#only a handful of HW fish left to catch!

[gailiag]

FINALLY

i think i'm starting to understand the true fisher experience. i have been after this sea butterfly for like seven or eight windows now and it kEEPS GETTING AWAY.

[indzae-mayumi]

My thoughts on some Slam Dunk characters:

I don't care or I don't know if the fandom is dead (or are we just dormant?), but I still very much like this manga and anime, so much that I also enjoy reading fanfics about it.

There are other fanfic writers who portray Sendoh as... an airheaded guy who thinks he can get all the girls he wants just because he is the ace of Ryonan. You know, the likes of the stereotypical high school jock in the late 90s to early 2000s teen romcom HW films. I actually do not see him like that. Ikegami once tells Aida Yayoi that although Sendoh is very friendly, he does not talk about himself. Maybe Sendoh is a social introvert, as he very much enjoys playing with his teammates, but outside of basketball, he enjoys his alone time just fishing. He also indulges on Rukawa one-on-one. For me, Sendoh is just... friendly and nice. Romance? Idk. He doesn't even know about Yayoi's crush on him. He is nice to everyone, but he enjoys his own world.

Fujima Kenji reminds me of Rukawa Kaede in "Kaede Purple." Or should I say, Rukawa in "Kaede Purple" is a sassier version of Fujima. While Jin of Kainan has a very mild baby face, Fujima is pretty. However, there are two sides of him. When his fan girl asks to shake his hand, Fujima smiles like a celebrity. But when he smiles while he is playing on court, he is excited and looks pretty mean. But he still is handsome, though.

My favorite character is always Rukawa. I always thought that Rukawa is just a plain a**hole to Sakuragi and gives off mean remarks. While watching the anime again, I realize that sometimes, Rukawa's remarks are actually insightful, like he is giving advice to Sakuragi. At times, walking away is a good idea. Sakuragi is just not receptive of Rukawa's remarks because of Haruko. Ahahahaha.

I understand why Miyagi has a backstory in "The First Slam Dunk." But I don't think Rukawa needs a backstory. Let's just say he is an overly introverted kid who just happens to like nothing else but basketball, and is very passionate about it. His coming-of-age story is actually more interesting simply because of one girl. And no, not Haruko or any of his fangirls has changed him into someone who finds his actual purpose in life. It's the journalist club president Mari, who at first is a sideline character and very antagonistic of him, who gives Rukawa the thought of aiming more. All because of his reply to her, "Does that matter?" He realizes that there is more to high school basketball than just being one of the Top 5 players in Kanagawa.

I am glad that Matsui and Fujii are two sane girls in school, and they are not all over Rukawa.

In that scene where Mitsui faints during the game versus Ryonan, and he comes back to the court later? He has the gut feel for basketball. Aside from Akagi, he seems to be burdened by the fact that they temporarily do not have a coach because Coach Anzai is hospitalized. As he regrets wasting time being a thug, he is playing catch up. And I think that with all those catching up, he probably will be able to make a path for himself related to basketball. I think Mitsui will make a great coach.

Takasago might be a silent character, but I am surprised Sakuragi does not name him with any monkey-related names. Probably because Sakuragi does not find him interesting, or Takasago does not talk to him at all. But his facial feature similar that of Akagi is a crucial point in Sakuragi's growth in the story.

Why does Shoyo not have a coach? Once Fujima and the other starters graduate, Itou will be the only one left among the starters. Who will lead Shoyo, then? And by the way, was Fujima recruited in Shoyo for his height? Or did he just like to study in Shoyo and join their basketball team?

The difference between Coach Takato and Coach Taoka is that Coach Taoka underestimates players from another team. Coach Takato pretty much does that at times, especially with Sakuragi, but his main motto is to never underestimate other players. I think that is why Kainan players are good both in defense and offense.

[writing-fanics]

Abuela seeing her teenage son Bruno falling in love in the same way that she and her husband did, wishing that the tragedy would not repeat itself , the same thing happening terribly as in the movie. When Bruno returns, abuela, who had maintained closeness with the reader, find's out that she maintained communication with Bruno through the rats. This makes her happy, but also guilty for intruding on their happiness.I don't know why I hurt myself with this. Have a nice day!

