Chapter Text
“Aw, geeze, you’d think I would’ve learned to always have an umbrella on me.” A feminine voice whined as the bell above the door jingled merrily despite the torrent of rain and wind that was beating against the café, which was little more than a hole in the wall. The air was warm inside, but Akira could hear the new customer’s teeth lightly chattering.
This had to be a new person, as Akira didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to any of the cafe’s slow stream of regulars. Yet Sojiro's response, given from his place by the shelves holding the many varieties of beans LeBlanc served… told a different story.
“You’re-!”
The shock and surprise in the older man’s voice had Akira's hands freezing in their motion of washing a plate.
Was it an enemy? A possible robber or someone with ties back to that corrupt bastard Shido?
Under the sudsy water, there was a chef’s knife—it was just a nakiri. It was a rectangular classic Japanese-style vegetable knife with a straight blade edge suitable for chopping all the way to the cutting board without the need for a horizontal pull or push. However, its thinner blade was far less ideal for cutting meat.
Still it could work in a pinch if push came to shove, Akira was sure of it. Futaba and Morgana were upstairs in the attic, and he had to protect them and Sojiro to keep his family safe with a cocksure grin that was missing the mask that hid everything else.
One hand moved to grip the handle of the nakiri under the water but still didn't turn around to face the possible threat.
It had been only a couple of months since the end of… everything.
The battle with the false god.
The fucked up month of January.
Shido being declared guilty by the court of law. Akira standing trial, and then his stint in juvie.
He was released and returned to his hometown, but his parents kicked him out almost immediately. He then returned to living under the care of Sojiro, who was in the process of formally adopting Akira into the Sakura family with his parents’ eager ‘blessing’ to save their reputations despite his record being scrubbed.
Akechi’s-
Akira's thoughts derailed as he heard a soft, warm chuckle come from the cafe owner’s lips, “Now, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Poor thing, look at you. Hey, get a towel, would ya?”
Tension melted out of the teenager’s frame, and his heart rate returned to normal. Typically, his nerves weren’t this bad, but today just happened to be a bad one for him. Knowing the last part was directed at him, Akira nodded while stepping away from the sink.
Soft mutterings echoed behind his back as Akira opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a fluffy towel, more appropriate for a bath than the threadbare ones used to wipe down the booths.
When he did return, Akira found his step faltering at the sight.
The owner of the voice was a young woman but older than himself. If he had to guess, he would assume her to be in her very early twenties. And honestly, she was gorgeous, just standing at the entrance of LeBlanc, drenched and wringing water out of her long reddish brown hair. Her large, expressive, chestnut brown eyes lifted towards him, and she gave a picture-perfect smile with crimson-tinted lips that would have sent Ryuji far more than 6 feet under. A pair of sunglasses were perched on her head, which she took off when Akira offered her the towel.
“Thanks~!” There was that mega giga watt smile again as she patted her head lightly with the towel. The action seemed familiar and Akira struggled a bit trying to put someone else in the woman’s place to figure out why. In his mind’s eye, he turned the stranger’s hair many shades lighter and- BINGO. He’d seen Ann doing the same before, her explaining it was something that actors and models often did when their hair got wet. Gentle pressing of a towel to soak up water instead of rubbing vigorously to avoid the strands breaking or crimping weirdly.
The tactic never worked on Akira's hair, but it was a beast more fierce than any shadow and refused to be tamed.
Still this realization begged the question of whether the lady was doing similar work as his friend. She certainly had the looks for it and, her clothing looked expensive. He hung out with Haru and Ann enough to recognize the pricey, trendy stuff pretty quickly. She also looked familiar, though he couldn’t put his finger on where he had seen her face before.
Sojiro caught Akira's eye and gave a little jerk towards the corner of booths closest to the stairs. He got the message, moving to the stack of lap blankets there that customers used when it was chilly. As the still unknown young woman sat herself at the counter, he traded her damp towel for the blanket, which she wrapped around her shoulders with a loud sigh.
That smile lost a few watts and Akira found he liked it better, it made her seem more human. But it was still warm, more sincere, as Sojiro placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of her. The drink was tinted lighter from sugar and cream.
It was another piece of the puzzle, for Sojiro to know without asking what she liked meant that she was at one point a pretty frequent customer.
Raising the cup to her lips, she hummed in bliss at the smell before taking a drink, her shoulders sagging as Akira knew from experience that Sojiro’s coffee had a way of warming someone from the inside out.
