#JUNELUXRAY BIG FAVE and yeahhh hope this is okay!!

[books-and-dragons]

Request: Ren using his Third Eye for things that it probably wasn't meant for. His team may or may not approve depending on those things. Try something with that? Thank you if you decide to do it!

i’m so sorry this took me so long to finish!! ahh, but here it is, hope you don’t mind if i decided to hurt our boy a little in the process, of course ;)

A New Perspective

Third-eye was useful for finding what Joker needed most in that moment. It came to him as second instinct. Saved them from attack, let them stay undetected, uncovered hidden treasures.

What Akira never expected, was that it was just as useful a tool outside of the Metaverse.Would’ve been nice to figure that one out a few months ago.

Dull artificial lights lit the rickety old attic, casting shadows over cobwebbed corners and dusty beams. The occasional-flickers of the lighting didn’t seem to bother the occupants of the room, who were all laughing and chattering over a tall tower of wooden blocks.

Weekly game night for the Phantom Thieves was tradition, ever since their first change of heart, when Ryuji, Ann, and Akira had spent the whole night prior to their supposed ‘deadline’ playing stupid card games online together. Only these days, they all collected at Leblanc, and slept over in the attic, rather than share a game room online from their own houses.

They took turns to bring games and snacks, it was different every week.

This time, it was Ryuji and Ann on snack duty. Homemade cookies and brownies from the collaborative efforts of Ryuji and his Mom, and an assortment of store-bought cupcakes and bags of Jagariko as well as other processed snacks surrounded the group. They were all sat staring up at a tower of jenga blocks, brought by Makoto.

There were so many gaps already made, and more than a few close calls that could have ended in someone being a victim to the falling blocks, but so far nobody had slipped up.

“Dude, come on, just choose one already.” Ryuji groaned, narrowing his gaze towards the direction of Yusuke, who’d been staring at the tower of blocks for 5 minutes now.

As Ryuji’s words went by ignored, Makoto sighed. “Aesthetic doesn’t matter Yusuke, someone else will change it during their turn anyway.”

Yusuke made a choking sound in the back of his throat, tearing his sights away from the wooden tower to Makoto’s form, scandalised. “There are aesthetics to be found, even in the momentary intervals! To think you would argue otherwise….”

“Get over it and go, Inari.”

Yusuke huffed, but didn’t engage in further debate, instead redirecting his attentions to the game. His eyes swept over the structure once more, fixating on the gaps and the brickwork, before his gaze settled. He paused,then nodded to himself, assured, and reached down to the very bottom of the tower.

The response was immediate.

“Yusuke- I know I said to hurry up- but no! Not that one! Are you crazy?!”

“If you pull that one it’s gonna fall!”

“Yusuke no!”

“I’m gonna get hit!”

The tower rested on 3 blocks, securing the whole thing. Yusuke was reaching for the right block. The tower would be balancing on only 2 blocks, so much more sensitive to movement than it had been in any precious rounds.

Ann buried her head in Makoto’s shoulder, “I can’t watch!”

Yusuke kneedled forward, fingertips gently pressing the wooden block out. Slowly….carefully….

“W-wait, was that a wobble?! Did the tower just wobble?!” Ryuji stared up at the tower, eyes wide in horror.

Halfway….three quarters…..

“No way….is he gonna do it?”

Just a fraction more….

“Shit, how ?”

It was out,lying on the floor just centimetres from the tower.

Nobody moved, staring up at the tower from where it stood, balancing on an imbalanced basis of blocks. They awaited the crash, the rough tumble of bricks clattering to the floor, securing Yusuke’s failure.

It never came.

Unphased, Yusuke carefully reached around the grabbed the wooden block, all eyes on him as he placed it on the top of the tower, neatly slotted into place. With a satisfied smile, he leant back, bringing his hands up to frame the image.

“Perfect, the use of counterbalancing against the layers higher up. Quite the dramatic image.”

The thieves all stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Symmetry….you’ve fucked the game…for symmetry ?!” Ann gaped, “There’s no way someone can get a block out without knocking the tower over!”

At that, Ryuji glanced over at Akira, an amused glint in his eye, “Well dude, it’s your turn!”

Akira glanced up at the tower of wooden blocks, staring down at him. The slightest movement could send it crumbling down from its precarious base. The lighting bounced off its walls, illuminating it in the artificial orange glow, mocking Akira of its impending victory over him.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Bring it.”

Slowly, he crept forward, bringing his weight forward onto his knees and he gazed at each individual row, some blocks were chipped, others weathered with age, and assumedly from the damp confinements of a closet. There was no notable wobble, no gap of weakness clear to Akira in its structure. He leaned forward, taking in as much detail as he could; that’s all he had to do, this would be possible, he just had to-

Focus .

Everything around him faded to unnoteworthy, blurred mess. A jigsaw of pieces he didn’t want to fit together— not worth his time or his attention. All he saw was wooden blocks, and the bright illumination of velvet blue.