(I’m sorry but out of all the request I’ve gotten this is my favorite. This fits Bruno’s character so well.) not much dialogue since I’m making it like the flashback of abuela and Pedro but less as sad

Super angsty beginning but fluffy ending also long opening

I’m changing it a bit hope you don’t mind.

1917 Colombia

Bruno Madrigal, a seventeen year old, reserved, and kept to himself personality. His gift and the facts that basically his only friends are rats, he didn’t talk much to people. Hw didn’t like to leave his room either. Sometime his mother Alma would have to get him out of there.

Today is one of those days. He already hated his room, the amount of stairs he had to climb each day, and down another. Alma wanted her son to meet people, make some new friends. But she didn’t know how hard it would be seeing his gift was the ability to see into the future.

Telling people such future only made them see the negatives, tell someone their fish is going to die. They point a finger in his direction. So making friends was off the list. Yet he wanted to make his mother proud, so hesitantly left the safety of his home and went out into the village.

A festival was going on and crowds of people, gathered around in one spot. (Y/n) groaned in annoyance, trying to push through the crowd. “Excuse me,” She said, shoving through the crowd but people still blocked her way.

“Pardon me. I can’t see.” She exclaimed, maneuvering her way through the crowd. She sighed, giving up and walking towards a nearby lamppost and climbing up took look at the festival ahead.

‘Dos oruguitas enamoradas’

Her gaze shifted towards another lamp post nearby, seeing someone around her age wearing a green poncho. He looked out of place but she smiled towards him, waving.

‘Pasan sus noches y madrugadas’

He was taken back slightly, but smiled waving back at her sheepishly. She giggled, looking at him. Almost falling off the lamppost catching her balance. He chuckled, seeing how clumsy she is. He didn’t know why but he had butterflies in his stomach. Her welcoming smile drew him in.

‘Llenas de hambre’

She smiled as a butterfly landed on his nose, laughing out loud. He blushed slightly watching her laugh. But then laughed as the butterfly flew towards her, landing on the tip of her nose.

‘Siguen andando y navegando un mundo’

He chuckled and she giggled, but only falling off the lamppost landing on her bum. He stepped off the lamppost rushing towards her, hoping she’s okay. He found her laughing on the ground, the butterfly in her hair.

They smiled at each other as he helped her up, forgetting about the festival. Sitting on the water fountain, eating some arepas.

‘Que cambia y sigue cambiando’

She smiled hearing him talk about himself, and he smiled hearing her talk about herself. Both seemed to have so much in common, “No Bruno, your gift is amazing don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.” She said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Alma was coming to get Bruno since it was getting late, and needed to bring him home. But was shocked to find him talking with some girl, both obviously completely enamored with the other. Like how she met Pedro, all those years ago. It still felt like it was yesterday, but was only seventeen years ago when she lost him.

‘Navegando un mundo’

(Y/n) giggled, placing her hand over his hand. Her heart skipped a beat, as did his. “Maybe, I’ll come by your casita and see my future?” She said, and he looked at her nervously.

“N-No, you wouldn’t like your future. What if your hair falls out? What if you find something out you didn’t wanna know?” He mumbled. She placed her hand on his cheek, calming hi down.

“If I lose my hair.. I lose my hair. I be upset with my vision Bruno. Whatever happens happens.” She says, rubbing his cheek.

‘Que cambia y sigue cambiando’

They both smiled before standing up, and him taking her home. Alma stood there unnoticed, she didn’t want what happened to Pedro to happen to them. She’d never forget that night, and she didn’t want her own son or (Y/n) to go through the same pain she went through.

(Y/n) looked around noticing more butterflies, “I’m happy we met Bruno.” She said, and he looked down at her a blush spreading across his cheek. “M-Me too.” He stammered.

‘Dos oruguitas paran el viento’

They’d meet everyday and every night, talking about their day. As well their families. Getting to know each other more falling deeper and deeper in love with one another. Alma on the other hand was worried, paranoid of what could happen to her sons relationship.

She truly didn’t want what happened to her to happen to him, and this girl she’s enamored with. (Y/n) had came over for her vision, going to Bruno’s room and once she saw the stairs. She immediately helped him create a elevator like system to get up the stairs faster.

‘Mientras se abrazan con sentimiento’

‘Siguen creciendo, no saben cuándo’

(Y/n) smiled, taking his hands as he began to use his gift. Watching as his eyes turned green, the circle of sand surrounded them. As the vision appeared, she gasped seeing her and Bruno together happily married.

