Crimson

by Dowdz

Summary:

Akira Kurusu. Delinquent. Thief. Leader. Hero. Who is he? How many masks can one man wear?

Please note: This story will be uploaded to RoyalRoad, as well. This message serves as verification that the author is the same.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

What a pity that I am not an honest man. - Maurice LeBlanc, ‘Arsene Lupin’

 

Feel our bodies breathing as you try to stop believing

There's nothing you can do about your Shadows

You can fight us, you are like us, and your body will betray you

Lay down and die like all the others

- Bruce Dickinson, ‘Accident of Birth’

 

On the day I was born, my father left my mother a note. 'I'm sorry,' it read. 'I can't do this.' As it turned out, neither could she.

 

Exit Interview I.

 

They put you in a box. Everything you are, everything you've ever done or could do, everything you wish you could be, all the love and drive and dreams you carry in your heart, all the things that connect you to others, all of it. For all of it, they put you in a box.

You stare at a white ceiling, mismatched with the dull ivory walls. It is warm, not unbearable, but getting there. The A/C only comes on after six. It's one of the few ways of telling time here, as there's no clock and no window. Your cot is a simple black metal frame with a far too thin mattress, scratchy sheets, a dull gray blanket, and a blocky pillow that provides no comfort.

"Don't think that way."

You look at Rokuro as He speaks. Rokuro is your age, with a familiar mop of uncombed black hair, but the similarities stop there. His face is all edge, jawline thin and straight, and nose hooked downward. Rokuro's eyes seem to dart around, though there's nothing to look at in the cell. There's energy beneath them, but it seems cruel, or at least agitated. You do not know what Rokuro has done to be here.

"Think what way?" You ask. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't need to." Rokuro’s back is against the wall, and one long arm extends with one long finger to point at you. "You've got the look of a guy that's lost all hope. You're thinking, 'That's it for me. I’m at the end of the very short road that was my life.'"

You look back up at the ceiling. "I wasn't thinking that but now that you mention it..." You trail off.

Rokuro’s arm drops, and a sigh reaches your ears. "You need to open your eyes to the possibilities, man." His words are quick and precise, almost bitten off. "There's always a way out.  You have to take up the responsibility to find it."

We are going to make you understand. One must take full responsibility for their actions.

Your hands fly to your wrists, to your chest, your stomach, your legs. You are unharmed. There is no sensitivity, no bruises or cuts. Nothing.

"What're you doing?" Rokuro asks. "Checking for contraband? An ace up your sleeve?"

Why 'Joker?'

Because you're our 'ace.'

So why isn't my codename 'Ace?'

Do you want to be called Ace?

Rokuro laughs, but you can only ask, "Where are we?"

"Huh? The hell is wrong with you?" Rokuro's face grows serious. "They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"I-" You start but can't finish. Your mouth is suddenly desert dry, and your words wither and die in your throat. Your head pounds; you ache everywhere. Your hands shake.

"Hey, hey," Rokuro says. He stands beside your cot, though you do not recall witnessing any movement. "Are you okay? You can trust me, you know."

Trust.

"Do you think you can get her to trust you?"

There's something you need to do. What was it? You hear a faint snapping sound. It's sporadic, but the longer it goes, the more of your attention it takes. "This isn't right," you manage to choke out.

Your eyes shift to Rokuro, to the walls, the ceiling, the thick metal door shut and secured from the outside. This isn't where you are supposed to be. This isn't where you are.

You have already been here.

Rokuro's hands grip your wrists. "Calm down, man. Calm down."

A voice reverberates through the cell, heard through thick walls. "Hey! Are you still with me?"

Rokuro leans down, His eyes inches from your own. "Remember. There's always a way out."

And just like that, nameless geometries of memories collapse together within your skull, rampaging their way through your gray matter.

How far are you willing to go, Trickster?

Do we have a deal?

You're not my messengerYou're my message.

Trustisatwo-waystreet.

Long time no see.

TAKE YOUR HEART

Your own palpates.

The bees swarm your mind once more, along with their names. Oberon, Berith, King Frost. Too many masks. They yammer and vie. Your name bubbles up from some anonymous place.

You are Akira Kurusu.

Or maybe not. Maybe your name is whatever phonetical collection you jerry-rigged together on the form they gave you. Maybe you are someone else. Maybe your name isn’t Akira Kurusu.

But for now, here, you are Akira Kurusu.

Your vision grows hazy. Rokuro's smile disintegrates, replaced by a pair of deep brown eyes full of concern. A grin cracks your face. Akira Kurusu’s face. It's her!

It isn't. The face surrounding the eyes grows more distinct. The sound that drew your attention resolves into a set of snapping fingers held just before your face. "Can you hear me?" The woman asks, her voice touched with panic. "Kurusu? Dammit, what the hell did they inject you with?"

Oh.

You are in another box. This box is not the same as the last one with its nondescript sterility. This box is dimly lit, smells wet from dirty water, sweat, and blood. This is the box they put you in this time. This box was full of men not too long ago, but now you are alone, save for the woman.

Only, that isn't entirely true.

Dimensions settle themselves into the walls, ceiling, and floor. The door is locked, and thin light shines from above. Behind the woman, you see the bloody, black, and top-hatted slash that is Arsene.

A thin trail of smoke rises from another corner. The woman will not smell it or see it. A figure perches there, and you do not need to see the rest to know to whom it belongs. The end of a cigarette's ember glows. "Welcome back, son. Want to give it a thought?"

You shut your eyes and double over. You press your damp forehead into the table and groan.

"Kurusu?" The woman asks.

Everyone breaks, kid. Junya Kaneshiro had said that. Or maybe it had been Munehisa Iwai. So hard to remember. So hard to keep it all straight.

Your mouth cracks open. "I-" You lift your head.

Sae Niijima blinks in surprise.

"I don't know what they gave me. Amobarbital, maybe?” You’d made sure to look all this fun stuff up beforehand. “Sodium whatever. Everything is... hazy and weird." Arsene does a loopdeloop behind Sae's shoulder. "More so than you might think."

The prosecutor folds her arms together and leans back in her chair. You wonder if she'll deny it or protest that your teenage status should protect you from such extreme techniques, and by all rights, it should. Really, your basic humanity should, but baby steps.

Sae does no such thing.

"Probably hard to deny when the syringe is right there," Your father points out from the shadows.

"I see," Sae says. "Regardless, I need your focus. If you're back from... wherever you just went, then it's time to talk. I don't have much time with you."

You slump back in your chair and close your eyes.

"Hey," Sae shouts. She slaps the table with her open palm, and a stinging thwack bounces through your skull. "Pay attention! Don't think, for one second, that you're going to get through this without saying anything."

Do you think you can get her to trust you?

I don't like this. It's way, way too dangerous.

Do we have any other choice?

No. No other choice. No other option. There had only been one way forward.

Arsene pivots. THOUGH THOU BE CHAINED TO HELL ITSELF.

Hell, you think. That's right. I'm in Hell.

Your father scoffs. "Don't be so dramatic."

You straighten in your chair and force your eyes and brain to focus. This is Sae Niijima. You know this woman. She is important.

Sae bows her head a bit and leans in, almost conspiratorially. The look she gives you is one of contempt. "You know," she says, ice in her voice. "She's going to hear about this. And it's going to break her heart."

Dread seizes you. Sae calls you a bastard, but your mind spins once more.

That’s right. Better get your shit together.

Chew through the cement in your brain if you must. If you don’t get out of here, you’ll never see her again. You’ll never see any of them again. And you’ll never know what it was all about.

Stay calm, Joker whispers from somewhere behind your eyes. You're where you need to be.

Go ahead. Let yourself imagine Joker’s smile spread across your face.

It’s more appropriate than you may yet remember or realize.

Sae drops a thick beige file on the table. There is a header on the file's tag. It reads 'Phantom Thieves.'

"Let's start from the beginning," Sae says.

"The beginning?" You ask.

You remember two soft hands on your cheeks, lips pressed to your forehead. Now, this is important. When Sae talks to you, you need to tell her everything. All of it. Because if you do, I know she'll believe you.

You mumble into the air. The words are too low for Sae to hear. "I'll come back." You have said these words before. You meant them. You mean them.

Sae opens her mouth, but you cut her off. "Okay," you say, and congratulations, because you are starting to sound just a little bit more like Akira Kurusu. "I'll tell you everything."

Now then, someone, somewhere says. Let us start the game.

You cast your mind back and begin to speak.

Notes:

12/30/2021: And we're finally kicking off the rewrite.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

4/9

Sunlight wakes him. His eyes snap open, and the dim remains of a headache fade from his skull. Did I doze off? He doesn't remember being tired. The trip to Tokyo hadn't been a long one. Akira reaches up to rub his eyes, and his fingers push against the lenses of his new glasses. He drops his hand. The glasses arrived before he'd left for Tokyo, but he still isn't used to them. It isn't as if he needs them.

The subway car rattles along, and the brief glimpse of day vanishes as they race back underground.

"A mental shutdown?" Two girls in school uniforms stand near the door, their arms wrapped around handrails, heads dipped together in conversation.

"Mmmhmmm," the second girl says. She turns the screen of her phone to face her friend. "Didn't you read about it online? The guy's brain just went 'splat' or something. He drove the bus right into a store."

"Geez," the first girl replies, staring at the screen, then recoiling a bit and shaking her head. "That's scary."

"That's not all. I heard the same thing happened to that subway engineer who crashed that train last week."

The first girl frowns, "But, can that really happen to someone? I mean, I know there's that aneurism thing that kills you instantly or something, but it doesn't make you act crazy, right?"

The second replies with a shrug and a giggle. "Who knows? Maybe there's some kind of gas in the subway tunnels that made him go nuts."

"Don't say that when we're on the subway!"

Akira's attention drifts away. They weren't talking about anything, not really. He keeps his eyes on the floor for the rest of the trip.

The train reaches a subsidiary station just south of Shibuya, and Akira steps off and mixes with the people on the platform. His shoulders slump forward, his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground. He walks. He occasionally checks the GPS on his phone. He says nothing. He looks at nothing. He tries to think nothing.

He walks.

The sheer amount of people in Tokyo bothers him. Akira is not from a small town - it's only an hour's ride north - but never has he seen a place so congested. Hundreds of pedestrians slide past him on the sidewalk. Their eyes look everywhere but at him. He is fine with this.

A moment is all he allows himself to marvel when he reaches Shibuya. Like the rest of the world, he has seen the famous crosswalk's shuffle from various angles via video and photographs, but never in person. The mass of people seems like an entity, a million limbed creature spiraling out and snaking its way through streets and alleys - a thing with a mind, a consciousness, of its own. I'm going to have to come through here every day. It is a daunting thought.

Akira's cellphone beeps. He is young and therefore trained to look at every notification as soon as one appears. Akira sees what he first mistakes to be a red error message. When he brings the phone closer to his face, he sees that a small red square, not unlike an app icon, has appeared on his phone. It grows until it takes up half the screen. The picture is of a menacing eye, with a black star centered in a crimson iris.

Akira has seen enough nonsense online that this should not bother him, but he is unsettled nonetheless. Spam. Probably. He presses his thumb to the icon, intending to drag it to his phone's trash.

Everything stops.

Everything.

Akira looks up and around. All the people, all the cars, even the clouds have frozen at a standstill. Nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound.

Except.

Across the intersection, mixed within the multitude of people, crackles a pillar of blue flame.

What the hell is that? Akira takes a step away, and the flames expand. As his panic rises, the fire engorges and twists itself into a humanoid form.

A rush of heat spreads over Akira's face, and two blue wings rip themselves from the figure's back, arch, and flourish.

"I AM THOU." The words pulse through Akira like a heartbeat, and warmth spreads through his chest. He lets out the breath he holds and settles. He regards the figure with calm eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch upward.

The flames break apart to reveal a clear image of Akira's own face. His doppelganger wears a maniac's grin. The eyes he stares into are bright gold and wild.

Akira blinks. The image is gone. Sound returns in a mad wave, and the people - frozen a moment ago - move as if they'd been uninterrupted.

"Hey kid, keep it moving!" Akira turns and finds a middle-aged salaryman scowling up at him. "We can't all just stand around doing nothing." The man regards Akira's adopted school uniform and shakes his head in disgust. "Damn punk, just skipping school."

Words fall into place within Akira's mind. It's Saturday afternoon, asshole. School's already out. The words rush to his mouth, but he keeps them back. "I apologize, sir. Excuse me."

The man clicks his tongue and moves around him.

Akira retreats to the shade of a nearby building and leans against the warm concrete. He buries the indignation and turns his mind back towards what he'd just witnessed. Was I hallucinating? Those girls on the train had mentioned a 'mental shutdown.' Had he just flirted with one? Had there been some gas on the subway? Ten minutes in Tokyo, and I've already lost my mind. Great. He checks his phone. The unnerving red icon remains. Akira shakes his head clear. Stress. That's all it was. Stress. God knows I've had a lot of it recently. He drags the alien icon to the trash successfully and returns the phone to his pocket.

Sane again, or so he hopes, Akira continues towards the station. His posture stooped, his eyes on the ground, he does his best to look as uninteresting and innocent as possible.

#

Yongen-jaya. The place feels forgotten. There are more shuttered storefronts than not. The people, few in number, walk with the comfortable familiarity of those who have been here for years. It is both intimate and strange. Akira supposes there could be some charm to this neighborhood beneath the grit that cakes everything.

He passes a hole-in-the-wall medical clinic, a shuttered movie theatre, and a convenience store in his search for Cafe LeBlanc. Unfortunately, his directions are not precise, and his GPS has difficulty tracking his location.

LeBlanc is a small storefront across from a bathhouse, its sign small and unobtrusive. Like the rest of Yongen-jaya, it feels like an afterthought, swallowed by the whole of Tokyo.

Nerves set in. Akira knows nothing about Sojiro Sakura, the man who will be caring for him. He is not a relative. He is not a friend. Akira does not know why this man has accepted him into his home, but he has stopped asking questions.

He opens the door to LeBlanc and steps inside. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim interior. A series of booths line the wall, with a parallel bar alongside. It smells of cook smoke, coffee, lacquer, and leather. It is the same inside as out, small, cramped, and quiet.

A man sits on a stool. He wears a pink shirt beneath an ivory apron. His hair, though receding, is a lustrous black, and he’s stylized his beard to a point. A newspaper is in his hands, but the man looks bored. At the sound of Akira's entrance, the man glances at him over the top of his glasses.

The two regard each other for a moment as Akira decides what to say. Surely, a moment like this warrants special-

The man sighs and says, "I take it you're Akira Kurusu?"

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but his words stumble out in a mishmash. Some first impression. He clears his throat and says, "Uh, yes, sir."

The man folds the paper and deposits it onto the counter with practiced hands. "I'm Sojiro Sakura. Come with me." He pushes himself off the stool and walks further into the store. Akira hesitates, then follows. Just past the tables is a bathroom, and just path the bathroom is a narrow stairwell. Sojiro plods upwards and out of sight. Akira takes the steps at a quicker pace.

Sojiro stands in the center of a cluttered, dusty attic. Bags, boxes, books, and tools lay scattered around the tops of tables, desks, shelves, and a couch. An uncovered bed sits shoved in the far corner, beneath the window. "This is where you'll be staying," Sojiro says. Akira doesn't know what to say. The place is large, but it's more of a storage area than anything. "Ground rules," Sojiro continues before Akira has a chance to speak. "First, if you make any trouble, I will kick you out." Akira blinks, surprised at the gruffness. "Second, I don't want to hear about your situation. I already got the gist of it."

Akira bristles at this and the matter-of-fact way in which Sojiro casually tosses it out. Got the gist of-

A slight grin plays itself out across Sojiro's face. "Better get used to it, kid. That’s life."

Akira smooths his face over. Figures. He stoops a bit more and lowers his eyes. "Yes, sir."

A few more rules follow, most involve not bothering Sojiro or his customers. Then the man leaves, without as much as a handshake.

Akira moves to the bed and drops his bag. He sits down on the thankfully clean sheets. "One whole year, huh?" He says to no one. It could be worse, he supposes. At least this room isn't as small of a box as the last one. Akira hears a small rumble from downstairs, which he associates with the typical noise of the cafe.

At this moment, Akira Kurusu has never felt so alone.

#

Akira spends his afternoon cleaning the room. Sojiro, wearing a slick white jacket and fedora, returns from below. He regards the room with a surprised look. "Hm. Not bad, I guess." His gaze turns to Akira, and his interest is gone again. "We'll be heading to Shujin Academy tomorrow. You're going to introduce yourself to the Principal. I want to be in and out, got it?" Akira nods. "Just keep it simple." He turns to leave.

"Thank you," Akira blurts out. Sojiro looks over his shoulder at him. "For taking me in. Thank you."

Sojiro frowns, shrugs, and says, "Don't mention it. I'm heading home. Don't steal anything." He walks down the steps and vanishes.

Akira drops onto his bed and realizes he has nothing left to do. His hand slides to his pocket and draws out his phone. He tells himself he doesn’t have to look, but his thumb clicks on his messenger app and calls up the last message.

MOM: Just remember, I love you.

The acidic swirl of anxiety and anger rises in his chest once more, and Akira deletes the entire message chain. A few more clicks with his fingers, and he's in his almost entirely purged 'Contacts List.' Two names remained. 'Mom,' and 'Home.' He deletes both.

Like that's not an empty gesture? You know the numbers by heart, his brain reminds him, and to block this out, Akira raises his phone above his head as if he's about to throw it.

I'm sure the old man will love having to buy you a new phone.

Akira shakes his head and lowers his arm. Right. Right. Right. He slides the phone back into his pocket.

A murmur makes its way up the stairs and into the room. Sojiro is speaking, but Akira can't make out the words. He stands and creeps over to the stairwell. The boards don't creak like he expects them to.

"...uh-huh. Yeah. This afternoon. Pretty early, I guess there were no delays."

Akira sits on the top step and listens.

"So, do you want to speak to him?" Sojiro asks. Silence for a time. "Are you sure? He's right upstairs. I can grab him for you. Honestly, it's no trouble... Right. Yeah, no. I understand. Sorry." More silence. Then, "I will. Goodnight." Akira hears a faint click, then a sigh, then the jingle of the door as it opens, and then finally silence once it's closed.

Akira stares down the stairwell for a while. Then, he bites the inside of his mouth, hard, until he tastes a bit of blood. He does this because he will not cry. He will not cry.

He will not cry. They can't make him.

Then, exhausted, he gets up and goes to bed.

#

This time, it is the moaning that wakes him. It is faint, weak, and pained. He opens his eyes and sees a black ceiling and cinderblock walls. He sees a lidless toilet and bars where there should be a door.

He is in a box. Another box.

His clothes are tattered clichéd prisoner clothes, pinstriped in black and white. The air is heavy with the stench of sweat and piss. He sits up and finds his arms and legs shackled.

Okay. This is a nightmare. He wonders then why it feels so real.

Beyond the bars, a single light bulb illuminates a small circular room, ringed by cells like his. Panopticon. In the center of the room is a desk. The wood is rotting and peels to reveal the white beneath. The rug underneath is a frayed, monochromatic blue mess.

A stooped thing sits at it. It is not a man. It cannot be a man. Its features are too wrong. Its eyes bulge. Its nose, too long and knifelike. Its grin, too wide, its teeth too sharp. It is a caricature of a man, a farce, an imposter.

It meets Akira's eyes, and its grin grows just a bit wider. "Trickster," it says. Its voice is deep and hollow. "Welcome to my Velvet Room."

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

4/10

Curry. The aroma snakes its way through the room and up Akira's nostrils. He wakes to the smell of spices. He checks his phone. It's early, too early for LeBlanc to be open, he thinks.

His head hurts, and he feels exhausted, though he slept a total of eight hours. The dream returns to him in bits and pieces. The freakish thing called Igor. The attendants. "Ruin" and "rehabilitation." He lays his head back on the pillow. The thing from his dream had asked him a question, but he cannot remember it. It is, like so many other dreams, banished by the day.

He dresses and makes his way downstairs. Sojiro stands behind the counter. A fresh plate of curry sits next to a mug of steaming coffee. "We'll go after you eat," he says and gestures to the food.

"I... thank you."

"Don't let it go to your head," Sojro replies and flips on the television. "I just don't want to hear you complaining about being hungry later."

Akira remembers the half-heard conversation from the night before, but he sits at the counter and keeps his eyes on the plate.

The food is more delicious than he expected, and Akira scarfs it down. The texture, the taste, the full feeling at the end, all of it shakes him awake. "Looks like you enjoyed it," Sojiro says, but when Akira opens his mouth to reply, he cuts him off. "Well, let's go then."

#

Shujin Academy is bigger than Akira's old school, but not by much. Being Sunday, the hallways are conspicuously absent people, both students and teachers. The short walk to the Principal's office gives him little time to learn his way around. But to Akira, it looks just like any other school. There are halls and classrooms and a courtyard.

Just another box.

A dilemma soon presents itself to Akira. He cannot decide if Principal Kobayakawa looks more like a pale toad or a conscious mass of pudding. The man has no neck and appears on the verge of bursting from his bile-colored suit. Yet, his speech is clear and concise. "Make no mistake, young man. I don't care what kind of trouble you got up to in your hometown. You will behave yourself here."

"Yes, sir," Akira replies. The man is just like everyone else. He does not see Akira but the criminal record.

"Given your history, not many places would have accepted you as a student. I hope you understand how grateful you should be."

Akira's insides roil. Grateful. Ever so very.

"Yes, sir. I am, sir," he says.

"Keep your nose clean, or we'll clean it for you."

"I will, sir."

The Principal's bulbous head pivots to face Sojiro. "Sir, please keep him out of trouble."

Sojiro was, and is, staring at his cuticles with intensity. "Hey," he says, his tone dismissive, "he ain't my kid."

The fourth person in the room sighs. She is Akira's homeroom teacher, Sadayo Kawakami. She is around Akira's height, is thin and pretty with curly black hair. Her yellow sweater and denim skirt make her look younger than she must be. In a school uniform, she wouldn't look any older than me. There are deep circles under her eyes that makeup fails to hide. Her skin has a sickly pallor to it. "Are you sure," she asks, "that my class is the best place for him?"

"Well, we can't very well put in him a class with Sakamoto. Who knows what kind of trouble they would get into together?" The Principal replies.

"It's just that-"

"Sorry," Sojiro interrupts. "But are you done with him? I need to get back to my cafe."

"Oh, of course," the Principal states. "I apologize for keeping you." The adults exchange pleasantries. Akira follows Sojiro out the door after bowing to his new Principal and homeroom teacher. Neither returns it.

#

Kawakami doesn't so much drop into her chair as she does collapse. The faculty office is empty. Assured of her solitude, she lets out a long, angry, and deep groan. "Why me?" She folds her arms atop her desk and rests her head on them. A transfer student was one thing, but one with a criminal record? Principal Kobayakawa had explained his acceptance as a way of bolstering the school's reputation, that it showed Shujin's dedication to the 'bright futures of all Japan's youth, no matter their past mistakes.' She almost felt bad for Kurusu. Sure, what he did was horrible, but to use a student - any student - in such a way felt wrong.

Speaking of Kurusu, did he actually assault somebody? The thin, bespectacled boy had been the model of quiet respect, even as the Principal had lashed into him. He didn't seem hotheaded, like Sakamoto. "I guess you really can't judge a book by..." the cliché dissolves into a yawn.

The door to the office opens, and a tall, lean figure steps inside. "Ah, Miss Kawakami, so good to see you!" Kamoshida calls, holding up a hand in greeting.

Kawakami rolls her eyes. Great. This creep. "Good morning, Kamoshida-sensei."

"Oh, come on now, we've known each other too long for such formalities." His bright smile reminds her of bleach.

"What brings you here?" She asks. "It's Sunday."

"Well, the volleyball rally is coming up, and I wanted to make sure my team was in top shape. A lot is riding on this."

Like your ego? "Ah, that's right. I must've forgotten about it." Something flashes across Kamoshida's face, a terrible mix of rage and arrogance. Then it is gone, and his smile returns. Books and covers. Her grandmother had been an avid book collector but had been terrible at keeping them in good condition. Once, when Kawakami was a little girl, she visited her grandmother's house and snuck up to the attic. She found a fairytale book with an elaborate blue and gold stitched cover. Excited in the way that only little girls can be, she'd opened the cover to the first page. A millipede, the size of her hand, had scuttled out and wrapped itself around her wrist. She'd screamed until she lost her voice.

She knows that behind the mask Kamoshida shows to the world lurks something else. If things were different, perhaps she could do something. But they aren't. They are the way they are, and Kawakami has enough problems.

"Well, I just dropped by to see if anyone was in the faculty office," Kamoshida says. Why? Kawakami thinks. "I should get going. Have a good rest of your weekend."

He leaves, and Kawakami sticks her tongue out at the shut door. "Jackass," she mumbles. Alright then, Akira Kurusu. There has to be something she can do for him. She has far too many responsibilities to give him any of her time, but perhaps there was someone else? Someone responsible? Someone who could walk Kurusu through the academics at Shujin, to at least give him a chance?

The perfect person pops into her mind. Pleased with herself, Kawakami picks up the phone and pulls down a copy of the student directory from its spot on the shelf. She turns a few pages, finds the correct number, and dials.

Someone picks up on the second ring. "Hi, it's Miss Kawakami. I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I'd like your help with something."

#

Traffic is bad. Sojiro's face darkens as the ride goes on. "Goddammit," he finally whispers, then shoots a glare at Akira in the passenger seat. "You're taking the train starting tomorrow." Akira nods. Sojiro frowns at this, turns his attention back to the street, and asks, "So, how was it? The school, I mean."

"It seems fine," Akira replies. A bland, neutral answer.

Sojiro shakes his head. "They sure cut into you, back there. And that teacher of yours, Kawakami, was it? She looked sick or something." He sighs and dances his fingers across the top of the steering wheel. "Just, don't do anything to get in trouble, alright? I've got enough problems just taking you in."

"Why did you take me in?" Akira asks. The words slip from him before he can bite them back. His mind continues the thought. After all, you think I'm just some useless delinquent. This whole thing extraordinarily inconveniences you.

Sojiro keeps his eyes on the road. "I know someone who knows your mother. They told me what happened and… well, it doesn't matter. You're here now, and if you want to stay here, you'll stay out of trouble."

Sojiro's phone rings. His ringtone is a ritzy little waltz. He answers, "Hello?" Akira hears a high-pitched voice on the other end but can't make out the words. "What'd you mean, it's not the right one? The other one? What other one? I don't know what other other one means." He lets out a groan. "Alright, alright. I'll go pick it up. Yes. Yes, right now.  Yes. I'll see you soon." He hangs up the phone. "Sheesh."

"Was that your wife?" Akira asks. It has dawned on him that he still knows nothing about Sojiro Sakura, save for what he has experienced firsthand. He is not even sure where the man lives.

Sojiro's face balls up into an angry grimace. "The hell would make you think I'm married?"

"Sorry, I-"

"Why don't you mind your own damn business? How about that?" Akira does not understand the anger, but he knows he should have just kept his mouth shut. "You know what?" Sojiro asks, after glancing at the standstill traffic. He leans over and reaches across Akira's lap. "I've got a stop to make," he says and opens the passenger door. "We're close to the nearest station. Why don't you find your own damn way home?" He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a single key, then hands it to Akira. "For the cafe. Out."

Akira stares at him, hoping he'll change his mind. He hadn't meant to offend the man, couldn't Sojiro understand that? But the look on his caretaker's face is stern and determined. Akira undoes his seatbelt and steps out of the car. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns his head and stares back at Sojiro. The middle-aged man does not meet his gaze, and the traffic eventually inches itself along, and his car drives around the corner and is gone.

It could've been worse, Akira thinks. At least you didn't break your phone last night.

#

Akira is angry, alone, and lost. Not lost in the sense that he does not know where he is. His GPS has led him to the station he'll catch a ride to Shibuya from, but the strangeness - the unfamiliarity - with everything around him is overwhelming. When he steps onto the escalator, descending into the station proper, he is almost relieved at the vaguely familiar ads lining the walls and the ever-distracted commuters that inhabit any station.

His phone beeps.

He checks it.

The red-eyed app is back. It sits on Akira's phone like it has always been there, as if waiting for Akira to remember it. Before his thoughts can coalesce, he deletes it once more, only to discover, when he glances up from his phone, that he is alone on the escalator.

The multitudes of faceless people are gone.

At the base of the escalator, the blue flame crackles.

A voice roars through the hollow subway tunnel, "THOUGH THOU BE CHAINED TO HELL ITSELF!" The flames part, and Akira stares at himself once more, with the same madman grin, the same golden eyes. His double's lips part and he mouths something. Akira cannot hear the words but knows what they are. "Thou art I." A blood-red hand reaches out of the flames, fingers splayed, towards him.

Akira takes a step back up the steps...

... and collides with the commuter behind him. He blinks. The vision is gone, and the escalator moves. People surround him. When he reaches the platform, he stumbles onto it. His head pounds, his heart beats fast, his breath is coming in not-quite-ragged gasps. The commuters stare at him. No one approaches him to ask if he's alright. Instead, they subtly, with their heads still buried in their phones and conversations, shift away from him a few more steps than necessary.

Exhausted, Akira plants himself on one of the benches. This distance from the tracks saves his life.

What is happening to me? What was that? Yesterday's hallucination in Shibuya could have been a one-off, but now? Fragments of last night's dream return to him, of the long-nosed thing named Igor. Akira can remember its question. How far are you willing to go for your rehabilitation?

In an explosion of screeching metal, screams, dust, and pulverized stone, a train barrels out of the subway tunnel, hops the rails and smashes its way onto the platform. Akira has a single moment to take this in before he is blown from the bench by the pressure. He hits the concrete and skids a few inches. Dust washes over him and into his nose and mouth. On instinct, he wraps his arms around his head, shuts his eyes, and waits. The noise washes over him in a tide, a bellowing of devastation that coats him and awakens some lizard-brain fear that jitters through his skin and transports him back to the caveman days where he is alone in the dark about to be crushed by the earth that now consumes him. The cacophony transforms into a ring for his exhausted ears.

Eternities shuffle past, and Akira feels a stillness, a settling. He cracks his eyes open and sees many people huddled up as he is, all of them covered in the dust and grime, appearing as sleeping specters. Akira pats himself down. He feels nothing. He is unharmed. He thinks.

Slowly, he gets up and allows himself to witness the devastation. The train cars – now twisted and crushed metal things - lay scattered at odd angles both on the tracks and off them. Wires hang loosely from the ceiling, sparkling bits of orange and white. When his ears pop, he hears the wounded moans and sobs of the people around him. Few people move, but most seem alive if heavily injured. Some sprawl with their faces turned from him. If their chests rise and fall, the movement is too shallow for him to notice.

A hand grips his shoulder, and Akira spins into the face of a man in a white helmet. He wears a jumpsuit and carries a small case stamped with a red cross in his hands. Akira knows he should understand what all this means, but his mind isn't functioning. The words the man shouts at him are jumbled nonsense. He speaks a few times before he gives up and pats Akira down. He shines a light in Akira's eyes and moves it back and forth. Akira's gaze follows it. He holds up his finger and does the same thing. Again, Akira's gaze follows it.

He nods and gently pushes Akira towards the undamaged escalator.

Go, his mind demands. The first clear command he can understand. Get out.

More men in white helmets are pouring down the steps and spreading themselves out among the injured. He understands that this is a rescue operation. Someone should check him more thoroughly. Akira staggers to the steps and works his way up, one at a time.

#

Akira's journey home is a dreary adventure, filled with confused cab drivers, switching stations, and the slow return of his mind. But, ultimately, the result is mundane in that he reaches LeBlanc after the sun has set.

Starving, exhausted, dehydrated, and still in a bit of shock, Akira stumbles through the cafe's front door and directly into a wall of words from Sojiro.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sojiro asks. His voice is the harshest Akira has heard it. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Akira does, and he rattles the number off. Sojiro fixes him with a stern glare. "I was in the station," Akira says, settling into an empty booth. "When the train hit."

"Wait, what?" Sojiro stares at him, but Akira does not reply. "You were there? At the station?" Akira nods. "Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head. "No. I wasn't - I mean, it came close, but it didn't hit me."

"Well, are you sure? Did you hurt your head or anything? You could have a concussion!"

"Some medical people checked me out, and they said I was fine. Fine."

Fine. Akira's vision grows hazy.

Sojiro shakes his head. "Well, I'm sure they're qualified, but I'm calling Ta-"

Finefinefinefinefinefineifneinfienfiefinfeififneinefinefiefnefniefneinfiefieineieninefeinefnffnfnfnf

Everything goes dark.

#

"...hard to say, exactly. Could be exhaustion or shock." This is a voice Akira does not recognize.

"He just collapsed," and Akira knows this is Sojiro. "Thank God he didn't hit his head on a table or anything."

"It's nice to see you care," and the new voice has a slight lilt to it, which draws a snort from Sojiro.

Akira opens his eyes and finds himself in the room in which he now lives. He lays on his bed and tilts his head to see the two figures.

Sojiro lounges against the empty shelf, arms crossed, frown on his face. He speaks to a  woman on whom Akira’s eyes linger. Short black hair. Leather jacket. Choker. Ripped black leggings. Dark blue dress with a spider web pattern.

Whoa, Akira thinks at the same time another part of his brain says, Make sure you don't ask if that's his wife.

The woman glances at Akira, and her eyes widen. "Looks like the patient's awake," she says and approaches. Akira thinks about sitting up, but she holds out a hand as if anticipating this, and he remains still. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," Akira mumbles. His throat is dry, and he realizes he has not had anything to drink since before the train crash. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Sojiro says, his voice suddenly much gruffer. "Fell over into one of the booths downstairs. I called Takemi over and hauled you upstairs." He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I should've left you down there. Probably wasn't smart to move him."

"Luckily," the woman says. "I was just closing up for the night, and my clinic is right down the street, so..." She trails off and bends down to lift a small bag off the floor Akira hadn't seen. She rummages around inside and pulls out a small light.

"You're a doctor?" Akira asks as she shines it in his eyes.

"Who else would Boss have called?" The woman Sojiro called Takemi asks.

"'Boss?'" Akira asks and follows the light as it moves around.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Sojiro snaps just as Takemi says, "Just a friendly moniker." She puts the light away. "Do you feel dizzy? Do you remember hitting your head or anything during the crash?"

Akira shakes his head. It made sense she knew about the train crash. He had managed to get out that much to Sojiro before he'd passed out.

Takemi turns back to Sojiro. "Would you mind grabbing some water? I'm sure he's thirsty." She glances back at Akira. "And some food too?"

Akira nods.

"Right, right," Sojiro says, moving towards the stairs. "Don't try anything funny."

Takemi waits until he's gone before saying, "Wonder which one of us that was for." She smiles down at Akira. "I didn't get your name."

"Akira Kurusu."

Takemi rests a hand against her chest. "I'm Tae Takemi. Now, as Sojiro is no longer in the room, is there anything else you'd like to tell me? Something you may not have wanted to mention in front of him? I promise, whatever you tell me will be kept in confidence."

Akira stares at her for a moment and hears the sound of something clattering down in LeBlanc's kitchen. "Did Sojiro tell you why I'm here?" Takemi shakes her head. "Well, I'm new to Tokyo. I arrived yesterday, and I've seen some, uh, strange things. When I first arrived in Shibuya, and then again today, right before the train crash." He doesn't go into many details but proceeds to give her the general gist.

Takemi blinks once, then says, "I see."

"I don't have any kind of history with hallucinations. I know that's probably not what you meant when you asked me, but-"

"No," Takemi shakes her head. "It's fine. You just surprised me, is all. Can I assume that there are some other…" she waves her hand through the air, "… let's say, stressors in your life, right now?"

"You could say that."

Takemi nods. "And are these linked to why you're living in the attic over Boss's café?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it could be that your passing out was a delayed panic attack. The burden on your mind just kept piling on, and then the train crash happened..." She stares up at the ceiling, a thoughtful look on her face. "I could see it happening. You don't have a concussion. You don't have anything physically wrong with you, from what I can tell." She sighs. "I've got a few recommendations. First, you should make an appointment with the neurology department at Kameda Daiichi Hospital for an MRI. Technically, you’ll need to contact the radiology department, but a neurologist will review the results. Hallucinations aren't uncommon when dealing with stress, but yours seem a bit more intense than the typical flashing lights and strange shapes most experience. An MRI would verify if there's anything strange going on in your head, and they'd be able to give you a better treatment plan. I also think you should consider speaking to a therapist."

Akira blinks. "Seriously?"

Takemi nods. "If it was a panic attack, then seeking therapy will help you develop coping skills. Plus, it sounds like you've had a few unlucky breaks. Therapy might help with that."

"Alright," Akira says because that's what you say when doctors suggest something.

Takemi pushes herself to her feet. "I'd also like you to stop by my clinic in a few days, just for a checkup."

Akira props himself up on his elbows. "You said it's nearby?"

"Just down the street." She gives him a small smile. "I know this all must seem pretty scary, but I wouldn't worry about the hallucinations unless they continue. The MRI will help to rule things out. Just get some food in you, rest, and try to take it easy for a few days."

Akira shrugs. "It's supposed to be my first day of school tomorrow."

"Oh good, more stress." Takemi sighs. "Well, play it by ear. If you wake up and feel up for going, I won't say you can't. But take it easy. Don't push yourself." A small ding comes from her jacket pocket, and Takemi reaches in to pull out her phone. She stares at the screen and frowns. "Hmm."

"Something wrong?" Akira asks.

"An alert on the train crash. The news is reporting that the conductor suffered a mental shutdown." She returns her phone to her pocket. "There's been a lot of those lately."

"I heard some people talking about it yesterday," Akira says. "I guess I didn't realize it was a real thing."

"Apparently," Takemi says and turns to the stairs. Akira does not get to ask what she means as Sojiro stomps his way up, a small dish in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"Alright, so how is he? Is he in any trouble?" He hands the water and food over to Akira, who balances the dish on his lap, unscrews the cap on the bottle, and takes a deep pull.

As Akira eats, Takemi goes through her list of recommendations, and Akira mulls over Sojiro's interesting choice of the word 'trouble,' before Takemi says, "And I'd recommend you taking him home tonight. He shouldn't be sleeping here alone. If there is some issue I missed, you won't find out until tomorrow morning, and that could be a problem."

Sojiro's face freezes. "That's... not gonna work."

Takemi blinks. "Don't you have a couch or something? I doubt there's any real danger, but just to be sure."

Sojiro stands in the center of Akira's room and looks from Takemi to Akira and back again. "I…uh, fine. Give me a minute." He takes a few steps away from the two, then turns and heads downstairs. Akira sees him pull a cellphone out of his pocket just before he disappears from sight.

"Maybe he had a date," Takemi mutters, and although Akira doesn't know enough about her to read her tone, he gets the sense that she doesn't honestly believe that.

Sojiro returns a few minutes later, a frown on his face. "Yeah, okay. You can stay at my place. Just for tonight, got it?"

"Alright," Akira says and stands.

"Remember," Takemi says. "Take it easy. And if you don't feel like going to school tomorrow, don't."

Akira starts to pack a bag with clothes for the night, while Takemi finishes listing her recommendations to Sojiro. True to her word, she does not mention the hallucinations. A few minutes later, the three leave LeBlanc together. Takemi bids them both a good night and then heads out into the night. Sojiro dons his hat and motions for Akira to follow him.

#

"Listen," Sojiro says as they walk, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes on the sidewalk. "I'm, uh, sorry. About kicking you out of the car. That wasn't, well, I'm sorry."

Akira looks over at him. He's not quite sure what to respond to this. "Don’t worry about it,” is what he settles on.

Sojiro Sakura’s house is not far from LeBlanc. A short walk from the café down Yongen-jaya’s backstreets brings them to a typical two-story front gated house that seems in danger of being swallowed up by the skyline rising from the neighboring districts. Sojiro says little as he opens first the gate, then the front door. The inside is dark, and Akira squints against the darkness until Sojiro switches on a light, revealing a long hall with a few closed doors. Beneath one of the doors leaks a deep blue light. Akira’s eyes fall on it as he passes it, following Sojiro deeper into the house.

“Don’t touch anything, alright?” Sojiro says. “And don’t go wandering around.”

“Okay.”

Sojiro whirls on him. “Look, I’m serious.”

Akira is too tired for this shit. “I’m not going to steal anything.”

Sojiro sighs and shakes his head, continuing to move into the house. “That’s not what I mean. Just stay in the living room, okay? If you need the bathroom, it’s this door here.” He points at the door they pass as the file into the living room. “And the kitchen is through there. If you need water or something.” Sojiro fills him in on a few more need-to-know aspects of the house's layout and leaves him to change.

Akira changes quickly and collapses onto the couch. It’s not uncomfortable, but he would still prefer his bed. Without waiting for Sojiro, he lets his eyes close. From somewhere deeper in the house, he thinks he hears a soft scampering sound, but he can’t be bothered. Maybe Sojiro has a cat or something. His last coherent thoughts are a mishmash of the blue flame, the crash, and the thing called Igor.

What the hell is going on? He manages to wonder before falling into a deep sleep.

Notes:

12/30/2021: I'd argue this is the first real change between the original and the rewritten version.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

4/11

Akira's deep rest backfires as he wakes on Sojiro's couch with a crick in his neck, and when he checks his phone, he realizes he slept much later than he intended to. He launches himself off the couch, startling Sojiro - from where he'd apparently been sleeping in an armchair - awake and rushing to the door. Sojiro follows, grumbling the whole time and pressing his hands against the wrinkles in his clothes. It is only when the two are halfway to LeBlanc that Akira realizes that he has the option of not going to school, on the doctor's recommendation.

He considers it, even as he walks, but decides he'd rather not deal with the hassle of explaining things to Kawakami-sensei. He would prefer the organized structure of a school to the free time of sitting on his bed reliving yesterday's events. The last thing he truly wants to do is spend the whole day thinking.

"I'll go to school," he tells Sojiro when they enter LeBlanc.

"Yeah, fine," Sojiro grumbles. "Just get a move on. The trains will be delayed because of the crash from yesterday." He nods towards the kitchen as Akira speeds towards the stairs. "I'll throw something in the microwave for you."

Akira rushes upstairs, changes, and reemerges a short time later, wolfs down the breakfast Sojiro microwaves for him, and then leaves to navigate his way back to Shujin.

