#{does he use his brain at all} | Ryuji Sakamoto | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years ago

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Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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stuffkin · 3 years ago

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yusuke wants a stuffed friend of his own but can't say it. luckily, ryuji figures it out. eventually.

ao3!

By nature, Yusuke isn’t a jealous person. There’s never been a need for it. That, and the repercussions of jealousy had never been in his favor. He supposes Madarame is the one to thank for that.

That being said, Yusuke fights back a twinge as he watches Akira pull Pip down from the closet shelf for Ryuji. He doesn’t have a name for the feeling yet, but the way Ryuji’s face lights up as he hugs the threadbare dog close sends something rotten through Yusuke, all the way through his core. A tiny voice, a bitter one, tells him to snatch Pip away, to say something mean, to leave. He does none of those things. Instead, he ducks his head and gets back to work on the puzzle Akira had brought. Instead, he places the feelings aside, much like he’s placing the pieces: precisely, analytically, with no room for error. He won’t let such ugly feelings ruin the day. The afternoon passes without incident. He keeps quiet.

But the feelings don’t.

It all comes to a head one afternoon after school. The day had been a long one: new assignments, deadlines, the usual looks and whispers. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Yusuke’s mind had grown foggier as the day went on, everything stinging, and by the time he reaches the Sakamoto household that evening, he’s ready to call it a day.

“I’m home,” he mumbles, leaning down to untie his laces. He’d been nowhere near loud enough to be heard, and yet Ryuji comes sliding into the entryway.

“Hey, man, don’t take your shoes off yet. Ma left us some cash to go get dinner,” Ryuji rambles in one breath. “I was thinking...well…”

Yusuke had paused when Ryuji started talking. Now he glances up to see why Ryuji had fallen silent. Ryuji’s frowning down at him. It’s a face Yusuke’s seen enough times to know it for what it is. Pity. Worry. Is he really that poorly off that Ryuji can read him on sight?

With a sigh, Yusuke resumes untying his shoe. “You go on without me. I’d much rather stay in tonight.”

Silence again. Yusuke doesn’t bother looking up this time until both shoes are off and neatly put in the rack. Only then does he straighten to look at Ryuji. “What is it?” It isn’t until Ryuji cringes that Yusuke realizes his tone, but it’s too late now. Ryuji’s already moving on, anyway.

“You feelin’ okay? You never turn down food.”

“I’m fine.” He steps past Ryuji. “Just tired.”

“Okay.” Ryuji pauses. “Want me to go pick something up, then?”

“Do as you’d like.” He disappears into the bedroom. Scarcely a minute later, he hears the front door open and close with subsequent bang. Always so noisy. It has Yusuke sinking back into his sheets. Already his skin crawls with the urge to move. Yet he remains still, eyes fixed on the wooden slats holding the mattress above him. Idly, he wonders what would happen if they snapped. The thought flits away as quickly as it came. His brain buzzes.

Being lost in his head isn’t anything new. Lacking focus while lost is another story. Flinty irritation flares as he tries to grasp something. Anything. Of course, the sparks catch on memories of other times he’d lacked clarity. Fingers snapping in front of his face. A hand on his jaw, twisting his head until steely eyes bore into his. Fingers–talons, really–digging into his shoulder until he could muster the necessary words.

Funny things, memories. Past to present, present to future. It all circles back in the end. Yusuke presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. His affinity is ice. How is he to withstand the blaze?

He wishes he had gone with Ryuji, or that Ryuji would return soon. As much as he prefers the quiet, the company would be welcome. Mostly because Ryuji knows how to make things quiet.

The thought gives Yusuke pause. It gives him an idea. Sitting up, his eyes stray to the closet. What makes Ryuji’s brain quiet?

He keeps quiet as he picks his way across the cluttered floor and slides the door open. Sitting in the middle of the shelf is a raggedy dog, barely hanging on by a thread. Pip. Yusuke stares at him solemnly before cautiously picking him up and tucking him against his chest. Guilt pricks at him; he shouldn’t be doing this, not without permission. If anything happens to Pip…

But the weight in his arms feels good. The buzzing in his head is already losing volume. It’s a welcome reprieve from the earlier sting. Ryuji won’t mind, right? He’ll just have to be extra careful!

Satisfied with this decision, Yusuke folds himself back onto his bed with Pip. Gently, he squishes his cheek to the fuzzy fabric atop Pip’s head. What had he been so worried about, anyway?

* * * * *

By the time the front door clatters and Ryuji calls his return, Yusuke’s come to the blurry realization that he’d been on the verge of regressing all day. No wonder he’d been in such an awful mood. But Pip’s made some of the bad feelings dissipate, and Ryuji’s home, too. He always knows what to do!

When Ryuji pokes his head into the bedroom, Yusuke can’t help but rock himself in a muddled sort of excitement. But when Ryuji’s attention drifts downwards, Yusuke’s stomach twists. Is ‘Yuji mad? He doesn’t look it, but Yusuke’s hardly good with faces. On paper, expressions are easy. He knows the rules.

People rarely follow the rules.

He holds Pip up, trying to squish the uneasy feeling growing in his gut and erase the urge to cling to Pip no matter what Ryuji says or does. “Sorry,” he says, voice incredibly small and hard to find.

“Hey, no worries,” Ryuji says easily, sidling the rest of the way into the room. Two plastic bags hang from his arm. Something along the lines of worry must still be on Yusuke’s face, because Ryuji sets the bags on the table before clambering onto the bed with him. Then he tweaks Yusuke’s nose. It startles Yusuke so much that worry screeches to a halt. Eyes wide, he looks at Ryuji and is met with an even wider grin. “Havin’ fun with Pip?”

“Uh-huh.” Yusuke nods once. Is ‘Yuji really not upset with him? If their roles were swapped, Yusuke isn’t sure how he’d react, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be so nice. Still, he decides to play it safe. “Pip wanted a hug.”

Something about this must strike Ryuji as funny, because he laughs. “Yeah, he gets pretty bossy when he wants hugs, huh? C’mon, I think he’ll be fine while we eat.” Ryuji slides off the bed and stretches.

Yusuke’s stomach growls at the mention of food. It’s only then he remembers he’d skipped lunch. But just the idea of putting Pip down stings so much worse than hunger. When Yusuke doesn’t move, Ryuji tilts his head. “Bring Pip to sit with us, okay? That way he doesn’t get lonely!”

This is a compromise Yusuke thinks he can accept. Nodding, he follows Ryuji to the table, setting Pip on the corner in his own special seat. “So he can see both of us,” he tells Ryuji.

“Good idea!” Ryuji praises warmly as he pulls out takeout bowl after takeout bowl. A familiar scent wafts towards Yusuke. Given the chance and the choice, Ryuji always goes for ramen. But…

“Curry?”

“Yeah!” Ryuji places a rice bowl and a pair of chopsticks within his reach. “It ain’t Boss’s by a long shot, but it’s still pretty good, I think.” He scoots over a curry bowl. “Do you want help?”

“No thank you.” Does he like being fed? Yes. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s still feeling frayed around the edges, and he’s fairly certain that would just push him over the edge. He just hopes that he still has a semblance of control over his hands.

At first, everything goes smoothly. Ryuji’s talking a mile a minute between bites, leaving Yusuke little room to respond, but that’s okay, because he’d rather save his words for when he needs them. Besides, Ryuji was right; the curry is good. Warm. Comforting. Just a shade off of homey. It dredges to the surface more forbidden memories. Withheld meals, meals in exchange for silence. Meals had in stony silence, a result of something done wrong.

Suddenly, dinner doesn’t seem so good anymore. A clump of rice falls from his chopsticks and into his lap. Something cloying, thick, bubbles to the surface, and before Yusuke realizes it, his eyes are stinging with tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ryuji stops mid-bite, chopsticks hovering in midair.

Of course he notices. ‘Yuji notices everything. Even more than ‘Kira, Yusuke thinks, because ‘Kira has too many irons in the fire. This isn’t anything Yusuke wants to voice, though, because he can’t quite pinpoint what about the curry triggered the memories. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it’s just him.

Ryuji’s expecting an answer, though. Unclenching his jaw, Yusuke offers the closest answer to the truth he can. It isn’t even that much of a lie, not really. “Tummy hurts.”

“Aw, man, I’m sorry, buddy.” Ryuji puts his chopsticks down. “Do you wanna save this for later?”

Yusuke doubts he’ll want it later, but he nods anyway. No use in wasting it. Ryuji offers a solemn nod by way of reply before shoveling the rest of his own dinner down his throat. It’s really a wonder how he doesn’t choke, Yusuke thinks, but he doesn’t say anything. The hollow feeling is returning, but it doesn’t have anything to do with an empty stomach. Without thinking, he pulls Pip into his lap. The hole fills in, just a bit. Curious.

He jumps when Ryuji smooths his bangs away from his face. “What’s on your mind, buddy?” he asks. The soft tone just serves to shove Yusuke further under the surface. The hole shrinks once more.

“Never had a friend like Pip before,” Yusuke mumbles without quite thinking about what he’s saying. He toys with Pip’s ears. A complicated emotion flickers across Ryuji’s face, but Yusuke doesn’t have it in him to even remotely parse it. He’s too tired. “‘Yuji, ‘s time to sleep.”

“Okay, li’l guy.” Ryuji’s voice sounds rough. Yusuke barely has time to wonder if he’s coming down with something before Ryuji stands and stretches. “Let’s get changed for bed, then.”

Yusuke clambers to his feet as well, swaying unsteadily where he stands. It isn’t just his head that feels submerged anymore. Ryuji presses a gentle hand between Yusuke’s shoulders to keep him steady. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

“Know.” Yusuke nods. “‘Yuji’s best.”

A huff of laughter from his left. Yusuke allows Ryuji to nudge him into sitting on the bottom bunk. “Oh, am I?” Ryuji teases. He steps the two feet to the dresser to get their pajamas. “I’m gonna tell Bubba that.”

“Nooo, ‘cause then he’ll be sad.” Yusuke frowns. “Bubba’s best, too.”

“Yeah, he is,” Ryuji agrees. “Want help changing?”

“Yes, please.”

Once they’re both changed for bed--a Herculean feat, caused by the fact that Yusuke was next to no help--Ryuji tucks Yusuke in, nice and snug, but he doesn’t move from the bedside. Yusuke, already half-asleep, pays him no mind. “Night night.”

“Night night, Yuyu. But, uh.” Ryuji stumbles over his words often, but something about this time seems different. “Buddy, you can’t sleep with Pip.”

“Oh.” Logically, Yusuke knows why. Pip, after all, is more rags and tatters than doll. Even Ryuji isn’t allowed to snuggle the plush at night. But the same bitter feeling that’s been coming and going recently wakes up, acrid as ever, and joins today’s melancholy. Yusuke can’t help but hug Pip closer to his chest. It’s not fair. What isn’t fair, he doesn’t know, but it’s not nonetheless. Only the mixture of hurt and fear in Ryuji’s eyes allows him to relinquish his grip and hold Pip out to Ryuji.

Ryuji takes the stuffed animal and sets it on the nearby table. Then he sits on the edge of Yusuke’s bed. The complicated look from before is back. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” The bad feelings are rippling through him, and he’s trying very hard not to look at Pip again, but he doesn’t want to make Ryuji feel bad. That wouldn’t be fair, either.

“How about I read you a story?”

Yusuke considers. “Okay.” He scoots over on the bed to make room for Ryuji, who slides up next to him and pulls out his phone. “Nice story, please,” Yusuke asks, leaning his head against Ryuji’s shoulder.

“I gotcha, Yuyu. How about…”

In spite of the lingering emptiness, Ryuji’s voice neatly fills in the nooks and crannies. Yusuke doesn’t hear the end of the story.

* * * * *

Weeks pass and Yusuke’s all but forgotten the odd, bitey feelings he sometimes gets around Ryuji. Things, if they’d been odd to begin with, go back to normal. At the very least, he has no more miserable nights.