A single block, isolated and perfectly outlined itself to him,glinting in the lighting far beyond what could be provided by a cheap, attic light bulb. It almost glittered, the shine of a new treasure, a map, or any other available good Joker was able to take advantage of. He knew it the minute his gaze was compelled towards it— this block wouldn’t just protect him from elimination, it would secure his victory.

By the time his turn was over, only the middle block would remain as the base of the entire tower.

Carefully, he drew himself down, resting on his forearms as he gazed at the block, teasing his bottom lip between his teeth as he did so. Just because it was possible, did not mean it would be easy; Yusuke had guaranteed as much. He would have to exercise caution, extreme amounts. Stealth and patience were a necessity.

Perhaps the others began talking and hushing concerns as his fingertips drew closer to the block, perhaps they questioned him, but it was all muffled in the background. It didn’t demand his attention, not right now.

Fingers brushed against solid wood, and for a moment Akira made out the flash of scarlet red covering them, seamless and perfect, created exactly for him. Then, he began to gently push at the block.

He felt it.

Every tremble of the tower, every creak in the floor, at a fraction of a moment’s notice the block would flash to a colourless warning and the pressure upon it would be laid to rest for a moment, allowing the templing of tower walls to once again become settled, before his theft would resume. The air was stagnant, he daren’t breathe. All he could see was that block, his victory, and the sealed fate of his foes.

And then, there was nothing atop the block.

Swiftly, it was seized in his hands, swept into the air before anyone could do anything to change it. The tower carefully righted itself, rebalanced upon the precarious base of a single, middle block. A line of blue glistened atop the tower, directly in line with the block upon the bottom.

He daren’t breathe as we drew himself upright, leaning over the tower on the balls of his feet, both hands on the block as he slowly lowered it down, and down.

There was no movement, no creaks of the floorboard that signalled intervention by his foes, no tremble of wooden blocks that would seal his own fate.

The block in his hands brushed against other wooden layers, until hands slowly withdrew, leaving it lying innocently atop—h is crowning victory.

He felt his lips pull into an amused smirk, eyes glinting behind reflective lenses, as he slowly lowered himself back to the floor and gazed up at his mastery. Around him, his narrowed vision faded, colours flooded the room, there was an absence of velveteen blues and shadowed corners.

Akira blinked, gazing down at his hands in astonishment, as the cheers of his friends and exclamations of amazement filled the room.

“That was amazing, Akira!”

“I thought you were crushed for sure!”

“Wha-how….”

“Such focus, such a delicate touch and the grace ….truly inspiring.”

“Ha, let’s see you beat that Ryuji!”

“Dude , why’d I sit next to ya again?”

Akira’s own confusion fizzled as his attention was diverted to Ryuji, who was running one hand through bleached hair, a frown on his face as he stared up at the tower.

“Trust you to do somethin’ that’s normally impossible.” Ryuji smiled, shaking his head, before drawing himself up into a kneel, his left leg bearing the least of his weight as he narrowed his eyes.

“How do you think he’s gonna pull this one off?”

“No way, one move and that thing comes crumbling down! You saw Akira, how careful he had to be- it’s gonna be way more delicate now!”

Slowly, everyone on the other end of the circle crawled backwards, just as they had done with Akira, as their eyes remained fixated on the higher half of blocks, blocks that could fall upon them at any moment. Akira drew himself closer to Ryuji, ready to pull the other boy back if the blocks came tumbling down. It never hurt much, but it hurt more than you expected it would.

Slowly, Ryuji reached forward and poked at a block in the middle, in line with the one that held the tower’s foundation and with the block that sat atop of the structure, Akira’s crowning moment. It was a smart strategy, and shouldn’t change the weight distribution too much.

However, Ryuji wasn’t as delicate as Akira. He was stronger and more physically powerful, and the tower was much too precarious as it was, Akira had sealed the other boy’s fate before Ryuji had even taken his turn.

And, undoubtedly, the tower began to wobble.

It was small at first, and Ryuji withdrew as he waited for the tower to right itself again, leaning back as if ready to crawl away if need be.

When there was no given signs of collapse, Ryuji sighed in relief, and leaned forward again, one finger gently pressing against the wood, but it was much too reluctant to budge. The tower had already begun swaying, this time more intensely so as Ryuji applied more pressure.

Akira saw it before anyone else.

For a moment, his focused gaze flashed blue, illuminating the whole tower, and that was all it took for Akira to lunge forward, and pull Ryuji away, drawing them back in line with Yusuke and the others on their side of the circle.

Just a second later, the tower gave way.

Loud clatters filled the room, echoing off dusty walls, and the heavy wooden blocks came crashing down onto the attic floor, right where Ryuji and Akira had been just moments before. What had once been a tower of triumph, albeit a mess from teenagers trying to build atop it, was now a disorganised pile of blocks on the floor.

