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“Hey, Akira, dude!”
Akira looks up from the vending machine by the school’s gate, cracking open his can of Joylent and watching as Ryuji comes jogging up to the little alcove.
“What’s up?” He holds out some yen to Ryuji. “Want a drink?”
“No. Thanks, though.” Ryuji stuffs his hands into his pockets. Most kids are gone from the school now, leaving only the two of them and the dreary, rainy afternoon. Ryuji peers down the walkway towards the school gate for a second and then turns back to Akira. “Can we go to Mementos today? Just us?”
That’s a bizarre request. Akira takes in Ryuji’s shifty eyes and tense, rigid shoulders. He’s doing that thing he does when he’s agitated, scuffing his sneaker against the concrete.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s the safest option, and we don’t have any requests from the Phansite right now…”
“Come on, dude. We can stay on the first floor and negotiate the Shadows out of some cash or something.” There’s a deep frown on Ryuji’s face, small brows furrowed.
“Is something bothering you, man?”
Ryuji groans, but doesn’t give an actual answer. Akira watches him for a second longer.
It’s obvious that something is bothering him. Ryuji’s not the type to keep things to himself - Akira is confident he’ll open up about when he’s ready. Maybe he needs to blow off some steam in Mementos before he’ll be ready to talk about it?
“Okay. Sure, we can go,” Akira concedes. It’s not like he hasn’t gone into Mementos alone with some of their other friends before. He was there with Yusuke once because Yusuke wanted to draw. And besides, without Morgana to carry them through the twisting, maze-like floors, they don’t have a choice but to stay near the entrance. The Shadows there are weak, they should be fine.
Mementos is as drab as the real world today thanks to the rain. The pair head onto the first floor that Shadows inhabit, not bothering to be stealthy. The Shadows seem much taller when viewed from outside the Mona bus, but it’s hard to feel intimidated when they keep turning tail and running in the opposite direction when they spot Akira and Ryuji.
They prowl about the first floor, picking fights with any Shadow they see. Being only a pair of two today, the Shadows that burst forth into four or five separate enemies are a bit of a challenge. But overall, everything on the floor is far weaker than them and goes down in a turn or two at most.
They practice their baton passes, Akira using his arsenal of Personas to knock the Shadows down and then tagging in Ryuji, battle after battle until they tire of it. Then they practice follow-ups, Ryuji swooping in to decimate a Shadow when Akira fails to finish it off. But they tire of that, as well, and move on to hold-ups and negotiations. The Shadows on the early floors don’t have much decent loot on them, and the cash they drop is pathetic, but Akira pockets the money and the items without complaint. Something is better than nothing, after all. And the occasional Regent they encounter offers much better loot, so it doesn’t feel like a complete waste of time. It's easy to get into a groove of baton passes or hold-ups with Ryuji at his side. They fall into rhythm together better than anyone else on the team. The chemistry they have is unmatched, and Akira finds he's even kind of having fun, in a strange way. Not enough to keep his mind off worrying about Ryuji's weird mood, though - but even that seems to improve as they battle together.
It’s the same over and over. A Pixie, a Mandrake, a group of Slimes; all mowed down with ease until Akira’s stamina is too low to use his Persona’s skills anymore.
When Akira’s unable to keep up the pace, they sit on the second floor near the large wall-turned-door, where no Shadows appear. They eat jam bread from the school store and share a can of mixed nuts, sipping whatever vending machine drinks Akira has on hand, and rest for a while there.
Once they slow down, Ryuji's mood seems to plummet again. Now he seems only a smidge more relaxed than he had earlier, his mask pulled up to rest on his head, vibrant yellow gloves sitting discarded near him on the Mementos floor, jam bread in one hand while the other traces the rim on his can of Manta. Akira removes his own gloves, grimy from their exploits thus far, and grabs a handful of the mixed nuts.
They don’t speak much at first. Although Ryuji isn’t quite as fidgety as he’d been before, he’s still frowning, staring at his bread like it’s got some secret hidden inside and he can figure it out if he looks hard enough. The longer they sit there eating in silence, the more Ryuji’s brows furrow; the deeper his frown grows. He’s less restless, but he doesn’t appear any less unhappy.
“Are you okay?” Akira finally asks.
Ryuji looks up from where his gaze had been boring a hole into his bread. “I don’t know, man,” he admits.
Akira’s a good friend, so he doesn’t point out that he’s known all day that something was up. He takes the last bite of his bread and then regards Ryuji with as neutral an expression as he can, waiting for Ryuji to continue. When Ryuji returns to glaring at his bread like it killed his dog, Akira presses for answers as gently as possible.
“What’s on your mind?”
Ryuji’s scowl deepens further. He finishes his jam bread, kicking his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands. He’s still not looking at Akira - now his eyes are locked on the ceiling of Mementos far above them.
Akira doesn’t mind waiting. He can be patient. He understands that it can be difficult to organize your thoughts before opening up about them; it can be hard to put words to your feelings. Hell, he’d even understand if Ryuji didn’t want to talk about it at all.
