Chapter Text
Akira could feel something watching him.
He gave one quick look around as an overpass came into sight.
Was this feeling just Igor and Lavenza watching him from afar? Was it something else?
He shuddered. If they were watching him, then he couldn’t mess up now. All he needed to do was find some sort of lead to get to Tsuda.
After his encounter with Lala, he checked into the nearest hotel and researched housing costs in Shibuya.
His plan was to make a deal with Tsuda to get living accommodations for himself, as there was no way a fourteen-year-old boy would be able to purchase a house through legal means. There was more to just getting a place to live, though. He needed to establish some relationship with the Yakuza as he figured he could use their help in many ways.
Tsuda had mobilized Masa on terse notice, meaning this overpass and the area around it was likely a meetup spot for the local Yakuza. If he was right and the local Yakuza were under this overpass, it was likely that they could take him to wherever Tsuda was.
But it was only a hunch. He was only vaguely aware of the current state of the Yakuza from Iwai’s time as a member. If this world had been set back two years before the phantom thieves formed, it was possible that Tsuda wasn’t around Shibuya and operating elsewhere. Maybe, in this world, Tsuda never even existed. He hasn’t witnessed any significant changes to this world, but Igor mentioned that this world would still have some variations. Tsuda may not even be real.
But there was only one way to find out.
After a little bit of research, he threw twenty million yen into his briefcase and shoved the rest into a huge safe provided by the hotel.
He arrived at the overpass in no time.
Several men, ages ranging from teens to mid-twenties, were loitering around the edges of the walkway.
“What the fuck are you doin’ ‘round here, kid?” Akira stared at the tough-looking young thug before him. A teenager, maybe? Probably not much older than he was back in his world.
“Kid, huh?” He whispered.
The teen looked offended as Akira stared at him, likely because he looked unphased. The other thugs merely observed as their colleague grew more and more irritated.
“Hey, you little shit! Get lost!” The thug came to a stop and looked down on Akira. He had only just realized how tall this kid was, his neck having to stretch back just to meet his eyes.
Should he just ask for Tsuda? Was there a better way of going about this? He had no idea. He didn’t particularly care whether these people thought he was weird. If they didn’t know who Tsuda was, all he had to do was leave. He shouldn’t think about it.
“I’m looking for Akimitsu Tsuda.”
The kid flinched, and the guys in the back also looked surprised. It was the reaction he was looking for. It seemed that Tsuda was still alive and well.
The kid grabbed him by the lapels of his blazer. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, punk?!”
Akira didn’t even realize that his hand was flying towards the kid’s neck until the thug was on the ground choking. What the hell happened? He had been thinking about displaying some sort of dominance, but this wasn’t him. Had his instincts possessed him?
No, it was his personas. They were the ones who did this. He could hear the personas that he had at the forefront of his mind laughing hysterically. He never had this kind of strength outside of mementos. His personas never acted outside of the metaverse either, only occasionally saying things that he often never listened to.
He stared at his hand in bewilderment but quickly regained his composure as he saw the kid gasping for air.
The kid’s friends got into fighting stances, some of them holding switch-blades while
“I need to see Akimitsu Tsuda. I have an offer for him. Why should you refuse? Unless you want to explain to him why he’s losing out on a good deal?”
The thugs turned their heads towards each other.
The oldest of them spoke up. “Alright, we’ll take you.”
They escorted him towards a black sedan and threw a blindfold over him before shutting the door.
....
Akira found himself in a club room with a revolver pressed to his forehead.
“So you're the one who hit one of my boys.” He motioned towards a hardy-looking teen who would have looked even stronger if not for the ice bag pressed to his neck.
One of his personas, Attis of the hanged man arcana, growled as Tsuda pushed the gun deeper into his forehead. Attis was a remnant of his bond with Iwai and likely harbored some hatred towards Tsuda for how he had extorted Iwai and manipulated him. Back in his world, the phantom thieves had changed Tsuda’s heart, and he repented for his actions, but Akira guessed that Attis still felt some sort of anger towards Tsuda for harming Iwai and Kaoru.
He did his best to keep Attis at bay, but Akira was beginning to lose control.
“Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn’t put a hole through your head.”
He lost control. Attis took over, his hand reaching out for the gun in Tsuda’s hand. Before Akira could blink, Attis had taken the gun and had it pointing at Tsuda.
