Chapter Text
Two delicate pale hands unbuckle your seatbelt, and then one grapples for your wrist, then your arm, the other on your back to maneuver you up.
You’re languid and fluid in Makoto’s grip, slippery like a pencil in sweaty palms and futile to move like water cupped in a person’s hands, droplets sliding through the natural crevices of skin.
You feel guilty that you’re not of much help – it’s your body, you should be able to control it. Sae locks the car doors and offers an additional arm around your back, helping Makoto drag your near-corpse to the back door.
The haze circling your vision feels thick and viscous like scar tissue around your orbital bones.
You think you’re still in disbelief at seeing the blue sky again, at the generous, gentle contact that doesn’t consist of smacks or chokeholds.
The wooden door opens before you even reach it.
You recognize Ann and Haru as they freeze in the doorway, brows knitted and hands covering agape mouths, at the sight of you.
“Oh my god,” Ann breathes through the gaps in her fingers. Haru looks as if she might cry.
Makoto is much stronger than you once thought; with an affirmative reply to her sister, she steers both of your weights to Ann’s couch.
Sae locks the door behind her. You’re officially a fugitive on the run.
The four of them converse, but you lose track of who’s saying what.
Their faces blur into an abstract painting, swirling and connecting lines like someone has thrown paint onto a canvas.
Ann’s demanding answers of Sae regarding how this is allowed, first Akira and then you– Haru calms her down. Makoto hands you a cup of water.
Arms crossed over her suit, Sae cautions, “I don’t expect them to be in a condition to explain everything to you yet. The officers… I’m sure that the sedatives are still wearing off.”
Ann looks down at you with a frown.
You feel small and insignificant while sinking into her couch cushions, like a child tuning out the adult talk. Haru has wandered off, apparently to the kitchen.
Sae regains your lost attention. “You might want to clean them up. It should help them feel better.”
“Okay…” Ann says, high-pitched with an unshakeable worry. She turns to you, shoulders taut. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is. I can give you some of my clothes.”
Makoto and Ann both work to pull you up this time, but you can feel vertigo pulling at your feet as if you’re still on the couch, like your cochlear engine is stalling.
They both help you up the stairs to Ann’s bathroom.
Your legs wobble beneath you like cytoplasmic jelly on each stair, but you can feel Makoto’s guiding hand on your back in case you fall.
A little more awake now, a part of you feels embarrassed for your probable stench, especially with them so close. You’ve worn the same dirty, bloodstained Kosei uniform for five days. It’s such an unimportant detail compared to the much larger mess you’re now wrapped up in.
“Will– Will you be okay in the bathroom?” Ann asks.
You nod, holding a pair of her clothes.
She tries to smile, but it just looks lopsided. “Okay, uh– you can just call me if you need something! You can use anything that’s in there. My soaps, and–”
She trails off, so you simply nod again.
“We’ll probably leave to get some of your stuff at your apartment when you’re done,” Makoto says. “The others want to talk to you, so we’re meeting them at Leblanc around three.”
You say a soft “thank you” and carry the clothes and towel into the bathroom.
You ignore the foggy anxiety at the thought of speaking to the Phantom Thieves after everything that has happened. You haven’t seen them since Akira was arrested, roughly a week ago. You’re at least looking forward to seeing your dog, Nao.
It doesn’t occur to you until you close the bathroom door that you haven’t seen yourself since the morning you put on the exact uniform you’re wearing now.
You somewhat wish you had asked Ann to join you, just for a moment so she can hold your hand while you bear a glance at yourself.
You purposefully avoid looking at the mirror as you set your borrowed clothes down on the counter.
Once you finally look up, you nearly jolt at your appearance.
Your uniform tie hangs on your collar by a thread and is mostly undone, as are your first two shirt buttons – one is missing completely. There are scrapes on your knees and holes in your cardigan at the elbows. Dried blood from an unknown wound is on your face. A dark half-circle is stamped beneath your swollen left eye.
You feel that you might sob. You refrain from looking too closely and start the shower water, instead.
The water burns like hot coffee on your scratched-up palms, but nothing else is considerably cut. There are mostly just bruises. A numb throbbing persists in your chest that you deem psychosomatic.
You step out of the bathroom and instantly notice the scent of food cooking.
You leave the towel and pile of clothes on the floor like Ann requests. Then, you drift toward the smell downstairs.
You don’t make it to the bottom of the stairs before all four women, idling around the kitchen, look over at you.
“Oh, hey!” Ann calls. You can read her ‘off’ tone without even seeing her face. “Are you ready for Makoto to clean your injuries?”
You nod, one hand on the railing, though you feel you might faint with the smell of food so close to your empty stomach. You hope it will be ready soon.
Makoto and Haru trail you back upstairs to mend your physical woes.
Makoto guides you onto the bathroom counter. Haru offers you a bowl of fruit and nuts to eat, which you quietly thank her for. You have to stop yourself from shoveling it down.
You’re too tired to question their kindness, or maybe desperate enough like a wounded animal that you don’t dare turn it away. These hands wrapping your palms in gauze could plan to help or hurt, and you’re in too much pain to distinguish any harm in either.