So he sits. And he waits.
And, sure enough, Ryuji’s shoulders drop into a defeated little slump, and he turns his gaze down to where a peanut from their snack is laying on the dirty Mementos floor. He flicks the nut and it slides across the tile, bouncing off of Akira’s knee. Ryuji sighs.
“It probably won’t make any sense,” he says. “You know I’m not good at explaining things.”
“That’s okay,” Akira shrugs. “Try, anyway.”
“I’m the muscle on the team, right?” He fidgets with the tab on his can of soda. “Like, I’m good at hittin’ shit. Mona knows all those healing skills, and Haru’s Persona’s got all those guns. You’re the leader, and Makoto’s the brains. And I hit things real hard.”
Akira nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Is that all you guys think of me?”
Akira knows he’s making a face at Ryuji, he can feel his confusion written clear as day across his expression. What the hell does that mean?
“Sorry, man, I’m not following. What do you mean?”
Ryuji’s brows draw together. He presses his lips together into a tight line, once again avoiding meeting Akira’s eyes. He taps his fingers on his can of Manta, the sound loud in the empty, cavernous room.
“I need a minute to think about how to explain it,” Ryuji says. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine. While you think, we can patch ourselves up. Those Slimes self-destructing on us was a real pain in the ass.”
Ryuji snorts, a light sound that’s not as cheerful as his laughter usually is. Still, any kind of a laugh is a win in Akira’s book.
“Yeah, tell me about it. You at least avoided some of them.”
“You first. You’re probably worse than I am.” Akira says, shrugging off his big tailcoat and dropping it on the nasty floor near his gloves. He crinkles his nose at the places the Slimes’ explosions singed the fabric.
“Rub it in that you can dodge and I can’t.” Ryuji rolls his eyes, no real edge in his voice. He still looks upset, that frown firmly in place, but at least he’s joking around a bit. He removes the red ascot from around his neck. He doesn’t have a jacket he can remove like Akira, his suit’s all one piece. He unzips it far enough to bunch it up at his waist, caught on the big bulky ammo belts he wears and leaving him bare from the waist up.
Both of them are covered in small scrapes, cuts, and burns, but nothing too heinous. Few of the Shadows they fought today survived long enough to attack them, and the ones that did weren’t hitting especially hard. Even weak Shadows can hurt, though. Especially when they blow themselves sky-high.
Akira’s got plenty of bandages and medicine with him for treating wounds, but since none of his or Ryuji’s injuries are extensive he’s mostly concerned with making sure they’re clean and slapping a bandage on the ones that broke the skin. He drops some bandages on the floor between them.
It might be bizarre that Akira helps Ryuji patch himself up. It doesn’t cross his mind, though. It’s not the first time he’s helped a teammate tend to their wounds after a battle and it won’t be the last. It’s an action he takes without thinking - one moment he’s placing bandages and Nohar-M ointment on the tile floor, and the next he’s reaching over to wipe sweat, blood, and general Mementos grime away from the open cuts on Ryuji’s skin. It’s not glamorous, but it’s necessary. Ryuji doesn’t say anything about it, either, he simply allows Akira to place bandages over his scrapes and apply Nohar-M to his burns.
Together they clean and bandage Ryuji’s wounds. Cuts and burns on his arms, shoulders, and chest, all checked over and taken care of with the precision and practice that comes from having done this a million times before. Akira tends to the injuries on Ryuji’s back where Ryuji can’t reach, and Ryuji sits silently and accepts the care Akira provides. Akira’s touch is soft on Ryuji’s skin, and Akira allows himself a moment to appreciate the intimacy in the act of caring for each other. He looks at Ryuji's back; mottled with scratches and small burns, his own hands upon Ryuji's skin; and marvels that even in this grim place, slightly battered as they are, they can find a second of simple trust - a second of care, a second of softness among the harshness of Mementos.
Caring for his teammates - especially Ryuji - is an act of service and of support that he is glad to perform.
Akira has even less intense injuries than Ryuji. He’s better at avoiding attacks. But he’s still scuffed up, and the Slimes’ explosions singed his skin as well as his jacket. When Ryuji is all sorted, Akira sets to work on his own wounds.
Just as Akira had reached over to help Ryuji, he receives help in the same way. Ryuji tends to Akira’s wounds with the same gentle hands Akira had tended to Ryuji’s. And, in the same way Ryuji had accepted the gesture with no qualms, Akira allows Ryuji to look after him.
Akira thinks Ryuji feels the same way as he does - thinks Ryuji would agree that this small act of tenderness is one that's performed happily; willingly. The care and intimacy is given and received by both parties with no second thoughts.
“I… I know I’m the hit-first, think-later type of guy,” Ryuji says as he applies Nohar-M to a burn on Akira’s shoulder. His voice is quiet. “I get it. I’m good at hitting things. That’s fine. I’m happy I can do something for the team, even if it’s just hitting shit.”