“Oh man, still the best cup I’ve had by far.” She mused, giving a little wink to the man reclining against the shelves on the other side of the counter.
“You’re just saying that I’m sure you’ve had better coffee in your travels abroad than this little place,” Sojiro answered, stroking his fingers through his bread with a pleased little smile. His eyes held a fondness in them that Akira noticed was absent with most of his customers.
Now, Akira's curiosity was really clawing at him. Before he could ask, however, there was the sound of feet rushing down the stairs.
There stood Futaba, Morgana standing by her boots with a confused expression on his furry face. While she was visibly shaking slightly, the techie forced herself to move one foot in front of the other towards them. Concerned, Akira moved quickly to his adoptive sister’s side.
Sojiro also turned towards them, a worried pinch in his brow, but he seemed to hold faith in his daughter, and if she faltered, he knew that Akira would be there to support her.
“You okay?” Akira whispered, keeping a slow pace with Futaba as she continued to walk forward. The younger girl gave a stiff nod but seemed to find a bit more confidence with her brother and leader by her side as she stopped only a short, comfortable distance from the stranger sitting at the counter.
Then the proverbial word vomit began as the dam behind Futaba’s lips burst, “Y-You! Risette! M-Me... uh… B-big fan! H-Huge fan! OHMYGODWHATISAFAMOUSIDOLDOINGINLEBLANC?! PLEASEGIVEMEANAUTOGRAPH, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!”
Akira and Sojiro both visibly jerked back as the volume at the end of Futaba’s tirade was almost to the level of shouting. As Futaba panted for breath, Morgana couldn’t help but snicker, “That’s certainly one way to make a first impression.”
“Shut. It.” Futaba growled under her breath, cheeks stained pink as she watched the idol, who blinked owlishly at her before laughing.
It wasn’t unkind. In fact, the toneseemed genuinely good natured as ‘Risette’ picked up a napkin from the counter and clicked a pen she retrieved from her purse.
“Wait just a minute, you used to come here to get away from fans and the paparazzi. Now my daughter is asking you for an autograph?” Sojiro sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, and Futaba visibly deflated further as he spoke, “I’m sorry, but-”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind, really!” Risette chimed, starting to scrawl away with the pen, “I never say no to someone so honestly earnest, and I think it’s only right that I pay you back for the shelter your café has given me in the past.”
Akira could finally place the woman, though he felt like an idiot once he did. After all, her face had been on his wall for almost a whole year. A poster that Ann had given him during one of their outings to Harajuku. A simple free promotional item for the idol Risette’s newest album ‘Sapphire’. This lack of observation…
It was like a physical blow to his thief-y credentials.
No one could know.
Ever.
“Still, you never mentioned that you had kids, boss.” Risette mused with her lips pulled into a pout as she paused in her writing to look between the little family. She held out her hand and then gave it to the younger girl, with a genuine smile and tone. “I’m Kujikawa Rise. My friends call me Rise, so you can too if you’d like. Nice to meet you!”
“S-Sakura Futaba, nice to meet you too, R-Rise-san.” Futaba was stuttering less, though she still fiddled with her hands nervously in front of herself. Akira’s pride in her only rose. She’d come so far since being unable to leave the room she thought could only be her tomb.
Rise nodded her head patiently, holding her hand out for a shake, which Futaba took after a moment of hesitation. Those brown eyes of the idol, Akira noticed that they seemed to be searching the small, thin girl from top to bottom before settling back onto Futaba’s face again while speaking in a softer, gentle tone, “I think you’re very brave, Futaba-chan. Not many people have the guts to approach someone they admire like this.”
“Huh? You think I’m… brave?” Futaba blinked, looking the idol entirely in the face for the first time.
“Mhmm~,” Rise hummed in answer, smiling and nodding. "But you were scared coming up to me, and even a little now, right?”
“Y-Yeah, I didn’t know if you were just going to blow me off or even laugh at someone like me. I still feel like, hnnggh, like I’m about to just self-combust at any given moment.” Futaba mumbled, her head dropping a little once more. When the older woman patted the stool next to her at the counter, both of the teenagers moved to sit down instead of awkwardly standing. Futaba pulled her legs up onto the chair to sit half crouched as she so often did. Akira, with one elbow resting on the counter so that he was half turned so that he could see everyone.
With everything he’d gone through, he never liked having his back to people or doors anymore.