As soon as you step into Leblanc behind Ann, all conversations cease.
The café looks just as it did the last time you were here like no time has passed.
The Sayuri is still hung on the wall beneath the clock, the crappy mounted TV plays the weather forecast, and the tan paint layers over your eyes and throat like phlegm as everyone sits, watching you. You’re the defendant, and Leblanc is your open courtroom.
You avoid everyone’s eyes and squeeze Ann’s hand, unable to handle the stares and gawks like your injuries are a living museum display, a petting zoo.
Against your predictions, Akira’s the first to greet you with a “hey."
He looks as bad as you, with bruises on his face and atop the injectable jugular vein, his split lip scabbed over, shoulders curled forward. Perhaps you look a little worse.
This awakens the others from their stupor and some begin greeting you as you’re pulled further in.
Makoto directs you to a booth. Ann crowds on your other side so you’re between the two of them. Futaba and Yusuke sit across from you, Morgana in the former’s lap. Akira and Ryuji have pulled over bar stools. Haru, Sae, and Sojiro remain standing.
You feel like a rabbit in a pit of wolves sizing you up. Plus, Ann and Makoto have caged you in so you can’t run.
Since no one else speaks, Sae’s the one to break the silence. “You all do understand the implications of what you’ve done, correct?”
Everyone looks away, and no one’s looking at each other.
“This is a collected effort now,” Sae continues. “If one of you makes a mistake, you’ll pull down everyone with you, especially if you plan to pursue Shido. Is that understood?”
Most of them nod.
Yusuke looks at you and begins, “(F/N)... Would you like to tell us what happened?”
You can feel eyes settle on you once again. You pick at your bandages absentmindedly. Where can you start?
“I went to school and work like normal,” you hear yourself say. “I was helping investigate the Public Prosecutor’s Office after Akira’s arrest. Two officers said I was under arrest for conspiring with the Phantom Thieves, and they tackled me.”
“But why you?” Ann says immediately. “Why not any of us?”
“I don’t know,” you murmur.
“Why did you not tell them our names?” Ryuji blurts.
Your eyes widen at his accusatory tone.
“Ryuji–” Makoto begins, but you speak.
“They tried to bribe me into revealing your identities in exchange for my freedom,” you explain. “They’re all mind games to get suspects to talk. The detectives don’t mean what they say.”
Your answer isn’t satisfactory nor explanatory of every other thought you’ve had within the past five days, but they still ogle at you, regardless.
You continue, “I figured it wouldn’t really change my fate, anyway. I had been betrayed by everyone else. I wanted to stand with you guys, at least.”
Nullified for the time being, Ryuji quiets down and only shoots you a look, his short dyed eyebrows pinned together. He had never been too fond of you, even before all of this.
You expected Ryuji to back you into a corner, but you’re a little hurt when your unofficial emotional support cat climbs onto the table, bright blue eyes zeroed in on yours.
“Did you know about Akechi’s plan?” he asks.
The group stills. You fidget. You are suspended in a dunking tank, and any wrong answer will have you submerged to the throat and up.
“I knew he was planning to set Akira up, but I didn’t know that…” You exhale. “I didn’t know that he was going to kill him.”
Your head lowers because you’re unable to carry the weight of their stares.
“So you were just plannin’ to throw Akira in jail, too?” Ryuji barks, but you wince and Ann says his name in warning.
“Yes,” you admit. You can’t deny that, even with the guilt that trickles into your stomach. “I didn’t even really want that. Goro tried to talk me out of getting involved. But I… I don’t know.”
You frown. Silence sinks in again like the shrill autumnal breeze through the old door.
You wait for your sentence, tracing patterns on the table in your haze.
“You should be thankful we bailed you out after you went behind our backs like that,” Ryuji mutters.
Your eyes lower further, to your lap now. You aren’t.
Part of you wishes one of the officers got too out of hand and accidentally killed you in custody. It would be easier than this, you think.
“Ryuji, that’s enough,” Akira steps in. “I think they’ve gone through enough, there’s no place for hard feelings.”
All of the Phantom Thieves seem to sit up straight at his order – you can’t blame them because you’ve never heard Akira speak that firmly before.
Ryuji hushes again and settles his stare on the coffee bar.
You’re not sure that you agree with Akira – there is plenty of space for hard feelings, and you don’t fault any of them for carrying some inkling of resentment toward you.
“It’s okay,” you start weakly. “I understand if any of you are… mad at me. I should have… done a lot of things differently.” Not getting romantically involved with the Detective Prince, for one.
But Akira refuses, “That may be true, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Akechi betrayed us both. I’d say that puts us on the same side of the playing field.”
‘Betrayed.’ You briefly mourn that your relationship with him was cut short by such an intricate scheme.
After how close you both had become, were you reduced to nothing more than a step in his unfolding plans? Something to mark off on a checklist, a stair to the next best thing?
You nod, a collapsing feeling in your esophagus.
“That’s our leader,” you hear Morgana say, seated on the table.