No, today is the opposite of a miserable night. Instead, it’s a sunny afternoon. Yusuke and Ryuji are in their room, one playing the role of dutiful student and the other playing games instead.

“Coming in,” Miyuu calls before sliding the bedroom door open. Yusuke glances up from his homework. Ryuji, meanwhile, doesn’t bother pausing his game, but Miyuu doesn’t seem to mind, because she’s honed in on Yusuke. “Glad to see someone makes use of that desk.”

Yusuke doesn’t need to look at him to know Ryuji’s comically rolling his eyes. “It’s very useful, yes.”

Miyuu’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “You got a minute, kiddo?”

“Of course.” Curiosity sparks as he wonders what she wants. Or what she has--her hands are held behind her back. It doesn’t take all that long for her to bring whatever she’s hiding into view.

It’s a crocheted frog. Complete with button eyes and a light blue sweater, the doll rests in Miyuu’s hands as she holds it out to him.

Surprised, Yusuke’s mouth falls open. When he doesn’t move, Miyuu gently places it in his lap. Yusuke’s hands automatically find their way to the frog, lifting it up to eye-level. Suddenly, all the instances Miyuu had been cagey the past few weeks make sense. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, that’s a relief, because it’s for you.” At Yusuke’s questioning glance, Miyuu nods her head in Ryuji’s direction. “He said you’d seemed pretty down about not having a Pip of your own, so we thought this was a good start.”

Yusuke’s head swivels in Ryuji’s direction. Ryuji still doesn’t look away from his game, but his ears are turning an outrageous shade of red. Soft, he says, “Thank you. Both of you.”

Miyuu leans down and kisses Yusuke’s forehead. “Anything for you, my little tadpole.”

“What are you gonna name it?” Ryuji interjects.

Reverently, Yusuke hugs it to his chest. He hadn’t truly realized what he’d been missing until now, but now that he has it, he feels fuller than he has in a long while.

“Froggie.”

#age regression #agere #sfw agere #persona agere #regressuary #stuff writes

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kareofbears · 4 years ago

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desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

#fic tag #akiryu #pegoryu #fanfic #writing #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #mine #desperate as that sounds #and yeah man thats a jon bellion song #fic

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tinyhacker · 7 years ago

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yay another tag thingy, ignore this

#{4'11 full of whoop ass (ง •̀_•́)ง} | Futaba Sakura #{his curry is somehow better than sojiro's} | Akira Kurusu/Persona 5 Protagonist #{does he use his brain at all} | Ryuji Sakamoto #{has a better bod than me} | Ann Takamaki #{do you still want those doujins inari} | Yusuke Kitagawa #{would her spikes impale me} | Makoto Niijima #{looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you} | Haru Okumura #{trust or not to trust} | Goro Akechi #{the doc's got legs so hot they could fry an egg} | Tae Takemi #{hello fellow geek} | Yuuki Mishima #{let's team up together} | Hifumi Togo #{looks like we both need some sleep} | Sadayo Kawakami #{why is the prosecutor salty} | Sae Niijima #{what kind of teacher beats up his students} | Suguru Kamoshida #{so much for being an 'artist'} | Ichiryusai Madarame #{i can't believe that they actually swatted a fly} | Junya Kaneshiro #{all of this for a toy} | Kunikazu Okumura #{i can't stop seeing him as a particular senator} | Masayoshi Shido

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craniumcarrus · 5 years ago

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Like and Subscribe - Closed starter for @milquetoastboy

Ryuji stared at the message icon on one Akira Kurusu’s Twitter.

It seemed a little... Ridiculous, looking at the situation now.

Package number ‘god who knows.’ It was smaller than a number of them, much to Ryuji’s relief. “Alright, so let’s see what we have here...” He cut into the box, trying to be as careful as he could considering his exhaustion from how many hours he had already spent opening these damn boxes. Having the bot buy something every 15 minutes from his fan’s tweets... Might have been horribly calculated. He never claimed to be GOOD at math, even if he had become mediocre at coding. From the bubble wrapping he pulled- a small plastic container, about twice the size of his hand. “Wait what is- oh, Makeup?! I’ve seen a, uh, palette before, that’s what this is called right?” He laughed a bit, surprised more than he should be after some of the other things he had opened already. He was at, what, three random sex toys? Hell he was WEARING a collar someone had decided he needed to buy. Someone was getting something out of this video he was sure. Somehow he had still been more prepared for those than this.

Glitter sat embedded across the entire matte black case, holo lettering etched neatly over the lid. “Holy shit this thing is fancy. This one’s gotta be expensive. That’s all I know, that makeup is expensive.” He turned it over in his hand, taking a minute to hold it out to the camera in front of him to give future viewers a better look. “I guess someone think’s I’d look good in, uh what does this say... Eye shadow? Guess I never thought of it before. Who’s this from?” He pulled the box the palette had came in from the side where he had set it, snagging the packing slip from within before knocking the cardboard box to the floor. “Hmm... Okay okay, uh Akira Kurusu? Wait... Wait how do I know that name?” He wracked his brain for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling as he ran through any reason he would possibly recognize this certain someone. “OH!” He met the camera with a surprised grin “That’s a Youtuber, right? Like a beauty blogger I think. Yeah I guess that makes sense. Shit, well, thanks!” He laughed as he returned to the new item in his hands, fumbling to break the plastic seal. “Sorry to say, but I don’t know shit about makeup...” Opening it mostly confirmed his thoughts- this thing cost a pretty penny. The colors were... Well he didn’t know much color theory, but they looked nice, well thought-out for the theme. “S’ pretty though. Heh, Akira if you’re watching,” He winked at the camera, “maybe you’ll just have to show me how to use this thing. And thanks a ton for bein’ a fan!”

So now, just days after posting his video, he had decided that that collaboration might just be a brilliant idea after all. He had spent that morning watching through a number of Akira’s videos, finding he actually enjoyed his content way more than he had expected to considering he had never had interest in makeup in his life. Ryuji then followed Akira on Twitter, happy to see the other had already been following him. But he was a bit nervous. He was going to feel a little bit awkward if he wasn’t actually interested in doing a video with him... Okay a lot awkward.

But he wasn’t going to know if he didn’t reach out. He clicked the IM icon, and typed out a quick message.

From Ryuji Sakamoto: Hey! How’s it goin Akira? Not sure if you’ve seen it but I recently got your gift from my Twitter thread, was wonderin if you’d be interested in showing me what to do with it. 😎

#[is this good or even okay??]#[who fucking knows not me]

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a-dreaming-artist · 6 years ago

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Take Your Heart- Chapter 1

Ryuji Sakamoto was in love.

He had only come to face this fact very recently, after all the feeling just came out of nowhere. It all happened when the Phantom Thieves were training in Mementos. Akira, also known as Joker, commanded everyone to perform an all out attack on the weakened opponent. Once the shadow was defeated Akira had looked over at Ryuji and gave him a smile that was out of character for his Joker personality. This caused Ryuji’s heart to melt instantly, he got butterflies in his stomach and even lost his breath. Morgana made a snarky comment about how such a weak foe made Ryuji so tired, but Ryuji knew it wasn’t the shadow that caused this shortness of breath. There was only one person in the world who could cause this to happen, and that was Akira Kurusu.

Ryuji didn’t know when these feelings started to develop, how long he refused to accept that the feelings existed. All he knew was when Akira smiled at him, with that absolutely adorable and warm smile of his, he fell for him even more. Though Ryuji would rather die than let anyone know about this stupid crush of his, he’d be completely embarrassed and afraid they’d tell Akira. The only problem is, Ryuji is terrible at keeping things under the radar.

“Do you like Akira?”

Ryuji looked up from his paper, looking directly at Ann who had promised to help him study.

“What the hell does that have to do with studying?”

“Nothing it’s just…” Ann paused, thinking of a way to phrase her words, “You’ve been acting pretty weird lately… every time Akira walks in the room your face gets a little flushed and your mood instantly goes from ok to great.”

“Well he’s my best friend… why wouldn’t I be happy to see him? Now can you help me with this? I don’t understand it” Ryuji was hoping this would be enough to get Ann to drop the topic

“Ya in a second, I still want to talk about this… if you do it’s not a big deal! We all accept you for who you are…. and I’m just kinda curious…”

Ryuji paused, avoiding Ann’s eyes as he thought about his decision. Was he going to tell her? Sure he trusted Ann, they literally fought shadows together almost everyday which requires a lot of trust among your team. In fact the problem wasn’t whether or not he trusted Ann, the problem was Ryuji. Ryuji was just scared to admit the truth, he wasn’t ashamed of this feeling, he was just scared this could ruin the current relationship him and Akira have.

Ryuji must have been silent for to long because Ann spoke again saying, “It’s alright, I won't force you to tell me”

“I like Akira”

Ann’s eyes widened, surprised she actually got an answer, but then went back to normal as she gave Ryuji a smile.

“I knew it!” She exclaimed happily, causing Ryuji’s face to turn red.

“Hey not so loud! We’re in a public place. Besides didn’t you say it’s not a big deal??” Ryuji whispered, looking around to see a few people giving them strange looks.

“Sorry sorry, I just got a little excited. I’m happy you told me.”

“Ya whatever… you just have to promise you won’t tell the others. Especially Akira.”

“Don’t worry Ryuji I wouldn’t betray your trust like that… but I do think you should ask Akira out” Ann mumbled out the last part, knowing Ryuji would never actually do it.

“What? Hell no.” Ann sighed, she knew he was going to say that yet was still disappointed.

“Why not?”

“Uh because there’s no way he would actually go out with me. I don’t even think he’s gay.”

“Ya your right…” Ann paused and looked at the disappointed expression Ryuji had when she said that, “he’s not gay….. he’s bi”

“Wait for real?” Ryuji’s eyes lit up, he had hope again.

“Of course! Have you not noticed?? He constantly compliments you and the guys.”

Now that Ryuji thinks about it, he starts to realize all the flirty comments Akira has ever made. This causes his face to light up like a Christmas tree

“Oh my god” he mumbled out, looking down and resting his hands on his neck. Ann let out a laugh, making Ryuji feel even more embarrassed.

“Wow you really are dense”

“Shut up!!”

Ann laughed even more, holding onto her stomach as she bent forward. All the clues were laid out for him, yet he never noticed them. It was like a puzzle, once you put the pieces together you get the full picture. However in this case it was almost like Ryuji was a toddler trying to put a 3000 piece puzzle together.

When Ann and Ryuji finally pulled themselves together, they continued studying. However Ryuji couldn’t focus, he was to busy thinking about Akira.

Does Akira like me? He flirts with a lot of people, so it’s probably just his personality… But what if it’s not? There’s always a chance he actually feels the same. Maybe Ann is right.. I should ask him out.

Ann and Ryuji wrapped up their studying session and went their separate ways. It was only 5:37, meaning Ryuji could still hang out with Akira, especially since he was feeling confident.

Alright! Your gonna tell him! No backing out now Ryuji!

He pulled out his phone, clicked on Akira’s contact and started typing

“Hey man, you free? I just finished up with Ann and really need a break. My brain is fried”

Ryuji stared at his phone for a minute or two before he finally got a response

“Sorry I can’t, I’m with Makoto right now. Maybe tomorrow”

All of the confidence he had went down the drain.

Makoto again.

Ryuji likes Makoto, she’s nice and is basically the mother of the group. However he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was jealous of how much time Akira was spending with her.

It was simple at first, they’d have their own small study group together, and occasionally hang out in their free time. However lately they’ve been getting together more and more. At one point Makoto asked Akira to be her pretend boyfriend, and he agreed.

Ryuji sighed and responded with a simple “it’s alright” before putting his phone away. If Akira had feelings for Makoto, he’d be ok with it, as long as he’s happy Ryuji is happy.

Ryuji entered his house with a sigh, his mom wasn’t home, meaning he was all alone. He walked up to his room and laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Of course he’d want Makoto over you… she’s smart, beautiful, caring. She has everything. All I have is my stupidity, childish behavior, and above all jealousy. I have nothing.