Akira knelt upright, Ryuji following suit, as they all stared at the heap before them.

“Well, we all saw that coming.” Ann sighed, as Makoto turned around, reaching for the bed which had the jenga box lying on it, empty and barren. She opened the lid and turned to the others.

“Yes, but you have to admit, Akira really pulled it off. It’s quite impressive.” She grinned, before lying the box on the floor, and starting to pick up the blocks. Taking the hint, the other teens followed suit, collecting them and organising them into near stacks they could slip into the box, a system they established long ago.

“Yeah, that was impressive, how’d you even know to check there?” Ann tilted her head, as she took a stack from Ryuji, slipping it into the box, “We all thought you were gonna lose.”

Akira shrugged, pushing up his glasses to hide from the confused cloud in his eyes.

How had he known?

Looking back, he can remember it vividly, almost in too much detail, but he could only recall the tower. That block.

He could never recall being so attuned, so….so….

Focused.

The block he was holding clattered to the ground. Luckily, the clattering sound of blocks was just about all that filled the room at that given moment, so nobody noticed. Akira grabbed it back from where it had fallen, adding it to another stack for the box.

It made sense, now that he thought about it.

He’d used third eye.

The so-called ‘thief’s tool’ granted to him by Igor had been a long time favourite, it was always perfect for finding targets, looting treasures, and keeping his teammates safe. He was never given a clear function for it, but it always came to him whenever he needed it, and it only ever showed him what he most needed in that moment. It had saved the lives of the Phantom Thieves more times than he cared to count (also made them a lot more money than he was ever able to count).

He supposed, if he thought about it, it made sense.

Getting that wooden block in jenga had been, in that moment, a really important thing to him.

Saving Ryuji from imminent block-related danger was a key moment for him.

What didn’t make sense, was that he’d used third-eye, albeit accidentally, outside of the metaverse.

Admittedly, Igor had never specified where it could and couldn’t be used, but for months Akira had just assumed it was a metaverse-only thing. Figuring out it worked in the real world was just as great as it was irritating.

He could’ve been using third-eye for months, and he never did.

All that time, wasted.

As he continued to put the blocks away, laughing with the others as Ryuji ruffled his already-messy hair and teased about how Akira had set Ryuji up, the curiosity about the potential for third-eye lingered.

Maybe it would be worth trying it again sometime.

Akira yawned as he ran a hand through his hair, toying with the screen of his phone as he walked.

It had been a slow school day, classes just reiterating what they’d gone through on Saturday, and he’d had a late night hanging out with the others at their sleepover. Not to mention that didn’t even cover dealing with the rumours that seemed to follow him around Shujin, nor how the police seemed to linger on the corners of Shujin. His stomach churned by the thought alone.

He really wanted nothing more than to go to Leblanc and have a long nap. However, Takemi had asked for his help, and he could far from refuse- especially as she was in the perfecting stages of her medicine; what was one afternoon of his time anyway? He’d sleep tonight.

The train station was just as packed as it always was after school, countless Shujin uniforms milling on the corners of the station, chattering over drinks from the vending machine, or already making their way through the ticket barrier to the trains.

Akira sighed, moving to the side away from the crowds as he went to open his bag. Morgana peered up at him, head tilted.

“My railcard.” Akira whispered, waiting for Morgana to shift and let him acces his wallet- either that or the cat would get it for him. It depended on where the wallet was.

But instead of moving like he normally did, Morgana gave him what looked to be the cat version of a frown. “It’s not in here, Haru gave us all a lift to school this morning- remember?”

Akira could’ve sworn out loud. Now he remembered.

Just like he remembered he’d forgotten to switch his wallet from his regular bag to his school bag, which he normally did every Monday morning.

Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

Staring over at the ticket barriers, he knew he had two options.

Option one: he could walk. It was far from preferable, and would take hours to travel such a distance back to Yongen- he’d certainly not be able to help Takemi out with her drugs trials today. There was no way he could ask for somebody to pick him up, just so much as thinking of disrupting Sojiro’s day make sickening guilt pool in his stomach.

Which only left him with option two; he’d have to slip past the barrier.

It wouldn’t be easy, there was a guard watching at all times, one slip-up and he’d be in trouble- even worse considering his record.

As he zipped shut his bag, muttering reassurances to a skeptical Morgana as he did so, his gaze was fixated on the ticket ques. He went for the one furthest from the guard.

Now, all he had to do was pay attention, and wait for his moment.

His eyes lit up, a smirk spreading across his lips. Flashes of the previous night danced across his vision.

No.

All he had to do was focus .

Pulling on the familiar sense of tuning everything out, fixating on a point, he almost felt the domino mask paint across his gaze. Around him everything dimmed, even the ticket barriers, and for a moment Akira worried it wouldn’t work. Sure, he’d have a chance of managing this himself, but the third-eye would drastically increase his chances of success.

