Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Going to Leblanc the second time since coming back should not have been this stressful.

It was just Leblanc. Futaba’s and everyone else’s favorite hangout space. Somewhere completely normal, somewhere she had spent hours idling on her laptop, or spending time with Akira, or having curry with Sojiro. Leblanc wasn’t a boss room.

But it was a flag.

She threw open the door to Leblanc before anxiety could paralyze her further. “Take me to school, Sojiro!”

“Well, someone’s eager,” Sojiro said with a smile. It quickly disappeared, however. “Why?”

And that was probably why she was nervous. She guessed he realized he brought the mood down, because he quickly relented. “Hey, don’t look so down. I’ll take you. Just let me get ready first.”

Then the smell of curry hit her. “Wait! Curry first, then school.”

“You were planning on going without eating first?” Sojiro asked.

“I came here, didn’t I?” Only because she knew Sojiro was here, and definitely not because she wanted breakfast. Which, judging by her stomach, was a good idea anyway.

“Heh. Alright, as long as you eat it quick. Don’t want to be late, especially since…” He trailed off, suspicion probably returning.

Futaba knew, logically, that she was acting very out of character. Going back in character wasn’t exactly something she wanted to do, what with everything that entailed, but then that left a very confused Sojiro wondering what happened to her. Which she didn’t know how to deal with.

The best she could do was take advantage of his kindness for probably the millionth time so that Futaba could do what she wanted. At least in this case, Sojiro wanted the same thing.

Futaba sat at the counter. “I want to go to high school.”

He sputtered. “H-How? That’s… isn’t it too late to apply?”

“Probably,” Futaba admitted, “but I can still try! We could show them how good my grades are! And just ignore everything else!”

“Even if we found somewhere that did that, this close to the start of the school year I doubt you’d get in.” Sojiro sighed, scooping out some curry. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to go, Futaba – I’d be incredibly proud of you if you did, but – look, I’ll see what we can do today. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

It was better than nothing. “Thanks,” she said, as she started eating.

“Why the sudden change, though?” Sojiro asked. “Is it to do with… whatever it is that’s got you coming here?”

Wasn’t that a question.

There was no good answer to that that didn’t sound wrong to Futaba’s ears. She wondered if this was how Sojiro felt when she locked herself in her room, not knowing how to talk to the girl that didn’t want anything to do with the world.

She’d been thinking about it for a while. This was probably the longest she’d ever gone without contact from any of her friends, even if it was just because Akira lived at Leblanc and she saw him at least every second day. That lack of anything weighed on her like a permanent debuff.

If they had responded to Alibaba – if they remembered – what would that have meant? Would she be being forced along with Ann so the latter could buy her a weal wardrobe (again)? Would Ryuji have come over to play games with her? Would Haru have relaxed in Leblanc, restoring health to everyone around?

Futaba needed that, she thought. Her HP was far too low.

And yet…

She didn’t need them. Hadn’t she proven that to herself, when she went to Akihabara on her own? She’d survived the crowded electronics department for minutes and felt fine. Considering Prometheus, it seemed like the world, or at least the Metaverse, agreed with her.

If she had to go solo for now… she would. High school was an endgame dungeon, but hadn’t Futaba been buffing everyone to obscene levels already? All she had to do was turn those buffs inward and one-shot everything. And if some assists showed up, all the better.

Sojiro interpreted her silence differently. “It’s not about…”

“It’s not Mom,” Futaba said quickly. “Or – it kinda is? But it isn’t. You get it?”

“Not at all. But if it’s got you in a good mood, maybe I shouldn’t question it.” He chuckled. “Any schools you were thinking of in particular?”

“Shuujin Academy. It’s in Aoyama-Itchome.” She thought a little, then added, “Also Kosei High School in Shibuya, but that’s a last resort.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“I don’t like foxes.”

“…Right.”

Going to school did not distract Futaba from everything. What it did do was make her check the group chat over and over – or rather, the space where it used to be – which led into checking if anyone had responded to her Alibaba text over and over. (Which might have led to being ignored by everyone at school, but that was fine.)

