Chapter Text
Futaba shot up.
She was-
trying to sleep, hoping she would die instead, so full of guilt, despair, self-hatred-
No, she was-
watching everyone disappear, watching herself disappear, as if they were nothing, because they were-
Not that either, she was – she was-
“Breathe.”
She did. In, out. Ignore everything else.
Except it felt like everything was pushing at the front of her mind, and it was all Futaba could do to keep breathing in sync. So many memories – her mother’s death, her refusal to go to school, all the time she spent in her room, the Phantom Thieves, the time she spent with them, the Holy Grail – they all tried to slot themselves in her mind, finding space where there was none, and Futaba could do nothing but wait.
When her mind slowed down and she could actually think, finally, Futaba opened her eyes.
She actually was in her room, sitting up on her bed. Everything looked normal as far as she could tell, except for the garbage everywhere. Didn’t Akira clean that up at some point? Why was it all back?
No, of course it was back, it hadn’t… left yet. Something was happening with memories and timelines, she could tell that much, but... Futaba remembered trying to go to sleep last night, hoping to see her mom, and if she succeeded she couldn’t remember. Except... that was the previous timeline? Yeah, it had to be. Definitely had to be. Because what actually happened yesterday… involved her disintegrating in the middle of Shibuya.
So then… “I went back in time?”
“Yes,” Prometheus said.
“Oh shit.”
Everything she had all but confirmed the time travel. Why March 1st of all days, Futaba had no idea, but that wasn’t important.
What was important was… actually Futaba wasn’t sure, because she didn’t exactly want to go back to dying. Was this some kind of twisted second chance? Did the Holy Grail do this? Was her Palace back?
“You have heard me several times now.”
“It can’t hurt to check,” she mumbled, unlocking her phone.
Her background was meant to be a picture of the Phantom Thieves celebrating after they took down Shido. The one specifically where Ryuji spilled his cola over Morgana, who had the most disgusted look she had ever seen on him and maybe every cat in general. It was perfect. She made Yusuke turn it into an emote for the group chat.
Instead it was Featherman.
More importantly, the MetaNav was missing. None of them really knew how they got it, so maybe she should have expected this? But then how was she supposed to get it back?
How was she supposed to do anything?
What was she supposed to do?
She… really wanted to call Akira. But his number wasn’t there. She barely had any, only Sojiro and a few she recognised as social service workers or Uncle Yoji. And Futaba could find Akira’s phone number and everyone else’s, but that would take time, and right now…
She didn’t want to be alone.
Slowly, she forced herself out of bed and got dressed. Futaba knew Leblanc was open.
The Sayuri wasn’t there. Futaba didn’t need more evidence, but it already made Leblanc feel off. The painting belonged there. Looking at that empty space and knowing that, knowing that she'd seen it just a day ago, as opposed to whatever was going on with her memories…
She really had gone back.
…and since that was true, had anyone else? Like-
“Futaba?”
Like Sojiro.
“Are... are you alright?” he said hesitantly, staring at her. As if she would bolt and run out of the store.
“I think so?” Futaba replied. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”
“Something happened yesterday?”
Her heart sank. “No,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She didn’t want to worry him. Not now. “Nothing important anyway.” It was technically true.
“If you say so.” He turned back to the curry. “Are you… Do you want-“
“Yeah.”
Even for Leblanc curry, it was hard to feel excited, even if she could see Sojiro smiling while he cooked it. He was acting... like when she first came to Leblanc back in August, when she left her house for the first time in months. She could tell just how overjoyed he was at the time, and silently apologised for worrying him so much, but it did seem like his happiness rubbed off on her. Futaba didn’t think she would’ve invited Akira back to her room without it.
Seeing it again now had the opposite effect. Futaba groaned, then put her face in her hands and hoped Sojiro ignored it.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Sojiro was supposed to remember, and if he didn’t then — did anyone else? Did any of the Phantom Thieves remember? Did they remember her? It was still early morning, it wasn’t like they’d contact her yet, but... if Futaba didn’t have their contact info then most likely they didn’t have hers either.
Without the Phantom Thieves, because there was no guarantee Akira and whoever else there was would form the group... without that, could she make friends with them?
“Here,” Sojiro said, laying down a plate of deliciously distracting curry. “Should be just like you remember.”