And then, a brilliant flash of blue lit up the ticket barrier, gone in five seconds, and Akira knew he had his way through.

He remained focused. The next person went, no blue. And the next, no blue. His stomach began to churn- what if the person in front of him wasn’t going to work? Did he need to be further ahead? Further behind?

All worry faded as he saw a small strike of blue in the right hand of the person in front of him, their railcard . He didn’t revel in the hope, and wasted no opportunity. As the doors swung open for the student, the gate flashed blue, and Akira swept through right in time with the student before him.

The barrier closed behind him.

Nobody said a word.

As colour once again flooded the train station, the glint of success in his eyes didn’t fade.

The homely aroma of coffee and curry soothed Akira’s senses as he stared down at the chessboard, one finger gently tracing the rim of his coffee cup as he did so.

Gloved fingers moved one white bishop confidently into the place of a black rook, stealing it for their own.

Akira drew his eyes up to meet glinting crimson ones, which had a satisfied smile to match.

Goro Akechi placed the rook to the side, among several other pieces- most of them pawns, but there were a few key pieces in there— certainly more than Akira had stolen of Akechi’s white pieces.

With a small smile of his own, Akira moved his knight unto Akechi’s bishop, making the smooth switch of pieces.

“You’re improving,” Akechi noted, staring down at the board, “How are those lessons with the Shogi player going- you’re still continuing them, right?”

Akira nodded, “Right,” Akechi’s fingertips hovered atop the board, moving between pieces. “The lessons are good, I’m still learning which pieces are best when you reach the opposing end of the board.”

It was odd, Akira thought, he always found he talked more in Akechi’s presence. Odder yet, he didn’t really hate the change.

“Hm, I’m not as understanding of Shogi as I am chess, but piece selection changes depending on your strategy,” Akechi’s eyes narrowed, fixated on Akira’s Queen piece for a moment, “If you’re an aggressive player, bishops and rooks are the better pieces to use as they have an advantage in mobility, although I must say the generals are quite underrated pieces.”

Finally, he made his move, white knight directly in front of black pawn.

Akira frowned, Akechi had to have some other play at hand. His hand drew away from tracing the rim of his cup, toying at his hair thoughtfully.

“I think people overuse the King” Akira eyed the knight, eyeline dancing between the various pieces on the board. “Just because he has full range, doesn’t mean he’s mobile. The name and role in the game illusions people.”

His other bishop, directly in line with the white knight.

“I agree, people are too illusioned by titles and the respective representations.” Akechi raised the cup to his lips, pausing to gaze at Akira over the rim, “Although, I suppose we’re straying from the topic of Shogi now.”

Akira stared down at the board, trying to hide the small smile, as he reached out and made his move. Black bishop for white knight.

He chanced a look back up, meeting Akechi’s gaze, but was suddenly overcome with the feeling he had made a fatal error.

Akechi was smirking.

Barely breaking eye-contact to watch his pieces on the board, Akechi struck. From the other side of the board, a white rook knocked down his final bishop, and sat directly in line with the Queen- if only Akechi had Akira’s King.

The same King, that was in direct danger from one of Akechi’s bishops.

He was in a bind. He knew it, and Akechi knew it.

He stared down at the board.

He did still have one more hand to play….

Focus.

The soothing aroma of Leblanc faded to the background, Akechi now a shaded figure watching his moves, there was only Akira and the chessboard.

For a moment Akira frowned at the uncoloured figure the King’s piece held, providing no hope of escaping it’s fate. He would have to allow Akechi to steal his King, and then protect his Queen at all costs.

The stark blue of a pawn drew his eye.

It loomed over the shoulder of the white bishop, perfectly, diagonally behind. In the perfect location remove the threat from the board.

Light flooded his vision once again, as Akira reached for the black pawn. He watched Akechi’s smirk out the corner of his eye, and couldn’t help but repress the grin of satisfaction as the older boy’s expression fell in realisation of the piece he’d overlooked.

The white bishop joined Akira’s collection of stolen pieces.

“I suppose pawns are also overlooked pieces.” Akira commented lightly, before focusing again on the board, as Akechi studied for his next move.

Shibuya was bustling with activity, even despite the dark clouds looming overhead, crowds of people shuffled in and out of shops, conversing over crepes on a local street corner. Akira had other business to attend to.

Lightly, he fingered through the thick wad of cash he’d received from Iwai the other day, after trading in their wares from the most recent Mementos trip. It was a shame most of that money was about to be blown on new equipment, weapon upgrades, and medicines, and hopefully some more food for Morgana if he had the cash to spare/the dry food Sojiro had been buying was getting repetitive, apparently.

Slipping his wallet back into his pocket, Akira braced himself to rejoin Shibuya traffic. Resisting the urge to massage his temples, in some bleak attempt to ease the splitting headache that had been making itself known since lunch, he focused on the side alley ahead that would lead directly into Untouchable.

