Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first thing Ryuji was aware of was the cold touch of wet grass pressed to his face. The scent of it, coupled with the flavor of dirt and salt on his tongue.

He was freezing.

He moaned and rolled himself over onto his back. He could barely breathe, his heart pounding like a mallet swinging against his ribs. He blinked through hazy wet eyes, struggling to focus on anything. Above him was the gray dark haze of city lights on a blanket of cloud cover. His ears rang, a piercing shrill that blocked any other sounds that could be around him.

His first coherent thought was, Wow. I’m not dead.  But he couldn’t quite piece together why he was so certain he should be. He honestly was more than happy to just lay there, find his breath again (why was he so short of breath?) and wait for someone to find him (where were the others? Where was he? ).

And then the pain hit.

All at once, an eruption of pain in his skull, fire racing up one side of his body, one of his arms feeling like it was shattering apart under his skin. He gurgled on a cry and curled in on himself, gripping his arm to his chest and coughing as he fought not to pass out again. His bad leg protested the motion, the poorly healed muscles of his thigh twisting on themselves and screaming in their own unique brand of pain.

Fuck, fuck, what the fuck happened why was he in so much pain?

The memories flitted in and out between pulses of agony. The smell of burning fuel and gunpowder igniting. The freezing spray of sea water. The way his stomach plummeted as the floor beneath him tilted quickly on its axis. 

That’s right… Shido’s ship… They beat the bastard, but the ship had started blowing up and sinking. And the other thieves….

The others…!

It took all his strength to lift his head, trying desperately to see his surroundings even as his eyes blurred and grew dark around the edges. The pain in his body ratcheted and tears sprang to his eyes, but he had to… had to find… where were they…?!

A grass lawn, well-kept shrubs, the distant facade of the Diet’s legislative building. The palace must have collapsed on them…

He remembered seeing them, far below him, all of them safely on the lifeboat. He’d been preparing to leap to hit the water right next to them, but then something happened. By the incredible amount of pain he was in, the whole fucking palace must have exploded under him.

But if… if he was here… they had to have made it out, too, right? They must have. He pressed against the ground with his uninjured arm, his whole body shaking from the effort as he lifted his chest off the ground and raised his head, eyes darting around in frantic panic, breathing shallow and full of heat, like he was still choking on the smoke of that damn place.

He had to, had to find them. Please tell him they made it. Please. They had to be here.

And then he noticed a figure sprawled out on the lawn maybe ten meters away from him, and his breath caught in his throat.

Holy shit… Akechi…?

There was no mistaking that tan jacket or honey brown hair. Akechi was sprawled on his side like he’d just been tossed down haphazardly. He appeared to be unconscious, eyes closed, face pale except for what looked like a terrible burn running up the side of his face. But what really caught Ryuji’s attention was how Akechi’s usually immaculate jacket was half burned away and covered in patches of red. 

Holy shit was… was he alive?!

Ryuji forced himself to move, half-crawling and half-dragging himself to the other teen’s side. The guy looked as good as dead, but when Ryuji grabbed his exposed wrist, wincing at the feel of damaged, bubbling skin beneath his hand, he could faintly feel a pulse.

What the hell… what was going on…? 

The ringing in his ears was beginning to fade. He could hear shouting, sirens. He thought he heard someone scream his name. Ryuji just stared down at Akechi’s limp body, at the growing spot of blood on his chest.

He had to – to do something, the guy was injured, bleeding, but what could he – he didn’t know what to….

His own dizziness and pain was clouding his ability to think. When a hand gripped his shoulder, he was almost relieved. Someone else was here to help. Maybe the others had found him? Cuz surely, surely the others were okay.

But then he was flat on his face in the grass once more, a heavy weight pressing down hard on his back and blinding pain exploding as calloused hands yanked both his arms, injured and not, behind his back into cuffs. He screamed in reflex and tried to buck the person off of him, but more hands grabbed him and lifted him upright, hauling him to his feet. Voices barked at him, but he couldn’t make out the words, everything just a jumble of confusing sound, the world tilting and narrowing as dizziness and pain threatened to pull him under.

Ryuji forced himself to look up, and through swimming vision and dark spots saw familiar figures standing beyond the fenceline, just able to make out shaggy black hair and long blonde under a single streetlight..

Akira…. Ann…

The hands grabbing him were rough and hostile. Bad, bad, this was bad, and the others, they couldn’t, he couldn’t let them–

“RUN!” Ryuji screamed at them, kicking out his feet as though to kick them away. 

They did, vanishing behind the shrubs even as a couple of government official types chased after them. Ryuji kept fighting the hold on him, but it was no use – he was too weak, in too much pain, too dizzy. He caught one last look back at similar dark suited figures grabbing hold of Akechi before someone wrenched his injured arm so hard that his vision went white and his brain shut down into a sea of static.

—

Time slipped away in fits of consciousness that were short lived. One of those times he came to lying on his side in some kind of cargo van, the rumble of tires under him, with Akechi lying limp draped over his legs.

Where the hell are they taking us…? was all he was able to wonder before he slipped back into nothingness again.

When he finally fully came to, he found himself in some kind of disused office space, the smell of dust and mildew noticeable. He was lying on his side, still handcuffed, his arm throbbing with some of the worst pain he’d ever felt. He could feel the disgusting carpet pressing into his cheek, could see fluorescent lights and the drop ceilings above him. No windows. Dull yellowed walls. Stacks of old cardboard boxes in the corner.

And across the room was Akechi, laid out shirtless on a conference table covered in a filthy drop sheet, surrounded by a small group of government types wearing bloodied gloves and medical face masks. One or two looked more like police or military types, complete with visible guns on display. 

The sight of Akechi laid out like that was… disturbing. There was so much blood. He could actually see someone leaning over with some metal tools coated in deep red viscera.

“Hey. HEY! You goddamned assholes, what the hell are you doing to him??” He tried to sit up, but all that did was cause a shout to leap from his chest as the pain in his arm crescendoed.

“We’re fixing his injuries. You cooperate, maybe we’ll fix yours,” said a cold, menacing voice. A pair of sharp eyes turned on him from a man in a business suit standing to the side overseeing everything, his arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders stiff with anger. Something about his gaze caused fear to strangle Ryuji’s throat. “We need answers. We can’t get them if he’s dead. I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in now, Phantom Thief,” the man spat the final words like a slur, disgust and anger lacing every syllable. 

Ryuji gulped hard. He had to think, had to figure out how to get out of this. He let the very real panic he was feeling bleed into his voice. “H-hey, look man, I ain’t no Phantom Thief, okay? You got the wrong g–”

A scream ripped from his throat as someone else came behind him and pressed the sole of their shoe against his injured arm. His mind went blank with panic and pain – fuck he could almost see Kamoshida standing over him, unrepentant look on his face with that damn 2x4– 

“We know perfectly well who you are, Ryuji Sakamoto,” the sharp-eyed man’s voice cut through the haze of his pain like a bowie knife. Ryuji felt his panic escalate at the sound of his own name on that bastard’s tongue. “We are aware of your involvement with the Phantom Thieves criminal group. We know about all of your accomplices. And we are also aware that you managed to… “change the heart” of Cabinet Minister Shido tonight.” The more the man spoke, the more dangerous his voice sounded. “There are many powerful people who want you to answer for what you and your little gang have done.”

Ryuji shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his arm still throbbing under the boot of the person behind him. Fuck, this couldn’t be happening.

Another shift of weight pressed against his arm, causing another rasping cry to tear out of his mouth, despite his every attempt to hold back and not give them the satisfaction. He whimpered, unable to fight back tears of pain – he could fucking feel his bones moving. FUCK!!  

“To think, every single one of you is a goddamned minor. Just a bunch of troublesome, know-nothing brats. You have no idea what kind of forces you’re messing with here.” A pair of polished dress shoes appeared in Ryuji’s watery field of vision, and the speaking man crouched in front of him, looking Ryuji over with a clear expression of disgust. “You all think you’re some sort of comic book vigilantes, fighting for the people? Well you’re going to learn very quickly here that the real world is not kind to idealists like you. But maybe, if you cooperate, you won't have to die for your degenerate ideals like your idiot leader did.”

The weight on his arm let up completely, and Ryuji sputtered a wet cough as his breath came back to him. He curled on himself with a sob. Fuck, fuck , it hurt so bad, it just hurt, he wanted the pain to stop.

Fingers snatched his hair and wrenched his head off the ground, folding his neck back and twisting him so he was forced to look up at the sharp-eyed bastard. “So. Tell me, Sakamoto. Are you going to cooperate?”

Ryuji gritted his teeth, more tears falling down his cheeks. He thought of Akira, of how battered and quiet he’d been after he’d returned from the interrogation those weeks ago. He thought of all of his friends who have been hurt by these assholes – Haru, losing her father not just to assassination but to the evils beforehand. Futaba, driven nearly suicidal from the loss of her mother. Fuck, even Akechi, driven to murder by Shido.

“G-go to fuckin’ hell ,” Ryuji rasped. It came out weaker than he’d wanted, barely a croak, but he felt his resolve in his heart. Like Captain Kidd was roaring inside him even here in the real world.

“I see.” The hand released him roughly, causing his head to hit the floor. “That’s fine. We have our ways of getting you to talk.”

A foot connected with his stomach with a new burst of pain, knocking the wind out of him. Another followed close after it, followed by a punch straight across his face. Ryuji tried to force down his cries as long as he could, tears flowing freely as pain rained down upon him.

He didn’t know what the fuck to do. He didn’t know the hell how he was going to get out of this. He didn’t know where he was , and he doubted anyone else knew either.

