high spirits with higher expectations

a simple writing blog

[genkigratification]

HELLO !!! i loved ur fic where the soulmates see the negative words on ur skin oh mmy… would u mind if i used that idea for a fic ??? it’s si Wonderfully Thought Out i exploded thrice and reread like ten times

imagine my surprise when i got an ask on this old blog. absolutely!! go right ahead, thank you so much for enjoying it!!!

[genkigratification]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Kazehaya Tatsumi, Tojou Kaname | Original HiMERU, HiMERU | OreMERU (Ensemble Stars!) Additional Tags: Obbligato spoilers, Mentioned trauma, disturbing episodes, slight gay but like in a christian way Summary:

It isn't as if he sought the truth.

He hadn't realized there was a truth beyond the one that had stood before him, beside him on stage.

On an otherwise standard doctor's visit, Tatsumi hears a painfully nostalgic scream and the reality he had rebuilt so carefully shattered in an instant.

[genkigratification]

floriopathy

or read it here on ao3

Eda'd known for longer than she'd ever been willing to admit that the Owl Beast curse wasn't the only problem racking her old body. The second was at least a more normal affliction, one that didn't require a trip to whatever apothecary that'd take her coin for a potion to keep that blasted bird at bay, but it sure as hell was more annoying.

But time eased it. Let the miserable thing weaken it until what remained was little more than an annoying tickle in her throat. Wasn't like Eda'd hated it, what it meant or why, but it let her keep that many more snails from her sales. It was just something any witch growing up caught and kept.

Well, except Lilith. As far as she could tell, it wasn't like her sister kept secrets.

The only times it flared was when Eda's eye caught an old gift, a piece of paper scrawled with scores, when she'd wake up from the same recurring string of memories the Owl Beast infected as if trying to tell her something she definitely didn't want to acknowledge, and then the telltale tickle would scratch at her throat, chest congesting before petals scattered out with a cough, and Eda'd have something new but familiar to cast her irritation of the day on.

Oh, you'd think anyone with a bit of experience in plant magic would've cured the damn thing by now, but the best they could figure out was something Eda'd realized the week she'd been working it through her little head and trying to extract the bud burying itself deep in her chest: that it was sourced directly from their magic, and taking away one'd just take away the other. Call it a bit of magical overstimulation taking life's easiest form, and thank the Titan for that — she's pretty sure if it'd been anything similar to what Alador was up to in his heyday, there'd be a lot less people in the Abomination track.

"She does this sometimes," King explains from atop his sofa throne, carefully stacking blocks one on top of the other. Luz waits for him to put on another before she continues the tower up, and he waves a claw. "I dunno really what causes it, but one minute Eda'll be fine and the next BOOM! Flowers everywhere. She said it was some sorta witch thing, so I'd be careful if I was you."

"I don't know if it's something a human can catch just by learning magic, King, but thanks for the heads up. I'm preeeetty sure I'm never gonna have that problem though."

Because like, she has some super cool friends and Amity was way amazing, but flowers? No way.

Eda leans on the doorway, arms crossed, and the two jump at her voice. "You're not, 'cause it's a witch problem, not a human one. Luz is right, King, you don't catch it from learning magic... especially not from learning magic with those little glyphs she does."

With a wiggle of her fingers, because the little glyphs deserve it.

"So what is it anyway, Eda? If it's magic related, I wanna learn about it!"

Luz's determination is always as endearing as it is annoying, but the former wins out and Eda forces her sigh to sound a little more exasperated than she really is before she comes to join King on the couch, the pup wehing as he's bounced from her landing.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you. But in exchange, you two have got to tell me what you've got going on here —"

"It's my future castle!"

"I'm teaching King how to play reverse Jenga. It's when you stack blocks on top of each other instead of taking them off."

The older witch looks at them both, King proud with his little claws against his hips and Luz sitting cross-legged on the ground, and shrugs. "Either way, count me in. I'll teach you two how to make a heckuva nice castle and tell you a little story to boot. The Flower Curse isn't a real curse, like my Owl Beast, but..."

... It sure does feel like it when you're a runaway hiding from the law, a teenage Eda gripes to herself as she suspends the petals in air at chest level, careful not to let the Emperor's goons catch wind of them. Raine's somewhere nearby, she knows, waiting for her to reappear, and once the clanking passes she's up and away on her broom, cruising over the rooftops and dropping the mass of flowers onto one of them to be swept by the wind as she keeps an eye out for the other. Once she's caught sight of them she swings down and through the alley, landing neatly next to them with nary a hair out of place; Raine, on the other hand, has to smooth down their clothes at her dynamic entrance.

"You're always making a statement," Raine says to her cattish smile, and the underlying endearment in their tone makes her chest all stuffy. "Did you lose them?"

"Probably. If I didn't already, there's no way they'll find us once we're out of town."

Confident as ever, as Raine liked to say, but it's true — the Boiling Isle is a treasure trove of hiding places, and the knee remains one of Eda's favorite places to tuck away into. The wild magic everywhere just feels so... good, unlike how contained it is in town, though she knows Raine'd prefer their warmer hangout above the trees. The sound of music is muffled by snow, they'd say, and Eda waves them off; it's better they're out here, then, so they can play as loud as they'd like.

("And how's this relate to that flower cursey thing you have?"

"Shut up, King, I've been dying to know about the next chapter in Eda's romance, so—"

"Both of you keep your mouths shut. I'm not tellin' you all this for fun, I'm tellin' you as a warning. Keep an eye out for your friends at school, they're getting around the age. Anyway, like I was saying, Rainestorm and I headed up to the Titan's Knee to play a few tunes...")

The cold air was refreshing on her face, and the sharpness of the chill always felt like it helped keep the petals at bay just a little longer; for all the talk of the snow muting sound, it seemed as if the music she plucked from the strings was clear as bells. The soft, sweet melody that accompanies it right beside rests warm over her shoulders like a shawl, and maybe, maybe if she wasn't so into keeping her magic as wild and free as the bird on her staff, Eda'd consider going into the Bard Coven, too. They sure were nice, and their style suited her plenty.

Bidden by the song, the gentle brushing of their elbows, Eda can feel the lightness, the tickle in her throat, how the flower curls its petals and reaches up, out, stretching basking in the sun that they harmonized together, but she knows it won't cause a cough. Because it's in moments like these that she feels pretty at ease, that the world falls away and all there is is the two of them on a lonely mountain only the crazy, stupid, and desperate dared to traverse.

And hell, weren't they all three?

"Boy, does it feel good to be up here!" Eda says with a stretch, falling back into the snow and holding her lute to her chest. "You can see the whole town."

Raine hums their agreement, violin laid carefully in their lap as they look down the mountain.

It's quiet, simply the wind grazing snow against the two, before the bard speaks up. "It's funny, don't you think?"