Akira, ever helpful, explains, “We’ve started looking into Masayoshi Shido, the main candidate for Prime Minister right now. We think he has ties to Akechi. If we can take him down, we can help end all of this corruption.”
You don’t have the energy to argue. But you know better than the Phantom Thieves that the ‘corruption’ they always targeted ran much deeper than one man.
Throughout the group’s rise to fame this year, they had only scratched the surface of Tokyo’s injustice, perhaps not even left a mark because it heals right back.
This issue is much bigger than them, than any of you in this room.
Ann changes the subject, “You can stay with me until all of this gets worked out.”
You nod, whispering a “thank you.”
“You shouldn’t log on to any of your social media or online accounts for a little while,” Futaba suggests, as she would. “The police’ll probably be able to track them.”
You just want to go to bed, any bed. You want to think about this after you have slept off as much of the past 120 hours of physical abuse as you could.
Haru adds, “You might want a disguise, too, like Akira. Something subtle.”
Futaba mumbles, “Yeah, you are pretty noticeable in a crowd… Maybe you can cut your hair? Buzzcut season just ended, but…”
Makoto chimes in, “Or, you could just wear a hat and tuck your hair into it. That could be enough.”
You shift in your seat, unsure.
Ann says, “It’s up to you, just think about it. You can use my Pinterest to look at any hair ideas if you want!”
Standing up, Akira adds, “Thank you, Makoto, Haru, and Ann, for taking care of them.”
He steps a little closer to your side of the booth.
“I can take you to a doctor who works nearby tomorrow,” he offers. “She won’t ask questions, don’t worry.”
These suggestions are friendly and have good intentions, but you’re a little overwhelmed. You struggle to keep up with each person’s contributions, as well as to understand why you deserve them at all.
The group begins to disperse, minus those who stay behind to help you gather your belongings from your flat.
As you wait in Leblanc, you feel something gnawing at your throat.
“Hey… Akira?” you start.
He quickly looks up at you from beside the table, but your gaze falls again. You stare at the empty booth seat in front of you.
“I know it doesn’t undo anything, but…” your voice fades away. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve anything you went through in there, I… I should have seen all of this coming sooner. I– wish I hadn’t helped Goro, and…”
You jolt when Akira’s hand finds your shoulder.
You look up at him fearfully, like a sinner facing their god, yet he just smiles softly.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” he says, but you continue to stare like a lost fawn. Akira’s face turns a bit more somber. “None of this was your fault, okay? I don’t blame you at all – you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
Not knowing how to handle his kindness, you look down again, your hands plucking at the table.
For the first time since you had broken down in the interrogation room, you cry.
You cup your hands over your eyes and whimper into your palms.
Akira’s hand tightens comfortingly on your shoulder, but you’re already shaking with your sobs.
“Can you get them some water?” Akira asks, probably directed toward Sojiro.
You feel Ann squeeze your arm, and you remove one hand from your eye so she can hold your hand, instead. Akira is rubbing your back by the time a full glass appears in front of you.
They’re murmuring reassurances to you. You drink almost the entire glass of water, unable to hear a single thing they say.
You awaken the next day around three in the afternoon. You silently awe yourself for somehow sleeping 16 hours in a row.
You grapple around the large guest bed for the burner phone that Futaba let you borrow.
You find fur instead – your hefty Saint Bernard sleeps pressed to your side. Eventually, you feel cold metal.
You see a text from Akira, along with a few from the group chat you’ve been added to. You open Akira’s message first.
Akira - 12:09
Akira: Do you still want to go to the doctor today? It’s okay if you’re not up for it yet
You cringe at the pang of guilt, realizing that you haven’t responded to him for three hours. You begin typing.
Akira - 15:21
You: I’m so sorry I’ve been asleep all day
You: Can we go today if you don’t mind?? I don’t think advil will last me forever
Akira: Don't worry at all
Akira: I’m glad you’re sleeping I’m sure you needed it
Akira: When do u want to go?
You: I don’t really mind when
You: We can go now if you want
Akira: That works
Akira: I’ll come to you, don’t leave the house
You: Okay thank you :)
You get dressed, thankful to have your own clothes again.
Ann had offered you clothing hangers to fully make yourself at home, but you settle on living out of a suitcase for now.
You were unaware of how nice Ann’s house is. The guest bedroom has an ensuite bathroom and looks almost completely untouched, minus a few cracks in the white wallpaper or scratches in the wood floor from a previous owner.
Despite that, the room is well maintained and the sheets are clean, not in an unfamiliar way like a hotel but strangely comforting and quiet.
This room is yours and there are no conversations or radio conveyance in muffled baritones outside, no one to open the door and bother you while you’re trying to sleep.
If anything, the room is just a little boring with the lack of decorations. But you take any scenery over the bleak gray walls and concrete floors that encased you just yesterday.
As you brush your teeth and replace some of your bandages, you swell with appreciation for Ann taking you in like this.
Neither of your parents is in the picture, and the closest to a father figure you have is Munehisa Iwai who owns the airsoft shop downtown. You’re unsure of where else you would go if Ann hadn’t offered.
Akira opens the door for you to the clinic in Yongen-Jaya.