Akira is at first surprised at the ease with which he enters Yongen-jaya's subway station. Shouldn't I be petrified of being here? He wonders as he waits for the train to arrive. Yet, he isn't. That is not to say he is unfazed. When the images of the train crash pop into his mind, his brain reacts by violently shoving them away. He does his best to turn his thoughts to something else, but he recalls Takemi telling him to get an MRI and therapy, and he realizes that does scare him. What if there's something wrong with his brain? He finds himself discarding those thoughts as well. Sojiro - to the best of Akira's knowledge - has not made an appointment for him at the hospital, and Akira hasn't called either. Ignoring it won't make it go away, a voice in his head chides.

Maybe, Akira thinks. But it might get me through the day.

That seems healthy.

But enough is happening to him and has happened to him recently. One more outrageous thing, one more piece of bad news, would likely be one thing too many.

Akira falls into the pedestrian shuffle and eventually finds himself beneath the thin awning of a convenience store. Rain falls in a drizzle, but it is still rain, and he has no umbrella. According to his GPS, school is only a few blocks away, but he already looks like a mess. At least I'll look wet and not like I spent all night on a couch.

His phone beeps.

He looks.

The app has returned. Are you kidding me? Akira lowers his thumb towards the icon to delete it again but stops. He looks around. Nothing is frozen—no pillars of flame. Rain strikes the pavement, and cars drive through puddles, and a slim figure jogs from further down the sidewalk towards his position.

The app appearing on his phone prefaced both hallucinations. Akira has no idea how touching the icon on his phone would trigger some mental break, but he isn't about to chance it. How would that even happen? He hadn't mentioned the app to Takemi because he hadn't thought it was connected. But maybe deleting or touching the app didn't do anything. Perhaps its mere presence was enough. Hell, maybe it's part of the hallucination!

The sound of splashing footsteps distracts him. The figure he'd noticed jogging from further up the street now shares the awning with him. She is thin, wears a thick gray hood, and complements her Shujin Academy uniform with red leggings beneath the skirt.

"Crap," comes a light, feminine voice as she reaches pale hands up to the hood. She pulls it back to reveal a mane of blonde hair, pulled into two stylish pigtails, bright green eyes, and soft lips.

Okay, Akira's mind thinks. She's not wreathed in blue flame, so that's a plus. The girl looks at him, and Akira can't help but meet her eyes. There's a short moment of silence save for the sound of falling rain and feet on wet pavement. Akira studies her, and at the moment he manages to convince himself that, yes, she is, in fact, real, she asks, "Is there a reason you're staring at me?" and Akira realizes that she is glaring at him and that he must be scrutinizing her like a creep.

"Uh, I-"

And then a horn blasts through the white noise.

Both teens jump and turn to see a white compact car pulled up alongside the curb. Akira watches the window roll down, revealing a flat face topped with a mop of black hair. It is an older man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, but he seems five to six years younger when he smiles. "Sorry," he calls in a firm voice. "Didn't mean to startle you. Would you like a ride? It looks like it might keep coming down for a while."

Akira hears a short hitch in the girl’s voice when she says, "Yeah, thanks."

As she approaches the car, the man looks at Akira and asks, "Would you like a ride too?"

Why not? Akira thinks and makes to step forward. An instant later and he stops. Something has crossed across the face of the man behind the wheel and whatever it was is enough for Akira to realize that the offer hadn’t been genuine, but just a thing to say for some reason Akira’s mind hasn’t quite managed to figure out yet as it is too busy digesting the signal to stay OUT of the fucking car.

Akira gives a quick shake of his head and adds a polite, “No, thank you,” but the man no longer pays him attention. It is only then that Akira realizes the girl is still heading for the car, and before he can say anything, she gets in. The window begins to roll up. Akira catches a glimpse of a downtrodden look in the girl's eyes. Then, all he sees is his murky reflection in the glass, and the car drives off.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Akira blinks, and a blonde-haired boy dashes past him. His eyes follow the car until it turns the corner. "Shit," he spits, then stops, hunches over, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Screw that pervy teacher."

Akira is still processing everything that just happened, and the words are so odd, he repeats them before he can think not to. "Pervy teacher?" His phone beeps, but he ignores it.

The blonde boy turns and glares. His eyes dart over him, and Akira realizes the boy is sizing him up. The kid stalks up to him, a scowl on his face. "What? Are you going to rat me out to Kamoshida?" He asks, his voice dripping with implied menace.

Akira has seen too much, between his trial, brief stint in juvenile, and yesterday’s train crash for this boy's machismo to faze him. "I don't know who that is. I don't know who you are either."

The boy's eyes narrow. "What'd you mean, you don't know who Kamoshida is? Kamoshida is, well, Kamoshida! He thinks Shujin Academy is his own personal Castle, and he's the King!" Akira's phone beeps. Again, he ignores it.

"Oh, is he a teacher at Shujin?" Great.

The boy takes his hands from his pocket and points at his skull. "Dude, are you like, touched in the head or something? How do you not know all this?"

Akira frowns. "I'm transferring in today."

The boy's face drops. "Oh. Oh, shit." He sighs and steps out of the rain. "I'm sorry, man. I had no idea. Explains why I didn't recognize you." Beneath his breath, Akira hears him mutter, "There I go again, running my mouth." He turns to Akira, smiles, and holds out his hand. "I'm Ryuji Sakamoto." Akira finds the name familiar but cannot say from where. Ryuji’s eyes fall on the pins that adorn Akira's collar. "You're a second year too, huh? Maybe you'll be in my class."

Akira stares at the outstretched hand for a moment, then reaches out his own. "Akira Kurusu. Nice to meet you." They shake. Ryuji’s unbuttoned uniform clashes with the bright yellow t-shirt he wears beneath it, and only his pants - the same red and black plaid as Akira's - maintain any sense of decorum.

"Anyway," Ryuji continues. "Sucks you had a run-in with him on your first day. And Takamaki,” he trails off, then shakes his head. “Whatever. Come on. I'll show you a shortcut to school.” He holds his hand out from the awning and opens his palm to the sky. "Looks like the rain is dying down too. Let's-" He takes a step and doubles over, his hands going to his head.

Akira misses this because a quick stab of white-hot pain shoots its way through his skull. He groans and grips his temples.

"Man, I feel sick all of a sudden," Ryuji mumbles. "What the hell?" He straightens and rubs his eyes with his thumbs. Akira regains himself as well and shakes his head clear. There’s nothing out of the ordinary on the street. He doesn't see any pedestrians, but the rain must've kept them inside. "Let's go," Ryuji says, setting off down the sidewalk. "You don't want to be late on your first day. People will start saying weird shit about you."

#

Tick. Tock. Kawakami stares at the clock.

Tick. Tock. Kawakami stares at the clock.

Tick. Tock. Kawakami stares at the clock.

The minute hand moves. Kawakami sighs. "Late," she says and then looks at the student standing alongside her desk. "Late on the first day. Unbelievable!"

Makoto Niijima stands upright. Her hands are folded in front of her, politely. Her short brown hair is perfectly styled and held in place by a matching headband. Her clothes are smooth, ironed, and immaculate. In this, Kawakami is a bit jealous. She knows she looks like she just crawled out from beneath a rock for the first time in a decade. Her body aches, and her skin sucks, and her hair - while acceptable - is still something of a mess. Being jealous of a student is unbecoming of a teacher. She tells herself this and then tells herself to shut up.

She leans back in her chair and says, "I'm sorry I called you here so early for nothing."

Makoto shakes her head. "Please, think nothing of it. I'm happy to help any student at Shujin. It's my responsibility, after all."

Actually, it's mine. Kawakami does not say this. She is too deep in her problems to give in to doubt now. "Still, I do appreciate it. I guess I just figured that introducing him to the Student Council President would help him adjust."

Makoto's words are precise and deliberate. "When he does arrive, I'd be happy to meet him."

"Don't be so sure," Kawakami says before she can stop herself. A slight shift in Makoto's brows is the only indicator of surprise. With a sigh Kawakami feels throughout her body, she pushes herself to her feet and says, "Come on, I'll walk you back to class."

"Oh, there's no need."

"Forget it. This is happening. Besides," Kawakami says as she leads the way to the faculty office's door. "Maybe we'll run into him downstairs."

Homeroom will begin soon, but the halls are packed with the same amount of gossiping students as ever. They hunch over their phones, bring their heads together in whispered conversations, and generally ignore Kawakami and Makoto as they head down the hall.

"Did you hear about the transfer student we're supposed to be getting?" Kawakami freezes. This from a young second year girl to her friends. "I hear he assaulted someone."

How the hell do they know that?

"I heard he was in a gang. Or was. The rumor is that he got kicked out for having a beef with the leader."

Huh? She looks at Makoto, who must be hearing the same things she is. The girl appears unfazed. But ‘appears’ doesn't mean 'isn't.' "Come on," she says, not bothering to correct the girls. Even if she says anything to counter the rumor, they will only take it as vindication.

Only, it isn't just the girls. Somehow, the entire student body knows about Akira. They just don’t know the facts.

"I hear he's supposed to carry a knife."

"He's got a scar on his face. Like, his whole face!"

"If you make eye contact with him, he'll kill you."

"He can kill you just by writing your name in a notebook!"

Okay, Kawakami figures. That last one is probably just some anime. That excluded, almost everyone is engaged in some warped, bizarre conversation about Akira Kurusu. The poor kid has no chance, she realizes. They've already judged him. It makes her sad that kids can be so cruel.

They near Makoto's homeroom, and Kawakami reassesses the student council president. Her eyes are on the floor, and there' a slight blush to her cheeks. She's biting her lower lip and doesn't appear to notice. Kawakami reaches out a hand and rests it on the girl's shoulder. Makoto glances up, startled. "I met him yesterday," she says, channeling the teacher she's always wanted to be. "He seemed perfectly respectful, quiet, and calm. He looks normal. I mean, sure, that could all be an act, and I've got no idea where he is, but I don't believe the rumors, and neither should you."

Makoto seems to find some resolve. Her face hardens, and she nods. "Yes, Kawakami-sensei. Please, introduce me when he does arrive. I'd be happy to help him adjust."

Kawakami smiles. She can't help herself. "Oh, don't worry, I will. There's at least one reason to look forward to meeting him." She leans in and whispers, "He's pretty cute." Makoto's eyes widen only a bit, but the blush returns in force. "Well, see you soon." She walks off, leaving the ordinarily stoic Makoto Niijima looking positively non-stoic.

Alright, Akira Kurusu. This is the last time I cover your ass. You better have a damn good excuse when you do show up.

#

Nobody cares! Nobody cares. – Sonny, ‘A Bronx Tale’

 

You don’t get an empty ‘Contacts’ list by accident. ‘Open and shut case’ sounds like a cliché until it happens to you. And who’s going to question it? Can you blame them?

You talk to people afterward, people you’ve known since you were a kid. You explain as best you can.

“You know that guy lied, right? The woman too. You don’t believe I’d do that, right?”

Imagine several variations on those three sentences, repeated way more than three times. You’re not supposed to do the same thing over and over again and expect different results because it means you’ve lost your mind, but you are supposed to tell the truth. On one of those rare occasions he sashayed into my life, my father had a much more fitting quote. He said, ‘If someone wants to fuck you, they’ll find a way to fuck you.’ So much for the truth, right?

But, see, there’s this pressure. They – all the ones who aren’t, you know, you – are under it. It’s a pressure to accept, bend, and believe the authority because it is the authority for a reason. The authority got to be the authority because it’s right and knows best, and if the authority says someone you know is guilty, well, if they weren’t guilty, it would mean that the authority could be wrong, and boy oh boy, we don’t want that. Of course, we all know that they can be wrong because we read about it online and hear about it on the news, but knowledge flies out the window when it comes to our personal lives. We like our lives neat, and if that means we have to accept that the authority – despite all we’ve learned – is correct in all manners that pertain to us, then we do that.

Can you blame them?

Yes. Yes, you can. And you delete their contact information.

#

"Yo, dude! Wake up!" The voice is far away.

"Don't...don't…," Akira mumbles. "Please. I need..."

Sensation returns. Akira feels hands on his shoulders, smells mildew and iron, and tastes blood in his mouth.

"Akira!"

Akira's eyes open, and the worried face of the blonde boy is staring down at him. Ryuji. His name is Ryuji Sakamoto. "Wh-what?"

Ryuji lets him go and stands up. "Finally! You freaked me out, man. That thing hit you hard. I thought you were in a coma or something!"

"Thing?" Akira asks. "What thing?" It is then that he notices their surroundings. A box. One made of red stones, black bars with chains and manacles hanging from above. He lies on a filthy, yellow-stained cot—another box.

"Are you-" Ryuji starts, but Akira remembers. Remembers finding a castle where the school should’ve been. Remembers walking inside and entering that strange hall with the chandeliers and pillars. Remembers the things in black armor that swarmed them and their shields and swords. He remembers a sharp pain in the base of his skull and then nothing.

Another hallucination? But it was all so real.

He sits up. "Ryuji, where the hell are we?"

"How should I know?" Ryuji asks. "At first, I thought this was a TV set, but I don't see any cameras. Not to mention..." He trails off as a long, faint scream echoes down the hall. "There's that. We need to get out of here, fast." He holds out his hand, and Akira takes it. Okay, so Ryuji can see it all too. So I’m not crazy, and we’re both in some sort of Castle. Well, he could still be crazy, and the blue flame hallucinations might have nothing to do with this place, but Akira’s mind wasn’t ready to confront that possibility. Ryuji pulls him to his feet and says, "Help me look."

"There's nothing to see, Sakamoto."

Both boys turn towards the voice and find a tall man dressed in nothing but a thick fur cape and sharp pink speedo standing outside their cell. A golden crown sits atop his head of pitch dark hair. It matches his eyes.

"Kamoshida?" Ryuji asks, eyes bulging.

"The pervy teacher?” Akira asks.

Kamoshida's golden eyes turn to regard him. "Oh? You brought a friend. I didn't know you had any left."

"What the hell is going on?" Ryuji shouts. "What'd you do to the school? Why're we locked up in here?"

"The school? I didn't do anything to it. It's exactly as it should be. Although, I never thought the infamous Ryuji Sakamoto would possess the nerve to sneak in. Or do anything, for that matter, without my permission. Unforgivable. An open and shut case." He claps his hands, and a pair of armored guards march out from the shadows. "Bring these knaves to the execution grounds. Their punishment shall be death."

The guards clang their swords to their chests. Metal rings against metal. "All Hail, King Kamoshida!" They shout.

The door swings open. The guards enter. Ryuji is shouting for an explanation, for things to make sense. Strong, gauntleted hands seize Akira's shoulders. He does not think to struggle. His mind is lost somewhere else. It cannot understand how any of this is real.

They pass dozens of cells filled with young men not unlike themselves. All of them alternate between begging for some kind of mercy and praising King Kamoshida.

"Long live King Kamoshida!"

"All Hail King Kamoshida!"

"Glory to King Kamoshida!"

A black sky greets them in a courtyard. The space is massive, the size of several gymnasiums, and in the center is a raised platform upon which rest a series of metal stumps. Before the platform is a gilded throne, tacky with jewels and leather, atop a short, grey stone staircase.

Kamoshida reclines on this, lazily. A blonde girl, dressed in a skimpy, pink bikini, sits in his lap. Akira recognizes her as the girl from under the awning.

"Takamaki!" Ryuji shouts when he sees her. "What the hell are you doing? Get away from her, you son of a bitch!" The guards force Ryuji and Akira forward, the former struggling, the latter just dragged.

Kamoshida laughs. "Save your breath, Sakamoto. This one," and he strokes the girl's hair with his left hand. "Knows her place. It's a pity you could never learn yours." The girl has a ditzy look on her face, and she giggles when he says this.

"Dammit," Ryuji screams as he's led up the steps of the platform.

A dozen girls laze upon the throne’s steps. They are all young, all beautiful, all dressed in revealing clothing. All of them regard the two boys with contempt.

"Takamaki!" Ryuji is still shouting. "Ann! Snap out of it! Help us!"

The guards drag Akira onto the platform alongside Ryuji. In an almost synchronized movement, the guards force the two of them to their knees. A fist grips Akira’s head and pushes it against the cold metal stump.

"Oh my god," Ryuji whimpers. "Oh my god, oh my god."

"Hold!" The voice rings out across the courtyard, and Akira can turn his head just enough to see Kamoshida standing before his throne, his hand held up, palm out.

"My King?" One of the guards asks.

"This is my Castle, is it not? Therefore, I  should be the one to end their pathetic lives.”

"Of course, My King!"

The guards chat amongst themselves excitedly, and Kamoshida begins to descend from his throne. As he passes the scantily clad girls, they reach out adoringly and caress his bare chest, abs, legs, and even his crotch. His smile is twisted and horrible, but Akira pays little attention to it.

Behind the throne, a blue flame burns.

Pain shoots through his mind. He takes half a breath before he must release it in a scream. Someone is hammering railway spikes into his brain.

The flame warps itself into a humanoid figure and steps towards him. "You should have left them alone." A voice reverberates through his bones, and Akira recognizes it as his own, though there's a faint, sinister lilt, and he knows now this is no hallucination. This is very real. "It would have been easier, yes?"

"Akira?" He hears Ryuji call his name, but Akira cannot reply. He cannot think. It hurts so much!

If anyone else can see the burning blue figure approach, they give no indication. Kamoshida struts leisurely across the field towards the platform, but the burning man is beginning to outpace him.

"All the torment you've suffered. All the shame. All the anger. You could’ve avoided it. You should have just left them alone and walked on. Ignored the screams. Listened to his threats. You should have done nothing." The figure stands before the platform now, and through the writhing agony, Akira can see himself, eyes wide and golden, smile twisted and baleful.

Help! Someone help!

"Help?" The second Akira asks. "No one is coming to help you. You are going to die here. That boy? Ryuji? He's going to die here, too. Are you going to watch it happen? Are you going to accept it?" It climbs onto the platform and leans down into Akira's face. "Admit it. It was all a mistake. Admit it."

A spike in pain brings a moment of clarity. It returns him to that crisp night not so long ago. He feels the smooth concrete of the road beneath his feet, smells the clean air. He hears the screams and finds the two once more. The man with his hands on the woman, his clothes soaked through with the stench of alcohol. The woman, the buttons on her blouse already ripped away, her eyes wide and teary with fear. She sees him, and she cries out for help. She begs him for help. Him. Akira Kurusu. Because there is no one else.

He glares at his double and thinks of how his mother was, of the friends who stopped talking to him once the trial ended, of the judge who deemed him a delinquent, the teachers who believed it. He thinks of Sojiro, who sees him as a pain in the ass, the pudding Principal who wants him to ‘keep his nose clean,’ Miss Kawakami, who can't be bothered. He glares at his double and realizes he could have avoided all this if only he had walked away that night.

But.

Through gritted teeth, he growls, "It wasn't a mistake!"

And his double's grin grows, and it replies, "Very good."

Kamoshida scales the platform and takes a sword from one of the guards.

His double vanishes, the pain intensifies, and Akira hears the words, "VOW TO ME. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. THOU WHO ART WILLING TO PERFORM ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS FOR THINE OWN JUSTICE!"

Kamoshida raises the sword over Ryuji's head. "Goodbye, Sakamoto."

Akira's fist rises and crashes into the metal stump, denting it. The King turns and regards the young man.

"CALL UPON MY NAME AND RELEASE THY RAGE! SHOW THE STRENGTH OF THY WILL TO ASCERTAIN ALL ON THINE OWN, THOUGH THOU BE CHAINED TO HELL ITSELF!"

"What are-" Kamoshida begins, but a gust of wind rips down from above and knocks him off balance. The guards stumble away from Akira.

Akira straightens. His glasses are gone. Something else has taken their place. He reaches up to feel what it is.

"Per..."

His hands find the smooth ivory of a mask. It covers his eyes and nose, a masquerade caricature.

"...so..."

He grips the mask’s edges and pulls, and his skin peels and tears away from the muscle and bone beneath. His last syllable becomes a scream as the mask rips free.

"....NA!"

His blood dashes along the top of the platform and pours onto the metal stump. Blue flame engulfs him as a deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.

Kamoshida jumps back. "Wh-what?"

The guards, distracted, have let Ryuji go. The boy falls away from the stump, and stares, slack-jawed, at Akira as he stands.

Akira turns around. His eyes - his own - are full and free, and the smile on his face is confident and wild. The flames dance across his body and turn to cloth. A long obsidian three-tailed overcoat over a thin charcoal long-sleeved turtleneck. Sable slacks. Blood red gloves. Slick black shoes.

Akira throws back his head and cries, "ARSENE!"

The remaining flame explodes upwards and coalesces into a nightmare. A crimson frockcoat with a death white ascot.  A mockery of a top hat. Over-long, spindle fingers tipped in claws. Long, terrible corvid wings like those of a devil’s. The smirking furnace of a face. Thick chains form in Akira's gloved hands. They loop up and around the beast. Akira spreads his arms wide, tosses the bonds aside, and both creature and man roar in exultation.

"Excellent!" Arsene cries. "You have thrown aside your false heart and embraced the power of your rebellion!" It hunches over Akira and asks, "What do you ask of me?"

Akira glances at Kamoshida and the guards. He smiles.

Arsene screeches and rises into the air. Tendrils of black and red lance from its wings, curling towards his enemies.

One guard throws itself in front of Kamoshida, and the fronds pierce its armor and mask. It gives one short gasp of pain before vanishing into a cloud of black ash.

Kamoshida dashes down the steps of the platform before spinning back and asking, "What the hell are you?"

Akira takes a step towards him. "A delinquent."

"How dare you!" One guard screams and hurls himself towards him. Akira feels something form in his hand and looks down to see a long, curved black knife.

The guard swings his sword, but Akira sidesteps. The blade in his hand is moving before he can think to fight back, and it punctures the thing's armor like so much tin. The guard dissolves with a choked cry.

I'm faster. Stronger too. That isn't all. There is a reason Akira is smiling. Even as a part of him rebels at everything, screams that none of this makes any sense and can't possibly be real, the most substantial part of himself is thrilled. This all feels so good.

"Open and shut case, huh?" Akira says to the King. He hurls the knife in his hand towards Kamoshida. It stabs into the wood right near the man’s eyes. Kamoshida yelps and falls back onto the grass.

"My King!" Another guard shouts. Others take up the chorus. Five guards move to their lord's side, gather him up and begin to shuffle him towards the safety of the Castle. The girls, all of them shrieking since Arsene’s appearance, now cluster behind Kamoshida as he flees.

Two guards try their luck with Akira, but Arsene eviscerates them.

Akira straightens and to Arsene, his Persona, says, "Lend me your power." The creature nods and vanishes.

Ryuji scurries a bit further away when Akira turns to him. "D-d-dude! What the hell was all that?"

Akira smiles – it is warm this time - and walks over to him. He leans over, offers a hand, and says, "I know, right?"

Notes:

A/N: Today's is to be a busy one, so I wanted to post this early. I had to break this day up into two chapters, for length and thematic reasons. The rest will be posted Wednesday.
Just to be clear on a few things, although all I've posted so far has a ratio of one day per chapter, that it not going to be the case. Some days are a proper length for a whole chapter. Others are better off broken into several. Some chapters (I've written several) lend themselves to a stretch of several days. One of the latest chapters I wrote contains four days. So, if you thought this was going to be a plod, don't worry.
Well, no, it's still going to be 'long ride' as one commentor put it, just not for that specific reason.
Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you all continue to do so!

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Akira pulls Ryuji to his feet. "How’d you do all that?” The boy asks. “What was all that?"

Akira takes in his gloved hands, the midnight overcoat. "I don't know." It's true. He doesn't understand what has happened. He knows, instinctually, that Arsene is part of him and not some random hallucination. He knows Arsene is his Persona. Yet, he does not know what that means.

"H-Hey, look!" Ryuji points to the Castle's entrance. Six guards have emerged and charge, swords high, shields ready.

Akira smirks. "No problem." He steps towards them.

His clothes change. A flash of blue, and he is in his school uniform once more. The energy drains from his body, and he doubles over, his hands on his knees. "Huh?"

Ryuji’s eyes widen. "Oh, shit. What's wrong? Can't you do the thing?" The guards get closer. Ryuji takes Akira's arm and shakes it. "Come on, man!"

Akira's mind spins. What's happening? Why can’t I do it? Arsene? There is no response.

The guards are nearly upon them. "Screw it!" Ryuji shouts. "Come on, man! We've got to run!"

"Amateurs," says a high-pitched, boyish voice—a small, black and white flash darts from beneath the platform and moves to intercept the guards.

"Huh?" Ryuji asks as Akira stares. It is a cat on its hind legs, with a bulbous head and dressed with a yellow scarf and tool belt.

It stops before the guards, strikes a pose with its feet squared, head up, and shoulders back. "Come out," it calls, "Zorro!"

A cyclone of blue flame spins up above the cat creature, and a towering, barrel-chested, black-caped figure emerges—one arm behind its back, the other grips a rapier in a mocking salute to the guards.

"Show your might!" The cat cries, and Zorro swishes its blade through the air in a 'z.’ Six pillars of wind-whipped air twist around the approaching guards. They lift off the ground and whimper, briefly, before they collapse back to earth in heaps of black ash.

Zorro vanishes. The cat turns back to the platform and the boys. "You two better be grateful."

The boys look at each other. "Is that a cat?" Ryuji asks.

"Must be."

The thing glares. "I don't have time to correct you right now. You both need to leave before more guards arrive."

To Akira, Ryuji asks, "Do you have the slightest idea about what's going on?"

Akira shakes his head. "I do not."

The cat groans. "Look, do you two idiots want to get out of here or not? I have no idea how you got here from the real world, but I'll have you know I just blew my whole infiltration to save your sorry butts."

"What'd you mean by 'the real world?'” Akira asks.

The cat begins to hop up and down, flapping its arms wildly. "We don't have time for this! Just come on!"

#

“We're clear. Come on."

The cat leads them to a storage room. Near the top of a series of shelves shoved against the far wall is a grate just large enough for Ryuji and Akira to crawl through, one by one. This, the cat says, is how it entered the Castle. When Ryuji and Akira describe how they walked in via the front door, the cat rolls its eyes and calls them fools.

"So, we can get out this way?" Ryuji asks.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Its task almost complete, the cat relaxes a bit, slings itself against the doorframe, and regards the claws on its paw with indifference. "But I have to say, frizzy hair, I wouldn't have thought you'd be able to summon a Persona."

"Thanks." He looks down at the cat-thing and says, "But what exactly are you? I mean, you look like a cat and-"

"I'm not a cat," the thing replies, an edge to its voice. "My name is Morgana, and I'm a human. Just like you."

"Uh, but you look like a cat, dude," Ryuji says.

"He has a point," Akira puts in.

"Look, I don't have time to explain how distortion and cognition work. Thanks to you two, I've got plenty of backtracking to do, and I haven’t located another Safe Room, so how about you get through that vent and get lost? Once you’re outside, head over the drawbridge and exit where you came in."

Ryuji shrugs and marches towards the shelves. "Fine by me. I'm done with this crazy place anyway." He sets his foot onto the bottom shelf and reaches towards the top. "Akira, dude, you coming?"

"Yeah," Akira says and follows.

Morgana watches them leave.

#

"Navigation Complete."

Akira and Ryuji stand on a sidewalk. The cat had been right. It had taken Akira and Ryuji a few minutes to locate the point they’d entered the strange other world. Once away from the Castle, the city appeared normal, except for the red sky and absent people. It had been Ryuji who pointed out the overhang Akira had been standing under when they’d met, and as they approached, the two had been shocked to find themselves suddenly in broad daylight. Pedestrians, most with their eyes buried in their phones, swung around the two boys, giving them wide berths.

Ryuji looks at Akira and says, "Dude."

Akira meets his eyes. "Yeah." He feels different. The confidence has leeched out of him, and he feels subdued, regulated, bottled up.

"Hey!"

The two look up as a pair of police officers approach them. Their uniforms are crisp and pressed, the buttons on their caps polished. Their eyes are solid and stern. They are not the same men who arrested Akira that night, but they have the same look. Akira can almost feel the mask of respectful acquiescence slide back over his face. Several facts crash home all at once. Akira and Ryuji are wearing school uniforms, and they are most likely very, very late for school. Akira keeps his eyes on the ground.

"What are you two doing here?" One of the officers asks.

"What?" Ryuji asks. His voice is high and defensive. "We haven't done anything." Akira wants to tell him to be quiet, but Ryuji just continues. "Why're you looking at us like that?"

"Those are Shujin Academy uniforms, aren't they?" The second officer asks. "Mind telling us why you aren't in school?"

Ryuji's response is to pull out his phone. His eyes bulge when he sees the time. "Oh, shit! Akira, dude, it's so freaking late! We were in that Castle for hours!"

"Castle?" The first officer asks. "Are you two high?"

Ryuji's face is one of outrage, but before he can reply, Akira offers a deep bow and speaks. "Please, excuse us, officers. I sincerely apologize. We will be getting back to school right away." He holds the position, eyes fixed on his own feet.

The second officer grunts. "Fine, get going. Don't let us catch you cutting class again."

"We weren't!" Ryuji shouts, but Akira grabs his arm and drags him away. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Let's go," Akira whispers. "Before we get in more trouble."

They get around the corner when Ryuji turns and says, "What was all that about? We should've-"

"They wouldn't have believed us," Akira replies. He hates how monotone his voice is. "It doesn't matter if our story was true or not. People like them see what they want to see. They don't care about the truth. To them, we're just two kids cutting class. Nothing else." He sighs. “Besides, would you believe us? That we just escaped some alternate reality Castle where our school’s gym teacher tried to kill us? And that a talking cat saved us?”

Ryuji stares at him for a moment, then frowns and says, "Fine. Yeah, okay. That’s fair." He leads them down the narrow street towards the school, which has reverted to its standard self. "What the hell?" Ryuji asks. Akira doesn't know what to say. Since waking, the things he has dealt with are not the things he thought he would have to deal with on his first day of school.

The entire week was turning out to be quite different from what he expected.

They head towards the main entrance, but Ryuji suddenly blocks Akira's path with his arm. "Hold up. I just thought of something. It's like, lunchtime. If we walk in the main entrance, everyone's gonna see us. Come on." Akira follows Ryuji back down the street and around to the back of the school. The wall around the campus grounds is low, and the two can quickly scale over a section near the gym. "This way," Ryuji tells him as they climb, "no one will even notice us."

They drop down the other side and land in the center of a ring of first year girls, who all promptly scream. "Oh shit!" Ryuji cries and tries to calm them down with platitudes like, "We're just looking at stuff," which causes the girls to scream more.

Akira, for his part, stands there and tries to look meek. The girls eventually scatter, and Akira turns to Ryuji and says, “You’re right. That was much better than walking in the front door.” Ryuji groans and pulls him towards the walkway that cuts through the courtyard. They're barely on the concrete when Akira hears a throat clear behind them.

Kawakami is standing with her hands on her hips. Her face contorts into a grimace of barely contained rage. "Five hours," she whispers. Several other students are present on the crosswalk. Some of them clear the area, fast. Others turn so they can hear better. "You are five hours late."

"We-" Ryuji starts.

"Quiet, Sakamoto," Kawakami growls. "I do not have the time or the patience to deal with you right now. Get out of here." Ryuji stands still, a torn look on his face. "Now."

"Okaysorrybye," Ryuji says and nods to Akira as he dashes away.

Now, Kawakami's ire is focused solely on Akira. He withers under the glare she gives him. It isn't just a look of anger or frustration; part of her looks sad. The sadness of someone who has had all their suspicions confirmed but didn't want them to be. "Faculty office. Let's go."

She leads him upstairs, past dozens of students who watch their procession. Akira can almost hear their thoughts. Who is that guy, and what's he done to piss Kawakami-sensei off so much? When they are alone in the faculty office, Kawakami turns on Akira. He can see all the exhaustion in her face take a single, brief hold on her before she pushes it aside and says, "It's your first day, and you're already pulling something like this? Kurusu, don't you even care?"

He considers telling her about the trains. About his involvement in yesterday's accident, his spending the night on a couch, and the delays. But he's five hours late. The delays were terrible that morning, but not that bad. He’d have made it to school on time if it hadn’t been for the Castle. "I'm sorry," he says. He is a humble, harmless student once more. He adds, "Very sorry," for good measure.

She sighs. "You're not even going to offer an excuse? I mean, come on, you were with Sakamoto, weren't you? Of all the people you could've met today, you met him."

"Ryuji?"

"Look, I know you're probably lonely. You want friends. Of course, you do. But Sakamoto? He's a troublemaker. A bad one."

"I don't believe you."

They stare at each other in silence. No, what Akira doesn't believe is that he just said that. Can we have one conversation where you don’t make things worse? His brain chides. More words tumble from him before he can shut his dumb mouth. "He seems like a good guy. Maybe he just-“

"That's enough." Her words are cold now. "Don't speak to me like that."

Akira sucks in his lips, bows, and says, "I'm sorry, Kawakami-sensei."

The woman looks at the clock on the wall. "Lunchtime is almost over. There was someone I wanted you to meet, but I suppose it'll have to wait until another time." She stares up at him for a moment, then says, "I don't want you pulling something like this again. Got it?" He nods. "Alright, then. You've got to introduce yourself to the class. Come on."

She leads him out as the bell rings. Students shuffle back to their classrooms. Akira follows her down the hall to class 2-B. Kawakami slides open the door to the room and steps inside. "Alright," he hears her call. “Settle down." He steels himself and follows her inside.

He notices the blonde girl from the awning and the Castle, the one Ryuji named Takamaki. She sits with her head propped up on her hand, gazing out the window, indifferent to whatever’s going on up front. She glances in his direction once, blinks, frowns and then looks back out the window. That is not the reaction Akira expected.

"...Akira Kurusu," Kawakami is saying. "We had him come late today because he wasn't feeling well." At this, Takamaki does perk up and studies Akira with suspicion. Does she remember what happened in the Castle? "Introduce yourself to the class," Kawakami says.

It is only then that Akira notices how nervous everyone in the room looks. They all regard him with trepidation. Finally, he bows and says, "I'm Akira Kurusu. I hope we get along."

The whispers begin.

"It's him, the one I told you about."

"Quiet, he's looking right at us."

"Do you think he really keeps a knife on him?"

"I don't see a scar. Maybe it's on his chest or something?"

Akira does not understand what is happening. Why are they afraid of him? He glances at Kawakami, who frowns and looks at the ground. She knew about this. Caustic bile sloshes in his stomach as he realizes this. The rumors continue to escalate, even as he stands there, even as he hears them all. "Quiet down," his teacher finally says. She points at a desk near the back corner. It is directly behind Takamaki. "Take a seat over there, alright?" Akira nods and heads for it. For a bare moment, he stops next to Takamaki's desk and glances down at her. She gives him a confused look. "Again?" She whispers. “Sit down, weirdo.”

"Take a seat, Kurusu," Kawakami calls. He steps past the desk and sits down.

Two girls a row over bring their heads together. "Did you see that? Do you think they know each other?"

"Maybe they're dating?"

"If that's true, then she's cheating on him with Kamoshida!"

“Or cheating on Kamoshida with him.”

Akira stiffens at this. Takamaki visibly shakes as well, but both remain silent. Akira stares at the back of her head. He needs to speak with her and find out just what the hell is going on.

#

School does not go well. During the last period, a teacher asks Akira a question about Plato and logic. Akira, trying to structure the previous few days' events into some cohesion, does not know the answer and says as much.

The teacher, some gruff old asshole named Ushimura, admonishes him, and the rumor-loving students take this in stride and erupt in a flurry of gossip.

"He's a delinquent after all. No wonder he got it wrong."

"Of course he wouldn't know. I bet those glasses are just for show."

"Man, he's going to do so bad on the test."

He ignores these as best he can, and when the last bell rings, he shoots out of his chair. Takamaki makes a beeline for the door, and Akira intends to ask her what she knows about the Castle. Kawakami enters the room and blocks his path. She beckons, and he follows her out into the hall. He sees a blonde flash as Takamaki turns into the stairwell further down the hall. Damn.

"So, here's the deal," Kawakami says. "Tomorrow, I want you here, first thing in the morning. There's someone I want you to meet. I think she'll be a good influence on you. Not like…" It is only then that she notices Ryuji sauntering his way down the hall. "Speak of the devil. I assume your homeroom teacher gave you a talking to about being late this morning?"

Ryuji sighs and stares at the ground. "Yeah." He glances at Akira and whispers, "Meet you on the roof," before he turns and stalks away.

"So," Kawakami says, having not heard Ryuji's words. "I can count on you being here tomorrow morning, yes?"

Akira keeps his eyes on the ground, nods, and says, "Yes, ma'am."

"You can just call me Kawakami-sensei," she says. "I'm not old enough to be a ma'am yet."

Akira hears the lilt of a joke in her voice, but he doesn’t offer a smile. Kawakami had known about the rumors. She had known the students had some inflated, batshit crazy notion of Akira in their collective heads, and she hadn’t thought to warn or prepare him at all. Yes, there are things of more consequence weighing upon him. The Castle. His Persona. But how can he not care?

Akira keeps his eyes on the ground. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kawakami-sensei."

He spins and walks as fast as he dares to the stairwell. Several students watch him as he goes. He knows he needs to speak with Ryuji, but part of him wants just to go back to LeBlanc. He arrives on the third floor and continues up. He finds a double door leading to the roof and peeks through the looking glass to see Ryuji, alone, perched on a discarded chair. Akira opens the door and steps outside.

Ryuji stands as he approaches. "Hey. Glad you could make it." He wears a faint smile on his face. "I'm guessing Kawakami gave you a pretty big warning about staying away from me, huh?"

"Yeah, she did. She said you’re a pretty big troublemaker. And now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure the Principal said something about that too, when I met him yesterday."

"Yeah, well, a lot of people think that." He leans back on the roof's bulky A/C unit and says, "Anyway, we should probably talk about that Castle." Akira nods. "So, I saw Kamoshida today, and he didn't even blink at me. Like, he didn't remember what happened over there at all."

Akira reaches his hands up to rub his eyes, but his fingers brush against the lenses of his glasses. "Yeah," he says. "That Takamaki girl we saw-"

"Ann?"

"Yeah, her. She's in my class. She didn't say anything about it either."

"When those guards were dragging us to that courtyard, we passed a bunch of cells filled with people," Ryuji says. "I recognized some of them. They're students here! I saw a couple of them today, but it's the same story. No one remembers anything. Dude, what the hell is going on?"

Akira shakes his head. "I have no idea."

"I mean, we weren't tripping on anything, right? I don't do drugs or anything, but it's the only explanation."

"Not to mention that cat thing."

"Yeah! What was up with that? Morgana, I think it said its name was. And hell, while we're on the subject of weird shit, what about you? I mean, your clothes changed into that badass coat, you summoned some kind of giant demon thing, and you moved super fast and kicked some serious ass!"

"As to that," Akira says. "To be honest, I've been having what I thought were hallucinations since I arrived in Tokyo," Akira speaks for a few minutes, bringing Ryuji up to speed. He leaves out the part about the train crash and his collapsing the previous night and sticks solely to the pillars of blue flame and other things he's seen.

"Wow," Ryuji replies once Akira wraps up. "If I hadn't been there with you today, I would've thought you were nuts." A strange look crosses his face. "You said an app on your phone did all that shit?" He lowers his eyes to Akira's pocket. "Like, dude. Is it still there?"

Akira wants to slap himself. How stupid am I? How could he have not checked that since leaving the Castle? Akira yanks his phone out of his pocket and stands next to Ryuji so they can both see the screen.

Sure enough, the red app stares back at them. "That's the one," Akira says, pointing at it.

"Well, don't touch it," Ryuji yelps, backing away. "I don't want to go back there, dude."

Akira gingerly returns the phone to his pocket. "I don't even know how it works. Today, it took us to the Castle, but the first two times I saw it and tried to delete it, it just showed me Arsene." He shakes his head. "This doesn't make sense." A thought occurs to Akira. "But you saw all that stuff in the Castle today too. Have you seen any weird stuff lately?"

"Like today wasn't enough?" Ryuji asks. He shakes his head. "Nah, man. Just the usual crap."

The two look at each other for a few moments, but neither says anything or provides an answer. Akira cracks a smile. "Hey, maybe we were just high. Maybe we still are."

"This would make one involved anti-drug ad." Ryuji chuckles and crosses his arms. "But. Setting aside all this weird shit with your phone, even if all that was some kinda shared dream or whatever, it doesn't change the fact that you saved me in there." He holds out his hand once more. "Thanks, Akira. I owe you one."

Akira smiles and shakes it, but his grin fades when Ryuji’s face falls. "What's wrong?"

"Shit, man, I don't know how to tell you this, but..." Ryuji reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "I looked up your name. I was just curious, yeah? But I found all this crazy shit about you online."

"What kind of crazy shit?"

Ryuji frowns and no longer meets his eyes. Instead, he just hands Akira his phone. Akira scans through the site's information. It's all there. The arrest. The trial. The verdict. He recalls the whispered slights from his fellow students. It all came from this. “This is supposed to be sealed,” Akira whispers, incredulous. “I’m-”

“Check the next tab,” Ryuji interrupts. Akira’s thumb clicks the appropriate button. A RINE window opens, and the dense text assaults him.

…already threatened some girls!

(He told the Principal to go fuck himself!!!)

Kamoshida-sensei already spoke to him and set him straight…

(…nothing to worry about…)

(killed someone that’s why he’s here!) 

                             …if that’s true, why isn’t he in jail LOL

(broke out)                                                                    

 …and went back to high school!?!?!?!?!?!

He’ll probably stop showing up in a week or two so stop getting all bent out of shape everyone!

…I could take him…                                                                                                  

…do it then!

(…said she saw him talking to Takamaki! Kamoshida-sensei will…)

… RIP Akira Kurusu I guess ROFL

Akira almost shoves the phone back at Ryuji. All the exaggerated bullshit had stemmed from the posted articles and its expose on the newest delinquent to attend Shujin. And once the student body got hold of it, they sprinted.

"Someone leaked it," Ryuji says. "And I bet I know who."

"Who?" Akira asks, exhausted all over again.

"Kamoshida, of course."

Akira isn't sure what to make of that. "But why would he do that?"

Ryuji shrugs. "He doesn't want you here, he doesn't like you, he just likes to have control over everything, take your pick. But I'd bet a hundred thousand yen it's him that did this."

Akira's hands shake as he hands the phone back to Ryuji. "A teacher...would really do that?" Of course, a teacher would, a voice in his head admonishes. Kamoshida leaked your information online. Kawakami knew about it and said nothing. No one will believe a thing you say now.

"Dude, you saw Kamoshida in that Castle! The guy was about to do a lot worse to us than just leak our shit online. And, honestly..." Ryuji's voice lowers a bit. "He did the same thing to me last year."

"Seriously?"