"What, how small everyone is? Definitely. They're like little ants."

"No— Well, sure, that too... but I'm talking about the curse."

Eda stiffens, chill going through her, and she sits up on her hands as she looks over at Raine. "Curse? What curse?"

There's no way they know. There's no way, because Eda's been perfectly fine at hiding what's wrong with her and Raine's never chased it and—

"The Flower Curse," they continue, and she barely keeps herself from sighing too much in relief.

"Oh, that thing? It's a total load of crap, you mean. Who'd spit flower petals just because of a crush?"

There's silence, and she glances at her companion. Raine tended to get colder than her, a little more easily, and the redness on their cheeks reminds her of that; Eda closes the gap and pulls her cloak around the two of them, thinking nothing of the motion as she ties the front back up.

"There's no cure for it," she eventually replies to the quiet, "but who cares? It's not like anyone's died from it—"

"But they have, Eda."

Raine lifts their head and turns to her, noses brushing thanks to their close proximity. And Eda couldn't even blame the cold for the burning in her ears. "They have died, but the blame's being thrown to another cause. Anything but their own magic suffocating them."

It's ridiculous to think about, is why. The sac pressed against their heart shouldn't bear any sort of curse, or anything that'd kill them in that way — magic deprivation might do it, or going in and removing the thing definitely would — but saying it does was like saying that to use magic was a curse itself. And it didn't make a difference if you were wild or bound to a Coven, which really must make the Emperor mad.

She frowns a little, hands crushing the snow at her side. "Rainestorm, what's—"

"I have that curse," they rush suddenly, and Eda's words fall away. If Raine had the curse, then—

"You have a crush on someone? Oh, no way, who? I'll help you out!"

The flower in her chest rises again, tickling at her throat, and Eda swears to drink some weed killer if it'd stop it in its tracks. Raine flushes again and shakes their head, burying their face into Eda's cloak.

"I—I don't need help or anything, Eda, I just wanted to talk about it." About how they might die, and become someone else in the papers. "Maybe we can figure something out, between the two of us."

Nothing seemed impossible together, after all. The witch rubs at her throat, turning back to look at the sprawling town so far below. Someone in the Bard track, maybe. Raine kept a bit to themselves, and was a little shy to show what they were made of on stage, but they had a quiet confidence and mischievous streak that matched her own — and she liked that about them, had always thought it cool, it's a wonder they had any worry of their magic acting up when the person they had a crush on would definitely feel the same.

(Luz would wonder the same when she caught stray petals by Amity, and Amity would wonder as well once the time had past; but the young are young and it's only once older you realize the bud remains forever, flowering differently each time for different reasons and different people.

Loss, too, is a form of yearning.)

The two linger longer on the Knee, before eventually the chill worms firmly into their boots and hides and they return back to the hideaway they share sometimes, where Eda makes her bed and Raine studies for their continued ascent into the Bard Coven; the warmth has never been so welcome, and the redhead hurries to bundle herself up under the covers as her counterpart goes to sit at their desk, dredging up various journals and books from within the drawers painted a meadow of colors.

They tour the town, asking after witches with telltale imprints on their throats from roots snaking through their veins, finding flowers of all varieties among the covens — it didn't seem to matter one bit, only that it was connected to love (which they knew) and the theory of curing it by removing the sac where their magic gathered only strengthening with research into restricted topics, taboo experiments performed by "lesser" witches long past. It was as natural as breathing to have it, as if one begot the other, and the realization put a stopper in their plans to cure Raine's affliction.

Eda remained aware of her own, careful not to show it or the beast that lay lurking in the depths of her mind to Raine, and eventually their own lives caught up to them once more; the books were put aside, research shelved for a day that may not come, and returning to the time they made for one another.

... In present time, the story is much less than the memory itself: They learned of Raine's curse, sought a cure for it, and found there was none. Fruitless as their search was, it was fun to hang out and learn more about magic than they'd been taught at Hexside, to explore the darker ends Eda wouldn't suggest Luz follow, with a hint to where the restricted sections of the library held its best secrets. It's as bare as any other story Eda's told them when it came to more personal matters, and she stands with a stretch as she finishes it off.

"Soooo after all that research and junk we did, we just ended up right where we started — with no answers and just what we knew, that it was magic based and people with those wiggly feelings got it worse than others."

Luz opens her mouth at the same time King does, two very different statements crowding Eda's ears:

"That's it? That's all? Edaaaaa, you suck at telling stories! There wasn't even any—WEH!"

"So you had feelings for them too? Did you ever tell them—OOF!"

King's cut short as he's swooped up by his tail, wriggling fruitlessly in Eda's grasp as she tosses him in the air and then into Luz's fumbling embrace. "Yeah yeah, no blood no fighting, but you know what time it is, kids?"

The two look at her, waiting, ignoring the darkness that'd come to press itself against the house's windows as if holding its breath for the rest of Eda's unspoken tale. She opens her mouth and Hooty springs back to answer for her:

"Hoot hoot! It's bed o'clock, you two! Nighty-night, don't let the bunkcrawlers bite!"

"Bunkcrawlers?!"

"Oh, don't let Hooty scare you, they're perfectly harmless," Eda reassures the human. "They only bite if you kick 'em."

But without any knowledge of where they were or what they looked like, Luz would certainly stay as still as a rock once she'd been tucked in — King too, from the look on his face, and Eda shoos them off before escaping Hooty's evening conversation starter back to her room.

Once there, she heaves and petals scatter across the flooring, a multitude of colors of all shapes and sizes. Eda clicks her tongue and waves her hand, magic pulling them aside and into a jar for later casting when the two were off on some youthful venture.

The tickle remains in her throat long after she screws the cap shut, rubbing her throat with a sigh as she flips through the same journals and books she and Raine had poured over so long ago. Within some of the pages are drawings on the margins, notations of a song or the sort of flowers they'd found evidence of from others, secrets written in code as they ventured closer to three words that'd only strengthen the roots threading through the magic sac pressed against their hearts— Eda looks at them fondly, setting the books aside and leaning back in her chair as she pops open a bottle for the curse that belonged to her and her alone.

The rest of the memory plays out in her dreams as they always do, though rare it is when it isn't that recurring string that the owl beast's fond of plucking, and the teenaged Eda rests her head against Raine's shoulder with a yawn, closing her eyes. The other's stillness breaks and she feels their arm wrap around her, their head resting on her own.

And, as always, Raine speaks first.

"It probably won't cure it," they say, "but do you mind if I try?"

She peeks open an eye, squinting at them for a second before shrugging. "Oh, sure, I don't mind. Go for it, whatever it is."

It's a simple thing, ends before Eda realizes what even happened, but Raine's warm face close to hers puts two and two together so fast she spits petals right into it, a flurry of flowers that get them both spluttering and back a foot.