You had passed by the hole-in-the-wall private practice before this, but never paid it any attention. You recall a past case at the precinct investigating the doctor’s credentials.
It’s a small clinic like Akira had said. You absorb the bright white and sterile environment. Most notably, the clinic is empty.
Music plays quietly from the check-in counter.
You follow the source and make eye contact with a pretty goth woman behind the window.
You stand up straight at her piercing look, but Akira is already stepping in front of you and greeting her, “Hey, are you busy right now?”
The woman glances at you again. She turns down the music and places her magazine on the counter in front of her.
She speaks confidently, low-toned, “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Why?”
“Can you please check on my friend? They can’t go to another doctor right now.” Akira gestures to you behind him and introduces you. “This is Doctor Tae Takemi. I visit her sometimes.”
You stiffen beneath Takemi’s examining stare like she’s performing the check-up right now.
“What’s been bothering you?” she asks you with surprising, medically-appropriate concern.
You open your mouth to rehearse the lie you’d both plotted on the way.
But Akira speaks for you, “They’re in a situation right now. I would really appreciate it if you could make sure nothing’s severely injured.”
The woman regards Akira questioningly, but she stands up.
“Please head to the exam room,” she requests.
You follow Akira, who once again opens the door for you to the supposed exam room. You idly wonder what business Akira would have here.
She’s holding a clipboard and waiting for you once you enter. Her platform shoes add height and certainty to her movements.
She motions to the thin ‘bed’ common in medical settings.
You step toward it and for a moment you’re in the precinct’s clinic, one story underground and blinded by the white walls, face fuzzy from a tranquilizer dose. You sit down stiffly and take a deep breath.
She recites the usual physician questions and writes your answers on her clipboard, afterward checking your temperature and vitals.
Akira lingers beside you, not too close but not far enough away to forget he’s there.
“Can I see your injuries?” Takemi asks, and you pause to process the request.
Akira takes the hint and already turns around, facing the wall. He holds his bag to his chest so Morgana can’t emerge at the wrong time.
You shakily pull your hoodie over your head and lift up your shirt.
Purple and black marks swirl mockingly under the coarse office lighting and it makes your mouth taste like vinegar.
Akira was right about Takemi not asking questions.
You imagine what she might be assuming right now, that maybe you have an abusive partner or parent, or got beaten in a street fight. She has probably seen much worse cases than yours and learned to not bother asking.
After a few minutes of examining, Takemi says, “Kurusu-kun, you don’t have to stay in here, staring at the wall.”
You don’t hear him reply. Takemi casts you a look that establishes rapport between you and makes you smile.
“It’s okay,” you say quietly to her, “I want him here.”
“You hear that?” Takemi says just a bit louder. She bends your wrist a certain way and you can hear a scraping sound.
Akira still doesn’t respond, but he paces a little back and forth like he heard you.
Takemi sits in her rolling desk chair and finishes her paperwork. You remain quiet as you redress.
“You can turn around,” she comments, not even looking up from her clipboard.
Akira hesitates before he turns to face you again. He pulls his bag back onto his shoulder.
You catch him looking you over as if to ensure no additional damage has been done.
At least, you think. You’re not exactly sure what he’s looking for, but Takemi begins talking and wipes away his focus from you.
“The only major injury is a sprain in their left wrist. Everything else can be fixed with some rest and pain medicine,” she summarizes to both of you. “Which is good – it looks like you were beaten badly.”
Takemi places down her clipboard and takes a newly packaged medical wrap from a cabinet.
She lifts your wrist in her hands and begins to wrap the sore joints.
“I’ll give you this for now,” she says. “There are wrist splints at the grocery store for about 3,000 yen. Wear it during the day, never while you’re sleeping.”
As she picks up her clipboard again, she continues, “You said someone already tended to your injuries, which is good… Just keep an eye on them and cover any cuts so they don’t get infected. Stay hydrated and rest, not too much heavy movement.”
“Thank you so much,” you say. “You mentioned pain medicine?”
She levels a look at you. “I can prescribe you some, or you can take over-the-counter medication.”
You forgot the implications of her career here, in this back alley; her medication is likely all illegal. But it is also likely strong.
“Um…” you trail off, looking at Akira for help.
Hands in his jeans pockets, he tells Takemi, “You can show them what you have.”
Takemi replies, “All right,” and grabs another file from her desk.
She reads off the names of her pharmaceuticals as well as their usages.
You only recognize a few of the compounds, many of which are definitely outlawed or shouldn’t be in her hands to give to the public. Being a forensic technician forces you to be a jack of all trades with this side of life, unfortunately.
“Uh,” you say without realizing.
Beside you, Akira suggests, “I kind of need a restock right now, anyway. I can give you some of the medication I have.”
You twist your fingers. “Is that okay? I can pay you back for it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.
You don’t know how to ‘not worry about it,’ but he lists off what he wants to Takemi and hands her quite a bit of yen in return.
Just as you stand up, Takemi holds a lollipop out to you.
You cautiously accept it.
She adds on with the softest expression she’s given you all day, “I hope things get better for you.”
