Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“So dude, what’d you call us for?” Ryuji lounges father back in his booth, his arms behind his head. “You think of some art thing you wanted to do or something?”

Yusuke clutches a fist towards his heart and closes his eyes, smiling thoughtfully. “I suppose you could say that this is a work of art. If only I was talented enough to create such a masterpiece myself….”

“What are you talking about? Is there something in your hand?” Ann scoots onto her knees so she can lean over the table and see, narrowing her eyes from across Leblanc at his closed fist and tilting her head in curiosity. 

“C’moooooon, don’t keep us in suspense like this, Inari. Spit it out already!” Futaba whines from the booth beside Ann’s.

Yusuke chuckles darkly. “Very well. Behold!”

All of the Phantom Thieves stand up and swarm around Yusuke as soon as his fingers uncurl, only to reveal--

“It’s…a rock,” Haru says plainly. 

Makoto’s eyes flit from the rock in Yusuke’s hands up to its owner. “You called us here to look at a rock?” 

“It’s not just ‘a rock’,” Yusuke spits in disgust. “Feel it.” 

Ryuji squints at Yusuke as if he just said something unforgivable, but he takes the rock from his hand anyway and plays it over his fingers. Immediately, the distrustful look on his face morphs into one of amazement. “Duuude,” he exclaims. “This is, like, the smoothest rock ever ! Where’d you find this thing?!”

“I encountered it by chance while I was taking a walk around the grounds of my school,” Yusuke explains as the other Phantom Thieves pass the rock between each other. “I was lacking inspiration for my latest project, so I decided to get some air and come back to the canvas with a fresh mindset. And then, as I stooped to pick up a 100-yen coin I saw on the sidewalk, there it was, awaiting my touch…like a gift from the gods.”

Ren watches this commotion from behind the bartop, passively wiping a glass as his friends continue raving about the smooth rock. Morgana sits on a barstool in front of him, shaking his head. “They’ve really lost it this time, haven’t they? All of this over a stupid rock?” 

“It’s really smooth,” Ren says passively. 

“Not you, too! You haven’t even touched it yet!” Morgana complains. 

“C’mon, Morgana, don’t be a spoil-sport! Check it out!” Futaba reaches out to hand the rock to Morgana, but before Morgana can touch it, she quickly pulls it away. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t have hands. Maybe it’s impossible for you to appreciate its true majesty.” 

Morgana sputters in disbelief. “Hey, just because I have paws doesn’t mean I can’t feel things! Let me see that rock!”

“Oh! Ren! You haven’t gotten a turn yet, have you?” Ann turns to look at Ren with wide eyes. “Futaba, let him see it.”

Futaba looks reluctant to give up the treasure, but she hands it up to Ren with a smile. “Pretty neat, isn’t it?”

Ren stares down at the rock as the other Phantom Thieves watch their leader expectantly. It’s about the size and shape of his thumb, but its surface is completely untouched by cracks, divots, or bumps. Moving on to assess the stone’s alleged smoothness, he runs his thumb over it a few times with deep concentration obvious on his face. He meets no resistance whatsoever as he does so, nor does his thumb leave any sort of smudge. It almost feels like it could slip right out from between his fingers if he places too much pressure on it. Morgana may not want to hear it, but it is remarkably smooth for a rock Yusuke just found on the ground outside. 

All of the Phantom Thieves scream and move to leap over the bartop when Ren makes a casual move to put the rock in his pocket. “No! Drop it!” Makoto snaps, keeping a tight grip on his arm as she tries to pry his hand away from the drop-off point. The tone of her voice reminds Ren of someone who’s trying to get their dog to release something from its jaws. Feeling chided, Ren turns away in shame and drops the stone on the countertop -- but he can’t banish a playful smile from his lips.

“I know that it’s in the name, but Phantom Thieves shouldn’t steal from each other,” Haru says, giggling. “I think that Yusuke shared this rock with us because he’d like us all to enjoy it together. It would be unfair for one person to claim full ownership over it.” 

“Y-Yes, of course,” Yusuke concurs, absolutely having planned on claiming full ownership over the rock. “We can all appreciate its greatness, so it would be selfish for any one of us to keep it for themselves.” 

“What if we pass it around, then? It can be, like, our team mascot or somethin’.” Ryuji thoughtfully scratches the back of his head. 

“But Morgana’s already our team mascot,” Futaba remarks. 

“I’m not a mascot character!” Morgana snaps. “And if you want to pass your dumb rock around, be my guest. I don’t care one way or the other.” 

“That’s fine. You and Ren can share a turn. You both live together, anyway.” Makoto pulls out her phone and begins jotting down notes. “We can trade off on alternating days of the week. There are seven of us, not counting Morgana, so it works out perfectly.”

“What? We’re tradin’ off every day? We can’t do weeks?” Ryuji questions. “Man. That’s cruel.” 

“It’s only fair,” Makoto says with a self-satisfied smirk. “We can begin discussing a suitable schedule now. Of course, we’ll have to find a way to accommodate Yusuke and Futaba properly, being that they don’t go to school with us, but I think we can come to an agreement which works for all of us.”

“It’s all yours,” Futaba exclaims, dropping the rock into Ren’s open palms. “Merry Christmas. Just don’t get too attached, okay? You’ve gotta give it back to Inari tomorrow.” 

Ren was crushed when Makoto’s original calendar put him at the very end of the exchange cycle, but he supposes that it only makes sense. The only people who hadn’t claimed a day of the week yet were him and Futaba, the only days left to claim were Saturday and Sunday, and it would’ve been difficult for Futaba to give the rock to anyone but Ren in any sort of timely manner. Even still, he couldn’t help but burn with jealousy when he’d see his friends post their rock pics in the group chat over the course of the week. Ryuji brought the stone to get ramen with him, Ann put it on top of the camera at one of her modeling shoots, Haru captured it “helping out in the garden”...why was Haru gardening in December, anyway? 

But admittedly, with everything that had happened recently, Ren hadn’t been thinking too hard about the smooth rock. Even if it was Futaba’s custody day yesterday, it was left in the center of its decorated shrine in the Phantom Thieves’ hideout the whole time as the kids spent their Christmas Eve disappearing from the world’s cognition, breaking out of mind prison, and killing a god. Truly, a lot has changed within the two and a half weeks that they’ve had the rock. Maybe Yusuke was right -- maybe the rock does have some fateful element about it. 

Or maybe it’s just very smooth. That works, too. Ren smiles thankfully and slides the rock into his pocket without another word before he proceeds with his Christmas. 

After that point, he manages to forget about the rock for the rest of the day. All of his friends wound up coming to Leblanc to celebrate with him that afternoon, so between their company and his efforts to keep the café from being trashed (as Sojiro requested), he was much too busy to appreciate its polished surface. 

A real shame. Ren’s gotten a little too attached to this thing. It’s really easy for him to space out and lose himself while he’s fiddling with it. It’s something new to fidget with besides the many, many fidget toys populating his room upstairs. What can he say? He feels weird and out-of-place if he doesn’t have anything to mess with.

“Hey, it’s Sunday, right?” Ann asks, leaning out of the booth to look at Ren. “That means it’s your day with the rock.” 

“C’mon, bust out that bad boy! It’s not a team meeting without it,” Ryuji insists.

Ren wonders if they’re trying to confirm that he hasn’t stolen the rock yet -- that he hasn’t faked its disappearance for the sake of keeping it all to himself. Ever since the stunt he pulled when Yusuke first introduced it to him, he wouldn’t be surprised if the others didn’t trust him. 

But this rock still belongs to the group more than it belongs to him…for now. Ren grins as he removes the stone from his pocket and sets it on the bartop. As soon as it rattles against the wooden counter, the kids burst into cheers. The rock sits there and basks in their praise, because it deserves it . 

“It’s his first Christmas,” Yusuke says, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears. 

“And it has such a healthy glow about it,” Haru adds, nodding along dutifully. “We’ve been taking very good care of it.” 

Ren studies the rock on the bartop. It’s as if it represents all of the strong bonds that have been forged between the Phantom Thieves over these last few difficult weeks. Even despite everything they were going through -- despite the fear of death -- despite the traumas that they faced -- despite the knowledge that the fate of the world was resting on their shoulders -- they protected this symbol of their friendship and passed it along on its scheduled rounds. 

The sounds of gunshots echo in his mind for a split second before Ren can suppress them. 

“I can’t sense him anymore,” a Futaba who isn’t here said softly, staring down at her shoes and beginning to tremble. 

He swallows something heavy and bites his lip. He forces his hand into his pocket -- the pocket in which he keeps the rock -- so he can curl his fingers into a fist in a place where the others won’t see it. His fingertips brush against the leather glove that shares the same space.

“I hope that these times never end,” Ren blurts out without realizing it. “I don’t want to imagine what life would be like without you guys.” He’s surprised with himself when his voice cracks halfway through the admission. His eyes are stinging suddenly. This is bad. He’s about to leap off the precipice here. He knows himself too well; if he falls into this emotion, there’s no climbing back up -- not tonight. 

“Hey dude, knock it off! You’re gonna make me cry.” Ryuji snickers as he taps Ren’s arm with his fist. Ren gasps at the motion, dragged back into the moment and away from the cliff.

He smiles despite himself. It may just be the residual shock from his impending emotional doom. 