Another kick into his ribs, and he felt one crack, a scream ripping out of his throat.

Someone… anyone… 

A heel stomping on his bad leg, making him writhe.

Joker, Oracle, Panther… please… 

Another punch to the face, cracking his nose, blood on his tongue.

fuck please, make it stop…

…help…

….Mama….

—

Awareness rolled in and out for awhile after that, a little more lazily this time, like ripples on a fishing pond – pain and nausea and panic flowing in, numb haziness accompanying him out.

At one point, he came to with a rasping scream as hands, arms, bodies surrounded him, lifting him from the ground, holding him in place, doing something to his broken arm that made him vomit from the pain. Voices were talking down to him but he could barely grasp what they were saying. Finally, the tide went back out and took his flailing mind with him.

When he came to again, the grasping hands were gone. And, somehow, so was the pain. Mostly. There was a very distant hum of it in his arm and chest, but it almost felt separated from him, more of a suggestion of pain rather than the actual reality of it. His head felt so… floaty. But also heavy. And his mouth tasted like shit.

“Wh… wha…?” he mumbled, lifting his head. It took him way too long to come to the conclusion that he wasn’t laying down, that he was sitting in a computer chair, arms strapped to the arms of the chair and legs tied awkwardly to the post between the seat and wheels. His broken arm was in some kind of rigid wrist splint, and there were bandages on his arms and face. He smacked his lips together and grimaced. He could feel where a tooth was now missing. He hoped he didn't swallow it…

A dark shape moved in front of him and he flinched away from it, his breathing ratcheting up. He tried yanking against his restraints, a rasping cry leaving his throat as the dull throb in his arm became suddenly more real .

…it’s like after you broke your leg and they gave you the strong pain meds… you’re drugged…

A backhand across his face sent him reeling, chair creaking ominously as it spun from the force. His stomach lurched with nausea and he gagged against it – thankfully, nothing came up. He didn’t think there was much left to come up if the smell and taste of vomit had anything to say about it.

“Quiet down, brat!” said a gruff voice he didn’t recognize.

“Stop…” spoke up a voice he did recognize, strained and weak. “Leave him alone. He, he doesn’t know anything…”

…Akechi…?

Ryuji painstakingly lifted his ten-ton head, fighting the dizziness and fogginess to focus his eyes on the sight ahead of him. On Akechi, sitting across the room in a similar position, hands and legs strapped down to an uncomfortable looking waiting room chair. His white dress shirt hung loose and open on his shoulders, revealing the bandages criss-crossing his whole torso underneath, all stained with blood. His face was ashen and pale where it wasn’t bruised or burned, and he appeared to only be able to remain upright because of both the restraints and the government spook currently gripping his hair to hold his head up.

Akechi’s eyes met Ryuji’s, and there was a flash of some kind of emotion that Ryuji was too out of it to make sense of. Fear? Resignation? Indigestion?

Ryuji took a second to glance around them. It was the same room as before, the old fluorescent bulbs sputtering overhead, peeling wallpaper, ripped up corporate carpeting. He counted five people standing around – the bastard with the sharp eyes, two guys who looked more like cops (one of whom seemed to be the one that just hit him), a scientist looking guy in a lab coat with a binder under his arm, and a stern-looking woman in a business suit.

The guy with the sharp eyes paced between them, and Akechi, while clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, turned his attention away from Ryuji and onto him. Clearly, this was the guy to be most concerned about.

“You expect me to believe that, Akechi?” the man spat bitterly. “You told us yourself that he was one of the Thieves.”

“One of the lesser ones. He, he just followed orders, he doesn’t know anything…”

Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a familiar rush of indignation, “Hey, asshole, come on, I–”

Akechi’s eyes snapped to him, like a silent reprimand to shut up but also… scared? It was so foreign enough on that face that Ryuji lost the words halfway to his mouth, just staring back.

“I’m telling the truth, Hayashi-san,” Akechi continued, his normally smooth cadence now a raw croak with just an edge of desperation. He paused to breathe, and it rattled noticeably in his chest. “After what I did in, in November, to their leader, I, I couldn’t deal with the guilt of my actions. I can’t align myself with Shido’s cause anymore. So I did what I had to, to bring you down, even if it meant working with them. But it was all my idea. They were ready to give up and go back to living their own lives, but I pulled them back in because Shido’s palace was dangerous enough to need the backup.” He leaned forward against his restraints, eyes burning with a sudden intensity. “You know what I am capable of, Hayashi-san. Their skills are no match for mine. All the blame should be placed on me, not them. So let. Him. Go.”

Ryuji just stared in disbelief. Holy shit, Akechi was… trying to take the blame? Trying to protect him?

The world was slowly beginning to spin again, that awful ringing returning to his ears and Ryuji had to drop his head, pulling deep breaths to try and will the sensation away. The reality of what was happening was closing in on him. Fucking kidnapped by Shido’s goons. Injured and drugged. And Akechi, alive somehow, and trying to trade his own life for Ryuji’s. He didn’t even fucking know where they were. He didn't even know if all the others were even okay.

Akechi gave a rasping shout, and Ryuji snapped his head up in reflex. The sharp-eyed man – Hayashi? – was digging his thumb straight into the bandages under Akechi's collarbone, causing fresh blood to bloom. Akechi gritted his teeth against it, head tossing back against the hand still gripping it.

“Knock it off!” Ryuji shouted. He didn’t care what Akechi did or didn’t do, he couldn’t handle seeing anyone in pain.

“You’re a fool, Akechi-kun,” the man said in a falsely-sweet voice, wiping the blood from his hand off on a towel, “if you think we’re going to let either of you go. You both know too much.”

“Then I’m not going to tell you a fucking thing ,” Akechi snarled through his struggling breaths. 

“Oh, I think you might…” Hayashi looked back at the guard next to Ryuji, and gave a little nod.

Fire suddenly surged through Ryuji's whole being, causing him to gasp and jerk. The feeling itself was foreign to him, but the scent of ozone and singed hair was so familiar, experienced so many times in the Metaverse when an electric move hit one of the others. Captain Kidd wasn’t here in the real world to absorb the hit for him, and fuck, FUCK, STOP

After too long, it did, and he hung against his bindings, head hanging forward limp as he panted for desperate air. Tears were running down his cheeks. His ears were ringing again.

“We’re not friends…” Akechi said tensely. “Torturing him won't make me talk.”

“Of course not. You don’t have any friends, Akechi-kun,” the woman spoke up, her voice vile and sinister. “No family. No one will notice you’re gone except all those dumb fangirls you’ve charmed with that fake plastic smile. But clearly, you have a soft spot for those Thieves.”

Akechi didn’t respond, face not so much as twitching but his body still trembling. He didn’t look at anyone, his red-rimmed eyes fixed solidly at the floor. 

“Don’t tell them a damn thing, Akechi,” Ryuji spat with absolute resolve. 

Akechi’s eyes met his, a flash of something Ryuji didn’t recognize before his vision whited out again with another surge of pain. Ryuji bit his tongue and fought not to scream. Not to give them that satisfaction.

He lost track of how many times they zapped him. The current must not have been the strongest, just enough to cause pain but not enough to cause a heart attack or something. 

At least…. At least he hoped…

He was dangerously close to passing out at one point when he heard Akechi shout “You’re going to kill him!”

“And what’s that to you? I thought you didn’t care.

There was a long silence. Ryuji tried to look up, but he’d lost control of his muscles – they still spasmed and twinged long after the electricity had abated. Tears and sweat and spit coated his face. All he could do was breath in desperate breaths.

“He’s a Persona user,” Akechi said quietly, with a kind of uncertainty Ryuji wasn’t used to hearing from him. “H-he can still be useful.”

A large hand grabbed his chin roughly, forcing Ryuji’s head up. Bitter eyes looked into his. Ryuji attempted to spit a lob of phlegm and blood at the asshole’s face but it just spittled out and landed pitifully on Ryuji’s lap. A little sprinkle of saliva hit the man’s face, though, making him seeth and smack Ryuji across the face with the back of his hand.

“This brat is too hard-headed and loyal to his cause,” the man snapped. Ryuji braced himself, fully expecting another round of pain, but instead he heard footsteps retreating. “But you’re right, we do have another use for him….”

As though summoned, the door to the room opened, and a tension grew in the air that reminded Ryuji of elevating Palace threat.

“You…” Akechi whispered, and something about the way he said it finally got Ryuji to lift his head.

Three new people stood in the doorway, wearing labcoats like that one person before. They otherwise seemed wholly unremarkable, other than one guy who was maybe 30 with part of his face discolored and mottled with an old burn scar. They approached, eyes turning to Akechi.

“Goro-kun,” the scarred man said with a slippery voice that sent a terrible shudder down Ryuji’s spine, especially when he looked over at Akechi and saw just how pale the other teen had become.

“Don’t, don’t call me that,” Akechi spat. Ryuji’s dread skyrocketed. Akechi was trembling now, eyes darting from the man to Ryuji and back. “Don’t– Shirato-san, he won’t, there’s no way he’d–”

The man gave Akechi a knowing, disturbed little smile as he set his briefcase down on a nearby disused desk. “Don’t worry, Goro-kun. I don’t have any of the necessary tools or time to cause complete separation or division. But it would be foolish of us not to take advantage of this opportunity to observe another Persona user…”

“G-good luck, asshole,” Ryuji managed to say, his body still twitching and shaking from the shocks. “I-I can’t use my Personas here. So tough, tough fucking luck.”

The man looked over at him again, and Ryuji really hated having his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akechi shake his head. The man kept his eyes on Ryuji even as he opened his briefcase.

And then Ryuji found himself staring right down the barrel of a gun.