You stare at her dark eyes beneath her blunt bangs, the small and pretty shape of her nose.
You twist the lollipop – cotton candy flavored – and you would cry if you had 10% less self control, maybe if you hadn’t slept for 16 hours prior to this. Somehow, this complete stranger makes you feel more understood and validated than anything.
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
As you wander toward the door, twirling the candy in your hand, Akira comments, “I never get lollipops.”
“Guinea pigs don’t get lollipops,” Takemi says back, sectioning off supplies to clean. “Stay alive, both of you.”
Akira trails you out of the clinic, afterward moving to walk beside you.
“Akira,” you start.
“Mm-hmm?”
“What do you do for Dr. Takemi?”
He smiles a little sheepishly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Although you’ve been aware of his Phantom Thief identity, you never really thought of all the other illegal (or at least questionable) things Akira does.
You can’t imagine that he would be fully transparent with his cop friend (you), anyway.
Severing the silence, he offers, “You can come to Leblanc for lunch if you want.”
“If that’s okay…”
“Of course.” The blue sleeve of his hoodie brushes your arm. “And you can get that pain medicine. Are you sure you don’t just want over-the-counter stuff? I don’t know if you wanna be caught with that, you know?”
“I’m already in this deep,” you murmur. “I don’t think I can do much worse.”
“I get you.”
A police officer wanders by on the opposite side of the street, not even glancing in your direction.
You still reach for Akira’s hand and squeeze, nonetheless. Akira squeezes back, silently affirming your mutual fear. You really want that pain medicine.
You sit on the couch in Leblanc’s attic, your hands trembling as you pet Morgana in your lap. Your left wrist feels clunky with the bandage compressing it.
Just like the guest bedroom in Ann’s house, the attic is delectably quiet. A space heater sits in the middle of the floor and the bed isn’t made.
Finally, you hear Akira’s light, even footsteps on each creaking stair, and then he appears with two plates of curry.
He pulls his hoodie off, revealing a scab on his arm and his black graphic T-shirt beneath it. Dinosaurs are printed on the front.
“Thank you,” you murmur. “I don’t know why you’re so nice to me.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting across from you in a folding chair. “I’m being normal.”
“Your normal is really nice,” you mumble through curry. You eye the bruises circling his pale wrists in a thin line.
“Are you cold? I can turn on the heater.”
You shake your head. “No, I feel kinda warm and gross.” The vinegar taste hasn’t left your mouth since you stripped in Takemi’s clinic.
“I have, um…” He fades off, chewing. “Gatorade, if that would help.”
“No, it’s okay. Thank you. Can I please have the pain medicine?”
He perks up. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”
Akira stands to sort through a bag beside his bed. He hands you a bottle that clanks with pills when he sets it down.
You turn the container and read the label. It looks official, like a normal prescription printed in a pharmacy. Less suspicious.
“This one would probably help you most,” Akira explains, standing beside the wobbling table. “You only take two per day, though. It’s strong.”
“Perfect,” you reply. “Thank you. How much was it?”
He sits back down and the metal chair squeaks in response. “I told you not to worry about it.”
“But–”
“You should save your yen,” Akira says into his hand. “It’s not like you can withdraw more from the bank anytime soon. You can buy your own the next time you go to Dr. Takemi, how about that?”
He rubs his jaw as if massaging it. Your eyes trace the movement.
“He’s right,” Morgana contributes from your lap. “You should ration your purchases.”
“I know…” you say to your half-empty plate. “Thank you…”
Akira only hums in reply and continues to eat, likely satisfied with winning this dispute between you.
As you eat quietly, both of your phones vibrate on the table. You reach for yours.
THE BOYS - 17:12
Futaba: have you guys seen the police update
Futaba: it’s not good
Ryuji: ??
Yusuke: What is it?
Futaba: they’ve put a bounty over (F/N)’s head
Futaba: 50,000 yen reward for info on them
You can feel your heart in your stomach.
You share a glance with Akira across the table. The fur raises along Morgana’s hackles as he reads your screen.
THE BOYS - 17:13
Ryuji: Oh shit.
Haru: That’s horrible…
Makoto: Have they found any leads? Is (F/N) in immediate danger?
Futaba: it doesn’t look like it
Futaba: but idk how much they’re hiding even in the files i’m looking at
Futaba: we should all just be careful for now
Ann: (F/N) where are you now??
You: I’m with Akira at leblanc
Akira: I was going to walk them back to Ann’s in a little while unless anyone else wants to
Akira: ^Preferably w some kind of disguise
Ann: I can come!!
Makoto: That would probably be best. Neither of you should be out for too long, let alone together. I’ll see what Sae can do
Ann: I’ll be at Leblanc in 30 mins <3
You stare at the screen even as the flow of messages stops. You can feel Akira’s eyes on you.
There’s currently a 50,000 yen profit on the line for anyone who sics the police on you.
Each appearance you make in public from now on is an easy buck for anyone. You’re going to be sick.
Akira says your name softly, “It’s gonna be okay. We’re all right here with you. We’re not going to let anything happen.”
Slow footsteps ascend the stairs.