“Sorry,” Ren mutters, still trying to recover his breath. “There’s just a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.” 

Makoto gives him an unexpectedly gentle frown. “Are you feeling okay, Ren? I know everything that’s happened recently must have been a lot for you. I think it was a lot for all of us.” Ren doesn’t have to look around the room to feel everyone’s quiet acknowledgment of that statement. Everyone’s been led to this point by their own traumas. Maybe he’s been selfish, after all. “We can give you some space, if you’d like. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d rather get some rest.” 

Ren flinches at Makoto’s words -- his hand has left his pocket before he’s consciously moved it. “No. No, I’m fine. You guys don’t have to go anywhere,” he says with a desperation that sounds very unlike himself. 

His eyes scan over every face in the room. Every set of eyes, from Morgana at the bar rail to Futaba in the back corner to Yusuke mid-sip of coffee, is set squarely on him, waiting for him to continue speaking. He’s used to it -- he’s the leader, of course they’re always looking at him. For guidance, for counsel, for friendship. He’s their closest confidant. He’s the friend that drops everything to help at a moment’s notice, even if it means that he’s getting to bed past midnight or skipping out on much-needed study sessions. But right now, having to face all of them makes Ren feel like he’s two inches tall. 

He’s disgusted by his own silence. Why can’t he say anything? Why has he never said anything? They’re all waiting for an answer. An explanation. He’s cornered. Without another big heist ahead of them, there’s nowhere left for him to run. 

Ann’s lips are parted like she wants to speak, but she doesn’t say a word. Yet.

Haru clutches a hand towards her chest as if she’s trying to manage her own nervousness. 

Makoto keeps watching Ren with the same unchanging stare, egging him into a confession without words. 

Ryuji is--

“ EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!”

Ren jumps despite himself, pretending that he wasn’t about to puke up all the coffee he just drank, as he follows the swivels of his friends’ heads to the source of the disturbance. “ Shit !” Ryuji swears, stumbling backwards into the table Yusuke’s sitting at and falling over Ann’s lap in the seat opposite his. 

“ Ryuji! ” Ann snaps, shoving Ryuji off of her and onto the ground. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

His ears bright red, Ryuji scrambles onto his feet and outstretches his hands in front of him. This was a better distraction than Ren ever could’ve hoped for. It’s reassuring to know that his bro’s always there for him in situations like this…even if he’s sure that Ryuji was about to round the counter and make him talk before he was distracted.

Eventually, after a frenzied gasp, Ryuji explains himself in a high-pitched crow: “T-There was a centipede crawlin’ up my leg!”

“A centipede? Here? I’ve never seen pests in Leblanc before,” Makoto remarks. “I figured that Morgana must take care of them.” 

“And why would I do something like that? I’m not a housecat, you know,” Morgana objects. 

“Centipedes aren’t pests. Actually, they hunt a lot of the bugs that are,” Ren chimes in helpfully. “Don’t tell Sojiro that we saw one in the café, though. He’ll make me spray for bugs again.” 

“That shit don’t matter!” Ryuji snaps, his eyes wide and wild. “It was on me, man! I-It was on my leg a-and now it’s gone and I dunno where it went!”

Ren takes a sip of coffee. It’s more grounding than he expected. “It probably ran away after you started freaking out. They’re skittish like that. Maybe it’s hiding in your shorts.” 

Ryuji screams again and frantically pats down his unseasonal gym shorts, skittering away from everyone and towards the front door. It’s a great impression of a startled centipede, Ren thinks. Minus the screaming -- centipedes don’t make any noise. “Knock it off, dude!!”

“Ren, stop. This is cruel,” Haru says gently, frowning at Ryuji as he hugs himself in the corner by the “Sayuri”.

A manicured hand flies up to Ann’s mouth as she gasps. Ren’s sure that she’s about to make some comment about the centipede being nearby before he realizes what she’s looking at. “Oh! Yusuke, are you okay?!”

Somehow, amidst all of the chaos following Ryuji’s explosion into their table, no one happened to notice that the collision had caused the contents of Yusuke’s mug to eject themselves onto the front of Yusuke’s shirt and coat. Yusuke sits sad and soaked opposite Ann in the booth, holding his now-empty coffee cup in front of him as if he’s still processing his loss. He doesn’t say anything in response to Ann’s question, too distraught to even open his mouth.

The corner of Ren’s lip tightens, and he’s rounded the bar with a towel without another thought. “Did you get burned?” Haru questions, standing up from her booth to get a better look at the accident as Ren tries to mop up the coffee from Yusuke’s clothes. 

Yusuke doesn’t flinch as Ren pats his stomach with the towel, but he sets the coffee cup down and takes it from him before Ren can lift his shirt. “I’m fine. Just…a little stickier than I’d like,” he says, wiping coffee off of his lap. Ren watches from the ground as drops of discarded coffee splatter against Leblanc’s wooden floor. He’ll…have to mop that up later. 

“Uh, that’s what she said?” Futaba’s face scrunches up in disgust, but much like a kid ogling at earthworms on the sidewalk, she’s still wearing a fascinated smile as she watches Yusuke clean himself from her vantage point behind the booth. The dignified expression on Yusuke’s face while he uses the towel reminds Ren of the look Morgana gets when he’s licking himself. “Does this mean you were drinking room-temp coffee this whole time? Nasty.” 

“Your clothes,” Makoto says, her eyes finally softening to show some concern. “You can’t go out like that. You’ll freeze.” 

Somehow, Ren didn’t think about that part. Leave it to Makoto to point out important details like that.

“He can stay here for the night,” Ren interjects before anyone else can say anything. “Sojiro won’t mind.” 

“‘This happened because you kids got too rowdy in my café’,” Futaba grunts in a decent impression of Sojiro’s gravelly timbre. “‘I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t let it happen again ’.” 

“Can’t you just lend him your clothes? You’re basically the same size,” Morgana points out. 

Of course Morgana would have something to say. He probably knows exactly why Ren’s pulling this little stunt in the first place. “It’s fine. I don’t want to make him pay the train fare to get here and back again tomorrow so he can pick up his stuff,” Ren says casually. “And tomorrow’s his day with the rock. It’ll make handing it off easier.”

Yusuke makes a small noise that sounds to Ren like the hum he might’ve made when he first found the smooth rock on the ground at Kosei -- awe-struck and meek. “Thank you for your consideration. It truly means a lot,” he says, bowing his head courteously. “I promise that I will make this up to you somehow.”

“Don’t worry about it. Having you over is incentive enough for me,” Ren says, and it’s the truest thing he’s said all evening. 

The bell chimes behind Haru and Makoto’s backs, leaving Ren and Yusuke in the new silence that’s fallen over the café. Ren knew that his friends weren’t going to stay all night, obviously…but he would’ve really liked it if they had. Now, with running water as the only distraction for his brain to tune into, he’s beginning to lose himself in his wandering mind again as he washes everyone’s dishes. From a distant corner of his memory, Ren thinks that he can hear the ominous creak of a metal hull as it cuts through the waves before it, carving a new path through the destroyed world--

“I’d like to thank you again for letting me stay the night. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.” Ren feels like he’s gulping down his first breath of air after a near-drowning incident when Yusuke’s words cut through his thoughts. Yusuke picks at his coffee-stained clothing in the same seat he’d been occupying before -- Ren can hear him remove the sticky fabric from his skin from three meters away despite the running tap in front of him. Yusuke chuckles softly. “This is almost somewhat nostalgic, isn’t it? It reminds me of the night I spent here after you rescued me from my former life.”

“I don’t remember you wearing a cup of coffee when that happened,” Morgana muses, hopping up on the counter now that no one’s around to stop him. His tail sways back and forth to betray his interest. “What’re you still doing here, anyway? Go clean yourself up already. The bath’s not gonna be open all night.” 

“Wait, hold on a sec.” Ren hurriedly turns off the faucet and wipes his hands on the front of his apron. “Let me go with you after I’m done cleaning up.”

Morgana narrows his eyes at Ren suspiciously. “Didn’t you take a bath before everyone got here?”

“Yeah, but now I’m dirty again. You know, the sweat -- the cleaning,” Ren lies easily. “Besides, I’m still wound up from all the coffee and the Christmas cheer. It might help me relax a little.” 

Morgana’s expression doesn’t change, but he sits down as if that answer is good enough for him to accept. “Fair enough,” he sighs, beginning to lick his paw. “Just try not to take too long. I don’t want you two knuckleheads waking me up.” 

“No need to worry. I’m quite exhausted from the day’s festivities. I doubt that I’ll be able to keep my eyes open for much longer.” Yusuke frowns and rubs his face. Ren tries not to betray his concern over Yusuke’s admission. “Although, I would like to hold out until midnight if at all possible. I’d like to maximize my time spent with the rock.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Ren says with a smirk. “Midnight, on the dot. If you’re still awake, then I’ll hand over the rock. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until morning.” 

“I almost got you that time,” Ren said once in a previous life, already resetting the chess board. “C’mon. Stay until I win.” 

His opponent chuckled and stood. Ren remembers thinking that he sounded genuinely cheerful for a change -- but with the gift of hindsight, Ren wonders if that was just wishful thinking on his part. If he only convinced himself of that truth based on his desire for it to be true. “And sit around here all night? I think I’ll have to decline. I may enjoy the atmosphere, but purgatory is purgatory -- no matter the coat of paint.”