All she got from that was that most of them had blocked her fake number. (Did Inari know how to do that? Did Haru safely know how to do that?) She couldn’t blame them for that, but… Futaba knew what being an outcast felt like. She knew rejection; she had lived in isolation for years. If her friends didn’t accept her this time she… she didn’t want to know what that would feel like.

“They will,” Prometheus said.

“You can’t know that.”

“Can’t I? I was Necronomicon for a time. That arcane knowledge might still dwell within me.”

“Shouldn’t you be more certain about that?”

“As should you. Your belief in yourself is unwavering. Extend it to those who would surround you.”

Technically if she was questioning her Persona then her belief wasn’t that solid… but maybe it was right anyway. Still. She needed to focus. Futaba shook her head.

If she had any hope of getting into high school – let alone getting into Shuujin – she needed to act fast. Forget entrance exams, they were posting the results soon. Convincing someone to let her take them and/or admit her was going to be near impossible.

But not completely so.

Even with her absences, Futaba had the advantage of near perfect grades on her side. Said absences could be explained by her grief over her mother’s death. (And if they prodded too far on that, well. For once it wouldn’t be Futaba not understanding the rules of social interaction.) Her homeroom teacher was, as far as she could tell, supportive enough that Futaba didn’t feel afraid to approach her.

Then again, she also felt overbearing. “Oh! I’m so glad you’ve decided to continue on after all!” she exclaimed, loudly enough that the whole school could probably hear it. “Your grades were so good it would have been a waste, you know.”

“Isn’t it way too late to apply?” Futaba asked.

“Don’t worry about that too much,” the teacher said. “I’ll talk to the principal and we’ll see if we can’t get you in anywhere. Recommendations from this school hold a lot of weight, you know.”

That was news to Futaba. Was she just not paying enough attention last time? …Of course not, she was probably planning on dying at that point. (A thought Prometheus reacted to, but she didn’t dwell on it.)

What followed for the rest of that week was a long series of after-school talks with Sojiro, her homeroom teacher, and the principal, about Futaba’s school life (non-existent, but they didn’t need to know that), her grades (perfect, thank you very much), why she left this decision so late (…she didn’t have a good excuse for that one) and whether Futaba had any specific high schools in mind. Shuujin and Kosei raised a few eyebrows, but the principal did say he’d contact both.

And there were still final exams next week. She’d never been this tired after exploring a Palace.

“Remember what you are doing this for.”

Despite the exhaustion, Futaba nodded. She’d promised Kana-chan they would start high school. In the other timeline, in the future, but that still counted! (Would count? Whatever.) There was no way she was breaking that promise, even if – no, especially if – Kana couldn’t fulfil it anymore. On that note, new item for her promise list: Contact Kana-chan and reconnect with her.

Mementos wasn’t available to her, but Futaba wondered how well she could blackmail Kana’s parents into not abusing their daughter.

The other reason for speedrunning the transition to high school was… it was a very faint hope, she knew that, but if she was the only one who came back, maybe her friends’ memories were related to her? So maybe there was some kind of Futaba-related trigger, like her voice, or face, or touch. If so, being at school gave her the best chance possible for something to happen.

It was something to cling to, at least.

She didn’t have much to lose… aside from a huge chunk of her time every day, which actually was kinda asking a lot. Everyone else did it, but they were actually normal functioning human beings, even Inari (somewhat). School would seriously hamper her information gathering. And hacking. And sleeping. And gaming. And anime.

…okay why was she going through with this-

“Remember who you are doing this for.”

“Yeah yeah, I get it.”

Futaba only vaguely remembered her middle school graduation last time. Mostly because the school forced her to go, and by that point she wasn’t… good. Fear overrode everything.

And now, sitting in the school auditorium waiting for her name to be called, she was afraid the fear would come back. Even though it had no reason to this time around. She was anxious about becoming anxious. Prometheus tried to calm her, but her Persona was never perfect at that.