All sense left Ryuji instantly. Panic gripped him, and he lurched as far back against the chair as he could, as though to put as much space between himself and the new threat as possible. “Wh-what the fuck?!” he gasped in horror. “L-look man, we can talk about this right?!”

The man only smiled, his finger wrapping around the trigger, and a deep, horrible realization settled into Ryuji’s chest and heart.

He was about to die.

He really truly was about to die.

He was never going to see his mother again.

He would never see Akira or Ann or the rest of the Thieves ever again…

A desperate, throat-cracking scream poured from deep in his chest–

The gun fired.

He heard it. He heard the gunshot. It deafened him. All sight left him.

And Captain Kidd erupted .

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Instead of calling upon Captain Kidd himself, it was like an invisible hand reached in and wrenched Captain Kidd straight from his heart, pulling him kicking and screaming into existence. It was unpleasant. It hurt.

It took him a long moment to even realize exactly what had happened, to get a grip on the fact that he wasn’t dead, that his Persona was here, in the real world, hovering over his broken body. It took him far too long to even consider casting any moves. 

And then something sharp and painful pinched his arm, and immediately everything felt wrong . Captain Kidd collapsed back into him like he’d been wrapped in chains and hoisted back down deep, deeper than he could feel. Like he’d been completely snuffed out, Ryuji thought with a rising panic, but no, no, there was– there was the tiniest little spark…

“Wh–what the hell…?” Ryuji gasped, blinking away his tears, trembling so fiercely it was hurting against the ropes. “What the hell,” he repeated again. “What the hell did you do?! ” he finally screamed, wrenching himself so hard against his bindings that his chair threatened to tip over. This was wrong, it was wrong, something was wrong .

And the scientists, those absolute fucks , barely noticed him. They were idly standing just to the side, looking over a computer tablet. Fucking, fucking sharing notes! “ASSHOLES! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” he screamed. The scarred man just gave him a bored sort of look and turned his attention back to the screen.

“Calm down. You’ll be fine. You’ll have no… permanent outcomes. Not from this anyway.”

The man turned away again, and Ryuji glanced around the room frantically, wishing, wishing he could do something. Hoping, desperately, that they didn’t, didn’t fucking do that again.

He then noticed Akechi, and his breath hitched. 

Akechi was… not well. His skin was so pale it was practically ashen, and he had this vacant, faraway look, like his mind had completely checked out. Ryuji swallowed hard. He’s never seen anyone look like that, so completely… empty.

The scarred man seemed to have noticed too, his eyebrows lifting in a kind of curiosity. He turned and approached Akechi slowly, leaning over a little to try and meet the boy’s gaze, but Akechi just looked right through him. The man clucked his tongue and shook his head. “An absolutely shattered cognition. I’d feel bad, but hey, he lived. That’s more than any of the others could say.” He looked over at Ryuji, a dark, sinister little smile on his lips. “Perhaps after they’re done extracting information out of you, they’ll let us go wild to see if we could replicate Goro-kun’s results.” The man’s eyes gave Ryuji a once-over that made his skin crawl. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

Wh…what the hell was all that supposed to mean?? Ryuji looked over at Akechi. What, what the hell was all of that supposed to mean?! What did they do to Akechi?!

He was losing his grip on reality, he realized, as one second that fucker was leering at him, and the next one of the other scientists was at his side, plunging a new needle into his arm. He blinked, and the bastard that was electrocuting him earlier was back, his reddened face in Ryuji’s, screaming at him, demanding answers to questions. Ryuji was floating, unmoored, his tongue thick in his mouth.

Don’t tell them anything , he tried to remind himself. Don’t tell them a damn thing

But he had no idea if he did or not. He had no idea what his body was doing, or what his mind was thinking, what his mouth was saying. Nothing felt real. Nothing felt right. And Captain Kidd… Captain Kidd felt so very, very far away. Almost like he wasn’t there at all. 

Ryuji looked over at Akechi, who was still frozen with a thousand-yard stare.

This was… so fucked…

—

He must have lost consciousness at some point.

He floated back to reality. He blinked, staring at his blood-stained lap. His mouth was dry, there was that familiar tang of blood on his tongue. One of his eyes was so swollen he could barely see out of it. 

Ryuji didn’t know how he was still alive. Though it felt far away from himself, his whole body throbbed with more pain than he’d ever felt in his life, concentrated on his head and his arm and his ribs. 

…at least his legs seemed fine, he thought bitterly.

And Captain Kidd… Captain Kidd was still muted, still buried so deep that Ryuji could barely tell he was there at all. It was jarring – he’d gotten so used to having him lurking in the back of his mind, even in the real world, that to not have him so close at hand felt… lonely.

…he felt empty… numb…

…what was even the point…?

He took a careful glance around. Those bastards were gone. Not even a guard left behind to watch them. He didn’t see any cameras but that didn’t mean anything, someone could still be watching, and based on the abandoned nature of his surroundings, he had the sinking suspicion that he could scream at the top of his lungs and no one who could give a shit would hear. He tried twisting his arms and legs, testing the tightness of his bindings, but he was too weak with pain and dehydration and exhaustion, and the knots too well-done. 

After a few worthless minutes of useless struggling, he sunk into his chair and hung his head, tears dripping down his face. 

He wondered if his Ma was worried by now. If she, if she was okay. If he would… see her again…

More tears came, as much as he tried to fight them, if only to not lose more water from his body. But the despair was crashing on him and, and what the fuck was he going to do? How long were they going to keep him alive?

…fuck, he was going to die… he was absolutely going to die here…

He screwed his face up and gagged on the thought. Sure, on some level he always knew it was a possibility that their actions would lead to something like this… but he’d always figured if he was going to die as a Phantom Thief, it’d be fighting in the Metaverse, not like this, not as this helpless, powerless, unremarkable punk kid in the real world. 

Guess they kicked the hornet’s nest too many times.

But knowing you could die was nothing compared to the deep certainty you would die, and he was fucking terrified. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t. He wasn’t even old enough to drink yet, he still had so much life left. A hiccup choked him and he curled up as much as he could in his position, ducking his head down and shaking. 

Sure. He was still willing to do whatever he had to, to protect the others, to protect Tokyo, the world. He would. There was absolutely no question in his heart about that.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t scared. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to die.

Fuck. Fuck. This is so fucked!

“Sakamoto…?

Ryuji lifted his head a little too fast, wincing at the throb of pain in his temple that accompanied it. Akechi looked back at him with, strangely, something akin to concern in his eyes. Ryuji quickly noted the old burns that looked like they had to sting, along with a new smattering of blood under his nose and down his chin, the purpling all around one eye and cheek. The guy looked as wrecked as Ryuji felt.

“What happened?” Ryuji asked – his own voice was barely above a rasp, like he’d been screaming. Fuck didn’t that suck. “Where did they go?”

“No clue… they were gone when I woke up. Probably have mics and stuff to see if we say anything they’re looking for while they’re out of the room.”

“I figured.” A wave of dizziness hit Ryuji and he fought back the nausea that came with it. He was trembling again. “I-I don’t… I don’t remember what…” He looked up at Akechi with a rush of desperation writhing to the surface. “I didn’t… I didn’t spill the beans to them or anything, did I?”

Akechi didn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t know… I… was out of it for a good long while.” 

They lapsed into an uneasy, unbearable silence. Ryuji started twisting his hands against his restraints again, tears threatening again. He tried not to hyperventilate but it was growing harder and harder not to. “This sucks. This sucks so fucking much!”

“I know, Sakamoto, I… I’m so sorry.” There was a heaviness, a sincerity to his words that made Ryuji look over at him again. Akechi didn’t meet his gaze, his face twisted into a self-hating scowl. “I never… I… none of you were ever supposed to end up in my mess like this…”

Ryuji shook his head. “We all knew the risks,” he whispered.

“No offense but, but I don’t think you did. You all… you have no idea what powers you all are messing with… what these people are capable of…”

Ryuji flinched bodily as he remembered the gun pointed between his own eyes. He attempted to swallow but found it difficult with how dry and tacky his mouth was. “I’m startin’ to get an idea…” he said softly. Then he frowned, brain finally catching up to what Akechi had said. “You… didn’t want any of us tangled up in your mess? Is that what you said?? Why the hell do you care??”

Akechi met his gaze, something fragile hidden there. “You’re Akira’s best friend,” he said, as though this explanation was the most obvious in the world. He looked away. “And he was the closest thing I ever had to a friend...”

“Funny way of showing it, shooting him in the fucking head.”

“It was supposed to protect the rest of you!” Goro spat bitterly, twisting his hands into fists, straining against the ropes like he wanted to curl up in a ball or grab his hair. “If he didn’t take the fall they were going to kill all of you! It was supposed to– I just–” His shoulders and head drooped in defeat. “I just want this all to be over… I just… I just wanted to be done…”

There was a tone to his words that made Ryuji feel sick to his stomach with uneasiness. Akechi… Akechi had sacrificed himself to protect them on Shido’s ship. But the way he was talking now made it sound like… like he’d wanted to die… “Akechi…” he said softly, making the other flinch.

Then, there was a sound that made both of them freeze, eyes snapping to one another. It was off in the distance, a loud yelling from elsewhere in the building, but it was steadily coming closer.

“What the hell…?” Ryuji wondered aloud, looking over at the one door of the room, nerves alight with trepidation.

The voices got closer, and one was louder than the rest.

“I don’t care – I don’t care , Hiroshi-san! You will bring me to them right now! You will show me where you are keeping them!”

Ryuji furrowed his brow, trying to place the voice. He looked over at Akechi, and was stunned to see the other teen pale and fearful, staring at the door.

“No…” Akechi whispered.