Ren decides that he really, really doesn’t want to think about purgatory right now.

Yusuke smiles, and of course it’s genuine. Why wouldn’t it be genuine? “I believe I’m amenable to those terms,” he says. “Very well. Challenge accepted.”

Ren nods absentmindedly and dries off the last remaining cup. He doesn’t know why he feels so guilt-stricken all of a sudden -- like he’s just called his girlfriend by another woman’s name or something. It’s stupid, so stupid, connecting everything back to him somehow.

“Go change into whatever you want from my box upstairs. Your skin’s probably crawling by now,” he says as he returns the mug to its proper place. “Then you can go ahead to the bathhouse. I’ll take your clothes to the laundromat and meet you there. And grab a couple yen from my wallet for the bath and the train tomorrow, while you’re at it. I’ve got you covered.” 

Yusuke bobs his head respectfully. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Ren doesn’t shy away from the smile that blossoms across his face. “Ho, ho. Merry Christmas.”

The stairs to Leblanc’s attic creak as Yusuke goes up to Ren’s room with his phone in his hand. Ren is silent for a spell, wondering for a split second if there are any new messages in their group chat yet. It’s not until Yusuke is well out of earshot that Morgana clears his throat nearby. “You know, for a Phantom Thief, you’re not being very subtle.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Ren says, heading towards the bathroom to grab the cleaning supplies. 

“You’re hanging onto Yusuke’s leg like a little kid,” Morgana points out.

Ren’s eyebrows flatten as he drags out a mop and wash bucket. “He’s my friend. I want to take care of him. Why is that so strange?” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “I’m not trying to, like, take advantage of him or whatever, if that’s what you’re worried about. That’s--” He starts laughing at his own insinuation -- a remarkably false laugh that almost reminds him of someone else, “yikes. Morgana, ha, wow . You really think I’m the sort of person who would--?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, you weirdo! Stop trying to change the subject.” Morgana makes a disgusted face. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Gee, I wonder what,” Ren mutters meanly, heaving the wet mop onto the ground with a hearty slap . “It’s almost like, not even two weeks ago, I had to just stand around and stare at the wall while my best friend fucking --”

“Ren?” Yusuke interrupts from the bottom stair. Based on his wide eyes, it seems as if he was too lost in his own world to bother eavesdropping on their conversation -- or reading the room. “I’ve borrowed 1500 yen from your wallet and I’m heading to the bath. When will you be joining me?”

“Soon. I’m almost done.” Ren pulls the mop out of Yusuke’s way to let him pass, not turning to look at Morgana behind him. He can feel Morgana’s frustration sinking into his back like UV rays from the sun. “And take as much money as you need. I have plenty.” 

“No, I couldn’t,” Yusuke says kindly, bowing to him. “You’ve already done more than enough for me. I am eternally in your debt.” 

Leblanc’s door closes behind Yusuke. 

“You really are an idiot,” Morgana says with resignation. 

Ren lets the mop’s head fall back into the bucket, splashing soapy liquid onto his pants. “Thanks, I know.”

Ren would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about it before. 

Nothing degenerate, obviously -- nothing like what he was alluding to earlier. But he’s always been aware of himself and his attractions, ever since he was mature enough to feel them in the first place. 

And Yusuke, at some point in time, was his main attraction. He’s an incredibly pretty boy. A frustratingly pretty boy. And, well, Ren has a weakness for pretty…people. Of all genders. His heart picks no favorites. 

He was admittedly tongue-tied when they first encountered each other in May, too flustered to say much of anything. If the same thing were to happen now, he’s sure that Ryuji and Ann ( especially Ann) would’ve called him out on it. It was far too obvious. Appreciating his stoic consideration as he drew Ann in his atelier in Madarame’s home, seeing cold indignation rise to his face when they confronted him with the rumors about Madarame’s misdeeds…it was all very overwhelming. Just as overwhelming as watching Ryuji lift his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, or meeting Ann for the first time under an awning during a rainstorm, or being interrogated by Makoto in her student-council-president mode, or unexpectedly hearing Haru giggle at one of his off-color jokes, or…

The list goes on. The point’s been made. 

But yes, eventually, Ren came to terms with all of these aesthetic attractions that made his heart beat faster. He almost had to, considering the fact that all of his friends are hot . Or cute. Whichever. If he couldn’t climb over that hurdle, then being the leader of the Phantom Thieves would be nigh impossible. 

Not to mention, his romantic attention was swiftly and easily drawn elsewhere shortly after Yusuke joined their party. 

It’s only at times like this, when he scales the stairs in Leblanc in his pajamas to see Yusuke dozed off on his couch, in his room, wearing his clothes, that Ren starts to doubt his progress. He really did try his best to stay up tonight; Ren could tell. He’s sitting up on the couch with his hands crossed over his lap, his posture unchanged from what it was when Ren left. The only visual indications that he’s fallen asleep are his closed eyes, tilted head, and parted lips.

Ren doesn’t let himself stare for too long. Even if this caught him off-guard for a moment, he’s still used to it by now. Hell, he just saw the guy naked a couple minutes ago. This is comparably very easy for him to digest.

And then, suddenly, it hits him. 

It’s only 10:30. He’s not tired. Yusuke and Morgana are asleep.

No more distractions. He’s completely alone. 

Ren mouths a string of curses as he pulls a throw blanket out of his catch-all clothes-blankets-soft stuff box and drapes it over Yusuke’s sleeping form. Hopefully he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and settle into a comfortable position, Ren thinks as he carefully introduces himself to his mattress. Morgana’s fast asleep at the foot of the bed, and the last thing he wants to do is disturb him and risk reopening the conversation they’d had earlier. 

But his mind wanders back to the subject of that conversation whether he likes it or not. 

He stares up at the familiar ceiling above his head, his phone lying over his heart. Motionless, silent. No rings, no chirps, no buzzes, just like the dead winter night outside his window. 

His eyes water before he can settle on any one thing worth crying about. He gulps down the lump in his throat and swipes his forearm over his eyes to get rid of the wetness. 

Ten days. Ten days and counting. Soon to be eleven. He can’t believe it, but at the same time, it’s easy to believe. Every minute has felt like an eternity since that day, but every day has blended together into a formless slurry that Ren can’t begin to separate into individual pieces. He feels like he’s lived an entire life within the last ten days. He feels like he hasn’t lived at all in the last ten days.

Maybe, at his core, he’s just like all of those shadows in Mementos that took joy in the cages they trapped themselves in, only letting themselves worry about trivialities and their own lives. He just went from one thing to the next, one after another -- from Shido, to Mementos, to the Holy Grail, to Christmas -- only seeing whatever was right in front of him. Too terrified to look back, too angry to stop. 

Now, he’s reached the end of his race. His congratulatory crowd has dispersed. The runner’s high has faded. There’s no glory left for him to bask in; nowhere left for him to run. 

And he feels empty. 

…

Akechi would be giving him so much shit right now if he knew about this. 

Ren can hear his voice now. Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves, reduced to a useless husk over something like this? It’s pathetic. What happened to that irritating pride of yours? That self-satisfied smirk, that annoying hope that you can fix this world? Why do you carry that glove around with you everywhere as if it still means something? As if you can change the reality of this situation just by wanting it hard enough.

It’s not true. 

Ren couldn’t believe it for a second -- believe that behind that metal door, Goro Akechi, the most fascinating, most brilliant, most talented person he’d ever met, had died just like that. It was impossible -- a lie . But at the same time, he hates himself for letting himself think that way -- letting himself carry that unfounded hope outside of Shido’s Palace with him. He doesn’t even need Akechi’s help telling him that it’s stupid. He already knows how stupid it is. Futaba said that she couldn’t sense him anymore. No one has seen him since then. There was no trace of him left the next time they traveled to Shido’s Palace. He was gone . There was no better explanation. 

“Occam’s razor,” Akechi had explained without prompting once, making a conceited hand gesture as he spoke. “‘Plurality should not be posited without necessity’. Or, as it’s more commonly expressed, ‘the simplest explanation is usually the best one’.” 

Shut the fuck up, mind Akechi, Ren doesn’t say, because Akechi’s not here and everyone’s asleep. He’s well aware that the facts surrounding these circumstances all point to the fact that he’s dead, that he’s gone, that no one outside of the Phantom Thieves will ever truly know or care about what happened to him. He knows that it’s a stretch to believe that this is false just because it’s his preferred outcome. Akechi would tell him that this sort of thinking gets in the way of good detective work.

But he’s not a fucking detective. He’s Ren motherfucking Amamiya, and he knows Goro Akechi better than anyone else on the entire goddamn planet. He knows that this has to be fucking bullshit -- that this is just another scheme, another trick -- Akechi trying to one-up Ren’s fake assassination. He knows Akechi too well to fall for this. He can’t give Akechi what he wants and agonize over some shit that’s not even real. 

He snaps back into the present again when he realizes that he’s unlocked his phone and navigated over to his contact list. Akechi’s contact picture (an embarrassingly saccharine photo from his Instagram page that Akechi said he’d always secretly hated) lights up Ren’s face in the dim attic. His thumb is hovering over the phone icon underneath his name. 