Ryuji yawns and straightens. "Yeah, but that's a story for another time. All I'm saying is, if you were looking to keep a low profile, he's not going to let you. But," and his grin returns, "I think you and I will get along just fine as troublemakers. Let’s just try and stay out of any… I don’t know, weird, other dimensions and crap."

“Agreed,” Akira says.

Ryuji sets out towards the roof's door. "I'll catch you tomorrow, Akira." Then he's out the door and gone.

"See ya, Ryuji," Akira says.

He stands on the roof for a bit longer in the solitude and silence. Nothing makes sense, but at least if someone like Ryuji is around, things might not be so bad.

#

That night, he collapses into his bed, fresh from a Sojiro scolding. The school had called him and informed him of Akira's extended absence. Akira had managed to talk his way out of the issue by stating he’d been halfway to school when he suddenly felt sick. Takemi had recommended he take it easy, after all. He told Sojiro he’d stopped in a café for a few hours, which Sojiro took apparent offense to because said café wasn’t LeBlanc. His guardian reiterated his stance. He’d forgive this minor indiscretion, but that was it.

Akira had not said anything more.

He lifts his phone until his face becomes bathed in the blue light. Don’t, he thinks. He unlocks it and scrolls to the RINE app. You’ll regret this. You know you’ll regret this. Don’t do it. Don’t look at it. Akira ignores all this and opens the app. He reads only a few lines on the Shujin hub before he turns the phone off. They were still talking about him. Hours later and they were still talking about him. After everything that had happened in the last day, this should’ve been the last thing that bothered him. But it wasn’t.

Akira forces his thoughts back to the Castle, Kamoshida, Morgana, and Arsene. He soon drifts off to sleep.

Moments of blissful rest. Then the sound of chains and a low moan. Akira's eyes open, and he finds himself in the destitute cell. "Oh, no." His head turns, and he looks past the bars to the figure sitting behind the familiar rotting desk.

"Trickster," Igor says, his voice a low rumble. "Welcome back."

Notes:

12/30/2021: I want to take a moment and thank everyone for reading. It means a lot!

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

4/12

 Makoto's eyelids are heavy. Kawakami-sensei is speaking to her, but nothing sticks. Her duties as Student Council President are ramping up. Several club budgets need balancing. There's still undone prep for tomorrow's volleyball rally. Exam proctoring.

It is not something she can't handle. But, yes, it is a lot when combined with her usual studies and college groundwork. Plus, her sister has exhibited a rather sour attitude as of late.

However, none of this is why she barely slept last night. She spent too much time thinking about Akira Kurusu. She knows someone leaked his information online. Everyone was talking about it yesterday, but she resisted the temptation to look. Kawakami’s assurances had set her at ease, but then she’d heard he'd arrived five hours late in the company of Ryuji Sakamoto.

And that they had scaled a wall in the courtyard.

Doubt infects her. What if the rumors are true? Is Kurusu dangerous? Violent? Unhinged? Homicidal? She imagines him, all buff and jagged lines, covered in tattoos, a murderous glint in his eyes. His voice is loud and obscene. His curses spit like saliva. Perhaps he is a former member of the yakuza. They've accepted adolescents before. How did he get out? Had he gotten out? Was he a drug user? A drug pusher? An enforcer? She imagined, and imagines still, a stooped young man, stalking his way down the halls of Shujin, the students scattering at the sound of his approach. His eyes, dark and maniacal, are enough to scare away even the most formidable of potential challengers. And she imagined, and imagines still, herself, standing defiant in the face of impending conflict and-

"Makoto, are you listening to me?"

Makoto blinks, blushes, and says, "I'm sorry, Kawakami-sensei. I know it's no excuse, but I didn't get much sleep last night."

Kawakami snorts. "Oh, it's an excuse, believe me." Then her lips become a tight line, and she quickly says, "Anyway, I'm glad you decided to do this. He should be here any minute, hopefully."

Makoto nods and clears her mind of the delusions and fantasies. "I look forward to meeting him." That's right. Keep it together. All I have to do is show him around the school. That'll be easy. Then I can get back to what's important.

She doesn't have time for idle speculation. Even if it is kind of fun, it's ridiculous that she allowed herself to indulge like that until the early morning. That isn't who she is. Still exhausted, she steels herself and continues to wait.

The door to the faculty office slides open, and both women turn toward the noise. A tall, lean, dark-haired student steps inside.

Kawakami rises from her chair. "Kurusu. It's nice to see you fit us into your busy schedule."

The boy frowns and approaches. "Yes, Kawakami-sensei," he replies.

Makoto's brain is firing. Wait, this is Akira Kurusu? But he's just-

Kawakami's voice from yesterday fills in the blank.

Cute.

Her throat goes dry. She becomes uncomfortably aware of her pulse. Her brain begins to reason with itself. Sleep deprivation. Dehydration. She did not get the opportunity to eat a balanced meal this morning. She is, simply put, off her game. She orders her mind to cut it out, but it is too busy assessing the young man in front of her and comparing it to the version she'd concocted last night—calm, collected, handsome, quiet, a little confident, handsome. Wait, on what am I basing these observations? He's only said two words! He stepped into the office all of five seconds ago.

"No more train delays?" Kawakami-sensei asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Kurusu reaches towards his face with his hands. His fingers collide with the lenses of his glasses, and he frowns. He removes them and rubs his eyes. "No. I left earlier."

"How considerate of you," his homeroom teacher replies.

Akira Kurusu regards both of them without his glasses.

Oh. Makoto thinks when he fixes her with his dark eyes. He looks better with them off.

"This," Kawakami-sensei says and gestures to Makoto. "Is Makoto Niijima, Shujin Academy's Student Council President."

Makoto regains enough of herself to say, "It's very nice to meet you, Kurusu." She does not stutter, and her voice does not squeak.

Akira Kurusu replaces the glasses and inclines his head. "It’s nice to meet you too, Niijima-senpai."

"Now then," Kawakami says, bringing her hands together in a single, loud clap. "I've asked Makoto here to tutor you, as-"

Makoto's heart lurches up to her throat. "Wait, what?"

Kawakami glances over at her, brows furrowed. Makoto gulps. She actually gulps.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Kawakami asks. "I told you I wanted someone to help him adjust to life here, and a strong academic performance would go a long way towards that. As you've taken his courses already, I thought you would be the best person for this job."

Makoto keeps the scowl from her face. Like I don't have enough to do? She pushes her emotions down, captures her composure. Kurusu, for his part, looks indifferent. Relax. Relax. Another responsibility won't kill me. Kawakami-sensei is right. I am the best person for this job. I'm just tired and flustered. She turns to Kurusu and tries not to let her eyes linger on his face. It is a lovely face. "I am truly sorry for my outburst just now. Please accept my apology." She bows her head, just a bit. "I'd be happy to tutor you."

His smile is polite but lacks warmth. "Thank you."

She needs to take back control. She will not allow any compromise. "We'll meet in the library after school today. Please bring your notes and textbooks."

Kurusu hesitates for only a moment before he nods and says, "Alright. I'll see you there."

Kawakami, evidently pleased with herself, wears a wide and proud grin. "There we go! See? Look at me, facilitating healthy relationships between my students." Makoto cringes at the word 'relationship,' but Kurusu doesn't seem bothered, so she doesn't let it show. "Alright, it's almost time for class. Kurusu, you'll be coming with me. Makoto, thank you for your assistance in this." She stands and heads for the door, and Akira Kurusu gives Makoto a single, solid nod before he follows her.

Makoto watches the two of them and mumbles an "Of course," before she starts to leave.

#

Akira stares out the window as the morning's lecture drones on. Makoto Niijima, huh? Perhaps he misjudged Kawakami. Maybe she did want to see him do well.

Plus, having the Student Council President around couldn't possibly hurt his standing any. He hadn’t checked RINE yet, but from what he’s overheard in the halls, he is now either a former yakuza enforcer or an undercover yakuza enforcer.

Don’t hold your breath, the voice in his head sings.

When Kawakami had asked Niijima to tutor him, she had seemed upset by the prospect. Moreover, she had appeared flustered throughout the whole meeting.

She probably heard the rumors. She at least must've looked me up online.

Fine.

If that's how it is, that's how it is.

Just another pretty face. Akira thinks this but admits to himself that Makoto's is a very pretty face.

Something else nags at him. He doesn't know why, but he can't help thinking that he's seen Makoto somewhere before.

#

Lunchtime arrives, and Ryuji struts into the classroom. The students turn their attention to him, and a fresh batch of whispers begins to bounce around the class. Ryuji ignores all this and plops down in the empty seat alongside Akira. "Yo," he says.

"Hey," Akira replies. "So..."

"Yeah." Ryuji leans in, and his voice drops to a whisper. "That thing yesterday? Wasn't a dream, right?" Akira shakes his head. “Check this.” Ryuji reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and shows it to Akira.

Akira’s eyes widen when he sees a familiar red-and-black app on his friend’s phone. “You’ve got the app on your phone too?”

“Uh-huh,” Ryuji replies, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I found it last night, but I’ve been too scared to touch it. I’ve got no idea when it showed up on my phone.” He sighs, meets Akira’s eyes for a moment, then says, "Look, I know I said I didn’t want to have anything to do with that crazy place, but I need to know what's going on. Kamoshida, all the volleyball players we saw over there? None of them remember anything. Have you talked with Ann?"

"Not yet," Akira says. "But she hasn't said anything to me either." He glances at the other students. "And there's something else."

"Yeah? Not more weird-ass visions, I hope.” Ryuji says this, but he sounds expectant.

"Well, sort of. On top of those hallucinations, I've had these dreams ever since I arrived. At first, I thought they were nightmares. Now, I don't know." He takes a few moments to describe to Ryuji the contents of those strange visions.

"Whoa," Ryuji says. "That is creepy. But, do you, like, think it has something to do with all this? I mean, I'm not a dream-analyzing guy myself, but you do have a record. So, couldn't it just have to do with all of that?"

"That’s what I thought too. But last night, I had another dream. I was in the Velvet Room, and Igor congratulated me on awakening my Persona."

"But didn't that cat thing call it a Persona? Couldn’t you have known to call it a Persona from Morgana saying it?"

"Yeah, but come on. We’ve got apps on our phones that can send us to a pocket dimension, but my dreams are too crazy to be real?"

Ryuji shrugs in surrender. "Alright, I guess that’s a good point."

The door slides open, and Ann Takamaki walks in. Her eyes are downcast, but a fire returns to them when she sees Ryuji seated next to Akira. She marches up to the two boys and asks, "What're you doing here, Ryuji? This isn't your class."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know that." He inclines his head towards Akira. "I was just chattin’ with this guy."

She crosses her arms and frowns. "Don't you think it's time you got lost already?"

"Real nice, Takamaki," Ryuji says, standing. "By the way, have any plans on going back to the Castle today?"

Akira's mouth is suddenly dry. He had wanted to ask Takamaki about her presence in Kamoshida's warped Castle but hadn't had the opportunity. He would have been a bit more subtle than outright asking her, though.

Ann's brows furrow. "Huh? What the heck are you talking about?"

"Sure was considerate of you just to sit there while we were about to be executed."

She sighs. "Are you high? I have no idea what kind of game you two idiots are playing, but keep me out of it."

Ryuji and Akira glance at each other. She doesn't remember either.

"Fine, eff this. I'm going." Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk off. Then he stops and turns back to Akira. "Meet me at the front gate after school, dude. We'll get to the bottom of this." He cracks a grin, and Akira can't help but return it.

"Sure," he says. Then Ryuji ambles out of the room and shuts the classroom door.

#

Akira meets Ryuji at Shujin’s front gate. Students in the area scatter when they see the two together. Ryuji doesn't notice this either. Akira wonders if it's because of poor observational skills or because he can't be bothered to care.

"I was thinking," Ryuji says as Akira walks up to him. "You know how Kamoshida and Takamaki don't remember us at all from the Castle?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what if that weirdo wearing the speedo wasn't the real Kamoshida?"

"I don't follow."

"What if it was, like, a doppler, or something?"

"A doppler?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah. You know. Like something that looks like someone else, but isn't?"

"Oh," Akira says and snaps his fingers a few times before he remembers the term. "You mean a doppelganger?"

"Yeah, that's it!"

Akira considers this for a few moments, then nods. "Makes sense."

"Wait, for real?"

"Sure. You said it yourself. You’ve seen Kamoshida since our time in the Castle, and he didn’t say anything. Takamaki didn’t know what we were talking about, either."

Ryuji leans back against the school's gate. "But what's it all mean? Like, what was that Castle?"

"Well, if it's not the real Kamoshida, and those people he had in there weren't real students, does it matter?"

Ryuji fixes him with a glare, and Akira blinks in surprise. "Hell yeah, it does!" The blonde boy shouts. "Think about it. He was torturing all those guys and doing, uh, all that stuff with those girls. What if what he does over there is just a bigger version of what he does over here?"

Akira mulls this over. "You think he is hurting people, here? In the real world?"

Ryuji glances around, and in a lower voice, whispers, "I know he hurts people. I see a lot of guys on the volleyball team with bruises and slings. And sometimes I see the girls looking like that too."

Something goes cold inside Akira. Someone has flipped a switch, and the whirling fragments that compose his mind shut themselves up, and all he has left is a single, all-encompassing, solidified thought. If that’s true, we have to do something. It is not a question for him. He remembers Arsene's challenge, and he remembers his response.

"You okay, dude?" Ryuji asks. "You went still all of a sudden."

Akira looks Ryuji in the eye and says, "You want to go back there, don't you?"

His friend's frown turns into a grin, and his eyes light up. "Shit yeah, man! You in?"

"I'm in."

#

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Makoto's pencil is sharpened to a fine point, and the lead tip collides with the paper in a rhythmic, slow, and consistent beat. She sits in the library. Second-year textbooks, which she borrowed from teachers, lay open before her in a neat little row.

She sits in the library, alone at a round table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There are other students in the library. Some sit by themselves, and some in small groups of two to three, hunched over their desks and tables. All of them cast worried glances in Makoto's direction.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Makoto prides herself on her stoicism. Even in distasteful situations, she can maintain a look of collected dignity on her face and in her posture. As she is a regular at the library, it is familiar to the students that frequent it.

But today, Makoto's brows are just a bit furrowed.

Today, her lips are squeezed together in a tight, white line.

Today, her pencil is tapping out a slow, angry code onto a blank piece of paper.

Today, Akira Kurusu is late.

Today, Akira Kurusu has stood her up.

One of the students at another table, a second-year, leans over to his friend and whispers in the lowest voice he can muster, "Man, the Prez is pissed!"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Akira slides into the shadow behind a statue of Kamoshida. A guard lurches past, its steps slow and plodding, shuddering as it moves. It reaches the end of the hall, turns, and marches out of sight.

"Ryuji," Akira whispers.

His friend emerges from behind a planter several yards away. "Close one."

They slink down the crimson carpeted hall, lined on both sides by silent sentries of still armor.

The corridor’s end splits in two directions. "Which way?" Ryuji asks.

"How about neither?" Comes a voice from above. A ball of black flashes down and slams into Ryuji's stomach, who drops to the carpet with a moan.

Akira brings up his knife, but it is only Morgana. The cat looks from one to the other. "What are you two bozos doing here?"

Akira goes to Ryuji's side and asks, "You okay?"

"Freakin' cat," Ryuji groans. "Help me up."

Akira takes his arm, and as he pulls him up, says to Morgana, "We came back."

"I see that!" The cat is hopping from one hind leg to the other, his arms flapping wildly. "I want to know why!"

"We've got business," Ryuji says, belting his words out in-between air-starved gasps. "With the King."

It had been surprisingly easy. Although reluctant to overly mess with things Akira did not understand, he queued up the app on his phone - once the two were safely across the street from the school, hidden in the dimly lit depths of the alley they'd used to approach the Castle the first time. He'd expected a sudden shift or a sensation of nausea, but instead, the app had provided a series of extra data points.

Name: Suguru Kamoshida

Localization: Shujin Academy

Distortion: Castle of Lust

Akira didn't like what it suggested that this strange app seemed built with the option of selection, but when he clicked on the icon above the three lines of information, they found themselves staring at the Castle. Ryuji had wanted to re-infiltrate the place immediately, but Akira decided to exit back to the real world first to ensure that they actually could. It had worked, and both boys used the app on Akira's phone to go back inside and then snuck in through the air duct Morgana had shown them the first time.

Morgana puts his bulbous head in his forepaws and says, "No. No. No. No." His following groan is long and exasperated. "Are you telling me that you didn't figure out the Kamoshida in here isn't the same as the one in your world?"

"N-no!" Ryuji says. "We totally figured that out."

"Then why are you here?"

Akira pats Ryuji on the back and adjusts his gloves. He explains their rough sketch of a plan.

Morgana takes it in and replies, "Leave. Now."

Ryuji shakes his head. "No way!"

"Your plan stinks," Morgana says. "You already know people who are getting abused in the real world. Go back and get them to confess."

"There's more than just Takamaki and a few guys and girls on the volleyball team. Everyone he's hurting deserves a shot at taking the bastard down!"

"The people you see in here aren't real. They're just Kamoshida's interpretations of them. But you are real, and you can get hurt. You can die here. And if you die here, you won't be able to help anyone in the real world." Morgana blinks. "Wait, how did you guys get back here?"

Ryuji prods his thumb towards Akira. "This guy had an app on his phone."

"An app? What's that?"

"Pssh," Ryuji says, then looks at Akira. "And this guy says he's human."

"I am human!"

"Then why don’t you know what an app is? Why do you look like a cat?"

"I-" Morgana starts, then frowns. His eyes cast themselves towards the floor. "I don't remember."

"For real?"

"Yes, 'for real!'" Morgana says. "I don't remember why I look this way. Happy now?"

Akira kneels next to Morgana. "You have amnesia?"

Morgana folds his paws across his chest and glowers. "So what if I do?"

"I'm sorry. That sucks." He gives the cat a sympathetic look, even as he inwardly groans. But, of course, the one person, cat or whatever, who could explain what’s going on has amnesia.

Morgana blinks, averts his gaze, and kicks at the carpet with one of his hind paws. "Yeah, well, I'm going to get my memories back. Guaranteed!" He looks up at the two, regards them differently. "You two aren't leaving, huh?"

"Not until we've memorized the face of everyone Kamoshida's abusing," Ryuji says.

Akira just shakes his head.

Morgana smirks a bit. "Alright, then. I'll lead you to them." When the two boys open their mouths, he holds up a paw. "But! You will do what I say when I say it! Consider my word law!"

Akira straightens, and Ryuji walks up to him. "Hey, do you trust this thing?"

Akira shrugs. "I think we can. He helped us out last time."

"But what if he's like, trying to trick us?"

Morgana frowns. "You know I can hear you, right? Do you want my help or not?"

Akira looks at Ryuji, who sighs and nods. "My name's Akira Kurusu," he says. "And this is Ryuji Sakamoto."

"Wow! Great! That's so awesome! Can we go now, please? We've been standing in this hall for ten minutes."

#

"Can't we hurry this up?" Ryuji asks as they descend a familiar stairwell. "We've been at this for, like, an hour."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Morgana replies, from up ahead, where he peers down from a landing. "I didn't realize this was keeping you from something important. If you'd like, we can just go sprinting down the halls. I'm sure no one will notice that."

"Freakin' cat," Ryuji replies.

The slow pace of their infiltration grates Akira as well, but Morgana's sneaky antics and commands have kept them from the sight of Shadows. He may wield a knife and be able to summon Arsene, but Akira would rather avoid confrontation. It is not fear but logic. He does not know what he can do yet. Here, in the Metaverse - as Morgana calls it - he's confident in himself, but he was confident justice would prevail in his trial.WHAT

It's best to stay safe.

They smell the fruity fetor of rot before they find the dungeon, the odor a declaration of their impending arrival.

The stones are slick with mildew and mold. The air is thick, stagnant, and sick. Broken moans of prisons greet them.

In his dumbstruck state yesterday, Akira had been unable to grasp the realities of the dungeon fully. It is worse than he thought. The prisoners languish in their cells, eyes vacant, bodies ornamented with hideous cuts and grotesque bruises. He knows they are not real people. That they are - in a way - figments of Kamoshida's imagination, but this does not stop the churning in his gut.

One boy has a deep, yellow gash along his forehead. Blood covers his face in a sheet.

Another's arm is bent in several places - all wrong angles - but his pale voice mutters eulogies to Kamoshida.

Morgana's eyes are wide. "This is awful. I didn't think it would be this bad. For the distortions to have suffered this level of abuse, it must be pretty significant in the real world."

Ryuji grips the bars of one cell. Akira walks up behind and stares over his shoulder. The boy inside is motionless on the ground. His right foot has been crushed flat. His head has swelled to almost twice its usual size, the beady little eyes whirling around inside that protuberant thing, white and mad.

"This is how he sees us," Ryuji whispers.

Akira reaches out a hand and rests it on his shoulder. "We'll get him for this."

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "Yeah." He sets himself to memorizing the faces.

#

It does not take them long to find where Kamoshida keeps the girls. Above the dungeons exists a set of opulent doors adorned in a series of golden fleur-de-lis. Neon pink letters hang above the doors. ‘HALL OF PLEASURE.’

Neither Akira nor Ryuji hesitate to shove them open.

“Not so loud!” Morgana cries as they swing inward with an aching creak.

The girls lay on the ground. Their wrists and necks are manacled, with enough give to the chains to allow for movement. They writhe in what looks like a cross between agony and ecstasy, their faces contorted into a terrible mix of adoration, fear, and exertion. They touch themselves.

Most wear nothing but bras and panties, but some are decorated in more elaborate designs. One wears the ivory shirt of Shujin, the front tied in a knot exposing her midriff. Her skirt is pathetically short and hiked up. Another is dressed in black-laced lingerie, tight and form-fitting.

One is naked and still upon the tiled floor.

In the center of the room is a bed. It is a tacky thing, pink and shaped like a heart, the kind of thing one might find in a love hotel. Upon it sits Kamoshida, dressed in his cape, crown, and speedo.

Ann Takamaki dances before him in a matching set of pink underwear. Her movements are slow and sensual, and her hands explore herself. A loose smile hangs on her face. Her eyes are dimmed, with nothing behind them.

The grin on Kamoshida's face is vast, and he extends a hand out to her.

Akira doesn't notice Ryuji’s movement until too late. He opens his mouth to call out, but Ryuji is halfway across the room and screaming.

"DON'T TOUCH HER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

The girls’ exclamations cease. Kamoshida's hand continues, but instead of a caress, he shoves Takamaki aside. She hits the floor with a girlish little squeak, and Kamoshida stands. He still grins.

"There you are, Sakamoto."

Pools of oozing black appear on the floor, pulse, and morph into guard shadows.

"Ryuji!" Akira shouts. He darts forward.

"Stop!" Morgana cries.

The Shadows convulse and burst, their armor sloughing off as monsters take their place. Burnt stallions rear up, their skin laced with sickly green veins, their manes white as bone, their eyes bloodshot and bloated.

Akira halts his charge as Kamoshida commands, "Take those thieves, but leave Sakamoto to me."

"Idiot!" Morgana screams and throws himself forward; a falchion suddenly gripped in his paws. He bears down on one of the beasts. "Stand back and watch-" His voice turns into a painful mewl as another of the creatures darts forward and snatches him out of the air. The thing shakes its head in a terrible and rapid back-and-forth and throws Morgana onto the floor. It raises one cloven hoof and brings it down onto the cat's back, pinning him to the floor.

"Arse-" Akira begins, but one monster has loped behind him, and the thing strikes out with its hind legs, sending a pulverizing blow into Akira's back. He screams and falls, and his knife clatters to the tiles and slides away. His attacker sprawls itself across him. The pressure breaks something, and Akira can taste blood in his mouth.

#

Ryuji watches his unfold. This is my fault. If he'd kept calm, if he hadn't charged in here, this wouldn't be happening. He knows that Takamaki isn't the real one, so why? Why had he only seen red when Kamoshida had been about to touch her?

Kamoshida is rapt. "Thank you for leading them here, Sakamoto," he says, without taking his eyes from his captives. "You know, despite your hatred for me, you keep helping me out the most."

"I didn't..." Ryuji moans and looks past him at Ann, who rubs her behind like a cartoon character. "Takamaki..."

Kamoshida looks at the girl. "Hm? Oh. Now I see." He walks over to her, seizes her by the hair, and hauls her to her feet. "You're pathetic, Sakamoto. Did you seriously think a woman like this would ever go for a punk like you?" He raises his free hand into the air, an orator to his masses, and calls, "How about it, ladies? Why don't you tell Sakamoto just what you think of him?"

Ann, still dangling in the King's grip, fixes Ryuji with a sadistic grin. "Ryuji is such a loser. His dumb blonde hair just makes him look like a poser. He thinks everyone's afraid of him, but the truth is that everyone just thinks he's pathetic."

Ryuji cannot look at this. He cannot hear this. He turns, but the other girls have dragged themselves and their chains forward until they ring him like carrion birds.

"I can't stand to look at him!"

"He thinks he's a badass, but he's just a sniveling little wimp!"

"I suppose he's good for something, though. If he hadn't attacked King Kamoshida, our majesty wouldn't be as powerful as he is today."

Ryuji sinks to his knees. He raises his arms about his head and shuts his eyes. "That's not what I..."

The girl in the schoolgirl outfit leans in and rests her hands on his shoulders almost tenderly. "No one loves you, Ryuji. No one wants you. You're stupid. You've got no friends. And ever since you broke your leg, you've got no prospects. You're never going to be a success like King Kamoshida."

Ryuji's words are a whimper. "I didn't break my leg. Kamoshida broke it."

"In self-defense," the girl in lingerie says. She crawls towards him, the manacle around her throat constricting, and lays a hand on his thigh. "That's what we all believe. And we all believe it because King Kamoshida told us. He's so powerful and righteous. We'll always believe him over a piece of shit like you."

"Stop it," he begs.

"Loser!"

"Creep!"

"Punk!"

"Asshole!"

"Piece of shit!"

"STOP IT!"

Kamoshida enters the circle, the girls reaching out to him as he passes, and grins down at Ryuji. "Face it, Sakamoto. You're useless. You're nothing. You couldn't protect the track team. You couldn't protect your mother." He nods towards the prone bodies of Akira and Morgana. "You can't even protect those two. You can't do anything."

Ryuji slumps forward. His forehead collides with the cold floor. "Dammit," he whispers. Why can’t I ever do anything?

"Ryuji..." The voice is weak and wet but cuts through the din.

Ryuji looks. A thin trickle of red bubbles from the corner of Akira’s mouth. His eyes, from behind the mask, plead.

"Help."

Something snaps inside him. He shoots to his feet and shoves the girls away. He feints in one direction then bolts around the other side of Kamoshida. "Get off them, you-"

Kamoshida's backhand hits like a hammer. It cracks into the side of Ryuji's skull. For an eternal moment, he is weightless and off the ground, then he crashes into a heap on the floor.

"Didn't I just tell you?" Kamoshida shouts. "You're nothing but a delinquent! A loser! You should know your place!"

"My place?" Ryuji rights himself and takes a knee. Blood leaks down the side of his head. It stains his hair.

"They're not wrong, you know." The voice cuts into his mind like a scalpel. A scream escapes him, but he can see, just beyond Kamoshida, perched on the King's bed, himself. Flames wrap him in a cerulean aura. His eyes burn gold. "I mean, you're just what they say you are." The figure stands upright, hops off the bed, and struts towards Ryuji, a mad grin on his face.CAN'T

Ryuji tries to watch, but the pain burrows deeper into his skull, and he shudders to the floor, howls pouring from him.

"But then again," Ryuji's double says, "is that such a bad thing? The delinquent? The punk? The troublemaker? There's power in those labels." It spreads its hands in a shrug, and flame crackle into the air. "So, if your name's tarnished already, why not hoist the black flag and raise some real hell?"

Teeth chew his brain. Ryuji lays curled in a ball.

"No more posturing, no more slinking in the shadows. You want to be the troublemaker? Then make some damn trouble!"

When Ryuji speaks, his word is the groan of the damned. "Everything..." His hands splay themselves on the tile, and he pushes himself up. Kamoshida stares. "Everything I had, you took away." Tears shunt from his eyes. He must've bitten his lip or tongue because he tastes the metallic tint of blood in his mouth. "So I'm..." he stands, hands clenched, "gonna take everything of yours. I’LL SHOW YOU MY PLACE, ASSHOLE!”

"Very good," the burning figure declares. It vanishes, and a gunmetal mask in the shape of a skull bursts onto Ryuji's face. "This is a contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Steer yourself towards your purpose, never wavering, AND LET YOUR FLAG DARKEN THE SKIES OF THE UNJUST!"

#

Ryuji's shriek as he rips the mask off is raw and ragged. His skin tears, and snakes of blood slither through the air and dash upon the tile.

Flames erupt into the air and twist into the hull of a sable, mast-less galley, a knife-like grin slathered in paint upon the bow. Astride the vessel stands a tattered, red-caped skeleton. A black, jolly-roger cap adorns its bleached head, twin sabers cut beneath its chin in mock of a collar. From the cuff of one arm, a polished gold cannon extrudes.

Ryuji stands beneath it, his Shujin uniform gone. In its place, he wears a spike-studded biker kutte, a blood-red scarf, and thin yellow gloves.

The ship cuts through the air, and a hollow afterimage trails it. Solid, it slams its hull into the creatures astride Morgana and Akira. The red-eyed monsters rear with horrified neighs, collapse backward, and fling their legs about in a mad attempt to find purchase.

Morgana crawls to Akira's side and whimpers, "Dia." A sea-green glow appears above and then floats down and into the boy's body. Akira can feel his wounds staunching, his bones mending, he feels the blood flow where it needs to, and he feels his energy return.

He straightens his repaired limbs and crouches next to Morgana, who performs the same healing spell on himself. "What's going on?" He asks.

Morgana perks up and hops to his feet. "What'd you think, genius? Ryuji's got a Persona!"

The two dart to his side. "Ryuji?" Akira asks.

His friend's eyes open, clear, and energized. "Yo!" His smile is brilliant. He takes in his outfit, and an apocalyptic lead pipe materializes and lays heavy in his hands. "Holy shit, this effing rocks!" The pirate ship and its skeletal sailor halt above him. "Whaddup, Persona?"

Morgana smirks. "Looks like you're not so useless after all."

"Can it, cat," Ryuji counters, but his grin remains in place.

Kamoshida backs away. "What the hell? This one too? Guards! Guards!" Pools of black congeal where he steps and swell into his armored servitors. One, adorned in gold, convulses in a violent spasm and bursts—the resulting eruption of black pus swirls and reforms.

A gargantuan samurai, its armor a dull maroon, its eyes white slits of malice, sits astride a white, wild steed. In its gauntleted hand, it grasps an ugly spear of jagged metal and splinter. It yanks the reins, and its stallion lifts itself into the air, its forelegs pumping.

"Careful," Morgana says. "That one looks powerful."

Akira snatches his knife off the floor as Ryuji smirks and says, "Doesn't look so tough. Besides, I'm in the mood for some serious ass kicking. How about you?"

Akira returns the smile. "Of course."

The samurai hunches forward, digs its booted heels into the horse's sides, and charges, its spear held low. "In that case," Ryuji says, and with a swing of his arm, points at the approaching enemy, "Blow em away, CAPTAIN KIDD!"

The Captain's arm extends. There is a crackle around the muzzle of the cannon. The air smells burnt. An electric eruption echoes, and a violent concentration of current hurtles through the air and crashes into the samurai. Rider and ridden screech in pain as bolts course about them. Smoke begins to escape from the spaces in the samurai's armor. It collapses to the ground, and in a hiss, evaporates into ash.

Ryuji drives one fist into his palm and looks out upon the King and his minions. "Who's next?" He asks.

#

The three come to a halt on the drawbridge. The sky is a black marble expanse, moonless, and glares down at the thieves as they catch their breath.

"I still say," Ryuji says, then pauses to swallow more air. "We should've wasted Kamoshida."

"Bad idea," Morgana replies. He is prone on the boards, facedown, his little body rising and falling as he breathes. "Akira and I were in bad shape. I managed to heal us, but if that fight had lasted any longer, we'd have been in a lot of trouble."

Akira claps Ryuji on the shoulder. "Tired?"

The youth is bent at the waist, hands on his knees. "Totally."

"We should get back."

"Def." He slides his mask up and taps his forehead. "Plus, I've got all the faces memorized. So tomorrow, when we get to school, we'll get em to confess and take that bastard down."

Morgana clears his throat and turns his face to them. "That's great and all, but I hope you're ready to uphold your end of the deal."

"What deal?" Ryuji asks.

"The deal! The one where I lead you into the Castle, and you help me out after."

Ryuji regards Akira. "You remember saying anything like that?"

"Nope."

"Wh-what? Are you kidding me? You guys have to help me delve into-"

Ryuji palms the air. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Morgana? I mean, we appreciate the help and all, but we never said we'd go 'delving' with you." He straightens and to Akira, says, “C’mon man, let’s get out of here.”

“Heyheyhey!” Morgana moans, still flat on the ground. “I know you’re not thinking of ditching me! After all I did for you?”

Akira crouches by the prone cat. “We didn’t make a deal, Morgana. I don’t have a problem helping you, but we need to get back to our world now. We’ll come back.”

“You’re just saying that to get out of your commitment!”

“Dude, we never committed!”

Ryuji taps Akira’s shoulder, and the two bid farewell. They drag themselves down the drawbridge as Morgana calls after them, “You damn cheapskates!”

#

Ryuji sets down his chopsticks. "Okay,” he says. “It's tragic backstory time."

Akira looks up from his bowl, a series of noodles hanging from his lips. "Hm?"

After their return, both had found themselves too wired just to go home. Ryuji suggested a ramen shop he’d wanted to try. Akira had agreed.

"C'mon, man. I mean, I read all that stuff about you online too. But I don't buy for a second that you assaulted some guy. You're way too chill."

Akira stares. Well, why not? He's yet to explain what happened to anyone. Most know only the official lie. Akira's truth is unheard.

"It was a couple of months ago, back in my hometown." He relates the story.

Once finished, Ryuji pounds his fist onto the table. "That asshole!" People turn and stare. Akira pats Ryuji's shoulder, pleadingly.

"Calm down."

"But, he seriously got the woman he was assaulting to testify against you?"

"Yeah. I couldn't believe it either." Akira sighs. "I kept waiting for someone to tell me it was all a joke. I felt like I was on one of those weird hidden camera shows, you know? But I got arrested, put on trial, sent to juvy, and no one said anything." He stares down at his bowl. “I remember thinking, ‘it’ll work out.’ It had to, right? I did the right thing, so I should’ve been found innocent. Even after everything else, I thought that. Then the judge said I was guilty.”

"It's like that everywhere, huh?" Ryuji mumbles. "Some people think they can just walk over everyone else. It makes me so damn mad." He lets out a long sigh and looks at his friend. "I'm real sorry that happened to you, man."YOUR

Akira feels as if something has dislodged in his chest. He takes the glasses from his face and rubs his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Ryuji asks.

"Yeah," Akira replies. "It's just... you believe me."

"Well, duh. Of course I believe you, dude." Ryuji is wearing his now-familiar grin. "We're friends, right?"

Akira smiles. He sets the glasses back on his face. "We are.”

Someone believes him.

Someone believes him.

"So, what about you?" Akira asks.

"What'd you mean?"

"You said, 'tragic backstory time.' What was all that stuff in the Castle with Kamoshida? I think you said, at one point, that he broke your leg?"

Ryuji groans and drops his head. "Man, that whole thing." His brows furrow and he asks, "What exactly have you heard about me at school?"

"I've only been there for two days. Most of what I've heard is about me."

Ryuji smiles. "That makes sense. So, it's like this. I used to be on the school's track team. I wasn't a star or nothin', but I was pretty good. Everyone was. I still don't know why, but the school decided to hire Kamoshida as an assistant track coach. I guess it was because he was an Olympic Medalist, and having him working for the school would help with its rep.

"Shit got terrible, right off the bat. First, Kamoshida pulled some strings and got our head coach fired. Then, he started having us do these insane practices. I mean, I had no problem working hard, but these were crazy. No one, I don't care how tough they are, could've handled his training regimen. That's when I got suspicious. He kept saying that he wanted to be a part of the volleyball team and that we were just dead weight. At first, I thought it was just him blowing off steam.

"It wasn't, though. The guy was nuts. He targeted anyone who stood up to him."

Akira straightens. "And let me guess, you stood up to him."

Ryuji blushes and rubs the back of his head. "Not exactly. Not in a way that counted. When I started makin' noise, Kamoshida, well, he started talking shit about my mom. I mean, that's a whole other story. I don't even know how he found out about that stuff, but he just kept repeating it to me, practice after practice, right in front of everyone! I tried to deal. I really did."

"That's horrible."

"It just got worse and worse. One day,” and he pauses. Takes a breath. “One day, I couldn't take it anymore. He said the same old shit, and I lost it. I took a swing at him. The next thing you know, I'm on the ground, and my leg’s twisted up."

"He really broke it?"

"Self-defense, which isn't even technically a lie. It's just that Kamoshida provoked me. And like an idiot, I played right into his hands. That was all he needed to get the track team disbanded. He got to focus on all his volleyball shit after that. He also made sure that everyone knew it was my fault the team got canned. Everyone thinks I'm some crazy-ass punk who just wanted to attack a teacher. They call me 'track traitor' and shit like that."

A smile suddenly spreads across Ryuji's face, and he leans back and sighs. "Anyway, that's my story. Not as bad as yours though."

"Are you kidding?" Akira asks. "A teacher broke your leg, harassed you nonstop, and ruined your reputation."

"Yeah, but it's not like I've got a criminal record. I didn't have to go to court or anything. My mom apologized on my behalf, so they let me stay in school. Kamoshida made a big showing out of 'giving me a second chance,' that asshole."

The two boys sit in silence for a time, staring ahead.

"Hey, Akira?" Ryuji finally says.

"Yeah?"

"We're taking Kamoshida down."

"Hell yeah."

#

Once back in his room, Akira collapses onto his cleared-off couch.

He feels as if he has forgotten something, but he can't remember what it is. Instead, his thoughts drift back to the Castle. Specifically, the Hall of Pleasure. Something about the place tugs at his mind.

He cycles through the faces of the girls, one at a time. He stops when he gets to the girl in the lingerie. The one with the brown hair. The one with the eyes so bright they almost seem red.

Makoto Niijima. The Student Council President.

"Oh, shit," he says to the air. He was supposed to have met up with the Student Council President to study.

The fresh wave of panic is quick to subside.

One missed study session isn't the end of the world.

Besides, he’s Shujin’s resident delinquent. She probably expected him not to show up. She probably hadn’t shown up herself.

Makoto Niijima. If she was present as a cognition inside Kamoshida’s Castle, that meant he had designs upon her. Still, the sick man seemed – both times – more interested in Takamaki than anyone else. Perhaps that meant the Student Council president was safe, for now. It was more vital that they get to the abused students. They would be the ones to give testimony against Kamoshida.EYES

Beyond the immediate need to get rid of Kamoshida, Akira’s mind cycles through all he’s learned about the Metaverse. Or rather, Akira’s mind populates with dozens of questions for which he has no answers. Carefully, Akira pulls out his phone and checks the app. It remains, and for the first time, he notices its title. Navigator.

Akira closes out of the app and stands. His limbs are very heavy. Exhausted, he changes and gets into bed.

#

Chains. Moans. The stench rising from the cell’s toilet. Akira's eyes open, and he knows he has returned to the Velvet Room. He sits up and glances out the cell door to find Igor at his desk.

"Welcome back."

Akira drags himself and his chains to the cell door. He grips the cold iron bars and says, "I need to know what's going on. Are you a dream or real, or what?"

“Yes,” Igor replies.

There is a skittering in the dark behind Igor, an impression of movement. Akira swallows. The attendants. He recalls them well. He would rather not.

Igor ignores what is behind him. His head tilts in an avian fashion, quick and blinking. "I see you have made proper use of the Navigator."

It takes a moment for Akira to understand what Igor is saying. “Are you the one who put it on my phone?"

A phlegmy hiss bites out of the darkness, YOUASKTOOMANYQUESTIONSINMATE

The words rattle his teeth, and Akira knows what is coming, and he shuts his eyes as the spider-thing hurls itself from the dark. He retreats, cowers, feels the thing on the other side of the bars. Its breathing is slow and wet, and something drips from it and steams upon the stone floor. It smells like bile.

"Now, now, Caroline," Igor says, his voice soothing. "Such lack of manners is unbecoming."

Another voice echoes from above. "Return to the black, sister."

Akira senses the thing's retreat as another presence takes its place. He keeps his eyes shut. Caroline and Justine. Igor had called them attendants. In truth, they are nightmares. The latter's voice is as smooth as a song, but she is - in her own way - worse than the horror that is Caroline.

A deep chuckle echoes from the spaces between Igor's teeth. "Perhaps dears, it would be easier on his nerves were you to be heard and not seen. Such is the frailty of the human mind."

"Very well," Justine says. "Open your eyes, inmate. You shall see only what you can comprehend."

He inches them open. Igor sits at his desk, alone. The presence of the two terrors still hangs like diseased air, but this is better, at least.

"I often misremember how the human mind catalogs the girls. You have my condolences."

Akira stands. "Please, just tell me what's going on."SEE

"You have stepped onto the path of your rehabilitation. You have summoned your Persona. You have formed a bond."

"A bond? Do you mean, Ryuji?"

Justine's voice echoes from nowhere and everywhere. "Such bonds will serve you well in the days to come. Cultivate them, lest you shall wither."

REVERALSSPELLFAILUREFORYOUINMATE

Akira cringes at Caroline's onslaught. "But what does-"

Igor cuts him off. "Gather people to you, Trickster. These bonds will allow you the abilities of stronger and stronger Personae."

"Isn't my Persona, Arsene?"

"Were you of the understanding you could wear only one mask?"

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but the violent ring of an alarm is all that leaves him. He clutches his throat, but the rattling will not stop.

"It appears we are out of time. Farewell, but do not forget to consider the question posed to you." As Akira's vision fades, he sees Igor's smile grow. "How far are you willing to go for your rehabilitation?"

And as everything turns black, Akira feels a snaking presence of something rear itself near the bars of his cage, and Justine whispers, in a voice so low Akira imagines Igor cannot hear, “What can’t your eyes see?”

Notes:

12/30/2021: Had a bit more fun with this chapter. During the rewrite, I worked on making the Velvet Room interactions a bit more engaging.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

4/13

The rally is a strange thing. From Akira’s perspective, it’s just Kamoshida and a few out-of-shape teachers pelting students with volleyballs. Is this supposed to boost morale?

