Chapter Text
please! you must stay! the trickster requires your presence!
he does not know where he is. everything is dark. he can’t feel his body, and every movement only feels like a thought, and it’s…nice. like being surrounded by water, only without the drowning, or the pressure.
a blue butterfly flutters around him. the voice—no, less like a voice and more like the idea of one, like tinkling bells and wind and rustling leaves that somehow make words—comes from it, he realizes.
remember…remember your will! the power from which you drew strength!
remember?
his thoughts are sluggish. every word feels like an anchor dredged up from a murky ocean, every phrase requiring a herculean feat of strength. he can barely imagine a pirate ship—or is it a barge surrounded by a drowning city?—before the effort becomes too much and he surrenders to the weightlessness.
a few minutes pass. maybe a day. maybe it's an eternity. whatever it is, time passes before another voice comes along. even this one doesn’t quite match the realness of a voice. it’s soothing, though. like coming home and collapsing onto a couch after a nice, long day. like venting to your friends about the things that bother you.
you’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?
it’s sad. why is it sad?
he doesn’t like being sad. it doesn’t feel nice.
i can tell just from looking at you. but it’s okay. you can rest now. i’ll take care of everything, and everyone you care about.
care...
where’s his ma?
your mom? she’s doing okay. but she’ll be sad if this keeps going on.
he just wants her to be happy. that’s all he’s ever wanted.
the butterfly seems to grow dimmer. windchimes and nature grow ever more distant. in its place rises something more clinical, more cut-and-dry, yet warm and welcoming all the same.
i’ll make everything right again. it’ll be like how it was before, but without all the pain and suffering. you…your mom…neither of you will need to endure this horrid nature of the real world.
that sounds nice. he distantly remembers…
a ship?
or maybe a boat…
and fire. so much fire.
even that memory begins to fade. almost like a dream. it fills him with panic for a moment, trying to hold onto something that slips like sand through his fingers. but something calming slides over him like a blanket, and all of a sudden he finds himself able to relax. he sinks into the feeling, farther away from the butterfly. the tinkling of bells fades until it becomes silent.
don’t fret. it’ll all make sense when you wake up.
without eyelids to close, he closes his eyes.
A powerful yawn leaves Ryuji’s lips as he opens his eyes. Sunlight streams in through the windows, painting everything in the warm orange and yellow colors of yet another sunrise.
He sits up and stretches his arms above his head. Weird. He feels so well-rested, even though it was New Year’s Eve last night and he went to bed pretty late.
As he rolls out of bed, he lands awkwardly on his right leg
only...that doesn’t make any sense, does it? Why would anything be awkward about his leg?
He chuckles and shakes his head. Man, he’s always been weird in the morning.
Something bothers him. Something tickles at the back of his head, insistent.
The outline of a wooden beam. Hard gymnasium floors.
“Aw…” he grumbles as a headache forms. So much for a good morning.
He trudges out to the bathroom. The headache persists, and he opens the medicine cabinet to grab some painkillers.
They’re just name-brand painkillers. Some regular, over the counter stuff.
That’s normal. That’s always been normal.
Something cool pressed into his leg. Painkillers through an IV straight into his body.
And then, a yellow pill bottle, marked with his name. Some strong stuff. Some prescription.
He closes the door a little harder than he means to.
“Ryuji?”
No matter what, Ma never fails to put a smile on his face. As he pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them dry, he pokes his head out into the hallway.
She’s rubbing her eyes as she yawns. The moment they make eye contact, she smiles, a real smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes and crinkles them in the corners.
“‘Mornin’, sunshine!” she says. “Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year,” he echoes. “Whatcha got planned for today?”
She hums. Her steps are light and bouncy, making her hair flow down around her shoulders and her back. He follows her into the kitchen and grabs some cereal from the pantry.
“I think I’ll go visit some of my friends,” she muses. “Maybe have some early morning tea and enjoy the sunlight. What about you? Are you gonna hang out with Nakaoka-kun and the others?”
Ryuji pauses in the middle of a thought.
His instinctive answer was “no.” But that doesn’t make any sense.
He’s friends with everyone on the track team. They’ve been there for every victory.
Punches and kicks. Bruises forming on his skin.
Akira. Akira. Akira.
He forces a smile. “Y-Yeah, after I go visit the shrine. New Year’s, ‘n all. Wanna come with?”