Sojiro didn’t seem to mind the unofficial break that Akira had declared for himself. In fact, he placed two more steaming cups in front of the high schoolers.
“‘Someone like you’, huh?” Rise repeated under her breath, a frown marring her features for the first time since Akira had laid eyes on her. She took a drink of her coffee before asking, “Hey, Futaba-chan, what is it you like about me?”
“What do you mean? What’s there not to like?” Futaba answered the question with a question. She continued once Rise did not attempt to speak further, listing things off on her fingers, “You’re beautiful, confident, successful, everyone loves you. The dance routines you do, the acting jobs you’ve recently taken, and your voice is just amazing. You’re… You don’t seem to be fake like a lot of idols, you’re songs and interviews, you seem to really believe in what you sing and talk about. There’s that one song that really resonated with my mind and body’s software when I was feeling down, ya know, umm-”
Futaba swallowed hard before humming under her breath, “You got yourself behind a door deep inside your heart again.” (https://youtu.be/9KCe7v5wSi8)
Without missing a beat, Rise took up the song fearlessly despite the lack of music or technical equipment, placing a hand to her chest as she sang, voice filling the once silent cafe, “You wanna hide. You wanna come out. Going round and round. Thinking hard about it doesn’t help you one bit. Say ‘Hello’!”
“Hello!” Morgana and Futaba answered, apparently the girl had been making him listen to the idol’s music too.
For her part, Rise winked at them while continuing to sing, “You gotta say goodbye, the shrouds of lies, yeah! Shout friends, just those words you really mean. And let your voice be heard all over the world! Stand up when you hear the knock on the door. ” She mimed knocking on an invisible door before pointing at the beaming girl at her side, “It’s me, come on out! Get ready for your True Story!”
The song was finished and Rise was panting lightly, Sojiro placing a glass of water in front of her that she greedily gulped down before noting, “Woo, it’s been a while since I’ve sang without any professional back-up. But I think you guys did just fine.”
“She’s incredible, I mean my heart still belongs to Lady Ann, but me-wow.” Morgana purred while leaping onto the last unoccupied stool. Really, Akira had to agree with the black and white ‘not’ cat as the idol recovered. Futaba looked like she was one step away from overheating, her face red, and she chanted softly, “OMG, OMG, I just got a private concert from The Risette. This has to be a dream, but I really don’t wanna wake up.”
Smirking slightly, Akira reached forward, delivering a sharp pinch to Futaba’s arm, which had her squeaking, whipping around fast to smack him hard in the arm. Thin as she was, she’d developed some muscle from their past journeys through the Metaverse and then daily exercise with school and helping out at the café. Akira continued his devil-may-care smile as Futaba fumed, “What? I was just helping; you know you’re not dreaming now.”
“You’re terrible, I guess it makes sense that such a powerful move would have some recoil,” Futaba mumbled, turning her attention back to their guest as Rise laughed.
“Are you two siblings? You certainly act like it.”
Sojiro was the one who answered with a chuckle, “Yup, he’s her big brother, Akira. He’s pretty good at making a decent cup of coffee and cooking. He’ll serve you if I’m ever busy.” He nodded to the two teenagers, “They’re a pain in the butt most of the time, but I can’t imagine my life without either of them.”
Akira felt a rush of warmth from deep within his soul, flaring through him from Kohryu. As Futaba playfully bumped her shoulder against his, Ongyo-Ki’s boundless force echoed in his heartbeat like a taiko drum. Yeah, they were family, even if they were still weird about saying titles, and the paperwork was still being pushed from desk to desk in city hall.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Akira. Still, boss, if I knew you had kids, I would have picked them up something.” Rise whined before picking up the paper bag that was by her feet on the floor. Handing it over while explaining, “Go ahead, open it. I bought it at my last gig.”
“You really didn’t have to, Rise-chan,” Sojiro sighed, taking the bag when the woman continued to jiggle the bag by its strings across the counter towards him. After popping it open and taking out the rectangular package, his eyes widened, “100% Kona coffee beans?! All of these are the same. The cost would be… I can’t accept this.”
Akira's expression mirrored the older barista’s. Sojiro had hammered information about both coffee and curry into him at any given opportunity. The other’s lesson about this particular bean rolling off his tongue unbidden. “Good Kona coffee is known to have a rich flavor, bright acidity, and complex aroma. The price tag attached to it comes from the intense labor it takes to grow, pick, and prepare the beans that are produced from the grounds fertile from volcanic ash.”