He’s thought about doing this before. It would be a surefire way for him to break himself out of this conspiratory spiral. Just call the number, wait for the phone to finish ringing, and give into the reality of things when nobody picks up. The only reason why he’s been running away from it for so long is because he already knows what will happen -- he already knows the truth. He’s in denial, just like all of those people in Mementos. Just like all of the Palace owners they’d faced in the past. 

He taps the button, holds the phone to his ear, waits. The phone chirrups its confirmation that the call is connecting and breaks right into its first ring. It reminds Ren of a flatlining EKG machine at a hospital.

Another ring. Ren feels his chest begin to cave in. He closes his eyes as the adrenaline that fueled this decision begins to dissipate. 

He doesn’t hear another ring. Something moves on the other end of the line. 

“ Merry Christmas, ” says a convincingly-mirthful voice. Or at least, a convincing facsimile of a mirthful voice. Then, with fewer airs attached: “ It took you longer than I’d expected. ” 

Ren’s heart kickstarts back into a steady thrum. He gasps as if he’d been holding his breath for days. 

He’s stumbling down the stairs of the café before he knows it, careful not to clatter around too much and risk waking Yusuke or Morgana. “ The holidays finally forced you to give into your sentimentalities, it seems, ” the voice on the other end of the line muses before he can finish descending the stairs. “ Or am I wrong? ”

Ren hates hearing him say that word and its variations like it’s a poison. Sentimental, sentimentalities . He never wants to hear it again. “What?” he barely manages to whisper, cradling the phone close to his ear as he falls into one of the booths. “ Akechi ?”

“Why do you sound so perplexed? You called me, didn't you?” His voice has lost any pretense of politeness or humility, replaced with a cold snark that Ren likes more than he’d care to admit. “Don’t bother trying to explain yourself. I already know why you’re calling.”

“I--We thought you were dead,” Ren stammers, ignoring what Akechi just said. “You’re okay? Not dead? Fine?” 

“ What did I--? ” An exasperated sigh. Ren can picture Akechi with his head in his hand, his eyes squinted shut in frustration. “ You’re not drunk, are you? ”

Ren’s completely unconscious to the words that are tumbling out of his mouth. “I--n-no. No. Illegal. On probation.” 

“ That’s never stopped you before, ” Akechi points out humorlessly. “ Anyway. If you have it in you to stop acting like an incoherent mess, then meet me at Inokashira Park. Don’t drag your feet. The trains will stop running soon, and I won’t be waiting up if you’re late. ”

The line goes silent. Ren’s been hung up on.

And now, now that the moment’s passed, now that he’s starting to process what’s just happened, Ren is fucking pissed . 

He has to channel all of his patience into his efforts to remain quiet as he climbs up the stairs again, the entire café enveloped in an even deeper silence than before. Without thinking, he grabs the clothes he was wearing earlier off of the floor and puts them on, not looking twice to see if there are any coffee stains or weird smells adorning them, He snatches his wallet and his keys from the shelf, careful not to knock over the ramen sculpture that Ryuji gave him. 

Then, finally, he slides a black glove and a very, very smooth stone into his pocket. 

Ren can’t make himself look at his phone during the train ride. He just stares at his reflection in the window as the train rumbles along on its track. He’s one of the only people in the train car at this hour, and probably one of the only people in all of Tokyo with somewhere to be when it’s nearly 11 PM on Christmas. He searches his face for any trace of the weakness he’d felt earlier, knowing that Akechi will have something to say if he catches the slightest hint of it. 

He looks fine. Not a thought in his mind. Head: empty. Not obsessing, not worried.

And he is fine. Certainly not an “incoherent mess”, thank-you-very-much. He’s probably feeling the most coherent that he’s felt in a couple days now. Not much time to stop and get your thoughts together when you’re busy beating up an asshole politician and laying waste to the God of Control. 

In fact, maybe he’s wasting his coherent-ness on this little meeting. If Akechi wanted to talk so bad, he could’ve called whenever he wanted or swung by Leblanc like he always used to. Surely they didn’t need to do this under cover of night, without any planning or forethought, after days and days of radio silence. If Makoto were here, Ren’s sure that she’d call this “suspicious”. 

And then she’d ask Ren why the hell he’s going along with it anyway. And to that, Ren would just shrug. He knows from experience that both Nijima sisters hate that answer more than anything else, but it’s the only truthful thing he’d be willing to confess. 

Ren gets off the train at the station and begins his walk towards the park, huddling into his scarf to escape the cold. He’s glad that he didn’t wear his glasses -- the light snowfall drifting down from the sky would be just enough to dot them with moisture, and the difference in temperature would absolutely make them fog. It’s too much trouble for corrective eyewear that doesn’t do anything to correct his already-correct vision. 

“Why do you wear those glasses, anyway?” Akechi questioned once, watching Ren line up his shot at the billiards table. “It’s obvious that you don’t need them.” 

Ren would’ve been more shocked by Akechi’s deduction if he wasn’t talking to someone whose career centered around detecting things. Yeah, detectives. They detect things. Wow. He’s amazed that he never realized that etymology sooner.

“Because they look cute,” he said without turning around. He sank two of his balls with one shot, earning no reaction from his opponent. His disappointment surprised him, rendering his next shot completely ineffective. Akechi watched, almost regretfully, as one of his own solids fell into a pocket. 

“If you say so.” Akechi rounded the table with his pool cue in hand, scouting out his next quarry. “If you ask me, I think it’s silly. Why would you elect to wear glasses if you don’t need them? They’re nothing but a hindrance.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not asking you, then,” Ren countered. 

And then Akechi leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes in deep focus, and totally kicked Ren’s ass at pool. Sank all of his remaining balls with a single shot. A god-like maneuver. Ren would've been more impressed if he wasn’t such a sore loser.

Ren kinda wishes he’d said something nice back then. But only kind of. Game respects game, but at the same time, he hates having to imagine the smug look Akechi would get on his face in light of his praise.

Inokashira Park is beautiful at night -- perhaps even more so knowing that there’s a non-zero chance that being here at this hour might be a bad idea. The sparse snowflakes drifting through the air only add to the pristine scenery, complimenting the unmoving lake in the background and the comforting silence hung between the trees and greenery. It’s almost completely still, like a painting or a landscape trapped in a snowglobe. If Yusuke were here, he would certainly be framing this image in his mind for future reference. 

It’s surprisingly comforting, being here, hearing nothing. It’s a peace that Ren hasn’t felt in a long time. 

But the scene’s not completely perfect, Ren realizes as he wanders further into the park. Someone in a tan trenchcoat is standing by his favorite park bench, staring out over the horizon with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t clash with the scenery at all, but the tranquility that had fallen over Ren’s heart is instantly curdled by the presence of this non-stranger. 

Akechi turns around, his gloved hand drifting up towards his red plaid scarf as if he means to cover his face and hide. Instead, he tugs it so it covers more of his neck and turns back towards the lake again. “Impressive,” he remarks, not sounding the least bit impressed. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” 

Ren completely ignores him and doesn’t feel bad about it. Akechi already knows that he’s not the sort of person to waste time if someone needs him somewhere. Besides, they have business to attend to. “What are we doing here?” Ren questions. He narrows his eyes to peer over the same lake Akechi’s looking at as if it’ll give him an answer, but the water doesn’t shift to reveal anything to him. 

“Try not to sound so accusatory. I’m actually doing this for your sake.” Akechi shifts his posture slightly -- he might’ve stolen a glance at Ren, but the movement is so understated that Ren barely catches it. He pauses for a brief moment. “What is that in your pocket?”

Ren almost can’t bite back a dirty joke and grills himself for thinking in that direction to begin with. Starting to fall into that line of thinking again is only going to make this more difficult than it already is. Instead, he makes a big show out of digging around in his pocket until he’s able to procure the rock. Akechi’s eyes fall down to the larger shape that still remains in his pocket, but he doesn’t say anything. “A rock. It’s really smooth.” 

Akechi snorts despite himself, barely choking back a laugh. “Why do you have that?” 

“Yusuke found it. It’s sort of like our mascot now.” Ren turns it over in his hand, getting lost in its intoxicating texture. He looks up and catches Akechi watching him carefully, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to fall. Is he expecting a punch, or a punchline?

Ren continues staring at Akechi. Akechi keeps his eyes on the rock. 

“You…wanna see it?” Ren awkwardly holds out the rock towards Akechi.

“Stupid,” Akechi mutters, taking the rock from Ren’s hand and looking it over in the dim moonlight. He’s grimacing at it as if it’s barely visible. “What’s so special about it?”

“I already said. It’s really, really smooth.” Ren rolls his eyes. “You can’t feel it with your gloves on.”

Akechi’s lip curls in disgust as he gingerly peels off his left glove and examines the rock in further detail. Ren’s struck for a moment by the sight of his ungloved hand, but he’s not sure why. He’s seen Akechi’s bare hands before. In fact, he’s seen much more than his bare hands before. There’s nothing special about them. They’re just hands. But even still, Ren keeps staring at them as he moves the rock between his fingers.

Moments after he’s done evaluating the Phantom Thieves’ prized treasure, he levels his gaze with Ren’s and hands it back, maintaining eye contact all throughout the exchange. “It is, indeed, a rock,” he concludes, pulling on his glove again and flexing his fingers. It’s a very familiar pose -- a pose that he likely picked up from Joker during his short stint as a Phantom Thief, Ren muses. “Utterly unremarkable. Leave it to you to place value in something so idiotic.” 