Ryui groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. If Akira is happy, Ryuji’s happy… but why doesn’t he feel happy? Why does it hurt so much? Ryuji is used to being rejected, it’s happened quite a lot, He was always okay with it back then. Why isn’t he okay now?

Ryuji closed his eyes and sighed.

Can someone please come and change my heart?

#akiryu #akyru fic #persona 5 fic #phantom thieves #persona 5 akira #persona 5 ryuji #pegoryu #pegoryu fic #ren #ren amamiya #ryuji sakamoto #ryuji #akira kusuru #renryu #persona #persona 5 #TakeYourHeart

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taintedkibou · 7 years ago

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beauty & vice - part five

[can be read on Ao3 as well] [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

“Mi-shi-ma.”

Mishima recognized the cheerful voice, but he only saw a blur before he was pushed into the dark tool shed. The wood was cracked and splintered, letting in slivers of light. Not enough to see his attacker. “Kurusu…?”

“Hmm?”

Mishima shuddered at the warm breath ghosting across his neck. “Wh…What are you doing?”

“I tripped.” The soft chuckle that followed the obvious lie was far from innocent.

‘Bull!’ Mishima took a shaky breath, releasing it slowly. “I already told you, I’m… I don’t—I’m not scared of you!” No, that wasn’t right. The door creaked open before he could correct himself, flooding the small space with light. Mishima would describe the look on Akira’s face as hauntingly terrifying, but he felt no fear, just as he’d been told.

Akira licked his lips, a wolf circling its prey. “I always knew you weren’t. I need your help, Yuuki.” He slipped an arm around Mishima’s shoulder, keeping just an inch of distance between their bodies. “What do you think happened to Kamoshida? Do you really believe he had a change of heart?”

“Yes,” Mishima blurted out without a second thought. “Because—” He emitted a sharp cry of pain after biting his tongue.

Akira’s fingers gently squeezed Mishima’s shoulder. “Because…?” he prodded.

“I set up an unofficial site. I meant it as a joke, but people have taken it seriously.” Apprehension forgotten, Mishima dug out his phone and pulled up the proof of his efforts. The mobile layout had a color scheme identical to the one chosen for the “calling card” delivered to Kamoshida. Tapping a few links, Mishima held the higher for the other to get a good look. “A few names were left by people suggesting their hearts needed changing. Those same people came back later to say that it happened!”

Akira chuckled softly as Mishima bounced in place.

“I wanted to show you and Sakamoto. You guys seemed interested in Kamoshida’s case. But… I guess you already found it.” Mishima peeked up at the brunet with shy admiration. “I’m not sure how you do it—”

“All in due time,” Akira interrupted, giving Mishima’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now, but Ryuji thought you were still innocent. I’m really glad I don’t have to give you a roundabout explanation.”

“You needed my help…?” Mishima reminded him.

Akira’s eyes shone. “Yes. I’m taking Ryuji with me to take care of a few corrupted hearts tonight, but I need you working on a bigger project.” He used his free hand to pull something from his jacket’s pocket.

Mishima gaped at the note dangling in front of him. It was an original “calling card”, but the recipient was not Kamoshida. ��Which means…!’

“If you’ll make a few copies of these for me, it’ll really be a great help. There’s also something else, but... it can wait until the end of the month.” The contemplative look on Akira’s face vanished, replaced with exaggerated glee. He was indeed glad for Mishima’s help, but with all his brand new toys, he had to put on a show. Leaning down, Akira pressed his lips to Mishima’s cheek, feeling it slowly grow warmer. “Don’t get caught, okay?”

“Yes,” Mishima rushed out, slowly accepting the “calling card”.

Akira gave Mishima another “good luck” kiss on the afternoon of May 31st. Which may have been a mistake on his part, but he had no intention of taking it back. This one was on the lips. The short brunet became frozen in place, the stack of papers almost slipping from his hands. They were smaller than Kamoshida’s, printed on a firm cardstock. Akira used his index finger to hold them in place, waiting for Mishima’s brain to come back online.

“Stop doing that!” the smaller teen hissed, drawing himself away.

Akira plastered on his best smile, “I can’t help it. I love teasing cute boys.”

Mishima’s eyes grew impossibly wider, the calling cards rustling as he trembled. “That’s not… funny. Anyway… I need to go.” He pointed over his shoulder, unable to take his eyes off Akira’s smiling face. “If I stay too long, they’ll figure out the camera is on a loop.”

“They won’t,” Akira argued. “You’re too smart for that.”

Mishima was already backing away with slow, calculated steps. Akira’s smile was blinding, made worse by the afternoon sun shining high above his head. Mishima had no interest other than the weird friendship they already had, but this person was toying with his emotions in a horrible way. With a quick bow, he disappeared to complete his task.

Humming softly, Akira headed in the opposite direction.

—

Sir Madarame Ichiryusai, a great sinner of vanity whose talent has been exhausted. You are an artist who uses his authority to shamelessly steal the ideas of his pupils. We have decided to make you confess all your crimes with your own mouth. We will take your distorted desires without fail.

The argument between the thieving artist and staff member meant nothing to him. Akira’s main focus was Madarame’s body language. Of course Madarame would be upset; his evening was being threatened. No. Akira needed another sign that the Shadow was on full alert. Madarame’s previous stomping came to a halt and he appeared almost relaxed despite the threat looming over his head. That was what he was looking for. Akira browsed through the exhibit, slowly making his way to the exit. Once outside, he tried not to skip back to where the other two waited.

Ryuji straightened from his slouched position immediately after spotting him. “Well?”

“He read it,” Akira hummed. “Since he’s not at the house, let’s enter the Palace from there. Less chance of being caught.”

“This ends tonight,” Yusuke told them, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Ryuji grinned, bumping shoulders with his boyfriend. “We’ll show ‘em.”

Akira trailed behind the couple, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It did nothing to hide the excitement brewing in his eyes or the wild smile still spreading across his face. It was now or never. The sooner they ended things, the more time he would have to play with his favorite boys.

xxx

Even though they entered with a mission to complete, Joker decided to test his new ability one more time. He started them from the bottom floor where Shadows were somewhat weaker. The creepy zombie chicken whined at him and Joker lifted his hand to his mask. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he'd felt last time. Fear. Rage. Protect what's mine. He ripped the mask free. Apsaras remained and Succubus joined her. Joker let out a breathless laugh. "The power of thought really is amazing."

Skull shared in his excitement with a loud hoot, and Fox reprimanded them both in a stern voice.

Luckily for them, bullets were Onmoraki’s weakness. A few shots from Joker downed the creatures, leaving them vulnerable to an all-out attack. Pleased with the results, Joker marched forward.

After making their way to the central garden, the small group took a break in the nearby safe room.

"How do you remember their weaknesses?" Yusuke inquired, katana flat on the table they sat at. Ryuji leaned back in his chair, eyes locking on their leader.

Akira brushed his hair from his eyes, using his mask to conveniently hold them back. Ryuji smirked at the action. "It seems pointless to just say I remember. I think the Persona I can summon tells me. I carry everything we've faced off against so far, so they remind me what hurts them." He sighed deeply, lowering his head. "It sounds stupid."

"It does," Yusuke hummed, never one for mincing words. "But considering all that I've seen—everything that I'm experiencing... I'm willing to believe you." He reached across the table, covering Akira's gloved hand with his own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are very strong. Joker."

Akira inhaled sharply and Ryuji righted his chair with a laugh, "I was wondering when that perverted side of you would make an appearance."

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but was silence by a sharp squeeze to his hand.

"If I recall, Ryuji..."

Ryuji's smug grin melted right off his face and he sunk deeper into the chair to hide from Yusuke's voice.

"You were the one that provided Akira with an oral service all because—and I quote—you wanted to shut up him up." Akira looked across the table, smirking at the blond's embarrassed blush. "We're all perverted," Yusuke sighed, slowly removing his hand from Akira's. He folded both arms over his weapon. "Maybe that's what drew us together."

A moment of silence followed, hanging thick and heavy in the air. Joker slammed his hands down onto the table, pushing himself up out of his seat. "We won't get anywhere moping around. We don't have long to go.” And with that, they took the quickest route—traveling through safe rooms—to make their way to the to the highest level traveled.

—

Fox would have enjoyed racing through a landscape similar to M. C. Escher’s Relativity print, had it not been for the annoyingly bright gold surrounding them—blinding them—at every twist and turn. In addition to the maze that was the room itself, another riddle soon barred their way, and it came in the form of Madarame’s most famous painting.

The “Sayuri” was his specialty. Fox knew every detail about the painting and helped guide Joker towards the right path after eliminating the fakes, though they were all probably counterfeit.

After freeing themselves from the maze, the trio of rogues rushed down a hallway of insurmountable vanity. Madarame’s portrait lined every inch of the walls. Skull faked throwing up as Joker pushed the heavy double doors that would lead them to their destination, and the Treasure.

Chaos greeted them in the Main Hall. Skull walked into Joker’s back when their leader stalled, making him aware of the blaring alarms. He stepped out from behind him, surveying the area. The oversized display area was surrounded by guards, all running back and forth with no apparent destination. Looking up to the rafters Madarame’s Shadow screamed at, Skull saw human-shaped silhouettes, but then quickly reminded himself that the Shadows of a Palace always appeared humanoid until their masks were ripped off.

Madarame only noticed their presence when Fox called out to him. “Meddlesome vermin,” he growled. “They’re everywhere!” He stretched out his arm to the guard on his left. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Tucked beneath the masked Shadow’s arms was a golden frame. Madarame smirked, eyes aglow, as he stared down his nose at the small group. “I suppose I can grant you a gift before you die—a glimpse of the genuine “Sayuri”…!”

Fox took a step ahead of the others, moving closer to the man he’d once called his foster father. “Genuine…?” The painting he’d treasured for most of his life really was… fake?

Madarame nodded at the Shadow and the guard moved forward, flipping the golden frame into an upright position. Gone was the gentle plume of lavender smoke that covered the bottom half of the painting. It revealed that the subject of the painting cradled a baby dearly in her arms. The reverent, caring look on her face was for the baby she held.

Fox’s eyes widened behind his decorated mask. He’d known Madarame helped his mother, but had still been too young to remember her before she passed. In a fit of rage after not delivering a painting on time, his mentor had spat at him: “Her skills and talents were quite astonishing. That’s why I decided to look after her. The only reason I took you in was due to my ties with your mother! You belong to me! If you have even a fraction of the talent she did—” A conversation he had never shared with Ryuji, for fear that he would’ve killed the real Madarame.

The painting, however—Fox could practically feel the love emanating from it. A mother’s love. “Mom…!”

It was a surprise reveal, even to Joker, but he left the theatrics to Skull. The blond released a loud, drawled, “hah?!”

Madarame’s condescending look returned as he gave them another long-winded explanation. “Indeed it is. This was painted by your mother. It’s a portrait of herself. A woman who knew her death was coming painted her last wishes for the son she would leave behind.”

Skull stepped forward, electricity crackling beneath his boot, eyes alight in rage and a desire for destruction. “You stole something that personal?! You’re lower than scum!”

“Call me what you wish!” Madarame’s Shadow roared. “Your mother and the artwork she created—they’re all my works of art! That goes for you as well, Yusuke! I’m going to reap you for the sake of my future.”

Gaze unwavering, the katana wielder stared at the golden figure directly across from them. He chose to ignore their enemy addressing him as a personal object. “I’ve heard that you destroy your “art” once they outlive their usefulness… Did that include my mother as well?”

With all the research done, that thought never once crossed Joker’s mind. Her death was the result of a seizure. Madarame proved him wrong. “—if I don’t call for help and leave her be, I could obtain her painting with no strings attached.”

Joker moved on instinct, reaching out to cover Skull’s trembling fist with a hand. His actions were also to ground himself. “You’re a thief, and a murderer.”