He sits on the floor at the gym's edge, with Ryuji slumped alongside him. "Man," his friend says, yawning. "This is so boring."

The rally continues for several slow hours. One by one, classes are called to endure Kamoshida’s onslaught. It isn't pretty.

The only halt occurs when Kamoshida spikes one student, a boy named Mishima, in the face. The sick slap of the synthetic leather echoes through the gym. Everyone straightens and panics until Kamoshida ducks under the net and runs to his fallen pupil.

"Look at him," Ryuji says. "Acting like he gives a shit. I bet you he did that on purpose."

Two students help Mishima up and head towards the nurse's office.

Ryuji gives Akira a light jab with his elbow. "Hey. This is our chance. Let's get out of here and see if we can find some of those guys from the Castle."

"Right.”

#

It does not go well. To cover more ground, Ryuji and Akira split up. Neither gets anywhere. The majority of the students are too intimidated by the rumors around Akira to speak to him. The rest tell him to mind his business.

Ryuji suffers similar obstacles.

Dejected, Akira makes his way down to the inner courtyard, hoping to secure a vending machine soda, at least.

Drink retrieved, he turns and finds himself face to face with Takamaki. Her hair is pristine, her make-up expertly applied. Her gym clothes only highlight her curves, and for a moment, Akira is taken aback by her proximity. Then he dons his mask.

"Can I ask you something?" She asks.

"What?"

"What's your deal? Like, we both know the whole ‘sick on the first day’ thing was a lie."

Akira shrugs. "When I got closer to school, I started feeling pretty bad. So I went back home."

"And then you came back in the afternoon? I don't buy that for a second."

"Hey!" Ryuji stalks into the alcove, a scowl on his face. "What are you grillin’ him for?"

"What's it to you?"

"He's my friend."

"And how did that happen, exactly?"

"I can’t have friends?"

Ann sighs. "Look, I don't know what you're doing, but if you're trying to mess with Kamoshida, just stop. You're never going to get anywhere, and no one's going to tell you anything."

Ryuji takes another step forward. "So, you know something's going on then."

Ann averts her eyes. "Just stop, okay?"

"What's he doing to you?" Akira asks.

Ann's brows rise. "Huh?"

"What's he doing to you?"

"Th-that's not..." Ann starts but doesn't finish. Instead, she shouts, "Just drop it, okay? You guys can't do anything!"

"That's what you think," Ryuji says. "We're gonna bury that bastard. You can defend him all you want, but if you knew half the shit he was doing behind your back, you wouldn't."

Ann blinks. "Sakamoto, what'd you mean 'behind my back?'"

Ryuji clicks his tongue. "It's nothing. You wouldn't get it. C'mon, Akira." He starts to leave.

Akira begins to follow, pauses, and says to Ann, "You should stay away from him. He's a bad guy." Then he follows Ryuji out of the courtyard.

Ann stares after the two as they go.

Once out of earshot, Akira asks, "So, how do you two know each other?"

"Hm?" Ryuji straightens a bit. "Oh, we went to middle school together. I guess we were kind of friends. Then we just, y'know, drifted apart."

Akira nods. "So, what should we do now? I got nothing out of the students."

"Same with me. I've got one more idea, though. Mishima, the one Kamoshida hit in the face, let's see if we can get him to talk."

They make their way to the nurse's office and hurry when an announcement comes that the rally has finished, and everyone can go home, only to discover that Mishima has already left. They make a beeline for the school’s entrance and find the boy, hunched over; arms clutched around him as if that could protect him, bag slung across his shoulder, a thick bandage on his face, heading out the exit.

"Yo, Mishima!" Ryuji calls.

The boy's head perks up, and he turns. When he sees them, his eyes widen. "S-Sakamoto? And Kurusu? What'd you guys want?"

Ryuji, oblivious to all the other students, asks, "Are you guys getting abused?"

"Huh?" Mishima's eyes manage to grow wider. "Uh, no! Of course not!"

Akira steps forward and whispers, "We already know about it."

"Y-you do?"

A grin cracks Ryuji's face. "Alright! Confirmation!"

Mishima shakes his head. "Wait! No, that's not right. We're not getting abused. Kamoshida-sensei just pushes us because he wants our team to perform well. Our practices are-"

"Don't give me that crap," Ryuji blurts. "Kamoshida coached the track team too, remember? I know all about his so-called practices. They're just insane! I don't care how hard you need to get pushed to perform. You're covered in bruises, dude! So is everyone else on your team! That's not normal."

Mishima pales beneath Ryuji's words. "We want to help," Akira says. "We want to stop him from hurting people." At Mishima's silence, he adds, "Can you at least tell your parents or the principal?"

Mishima mumbles something in response.

"Huh?" Ryuji asks.

"They already know," Mishima says. His eyes never leave the floor. "Our parents, the principal, everyone who matters. They all know about the abuse, but they don't care. So long as we can use the volleyball team's prestige to get into a good school, it’s a means to an end."

Akira does not know what to say. Ryuji does. "That's crazy! They can't do something like that!"

Mishima glares at them, finding his courage - misplaced though it may be - at last. "Would you two just please stop? This is how things work here. I don't want what happened to you to happen to me, Sakamoto. And Kurusu..." He pauses and looks away from Akira's eyes. "I don't want to be labeled like you. So, just drop this thing, okay? Leave it alone. Leave me alone. Just stop."

#

The day ends. Akira and Ryuji left Mishima, returned to the locker room, and changed into their regular clothes.

Akira is crestfallen, but his friend looks worse. "I thought we'd get at least one person to come forward," Ryuji mutters as they stand around outside the locker room.

"We'll find another way," Akira replies.

"Okay." Ryuji does not sound like he believes it. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. "I told my mom I'd be home early today, so I gotta run. Later, man." Ryuji trudges off down the hall.

Akira thinks he understands. The idea that parents and teachers endorse Kamoshida's abuse hurts Ryuji. These are people who are supposed to protect you, defend you. They were dealing with a system, not an individual.

It must be like this everywhere.

Akira starts to leave. When he gets to Shujin’s entrance, he sees Ann Takamaki and another girl. The latter is pretty in an unassuming way with small features and her black hair pulled into a ponytail. Her leg, he sees, wears a medical wrap. The girls smile at each other, but even at a distance, it seems forced and awkward.

As he approaches, Ann - who does not see him - bids the girl farewell and walks off. The other girl turns in Akira's direction, and he sees her face scrunched up in worry. A thin, purple bruise rings one eye. Then she sees him. "Oh. You're Akira Kurusu, yes?"

Akira blinks. This is unexpected. "Uh, yeah."

The girl smiles a bit and holds out her hand. "I'm Shiho Suzui. It's nice to meet you."

This is also unexpected. Akira reaches out and shakes it. "You as well."

She bites her lower lip and looks around. There are a few students in the hall, but they don’t pay the two of them much attention. "Um, I know this may sound a bit weird, coming from a stranger, but are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"It's just that I've heard a lot of rumors about you. People are constantly talking about you on RINE too." She smiles when he stiffens. "Oh, don't worry. I know it’s all made up. You don't seem like the delinquent type, anyway. Plus, if you were an assassin, then you’re not a very good one since everyone knows about it."

"Oh, I, uh, I see. Thanks, but I'm okay."

"That's good. I had a good friend who had to deal with a lot of rumors last year, so you could say I'm used to that kind of thing. They'll die down eventually. Just stay strong until then, okay?"

Akira smiles. "Thank you," he says. Then he nods towards her knee’s wrapping. "Mind if I ask if you're okay?"

Her eyes widen, and she glances around once more. "Oh, yes. I'm fine. It's just a little something I got from volleyball practice."

"Volleyball practice?" He looks at her and remembers. He’s seen this girl in the Castle. She is another of Kamoshida’s cognitive sex slaves. He recalls Mishima’s words. "I'm sorry."

A small smile returns to her face. "What are you sorry for?"

"I want to help you," he says. "But I don't know how."

Shiho doesn't reply for a moment. Then she checks the small watch on her wrist and whispers, "I need to get to practice. Take care, Kurusu. Everything will be fine."

He watches her walk away, a sick feeling in his gut. "I hope so," he says to no one.

That night, Akira's sleep is dreamless, but he does not wake refreshed.

 

4/14

Akira and Ryuji stand in the courtyard’s alcove. It is lunchtime, and neither can think of a way to stop Kamoshida without one of the abused coming forward.

"Can we really do this?" Ryuji asks.

"I-" Akira starts, but a familiar voice cuts him off.

"I finally found you!" A black cat with tufts of white on its face and tail hops up onto the alcove’s table. It glares at the two, teeth bared. "Did you think you could just leave me behind?"

Ryuji looks at the cat, then turns to Akira and says, "What."

"Is that you, Morgana?" Akira asks.

"Obviously! Who else would I be?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ryuji says. He pats the air with his hands. "Hold up." He takes a breath and then slaps himself in the face. Once finished, he looks at the cat and says, "You're not actually Morgana, right?"

"How thick is your skull?"

Ryuji nods and says, "Well, that's it. I've officially gone off the deep end." He looks at Akira. "If you need me, I'll be in the loony bin."

Akira ignores him and asks, "How are you here?"

"Did you guys think you were the only two who could go in and out of the Metaverse?"

"Then why are you a cat?" Ryuji demands.

"I don't know. This is what happened when I left."

"Why can you talk?"

"Because I'm a human, how many times do I have to say it?"

“Wait,” Akira says, shaking his head, mind spinning. “How’d you get out if you don’t have a phone? We have to use the Navigator app to go in and out of Kamoshida’s Palace.”

Morgana gives Akira a look that could almost be called a smirk. “I’m just that skilled.”

“That… doesn’t explain anything,” Akira counters. “How’d you even get into Kamoshida’s in the first place?”

“I don’t need a phone. I can enter the Metaverse at will. Maybe I don’t know what an app is, but I don’t have to use one to enter or exit. I just find the right entrances.”

Akira frowns at Ryuji. "This," he says. "Is very weird." This also makes no sense. What had Morgana been doing in Kamoshida’s in the first place? How’d he even known about the Palace at all? Had he lost his memories before entering? After? Had he been human before entering Kamoshida’s or…

Ryuji frowns back at Akira. "No kidding."

"Now listen here," Morgana says. He arches his back but doesn't finish his sentence. A soft clicking noise, in the rhythmic beat of footsteps, echoes into the small space they occupy.

"Shit, dude," Ryuji says. "Someone's coming!"

He grabs Morgana by the scruff of the neck, hoists him up, and shoves him towards Akira's bag.

"Hey, what're you-?" Morgana begins to shout, but then the bag swallows him.

"Shhhh!" Ryuji scolds as someone rounds the corner.

Makoto Niijima stands at the entrance to the alcove, hands at her side.

"Oh good," Ryuji mumbles with a small chuckle. "I thought it might've been someone important."

Makoto's attention snaps to Ryuji, and with precise words, states, "Sakamoto, I would like to speak with Kurusu in private."

Ryuji rolls his eyes and says, "Uh-huh. Listen, we're a little busy here, so why don't you..." He trails off. Makoto's eyes have narrowed just a fraction, but the look is electric. Akira glances at Ryuji and sees that he’s gone several degrees paler.

"Would you care to finish your thought, Sakamoto?" She asks. The air is frigid. The sun has vanished and shall never be seen again.

"Uh, n-no."

"I see, then would you give us a moment?"

Ryuji swallows and squeaks out, "Sorry, bro. Good luck." He keeps his eyes on the ground as he speeds past the Student Council President. A few moments later, Akira can hear the door to the practice building open and slam closed.

He is now alone with Niijima, save for the cat in his bag. Yet, all thoughts of Morgana have withered in his mind. When she turns her gaze to him, his mouth goes dry. God, I think her eyes are red!

Akira opens his mouth but is cut off by her raised hand. Palm out, erect and still, his sentence slams into it like a car crash.

"Kurusu, I can appreciate the pressure you must be under, having transferred to a new school. However, I do not appreciate having my time wasted. Kawakami-sensei assigned you to me. If you do not value your own time, that is your business. You will, however, respect the value of mine." She breaks long enough to take a short breath, then continues. "I do not take my responsibilities lightly. Therefore, you will attend our study sessions from now on. I, unfortunately, do not have the time to spare for you today. I will inform you of when these sessions will start. Do not ditch me again. Are we clear?"

Akira nods vehemently. "Y-yes." His heart is pounding in his chest.

"Very well. Good day, Kurusu." She turns on her heel and walks off. The clicking of her shoes recedes until it is gone.

Akira lets out a sigh, and the bag on his shoulder shifts. Morgana pops his head out and stares at him, wide-eyed. "Whoa," he says. "She's scary, huh?"

"Y-yeah. No kidding."

"Uh, Akira?”

"What?"

"Why are you smiling?"

#

Ryuji kicks a pebble across the school's rooftop. It tick-tick-ticks its way against the metal. "I hate the guy. I do. But I don't want to kill him."

“If you guys want to stop Kamoshida, taking his Treasure is the only way!"

"But you just said it'll make him, like, stop eating and shit! We may as well just shoot him with a gun or something."

"I said it might happen. Kamoshida must've been someone normal before his desires got all distorted. If we steal the source of the distortion, he should return to being an honest man. That doesn't mean he'll stop desiring things like food and air."

"But," Akira says. "It could happen, though."

Morgana sighs. "Honestly, I've never successfully stolen a Treasure from a Palace before. It could happen, but it's extremely unlikely."

"Wait, wait, wait," Ryuji says. "If you've never done this before, how'd you even know it's what we're supposed to do?"

Good question, Akira thinks. Unfortunately, the more Morgana explains, the less sense everything makes.

"I-" Morgana starts, then looks away. "I don't remember."

"Oh, great. Just like you don't remember how you became a cat, right?"

"Shut up!" Morgana shouts. "I am a human, and I know that stealing a Treasure is the same thing as taking away the target's distorted desires. I just do!"

"So, you want us to risk our lives and possibly kill someone over a gut feeling you've got? That's bullshit!"

Akira listens to them argue. The underlying logic of the Metaverse aside, stopping Kamoshida was necessary. Igor’s words dance through his mind. How far are you willing to go? Was this what he’d meant? He looks down at Morgana. “I don’t doubt you’re a human. I’ve got no problem stealing this Treasure if we knew that doing that would work and change Kamoshida’s heart.”

“You want an absolute?” Morgana asks, indignant. “That’s not how things work!”

“Kamoshida’s a total shitbag,” Ryuji puts in. "He deserves prison and daily ass-kickings. But we can't just kill him."

Morgana looks from Akira to Ryuji. "I thought you two had more guts than this. Kamoshida is abusing your fellow students, but you won't do anything because you might kill him?"

"Dude, that's a huge 'might!'"

"I’m sorry, Morgana," Akira says, frowning. "But isn’t there some other way?"

Morgana turns and stalks to the roof’s edge. "There isn’t. Not one I know of, anyway. I'll let you guys think about it for a while. Just remember, the longer you don’t do something, the worse he’ll get."

Ryuji looks at Akira once Morgana is gone. "That cat is kind of a dick."

#

Akira is at Shibuya when he sees Ann. She is hard to miss. The blonde hair. The red leggings. When he spots her, she slides her phone back into her pocket, a sad and frustrated look on her face.

It's strange to see her removed from school. But strange is the norm for him now.

He doesn't know why he does it, but he walks up to her. He's a few paces away when she turns to him like she'd known he was there all along. "Did you follow me so that you could stare at me again?" She asks, venom in her voice.

"I wasn't following you. This is where I transfer home."

"Oh, sorry."

He shrugs. "It's fine." They're no longer looking at each other. Akira, hands in his pockets, asks, "Are you okay?"

"What's it to you?"

Okay, maybe try a different approach.

“I was making sure you weren’t a hallucination,” Akira tells her.

“Huh?” Ann asks, brows rising.

“That first day? Under the awning. I was looking at you and making sure you weren’t a hallucination.”

Ann is silent for a moment, then asks, “Is that some kind of pick-up line?”

“No,” Akira replies and shrugs. “The night before, I’d been on the platform in the subway station during the train crash. I wasn’t hurt or anything, but my doctor, I mean, I guess she’s my doctor now, told me to get an MRI at the hospital. So when I saw you under the awning, I only stared at you because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, and I’d prefer if you took that in whichever way makes me seem less like a creep because I promise I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Ann says. She squints her eyes at him. “You know everyone’s talking about you, right?”

“I’ve seen the RINE chats,” Akira replies. “Ryuji showed me.”

Ann frowns. “So… what? You were late to school that day because you started hallucinating or something?”

“Oh, that,” Akira says and shakes his head. “No, I was in a Castle.”

She blinks. "A Castle?"

"Yeah,” Akira says and stares at the pavement. "I was trapped in a castle. That's why I was late."

"You were trapped in a Castle?"

"Ryuji was with me. You can ask him if you don't believe me."

A small smile tries to fight its way onto her face. "You're really weird, you know that?"

"I’ve been called worse. And now you know my secret," Akira says. "So, are you okay?"

Ann stares at him for a moment, and he realizes that he's begun to think of her as 'Ann.' It makes him smile. Maybe it's the grin that does it, but she sighs and says, "This is embarrassing. If you're going to hang around with me, let's at least go somewhere quiet."

She leads him away from the station and onto Central Street. This is his first time here, and again he is overwhelmed by the sheer number of signs, attractions, stores, and people. Ann navigates the crowds like an expert. City people really are made of different stuff.

She leads him to a quiet diner, upstairs alongside an alley. It is rustic, with wood paneling and western decor. A waitress leads them to a booth, and it is only then that Akira checks his wallet. "I should warn you," he says. "My finances are a bit strapped."

"This isn't a date, you know."

"I know, just FYI."

Ann orders a decaffeinated soda. Akira asks for coffee. They sit in silence for a time, and though he stares at her from across the table, Ann won't meet his eyes.

"I felt bad for you," she says. "What with all those rumors flying around. I knew some of them had to be lies. I know a thing or two about how bad that kind of thing can get." Her shoulders bunch up, and she sucks in her lower lip. "Everyone thinks I'm having sex with Kamoshida. They've always thought I was easy because of my looks." She glances up at him. "I'm not fully Japanese, by the way."

Akira nods but doesn't say anything.

"You saw Kamoshida pick me up in his car the other day, right? He does that a lot. He thinks it means he'll get to sleep with me. At first, I could just brush it all off. But my friend Shiho is on the volleyball team." Tears leak from Ann's eyes. "She's relying on a volleyball scholarship to get into college. But Kamoshida keeps threatening to kick her from the team if I don't sleep with him. He just keeps pushing and pushing. That was him on the phone when you saw me by the station. He wanted to meet up today, like now." She crumples and begins to cry.

The longer you don’t do something, the worse he’ll get.

Akira's hands ball into fists.

"I don't want to," Ann says. "I hate him so much. But Shiho is the only one who stuck up for me. She's my best friend, and if I don't, she'll lose everything."

The waitress has brought their drinks and stares at the two awkwardly. Akira mouths, "Thank you," to her, and slides the decaffeinated soda over to Ann.

"I don't know what to do," she says.

"Don't go to him," Akira replies. She looks up at him, confusion writ across her face. "Just don't."

They stare across the table at each other, and then Ann wipes her eyes. "That's some sound advice. And a bit obvious."

Akira smiles and shrugs. "I'm smart like that. Have you told your parents? The principal?”

She shakes her head. “My parents aren’t really around. I mean, I’m not an orphan or anything. Their work has them abroad a lot, is all. And he’s too careful. He’s never obvious when he asks for it. If I accused him of anything inappropriate, he’d just chalk it up to a misunderstanding.”

Akira does not know what to say to this. “I met Shiho. She was nice.”

Ann giggles. “Yeah, she is. She helped me a lot when the rumors about me got bad. That’s why I don’t want her to lose everything because of me.”

“But you can’t just do what he wants, right?”

“No, I know.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “You know, this is the first time I’ve spoken about this with anyone.”

Akira looks down at his coffee. “I wish I was more help.”

She smiles at him, and it is warm and lovely. “I may not have a solution, but I do feel better. So, thanks for that.” She leans back in her chair and folds her arms. "You're not such a bad guy, after all." Her eyes narrow. "Is it true that you hide a knife in your bag?"

Akira shakes his head. "No. Today, it was just a cat."

She looks at him and laughs. It is loud and delightful. "You are so weird."

#

Shiho stands outside Kamoshida's office.

She is shaking. She wants to run away so badly. She wants to hide from the whole world. She wants Ann. She wants her mom and dad.

She knocks on the door.

"Come in."

When she steps inside the office, Kamoshida is hunched over his desk, scribbling something. His chiseled back bulges from his tight t-shirt. "Mishima said you wanted to see me, Kamoshida-sensei?"

Slowly, Kamoshida turns and regards her. He is smiling.

"Shut the door, Shiho."

Notes:

12/30/2021: Hey all, just a quick FYI. I've noticed that there's a few spelling errors popping up here and there in the documents. I don't know where they come from because I've been pretty meticulous in my edits. I'd appreciate you all reporting any you come across. Thanks!

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

4/15

"Good morning, Miss Prez."

"Good morning."

"Morning Niijima-senpai!"

"Good morning."

Makoto stands outside Shujin's front gate, with her bag is tucked under her arm. Her posture, refined. Her hair, immaculate. She ate well. She is well-rested and clear-headed.

The students greet her warmly. She smiles and returns their salutations and waits for Akira Kurusu.

Her mind is better. No more rambling thoughts about Kurusu. Nothing about his lean frame. Nothing about his dark eyes. Nothing.

She had enjoyed telling him off yesterday. Watching Sakamoto squirm under her gaze had been satisfying, but seeing the sweat bead on Kurusu's forehead, then slide down his cheek as she spoke had been exhilarating. Makoto still was unsure why he had been smiling near the end of it, but it didn't matter. She had made the nature of their relationship clear. She was in charge.

She spies Akira making his way down the road towards Shujin, shoulders slouched and hair loose in his face. "Good morning, Kurusu," Makoto says, and the boy halts mid-step.

He glances up at her, and she is thrilled to see him pale. "Morning, Niijima-senpai."

"I wanted to catch you before class and tell you that our study sessions shall begin after school today." She waits for a single beat before she narrows her eyes and drops the bomb. "Unless, of course, you plan on ditching me again."

Kurusu gulps. He actually gulps. Tables turned. "No," he says.

"Good." His lips curl upwards, and she feels her pulse quicken. She turns before it speeds up any more. "I hope your day goes well."

"And yours," he calls after her. There's a lilt to his voice, a slow, smooth inflection. No, I'm imagining that. But Makoto's mind rebels once more, and as she winds her way through Shujin's halls, she cannot help but find one word to describe how he'd said his two. Flirty.

#

School ticks by until someone screams, "Oh my god! What's she doing?"

Pandemonium. Everyone stands and stares. From Akira’s position near the back of the class, he cannot see where they are looking. Despite their teacher's protests, students shove their way towards the door, out into the hall.

"I think she's going to jump!"

"Who is it?"

"That's Shiho Suzui!"

Ann leaps from her desk, and a gasp dies in her throat. She sprints to the door, and Akira follows.

Out in the hall, Ann presses herself up against the window, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Shiho stands on the roof overlooking the courtyard. She does not appear to be looking anywhere but ahead. Akira cannot see the expression on her face, but her body is slack.

She does not jump. She simply falls forward and plummets.

"SHIHO!" Ann screams.

He does not hear the impact but imagines a thick thud when she collides with the ground. Ann's scream continues as she tears herself from the window and runs for the stairwell.

Akira makes to follow and feels a hand on his shoulder. He spins into the face of Ryuji. "Dude, what's going on?”

"Suzui just jumped off the roof!" Akira says and turns to follow Ann.

"For real?" Ryuji asks, but Akira doesn't answer. The two race downstairs and out to the courtyard.

They find Ann near the back of a crowd. A vast circle surrounds the fallen and broken body of Shiho. Ann, pale and quaking, is trying to push her way through. Akira hears the click of camera phones, the excited whispers of the students. No one moves for Ann. Above the other students, Akira spots a retreating mop of black hair. Kamoshida, his face hard, is slowly making his way out of the crowd of students and teachers and heading back inside.

Ryuji takes a look at the crowd and shouts, "Out of the way, you assholes!" And charges. He plows directly between two first-year students, reaches out and grabs Ann's hand, then drags her into the fray. Akira runs in their wake and presses forward as Ryuji elbows and shoves their way towards Shiho.

They clear the crowd, and Ryuji drops Ann's hand. She runs to Shiho's body and kneels next to it. "Shiho, Shiho, oh my god!"

Akira is close enough to see the girl's eyes slide open, and the noise of the crowd dims just enough for him to hear her say, "I'm sorry, Ann. I just can't take it anymore." Her eyes close.

Ann does not know what to do with her hands. One moment, they dart towards Shiho, then stop and collapse back over her mouth. She is sobbing, calling her friend's name, and no one is helping.

Akira looks at Ryuji and says, "Ambulance! We need an ambulance!" He turns to the crowd. The first face he sees is Makoto Niijima's. She stands at the edge of the circle, eyes full in horror, her hand clamped over her mouth. She meets Akira's gaze, but there is no recognition there.

Someone must've called an ambulance because a pair of EMTs soon arrive with a stretcher. Even then, they need to push and shove their way to the girl's side. Ann demands to accompany them to the hospital. Only then do the teachers take back some control and insist on all the students returning to class.

Few listen.

Ryuji grabs Akira's arm and drags him from the courtyard. His eyes are hard, his teeth set. Akira does not ask where they are going.

They find Mishima by his locker, his face pale, his hands shaking, back pressed up against the wall for support.

Ryuji marches right up to him. "You have to come forward," he says. "About everything."

Mishima shakes his head. "I can't."

There is something cold inside Akira. "A girl just tried to kill herself."

Mishima stares at his feet, and when he speaks, his words are barely more than a mumble. "Kamoshida called her to his office yesterday. He..." The word goes unspoken, but all three men hear it still. It floats around them like poison in the air.

Rape.

Kamoshida raped Shiho.

The longer you don’t do something, the worse he’ll get.

Akira looks at Ryuji. It takes him a moment to explain what Ann had told him yesterday. He finds it disturbingly easy to explain. "He must've gotten tired of waiting for Ann."

"So he-" Ryuji starts, then stops. "That... that..." Then he is sprinting down the corridor towards the stairwell.

Akira and Mishima glance at one another and follow. They catch up to him the moment he enters Kamoshida's office.

The man sits at his desk, back to them, unperturbed. "Stand up," Ryuji says, his voice just above a whisper.

Kamoshida turns and regards the three with a bored expression. "Huh? What'd you losers want?"

"I said, 'Stand up.'"

"Ryuji," Akira whispers, but Ryuji shakes his head.

"No. No more behind-the-scenes bullshit." His voice rises as he speaks. "Shiho just tried to kill herself because of you!"

Kamoshida sighs and shakes his head. "I'd like to see you prove that. The poor girl was just disturbed, that's all.”

"You're lying." Kamoshida, Akira, and Ryuji turn to Mishima, who stares at the ground in front of Kamoshida's feet. "You told me to get her. Yesterday, after practice. You told me to get her and bring her to your office. You-"

"I suggest you shut that mouth of yours, you sniveling little runt," Kamoshida says, finally standing. His indifference is gone. Cold, hard anger washes over the three young men. "Because you can't back up a single thing you're saying. I just heard from the other faculty. Suzui's in a coma. She won't be saying anything for a while." He looks at each of the boys in turn. "And neither will you. You're all expelled."

"What?" Ryuji asks.

Akira feels his blood go cold. It shames him, but fear has suddenly settled in his stomach. Expelled? No, no, I can't be! Not again! They’re going to put him back in a box—a box with no windows and sterile white walls and a door that locks from the outside.

"You can't do that!" Mishima cries.

Kamoshida’s voice turns silken. “I most certainly can.” He casually lowers himself into his chair and crosses his arms. “Sakamoto, you assaulted me last year. Everyone will believe you’d try it again. As for you,” and he nods at Akira, “well, you already have an assault record. I could march you right out the front doors, and no one would give a shit. And Mishima,” he grins as the boy cowers before him, “you should be ashamed of yourself. Posting Kurusu’s criminal record online like that.”

Akira turns his head to Mishima. Ryuji does too. “That was you?” Akira asks.

“He made me do it!” Mishima shouts, looking first at Ryuji, then at Akira. “Please, he made me! Told me that if I didn’t, I’d get abused all the more!”

Kamoshida shakes his head. “You always were a whiny bitch, Mishima.”

How far? It is a small voice in the back of his mind.

Ryuji is shouting something and cocking his arm back. Akira moves in front of him before he can think about it. Ryuji’s eyes bulge, but he hesitates, and it is long enough for some of the fight to leave him, for a bit of his arm to go slack. Akira closes the distance between them, giving Ryuji no room to maneuver.

Kamoshida chuckles. “Good move, Kurusu.”

“Dude!” Ryuji growls. “What’re you-”

How far?

There’s another way! His brain screams this, but when his mouth moves, no sound comes out. The walls of Kamoshida’s office are a sterile white, and they are closing in.

Akira is not looking at Kamoshida, but he can almost hear the smile in the man’s voice when he says, “Sakamoto, Mishima, leave. I want to talk to Kurusu alone.”

“Like Hell,” Ryuji counters, and he makes to move around Akira, who still blocks his path.

Akira grips his friend’s arm and squeezes. He can feel Ryuji’s pulse through the rolled-up sleeves of his uniform. “Don’t,” he begs.

Ryuji meets his gaze and gives him a knowing look. Akira can only imagine what Ryuji is trying to convey is what he has also realized. Morgana’s offer still stood. Akira does his best to return Ryuji’s stare and hopes his eyes send the message that his friend just needs to get out before things get worse.

“I’ll be outside,” Ryuji whispers, and Akira does not feel relief but a lessening of pressure behind his eyes.

“I said, leave,” Kamoshida repeats. Ryuji takes a step back, and with a scowl, turns for the door. Mishima follows.

A part of Akira thinks that there is no way Mishima will obey. This young man will not just slink off like some dog, not after Kamoshida has ruined his life. Only moments ago, he had stood up, found courage, said something. But Akira watches as Mishima’s eyes droop. The boy’s shoulders slump, and he shuffles towards the door and follows Ryuji out.

Revulsion churns through Akira as Mishima shuts the door behind him.

“Sakamoto hates me,” Kamoshida says calmly. “Which shouldn’t be much of a revelation. Even if I made this proposal to him, he’d tell me to go to hell. And Mishima? Well. The little faggot wouldn’t be much use for what we’re going to discuss.”

Akira turns to face and focus on the man before him. Something seems to switch on within his brain, and the seconds appear to slow down as every twitch and shadow the man casts hits Akira’s eyes like so much actinic radiation.

What can’t your eyes see?

Akira blinks his head clear.

Kamoshida’s grin is wide and awful, and he stretches his arms into the air and then rests his hands behind his head. One leg sweeps up and crosses the other, and the man leans back in his chair, content.

“Despite what I’m sure Sakamoto has told you, I’m not an unsympathetic person. Not many people get second chances, and those that do typically waste them. It would be tragic if your time in Shujin ended after only a few short days.”

Many words boil up in Akira’s throat, but he applies more willpower than he imagined he had and stays quiet. Say nothing, a voice in his head snaps. See where this is going. He remains still, his heart hammering away, his blood like white noise in his ears.

“You’re in Ann Takamaki’s class.” It’s not a question. “I saw you two standing together the other day, out in the rain? Are you well acquainted? Close?”

Akira’s lips remain still.

Kamoshida’s eyes narrow. “This is the part where you answer.”

“No,” Akira replies. “We’re not close. I hardly know her.”

Kamoshida nods. “That’s too bad. I also find that odd. I couldn’t help but notice that both you and Sakamoto helped Ann through the crowd to her best friend’s side. Now, as you’re a piece of shit criminal, I don’t see you doing that out of the goodness of your heart for a stranger, so I think you do know her, and I think you should stop lying to me.”  The pace of his words increased as he spoke.

“I’ve only been here a few days, but I do sit behind her in class,” Akira mumbles. “We’ve spoken before.”

Kamoshida waves his hand through the air. “Close enough. See, we have an arrangement. Takamaki comes to me for specialized guidance. Extracurricular work. For school. But, lately, she has not been taking advantage of my generosity, and it’s reflecting in her academic performance. I care about her wellbeing. She’s a good kid. I don’t want to see her falling behind.

“I want you to convince her to resume our sessions. If you do that, I won’t have you expelled.”

He LIES. The voice that thunders through Akira’s head is that of Arsene. The sound of his own voice replies within his thoughts. Ann hasn’t slept with him yet. She doesn’t want to touch him.

“Wh-” Akira starts to say, then stops. Careful, a new voice warns. He makes a small show of clearing his throat and begins again. “Why do you need my help with this?”

Kamoshida laughs, full-bellied and loud. “Kurusu, I don’t need your help. I’m trying to be generous here and give you a break. One you desperately need. Sooner or later, Takamaki will recognize what’s good for her, and our sessions will resume. But I don’t want her to slip too much. I think persuasion from a friend might serve to spur her along. Light a fire under her, so to speak.” He claps his hands together and stands, suddenly towering over Akira. “And why are you even considering this, Kurusu? As I said, I can march you right out of here whenever I want. All you have to do is play ball, convince Takamaki, and you get to stay. No expulsion. I’ll even let your friends stay in school too, but I’m guessing you don’t care too much about what happens to Mishima since he leaked your information.”

Kamoshida steps up to Akira. “I’ll give you two weeks. That should let you get in with Takamaki and convince her what’s best. If you take any longer, you’ll be out on your ass. And don’t think there’s any such thing as a third chance in this life, Kurusu.” He begins to extend his hand, then pauses. “Oh, and before I forget, you do realize that this conversation never happened, and if you ever speak about it to anyone, it’ll be your word against mine, correct?”

On this, Akira can agree. He nods.

“Perfect.” Kamoshida resumes the outstretching of his hand. “Well, then. What do you say, Kurusu? Do we have a deal?”

Akira stares down at the pale, splayed thing that is Kamoshida’s open hand.

How far are you willing to go, Trickster?

THOU WHO ART WILLING TO PERFORM ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS FOR THINE OWN JUSTICE!

Akira raises his eyes to the King’s own. They are not gold here, but dark, dark brown.

Fuck it.

“Yes,” Akira says and shakes the man’s hand. “We have a deal.”

#

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Ryuji mutters. His skin is a bright pale, and he sits slumped on a bench in Shujin’s courtyard alcove. Upon leaving Kamoshida’s office, Akira had placed his hand on Ryuji’s shoulder and led him away from the silent Mishima, who had watched them go but not followed.

Akira had intended to escape out into the courtyard and get some fresh air, but Morgana had been waiting for them. He had been sitting on the table as if he belonged there. “I heard about what happened,” the cat had said. “Did a girl really try and kill herself?”

Ryuji had ignored the question and prompted Akira to reveal what had happened in Kamoshida’s office. Akira relayed his instructions.

“We have to tell Ann,” Ryuji blurts out.

“No, we don’t,” Akira replies.

“What’re you talking about, dude? We’ve got to warn her and-”

“She already knows,” Akira counters. He lowers himself onto the bench next to Ryuji. “I met her going home yesterday. We wound up talking. She told me about Kamoshida’s advances on her. That’s what he meant by ‘extracurriculars.’ He just didn’t want to say ‘sex’ out loud.”

“We-” Ryuji begins, but then they hear the familiar clicking noise of footsteps coming around the corner. “Shit!” Ryuji shoots up and grabs Morgana around the scruff of the neck and shoves him inside Akira’s bag.

“Hey, wha-!”

“Quiet,” Ryuji whispers, as Makoto Niijima rounds the corner.

"Oh," she says when she sees them. "I thought this place would be... never mind."

Akira looks at her face and remembers the look of horror she'd displayed earlier. Her skin is still pale, and red rims her eyes. He looks away.

Makoto clears her throat and straightens. "I suppose this works out. I'm afraid, Kurusu, that I'll need to cancel today's study session. I'm... I'm not..."

"I understand," he says. "I'm not feeling well, either."

She nods. "Very well. I'll let you know when we will continue." Her voice cracks on the last syllable, and she turns around quickly and begins to walk away.

He does not know why, but he calls out. "Niijima-senpai?" She pauses and looks back at him. He tries to smile. It sort of works. "I look forward to it."

She smiles as well, but there is little behind it.

#

With Makoto gone, Morgana pokes his head out of Akira's bag. "Stop shoving me in here!" He yells at Ryuji.

Akira slides the bag from his shoulder and sets it on the table. "Where else was I supposed to put you?" Ryuji asks.

"You have a bag," Akira points out.

"Hey!"

Both boys stiffen as Ann's voice echoes in the little alcove. "Crap!" Ryuji snaps and shoves Morgana's head back into Akira's bag.

"Oh, come on!" Morgana groans as Akira whispers, “Don’t tell her,” before Ann turns the corner.

“H-hey, Takamaki,” Ryuji manages, glancing everywhere but at her.

“I want in.”

Akira and Ryuji look at each other. Both shrug, and Akira asks, "In on what?"

"Drop the airhead act," Ann says. "Whatever you're going to do to Kamoshida, I want to help."

"We're not-"

"Don't lie to me," Ann yells, her voice breaking. Her hands are fists, and she squeezes her eyes tight. "I just got back from the hospital. Shiho's in a coma. That twisted bastard did this to her because I..."

"Stop it," Ryuji says, his voice hard. "That's not your fault."

"You don't know that. If I'd done what Kamoshida had wanted, Shiho wouldn't have tried to kill herself! I have to make it right!"

Ryuji lets out a sigh and takes a few steps closer to her. "Ann, don't do that. Kamoshida is going to get what's coming to him, okay? You should be with Shiho right now. She needs you."

"She needed me when he was doing those things to her, and I wasn't there! So stop trying to make me feel better and let me help, Ryuji!"

Akira stands. “No.”

Both students turn to him. “You can’t-” Ann starts.

“Kamoshida is going to expel us,” Akira states. Ann’s eyes widen. “He already knows we were trying to get people to testify against him. If he knows you’re helping us, then you’ll get expelled too.”

“Do you think I care?”

“I can see that you don’t, right now,” Akira tells her. “But you should. Like Ryuji said, Kamoshida is going to get what’s coming to him. So for now, just stay out of his way and don’t screw up your future for this.”

We can’t tell her about Kamoshida’s deal, a voice in his mind whispers. Who knows what she’d try to do? We can’t explain the Palace or the Treasure, so as far as she’s concerned, we can’t do anything to stop him. We don’t have time to bring her up to speed.

There was also the issue of Kamoshida’s potential mortal demise. It wasn’t as if anyone could prosecute them for the crime. But Akira would know. They all would know.

Ryuji looks at him imploringly. “Akira, dude, maybe-”

“No,” Akira snaps. He looks at Ann. “Back off, Takamaki.”

Ann looks from Akira to Ryuji, and the tears start anew. "You guys are assholes." But she turns and marches off.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira’s bag, but the three remain silent for a few moments before Akira sighs and says, “That did not feel good.”

Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets and says nothing.

Morgana shimmies his way out of the bag and stretches his legs. "So, I take it this means you guys have changed your mind?"

"Yeah," Ryuji says, turning to the cat. "I don't care what happens to him. This shit has got to stop."

Morgana’s gaze makes Ryuji flinch. “You realize what you’re saying, yeah? Because the other day, you two were very wishy-washy about this. I want you to understand that if we steal Kamoshida’s Treasure, it may end up killing him.” Morgana looks at Akira. “Are you okay with that?”

How far are you willing to go?

Far enough.

“Yes,” Akira declares. “We take Kamoshida down. Come what may.”

Ryuji’s hesitation lasts only a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “I agree.”

Morgana bobs his head in a nod. "Alright then."

Notes:

12/30/2021: Here's the biggest difference. I went back and forth on this topic a lot, but decided to go with it. I want to credit AgentWestmer for the original idea, though the consequences of Akira's 'deal' have several far-reaching implications that may not be readily apparent. Thanks for reading all!

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

The school twists into the Castle. Akira's clothes burst into blue flames and resolve themselves into his Thief's outfit. Morgana rises on his hind legs, his head bulbous and wide-eyed. Ryuji pats down his leather jacket and chrome mask, a big grin on his face.

"Okay, guys," Morgana says. "We need to discuss something important."

Ryuji lets out a groan. "Come on. There's something else we need to know?"

"You'll like this one.”

"Doubt it."

"Code names."

Ryuji blinks. "Never mind. We get code names?"

Morgana nods. "I think it'd be a good idea. We don't know what the result of us shouting our real names inside the Palace will be. So, we should settle on what to call one another." Morgana glances at Akira, a glint in his eyes. "Don't you agree, Joker?"

"Hmm?"

Ryuji's jaw drops. "Dude, that's awesome! Okay, Akira's Joker from now on!"

"Why 'Joker?'" Joker asks.

"Because you're our 'ace,'" Morgana replies.

"So why isn't my codename 'Ace?'"

Morgana sighs. "Do you want to be called Ace?"

"No, no," Joker says, straightening his jacket, a small smile on his face. "Joker will be just fine."

"Me next! Me next!" Ryuji shouts, his hand in the air. "How about 'Badass?'"

"How about not?" Morgana replies.

Joker nods. "That's terrible. We're not going to keep referring to you as 'Badass' as we're running around the Palace."

Ryuji's face falls, but only for a moment. "Fine. How about 'Troublemaker?'"

"Too long."

"Slaughter-house?"

"That's even longer!"

"Biker? Cause I look like one?"

"But you don't have a bike."

Ryuji throws his hands up in the air. "Well, what else is there?"

"Your mask is pretty cool," Joker says.

Ryuji frowns and feels the outside of his mask. He grins. "Skull."

"That's good," Joker says. "Really good."

Ryuji straightens and folds his arms across his chest. "I'm Skull."

"Alright, so what about me?" Morgana asks.

"Do you need one?" Skull asks.

"I-I can't be the only one without a codename? That's so lame!"

Joker frowns. "You probably wouldn't like, 'Cat,' would you?"

Morgana's eyes narrow. "No. Way."

"How about Mona?" Skull asks with a shrug. "Nice and short. Kind of sounds like his real name."

"Hmmm," Morgana says and tries it out. "Mona. I like it. A lot. Okay, I'm Mona."

"Skull, Mona, and Joker," Skull recites. "We sound awesome!"

Joker turns to the Castle. "Then, I suppose it’s time."

"Right!" Mona strides forth and glares up at the Castle’s balustrades, its jagged towers, its black banners beating in the stale wind. "Time for us to steal the Treasure! Let's begin our infil-"

"OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS PLACE WHAT IS HAPPENING?" The voice is a screech, and all three thieves jump.

