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[He takes all it in, the next time he looks at his phone. And then, stepping into the kitchen for a moment, he hits "call".

When and if Shrike picks up the phone, he will hear what is very clearly Ren Amamiya sobbing like a mad thing in the background.]

[There's a pause on the other side, and then a sigh.

It's probably healing for Ren, ultimately - something that needs to be done. An Entrance Fee of cutting off his shackles.

But the silence on the other end of the line speaks louder even than the sobs. It's clear that Sparrow is at his wits' end.]

I'll come over. It'll be about fifteen minutes.

[His words are quiet, just in case he's on speaker, and then he hangs up.]

[Fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds later... Knock knock.

Don't ask how he knows where you live, Sparrow. He used to live in this apartment complex too, once upon a time.]

[Shrike can probably hear him running to the door. He opens it, and a wave of very un-Sparrowlike terror washes out past him. Then again, you could just look at his face.]

Come in.

[Ren has quietened a bit, but only from exhaustion. Sparrow steps aside to let Shrike in.]

Edited 2024-02-09 10:44 (UTC)

[Shrike, perhaps surprisingly, is weighted down by what appears to be several containers of takeout draped over his arms. The smell of ramen shop accompanies him, though one of the bags is a reusable plastic one stuffed with sports drinks. Hydration, electrolytes, a bottle of pain-killers in his pocket - he came prepared.

When Sparrow opens the door, he slides in slightly sideways to set the bags on the counter without spilling any of them.]

Is he at immediate risk of harming himself?

[He leaves off the "or others," because the only person here is Sparrow, and he seems fine aside from general distress at the situation. That much, at least, isn't a worry.]

If not, it's probably better that you tell me as much as you can about what prompted him into this state.

I don't know. [He says this with almost the air of any Akechi who's gone over and over something for twenty minutes and come up blank—albeit with a good dose of fear underlaying the frustration.]

We had a disagreement, about—about what I remember, mainly. About our world. It didn't end poorly. He wanted to be alone, so I was going to leave him for the evening. But I'd only been gone a few moments when he—[God, it had been the worst thing he ever heard, and he still hasn't shaken it]—began to scream.

He was downcast when I left, but nothing like this. He was, um, communicative. He was stable.

Edited 2024-02-09 11:03 (UTC)

[Shrike listens while he finishes setting things out on the counter. Drinks, bottle of pills. There's like five kinds of ramen here. It's fine, Sparrow or Ren can eat the leftovers later. It's not like it cost him anything.]

That might be exactly why - lots of people can push their emotions off until they're alone, or think they're alone. And then once they have that thin veneer of privacy, everything comes spilling out.

[He's calm, like he's seen this before. He has, in many ways. It wasn't uncommon, after all, for Players to go find an alleyway to give in to their despair, when they realized how much things were stacked against them. Even if they knew consciously that no one on the busy streets could see them, they still didn't want to be so openly seen.

Some of them never left those alleys, but for all that he was a murderer in the Realground, Shrike never preyed upon them. He left them alone, to start with. After the first year, well, he started given them what help he could. It's not like his prospects had seemed much better at the time.]

By your account, which his behavior and words corroborate, he has been functionally alone for some time. And then, today, he's found himself suddenly in a new place, where people can see and interact with him.

That just by itself is probably overwhelming for him.

He said that.

[Glancing through to the front room to check that Ren is at least safe, he starts taking items from the counter and putting them away in the fridge. The bottles of painkillers he leaves in plain sight on the counter.]

That I "saw him now", when I didn't at home. But what are we going to do? [His voice drops to an undertone; he is very determined that Ren should not hear.] I've never seen anyone like this. Will he recover?

[Of course he has. His mother was often like this, when he was a small boy. It's just that in the world he remembers, none of that happened—and if it did, it never bothered him.]

Edited 2024-02-09 11:34 (UTC)

Leave some of the drinks out, at least. He'll need the hydration as soon as he can form sentences.

[It's a safe bet that even if this other him has ever cried and screamed like this, he doesn't remember it. Doesn't know how to take care of the basic physical needs that go along with it. Fluids, salty fluids, and painkillers.

Shrike's voice was already quiet, and as kind as he can make it.]

Unfortunately, recovery is ultimately in his hands. It's a decision that he has to make for himself - all we can do until then is make sure that he knows that, at least here, he isn't alone.

[Once the majority of things are put away, Shrike takes a moment to make sure that this apartment comes pre-set with enough bowls, cups, and everything else they might need. Or perhaps he's enforcing their existence through the act of checking for them. It's hard to say.]