Fox inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. There was no point doting on the past. Even if Madarame wasn’t the foul man standing before them, his mother would never have received proper health care. He could now tell himself her life was better; peaceful. That still didn’t excuse Madarame—Shadow or not. “Thank you, Madarame,” Fox chuckled, hand resting leisurely on the hilt of his sword. “You were kind enough to share the truth with me.” The blade was eased out of the scabbard. “It’s unfortunate that every reason for me to forgive you has disappeared without a trace.”

Having been looked down on, Madarame’s Shadow threw another temper tantrum. His features distorted as they expanded, and the trio of vigilantes found themselves staring at five separate paintings.

“Now you think you’re art?” Yusuke scoffed, fully unsheathing his blade. “You’re a despicable fiend who wears the skin of an artist.”

—

Battling Madarame was tedious and frustrating. Every piece of himself was weak to different attack types. The mouth regenerated on physical attacks; the eyes, to elemental skills. The nose was the easiest to drop. The right eye went next.

Skull was aiming for the left eye when something suddenly washed over him. It felt like spider webs clung to every inch of his body and he brushed madly at his arms. That’s when he noticed the black of his outfit was even darker than before. It was almost as if he were covered in shadows.

Something about Shadow Madarame's sudden “attack” on their teammate didn't sit right with neither Fox nor Joker. Skull swung his arms to get rid of the dripping black ink. His hair was as pitch black as the rest of his attire. "What the hell was that...?" Skull muttered, spitting ink after it dripped into his mouth. He faced the floating pieces of a face, eyes narrowed behind his messy mask. "What the hell did you do to me?!"

The left eye regarded him briefly before the mouth soared down to attack. Skull held up his pipe in defense, but the bulky frame still bowled him off his feet. He knew for a fact that he was strong enough to take a hit and keep moving—some of his own attacks required a sacrifice to his health—but now he felt weak where he was sprawled. The frame reared back, only to snap forward, the mouth open wide. Skull jerked, feeling the teeth cut through his clothes and sink into his flesh. And then the pain was gone. He looked to Fox first, an apology in his dark eyes, before turning to stare pleadingly at Joker.

Fox's katana clattered to the ground after slipping from his fingers. Joker couldn't look away from the empty eyes that continued to stare blankly at him. Skull's body fell lifelessly to the ground after being released, a dark liquid pooling with the previous ink. Joker watched the blood spread, growing brighter and brighter the further it flowed from the ink blotches.

"Ryu...ji?"

Fox's voice sounded distant in Joker's ears. Red, red, red. Skull was dead, all because of him! No. He turned to stare at the paintings that were now melting into a puddle of ink. From it rose a figure. Madarame. Ryuji would never get up again, so why should he? Joker saw red, and then... darkness.

—

"...ra. Akira! Stop! Akira, snap out of it!"

Joker blinked away the darkness, squinting when the gleam of Madarame’s Palace assaulted his eyes. Madarame lay at his feet, cowering, something dripping onto the ground near him. The source was his glove, stained black. The only thing black in this world was the ink this charlatan artist produced and Joker hoped he tried to rip out the Shadow’s heart.

Shifting his gaze from the sniveling creature, Joker found Fox sitting in the pool of ink and blood, Skull cradled in his lap.

Joker bared his teeth in a silent snarl directed at Madarame, but Fox's desperate voice stopped him from lashing out.

"He's not going anywhere. Joker, I need you to think. There has to be a way to... to wake..." Fox tightened his arms around the lifeless frame. "I can't live without him."

Joker took a step back, closing his eyes in thought. If they took him from the Palace in his current state, there would be no bringing him back. 'Bring back... revive!' "I'm so stupid," the trickster sighed. He opened the right side of his jacket and reached into the darkness. A small bead was held between his fingers when he removed his hand. "Arsene." The gentleman Persona appeared in a flurry of feathers and dark laughter. "Keep an eye on him."

Madarame whimpered and covered his head.

Joker hurried to where Fox sat, taking a knee near Skull's head. He cradled it gently, slipping the bead past his lips. He whispered an apology after having to force it down his throat, drawing his hand away with the hope that it worked. The diagonal rips in the blond's outfit slowly began mending themselves, working their way upwards until Skull drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. His mask pushed aside, Yusuke clung tight to his lover, breathing in deeply the unique scent that was Ryuji and the leather of his outfit.

Skull ripped off his mask, wide eyes staring up at Joker. "Did I...?"

"Don't," the brunet hissed. Pixie materialized at his shoulder. She fluttered down, pressing a kiss to Ryuji's forehead, before disappearing once again.

Ryuji was very familiar with the winged Persona and knew she aided in his recovery process. After three failed attempts to free his right arm, he pushed at Yusuke’s shoulder with his left. "Oi. Let me go."

"Never," the artist whispered, voice barely audible where his face was buried against Ryuji's chest.

"You have to." Ryuji ran a gentle hand over the dark locks. "This is your fight. He's your demon. You need to face him, one last time."

Yusuke ducked out from beneath the hand, placing a kiss to its palm, and reluctantly released Ryuji. He pushed himself back onto his feet, reaching down to offer Ryuji assistance. Another gloved hand appeared beside his, courtesy of Akira. Ryuji grinned and accepted both, springing up when they pulled him.

—

Even in his last moments, the Shadow spouted nothing but nonsense to Yusuke.

“No one cares for true art… All they want are easily recognizable brands!” Madarame’s Shadow tripped over his own feet and fell, still holding tight to the original “Sayuri”. Yusuke calmly strode up, each step slow and deliberate. “I’m a victim in this too! Wouldn’t you agree?!”

Never had Yusuke felt such a strong urge to raise his hand against someone, but he buried the dark desire, and stopped his advances right at Madarame’s spread feet.

“The art world revolves around money after all,” the Shadow babbled on in explanation, hoping to be spared. “You can’t rise up without any money…!”

Akira dug his heels in after wrapping both arms around Ryuji. The blond still managed to drag him several feet as he snarled at the vain creature. “Why are we listenin’ to your bullshit?! You belong in the depths of hell then, because none of the money you own is yours! Yusuke is suffering because of you! Some of your former students committed suicide after you ruined their lives!”

“Ryuji.” Yusuke smiled placatingly over his shoulder at the blond.

Ryuji calmed, only to snap at Akira instead, hissing ‘pervert’ even though he made no attempt to remove the arms around his waist.

“That’s why… Yusuke, you should understand! Being a poor artist is truly miserable!” Madarame clutched “Sayuri” protectively against his chest. “I just didn’t want to return to that life!”

Yusuke’s eyes burned a deadly silver as he stared down at the sad excuse for an artist. His kick to dislodge the painting was light. Once it was out of harm’s way, he pressed the heel of his boot against the Shadow’s neck. “Don’t you dare speak of the world of art.” Each word was laced with ice and the promise of painful death. He shifted his stance, forcing Madarame to tilt his head back as he put more pressure into his foot. “You’re done for, along with this abomination of a world.”

Ryuji found himself sharing in Akira’s excitement—the brunet practically rutted against his back. This was a Yusuke whose company he could definitely enjoy.

Yusuke removed his foot, only after leaving Madarame with the strict order to confess all his sins and crimes. As the Shadow caught his breath, he stooped down to collect the “Sayuri”.

"There are others like you," Madarame hurriedly stated, pushing himself into a more upright seated position.

Akira stepped out from behind Ryuji at that reveal, a wary look darkening his features. “Who?”

“Does it matter…? I had to increase security, because everyone kept trespassing!" The sudden surge of anger left Madarame feeling hollow and he sighed softly, his posture crumbling, along with his form. “Sayuri” was gone. He had no Treasure to keep the museum open. As more of his form melted away, the Palace began falling around them.

“Yusuke!” Ryuji shouted, holding out a hand. Akira stood ahead of him, warily eyeing their surroundings as more and more of the building continued to fall.

Yusuke rushed ahead, ignoring Madarame’s pleading cries behind him.

xxx

In the time that he'd known him, Ryuji had no recollection of ever seeing Yusuke cry. The tall brunet had one arm wrapped around Madarame's Treasure and his free hand clutched the end of Ryuji's school jacket. His head was lowered, but Ryuji could hear the soft sniffles. Akira stood several feet away, hands in the pocket of his school slacks as stared in the opposite direction gave them their privacy.

"Yusuke." Ryuji pried the hand from his clothes, only to have Yusuke latch onto him instead. He smiled. "Hey. C'mon. We're going back to Akira's. I already told my mom. We'll talk about everything—" His gaze cut to Akira's profile. "—tomorrow."

Yusuke wordlessly nodded. With a deep breath, he raised his head.

Ryuji couldn't hold in his laugh and received a chastising frown for his efforts. "Because your face is the same even though you were just crying!" He used their joined hands to pull Yusuke in, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "My cyborg boyfriend." Yusuke didn't reprimand him for his actions of public display, which was all the proof Ryuji needed that he was exhausted. "Akira. Let's go."

Akira looked away from Madarame's house to assess the couple. Yusuke leaned against Ryuji's side, trying his hardest not to be obvious how much he desired the contact. Ryuji masked his worry behind a wide grin. Akira thought his mask to be perfect, but now he wasn't so sure. These two were a force to be reckoned with. They were putting cracks in his facade.

With a small smile, he shortened the distance between them. Akira clapped Ryuji on the shoulder as he passed to take the lead. They were going to his apartment after all.

—

Yusuke released Ryuji after they crossed the threshold of Akira's apartment. Safe room. A small smile tugged at his lips at the comparison and looked around for somewhere to set “Sayuri”. Akira's hand covered his and Yusuke was surprised he had no objections when the painting was pried from his fingers.

"I have a workroom," Akira told him. "It'll be safe in there."

Yusuke nodded. He felt unsure of his emotions, considering everything that took place in that horrid Palace, and feared that his voice would betray him, so he remained silent during preparations for sleep. When Akira pulled out the futon, Yusuke tugged at it until it was released. He took the brunet's hand instead and led him into the bedroom.

Ryuji was sprawled diagonally across the bed. Despite their previous argument, Akira now realized his mistake; he was too invested in this couple. Instead of “Ryuji”, he saw “Skull”, bleeding out on the Palace floor. Akira felt his mask develop another crack and fought to free himself from Yusuke's hold.

"We're all scared, idiot," Ryuji sighed. He sat up, pushing aside the covers, and spread his arms wide. "Unless you're a shitty sleeper that rolls a lot, there's enough room here for all three of us."

Akira took a deep breath, exhaling it slow enough that his mask could repair itself.

Yusuke put all his efforts to waste, shattering it with the softest kiss against his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

Ryuji grinned at Akira's bewildered expression. It really was great seeing the bastard knocked down several pegs. He hopped from the bed and swooped in, easily lifting the troublesome transfer student onto his shoulder. Akira protested as well as flailed, glaring up at the couple after being unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. His temper was ignored and Ryuji climbed over him, settling at his back. Yusuke turned off the lights before slipping in in front of Akira. His hand ghosted over the slender hip, curling around Akira's back.

“I was going to congratulate you on not getting hard because I picked you up," Ryuji mumbled against the nape of Akira's neck. “But I can hear your heartbeat."

"He's not." Yusuke's ankles were tangled with Akira's, his leg conveniently trapped between the other's thigh. He could feel no stir of arousal.

“I’m angry, that’s why,” Akira spat. "This seems very unfair." A lie. Anger was the only emotion he could conjure to hide his nervous excitement; Akira was quite content with his current predicament.

“Life’s not fair, idiot.” Ryuji hummed and threw his arm over Akira's waist, chin hooked over his shoulder. "Go to sleep, pervert."

Akira had no idea how long it took before he managed to fall asleep, but he had the fleeting thought that he felt more at home trapped between these two boys than he ever did in his family house. It was only after burrowing his way against Yusuke’s chest and having Ryuji’s arms tighten around him that Akira felt his subconscious slip away. Even if he didn't dream tonight, it wouldn't matter; he was living it.