They turn and see Ann Takamaki standing on the drawbridge, face pale, eyes wide, knees quaking, arms wrapped around herself.

"The hell?” Skull asks. “Takamaki?"

"Ryuji?" Ann approaches the trio with a few slow steps. "Is that you? What the hell are you wearing?"

"Never mind that! What're you doing here?"

"I don't even know where here is!" She stares past them and takes in the Palace. "A Castle," she mutters, then looks at Joker. "You were telling the truth?"

"Uh," Joker manages, then feels a paw slap the back of his head. "Ow!"

"You told her about the Castle?" Mona shouts, waving his arms.

"No! I told her I was late for school because I got trapped in a Castle."

"How is that 'not' telling her about the Castle?"

"I didn't elaborate!"

Ann waves her arms through the air. "Would someone tell me what's going on?"

The three thieves look at Ann, then wordlessly huddle up. "This is bad," Mona says. "If she keeps making a racket, the Shadows will hear her."

"Yeah," Skull replies. "This place is way too dangerous for her."

"Don't ignore me!” Ann insists.

"What'd you want to do, Joker?" Mona asks.

"I agree with Skull," Joker says. "She can't stay here. We should send her back."

"Agreed."

"Got it."

"I said, 'Don't ignore me!'"

"So, uh, which one of us is going to make her go back?" Skull asks.

Mona and Joker glance at each other. "Not it," both say together.

Skull's jaw drops. "Son of a... are you kidding me?"

Joker straightens and begins to fiddle with his gloves. "We both appreciate you doing this, Skull."

"Fine." Skull turns to Ann. "Listen, Takamaki. We'll explain everything, I promise. But you've got to leave right now."

"Like hell! I'm not going anywhere until one of you jerks tells me what's going on. Also," and she points at Morgana. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Thing?" Mona repeats, eyes downcast.

Skull puts his hands on Ann's shoulders and starts to push her backward gently. "I promise I'll tell you everything," he says. "But I can't right now. It's way too dangerous here."

Ann tries to swat his hands away. "Hey! Don't think you can use this time to cop a feel!"

"I-I'm not!" Skull turns back to the other two. "Could you guys help me out here?"

Joker frowns and nods. Together, the two of them push Ann to the boundary of the drawbridge. One moment, they are pushing her, and the next, she stumbles backward and vanishes.

"Uh, did that do it?" Skull asks. "We didn't just kill her, did we?"

"No, it's fine," Mona replies. "That's how people normally look when they leave—they just kind of pop out of the air. You have to make sure they leave from the same spot they come in. Palaces typically have one exfiltration point. It gets a little loopy if you try it from elsewhere."

Skull shakes his head. "Man, we are going to have some serious explainin' to do when we wrap this up." He points a finger in Joker's face. "And don't think you're going to leave it all to me! You know I'll just screw that part up." He frowns. “Especially about that other thing.”

Mona shakes his head. "I don't think anyone expects you do to the explaining, Skull."

"Can it, cat."

"Alright, alright," Joker says, patting the air democratically. We need to have some kind of briefing session later. Right now, we need to stop Kamoshida. "Crisis averted, right? Shall we go?"

"Right!" Mona spins around, strides forth, and glares up at the Castle’s balustrades, its jagged towers, its black banners beating in the stale wind. "It's time to steal the Treasure! Let's begin out infil-"

"Yeah, the moment's gone, Mona," Skull puts in.

"Skull's right," Joker says. "Let's just go in."

Mona’s head droops. "Fine! But sooner or later, you two are going to let me say something cool!"

#

"Ow!" Ann shouts as she lands on her butt. "You jerks, I'm gonna..." She trails off. She's back. The school is the school. She is in the small alley just across from the front gate. Students linger and converse amongst themselves. "What the hell?"

She picks herself up and pats herself down. A faint beep comes from her pocket.

She takes out her phone and sees a malignant eye icon staring back at her. What's this? Wait. Didn't Kurusu do something with his phone before everything got all weird? Was this it? Could she get back to the Castle this way? Should she go back? Ryuji had said it was dangerous.

Her grip tightens around her phone. No. She has to go. That Castle has something to do with Kamoshida. She's sure of it. Those guys hadn't been subtle about planning something against him. If she goes back, she can help. She can get revenge for Shiho.

Ann steels herself and clicks the icon.

#

"So, this is a Safe Room?" Joker asks and drops onto an uneven bench.

"Yep," Mona replies, hopping up onto the wooden table in the center of the room. "This is a place where the distortion is at a minimum." As the cat speaks, the outlines of the room seem to soften and roll together. Where before, the room seemed to consist of a table ringed with chairs along with a few benches and dressers shoved up against the walls, for a moment, Joker gets the impression he is standing in the center of Shujin Academy's cafeteria.

"Whoa," Skull says, blinking. He sees whatever look Joker wears beneath his mask and asks, "Did you see that too?"

"Yeah," Joker replies. The room snaps back into its smaller shape, and the distortion fades. "That's not going to happen a lot, is it?"

"It shouldn't," Mona states with a shrug. "What'd you see?"

"Shujin's cafeteria," Skull says.

"I'm guessing Kamoshida doesn't spend a lot of time there?" Mona asks.

"I don't stalk the guy, so I’m not sure," Skull mutters. "But I guess not. This whole thing is kinda creepy."

Joker nods. "So, if there's less distortion in here than the rest of the Castle, does that mean the Shadows can't get to us?" It wouldn't make much sense to have something called a 'Safe Room' if you weren't safe inside it.

Mona beams. "That's right. The Shadows can only act in areas where Kamoshida's influence extends. No influence, no Shadows. We can regroup and discuss our infiltration."

"Pit stop," Skull says and nods. "Cool."

"So, even if the Shadows saw us coming in here," Joker starts, "they couldn't follow us?" Mona nods. "Well, that's great and all, but wouldn't they just wait for us to come back out? I feel like we'd be bottling ourselves up in here."

"Heh," Mona states. "I haven't explained the best part of the Safe Room yet." He nods towards the door. "Open the door, but before you do, turn the doorknob the opposite way."

Skull approaches the door, and as he reaches for the knob, hesitates. "This isn't gonna blow me up or something, right?"

Mona stares at him. "Why would I ask you to do it if that’s what’ll happen?"

"I don't know."

"What's it supposed to do?" Joker asks, standing.

"Just do it!" Mona snaps.

"Fine, fine," Skull mutters and reaches out to grasp the nod. He makes a small showing of slowly turning the doorknob in the opposite direction and opens the door. He looks out, blinks, and says, "Dude."

Joker walks over and peers out. It takes him a moment to understand what he's seeing. He sees shelves and a very familiar grate. "Is this-" Joker starts, but Skull blurts out, "This is the freaking storage room where we entered the Castle!"

"That's right!" Mona calls, grinning. He flips off the table and pushes the two out through the door. Mona leaves the Safe Room behind them and shuts the door. "Safe Rooms can act as conduits between each other. This storage room is technically a Safe Room, just like the cafeteria. We can hop from room to room without having to retrace our steps every time."

"Wow," Joker says, turning back to look at the door.

"That's freaking awesome!" Skull yells.

Joker takes hold of the storage room's door, twists the doorknob counterclockwise, and opens it once more. He stares into the Safe Room they'd just left. He shuts the door, then turns the doorknob clockwise. He opens it into the hall that was just outside the storage room.

"This way," Mona says. "We won't have to keep fighting through the same sections of the Castle. If we get exhausted or in over our heads, all we have to do is find the nearest Safe Room, and we can get back here."

"Just so I'm clear," Joker asks, "if we find another Safe Room deeper in the Castle, that Safe Room will link to the Cafeteria Safe Room, which links to this - the Storage Room - Safe Room?"

"Not quite," Mona says. "You can only turn a doorknob one of two ways, right? Turning the doorknob clockwise opens the door normally, but turning it counterclockwise will bring you back to the closest Safe Room to the Palace's infiltration point. So if we did find a third Safe Room, using it like we just did would bring us back here."

"And if I turned the doorknob counterclockwise here, I'd somehow end up back in the third Safe Room?"

"Yeah."

Joker scratches his head. "Well, wait. How the hell does the door know which Safe Room I want to go to? Hell, how does this even work? Are we, like, teleporting or something?"

"Reminds me of Fast Travel," Skull says, primarily to himself.

"It's not the door, genius. It's you," Mona replies. "Cognition is everything in this world. Your brain is already making these connections - on a subconscious level - and interpreting them. That's how we're traversing the Castle in the first place."

"Well then, can't we just tell our brains, 'I'm standing next to Kamoshida's Treasure,' and magically appear next to it?"

"This only works because of the lack of distortion within the Safe Rooms," Mona counters. "Don't forget, this is Kamoshida's Palace. He rules here. If he had less hold over the Castle, then yes, you probably could hop around all you wanted, but if that were the case, Kamoshida wouldn't have a Palace in the first place, and we wouldn’t need to infiltrate anything."

"Dude," Skull says, rubbing the back of his head. "This stuff is starting to fly over my head."

Mona gives him a look. "'Starting to?'"

Skull narrows his eyes and replies with something scathing, but Joker isn't paying attention. Even if it is me, the door still somehow interprets what I’m thinking? He wonders this, and a voice answers, Again, nothing about this makes any sense. He had accessed some sort of pocket dimension using a phone app, and the tutorial - for lack of a better term - was being delivered piecemeal by a talking cat. Maybe I died in that train crash, and this is all some strange end of life hallucination. Joker sighs. Even if it was, what was he going to do? Sit down and wait for his brain to stop functioning? Joker turns the doorknob once more and steps through to the Cafeteria Safe Room. Skull and Mona follow him.

Thus far, their infiltration has been smooth. Even without the Safe Room, Mona managed to guide them around several Shadows, and their encounters with guards amounted to little more than quick skirmishes. While possessed of some autonomy, the Shadows didn't seem particuarly intelligent and tended to march up and down the same patch of carpet until interrupted. "Guess we should keep going and hunt for the next Safe Room," Joker says.

"The best thing to do is move towards the Treasure," Mona says. "And by my reckoning, that should be-"

From beyond the Safe Room's door comes a muffled cry. "Get off me!"

The three freeze and look at each other. "Was that...?" Mona asks.

"Takamaki!" Skull says. "What's she doing back here?"

No one has an answer. The thieves return to the hall and find it empty save for echoes. They abandon stealth in favor of pursuit and rush through the corridors, led by the high-pitched protestations of Ann Takamaki.

They find her in the Pleasure Hall. She is shackled by the wrists - upright - to a marble column alongside Kamoshida's tacky heart-shaped bed. The King stands before her, hands on his hips, the cognitive Ann at his side, with one arm draped across his broad shoulders.

The other girls continue their exertions on the floor and the bed, with each other and with themselves.

A squad of soldiers turns an about-face when the thieves enter. They are a wall between the knaves and their lord.

The King, for once, is not speaking. Instead, Ann speaks to Ann. "It's not like I can actually do anything," the scantily dressed version says. "All I can and should do is be a willing recipient of the King's desires."

Ann - the real Ann - is pale. She struggles against her bonds, but there's little energy behind it. Her eyes are wide and hollow. "Stop it," she whispers. "Whatever this is, just stop it."

"See?" Kamoshida asks and cups the fake Ann's chin with one hand. He towers over her, tilts her head back, and sticks his tongue in her mouth. The fake Ann moans.

The real Ann winces. She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. "Stop it!"

Kamoshida breaks the kiss. "This is how you truly are, Takamaki. Complacent. Willing. Greedy for it. Flexible." He sweeps his arm in a wide arc around the room, indicating the other girls. "This is how you all are. You can fight it all you want, but deep down, all you really want is to be loved by me."

Skull steps forward, hands tightening around his pipe. "We gotta-"

"Kill them," Kamoshida commands. The guards convulse and burst into smirking goblins with sharp horns and tails. Their slobber drips to the floor, and they scatter forward on all fours towards the three intruders.

The thieves summon their Personae.

#

The battle is underway, but Ann does not watch. She sees Shiho. She understands on an intuitive level, as she takes in her best friend - dressed in a skimpy, sexualized school girl outfit, and rubbing herself - that this is not real. This is some rotting place in Kamoshida's mind. This is how he views the world.

Cognitive Shiho sees her watching and smiles. "I'm so worthless," she says. "I should have just obeyed. The only thing I want in this world is to be loved by King Kamoshida. I was confused, is all. Confused. That's why I cried during it."

#

Skull smashes his pipe into the face of one of the goblins, then ducks away as another swipes its claws at him. "This freakin' sucks!" He shouts.

Joker dives away from two of the things, swinging his blade as he does so. One of the monsters hisses as he cuts it, but it does not die. "Shit."

Mona's Zorro has little to do, as the creatures appear immune to its attacks. He swings his falchion back and forth, a desperate look in his eyes as the creatures pursue him.

Kamoshida smiles as he watches the thieves' losing battle.

Then he hears the laughter.

He turns.

Ann's eyes bore into him. Her mouth splits wide, and an awful, angry laugh pours from it. "This?" She asks in gasps. "This is how you see Shiho? If that's true, you're even more of an idiot than I thought, Kamoshida."

A few of the guards pause in their attacks and sniff the air. They turn to regard the chained-up girl.

"Shiho," Ann says. "Is strong and smart and confident, and so cool and the best person in the whole world! And you..." Her face contorts into a snarl. "You broke that." Her words are a howl. "I'M GOING TO PAY YOU BACK FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO HER, YOU BASTARD!"

#

Pain.

Someone strides across her brain with sharp stilettos. A strangled scream rips from her throat as she pitches forward, and her arms twist in their sockets as the chains hold her.

Blue fire rises before her, and soft, warm fingers caress her just beneath her chin and tilt her head up. Ann looks at yet another version of herself, this one with a bitter smile and golden eyes. "It's taken far too long," it says. "I began to fear you would never feel this fire."

Ann's eyes are wild, and she shudders as the hurt scribbles itself through her.

This other her leans in and locks eyes with Ann. She whispers, "This pales to hers. The agony. The shame. The past cannot be changed, but it can be avenged."

Ann stares at herself for a moment, then grits her teeth and pulls.

The other Ann smiles. "That's it. Fight. Who will bring Shiho's violator to justice, if not you?"

The metal restraints slice into her wrists, and her shoulders scream in protest. Nails hammer their way through her skull. Still, she pulls. "Know yourself. You can stomach their falsehoods. Swallow their jests." The fingers no longer lift gently. They curl and constrict around Ann's throat. "You can deal with their eyes upon you." She tightens her grip. "You can absorb all the blows. You can take everything. But?"

Ann's glare is pure hate. "He shouldn't have messed with my friend!" Her bonds shatter as the other her vanishes.

"Very good."

Crimson leather wraps itself around her face. She grips her mask and begins to tear.

"We shall proceed with the contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Misplaced restraint will yield you nothing."

"Bastard..." Ann growls as the leather starts to pull free.

"NOW DANCE UPON THE ASHES OF THOSE WHO WOULD HARM THE ONES YOU LOVE!"

A scream. A final pull. The mask rips free. Blood runs from her eyes like tears.

Flames.

"Holy shit!" Skull shouts.

A figure strides forth from the blaze with twin night-black ponytails. Upon her face, she wears a thin, pink mask. A long-skirted black and red gypsy dress ornaments her body. It is both a flower and an inferno. One slender, muscled leg ending in a ruby high-heeled boot, is propped up on the back of a sniveling little beast of a man, its head in the shape of a heart. Another wimpy creature drifts behind her like a kite, bound by the neck with a thin cord.

Ann's clothes twist around her and cocoon her into a skin-tight, bright red catsuit. Pink gloves cover her hands; stilettoed boots adorn her legs. She stares at her hand as a whip materializes within it.

A goblin scrambles towards her, and with a flick, she brings the hard rope against its face. It screeches in pain and drops to the floor. Ann struts up to it and brings her stiletto down across its throat. "You know something, Kamoshida?" She turns her gaze upon the King, who stands protected behind a wall of freshly spawned soldiers. Then, with a twist of her heel, she shatters the goblin's neck. "I'm not some pin-up girl you can get yourself off to." She looks over at the convulsing girls across the room. "And neither are any of these girls. Time to burn, asshole!" She charges forward. "Let's go, CARMEN!"

“Stop her!” Kamoshida shouts, and the soldiers dart forward.

They meet a wall of fire. A cacophony of shrieks rises from their blasted bodies, and they burst into ash as the flames consume them.

The goblins flail as they incinerate, and the three thieves run forward.

“You okay?” Joker asks as they reach her side.

She spares them only a glance as they join her. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you guys better be ready, because I’m going all out!”

Shadows spawn and huddle themselves around Kamoshida, escorting him from the room. “Kill them,” he shouts as he retreats. “Kill all of them!”

“Yeah, you’d better run, you bastard!” Skull shouts after him.

The shadows swarm, and Ann steps forward and screams out her battle cry. “Dance, Carmen!”

#

The sun has set. The four of them sit on the ground outside Shujin's front gate.

Ann stares at the ground. "Crazy," she says. "This is all crazy."

Ryuji rubs the back of his head. "Ann, I'm sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-"

"It's okay," she says, cutting him off. Color has returned to her face, and she seems almost happy. "There was no way I'd believe any of this if you'd tried to explain it."

"But you got the gist of it?" Morgana asks, tail swishing from side to side.

Ann smirks, reaches out a hand, and rubs Morgana's head. He mewls in reply. "I think so. The Castle represents how Kamoshida views the school. If we steal his Treasure, he has a change of heart. Pretty straightforward."

"Straightforward, she says," Ryuji mumbles. “He could also, like, die.”

“If he did,” Ann starts, then trails off.

Ryuji scoffs. "Good point. Especially considering the deal."

Akira stiffens. Ann looks between the two of them.

"What deal?" She asks.

"After we confronted Kamoshida," Ryuji begins, and Akira cuts him off.

"I should probably explain it." Ann looks at him expectantly, and Akira desperately tries to collect his thoughts. Okay, how to put this lightly? He takes a few minutes to explain the general outline of Kamoshida's deal, made only a few short hours ago, and tries to simultaneously not sugarcoat or bulletpoint it.

Ann is silent after Akira relates the story. Akira glances at Ryuji and soon becomes very desperate to fill the silence with literally anything when Ann blurts out, "Eww."

"Uh, yeah," Akira replies.

"Totally," Ryuji says.

"Definitely," Morgana puts in.

"Gross," Ann says with a frown. She crosses her arms and leans back against the alley's wall.

"For sure," Akira says.

"Super gross," Ryuji tells her.

"Unconscionable," Morgana cries, sounding proud of using the word.

The silence stretches out.

"I need to think about this," Ann finally says.

"You don't need to push Kamoshida out a window or anything," Ryuji points out, shaking his head. "We’re gonna steal the Treasure." Akira says nothing. He has a strong suspicion that's not what Ann meant.

With a sigh, Ann straightens. "Well, besides that, I'm joining you guys. I'll help steal the Treasure." When Ryuji opens his mouth once more, she quickly adds, "Don't even think about saying 'no.'"

"I wasn't," Ryuji counters. "I was just gonna say that we thought you already joined. Right, Akira?"

"Yeah," Akira says. Ann turns to look at him, and Akira notes the look of skepticism on her face. "Having a Persona pretty much means you're in."

Ann looks away. "Good. Glad to hear it. When are we going back in?"

#

Akira had hoped to have more time to think over what to say to Ann regarding Kamoshida's proposal, but Ryuji had torpedoed that idea. He couldn't blame Ryuji, though. There wasn't a specific reason to have not told her, but he wishes he could've come up with a way to make it sound less awful. Not the Kamoshida part, which was always going to be terrible, but the part where Akira and Ryuji withheld the information from Ann. Akira could point out that there was no way Ann would have believed them when they told her they had a plan to stop Kamoshida. She'd said it herself. Just explaining the Castle and Treasure would've made Akira and Ryuji seem crazy. If they hadn't kept it from her, she had been liable to pursue some wild action or do something she would regret. Something that could’ve gotten her hurt or worse. Akira had to come up with some way to resolve the situation. Beyond that, he needed to learn as much about the Metaverse so they could steal Kamoshida's Treasure as soon as possible. To that end, Morgana would be a resource, but he had not expected on housing the cat.

"This is where you live?" Morgana asks, staring out of Akira's bag at the front of LeBlanc. Now that Morgana had decided to remain in the real world, he needed a place to stay. Ann and Ryuji had both cited numerous reasons why they couldn't take him in. Each had sounded hollower than the last. Akira had insisted that his reasons were actually legitimate, as keeping an animal for a pet over a restaurant owned by someone who itched for an excuse to kick him out seemed like the kind of thing that would backfire astoundingly quickly. Ann and Ryuji had not been much help.

"Yes," Akira whispers, even though no one is around. "But keep quiet. Even if no one can understand you, I don't want Sojiro to know I've got a cat upstairs. So stay in the bag until I tell you it's safe."

"Okay, but I'll whisper to you if I think you need advice or something."

"No," Akira insists. "Do not do that. I don't want to have to explain why my bag is softly meowing. This isn't a train station. It's a side-street coffee shop. It's very quiet in there, so the littlest sound is likely to give you away. Just please stay silent until we're upstairs."

"I wouldn't give you away," Morgana insists. "But fine, fine. Whatever. Let's just go in already. I'm sick of being in this bag."

Akira opens the front door and steps inside, doing all he can to make his movements seem natural. He sees Sojiro behind the counter, polishing a mug, and nods to him before shoving his hands in his pocket and making his way towards the stairs.

"Hey," Sojiro calls. Akira freezes. He turns to face the older man. “I heard about what happened.”

Akira blanks. “Uh…”

“You’ve only been at Shujin a few days,” Sojiro says. “So you probably didn’t know her. Still, it’s a terrible thing.”

Oh. He’s talking about Shiho. Had that only been this morning? “Yeah,” Akira replies. “I did meet her. She was nice. Her best friend is in my class. That’s why I was late. We were…” Akira trails off.

Sojiro nods as if he understands, and Akira starts to turn back to the stairs. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Akira blinks. "Coffee?" He guesses.

Sojiro sighs. "No, kid. The MRI, remember? Let me know your schedule for the rest of the week, yeah? I'll close early or something and take you after school. Whenever you don't have club activities."

Club activities? Akira's brain asks. Does he actually think that?

We’re sort of in a club, Joker points out.

"Okay," Akira replies. Was there much of a point in getting the MRI? The hallucinations he'd experienced had been due to the Metaverse. "I'll get that to you. Can I check the schedule tomorrow and let you know?" Sojiro nods and says nothing. "Alright," Akira says. "Well, thank you for reminding me. I'm going to go and do my homework now." He turns and marches up the steps.

Once he's returned to his room, he places his bag on his bed and unzips it. Morgana's head pops out, and the cat asks, "What's an MRI?"

"It’s where they take a picture of your brain to see if there's anything wrong with it. I think."

Morgana blinks. "And why do you need one?"

Akira sighs. "I saw some Metaverse stuff before I knew what it was. I thought I was hallucinating, plus I was in a train crash and-"

"A train crash?" Morgana hisses. "You were? When? You're not crazy, are you?"

"I'm talking to you," Akira points out. "But no, I'm fine. I should probably still go, though, so we'll have to figure out a time I can. Anyway," and Akira backs away from the bed and spreads his hands wide. "Make yourself at home, I guess."

Morgana crawls fully from the bag, walks to the edge of the bed, and hops over onto Akira's still somewhat dusty desk. He gives a little sneeze and says, "This place is a mess."

"Give me a break," Akira says, shrugging. "I only got here a few days ago."

"Still, to think that my hideout would be-"

"Is that a cat?"

Sojiro stands at the top of the stairs. Akira feels the blood drain from his face as his caretaker marches over to him.

"Is. That. A. Cat?"

"Yes."

"Why is it in my cafe?" His voice is flat, neutral. It is his eyes that pierce.

"It's been abandoned. I found it outside. In the street. I couldn't just leave it."

Sojiro walks over to Morgana. He stares down at the cat. The cat stares up at him. This goes on for some time. "He's..." Sojiro starts, then stops. Another moment of silence. "He's..." The man coughs into his hand. Just as Akira begins to wonder if Sojiro has had a stroke, his caretaker blurts out, "He's adorable."

"What."

Sojiro leans over Morgana and holds out a finger. Morgana looks over at Akira, who shrugs. He walks up to the outstretched finger and rubs his face against it.

"Awww," Sojiro says. "I thought I heard meowing from downstairs. Has it eaten anything yet?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

Sojiro clicks his tongue. "You've got to feed the little guy. What's wrong with you?" He scratches the underside of Morgana's chin. "I'll see what I have downstairs."

He stands up and heads for the stairs. Akira calls after him, "So, can I keep him?"

Sojiro halts with his hand on the railing. "This is a restaurant. He cannot be allowed downstairs. If my customers see an animal running around, they're liable to call the health inspectors. That will be your responsibility."

"Sure," Akira says.

"Also, there's one more condition." Sojiro still has not turned around.

"What's that?"

"I get to name him."

Morgana looks up at Akira, eyes wide. "Oh, well, you see, he already kind of has a name, and-"

"Prince," Sojiro says. He begins to descend the stairs. "His name shall be Prince." Then he is gone. Akira can hear the sound of him rattling around in the kitchen.

"So, that happened," Morgana says.

"Yeah," Akira replies. He smiles down at Morgana. "I guess your name is Prince now."

"I don't think so."

#

“My, how events swirl around you, Trickster.”

Akira’s heart jerks in his chest, and he rolls off the moldy cot onto the cold floor of the cell.

Igor smiles his carrion smile from behind the bars, and Akira pushes himself to his feet. “I’m not sure,” Akira says, “what I should ask you.”

Igor spreads his too-long limbs in what might've been a casual shrug. “Why ask anything at all?”

“I didn’t come here on my own, right? You brought me here. Why?”

Akira flinches when he sees shapes move in the darkness behind Igor. Something stirs, but Igor makes a backward gesture towards the writhing mass and says, “Shhhh.” Whatever it is, Caroline or Justine or something else, settles. “I only wish to congratulate you,” Igor tells him. “On your answer to my question.”

Akira feels something within himself stiffen. “Kamoshida needs to be stopped.”

“Even at the cost to his life? Do you think you can live with that, Trickster? Or should I call you, Joker?”

Maybe this is a dream, Akira thinks. Maybe this is some weird-ass psychological projection of my inner turmoil brought on by all the stressors in my life, like Ryuji said. Maybe I did die in that train crash.

“Maybe it is,” Igor whispers. “Maybe you did.”

Akira, throat dry, manages, “I don’t know if I can live with it. But I know I can’t live with doing nothing. At least, if we stop him via the Castle, there’s no evidence leading back to us. So we won’t go to jail.”

Igor’s grin widens. “Are you so certain?”

“What’d you mean?” Akira asks. He hears a faint sound in the distance. The familiar ringing of his alarm. “Hold on, what do you mean by-”

Igor cuts him off. “Goodbye for now, Trickster. We’ll see each other again once you’ve accomplished your task. I’m curious to see how you’ll feel then.”

Notes:

12/30/21: This is it for today. I'll post the remainder of the Kamoshida arc (another 10 chapters) tomorrow, on 12/31/21. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

4/16

Ann's text had come in the early hours and woken Akira from sleep. Morgana, from where he'd lay curled near the foot of the bed, never stirred. Akira queued up the message, flooding his face with blue light.

ANN : Can we meet up before school? Just the two of us?

Akira had watched enough TV to know that this message typically acted as code that a girl wanted to confess her feelings. However, he also knew that was not what this was.

AKIRA: Sure.

And now Akira approaches the awning where the two had first met, though neither had known the other’s name. Ann is already there, and when she spots Akira coming, she raises a hand in greeting and gives him a small smile. Uncertain of how to respond, Akira mimics the gesture and grins.

Morgana had insisted on attending, but Akira had insisted right back that this would be between Ann and himself. Since Ryuji wasn't attending either, Morgana certainly didn't need to be there. Akira had instead assigned Morgana the rather important task of stalking the outskirts of Shujin, doing his best to keep track of Kamoshida's movements and - if possible - discerning his overall mental state.

"Hey," Ann says as Akira joins her beneath the awning. It is a sunny day, but they both stand in the shade.

"Hi," Akira replies, then nods towards the alleyway that leads towards Shujin. "Want to step off the street?" Akira glances back towards the road, already filled with cars. "Kamoshida could pull up any second."

"Well, about that-" Ann starts, then stops, swallows, and appears to steel herself, flattening her face. "Yes, let's go." The two head deeper into the alley, and Ann turns to face Akira. "I'm pretty sure you can guess what all this is about."

"Kamoshida's deal," Akira says. After his lengthy discussion with Morgana the night before, Akira had played out this scenario in his head multiple times. In the end, he'd determined to keep things as direct as possible. After all, Joker had whispered in his ear. We're both trying to take down Kamoshida, but it doesn't mean we're friends. That had stung, but Akira smothered the thought. Taking down Kamoshida and protecting everyone had to take priority.

"Yeah," Ann says. She takes a breath. "If you hadn't accidentally sucked me into the Palace, if I hadn't awakened Carmen, would you have told me about Kamoshida's deal with you?"

Akira looks her in the eye. He has prepared for this, but it takes him longer to reply than he thought it would. "No."

Ann's face falls a little. "But why? Aren't we friends?"

Akira feels something catch in his throat, but he barrels ahead and says, "You said it yourself. Everything about the Metaverse, about Kamoshida's Castle, is unbelievable. Would you have trusted me if I told you Morgana could talk, even if all you heard was meowing?

“What would you have done if I told you about Kamoshida's deal but then told you not to worry because Ryuji and I had a plan to 'steal his heart?' You wouldn't have believed us. We’d have sounded crazy. What would you have done, then? Gone to Kamoshida? Watch us get expelled? Your best friend had just jumped off a building, Ann. I was trying to-"

"Don't," Ann snaps. "Don't bring Shiho into this." Her hands curl into fists. "I know I was upset, Akira. I know just how upset I was, but I'm not as big of an idiot as people like to think I am. Yeah, I was upset, but I could still think. I wouldn't have just run off and confronted Kamoshida like Ryuji did. Even though you only agreed to Kamoshida's deal to buy yourselves more time, you still did it behind my back, which I totally get, but to not tell me? To not even try to explain things to me? You could've done that, at least."

Akira feels his blood start to pump faster and wills himself to stay calm. Whatever you do, don't sound condescending. "You said it last night. If we tried to tell you about the Metaverse, you wouldn't have-"

"If you tried explaining it to me, yeah," Ann retorts before Akira can finish. "But you could've proved it all just by showing me the app on your phone."

Akira blinks.

He had not thought of that.

"When I found you guys yesterday in the alcove, you could’ve said, ‘We know it sounds crazy, but trust us. We’ve got a plan, and we can prove it to you.’ You could’ve shown me Kamoshida’s Castle instead of dragging me in by accident and then shoving me out with no explanation. I would’ve believed you because I would have seen it."

Oh.

Oh shit.

Akira takes his glasses from his face and rubs his eyes. How could he not have seen that? Because he thought in terms of secrecy, compartmentalization, and - as his father would have put it - damage control. When you were doing something clandestine, you didn't tell more people. That was just obvious. But this-

Akira's head swirls for a moment, and he tips a bit as a dizzy spell strikes, but he rights himself with one hand against the alley and looks up at Ann. We're both trying to take down Kamoshida, and I want to be friends.

"When you told us you 'wanted in' yesterday, Ryuji and I could've brought you to this alley and taken you into the Metaverse. We could've shown you the Castle, explained the deal, and told you about our plan to steal Kamoshida’s Treasure. Then, we could've shown you how to get back to the real world and warned you against coming back in because there were dangerous things called Shadows inside, and you didn’t have a Persona for protection. And because you're not stupid, you would've listened."

"And," Ann puts in. "I would've helped. Maybe not in the Castle, maybe not with Carmen, but if I'd known, I could've helped you stall for time. We could've pretended that you were trying to convince me to go to Kamoshida."

Akira nods, then thinks of something. "And if we'd told you about the possibility of Kamoshida's death? What would your reaction have been then?"

Ann frowns. "I hate him. Honestly, I’ve gone back and forth on that. I’d prefer for him to rot in jail. But I'd accept his death too. Besides, stealing Kamoshida’s Treasure might not kill him. Morgana isn't sure."

That about covers it, Akira thinks. He exhales and wills his mind, still spinning, to slow. "I'm sorry, Ann," he says. "I honestly didn't think of just showing you the Metaverse. I don't know what your reaction would've been if we'd prepared you ahead of time, but I could've handled things a lot better than I did yesterday. I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't want to involve more people than necessary. I didn't want you to be an accomplice or an accessory, even though you’re both now. I'm sorry."

Ann lets out a frustrated groan. "Akira, look, I get it. Okay? I do. I do. And I appreciate that you were trying to look out for me and protect me. But you can trust me to make my own decisions, and you can trust me to know when not to overreact. I want to bring Kamoshida down. I want to avenge Shiho. But I also don't want us to get caught or for you guys to get expelled." She stomps forward and holds out a fist. Akira manages not to flinch but then realizes Ann is not trying to punch him. "Can we just be partners? The four of us? Let's work together, all of us, and give that bastard Kamoshida what he deserves."

Akira smiles at Ann and raises his own fist. "Yes," he says and presses his fist to Ann's. "You've got a deal."

Ann's cheeks color and she pulls her hand back. "Right, so, okay. That was a little corny," she says as she shakes her hand.

"Why are you shaking it?" Akira asks, still smiling. "I'm not contagious with anything."

"Oh, be quiet," Ann says and leans back on the wall. "I thought about this whole conversation a lot last night. Then I felt guilty because I wasn't thinking about Shiho, and then I thought I was crazy because I'd just been to the Metaverse, and how was I not thinking about that whole mess?" She chuckles and shakes her head. "Talk about having your world turned upside down."

"Or inside out, in this case," Akira replies and leans alongside her against the wall. "Any word on Shiho?"

Ann shakes her head. "No. She's still in a coma. I spoke to her Mom last night, but the doctors don't know how long she'll be like that." She doesn't mention the possibility that Shiho might never wake up again, but Akira hears it nonetheless. "I can't do anything about that, though. I'll visit her as much as I can, but what I can do is help you guys steal Kamoshida's Treasure. And I've got an idea for that."

Akira nods, willing her to continue.

"Just now, when we were talking, do you remember how I said that we could've pretended that you were trying to convince me to go to Kamoshida?"

"Yes," Akira says. I bet I can guess where this is going.

"I think we should do that."

"You want to trick Kamoshida into thinking that I'm doing what he wants?" Akira asks.

"Yes," Ann says, her energy returning. "Now that I'm in on the plan, it makes sense. We'll be together a lot anyway, planning our infiltration. So we might as well put that to use, yeah?"

Akira nods. "He'll see me with you, and if he ever asks me about it, I can tell him I'm trying to convince you."

"I know we've still got to steal the Treasure, but this way, we can maybe keep him off our backs."

"I agree," Akira replies. "We can stick close to each other while we're at school." He frowns. "Ryuji won't like this idea."

Ann shrugs. "True, but if we're both onboard, we can convince him." They lapse into silence for a few moments, and then Ann seems to deflate a little. "Still, this is all so crazy. Yesterday was the most insane day of my life. Who would've thought a place like that could exist?" She straightens a bit and turns to Akira. "How'd you guys end up there the first time, anyway?" Akira begins to give a brief rundown of his first day in the Castle, but Ann shakes her head. "No, I mean, like, how'd you even get the app on your phone in the first place?"

"I'm not sure," Akira replies and fills her in on the details surrounding Igor. "But Ryuji thinks I may be dreaming all that," he finishes and smirks. "I only ever end up in the Velvet Room when I'm asleep, so... yeah. Maybe it is all just a dream, but I've got no other idea how the app got on my phone. I tried to figure out when exactly it downloaded, but from what I can tell, it just popped up at the same time I approached Shibuya that first day."

"Weird," Ann says. "But I guess that's less important than using it to stop Kamoshida. At least for now."

"Right," Akira says and pushes himself off the wall. "Should we head to school?"

Ann nods and hefts her bag on her shoulder. "Sounds good. I need to swing by the faculty office anyway." She pats her bag. "Kawakami-sensei asked me to collect some paperwork a little while ago. Updated syllabus confirmation signatures or something. I had to get one from everyone in the class." She smiles at Akira. "I guess you don't count. Mishima should've done it since he's our Class Rep, but whatever. This is just Kawakami's way of trying to get me more involved in the school. She pulls something like this every once in a while. She tried last year too. Hasn't worked yet."

"I never asked," Akira says as they turn towards the school. "But are you in any clubs or anything? I know Ryuji was on the track team until he crossed paths with Kamoshida."

"Nope," Ann says, shaking her head. "I've got some stuff I do outside of school. People already have a low opinion of me, so when school ends, I like to just leave." She frowns as they step out of the alley and head towards Shujin's main gate. "I know the RINE chatter is all about you now, but it wasn't so long ago that it was all about me."

That must've been what Shiho meant, Akira thinks, as they climb the stairs.

There are few students in the hall as Akira and Ann head towards the faculty room, but those present stare at the two as they pass. Akira does his best to ignore this, while Ann makes it look effortless. Outside the door to the office, Ann rummages around in her bookbag for a few moments, then pulls a somewhat crumpled assortment of documents from her bag with a firm yank. Her cheeks redden when she sees Akira's brows go up. "Shut up," she says.

"I didn't say anything," Akira protests.

Ann opens the door, and they step inside. "Excuse us," she calls.

The faculty office is empty save for the mop of thick black hair that is Kawakami-sensei. "Oh good, you're here," Ann says and starts to make her way towards her. "I just wanted to bring these-" She stops.

Akira, trying to make himself inconspicuous near the door, starts at the sudden silence. Only, it isn’t entirely silent. From the direction of Kawakami comes a soft noise, a kind of light sniffling. Akira approaches Ann and peers over her shoulder.

Kawakami is sitting at her desk, and her eyes are red from crying. She is desperately patting at them with a tissue, which only makes it worse. "Oh good," she snaps. "Kurusu's here too."

"S-sorry," Ann replies. "You wanted these and-"

"No," Kawakami says with a quick shake of her head. "It's fine. You're right. I did. Thank you, Takamaki." With her free hand, she reaches out to retrieve the papers. Ann holds them out to her as if trying to get them away from her own body. When Kawakami's hand closes on them, Ann snatches her own away and takes a few steps back. "Any, um, issues?" Kawakami asks.

"N-no," Ann replies and lowers her eyes. Akira is busy pretending to focus on anything else in the room.

"Are you o-" Kawakami starts, then stops and shakes her head. A sad smile is on her face. "Stupid question." She stands up suddenly and says, "Listen, I-" at the same time, Ann quickly says, "We need to go."

"Oh," Kawakami replies, blinking.

"Yeah," Ann mutters. "Because we've got a...thing - class! Class, to get to."

"Right, no, of course. That is coming up," Kawakami says. She takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and gently sets the papers on her desk. When Kawakami looks at them again, she says, "Thank you for bringing me these, Takamaki. I hope they weren't too much of a hassle."

"It was fine," Takamaki says, backing away. "Really."

Akira nods his head towards Kawakami and begins to follow Ann out. The woman watches them walk away for a few moments, then collapses back into her chair.

Ann and Akira exit the faculty room and turn for the stairwell. "What was that about?" Akira asks.

"Let's just forget it," Ann whispers. But they haven't taken more than a few steps when she says, "Shiho, probably."

"You think?" Akira asks, turning back towards the faculty room.

Ann shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Forget it. Let's go."

Akira turns and follows Ann. A pang of uncertainty lances through him, but he shoves it down. Don’t forget, a voice in his head says. Kawakami knew about the rumors surrounding you, and she didn’t say a thing.

#

Akira sweats all through his morning class. "Don't worry about it," Morgana whispers from time to time. "No one can see me in here." The cat treats his desk's underside as a crawlspace. He lays on his side, tail swishing lazily against Akira’s thigh.

"This was a bad idea," Akira says.

"It'll be fine."

“You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Kamoshida,” Akira hisses.

“I was, but for the next two periods, he’s in his office. He’s got forms to complete. Permission slips for the volleyball team to compete at Kosei High next month.”

“How do you know that?”

“I am a thief, you know. I snuck into his office this morning after you oh-so-heartlessly cast me aside and stole a look at his schedule.”

“How’d you know it was Kamoshida’s?”

Morgana pokes his head out of the desk and rolls his eyes. “Good question. How could I possibly have figured out the office with the door marked ‘Suguru Kamoshida’ was Kamoshida’s?”

“Fair point,” Akira concedes.

“Now, keep your voice down,” Morgana whispers. “You’re going to draw unwanted attention!” Akira clamps down on his tongue and chooses not to remind Morgana that his presence in his desk alone should be enough to draw attention.

Oddly enough, no one seems to notice, not even the Boy who sits behind Akira.

They are only a few minutes into the lecture when Ryuji texts the group.

RYUJI : Yo! Let's meet on the roof after school! Time to take down the Castle!

ANN : Don't text us when we're in class!

RYUJI : You guys aren’t paying attention, are you?

Akira stifles a sigh and responds.

AKIRA : I have a cat in my desk. I haven't heard a word anyone's said all day.

RYUJI : HUH?

RYUJI : Oh right, Mona. How's he doing?

"Tell him I'm fine."

AKIRA : He says he's fine.

ANN : Guys, enough! We're gonna get in trouble!

RYUJI : Afterschool then?

ANN : OMG YES OK?

RYUJI : Cool.

Eventually, Morgana scampers out a window during a short break, and Akira breathes a sigh of relief. Ann turns to him and asks, “Are you okay?”

“He’s not staying in my desk again. I didn’t hear a word from either class. If he kept this up, I wouldn’t get a single answer right all year.”

#

The day continues to drag itself along until the middle of the afternoon, when Akira hears a loud, rhythmic sound coming from the hall. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like footsteps, but heavier. Much heavier. As if thick metal encased the feet.

The bell rings, and the students turn in their chairs to talk amongst themselves.

“I’ll be back,” Ann says, standing.

“Do you hear that?” Akira asks.

Ann blinks at him. “Hear what?” She steps away with a shrug when Akira doesn’t respond. She walks to the door, slides it open, and steps out into the hall, disappearing around the corner.

A moment later, the terribly loud footsteps reveal themselves as a Shadow – a guard from Kamoshida’s Castle - passes the door. Akira reels back in his chair, but the Shadow doesn’t turn its masked face towards him before it continues marching.

What the fuck?

Akira shoots out of his chair and jogs to the door. He pauses before he sticks his head out, half expecting the thing to be waiting for him to make himself vulnerable. As he does so, the noise vanishes, and when Akira looks, the Shadow is gone.