Sojiro is in the stairway, leaning against the wall but not coming up the final step. “What’s with the faces?”
You can’t find it in yourself to speak. You watch your phone fall asleep on the table.
When you don’t, Akira explains quietly, “There’s a cash reward for giving the police any information about (F/N).”
“Huh?” Sojiro’s eyebrows furrow.
He advances up the last stair and approaches the table, rubbing his brown goatee.
Morgana looks up at Akira as if to check for an appropriate response to your panic. No one says anything.
Your eyes follow the marks on the old table. What if someone has been keeping track of you this whole time?
What if Goro knows exactly where you are? You wouldn’t put it past him. You know he will track you down eventually.
What if officers barge into Ann’s house today, tomorrow, tomorrow night when you are sleeping, and demand to search the house?
They’ll need a warrant, but it’s still possible. The cops have played dirty all this time. You doubt they will put any value on Ann, a seventeen-year-old girl, ordering them to file a warrant first.
You blink slowly, trying to steady the pounding in your chest, your gut.
Sojiro is still here, you realize when Akira reaches forward and takes your hand.
“Hey…” he’s murmuring. “(F/N).”
You exhale shakily. Finally, you can once again hear the cars outside, the heat running downstairs.
Akira clenches your hand between both of his.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he ensures. “We’ve got you, okay?”
You hear the door chime downstairs, and Sojiro excuses himself.
Your mind immediately barrels into the worst-case scenario: it’s a cop, it’s Goro getting his weekly cup of coffee, it’s–
“You’re okay.” Akira applies grounding pressure to your hand. “It’s just a customer. One of the regulars always comes around this time.”
You nod, using your free hand to pet Morgana.
“Maybe I should just bite the bullet now,” you say with an exhale, half joking.
Akira doesn’t take it as a joke. His expression darkens, a pout weighing down his lips.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
You look away, unable to meet his stare. “I’m just endangering all of you– I’m a liability, you guys could all go to jail for–”
“You’re not,” Akira insists. “We chose to help you. We only make these choices if we’re all in favor, and we all wanted to help.”
“Even Sakamoto-kun?” you snivel.
He smiles sadly. “Even Ryuji.”
“I don’t want to go back,” you whimper.
“You won’t,” he replies. “I promise.”
You only want to shrink and curl into a small ball, make like a roly-poly and sit untouchable by the world’s stomping feet. You want to take up less space.
You don’t notice Akira coming over to your side of the table. He sits on the couch beside you, still holding your hand until he opens his arms in a gesturing way.
You accept his hug, falling headfirst into his shoulder and gripping his T-shirt between your fingers. Morgana wriggles free from his space trapped between you.
Akira always smells like coffee, but being in Leblanc blurs the distinction of scent between him and the café.
With his arms capturing your shoulders, you feel small and safe like that envisioned roly-poly.
You listen to the footsteps as they descend the stairs, but you’re still mostly focused on pouring milk into your cereal.
Ann materializes beneath the overhead kitchen lights, wearing silk pajamas and a bright grin. Her blonde hair is pulled into a loose bun.
“Oh, hey! I thought I heard you,” Ann greets, smiling.
Nao rushes up to meet her with heavy paws, sniffing her pajamas.
She pets the large dog and smiles. “It looks like we’re both midnight snack people. We might start a war over food one night if we’re not careful.”
You smile back and reply, “Yeah…”
You open the oversized fridge door and slide the milk jug back into place on the top shelf.
You can hear Ann rustling through the potato chip bags beside the sink.
You’ve never seen her in such a domestic context, with the darkness leaking in through the closed curtains and the cold fridge light casting shadows on her face.
She leans back against the counter and opens her bag of chips.
“Are you sleeping okay?” she asks you.
You try to smile. “It’s kinda hard tonight. I’m too nervous.”
“I could imagine…” she murmurs. “I’m a little nervous, too. I’ve been watching anime… Maybe we can watch some together until you fall asleep!”
Flustered, you respond, “That sounds fun. I guess I’m still getting used to sleeping alone.”
“Um…” she starts. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but… I’m sure your relationship with… him… has been bothering you.”
You nod, not even thinking. “Yeah…”
She seems surprised that you don’t respond negatively.
She hesitantly continues, “How do you feel about… it?”
You’re reluctant.
Your eyes make a home on the sleek stair railing across the living room.
You can’t believe she’s asking about you out of concern. There is so much resentment in the group toward Goro now that any worry or softness for him isn’t mentioned due to peer pressure.
But you and Ann had been close with Goro before the events of last week. Akira, too.
They probably understand your mixed feelings more than the others because they got to know him past the detective façade, got to know him as so much more–
“It’s…” Your voice cracks, and you sigh. “I just… wish he could have let me in and told me these things, you know?”
Your breath stalls with a pushing sob.
You cover your mouth for a second and do your best to swallow the feeling, especially at Ann’s troubled face.
“I wish… he let me understand,” you mumble. “I t– talked to him while I was in custody, but he never told me why– why me.”