[part six] (end game...)

#p5 #persona 5 #p5 protagonist #kurusu akira #sakamoto ryuji #kitagawa yusuke #ryuji x yusuke #ryukita #akira x ryuji #akiryu #pegoryu #akiryukita #pegoryukita #dark undertones #fanfiction #my fiction #fic: beauty & vice

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forkanna · 5 years ago

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NOTE: Snippets of the actual game script used in this chapter, with slight alterations. You know the drill.

CHAPTER TWO

~ x JUDGMENT x ~

"Wait," Sae snapped at her younger sister. "That isn't fair. You have no idea what kind of stress I had been under that day - and to top it off with a forced cold shower…"

But Makoto only shook her head. "I didn't say it was fair or unfair, or that you were trying to hurt me. Only that it happened. Are you saying it didn't?"

"Of course not. But you paint me as some kind of, of… unfeeling monster!"

"No, I'm not. Really. Only a big sister who sometimes doesn't listen to her little sister."

For the first time, the elder sister looked vaguely less than self-assured. Her nimble fingers clutched the pen, thumb flicking over the button to retract and produce the nib. Trying to release pent-up nervous energy. Then she whispered, "Maybe… I am unduly harsh with you. On occasion."

"It's alright. I know you're under a lot of stress; you don't think I know that? Especially after everything?" As Sae's lips set in the thinnest of lines, she said, "Now, do you want me to continue?"

"By all means. We don't have all day."

"Fine. If I have no choice, I would rather finish this." She cleared her throat and stared downward. "So I was distracted by worrying about the hot water heater, and your approval. That kept my brain spinning for a few days…"

~ x The Priestess x ~

My friend Ann Takamaki also looked preoccupied. She did from time to time; she had a lot on her mind between modelling and school-related issues. And that's without her best friend being put in the hospital by Kamoshida. That bubbly blonde is the proof that things aren't always what they seem, since she routinely plastered a big smile over her inner strife.

"Hey, do you even hear me?"

"Huh?" I asked, then bowed slightly as we walked toward the courtyard. "I'm sorry, Ann. What did you say?"

Ann nodded back toward the stairs so hard that her big puffy pigtails bounced all over the place. She was almost like a living cartoon sometimes, with those ample curves and baby blue eyes - now rolling toward the ceiling. Maybe that's just because I don't know anyone else who's even part-white like her, much less an actual foreigner.

"I said, it's weird because she never takes a day off."

"Who?"

"Miss Kawakami!" Her fist drifted up to knock against my temple as she giggled, "Helloooo, Makoto-chan? The light's on but nobody's home!"

"Stop," I half-chuckled, swatting her hand away. "Sorry, I'm just… really spacing out today. Got a lot on my mind."

A long sigh issued from her pouty lips. "You and Ren both. Maybe you guys could start a club; the 'Big Bang Burger Brain Club For Space Cadets'."

"What does that even mean?!" But we were both laughing by now. I like Ann, but sometimes I just really can't understand her because we're very different people. "But what do you mean, he was spacing?"

"Like you were. Ever since Mr. Kobayakawa came in to tell us Miss Kawakami wouldn't be in, he kinda seemed to… shut down? Y'know, like one of those little toy robots when you just…" She mimed flicking a switch to the 'off' position.

"Ohhh… but that's odd. I wonder why?"

Not that I was going to tell Ann I already had my suspicions. While she was shrugging, I was already deciding that I needed to speak with Ren as soon as was possible.

Which happened right after lunch that day. I found him in the hallway and tugged him aside. "Do you have a minute?" He nodded. "Ann told me you were spacing out earlier today. Is… there a reason?"

Ren stared at me through his spectacles, expression as unreadable as ever. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I always had the impression that during every conversation, whenever he was asked a question, he was debating between two or three different answers to give - and he was never sure which to choose right up until he did so. Probably my imagination.

"It's Miss Kawakami."

"Right," I sighed, looking away. "I heard about that. Do… you know what happened to her?"

Another pause. "I heard it was exhaustion."

"Exhaustion?"

"Yeah. That she was hospitalised for exhaustion. I was thinking about going over there after school."

"Oh." My heart bypassed my stomach and shot straight through the floor. "Miss Kawakami's in the hospital? It's that bad?"

All I could think about was the way she had looked so tired. And I added to that fatigue. Even if it wasn't much… maybe if I didn't go see her that day, she wouldn't have needed to go recover in some hospital bed. And what if it got so bad that she died? It would make me a…

"Well, if you do go and see her," I managed to whisper when he didn't answer, "will you tell her that we all hope she feels better? I would appreciate it." He nodded. "Thank you. Um… if you'll excuse me…"

~ o ~

But by the end of school, I felt a little differently. The idea of going together with Ren seemed awful. Kawakami wouldn't want to see me after the way I behaved. Not that I blamed her - not at all! My questions were too harsh, even if I did want to investigate.

Moreso now than ever. Already, my suspicions were high with the glances between my friend and his teacher, but now he was going to visit her in the hospital? They had to be closer than they were letting on.

Once classes ended, I staked out the Shujin entrance gates and waited for Ren to show up. He was talking with Ryuji Sakamoto. They became fast friends very soon after Ren transferred to our school, so that was nothing unusual. What was unusual was that Ryuji headed for the subway station while Ren headed to the streets.

Aoyama Hospital came into view soon enough. I had a copy of Vague Magazine in front of my face so Ren wouldn't spot me following him; I felt more guilty about doing it now than I had before we became friends, but this was too important to back down. Maybe I couldn't face her directly, but I needed to know her situation, and if there was anything I could do to help.

I was able to hear Ren give the receptionist the room number he intended to visit, but then lost track of him because I was trying to be too sneaky. Some Phantom Thief I would make; couldn't even tail a single suspect. But I was able to eventually slip up to her floor and find Kawakami's room. Once there, I perched outside the curtain around her bed and strained to overhear.

And there were definitely more than two voices. I didn't recognise the other two, but I could certainly make out every word thanks to their carelessly loud tones.

"You never learn, do you?" said a man as he laughed harshly. "And after all you did to him…"

"I'm sorry," Kawakami said in the most defeated tone I had ever heard from her. Since she's an underpaid high school teacher, that's saying a lot.

Now an older woman spoke up. "So? When are you going to transfer the money?"

"I should be able to send it out tomorrow…"

"Don't pay them a dime," Ren said - and I was shocked at how firm, how commanding his tone was. To an adult? What was he doing?! This was going to be a repeat of his run-ins with Coach Kamoshida all over again - and he was already on probation!

"Amamiya-kun…" That was real gratitude in my teacher's voice, even if it was also surprised.

"Stay out of this!" snapped the older woman.

"Don't act so tough, kid," the man said. "Our precious adoptive son, Taiki, died because of this woman. Honestly, she should've been fired."

My heart froze, my hand over my mouth as I gasped and listened to Kawakami mutter a few protests. What were they talking about? I never heard of any incident involving a student dying because of her. That was crazy! But she was reacting as if these were stone cold facts and she had no choice but to accept their admonishments.

"It's not like we're trying to extort you," the nasty woman was saying in a would-be reasonable tone when my ears tuned back in. "But who was it that convinced Taiki to start studying when he needed to be working? The schoolwork on top of his part-time jobs overwhelmed him, which led to that accident. Poor Taiki… it's almost like he was murdered!"

"So you no longer feel regret?" the man - her husband? - demanded. "In that case, perhaps we should sue the Board of Education. Or should we have a chat with your school? Either way, your days as a teacher would be over."

"I…" Kawakami sighed, long and wearily. "I understand. I will pay you. So…"

"Well, we're looking forward to receiving your payment. Soon. So quit being lazy and laying around in bed and make sure we get it."

Hastily, I stuffed my nose back in my magazine as the two walked past me and out of the room. A brief glance showed me a very normal-looking middle-aged couple. Their expressions were pretty smug, but otherwise I never would have guessed they were capable of being so, so… greedy. And monstrous. From what I could glean, she had been trying to help their son learn. They said 'accident', so it wasn't as if she killed him in cold blood. But I would have to learn more before I could fully understand this situation.

"I have to figure out a way to make more money," poor Kawakami was saying now. "I guess transferring to our sister company is the only way."

"Sister company?" Ren asked. Honestly, it was exactly what I was thinking at that moment.

"They're affiliated with the one I'm at now. I can make a lot more there." Brief hesitation. "You can… pretty much guess the type of services they provide, right? That's the only way I can make more money."

Ren was still sighing in despair when I drew my feet up into the chair, hugging my knees to my chest. I had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded like the absolute last resort for her. Was this another school? A cram school - maybe one that was less than reputable? Dealing drugs like Adderall, or letting students pay their way to better marks on their exams? That would explain why she didn't want to transfer there. And of course, she wouldn't want to relocate…

But the terminology didn't make sense. Weren't schools mostly funded by the government? What company was she "affiliated" with?

"You know what?" she suddenly piped up. "I'm gonna stop worrying about it! The money, I'll pay it. I'll do everything Master tells me to do!"

Master?! What was she talking about? The two ungrateful parents? But I didn't even have time to worry about that before she was emotionally collapsing again.

"I'm so tired. If they demand more money, then I just have to pay them."

"Just rest for now," Ren insisted. The tenderness in his voice surprised me - and my suspicions that they might be up to less-than-platonic activities heightened. He cared about her. Not just as a person, but as someone who was part of his life.

"Sorry, I'm not quite back to a hundred percent yet, so my thoughts are all over the place. I'll get some rest; I promise." A little warmth returned to her own tone as she said, "I appreciate you coming to visit me today. It made me really happy."

Then she was falling victim to a coughing fit. "Kawakami-sensei," Ren breathed, and the way the shadow shifted on the other side of the curtain, I was sure he had put a hand on her shoulder or something.

"I'll be released first thing tomorrow morning, so don't worry. The IVs here are top notch. And visiting hours are over, so… get home safe, okay?"

"Alright. Take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

Luckily for me, Ren was too preoccupied to notice me curled up in that chair in the corner by the vacant bed. I didn't even think to hide my face again.

Sadayo Kawakami was a fine teacher, and an institution at Shujin. Whatever was going on with these two, that Taiki's guardians, made her think that she wasn't - that she owed them some kind of restitution for an accident that wasn't even her fault. Maybe it was my usual paranoia acting up again, but this felt like a shakedown. They were bleeding a hard-working teacher dry. I vowed then and there to never let Sadayo Kawakami out of my sight again.

"Hello?"

Only when she called out to me did I realise I had been crying. She heard it through the curtain. I fell quiet and held very still for a moment.

"Is someone there?" Before I could try to come up with a plan to creep out of the room, her hand was swooshing the curtain aside. "Wha…?"

"U-um…"

"Niijima-san?!"

"Hello, Kawakami-sensei," I attempted with a small smile as I sat up a little straighter, trying for a polite smile. It probably looked fake.

"What are you doing here? Wait…" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "There's nobody else staying in my room. So you can't be… visiting…"

My heart hurt so much when I saw the outrage and anger taking over her expression. "I can explain-"

"I think you should leave. Now."

"Miss Kawakami, what's going on? Are those people giving you financial trouble? Mayb-"

"You have spied on me for long enough," she snapped, looking away. Her face was so drawn and pale, and the simple white shirt above the bedclothes only made it worse. "Seriously, if the potato wants me gone that bad… oh, maybe I deserve it. But I'm too tired to deal with you right now."

My throat tightened, my pulse raced. And then I shut down, like always. Just like when being yelled at by another female authority figure in my life…

"I understand, Kawakami-sensei." My bow was stiff and formal as I rose to my feet, and I held it for a long few seconds. "My mistake, I didn't mean to upset you while you're recovering. I won't trouble you again. Please get well soon."

Her hand waved my formality away. "Don't be so starchy all the time. I'll see you in class. Just… please, stop this snooping around, alright? It's not healthy for either of us."

"Of course."

