#can't stop makin akira and ryuji best buds

[goodestboyryuji]

YOU ASKED. ((this was so fun I love this AU more than anything))

Everyone knew the biggest difference between a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff was the center of loyalty. Slytherin’s had a loyalty to self: self-preservation, personal power, and self-awareness. Hufflepuffs had a loyalty to others: selfless to a fault, kind, forgiving. Gryffindors and Slytherins hated each other the most, but it was Slytherins and Hufflepuffs that held such a personal, quiet distaste for each other, their primary ambitions so opposite. So when Akira--Prefect Slytherin--and Ryuji--rebellious Hufflepuff--form a tight friendship, no one understands what it means. They stare when the two walk down the hallways together, Ryuji’s arm slung around Akira’s shoulders. They whisper when Ryuji’s loud voice fills the library, Akira’s soft “shh” in reply. They give each other looks when Ryuji plops down at the Slytherin table or when Akira slides onto the Hufflepuff bench. It feels like betrayal. But somehow...somehow it looks easy.

When Ryuji retreats to the Hufflepuff common room, apple in his mouth, manga between his hands, sometimes his fellow Huffles corner him before he can get to his room.

“He’s only using you, you know,” they say. Ryuji frowns. “He ain’t, though,” is always his answer as he tries to shove by them. “Keep your wits about you! He’ll stab you in the back the first chance he gets!” “He wouldn’t. I trust him more than I trust halfa you guys!” Ryuji’s tone always so firm, confident, sure of itself. The Hufflepuffs give up, usually, aware that Ryuji is stubborn as hell and wouldn’t agree with them no matter how hard they tried.

And when Akira gets to his common room, pulling at the gloves he always wears, the Slytherins descend like animals on prey.

“He’s making you soft!” they scold.  “Nothing wrong with that,” Akira usually quips. “It’s manipulation! He’ll do some thing that will make you feel like you owe him!” “Oh no! Whatever can I do?!” Akira’s eyes dark with sarcasm and irritation. They part easily as he walks through, all too afraid to continue challenging him.

If anyone bothered to ask the two how, when, and why, they’d learn the truth. Ryuji would shrug, scratching at the back of his head. “He-he reminds me that it’s okay to think about myself sometimes, ya know? I don’t realize when I’m wearin’ myself thin tryin’ to help everyone out. He does, though, and he’s helping me learn how to tell people ‘no’ if I can’t do it. I’m not becoming selfish or anythin’! Nah, nothing like that. Just...ya know. Takin’ care of me like I try to take care of my friends.” Akira would chuckle lightly and take off his glasses, wiping at the lens with the sleeve of his robe. “I can get...carried away, sometimes, when it comes to competition. I know what my strengths are and I’m not afraid to use them, but Ryuji reminds me that my weaknesses can come in handy too. I don’t feel ashamed of the ways I’m not powerful with I’m with him. He’s actually helping me feel more powerful by showing me how to be vulnerable. It’s a balance you don’t often find in Slytherins.”

Then they’d both grin wildly and say something along the lines of, “But y’know, he’s still a selfish dick.” and “Of course, he’s still an overeager dork.”

**

“Close your eyes,” Yusuke instructs. Luna frowns.

“But I want to see it.”

“Afterwards,” he insists. Her frown deepens but her eyes close all the same. Yusuke flexes his wrist back and forth, pencil propped between his fingers. He rolls his neck one way, then the other, and then takes a deep breath. “You may begin,” he informs.

“It’s called a Nargle,” she starts, and reveals what little she knows: close to extinction, lived in mistletoe, definitely not something you wanted near you. Repelled by butterbeer corks. Little buggers who love to steal. As she speaks Yusuke’s pencil sketches, small, messy lines that take form the more Yusuke learns.

“And what would you imagine the Nargle to look like?” he asks. 