Trying to force him into it... No matter how many times you reach out to someone, they still have to take your hand. You can't do that for them, not without erasing what makes them a person.

I won't lie to you. It's thankless work, sometimes. It fucking sucks when it feels like you can't do anything to help someone, only watch them suffer.

[Glancing back in acknowledgement, he obediently leaves some of the drinks on the counter.]

You're speaking from experience.

[That, at least, he knows when he hears it.]

For a long time, I was that person who refused to take anyone's hand. Even when I was at my lowest point...

[He pauses, sighs, and pulls out his phone, more to himself than anything. Whatever he flicks open in his photos to reminisce about, he doesn't show to Sparrow, at least for the moment.]

...I didn't believe that anyone would find me worthy of such care, and so I was blind to every hand extended to me. The person who was able to change my mind...

[He hesitates, but then continues: ]

You asked me before, if the Game I help run is dangerous. The truest answer is that it's not dangerous to bystanders. For those of us Playing...

She pushed me out of the way of something that should have killed me. The extended hands that woke me up were the ones that pushed me to the ground, when Mio sacrificed herself for me.

[Ren is still sniffling on the front room floor, exhausted; that limits the amount of attention Sparrow can pay to something he wouldn't have understood at the best of times. He can't help wondering what is on that phone, though, that Shrike's staring down at with such feeling—plus, something about the idea of sacrifice feels like it should leave a bruise under his breastbone.]

You mean, she..? [Thankfully, even he knows enough to cut that off. That answers the question of what's on the phone.]

I'm very sorry to hear that. I suppose I know a little about pushing people away. What about Ren, though?

[He'd like to hear more, and might even ask later. But first things first.]

Edited 2024-02-09 12:09 (UTC)

[First things first! It's still a moment before Shrike slides his phone away.]

I think he'll have problems accepting help, because he thinks this is some kind of... deserved punishment, for something he did in the past involving you.

[A limp smile.]

I'll leave it there to avoid interrupting our conversation for the moment. But unfortunately, because of that belief, it might be that yours are the only hands he'll accept reaching out to him, in a way that makes any meaningful change.

...Ultimately, the emotions he's feeling now won't just disappear. It might be some time before he's able to work through them. Even if he is willing to accept help, this probably will happen again as those feelings work their way to the surface.

[Just so that Sparrow knows what he's getting into, as much as that's possible for him. But it's undoubtably true - as much as Ren has focused in on him, Sparrow is probably the only one here who can pull him out of it.]

... More concretely, it's probably about time to try getting some fluids into him, if he hasn't cried himself to sleep.

[He winces.] You're right. We can't—afford to indulge my issues at this time. But he did say more than once that he'd done something. That everyone in our world was once like him, and someone wanted to change it. That he and I and the others opposed it.

[Which is a remarkable thing for him to have retained, isn't it? If Shrike looks, he'll see nothing new—other than that many of those gold traceries in his mind, covering things up, are far thicker and brighter than they were months ago. Many of the traceries have the feel of being hours old. Turning to the cupboard, he almost fetches a glass—then thinks better of it, and gets a mug, in case Ren's teeth should chatter.]

Of course, I remember none of that. I want to say Ren can have done nothing that merits such guilt, but if he had, I wouldn't know. It does seem, though, that he's burdened by things that can't have been his responsibility alone.

[Oh, Sparrow, if you only knew. He picks up one of those rehydration bottles from the counter, too.]

[ Ren is curled up on the floor, slumped against the side of the comfy armchair that the cognition inhabited before Akechi kicked her out, his arms around his waist like he's trying to hold in his guts. He's trying to catch his breath, except he keeps breaking out into dry, silent sobs, which is making it really difficult, actually. His face feels disgusting, sticky with tears and snot. His eyes hurt, his head hurts, his throat hurts. He feels like someone scooped out his insides with a melon baller. But it's not... a bad feeling. Or, like. It is bad. But it's better than what came before.

Someone else is here. Another Akechi, he thinks, from hearing the voices, but his eyes are closed, and actually tuning in and listening to them seems like an impossible task. So he doesn't. ]

[It is incredible, for that much to have stuck - enough that it takes Shrike by surprise, visibly.

Perhaps it wouldn't have worked, if it was anyone else who told him. Or perhaps the power of time is starting to unwind those threads all on its own.

For now, he pulls a clean hand towel out of a drawer and hands that to Sparrow to take over along with the sports drink.]

I have a few guesses as to what it could be, but no solid information as of yet. Just a hunch.