“Shido-san, you must’n’t–”

“Don’t tell me what to do! I am still the prime minister of this country, and I am still your boss. I can still make your life miserable! You will show me where you are keeping him!”

Akechi was shaking his head, eyes wide and wild as he twisted his arms in his ropes, as though desperate to run. “You all did it…? You stole his treasure…?”

Ryuji nodded, but he was growing more alarmed. This reaction wasn’t anything like what he’d seen with other targets. What was going on? Had they done something wrong?

The door to their room slammed open, and there he was, eyes manic, glasses missing, his suit a disheveled mess with one shirttail untucked and his tie skewed. His eyes snapped around, looking at Ryuji, then at Akechi.

“Akechi,” he said, and then his face crumpled. “Goro… My son…”

“Oh shit,” Ryuji whispered. Akechi, on the other hand, was stiff as a board, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Please, Masayoshi-san, please, you’re not well, sir!” A small cabal of his piece of shit sycophants was clustered around him, clearly trying to placate their boss. The cognitive psientists were lingering behind, looking more annoyed than anything.

But Shido ignored all of them, eyes fixed entirely on Akechi. He started moving towards the boy, grimacing in despair

“You stay the hell away from me!” Akechi screamed, thrashing against his restraints so hard that he almost toppled backward. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m so sorry, my boy. I’m so, so sorry!” Shido whimpered, hands shaking as he clasped them over his mouth, tears on his cheeks as he took in Akechi’s broken face, his bloodied clothes. The whole sight of the bastard made Ryuji feel downright sick, remembering full well what this man was capable of, how he spoke about Akechi back in his Palace.

“Release them!” Shido ordered, looking over at his men. “Release them both. Now!”

“Shido-san, see reason.”

Shido gave a growl of frustration and whirled on Akechi, who screamed wordlessly and tried to kick his feet out, but the ropes were too tight. Shido knelt beside him, pulling something from his pocket - a little pen knife. He began to cut at Akechi’s bindings, starting with those around his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Goro,” the man said, and the name on his lips made Akechi visibly flinch away. “The hell you went through, everything I did to you, the things I asked you to do…” He kept cutting at Akechi’s bindings. “Your, your poor mother… I–”

“Don’t you say a damn thing about her! Don’t even say her goddamned name!” Akechi roared, twisting again at the restraints. They had clearly done a good job with the knots, had used ropes that weren’t easy to cut through.

“I don’t… know her name…” Shido said softly with a wince, and Goro froze. “I don’t know much about her at all, only remember what she looked like.” Shido paused and looked over at Akechi. “You look so much like her, you know…”

Akechi was shaking, eyes unblinking, clearly stuck between rage and anguish. Shido returned to working at his restraints. “I didn’t even know about you… until she… she started threatening to reveal you to the public… trying to extort me for money in exchange for her silence.” A few seconds of silence passed, broken only by the sound of the dull pen knife sawing through the cords. “It was such a shame… I’m so sorry for what I had to do to her…. What I did to you…”

Akechi’s face went terribly blank. “What are you saying…?” he breathed.

“I had told them to make it look like an accident. They thought making it look like a suicide was the same thing,” Shido said, face contorting a little in sorrow and regret as he cut a few more of Akechi’s binding. “Truly tragic, you never should have had to go through that.”

Ryuji just gaped in horror at what he was hearing. Shido… Shido fucking killed her…?

Another pull of the pen knife on the cords, and Akechi was free.

What happened next happened so fast Ryuji would later struggle to make sense of the order of things. One second, Shido was kneeling next to Akechi, cutting through his restraints, and the next there was a scream of anguish on top of a shout of pain, Shido falling backwards, the pen knife he’d been using now suddenly in Akechi’s hands. Blood streaking across Shido’s chest and splattering on the ground. Bodies running and voices shouting.

And then Akechi, face wild and rabid with rage, speckled with blood that was not his own, managing to dodge away from Shido and his men and running right for Ryuji. More voices shouted, hands and bodies leaping to try and stop Akechi as the other teen reached out and grabbed Ryuji’s hand with a blood-stained grasp– 

And then the world tilted, a familiar pulsating pressure washing over him. Ryuji clenched his eyes shut, his head pounding as reality seemed to slip out of alignment.

The next thing he knew was the painful lurch of his body hitting the hard ground. The chair and restraints were gone. The angry shouts and buzzing fluorescent light were gone. The world had gone quiet and still. Ryuji blinked through foggy vision, pushing himself carefully onto his hands and knees, avoiding any weight on his broken arm.

They… they were in the Metaverse. In some palace. Their surroundings were a rough amalgamation of a Tokyo street, devoid of life, half-destroyed, bereft of color. Ryuji realized with a jolt that he was not in his Skull outfit, and for a split second dread crashed through him – was whatever they’d done to him still affecting Captain Kidd?? But no, he could feel him in his heart and mind, closer if still somewhat suppressed. 

Akechi staggered unsteadily to his feet next to Ryuji, forcing him to look up. The dark teen dropped the pen knife, still stained with fresh blood, Shido’s blood. Harsh, ragged breathing became louder as he took four shaking steps aside, wrenched the helmet of his dark Metaverse outfit off his head and threw it to the ground. For a long moment he simply heaved broken, hyperventilating breaths, his hands clenching and unclenching, his face twisting. 

Then, that last thread of control finally snapped, and what tore from Akechi’s throat was the most anguished, gut-wrenching scream Ryuji had ever heard in his life. Ryuji could only watch with something torn between awe and heartache as the older teen just screamed and screamed, until he simply couldn’t anymore, dropping to his knees and elbows with his forehead pressed to the ground, sobbing breathlessly.

It felt like something Ryuji shouldn’t be witnessing, even more so than Akechi’s total breakdown back in Shido’s palace. It was too private of a moment, too personal, too painful. He swallowed hard and looked away, allowing Akechi a moment while taking stock of their new surroundings. It was definitely a palace, but didn’t seem to be the core of it, more the vague world beyond it, like he’d experienced in Futaba’s or Sae’s palaces. He himself wasn’t in his Thieves outfit like Akechi was, so whoever ruled this palace must not think of the Thieves as much of a threat, but considered Akechi to be. Ryuji craned to look over his shoulder. No sign of the main palace structure, and no sign of shadows.

That’s…. That was good…

The adrenaline in his body was rapidly seeping away, and Ryuji slumped to the ground and rolled weakly to his back. Sure, by default he had more energy here than in the real world, but his injuries still hurt, he was still running on who knows how much actual sleep as opposed to concussive or drugged unconsciousness, and his nerves were shot. 

He was just… so fucking glad not to be in danger anymore… to have a moment to fucking breathe…

He blinked up at the colorless sky, brain feeling like it was moving at a snail’s pace. Just so… so fucking exhausted with it all…

And the thought occurred to him.

Akechi… Akechi could have killed Shido just then… 

…probably wanted to…

…and yet, and yet he chose to save Ryuji instead….

And that bastard, Shido…

A wave of sympathetic grief crashed upon him. He couldn’t even imagine… coming home from school to discover that his ma, who he loved more than anything else in the world… finding that she was gone, taken from him in such a horrible way… He already hated his own father for how he treated him and his mom, but if he’d ever done that to her… had ever caused Ryuji to lose her…

…fuck, he didn’t even know what he would have done…

…hell, what he’d still do if he got home now to find out that Shido had taken her, too…

He squeezed his eyes closed with his breath catching in his throat. Please, god please don’t let anything have happened to her because he got caught… Please!

He forced himself to breathe, to count down from 100, to not fucking think about any of that. There was nothing he could do about it now. He just had to… to hope it was okay… that the Thieves protected her… Surely they did. They saw him get captured, they had to have immediately put into place all of their contingency plans. He could trust them. He knew he could trust them. Akira wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

That thought finally helped to settle his galloping heart. Yes, he trusted Akira. Everything was going to be okay.

When he finally felt like he had a grip on it all, he returned his attention to Crow. The guy had clearly run out of steam, lying limp on his side with his back to Ryuji, like he just collapsed from exhaustion. A thread of fear wormed its way into Ryuji’s chest. “Crow?” he asked, carefully sitting up. “You okay?”

Crow responded by rolling tensely onto his back, glaring up at the sky through red-rimmed eyes. “Do I fucking look okay, Skull?”

Something akin to a chuckle leapt from Ryuji’s chest, surprising him. This wasn’t funny. None of this was fucking funny. “God no,” Ryuji said, rubbing his face. “But at least you’re conscious and not, like, bleeding out or something.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Akechi said dully. “I’m sure you’d love that.”

“No, dude, I…” Ryuji sighed, and moved to scoot himself closer to the other teen, flopping down on his back next to him but feet facing the other way, so they were in arm’s reach, but not too close. Just two guys staring at a dystopian fucking sky after getting beaten within inches of their lives. “Dude, I was one of the Thieves that nearly broke bones in his hand trying to break that damn door down in the engine room to get to ya. I don’t want you dead.”

“You should want me dead.” There was no emotion to Akechi’s voice now, just… utter exhaustion. “After everything I’ve done.”

“You saved me, when you didn’t hafta, that shows you have some kind of heart in there,” Ryuji said quietly to the sky. Akechi didn’t say anything in response, which perhaps was response enough. Ryuji swallowed hard. “You, you could have done that at any point, couldn’t ya? You don’t need a phone to come to the Metaverse?”