Raine wipes their face and stares at Eda; Eda starts to wipe her mouth and lingers instead, staring back at Raine.

"I like you," they say simply, but their voice is soft and wavering; they still can't get over their stage fright, even though the performance is a private one — it's for an audience of one, their speciality, but the piece is too important, too close to their heart, and Eda laughs awkwardly.

Not the best move, going by Raine's sheepishness as they start to draw away, but what else was she supposed to do — she grabs for them before they get too far, the moment quiet before Eda fumbles with words she didn't think would be so hard to reply with. "Me too— I mean, you too. Liking. I like you too."

No, it doesn't cure their curse — never in the history of magic had it, it was simply a fact of life no different than the palismen the Clawthornes carved or the Covens the Emperor had put into place so long ago. But the flushed look on Raine's face, the way their hand grips hers, the sweetened sound of Eda's own heartbeat in her ears as they share another kiss...

It makes her think that maybe there didn't need to be one.

[genkigratification]

homesickness

It's hard, adjusting.

Photography becomes a hobby shared among the five of them, physical memories no one can mess with or take away, and though Hunter's a little more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it... Luz thinks he'll probably be okay. Gus's flawed knowledge of the human world makes things fun anyway, and the first time the four of them see an opossum she's glad her phone still worked after all it'd gone through.

If only Eda could see it too.

But like most regrets that haunt her mind in the dead of night when no one else is awake and Luz finds herself looking at the moon, it comes and goes as there's so much to teach her friends. The differences in cuisine, human customs and mannerisms (which admittedly she isn't like, super good at herself, she's at least better than a bunch of witches from another world?), and more than anything: technology.

Which is why photography was so nice, a little slice of analog normalcy in an otherwise totally digital and fast-paced world.

"I still don't get it," Amity says as she flips the polaroid camera in her hands. "How does it develop the memories-- the photographs inside it?"

Gus lets out a groan and rolls back on the bench, Willow catching his hood before it falls. "Like! I! Said! There's gotta be a miniature red room with tubs of memory juice inside, how else would they get done so fast?"

"Yeaaah, that definitely isn't it," Luz replies, and when demanded for an answer of how then she just shrugs. Never thought of it before, wasn't gonna start.

"The human world has its own kind of magic, I guess." Willow replies, and Hunter flips through one of the comic books Luz had bought for them to better explain the level of technology that had soon become their norm. "Maybe that's why Luz could adapt to ours so naturally."

"In that case," the blond boy pipes up beside her, "we shouldn't have a problem either. Human magic'll be a walk in the park."

Which seems to be a common thought with all of them, though Luz'd beg to differ after seeing them deal with basic traffic laws. Witch versus car, witch wins. At the cost of a car. And running from a new set of laws. And getting in trouble with Mami.

The last point was the worst, after everything Luz had put her through.

"You'll get used to it," Vee had told the new kids. "This world's way better than the Boiling Isles, but I'm kind of biased since I don't wanna go back at all."

Of all of them, Hunter understands this best (what else does he have there? nothing, not even a real identity) but... he keeps it to himself, ashamed of being part of the people who'd hurt Vee in the first place. Luz knows more than anyone else what they share, even if it's unknown to the group at large and even Vee herself, and decides that Hunter deserves to get hooked on something healthier than wallowing in guilt over something he never did. Like making daisy chains or knowing niche, nigh-unintelligible trivia about various comic books and anime.

The group always gets their revenge on her too though, headed by her awesome beautiful totally cool and endearingly dork girlfriend with Willow and Gus at her side, because--

Well, in their words, Luz has a bad habit of putting other people over herself. Which she totally doesn't agree with buuuut will never say no to them trying their best to adapt to the human world in their own ways, even if their ice cream flavor combinations could use some serious work and less experimentation.

If only Eda could see this, too.

[genkigratification]

snapdragons

In the months following the split, Raine remembers why they love Eda, and why they can't stand her at the same time.

The lack of a hand is nothing. Eda's got a new one attached, an abomination that bends to her will and at the same time is no true replacement for something functional since it drips and droops if she's not paying it mind, but... it works, and at the very least she's nothing if ambidextrous. The lack of a mark is a little more tricky, in a way; Eda's unbound, but her weak magic still tends towards bardic and Raine wonders if it frustrates her more than she lets on.

Because, as always, Eda doesn't say a word to them otherwise about it.

"Guess I'll be learning to play one-handed," she jokes after her makeshift one droops for the nth time that week. Her concentration's been waning as the months past, eyes always looking out the window and to a world elsewhere. Raine thinks of the pieces of a door lost to the Titan's bone reshaped to an anomaly's will for a game everyone's playing in their own way and knows Eda's collected every splinter she could. "Got any instruments up your sleeve for me, Rainestorm?"

"I think you could get away with almost anything that uses your breath," they reply after a moment before conjuring up a trumpet, "but this one seems easy for beginners."

Eda scoffs -- she's not a beginner, she's the most powerful powerless witch on the Boiling Isles -- but takes the instrument and takes to it, too, something to keep her from looking out the window so much.

Raine keeps their eyes on her, worry etched in the lines of their mouth and wrings of their hands, and settles for composing a piece they can play together, careful of the curse that singes everything it touches. Maybe it's too much to presume that Eda wants to play again, with or without them. Maybe they're just projecting their own desires on her. But it's something to do, when they aren't helping to undo the damage done and plan attempts to rescue King and the kids from their respective imprisonments.

There's something beautiful in the way Eda plays regardless. Even if it deadens the magic around her, even if it leaves ash on the ground needing to be swept. Raine knows she has a distaste for it now, it's not the same as it used to be (it never was the same, not since they split,) but they still like to hear it.

Their Eda's requiem. Her rhapsody that took on a life of its own. Bittersweet, tinged with nostalgic memories both beloved and loathed, a song that catches in Raine's ears every time she plays and even when she doesn't; Eda has a leitmotif all her own, her very being an echoing fugue that thunders past, present, and future.

It might be nothing but a soft whisper now...

But Raine knows she's just as stubborn as they are and twice as foolhardy with her passions; it won't remain that way for long.

[genkigratification]

Soulmate AU where when you meet your soulmate, everything bad people have said to you appear on your skin, but only you and your soulmate can see it.

shuake, 1.8k words, pre-established relationship

Akechi always wore things that covered as much skin as possible, even in the summertime.

“Aren’t you hot?” Akira asks once, feeling stifled himself at the sight of the other boy in long sleeves and a sweatervest. Akechi gestures meaninglessly in the air – something just to fill it where words can’t be found immediately, he’s realized by now – and smiles.

“No, not really. The humidity isn’t so bad today.”