“Ooo! I’m so pleased you asked!” Luna responds, excited. Little, of course, little enough that you can’t see them in your room, rifling through your drawers. They have to be strong though, she realizes, if they’re apt to steal shoes and earrings and other little trinkets. And color? Well, perhaps they can camouflage? Or perhaps green, to match the mistletoe. Or no! Maybe pink! But so small you’d never see the color against the plant. Well, whatever the color, they definitely had lots of arms. They needed them to carry things with, since they were so greedy, and maybe just a few strong legs to support them. Can they fly, she wonders...yes, yes she supposes they can. They must if they expect to travel frequently.

His pencil flies faster now, concrete shapes forming on the page. A definitive arm. An eye. Another arm. He listens intently as she speaks, catching every detail, following her every line of thought. She hovers over his shoulder, eyes still shut, face peaceful as she imagines what these little beings look like. Yusuke has to admit, he is curious about them now too. He hadn’t heard of them before, and in his art studies he most liked to draw creatures, so he feels partly aghast he hadn’t heard of them and partly enthralled there is a new creature to draw. Granted, he’s aware Luna hasn’t seen one for herself, but he trusts her. The possibility of it--the discovery of it--that is what excited him.

Luna trails off and hums quietly. “Yes, I suppose that’s all,” she muses. Yusuke sketches a few final touches into the Nargle before asking Luna to open her eyes. When she does, she squeals with excitement.

“Oh yes! I must show this to my father; this is exactly what I imagined!” she throws her arms around Yusuke’s neck, “Thank you! We will publish it in the next issue of The Quibbler!” 

Yusuke’s face flushes slightly. “Thank you,” he responds sincerely, touched at how confident she is in publishing his work. Luna’s so excited she bolts out of the courtyard, nearly mowing over Akira and Harry, the two just entering the area. She holds the sketch up in their faces when she passes them.

“He’s a genius!” she shouts, “He’s discovered the Nargle!” 

Akira and Harry look over to Yusuke with intrigue, eyes questioning and eyebrows raised. Harry feels pleased Luna has found a friend in Yusuke, someone who can indulge her imagination and desire to believe in greater things, in better things. Akira is happy Yusuke has Luna, someone who can appreciate his dedication and passion, never “too weird” for someone who was considered “too weird” herself.

“It really is an incredible creature. You see...” Yusuke begins when the two get close enough.

**

“Ah! A favorite customer!”

“The favorite customer!”

“And, currently, the only!”

They say the last line together, in-sync like always. Akira looks up at them from the tops of his glasses, body bent toward a new display of prank products. He smiles slightly.

“Gentlemen,” he says, regarding them.

“‘Ello,” George says smiling, leaning on Fred’s shoulder, “What’ll it be today, boss?” 

Akira rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I haven’t decided yet, but I need something good. Something messy.” Akira thinks about the cross-house picnic Ann has planned--not the first of its kind, but enough of his friends don’t belong to the same house that it’s causing a bit of a stir amongst the other students--and smiles wickedly. Yes, something messy would do nicely. 

“Well, messy’ll be over here,” Fred instructs, waving an arm to another area of the shop. “We got Wet Weather, Whizz Poppers, Otters Fizzy Orange Juice--”

“Hold on a minute, Fred,” George says, lifting a finger into the air, “Let’s consult the books, shall we? We don’t want to sell our best customer something he’s already used!”

“Nothing worse than a joke told for the second time,” Fred agrees, turning towards Akira, “Gets stale that way, y’know.” 

Akira follows the twins dutifully through the store until they arrive at the shop’s main counter. Fred slides behind it and produces a rather large--in fact, comically large--book from underneath. When he opens it, the font is impossibly tiny.

“Akira Kurusu,” George whispers into the pages. They flip quickly before opening on what must be Akira’s shopper profile. Fred drags his fingers down the page before tutting to himself.

“It appears he’s already done most of what we sell!” 

“Well, well,” George muses, “it must be time to promote him.”

“Promote?” Akira asks. George flicks his wand in the air and produces a small, plastic card with the letters VIP printed on it. He plucks it out of the air and hands it to Akira, who takes it delicately, fearful of what it might do.