“So you’re also a walking encyclopedia of coffee?” Rise giggled before reminding Sojiro, “And you’re not allowed to give a present back, it’s rude. Anyway, it’s also an apology gift for being gone so long. I’m sure you missed the business and my delightful company.”
“About that… how do you two know each other?” Akira asked, stepping the conversation in the direction he wanted as gracefully as a dancer’s. He’d learned quite a few speaking skills from his friend and was eager to get his answers finally.
“It’s a pretty funny story, I had a photo op in Yongen a couple years ago, they wanted to get a few shots of me in a more… quaint location that would work instead of taking the whole crew to my hometown.” Rise chuckled as she wrapped her hands around her cup, sapping heat from it. She looked into the murky liquid, expression nostalgic, “I guess it worked a little too well. After the shoot, I couldn’t get this place out of my head. I missed Inaba, and Yongen’s shopping district reminded me a bit of it.”
“Inaba’s pretty out in the sticks, right?” Akira mused. It was just another small blip on the map of Japan that Shujin had made the students memorize. He only remembered it because he knew that he had heard the name on the news several times a couple of years ago. Now, he couldn’t really remember why.
“Incredibly so,” Rise agreed, but longing colored her tone, “There’s a few famous places: a textiles shop, an inn, and a beautiful river. My grandmother owns a tofu shop there, too. That’s all it really has to offer someone from the outside. It’s so small that the biggest and only chain store is a single Junes. While this place is pretty quiet compared to the rest of Tokyo, I should have known better than to wander around without hiding my identity.”
“So she ducked into here to hide from some annoying fans and paparazzi.” Sojiro finished, “Ever since then, she’s been a welcome regular.”
“Yup~! When I need a place to relax or clear my head with some excellent coffee, I head straight here. I have to wear a hood or something to hide my face, but Sojiro makes sure that no one hassles me once I’m inside.” Rise explained, “Sadly, I haven’t had the chance to come back here for almost a full year with work sending me all over Japan and then abroad for shows. Japanese idols are becoming more and more popular overseas.”
“But now you’re planning to stick around for a while, or will you be off again?” Sojiro asked while setting the bag down on the shelf behind him.
Giving an exhausted sigh, Rise suddenly half collapsed across the counter, “Honestly, I’m beat. I told my manager that I wanted to take a break from traveling. I'd like to just spend time here in Tokyo and focus on writing some new songs. I was a little nervous about asking for it, but I should have known better. Inoue-san was completely supportive and said he was worried I was pushing myself too hard again.”
She giggled softly, “He probably would’ve got in contact with my friends, so they’d tell me to take a break if I hadn’t spoken up myself. I could never say no to any of them. It’s too dangerous.”
“It sounds like you got people who really care about you, Rise-san.” Akira smiled. ‘Dangerous’ was a description he would use for his friends if they thought he’d gotten himself into yet another mess. However, he’d do the same for them in the next breath. It didn’t matter if they had the powers they had in the Metaverse or not.
“Yeah, they’re great. While we’ve all moved on and far away from each other, we’re still in constant contact. These phones with group video chat are perfect, we just had flip-phones when I was in high school.” Rise said as she pulled herself back up to be sitting properly.
“Woah, archaic,” Futaba mumbled aloud, getting a laugh from the idol.
“They really were. I need to thank you for your kind words earlier, too, Futaba-chan.” Rise grinned before whispering conspiratorially, “You wanna know a secret of mine?”
“Yes,” came the quick answer from the techie.
Rise smiled before her tone turned serious, “Several years ago, I took a break from being an idol and honestly thought that I’d never come back to this sort of life. Short life as it was since this happened during my first year of high school. I was overwhelmed by the expectations, rumors, and eyes on me. I felt that I didn’t know who I was. Was I Rise or Risette? I thought that I had to be one or the other, that whatever I chose would kill the rest. I was willing to strike that blow, too.”
She nodded to herself as the teenagers gaped at her, continuing her story, “It took some time, but with the help of my senpai and friends, I realized that ‘Risette’ was a precious part of me. That realization sprung from the embarrassing jealousy, sadness, anger, and regret I felt when Inoue-san said he’d give up trying to bring me back and focus on a new idol if that’s what I truly wanted. There are many faces a person wears, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t an important part of yourself. All those faults and experiences, they make the complete ‘you’.”