She spotted Sojiro in the audience and forced herself to – tried to – She took deep breaths, which might have helped a little bit. It was hard to tell with so many people surrounding her.

The principal called her name, and she stood, and moved forward, and accepted her certificate, and bowed to the audience, and moved back to her sear, and collapsed in it. One part done, at least.

If any of the girls near her were talking about her, looking at her, judging her – well. Futaba would never see them again. It was a small comfort.

“I will admit, I was very concerned about your attendance record,” Principal Kobayakawa said.

They – Futaba and Sojiro – had come to Shuujin, for the former to take its entrance exam. Or at least, that was what Futaba’s middle school principal had said, but from how much Kobayakawa was complaining about her it felt far more like an interrogation than any sort of introduction. She really, really, wanted him to stop.

“I’m not heartless, of course. Obviously I understand how painful it must be to lose a loved one – and at such a young age, too! But I believe you can’t let that get in the way of your education.”

Futaba hoped her glare wasn’t too obvious. Sojiro didn’t seem to care, judging by his own.

“With that in mind, though this is an unusual situation, we have permitted you to take our exams and, potentially, join a school which will greatly further your education. With your grades I dare say you’ll pass it with flying colors, but there are procedures to be followed, aren’t there? There’s-“

“And that’s it?” Sojiro interrupted. “No tricks, no other requirements? Nothing else she needs to do?”

“We’ll be monitoring her attendance quite closely, Sakura-san.” Which probably translated to even if you break a bone you better damn well come to school. “But we will expect her to hold herself to the same standard we expect all our students to. Futaba-kun, I trust that you will be able to?”

“Yes, Principal Kobayakawa.” She wanted to get out of here.

“Then yes, that is all, Sakura-san.” He returned his gaze to Futaba. “That just leaves the exam, doesn’t it? I’ve called over our student council president to supervise you while you’re undertaking the exam – she’ll be here soon, I presume. Now, Sakura-san, I’d just like a few more words about…”

Futaba stopped listening quickly.

The student council president? As in Makoto? Now? She wasn’t prepared for this sort of random encounter! What if she recognized her? What if seeing Futaba triggered her recognition? What if she didn’t? Could Futaba do something to make her –

When the door opened, Futaba squeaked. When Makoto entered, scanning the room before settling on her, Futaba’s heart nearly stopped.

“You’re Futaba Sakura?”

Futaba nodded.

“I’m Makoto Niijima.” She bowed. “Come with me, I’ll get you set up.”

She wasn’t ready for this. Maybe she should have expected it, half the reason she wanted to go to Shuujin was because her friends were there, but she didn’t think she’d see them now! Was Futaba supposed to – do something, trip some kind of flag or do a special move to make them remember? Visual didn’t work, maybe sound? Some kind of cheat code?

“Futaba?”

“Gnnhrrh.”

…she’d been standing there like an idiot, hadn’t she.

Sojiro cleared his throat. “Futaba, are you-“

“I’m fine, Sojiro.” Not. “Come on, let’s go.” She hoped she sounded optimistic, because while Futaba was confident she could ace whatever exams they threw at her, now that Makoto was here…

What she wanted to do, although maybe not in a place as public as the hallways of Shuujin, was tackle hug Makoto and revel in the contact with the older girl. She wanted to – to tease her about her brainiac status, whether studying for university and aikido training and certified Student Council President Business was keeping her busy because of course it was, right? And in return Futaba could nerd out about the MMO she was playing because she knew with enough pressure Makoto would cave and that would mean all the Phantom Thieves were finally together for raid night.

She wanted her Makoto back. Right now, this Makoto was a stranger.

The exams weren’t hard. Futaba expected as much, but it was a relief all the same.

Makoto being here was not. Supervising Futaba in the classroom, presumably so the younger girl didn’t cheat, that was fair enough – but it was near impossible to focus on exams with one of your friends nearby who had no idea who you were. Futaba couldn’t look at her without getting distracted, which in turn meant everything else in the room became very distracting. The recently cleaned-but-not-really blackboard behind her, for example.