Three figures around them, a tall one, and two little ones, children. Bruno blushed, now knowing his future with her. The vision appeared as a jade green glass, he took it in his hands. And sat down next to her, she smiled in awe looking at the vision.

“This is amazing!” She exclaimed, touching the glass. Looking at the image of her and Bruno together with their three kids. “You’re amazing!” She said, looking at him.

‘Buscar algún rincón’

Time around them seemed to stop, as they leaned in towards each other. Their lips inches apart before finally connecting, her fingers gripped his curly hair. While his hands wrapped around her waist, she no they didn’t want this moment to end.

‘El tiempo sigue cambiando’

She moved her hands towards his cheek, as they parted. Both blushing, “Um, can I keep this?” She asked, looking at him holding up the vision. “Of course.” He said, and she smiled giving him a peck on the lips.

“Hm, I can’t believe this is our future together.” She said, in awe. Her fingers tracing over the image of the three children.

“I don’t even know them yet but I’m already in love with them.” She said, crying softly looking at her future children.

“They’re so beautiful.” She says, leaning against his shoulder.

‘Inseparables son’

‘El tiempo sigue cambiando’

Bruno was about to leave to meet up with (Y/n), when Alana stopped him. Telling her son about how she thinks that girl isn’t the one for him, which he’s taken aback by. Since she’s been coming by a lot more often since they started dating four months ago, “But mamá, I love her.” He said, and she nodded understandingly but was holding her ground.

“But mijo, don’t you want her to have a future she deserves?” She asked, and Bruno looked down remembering the vision he had. She has a point from what he saw they didn’t end up having kids until they were in their early to late fifties or fourties‘.

“I-I want her to be happy.” He said, looking down. (Y/n) made her way up the casita, smiling. “Hi casita!” She said, giggling. Holding a present in her hand for Bruno.

‘Ay oruguitas, no se aguanten más’

She noticed Bruno sitting on the stairs, “What’s wrong Mi amor?” She asked, placing her hand on his cheek. He could barely look at her, not wanting to see the heartbreak that he was about to force them to endure.

He pulled his head away from her, “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked, again.

‘Hay que crecer a parte y volver’

His heart already ached having not yet said a word, “I’m sorry, b-but we can’t be together anymore.” He said, and it was as if her heart stopped.

She couldn’t process what he just said, “W-Wha?” She whimpered. Tears welling up in her eyes, as her heart began to ache as well. Her entire body shaking, “B-But? Bruno!” She shouted, reaching out for him but he just backed away.

He couldn’t look at her for if he even peeked a glance, he’d burst into tears. “Please, Bruno what about our future together?!” She pleaded, her face bright red. He shook his head clenching his fist.

“It’s some stupid vision that you’ll forget about!” He shouted, at her and she gasped in shock, hearing him call the vision stupid.

‘Hacia adelante seguirás’

“Y-Yeah, I guess it was stupid. I guess everything I said to you was stupid. How much I loved the future that we were going to have is stupid!” She shouted, at him tears brimming her eyes.

‘Vienen milagros, vienen crisálidas’

“You’d really think I’d want to have a family with you?!” He shouted, and she gasped hands covering her mouth. As she couldn’t stop crying she almost couldn’t breathe then she threw the present at him, and ran out of the casita sobbing.

Bruno fell to his knees sobbing into his hands, his mother came towards him to place a hand in his shoulder but he bolted up the stairs and into his room slamming the door shut.

(Y/n) laid in her bed sobbing, staring at the glass vision before she stood up and smashed it on the ground. Shattering it. Then falling to her knees immediately regretting her decision sobbing as she held the shattered pieces of the faces of her children as they slowly faded away from the image.

‘Hay que partir y construir su propio futuro’

( few weeks later )

‘Ay oruguitas, no se aguanten más’

(Y/n) laid in her bed, crying still not over the break up. She loved him with all her heart, and was excited for their future. Together. But now she didn’t even know if she had a future, having it all been shattered literally. Her mother knocked on the door, “Mija, you need to eat.” Her mother said, and (Y/n) shook her head.

“I’m not hunger mamá, please.” (Y/n) said, in a depressed tone. Her mother sighed leaving the food on the dresser, and closing the door. (Y/n) whimpered, leaning her head into her blanket sobbing.