Akira hums in acknowledgment, placing a bandage over a cut on his chest. The attack had torn through his clothes, a jagged slice in his vest revealing the cut in his skin beneath it.
Ryuji wipes a cut on Akira’s cheek clean of dirt. “I… look, man, I know I have a temper. It gets the best of me sometimes, and I’m trying to be better. I really am!” He places a bandage on the cut he'd just cleaned, and Akira basks in the feeling of his hands so, so softly touching his cheek.
“You are better. Even just since I met you.”
“Thanks, dude.” He trails off. “I don’t want to be the angry guy who hits shit. I already know I’m the tough guy who wacks things, and I’m short-tempered, too. It… it doesn’t seem like a real big jump from ‘angry and hits things’ to ‘hits things when he’s angry,’ you know?”
Akira sits with that for a moment as Ryuji moves to patch up a burn on his back, where he knows the Slimes’ explosions burnt a large hole through his vest and left an equally large mark on his skin.
Akira’s not sure where this is coming from. Has someone said something to make Ryuji feel this way? He’s about to ask what brought this on, but Ryuji starts to speak again before he can.
“My dad was like that. I never wanna be like him,” he mutters, voice caught somewhere between anger and sadness. His touch is feather-light on Akira’s burnt up, sore back, hands as gentle as can be.
“Ryuji, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
“I don’t know, man. It’s hard. Everyone at school thinks I’m some angry, violent kid who’ll slug you the second he gets mad.”
Akira flashes back to a day behind the school when the former track team members had compared Ryuji to his father. His fists clench thinking about it.
“They don’t know you. They’re wrong.”
“I guess. But all our classmates think that about me. And then with you guys, I’m still the guy who hits shit. I know it’s not the same, and here it’s a good thing, but… sometimes it kinda bothers me. Is that dumb? Hell, maybe everyone else is right. I punched Kamoshida when he pushed me too far, after all.”
“It’s not dumb. And they’re not right.” Akira turns to look at Ryuji, who was halfway through applying ointment to his burnt back. “I’m sorry you feel that way sometimes, man. All those assholes at school don’t know what they’re talking about. You didn’t hit Kamoshida because you’re an angry, violent person. He was abusing you and your teammates. You were doing your best to protect yourself. Anyone who thinks that makes you anything like your dad is a dumbass.”
Ryuji won’t look at him, eyes trained on his own lap. His bottom lip quivers. “I ruined everything for the track team because I got mad. How do you know I won’t do the same shit to you? How do you know I won’t get mad one day and lash out at you or one of our friends?”
Akira’s heart shatters into a million little pieces.
“Ryuji, hey. Look at me.” He cups Ryuji’s face and lifts his chin so Ryuji looks at him. “Listen to me, man. I know you. I trust you. And I know you’re not an angry, violent person. You’re nothing like your dad, and I know because you’re kind. You’re selfless. You were willing to get yourself killed so I could escape Kamoshida’s palace and we’d literally just met. You wanted to go back into the palace to save the cognitive volleyball team even after barely escaping the palace the first time. You let the track team hit you because they thought it’d make them feel better. Come on, man, would a violent, mean person be a Phantom Thief, changing hearts and trying to help people?
“Sure, your temper gets the better of you sometimes. But rarely. And you apologize for it. You’re trying to be better. We all have flaws, dude. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Thanks,” Ryuji chokes out, voice wavering.
“I’m only being honest, no need for thanks. I’m sorry if I or the others have ever made you feel like we only think of you as the guy who hits things. You’re my best friend. I love you, dude. You’re way more than just the muscle on the team.” Akira drops his hand away from Ryuji’s chin.
“N-no, it’s fine! The others rag on me and that gets to me sometimes, but they’ve never made me feel like they think I’m like my dad. Don’t worry.” Ryuji starts fixing his suit, eyes focused on that.
Akira doesn’t know if it’s a ploy to avoid eye contact or not, but if it is he’ll let it slide. He slips his jacket back on, fabric flaking in areas where it’s been burnt. Then he tugs his bright red gloves on and stands, brushing himself off.
“Are you feeling better?” He asks, watching as Ryuji ties his ascot.
“Yeah.” Ryuji gathers the bandages they didn’t use and passes them to Akira. “Thanks, man.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
Ryuji shakes his head. “Thanks for listenin’ to me. And for coming to Mementos with me today. I needed it.”
“It’s cool, I get it.” Akira stashes the unused bandages away with all the rest of their items and loot. “Ready to head back to the real world, then?”
Ryuji nods.
They leave Mementos in higher spirits than they arrived in. It’s late when they get back to the regular world, and they part ways when Akira catches the train to Yongen.
Akira hopes Ryuji believed what he’d said. He meant every word of it. He steps into Leblanc from the rainy night and discards his school bag. Pausing in the doorway, he types out a message to Ryuji, thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button for a few minutes before he works up the nerve to press it.
AK: I meant what I said earlier. I love you, man.
He wonders if Ryuji will notice he didn’t preface it with “You’re my best friend” this time.