“Shit,” Tsuda murmured. Standing up from the couch, he sat up with his hands in the air. The thugs in the back of the room pulled out their weapons.
“Shit,” Akira murmured. He could hear Attis laughing like the mad man he was before disappearing into the back of his mind. Akira cursed himself and Attis. This was the second time his personas had taken control over his body, and it all happened in one day. He needed to recover the situation before all hell broke loose.
He put the gun down on the coffee table that separated the two of them. “I’m sorry, that was just my instincts taking over.” He put his hands in the air to show that he bore no hostility.
“Jesus Christ.” Tsuda pushed his glasses up his nose before slowly sitting back onto the couch.
“To answer your question…”
Akira slowly picked up the silver briefcase that rested on the floor. He placed it on the table alongside the gun.
“This is only down payment,” he said as he slowly unlocked the case to reveal its contents. Several of the thugs behind him, who still had knives or guns in their hands, opened their mouths in shock.
“If our deal goes through, you would have a lot more money on your hands. If you kill me right here, this is all you would get.”
He watched as Tsuda finally began to relax and threw his arms over his head. Tsuda motioned towards his men to holster their weapons.
“Kid, you’ve got a big fucking pair under that little body of yours. How much money are we talking about exactly?”
Akira attempted to hide his annoyance at having his body be called ‘little.’ It was already annoying enough that he had to look up at everyone around him just to meet their eyes. He was excited for the two years of preparing to be finished. He was missing his old height.
“Ninety million yen, including the twenty million down-payment that sits in this case.”
Tsuda’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s one hell of a score if I’ve ever heard one. So…”
“I need a house. Permanent residence for the foreseeable future.”
“And why the hell does a kid like you need a house?”
Akira smirked. “All you need to know is that I have my reasons. A kid my age coming to the Yakuza for a house?”
Tsuda nodded.
“And the money?”
“I’ll admit that it wasn’t acquired legally.” He said, looking at the briefcase in front of him. “But it wasn’t acquired illegally either.”
“I don’t care about shit like that. I just want to know whether it’s connected to anyone. I don’t want some gang breathin’ down our necks over this shit, ya hear?”
“There is no one that would be able to lay claim to this money.” It was impossible for anyone to be able to lay claim to his funds without lying. It was money he’d earned with his phantom thieves, his best friends. The thought of someone taking this money for themselves made his skin boil.
“If anyone tried to,” he clenched his fists, “I’d be very displeased.”
Tsuda looked at Akira before calling over one of his henchmen and whispered something. The henchman suddenly took his leave.
Leaning back, he smiled at Akira. “Just looking over some things, it won’t take long.”
The thug returned with a folder to which Tsuda swiped out of his hands. He watched as he skimmed the contents of the folder, looking over at Akira as he did so, who merely gave a smile in return.
Tsuda snapped the folder shut and laid it on the table closed.
“How quickly do you need this house? Where do you want it?”
Akira grinned. “Somewhere around Shibuya, preferably near Yongen-Jaya. I need it by the end of the week. At least two rooms.”
Tsuda nodded. One of his henchmen began writing down each request. “We’ll have it ready for you within the week. Furnished?”
Akira was surprised at how accommodating Tsuda was being. “Furnished, yes. I’ll throw in an extra ten million for good measure.” Akira watched as the henchman scribbled furiously, almost tearing the notepad in his hands. “I have one last request.”
“What is it?”
“Can you put the deed under my name?”
“Of course.” Tsuda smiled, “Your name?”
“Akira Kurusu.” He stood up and extended his hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Tsuda. I hope this will mark the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship.”
Tsuda took his hand and gave it a sturdy shake. “Same for us, Kurusu. My boys will drop you off wherever you need to be.”
Akira quickly told them of the hotel he was staying at and exchanged contact information with Tsuda, following his men out the door.
He had expected things to take a lot more time after everything went south. He wasn’t complaining, but it did feel a little odd.
Nonetheless, he had completed his goal. Find Tsuda and form some sort of relationship. He didn’t just have a house now, but future business endeavors and people who could do his dirty work. All he had to do was pay them.
Once he arrived at the door, he realized he was missing something.
“Damn…” Akira mumbled under his breath.
One of the henchmen turned around. “Is something wrong, Mr. Kurusu?”
“Don’t worry. It isn’t anything important.”
Like hell it wasn’t important. He had left behind a perfectly brand new briefcase.