What a lie. But it was one I had to tell to her and to myself so I could make myself get out of that hospital room without bursting into tears.

To Be Continued…

#Queen Of Temperance #forkanna writes #persona 5 fanfiction #niijima makoto #kawakami sadayo #jess the writer

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ask-the-phan-site · 7 years ago

Text

Phan Cam: Horizon Heist: Day 12

>Another day at Osborn Academy... Only, I’m not here right now. But someone we all know is.

Hey, Harry, I’m here! I got your text. You said you wanted us to hang here today.

Y- Yeah. I suppose. Thanks for coming.

Ryuji: What’s wrong? You look like you just lost something.

Harry: I... guess you could say that.

Ryuji: What do you mean?

Harry: Well, I did send you a text, but hanging here wasn’t my idea.

Ryuji: It wasn’t?

??????: No. It was mine.

>Someone new joined in the conversation. Though Ryuji had never met this man before, but he knows who he is.

You’re... Harry’s old man, right?

(laughs a bit) Harry’s old man? What a simple way to put it. But yes, I’m his father. And you must be Ryuji Sakamoto.

Ryuji: You know about me?

Norman: Japanese students from a school with much talk about come to New York and I wouldn’t here about it?

>This was him. One of the people who have haunted Ryuji and Akechi’s dreams. And what made him even more scarier at the time... was that he was holding a blow torch.

Norman: Come in, make yourself right at home.

>After a brief walk through the school, they arrive in some kind of lounge. Then, Norman turns on the torch.

Ryuji: Are you going to do something sciency with that thing?

Norman: Culinary science. I’m making creme brulee. An afternoon snack to make the wait for dinner less painful. You’re welcome to join us if you like.

Ryuji: For real? I’ve never had creme brulee before. (Not even during the time we went to the Wilton Hotel.)

Norman: Not surprised. Being over at Horizon High, they would rather feed you Mac N’ Cheese and ice cream for dessert. My, for a school that deals with science and the future, they always tend to do things the simple way... Then again, that should be no problem for someone they consider so simple.

Ryuji: Are you saying I’m simple?

Harry: (a little irritated) Dad!?

Norman: I am merely saying what others are thinking. I do not think anything of the sorts about you. And I know your friends sometimes think that about you as well.

Ryuji: My friends don’t care that I’m dumb. They just... They just think I need a little help sometime.

Norman: Oh, they care plenty. Their power comes from the sweat of people like yourself. The only reason why people like you are around is because others have brains where they lack muscles. And those and Horizon and your school back home are the worst.

>After frying a creme brulee, he offers it to Ryuji who tastes it.

Whoa! This is so good.

Norman: I’m glad you think so.

Ryuji: But still, my friends care about me. It’s not like I’m holding them back or anything.

Norman: Have you ever heard them say your weren’t holding them back?

Huh?

Norman: They probably didn’t want you to think you were such a burden on them, so they kept quiet.

Ryuji: Look, I already know that I’m not the smartest guy there is. Back at school I only get good grades in P.E. and Music. Everything else is just too damn hard.

Norman: Or perhaps you simply haven’t found the right teacher for you.

Ryuji: What do you mean the right teacher?

Norman: You need a teacher who can truly understand you to help you learn. And I know you can’t find it in places like Horizon High... Or even Shujin Academy. The teacher you need can offer you so much... Much more than Suguru Kamoshida ever had. Yes. I know about that.

Ryuji: I... I guess that’s right.

Norman: Yes. Your school clearly has zero chances of having better educational systems. They are just full of dirty secrets. And Horizon is no different. Just ask Max Modell. Go on, ask him... Do you wish to attend here instead? Where you might find the right teacher for you? Price of acceptance? How about... whatever it is you and your friends did to get into Horizon? Bring it to me and you’ll have a place here at Osborn Academy.

Harry: What?

Ryuji: You.. want me to transfer here? Out of Horizon?

Norman: Out of Horizon... And Shujin.

>Norman takes something out of his pocket and places it on the table. It was a flash drive.

Ryuji: And what makes you think I want to do that?

Norman: Because I know you came here to a rival school for more than a cup of burnt pudding. And more than just an invitation from my son.

Ryuji: What are you saying?

Norman: Think about it. You know that though your body is of Skamoto... Your mind is of Osborn. After all, the answers are right there... in your dreams.

My dreams? How did-

>Ryuji looks over to Harry and sees he’s looking down.

Ryuji: Harry, you told him?

Harry: ... Dad overheard me talking about you with Peter over the phone. I’m sorry.

Norman: An Osborn has no need to be sorry, Harry. I do not normally believe in such things, but Ryuji’s dreams might actually be a sign. A sign that his place is here, with us.

Ryuji: Okay, even if what you’re saying is true, how do you think I’m gonna afford to stay here? Money’s already tight for me and my mom. We can’t pay for it.

Norman: Quite the contrary, your mother won’t be paying a thing... We’d be the ones paying her.

Ryuji: Say what?

Harry: Dad, are you serious?

Norman: If that think tank at the Baxter Building can do something like that for their gifted children, so can we. For each month you attend here, I will send a check to your mother. How does... ¥150,000 ($1399) sound?

FOR REAL!?

Harry: I think Ryuji’s running out of surprise faces.

Norman: I’m sure he’ll stop once he thinks it over. Trust me, Ryuji, a mind connected to an Osborn might as well be an Osborn himself. And believe me, everyone here knows what it’s like to play second-best to some fat homosexual, an armored playboy, and even... a young man who got on Shido’s bad side.

Ryuji: ...

Norman: So what will it be? Being around people who are just in your way or being around people who will let you have your way?

...

>Ryuji didn’t know what to do. Deciding to transfer not only out of Horizon High, but Shujin Academy as well? He really doesn’t want to part from his friends who have helped him for so long. On the other hand, if he starts attending Osborn Academy, his mother will be paid for it and Ryuji would finally be able to repay her for all the hardship she went though.

>Then, Ryuji’s phone rings. He takes it out to see a message.

Ryuji, me and Aleksei were doing some work on the dorm when we discovered another new place there. A student langue. We’ve already invited the others. If you like, you can come too. Just let us know.

Ryuji: ... I should go, my friends need me.

Norman: Very well, you go think about it.

>Harry looked at his father. Was he serious? Was he father really going to pay Ryuji’s mom just for letting him come to Oz Academy? By the time Harry looked back at Ryuji, he was already at the door, but paused at the moment.

Ryuji: If I do bring you Futaba’s mom’s research, what are you going to do with it?

Norman: Nothing you need to worry yourself with. Now I suggest you get going. If you’ve seen Home Alone 2 like many others have, you know how dangerous New York is after dark. Especially with all these villains running around... Including a certain wall-crawling menace.

>Ryuji then leaves.

Harry: Dad, are you sure about this? Ryuji is very loyal to his friends. He would just ditch them for Oz Academy. They really don’t care about how smart or dumb he is. He would never leave them, even if you promise his mother a fortune.

Norman: True. He doesn’t seem the type. But let me ask you something, Harry... Where’s the flash drive?

>Harry looked down at the table. Only the creme brulee were there. The flash drive, however, was gone.

Harry: Ryuji, I hope you know what you’re getting into.

>Outside, Ryuji hails a cab and gets in as he reply to my message.

Hey, Ren. I’m on my way. Just don’t start without me.

Don’t worry. We won’t. It wouldn’t be much of a party without you.

Ryuji: (thinking) Yeah, they can’t start without me alright... Not without your clown.

>Ryuji reached into his pocket. He took out the flash drive.

...

>Ryuji made it back to the dorms at Horizon where we were waiting for him. The student lounge had some sofas, chairs and tables, a flat screen which Max was generous enough to give, some old arcade games me and Aleksei brought in, a coffee maker, an old fridge, a kitchen area, and a toilette room.

There you are! Welcome to our new student lounge!

So how was your first trip to Oz Academy? I bet their lounge isn’t as fancy as their’s, huh?

Ryuji: ... So so.

That’s all?

Ryuji: I... wasn’t paying much attention.

By the way, you went there to hang out with Harry. What did you guys do?

Ryuji: ...

I don’t think badger him with some questions. This is about a new lounge for Horizon.

He’s right. Let just enjoy this. And we have Ren and Aleksei to thank for it.

All it took was a little hard work, help, and a lot of proficiency.

That’s true.

Although, it is missing that artistic touch. Here, I got this as a gift for working hard at the museum.

>Yusuke reaches into his bag and takes out a poster of Marie-Denise Villers’s Young Woman Drawing.

That’s actually a good touch to the place, Inari.

Yes, it definitely adds color to this place.

Thank you. I really appreciate this.

To celebrate the occasion, I already ordered a pizza.

Alright, just make sure Dr. Octavius doesn’t notice. He hates it when something is ordered on campus.

Aleksei: Right now, I don’t think Octavius can ruin this moment. Thanks to Ren helping me fix this place, we might be able to impress even him.

Ren: Right. And I’ll be sure to continue helping you further.

Aleksei: I hope so too.

>I can sense Aleksei’s hope for me.

Rank Up!

Confidant: Rhino

Arcana: Star

Rank: 5

Ability: Student Lounge

Allows you to go to the Student Lounge in the dorms.

Ryuji: ... Hey, Morgana?

What’s up, Ryuji?

Ryuji: Does... Does Max keep his office unlocked after hours?

Morgana: Well, no. But he’s still here at the school now, so it should still be unlocked. Why do you ask?

Ryuji: I... I just wanted to ask him something.

Morgana: Okay. Just be back before the party starts.

Ryuji: That’s okay. I’m tiered. I’ll just go to bed after.

Morgana: Okay. Well save you some pizza for later.

Ryuji: Thanks.

>With that, Ryuji leaves.

Ann: Where’s Ryuji going?

Morgana: I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s for what he just said.

>At Max’s office, Ryuji was searching Max’s computer until he finally found the file on Cognitive Psience. Ryuji takes the flash drive and plugs it. No sooner that he plugged it in, the drive began copying the file. It took some time. Ryuji was getting impatient out of fear that someone, especially Max, would walk in and catch him. For a moment, that fear almost came true. Ryuji saw a couple of shadows coming in and hid under the desk. It was Max and Otto Octavius. Thankfully, neither of them noticed him.

I will not repeat myself again, Otto. I don’t approve of you putting a neurotransmitters in your arms. I told you, stick to experiments I’m comfortable with.

I still wish you would change your mind about that. But if that’s what you want, so it it. After all, this is your school.

>With that, Octavius leaves the office. Max looks around. Then, he leaves. Ryuji gets up from his hiding spot and looks at the screen.

FILE COPY COMPETE

Ryuji: ...

>Ryuji takes the flash drive and runs out the school... Unaware that Octavius saw him. Ann shows up.

Ryuji? Where is he going?

Octavius: Something any student would do... If someone like Max held him back... (laughs a bit) Or, in his case, his friends.

>Ann resisted the urge to hit him and runs off to tell us.

>Ryuji was near the Hudson River. He looks at the flash drive trying to decide whether or not he should throw the drive into the water and go back to Horizon or take it to Norman and become an Oz student... After a while, he finally decided.

>In Norman’s office, he was looking at some things when the door opened. It was... Ryuji. He hands Norman the drive who plugs it into his computer. He reads the file and the research carefully until he finishes... He smiles.

Norman: Ryuji Sakamoto... Welcome to Osborn Academy.

(thinking) Ren, Akechi, Ann, Futaba, Peter, you guys... I’m sorry.

#phantom thieves cam

0 notes

kareofbears · 5 years ago

Text

day 30: dusk

Hawaii is hot, beautiful, crowded, and decidedly not downtown Tokyo.

---

(Or, the Hawaii school trip rewritten.)

He's about to leave his hotel room when his phone starts ringing. Akira sighs, and swipes up.

"I said to call when you get there."

"Hello to you too, Futaba," Akira greets the pouting girl on the screen. "Sorry, things got busy."

"For five days!? Do you hate me?"