He was right, but only because Futaba had had had it two days ago. From her perspective anyway, which didn’t mean much. Besides, what really mattered was that it tasted amazing. Good old Leblanc.
…Should she tell him about the time travel?
“He would not believe you,” Prometheus told her bluntly.
Probably true, but Futaba was fine now, she could handle the world kind of maybe-
“And would he believe that? Would telling him not worry him more? Isn’t that what you want to avoid?”
Her Persona had a point, but while sitting in Leblanc helped, its familiar atmosphere grounding her, reminding Futaba she was real, everything was normal… Sojiro didn’t understand. He was happy, of course, that his shut-in daughter was able to go outside on her own, but he didn’t know why.
He didn’t know that Futaba had conquered her own Palace and stolen her heart. Or that she’d made friends – invaluable, lifelong friends that would support her every step of the way towards being normal. Or that she’d witnessed the entire country turn on the people she loved. Or that she, well, died.
Thinking of it like that made the whole time travel thing not too bad, honestly. But Futaba still needed to tell someone. Not just to confirm it was real, but… just to not feel so alone.
She tried to think about other things, as she ate. She was probably supposed to go to school, especially since graduation was coming up. Scary, but bearable now. (Bearable. She wondered how many days she went in last year. Probably less than fifty.) Next month was – Oh.
“When’s Akira showing up?”
Sojiro turned around immediately. “How do you know about that?” It wasn’t anger, just… shock. Still. She shouldn’t know about that? Maybe. Even with the bug in Leblanc.
“I… think I overhead you mention him once?”
Sojiro continued to look at her, but eventually – thankfully – responded. “Yeah, he's on probation for an assault charge. According to him this old man was harassing this woman, he intervened, and the guy got injured because of it.”
He looked away, missing the deepening scowl on Futaba’s face. Before she could think about it more, he spoke up again. “Will you be alright with him at home? He can stay here if that’s easier. There’s an attic.”
Futaba was pretty sure what he really meant was ‘are you mentally well enough to handle actually living with someone’. Which was understandable for Palace Futaba, but not Future Futaba. And besides, he was her key item. You can’t just refuse key items. Blasphemous.
“I’ll be fine. Maybe he’s not as bad as he looks!” Of course he wasn’t, she knew that, but she couldn’t sound too eager right now in front of a Sojiro who hadn’t even met the kid yet. There was definitely something about Akira that made him look right at home in a dusty old café attic, amid the atmosphere of coffee, curry and occasional customers from down below.
But Akira deserved a real room with a real bed. How did he not have back problems from sleeping on milk crates? Then again it wasn't like Futaba could talk, she’d fallen asleep hunched over peering at her screen one too many times.
Sojiro was still looking at her. “Are you sure?” he asked eventually. “I mean... with you...”
“I’ll be fine,” Futaba repeated. “You... You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“Like I’d ever stop doing that,” Sojiro replied. He glanced at the clock, and then went to the curry again. “There’ll probably be customers arriving soon. Maybe you should head back.”
Futaba might have objected, but… “Yeah. I have some stuff to figure out.”
So. Who remembered?
The obvious answer was 'just the Phantom Thieves'. Then it would make sense that Sojiro didn’t — he wasn’t there when they faded out of existence. In theory, all Futaba would have to do was wait and they’d find her. In reality… she didn’t know.
“Akira’s coming soon,” Futaba muttered to herself. “Yusuke should still be at Kosei, right? Then everyone else’s at Shuujin. But I can’t just go there... And then there’s Mona too...”
She flopped onto her desktop pillow. “Ugh. This is annoying.”
It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to get everyone’s contact info (Akira’s was surprisingly easy, but then again Futaba had bugged Leblanc, so it evened out a little), but there was a nagging fear that they didn’t remember, and she didn’t know which would be worse — being rejected now over text, or rejected later in person.
She never really admitted it to her friends, but that week where everyone helped her come out of her shell was the best week of her life. It had become so, so easy to just talk to everyone after that, and after being isolated without anyone to talk to for so long being accepted into their group despite being a shut-in nerd had left Futaba eternally grateful.
If Futaba lost that, she... didn't know what she would do.
“I hate this,” Futaba said, as she moved to her bed. A nap sounded really nice now. She wouldn’t have to think.
Not that the anxiety listened while she laid there trying to fall asleep.
