Chapter Text
Akechi Goro died in the cold confines of Shido’s engine room on December eighth. The knowledge of this - the memory of the shutter closing followed by two consecutive, heart-splitting gunshots - bore deep into Ren’s mind as buried himself beneath the weight of blankets in Leblanc’s attic. He’d been here for days; Futaba and Sojiro checked in on him periodically, bringing plates of food that they knew Ren had no intention of touching, only to clear them away again when the food became too cold or too stale to eat.
Despite having already cleared their way to the treasure room, secured their infiltration route, and made all the necessary preparations, Ren hadn’t given the order to send the calling card. He could barely convince himself to move, let alone make such an important order. He wasn’t ready.
Makoto stepped in to make the decision on the sixteenth, ensuring that they would have time to send the calling card and steal the treasure on the seventeenth, in time to meet the looming deadline of the election on the eighteenth. It was a good thing, too - Ren knew he would have let the dates slip by if left to the decaying halls of his own grief-stricken mind.
When the day came, he couldn’t remember entering the disturbing opulence of Shido’s cruiser. He barely felt the warping of reality around him, pushed forward by the guiding hands of the other thieves.
They really didn’t understand, did they? They hadn’t known Akechi - not really. They saw the sides he presented to them, and took them for face value; the obnoxiously self-assured detective, followed by the ruthless killer, and then by a tool that they could use to boost their strength in the upcoming battle. None of them saw the raw, aching hurt underneath; the loneliness, the sheer cunning and vibrant intelligence. Not the uncanny observation nor the softness underneath Goro’s hard shell. The never saw the aching want for something better than the hand he was dealt from the beginning of his life.
Similarly, they glanced over the bone-deep tiredness of Ren; missed the way Joker’s fingers trembled when he ripped the mask from his face to summon another persona to cover their group’s weaknesses. They saw him as resilience and strength, and all Joker saw was his own exhaustion.
Akechi had seen through that - had seen him . He had spoken to him like he mattered. Like he was another human, rather than simply the infallible leader of the Phantom Thieves.
Now Goro was dead and gone, and it was Shido’s fault. Joker could feel the anger, the pure rage, buzzing in his veins the closer they got to the treasure room. The air surrounding them was utterly oppressive, but he paid it no mind. Shido’s shadow appeared, spouting some belligerent nonsense that Ren couldn’t be bothered to listen to. He saw red .
And the moment that he was granted reprieve, Joker launched himself at the shadow. It transformed, beastly now, atop a throne of golden citizens with mouths twisted by their own false reverence. He threw attack after attack, swapped personas like rolling dice, paying no mind to who was in his head so long as the hit landed on his opponent. He was deaf to his teammates' cries. A flash of red beside him flew backwards from a strong hit, collapsing behind him.
Once out of spirit, Joker switched to his dagger, polished and sharp and aerodynamic. He slashed and hacked away at the golden-eyed figure in front of him, willing the knife to hit its mark. He was being reckless - he knew , but he didn’t care - rage seeping from his pores instead of salt and sweat. It was easy to be separated from the others like this, but he didn’t care .
A warning sounded behind him, falling on unhearing ears as the only sound in Joker’s mind was the wordless cry for bloodlust and the ragged pounding of his heart like a drum inside his skull.
Shido turns to him, advancing. Joker’s dagger glances off his metal skin, not even scratching the surface. Immune to physical attacks, now. Shit. He dodges a blow from the giant’s fist, ducking beneath it to serve a blow of his own that accomplished nothing but to bloody Joker’s own knuckles. Shido advanced, still.
It was a moment’s work for the villain to grasp his fingers around Joker’s neck and squeeze . The muscular arm lifted him by the base of his skull, Joker’s feet swinging beneath him, toes reaching for solid ground and eyes blown wide.
A sickening, bone-curling pop filled Joker’s ears, and then he was falling.
He was gone before he hit the floor.
Joker - no, Ren - opened his eyes to an expanse of clear blue sky.
He was in the Velvet Room. Despite his knowledge of the Velvet Room’s cavernous stone ceiling and caged interior, and the disparity between the walls he knew and the lack of walls he saw around him, Ren knew exactly where he was.
He sat up, fingers bracing themselves against the plush velvet of a blue sofa. He catalogued his body for injuries (noticing that he was dressed in the same grey hoodie and jeans he’d been wearing when he entered the metaverse), finding none to speak of. Not even a ring of bruises around his throat, in contrast with his acute awareness of the pounding ache in his neck. With nothing urgent to draw his attention, he allowed himself to sink back into the cushions below him.