Around him, everyone was so immersed in their own tasks, some pushy mothers barging past slow-walking students, people so distracted with their phones they hardly noticed the degree of people having to overtake them. Ques extended into the pathway of busy workers, who were forced to utter apologies under their breath as they pushed past. Never had Akira been more grateful to get past it all and duck into the side alley.

Wading through the cloud of smoke guarding the slip street (courtesy of two chatting businessmen), Akira resisted the urge to cough and walked on past, heading straight for the quiet airsoft shop.

The air conditioning hit him like a welcoming embrace, the silence even more so. There was nobody else in store, aside from the grumpy store owner who’d noticed him the second he’d entered. Heslowly put his magazine aside as Akira walked to the counter, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“So, what’re you here for this time?” Iwai quirked an eyebrow, noting the lack of junk the teen had on his person.

“The usual, some upgrades, and some light shopping.” Akira shrugged, ready to pull out the team’s model guns for Iwai to modify.

The man chuckled, shaking his head, “It’s never ‘light’ shopping with you kid, ya come in here and take half my best stuff with ya- you know the ritual, hand over them guns and I’ll see what I can do.”

Without hesitation, Akira pulled out the collection gun he’d been keeping in his bag. For the sake of today’s trip- Morgana had given it a miss, so he’d have more room in his bag.

Iwai barely took a glance in the bag before nodding; he knew what Akira carried by now, turning in his seat to reach some equipment beside the desk. Akira left him to it, wandering into the shop.

Reaching the aisles with their basic weapons, Akira felt himself having to pull his Shujin jacket tighter around his body for the little warmth it provided him with. Odd, Akira never usually found the Airsoft shop to be so cold- had Iwai turned up the air conditioning? It wouldn’t make much sense, considering it’d become late Autumn.

After what felt like hours of shopping later, Akira turned up to the counter and piled his chosen items onto the surface. Iwai sighed, used to such behaviour by now, as he sat the guns on the side next to them, back in the bag.

“Only had the tools to update the Tommy and the Grenade Launcher. Threw in some stuff for maintenance too, you must be running low,” Running the gear through the till, Iwai chuckled and shook his head, “Y’know, I may as well just give ya vouchers for this place or somethin’, you spend that much of the money I pay for that junk in here.”

Akira tilted his head, “You can do that?”

“Nah, you think this place looks like it has enough business to spend time on vouchers?” Akira supposed he had a point there, the Airsoft shop was a peaceful retreat from the busy hubbub of the main streets of Shibuya, but that didn’t mean it was great for business.

Akira watched in silence as the last few items were scanned, and placed in the usual shopping bag- no logo on it, to avoid suspicion. As if mechanically, he handed over the cash he’d pre-counted before getting to the counter, plus a bit more to cover the upgrades.

All in all, he definitely had enough for the last few errands of the day. That was a relief. Sometimes it pays to use his own savings.

He ignored the furious rack of shivers as he unfolded his arms from where they’d been inside the jacket and grabbed the bags. Iwai stopped putting the cash into the till to stare at him.

Akira tried to ignore the urge to hide from such an intense gaze, waiting for Iwai to say whatever it was that was bugging him. Akira could definitely say that whatever he’d expected from Iwai, it wasn’t this .

“Kid, is everythin’ alright?”

What?

Numbly, Akira nodded, “I-I um yeah, everything’s fine- I’m fine- why’d you ask?”

The urge to go look at himself in a mirror, check his uniform, anything , hit him like a bullet train. He hadn’t run into any trouble on the way here, there were no visible marks from the Metaverse, Akira had no idea what Iwai could be seeing that he himself wasn’t.

If anything, Iwai stared even harder, “Look, it might not be my business, but you’re lookin’ pale, and ya haven’t stopped shiverin’ since you got here.”

“Well yeah, but that’s just cos the air conditioning’s on higher.” Akira argued, toying with the seam of a bag.

“Kid, the air con isn’t any different than usual.”

It wasn’t? Well, that was a shock to him. Maybe he’s just feeling it more because of the headache.

Iwai’s stare was penetrating, he didn’t move from where he sat, but Akira felt he couldn’t move from under it, “I dunno, maybe I’m imaginin’ it- just take care of yourself, got it?”

There was a moment’s pause. Akira tried not to throw an arm over his stomach or curl in on it as he nodded, already making his way towards the door before he could be scrutinised anymore. Before he let himself be pinned down by that stare for much longer.

“Of course, I always do- see you tomorrow night!”

The jingle of the door was cut off as the door closed behind him, and Akira breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly making his way out of the alley (the smokers were gone, that’s something). He cursed the slight tremble in his legs- fatigue making itself more and more apparent by the minute. He didn’t have time to stop, he still had at least 3 more shops to visit before nightfall.