A sigh. “No. I didn’t even own a phone when I first stumbled into Mementos and awoke to my powers. And I long kept the extent of my powers a secret from the research team – they thought I could only go into mementos at will, and anything more specific I needed an app and very clear guidelines for.” He craned his head to look around. “This palace has long acted as a kind of safehouse for me. A getaway car. It belongs to a piece of shit low-level bureaucrat in Shido’s circle who wouldn’t do anything to get himself killed or noticed. And it has a functioning subway, so it’s easy to get around when I need to.” He groaned as he painstakingly sat up, curling over his legs as he cast a look around, still avoiding Ryuji’s gaze. “We’ll be safe here, and we can get you home.”

“What about you?” Ryuji asked, sitting up and scooting back so he and Akechi were sitting level with each other, if facing opposite directions. “What are you going to do?”

Akechi didn’t answer, looking away. “Fuck if I know. I just tried to kill the elected prime minister…” A crazed giggle left his throat, bordering on hyperventilation. “It’s what I always wanted to do but it doesn’t – it doesn’t feel like it was supposed to, I don’t feel –” He curled into himself, digging his hands into his hair and twisting. “He deserves to die for what he did! He deserves to suffer!”

“He really does,” Ryuji grumbled, and Akechi whipped up to look at him, eyes wide. “What, you surprised??”

“Uh, yeah,” Akechi genuinely looked baffled. Ryuji could only snort.

“Dude, I’ll let you in on somethin’. When we had Kamoshida on the ropes, we let Ann decide whether to steal his heart or to kill him. She chose for him to live with the consequences of his actions, and to feel them. Me? I wanted him dead.” He curled a hand in his lap, glaring at the ground. “He ruined my life. I deal with the physical pain of what he did to me every day. I watched Shiho jump off that roof. The fucker deserved to die.” He gave Akechi a meaningful look. “And my father is a piece of shit, too. He beat me and my mom until my mom finally was able to leave him and get a restrainin’ order. If, if he’d managed to kill her, I wouldn’t have stopped until he was dead, no matter what that did to me. I get it , dude. I’m probably the only one on the team that does, except maybe Akira.”

Akechi was just staring at him with mouth agape, like he’d never seen anything like Ryuji before. Ryuji couldn’t handle the attention, looking away. “Then again, I’ve got a bleeding heart at the end of the day. I probably woulda felt hella guilty afterwards but, I dunno. If it’d been me in your shoes, I’m sure I would’ve ended up in the exact same place. It has nothing to do with, with being born evil or nothin’ like that. This sort of thing, to be forced into murderin’ when you were, what, 15? Futaba’s age now? That’s only the sort of thing that happens when the world fails a kid as hard as the world failed you. And I think all of us, at the very least, get that. May not forgive it entirely, but we get it. No one deserved the kind of hand you were dealt, you were pretty much set up to be used and thrown away. But you… you can be something else. I think you deserve to.”

“I’m a monster, Sakamoto,” Akechi spat bitterly. “You have no idea my body count. Y-you have no idea the things I’ve done!”

“Did you want to do them for the sake of doing them, or did you do them because you had to?!”

“What the fuck do you know?!” Akechi screamed, staggering to his feet, eyes piercing. “What the fuck do any of you–” He staggered, his balance unsteady and a high-pitched moan leapt from his chest as he hit the ground hard on one knee.

“Crow!” Ryuji gasped, moving to stand up but flinching hard at his own aches. “Fuck. You, you don’t have any healin’ spells or items or anything do ya?”

“...doesn’t work against real world injuries,” Akechi murmured. He lifted a hand, looking at the burns on his arm before pressing a hand to the bandages around his chest, whimpering. “Though, something tells me some of my injuries were from…” He swallowed. “How the hell am I alive? That cognition shot me. I remember it shooting me.”

“I dunno,” Ryuji said softly. “We… we didn’t know you were. We thought you were dead, Futaba lost your signal.”

A rasping laugh leapt from Akechi’s chest. “Oh that… that may have been my cloaking…” he winced, rubbing his chest carefully like something hurt. “It’s another… random skill of mine. Joker has his Thief’s Sight, I had cloaking. It’s how I got through Okumura’s palace without any of you noticing me.”

“So that means you were, what, lying there bleeding for two days while we got ready to take down Shido?!” Ryuji gasped.

“Looks that way…” Akechi swallowed hard. “I don’t remember… I…” He looked at his hand, at his black sharp-taloned gloves. “I really should be dead… but I think… I think something happened…” A weird, sour smile stretched his lips. “I think your damn leader caused something to happen to Loki right at the end of it all, because… Loki has a trait now he didn’t have before… I didn’t even realize…”

“What? He does?? Which??”

“Endure. Which apparently means we can withstand otherwise fatal attacks with 1 hit point remaining…” He was laughing again, a breathless thing that quickly dissolved into crying, curling his hand into a fist and pressing it to his forehead. “Fuck. That fucking… sentimental…” he whispered shakily, so quiet Ryuji almost didn’t hear it. “He even kept his fucking promise…”

“Of course he did…” Ryuji shifted to be slightly closer, wanting nothing more than to console Akechi with a hand on his shoulder but knew that wouldn’t fly. “Joker… Dude you have no idea how much it destroyed him, thinking you were dead.”

“I’m so sure,” Akechi spat. “No, he has to hate me. He should hate me.”

“Well he doesn’t.”

“I shot him in the fucking head!” Akechi screamed. Ryuji flinched, nausea rising immediately as he, he remembered– gun to his head, he has a fucking gun at his head, he’s about to die, this fucker is about to kill him–

“Sakamoto! Skull! Skull, shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t– Take deep breaths. Shit, what the fuck do I–”

Ryuji gasped. He was shaking. He jolted like the electricity was hitting him again, scrambling away from Akechi, fighting to breathe. Akechi was on his knees next to him, hands up and placating, his gloves gone. Ryuji rolled over and retched, though little came out – he had no idea how long they’ve been missing for, but there definitely wasn’t anything left in his stomach.

“Breathe, Ryuji. Careful. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. I won’t, I won’t let those bastards lay a finger on you again, if I can help it.”

Ryuji just focused on breathing, heaving loud, painful gasps that hurt both pulling in and coming out. He couldn’t stop shaking. Fuck, this was like when he had flashbacks to Kamoshida and the sound of his leg snapping . But he could get over it. He needed to get a hold of himself. Deep breaths. He can do that. That was, that was something he knew he was capable of. Breathing.

It took a long time, longer than he would have liked, to finally get a hold of himself. His broken arm was on fire, he was curled over it, cradling it as it throbbed. But the throbbing helped pull himself from the memories, surprisingly. It was something to focus on. He kept breathing. 

“I’m okay,” he finally managed. “Sorry, I’m okay.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault…” Akechi sounded wrung dry. “All of this is my fault.”

“You didn’t tell him to do that to me,” Ryuji said quietly, sitting back on his heels and looking over at him. “And, it sounds to me like… like you’ve been on the end of that gun too…”

Akechi shook his head jerkily, not looking at him. “Not that gun, but I know what it is… they… what they did to me…” He flinched. “I can’t, I can’t start talking about it or I wont–”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to.” Ryuji could practically see Akechi’s frayed edges, how close he was to shaking apart again. It was such a contrast to the kid Ryuji thought he knew, the aloof, unflappable goody-two-shoes backstabber that was The Detective Prince. Clearly, that had all been a front, and he was no different than the rest of them, broken and damaged and scared.

They both took a few moments to collect themselves. Finally, Akechi staggered weakly to his feet, putting his helmet back on with the visor up before holding out a hand to him. “Come on. I have a few caches stashed around the outskirts. A safe place to rest. There’s no shadows this far from the palace, we can recover a little before making the trek back to the others.”

“How far away are we?” Ryuji asked, gratefully taking Akechi’s hand and allowing the other to help him to his feet - he frankly wasn’t sure if he could have managed it otherwise. Akechi looked around and Ryuji followed suit. Despite the otherwise familiar feeling of the area, the signs were in no language Ryuji could recognize.

“I’m not sure, but we’ll figure it out. The brilliant thing about this place is the bastard is a total misanthrope, fucking can’t stand people. But boy does he love his train infrastructure - the subways are an almost perfect recreation, and they’re almost never crowded.”

“That’s handy.”

“It’s… part of the reason the guy is still alive… took someone else out that accomplished the same goal. Shido didn’t give a shit who died as long as it made the subways look bad.”

Oh. Akechi seemed to realize how fucked up that sounded the moment he said it, and he flinched, putting some space between himself and Ryuji, leading the way down the street. Ryuji found himself lagging, the old injury in his leg twinging and protesting, making him limp. Akechi clued in really quick and slowed down, waiting for him to catch up.

“Need a hand?” he asked carefully, a concerned furrow to his brow as he looked Ryuji over.

“I can… handle it. For a bit anyway.”

Akechi nodded in understanding and kept pace with Ryuji’s slow limped gait. They walked in companionable silence for a block or two.

“How did he fucking survive?” Crow finally grumbled.

“Who?”

“Joker! He died! His brain splattered everywhere! I put the gun in his hand! I know… I know I killed him…” 

Ryuji hesitated. “Part of me wants to let you stew in your defeat a little longer.”

Something shoved him hard in the side, sending him sprawling.

“This isn’t a fucking game , Sakamoto! What do you think losing him did to me?! I spent two fucking weeks thinking that I – that he – I almost – He was alive that whole time?!”

“Yeah. Tricked you good, didn’t we?” Ryuji winced, trying to get back to his feet, but something twinging in his leg stopped him short with a whimper.

“ HOW?! How the fuck did you guys beat me like that?! How… how is he…” Akechi seemed to lose steam, curling in on himself, blinking rapidly. “He… he really is alive, right? That wasn’t just… another trick…?”

“Yeah. Yeah it’s him. He’s alive. He was beaten to hell and back, but he made it home alive. The cops never even realized his body wasn’t there.”