“Ah, a nonbeliever. You’re just not worthy enough to appreciate its true greatness.” Ren returns the rock to its home and trusts that Akechi’s not about to probe into the topic of “things in Ren’s pocket” any further. 

Akechi squares his shoulders and crosses his arms. Ren’s not sure if he’s indignant or cold, but either way, he has a pensive look on his face. Not like his usual “detective on the case” look, either -- more like his “I wonder when I’ll get to go home” kind.

“So,” Ren drawls, cranking his annoying factor up to ten, “how’ve you been? Not dead, I’m assuming.”

Akechi scoffs. “A masterful deduction.”

“Corporeal?”

“More or less.” 

Whenever he and Akechi are around each other, Ren makes sure to place his full attention on him. He doesn’t want to miss a single motion or gesture, especially considering the sort of person Akechi is. He’s very subtle, very calculated. Something that Ryuji would shout at the top of his lungs might manifest itself in Akechi as a forced cough or a slight tilt of the head.

That’s why Ren can’t mistake the pain that flashes across Akechi’s face for a second as they stand by the lake making small talk.

But only for a second. Just brief enough for Ren to know that Akechi was aware of that feeling and made a conscious effort to suppress it. It wasn’t just a passing thing.

And maybe Akechi’s able to catch some of the sympathy that falls over Ren, because in the very next moment, he’s turned away again. “Let's walk.”

“Sure.”

The frozen grass crunches under Ren’s feet as the boys walk together, only inches away from each other. The snow falling that night is a dry snow that tumbles through the air like sand; not worth Ren’s time if he can’t make snowballs with it, but at the very least, it’s not clinging to his eyelashes. Throughout their stroll, Akechi’s hands are pressed firmly into his pockets as if he has something to hide. But unlike Ren, his pockets are empty -- it’s obvious. He hasn’t even brought his phone with him.

Ren is struck by Akechi's acting skills all over again. He's doing his best to hide it, but he's walking with a limp. It would be difficult for any idle observer to tell, Ren’s sure. He must’ve had plenty to hide from the observing world while he was acting as Shido’s lapdog, Metaverse injuries included. Maybe it’s second nature at this point. But unfortunately for Akechi, Ren’s far too familiar with the way that Akechi normally holds himself -- his trained posture, his purposeful walk, his set jaw -- not to notice something like this. 

Akechi probably knows that, too. He likely doesn’t even need to sense the concern in Ren’s pursed lips to come to that conclusion. Either way, whether he expects to fool Ren or not, he doesn’t offer up any explanation. He just keeps moving forward.

 Ren’s gaze sinks down to his feet. He doesn’t feel like mentioning it, either.

“Wah--!”

Ren is dislodged from his thoughts again when he feels an arm wrap around his waist -- he's yanked away from the lake on his right, nearly rolls his ankle in his attempts to keep his footing, stumbles into Akechi’s arms. And then, once he puts the pieces together and realizes that he’s the one who just made that horrible, embarrassing sound, he cups a hand over his mouth to half-hide his reddening face and breaks away from Akechi. The two of them were pressed flush against each other, close enough that Ren could smell his cologne, and Akechi’s hand was still on his waist.

Ren dies a little on the inside as he clears his throat and reclaims his usual aloof expression. He was really hoping that these emotions wouldn’t resurface now, of all times.

“Watch where you're going,” Akechi sneers, wiping his glove on his coat as if he’s touched something dirty. “I won't save you if you fall over the fence -- and I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing that I lost to someone who drowned in a frozen lake.” 

Ren eyes the short fence separating them from the decline towards the lake. It's not any closer than it was the last time he saw it. 

It’s a lie. Akechi’s lying to him, through his teeth. It’s obvious. 

Ren smirks at his cunning deduction. He knows this idiot better than anyone, and it’s crystal clear what his true intentions were. “Sure you weren't trying to make a move on me?” he asks casually, raising a brow.

Akechi looks down at him like he's nothing. Ren doesn’t break eye contact. “Maybe I could stand to let you fall over the fence, after all.”

Ren hates himself for it, but he can't help but giggle. Akechi makes a face like someone just stabbed him, which Ren assumes is because he's trying not to smile.

There’s a long pause. Ren doesn’t speak because he’s surprised by the sound of own laugh. Akechi doesn’t speak because he doesn’t want to. 

Ren’s a quiet person, but he’s always hated awkward silences like these. There’s a lot of unspoken tension hanging in the air, and Ren can’t help himself from leaping up and tearing it all down. He’s just that sort of person.

“Look. We’re not here because you wanted to catch up after everything that’s happened,” Ren eventually points out. Akechi’s face doesn’t change, confirming Ren’s accusation. “If you have something to say, then say it. Tell me what’s going on.” 

Akechi speaks in a very low voice. It’s much softer and less harsh than it had been before. “Are you recording this conversation?”

“No,” Ren says immediately. “I have no reason to.” 

“Bullshit,” Akechi hisses. “Be honest. You’ve done it before -- you’ll do it again.” 

“I’m being honest. There’s no point. I don’t even know what you’re about to say.” Ren shrugs his shoulders. The aggression filling the simple motion shocks him briefly before he realizes that he’s scowling now. But this makes more sense, he thinks. He can barely remember how he let himself smile earlier. “So? What is this?”

Akechi doesn’t hold back for a moment longer. He looks up and over the trees in the horizon as his breath billows from his lips in a gentle puff. The sound is heavy with exhaustion. “I’m leaving the city. This will be the last time we ever speak to each other.” 

Ren hacks out a dry, humorless cackle even though nothing’s funny. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Dead serious,” Akechi responds as if he didn’t just deliver the worst-timed, worst-taste pun Ren has ever heard. 

Ren continues laughing even though Akechi’s glaring daggers at him. “Shut up . God, this is so stupid.” 

Akechi clears his throat to hide his mounting frustration and puts on the same buttered tone that he’s always used to mask his true nature. “I just thought I’d give you the courtesy of letting you know in person.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Ren snaps back. “You were never going to tell me if I didn’t call you first.”

“Don’t mistake the nature of our relationship. I’m not here to give you ‘closure’ or make you feel better,” Akechi growls. “I don’t give a shit how you feel about what happened in Shido’s Palace or my survival. I’m only here to trim loose ends. I didn’t want you to discover the truth years later and go crusading through Japan trying to track me down. That’s the only reason why I answered your phone call; it proved that you wouldn’t give up so easily.”

“You didn’t want me to ‘discover the truth’? What, the fact that you’re a coward?”

Akechi finally rounds on him, his face bright red. “ What?! ”

“Yeah, that’s all this is. Don’t even try to deny it.” Ren clenches his fists and forces himself not to get into Akechi’s face. He knew a confrontation was coming, but some higher part of his mind still doesn’t want this encounter to turn into anything worse than a talk. “You didn’t know how to face us again after you showed us your soft side, so instead of getting over yourself and letting yourself feel things, you said, ‘No, I think it’d be easier if I let the only people in this city who give a shit about me live the rest of their lives thinking that they watched me die right in front of them!’ And now that that plan’s not working out, you’re just going to skip town and pretend none of this ever happened. Because it’s easier .” 

“How conceited of you to assume that this has anything to do with you, Amamiya,” Akechi bites back. “I’m sure that’s what you’d like to believe, but as usual, your thinking is much too simplistic to see the big picture.”

“Then tell me what I’m missing,” Ren says. “Because as far as I can see, you should be free now. Sae’s already told me that she can’t pursue convictions based on crimes that happened in the Metaverse, and your asshole dad’s not around to make you do anything anymore.”

Akechi huffs in the same way Morgana does when Ren says something cringe-worthy. “You don’t understand,” he says, more as an understanding repeated to himself rather than a response. It’s so ridiculously juvenile that it almost makes Ren laugh again.

“You could at least let me try . I can’t understand what I don’t know.” 

“No, I know who you are. If I stood here and listed off every potential reason why remaining in Tokyo would be a bad decision for me, then you’d go down the list and try to ‘solve’ every problem. That would be a waste of our time.” 

“Why don’t you understand that all we’ve ever wanted to do is help you? Quit acting like you don’t deserve kindness. Your situation isn’t as black-and-white as you seem to think it is. You’re just as much a victim as the rest of us -- we told you that. So why won’t you just let us--?”

“Stop forcing the issue!” Akechi snaps, rage flooding to his face. “This isn’t up for debate! I am only here talking to you right now because I’ve already made up my mind. I know that it must kill you to hear, but there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. You are powerless here -- so get over it . Watching you continue to scream and beg like this is embarrassing. I had more respect for you than that.” 

Akechi spins to show Ren his back. This spurned lack of eye contact bothers Ren far more than it should. He’s mortified to admit that a part of him wants to grab Akechi’s shoulders and spin him around -- force him to see what he’s doing -- but Ren shoves the feeling down into the same pit of his mind where he keeps most of his petty, unhelpful thoughts. Instead, he stands there, stewing, analyzing the uncomfortable fire that’s made its home under his skin.

“You won’t be in Tokyo for much longer. Better to spend your time wisely rather than chasing a white whale,” Akechi says flippantly. “Maybe someday, if you can overcome that humiliating immaturity of yours, you’ll understand the kindness I’m showing you now.” 