But it had been a Shadow. The full armor, the mask, it even made the same sound as it stomped through the halls as the Shadows did in Kamoshida’s Castle.

A hallucination? Akira wonders.

Maybe we should get that MRI, Joker suggests.

If Morgana had been back in his desk, Akira would’ve asked him about it, but nothing they’d discussed previously suggested that the Shadows could leave the Metaverse and enter the real world. Besides, no one in class seems to have heard it or seen it. Ann should have been able to hear it, at least, and she should’ve spotted it the moment she stepped out into the hall, but she’d said nothing.

Alright, Akira thinks. A lot is going on. This gets a pass. But only if it doesn’t happen again. If it does, it’s emergency meeting time.

#

Makoto clears her throat.

The two second years stop, their feet frozen upon the stairs.

"The roof," Makoto says, "is off-limits."

Akira Kurusu and Ann Takamaki turn to face her. Takamaki's face is pale and surprised, and Kurusu looks just as guilty.

What are they doing together? Makoto wonders. She knows they share the same class, and she remembers Akira being there when Takamaki had rushed to Shiho's side. God, was that only yesterday? She had not thought they were well-acquainted. Makoto had not considered Kurusu well-acquainted with anyone, save for Sakamoto. And here, she had caught them ascending past the third floor.

"Oh," Kurusu replies. "Uh. I was looking for the library."

Takamaki straightens like she's answering a question in class. "And I am showing him where the library is, Miss President."

"On the roof?" Makoto asks.

Akira shrugs. "I don't know my way around yet."

Makoto glances at Takamaki. The girl makes a short, "Blerb," noise before she can summon the words to say, "And I don't go to the library often, so I am not sure where it is." She turns to Kurusu. "You should not have picked me to be your guide."

Something hitches in Akira’s face, a look of disbelief, before he looks back at Makoto and says, “Um.”

Makoto regards both students for a moment, then sighs and shakes her head. Damn, there I go again. “I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. I don’t believe I have ever seen you in the library, Takamaki, and I am there quite often.” She offers a smile. “I could show it to you. Takamaki, I’m sure your academic performance would improve if you made use of Shujin’s many resources.”

“Gee,” Takamaki cuts in, frowning. “Thanks.”

IDIOT, screams Makoto’s brain. She holds up a hand. “N-no, I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. And now wouldn’t be a good time, probably. What with-” She halts, the unspoken name hovering in the air between them. MASSIVE IDIOT, her brain rages. She glances at Akira, but he does not appear willing to help, as his brows are raised in an unmistakable look that reads ‘Yikes.’

“I’ll talk to you later, Akira,” Takamaki mutters and begins to head back down the stairs.

“Wait,” Makoto says quickly. Takamaki stops and turns back to her, a sour twist to her mouth. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about your friend, Takamaki.”

Takamaki looks up at her until Makoto begins to feel uncomfortable. “Her name is Shiho Suzui,” Ann finally says.

“Yes, I know, I-”

But Takamaki turns. “Everyone sure is sorry today.” Takamaki continues down the stairs towards the lower levels.

“Don’t be hard on her,” comes a voice, and Makoto realizes she’s still in the tiny stairwell space with Akira Kurusu. He regards her, his face not entirely blank. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, but then he shrugs and stays silent.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah,” Kurusu says. “I know.”

Makoto is surprised to find that means a lot to her. “Come. I’ll show you to the library.”

Kurusu takes a step towards her and says, "Thank you."

Makoto half-turns away from him and averts her eyes. She sees Suzui on the ground in the courtyard and Takamaki crying over her body. "If you were looking to start our study sessions today, I'm afraid I can't. I apologize. After yesterday-"

Kurusu spares her from having to continue. "Oh, yeah. Hey. Don't worry about it. I just wanted a book." She sets off down the hall. Kurusu follows her.

The library is claustrophobic with desks, tables, and stacks. A mass of eyes shoot Kurusu’s way once they enter, and despite the large sign over the door that reads, ‘Quiet, Please,’ whispers sprout in force.

"Isn't that the second year with the record?"

"What's he doing here?"

"He's not going to study, is he?"

"I don't like this. He's got a crazy look in his eyes."

"You don't think he's going to attack us, do you?"

Makoto steps up alongside him, and the murmurs dim but do not die. She turns to Kurusu and says, "I'm sorry about-"

"It's fine," Kurusu mutters. He grabs a book off the nearest shelf and shuffles over to the circulation desk. "This is the book I wanted anyway."

Makoto glances at the title. "'The Biology of Shrimp?' That's an, um, interesting choice."

Kurusu pales. "I need it, for, uh work. And food. I help make food for work."

"Oh."

The girl at the circulation desk does not meet Kurusu's eyes as she checks the book out. When he takes it back, she gasps out a little frightened squeak. Akira scowls, tucks the book under his arm, and turns to leave.

"Kurusu," Makoto says.

He looks at her. "Yeah?"

"We'll begin our sessions on Monday."

"Sure," Kurusu says. "I'll see you then, Niijima-senpai." He nods to her once, then slides open the door to the library and rushes out.

Makoto stares at the open door. 'The Biology of Shrimp?' Yeah, right.

#

When Morgana finished his proposal, Ryuji stood up, fists clenched. "What'd ya mean, wait? That's bullshit!"

Morgana sighs. "Look, genius. Remember when he first flew into Kamoshida's Pleasure Hall? Akira and I got stomped on. We would've died if you hadn't awakened Captain Kidd. And yesterday, if Lady Ann hadn't summoned Carmen, we would've been in real trouble."

Ann looks over at Akira and mouths the words, "Lady Ann?"

Akira shrugs.

"My point is, we need to be cautious. We need to prepare. We should stock up on medical supplies we can use when we're inside."

Ryuji's jaw drops. "Like potions in a video game!"

Morgana rolls his eyes as Akira laughs. Akira and Morgana had spent the previous night discussing the Metaverse. Akira had prepared a list of questions for Morgana in the hopes of gaining more of an insight into how best to stop Kamoshida. Morgana’s answer to many of his questions had, frustratingly, been ‘I don’t know.’ However, those questions prompted additional avenues of discussion, which started them talking about cognition and how you could use it to influence the physical reality within the Metaverse. Akira had drawn the exact parallel as Ryuji.

“Fine, yes,” Morgana says. “If your cognition allows you to view them that way, then sure. We should also bring food. The Palace is huge, and we don't know how soon we’ll come across another Safe Room. We don't even know the general layout of the place. We could be there for hours. If we run out of energy or get hurt too badly, it might be difficult to get back out."

"Alright," Ann says. "Food shouldn't be a problem, but where are we going to get medical supplies? I don't think they sell more than aspirin and bandages at the pharmacy."

"Well, about that," Morgana says and turns to Akira. "Joker here happens to know a super-sexy doctor who might be able to assist us.”

Ryuji grins. "Whoa, dude! Details, now!"

“I don’t remember telling you she was super sexy,” Akira says.

“I inferred it,” Morgana responds.

“Alright,” Akira says, rolling his eyes at the cat. He quickly brings Ryuji up to speed on his close call with the train, which prompted Takemi’s visit. The rest is relatively straightforward. “She runs a clinic in my neighborhood.”

“Exactly!” Morgana says. “She could sell us medical supplies.”

Akira looks over at the cat. “And again, I have an issue with that plan. What am I supposed to do? Just ask her to sell us medicine for use in a cognitive Castle?”

“Just make something up,” Morgana says.

"Just make something up?" Akira asks. "What am I supposed to say?"

Ryuji raises his hand. "Hey, Mona, I've got a question."

"What is it?"

"Should we bring guns?"

"Huh?" Everyone asks.

Ryuji reddens a little and clears his throat. "Well, the Personas are great and all, but every time we've used them, we get all tired and shit. Shouldn't we get some other weapons? Akira's got his dagger, Ann's got her whip, you've got a sword, and I've..."

"Got a pipe?" Ann asks.

"Yeah, I don't know what's up with that. It just kind of appeared in my hands." He shakes his head. "But that's not my point. If everything in that world revolves around cognition, then couldn't we bring guns in and freak the Shadows out or something?"

Morgana looks up at the blonde boy. "Ryuji, that's..."

"Dumb," Ann finishes.

"Brilliant!" Morgana shouts.

Ryuji blinks. "Wait, for real?"

"Seriously?" Ann asks.

"That could totally work!" Morgana says. "Even if the weapons are fake, the Shadows won't know that. From their perspective, we're thieves. So they'd expect us to have working guns."

"So toy guns would work like real guns?" Akira asks. "That seems like a really dangerous theory to test out." This had not occurred to Akira, but it opened the way for other possibilities if it worked. What was to stop them from bringing a big black ball, sticking a fake ‘fuse’ on the end of it, writing ‘BOMB’ in big letters on the side, and throwing it at a Shadow? Would the Shadow expect it to explode? Why sneak through the Castle when they could just napalm their way through?

"Trust me, it'll work," Morgana says. "Not bad, Ryuji."

Ryuji beams. "In that case, I've got the perfect place to get em! It's an airsoft shop in Shibuya. Really out of the way."

"Alright then," Morgana says. "Then, this is the plan for today. Akira and I will go to the clinic and convince the doctor to sell us medicine."

"You mean, I'll convince her to sell us medicine. You're a cat."

"Whatever. While we're doing that, Ryuji, you take Lady Ann to this soft air place and buy some guns."

"Wait, why do I have to go?" Ann asks.

"Because someone's going to need to make sure he doesn't go overboard and draw suspicion."

"Oh. That's a good point."

"Alright!" Ryuji says, pumping his fist into the air. "Let's rock this shit!"

#

The clinic is a short walk from LeBlanc. It is a hole in the wall, a few steps up from the littered sidewalk, with an ugly blue sign the only indicator of its purpose.

Akira grips the doorknob. He feels a soft, pulsing vibration. What’s this? He walks inside. Music blasts his eardrums—Morgana yowls from inside the bag. Guitars screech fast and vicious beats and drums pound.

The singer belts out something Akira thinks is English, but the voice is so scratchy and warped, he cannot be sure.

The aural assault hits him from all sides, then promptly shuts off, and his ears just ring and ring.

He is in a waiting area. The walls are a dull, metallic grey. Two tattered, red cushioned couches sit parallel to one another. A blank bulletin board. A magazine rack with dusty, yellowed publications. Alongside the door he's just entered is a potted dracaena. It's dead.

"Sorry about that."

To his left is a large service window, behind which sits Doctor Takemi, feet up upon a cluttered desk. A large, expensive-looking radio hangs over the desk’s edge.

Her smile is coy. “I don’t get a lot of patients around this time.”

 She wears a white medical coat over a short, dark blue dress cinched with a thin red belt. It looks more like something one might wear to a club rather than a doctor’s office. At the angle she’s sitting, the coat has slipped down to her upper arms, and Akira can see her shoulders, pale, bare, and curved. She’s still wearing the choker. And the high heels.

He feels his face redden. "That was loud,” he says.

"Smooth," Morgana whispers from the bag.

"That's the only way to play it. Otherwise, what's the point?" She bats long-lashed eyes at him and asks, “So, how’d it go?”

“How’d what go?” Akira asks, sticking his pinky into one ear to make sure there’s no damage.

Takemi frowns. “The MRI I told you to get?”

Akira sighs. “I haven’t gone yet.” Takemi lets out a little huff and begins to stand, so Akira quickly adds, “But Sakura-san is going to take me to the hospital soon. He’s going to set up the appointment today or tomorrow.”

“At least you’re here for your follow-up,” Takemi says and reaches into a drawer, pulls out a clipboard equipped with a form. Not quite, Akira thinks, as she extends it out towards him. “Here, fill this out.”

"What's this?" Akira asks, accepting it.

"I need your information. You are at a doctor's office, after all." She tilts her head. “How have you been feeling? Any issues sleeping? Any headaches? Nausea?”

“No,” Akira says, picking up a pen from next to the window but not writing down anything just yet. “I feel fine, actually.”

“Nothing at all?” Takemi asks. “Kids your age do have a habit of running themselves ragged. And since you’re new in town and everything…” She trails off, letting the implication sit between them.

“I need some medicine,” Akira blurts. He makes no move to fill out the form.

Takemi smiles, but her eyes go hard. “Oh?”

“Y-yeah. It’s for my exams. To help my energy levels.”

Takemi unfolds her hands and leans back in her chair. Her painted nails drum against the top of her desk. “So, you need medicine to help with your exams?” He nods. She stands.

Vanishes around the corner.

The sky blue door in the lobby clicks unlocked, and Takemi opens it. "Come with me."

He follows her into the hall, and she leads him to a small examination room. The exam table is blue, plush, and covered with sanitary paper. She gestures to it with her thumb. "Have a seat."

Akira sets his bag - Morgana included - on the ground and hops up onto the table.

Next to the table is a small desk and a swivel chair. Takemi drops into it and spins around to face him. "What kind of game are you playing?" Her voice is still cool, still seductive, but there's an underlying harshness to it. "Is someone putting you up to this?"

"No, of course not."

"Then I suggest you come up with a better lie. Because 'medicine' and 'exams' rarely go together."

"I'm not lying," he says. He feels dirty, like he's just stepped through a cloud of dust and dirt. He realizes he is squirming beneath Takemi’s maple brown gaze, but he can't stop. "It’s for my entrance exams. For college. I really do need it."

"Hmm." Her eyes glaze over, and she stares up at the ceiling. She purses her lips and mutters a few things under her breath. Akira sits in silence. The full weight of what he is attempting to do crashes down upon him. I'm trying to illegally obtain medicine. Holy shit! I'm trying to ILLEGALLY. OBTAIN. MEDICINE. Why hadn't he thought this through? If Takemi reports him, he's finished. He'll get kicked out of school. He'll have violated his probation. He'll have to go back to juvenile and then to jail!

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

"How badly do you need it?"

Akira blinks. "Sorry, what?"

Takemi smiles at him. "How badly do you need it?"

"Um, pretty badly."

"I see." She reaches out and snatches the clipboard out of Akira's hands. "Didn't write anything, huh? Well, never mind. Neither of us wants this on the books. You understand that this is shady? As in, extremely shady. As in, you don't seem to grasp how shady this is, shady. So, let me ask you this. Have you ever been sick? Really sick, I mean?"

Akira shrugs. "I've gotten a cold a few times. Some sore throats and stuff."

"But no mono? Pneumonia? How about chickenpox? Anemia? Anything in your blood?"

"Uh, no."

"I see." She smiles. "And you’re sure you’re not suffering from any complications due to the train crash?” Akira shakes his head. “Good." She stands. "Please wait here."

Takemi walks out of the office. Morgana's head pokes out from the bag. "How is this convincing her?"

"What'd you expect?" Akira whispers. "I've never had to convince someone to sell me medicine before!"

"But you're so confident in the Metaverse, why can't you put some of that charm to use out here?"

"What charm?" Akira asks. Then he shakes his head. "Never mind that. This was a bad idea. We've got to get out of here. I could get in a lot of trouble for this, and -" He shuts up as the door opens.

Takemi returns with a small vial of red liquid in her hand. "Here," she says and hands it over to him.

"What is this?" Akira asks as he takes the vial. He sniffs it and cringes at the powerful, citrus-like odor.

"Something I've been working on." Takemi leans against the room's desk. "I'm not going to just sell you medicine without getting anything in return. So, let's make a deal. I sell you medicine, and the only medicine I deem safe for your use, and you help me with my little experiments."

Akira looks at the vial, then back up at the doctor. "You want me to drink this?"

"And you want me to sell you medicine."

"But what's in it?"

"It's something I'm developing. I want to see its effects on a regular body. You'll drink it, and I'll record the results."

"What's it going to do to me?"

"I don't know," Takemi says. Then, at the look Akira gives her, she says, “Well, I’ve got some idea of what it should do. But that's why I need to test it. If you’re feeling wonderful, as you claim, it shouldn’t have any adverse effects.”

“Isn’t this, uh, unethical?” Akira asks.

“So is selling medicine to teenagers who don’t need it, but I’m not overly concerned with the moral applications of this right now. If you want me to sell you that medicine, you’d better drink mine.”

Akira steadies his hand, wets the inside of his mouth with his tongue, throws back the medicine, and swallows.

#

Akira's head feels like a horse has stepped on it.

Several times.

The dull fluorescents above burn into his eyes. He groans and throws his arm over his face to shield them.

"That was interesting."

Doctor Takemi sits at the desk, a smile on her face, scribbling on the clipboard. Everything comes back to him in a rush.

"What happened?"

"Do you want specifics?" Takemi asks.

"Well, yeah."

"First, you ingested my medicine. Then you promptly passed out. Your heart rate, respiration, everything was normal. A few minutes passed, and then you woke up."

"I don't remember."

"That's probably for the best. You started yelling at your bag."

"My bag?" Akira looks down at it. How long was I out? Morgana's been in there the whole time!

"You referred to it as Morgana. You kept shouting, 'Shut up, Morgana! We've got to get to the Castle!' over and over again. That went on for about another minute."

"Did, uh, the bag reply?"

Takemi looks flustered for a moment. Then she chuckles. "No. Fortunately, your bag didn't respond. You should apologize to it later."

"Right, so I guess everything-"

"Hold on. I'm not done. Then you zeroed in on me for a while."

Akira gulps. "What do you mean?"

"For a solid five minutes or so, you kept referring to me as, 'Sexy Lady.' You tried to sing that song too. Your English is terrible, by the way."

Akira's cheeks are on fire. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm not. It was hilarious."

"Is, uh, that all?"

"Pretty much. After your attempted advances, you passed out again. This time for half an hour. And then you woke up."

Akira sighs, mortified. "My head hurts."

"That's to be expected. It should go away in a bit." She sets the clipboard down and withdraws a small slip of paper from her coat pocket. "You upheld your end, so I'll do the same." She holds the form out to him, and Akira takes it, careful not to touch her fingers. "That's a list of medicine I'll be comfortable selling to you at a discount."

"I... thanks."

"It's mostly relaxants. Simple ones. Honestly, a lot of it's no stronger than aspirin. But, who knows? You help me out some more, and maybe I can sell you more."

"Wait, does that mean...?"

She grins, full and wide. "This is only the first test. I've got a couple more I need to run." She holds out her hand. "So, do we have a deal?"

Akira's throat tastes like ash. His head pounds. But he has what he needs. He reaches out and shakes her hand. "Deal."

#

That night, Akira apologizes to Morgana for yelling at him while under the influence of Takemi's bizarre concoction. Then he texts the others.

RYUJI : Dude! That's awesome! We're gonna kick this Palace's ass!

ANN : Way to go, Akira!

AKIRA : Thanks. How was the gun store?

RYUJI : Freakin' rad!

ANN : Terrible.

RYUJI : What’d you mean? You were psyched about that submachine gun you picked out!

ANN : Yeah, I was. But you're not allowed back there. EVER. AGAIN.

RYUJI : Why the hell not?

ANN : Because you kept asking weird questions.

ANN : Like, 'How much damage will this one do?'

ANN : And, 'Do you think this will scare them enough?'

ANN : The guy thinks we're going to rob a bank or something!

AKIRA : Did you tell him it's just for a Castle?

RYUJI : Relax, Ann. Guys like him always look suspicious. We got the guns, didn't we?

ANN : I guess that's true. We got you a pistol, Akira. I hope you're okay with it.

Morgana sets his paw on Akira's leg. "Ask them what they got me."

AKIRA : Morgana wants to know what you picked out for him.

ANN : Oh.

RYUJI : He needs a gun too? But he's a cat.

Morgana's jaw drops. "Are they serious? They didn't get me anything?"

AKIRA : Morgana does not approve.

ANN : We're sorry Morgana! :(

RYUJI : I've got it! There's this slingshot in my room from when I was a kid. He could use that!

"A slingshot? Tell them that this is unacceptable! Tell them I demand more!"

AKIRA : Morgana does not approve. Again.

ANN : I feel terrible. I just assumed that Morgana could hold his own. He's the Metaverse expert, after all.

Morgana reads this and recaptures some of his poise. "Lady Ann does make a good point. Fine. Tell Bonehead that I'll deign to use his childhood toy."

"Bonehead?" Akira asks.

"Y'know, because his name is Skull."

Akira smirks. "Heh. That's good."

AKIRA : Morgana deigns to use the slingshot.

RYUJI : It's a good slingshot...

ANN : So that settles it, yeah? Are we going in tomorrow?

AKIRA : We are.

RYUJI:  Alright! Kamoshida's Treasure is as good as ours!  

 

Notes:

I believe this is the longest Crimson chapter so far. During the rewrite, I found I could combine several chapters into one whole. It'll be interesting to see if they flow well together. You also might note that there are certain scenes happening out of their original order. I spent much of the early rewrite process cannibalizing various chapters for the scenes I felt should remain. Most did, in some form, while others got cut entirely. Then, THOSE scenes wound up getting reviewed once more, and cannibalized further. It's interesting, rereading this sequence and seeing all the forensic evidence. Enjoy!

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

4/17

"This is so cool."

"Quiet!"

"I know, I know. But still, this is so cool."

"It won't be cool if we get caught."

"Alright, my bad. Seriously though-"

"Skull, shut up!"

Panther flushes when the words leave her, and Joker holds up his hand to signal a halt. The four thieves pause, separated as they are atop the chandeliers, and peer at the Shadows below.

They are deeper in the Castle, traversing a grand hall with marbled columns and a wide stairwell leading up to a breathtakingly revolting portrait of Kamoshida. The room is thick with Shadows, and the thieves had decided upon an alternate route.

Joker crouches on the gold grate of the chandelier. He balances by grasping the fixture's chain.

Below, a Shadow stops and looks up. The hollow, black sockets of its mask scan the ceiling, but it fails to spot them. It continues on its short route around the hall, an automaton on a track.

Each thief breathes a sigh of relief. "Nice going, Panther," Skull whispers.

"Me? That was all your fault."

"Enough, you two!" Mona says, waving his arms in the air. "Save it for when we're clear."

Joker smiles and jumps to the next chandelier. This thrills him. His body feels weightless and responsive, not bound by the minor inconveniences of the real world. It does what he wants, how he wants.

He lands on the far balcony, crouches, and darts up to the corner leading to the next room. The others stack behind him. "Shadow?" Mona asks.

Joker nods.

"Should we try out the weapons?" asks Skull.

Joker draws the toy pistol from his jacket. There's a heft to it here absent in the real world. The plastic is harsher, nearly metal. The shine isn't juvenile but aggressive. "Let's."

The others draw, and Joker runs up behind the Shadow, springs onto its back, wraps his free hand under its mask, and pulls. It rips away, and as Joker leaps clear, the Shadow convulses and erupts into a globule of black slime. The slime contorts and sloughs away to reveal a charcoal armored knight astride a tall destrier. In its hand, it holds a golden trident.

"Intruders!" It cries, but the four thieves surround it, weapons trained.

The Shadow pulls on the reins and shifts its focus from one to another.

"Get wrecked!" Skull shouts and squeezes the trigger of his shotgun. A volley of bullets crash into the creature, puncture its armor, and it quakes and falls to the ground with a groan. Its trident clangs against the tiled floor.

"Stop, you knaves!" It tries to bellow, but its voice is strained and labored.

Joker lowers his gun.

"Should we finish it off?" Panther asks.

Joker walks over to it, and the creature turns its helm towards him. He does not know why he is doing this. The world has dimmed; the voices of his friends are faint.

"Y-you are-" The creature chokes out, but Joker interrupts.

"I am thou," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Thou art I," the creature says. The wounds vanish. It stands and retakes the reins. It kneels, steals up the trident. "I am Berith."

It collapses into a point of blue flame, resolves itself into a copy of Joker's mask, and dashes forward before latching itself onto the boy's face.

"A-Akira!" He hears Skull shout, codenames forgotten.

Electricity swims through his blood as he reels from what has happened. He feels heavier, as if he has inhaled too much air.

"Halt!" Comes a voice.

"Shit!" Skull cries.

A guard Shadow charges them with a sword held high. Joker steps forward and rips the mask from his face with a cry. "Berith!"

The knight materializes into a charge, and the guard halts just long enough for it to be lanced through by the golden trident. Berith rides him the rest of the room, slamming the guard into the wall. A low groan escapes its mask as it dissolves, and Berith returns to Joker's side at a trot, trident held smartly.

The three thieves stare.

"What the hell just happened?" Panther asks.

Skull looks down at Mona. "Did Joker just use that other Shadow against that Shadow?"

"I-I think so!" Mona runs up to him and begins to bounce in the air. "You can summon more than one Persona?"

Joker shrugs. "Can't we all?"

"No! Of course we can't! One person, one Persona! That's the rule!"

"It's a rule?"

"W-well, I don't know for sure. But I can only call Zorro. Panther, Carmen. Skull, The Captain! But you just, I don't know, captured that Shadow and turned it into a Persona!" Heavy, stomping footsteps echo from down the hall. Mona groans. "Come on. We need to find the next Safe Room. We'll continue this talk inside."

Once tucked into the small room – this bearing the resemblance of what Panther identifies as the Home Economics room - and safe from Shadows, Joker tells them how it felt. While he explains it and the others debate its significance, he remembers something said to him in a dream.

"Were you under the impression you could only wear one mask?"

Was this what Igor had meant?

None of this feels strange to him. "Guys," he says as the others converse. They stop. "We should keep going."

"Are you sure?" Mona asks. "We don't know what this means."

"But it's not a bad thing. If I can carry other Personae, we have more abilities at our disposal."

"That's a good point," Panther says.

"Yeah, he stuck it to that other Shadow!" Skull puts in.

Mona nods. "Well then, let's keep going."

#

The deeper they go, the more he collects. Mask after mask. They fill his mind like bees.

"This is like Pokémon!" Skull shouts, pumping his fist into the air as Joker takes another.

"What's that?" Mona asks.

They continue.

The physics of the Metaverse becomes apparent, even as they avoid any kind of sense. Valuable-looking knickknacks fill room after room of Kamoshida's Castle, and as the thieves snatch and steal, they find the things fall into their pockets and weigh as little as lint. Their costumes are their own little universes, capable of holding an almost infinite amount of material. The medicine, which Joker had worried would break with all the battling, is safe and secure within the little pouches on Mona's tool belt.

Some levels down, they find the shrines. They are - of all places - built into a series of libraries. They are semi-circular in shape, hallowed in all else. Each holds dozens of candles, which illuminate the photographs on the wall in a smoky light. Each has a homunculus construction: a photo lathered with what looks like saliva where the head should be.

One for each girl, it seems.

Panther finds Shiho's shrine and cannot speak.

Skull finds Ann's and decides to stay quiet about it.

Joker finds another, and the photographs are of a girl he knows well - by sight - at this point. Makoto Niijima, her eyes turned towards him shyly, her cheeks tint with red, her clothes shorn or in a state of deliberate undress. A dozen of these photos stare down at him.

They reconvene in the center of the library, each lost in their mind. "This is sick," Panther finally says. No one replies, but everyone agrees.

"Moths to a flame."

They turn.

A guard Shadow in golden armor lumbers into the library, arches its back, and erupts.

A massive blot of black stretches into the air and resolves itself into a fifteen-foot tall satyr, horns scratching the ceiling, tongue lolling down near its stomach, cloven hoofs stomping a slow, menacing beat. Its wrists end in furred hands, which end in needled claws. "None can resist the temptations of King Kamoshida's harem!" Its voice is scratchy, but it booms. "My Lord knew you'd come through here! He permitted me the honor of breaking you!"

Skull holds his pipe in one hand, his shotgun in the other. "You'd better get out of our way!"

The beast's mouth opens, and a song flies forth. Musical notes made manifest, sharp as razor blades hurtle towards them.

"Scatter!" Mona shouts, and they fling themselves in different directions.

Joker pulls his pistol, feet still off the ground, and fires a barrage at the satyr. The bullets puncture its pale red flesh, but the thing reacts without pain. Joker lands in a roll and comes to rest behind a reading table, as notes splinter the wood.

"Zorro!" Mona, who crouches atop one of the stacks, calls. His Persona rises before him. "Garu!" A gust of wind slams into the satyr’s stomach, and it grunts before it turns and hurls itself at Mona's perch. The shelf of books smashes to pieces at the impact, and Mona goes cartwheeling through the air, a feline scream on his lips.

Panther circles and summons Carmen, and as the satyr picks itself up, a wreath of flame springs up across him. It laughs, and the flames reverse and speed towards the girl. "W-what?" Panther asks before the fire hits her in the face. She yelps in pain and flies back, landing on a table and sliding across it before finally crashing to the ground.

"Shit!" Skull dashes to her side. "Mona, get over here!" The cat limps along and approaches the two. "You gotta heal her!"

Joker rises from his hiding place. "Arsene!" His Persona manifests above him, screeches, and flings its tendrils at the satyr. The monster rolls, avoiding most of the shards, but a few sink into its calves. It roars in reply, kicks itself free, and charges for Joker.

"No you don't!" Skull shouts as Mona hits Panther with a Dia.

He leaps up onto the table. "Fry em, Captain Kidd!" The buccaneer manifests, fires its weapon, and a ball of electricity hits the attacker in the side. It screeches and hits the floor, and a groan escapes it.

Mona's ears perk up. "That's it! It's weak to electricity!"

Joker shouts, "Skull!"

"On it!"

Both boys leap into the air, and as they descend upon the slowly rising creature, Skull cries, "One more time, Cap'n!" while Joker calls forth, "Agathion!" The little blue devil trapped in a golden vase - another of Joker's acquisitions - spawns besides Captain Kidd. Both Personae screech, and a series of electric strikes dance across the satyr’s back.

It screams in pain, hurls itself up, and backs defensively against the nearest bookshelf.

"My turn." They turn and find Panther on her feet, hair disheveled but otherwise unharmed. She hurls out her whip, and it lashes around the satyr’s feet, dragging them together. The monster tries to break free, but Panther grabs her weapon in both hands and pulls tight, teeth gritted. "Finish it!"

Joker charges. "Mona!"

"Right!" The cat darts alongside him, and they both fling themselves at the enemy. Joker punches his blade into the satyr’s chest as Mona's falchion finds its home alongside. The monster's head tilts back, and its moan is high and worn.

"Skull!" Joker shouts.

"You got it!" Skull crosses the floor in a sprint, leaps into the air, and grips his pipe in both hands. "Take this, asshole!" He screams and brings the pipe down into the center of the monster's face. Its breath catches, and then it dissolves into a pile of ash. Unbalanced, Mona and Joker pitch forward, the former landing in a pile of stuff, the latter into a flamboyant crouch.

Silence, save for heavy breathing.

Joker straightens, adjusts his gloves, and asks, "Everyone okay?"

Panther groans and collapses across one of the still intact reading tables. "I'm pooped."

Mona rises, spitting ash out of his mouth. "I hate to say it, but that one took a lot out of me."

"The hell was that thing?" Skull asks, pulling a chair from one of the desks and dropping into it.

"It said something about Kamoshida's harem," Panther says and props herself up on one elbow. "Talk about gross."

"Are you alright?" Joker asks her. "It reflected that fire at you."

She beams. "Mona fixed me up, no problem."

Mona reaches a paw into one of his pouches. "Anyone need medicine?"

"I'm good," Skull says and drops his head forward. "I'm kind of exhausted, though."

Joker takes stock. They have gone far, but not far enough. Mona can 'sense' the Treasure, and therefore knows it's still a long way off. They've already used some medicine, and Skull scarfed down most of the energy bars they'd brought. "We should go back," he says.

"For real?" Skull asks, straightening. "I can keep going!"

"Joker's right," Mona replies and hops up onto Panther's table. "We don't want to risk running out of steam. We're all tired. If we keep going, we could get hurt or worse. So we should head home, rest up, and come back soon. We've made enough progress today."

“Besides,” Joker says. “I have an appointment.”

#

The door to the exam room opens, and a tall, lanky man with dark wavy hair sticks his head inside as if unsure if he's entered the correct room. "Akira Kurusu?" He asks.

Akira nods, from where he sits on the exam table.

"Great," the man says and adjusts his thick glasses. He steps inside, armed with a chart and a white coat that betrays his profession without him having to say it. "I'm Doctor Takuto Maruki. Apologies for the wait."

"It's no problem," Akira says and then has to shut down a yawn. With infiltrating Kamoshida's Castle, there'd been no single timeframe Akira could give Sojiro to schedule the MRI, so he had asked his caretaker to make the appointment later in whichever day Sojiro could take him. That way, Akira figured, he could infiltrate the Castle and attend the appointment afterward and cross this off his to-do list.

The MRI itself had been straightforward. Sit still for a few minutes, let the big machine do its work. Sojiro was outside, waiting, and Akira had marveled at the man respecting his privacy enough to do that. Akira was starting to think he had Sojiro Sakura figured a bit wrong.

"So then," Doctor Maruki says, stepping inside and closing the door. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Akira replies, like you're supposed to.

"I understand that you're here due to your presence at the recent train crash? That your local doctor, Doctor, uh, Takemi," he says, checking the chart, "recommended you get an MRI to see if you were suffering any kind of damage?" He smiles. "We tend to want to get those done sooner rather than later." Akira opens his mouth, but the doctor's smile grows, and he holds up his hand. "Please, it's fine. I understand how busy you young adults are these days."

You've got no idea, Akira thinks but just smiles back and nods. "The good news is that I can't detect any damage I would associate with an accident of that nature."

"Oh," Akira says. "That's good."

"Very good, though I recommend you take steps to avoid any fallout that might be associated with the accident."

Akira blinks. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Maruki nods and sits down in the chair alongside the exam table. "Frankly, Kurusu, I would recommend seeking a counselor to discuss the recent events in your life." Akira stares at the man, not sure he can believe what he is hearing. "You did fill out a form with your recent information. I know you're a recent transfer student to Shujin Academy, and if that weren't stressful enough, you were involved in that subway accident a few days ago. And, from what I understand, a girl publically attempted suicide at your school a few days ago. If I may be blunt, that's a lot."

"Oh," Akira says. "Yeah." He tries to smile but recalls the image of Shiho Suzui jumping off the building, and then his brain promptly shoves it away. "I suppose."

"Let me guess," Maruki says. "You've been keeping yourself plenty busy?"

“You could say that.”

"The brain is a remarkable thing," Maruki says, as if expecting that response. "And one thing it is very good at is protecting itself, protecting you. Some recent studies have shown that engaging in activity that requires focus and attention can interrupt the process of memory consolidation.

“For example, in one case, patients who played engaging video games soon after a violent car crash experienced significantly less PTSD flashbacks to the event, than those who did not. But we've no idea if that's a band-aid or a long-term benefit, and that's if you consider shorting out of the brain's ability to process memories a benefit."

Akira finds that he is rubbing his hands together and forces himself to stop. "I'm not sure what you're telling me, Doctor."

The man looks at Akira with a kind of understanding that Akira feels he should appreciate, but doesn't. "I'm saying that you've experienced a significant amount of stress over these last few weeks, and I think it would only benefit you to speak to a therapist.

“Engaging in activity in the short term and keeping busy is a viable strategy, but not one I'm sure you can maintain forever. Sooner or later, we have to deal with the things that have affected us. Better to do it proactively, then to wait for something to trigger it."

"You're saying I should speak to a therapist?" Akira asks. Sojiro will just love paying for one, Joker mumbles. Then Akira reconsiders. Maybe Sojiro would.

"I think it would be a smart move. It doesn't have to be permanent, but speaking in a safe environment about these things would be good for you."

Akira nods. "Alright. I'll consider it." He starts to shift off the table. "Did you have anything else to speak to me about?"

"I do, actually," Maruki says, and his voice grows a bit more serious. "It's about the results of the MRI."

"I thought you said that you couldn't find any damage?"

"I couldn't find anything I would associate with damage due to the train crash," Maruki says, frowning. "But that doesn't mean I found nothing."

Panic chemicals flood Akira's bloodstream, and a dozen half-formed nightmare scenarios play through his mind. "What's wrong with me?" Akira asks.

Maruki blinks. "It's nothing like that, Kurusu." He smiles, but Akira is not convinced. "Now, don't worry too much when I ask you this, but are you feeling alright? Have you experienced any hallucinations? Any headaches? Anything you've seen or heard or strange thoughts that you can't explain or understand why you would experience?"

"That doesn't sound like nothing," Akira snaps. He thinks of the first time he saw Arsene. He thinks of the counterpart in the subway just before the train crash. He thinks of the Shadow he saw in the school's hallway. He thinks of Kamoshida’s Castle. "No," he says. "But, all that stuff you said about stress? I've been feeling that way for a while now. I transferred schools for a reason. I got into trouble in my hometown."

"Anything drug-related?" Maruki asks, sounding for all the world like he isn't judging. Akira shakes his head. "Alright. So stress, then. Well, I have to say that this isn't something we typically see associated with stress." He opens the chart and shows Akira a picture of what Akira assumes is his brain. Certain sections are colored. "This," Maruki says and points to a band near the back of the brain. "Is the occipital lobe, and this," and he points to a clump on the underside, similarly colored, "is the temporal lobe." He hands Akira the photos. "The occipital lobe is responsible for processing visual information, and the temporal lobe does the same, but for auditory info. We see and hear a lot, so we use them a lot. However, your occipital and temporal lobes are more active."

"More active?" Akira asks. "More active than what?"

"Than normal," Maruki answers. At the look Akira must be giving him, he lifts his hands placatingly. "Please understand, this isn't cause for concern. It's just a little odd. Normally, we might see something like this as a result of inflammation, but there's no evidence of that."

"So what's causing it? Is it bad?"

"No. It's not bad, per se." 'Per se!?’ Akira thinks. "It's just, uh, well, it's as if your brain is processing more visual and audio information than is actually there. Not to the extent that it will cause any harm, but it's something we should keep an eye on. Let's follow up in a few weeks, have another look, and see how things have progressed. As to what causes it, I wouldn't think stress, but I'm not sure what else could be doing it. Though I've never seen a stress reaction like this."

Well, Akira thinks. If it's not a stress reaction, there's only one thing that could be causing it. Kamoshida's Palace. The Metaverse. But why?

"Again," Maruki says, "I don't think this is anything to worry about. The increase in activity isn't something that would cause any kind of damage, and it's not the kind of jump that sets off alarms. It's just something we think we should keep an eye on, which is why I want to take another scan in a few weeks. You can speak with the receptionist out front to set up another appointment. Beyond that, I think you should talk to a therapist. Handling any anxieties and stress levels might make this go away."

"Yeah," Akira says. "Okay. Thanks." What else is there to say? Something is happening in Akira's brain, and it has to do with the Metaverse. But he can't say anything about the Metaverse to Doctor Maruki because Doctor Maruki would not believe him. Even if he whipped out his phone and showed Doctor Maruki the app to get to the Metaverse, it wasn't as if the man would keep quiet about it. So Akira would have to look into this on his own.

The only problem was, he had no idea how to do that.

 

4/18

The winged retainer of the Lord spreads its arms wide. One hand grips a sword, and the splays in worship. "Repent," it cries, "if ever you hope to enjoy the splendors of His Kingdom!"

Bullets cascade up towards it but collide harmlessly with an invisible barrier. The helmed servitor dips its head and regards Panther and Skull, weapons empty, in the Chapel Center. "Such is the protection bestowed by Him."

Skull cracks a grin. "What's God’s stance on tridents?"

"Berith!"

The golden, three-pronged weapon punches through the creature’s back, and it moans in pain.

Joker smiles and emerges from his hiding place. Berith vanishes, but the wound in the holy defender remains. It falls towards the ground, and a buffeting wind slams into its side. Mona's Zorro swings its rapier, and the thing smashes into the pews below.

As one, they swarm it. Blades, whip, and pipe bash into it, and the creature rears its head up once more and collapses into ash.

Skull sits in a pew, breath coming hard. "Holy shit, dude. That was worse than that thing in the library."

"Mooona," Panther whines. "How much further until we find this stupid Treasure?"

"I think we're halfway."

"Halfway?" Skull groans. "But, like, that means we've still got half to go!"

"We know what halfway means, Skull."

Joker snatches a chalice off the altar and slides it into his pocket. He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck.

"Hey," Skull says as he looks from one thief to another. "Can we really do this?"

"Oh, come on," Joker says, turning back to them. A smirk is worn well across his face. "This wouldn't be fun if it was easy. Let's keep going."

They drag themselves to their feet and continue out of the chapel, deeper into Kamoshida's Palace. Joker and Mona take the lead, while Panther and Skull hang back to watch the rear.

"Hey," Panther whispers, as their leader and their cat duck into a hall ahead of them. "Skull."

"What?"

"Have you noticed anything weird about Joker?"

"What'd you mean?"

Panther checks to ensure no enemies pursue, then says, "He acts so different over here."

Skull cocks open his shotgun, reloads it, and snaps it closed. "You mean from how he is in the real world?" Panther nods. "Yeah, I've noticed that too. But that's probably because of the whole Persona thing, right?"

"But we have Personae, and we don't act all that different between the real world and here."

They round the corner and spy Mona and Joker ahead. The former waves them forward.

Panther sighs as they jog towards the two. "I guess I’m just wondering who he’s more like naturally. Joker or Akira.”

"Dude, I don't know," Skull says and glares at her. "And codenames, remember? Also, do you really think this is the time to be askin' these questions?"

"You're right. Sorry."

They battle their way further and come to the base of a grand tower. Mona points skyward. "The Treasure is up there."

"All the way up there?" Skull asks, with a groan.

Exhausted, the four agree to find a Safe Room and return to the real world, their objective eluding them still.

#

Makoto's hands sting. She ignores this. She throws another haymaker, and the brutal slap on her taped knuckles against the leather punching bag reverberates throughout the empty gymnasium.

The chrome workout machines are idle, the treadmills and ellipticals powered down, the air is chilled via conditioner and glances off her sweat-soaked body like tiny pins. Her breath is heavy but not labored. She knows how to do this. She is very good at this.

A roundhouse kick, and Makoto feels it in her teeth. This is fine. If this bleeds off some of her anger, even better. She continues her barrage for a few more minutes before she stops and snatches her water bottle off the ground.

She takes a swig, then looks to make sure no one else is present before she drizzles a bit into her hair. It runs down her face, and she shivers, but it feels good. The last time she did this, an older man had been working out on an elliptical and had whistled in a rather suggestive way. The memory adds fuel to her fire, and she sets the bottle back on the ground and returns her attention to the bag.

The bag she imagines is Akira Kurusu.

The bastard stood her up. Again.

She had waited in the library after school, just as she'd said she would. After everything that had happened with Suzui, Makoto looked forward to exploring topics she understood. The familiarity of the subjects brought a sense of clarity to her, one she desperately needed.