[Ren 'knows' that Goro Akechi died in the depths of Shido's ship. That's the most logical conclusion, from the way he reacted to hearing that Sparrow was a living person. From there, he could extrapolate in any number of directions, but none of them are things he could voice to the person in front of him without triggering a shutdown.

Instead he just says,]

We've got time. He has time. So we'll worry about the immediate for now.

[It's pretty clear the two of them need to catch up at a better time; now that Sparrow has noticed a few of his episodes, the reason for Shrike's surprise is clear. But as he said, first things first. He takes the towel with a nod, and heads through to Ren's side.

Or rather—he walks through to the living room, then stops. It's an appalling sight. All his conscious ideas of what sadness should look like are drawn in crayon. He has to force himself not to gasp aloud.]

[ He's not quite out of it enough not to notice that someone walked in and stopped. His eyelashes are sticky with tears and he's so fucking tired, but with effort, he opens his eyes.

His Akechi stares down at him, appalled, like he's never seen anything worse than Ren crying. And he hasn't, Ren supposes. The Akechi who walked through the underbelly of Tokyo's unconscious mind is dead. Adjustment, rank two.

His face crumples. He opens his mouth, but all that emerges is a quiet, hiccuping sob. ]

[Yeah, okay, they're going to need help over there, aren't they.

Unseen by the two in the living room, Shrike goes through the motions of a dramatic sigh in silence, before stepping out into the living area. He comes by and gives Sparrow's shoulder a brief squeeze - the inch or two of difference in their heights without shoes will probably make it clear to Ren which Akechi this is even if his vision is still blurry - before half-kneeling beside Ren.]

I won't ask if you're feeling better, but you should at least drink something before you keel over from dehydration. You cried out all the salt and water you can spare.

[Despite the warm tone, there is something distinctly no-nonsense about it. Drink your damn Crocodaid, Ren.]

[It's clear enough what's needed here, yes. Ren can't even look at him. He sets the cloth down by Shrike, with the bottle and mug, before murmuring.]

I'll bring a facecloth.

[Ren does need to wash his face; he is sticky. But he also needs Sparrow out of the way, if he's to recover.]

[ He doesn't stir until Akechi is gone, at which point his face falls even further, a feat Shrike might have believed to be impossible. ] Oh...

[ God, his voice is wrecked. He blinks at Shrike, trying to clear his vision. Trying to think, and not doing very well at that one. This is so humiliating. ] Okay.

[ He sounds like a frog. With shaking hands, he picks up the bottle and opens it. He doesn't intend to drink much, but once he's started, some instinct takes over, and before he knows what's happened he's downed half the bottle. When he finally puts it down, gasping for breath, he feels... a little better. He didn't notice he was thirsty, before. ]

Um. Sorry for the. [ The inconvenience, he means, except he doesn't have the energy or the voice to finish the sentence. Did Akechi call Shrike? ...That's a stupid question. He must have, right? ]

Don't you dare say 'trouble.' Do you need help sitting up?

[The hand he extends to Ren is in a black glove, with a red inner lining, palm and fingers. Outside the Metaverse, it's the kind of thing that must have been special ordered.]

I brought drinks, pain medication, and ramen. You don't have to talk about it if you aren't ready to.

[If he wants to talk, he can. Shrike is pretty sure he will, eventually, so he's not going to push it right now.]

[And Sparrow's back with the washcloth. He stops in the door, to be sure his renewed presence won't distress Ren further.]

[ It's not that Akechi's presence isn't distressing. It's more that if Akechi leaves, that's somehow even worse. Especially if Ren chases him off, if Ren makes him feel like everyone else in this fucking place does apparently— So the look he gives Akechi is complicated, and exhausted, but it contains a thread of hope that Akechi will come back.

Then he takes Shrike's hand and uses it to pull himself upright, so he's not leaning against the armchair anymore. ] Thanks.

[ He noticed the gloves before, but he was scared to ask then and he doesn't have the energy now. Fuck, he's thirsty. He picks up the bottle of Crocodaid and downs the rest of it. ]

[But it's such a relief. As long as Ren doesn't collapse at the sight of Akechi, and is calmer, and even talking, maybe they can get somewhere—ideally to Ren being asleep in bed.

With a faint hope in his own eyes, he fetches another couple of bottles from the kitchen before he returns, to give the warm, damp washcloth to Ren.]

Here you are.

[But it's better if he's not right in Ren's line of sight, surely. Setting the drinks down, he steps aside, so he's there, but not too close. Not in the way.]

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