Bracing himself, he stepped out into the busy street, heading straight for the convenience store. The air was stifling, so many busy bodies around him, pressing into him, pushing him in a thousand different directions, his feet stumbling over themselves. The frigid chill of Untouchable was so much more preferable to the airless atmosphere of the crowded Shibuya street. His brain was screaming at him, his knees shaking as he tried to muster the strength to get closer to the store- but it was too much. He felt his vision go blurry, and maybe he fell to his knees— he didn’t know— but the next moment, he was in another side alley.

At least he was away from the crowds.

An illuminating green light came from one of the stores. Protein Lovers , his mind dully supplied.

He blinked, trying to pull himself up from the ground he had collapsed on. It was then he became aware of another presence, one with their hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. He turned and met their gaze— an unfamiliar hazel greeted him.

An adult woman crouched by his side, certainly old enough to have children, a small bag from the convenience store hung over one arm as she slowly helped him stand.

“Take it easy, you had a tough fall back there.” She soothed, one hand on his back as Akira stared at her, confused.

“W-who are you?” He blinked at her, pulling himself upright as best he could given the weariness.

“Honda Chun-yan,” The woman offered a small smile. “I saw you collapse in the middle of the street, and thought it’d be best to drag you here before you got trampled over.”

Akira tried not to frown at the realisation of what had happened. “Thank you, I’ll be more aware in the future. I-” A striking panic suddenly struck him, “My bags! I’m sorry, but my shopping-”

“Is right beside you, untouched, and I didn’t even glance inside.” She assured, and sure enough at Akira’s feet the black bags were sat waiting to be picked up again. Despite the tremor in his arms, Akira reached down and grabbed at them. “Um, are you sure that it’s such a good idea to-”

“It’s okay, ma’am, it must have just been the humidity, I’ll be okay.” The lie came off his tongue as smooth as his negotiation tactics. He saw her doubt, her concern, but she brushed it off and glanced down at her watch— as expected.

“If you’re sure….I’d recommend going home though, I’m heading to the station now- I can assist you?” The genuinity of her statement sent his stomach rolling— like it hadn’t been feeling bad enough before.

“It’s okay, really I feel much better already.” The woman once again checked her watch, glanced at Akira, then checked her watch again, before turning to the direction of the main street again.

“Okay…just take care. Don’t want to pass out again!” Akira forced himself to laugh at her statement, which seemed to reassure her, and before long she’d disappeared into the crowds of people.

His grip on the bags tightened. That had been close. Too close.

He neared the main street, glancing up and down carefully,looking for the best way to get to the store without having another ‘episode’.

Third eye had helped him before now, always showed him what he needed most, so if what he needed was to get to the convenience store….

Shibuya faded to grey, even the flashy neon green in his peripherals dimmed to a monotone. The bustling crowd all a sea of empty greys and whites and blacks, no flash of blue to show him a clear path. Instead, there were visions of brilliant blue, bright and drawing his attention to their large buildings. All familiar, and not at all what he had planned on third-eye drawing him to.

Big Bang Burger, the cafe, the crepe shop….

Akira let colour flood his vision again and stormed off into the crowd immediately, resolute to find his own way to the store.

His stomach rolled.

Joker wasn’t sure how fun Palaces were supposed to be, but Sae Nijima’s Palace was definitely the most fun the thieves have all had in awhile.

Even Crow, who at first had seemed to shocked and hesitant about the other thieves’ joking around and spending time on harmless gambles, had tried his hand at it once or twice.

Robbing shadows was so much more rewarding inside a casino, and if they’d become sidetracked once or twice learning how to play cards or roulette in the first gambling hall, well, none of them were complaining.

But the slots room, this posed a whole new range of opportunity.

Of course, Joker and the thieves had first obtained the chips necessary to advance to the next floor— nothing some hacking on Oracle’s part, and some luck on Joker’s, couldn’t do. They’d cleared the whole slots rooms of shadows, and had stolen enough chips from the pockets of cognitions to let them happily gamble for the next half an hour, at least.

At first, Joker had been happy to watch his friends gamble away their chips, and occasionally win some back. Their difference in strategy was intriguing.

Skull, who lost countless chips on the higher-stakes slots, but would win back at least 10x the amount that Fox would, over at the lower-cost, lower-win slots. Panther and Oracle were happy to join Skull with gambling by the higher-stakes. Noir was happy to go between low and medium risk, with financial intrigue, as Queen tried her hand at them all- moving on from one slot the second she won from it.

Crow had been happy to watch the chaos unfold with Joker, but eventually the stark red mask turned to face him, as Joker returned the favour.

“Why don’t you try, leader?” Crow tilted his head, with a curious glance towards the slots, “After all, you had quite the luck back at the big-win slot earlier.”

Joker shot him a glance, “I could ask you the same, there’s plenty of slot.”

“I suppose we’re both characters who prefer to observe.” Crow shot him a smile, “How about we both give these slots a try?”