Only, he had never shown up. So Makoto sat in the library, waiting, unable to believe he would have the UNEQUIVOCAL NERVE to do this again.

She had waited and waited and waited. Then she had packed up her bags, left the school, and returned home. Makoto decided she would take a college practice exam, but found she could not focus, which further infuriated her. So, she changed into her workout clothes and took the elevator down to her apartment complex's basement gym.

Now, she throws the heel of her foot into the center of the bag. The force is too great, and her balance falters. She waves her arms in the air, like an unstable penguin, but fails to regain it and drops onto the mat.

She sighs, sprawls out spread-eagle, and stares at the fluorescent lights above. Why am I so mad? Kurusu is just another delinquent, like Sakamoto. Hell, the two had become fast friends. Kurusu kept company with Ann Takamaki, as well. Makoto hadn’t bought ‘The Biology of Shrimp’ bit for one second. They were up to something; Makoto was sure of it. And so what if they were? If Kurusu didn't respect Makoto’s time, why should she even care? This worked out. If she didn't have to tutor him, then she could return her attention to the things that mattered. She still had work to do if she wanted to get into a top college.

The things that matter.

She sees Shiho Suzui's broken body on the courtyard's grass. Sees Ann Takamaki knelt next to her friend, beyond distraught. She sees herself, Student Council President, struck still in horror at the edge of the gawking crowd.

I couldn't do anything.

She shuts her eyes. She will not think about that scene. Nor what it says about her. She pushes it aside and refocuses. Akira Kurusu.

After what had happened the previous week, she would've thought he would honor his word to be at their study session. And I'd been looking forward to it too...

She clenches her hands and gets up. Best not to dwell on that. Best to move on. She hits the bag for a few more minutes, then returns upstairs.

When Sae comes home, she sits at the dinner table and thanks Makoto for the food. Makoto smiles and waits for more, but her big sister gives nothing.

"Hey, Sis?" Makoto asks afterward, as she brings the plates to the sink.

"Hm?" Sae stares at her black bag with a scrunched-up face like she’s tasted something too bitter, which she dumped on the couch upon returning home.

Makoto puts the plates in the sink and turns on the water. She tries to find the right words. "Can you-"

Sae stands. "Sorry, but I can't stay. I need to get back to the office."

Makoto turns, and water drips from her hands onto the floor. "But, you just got home."

"There's a case that needs my attention," Sae says. She retreats to her room and returns a few moments later with some fresh clothes. She opens her bag, shoves them inside, and heads for the door. "Goodnight." She opens the door and steps out into the hall.

"Goodnight," Makoto says as the door shuts.

She stands in the kitchen for a time. Then, she turns back to the dishes. She needs a focal point. Akira Kurusu, she decides. She will speak to him tomorrow. She scrubs the plates with a bit more vigor than usual.

#

When Akira sits up in bed that night, eyes wide, and the words, "Oh shit!" escaping into the air, it is enough to spook Morgana off his comfy spot and onto the hardwood floor.

"Wh-what?" Morgana asks, rolling to his feet. "What's happening?"

Akira looks down at the cat. Even in the dark, Morgana can see the whites of his eyes. "I forgot to study with Niijima-senpai."

 

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

4/19

"Wait, for real?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods. "I have to study." His tone is solemn and quiet. He stares at the courtyard's fresh-cut grass. It is lunchtime, and the thieves huddle alone on the crosswalk.

Ann giggles and smacks Akira's shoulder. "Oh, come on. Stop messing around."

Morgana pops his head out from Akira's bag. "It's not a joke." His voice quivers. "He has to study."

Ann's smile freezes. "But what about-"

"I'm sorry," Akira whispers. "There's no other way. Niijima-senpai was insistent."

She had cornered Akira in the hall shortly after his arrival that morning. He had known from the storm in her eyes just how screwed he was. His bows had been deep. His apologies, desperate. He cannot even recall what he said—some nonsense revolving around his probation, a Sojiro-enforced curfew, and plain old loss of time.

This had not mollified Makoto.

This had not convinced Makoto.

"Kurusu," she had said, her voice dangerously pleasant.

He had kept his upper body rigid, parallel to the floor, held in a bow. His heart had raced. "Y-yes?" He’d asked, even as he felt the conflicting smile curl its way onto his face.

"We'll meet today, after school, in the library. We will meet every day this week, after school, in the library. This is your last chance. Do you know what will happen if you do not show up?"

He had lifted his head so that he could see her. "What?"

Her stare scorched him. "Use your imagination." She'd spun on her heel and calmly walked off.

Ryuji and Ann listen to this tale. The latter rolls her eyes. "Oh, give me a break. You're telling me you can't stand up to the Student Council President?"

Akira frowns at her. "Like you could?"

Ann reddens. "Yeah, okay. She can be intense, but-"

"Intense is one way of putting it," Ryuji mutters.

"You're telling me," Akira replies.

"But," Ann growls, refocusing everyone's attention on her. "We don't have time for this. What about your deal with Kamoshida? He thinks you're trying to get me to, well, you know. What's he going to think if he sees you studying with Niijima in the library every day? If he decides to expel you on the spot, which he could, you’re screwed." She looks over Akira's shoulder at Morgana's face. "And you said we're only about halfway through the Palace, right? We still need to climb that tower to find the Treasure."

"You're correct, Lady Ann," Morgana says but shakes his head. "But if Akira makes Makoto mad... well, madder, it might result in even more trouble. If she gets suspicious of him, of us, it'll draw more attention than we want. We have made progress. We can reach the Treasure, but I don't think we should antagonize the Student Council President right now."

"I agree with Morgana," Akira tells her. "Niijima-senpai is already gunning for me. If I ditch her again, she might report me to Kawakami or even the Principal. Kamoshida might decide to cut his losses and just boot me then and there. I don’t want to piss her off and try and fool Kamoshida at the same time." Ann opens her mouth to protest, but Akira continues. "We can still make it look like I'm trying to convince you. There’s already a ton of rumors flying around about me. Adding one more to the list shouldn’t be too hard. That'll keep Kamoshida off our back, hopefully. If I study with Makoto, then I keep her satisfied. We can still meet afterward, plan, and if we need to, visit the Palace."

There's always a way out, a voice whispers to him. Keeping Makoto happy could backfire, but if he refused to study with her again, the danger of her repercussion was too great. She was someone at Shujin.

Ryuji rests a hand on Akira's shoulder, bows his head, and says, "I understand."

Ann crosses her arms and pouts. "Fine. I still don't like it."

"I don't either," Morgana says. "But we don't have a choice."

Ryuji shakes his head. "Still, it's going to suck for you, dude. Stuck in the library with Makoto Niijima? With her grillin' you on all that school stuff?"

Akira fights the smile from his face. "I'll manage."

#

Makoto stands outside the library. Her hands smooth her skirt, straighten her black halter vest, pat down her hair. She does not notice she does these things because one overriding thought consumes her mind.

If he's not in here...

She opens the door.

Akira Kurusu sits at the table nearest the circulation desk. He looks up when she enters. There's a strange look on his face. His gaze is more intense than it should be, his lips are pursed, and his skin is a touch flushed. He looks expectant, like someone waiting for an inevitable word to be said. Or hammer to fall.

"I admit," Makoto says as she deposits her bag on the table. She reaches inside and begins to withdraw the borrowed books. "I didn’t expect you to be here."

"I have a vivid imagination."

Makoto can't help her smirk. Kurusu returns it, and she sits. "Well then, we should begin."

His smile fades. He dips his head. His posture retreats. "Niijima-senpai?"

She blinks. "Yes?"

"I want to apologize. I never meant to waste your time. Honestly, the first time, I figured you wouldn't even show up."

What is this? She had walked in here expecting either a vacant chair or aloof defiance. But, the look on his face seems earnest. It's kicked her feet out from under her. She shifts in her seat and tries to keep her pose infused with the power she no longer feels. What is with this guy? How can a few sentences throw her like this?

"Why would you think that?" She asks, to buy herself time.

He looks at her. His smile is small and sad. "Just a feeling, I guess."

She cannot meet his eyes, because when she does, she recalls how she felt when he'd taken his glasses off in the faculty office, but that was only because she had been tired because the rumor mill had churned the whole day before and its potentialities had kept her up at night and it didn't have anything to do with anything really except then she'd given him those stern admonishments and he had looked almost excited and she had felt excited but he's sitting across from her now and he's humble and apologetic so was it possible she had imagined the whole thing and Akira Kurusu is just a regular student with a regular personality but then where had the rumors come from and she'd heard he'd been in some kind of conflict with Kamoshida and he hung with Ryuji Sakamoto and she’d seen him with Ann Takamaki so there had to be some truth to what's been said about him and why did all of this stuff have to pop into her mind just because he looked at her and what is up with this guy?

Calm down, she thinks. Maybe he's playing you. What do I know about him for sure? He's got a record. He's friends with Sakamoto and possibly Takamaki. He's ditched me in the past. He lied to me about that shrimp book. Maybe this is a way for him to get under my skin. She wills herself to settle and returns a polite smile. Not gonna happen.

"We'll begin with calculus, Kurusu."

He blanches.

#

Makoto is not gentle. "Well?" She asks.

How? How has she maintained this level of intensity for this long? His brain feels like someone took to it with a lawnmower. His eyes ache from the beady text of his books. His hand is cramped from writing equations.

"It would be," he mumbles, "a preposition?"

"You sound unsure."

"A preposition," Akira blurts. "It's a preposition."

Makoto leans back in her chair, a self-satisfied smile on her face. "Very good."

Akira resists the urge to collapse onto his books. "Thank you."

Makoto glances away and frowns. "That's enough for today. I think we may have stayed a little longer than necessary."

Akira turns in his chair. They are the only two in the library. The sky outside bleeds into the sunset. "Oh wow, I didn't even notice," he says.

Makoto slides her chair back and stands, her movements pristine, almost rehearsed. "You did well today," she says and stares down at him, her gaze unyielding.

This is my punishment for ditching her. "Thanks." He packs his books and pulls out his phone. Ann had offered to take Morgana today, much to the cat's delight, so he sends her a message that the session is over.

"Shall we?" Makoto asks, once they're ready.

Akira follows her out the door.

The hall is empty. They walk. Their twin sets of footsteps echo off the floorboards. They are side by side, Akira with his hands in his pockets, Makoto with hers tight around the straps of her bag.

They walk.

Akira, grateful for the quiet, lets fatigue seep into him. Were his wits intact, he might have noticed the nervous look on Makoto's face as they descended the steps to the second floor.

"It's kind of unnerving," Makoto says, her words quick and tumbling. "The school, I mean. What with everyone gone and all."

Akira shrugs. "I like it," he slurs. "No one's talking about me."

Makoto's footsteps stop. Akira’s continue. A few moments pass before she catches up to him. She says nothing else until they reach the front gate. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Sure." His smile is heavy. "Goodnight, Niijima-senpai. And thanks."

 

4/20

Akira sits in the library. His books are arranged, and his pen is steady in his hand. He is hydrated, well-fed, and ready to go.

Makoto is late.

I could probably give her a hard time about this. Given how big of a deal she'd made about Akira wasting her time, it would be poetic in a way. Actually, that’s probably a bad idea.

Her absence allowed him to return 'The Biology of Shrimp.’ He had never even opened it. Morgana, who thankfully had gone for a walk around the neighborhood today, had given him grief unending on account of that book.

The door slides open and Makoto steps inside. Her manner is still precise, but she looks harried. Her steps to the table are quick, and when she slings her bag onto the wood, it plops with a dull thump.

"I'm sorry," she says, nodding to him. Akira takes her in. She looks disheveled, but he'll be damned if he can figure out why. She doesn't look like an ice queen today. Too bad. He frowns. Wait, why 'too bad?'

"You okay?" He asks her.

"Student Council duties, I'm afraid. I-" but then her bag spills, and the contents scatter onto the floor. Makoto releases a single, tired groan and kneels to retrieve her items.

"Let me help," Akira says and slides from his chair. He notices two things among the books and paperwork. A weathered, white pencil case covered in black spots and tipped by a cute animal’s face, and a colorful-looking novel. He reaches for the book first.

The cover depicts a man with sandy brown hair, his back to the reader, standing astride a gondola. His craft looks to be gently traversing the sea-green canals of a grand medieval city, filled with towering ivory citadels of red steeples draped in purple banners. When he looks closer, he sees the man's head is turned toward the reader, and he gifts them a small, knowing smirk. He reads the title aloud, "‘The Lies of Locke Lamora?’"

Makoto squeaks, which is impossible because Akira cannot believe this girl capable of such a sound, and snatches the book from his hands. He looks up at her. Her face is bright red, and her eyes are averted into a corner. She clutches the book to her chest like a lost heirloom. She appears to have shrunken in on herself.

Akira's eyes go wide. A single word crosses his mind in a dim, watery wave.

Cute.

Makoto Niijima is really cute.

"Uh, sorry," he says and spreads his hands in surrender.

Makoto gathers up the remainder of her items and shoves them back into her bag in a very non-Makoto way. "It's fine," she says. "I didn't mean to... it's fine."

"What's it about?" Akira asks and returns to his seat.

She finally meets his eyes. "Huh?"

"The book looks interesting. What's it about?"

She swallows. She actually swallows. I can't take much more of this!

"Um, we should start," she says and points to his books. "History. We'll start with history today."

"Okay," Akira replies. He looks back at his material. "We're covering the rule of Nobunaga."

Makoto pulls out a history text and sets it on the table. Then, she sits and flips the book open. She uses her index finger to scan the page until she finds an appropriate starting point. She does this while avoiding Akira's eyes.

"Thieves," she whispers.

Akira looks up. "Sorry?"

"The book," she says. "It's about thieves."

"Seriously?"

She fixes him with her gaze, eyes aflame. She opens her mouth, but Akira shakes his head and throws up his hands. "No, no. You've got it wrong. I just meant that it sounds cool."

Makoto frowns, then looks down at the text. She fidgets in her seat. "It is. I borrowed it from here."

"Oh, okay. Maybe I'll check it out once you're done with it."

She nods. "So, tell me what you know about Oda Nobunaga."

#

Despite herself, Makoto's hands clench tighter and tighter.

"You don't think he's studying, do you?"

"The Prez is wasting her time."

"I heard someone tried to mug him the other day, and he stabbed him."

The library has always been something of a noisy place. Whispers can be just as distracting as explosions in the proper context. Still, Makoto typically manages to shut them out.

Kurusu is having a visibly harder time doing this. She can only control his attention so much. The gossip leaches into him. His work gets sloppy.

"I heard him talking to Takamaki about Kamoshida."

"Really? What were they saying?"

"Something about how Takamaki needed to make nice with him, I don't know."

"That's all you heard?"

"Did you think I was going to hang around? When they saw me listening, I booked it!"

Makoto stands. Kurusu looks up, a bit of life returning to his eyes, and tracks her. She marches over to the nearest table, where three second-years sit with their heads dipped together. She puts as much authority as she can behind her words. "If you refuse to use the library for its intended purpose, I'll have to ask you to leave." She cuts her gaze across the faces of all the students. "That goes for everyone."

Some stand and shuffle out, red-faced and crestfallen. Some shut their mouths and return to studying. Some pretend they weren't participants and nod their heads with feigned superiority. The rumors do not start up again.

Makoto returns to her seat. Kurusu does not look any better. If anything, he seems more tattered. Was that a mistake? Should I have left it alone? She frowns. This whole study session has been a disaster. First, she had entered the room all flustered. Then, she'd completely lost her cool when he'd spied her book. Now, she had just embarrassed him further.

If those others had just kept their mouths shut, this wouldn't have happened. Another thought occurred to Makoto. What’s Kurusu got to do with Kamoshida? What’s Takamaki got to do with Kamoshida? She shook her head clear. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Akira Kurusu was still a student. She wasn't Student Council President for nothing. He deserved help. And I'm going to help you.

"Are you alright?" She asks.

Kurusu says nothing for a time, and then he points to a problem in the textbook. "How would I do this one?"

#

Kurusu doesn't improve. Makoto has never seen anything like it. He hears the instructions, mouths the answers, writes the formulas, but it's all rote. Robotic.

At a loss, Makoto ends the session earlier than yesterday and walks him to the front gate once more. How can I help him? She's stricken by the need to do something for Kurusu, to let him know he's... what?

It is only when they are outside that life returns to him.

"Yo!"

Makoto looks down the front steps and sees Ryuji Sakamoto leaning against the gate's pillar. He throws up his fingers in a mock salute and saunters his way up to them.

"What're you doing here, Sakamoto?" Makoto asks. She adds an edge to her voice.

Sakamoto frowns. "What'cha mean? I'm waiting for this guy." He throws an arm around Kurusu's shoulder and continues, “Dude, I'm starving. Bet you are too, after all that studying. Let's grab some ramen. Also, I kinda need to talk to you about something."

Makoto does not like this last bit. She is about to say something when she sees Kurusu's face. He is beaming. "Let's do it," he says. Then, he looks at Makoto and asks, "Want to come with?"

Both Makoto and Sakamoto say, "Huh?" Her thoughts plow ahead at the implication of his question, but her mouth acts on its own, and she says, "Thank you, but I can't. I live with my older sister, and she'll be expecting me later."

Kurusu shrugs. He does not look disappointed, and this disappoints Makoto. "Oh, okay. See you later then." He jabs Sakamoto gently in the gut and says, "Lead the way."

Sakamoto smirks. "Right on." They descend the steps toward the road.

Why did I say that? Makoto pulls out her phone and rereads the text she'd received earlier from Sae.

SAE: Won't be home tonight.

Why had she lied?

A single rebellious impulse grips her. She looks up and opens her mouth, but the two boys are already out the gate and gone.

Makoto stands in Shujin's entrance, alone. She is suddenly exhausted. She steps aside and leans against the doorframe. Focus. She will not let her emotions cloud her. She needs to be strong. Akira Kurusu. She ignores every conflicting feeling that name conjures up and instead zeroes in on one hard truth. He needs a better influence than Ryuji Sakamoto. Kawakami-sensei had asked her to help him adjust to life at Shujin. He never will if he continues to pal around with Sakamoto.

A thin trickle of guilt bleeds through her like lead in her veins, but she ignores it. She has work to do.

#

"Training?" Akira asks, once he's slurped up his ramen.

Ryuji does not wait and says, over the noodles in his mouth, "Mmmhmm." He scarfs more down, pats his stomach with a satisfied sigh, and says, "You know how we can, like, jump high and stuff and beat the shit out of shadows over there?"

Akira thinks of effortlessly negotiating the chandeliers. "Yeah."

"Well, it got me thinking. If we get stronger over here, maybe we'd be even stronger over there." He looks down into his empty bowl, and his voice drops a few degrees. "Ever since my leg healed, I haven't been training. I wasn't on the track team anymore, so I didn't have a reason to."

Akira smiles. "But now you do."

Ryuji looks up, grins and says, "Hell yeah, I do. So listen, I want to put together a training plan for us. Running, weights, all that shit. Of course, Ann's lazy as hell, but we can probably trick her into participating somehow. Maybe we can tell her it's for her modeling career or something."

Akira chuckles. "Ann wants to be a model?"

"Uh, no dude. Ann is a model."

"Seriously?"

"Did you not know that?"

"I didn't." Akira thinks about this. “She did mention that she did things outside of school. I guess it makes sense. I just don't picture her as a model."

“She’s got a new spread in some magazine coming out. Modeling’s probably what got Kamoshida interested in her,” Ryuji suggests. He lowers his voice and says, “How’s that going, by the way?”

Akira lets out a long sigh. “Ann and I rendezvous in the hall between classes and whisper together. We do it just loud enough so others can hear. Today, in the library, I heard a couple of students talking about it. If Kamoshida doesn’t know about it yet, he will soon.” Akira shakes his head. “I keep wanting to shower afterward.”

“Sorry I brought it up, bro,” Ryuji replies.

Akira sighs. “No worries.” He arches a brow. “How’d you know so much about Ann’s modeling career, anyway?”

"No reason," Ryuji says, a hitch in his voice.

"Uh-huh."

Ryuji groans. "Don't get on my case, man. And Ann's modeling isn't the point! Are you in on this training thing or not?"

"Are you going to make Morgana participate?"

Ryuji frowns. "I don't know how to make a workout plan for a cat, but I guess I can try."

Akira nods. "I think it makes sense. If our strength in the Metaverse is amplified, then the more endurance and strength we have in the real world, the more we'll have over there."

"That's the idea." Ryuji pulls out his cell. "So, tonight, be sure to text me your details."

"What details?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Come on, dude! If I'm gonna put this together, I need your information. Height and weight for starters, but I'll also need your body-mass index, daily caloric intake, rep sets you've done in the past-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Akira says, patting the air with his hands. "I don't know those things."

"You don't?"

"No, and I'm pretty sure Ann's not going to appreciate you asking her for her weight either."

"Yeah..." Ryuji says, his voice trailing off. "That's true. Alright, well for now, just find those things out and send them to me. I'll put together something for just the two of us. Then we can rope Ann and the cat in together."

Akira shakes his head, says, "Okay," and finishes his meal.

 

4/21

"Like this, right?" He turns the page around and pushes it towards Makoto.

She scans it and smiles. "Yes. Very good." She brings her pencil to the page and begins to scribble. "But, there's a shortcut you could've taken." With a dim snap the lead breaks, and she frowns. "Hold on."

She reaches into her bag and pulls out the battered pencil case. Its childlike and animal design seems somewhat familiar to Akira. The plastic is weathered, but there's a batch of fresh writing utensils inside when Makoto opens it.

"What's the deal with that?" He asks.

"Hmm?" Makoto withdraws a new pencil and shuts it. “What do you mean?"

"It looks kind of old. Shouldn't you get a new one?"

"You should talk. You don't even have one." She smiles as she says this.

Akira can't help himself. "That's because I use pockets. Like a normal person."

Her eyes narrow a fraction. "Are you making fun of me? Because if you are..."

His pulse quickens. He feels his face flush. Keeping the smile off his lips proves difficult. "I just thought you could use a new one. That's all."

"I happen to like it. It's from a show I watched as a child. Buchimaru-kun."

"Okay."

She looks down at it. "Though, I suppose it's a bit worn."

"So why not get a new one?"

“Unfortunately, according to my research, they no longer produce Buchi merchandise.” She looks genuinely sad as she says this.

“You researched that?”

Her head shoots up. "You are making fun of me."

"I am not. It's just interesting."

"Interesting?"

He nods.

Makoto sets her pencil down and folds her hands across her textbook. "Would you like to learn something else interesting about me?"

Akira leans in. "I would."

"I'm well trained in aikido, boxing, and karate."

"Are you saying you'll hurt me if I continue down this path?"

Her eyes widen. "Of course not, Kurusu. If anything were to happen to you, it would look like an accident."

Akira's heart hammers in his chest. He can't help himself and laughs.

Makoto's lips slide into a small smile, and she begins to giggle.

Then they notice that every student in the library is watching them.

Akira's laughter deteriorates into choked coughs. Makoto sucks in her lips, shuts her eyes, and takes a deep breath. "I suppose we should get back to it."

"R-right," he says.

His phone buzzes.

Akira checks it.

TAKEMI: Are you busy today? I've got another trial I'd like to run.

Akira swallows. Uh-oh. He keeps himself calm. This is for the good of the team, after all.

AKIRA: I'm studying right now. Can I come by later?

TAKEMI: Yes.

Akira frowns and sends an additional message.

AKIRA: Will I pass out again?

TAKEMI: Probably.

#

Makoto wraps up the session early. Kurusu displayed a good deal of retention, and she's confident he'll score well on his next exams. He's come a long way in just three days. When they step out of the library, Kurusu pauses near the door, and Makoto realizes he's actually waiting for her.

"Oh," she says. "I have additional business in the Student Council room." Business relating directly to Akira Kurusu.

"Where's that?" He asks.

Makoto inclines her head towards the door next to them. "Right here."

"Convenient."

"Very."

They stand together, silent.

"So," she blurts out. "Will you be going somewhere with Sakamoto today?"

When he shakes his head, she feels a weight lift off her chest. "No. He had to help his mom with something. Besides, I've kind of got a doctor's appointment."

"You're not sick, I hope."

"I'm not, but ask me again in a few hours."

"I'm sorry?"

He chuckles. "Nothing. Never mind. I'll see you later, Niijima-senpai."

"Goodnight." He heads off down the hall, and Makoto turns towards the Student Council room.

#

Takemi stares at Akira. The boy's hands return to his face, grasping at some phantom object. Then, he rips whatever he thinks it is away and shouts, "Persona!" He does it again and cries, "Arsene!" Once more, and "Ravage them!"

This is interesting. Akira's litany is now in its tenth minute. After ingesting her latest medicinal iteration, he had passed out for a quarter of an hour. Then he'd sat up, groped for his imaginary something, and proceeded to pull it off, again and again.

Amusing as it is, something about Akira bothers her. She slides out of her chair, approaches him, and leans in, careful to stay outside the persistent range of his hands. His eyes are glazed and see nothing. She smiles. I wonder how badly he'd blush if he knew I was this close to him. Then she sees it. Slight discoloration around his brows, cheeks, and jawline. Gingerly, she snakes her fingers between his hands and prods. The skin is tender. "How's that possible?" She asks aloud. When had he been in last? The sixteenth, wasn't it? It's only the twenty-first.

Five days. Six, if Takemi counts the night of the sixteenth. So, five days and a night then. In that time, Akira Kurusu had suffered some severe bruising to his face. And in that time, they had healed. Almost completely. No doubt most would never notice it, but she's a professional. Identifying the evidence of past trauma is child's play for her.

Still.

For a bruise, or rather, series of bruises to heal in that short a time? It's possible, sure, but unlikely. And Takemi knows that none of the bruises Akira has now are related to the train crash from a few weeks ago. She’d checked him out then, and he’d been fine.

Akira's words are beginning to warp together. His movements are becoming lackadaisical; his posture is slumping.

He pulls whatever he thinks is on his face away one more time and mumbles, "Arseee-" and drops onto his side.

His breathing is steady and quiet. He could be taking an afternoon nap. Takemi takes one of his hands in both of hers. Yep. It's here too. The too-pale, yellowish tint. The barely detectable watery squish of his skin when she pokes it.

She sets his hand down and runs her fingers into his hair. There's so damn much of it that she cannot see the skin, but she can feel it. "God," she whispers.

Akira Kurusu is a walking bruise.

"How the hell did you get all of these?" She asks. He does not reply.

There's a phone in the main office. Takemi will call the police. She has to call the police. Someone’s abusing Akira Kurusu. By whom she does not know. She cannot imagine Sojiro Sakura doing something like this. Takemi moves to the door. Her hand pauses on the knob.

She can hear the questions. What was Kurusu doing here? Why is there no record of his appointment? Did he consent to an examination? Is he taking any medicine or drugs?

Her hand falls to her side. The only sound is Akira's soft, slow breathing. Her mouth is dry paper, and all she can see is a small girl coughing her lungs out in a hospital bed. "I'll be okay. Right, Doctor Takemi?"

"Fuck," she says.

When Akira wakes, she cannot meet his eyes. He smacks his lips a few times and says, "Tastes like sand."

"Well," she mumbles, unable to keep her mouth shut. "The worse it tastes, the better it works."

"I doubt that."

"No," she says, her gaze solely focused on the empty white space of the clipboard's paper. "It's true. It was the topic of my thesis back in med school." Stop it, she thinks. Stop trying to be funny. This isn't.

"I honestly can't tell if you're lying," Akira says with a smile. "Did I say anything this time?"

A little too much. "No," Takemi replies. "Just nonsense."

"You okay?"

"Hmm?" She asks and plasters one of her more seductive smiles across her face. "I'm fine. Worried about me, are you?"

Akira fidgets, and his cheeks turn red. "Just, uh, just asking." He hops off the table, steadies himself, and asks, "Are we all done for today?"

She nods. "We are."

"Okay," he replies. He leans over and picks his bag up off the floor. "I guess I'll see you next time." He walks to the exam room's door and grips the knob in his hand.

"Be careful," she says.

He looks back at her. "What'd you mean?"

"Nothing," she replies, nauseous. "Just, you know, be careful. World's a dangerous place and all."

"Don't I know it," he says, and then he's out the door and gone.

#

He finds Morgana outside a second-hand store down the block, tail swishing side to side. "What're you doing?" Akira asks.

The cat prods the air with his paw, in an approximation of a point. "There's an old television in there. Only two hundred yen!"

Akira kneels and holds out his arm. Morgana scuttles up to his shoulder and drops down into his bag. "So?"

"So? You've got no TV in your room. We should spring for it."

"Why do we need a TV?" He looks into the store. It’s filled with dozens of odds and ends, all clustered together like someone's overstuffed storage unit.

A dusty knickknack catches his eye, shoved as it is behind a litter of children's merchandise.

"Are you listening to me?" Morgana asks.

"Nope," Akira says and steps inside. The cat yowls in annoyance, and Akira smiles. "Relax. I'm kidding. Money's kind of tight now, though."

The owner of the shop is nowhere to be seen. Akira weaves his way past the junk and approaches what he saw. “No way.”

It's a Buchimaru pencil case. Akira lifts it off the shelf and turns it over in his hands. A thin film of dust coats it, but little else is wrong. I'll have to tell Niijima-senpai. She'd be thrilled. The thought brings a smile to his face, even as Morgana nudges the back of his head.

"What're you looking at that thing for?"

"No reason," Akira says and checks the price. Naturally, it's dirt cheap. He regards it for another moment and then sets it back on the shelf. They're only study buddies. No reason to complicate things with gifts. He straightens his uniform and leaves the store as quickly as decorum allows, red-faced.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

4/22

Makoto stares at her books. Her body is still, but her mind repeats a single phrase, again and again. Just do it already.

"Are you okay?"

She looks up and across the table at Kurusu. He leans over his work, a frown on his face.

"I'm sorry?"

He taps his work with his pen's point. "I've made six mistakes, and you haven’t heavily implied my life is in danger." He smiles. "So, are you okay?"

She sighs and sets her pencil in the spine of the text. There's nothing for it but to push ahead. She looks Akira in the eye. "There's something I want to say."

Akira pales.

"I want to apologize."

He blinks. "For... what?"

The room is quiet. Makoto’s warning to the students the other day has maintained its hold. From what Makoto can see, no one pays them any attention. "I never looked up your information online. I know it's there. People were talking about it."

"I noticed."

She cringes at his tone. "But, I never looked. Nonetheless, I may have… no, I did indulge in the rumors surrounding you a bit."

He says nothing.

"I thought you would be different from who you are."

She looks at him, intent on continuing, but her words spring a response. "Who did you think I'd be?"

She sighs. "I don't know. Just, someone different. I'm sorry." This is it. She straightens. "That's why I want to propose something." He waits, his eyes a bit wide, lips pursed. "I would like you to join - in an auxiliary role - the Student Council."

Kurusu stares at her, his face unchanged. Then, a strangled laugh escapes him. Then another. A grin cracks his face, and he says, "Wait, seriously?"

She feels her cheeks redden. "I think it would benefit you. You'd be around other students who could get to know you, as I have. They're diligent. Hard-working. Joining would help you contribute to the school."

His mirth lessens. He still smiles, but the laughter stops.

Before she can stop herself or think about what to say, more words spill from her like a burst pipe. "I think it’d be good for you to be around people like that. Some distance from troublemakers like Sakamoto would go a long way towards convincing the student body you belong here." The more she speaks, the more his face falls. Where in his eyes there had been amusement, now is something else. She cannot stop, though she feels like she’s sprinting through a minefield. "I just don't want you to go down the same path he did." She pats the books. "You're really smart when you apply yourself. You could make something of yourself here. I just think you should consider it, is all."

He tilts his head forward. Light reflects off his glasses’ lenses, and she can no longer see his eyes. Without a word, he takes one of his textbooks and puts it in his bag.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

He takes another, and puts it in his bag.

"What's wrong?"

He takes another, and puts it in his bag.

"Kurusu?"

He takes his last book, puts it in his bag, and stands.

"Wait," she says, as he walks for the exit.

Some part of her does not believe he will leave, but he wraps pale fingers around the door's handle, slides it open, and steps out.

Makoto does not bother to pack her books. She shoots out of her chair and follows as fast she dares.

It is late. There are no other students in the hall. Most have gone home or are busy with club activities. Akira Kurusu, therefore, shuffles in his hunched gait towards the stairwell, alone.

"Kurusu, wait." She follows.

He does not turn around.

"Please!"

He does not turn around.

What is this? What's going on? What did I say? "Akira Kurusu, stop."

He stops. He does not turn around. Instead, his head angles upward as if he has a sudden interest in the ceiling. When he speaks, his words are deflated and tired. "I don't know why," he says. "But I really wanted you to be different."

He turns around.

Gone is the vacant indifference. Gone is flirty smile. Gone is the respectful schoolboy.

Akira Kurusu is something else now. His posture is no longer slouched, but jagged. His eyes are terrible.

"You want me to contribute to this place?" Vitriolic. "This place, where everyone thinks I'm trash?"

Makoto blurts out a response. "I think that-"

Kurusu cuts her off. "What do you think I did?"

"What?"

"You've heard the rumors. I know you didn't look up my record. Thanks so much for that, by the way. But you must’ve seen what people are saying on RINE. Heard them in the halls. So, what do you think I did?"

"I," she starts, then stops. How is she supposed to answer this? "I heard that you assaulted-"

"Assaulted someone, right," Kurusu says. "What if I told you that every word of that was a lie? What if I said my record was fabricated? Would you believe it?"

Makoto walks forward, intending to cut off his advance to the stairwell, but his question halts her. They stand, face to face, backs to the walls of the hall. "Well," she begins, but cannot continue. What does he expect? Why wouldn’t she believe the official story?

He throws his hands in the air. "More the fool, me."

"I just-"

"Do you think I haven't heard? I know what people think of me. And not just the students. I know what the teachers think too. And you want me to join the Student Council? To contribute to this place? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No! I don't think-"

"The only reason Shujin accepted me was so they could hold me up as an example. Look how kind we are! We're willing to give a delinquent another chance! We're so generous, progressive, forward-thinking."

Makoto can feel her blood swirling through her. "Please, just-"

"No. I'm not going to calm down, Makoto." Her name is a knife in her gut. "Isn't that why Kawakami assigned you to me? Isn't the only reason you're helping me because they told you to?" A speculative look crosses his face and mixes with the anger. "Because that's you, isn't it? You do what you're told when you're told. What do you actually do, Senpai? Is it even anything?"

"Stop it."

"You won't do anything when it counts, will you? I saw you, the day Shiho jumped. I saw you on the edge of the crowd, standing there, doing nothing. But you know who did something? Ryuji Sakamoto, the troublemaker you and everyone else are so quick to write off." His words are a terrible maelstrom. "He got Ann to Shiho's side. What did you do?"

Ryuji Sakamoto. It's something she can latch onto at least, find some purchase. "Ryuji Saka-"

He does not let her. "How about this? Would you believe me if I told you he was a good guy? A great guy?"

"He attacked a teacher!"

"He attacked Kamoshida!"

"That's-"

"Look me in the eye," he demands. She doesn’t. "Look me in the eye!" She does. "Tell me you haven't heard anything about Kamoshida. Tell me you haven't heard the rumors or seen the injuries. Tell me that for all your brains, you're too dumb to put it all together!"

"Stop it."

"You can't, can you? You have heard all the shit about him. But you won't do anything about it. But I should join the Student Council so I can contribute."

"Kamoshida-sensei is a teacher and-"

"Kamoshida is an abusive, self-absorbed maniac who wants to have sex with his students. Including you, Makoto."

Her mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. He shakes his head.

"Nothing to say, huh? Yeah, I bet you won't believe that either. You're just like everyone else. You won't do anything. You're useless."

Useless.

Useless.

Useless.

Makoto's hands clench. "Stop talking to me like that."

"Or what?" Kurusu asks. A smile spreads across his face, mean and petty. "You'll hit me? Go ahead, see if I care. It won't make a difference. People like you don't change. You see what you want to see. Robotic, that's all you are."

Robotic?

She looks at him. She hates it, but she wants to cry. This isn't right. This isn't Akira Kurusu. She'd imagined him so many ways. A delinquent troublemaker with a tragic past, covered in tattoos and violent to a fault. A mild-mannered cute schoolboy with a mysterious backstory. Never this. Never so...

Cruel.

"Yeah," he says, and he nearly towers over her now. "That's all you are. Just 'beep boop' and please the teachers and-"

Her fist collides with his jaw. He staggers back and throws his arm up along the wall for balance. His glasses are knocked loose and skitter along the floor.

Makoto's hands clap over her mouth. "Oh. Oh no. Kurusu. Akira. I'm so sorry."

He does not respond.

"Please," she says. "Please, please, please forgive me. I just… I'm sorry. Please."

He does not respond.

"I didn't mean..." She reaches out a hand for him.

Her fingers are inches from his shoulder when he shifts. He straightens, but his head droops forward. His hair hangs in his face, and she cannot see his eyes.

Oh, God. This is wrong. She needs him to understand but he moves away. He walks to where his glasses have fallen. He bends down and picks them up. He rubs the lenses on his sleeves. Then, he returns them to his face.

"Thank you," he says.

"W-what?"

He turns to her. His eyes are no longer terrible. They are no longer anything. They are pale and lifeless. Fossils of what once was. "I think," he says, "I have all the knowledge I need to do well on my next exam." He bows, and it is one of the worst things Makoto has ever seen. "Thank you for all your help, Niijima-senpai, but I don't think these sessions are necessary anymore." He bends and picks up his bag. Shoulders it. Turns. Walks off.

"Wait," Makoto says. "Please."

He does not listen. Akira Kurusu turns into the stairwell and descends.

#

"At least make some lockpicks!" Morgana leaps onto the desk and waves his forearms. "Come on. Do something!"

Akira sits on the edge of his bed, hands clasped together. His glasses sit on the sill alongside the bed.

It is only seven o'clock.

Morgana sighs and flops onto his belly. "What is up with you, Akira?"

Akira doesn't reply.

"If we’re sitting here, doing nothing, we could've at least called the gang together and hit the Palace."

Akira doesn't reply.

"Seriously. What's wrong? Tell me."

Akira takes his hands apart and rubs his eyes. "I'm tired, Morgana. I'm going to bed." He stands, reaches for the lightbulb, and turns it off.

Morgana hops down and trots to his bed. "Don't give me that. You never want to go to bed."

"I don't want to go to bed, Morgana. But I'm tired, so I am."

"What happened at the study session?"

Akira hesitates before he replies. "Nothing important."

Morgana jumps up onto the bed, walks up to Akira's face, and pokes him with his paw. "I don't believe you."

"Stop."

"No." Morgana pokes him again. "Now, you listen to me. I'm relying on you here. So are Ryuji and Lady Ann." He pokes him again. "Maybe this seems unfair to you, but you don't get to space out whenever it's convenient for you. You're our leader. You have to lead."

"Morgana," Akira says. "Stop poking me."

"Fine. But you tell me what's going on. What happened today?"

Akira shifts in bed and sits up. "Alright." Morgana lays on the sheets, patient. Akira reaches a hand up and rubs his jaw. "Niijima-senpai punched me in the face."

Morgana blinks. "Like, symbolically?"

"No. Like, in the face. With her fist."

"She hit you? Why? What did you do?"

Akira glares down at the cat. "Nothing. I didn't do anything!" He frowns, and folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I guess that's not quite true."

It only takes a few minutes for him to explain it to Morgana. It's almost funny. While it had all been happening, it seemed like such a long event. But after walking Morgana through everything, Akira realizes the whole argument couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes.

"I get it," Morgana says, when he finishes.

"You do?"

"Sure." The cat's tail swishes back and forth, relaxed. "You were starting to think you could trust her. And she betrayed that."

"I don't know, Morgana. I'm not sure it's that simple."

"What'd you mean?"

"I said some really, really mean stuff to her. I know I was angry, but at the end, I don't even think I was trying to make a point. I think I was just trying to put her down." He looks at his friend. "And I never thought I was like that. Honestly, it kind of freaked me out."

"Do you think that's why she hit you?"

He puts his head in his hands. "I don't know. I don't think I'm wrong, but I don't think I’m right, either. God, why couldn't she have just stuck to studying? Why'd she have to bring Ryuji into it?"

Morgana reaches out a paw and pats Akira's leg. "Maybe you got angry. Maybe you got mean. But hey, at least we know you're loyal to your friends."

Akira shakes his head. "Thanks, Morgana. But that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Sorry."

He reaches out a hand and rubs his friend's head. "The Metaverse is simpler than this, and the Metaverse makes no sense."

#

Makoto sits on her bed, cross-legged, in her pajamas. Too wired from the fight with Kurusu, she found herself unable to study. She had spent some time exercising in the basement gym, but every time she hit the bag, she saw Kurusu and the diminished, drained look on his face.

In the end, she had retreated to her room, and taken out the hidden DVD collection from her closet. With the lights out, and her headphones in, she'd watched movie after movie on her laptop.

On-screen, two sworn Yakuza brothers clasp hands, then turn to the numerous enemies intent on killing them. Makoto knows how this will end. Neither of the two men will make it out of this alive, but neither is willing to leave the other to their fate alone. Her hands clench as the two men scream their war cry and charge.

Credits roll.

She checks the time. It's fast approaching midnight.

She pulls the headphones from her ears and sets her laptop on the floor. Then she flops back on her bed and stares at the dark ceiling—the knuckles of her right hand still sting.

With a frustrated huff, she grabs her pillow and shoves it over her face. "I messed up!" She yells, muffled, into it. She lets it lie on her face for a while, until it tilts to the side and falls off on its own.

She has to fix this. She had only wanted to help Akira Kurusu, and instead, she had just hurt him. Both emotionally and physically.

You're useless. That's what Akira had said. Even now, alone, Makoto can still feel the crimson rising in her cheeks at the words. Was he even wrong? What did she do?

No. There has to be a way to make this right. Her phone beeps. She checks it. It's midnight.

"Happy birthday to me," she says, to the dark. She sets her morning alarm and gets under the covers.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to fix this.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

4/23

Akira stands at the bottom of Shujin's front steps.

Makoto stands at the top of Shujin's front steps.

They look at one another, neither able to hold the other's gaze longer than a few moments before their eyes avert, only to return some heartbeats later.

Around them, students shuffle their way inside.

A burning knot grows in Akira's stomach, one that tightens with each achingly slow second that passes.

Morgana squirms in his bag, anxious at the lack of movement and oblivious to the moment on the steps. Akira collects as much courage as he can and ascends.

"Hi," Makoto says when he reaches the top.

"Hey."

Another bout of silence. Words rise in Akira's throat but die behind his teeth, unsaid. Say something, he thinks. Come on. Say something!