Akechi scowled. “How? How did he, how did you all…?”

“Frankly, I don’t know all the details.” More like they didn’t trust him with the details, which after the Makoto affair… yeah, probably for the best, honestly. He was terrible at keeping his big mouth shut. “I only know it had something to do with Sae’s palace and a phone. You basically shot her cognition of him.”

“A phone?” Crow’s forehead wrinkled with how hard he was thinking, eyes darting in place as he scoured his memory. His face darkened as something occurred to him. “Sonofabitch, his cell phone… Sae had it…”

“Yeah, something with that.” Ryuji tried moving to stand again but aborted the action with another surge of pain. “Uh, Crow? Little help?”

“Huh? Oh.” Distractedly, Crow bent down and helped Ryuji back to his feet, keeping a hand on him as Ryuji’s knee threatened to buckle. “I’m sorry, shoving you couldn’t have… can you walk?”

“I’m… not sure” Just standing was proving harder than before, and every motion caused something to twinge terribly. He tried taking a step and immediately buckled, Akechi just barely catching him before his knee hit the ground.

“I’ve got you,” Akechi said softly, pulling Ryuji’s good arm over his shoulder and taking the weight off his bad leg. “I think I know roughly where we are now, isn’t too much further to the subway station.”

The rest of the trip went on without incident. True to his word, they didn’t come across any shadows – “I cleared them out over a year ago, never did figure out what causes them to respawn in some palaces and not in others” – and while Ryuji didn’t recognize the subway, he did recognize the line, though he’d never taken it this far – “Shido has contacts with some disused office buildings in Itabashi. They’ve come in handy for certain… less savory activities. Figures he would take us to one of them… predictable.” – and then got off closer to Shibuya, where Akechi led him toward what could only be a love hotel.

“Dude, seriously?” Ryuji balked. Akechi snorted.

“Get over yourself, Skull. The guy makes a habit of frequenting such places, so they’re more fleshed out than other buildings here. That means comfortable beds and stocked items. He pushed the door open. Thankfully, there were no cognitions inside, of sleazy men or prostitutes or even working people sneaking an hour away from their families. There wasn’t anyone. “And, if his cognition subconsciously notices us here, he will only think he’s pining for a quick fuck again and be none the wiser.”

Ryuji just tripped over himself at the frankness of Akechi talking like that. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“My mom was a prostitute, Ryuji, and I’ve had to do it myself. Get. Over. Yourself.” 

Ryuji flinched, biting his tongue. He really knew nothing of this guy, but holy shit, seriously? “Shit. I’m sorry, dude.”

“Don’t need your pity , Skull.” Crow’s voice was bitter and harsh, but his hold on Ryuji was still careful as he helped him up the stairs.

“This ain’t pity, dude. I know pity.” Pity towards him was what made him swing at Kamoshida. “Nah, dude, this is just… it just sucks. Just wish I could have been there to stand up for you during the worst of it.”

Crow stayed quiet as he shoved one of the hotel room doors open. Thankfully it had two beds. “Yeah. Would’ve been nice if anyone had been… but thanks, I guess.”

He helped Ryuji sit on one of the beds before disappearing out the hallway. For a moment Ryuji was terrified Crow was just going to ditch him, but he showed up a few minutes later with a few bags slung over his shoulder. “I usually stay in a different room here, obviously. Never need more than one bed.” He set the bags on the bed and pulled out two bottles of water, tossing one to him.

“Thanks.” Ryuji ripped the water bottle open and downed it without stopping, dropping onto the bed with a relieved “Fuck!”. He had no idea how long since they were captured but they hadn’t given them so much as a drop of water in all of that time. The Metaverse made it so they didn’t need to eat or drink except to heal, but coming in so dehydrated was a whole nother thing. It was tepid and a shitty brand, but it didn’t matter, it tasted like heaven on his parched throat. He could just about cry again out of sheer joy of quenching that thirst.

“Don’t overdo it when you eat,” Akechi warned, laying out a few packs of snacks. “If you go too fast you’ll just hurl it up again. Can say that from experience.”

Ryuji knew now not to ask.

Crow pulled out a few items of clothing and held them out. “Here. Since you’re not in your Metaverse outfit, this should follow you back out. I imagine you don’t want to be stuck in bloody filth for however long we stop here for. Could even take a shower if you wanted.”

“Thanks,” Ryuji murmured. That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. He really felt like shit and the thought of trying to rest in these clothes… blech… “I might… need a hand though.”

“We’re not teenaged girls having bathtime Sakamoto.” 

“I just don’t know if I’ll be able to stay standing.”

Akechi sighed. “C’mon. I’ll get the bath going and help you in, but you wash your own fucking hair.”

—

Ryuji didn’t think he would manage any sleep, with how much pain he was still in, dulled as it was by the Metaverse, or how on edge his nerves still were after everything. Yet somehow he passed out and slept for what felt like a good solid five hours. And he could have kept sleeping, if Crow hadn’t shaken him suddenly awake.

“Wh-whatzit…?” he babbled, before keening as he twisted wrong on his bad arm.

“Careful, you idiot,” Akechi hissed. “We gotta go. There’s a window of time where we shouldn’t attract much attention leaving the palace. If we wait much longer we’ll have to wait another day and I’d rather not be stuck here that long.”

“Sheesh, okay okay,” Ryuji groaned, wiping the crusties from his eyes and rolling out of bed. The clothes he was borrowing from Akechi absolutely dwarfed him - fricken tall people - the pants of the sweats pooling around his ankles even after turning them up a few times. He pulled the hoodie on and pocketed a few of the snacks. It felt weird not to have his cell phone. Those bastards had to have held onto it, and his wallet. Fuck.

“You snore, you know,” Akechi said, putting his helmet on.

“I know, fuck off!” Ryuji snapped, fumbling with a protein bar. “Tell me you at least got some sleep.”

Akechi didn’t answer, which perhaps was an answer in and of itself, especially with how stiff his movements were. Ryuji decided not to press him. Now that he was awake, he just wanted to get home.

“So where are we going?” Ryuji asked softly as they walked down the stairs.

“Yongen-Jaya,” Akechi said softly. “Last I knew, they were certain Akira was dead, and nothing in our capture made me think they realized otherwise, so Leblanc should still be safe. If we get there and find it compromised, we can hop right back in here and find somewhere else to go.”

“Makes sense to me.” It made real good sense. Say what you will about the guy, Akechi was good at strategy, that much Ryuji could tell even in Sae’s palace with all that bullshit tricking the system of credits. In another world, another timeline, Akechi could have made a better second-in-command as Makoto

(not that he’d ever admit that to her with her black belt).

They left the love hotel and made it back to the station. Still no shadows, hell there weren’t really any cognitions. The world felt gloomier as they moved through it though. “How can you tell what time it is?” he said at last as they entered the subway car. “Only Futaba and Morgana were ever any good at telling in the Metaverse for us. Otherwise we could’ve been in there for days and never know it.”

“I had to get good at time management in the Metaverse,” Akechi said tiredly, putting his feet up on the subway bench in a way he never would have dared in real life, resting his helmeted head against the window. “If I missed check-ins with Shido, it could cause problems. This palace in particular gets heavier and more sullen at night. You can tell it’s really late when you can practically taste the whiskey in the air. The mornings tend to cause a headache.

Ryuji flinched. “Didn’t realize palace ruler cognitions could affect you with their alcoholism.”

“There’s probably a lot you all never learned.” He paused. “That wasn’t meant to be a slight on your abilities as Phantom Thieves, just a difference in how many palaces you had to go through compared to me. I had years more time to explore than you. How many was it? I’ve counted six, including Sae-san and Shido.”

“Seven,” he said easily. “Futaba had one too.”

Those dark eyes snapped to him, an unreadable expression on his face, before Crow looked away. “I see.”

They didn’t talk at all for the rest of the subway ride.

It was uncanny how much this palace’s Shibuya looked like real life Shibuya, including the stupid fucking way it was laid out that always tripped up new travelers. Akechi navigated it easily and Ryuji followed right behind - his leg still hurt but Akechi had some painkillers back in his stash that were working just enough to move easily. They got on the familiar train that Ryuji had taken so many times before, and he could feel his heart pounding as anticipation grew.

They were going home. They were getting the hell out of here. 

This whole fucking nightmare was just about over.

“Hey. Thanks, Crow,” Ryuji murmured as they passed the second-to-last stop before Yongen-Jaya. Crow was sprawled sideways on the seat again, rubbing his collarbone absentmindedly. His tired eyes flickered over towards him, but he didn’t bother turning his head to Ryuji, like he was just too tired to. Ryuji swallowed hard. “For getting me out of there. For not… leaving me behind.”

“You’re welcome.” Akechi’s voice was dull and hoarse, and he flinched a little at the sound of it. “I’m glad… I’m glad I got to do something right…”

“See? You’ve got this whole ‘doing the right thing’ malarky all figured out.”

Akechi snorted, and shook his head weakly. Ryuji was glad he took it as a joke. He knew it wasn’t that simple.

…though hey, maybe it could be.

The stop arrived and they both shuffled off the train car. Akechi was moving noticeably slower, like his joints were creaking and rusted. Ryuji tried giving him a hand when he faltered a little on the stairs, but he just waved him away. “I’m good. Just exhausted.” 

Akechi gave the area a look around as they stepped out of the stairwell into open air. Immediately, Ryuji knew something wasn’t right. It barely looked like Yongen-Jaya. “The guy hasn’t been everywhere, so while he knows all the stations he has no idea what’s beyond them, thus it’s far more vague here compared to Shibuya. It won’t be a one-to-one recreation beyond this point, so it’ll be safest to leave the Metaverse here so we don’t accidentally phase into someone’s house.”