‘Hay que crecer a parte y volver’

‘Hacia adelante seguirás’

The squeaking of a rat caused her to sit up, noticing a rat with a huge piece of paper in its mouth. It scurried up into her bed and she took the paper from its mouth. Opening it. It was a letter from Bruno.

Dear Y/n,

I know I’m the last person you wanna hear from right now. But I’m so sorry for the pain I’m causing you. I was just afraid that our future wouldn’t be the one you truly wanted, and I felt like you deserved better than me. I did it because I love you. More than anything in this entire world. I’m so sorry.

(Y/n) cried reading the note, then reached for a new piece of paper on her nightstand.

Dear Bruno,

What you said to me absolutely broke my heart. I absolutely loved our future together. The three beautiful children that we’d eventually would’ve had I’d already fallen in love with. But now I know that future will never for to true.

My dream was to always find someone who’d love me for me. And share our lives together and have a family. I thought that was you but I guess I was wrong. You do deserve me Bruno. We both deserve each other. I’d do anything for you.

Tear drops deep through the paper.

I love you Bruno and I always will.

‘Vienen milagros, vienen crisálidas’

‘Hay que partir y construir su propio futuro’

So they sent letters to each other, for years. Eventually continuing their relationship through those very letters, and the once shattered glass vision the image of children appeared once more.

(Time Skip)

(Y/n) smiled, seeing Bruno again running towards him wrapping her arms around him. “We’ve actually been in contact with each other.” She says, smiling kissing him on the cheek.

Everyone was in shock, especially Alma. Seeing how happy they’re together feeling years of pent up guilt, for trying to break them apart and succeeding or so she thought. After rebuilding casita, and hopefully Bruno’s room having less stairs. He finally proposed to (Y/n) who accepted it of course.

Alma was happy too, seeing how much the girl her son loved so much. Reminded her of her late husband, especially in how they met. (Y/n) smiled, placing her forehead on Bruno’s shoulder while crying at how her future was about to come to fruition.

“Bruno, I do have one thing to tell you.” She said, looking at him. and he turned to look at her, “What?” He asked.

She smiled softly placing her right hand over her stomach, “I’m pregnant.” She said, and Bruno’s mouth dropped. As well as everyone else’s. Alma smiled, placing her hand on her cheek and hugging her. Apologizing for trying to break them apart years ago.

I didn’t cry while writing this you did.. hope u enjoyed

(Note: yes Bruno did sneak out of his house to see y/n which eventually led into them doing the dirty)

[anonymouslosersworld]

Punishing Perv Souya

Punishing perv Souya

warning: mentions of pervert Souya, sex, overstimulation, punishment and hand jobs/fingering(male receiving). Obviously it mentions sex and some good degradation.

All characters are over 18+ no minors allowed.

Perv-Souya Kawata     {Masterlist 1}   {masterlist 2}

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Sometimes Souya curses his own existence.

But he couldn't help himself.

You were just so freaking pretty and so close to him.

He can't help it. You were too much for him.

Souya is a very weak man when it comes to you. He's so desperate to touch you that he takes whatever excuse he can to touch you.

Oh sorry, the subway is too full and there's no space so I have to press up against you.

While having his whole ass body pressed against you. Souya remembers the way your body felt pressed up against his and he will never admit that he jerked off to that.

Windy day and you have a skirt on?? Souya wholeheartedly volunteers to hold your skirt down by leaving and pressing his hand on your ass.

" So that you won't flash strangers. "

Oh, you don't have a seat?? Consider it your throne. Feel free to sit on his lap. Man has to fight his own cock to not get a boner.

The same thing happens when he sees you bend down in front of him.

Souya will always jerk off to the feeling of your chest on him while the both of you cuddle. He almost cries because your breasts are so close yet so far.

Souya loves everything about you and your body. He wants you to use him. Punish him for being so dirty to you.

God, he wants you to touch him so badly or let him touch you.

The soft breathing beside him tells him you're asleep. It was your weekly Friday sleepover and you'd fallen asleep after watching a couple of movies with him. Your arms and legs were wrapped around him. He felt you pulling him closer with no space between the both of you.

The steady rise and fall of your chest was very luring.