The idol’s eyes met Futaba’s, neither flinching as she spoke, “Living your life as only ‘part’ of yourself to satisfy others or thinking that you need to throw away things in your past is not a fun way to live. You can’t run away from yourself or try to be someone you're not. You can accept and overcome your weaknesses, show the world all of you, and try to inspire others to do the same.”
“Every time I perform, I’m a little scared. Always afraid that I might fail. But I leave the stage knowing that I gave it my all and that if someone doesn’t like me, that’s their choice, not a reflection upon myself. As long as I can inspire one person to reach inside of themselves for the truth in their own strength the way that I have you, Futaba-chan, then I’m unstoppable.” Rise finished.
The first year was left staring open-mouthed at the idol, and Morgana snickered, “She too much for you, Futaba? LV 99, all stats maxed out?”
“Program Futaba.exe has stopped working.” Akira reported with a solemn tone and nod, “We might have to force restart.”
“D-Don’t you dare!” Futaba almost squealed as she realized reaching fingers were heading towards her sides. Knowing where everyone’s ticklish spots were didn’t seem to be something that a leader needed to know about his team, but Akira did anyway.
Despite the aborted mission, the café was filled with laughter, and Rise asked, through her giggles, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, Futaba-chan?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Futaba nodded while pushing her glasses further back up the bridge of her nose, rocking slightly on her stool, “I should embrace every part of me, the good and the bad. To not be afraid to show it all. If they don’t like it, they’re the noobs and not worth my notice! ...Right?”
“Perfect,” Akira answered, and Rise nodded her agreement.
“You know, I think I already knew that.” Futaba hummed, sending a smile towards her brother, “My friends and family have helped me a lot, I wasn’t… I wasn’t doing too good for a while there, after mom died. But with their support I’ve been able to move on while still holding onto my precious memories of her.”
“You’re so strong, Futaba-chan.” Rise’s expression was warm but solemn, “And... I’m sorry about your mom. It must have been so hard.”
Sojiro had turned away from them and was suspiciously rubbing at his eyes, trying to pass it off as if he was adjusting his glasses. They all knew better.
“Thanks,” Futaba smiled. It was strong smile, not brittle or fake as it had once been months ago.
Rise sniffled, shaking her head slightly before she pointed at Sojiro’s still turned back, “Ugh, this is all your fault, ya know, boss?! Your coffee’s too good and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“What?” Sojiro blinked as he looked back at them, eyes slightly red.
“Yeah, this is totally Sojiro’s fault, him and his god-tier coffee,” Futaba added, and who was Akira not to jump in with his own brand of cheek?
“You better be ready to compensate us all, Dad.”
The café owner rubbed the back of his neck with a good natured sigh, not quite trying to fight the smile that was trying to quirk his lips, “Alright, alright, I’ll take responsibility, how about a dessert for everyone? On the house.”
Futaba banged her fist on the counter like it was the hammer of a judge, “The payment has been ruled acceptable by the court.”
Sojiro shook his head while muttering under his breath, moving to the refrigerator to get their prize, “Seriously? You know that most judges in Japan don’t even use a gavel, right?”
“Overruled!” Cheered Futaba, Akira, Rise, and Morgana as one.
They enjoyed their coffee and puddings, as well as a bowl of cream for Morgana. Then eventually curry when it grew yet later, and the sun began to set. Rise handed over the folded napkin to Futaba as she stepped out of LeBlanc to sincere goodbyes. The idol had pulled the hood of her nondescript jacket over her head before she left. Hiding her face for a short time, it would take her to make it to the street where she’d told a ride to wait for her.
Clutching the flimsy still unopened paper carefully, Futaba grinned wide, “I can’t believe today, meeting Risette, getting a mini-concert, and getting an autograph! I can’t wait to tell everyone. Ryuji’s going to completely lose it~!”
Her jovial mood was rained on as Sojiro cut in sternly, “Don’t you remember what I said to begin with? Rise-chan comes here for peace, knowing your lot. She wouldn’t get much of that if they came here looking for an idol.”
“But Soo-ji-rooo.” Futaba whined.
“No buts, if it brings annoying fans and paparazzi here, it’s a no-go. Got it? Rise-chan and I are trusting you two to keep your mouths shut.” Sojiro reminded them before walking into the back to start prepping ingredients for tomorrow’s curry. They could still hear him muttering under his breath, “You’d think they’d be more careful as ‘thieves’ and this place being their ‘hideout’, shesh.”