“That can happen?” Ryuji said in horror. Akechi just snorted, before grabbing his shoulder.

The world tilted again, sliding out of place, pressure on his eardrums and sinuses and skin. Ryuji squeezed his eyes shut - that sensation never got easier, no matter how many times he’s felt it.

And then they were back in the real Tokyo. Back in Yongen-Jaya.

Without a phone, Ryuji had no idea what time it really was, but it was immediately clear it was late at night. The streets were empty, the shops all closed up for the night, and the cold pressed in, causing his exhales to puff in brilliant mist before his face. He hadn’t even considered the fact that the world of the palace wasn’t cold like it should’ve been.

“You did it,” he breathed with a relieved grin, turning to look at Akechi. “We, we’re…”

The words died on his lips as he watched in numb horror as Akechi crumpled right where he stood, collapsing in the middle of the street like a puppet with cut strings. Ryuji staggered to catch him, barely managing to stop the guy’s head from cracking on the ground.

“Crow,” he gasped breathlessly, rolling him over in his arms. The guy was shaking so badly, fighting to breathe. Without his Crow getup, Ryuji could once again see Akechi’s blood-stained shirt, and the bandages beneath them – they were bleeding red with fresh blood. Had they been bleeding this whole time??

Fuck. Fuck!

Ryuji looked up – the cafe was so, so close. He carefully threaded the teen's arm over his shoulder and pulled them both up on their feet. His own bum knee threatened to buckle, but the adrenaline was surging now. The last sprint before the finish line. “We’re almost there, man. Leblanc is right there. We just gotta – we, we’re going to be okay.”

They were just a block and a half away, but it was easily the longest hike of his life as the two of them staggered together down the familiar street. Ryuji could feel his own exhaustion and weakness and pain rising to take him out, no longer held at bay by the Metaverse, but seeing Leblanc as he turned the corner kept him going. He took a quick glance around as they hobbled forward, looking around for any indication that any of those men had tried to cut them off here. But there was no sign of anyone, no mooks in dark cars waiting, no nosy neighbors in windows ready to call the cops on two bloodied teenagers. Not even any late shift workers stumbling home. 

It maybe took them three full minutes to stagger the final stretch from corner to door, but it felt like an eternity. Once they got to the familiar brick stoop of Leblanc, Ryuji carefully set Akechi down, propping him against the wall, and loudly pounded on the door.

For a moment, nothing happened. Ryuji propped himself up against the doorframe, fighting to stay standing. Where the hell were they? He peeked inside, but it didn’t seem like anything was wrong. Hell, there were even glasses drying on the counter like always after closing.

But then he heard the window above them open, and he took a few unsteady steps back into the street and looked up.

“Skull?!” 

Ryuji never thought he’d be so happy to hear that damn cat’s stupid voice again. A relieved, nearly hysterical laugh leapt from his chest as the fuzzball’s bright blue eyes stared down at him from the windowsill.

And then next to him, Akira’s face appeared, sticking out over the window ledge with his wide eyes unhindered by glasses. “...Ryuji…”

“Hey, man…” Ryuji said weakly. “I-it’s cold as hell, can you let us in?”

“Us?” Morgana repeated, even as Akira’s head disappeared. Mona climbed fully on the window ledge and began to climb his way down from the outside. “What the hell happened, Skull?! We were worried sick!”

“I bet,” he said absentmindedly, swaying on his feet. He was fast losing his fight with his own body, and he staggered and fell onto his knees on the brick stoop. When the door opened with the jangle of a familiar bell, he didn’t even have time to look up before a heavy weight crashed against him, trembling arms tight around his neck, hugging him for dear life.

Trembling. Akira was trembling.

“Oh my god, oh god Ryuji…” Akira whispered frantically against his ear, his voice shaking in a way that made Ryuji’s brain short-circuit. Akira pulled away just enough to look him over, as though making sure it was really him and not a trick, giving Ryuji the chance to see tears , before Akira hugged him even tighter in his shaking grasp. “Oh my god you’re here and you’re alive and you’re okay …” Akira's voice caught in his throat by the end, so close to a sob. Ryuji snapped out of his shock and wrapped his arms around him in return.

“Fuck, Akira…” he managed to gasp, before it all finally crashed down on him and he buried his face into Akira’s neck with a relieved, shuddering sob. “Kira…” 

“It’s okay,” Akira managed through a voice thick with his own tears, a gentle hand against the back of Ryuji’s neck as he rocked him a little. “You’re here, you’re home. I’ve got you. I wont fucking let anyone take you away from us ever again.”

God Ryuji wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe it was all over. All he could do was shake his head and fall apart in Akira’s arms, too exhausted to do anything else. The pain in his body was growing more persistent as his adrenaline began to noticeably fade. 

“Joker, ” Mona said with an uncharacteristic amount of concern.“We should really get them inside, in case someone followed them.”

Akira pulled away and looked over at Mona, who was sitting awkwardly next to Akechi where Ryuji had left him propped up against the wall. Akira’s face went pale as he realized who was next to them. “Akechi…” 

Akechi looked like absolute shit, trembling on the stoop with blood all over his front. A strange sort of smile twitched his lips, but he just looked tired. “What, I don’t get a hug, Joker?”

Wrong thing to say if he wasn’t interested in a hug, because that’s exactly what he got. Akira was careful of his injuries, but he folded around Akechi in a tight embrace. Akechi looked completely flabbergasted, eyes wide and horrified as he looked over Akira’s shoulder at Ryuji, who just shrugged with a soft “Told you so.”

“Holy shit,” Akira rasped, voice cracking with emotion. He pulled away, and looked at Akechi for a long time, shaking fingers hovering over his bloodied bandages. “How…? How are you…? How did you…” Akira was completely lost for words, looking back at Ryuji with wide, mortified eyes. “What happened? How did you get away? We had, we had no idea where they took you, I didn’t know if we would ever–” He swallowed hard as he looked Ryuji over again, his face breaking all over again as he took in the blood and the bruises and the wrist brace. “You’re hurt… you both are, god I…” His hands shook badly, one gripping onto Akechi’s wrist, the other reaching hesitantly for Ryuji, as though afraid if he touched him again, Ryuji would vanish. 

Ryuji had never seen his best friend looking so overwhelmed, so at a loss of what to do. In the eight months they’d known each other, Ryuji had only ever known Akira as stoic and put-together, always the embodiment of the stalwart leader, ready for anything, always knowing what to do. Even after his own arrest and interrogation, he’d kept his head held up and his demeanor focused on the mission. Yet here he was fumbling and panicked and lost.

“Joker,” Morgana said, sternly. “Deep breaths. Get it together, we gotta get them inside.”

Akira closed his eyes and took a few long, steadying breaths, then nodded. When he looked back at Ryuji, his face was closer to the responsible leader mask he often wore, even if there was still something fragile about it. “Right. Okay, okay, yeah, let’s, let’s get you guys inside. You first, ‘Yuji,” he said, voice still a little hoarse as he let go of Akechi and carefully pulled Ryuji’s arm over his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet, taking on most of his weight. They staggered inside together, immediately heading to situate Ryuji into one of the booths. Akira took a moment to make sure Ryuji was settled and not about to tip over before he hurried out to grab Akechi. The older boy seemed to muster enough energy to help walk inside, but seemed barely conscious as Akira set him to lie flat on the booth across the table from Ryuji.

“What the hell happened?” Akira gasped, gripping Akechi’s hand gently as he looked over where Ryuji sat sideways, facing the counter with his legs hanging over the side of the booth and head resting on the back of it because he didn’t have the strength to hold his head up anymore. “How did you guys get away? Are you –” He paused for a second, blinking, looking around frantically. “I – water, water water, you guys probably need – and I need to call – and where is the med kit I – fuck, I gotta–”

“Joker,” Mona pressed with furrowing eyes, his tail twitching. “Take some deep breaths. Futaba is likely on her way with Boss, no way they didn’t trip her alarms”

“Right. Right, right.” It took him a couple of extra seconds with his hands to his hair, gripping hard as he looked around in panic, pacing a little before reaching shakily to grab his phone from his pajama pocket as he hurried to the kitchen. 

It was so disorienting seeing the guy like this. God he had been worried sick about them, hadn’t he…?

Ryuji didn’t realize his eyes were falling closed and his body had begun to relax into his seat until the next thing he knew, another, much lighter amount of body weight suddenly slammed into his chest, forcing an “OOF!” from his chest and a rush of panic through him.

“You are not allowed to do something that stupid for us ever again, Ryuji Sakamoto!!” Futaba howled miserably, the fact her face was pressed into his chest the only thing keeping her voice from deafening him as arms squeezed him tight around the middle.

“F-fuck Futaba! Ribs!” he gasped as something under her grasp burst into pain, tears springing to his eyes as he shoved Futaba back and bent double, fighting to breathe. “Broken, d-don’t…!”

A pair of steady hands grabbed gently at his shoulders, helping to hold him upright, and Ryuji carefully lifted his swimming gaze to see Sojiro’s blurry face fading fast before him. “Hey, hey kid, stay with us, we’re going to get you fixed up, okay?”

“Kay,” Ryuji said dully. He felt like his brain was melting into goo, slipping out of the back of his head and taking the rest of his strength with him. But then he remembered, “My, my mom, is she safe? She okay?”

Sojiro gave a soft smile, squeezing his shoulders. “She’s safe. She’s been staying at the Okumura house while everyone was looking for you. She’s already on her way.” 

Ryuji sighed in blessed relief, vision beginning to go dark. If Sojiro hadn’t been propping him up, he probably would have fallen over already.