Joker could admit he was curious. He’d been paying attention to the chips rewards earlier. and there were some very useful items available if he managed to win enough in the slots (the somas especially were something he had his eye on).

A deviant smirk struck Joker’s face, “It’s a deal.”

Crow had no sooner made his way to the slots when Joker stared at the machines, gaze intent, focused .

The buzzing lights faded, bright colours of the slots and polished golden decor all dimmed to the all-too-familiar monochromatic scene, unworthy of his attention.

Slots were machines that ran on a system, so many plays and then one would win. It was a method commonly known of by this point by even the most foolish of gamblers, and yet that never served as a deterrent to playing.

4 slots glistened the bright velveteen blue. 4 slots held a win on their next play.

Joker adjusted his gloves, walking past the bright slots of the low-stakes. The soft ‘clack’ of his heels was audible even on the floors of the casino slots, as he pulled out some spare slots and walked past Queen, at the medium stakes, progressing onwards to take the slot next to Skull, who shot him a wide grin in greeting.

Slowly, Joker inserted each chip, revelling in the small chime that came with each one. Faintly, he was aware of a few of his teammates watching with curiosity, but instead focused on the bright buttons of the slots machine.

He watched the slot spin, dragging on for too long to grant instant gratification, making him wait just long enough that, under typical circumstances, he’d begin to second-guess his own judgement. But Joker didn’t regret his decision, not when he knew where the slots would land.

He heard the stunned outcries from his teammates, cheers from Skull as he swung an arm around his shoulder and brought him tightly to his side. More voices joined the fray, Crow, Fox, Queen, everyone coming to see what the loud fuss was about.

They found Joker sitting with more chips than they had time to gamble.

He smirked.

There were 3 more high-stakes slots ready to beat yet.

Akira pulled up his hood, stepping out into the bitter winter chill.

The chilling breeze was something of a relief to the bruises and cuts on his face and hands, hidden under covers of makeup. He’d had countless occasions of applying ice to his injuries, and yet the relief that accompanied the stinging pain was never expected to last, and never did.

Briefly Akira scanned up and down the alley of Yongen, milling with the locals he’d become so familiar with other his stay in the local town, not a sign of policeman nor silver briefcase in sight. He sighed in relief, ignoring the splitting pain across his ribs that resulted, and began to limp his way up the street. With every step he tried to apply more pressure, to make his gait seem more natural. He’d been such a good actor before a week ago….

There was a loud bang. A crash.

He saw them— tall, burling figures with merciless fists and pummeling kicks. The glint of a needle under dim lighting, the wave of sadistic laughter that always followed.

Akira flinched, stumbling backwards from the sound, as his right leg pushed back he felt it give way, searing pain flashing across his femur as he fell. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, the crash to the ground triggering more than a few of his injuries. Luckily, most of them were just breaks, nothing he’d worry about too much. Still, he pulled himself upright, crawling to the lamppost on the side of the street as fast as he could, shooting his gaze ahead, then behind.

The street was empty.

Nobody.

Faintly, he could feel his own hands shaking as they gripped to the steel, broken fingers and chafed wrists forgotten in his panic and paired with laboured breathing he was barely aware of. There was flooding warmth in his mouth— had he reopened the wound on his lip? None of that mattered, not when he remembered where he was.

He had to get up before someone walked along and spotted him. The last thing he was supposed to be doing right now was drawing attention to himself.

Gripping to the lampost, Akira drew himself up with shaking arms, trying to ignore how his legs trembled as they gained footing again. He hadn’t been up on his feet for so long since before all of that . All original plans of getting to Shibuya fled his mind, he wasn’t stupid, he needed to get his strength back first.

With one hand over his ribcage, Akira checked his breathing. Regulated, deep breaths— that’s what Takemi had said, nothing that puts too much demand on the ribs, especially in their first week or so of healing.

As his vision cleared, Akira chanced another look around.

There was no looming threat of interrogations, not even a sign of police to watch him or tail him. He must have imagined it….He blamed it on being cooped up inside for so long, anyone would react the same way.

Hesitantly, he let go of the steel post and started walking again. Faintly, he could feel his limp getting progressively worse rather than better, and wondered if he should’ve taken more painkillers before sneaking out of Leblanc.

As another wave of fresh air hit his face, he decided that it was worth it. Anything for this freedom; to get back into the sway of things, to his usual pattern.

He daren’t go see Takemi, not yet, but he could still get tools from the secondhand shop, could still shop for the basics at the supermarket and replenish their battle items. Maybe Untouchable would have to wait though.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d get into Shibuya with this limp and not be regarded as suspicious and worthy of note by the police.

He went to the supermarket first— start furthest away and work back. Plus, he needed some vital equipment here.

Pale foundation, concealer, setting powder, and colour corrector. Numerous concealing makeups piled into his basket, Akira wasn’t worried about the expense. He’d make up whatever he was taking out of Phantom Thief funds by working extra hours at his jobs. They always tipped well at Crossroads.