If only he didn't pop a boner from just staring at your chest. He wondered how they felt like. What they felt like in his hand. God, he wanted to shove his face in your breasts. Just one touch and he'd satisfied.

Should he??

Could he?

He could feel your cushioned goodness. You weren't wearing a bra.

Just one touch, so close..

Souya's hand reached out, you wouldn't know right?? It would be a quick little touch.

The sound of sheets disrupted Souya's train of thought. Souya's eyes widened, were you awake?? Were you going to catch him red-handed??

" Souya?" You lightly whispered before moving one of your hands underneath his shirt. Your head moved between his shoulder and neck. He could feel your light breathing on his neck as you placed your hand onto his chest.

Souya's breath hitched and he became stiff as you moved.

Oh god, you were touching him.

"Souya?" Your voice called out to him as you rubbed his chest.

"Yes?"

"Were you trying to touch my tits as I was sleeping?"

"...."

"Souya I asked you a question."

"N-no?" Souya felt like a fish out of water. You had caught him red-handed.

" Oh really??" You smirked as you moved on top of him. Your body trapping his own.

Souya could feel your thighs around his hips, keeping him in place and you pinned his arms above his head.

He knows this is bad but he felt so good.

You were touching him..

"You know Souya I don't like it when you lie to me. " you whispered to his ear. "Are you sure ?"

" I..I didn't I wasn't." Souya struggled to say to you .

The way you looked at him went straight to his cock. He kept quiet as you sat on his hips. You leaned over his head and with your free hand pulled the neckline of your shirt.

" You don't want to see them Souya?" Souya could feel himself shaking a little as he looked down your shirt. With a heavy blush Souya looked at your breasts.

They were so cute.. Like you

"Do you like them? You stare at them so much. " you pressed them forward onto Souya's face before he could answer. His mouth watered as he felt them press onto his face. " lick them Souya."

"I ca-ah!" Souya moaned as you moved further into his lap right onto his cock. He could feel you on him. The only things separating his cock were both of your underwear. He felt dazed and overwhelmed. Your breasts were on his face and the warmth of your pussy was making his cock let out precum

"Can I touch you Souya??" You asked him as you lightly rocked your hips. He moaned as he buckled into your pussy.

" 'mm sorry. Please touch me."

"Good boy Souya." You smirk as you move your hips teasing his cock. Souya's cock practically chasing after your pussy . "baby your go'nna ruin my underwear."

Souya moans louder as he thrusts into ass. He wants to ruin your underwear so much and keep them.

" So naughty Souya." You say as you suck on his neck. " I have to punish you."

Souya looked at you with a dazed look not knowing what you had in store for him. 

Souya could feel the beads of sweat rolling off his body as you toyed with his cock after making him cum twice. 

“ Look at you slut. you look so cute covered in your cum.” You said as you jerked him off for the 3rd time that night “I can’t believe you were hiding your cock from me. You probably don’t even know how to use it, do you?? That’s why you never fucked anyone. Stupid useless dick of yours ” 

Souya whined while squirming around on his bed. Everything he had imagined was coming true. you were using him as he desired. But damn he wanted to cum. 

“Oh look your tip is red. “ You say as you lean down and give him a good long lick on his cock.

“Ah! pl-please!” Souya moaned out. Smirking you decide to have some mercy on him. you take off your shirt and press your breasts against his cock.

“Eyes on me Perv, I'm going to give you a little show.” Putting his dick between your breasts as you begin to rub his cock with your tits.  You duck your head down and suck on his tip as it peeks out of your breasts. 

Souya was losing his goddam mind, he looked at you with half-lidded eyes while moaning loudly. He honestly couldn’t take anymore. It was too much for him, but he would take anything you gave him. 

The next morning after you completely destroyed his dick, Souya woke up to your naked bodies entangled together. 

Souya blushes as he remembers  what the two of you did together last night. He thanked his lucky stars that you two did this while his brother was out because he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Since you decided to literally fuck him all over the house and fuck him dumb in the process. His entire body felt so sore as he tried to move a little. He smiled as he leaned down and kissed your temple before heading to the kitchen.  

“well you had a fun night.’’ he suddenly heard. His heart felt with dread as he turned to see his brother with his signature smile.

“oh wow she really did a number on you didn’t she.” Smiley teases him as he motions to all of the hickeys his now girlfriend left him. “ she has quite the appetite. set your ass straight?’’