"I could never!" He exclaims, mock offended. "I just wanted to get you the perfect souvenir, unless you don't want the super cool Featherman stickers I saw in a gift shop—"

She gasps, pushing her face right up against the camera, screen blurring as she shakes her phone around. "You’re lying, Kurusu! There's no way you found the limited edition American Featherman laptop stickers there!"

"Mm, I'd be willing to cough it up, but only if an annoying brat is willing to forgive me."

"I forgive you, I forgive you!" She shrieks, eyes glimmering with excitement in a near dangerous way. "Okay, go have fun! Buy more of the stickers, too! I could sell them for big bucks in Japan."

"We are not ruining the merch economy, Futaba."

"You're no fun."

"I'm going now. Be good, you monster."

"Over my dead body would I ever do something good."

----

"That looks fun."

Makoto looks up from her place in the sand, a bucket in her hand. "It is. Would you like to join me?"

Akira nods, and sits beside her. He peers at her mediocre pile. There’s no design or meaning to it—It’s truly just a small mound of sand. "Is that supposed to be a sand castle?"

"Yes," she sighs. "I'm glad you can tell, at least. I've been trying to train myself to accept not being good at some things right away, so I decided to try and create a sandcastle; a task I've never practiced before."

"You never take a break, do you?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call this working," Makoto replies, filling her bucket with white sand. "Though how people create such tall sand castles are beyond me. How do they do it without some adhesive of some kind?" She then dumps the entire bucket onto her pile, grains sliding down as gravity takes hold. It settles back to its original, lackluster heap of sand. "Quite the predicament."

Akira stares at her. "Is that how you've been doing it this whole time?"

"Yes. Is something wrong?" She fills up another bucket of sand.

"Well—" Dump. "That's not...really how you do it."

She frowns. "I wish you'd told me that sooner, I've been working on this for fifteen minutes, and it would be a waste of time to—" Suddenly, a screaming child runs through her pile, flinging sand into both of their eyes.

After a solid minute of coughing and aggressive rubbing, Makoto turns to Akira. "A lesson would be excellent, thank you."

----

“Ooo, look at this one!” Ann exclaims, peering closely at massive, floral-themed sunglasses.

The two of them are strolling through the shopping district of their resort, pointing at random knick-knacks and giving their hot takes on them. To everyone’s surprise, Ann and Yusuke make excellent shopping partners; Yusuke is really the only one who can keep up with Ann’s insatiable need to shop, and he never butters up his response. In return, Ann listens closely to whatever advice he can give about aesthetics and color coding outfits.

“Tacky, but definitely in with the spirit of our island here,” he nods. “I think you should buy it. It will definitely bring some color into the dreariness of Tokyo.”

“You think?” Ann wears them, and looks in a mirror. “Not too much?”

“No, especially if you pair them with the blouse you bought in Shibuya.”

“The white one? Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright,” Ann nods. “I trust you! But if Ryuji laughs at me, I will be throwing these at his head.”

“What on earth does he know about the art of aesthetics and fashion? Certainly not close to the knowledge that you and I possess, surely?”

Ann grins. “This is why you rock, Yusuke.”

“Thank you.”

They pay for her shades before continuing their stroll through the pavilion.

“Thanks for helping me out!” Ann says, basking in the sun. “Ever since Shiho moved, I don’t really feel like I have a friend who I can shop with. I mean, there’s Haru, or Makoto, or even Akira, but I feel like I bore them after a while.”

“My pleasure,” Yusuke replies, every step he takes deliberately putting himself underneath the shade. “I can see no better use of my schedule than practicing the art of color-coding in real time rather than in front of a canvas.”

She hums. “Are you gonna buy anything?”

“Oh, lord no,” he scoffs. “To spend my money on something such as souvenirs when I can hardly imagine paying for my next meal is laughable. No, I’m perfectly content with simply aiding you on your journey.”

Ann blinks at him, before gasping loudly. “I know, I know!” She whirls in front of Yusuke, clapping her hands together. “To thank you for always being with me on my shopping trips, how about I, Takamaki Ann, will buy you one thing in this entire shopping district, free of charge!”

Yusuke frowns. “I can’t possibly do that to you.”

“Sure you can! Think of it as a thank you for being my shopping best friend!” She grips his forearm tightly, eyes twinkling. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Please!”

Yusuke shifts in place, torn. “Only if you’re certain—”

“Heck yeah, I am! Let’s go!”

“How about a nice shirt?”

Yusuke tilts his head, holding an armful of fake coconuts. “I have a shirt back at home.”

“Yeah, but…okay, nevermind.” Ann sighs. Shopping for Yusuke is turning out to be a headache. Every time she offers something, he always seems to find a reason not to get it.

“Oo, how about a hat?” She says, showing him a very cheesy red hat with the word ‘Aloha’ written on the top.

“I’m not a fan of hats. To restrict the brain would be to restrict the mind.”

Ann holds back a groan. She wishes Akira were here—his mental alignment with Yusuke is miles better than hers. “Sorry, Yusuke, I’m out of ideas.”

“That’s quite alright,” Yusuke smiles. “I do have to thank you for the offer--” He stops, eyes zoning in on something behind her. “My goodness,” he whispers, before running.

“Wh-what? Wait up!”

Yusuke lifts a massive tiki head, mouth agape. “It’s brilliant…” he mutters, gently brushing the wood with his thumb. “Look at the intricate carving, the colors, the size!” He gasps, before turning to her desperately, still clutching his artifact. “Ann. I need it.”

Ann opens her mouth, before closing it, teeth clacking together. It’s better not to question Yusuke, and she has to wonder why she even tried to offer something normal to him when, in reality, he’s anything but. “Sure thing.”

They walk out of the store five minutes later, Ann’s shades still perched on top of her head and Yusuke happily carrying a 3 foot tiki head.

----

Akira's sitting underneath the shade of an umbrella when Haru decides to visit.

"Hello, there."

He looks up, sunglasses darkening the figure in front of him. She’s wearing her bright teal swimsuit with a large, white sun hat on her head. "Wanna join?" he asks, patting the sand beside him.

"I'd love to," she replies, settling down beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure Ryuji doesn't drown." At her inquisitive look, he continues, "He's been trying to surf for the past twenty minutes."

"Ah, I see. Are you not interested in joining?"

"Not a fan of getting in water if I can help it. You?"

"I prefer to enjoy the sun with some reading," she gestures to the book in her hands: Flowerpedia.

"I'm surprised you haven't read that one before."

"I have!" She smiles, and he mimics her in return. It's nice to see Haru happy despite all odds. "But I like to reread it when I can't actually garden. It still lets me feel as though I'm on the school rooftop this way."

"I'll let you get to it then."

Akira enjoys the sun as Haru flicks open her book. With the waves crashing, the winds blowing, and people around them laughing amongst themselves, it makes for a calming atmosphere.

After a few minutes, Haru looks up from her book. "Oh, would you look at that,” They both watch as Ryuji finally stands on his surfboard, knees shaking. His brow is furrowed in intense concentration, even more so than in group study sessions (which, in reality, doesn’t mean much). "He's doing quite well."

Akira raises his hands and cups it over his mouth. His voice turns high pitched, "Looking cool, Sakamoto-senpai!"

Ryuji looks up, eagerly looking to see which cute kouhai is calling his name before slipping off the board, submerging in water completely as his surfboard continues to ride the current without him.

Haru purses her lips, trying not to laugh. "Too cruel, Akira-kun."

"I think of it as ‘just right.’"

----

“Yo, Haru! Ann!”

The girls turn around to see Ryuji enthusiastically running towards them, a hand behind his back.

“Hello Ryuji-kun,” Haru smiles. “You seem happy.”

“You bet I am! Because, I, Sakamoto Ryuji,” he rips his hand up, showcasing a neon green frisbee. “Bought a motherfuckin’ frisbee! Oops, sorry Haru.”

“I told you, I don’t mind if you swear.”

“A frisbee?” Ann asks, skeptical. “You’re that excited over a piece of plastic?"

“Hey! Have you ever played frisbee on a beach? It’s fu-frick, ugh, whatever, it’s amazing! It tires you out like crazy and it’s super fun. Plus, there ain’t much places to throw a frisbee around in Tokyo, unless you wanna get hit by a car or something.” He grins widely, jumping in place. “So? How about it? Wanna play a few rounds?”

“Ugh, pass. Sounds lame."

“What?! I spent a crazy amount of money on this thing—screw gift shops by the way, they're monsters—and you’re gonna call it lame?”

“Don’t worry Ryuji-kun!” Haru says kindly. “I’d love to play frisbee with you”

“Aw, you’re a lifesaver!” Ryuji whoops. “Unlike this killjoy over here.”

Ann rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m meeting with Akira. Later, Haru.”

Ryuji and Haru separate a good few meters apart and begin to lightly throw the frisbee from each other.

“Would you like to have more distance between us?” Haru calls after a few minutes of tossing. “I’d hate to feel like I’m boring you.”

“Only if you want! Don’t wanna make you sweat or nothin’.”

“I want to!” Haru says, determined. “To learn a skill like proper throwing and the technicalities of a perfect aim is helpful in our endeavor!”

“Hell yeah, that’s the badass Haru I know! Okay, let’s get some distance in here.”

The two of them separate even further, to the point where they have to scream in order to have a conversation.

“Is this good?!” Haru yells, holding the frisbee in her hand.

“Totally!” Ryuji shouts back. “Throw it!”

Haru takes a deep breath, and throws the frisbee with all her might. Perhaps it was her passion for learning new things, or maybe it was simply because she really, really wanted it to reach Ryuji in a beautiful arc where it would land directly in his waiting hands—instead, the neon green frisbee that was lovingly bought with Ryuji's pocket money is flung, gliding into the ocean. They watch in silence as it floats, far and away, until it’s out of sight.

Ryuji does his best to go through the five stages of grief in as little time as possible.

Haru sprints towards him, apologies already bubbling from her lips, promising to buy him ten frisbees and ‘I'm so sorry I don't know what happened Ryuji-kun, come on let's go back to the gift shop.’ In the end, Ryuji successfully turns down her offer, opting instead that they split a banana split back in the hotel.

"I don't know what happened," Haru sighs, shoving strawberry ice cream in her mouth. "I must have thrown it much too hard, I'm—"

"If you say sorry again, I'm making you eat the banana."

She frowns. "Do you not like the banana part of a banana split?"

"Of course not, do I look like someone who likes fruits? Anyway, point is, stop apologizin'! No harm, no foul."

"You looked devastated, Ryuji-kun."

He waves it off. "That's fine. What do they say in English? C'est la vie?"

"I'm... pretty sure that's not English. But please, one last time, allow to me apologize—"

"What, for being too strong?" He asks, eyebrow quirking up. "Look, I know you're my senpai and all, but lemme say this." Ryuji scoops a spoonful of chocolate in his mouth before continuing. "Never apologize for being too strong, especially in a shi-crappy world like this, okay? Lotsa people wish they have what you have, and people who are strong seem to be doin' awesome! I mean, look at Ann—she can probably kick my ass!"

"But she wouldn't."

"She wouldn't," he shrugs. "Doesn't mean that she can't, though. Anyway, for the last time," he points his spoon at her seriously, dripping with melting ice cream. "It's chill. You’re strong and that's awesome. Probably from all the dirt you carry, or weeds you pull out, or something."

Haru giggles. "Thank you, Ryuji-kun."

"No prob! Hey, let's see if we can get away with fillin’ up an entire bowl with caramel sauce!"

"I don't think that's the best idea."

----

"Akiraaaaa~"

"Yes, Ann?"

She grins, donned in her bikini and proudly shoving her phone in his face. Her beach bag hangs off of her shoulders. "Photoshoot?"

He pretends to think about it. "Only if I get compensated."

"You'll get compensated through a movie when we get back?"

"Deal."

Ann chooses a nice, empty spot on the beach; a seemingly impossible task given that Hawaii is a magnet for tourists. "This place is perfect!"