Anger and vitriol burns red-hot on Ren’s tongue, begging for him to open his mouth. He wants to scream at Akechi and call him a fucking idiot. He wants to accuse him of having rehearsed this scene in the mirror too many times. He wants to tell him that he expected better of him, that he respected him too much to believe that he’d turn and run away this easily. Even if it’s not true, he wants to tell Akechi that he wished he’d stayed dead. Anything, just to make him stop.

But Ren can tell that Akechi is done talking about this. If he said any of those things, he’d only make himself look more like a child throwing a tantrum. He’d be screaming at Akechi’s back, and Akechi wouldn’t turn around to entertain him. It would look like he’d lost -- and maybe, based on the hollow feeling in his chest, he has. 

He braces himself for a second, stewing over the sentiment that still stands at the forefront of his thoughts. He can’t tell if he’s saying it with his own kindness, or with something akin to Akechi’s rehearsed, sugar-sweet flattery. “For what it’s worth,” he says, his voice stark against the silence of the park, “I’m glad you’re not dead.” 

Akechi pauses for a second, no longer stepping towards the still horizon. He doesn’t turn around.

“Goodnight, Ren,” he says with some solemn finality. 

Ren hates that he can’t bear to watch Akechi walk away, his limp invisible to everyone in the world but him.

“I’m leaving the city. This will be the last time we ever speak to each other.”

Ren slumps down into his seat on the train -- the last train back to Yongen-Jaya. His thoughts are a haze, his surroundings all but invisible to him. It reminds him of the distortion that hangs in the air when he infiltrates a Palace. After a brief pause, the train picks up and carries on towards its destination. His mind is racing, but he can’t latch onto any one thought. 

He unconsciously moves his hand towards his pocket, but catches himself before he can complete the action. He can taste metal in his mouth. 

“Get over it.” 

Ren’s shoulders are hunched as he steps onto the platform and begins his walk towards Leblanc, every footfall feeling heavier than usual. He hasn’t brought his bag (or its accompanying not-cat) with him, but a heavy weight still hangs on his shoulders. A low hum hangs in his head to drown out the gentle ambience of Yongen’s backstreets. Nothing feels real -- nothing at all. Someone could leap out at him with a knife right now and Ren would just swerve around them as if they’re nothing more than a roadblock.

“Goodnight, Ren.”

Ren stops himself from slamming the front door behind him and climbs up the stairs to the attic with a care and grace that comes automatically. He strips off his slightly-damp clothes without any regard for the sleeping Yusuke lying on the couch, drops them on the ground where he’d left them before, and pulls on the pajamas he’d left on his pillow. 

He’d left in such a hurry, all just to see him. Maybe Akechi was right when he called this “embarrassing”. 

Ren can tell as soon as he lies down that Morgana’s body is tensed like a spring. He’s not asleep -- quite possibly, he hadn’t been asleep for a while now. But if Ren’s sudden reappearance has concerned him at all, then Morgana chooses not to mention as much. Shortly after he tucks himself in under his comforter, Morgana curls in on himself and settles.

Ren closes his eyes, his mental image of the phone lying on his shelf completely vanishing from his mind. His mind is still thrumming uncomfortably like an active engine, whirring and racing through millions of sentiments and beliefs, but the darkness behind his eyelids lulls him into a false sense of security…at least for the time being. 

All he needs is some rest. He’s exhausted. He can begin to unpack this in the morning. 

“Awaken, my Trickster.” 

For the second time that night, Ren is overwhelmed by the urge to begin crying -- only this time, his grief is directed towards the night of sleep he’s missing out on.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes fully to know that he’s in his prison cell in the Velvet Room. He can tell that he’s wearing his Metaverse outfit, recognizes the stiff metal bed underneath his back, hears Lavenza’s voice loud and clear. 

He groans -- loudly . 

“There is trouble brewing in your world,” Lavenza continues dutifully, not waiting for Ren to acknowledge her. “I believe that you are familiar with the problem of which I speak.” 

“I thought we were done with this,” Ren whines, throwing off his domino mask and wiping both gloved hands over his face. 

“You have recently come into possession of a treasure unlike any other,” she supplies without any regard for Ren’s complaints. “A stone that represents the strong bonds that you have forged with those whom you hold closer than any others. This was a gift from my master, Trickster. Fate has placed this symbol of trust into your capable hands.” 

“ Ughhhhhhhhhhh,” Ren cries into the hands pressed over his face. 

“Take care of this object. It can facilitate even greater confidence between you and your treasured bonds, or it can lay waste to all that which you have built. The outcome of this divine test lies squarely on your competent shoulders.” Ren intrinsically knows that Lavenza’s leveled a knowing look at him. “I trust that you will make the right choices.”

Ren makes no effort whatsoever to parse any meaning from Lavenza’s words before his vision is met with a familiar light -- the transition between the Velvet Room and the waking world. 

Ren opens his eyes and doesn’t feel the least bit rested. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Morgana remarks, his tone dripping with hidden meaning as he watches Ren rise from his bed. He can already tell that Morgana wants to interrogate him later, so Ren acknowledges him with a noncommittal frown and a bob of his head. It sends Morgana an unspoken message along the lines of, “I’ll tell you later. Not now. Tired.”

He turns to face the ugly brown sofa against the wall and sees that Yusuke is already sitting up, his posture not dissimilar from the pose he’d fallen asleep in last night -- only now, he’s wearing his freshly-laundered clothes with an unspoken eagerness in his eyes. Those deep blue eyes never leave Ren, even as Ren stares blankly back at him. 

“It is Monday,” Yusuke says evenly. 

Ren’s sleep-addled brain takes far, far too long to connect all of the necessary pieces. He’s still caught in a suffocating, Akechi-themed death spiral, mentally speaking, and anything extraneous has been tossed to the wayside and forgotten. He has to dig up all the supplementary information he can from what remains of the rest of his brainspace. “The rock,” he says calmly, as if he’d known all along. “Right. Sorry.”

“No, it should be me who is apologizing.” Yusuke dips his head, ever genial. “I was asleep before I knew it. I’m afraid that I wasn’t able to live up to your expectations.” 

“C’mon. Stay until I win.” 

Ren is struck with the sudden urge to leap into his memories and strangle his past self for giving Yusuke the sort of challenge he’d usually give Akechi. Neither of them deserved it.

“‘S okay. You were tired. I’m tired. We…tired.” Morgana gives him a curious look, but Ren can’t make himself acknowledge him as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rubs his eyes. Glasses, right, he’s missing his glasses; they’re on the shelf where he left them last night before he got into bed, and before he --

“I’m leaving the city.”

He puts the glasses on his face and makes a point not to acknowledge the words that cross his mind. If he could go through the motions and pretend that everything was alright for ten days, then what’s eleven? Or twenty? Or 25,000? 

“So then,” Yusuke says, his voice a hopeful hum, “may I have the rock, please?” 

“Sure. Should be right …” Ren looks at the shelf where he remembers leaving the rock last night, but only finds his wallet and his keys. Yusuke gives his back an odd look, but Ren regains his composure just as fast. That’s right -- he took the rock with him to the park. He went out of his way not to acknowledge the glove in his pocket on the way home, so he probably left the rock in there, too. “Hold on, sorry.” 

“Take your time,” Yusuke muses as he watches Ren take a knee and dig through his pants pockets. Ren thanks whatever gods they haven’t killed yet that Yusuke doesn’t have the knowledge necessary to find this suspicious. 

Ren recognizes the weight and feel of the glove in his right pants pocket, but as he digs through with his fingers, he can’t find any hard or smooth objects. Even after he pulls out the glove (much to Yusuke’s confusion), he finds that the pocket is empty. The glove isn’t holding anything. 

His stomach sinks through the floor and into Sojiro’s deepest curry pot. 

“What’s wrong?” Yusuke asks, standing to hover over Ren’s shoulder. “You can’t find it?” 

Ren can barely open his mouth. It’s like it’s filled with a thick taffy that he can’t chew through, slowly sliding down his throat to suffocate him. “I-I…” he stutters, surprised by the confusion and guilt in his own voice, “...it’s not here.” 

Morgana surprises the two with a conspiratorial gasp as Yusuke tenses up, his lanky shoulders becoming rigid. “It can’t have wandered far,” he insists. “ I can remember seeing you pull it out during our Christmas celebrations. Since then, we’ve only frequented this building and the bathhouse. It must be in one of those two locations. Come -- we mustn’t waste any time.”

Yusuke pivots away from Ren with purpose in the straight arch of his back, but it takes Ren a moment longer to rouse himself. He wants to correct Yusuke -- no, he needs to correct Yusuke. It’s not that simple, he should say. There are plenty of other places it could be hiding.

But he stands up from his kneeling position, his usual slouch making him feel smaller than usual. Morgana watches his every move without saying a word, a critical angle to his wide eyes. 

I’ll explain later, Ren reiterates mentally, giving Morgana a meaningful frown as Yusuke ducks to look under the couch. I promise.

To Ren’s credit, that “later” does come -- but not for several more hours. Yusuke ended up staying over at Leblanc much longer than either of the boys had expected, Sojiro watching them both with a raised eyebrow as they marched up and down the stairs, in and out of the café over and over again in their search for the stone. Mercifully, Sojiro knows better than to ask at this point, and Yusuke is too focused on the task at hand to stop and explain. 