They both know he overheats easily, though, and Akira buys him a popsicle on their walk around. It’s blue, stains his lips and tongue, and Akechi’s mouth tastes sweet when they kiss, tinged with a melting dessert. Akira’s hand slips between Akechi’s pants and shirt to untuck it, hands gliding up his side, and with a shudder Akechi kisses him harder.

But that’s all it ever gets to, the first sign of clothes riding up causing him to flinch away with some excuse.

Akira wonders if Akechi’s afraid of something. Of him.

There’s days where Akechi stares at him like there’s something on his face, like he’s studying every part of Akira with a keen eye, and Akira’s skin gives away the embarrassment he feels boiling beneath. Just a bit. He’d always been told he was lucky he didn’t blush as hard as most, and this is one of those times that he’s thankful for it.

He’s also thankful his voice is more coy than stuck in his throat. “See something you like?”

“No,” Akechi answers immediate and honestly, jarring them both; Akira’s surprise is more at Akechi’s surprise than the word itself, and Akechi’s eyes dart away as he licks his lips. “… Put a shirt on. Your skin’s blinding.”

His eyes flick down and he sees the ink sprawling across his own skin, the paleness being slowly overtaken by black with each passing day.

“I’m working on a tan.”

“You’ll burn.”

Akira’s nose scrunches as he laughs, catching Akechi’s gaze again and leaning on the counter. “Come upstairs and make me put one on.”

The other scoffs and declines, just like Akira thought he would, but wears the shade of red well on his cheeks.

It takes forever for Akira to learn why Akechi covers up, dragging the shirt up and spotting the first signs of ink, characters marring his otherwise clear skin. Akechi doesn’t look at him and Akira realizes that the other’s known for so, so much longer about their connection, that the reason he’d never been able to take his eyes off Akira’s body and want to look at him was the same.

Useless brat, he reads. Burden. Freak. Whore’s son.

They cover so, so much of Akechi’s body, fading out when they hit his collarbones and Akira rubs with a wet thumb until they become whole once more.

Asshole. Prick. Pretentious douchebag. Who’d ever wanna be friends with a know-it-all like that?

Akechi’s chest shudders beneath him, the breathe exhaled just the same, and Akira gets a washcloth to clean off the rest of the concealer, just to see what was beneath. Half of Akechi’s face is the powdered perfection people see, the other half…

I wish you were never born.

“I must look disgusting to you,” Akechi mumbles lightly, trying not to reveal the depth of his own disgust. It doesn’t work. “So blackened and ugly.”

No, Akira wants to say and finds the words caught in his throat. You’re not the ugly one.

Anger flares through every inch of him the more he reads, the more Akechi reveals, skin tattooed with every harsh word spoken in true hatred, petty annoyance, heat of the moment frustration. His own is marked with things too, sure, they’ve even multiplied since his conviction and entrance to Shujin, but it’s nothing like what Akechi’s got. What he imagines is imprinted on the rest of his friends.

This, more than anything in the world, proves that Akechi belongs with them.

“I wish it was the opposite,” he mumbles as he leans down to kiss Akechi, fingers tracing the characters across his skin and smiling when the other arches against his touch, craving it, “that all the good words were written instead. You’d still be covered head to toe.”

Akechi laughs hollowly against his lips, eyes mahogany in the light, and cards his hands through Akira’s curls tentatively. Still unsure about showing so much of himself. It’s a good thing, Akira tries to convey without words, curling over Akechi and caging his head with his arms. It’s good that he’s opening up. The words marring Akechi aren’t opinions he shares for the most part (he is a prick sometimes, a know it all for certain, jerk and asshole fit just as well) and he wishes he could erase them all with a rub of his thumb, with ghosting kisses and whispered compliments.

There’s scars here and there, evidence that Akechi had tried to scrape them off himself, and Akira doesn’t ignore them or the way Akechi flinches at the contact, though he does stop the other from trying to move away. They stare at one another, stubborn and hot, until Akechi shoves at him with a huff.

“Pretend like they’re not there. It’s not like they matter.”

Seeing it in a mirror day after day is exhausting, a constant reminder of failures and fuck ups, of shortcomings and other’s thoughts. Akira had gotten into the habit of facing the door when he brushed his teeth himself.

He lingers when he can in defiance of Akechi’s self-loathing. Tests his patience in moments, toes the line as dangerously as he dares, steadily getting him used to the gentle touches and slow caresses that aggravate him so, mouthing sweet words against the ones that’ve caused him such pain, forced such distance.

Akira might not be able to physically erase them (nothing can, save make up apparently) but he can at least make them truly meaningless when Akechi looks at himself.

Akechi’s skin turns red beneath the black, breath hitching and body shuddering, surrendering, and it’s hard not to just take all he can, devour it completely like it’s the last time he’ll have it. It’s harder still when Akechi breathes his name reverently, rolling the syllables like he’s asking for God, and Akira groans.

Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing.

They pick up the pace, desperate to cover the words with scratches and bruising hickeys, and Akira’s thrilled that they have the same idea, that they meld so well together, that Akechi can forget for a little while that there’s anything there at all; Akira does too, everything blurring together and disappearing against the slap of skin, heat swelling, the scent of sweat and sex permeating the air.

Sensitive, he traces on Akechi’s thigh, the other making a noise of complaint that shudders with the rest of him. Beautiful drawn next, and beside that hot and clever. Smart, bold, flexible.

Akechi’s inquiry is exasperated and exhausted, “What are you doing, Akira?”

“Fixing a few things.” Fun to be with. Aggravating, in a good way. Lovely. “Hey, got a pen?”

“What? No.”

Great smile, great ass. “Too bad.” Worth the world. “Would’ve liked to mark these out for real.”

“– Akira,” with a shove that dislodges him from beside Akechi, the other looking some sort of combination of confused and irate. Tired, maybe? Something. “They’re there for a reason,” he continues softer, and his gaze flicks away as he sinks back into the bed, focusing on a string he rolls between his fingers. “One day, I won’t even remember what I looked like before all of these.”

Akira scoots back in beside him, curling his arm around Akechi’s waist and moving closer, watching the string too. Just because he can’t get rid of them doesn’t mean he has to add to them, he decides. Just because there’s a reason doesn’t mean it’s right. He wishes he could fix them for real, each character stretching across Akechi’s skin like it’s tattooed there, moving with muscle beneath it. “I think you’re beautiful,” he offers quietly, uncertain if that’s the right thing to say. It’s true, after all. It’s true and his mouth is cotton when the spinning stops. “You shouldn’t have so much on you. This kind of thing shouldn’t even happen. But you’re still alive, and… I think you’re strong.”

There’s no beauty in suffering. Nothing romantic in bearing a burden. But Akechi is strong, there’s no doubt about that, and Akira huffs laughter softly.