"It is," he agrees. "Any particular angles you're feeling right now?"

"You know my good ones," Ann says, throwing her bag down. She'd dragged him to enough of her photoshoots that he can practically mimic them, in order, alongside her.

Akira nods, and they get to work. She gives him a variety of poses—playful, confident, flirty, and he tries his best to channel his inner Ohya and get the best shots possible (at least, enough for ‘the ‘Gram,’ as she would affectionately call it). At one point, Akira has his stomach against the sand to capture her angles, to the amusement of the people watching.

"Ooo, what a cameraman!" Ann calls, one leg in the air, mid-pose.

"Only the best for the next Vogue superstar."

She laughs, but abruptly stops when a rough, deep, unknown voice yells at them.

"Show us more, sweetheart!"

Ann makes eye contact with a massive bodybuilder, eyeing her. She giggles. "Only if you come here!"

Akira clenches his jaw as the man saunters over to her, clearly thrilled to have Ann's attention. "What's your name, honey?"

Ann smiles, leaning over, having the man salivating behind her. Then, she picks up her bag and slams it across the guy's jaw. "My name is eat shit, asshole!"

He stumbles back, shocked and clutching his jaw. "You're fucking crazy!" He spits out, backing away from her, before stomping in another direction.

Akira sits up, smiling, and puts his hand up to her. "Good one."

"Thanks!" She enthusiastically high-fives him. "Was it too much?"

"The ‘eat shit’ thing? No, it's pretty classy."

"Right? It really gets the message across!"

"You want more pictures?"

After a second, she answers, "Nah, I’m good. I am down for a selfie though."

He smiles, and they both throw bunny ears around each other, both grinning at the camera.

----

"You okay there?"

Yusuke groans, eyes closed, leaning his head back on the sofa. His hand absent-mindedly rubs his bloated stomach. The two of them are sitting alone in the hotel buffet lounge on a table that's too big for them. Everyone else had left already, too impatient to wait for Yusuke to finish. "I feel that death is approaching."

Akira grimaces in sympathy. "Was it before or after the third plate of fried squid?"

"Before." He sighs. "I am not accustomed to so much food being available to me that I may have been a tad too eager."

"I can see that," Akira pushes his glass of water towards his mildly green-looking friend. "Drink that when you can."

"Thank you, but if I attempt to put anything in my mouth right now..." he shivers. "I cannot imagine it."

"Wanna try walking it off?"

Yusuke considers it. "Yes, that would suffice."

Akira helps Yusuke up, not unlike helping an aging Saint Bernard stand, and together they make their way to the beach.

He breathes in deeply, smiling ever so slightly. "As always, a great decision, leader. I feel my insides cleansing with the salt of the ocean."

"Do you like the ocean?"

"Yes. In truth, this is only my second time going; the first being when we went in the summer," he hesitates, before admitting, "Sensei didn't like to take us places as it could have been a distraction from making art."

"That's weird," Akira says. "Since places and experiences can help you make art, can't it?"

"My thoughts exactly. Sensei seemed to have forgotten how art is truly created, instead remembering how art can be acquired," he looks to the ocean, eyes distant. "A shame, since the ocean truly is something remarkable that cannot be captured without seeing it in real life."

He takes in Yusuke's expression, the way he stares longingly at the sea, and asks, "Do you want to make art now?"

"I'd love to, but my canvases were taken away during customs," he grimaces. "A shame, since I had brought five as well. What a waste of good supplies."

Akira tugs on his fringe. "You know, sand is almost like a textured canvas, isn't it?" He traces a smiley face on the sand with his heel. "Check it out."

Yusuke blinks. "Yes, but then I won't be able to take it back with me. It would eventually be washed away, or stepped on, or—"

"Yeah but you're not doing this to put it in a gallery, aren't you?" Akira asks, smiling at Yusuke. "This is just so you have a way to make art and enjoy it."

His eyes widen, before Yusuke chuckles quietly. "You truly have an interesting mind, leader."

"You and me both."

"Alright!" Yusuke starts, clapping his hands together. "Allow me to make art, not for a museum, nor for any of these pedestrians, but for myself."

Akira watches Yusuke make intricate patterns on the white sand for forty minutes; true to his word, he was constantly interrupted by kids sprinting across his make-shift canvas, waves washing it away, and at one point someone had dropped their entire surfboard right in the middle of it all.

Yusuke steps back, and admires his work. It’s barely comprehensible—just a lot of swirls and lines, but he's smiling wider than Akira’s ever seen.

"What do you think?"

"Does it matter what I think?" Akira shrugs. "I thought you never liked making art for others' opinion."

"I'd be willing to say you're the exception."

He grins, and claps his hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. "If that's the case, then I'd say it's perfect."

----

"Three-on-three, girls against boys."

Haru puts her hand up politely. "Pardon the accusation Mako-chan, but it seems that the teams may be unfair to us girls. After all, the tallest of us is Ann, who's only 5'6."

"Nah," Ryuji shakes his head, pointing an accusatory finger at Makoto. "You weren't there when we went to the beach before. She spikes down on us, no problem. Fuckin' hurts to try and block her, too. If anything, girls’ll have the advantage here.”

"But don’t worry about them, either," Ann pipes up. "They'll have Akira on the team. He makes a great setter."

"Not to mention that Yusuke is literally 5'11," Akira points out, hand raised to block out the intense Hawaiian sun.

Ryuji looks at Yusuke, as if only now seeing his height. "Huh. Damn, you're tall, huh? Like a telephone post, or something."

"I'll take that as a compliment; without telephone posts, we cannot use telephones."

"Hell yeah, we can't!" he grins, despite Yusuke's lackluster response. "You'll earn us a ton of points dude!"

Yusuke smiles. "You can rely on me."

"Yusuke!" Ryuji wails, frustrated. "You can't just stand and put your arms up to block! You gotta jump! Like this!" He demonstrates. "You're just letting all her spikes in at this rate!"

"But," Yusuke frowns. "If I jump too much, I start to sweat."

"Then take off that goddamn hoodie!"

"Hmm, that's possible. However, too much sun isn't good for me. It makes me sweat."

Ryuji screams, and Akira pats his back.

The score is roughly 22 - 8, girls in the lead. Haru makes for a good setter with her steady hands, and Makoto has never hesitated about anything in her life, which both add up to a dangerous combo. On the other side of the net, the only reason they earned their meager set of points is from Akira's setter dumps. Anytime he tries to set to Ryuji, Ryuji gets so excited that he either misses the timing, or simply forgets to jump. Though, Ryuji is fantastic at receiving the ball, from his stamina and fast reflexes. Yusuke, however, refuses to receive any of Makoto's spikes, opting instead to tilt his body out of her line of fire.

"It's okay, Yusuke!" Haru calls encouragingly from the other side. "Volleyballs are pretty scary sometimes!"

"Thank you Haru, but I am truly unperturbed by the point gap."

"You should be!" Ryuji screeches.

"It's not just his fault, you idiot!" Ann yells back, all too happy to pick on Ryuji. "You're the one that can't run and jump at the same time!"

"Sh-shut up! You're letting Haru and Makoto do all the work!"

"That's way better than losing by fourteen points!"

“How long did it take you to do that mental math, Takamaki? Or did Makoto whisper the answer to you?”

“Which one of us got 29% on the last math practice exam, because it wasn’t me!”

"How about we grab food?" Makoto cuts in. "It's about that time, anyway."

"Food sounds good," Akira says quickly, eager to lower Ryuji’s blood pressure.

Yusuke nods, pleased. "Yes, I was just about famished, anyway."

"Akira told me you almost threw up."

"That was nearly two hours ago. Everything has been digested."

"I worry about you, Yusuke."

----

"Hey."

Akira turns around to see Ryuji kicking the ground, making tiny sand clouds with his flip flops. The sun is about to set soon, casting their chunk of Hawaiian beach in an ethereal golden glow. Thankfully, with the lack of heat, there are substantially less people wandering around, and it can almost be considered peaceful. Quiet, even.

"Hey, yourself."

Ryuji rubs the back of his neck, "I'm not really hungry yet. You?"

Akira feels himself smile. "Can't say that I am. Wanna walk?"

"Almost like you read my mind."

So they walk along the shoreline, flip flops in their hands as they talk, waves lapping at their feet as they laugh about nothing and everything, basking in the sunlight and in each other's company. Akira kicks sand at Ryuji's feet which led to him trying to push Akira into the waves, losing his balance, and falling into the ocean himself. After they both nearly cry with laughter, they both decided to take a break on a nearby bench.

"Man," Ryuji sighs, hair still wet with salt water. “Hawaii is nice as hell. Can’t find a beach like this in Japan, ya know?” Ryuji looks at the sunset in front of them wistfully. “Makes me wish my Ma could see it. She’s always wanted to visit warm places, but she’s always working, never got the time.” His eyes light up, “Maybe I could take a couple pictures! I bet she’d love that.”

“She would,” Akira agrees. In the few times he’s met Sakamoto-san, she’s a huge sentimental sweetheart who thinks the world of her son. “Want me to take some of you?”

Ryuji thinks about it. “How about let’s take one together? She’d be happy to have proof that I’m not just making shit up about having friends.”

“Sure thing.”

The two of them crowd around Ryuji’s phone, Akira smiling softly while Ryuji grins, throwing peace signs, snapping a photo, before pulling back again. “Aw, she’d love this!” He grins. “This ain’t actually half bad, either.”

“Send it to me,” Akira says, peering over his shoulder. “I’ve been needing a new background, anyway.”

Ryuji stares at Akira, ears red. “S-sure, dude.”

They watch the waves crash against the shore. "I can't believe today's our last day,” Ryuji sighs. “I feel like nothing even happened."

Akira hums, making mindless circles into the sand with the very tip of his toes. "Did you want something to happen?"

"I mean, nothing specific. All I know about Hawaii was that they had beaches and shit," he shifts slightly. "The one thing I actually wanted to happen was to hang out with you a whole bunch, and even then I feel like I didn't get that."

"Well, we're here now, aren't we?"

Ryuji looks up at Akira, and after a beat of silence, he laughs. "Yeah, I guess we are." He bumps shoulders with him, grinning. "Look at you, sayin' shit like that, thinking you're so cool."

"Oh, I am the coolest. Arguably, I'd say I'm the coolest guy around."

"Yeah, next to Mishima, maybe."

"You don't think I'm cool?"

"I didn't say that!"

"So you do think I'm cool?"

It might be the warm sun or the general heat of the island, but his face flushes a bright red. After a moment of spluttering, he mumbles, "I think you're cool as hell."

Akira blinks, completely caught off guard. He tries to say a joke, like hell can’t be cool, Ryuji, but his heart is hammering so hard that his body can’t seem to cooperate.

"Oh," Ryuji goes on, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I was looking through the gift shop for my Ma’s souvenir and I found something for you!"

He fishes out two small keychains; two flip flops, one left, one right. They're designed with a tacky Hawaiian print and coconuts all over. Ryuji hands one to Akira. "We could match, see?" He rubs the back of his neck again. "Thought it was neat cause if we both have one, it's like we're walking side by side! Or, you know, something like that." His flush deepens, spreading all the way down his neck and splitting his chest. "Or not, it's probably super lame and tacky, it only cost like, 4 dollars, which is like 40 yen, right? Anyway, my bad for ruining the mood—"

"I love it," Akira breathes.

Ryuji's eyes widen before he quickly turns away. "Cool, cool." He looks to the sunset, too overwhelmed to look at the boy next to him. "We should probably head back, yeah? Bet Yusuke and Ann are eating half the buffet by now."

Akira scoots closer, shoulder to shoulder with the boy beside him. "Then let them."

They sit there for a few more minutes, watching the sky slowly turn violet, matching keychains hanging loosely from their fingertips.

#last escapril #thanks for reading!#my ao3 is the same as my tumblr :)#p5 #persona 5 #escapril #escapril2020 #mine #akiryu #fic tag

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