Ann frowns, still rubbing Nao’s caramel back. “Yeah… We couldn’t figure it out, either. You just joined us earlier this month to help him with the Phantom Thieves case, right?”
You nod, embarrassed. “I– I think maybe it was one of his attempts to push me away.”
“Maybe it’s not meant for us to understand,” Ann murmurs, uncharacteristically philosophical.
You nod again. Ann tends to give the most unusual and unhelpful advice, but this feels genuine for once.
Changing the subject, you ask, “How do you live here by yourself? I would get so paranoid.”
“But you live alone, too!” she squawks. You can see her reluctance to abandon the last topic of discussion, but she allows it.
“I think it’s the size,” you say with a smile. “My flat is pretty small.”
“Well,” Ann sighs, “I guess I’m pretty used to it. My parents won’t be back until the new year.”
“Are you excited?”
She shrugs. Nao wanders back to you. “They’ll be gone again in no time, anyway.”
You settle in Ann’s room to watch anime on her bed, which is as big as the guest bed. The duvet is black with red roses adorning it.
Clothes and makeup litter the floor, shoved into slightly concise piles to allow walking room. It’s all very her.
You rest on her shoulder as you watch Jujutsu Kaisen on the smudged screen of her laptop.
Ann fades until it’s Goro you’re lying on, his broad shoulder beneath your head and his hand slipping around your form to hold your waist.
You feel a glimmer of pride when your first instinct is to verbalize your conflicted feelings and accept comfort.
Just– preferably tomorrow. You don’t have the energy for it right now with the pain medicine kicking in, blurring the plot of the show you’re trying to keep up with.
You miss Goro, and you don’t come to terms with that until you squeeze closer to Ann within your dumb fantasy of the detective. It’s stupid. But it helps you sleep.
You don’t have the strength or willpower to help the Phantom Thieves infiltrate Shido’s Palace.
At least, not yet. Merely thinking about returning to the cognitive world makes your knees buckle and your throat clog.
Ann offers, and Akira suggests entering the Metaverse just for a second to heal your injuries.
You’re probably safest from the law there in comparison to the real world, on Ann’s couch, mooching off of her streaming services and cuddling your dog.
No– that’s not true, because the heist in Sae’s Palace– and Akira–
You swallow it down and curl into yourself. You hear Akira in your head, “there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
You hope to help them once you’ve had a few days to rest.
On top of that, you can’t tell if the Thieves are distancing themselves from you.
Ann and Yusuke still talk to you as normal – and Akira does, too.
You can’t exactly put your finger on any supporting evidence, but you feel that they’re avoiding you.
As they should be, after you contributed to betraying them and potentially getting Akira killed.
But that doesn’t make it hurt less. You’re already lonely enough as is.
You don’t bring it up because it feels selfish.
So you recover – suffer – quietly, and enjoy the times Ann talks to you like you’re a normal friend, like everything is normal.
You use your free time to read your textbook for school, read normal books for fun, play video games, and begin studying sign language.
You find that speaking is difficult for you sometimes. You hope it’s a temporary response to the stress, and the ball in your throat obstructing your speech will gradually untangle and loosen.
So you start learning some words and phrases just to tease the idea of signing instead of talking – but then you realize that it’s fun.
A method of communication to fall back on when you don’t want to speak is appealing.
It, at least, keeps you busy. And that means less thinking.
Today, you’re lying on the guest bedroom floor in the dark when Ann gets home.
Akira, Ryuji, and Futaba are with her; you can tell because Nao quickly scurries back up the stairs and to you after meeting Ann at the door.
You feel a sliver of worth when Ann sounds worried while calling your name and skimming over the house in a panicked search for you.
She eventually arrives at your bedroom. You watch her silhouette against the hall light as she peeks in the cracked door.
You can’t imagine what she thinks when she sees you staring up at her from the darkness.
“Are you okay?” she yelps, and you look away.
“Yeah… sometimes I lay on the floor in the dark when I’m not feeling good. It’s normal,” you clarify.
You remember the time you had explained it to Goro, curled in his lap on your living room floor earlier this summer. You blink the memory away.
“You’re not feeling good?” Ann squeaks, opening the door a bit more. “What’s wrong?”
But you don’t want to burden her with your dumb rambles about how isolated you feel and how you’re 95% sure the group is ignoring you and how the medication can’t help that you’re aching all over and how you still wish one of the cops had killed you while they had the chance.
So you just murmur, “I’m okay. I think I just need to take my medicine.”
You hear Ryuji behind her, “Are they okay?”
Ann turns to face them, shielding you from the boys’ sights. “Yeah, they’re just not feeling well.”
It doesn’t work and they both peer around her to glimpse you and make sure the guest bedroom hasn’t become a crime scene.
“Can I see them?” Akira asks.
Ann looks back at you for confirmation.
“They can come in,” you manage.
With that, she opens the door and all three of them (plus Morgana on Akira’s shoulder) peer down at you.
“Comfy?” Akira asks, hands balled in the pockets of his black sweatpants.
“Could be comfier,” you reply. “You can turn the table light on.”