“He has a point.” Morgana meowed, ears folding back as he added, “And Rise-chan’s so beautiful and kind, I don’t want to give her any trouble. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly.”
Akira nodded his head in agreement, but Futaba wasn’t so quick to crumble, her eyes flicking about the café in thought before glancing at the folded napkin still clutched in her hand and giving a devious giggle.
“Mweheh, do not look so despondent, my disciples, for there is a loophole!” Futaba placed the paper on the counter while waving the two males closer, “The autograph! It’s our proof of meeting Risette, but we can say we ran into her somewhere else, like Odaiba or the SkyTree. Maybe she was having a photoshoot or something and Mr. Cool here approached her first! If they recognize the napkin from LeBlanc we’ll say it was the first paper we found in your bag.”
“Clever,” Akira smirked. He loved his best friend, but when Ryuji got flustered, it was quite the sight. He’d also gotten better about not putting his entire foot in his mouth while speaking…. Usually.
Bouncing on her heels, Futaba gave a victory pose before turning to the napkin and flipping it open… or stumbling back in the next moment like she had been struck with a physical blow, groaning out, “Gahh! Critical hit, nooooo… She’s totally OP, all those skills and she’s smart. Not fair.”
Confused, Morgana and Akira both crammed their heads closer to look at the paper in question. On the paper, it certainly said Rise’s full name and her stage name. It wasn’t common for idols to do that, but it was not unheard of. No, it was the personal messages that were the nails in the coffin for Futaba’s scheme. A cheery, curvy scrawl reading:
Thanks for the coffee, Leblanc!~
You’re beary strong, Futaba-chan~
‘Huh, ‘beary’? What the hell?” Morgana asked his tail, lashing in confusion and agitation, that he wasn’t going to be able to tease a specific bottle blond till the end of time… at least about this.
Tapping his finger against the mess of ink at the edge of the napkin, Akira muttered, “I think it has something to do with this doodle. It kinda looks like a bear, a mascot of some kind?” The exaggerated size of the eyes, random tuft of hair in the center of its head, puckered kissing face and round blush on its cheeks.... It was undoubtedly elaborate.
“Ugh, who cares? What’s important is the fact that I can’t even take a picture of either name without also getting ‘LeBlanc’ in the shot! I can’t post this online or show it to the others without revealing where we met. If I edit it, it’ll be too obvious. Damn, Inari would be able to pick it up in a second.” Futaba whined, raking her hands through her hair in frustration while stomping her feet.
For his part, Akira remained rather impressed despite the disappointment: “It’s not often that someone can outmaneuver you, Oracle.”
“I didn’t even know there were idol cheat codes.” Futaba groaned defiantly, she sucked in a breath, no doubt about to start another rant when the constant thumps of Sojiro’s knife on the cooking board stopped. The older man frowned as he paused halfway through cutting a stack of carrots.
“Wait a second, how did you even know that Rise-chan was here anyway?”
The orange-haired girl went rigid, twitching slightly as she slowly turned towards her father, “W-Well, umm, that’s ‘cause-”
Akira pinched his brow between his thumb and forefinger as he drew the same conclusions, “You still have LeBlanc bugged, don’t you?”
“I-It’s for extra security! What if someone tries to rob this place?” Futaba reasoned quickly.
“I hope you don’t have any bugs in his room, but knowing you…” Morgana murmured, drawing an offended look from the girl.
Sojiro, not privy to Morgana’s words, frowned as he considered her words before sighing, “I assume that you have both audio and visual?” At her nervous giggle, he grunted under his breath, “I should’ve assumed as much.” His voice rose then, firm and offering no room for argument, “You can have one or the other, but not both. While you might think it nice to have both eyes and ears, it just provides one more line for them to follow back to you if LeBlanc gets raided again. We’re lucky as it is that you guys had the foresight to get any of that ‘gear’ out of here, and they didn’t find any of your crap when they came here after that stunt in Shibuya.”
While it had been months since a majority of Shido’s cohorts had been arrested, they couldn’t be sure that they really got everyone in the Conspiracy. All of them knew that, and it was better to stay on their toes than to be caught with their pants down, asses exposed as Iwai might say. As much as they could, ‘they had to be prepared for the unpredictable’. Lavenza had stated as such that it was their fate since awakening to another world that ran not quite parallel to their own.