If Futaba didn’t leave her room, she could pretend, just for a bit, that nothing had happened. The Phantom Thieves were still there. Futaba could text them at any time but just wanted to be alone right now. They understood.
Or maybe she just wanted an excuse to stay cooped up after not hearing from anyone for the past few days. It wasn’t like she could keep the illusion up, considering Pink Argus was her lock screen instead of her friends. It almost felt like a dream, like her Palace was back, suffocating her, telling her she would die here. No hallucinations of her mother or any blame-pointing voices, thankfully. Yet.
It was more that… she felt numb. She tried catching up on anime she hadn’t seen yet, except the majority of them hadn’t even started. Same thing with her game backlog. All this time and she couldn’t even do anything important.
The day after she visited Leblanc, Sojiro left her breakfast as usual, then asked if she was coming to the café again. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “Maybe.”
“Alright,” he responded. “Don’t push yourself, okay?”
She didn’t go. Sojiro might have sounded more tired than usual when he came home that night, but Futaba was too busy hacking something to really pay attention. (Her hacking tools were so out of date now… or would be? Could be? Either way, in the end it was less hacking and more updating.) He left her dinner, on a plate outside her room, and when she found it too many hours later Futaba tried not to think about how similar this was to… before.
Was it stupid to think anyone else remembered now? Maybe, but Futaba could contact them and find out, it would be so easy! Except it wasn’t, because they might not remember, and it was better to just continue being unsure about remembering and not remembering until they met in some sort of ridiculously contrived scene where everyone coincidentally caught the same train leading to Makoto trying to lecture Ryuji about chemistry while the latter was way more interested in Akira talking about his hometown with Ann and Morgana and on the other side Haru and Yusuke discussed renaissance styles of art or something and Futaba –
She missed them.
She wasn’t going to find them doing nothing.
At the end of the week, five days after she woke up post-time travel, Futaba forced herself out of her bed and started the process of contacting her friends.
Okumura’s personal phone number obviously wasn’t public, but he had connections, and following them through to him – and thus Haru – was easy enough. On the other hand, Madarame’s number was public. Huh. Shouldn't he be rich enough to have an agent or something? Then again Futaba supposed it would ruin his modest artist image. Hypocrite.
Sae-san’s list of contacts included both Makoto and Akechi. The latter of which she did not want to think about. Futaba wasn't sure how well she succeeded at that, but she added his number anyway in the end. It wasn't like she couldn't find some use for it.
Ann was still modelling, making it easy enough to find her. Ryuji… not so much. Obviously him being so loud wouldn’t make it easier to find his phone number, but it sure would make this easier if it did! She didn’t want to go through Kamoshida, especially from what she’d heard from Ann and Ryuji, but whoever the former track team members were, they were impossible to find. It didn’t leave many options.
Futaba decidedly did not think about how many of Kamoshida’s contacts were high school girls. Or why people were just accepting it. Or why the hell people were going to Shuujin. Or why she was even considering it now when a fucking pedophile was there.
At least she found Ryuji’s mom, which quickly led to Ryuji.
Akira turned out to be surprisingly simple for being from such a small country town. Mona… didn’t have a phone.
If Morgana remembered… he’d have to contact her, especially if he was in the Metaverse. Wasn’t he captured by Kamoshida before Akira rescued him? Not something Futaba could do right now, sadly. (She ignored the voice in the back of her head telling her it was her fault. She hadn’t even met Kamoshida and he was ruining her life.)
She couldn’t contact them as herself. Not yet, not when they might not know anything. Futaba really wished she could, wished she knew for sure everyone had come back remembering everything, but what if they hadn’t? What if they didn’t know and getting a weird text from some girl talking about Phantom Thieves and dying made them hate her? What if she screwed up and lost everyone and completely ruined her chance of getting everyone back?
If they hated her, like her mom – like she thought her mom did… Futaba didn’t know what she would do. It was better – safer – to be anonymous for now. They would understand later. Hopefully.
In the end, after putting it off for hours out of fear and anxiety and guilt, she forced herself to send the following:
alibaba: Greetings.
alibaba: I am Alibaba.
alibaba: Are you aware of who I truly am?
There. Sent. Futaba took a deep breath –
Then immediately put her phone on silent, buried it beneath as many pillows as possible and started up an MMO she’d been playing this time in the old timeline. She’d check her phone… later.
The next day, when she finally did, she found nothing.