“Welcome to the WWW VVV III PPP club!” Fred says.

“So nice you gotta say it thrice!” 

Akira flips the card over. “VIP: Virtuous Intelligent Prankster” it reads, but suddenly the words shimmer over. Akira blinks twice; the card now reads “VIP: Very Into Poop.” 

When Akira looks up at them, Fred beams. “That was my touch,” he says. 

“Truth be told, joker, you’re our first VIP!” George reveals. Akira’s eyebrows raise.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really have anything set up for it, but you’re in here almost every day so we figured we should reward you somehow.”

“And what’s my reward?” Akira asks, eyes glinting. Fred and George meet his gaze with their own mischievous look.

“Our experimental products,” Fred says, leaning forward. George nods vigorously. “Ron is good for the human trials--”

“--safety is a big concern, you know,” George interrupts.

“--but we would like to see how the public reacts before we mass produce. If a joke won’t land, we want to know before we send it out there.”

Akira can appreciate the intent behind this and pockets the card. “Sure, sounds like a fair trade off to me. Got anything in the works that’s messy?” 

Fred smiles evilly, “There is one product we were thinking of asking you to test. It’s call Food Frenzy, and it-”

“I’ll take it,” Akira cuts him off. Fred’s jaw drops a little.

“You didn’t even hear what it did.”

Akira shrugs, “Do I need to? I am buying from a Weasley after all. The name carries a certain amount of...” and Fred and George both size up instinctively, ready for the insult that never comes, “...respect,” Akira finishes. The twins’ shoulders drop slightly, exhaling. 

“By George,” Fred says, smiling pulling at his lips, “I do think I like a Slytherin.”

“I didn’t think it possible,” George says, bewildered.

**

“Yo, you think she’s the baddest bad guy we’ve seen?” Ryuji’s voice echoes down the hall.

“Uh, she got rid of Quidditch,” Futaba says, irritated. “She’s definitely the worst.”

“Not for Slytherin!” Ann counters, but Futaba rolls her eyes.

“Quidditch is no fun if you don’t have anyone to play against!”

“Hey,” Akira says, turning his friends, “When we’re the Phantom Thieves, we’re not our individual Houses, okay? We’re one team. Forget House loyalty for now.”

The team nods solemnly, then they continue down the hall. Soon they arrive at the wall they’d been looking for: the endless “Education Decrees.”

“Man, just lookin’ at these gets me pissed off,” Ryuji says, adjusting his mask as his face flares hot in anger.

“Yes,” Yusuke agrees, “To restrict students under such duress...I cannot imagine a more heartless creature.”

“We have to change her heart soon. I can’t bear being a Prefect under her...she has such terrible orders for us,” Makoto says, shuddering at the memory of the last meeting she had with Dolores Umbridge, current monster of Hogwarts.

“And we will,” insists Akira, “But we have to do this first. After this she’ll be so upset she’ll get careless and leave the key to her office out in the open. If Haru’s instincts are right--”

“I’m sure of it! A cat showed me!”

“--the treasure is located somewhere in there. Once we confirm that, we can send the calling card.”

The Thieves turn to the wall of decrees before them. They stare at it in silence for a moment, considering the consequences of what they’re about to do. Then, as if on cue, every single one breaks into a mischievous grin, eyes bright with playful passion. 

“Ready?” Ryuji asks, turning to his team, taking hold of his steel pipe and slapping into the palm of his hand. Yusuke leans forward, hand on his Katana, just as Haru heaves her axe over her shoulder. Makoto cracks her neck twice and rolls her shoulders; Ann cracks her whip. Futaba raises her arms as her Persona drops tentacles that pull her into the ship. Once inside, she flashes the bright lights on the wall. Akira snaps his gloves against his wrists. The team hears a distant meow that sounds more like a growl.