....
The moment the kid left, Tsuda sank back into the couch. “Jesus Christ.” He knew that the kid was odd the moment he walked through the door. His gaudy clothes, his short stature, and the way he carried himself were all signs pointing towards the massive shithole he’s gotten himself into.
He looked at the manilla folder and at the twenty million dollars he’d been handed, just noticing the initials, A.K, carved onto both sides of the case. Maybe he should give it back the next time he’d see that Kurusu kid.
“Um, Tsuda-san?” From the corner of his eyes, he could see Kensho Ono, his right-hand man, giving him a look of confusion.
Tsuda re-opened the folder and skimmed through its contents, spreading photos of the dead bodies of wealthy men and women. “The mafia heads in Shibuya are undergoing some management changes, correct?”
“Yes. We’ve heard that a bunch of the mafia executives started dropping left and right. No injuries, no signs of poison or internal damage. They just fell dead. Why do you ask, sir?”
Tsuda grunted.
“S-sir?”
“What kind of kid waltzes up to the Yakuza, orders to meet with a higher-up and knows their name, threatens to shoot the guy, makes a deal worth one-hundred million yen, and then fucking leaves?”
Tsuda took a cigarette pack out of his pocket and a silver lighter on the table.
“I’ll tell you who. Someone who can do shit like this.” He motioned towards the photos scattered on the table as he lit a cigarette.
“Have any of you boys seen this kid before? Have any of you talked to him about me?”
He took a look around the room, all of his men shaking their heads.
“Alright.” He looked towards the boy with the ice bag on his neck. “The only thing he said was my name and that he wanted to make a deal with me, right?” The kid nodded. “Okay, that means he knows who I am. And because he asked you boys specifically, he knew that you were Yakuza. He even knew where to find you. How the fuck does that make sense?”
He watched as his boys tensed up. The things he said implied that there was likely a traitor among them, but that’s not what he meant at all.
“Don’t worry, this is all hypothetical. I don’t suspect anyone of anything. Unless you have something to say?” Everyone shook their heads. “Alright, but even if that’s the case, it still doesn’t explain how he knew who we are. Especially how he knew who I was.”
The boy with the ice bag raised his hand. “You’re not in fucking pre-school. Speak up if you have something to say.”
The kid put his hand down, flustered. “U-uh, sir? What should we do about him then?”
Tsuda laughed. “What should we do? The question should be, can we even do anything? The answer is no, by the way. Pretty sure that kid could send all of us to the fucking morgue if we ever tried anything.”
He reclined against the couch until his cigarette burned out.
His men stared at him.
“U-um, sir?” Kensho was the first to speak up. Tsuda tossed the cigarette in his hand into the ashtray next to him. He reached for his pocket to light another one.
“This right here is blood money.” He pointed towards the silver case in front of him. “There’s no way in hell that it’s anything else.”
“Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions, sir?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences, Ono.”
He watched his right-hand man stare at him.
“Let me make one thing clear to you all. You’re all gonna listen to whatever that fucking kid says, you hear me?”
Silence.
“Do you understand?!”
His men’s heads perked up. “Sir!”
“Good.” He nodded. “If that kid wants to make a deal with us, we’ll fuckin’ take it. I really don’t give a shit about what he asks for, as long as it pays. You all want that too, right?”
His men nodded. “Because if you don’t listen to him, you’ll find yourselves coming back to me in a body bag. And I can’t lift a damn finger to help you.”
Tsuda leaned forward and took another look at the silver briefcase. “One hundred million yen, twenty million as down-payment. I think we got ourselves one hell of a deal, boys.” Tsuda reached for another cigarette to find the box empty. He sighed.
He looked up. “What the hell are you people doing? Go house shopping, you fucking morons!”
....
Akira looked at the two-story house before him, holding a new, but less shiny briefcase that contained the eighty million yen he had promised to Tsuda.
He was now the proud new owner of this house which was located near the outskirts of Yogen-Jaya.
Only a day had passed before Tsuda had informed him of a house that fitted Akira’s requirements. Tsuda and one of his henchmen, Bono or something, had shown up at the hotel he was staying at, scared the receptionists, and took him to his new residence.
Taking a look inside, he turned to his left and saw a living room and a seamlessly connected kitchen, complete with a dishwasher, oven, microwave, sink, and fridge. He looked to his right and found a hallway that led a garage, the grand master bedroom, and a laundry room with a washing machine and dryer. Upstairs led to two more bedrooms, both the same size, with a bathroom at the end of the hall.