“I mean, most of this,” a gesture to his ink splattered form, nowhere close to Akechi but remarkable nonetheless, “is from this year, you know? A lot of it is just the same thing over and over. They get darker with repetition, I noticed.” He inhales sharply, Akechi’s eyes turning to him as he pushes the blanket past the crest of their hips, shivering at the chill above the covers. “I found people that made it bearable. Sure, they couldn’t see the things you and me do,” soulmates, something that would be exciting if it wasn’t born and bonded in this, companions who can see the other’s pain, “but they still knew, and they didn’t care what anyone said. What was written on me.”

Akechi didn’t seem like he had anyone. Despite being surrounded by so many people, despite being so loved, it just… seemed empty, somehow. Distanced.

Akira watches Akechi, how he sinks into the bed more and more, and plops a hand onto his head, carding through the chestnut locks gently. “They wouldn’t care about yours either.”

“Do you?” It’s a silly question and Akechi looks like he knows it is, but considering even that short question sounded like it took a lot to say Akira doesn’t blame him for not following it up.

“Nah. I don’t really care about what anyone says about you, Akechi.” With a gentle flick to his forehead. “You’re not that special.”

Akechi stares at him, swollen lips parted, and Akira’s smile quirks up again. “They’re in the past, you know. Those words. They don’t matter to me, because you’re not any… well, you’re not most of the things written.”

“My, aren’t you romantic.” Scratchy and soft, but a response. The sarcasm makes him grin.

“You’re an aggravating prick, Akechi. That’s just how it is.”

“And you’re an annoying mophead.”

Akira squints his eyes, not remembering that particular insult on his person, and Akechi’s playful smile tells him that it was never there to begin with; he shoves the other lightly, huffing.

… Still, fondly spoken as they are, they don’t appear. Akechi tentatively reaches out to lay his hand on Akira’s, warm and tense. He squeezes gently. “Thank you. You really do say interesting things, Akira.”

Things that make him think, intriguing and – if Akira could take this claim – things Akechi’s never heard before. He wants to find more of those things and pile them onto Akechi, suffocate him with words once rare, wipe that sad look off his face and surround him with people who wouldn’t care even if they could see all the words running across his skin. The world that’d printed such things onto Akechi didn’t deserve him; he was with Akira now, was with the rest of his friends group, and hell to those that wanted him back.

[genkigratification]

Oh no I'm sorry! I'm the previous anon and I sent that message without looking at your commission tab, please forgive me! In my pitiful defense it's currently 3 am, I'm sorry

it’s fine!!! thank you so much for your message, and i’m actually doing something like flash commissions, though i haven’t posted about it here yet c: i wouldn’t mind taking an order as long as it’s anywhere between 500 and 1000 words i think i pitched? it’d cost 5 usd

though i have to warn i’m going in vacation soon and will most likely be doing them over those weeks so it’s not so “flash” as it is just shorter word counts for an affordable price i guess

but yes, if that settles with you feel free to message me off anon and we can work something out!

[genkigratification]

improving relations (18197 words) by sundrymunity

Chapters: 7/9

Fandom: Persona 5

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru, Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann, Kitagawa Yusuke, Niijima Makoto, Sakura Futaba, Kurusu Akira

Additional Tags: Character Study, End of game spoilers, Time Loop, very minor points of akeshu but it's literally nothing big don't even Worry about it

Summary:

His gaze returns to Igor and the long nosed man nods. "A word of advice, Trickster."

"I'm all ears," with a tap to the side of his head.

 "Seek to use those around you. Their experiences may better your chances."

[genkigratification]

improving relations (11279 words) by sundrymunity

Chapters: 6/?

Fandom: Persona 5

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru, Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann, Kitagawa Yusuke, Niijima Makoto, Sakura Futaba

Additional Tags: Character Study, minor december spoilers now, goro's narration tells too much

Summary:

"Doesn't it get hard to breathe?" She presses once they're sitting at a cafe, cats meowing a door away. "Surrounded by people. Having them watch you. Stuff like that."

Sometimes, part of him admits. It's tiring. It's exhausting, even, not for the faint of heart, not for those who aren't ready to become someone else just to handle it.

[genkigratification]

wishes

ao3 // happy bday goro! // endgame spoilers apply

Year after year, the second of June was a lonely affair; the year he meets and later betrays the Phantom Thieves is no different, lights off when he unlocks his apartment, the crinkle of a plastic bag the only sound as he silently toes off his shoes and closes the door. Minutes later he's resting on his knees, watching the candle flames flicker in the darkness of his residence, shadows dancing across the wall, empty despite the smile on his face and hum of a song, counting the years under his breath.

Mechanically he blows out the candles and sends his surroundings into darkness, not a single wish curling upward with the smoke as he cuts around them and takes a piece for himself, sitting at a desk in his room and eating the rich dessert thoughtlessly as he does work.

A year later, games behind him, Goro expects it'll be the same regardless of the relationships he's unsteadily fostered around himself (Chariot, Lovers, Priestess, Magician, Hermit, Emperor, Empress, Justice, a voice alike his own murmurs in the back of his mind, Metaverse and Persona gone yet lingering all the same) and buys himself a cake as usual, trodding home under oppressive heat with loneliness carving out veins in his mood. It'll be dark as usual, quiet as usual, the door gives way as usual--

Wait.

He pauses in turning his key, realizing that it's... been unlocked, somehow, and he wonders if his mind simply left him this morning; he had been rather preoccupied earlier, so that must be it.

The sound of a thud dispells rational thought against home intruders and Goro presses his lips tight, hand drawing away from the knob and he steps back, plastic crinkling hard in his grip. He pulls out his phone, ready to call the police, when the door opens and Ann's head pops out, eyes just as wide as his own.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, Akechi-kun, you're-- you're earlier than we-- um, I expected!" She's clearly flustered, laughter stilted, and his wariness at being robbed turns its head to questioning what, exactly, she and possibly the others were doing in his apartment.

He doesn't question how they got in, of course. Picking locks was something that translated better tha parkour.

"Ann, what the hell're you-- oh shit, Akechi!" Ryuji's joined them now and Goro's smile pinches more, especially once he glances down and sees Futaba, Morgana, and Yusuke crouched like statues watching from below their legs. Makoto and Haru join a moment later, all but the illustrious leader present, and he breathes in deeply.

Lets it out slowly, easing irritation and leaving only confusion in its wake when he opens his mouth to ask--

"Oh," Akira's voice jerks their heads down the way Goro'd come originally, two bags in hand. "You got a cake too."

Goro opens his mouth, closes it, then shakes his head. "I always buy myself one, but... that aside, everyone, what are you all doing here?"

"We're gonna celebrate your birthday, duh!" Futaba pipes up from her place in between Morgana and Yusuke. "Wasn't that hard to find, but man it could've been easier. Why didn't you ever say it in interviews? Save me some trouble!"