“Ready!” Futaba shouts. At once the Phantom Thieves lunge forward, knocking decree after decree onto the ground. Ryuji vaults Makoto into the air, who shatters the glass of a few decrees with her brass knuckles. Yusuke stabs them like a fork, stacking them on the length of his katana. Futaba’s ship uses a tentacle to raise Ann to the top, where her whip wraps around a frame and throws it to the ground with a crash. Haru swings wide, nearly taking off Akira’s head in the process, but makes deep contact when her axe wedges into the wall.

It’s a gleeful exchange; destruction of items for destruction of spirit. It feels almost cathartic and for a second they all wish the other students could be taking part in the mess, in the chaos. The Phantom Thieves wished they could tell their classmates that it could all be over soon, that the thieves will take care of the worst thing Hogwarts has ever seen (well, considering).

It’s over too soon, broken decrees scattered across the floor. They don’t have much time to admire their work before a Shadow shows up, so they quickly head back to the real world and split to their respective dorms. In the morning the screech can be heard down every hall, the worst alarm any student has ever heard, but the Phantom Thieves all jolt upright with a smile.

**

Harry stormed down the hall, anger like fire searing each of his nerves. Why couldn’t anyone trust him?! Why would they risk him being wrong? Did they think he didn’t hope he was wrong, that he wanted to be right?!

His scar burns with the truth he knows, his shoulders heavy with the burden that comes along with it. They could do something! Harry was confident they could try to stop him this time, maybe even succeed. But first they had to believe him.

And they didn’t.

He hears the footsteps behind him, soft soled shoes pattering against the stone ground.

“Forget it, Ron,” Harry spits, not bothering to turn around, “I don’t want to hear it.”

But Ron doesn’t respond, just keeps running after him. “I said forget it. I don’t care if you’re sorry or if something happened and now you believe me or if Hermione made you come apologize or if Dumbledore says I’m in trouble for saying it to the whole school in the middle of his speech. I don’t care. I don’t care.”

Ron’s footsteps are closer now and Harry realizes they’re decidedly less heavy than usual, less clunky like Ron tends to be. The hand falls on his shoulder before he can turn around.

“Harry,” the voice says, and with a start Harry realizes it’s Akira, Slytherin’s real Seeker, the criminal who didn’t seem anything like a criminal. His voice is calm, even. When Harry turns, his eyes are kind.

“I believe you,” he says, squeezing Harry’s shoulder lightly. Annoyance flares in Harry’s bones. He shakes Akira’s hand off and grunts.

“I don’t have time for a dumb Slytherin prank right now,” he says, “I meant what I said in there and I intend to do something about it.”

Akira huffs, equally annoyed. “Yeah, I know you did. This isn’t some Slytherin prank--Jesus, what’s with you Gryffindors and your pride? I meant what I said too: I believe you. I trust you,” he urges, now grabbing both of Harry’s shoulders and shaking him lightly. “I intend to help you, if you’ll let me.”

“H-help me?” Harry asks, green eyes staring wide into gray.

“Of course. Whatever you need, I’m there. This is something bigger than us, than all of us. Innocence is lost every second that we don’t do something,” Akira’s face twists into determination and frustration, a look Harry’s seen on many a Slytherin’s face. This, however, is not dark or wicked-looking. It just seems...passionate. 

“Besides, I’m way better at flying than you. You’re gonna need someone like me on your side,” Akira says, smirk evident on his face. Harry rolls his eyes but smiles, the white-hot anger in him cooling. Just then Harry hears footsteps he actually recognizes: Ron’s, heavy and randomly paced, Hermione’s, light and quick. There’s a third set, one he doesn’t recognize, strides long, even, but fast. When he turns his head he sees the bright yellow down the hall. Must be Akira’s Hufflepuff friend. What was his name again?

“Harry!” Hermione calls, “I’m sorry! We’re sorry! We didn’t mean to-”

“I was just startled!” interrupts Ron, “I didn’t expect you to just go up there and say it all for everyone to hear!”

“Hey!” says the Hufflepuff, “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, man? The team’s ready to go when you are!” question directed at Akira.

Akira turns to Harry and smiles wide. “I think I got something that can help us even more than magic. You ever heard of the metaverse?”