But Ren always knew that it was going to be a fruitless endeavor. Deep down, in the pit of his soul, he understood that they wouldn’t be finding it so easily. This was some sort of…divine retribution, and he wouldn’t be escaping his fate so easily -- not this time. 

The sun’s already beginning to melt into the horizon by the time Ren finally walks Yusuke to the train station, tactfully ignoring all of the texts he’s received from their fellow Phantom Thieves in the time they spent rooting around on the ground. 

Yusuke levels Ren with a determined stare before he embarks on his train ride home. “Please let me know if there are any new developments,” he says seriously, clutching his bag tightly. Ren hates to consider all of the rock drawings that Yusuke’s sketchbook could contain. “We’re all counting on you.” 

“Don’t worry,” Ren says with a nod. “I’m going to keep looking on my own for a while and let everyone know what’s going on.” 

“I hate to give you the brunt of the burden,” Yusuke says, “but I suppose this is your cross to bear. In any case, thank you for taking ownership over this mistake. Please know that I hold no ill will towards you for what has happened.” 

Ren puts on a hesitant smile. It’s so disingenuous that it almost reminds him of someone else. “Thanks. I mean it. I’m the one who dropped the ball, so I’m the one who needs to fix it.” 

“Actually, you dropped the rock,” Morgana corrects from Ren’s bag. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be going now, Yusuke? Your train’s here.” 

“Ah! You’re right. I’m sorry for keeping us.” Yusuke offers Ren a considerate bob of his head. “I’ll speak to you later. You have my deepest thanks for funding my train ride.” 

“Yeah. Anytime. See you.” Ren waves Yusuke off as he melts into the crowd of passengers in front of him, waiting his turn to cram into the carriage.

“So?” Morgana prods Ren’s side from within his bag. 

Ren waits for a moment for Yusuke’s train to finish boarding and breeze away from the platform. Then, hurriedly, he turns around and walks to the boarding gate for the same train he rode last night.

“Ren,” Morgana says pointedly, popping his head out of the bag. “What are we doing?” 

“Keep it down,” Ren murmurs, half-heartedly pressing the not-cat’s head back into the satchel. “We need to go to Inokashira Park.” 

“Oh, is that where you snuck off to last night?” Morgana questions. “Why?” 

Ren sighs heavily and pulls out his phone to break the bad news to the other Thieves as he waits for his train. It serves as a decent cover while he continues speaking to Morgana in public. “I was invited,” he says. “By Akechi. He wanted to meet me out there.” 

“ What?! ” Ren startles and harshly shushes his bag as Morgana screeches from inside. Thankfully, no one at the station seems to have noticed his outburst. “Akechi’s alive?! You need to tell everyone!” 

Ren swallows some bile that rises up in his throat. “There’s no point -- we’re never going to see him again. He said he was leaving Tokyo. He’s probably already gone by now.”

“That doesn’t matter! They watched him sacrifice himself, too. Even if they weren’t as close to him as you were, it still weighs heavily on them.” 

“It’s--That’s not my news to break.” Ren dips his head in shame. “It’s stupid, I know, but I don’t want to betray his trust. He’s making a dumb decision, but it’s his decision to make and I don’t want to take that away from him. If he wants to leave and never be found, then that’s his prerogative, I guess.” 

“You have to tell them anyway. This isn’t just about him!” 

“I’m not going to do that!” Ren hisses. “I can’t! You know how they are. They’re gonna dig and pry and try to weasel him out of hiding, and then he -- he would never --” he shakes his head, feeling his eyes begin to sting again. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” 

After another tense moment, Morgana finally hums and sinks deeper into the bag. “Alright. I’m not gonna pretend to understand whatever weird thing you have going on with Akechi, but it’s your decision to make in the end. But for the record, I really think they deserve to know what’s going on.” 

Ren bites his lip and narrows his eyes down at the pavement behind his phone screen. The group chat is already blowing up with notifications, but he can’t bear to read any of them right now. “Yeah. They do.” 

Morgana lounges luxuriously within Ren’s bag after he’s settled back into a comfortable position. “It’s sad to know that we’re probably not going to see him again, but I guess I can’t blame him for leaving. You know, considering everything that happened.” 

“I can,” Ren retorts, scoffing loudly. “The Akechi I knew was better than this.” 

“This is different,” Morgana insists. “He was in over his head from the start. Now that Shido’s been arrested, it could be dangerous for him to stay here. We saw it ourselves; not everybody disavowed themselves from Shido after we changed his heart.” 

“How conceited of you to assume that this has anything to do with you, Amamiya. I’m sure that’s what you’d like to believe, but as usual, your thinking is much too simplistic to see the big picture.”

Ren stands in contemplative silence for another minute, mulling over Akechi’s words. He’s surprised to realize that he’s memorized every lilt and note of his cadence -- every line on his face that would appear as hints towards the myriad thoughts behind his fixed exterior. Remembering his limp makes Ren feel like he’s been hurt himself. Occam’s razor, his brain tried to remind him. Go with the simplest solution . All of the available evidence pointed towards one obvious answer. 

But nothing in his life is simple; his or Akechi’s. Nothing is ever that straightforward or easy to track. Akechi led a three-year campaign to dethrone and destroy his father when he could’ve snuck into the Metaverse and disposed of him whenever he wanted. Akechi recognized that Ren was the leader of the Phantom Thieves from the time of their very first meeting, but still chose to spend his precious time with him. Akechi knew that he’d have to kill Ren someday, but he picked Ren to be the one and only person he’d ever shared his personal feelings with.

And of course, Ren called them rivals, but…

“No. There’s more to this than just that. I know it,” Ren says quietly, starting to put the pieces together himself as he speaks. “It could never be that simple. If it were, he would’ve told me everything outright when we met up.” 

“Would he have, though?” Morgana’s voice has to contend with the emotionless voice droning out from the platform speakers as Ren’s train arrives. “Even when you guys used to hang out all the time, he never told you everything .” 

Ren lifts his head to watch as the throes of people in front of him flock towards the opening train doors. “I know he would’ve. He wouldn’t have picked up the phone otherwise.” 

Ren and Morgana search Inokashira Park thoroughly, digging around well after the sun had set and night fell upon them. It’s bitterly cold, and Ren’s deft fingers are rendered stiff and pink by the frost on the ground within a few minutes. Morgana isn’t of much use, either, quickly complaining that his paws are getting cold and asking to return to the warmth of Ren’s bag. The park’s a little emptier than usual owing to this weather, but there are still enough visitors around to keep Ren glancing nervously over his shoulder. More than a few people wearing beige overcoats make his heart jump out of his chest. 

 And of course, during the numerous breaks he takes over the course of the evening to warm up his hands, Ren checks his phone for updates from the Phantom Thieves group chat. It’s nothing he wasn’t expecting, really. Everyone is, understandably, bereaved…all except for Futaba, who remains suspiciously silent on the matter. That’s surely for some deep, meaningful reason, but Ren barely has the energy to try digging into that right now. 

Ultimately, all of Ren’s efforts are for naught. Ren slumps into his seat on the train, completely defeated, as he waits to return home and get some rest. It’s as though the rock vanished off the face of the Earth entirely. 

Ren huffs, blowing a strand of curly hair out of his face. The worst part of it all is that he can never tell the Thieves the full truth of this situation. He’s already started digging a hole, whether he intended to or not.

Within the next two weeks, the rock’s absence serves as yet another stark reminder that their times together will be coming to an end soon. Sae has already made known her intentions to overturn Ren’s conviction, which would allow him to return to his hometown and complete his final year of high school there. Not to mention, Haru and Makoto are heading off to college, Ryuji’s moving, Ann’s going to study abroad…even if Ren could stay in Tokyo with Sojiro and Futaba, it wouldn’t quite feel like home anymore without all of his Phantom Thieves. And then there’s the matter of that pesky bar stool over by the books, which steals Ren’s attention every time he enters Leblanc, always expecting to see someone waiting for him there. He actively chooses not to consider that seat any longer than the second it takes for him to get a stomachache and turn away. 

But for the time being, he’s still here. He resents Akechi for much of what he’d said on Christmas, but at least he was right on one thing; Ren’s time here is limited, so he had ought to make good use of it. 

That’s why Ren finds himself taking a pick-up shift with Iwai for the first time in a while. He’s always a welcome sight at Untouchable, obviously, considering everything he’d done for Munehisa and Kaoru, but Ren hasn’t visited since their first shopping trip as a group in preparation to infiltrate Shido’s Palace. 

“Not looking for space blasters anymore, kid?” Iwai asked with his kindest shark’s smile. 

It’s nice, spending multiple hours assembling and disassembling model firearms and catching up with Iwai. Apparently, Kaoru has a girlfriend now -- a good girl, his class rep, even -- and he’s bringing her over for dinner this weekend. Iwai is worried about how he’ll come off to the studious young girl, worried that he’ll embarrass his son somehow, worried that her parents won’t trust him. Ren laps up each and every bit of information like he’s dying of thirst, eager to give Iwai the encouragement he needs. The shifting of gears from heartbreak to helper-mode is so seamless that it’s as if Ren was never anything but Iwai’s supportive part-timer. 

It’s a three-hour shift, but the time flies by. Ren frowns as the cold winter air slaps him in the face with his first step outside. “Stay safe out there,” Iwai says with a kind wave. “I’ll let you know how things go.” 

“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll turn out fine,” Ren returns genially, giving him one last nod before he fully sinks into the freezing night. 