"I, ah, was never comfortable giving it out, so frankly I'm surprised to..." He pauses, another realization dawning on him. "I never told you where I lived."

Ann grins. "Futaba's not our info specialist for nothing, Akechi-kun!"

That's... fair, if disturbing, and he sighs. "Inside, I suppose. I've already accidentally ruined the surprise this party was supposed to be."

"Indeed. You should have either come in or stayed away until someone came to fetch you," Yusuke replies, tone more factual than scolding, and Goro laughs sheepishly.

They all file back in and he sighs, turning his head as Akira comes beside him. "Was this your idea?"

"Surprisingly? No. It was everyone else's." And the smile he gives is honest enough, a little apologetic and the rest pleased as a cat. "I didn't know until I got a text from Makoto about it a couple days ago."

"What short notice..." Goro shakes his head, smile brightening; today he feels it too, warmth in his chest and a surprising lightness to the rest of him. "I... Thank you for coming, I suppose?"

Akira's smile widens, moving one bag to his other hand so he can push Goro inside. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

It's all so-- so nice, for a simple word. The lights are on. There's voices besides his own, besides the TV's. The smell of food and two cakes waiting their turn on the counter, one pristinely white and the other a rich chocolate. It's... all too much, honestly, it's overwhelming in a good way, more than he could even remember it being when he was a child.

It's Haru who sees him closing up against the onslaught of niceties, before he even realizes it himself, and suggests they do cake before it gets too late. Goro's thankful for the attention being off him for a moment, Ryuji and Yusuke debating which one to use, and Morgana suggests both; one can be for Akira, who's birthday is a few days from now.

There's a length of silence before the room explodes into noise.

"What the hell, dude?!"

"Akira, you should've said something!"

"I agree. This is an oversight that must be--"

"Guys, guys, it's no big deal," the center of attention looks good on Akira today and Goro bites the inside of his cheek, humming softly as he leans over to Futaba.

"You knew, didn't you?"

She snorts as her answer and he laughs, the fullness of it surprising himself and quieting the interrogation instigated by Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke. Goro's smile is one he barely feels, leaning on his hand. "I get the one you bought, Akira-kun."

Two cakes are dressed for the occassion, eighteen candles on one and nighteen on the other, and Goro tucks his hair behind his ear as he leans towards the rich chocolate, staring past the flickers of flames to Akira on the other side with the ice cream cake. Akira's grin curls into a smirk and he closes his eyes; after a moment Goro does the same, trying to think of a wish.

He's never had a real use for them. Could always make them come true himself, never saw a point to this part of the birthday ritual, but one digs itself into the back of his mind and it leaves his lips with a silent exhale, curling upward with grey smoke. Akira's joins his a second later and there's claps all around, hands reaching to cut slices of both and pass them out.

Presents are for Goro only, since someone never mentioned the closeness of their birthdays, and he picks through each one like it's a treasure all its own: From Ryujj there's a boxset of manga he swears is right up Goro's alley, and frankly it looks it; Ann gives him some fashionable clothing she says'll be in magazines next week, claiming they'll suit him; from Yusuke comes a peculiar painting that features many colors and all of them swirling, dipping in and out of each other as he explains that this is, at the moment, Goro himself: tangled but visible all the same, working to become something.

He's not sure he likes how well it works.

Makoto's gifts are from her and Sae both: a scarf more fitting for winter and sunglasses appropriate for summer; Futaba's is a new laptop, smaller for ease of transport, so he doesn't have an excuse not to stay at Leblanc. He laughs and promises to come around, then, and work on his college papers there. The gift Haru sets in his lap is unwrapped, filled with dirt and featuring the nub of some kind of plant poking out of the fertilizer.

"It's a kind of cactus, so you won't have to worry about it too much, but..." She trails off and Goro nods, speaking up before she can continue.

"I'll take very good care of it, Haru-chan. Don't worry."

Her smile's bright enough to act as the sun itself.

Goro looks expectantly at Morgana, who stretches and shrugs. "I'm a cat, I don't have anything for you."

His chuckle is cut short by the other hopping into his lap, though, careful not to knock over the pot in Goro's hands as he leans up to rub against his cheeks and whisper his present. "Don't forget, you're part of this now. Once a thief, always a thief; I'm proud to call you an ally."

And then he hops away, back to Ann's lap with a pleased look on his face. Goro's cheeks are warm and hurt from smiling, just a bit, and he looks up at Akira, who's leaning against the back of the sofa.

"Would you believe me if I said me being here was your present?"

"Cheapskate!" Futaba hisses.

"As long as you don't make a habit of using that excuse, I'll accept it." Goro smiles up at him and laughs when Ryuji and Ann protest his calmness about the lack of a real present, snorting when Yusuke makes a comment at the lack of leaderly dignity and Akira's smugness falls away into disbelief.

"I spent all my money coming here and getting the cake and stuff," he tries to say, but the others gang up on him anyway. Makes him swear to send Goro something once he's home, makes him pinky promise never to pull that on anyone else's birthday, and Goro's chest is so filled with something he likes it spills out in tears, watering the plant with a few drops before Ann points it out and he ducks his head down.

"Ah, I'm fine, I..." A shake of his head, wiping his eyes and keeping them to the pot, embarrassment burning the back of his neck. "Thank you for... this. I don't think I've ever had such a lively party before."

There's a moment of silence he's sure is filled with shared looks between the rest of them and then there's arms enclosing on all sides, not as suffocating as he thought it'd be.

"Get used to it, 'cause it's gonna be like this for the rest of your life!" Ryuji declares, and Ann's quick to back him up.

"If there's something we like more than showing up rotten adults, it's partying!"

Makoto's words are quieter, but as amused as he feels. "It's true. They'll take any excuse to have a party."

"My apologies," he whispers back.

"Sure as can be, Akechi, you have become one of us." Yusuke's words are objectively pleased. "As such, when figuring in food costs--"

"Shut up, Inari! Don't spend so much money on stupid art supplies if you can't feed yourself!"

"It would seem you are rich in salt, Futaba."

"Say that when there isn't a wall of people between us and see if you regret it."

Haru's voice pipes up. "Don't mind them, Akechi-kun, they'd be happy to have you around even if you didn't lower the cost of party funds."

Goro chuckles, resting his chin on someone's arm. "So you say. They certainly are more welcoming now."

"So're you," Akira replies from directly beside him. "I can't imagine doing this with you a year ago."

"We didn't know him a year ago," Morgana points out, pressing into Goro's stomach with his own kind of hug. "But now we do, and as an apology for not finding you sooner, Akechi, we should go out for sushi-- Mreow!"