The place was almost too nice. It was nothing like his attic up in Leblanc. Although it didn’t feel like home, he could definitely see himself living here for the next few years.
He ran downstairs to find Tsuda and Bono waiting for him outside.
Tsuda took out a cigarette. “As far as anyone is concerned, this place is owned by an Akira Kurusu who just turned twenty-one. So you don’t need to worry about CPS knocking at your door.”
Bono handed over some papers as Akira gave the briefcase in his hand to Tsuda.
He was surprised to see that Tsuda did not check to see what was inside the briefcase, but he didn’t complain. Tsuda didn’t need to check anything anyways.
A hundred million yen, gone in just a few days. He had around fifty million yen left back in the safe at his hotel. He would need to stock up someday for any future deals he might make with the Yakuza. But first he’d need to figure out how to get into the metaverse. With no navigator, he had no means to access mementos, where he could brainwash shadows and make them spill their seemingly endless supply of cash.
But he could figure all that out later. He handed over the papers in his hands back to the Bono guy.
Tsuda spit the cigarette in his mouth onto the ground and crumbled it up with his foot. “Is there anything else you need?”
“How about creating some IDs?”
“Is that it?” Akira shook his head. “Well, Kurusu-san, you’re in luck. Fake IDs are a Yakuza special. Give us a week and we’ll have a solid history for you.”
“How much?”
“A million.” Tsuda pulled another cigarette out of his pocket.
“That’s cheaper than what I was expecting. I’ll have your money ready once you set everything up.”
Tsuda took his lighter out. The man was going to die of lung failure one day. “I’ll contact you when it’s done. You should be fine without any identification until then.”
Tsuda motioned towards the Bono guy, who promptly ran towards their car and opened the trunk. He returned with a familiar silver briefcase.
“Oh, thanks, Bono. I thought I was never going to get this back.”
He could feel Bono staring into him. “Um, sir?”
Akira saw Tsuda give his henchman a quick glare. He flicked his dead cigarette onto the ground. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“Hmm.” Was there anything else he needed right now? He glanced over at the house behind him. It was bigger than what he needed. One bedroom was more than enough. He had asked for at least two bedrooms for no particular reason, but three bedrooms? He didn’t have use for all this space, and the house was already big enough.
Just then, an idea popped into his head. Who said it just had to be him . “Do you think you could find me a housemate?”
....
Two days from now was August 21st, the day Wakaba Isshiki died.
He needed to do something tonight, as he had no idea when Akechi would come to shoot her shadow. The time between a mental shutdown and when their shadow was killed usually was around one to two days.
He had thought of using Samarecarm after Akechi completed his job and left. But revive spells don’t technically ‘revive’ people. When a phantom thief had fallen, it usually just meant they were out of the fight. They were fine once they brought them out of the metaverse, just a couple bruises here and there.
If miracle skills actually did what they said, he would have used them on his friends a long time ago. But he had held them in his arms and witnessed their stillness. He wished he could have done something for them.
He shook his head. Was there anything he could do? He could not bear to think that Futaba would have to suffer the ways she once did, but what else could he do? Even if he could revive Wakaba, it was likely that all of reality would break as Igor said. He still had no idea as to what this ability of his to break fate even was.
Was there really nothing he could do except watch one of his best friend’s mother die at the hands of Akechi?
Akechi...
He changed out of the flashy blue suit that the Velvet Room provided for him and put on some baggy pajamas.
After bringing the money he had locked up in the hotel, he began stocking up on basic supplies such as food, clothes, and utensils, using some of the fifty million yen he had left in his pockets.
He was extremely thankful towards Tsuda for bringing back the silver briefcase that Igor and Lavenza had given him for his journeys. He knew there was something more to this briefcase the moment the ornate designs surrounding his initials began to glow, if only for a moment.
He sat on his bed and searched for any levers or triggers that might be hidden, but came across nothing.
He sighed, closing the briefcase and putting the lock in place.
He heard something click. It wasn’t a sound he had heard before when using this briefcase.
He opened it again and found a dark void at the bottom of the case.
“What the…'' He lifted the case up, the gaping hole was nowhere to be found on its backside. He stuck his hand inside.
There were things inside.