Her neck hurt.

Something beeped, and Makoto looked at their phone. “That’s time,” she said. “Pencils down, Sakura-san.”

Futaba immediately collapsed on the table.

“I take it that means you didn’t do as well as you hoped?”

“I did fine.” She leaned back on the chair, head hanging over. “I think. My neck hurts.”

“Movement can help with that,” Makoto said. “I think.”

The ensuing pack-everything-away session was extremely awkward. Whatever Makoto was thinking of, it was almost definitely not time travel related. But Futaba didn’t want to stop believing that maybe, there was something she could do, something she could say –

“Hey, does the word ‘Mementos’ mean anything to you?” she asked.

“Mementos?” Makoto repeated. “A Latin word for objects that serve to remind, I believe.” She frowned. “I don’t think that was in the test, though.”

“Yeah, stupid question.” Futaba sighed. “Sorry.”

The silence that followed was worse. Futaba was almost done packing before Makoto spoke up. “I want to reassure you that if you do come to Shuujin Academy, I am someone you can talk to. The Student Council is the voice of the student body, and whatever your problems may be, we will listen and act on them.”

“Um, thanks.” Futaba didn’t know pre-Thief Makoto that well, but this sounded extremely rehearsed.

Maybe it showed on her face, because Makoto continued. “I’ve been told we’re not approachable,” she said, frowning. “It’s… something I’m trying to work on for this year, and, well…”

“What if,” Futaba said slowly, an idea forming. This wasn’t her Makoto, but right now Futaba had no one, even if that was painful to admit. ”What if you guided the new students around? Showed them where everything is, like their classrooms and stuff?” Maybe she couldn’t make them remember now, but…

“Well, that’s something the teachers are doing,” Makoto said. “But I could bring that up at our next meeting.”

“Okay, but what about you you? We could exchange phone numbers so you could do that for me! I’d probably be completely lost without you. Definitely.” Futaba grinned.

Makoto frowned again. “We don’t know if you’ll be admitted yet.”

Well, time to be direct. “How about exchanging numbers as friends then?”

“We don’t even know each other, Sakura-san.” Makoto said, and Futaba was glad she was looking away because that hurt. “And I’d be busy with student council duties anyway.”

“You can’t be busy all the time though. And I don’t… I don’t really have any friends right now.”

If Futaba reconnected with all of the Thieves, could that trigger anything? The Power of Friendship was a cliché for a reason. (And possibly how Akira’s Personas worked, if she understood his explanation right.) And even if no one remembered, if everything had to be rebuilt…

It was almost too much to think about. But the alternative was as almost bad as her tomb. Paths like that, where Futaba shut herself off from the rest of the world – she’d sworn to never follow them again, in the depths of her Palace. Her friends would ensure that, even if they didn’t know it.

“Neither do I,” Makoto half-whispered, softly enough that Futaba almost missed it. “…Fine. I accept. It can’t be too bad talking about things outside of school.”

“Alright!” Futaba said, as the two exchanged numbers. “TTYL, Makoto!”

“Makoto-senpai. And – wait, Niijima-senpai. And ‘TTYL’? What does that even mean?”

“So, I found a very interesting letter in our mailbox-“

“I got in, didn’t I.” Futaba grinned at Sojiro.

“What – I haven’t even opened it yet!”

“What? Then why the dramatic reveal? You were gonna be like ‘oh I hate to be the bearer of bad news Futaba, and I told you to keep your expectations low’ and then BAM! Hit me with the acceptance letter! Isn’t that right?”

“Sheesh,” Sojiro grumbled through his smile. “You won’t even let an old man be dramatic?”

“Eh, as an old man you’d probably screw something up.”

“I’m not that old!”

Unsurprisingly, Futaba got accepted. Step one complete.

Now to figure out what the other steps were.