Souya blushed as he turned to the fridge.

 “I-.’‘Souya he felt arms wrap around his waist before he could reply. 

“So this is where you went baby? I missed you.” you say as you feel him up. 

“ Baby, I can’t my cock is sore.’‘ hw whispered to you so Nahoya couldn't hear your conversation. Souya saw you smirked and had a familiar feeling bubble up in his stomach

“So I could just fuck your ass like I did last night.” you said as you sucked on his neck again while groping his ass shamelessly. “ you have such a good ass Souya, I want to fuck you again and again till you tap out. Till your dumb on my fingers like yesterday. So be a good little slut and get into bed because I'm not letting you out till you can’t walk and can’t think.” You say before leaving the kitchen and winking at Nahoya as you passed him.  

For the first time in the Kawata household, it was silent. No words were spoken as Souya left the kitchen after you. 

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[kitchenangst]

Before Anything Good pt. 3

Mako x reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Barely one month of living on the streets, and Mako has grown skeptical of anything good that’s offered freely to him. When the girl from the other side of town calls him stinky and demands he take a shower, he might just be right about his newfound cynicism.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, implied abusive relationship, incoherent thoughts, really badly described analogies

a/n: why is it so hard to get to the mAIN STORY LINE LMAO I am neglecting my hw so hard right now anyway lmk if there are errors 

pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iv

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom, Mako, Bolin, bathroom- her feet bring her to her destination, hand on the knob, ready to burst in- wait, no, knock first. 

The door opens slightly, revealing a part of Mako’s face before his hand sticks out expectantly. Yn stares at his open palm before slapping it with her own. 

“Sorry! Forgot the towels!” she calls tersely as she hurries to the towel cabinet, just as she heard the bathroom door shut. Running back to the bathroom at the same pace with the towels in her arms, she freezes halfway as she realized she had forgotten their clothes. Fuck, where were the clothes, that’s the whole reason why she went to ask her mom in the first place. They had to be in the basket in her father’s room or something, she concludes, whatever that something is. She breezes by the bathroom on her way there, leaving the towels on the doorknob with an urgent knock, not noticing that they had fallen to the ground before she returned to the room. 

Clothes, clothes, what were their sizes. Frantically digging through the basket, all she finds are her father’s garments. Turning to the dresser, she urgently starts pulling the drawers out one by one, lifting and throwing the folded clothes until she can find the pair of clothes, the uniform, she realizes, that was always provided in faux hospitality.

As she continues to shuffle through the clothes, she can’t help but think that she should’ve just left the two in the alleyway (sympathy be damned, this was much more harmful than helpful) if she had known her father was going to mug them of the only money they had left. 

Is that why they had so many clothes uniforms for various sizes? To rob the other orphans she had insisted on bringing home for dinner as well? Wasn’t it counterproductive to spend money on them when these orphans barely had money to spare? 

She finally finds 2 sets of clothes uniforms: one roughly her size and another just slightly smaller. Without wasting a moment, she gathers them in her arms and races to the bathroom, rushing to stop her father before he leaves. However, she barely makes it out the door without him in the way. 

“Spirits, sweetie, what animal did you release in my room this time?” 

Finally sparing a glance around the room, Yn finds the state of the room just as messy as her mind. The clothes strewn everywhere and unorganized, thrown at rapid fire just like her thoughts. It dawns on her that he’s about to leave when he grabs his coat and hat… leave to mug her new friends (if she was even allowed to call them that at this point), just like he had every time before today. 

“Father, where are you going?” she tries to ask normally, as unsuspectingly as possible, but the shaky pitch as she calls for his attention might as well have given away that she discovered his scheming. 

“Just picking up some money,” he responds coolly, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps in their wake. 

“From where?” Her fingers twitch in anticipation of his answer, hiding underneath the uniform. 

He way he forces a chuckle out to alleviate where the conversation is going, sickens her as he crouches down to her height. “My boss, of course.” The tight lipped smile he gives is all she needs to know he’s lying. 

“You-you’re not stealing from them, are you?” The very thought of it felt absurd, but saying it out loud left a bitter note on her tongue. She clutches onto the clothes, the fabric the only thing stopping her nails from digging into her palms. “They don’t have any money!” She whispers harshly, unsure if she wanted Mako and Bolin to hear from the other side of the hall. She couldn’t tell what was worse: knowing that stopping her father will impact the household or that this would affect the brothers for worse. Was picking one over the other any better? Did she even have a choice?