His eyes closed.
When he opened them again, he was met with the same endless blue hue. He turned his head, taking in his surroundings for real this time.
A bright blue expanse opened above him, dotted with serene, puffy clouds and extending infinitely in all directions. This image of endlessness was reflected in a thin layer of water that covered the ground like a limitless salt flat. Near him, a few meters away, stood Igor’s brown desk - sorely out of place in the serenity of the space he found himself in. The desk faced him, and the long-nosed man peered at him from his seat.
Next, his eyes found Justine and Caroline sitting at the base of the couch, no longer clad in their prison warden uniforms. Instead, each wore a light blue dress, with puffed sleeves and frills down to their wrists.
“You’re finally awake!” Caroline’s normally-commanding voice pitched upward in clear annoyance.
“Are you feeling okay?” Justine asked, moving in front of her sister. Her soft voice reached his ears with an echo (echo from what walls, he wasn’t sure).
Ren simply nodded in response, wincing at the movement. He noted a flicker of relief in a glance shared between the twins.
“Lavenza, you may take your true form, if you wish.” Igor called; in a different voice from his usual gravelly timbre. Instead, it was smooth - high pitched and nasally. Ren’s surprise must have been evident in his expression, because the man chuckled and continued. “My apologies, Amamiya Ren, this must certainly be a confusing situation for you.
“My name is Igor, and I am the true master of the Velvet Room. The previous entity you knew under this name was a mere impostor who stole my name and assumed my face. His name was Yaldabaoth, the false God of Control. He has since vacated this space: upon the death of his pawns, he has given up his game and taken direct action himself.”
“...Death?” Ren’s voice escaped his lips, unbidden. “Wh- whose death?”
Two pairs of small hands reached for his own, resting gently over his fingers. In front of his eyes, the two sets merged together into one, along with their child-like owners - combining into one consolidated form. In front of him now stood a small girl with flowing silver hair and gleaming yellow eyes. A butterfly clip rested in her hair. Lavenza , his mind supplied.
“I am so sorry, my dear Trickster. I have failed you.” Tears welled at the corners of her overbright eyes, both new and achingly familiar. “This was truly an unjust game.”
Ah , his memories clicked into place, it’s me. I’m the one who died.
He reached his arms forward, stiff, and willed them to circle around the child. He held her close as she wept. Her form was new to him, but he knew her, and he loved her implicitly. Her pain ached in his chest more than his own regrets. “It’s not your fault, Lavenza.” The girl only sniffled in response.
“What happened to the others?” Ren sniffed, words dry and cracked. If Shido had killed him , then…
“Your teammates are safe.” Igor assured him. “The false god has returned them to their ordinary lives, none the wiser. They do not remember their days as Phantom Thieves, nor their time with you.” Ren’s breath caught in his throat, and Igor stared back at him, an apology written in his eyes. “It’s an unexpected kindness, given the situation.”
Ren could only nod. Lavenza clung tighter to him, and he focused on providing the child what comfort he could, before taking a deep breath.
“... and what about Akechi?”
Igor’s lips twisted up into the beginnings of a smile and opened his mouth, but his answer was cut off by an enraged shout from the distance. Ren’s heart jumped into his throat - he knew this voice .
“IGOR, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”
The form of Akechi Goro came into focus on the horizon, growing in size as he strode toward the man at the desk with a fire in his eyes. He wore tan slacks, sneakers, and a grey hoodie not dissimilar to Ren’s own. Ren’s gut filled with a mix of relief, and the errant observation that this might be the most casual Ren had ever seen the detective.
“I HAVE BEEN WALKING AWAY FROM HERE FOR HOURS AND YOU DARE TURN THIS FUCKING CARNIVAL BACK AROUND ON ME?!” Akechi was practically screeching and spitting profanities at the long-nosed man as he approached. “FUCK! YOU! LET! ME! OUT!”
“Akechi Goro,” Igor’s voice boomed, commanding yet calm. “I have done nothing to keep you here - it is the simple nature of this room. It will always return you to where you need to be.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU IMBECILE!” Akechi’s eyes were closed, face pinched, as he met them in the center of the room (?). “Do you really think- ”
Akechi opened his eyes, wine met gunmetal, and Ren simply watched as the brunet cycled through a series of emotions.