It’s always easy to tell when she’s worried. Even though she maintains her smile, the corners of her eyes crease and her eyebrows knit together, so it almost looks pained. Yet, she doesn’t press the issue. “That’s okay, sunshine. You go enjoy the weather. It’s a little too cold for my liking, with these old bones and all. Make sure you bundle up, ‘kay?”
“‘Course, Ma. Love you.”
With just those words, the worry fades from her face as she kisses him on the forehead and ruffles his hair. It stings, almost, as it spreads with warmth through his entire body.
Teardrops landing on his face, like gentle rain. Someone holding him tight to their chest.
“Oh, Ryuji…I’m so sorry. So sorry for bein’ a terrible mom.”
A terrible mom? He almost laughs but remembers that he’s still standing in front of her. What a joke, he muses as he pours cereal into a bowl and sits at the dining table. That’s how he knows he must still be half-asleep—never once had she ever done anything to make him even consider the idea of it.
Even if he can't shake the feeling that he did something to make her consider it.
He’s the first one to notice Akira and Yoshizawa standing at the entrance to the shrine. His little noise of surprise interrupts the other’s lively conversation, and they all slow to a stop, forming a loose circle.
“How many coincidences can there be in one day?” Haru asks, nearly glowing with her smile.
Futaba wags her finger. “And a good morn unto you all! I haven’t seen you in absolute ages!”
Ann giggles. “We were hanging out just yesterday!”
Something clicks in Ryuji’s head. He almost voices a hesitant, curious thought: Why hadn’t they come here together? Why had he thought of the track team first before Ann or Akira? After everything they had been through together…
He drops the thought like it is hot coals in his hands. After everything? After what?
“Oh!” he says instead. “I guess we all had plans to drop by here first thing today, huh?”
No one catches onto his momentary lapse in thought. They seem more preoccupied, more amused by whatever line of thinking had brought them here in the first place. “That would explain what led us to the shrine,” Makoto muses, “but to this spot at the exact same time? Talk about incredible happenstance.”
“Indeed,” Yusuke agrees, “but, due to this fortuitous turn of fate…” In true Yusuke fashion, he leans back and frames the scene before him with his fingers. Ryuji knows he must be in the center, given their orientation, and he instinctively straightens up even though he knows the girls are the main focus of Yusuke's attention. “I’m able to witness this mesmerizing sight…Truly the embodiment of Japanese beauty.”
He can practically see the question mark pop up above Yoshizawa’s head. “What’re you doing, Kitagawa-senpai?”
All the merriment fades from Futaba’s face in favor of exasperation. “Just ignore him. It’s like a fit he gets into sometimes.”
“What do you wanna do after this?” Ryuji asks. “If we’ve got the time for it, why don’t we grab somethin’ to eat together?”
One by one, they all make their excuses to leave
and, listening to them, something sharp seems to probe at his mind. He barely holds back a wince.
Haru’s father? Of course he would still be alive.
“Farewell, dear Father. I am no longer your subservient puppet!”
Futaba’s mother? When had she ever been in danger?
“There's no way you're my mom! You're just a fake created by those horrid adults! I'll... I'll never... I'll never forgive them!"
Shiho? Ann and Shiho were attached at the hip; there’s no way they’d ever be without each other.
“You stole everything from Shiho... You destroyed her... Now it's your turn! I will rob you of everything...!"
And even himself. As he says something about the track team, there’s an insistent pounding at the back of his head. A memory that refuses to surface, which he’s grateful for—what would he do if it ever came to fruition?
Although the others talk amongst themselves, Akira shakes his head silently, as if hearing a conversation only he is privy to. He looks confused, almost pained. He looks up at Ryuji, as if they're the only two people there, as if no one else exists but them. A thrill shoots through Ryuji's body, and for a moment, although he swears he's only ever seen it in a dream, the familiarity of a blue butterfly and a girl's voice begging him to remember throws him for a loop.
All of this happens in mere seconds. Akira's gaze holds him captive, but he tears himself away, looking down at the ground instead and pretending like the concrete pattern is more interesting than whatever silent conversation they just had. It's not even the weirdness of it all, he admits—he just can't bear to see Akira look like that. Especially not with the thought that maybe, just maybe, he's the reason (or at least part of the reason) why.
He’s almost glad when they part ways.