nod.
“Yea,” Sojirou said as his eyes stung. “I’d like that too…so how about you get those naps in for me? Alright?” Ren pulled the sheets up to his chest and gave another nod. His lids lowered, and his breathing evened out, Sojiro thought he was halfway through falling asleep on the line when he spoke.
“Love you, Dad.”
A low kindle seeped into his bones.
Oh.
So, that’s what that felt like.
Sojirou wiped at his eyes and buried a sniffle. “Love you too kid. Don’t let me hear from your caretaker that you aren’t sleeping alright? I’ll see you when wake up.”
“Ok.”
Sojirou ended the call, rested his head against the wall, and watched as Ren tucked himself in and laid down to sleep. Sojirou wandered back into the room where Ren slept. Sheets up to his shoulder, chest rising and falling in even waves. Sojirou slipped off his glasses and took a seat on the mattress.
That was all it took, huh? What was so hard about that? He just wanted to know he wasn’t dumped somewhere else on his own. His parents didn’t reach out to him at all when he first moved, did they? Just dropped him at a stranger’s doorstep without a second thought.
And Ren was right to think, he would be no different.
My kids are willing to bleed for each other.
It’s time I stepped up.
Don’t worry, Ren. I’m not giving up on you.
Good or bad, you’re always going to be my kid.
He’ll ask Ren about sitting in on his therapy sessions later, for now. He needed his rest.
The doorbell sounded and Sojirou headed down the stairs. Morgana peeked out of the downstairs guest room; his tail curled. “Don’t worry, it’s just Tae.”
Sojirou reached for the door to find Tae in black sweats beneath a doctor’s coat. Sun still hours from rising, Tae walked in with both hands in her pocket as she followed him up the stairs. “Need me to make you some coffee first?”
Tae smiled. “Do I even need to ask?”
Sojirou chuckled as he rounded the corner. “Coming right up––” Sojirou paused. His eyes were wide and blinking at the scene that greeted him. Futaba was on the bed, curled up against Ren’s back as her hand clutched his shirt.
“Sorry,” Sojirou said, “I swear it wasn’t like that a second ago.”
“I believe it,” Tae replied. “Something tells me, it’s probably going to have to stay that way.”
“Is that okay?”
Tae shrugged, not too concerned. Sometimes he wondered about her. “I’ll watch them, you go get some sleep.”
Sojirou took in the scene in front of him and before he knew it, he prepped Tae a flask of the good stuff then hauled a chair from downstairs. Tae raised a brow as he plopped it down beside her. “Hey, this is my room.” He mused, passing her the flask. Nose-deep in the silver aluminum, Tae didn’t even fight it.
Besides, his whole world was in this room.
Where else could he ever want to be?