While the Metaverse and Mementos seemed to have disappeared, the Phantom Thieves could still feel their Personas inside of their souls, active as ever, despite the fact that they could not be summoned. A constant whisper of encouragement, opinion, and even sarcasm in their lives. A reminder of their will of rebellion against a world that wasn’t perfect but was what they had all asked for.
For Akira, the thrum of his bonds was a constant source of warmth or cool breeze, except for...
Metatron pulsed in his chest, but the angel’s words always seemed to come from underwater. There, but…
Akira raised a hand to his chest unconsciously. Sojiro had once asked him how to heal a heart. What had he answered him with? That they would heal on their own and with time? It was true for Futaba with the aid of himself, their friends, and Sojiro. Yet the ache was as present as ever when Akira let his thoughts wander too much. They always ended up back on the person who had been a walking contradiction, a red herring, a detective, a charlatan, an enemy, a teammate, a traitor, a friend, a dead man walking…
Someone Akira couldn’t save and who refused to allow himself to be saved in the end.
Akechi Goro, the one person that Akira found himself longing to have more from despite his single attendant’s assurances that their relationship as confidants had reached its peak.
“Hey, Joker! You okay?” Morgana’s tone was worried as he brought Akira out of his thoughts. The two Sakuras had also stopped what they were doing to stare at him. How long had he been spacing out for?
“Shesh, you really haven’t changed that much, have you?” Sojiro sighed as Akira flushed slightly at the concentrated attention he hadn’t been playing for. “It’s been a long day. We should probably just close up for the night and turn in, yeah? You staying here or coming over to the house?”
Since coming back to Tokyo and setting the adoption process rolling, Sojiro has tried to make things ‘right’ with Akira. There was a room in the house for him now with a desk, bed, and everything he could want. It was nice, but there was something to be said about having a completely private space like the attic in LeBlanc that was filled with such great memories with the team. A peaceful place and haven, particularly when Futaba had a late-night gaming marathon that would fill the whole house with keyboard clicks and muffled shrieking.
So… yes, oftentimes Akira still found himself preferring to sleep in LeBlanc rather than the house. Sojiro wasn’t exactly happy with it, insisting that he get a proper bed for the attic, stuff stored somewhere else, new blackout curtains hung, and even installed a hatch door to the stairs so that the attic was completely closed off from the rest of the café for privacy. Sojiro said that if the social worker on the adoption case ever asked, the bed up there was for Akira or Futaba to nap in between shifts at the café.
The rest of Akira's oasis was basically the same as it had been and it was comfortable with the assortment of gifts he had received from friends and around Tokyo serving as quirky decorations.
Futaba often called Akira's attic a ‘total hipster’s paradise’ because it was confusing and had no obvious, consistent theme. However, Akira and the rest still fondly called it ‘the hideout.’
“I’ll sleep here tonight,” Akira answered, drawing a look of concern from his sister as she asked.
“You sure? You seem a little… ‘bluh’.”
The last statement was further enunciated with her sticking out her tongue and wiggling her fingers in front of her.
“Yup, don’t worry about it.” he nodded, making sure his smile was just in the shade of sincere instead of cocky, as Sojiro reminded him.
“Alright, but don’t waste your money at the bathhouse. If you want to clean up, come to the house. You don’t need to worry about the water bill.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Akira agreed with a lazy salute that had Futaba giggling and Sojiro rolling his eyes as they left the café. Morgana leaped from the stool to perch himself on Akira's shoulders as the third year started his trek up the stairs. The small furry head-butted itself under his chin as Akira went through the motions to get ready for bed. He kept a small supply of pajamas here just for times like these.
When he finally collapsed back on his bed, supported by an actual frame and not shitty boxes, Morgana still seemed unwilling to leave him be, which was… fine. The creature made from the dregs of humanity’s hope did not protest as Akira rolled onto his side, one arm wrapping around the cat’s body pulling him close, the other arm was under the pillow to grab the, now worn, leather he’d kept stashed there.
Morgana purred lightly, soothingly, as he nuzzled into Akira's chest, “I got your back, Joker. We all do and always will.”
Akira hummed his acknowledgment, throat tight as he yearned for sleep. It was going to be one of those nights. Cause yeah, for all the good things that happened today... it was still a bad day as memories of danger, monsters in and of shadows, torture, the ugliness of the human heart, and death still swirled like dark clouds just beyond the horizon of his mind.
As Akira's mind finally gave way to unconsciousness, he had one last thought. He swore that he could hear a faint sound, his heart supplying that it was much like the unstable fluttering of disjointed wings before it all went black.