“Glad to see that he’s doing well.” Morgana casually licks his paw. “Who else haven’t we seen in a while?” 

“Well, we just saw Takemi yesterday,” Ren says, counting names on his hands as he walks. “Yoshida seems to have his hands pretty full right now. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve been to Shinjuku, but --” 

Ren stops, his mouth hanging open. 

A figure walks past the alleyway in which Untouchable lies hidden from the rest of Shibuya, a baggy hoodie obscuring their silhouette, and two bags from 777 hanging from the crook of their arm. Ren’s too far away and his glimpse was too brief for him to make out any finer details, but he knows. His chest hiccups. He knows. He recognizes everything from his noble posture to his gait to his brisk pace. 

His limp is gone now, but he knows . 

“Akechi,” Ren snaps, quickening his steps into a hurried march. 

Morgana gasps and shuffles around in his bag in his attempts to see what’s happening. “Ren, what are you doing?” 

He ignores Morgana entirely and rounds the corner; as if by fate, he’s instantly able to catch the black hoodie weaving through the crowd. He carelessly brushes past pedestrian after pedestrian, all those who don’t part for him upon seeing his menacing glare, until he’s finally within arm’s reach of the person he’d seen pass the alleyway. 

“Hey,” he barks, yanking back their hood. 

“Ren!” Morgana cries out, almost scolding. 

The figure whips around, eyes wild and fists clenched. Something falls to the ground between their feet, but their gazes are locked. Neither could look away even if they tried. 

Even despite his ponytail, his glasses, and the crepe smeared all over his face, it’s unmistakeably Akechi -- only further confirmed when, in a harsh, murderous whisper, he hisses, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Kidnapping you. C’mere.” Ren can barely stop his face from screwing up as he grabs Akechi by the shoulder and drags him into the nearest alleyway. 

Akechi’s garnet eyes flash with outrage when he’s pressed up against a grimy brick wall beside an overfilled trash can, but what appears on his lips is a breathless, furious grin. “What’s this, then? Revenge?” he questions, his voice playful and taunting despite the malice overflowing from his presence. “Here to return the favor? I hurt your feelings, you hurt me worse?” 

The sum of the circumstances would almost be funny due to the mess of whipped cream and fruit smeared across Akechi’s face as he sneers at Ren, but Ren can’t see past his anger long enough to find the humor in this scene. He takes a deep breath to steady himself before he speaks. “You said you were leaving,” he says, his voice low and barely controlled. 

“Not immediately,” Akechi interjects. “I have work I need to attend to first.” 

“What work?” 

“ School work. I’m still a student, Amamiya.” Ren finally takes a step away from Akechi to allow him to wipe most of the crepe residue from his face. It’s like removing the tarnish from an old sculpture, revealing all of the beauty that lies underneath. That is, except for the unfamiliar glasses on his face. They don’t look bad on him -- nothing looks bad on Goro Akechi, Ren admits to himself, smoldering -- but the sight of them makes Ren remember--

“ Why would you elect to wear glasses if you don’t need them? They’re nothing but a hindrance.”

A bitter taste crawls onto the back of his tongue. 

“So you’re not hiding from Shido’s goons,” Morgana interrupts, cutting through Ren’s inner turmoil. 

Anger ripples through Akechi’s presence again, but he keeps his newfound calm demeanor. “Oh. Great. The cat’s here this time. Am I to assume that you’ll be bringing the rest of your idiotic friends with you next time?” 

“You’re saying that there’ll be a ‘next time’?” Ren can’t help the smirk that snakes its way onto his face. “But I thought you were trying to run away from me.” 

“I am not ‘running away’.” Akechi squints at him as he sets down his shopping bags and removes his glasses. “I’m lying low. Biding my time until I’ve finished my business here.”

“Pretending to be dead, pretending to be gone -- it’s the same thing. You just don’t want to face us. You’re taking the easy way out.” Ren clenches his fists, biting back more barbed remarks. “We need to talk about this. And I don’t just mean you leaving” --he raises a hand, cutting off Akechi before he can finish opening his mouth-- “I mean everything .” 

“It’s pointless. I’ve already told you as much.” Akechi rolls his eyes and digs a crumpled lens rag out of his pocket. “After I’m gone, none of those things will matter anymore. If you think that your usual brand of brainless sentimentality will work on me, then--”

Just then, as Akechi is unfurling the glasses cleaning rag, they both freeze as they hear something clatter to the ground between them. Their heads turn to follow the sound in unison, and both discover the source at the same time -- an incredibly smooth, thumb-sized rock. 

They raise their eyes again, steel gray meeting dark auburn. 

Akechi’s Adam’s apple bobs under the collar of his turtleneck. “...Please let me explain.”

“You stole the rock?!” Morgana screeches, leaping halfway out of the bag to lash his tail at Akechi. “No one’s been able to shut up about that thing for two weeks now!” 

In the face of this revelation, Ren can’t help himself. He smiles; a real, genuine smile that makes Akechi’s ears flush pink. “What was that about ‘brainless sentimentality’, again?” He can’t help it -- he’s positively cackling . “Oh my god. This is fucking hilarious.”

“There’s nothing ‘hilarious’ about it,” Akechi growls, his voice raising in volume. Ren knows well what that means; Akechi’s on the ropes. He doesn’t have a serviceable defense lined up for this.

“It was so smooth and so enchanting that you just had to have it for yourself; to carry with you after you leave Tokyo and resume being dead to the world.” In one swift motion, Ren swoops down and picks up the rock, holding it between his pointer finger and his middle finger with a peace sign. “Stolen. Pilfered. Purloined. Just like a true thief.” 

“Stop,” Akechi says, crossing his arms. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Crows do like to collect shiny things, don’t they?” Ren appreciates the way the smooth surface of the rock reflects the streetlights overhead. “I never would’ve pegged the famous Detective Prince as a pickpocket.” 

“ Amamiya .” 

“That’s what that smooth move by the lake was all about, wasn’t it? That’s when you committed the crime.” Ren leans in a little closer, his smile starting to take on a malicious edge. “This is tragic. You’re telling me that Goro Akechi wrapped his arm around my waist for nefarious purposes? With ulterior motives?” 

“He what ?!” Morgana blurts.

“Shut up!” Akechi interrupts them both with a furious snarl, clapping a gloved hand over Ren’s mouth. This isn’t the first time that Akechi’s done this to him, but Ren recognizes that the scent and texture of his glove are different this time. “Have you ever considered that this is the reason why I want nothing to do with you? Because you’re an annoying piece of shit?” 

Ren doesn’t try to talk into Akechi’s fancy new glove. He just keeps smiling, knowing that Akechi can feel it under the leather. 

Finally, after a moment that Akechi likely assumes has calmed them both down, Akechi relinquishes Ren’s face from his grasp and sighs, wiping the palm of his hand against the front of his pants. Has Akechi always done that after touching Ren and he’s only just now noticing the pattern, or is this new? It’s a fascinating thing to ponder in the few seconds before Akechi resumes speaking. “I prefer the days when you’d just sit pretty and listen without any irritating interjections,” he remarks, finally taking his cleaning rag to his glasses. “But those times are far behind us now. For now, it looks as though I’ve been found out. Again.” 

“Explain yourself,” Ren says, pressing the rock into Akechi’s personal space. 

Akechi frowns at the precious artifact and sweeps it out of his face with the back of his hand. “I suppose I must. But only on one condition.” 

“You should just do it,” Ren suggests, putting his hands (and the rock) in his pockets. “No conditions.” 

“When you accosted me on the street just now,” Akechi continues, not even acknowledging what Ren said with a passing glance, “you destroyed my crepe and made me drop its crumbled remains on the ground.” He returns his now-clean glasses to his face and grins, suddenly saccharine sweet aside from the condescension in his eyes. “It would only be fair for you to pay me back, don’t you think? That was going to be my first meal of the day.”

Ren sputters at that. “It’s nighttime .” 

“Yes, and I’ve been very busy. In fact, I think I’ve dallied here for far too long as it is.” Akechi picks up his shopping bags and straightens out his hoodie. This athleisure isn’t like anything Ren’s seen him in before (Ren never assumed that Akechi owned anything aside from button-ups, sweater vests, and slacks) and that paired with his messy ponytail and the glasses on his face make him look like he’s a poor college student cramming before his final exams. But…Ren would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a fan. Every inch of his skin may be covered, but he never knew how badly he needed to see Akechi in a black turtleneck before now.

And he lets himself soak all of this in -- lets himself revel in the sight of Goro Akechi -- because finally, finally, there’s some hint of hope in his next words. 

“We’re meeting each other again tomorrow night,” Akechi says casually. “We can have a proper discussion about my reparations and your rock. A talk; just like you wanted. I hope you can curb your enthusiasm until then.” Akechi’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smile, and it instantly squeezes Ren’s heart in a vice. Suddenly, unexpectedly, it looks so, so real .

Ren can’t. He really, really can’t. It’s almost like nothing has changed. 

“Futaba asked you to play Featherman Seeker with her tomorrow night,” Morgana whispers to Ren.

“I know,” Ren murmurs back, watching Akechi disappear into the thinning crowd of people walking down the street. There’s an almost-imperceptible pep in his step to match the lovestruck grin on Ren’s face. “I’ll just…have to make it work somehow.”