“Sweetie, we need the money, too, so just keep them occupied while I look for it.” An order, and one she had no choice but to follow.

His hand snaking around the back of her neck is enough to stop her from protesting. The firm squeeze making the words lose themselves in her throat and forced to be swallowed down if she didn’t want to choke on air. His smile was cold in comparison to the unspoken threat in his eyes, his nostrils flaring just slightly to serve as a reminder that someone will bear the punishment in her stead, and the slight raise in his eyebrows almost daring her to challenge him. 

Somehow, it scares her more than meeting the back of his hand. 

He finally releases his hold when she doesn’t say anything. “Well? Better get those clothes to those boys,” he reminds her while standing back to his full height. “It’ll be the only nice thing they’ll have in awhile!”

Her face pales as her feet drag her back to the bathroom, hardly registering that she left the room in the first place. Knocking on the door once again, she merely shoves the clothes in Mako’s face before he can stick his hand out the open door. “Dinner will be ready in a bit,” she mechanically says, looking away. She turns back at Mako’s thanks, immediately regretting it because her eyes speak of conflicts louder than she can say, regret written on her face clearer than a sunny day, and she fears that he catches on. She opens and closes her mouth, unsure if she should tell them. Before she decides on an answer, she promptly shuts the door on him and returns to the kitchen to help her mother. 

Hearing her mom’s upbeat humming with a large pink print donning her face as she sets the table nearly breaks Yn’s heart. How could she pick between her mother and these two boys she just barely met? How would there be any way to satisfy both parties? She sighs at the conflict, her shoulders sagging at the thought of being unable to do anything for both of them. 

She begins filling the bowls with rice, her movements sluggish from dreading what will happen to Mako and Bolin. How will their opinion of her change? Will they forgive her? Will her mom forgive her if she makes the other two leave before her father could find their money, if they even had any? Was it like this every other time before? 

She hated it. The feeling of being tugged between two equally wrong decisions; the feeling of seeing the surface of the water while chained to the bottom, only barely being able to have the tip of her nose reach the surface for air; both of which her body would readily succumb to the dark. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She looks up from her spot to find her mother’s concerned face. “You’re piling the rice,” she says with a playful grin. She gently takes the bowl and rice scooper out of Yn’s hands, pushing the rice piled past the bowl’s rim back into the cooker. She can’t help but think her mom could have pushed it into the last remaining bowl instead. 

She merely stares at her mom filling the last bowl, proceeding to frown at her mom. “Will you be eating tonight?” Yn’s voice comes out much smaller than she hoped, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak any louder. 

Her mom stares blankly at her, pondering for a few brief seconds before concluding, “I would hope so. I made plenty for all of us.” Hope so. The fact that she had to think if she would eat, if she even got to, made Yn’s stomach lurch, stones piling in her abdomen, making it hard to filter out the guilt. “Those boys are nice. They should be able to take back any leftovers they want.” Her mom’s smile falters to a grimace, as if she was compensating them for their loss, for the misfortune she brought to them. At least she was doing something to balance the bad. What about Yn? What could she do? Her feet stay frozen to the ground, unmoving just like her problem. 

“Mmm!! Smells so good!!” Bolin’s call from the hallway snaps her out of her reverie. His head pokes out from the corner shortly afterward, eyes darting until they finally land on the table. “Mako! There’s food!”  

Bolin races to the seats at the round dining table with Mako shortly behind him, both unable to resist the enticing aromas of the meal and reach for their chopsticks, manners forgotten. Their mouths water at the sight of grilled fish and sauteed vegetables, and start piling it onto their bowls before scarfing it down with a wholehearted zeal that could light an entire town. 

“Doesn’t it feel nice to eat without being stinky,” Yn teases with good nature as she approaches the table with her bowl in hand. Climbing onto her seat, she begins piling the food into her own bowl as well, making sure to sneak the vegetables she liked less into her mom’s bowl. Dinner is quiet, save for a few chuckles from her mom at how Bolin practically squeals in delight at every bite, the crisp ring from chopsticks hitting the ceramic bowls or plates, and the dull thud of the cups tapping the wooden table whenever someone drank from it. 