You stretch your arms and legs across the carpet like Morgana when he has happy paws. You’ve taken four pills today, and you’re a little too woozy to care about the blow to your dignity after getting caught spiraling on the floor.
Ann maneuvers around you to turn on the light. You readjust your eyes, rubbing the crusties from them.
“What’s up with your dog?” Ryuji asks. “He ran as soon as we came in.”
He points at Nao, who’s currently whimpering and hiding behind one side of the bed.
“He’s shy,” you reply, sitting up. “Just let him be, he’ll come to you eventually.”
“Oh,” the blond boy responds.
Ryuji doesn’t seem to know how to talk to you, so Akira steps past him toward you.
“Your food is in the kitchen,” he says. “Have you eaten?”
“Mmm. Not since lunch. Today’s the first day I’ve had an appetite.”
“Oh, good.” Akira smiles down at you. Your heart flips to your already weightless stomach.
“Thank you for buying me dinner,” you say to the room.
Ann beams. “No problem! I’m sorry you’re not feeling good.”
“It’s nothing new,” you reply.
Ann’s expression quickly falls into a frown, but Ryuji says, “I dunno about you guys, but I’m starving. I’m gonna go eat.”
As if remembering her food, Ann perks up once again. “Ditto! I’m coming with you!”
The two of them trample down the stairs. Akira sets down his shoulder bag so Morgana can gracefully crawl out of it and lay on your lap.
“Thank you,” you say to both Akira and Mona. You scratch behind the cat’s ears and he purrs.
“Do you need anything?” Akira questions.
“Mmm,” you hum distractedly. “Does Dr. Takemi prescribe sleep medication?”
He levels a look at you much like Takemi herself did when you asked about her pain medicine.
“I’d have to check,” he replies hesitantly. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
You look away, petting Morgana for comfort. “Yeah. I’m too anxious to sleep. And– it sounds dumb, but I’m not used to sleeping alone.”
“It’s not dumb,” Akira says, returning his hands to his pockets. “Would it help if I stay over tonight?”
“If– what? Are you sure?”
“I mean… assuming you or Ann have clothes I can borrow.”
You stare at him, blinking. Morgana looks up at you to await your response.
“Isn’t that weird?” you squeak. “For you?”
“It’s not weird for me, as long as it’s not weird for you. Would it make you uncomfortable?”
“No, I just–” Your face twists up. “If it’s not a bother for you to stay…”
“Well, I don’t have anything else to attend to, being on the run and all,” he drawls, casting you a smile. “I’ll just ask Ryuji to walk Futaba home. It’s no biggie.”
“Ah… thank you so much…”
“No problem. You coming down to eat with us?”
At the invitation, you stammer. “Is that okay?”
Akira raises an eyebrow. You can’t see the motion itself beneath his layers of dark bangs, only the corresponding facial muscles and his narrowing eyes.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he prompts.
“I don’t know… I just– um…”
“You don’t need to act like a stranger,” Akira responds. “Come on.”
You somewhat expect (want?) him to outstretch his hand to help you up from the floor.
But his hands remain in his pockets, and you utilize both of yours to hold Morgana as you pull yourself to your feet.
You follow him and the ebbing sounds of laughter down the stairs, Mona in your arms.
Within a few hours, Akira’s using the guest ensuite’s shower and you’re fidgeting with your hands on the bed. This is weird, you were completely wrong before.
The bedroom is dark save for a clip-on book light as you attempt to read beneath the covers.
Akira steps out wearing your clothes and smelling like your body wash. Something kicks in your stomach again, like earlier, and you don’t think you like what it entails.
You hear him navigating the quiet room before he climbs into bed with you.
The bed is large, so there’s more than enough space for Nao, Morgana, as well as you and Akira.
Nao opts to sleep in his bed on the floor anyway, still not warmed up to Akira. You wonder if Goro will go down as the only unfamiliar man Nao willingly shares a space with.
“What’cha reading?” Akira asks.
His voice is low and much more hushed – just like with Ann, you’ve never seen him in such an intimate, domestic context as this.
You show him the cover as he gets comfortable behind you. “It’s a book translated from– Russian? It’s taken me a while, it’s a pretty big book.”
“It looks big.”
The scent of your conditioner in his shaggy hair makes your vision fizzle like peroxide on fresh blood.
Akira seems nervous to touch you and overstep any boundaries.
He merely lingers behind you, reading the book’s pages over your shoulder. Maybe he’s just as frightened as you are at the prospect of making one another uncomfortable.
Even further, what if he doesn’t even want to be here, what if you wake him up at three A.M. because of a nightmare?
You scoot backward a little, shifting closer to him until you feel your back against his chest. You continue reading, and so does he. You relax a little.
After a few minutes, your head settles on the pillow. You feel his arm wrapping around your waist. His elbow rests atop your hip, his hand on the sheets between your ribs and your book.
You recall the times you had fallen asleep on Goro, how you would listen to his breathing and let it ease you to sleep.
You have to quiet yourself enough to hear Akira’s, but it’s there, mutely sifting through his chest and throat.
He’s skimming the pages along behind you, but eventually you delay the next page turn, leaving him to turn off the book light and close the novel while you sleep.