“You’re going to be okay,” Sojiro said, more gentle than Ryuji had ever heard from him. “We’ve got you. You did good, kid. Just hang in there.”

“Kay I’ll… I’ll hang in… did, did good…” he mumbled weakly before the last of his strength finally ran out. He was only faintly aware of himself tipping forward into Sojiro’s grasp, days of exhaustion and pain finally catching up to him as the world fell away to nothingness.

He didn’t mind so much this time. 

—

Fingertips were softly brushing through his hair when he woke up next. It was gentle, and sweet, and it reminded him of his Ma. 

God he just wanted to go home…

“Jiji-chan? Sweetie, are you awake?”

“Ma…?” he croaked. He didn’t want to hope, but… it seemed so real…

The fingers carding through his hair pressed against his cheek, and he smelled her perfume, her body wash. He choked and tried to open his eyes, but his head fought back with a pulse of pain and he whimpered into her palm.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, Jiji. You’re gonna be okay.”

She sounded like she was crying. Fuck, he fucking made his mother cry. Again.

“M’sorry, Ma,” he whispered, scrunching his face up against the pain. For a moment, he was a first year again, lying in a hospital in so much pain after Kamoshida smashed his leg. But no, this didn’t smell like the hospital, it smelled like coffee and curry and Akira. 

“Everything will be okay, sweetie. It’s okay. You made it back to us. Just breathe, Jiji.”

Ryuji tried. It was hard. He felt like he’d run a damn marathon. He felt like he’d half-drowned under a river. He felt like shit.

It took far too long to remember what happened. Shido’s ship. The explosion. The torture. The… that fucking gun…

“Think you can sit up to drink anything?” a voice asked. Ryuji blinked, just barely able to make out Sojiro stepping over with a cup of water. “Takemi says you’re still flushing the interrogation drugs out of your system. Probably why you don’t feel so hot.”

Ryuji struggled to sit up - his mom had to help. His hands shook as he reached for the cup. He was still in the hoodie he’d been wearing, the one he’d borrowed from–

“Akechi. Where’s Akechi?” he asked, nearly spilling water as he looked around. He relaxed immediately as he saw a familiar head of hair on Akira’s pillow (of course Akira gave Akechi the bed. The guy was not subtle about his attachment to Akechi, as stupid as they all thought it. At least someone had brought in a futon for Ryuji rather than trying to lay him out on that dirty old couch. He’s slept on it before, it was not comfy).

The guy looked like shit, though. Hell, he looked far worse than he had in that damn office space. He looked downright sick, his usually flawless skin mottled and gray. He seemed to be struggling to breathe even with the aid of an oxygen mask, and there was a bag of IV fluids hanging off of the shelves next to the bed.. Akira, of course, was sitting on the bed next to him, the concern clear on his face.

“Is he gonna be okay…?” Ryuji asked carefully, worry crawling through him. Akira glanced over at him, lips thinning into a line.

“His wounds are infected,” he said softly. “They didn’t do a great job patching him up when you guys got captured. He’s got a tough battle yet.”

That sounded… really really bad. Ryuji found himself crawling out of his blankets and over to the bed, leaning against the milk crates and resting an arm on the futon. Looking intently at Akechi’s pale face as he reached over and gripped the other’s wrist, minding the IV line. “Listen here, asshole. We didn’t go through all of that just for you to die on us now.” He was sure Akechi was asleep, he looked asleep, hell, he looked dead, but he was surprised when Akechi’s eyes fluttered open, and he tilted his head a little toward him.

“What are we, friends now, Sakamoto?” he managed to ask through shallow breaths. 

“Might as well call it that,” Ryuji said softly. “Nothing brings people together like shared trauma, am I right?”

Akechi huffed a harsh breath of laughter, then winced as it aggravated his injuries. Ryuji felt his own strength beginning to wane, and he rested his head on his forearm, closing his eyes. 

“Ryuji, hon, come back to your bed.” His mom’s voice felt so very far away, though he was sure he could feel her hand on his back.

“Don’t wanna,” he grumbled, squeezing Akechi’s arm. His fogged up brain was a jumble of emotions and half-formed thoughts. It was overwhelming, and suffocating, and he just wanted everyone to be okay. He just wanted it all to be okay.

He must’ve said all of that out loud, because he heard Akechi’s voice in the fog, “I’m going to try… not to die. I already promised Joker. Just go rest up yourself, idiot. You’re hurt too.”

“You’re the idiot,” Ryuji slurred, sleep already digging back into his body and head.

“Yeah, I know.”

—

It took over a day for the drugs to get fully flushed out of his system. When he was able to sit up on his own for longer than five minutes, that was when they were finally visited by the other Thieves.

“You are such a goddamned thorn in my side, Ryuji Sakamoto!” Ann shouted after her heavy stomps up the stairs alerted them to her presence. Ryuji flinched back as she slugged him hard in the arm.

“OW! Fuck, Ann, why’d you–” 

He was immediately interrupted as he found himself with his arms full of one sobbing blonde girl, who was easily heavier than he was (fricken tall people). “Oof! Ann, hey, c’mon, crying is so not cute on you,” he said with his face growing warm, patting her shoulder awkwardly with his good hand.

“You’re an idiot and a jerk and I was s-so fucking scared , Ryuji,” she sobbed right into his ear. She squeezed her arms tight around his shoulder and neck (thankfully avoiding his ribs, they must have warned her first). “You’re not allowed to sacrifice yourself for us like that. You aren’t. You hear me? You’re one of my b-best friends, don’t m-make me ever….”

“Hey, hey Ann. I’m okay. It’s okay.” He finally relaxed into her hold, resting his face into the crook of her neck and wrapping his own arms around her as best he could. He felt his own eyes tearing up a little. Fuck he cared for these friends of his, he remembered being scared he wouldn’t see her again. Not that he’d say that now, it’d just upset her more.

“Cmon, Ann, you’re going to aggravate his injuries,” Makoto spoke up from somewhere. “But really, we’re glad you’re okay, Ryuji.”

After a really long time, to the point of awkwardness, Ann finally leaned back, settling down on the futon beside him while wiping her tears on the back of her hand (her makeup didn’t even smudge, what kind of sorcery was that??). She took a few steadying breaths before looking past Ryuji to Akechi, who was still on oxygen but sitting upright against a number of pillows. “Thank you, Akechi. I’m glad you’re alive, too.”

“I… thanks, I guess,” he said softly, eyes focused on the book resting in his lap rather than looking at any of them. But he did look up with a flicker of fear in his eyes as Futaba stepped up to his bed, her hands clasped behind her back.

“I… can’t forgive you for what you did to me and my mom,” she said, voice wavering only a little. “But that doesn’t mean I wanted you dead. And, and getting Ryuji back to us… that means… really means a lot…”

“I want to hear the whole story before I pass any judgement one way or another,” Haru said, grabbing one of the folding chairs from the corner as Yusuke and Akira set up the table they reserved for Phantom Thieves meetings. Everyone settled in, some in chairs, some like Ann sitting on the bed with Ryuji, Akira sitting next to Akechi. Akechi looked over at Ryuji.

“You start then…”

Ryuji nodded, and began with waking up in the grass…

—

It was late at night, long after the majority of thieves had left. Ann had fallen asleep curled up at Ryuji’s feet and no one was willing to face her wrath waking her up. Akira gathered up some plates and glasses from around the room and headed down the stairs, leaving them otherwise alone.

“Listen, Akechi…” Ryuji started, then faltered, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “If you… do want to be friends, I’m all for it.”

Akechi looked exhausted as he blinked over at him, still propped up on his pillows. Some of the color had returned to his face, though. “What would the other Thieves say about that?”

“I can be friends with people they don’t like, just like they can be friends with people I don’t like. Look at Mishima.” Akechi just blinked, clearly not aware of who that was. “Anyway, I just… I just know how much it sucks to feel like you’re alone. That no one’s got your back. And I’m sorry that was what you’ve been dealing with for who knows how long.” He swallowed hard, remembering those days after Kamoshida, after the track team dumped him, during the period of time Ann and others from his middle school wouldn’t give him the time of day. If he hadn’t had his mom through all of that… “I guess what I’m saying is, I know the future is unclear for you, but if you need someone to have your back while you work on doing better… if you need anyone to talk to, to hear all the shit you’ve been through and not judge or take pity… well, I’m here.”

Akechi stared at him, blinking a little too much. After a long moment he just nodded and looked away. “If I end up in prison for the rest of my life?”

“They’ll have visiting hours, won’t they?” Ryuji just grinned. “I can even send you stupid memes in the mail.”

Akechi looked disgusted at the thought, shaking his head. But then his face softened, and he looked over at him with an emotion Ryuji couldn’t really describe. “Thanks, Sakamoto.”

“Ryuji’s fine.”

Akechi smiled weakly. “Goro, then.”

“WHAT?! He gets first name privileges before me?! I call shenanigans! I even still have your glove!”

Welp, Akira was back. Moment ruined. Ryuji dissolved into laughter at the downright petulant look on Akira’s dumb face. 

“Sorry, bro. Get good!”

Akira shoved him playfully, flopping on the floor between them with a bowl of popcorn. Morgana hopped on his lap, Ann woke up groggily and immediately began grabbing fistfuls of popcorn, spilling some all over Ryuji’s futon and wasn’t that just shit, and there was now laughter in the room, even from Akechi.

There was still so much unknown lingering on the horizon. With Shido, with Akechi, with Mementos, with everything going on in the world. But for now, things felt more right than it ever had. They were all alive, for one. And, maybe things would end up all working out in their favor. He had to hope that. 

It was all going to be okay.