He also grabbed some sush, for Morgana, something to settle the cat’s undoubtable anger that Akira had left the cafe before he’s been advised to. And, hopefully, encouragement for the cat to keep his mouth shut about the whole trip.

He always grabbed some health-replenishers too, they weren’t the cheapest, but sometimes the expense was worth it for better flavour. Akira would swear it actually re-energised the team better than any soma did.

The bright lights burnt into the back of his eyelids, and the whole time Akira’s arms shook as he could swear he heard the echo of following footsteps trailing his every move. Never had he been more grateful to finally reach the counter.

He tried to pretend he didn’t notice how the employee eyed the bandage and butterfly tape on his face, and instead fixated on the reflective plate above the desk.

As far as he could tell, there was nobody else in the store.

Well, except the elderly couple by the fresh produce aisle, but he doubted they were the ones following him around the store.

He handed the cash over absentmindedly, pocketing his change before reaching for the bags. They were heavier than he’d expected.

He felt the sharp stings of protest as he heaved the bags off the counter, offering one apologetic glance before he sped for the exitas fast as his injuries allowed for.  The moment the chill outside hit him, he felt a wave of relief, glad to be away from the heated embarrassment of struggling to do so much as lift a few bags off a counter.

Maybe these days of rest have affected him more than he’d anticipated. He wondered how willing Ryuji would be to go to Protein Lovers with him sometime soon. Probably not that much, unless Akira hid his injuries well enough.

He took a moment’s reprieve on the corner, bags by his feet, flexing his hands carefully and revelling in the slight sting it brought.

Absentmindedly, he wondered if anyone had noticed his absence or tried to contact him. He’d left his phone back in the attic, knowing Futaba would track him with it. He didn’t need them watching after him every second of the day. He was on his feet, wasn’t he?

Bracing himself, Akira gripped to the handles of the shopping bags again, ready to carry on and get to the secondhand store for his tools when he felt a gaze burn into his back.

Slipping his hands from the handles, he whipped his head around, spying for anyone that could be watching him. The streets were silent, only the background hubbub of store chatter to fill the gap. There was nobody.

Akira narrowed his gaze.

It couldn’t be right, someone was watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to take him in. Just like the glaring red of a surveillance camera, just like the hollow gaze of merciless policemen in pristine suits with bloodied fists. Akira knew when he was being watched.

Focus .

The attuned senses of the Metaverse welcomed him into its grip, the quiet streets of Yongen now deserted, desolate, everything the familiar muted monochrome he was so accustomed to by this point.

There was the occasional person on the street, but his third-eye picked up on none of them. It directed him around no corners, into no buildings, as if there had been nobody watching Akira this whole time.

Bright velveteen blue drew his gaze from the corner of his eye, and as he turned to view whatever it was, he felt his stomach churn.

Takemi’s clinic.

A poster, on the side wall, too far away to read— he’d have to get closer to the clinic to do so.

Slowly, Akira pulled his bags up again, hardly aware of the sharp twinges of pain it brought over the blood rushing in his ears. With each step, the poster grew more and more into view. The moment Akira read the words outlined in that same blue, he could have thrown up.

‘THERAPISTS OFFICE- SECOND FLOOR’

There was a number, also outlined in blue, goading him. Mocking him.

His makeup melted away, his bandages became undone. All those night terrors, the fear of being followed, being watched —

The blue faded in an instant, replaced with some colour Akira didn’t see— he was already gone. Around the corner, as far out of sight as he could manage, nowhere near where that poster and the door to Takemi’s office could stare him down so blatantly and see through the past year’s masks. His hands were trembling, and he wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the weight of the bags anymore.

Deep breath in, deep breath out…..

His head spun as he tried to level himself.

Why would third eye show him that? Takemi’s office he understood, even if he was out running errands, he was still injured, but the poster? It had to be a mistake. Maybe there was someone who needed a change of heart, it could have been possible that it was a sign of his role within confidants— yes, that was probably it. He hadn’t seen a lot of them in a while now, maybe they’d been needing his support, he must have missed a lot while he was busy with Sae Nijima’s Palace and then the Takemi-ordered days of rest. He’d get back in contact with them as soon as he returned to Leblanc, organise meetups, not a second wasted.

He was fine.

He resisted the urge to try third-eye again, he wasn’t interested in misleading information about what he supposedly ‘needed’, not when he had bigger tasks his focus was owed to.

And with that, he resumed his walk to the second hand store, ignoring how the pain in his femur had spread up to his hip, the sores on his wrists threatening to open again. Nothing mattered except getting his job as leader of the Phantom Thieves done. Everything else could come second.

Even as his chest wracked with coughs, ribs stabbing him with pain, Akira assured the elderly store owner everything was okay, and he just developing the flu.

And if Akira knew the real implications that third-eye had been trying to tell him, then he’d hide it behind Joker’s mask as well.