This is nice, Yn thinks. She grins at the small smirk Mako gives Bolin when he puts more vegetables in his bowl, at the wide eyes that take up half of Mako’s face when her mom wipes the sauce off his mouth with a napkin, at Bolin’s little dancing when he thinks she didn’t notice he stole her favorite part of the fish from her bowl. It’s one of the more heartwarming dinners she hasn’t had in awhile, one where her mom’s eyes gleam from pure joy instead of unshed tears. The whole scene makes her almost forget about her dad, until she hears the doorknob shake. 

And like a crack in glass, the screeching of Yn’s chair scraping against the floor as she abruptly stands, ruins the whole atmosphere. Everyone stops mid-bite as they stare at her escaping the table. Mako and Bolin carry on after sharing a look while her mom struggles to swallow her food. 

Her feet slam against the floor, almost getting hit by the doorknob as it swings open. She cranes her neck to look at him in the eye, simply holding her hands out to gather his coat and hat for the second time that day. 

His hollow chuckle does nothing to warm her as he says, “What? No bow this time, sweetie? Did you forget how to greet people at the door?” The smile playing on his lips a menace and an indicator of his good mood as he recalls how successful his catch this time is. 

“No…” Almost shamefully, she bows slightly, her arms stiff as she brings them back to her side only to raise them again for his coat and hat. “Welcome back, father.” 

She dashes off to his bedroom the moment she retrieves them, patting the jacket and emptying the pockets for any signs of coins or bills, only to come out with a few yuans. Making sure to take it, she wedges it between the wall and the back of her dresser in her own room for later. 

She returns to the dinner table on time to see him seated between her chair and mother. The grilled fish she ate flops aggressively in her stomach when he mentions picking up money from his boss. A small bonus, he calls it. She catches Mako looking towards Bolin for a few brief seconds, eyes wary, at the amount.

About 1,300 yuans. It’s a whole lot more than the amount she found in her father’s coat. 

Is that how much they had? How were they able to have so much money despite being orphans? Where were they able to hide that amount? How was he able to find it? Where is he hiding their money if it wasn’t in his coat?

Dinner is silent once again, yet the tension is enough to ruin her appetite. It doesn’t feel as heartwarming anymore, the table flooding with anxiety and defeat at the mere presence of her father. His attempt at small talk is choppy and near condescending. Mako’s posture had stiffened since her father sat down, but if the stoic expression resting on his face showed any discomfort at his tone, he didn’t say anything about it. His choice to make dry responses doesn’t deter her father, doesn’t stop the fact that they’re in his household, doesn’t hinder his good mood from robbing.  

The plates are eaten clean with leftovers packed neatly into containers for Mako and Bolin to eat for tomorrow. Before they leave, Yn makes sure to carefully tuck the yuans she stole from her father’s coat earlier into the pockets of their washed clothes, leaving a messily scribbled note saying she was sorry. She returns the folded clothes to them just as they enter the carriage.

“Will I see you again?” It’s a stupid question, she thinks, yet she can’t help but be a little hopeful. Of course she can see them, but they might not want to see her again, especially once they find out their money was stolen. 

“I don’t know. We don’t really have anywhere else to go, so maybe?” And it’s a naive response that’s bound to change soon enough. 

Bolin’s face becomes the more dopey with every passing second he tries to stay awake, likely tired from digesting all the food he devoured. Once they secure their seats, Mako says their thanks as the carriage rides off. Yn watches it as it grows smaller and smaller in the distance, yet it does nothing to quell the growing guilt in her gut.

-

a/n: yall know I had to sneak in one last stinky before reaching the end of this chapter LOL i had to split this part AGAIN because it was too many words, and the next part will likely be the end of what i originally intended to have as part one,,, also updates may be slower from now since school is picking up the pace :(( anyway pls stay hydrated it’s like 100F where i am and it sucks 

edit: i tweaked the last few paragraphs a bit bc it was a tad confusing since i wasn’t very clear with my wording, so i’m very sorry about that ;( also i hope any questions you guys have will be answered in next few updates!! 

pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iv

taglist! (if you’d like to be tagged, pls DM or send in an ask!)

@welovediaaxx​​

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

*

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

*

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

*

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

*

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

*

Everything is the same.

*

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

*

Everything is the same.

*

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

*

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”