Recognition, first and foremost, played at his features as his eyes shot wide. Then, confusion, narrowed eyes - suspicion - followed quickly by a flickering of disbelief, relief, betrayal, and coming to settle on pure, unbridled rage .
“ You .” Akechi stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Ren. “No. No, no, tell me this isn’t real.” Akechi shut his eyes again, rubbed them with his fists. Blinked once, twice, three times. “I have to be hallucinating. This can’t be real... Amamiya, you IDIOT! ”
Akechi advanced on Ren and Lavenza quickly released her grip and ducked away in time for Akechi to grasp the raven’s collar and hoist him to a standing position. He leaned in, furious . “You got yourself killed, didn’t you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ren met Akechi’s molten gaze head on, begged his mind to summon even a sliver of Joker’s resolve. He catalogued his own feelings; relief that Akechi was safe, surprise at his open display of rage, grief reminding him of why it was possible that they were both here together, and the guilt of knowing that both of their fates rested on Ren’s own failures.
Where Akechi had landed at rage, Ren landed at shame.
Ren looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Akechi threw him back against the sofa, ignoring the way Ren winced. He turned away as his voice caught in his throat. “No, you’re not.”
Ren folded forward, sinking his face into his hands, as the sound of Akechi’s footsteps faded out into the distance.
Akechi still hadn’t returned by the time Ren spoke up again.
“If I’m dead, then why am I here?”
Igor answered without pause. “You are a wildcard who was unable to complete his journey.”
“I know that.” Ren sighed, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw static. Rub it in, why don’t you, Igor. “That doesn’t answer why I’m in the velvet room, though.”
“If I may,” The soft melodic tones of Lavenza’s voice met his ears, and some of the tension melted from Ren’s shoulders. Her voice was calm and soothing; a welcome change from the sorrowful tones it carried upon Ren’s arrival. Ren looked up to meet her gaze, and she took his hand in hers.
“I am a denizen of the Velvet Room by birth. I was created here by forces unknown to mortal kind to guide you along in your journey, and I have never been anything else. The Velvet Room is the source of my existence, so I inhabit it. However, there is more than one way to become a resident of the Velvet Room.” She offered him a smile, and he returned it with a reassuring squeeze of her delicate fingers. “Your journey doesn’t have to end now, my dear Trickster.”
Ah. So that was Igor’s angle. He summoned Ren here to offer him a second chance. A chance to fix things, and set them right.
So, what was the catch, then?
Ren turned to Igor. “So what, then? Are you going to trap me here and force me to serve you for the rest of time?” Ren’s words were harsh, but his tone was steady.
“Nothing of the sort.” Igor chuckled, his airy, nasally voice still alarming to Ren’s unaccustomed ears. “You have a choice, of course. Although, your options are quite limited at this point.”
“And what would those options be?”
Igor pressed his lips into a line. “First, you could join the sea of souls, where mortal souls go upon their deaths. There, you would accept your death and cease to exist.” Lavenza’s expression strained at Igor’s words.
“Second,” the man continued, “you could remain here for eternity. There is nothing keeping you here, but nothing forcing you to leave, either. However, there is no way out. Do not forget that you have died, Amamiya Ren. Your mortal life has ended, and you cannot go back.” His voice grew lower - a warning - and Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. His gaze fell to his hand, gently clasped in between Lavenza’s own. She hadn’t let go, still gazing up at him with hope and wonder in her eyes.
“The third option available to you-” Ren blinked, lifting his gaze again to meet Igor’s steely expression as he continued. “-is to sign a contract with me, and become a resident of the Velvet Room. There are rules, of course, but you would continue your existence, although altered in nature. We would give you the opportunity to aid the next wildcard - perhaps you could use your knowledge and experience to assist them in achieving the goals that you were not able to reach yourself.”
To Ren, the choice was clear; Igor’s contract was the only real option. Ren didn’t want to die - didn’t want to be erased from existence in the way the sea of souls would cause him to be. He…
He’d fucked up. Badly.
Igor was giving him an option to right his wrongs - indirectly, sure, but it was better than nothing.
Lavenza - poor, sweet Lavenza - stared up at him with her pleading, watery gaze.
Ren knew what choice he needed to make. But…
Ren smiled at Lavenza and turned to Igor. “I need to think about this. Please allow me some time.” Igor nodded in response.
Ren knew what he had to do:
He needed to find Akechi.