Ryuji's squeezed his hand through the mass of the hug to push on Morgana's head, yelping when Goro feels movement and the cat darts out with claws still drawn.

They unwrap themselves from him after that but linger close anyway, and Goro leans his head back when fingers skirt the nape of his neck. Akira smiles at him.

"Having fun?"

"More than I thought I would," he replies, easing back into the sofa. "What did you wish for? When you blew out your candles... I mean, if you did, I suppose it's rather childish to do that kind of--"

"It came true."

"... Pardon?"

Akira's smile tips higher into a grin, eyes sparkling with happiness as fondness as he glances around, lowering his voice; it comes out as warm breath against his ear and he can't stop the heat in his cheeks even before the answer registers. "I wished for you to have the best birthday."

"That's-- You shouldn't waste your wish on something for someone else, Akira-kun," but his chiding is happy and pleased enough that the other just chuckles.

"Wishes are best used on other people. Besides, you didn't make yours just for yourself either, did you?"

Goro sucks his bottom lip to keep from smiling, shaking his head. "I suppose not. I had selfish intentions in mind," as always, but it's appropriate today, "but it does benefit everyone else. I'm certain it'll come true as well."

Akira nods, a knowing look in his eye, and Goro's glad they seem to share an understanding on what it could be, what it was; it was nice to have someone like that, who didn't need words.

The party winds down as food is eaten, cake finished, but none of them leave; they stay overnight despite Goro's warnings about the lack of futons and he joins them despite it too, stretching out at the edge and enjoying having only Morgana curled into his side.

He looks back on his wish, how he'd like for days like this to continue, and surrounded by friends, with people he belongs with, thinks that it's bound to come true over and over again.

[genkigratification]

improving relations (8080 words) by sundrymunity

Chapters: 5/?

Fandom: Persona 5

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru, Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann, Kitagawa Yusuke, Niijima Makoto

Additional Tags: Character Study, minor december spoilers now, goro's narration tells too much

Summary:

Makoto sighs, nodding. "To be honest..." A moment's hesitation; her hands grip her arms tighter, lips pursing and looking frustrated again. "To be honest, it started to feel like I was more of a burden than a sister to her."

A burden.

Goro's aware of the way his face falters, can feel it, and he's thankful her eyes haven't returned to him yet.

[genkigratification]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira Characters: Akechi Goro, Kurusu Akira Additional Tags: Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Body Worship, they're kind of dating but kind of not, absolutely go to mementos for this every time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, November spoilers Summary:

it's not their first time, and it won't be their last, but akira tries something new. goro wishes he could appreciate it as much as his public image should.

[genkigratification]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru, Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann, Kitagawa Yusuke Additional Tags: spoilers for November, and later probably i haven't decided how deep this is going, Character Study Summary:

Goro doesn't realize he's been looking at one particular painting for far longer than the others until a familiarly deep voice speaks up beside him: "What are your thoughts on it?"

"... I'm not sure," he replies to Yusuke, eyes flickering to the plaque beside the painting that bears the other's name. It isn't a good enough answer for any artists, he knows, and casts his gaze back on the swirl of color backed by darkness, feeling something hook into the back of his mind. It's familiar. It reminds him of Mementos, almost, in color scheme, but that brightness is... off-putting, maybe. The technique was clearly superb, and it had the feeling of a complete work, of something that couldn't possibly be improved any further, but--

It made him uncomfortable, one hand pressing to his chest and pressing his lips tight together.

[genkigratification]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 3/8 Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru, Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann Additional Tags: spoilers for November, and later probably i haven't decided how deep this is going, Character Study Summary:

"... I didn't have much of a chance to get acquainted with anyone, much less look into a relationship with them," he replies after a moment, eyes mirroring practiced sorrow at him from the light brown coffee. He doesn't really care, it's not anything that's going to matter in the long-run, but playing cards right is all part of the program. "I suppose you could say I moved around a lot, and when I finally settled in a place of my own... at that point, I'd started becoming known as a remarkable detective." Absently, he messes with some of his bangs. "After that, I couldn't see anyone even if I wanted to. My fans would be furious if they thought I was in a relationship with someone."

"I guess this is more trouble for you than it is for me then, huh..." Ann leans forward on the table, resting on her elbows. "... It might sound a little weird, but I get it."

[genkigratification]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 2/8 Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru, Sakamoto Ryuji Additional Tags: spoilers for November, and later probably i haven't decided how deep this is going Summary:

"Listen, Akechi. I don't like you, and I don't care how you act when Akira's around," which makes Goro's smile falter, excuse him?, "but I know you don't like me either. That's perfectly fine with me, honestly, couldn't care less how you feel.

"But," he continues, reluctant the way a normal child might be to do anything, "right now, we're on the same side. And it ain't gonna kill either of us to hang out or whatever."

[genkigratification]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/8 Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Akechi Goro, Okumura Haru Additional Tags: spoilers for November, and later probably i haven't decided how deep this is going Summary:

in an effort to become friendlier with the phantom thieves, goro akechi decides to spend time with each of them in turn

this may or may not be a mistake on his part.

"Say, Akechi-kun... do you have a dream too?"

A dream, huh. Something like her own. Goro gives it a thoughtful pause despite his mind coming up completely blank, laughing sheepishly. "Nothing quite like yours, I'm afraid."

[genkigratification]

Out of all the people in their niche little group, Inari was the easiest to get annoyed at. He was so stupid! He didn’t get things, or he made such-- such aggravating remarks! Futaba seriously didn’t get how Akira could just sit there and talk to the stupid fox-face, have an actual conversation with him and enjoy it.

“It’s easy,” he’d said when she asked in so many words, the clacking of dishes their only company. “Yusuke’s not so bad, Futaba, just strange sometimes.” He grins a little, using the back of his hand to brush his bangs that really need a good cutting out of his eyes as he looks over at her. “Some people could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s way more weird than I am. Who goes out in heavy rain just for art? He’s lucky he’s so stupid.”

Akira’s laugh is sputtering and he dries his hands, leaning on the counter in front of her. “Not stupid enough. Do you want to come with me over to the dorms? I’m bringing some of Boss’s curry.”

Futaba’s about to make some remark about why would she want to go see Inari, but she snaps her mouth shut and grins, nodding. He’d be a totally pitiful sight! She could definitely get one over on him!

She’s in charge of holding the precious cargo on their way to Kosei’s dorms, Akira standing in front of her seat to keep her from harm, and she keeps an eye on the people around them, eavesdropping in. There’s talks here and there about the Phantom Thieves, but it’s not anything interesting; a sale on clothes, a group of kids chattering about some King guy she thinks might be the same one their leader learned some moves to stop that cheater guy with, what movies were playing... Atlantic Cusp sounded interesting, anyway, but who wouldn’t be excited by robots versus aliens?!