Foam knives, air-soft guns, medicines from Tae, and other equipment such as lockpicks and smoke bombs.
He should’ve noticed this sooner. He reached further into black hole and found no bottom.
Was there no limit to how much stuff he could throw in here? He pulled his Tyrant pistol from the waistband of his pants, the pistol he used to shoot Yaldabaoth through the head, and tossed it inside.
The dark void sucks it in and the gun disappears. He reached back into the suitcase and feeled for his weapon, finding it near a stack of questionably legal meds. He slid the gun back into his pants.
He suddenly appreciated Tsuda a lot more, thanking him as he pressed the button on the briefcase once more and the infinite void disappeared, leaving no trace of its existence.
He dropped the case onto the floor and fell back onto his bed.
The mattress was uncomfortably soft. It wasn’t anything like what he was used to. Even if his bed at Leblanc was inhumanely thin, somehow it felt cozier than this. He hadn’t gotten much rest from his nights at the hotel, so he needed to get some sleep, even if he was to wake up later tonight.
He set an alarm for 2:00 in the morning
He was the most tired he’s ever been, but he still couldn’t fall asleep.
He wondered what Lavenza and Igor were doing. They said they needed to prepare for their encounter with Yaldabaoth, but what exactly were they preparing for? If all they needed to do was allow the events of his world to happen again, then they didn’t really need to do anything, did they? They said they would be fine, and he trusted their words, but he couldn’t help but worry for them. Especially Lavenza.
Even though he didn’t know her for more than a few days, he felt like he’d known her for years. Maybe it was because he’d known Caroline and Justine for a long time, and technically those two were a part of Lavenza.
It was hard not to grow attached. Maybe he saw her as a younger sister, even though she was always the more knowledgeable and sometimes more mature between the two of them. He hoped he could see her again.
After a good ten minutes of tossing and turning, his thoughts slowly faded into dreams, and his mind drifted into a deep sleep.
....
Akira tried to scratch his neck to ease his dry throat, his fingernails scraping away at his skin until he started bleeding.
He had been searching for water for what seemed like days, but all he could see was sand. Hundreds of miles away stood several mountains towering over the desert before him.
Something glimmered near the corners of his vision.
Seven puddles of water, all lined up neatly in rows.
He ran as fast as he could, as if the water would disappear at any moment. He kneeled down and cupped his hands together, grabbing some water from the nearest puddle. But by the time his hands reached his mouth, the water had seeped through his fingers and had fallen to the ground. The puddles began to disappear.
He sprinted, but tripped, falling on his hands as he began to crawl. He reached the last puddle and in a last-ditch effort to ease his throat, he tried to fling water into his mouth before the water could dry up. But before the water even reached his face it disappeared.
He looked. There was nothing left. The cavities left in the sand showed no sign of there once being water.
Tears fell down from his face, his throat beginning to burn even more.
He fell onto the sand as darkness engulfed his eyes.
....
He sat up and gasped for air.
He itched at his throat. What a terrible dream. It felt so real that he felt like he needed a glass of water. But when he turned over in his bed to grab the water bottle on his nightstand, he froze.
The light stand was gone. In fact, he wasn’t even on his bed. Everything had become enveloped in extreme darkness.
He got up from where he was sitting and took a look around.
There was nothing. He could not see anything except his own body. This place reminded him of the infinite void that sat on the bottom of his briefcase.
Suddenly, he could see a blue glow in the distance. It drew closer and closer until it became as clear as day.
A small butterfly, fluttering against the darkness.
“Trickster…” The voice of a girl’s called out to him.
“Lavenza?”
“There isn’t much time for us to speak, my dear Trickster, as the malevolent being has arrived.”
“What?!”
“We did not anticipate this to happen so early in the game. Soon I will be split into two and my master will be locked away. This is the only way I can warn you without informing that malevolent being.”
“Wait, hold on! Why is this happening?! It should be nearly two years before the other Trickster awakens to their powers!”
“I do not know, Trickster. You must be more careful from now on. You must make sure that no one knows what you are up to. Do not allow that malevolent being to be made aware of your existence.”
“Hold on, I still don’t understand!”
“One last thing before I go. Head to the depths of mementos and oversee the two constant events that will occur tonight. These are the first two constants that appear on your list.”
The butterfly began to slowly fade away. “Please be careful, my Trickster.”
“Wait!” He ran after her, but he could feel his own body beginning to disappear.