When they arrive, when they find out his room number and are given access to it as friends, Futaba notes a few things: all artists are strange. She’s pretty sure not all of them are actually artists, because one of the girls Akira’d mentioned before is a shogi player, but she doesn’t care enough to look into it. Another thing is that Inari’s room is a mess with different supplies cast about in some artistic rage, maybe, but she steps through them as easily as she had her own room before it’d gotten cleaned up by the spirits or whatever. The final thing is that somehow, Inari is even paler than usual, and she pokes his cheek experimentally until his hand weakly slaps hers away and one eye slides open, looking surprised to see her until Akira comes into view too.

“Ah, so that’s how you came.”

“I can go places on my own too!” Wait. “And I didn’t ask to come along, Akira invited me. I wanted to see how sick you were.”

She’s sure it’s clear from her tone that there’s no worry involved, that she’d come to have teasing material and stuff, but Inari’s response is simply a word of gratitude for thinking about him, as unusual as that was for her, and Futaba crouches at the end of his bed, irritated.

He and Akira talk about this and that. Inari gets scolded for not taking care of himself, but in the next moment the question of inspiration comes up and along with it the answer of a telling hum. All for nothing, huh. Sickness suited him. The curry’s received well (Inari always liked free food, and Sojiro’s was the best around) and Akira glances at her for a moment before excusing himself to the bathroom, his apology either ignored in favor of food or accepted in spite of Inari’s chowing down.

“And then there were two,” she mutters under her breath, turning her position to face Inari and hug her legs. Being without Akira was... still kind of frightening, honestly, it tenses her muscles despite her heart wanting to be brave, but it’s more fine with the rest of the team than with a buncha strangers.

Still hard to make conversation though.

... Something tells her that Akira’s gonna take the scenic route, too, and Futaba scrolls through her phone, thumb lightning fast as she types replies on forums and checks in with the group chat. Nothing. Boooring.

“Outstanding as always,” Inari’s voice breaks the silence and he sets the container of curry aside, now empty of its contents. There looks to be some more color to his cheeks now, even if his eyes have the tell-tale signs of being out of it, and Futaba’s heart swells with pride at Sojiro’s cooking.

“Of course! There’s nothing that curry can’t fix. Thooough one bowl probably isn’t gonna do it, so you’d better be prepared for Akira to mother hen you all better.”

Inari’s eyes close and he hums happily, hands clasping habitually as they rest on his lap. “I don’t believe I would mind that. Sen... Madarame,” he corrects his stumble, “left that sort of behavior in the past. I’m rather used to taking care of myself.”

“Wow, that’s a surprise, Mr. Sick.”

“I was just unlucky today.”

“Guess the gods aren’t always on your side, Inari, too bad.”

Though apparently Inari brought rain wherever he went anyway, like a true fox spirit. Silence settles on them and the gentle patter of rain begins on the window, only proving the previous sentiment right.

“You didn’t bring umbrellas with you, did you?” He asks, already knowing the answer from the lack of any around. “It’d be bad if you two got sick,” Akira moreso, probably, “so please, stay until the rain’s finished.”

“Not my call! But sure, I don’t really feel like getting drenched on the way back anyway.”

And before the quiet gets too settled this time, Futaba spots a magazine on a miraculously free part of his table and crosses the room to snatch it, picking through it and catching sight of a familiar name.

“You’re in here!”

“Yes, for my piece that won an exhibit recently.” Inari’s too pleased, but Futaba nods and studies the piece that sat near the article with it. The dark reds and blacks reminded her a lot of Mementos, but the white that stretched like octopus tentacles from the center out...

She won’t ever claim to understand art or even try, it’s totally beyond her, but Inari’s piece rings with something in her and she clutches the magazine in one hand as she travels to crouch at his side instead. He moves a bit to accompany her and takes the magazine when she offers it.

“What’s with the big splotch in the middle?”

“That is the other part of humanity’s desires -- while the background shows the twisted desires mankind has in their hearts, the white shows the bright part of it. The shining light that casts away doubt and draws people to it.” There’s a pause, Inari’s eyes flicking to the door and then back to the page. “Our leader resembles it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Akira, a shining light that casts away doubt and draws people to a bright future. That looks into the depths of mankind’s desires and dares to reach into the distortions to find something worth saving. Futaba chews on her nail out of habit (and one that Inari clearly doesn’t approve of, from the look on his face) and she can see it, yeah. Even if that guy’s name didn’t mean what it did... Akira’s just that kind of person.

“Soooo you used him for inspiration? And the background’s Mementos.”

“Right on both accounts.” Inari smiles lightly. “It would seem you’re not as uncultured as I thought.”

She growls softly in her throat and snatches a piece of his stupid hair to tug sharply. “Shut your yipping down, Inari!”

Neither of them notice the door opening, neither of them hear Akira slip in, and they’re debating culture in terms of artistic and internet value (Futaba’s definitely got a leg up in this, since memes are an artform and Inari can’t dispute this after she shows him some on her phone) when he finally speaks up, smile wide. “Easy, isn’t it?”

“What’s easy?” Inari asks, but Futaba knows what he means and gives a shrug, climbing off the bed and holding onto the magazine tightly.

“He’s feeling better, the rain’s let up, so let’s go home, Akira! And stop by Akibahara on the way, there’s a new game I reaaally want to buy that’ll recover my HP by like, a whole bar.”

“Sure.” Akira pats her head idly and she jerks away, heart thumping loudly as it had the first time she’d asked him, before he goes back to Inari’s side and presses the back of his hand to his forehead thoughtfully. “... I’ll be by tomorrow to see how you are too. Do you need anything?”

“You needn’t bother, Akira, I will be fine on my own from here on.” Futaba almost calls him out on his words before, how he wouldn’t have minded being mother henned, but something keeps her quiet. “If I worsen any, I will let you and the others know, but I believe that I’m well on my way to recovery.”

“If you’re sure.” Chances are, Akira’ll come anyway, just saying he was in the neighborhood or something. Futaba thinks she might tag along again. “Take it easy. We’re not going into Mementos until you’re better, but don’t rush your recovery.”

“Understood. Please be safe on the way home, you two.” Inari pauses, then glances at Futaba. She stares back, trying to decide if she should straighten or hunch more at the intensity despite his illness. “Futaba, I’d like it if you could see the piece itself. A photograph doesn’t capture the true meaning behind it.”

“I’ll consider your offer, Inari, but only if you bring something tasty as tribute.”

Akira covers his laugh with a cough, gesturing to the door. “We should be going. Take care, Yusuke.”

“Bye-bye, foxy!”

He nods to them both and lays back down, face cast towards the window. Futaba steps backwards and turns on her heel, following Akira out into the hallway.

... Go see his piece for real, huh. Couldn’t be that different than a picture.