"Yo!" Both Makoto and Akira jump as Ryuji bounds up the steps and throws his arm around Akira's shoulder. "What's going on, bro?" He stiffens when he sees Makoto and bumbles out, "Oh, hey, Miss President."

"Sakamoto." She favors him with an awkward smile before her jaw sets. "This works out. Would you both come with me for a few minutes?"

"Um," Ryuji says. "See, I got class, so-"

"I promise," Makoto cuts in, definitively. "That if either of you gets in trouble, I will take full responsibility."

Ryuji looks to Akira, who only shrugs. He has yet to tell his friend of the previous day's events. "A-alright."

"Thank you."

She leads them upstairs, past the eyes of gossiping students, and up further still until they reach the door to the roof.

"Ain't this off-limits?" Ryuji whispers to Akira, as Makoto peeks through the door's window. "I mean, I know we use it, but we're not supposed to."

Akira says nothing.

Satisfied with their solitude, Makoto yanks the door open and leads the two outside. Akira and Ryuji halt a few paces from the entrance. Makoto takes a few more steps than are necessary. Then, she whips around and bows, deep.

To Ryuji.

"I'm very sorry!" She blurts.

"Oh, crap!" Ryuji squeaks. "Akira, what's going on?"

Makoto, still bowed, begins to speak before Akira can formulate a response. "I said some vulgar things about you to Kurusu yesterday. He got very angry. It wasn't until later on that I realized he was right."

Ryuji glances from Makoto to Akira, and back to Makoto. "Could you, like, stand up or something? This is kind of freakin' me out."

Makoto straightens but keeps her eyes on the ground. "Everyone says you're a troublemaker—a delinquent. And I accepted that at face value. I never questioned it. I never even thought about it or considered there might be a reason you behaved the way you do." Akira needs to strain to hear her words over the howl of the morning's wind. "I'm very sorry, Sakamoto. You're a student at Shujin, and I never gave you a chance. Please, accept my apology, and know it won't happen again."

"Geez," Ryuji says, and rubs the back of his head. "Not, uh, really sure what to say. It's fine, I guess?"

"Really?" Makoto asks. "Just like that?"

"Sure," Ryuji replies, shrugging. "I don't really care that much what people think of me. I've got friends, so as long as they're cool with me, I'm all good." He grins and slaps Akira's shoulder. "And it sounds like Akira here does have my back. Hey, Prez, what kind of nice stuff was he sayin' about me?"

Makoto smiles a bit. "He said you were a great guy."

Ryuji lets out a sigh and laughs. "That sounds about right."

Akira blushes and glances down at his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it, Sakamoto. But I have one further request," Makoto says. The two boys stare at her, and her brows come together. "Please, tell me the truth about what happened between Kamoshida-sensei and yourself."

Ryuji pales. "What? For real?"

Makoto nods. "Yes. Please."

The two boys look at one another. "What should I do?" Ryuji asks.

Akira shrugs. “It's your story, Ryuji. It's your decision.”

Ryuji frowns, nods, and tells his tale.

It does not take long. When Ryuji’s finished, Makoto's eyes stare off into the distance, a look Akira has come to recognize means she's deep in thought. "I see. Thank you."

Ryuji takes out his phone and blanches. "So, uh, I know you said you'd take responsibility and all, but I really should get going. Are we all set here?"

"Yes, thank you, Sakamoto."

Ryuji looks to Akira but sees something there that he can only reply to with, "Alright. Later, guys."

Akira watches his friend leave and shut the door behind him. He does not turn back to Makoto. Morgana is still. Either the cat is waiting to see how this all plays out, or he's fallen asleep.

The wind whips across the rooftop once more, blotting out all other sounds. When it dies, Akira hears Makoto speak. "You haven't said anything."

Akira does not turn to her. "You didn't say you believe him."

Makoto doesn't reply for a time. Then, she says, "I'm willing to believe him."

Akira smiles. Turns. He walks up to her. Bows. "I'm sorry, Niijima-senpai. I know you were trying to help me. I know that's what you meant. In return, I said a lot of horrible things to you."

"Kurusu-"

"I don't think you're useless. I don't think you're robotic. You're, like, the third person to be nice to me here. It meant a lot to me." It still does.

"Kurusu-"

He barrels onward. "Everything is such a blur. It wasn't just you. Really. I'm so damn mad about all that's happened to me, and I just snapped. I-"

"Akira!"

He bites his lip. Straightens. It is only when he looks at Makoto that he sees how worn she looks. Her skin is pale. Dark circles rim her eyes. Her smile is small and just a bit scared.

"I hit you," she says, her voice cracking. Her eyes begin to blink—her lip quivers.

Oh shit. "To be fair," Akira half-shouts. "I deserved it."

Makoto shuts her eyes and presses her palms against her lids. Then one hand curls into a fist, and she strikes out with a slow, tiny jab and taps him on the shoulder. Finally, she opens her eyes and smiles, and Akira can feel the red in his cheeks once more. "You did." She takes a deep inhale and lets out an even bigger exhale. "I'm sorry I insulted your friend. And I'm sorry I didn't consider your feelings or even try to understand them."

Akira nods. "I think we both-" But he's interrupted by the familiar clang of the rooftop's door.

Makoto squeaks, and again Akira cannot believe a noise like that can come from a girl like this, and grabs the lapels of his uniform in a tighter grasp than he is expecting and whips him around behind the roof's enormous air conditioning unit, shoves him up against it, shoves herself up against him and clamps a hand over his mouth. "Mmhm-" he starts, but one silent glare from her is enough for him to silence himself.

Makoto leans away and peeks around the corner of the A/C. "It's Ushimaru-sensei. Dammit, he probably heard us."

Or Ryuji made a racket going back downstairs, Akira thinks.

Makoto stays silent for a few moments more, and Akira watches her eyes. There's an intensity there, and he cannot look away. Then he hears the door slam shut once more, and Makoto releases a sigh and removes her hand from his mouth. She does not step away.

"You'll take full responsibility, huh?" Akira asks.

"Oh, be quiet."

"I'm just saying, slamming my head against an air conditioner is an interesting way of taking responsibility."

"Don't make me punch you again."

Akira leans his head back against the rumbling metal machine and lets out a soft laugh. Makoto's face breaks into a grin, and she giggles along with him.

They look at each other. Neither looks away. Akira becomes aware of Makoto's body pressed up against his own, like a second layer of clothing. Her hand, removed from his mouth, now rests against his chest. His heart slams against it. His throat dries up. He is more aware of his pulse than he ever has been before. Seconds stretch into days, and still, neither of them looks away.

Akira tilts his head forward.

Makoto does not pull back.

From inside his bag, Morgana squeals, "What is going on out there?" Akira feels a leg jab out from the bag and directly into his spine.

"Dah!" He yelps.

Makoto blinks, flushes, and jumps two feet away. "Um, what?" She looks at his bag. "That sounded like a cat."

"A cat?" Akira asks and shakes his head. "Nope. That's my, uh, ringtone."

"Oh." Makoto pulls out her phone, and her eyes widen. "It is getting rather late. School will be starting any second. We should go."

"R-right," Akira says.

Makoto leads him to the door, peeks inside, and opens it for him once again. The two disappear through it.

#

Makoto sits in the library, hunched over her work. The advanced math problems dance before her eyes, but all she can see is Akira's face, up on that roof, so close to her own, and suddenly getting closer.

No. No way. Couldn't be. I punched in that face just yesterday. She shakes her head, stares at the empty chair across from her, and lets out a frustrated sigh. It's done. We cleared the air. That's what was important.

She hears the door open but doesn't turn around. It is only when a bag flops down on the table alongside hers that she looks up.

Akira Kurusu pulls out his usual chair and sits down.

"Kurusu?" She asks, and when the question finishes, her mouth hangs open just a bit longer than necessary.

"Niijima-senpai," he replies and begins to unpack his books.

"What're you doing here?"

"It's the last day of the week. I believe you said, 'We'll meet every day this week, after school. In the library.'"

"Yes, but-"

"I told you," Kurusu says, a grin on his face, but his eyes on his books. "I have a vivid imagination."

She leaves it at that, and they begin to study.

Makoto steals glances at him from time to time and chides herself when she does so. The sessions have paid off because Kurusu's work requires little correction. It allows her mind to drift to other topics. Most are appropriate. Some are not.

There is one thing her mind continues to return to, again and again. Something she intends to keep secret from Kurusu, even as she feels the now-familiar tang of guilt on her tongue.

There was a reason Makoto had asked Sakamoto to share his story. Kurusu had been right yesterday. She has heard the disquieting rumors surrounding Kamoshida-sensei.

If this is all true, then something needs to be done. And as Student Council President, it is her responsibility to do so. The student body elected her to look out for their interests, and that must mean more than just budget-balancing and the odd speech giving.

If Dad had heard about this kind of thing, he wouldn't have stopped until he uncovered the truth. An old pain accompanies this thought, but it is a welcome one, like a friend unseen for some time. I'll formulate a strategy tomorrow and begin my investigation on Monday.

She is set in this.

Her phone beeps.

She apologizes to Kurusu, takes it out, and checks the message.

SAE: Apologies, I won't be home tonight either. We will go another time.

Makoto sighs.

"You okay?" Kurusu asks.

She replies without even thinking about it. "It's just my sister again. We were going to go somewhere for my birthday tonight, but she just canceled." She looks up.  Kurusu's mouth hangs open. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's your birthday?" He asks.

"Oh, um, yes."

"Today is your birthday?"

She nods. "It is."

"Then why are we-" Kurusu begins, but Makoto hears the library's door open behind her, and whatever else he was going to say is silenced.

His eyes widen. His skin pales.

Someone steps around to their table and stares down at them. "Niijima," Kamoshida says, his voice loud and alien to this place. "I'd heard you spent most of your time here. Diligent as always."

"Good day, Kamoshida-sensei," she says, with the proper respect. "May we help you?"

His grin expands. "Actually, I think I can help you." Then, he sticks his thumb towards Kurusu. "This one, on the other hand, can't be helped or help anyone. I wonder, Niijima, has he told you about his expulsion?"

"What?" Makoto asks, her jaw dropping. She looks over at Kurusu and blinks. The boy's hands are shaking. His hair hangs into his face, and she cannot see his eyes, but his mouth is pulled tight into a horrific scowl. "That makes no sense..."

"Ah, I see. Kurusu didn't say anything, did he?" Kamoshida shrugs. "Can't say I blame him.”

Makoto leans towards him, and for a moment, reaches a hand out for one of his quivering ones. She recoils at the last moment. "But Kurusu, if you've been expelled-"

"I haven't," he whispers. Akira lifts his gaze until he’s glaring at Kamoshida. “You promised.”

“Technically true,” Kamoshida says, with another bored shrug. "Nothing’s final yet. But you haven’t given me much hope, Kurusu.” He peers over at the books. “Studying, huh? Sure there isn’t something else you should be doing?”

When Kurusu speaks, his words are stones. “I’m working on it and-”

Makoto interrupts him and stands. "Unacceptable."

Kamoshida blinks and frowns. "Excuse me?"

Makoto blushes and clears her throat. "I, uh, I mean, sir, that certainly Kurusu cannot be such a problematic student that he deserves expulsion. There must be something we, or I, could do to prove otherwise."

A slow smile spreads across Kamoshida's face. "Well, now that you mention it, perhaps we could arrange something. Why don't you come with me to my office? We can discuss it there."

Kurusu's hand slaps down upon the wooden table, and the sound snaps through the room. "Don't," he says. Makoto isn't sure to whom Akira is speaking.

"Hey, this is a library," Kamoshida says. "Keep it down."

Makoto's thoughts race. This is my chance. If I can get him talking, perhaps he'll spill something to me. And maybe I can get him to change his mind about expelling Kurusu. I have to try. He can't... he can't just leave. Even if Kamoshida-sensei has nefarious purposes towards me, would he try something so soon after school ended? Certainly not. If I don't go with him now, he may close himself off to me, and then I'll never learn the truth.

She makes her decision. "Shall we, Kamoshida-sensei?"

The man beams.

Dread spreads across Kurusu's face. She tries to convey a message with her eyes. Please believe me. I have to do this. Please, please don't think I'm betraying you. "We will continue our session another time, Kurusu."

"Makoto," he whispers, and once more, her name on his lips is a sharp stab to her stomach. "Don't."

"Please," she replies and gives him one last look before she follows Kamoshida out into the hall.

He leads her to his office and holds the door for her. Once shut, he turns. "I think it's very admirable you're willing to give someone like Kurusu a chance. You're aware of his record, yes?"

Makoto keeps her face neutral. "I'm aware of the circumstances."

"Apparently, he did a number on the guy. The guy he assaulted, I mean." He grins. "But, I can see why someone like you might be... interested, let's say, in someone like that."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll be blunt. I'm aware that you're looking for a letter of recommendation. And, as you just said, you're hoping to halt Kurusu's impending expulsion. I could help you with both of those things."

Makoto narrows her eyes. "And why would you do that? I got the impression you didn't like Kurusu."

"Well, maybe I like you more than I don't like him." His smile widens to a sickening degree, and his brows rise, his cheeks flush. "So, why don't we talk about how exactly you can help me help you?"

He begins to walk towards her, and Makoto's pulse skyrockets.

Akira’s words ring through her mind. “Kamoshida is an abusive, self-absorbed maniac who wants to have sex with his students. Including you, Makoto."

Makoto takes a step back. This was a mistake. I-

A piercing, rattling shriek echoes through the office. Makoto's hands clap over her ears against the onslaught. That's the fire alarm!

Kamoshida moves to the door, throws it open, and steps outside. Makoto follows. Students pour from their club rooms and shuffle toward the stairwell.

Away from this congregation stands Akira Kurusu.

He is in the center of the hall, clear of the multitude of students and remaining faculty, and stares at the two of them. His eyes are wild, his hair, disheveled. He is still so pale.

Kamoshida folds his arms across his chest and smiles. It is a different kind of smile now. "I see," he says, and Makoto has to strain to hear him over the clattering of the fire alarm. "Makoto, let's continue this conversation another time. Something has just come up."

#

They stare.

Akira feels his heartbeat echo through his bones. His blood is ablaze. There is no pretense now. He stares at Kamoshida with a look he knows he should not be wearing. He no longer cares.

When Kamoshida had shut the door behind Makoto, Akira had sat at that library table, dumbstruck.

Have to stop him.

Morgana had decided to nap inside his bag for the study session. Akira had shaken him awake.

Have to stop him.

His instructions had been haphazard, more spittle than words. Fire alarm. Find the others. Vague descriptions rather than tactics. He'd opened the door to the library, and Morgana had shot down the hall. Those students outside had leapt in shock at the black flash dashing by.

Have to stop him.

He has. He has stopped him. And now he stares at the King, and Everything he's ever thought of the tyrant is writ across his face. He knows this because he can feel it.

"Something has just come up," Kamoshida tells her.

She stands there for a moment longer, the terrible screech of the fire alarm nothing but faint white noise to Akira. Then she walks past him. He does not watch her. He does not want her to think this gaze is meant for her.

When she is gone, they are alone. The floor is empty. The bell stops. Kamoshida sticks a pinky in his ear. "Geez, that's loud." He walks up to Akira. He is taller by a head and glares this length down at him. "I don't like the way you're looking at me."

There are many hateful things Akira wishes to say, but instead, he starts with, “Makoto wasn’t part of the deal. You never said-”

“You’re right,” Kamoshida snaps. “Niijima isn’t part of our arrangement. Speaking of, how’s that going? Because it’s over a week, and I haven’t heard a peep from Takamaki.” He leans in until his face is inches from Akira’s own. “You’re supposed to be convincing her to resume her… extracurriculars. Not working on your test scores.”

“I’m doing my best,” Akira protests. “You’ve seen me in the halls talking to her, haven’t you?”

“It’s not moving fast enough, Kurusu,” Kamoshida says, slowly. “I’m losing patience.”

“I can’t just snap my fingers and make it happen,” Akira protests. “You’ve got to-”

He does not get to finish.

Kamoshida's fist smashes into his cheek. His brain rattles in his skull, and he suddenly does not know where he is.

The punch is not surgical like Makoto's. It is designed to hurt, and so it does.

And so does the next.

And so does the next.

And so does the next.

And so does the next.

“You do not,” Kamoshida says, as his fist rises and falls, again and again, “tell me anything.” Akira is on the ground, and Kamoshida puts one leg on either side of him. “Takamaki is your only concern, Kurusu. If I want to talk with the Student Council President, I will.” Kamoshida grips Akira by his collar and lifts him until the boy's bruised and bloody face is inches from his own. "Get this through what's left of your skull. This place is mine." He looks as if he has more to say, but he only shakes his head and lets Akira drop back to the floorboards. As he rubs his knuckles, he says, "If you bother the school nurse with those injuries, I'll say you assaulted me and have you arrested on the spot. If you go to the cops, I'll tell them the same thing. Either way, any way, you lose. Just take your hits, learn your lesson, and do what I tell you.”

Kamoshida begins to walk off but feels something grab the leg of his track pants. He looks down.

Akira's nearly limp fingers clutch at the fabric. The boy is prostrate upon his back. He glares up at Kamoshida.

Except, no. That's not quite right.

There is blood in his mouth. His face is a mound of purple flesh. Still, his eyes are open and wild. Akira’s lips are pulled back in a savage smile.

When Akira speaks, his words are wet and faint, and Kamoshida must strain to hear them, but what he makes out strikes like knives in the dark. "…coming for you, Your Majesty."

Kamoshida has not had a reason to feel fear for some time now. Secure in a world and culture which feasts on his accomplishments, he saw himself get away with more and more until the animalistic instincts bred through millennia of evolution became little more than annoying memories.

But now, Kamoshida feels fear. It is brief. It lasts little more than an instant. But it is sharp, and it is deep, and it infects him.

"Trash," he says, and kicks his leg free.

#

Blood.

His mouth tastes of it.

His face is covered in it.

Even his eyes are filled with it.

They find him not long after. He is spread-eagle on the floor, his body sprawled like some absurd compass. He stares up at the ceiling. His glasses are alongside him, knocked askew by one of Kamoshida's punches.

Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana bound up the steps, having ignored the mandatory evacuation. When they see him and run to him, their voices mix in a cacophony of shouts, sobs, protestations, and accusations.

"Takemi," he mutters, when they discuss where to take him.

"The doctor at the clinic?" Morgana asks.

"Take me there." It hurts to speak. "Not the nurse. Not a regular doctor. They'll call the police. He'll say I started it. Please."

"But that's all the way in Yongen-jaya,” Ann says. “We can't cart you over there on a train like this!"

Ryuji grabs one of Akira's arms. "Then we'll take a freakin' cab! This is no time to be stingy. He says 'Takemi,' we take him to 'Takemi!'"

"Right!" Ann grabs his other arm. Together, the two haul Akira to his feet and throw his arms around their shoulders. Morgana leads the way down the steps.

The students and faculty have collected among themselves outside the front gate. They wait for the fire department to confirm the alarm as false. Given that they are predominantly huddled in their private groups, when Ann, Ryuji, and Akira emerge from the building, accompanied by a cat, they go mostly unnoticed.

Makoto rushes up to them the moment they are outside. Ann and Ryuji huddle up around Akira, doing their best to keep his injuries hidden.

"Kurusu?" Makoto asks. She looks from Ryuji to Ann. "Is that him?"

"Not now!" Ann says and pushes their way past.

With a shove of her arm, Makoto takes a few steps back, but the shift of Ann's shoulders is enough for her to catch a glimpse at Akira's ruined face. She gasps. "Oh my god, what happened to him?"

"What'd ya think?" Ryuji asks as they begin to hustle Akira down the front steps to the gate.

#

Akira's eyes inch open. Dull fluorescents dig into his pupils, and he groans against the sudden aches. This, in turn, makes him wince. To move, to utter even base glottal sounds, hurts.

"You're awake."

He rolls his eyes to the side. Takemi sits on her stool, elbows on her thighs, hands folded together, chin against her knuckles. There is no trace of her usual, seductive self. Instead, hard eyes meet his own.

Akira works his dry mouth and manages, "My friends?"

"What friends?" Takemi asks, and stands. "Friends don't let their own get this badly beaten." Her tone is sharp and mean. "Friends would stop it."

"Please," Akira groans.

Takemi huffs and crosses her arms. "In the waiting area. With your cat." Her high heels begin to tap a slow, steady rhythmic beat into the tiled floor. She shakes her head. "The deal's off."

Akira's eyes widen. "What?"

"This was stupid of me, not to mention irresponsible and unethical. I'm calling the police."

"You can't." He sits up, stands. "What about-"

"I'll find another way," she cuts off, and reaches for the room's door. "I'm not going to watch you die just to keep my secret."

He crosses the room faster than he thought he could and closes his hand around her wrist. She looks at him, eyes narrowed, and says, very slowly, "Get your hand off me."

"If you tell the police, I'll get arrested."

"I'd rather that than get you killed."

"If you tell the police, the one who did this will walk." He lets her wrist go. "And I'm not the only one he's done this to. The blonde guy out there? The one who did this broke his leg last year."

Takemi's hand closes around the door's handle but doesn't press it down. "Tell me who it is. You've got enough evidence on your face to put whoever it is in jail."

Akira shakes his head. "People know about it. They don't do anything. And I'm..." He trails off, looks at the floor, and continues, "People won't believe me."

Takemi looks the wounds over again. "Boss wouldn't do this to you. And I've seen the consistency of the wounds. That's right," she says when his eyes widen. "I've noticed. And God forgive me, but I didn't say anything. Given the frequency, you can only be receiving these at a place you'd go regularly. I don't know about your personal life, so I can only assume that it's either a student or a teacher that's doing this to you." Akira stiffens, but doesn't reply. "It's a teacher, then." She sighs, takes her hand from the knob, and leads Akira back to the bed. "Here, lie back down."

"How do you-" Akira starts, but she shakes her head.

"From experience," she says. She turns to the medicine cabinet, opens it, and rummages around until she pulls out a vial of pills. She pops the lid, shakes out two, and extends them to Akira. "Light painkillers. They'll help."

"Thanks." He takes them, tosses them into his mouth, and swallows them dry.

Takemi leans back against the desk. "Is a teacher really doing this to you?" Akira doesn't reply. "Kurusu, I know you must be scared, but-"

"I'm not scared of him," Akira growls, and Takemi stiffens. His brows come together, and Takemi recoils from his glazed glare. "I'm going to stop him."

"Oh, Kurusu." She walks over and rests her hands gently on his shoulders. "Please, just go to the police. I can testify on your behalf."

"That won't stop him," Akira says. "And if you did, you'd have to tell them about the medicine. And then you would go to jail or lose your license."

"That doesn't matter to-"

Akira's eyes rip into her own. "It matters to me."

Takemi blinks and finds she cannot meet his gaze. This kid. Who the hell is he? Akira's gaze softens. "Please. Just trust me a little bit more. Don't tell anyone. I can stop him. But I need your help."

Takemi's voice drops to a whisper. "How can the medicine I sell you help with this?"

"You wouldn't believe me. But it's vital. It'll be impossible without it. So, please, Doctor Takemi, trust me."

#

The door to LeBlanc jingles. Sojiro, set upon his stool, paper in hand, turns in a lazy circle towards the sound and says, "Welcome to-" But his words fall away.

Takemi stands in the doorway, and behind her is Kurusu, face a busted ruin, hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"What the hell?" Sojiro shouts, standing, paper falling to the floor. He crosses to them. "What happened?"

Takemi's mouth works, but only on her third attempt is she able to mutter, "Kids."

"Kids?" Sojiro asks. He reaches out and pokes Kurusu’s face, who cringes and withdraws. "Kids did this?"

"They can be savage these days. I saw the whole thing."

"You did?"

She nods. "I was out walking, getting some fresh air. Then I saw these three punks ganging up on your ward here. I scared them off." Sojiro blinks, and Takemi throws on her best smile and hates herself just a bit more for it. "I can be pretty scary when I want to be."

"I don't doubt it." Sojiro turns towards the phone. "We need to call the police!"

"Please don't," Akira lisps. Takemi would find his voice hilarious if her heart didn't feel like it had been shoved into a meat grinder. "I know who did it. They're good students. The police won't believe it. Me. Won't believe me. See my record. Arrest me instead. Probably."

Sojiro looks to Takemi.

"He's on some meds I gave him," she replies. "And I think he may be right. I only saw the tail end of it. If the kids say that he started it, I wouldn't be able to prove them wrong."

Sojiro curses and sets the phone back down. "So, what should we do?"

Akira opens his mouth and drags out the word, "Nothing."

Takemi frowns and removes Kurusu's hand before draping his arm around her shoulder. "For now, I think the best thing for him is rest. I did an exam. I don't think there's going to be any permanent damage. Just some wounded pride and lumps."

Sojiro gasps. "What about Prince? Is Prince okay?"

Takemi blinks. "Prince? Who's Prince?"

The cat pops its head out from Kurusu's bag and meows. Sojiro steps around the two humans and rubs the cat's head with his palm. "It's our cat. The kid takes him to school with him."

"He does?" Takemi asks. "Why?"

"I don't know," Sojiro says. "He's weird. Let me help you get him upstairs."

"That's alright," Takemi says and begins to drag Kurusu down the bar's length. "I got him. I'm gonna put him right to bed. He should get some rest tomorrow too. Plenty of ice and aspirin if he needs it. Doctor's orders."

Sojiro frowns, but nods. "Alright. Thanks for all your help."

#

Once upstairs, Takemi helps Akira onto his bed. Morgana jumps out of the bag and curls up next to him. Takemi had sent Ryuji and Ann home after a severe scolding.

"Thank you," Akira whispers.

Takemi glares down at him. "I don't like lying."

"Neither do I."

"Really? Because you seem rather good at it. You sure played up that whole painkiller thing. Has it kicked in yet, by the way?"

Akira nods. "Yeah. And I'm not lying to you."

"You just won't tell me what you're going to do."

"I'm going to stop someone bad from doing bad things."

"And that's so vague it could mean anything, even murder."

THOU WHO ART WILLING TO PERFORM ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS FOR THINE OWN JUSTICE!

She’s not wrong. We may kill Kamoshida. "Do I look like a murderer?" He asks, evading.

"No," Takemi says. "But then again, I don't look like someone who would run unauthorized medical experiments. In my experience, people often don't look like what they really are." She stands. "And I guess I'm just wondering who you really are." She shoves her hands in her lab coat and turns back to the stairs. "I'll keep your secret for now. But if you ever show up at my clinic like that again, you'll have to kill me to stop me from calling the police." She marches away, reaches the steps, and stops. "Come by the clinic when you're feeling better. I want to make sure there isn't any lasting damage."

His voice is low, but she can still hear it from across the room. "Thank you."

She walks down the steps.

A voice floats up, unbidden, in his mind. There’s always a way out, it says.

#

Makoto sits at her kitchen table and stares at nothing. Her dinner is before her, untouched. Her books are in her bag and will remain there for the rest of the night. She is alone. Her hands won't stop shaking.

She sees, again, the devastated face of Akira Kurusu. It is all she can see.

What's going on?

 

4/24

"Lay back down."

"No."

Morgana jumps onto the bed and sits in Akira's lap. "Lay. Back. Down."

"It's Sunday, Morgana. This is the perfect time to go to the Palace."

"No, it isn't. You heard the Doc. You're not going anywhere today."

"Can't you just hit me with a Dia in the Metaverse and heal me?"

Morgana rolls his eyes. "It doesn't work like that. The injuries you sustain in the Metaverse are cognitive. Meaning that the healing spells we use are perceived to work, which is why they do. Real-world injuries can't be healed by going there because by your perception, they can’t be healed by magic."

"Great. More nonsense rules."

"I didn't make them."

"Yeah, well, let me know the minute you remember who did." Morgana doesn't reply. Akira waits a minute, then says, "Sorry. I know that's a sore topic."

"It's fine."

"So, no Palace?"

"No Palace."

"Fine." Akira lays back down, but he stays in that position for only a minute before he starts to sit back up. "There’s something I want to do, though."

"No!"

"I promise it'll be quick. There's something I want to buy. It's important, Morgana. We don't even have to leave the neighborhood."

"You're not supposed to leave your bed."

"Please?" Akira asks.

"Tell me what it is first."

"It's a surprise."

"Is it for me?"

"No."

"Then you're not going anywhere."

"I'm going to pester you until you let me go."

Morgana sighs. "Is it really that important to you?"

"Yes. It is."

"Fine. But we're not leaving Yongen-Jaya. We're going to pick up whatever it is and come right back. Agreed?"

Akira smiles. "Agreed."

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

4/25

Akira opens the classroom door and steps through. He slides it shut and hears the gentle click as it completes its circuit.

"Hello."

His heart spasms. A girl sits at one of the desks near the far wall. She holds a book in her hands, and its cover is adorned with the image of a garden spade piercing rich, brown soil. Elegant curls of chestnut hair cascade down beneath her chin and complement her same-colored eyes. She wears a light pink cardigan over a white long-sleeved shirt, and her Shujin skirt covers her thighs, while ivory tights conceal the rest of her legs. Her smile is petite but polite and warm.

"I'm sorry, but you're not in this class, are you?"

Akira clears his throat. He wears a sweatshirt over his uniform and has the hood pulled up. Bruises still wreath his face, and he tilts his head forward, out of the morning’s light breaking through the windows. In his hand, he grips a small, wrapped box. "No. I'm not. Sorry."

"Is there something I can help you with?" She places a golden bookmark between her pages and sets the volume upon her desk. She stands.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me which desk is Niijima-senpai's?"

"Oh?" She asks and tilts her head to the side. "May I ask why you need to know?"

"It's, uh, personal."

The girl's smile grows from polite to knowing. She clasps her hands together, palms to the floor, and rocks on her heels as she says, "I see. Well, in that case," and she nods towards the first row. "It's that one."

Front row, dead center. Figures.

"Thank you."

He feels her eyes scour him as he walks the length of the classroom, yet she says nothing as he places the small box inside Makoto's desk. His hands, now empty, clutch at one another, seeking something to hold. He clenches them, turns to the girl, and bows.

"Thank you very much for your help."

"Think nothing of it."

Akira quickly moves to the classroom's door, but when he opens it, the girl calls out, "I'm sure she'll love it!" He reddens and steps out into the hall.

#

Makoto enters the classroom a bit later than usual. There’s an ache the size of a fist behind her eyes. Haru Okumura giggles as she walks past, but Makoto cannot be bothered to give this any thought.

She sits in her seat, opens her bag, and begins to organize. Her hand, when she reaches inside her desk, brushes against some foreign object. She grasps it. Withdraws it. It is a small blue box, wrapped in a red bow.

She unties the bow and slides the box open.

Inside is a Buchimaru pencil case. White with black spots, tipped by the character’s cute animal face. It is identical to Makoto’s old one. Her pulse quickens as she lifts the lid and finds a tiny note within.

'Niijima-senpai: Sometimes, you just have to know where to look. Happy birthday. - Akira Kurusu'

She takes the pencil case, slips it into her bag, stands, and walks out of the classroom. She enters the girls' room and finds an empty stall. She shuts the door, latches it, and sits down.

Tears come unbidden to her eyes, but for whatever reason, there's a smile on her face.

#

The guard lurches up to its comrade. "Anything to report?"

Its opposite shakes its head. "Nothing. Our liege’s Treasure remains secure. No sign of the intruders." They stand sentinel within a room littered with gold coins and paraphernalia.

"We must locate them soon; our lord's patience grows thin."

Another guard serves its post near the treasure room's double doors and remains silent.

"You there," the first shouts at it. "Report."

It doesn't reply. "I said, 'Report!'"

Its head tilts back, and it emits a whimper of a cry before it evaporates into a cloud of ash.

From this cloud, stalks Joker, knife in hand. "Looks like you found me."

The two guards convulse and burst as Joker calls upon Arsene. His Persona rises and cackles as it vomits a fiery jet of red and black tendrils. They impale one guard before it can completely transform, and accompanied by the sound of crushed metal, it dies.

The other emerges as a gargantuan pool of black sludge, with a gibbering, slobbering approximation of a face.

Perched on a balcony above, the remaining thieves take stock.

"Man," Skull says, as Joker draws his gun and fires a series of useless bullets into the sludge's side. "Joker's real pissed today."

"He hasn't taken a new Persona either," Panther remarks. "He's just been carving them up."

"Now's not the time to be talking about it!" Mona shouts as the sludge hurls a thick collection of itself at Joker, who is just able to dodge. "We need to get in there."

The three leap down and throw themselves into the fray.

Skull's Captain bombards the thing with lightning as he falls, but it has no discernable effect, and the creature turns its eye upon him.

"Shit!" Skull shouts as one long, dripping arm hurls out of the thing's side. It slams into Skull's stomach and pitches him into the far wall.

Panther lands and summons Carmen. The dancer unleashes a pulse of fire with a pivot that washes over the sludge. It gurgles in pain. "Mona!" She calls and outstretches her hand.

The cat lands in her palm, and she throws him back into the air. "Let’s do this, Zorro!" The outlaw materializes, and with a flourish of its sword, a great wind bellows down from above. The fire - which still clings to the sludge like a painful second skin – sucks in the air and grows.

The thing shudders but does not die.

Joker steps between the thieves as Mona lands. With a flick of his wrist, he tosses a small medicine vial through the air. Panther catches it. "See to Skull," he says. "I'll finish this one."

"Are you-" She starts, but Joker does not wait for her to finish.

"Eligor!"

A burst of blue flame, and the mounted samurai - once an enemy - arises behind Joker.

"Agi."

It raises its spear, and another burst of fire bathes the writhing black mass. A squeal escapes its distorted mouth before it erupts into a thick ashen paste and scatters upon the coin-strewn floor.

"Sorry, sorry," Skull says as he hobbles up. He tilts the medicine vial up to his lips and sips the last of it. "Good thing it was weak to fire, right?"

"You okay?" Joker asks.

"Yep," he replies, tossing the empty vial aside.  "All set."

Panther and Mona stand behind him and nod when Joker regards them. "So," he asks and turns back to the shimmering, stationary aurora in the center of the room. "Is this it?"

Mona smirks and walks beneath it. He lifts his paws into the air and says, "That's right. This is the Treasure."

The three remaining thieves regard the formless cloud. "Um," Panther says. "How are we supposed to steal this?" She waves her hand through it. "We can't even touch it."

Mona tilts his head to the side, a knowing smile on his face. "Well, that's because desires have no physical form by nature. So we're going to need to make this materialize before we can steal it."

"Wait, what?" Skull asks. "Why didn't we just do that before we got in here?"

"Because," Mona says. "There's a limited time frame. First, we need to make the target - in the real world - aware that their desires are, in fact, a Treasure. Once we do that, the Treasure will materialize, right here, and we can come in and steal it."

Skull frowns. "So, we get all the way in here, and now we've got to get back out and convince Kamoshida of whatever you just said, and then we have to come back in and take it?"

Mona nods. "That's right."

Skull groans. "Why didn't you just tell us that?"

Mona blanches. "Well, I-"

"How long?" Joker asks. His eyes haven't left the formless Treasure. "Once we make him aware, how long will we have?"

"We'll have about twenty-four hours."

Joker sighs. "Fine. So, how do we make him aware that his desires are Treasures?"

"We warn him. We send him a Calling Card."

Joker's eyes widen. "A Calling Card?"

Panther turns to him. "Something wrong?"

"N-no. It's nothing."

Skull straightens, his protestations forgotten. "We get to send out a Calling Card? Okay, that's pretty awesome. Oh, I get to make it!"

Panther rolls her eyes. "Fine, but you better not make it lame or something."

"No way! It's gonna be totally badass!"

"Don't go overboard, got it?" Mona asks. "Keep it simple. Kamoshida, we’re going to steal your twisted desires. Something like that."

Skull smirks. "Oh, I've got a few things I want to say to that asshat."

Joker straightens. "Then, we should go, right?"

Mona looks at him, frowning. "Well, yeah, I guess. Thanks to the Safe Rooms, our infiltration route is secure, so once we send the Calling Card, we can just come back here and nab the Treasure."

"Alright. Let's get going then."

#

Ryuji waves goodbye as he disappears down into the subway.

Akira turns to Ann and says, "See you tomorrow." He sticks his hands in his pockets and begins to head for his train line.

"Hey, Akira. Hold on a second." When he turns back to her, Ann looks him in the eyes. "Um, are you okay?"

He smiles and points to his bruises. "Yeah, they're fading already. In another few days, I should be bearable to look at again."

"It's not that. Don’t get me wrong, that's good. That’s great, but not what I meant."

Morgana shifts his way out of Akira's bag and sets his forelegs on the boy’s shoulder. "What's wrong, Lady Ann?" He asks.

Ann tries to settle the butterflies looping in her stomach. “You seem alright now, but when we were in the Palace, you were angry."

Akira shrugs. "I mean, I guess I was. I wanted to get to the Treasure.”

Ann shakes her head. "We all wanted to get to the Treasure. But you were, like, royally pissed off. Even when we were amongst ourselves, you had this look in your eye, and you didn't talk much, except to give orders."

Morgana's tail swishes in the air. "Well, Kamoshida did give him a severe beating the other day. It's only natural he'd be mad, right?"

"I know that.” Ann fights back a sigh. She knows she must be coming off poorly, so she takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself down and relax her shoulders. “It’s just, you know you can talk to us, right, Akira?"

Akira’s grin widens. "Yeah, I know."

"No, I mean, you can talk to us. Morgana, Ryuji, even to me. The last time we talked, we agreed that we’d be partners in this. That doesn’t just mean that we cover for each other in the Castle and steal Kamoshida’s Treasure together. This whole thing - what we're doing - it's crazy. I know we keep telling ourselves, ‘Wow, this sure is nuts,’ but I don't think we've ever really sat down and taken a second to think about what we’re doing and how insane it is. So, if you need to vent or talk to us, we're here for you. We are your friends, after all."

Akira dips his head, sighs, and says, "Thanks, Ann. The truth is, this whole thing freaks me out. You guys rely on me, and I don't really know what I'm doing. I don't mean to be standoffish or nonresponsive when we're in there. I just really want to stop Kamoshida, before he does what he did to Shiho to anyone else.”

Her smile is short-lived. "You're not just telling me what I want to hear, are you?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No. I'm not that smart."

"Then, can I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"When Morgana mentioned the Calling Card, you looked a little... weird. Like, it shocked you, or something."

"Hey yeah," Morgana says and leans further across Akira's shoulder. "I was wondering about that too. What's up?"

Akira looks Ann straight in the eye and says, "Sorry, I don't remember doing that."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Ann breaks her gaze. He’s lying. He’s lying again. She doesn’t know what to think about this. Why would Akira get hung up on the mere mention of a Calling Card? “Okay, well, that’s fine then,” she says. “We should get some rest. If we’re going to steal the Treasure tomorrow, we’re going to need to be ready.”

They say their goodbyes and separate. To Ann, the walk home seems colder than usual.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

4/26

Ryuji crouches in the alley outside Shujin. The sun is only just starting to light the clouds overhead. This is the earliest he's been awake since the track team disbanded. He's missed the quiet and the cool caress of the air. A few students, mainly those from the archery and basketball clubs, have already entered the school. As Kamoshida monopolizes the gym after school, the morning is the only time some teams can practice.

His uniform is pressed and buttoned up. His mom had been so happy when he'd asked her to show him how to use the iron. No one must recognize him. Ryuji Sakamoto is not known for having a crisp, cleaned, well-ironed uniform.

Of course, his blonde hair presented a different challenge. He'd wound up going to a joke shop near Shibuya and purchasing a fake wig. It’s simple, not like those crazy ones modeled after anime characters. Short, brown hair that hugs his skull. It is uncomfortable, but that doesn’t matter.

He hefts his bag. "Alright," he says. "Let's do this."

Ryuji walks out of the alley in an approximation of the walk he's always seen good students use. He does not slouch, and his hands are at his sides. He wears a neutral look, as opposed to his usual scowl. A small handful of students climb the steps of Shujin, and none cast more than a cursory glance in his direction. His destination is not far. The bulletin boards just through the front doors.

Once inside, he pulls out his phone and leans against the wall. He smiles as if he's just received a funny text and moves his fingers as if to reply.

The few students he entered alongside turn the corner ahead and are gone. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, darts up to the bulletin boards, and zips his bag open. He grabs the gloves he bought, pulls them on, then reaches in and withdraws a fistful of calling cards. He's coated them with the same cheap adhesive his wig utilized, and when he presses them up on the board, a few slide down to the floor. It doesn't matter.

He spends, by his count, twenty seconds at his task. Then he whips around, rips his gloves off, shoves them back in his bag, and speed walks back out the entrance. Once he’s back in the alley, he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Hell yeah," he whispers to himself.

He takes out his phone and texts the group.

RYUJI: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

#

Kamoshida rereads it.

Sir Suguru Kamoshida, the utter bastard of lust:

We've watched you. We know all about the twisted shit you do to students who can't or won't fight back. Society might’ve given you a free pass, but we won't. We're going to steal your sick desires and make you confess your sins with your own mouth.

Look forward to it, asshole.

From,

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

They are everywhere. Wherever Kamoshida looks, students hold them. There must be a dozen scattered throughout the first-floor hall alone.

"Fuck," he mutters.

What the hell did this mean? Did someone have evidence? How? He'd been so careful. Had that Suzui bitch woken up? Who were the 'Phantom Thieves?'

Kamoshida hears the whispers and musters the harshest glare he can. "Get the hell to class!" He shouts - the hallway empties. Kamoshida is alone. His thoughts pound in his skull like an earthquake.

They can't do anything. No one can do anything. This is some bullshit kid crap. There's no evidence. Nothing physical. Though, that's not exactly true.

No. He needed to calm down.

There's nothing these Phantom Thieves can do to stop him. There's nothing anyone can do to stop him. Kamoshida turns and marches towards the faculty room. "Alright then, Phantom Thieves," he says to no one. "Try it."

He swings the door to the faculty office open and steps inside. A half dozen heads turn his way. No one says anything. Kamoshida runs his eyes over them, starting with Inui, who looks away. He can see the damn red and black slips of paper they all struggle to conceal. No one can meet his gaze. All save Sadayo Kawakami. Her face is pale, and she looks very shaky, but she holds the Calling Card in one hand, and she asks, "Kamoshida-sensei, what is this?"

There is a snarling thing with raised hackles in his mind, but Kamoshida forces a smile onto his face and says, "I have no idea, Miss Kawakami. I just walked into school and saw those everywhere."

"What they're saying," Kawakami continues, and her mouth works silently for a few moments before she can say, "is it true?"

"Is what true?" Kamoshida demands. Damn you. I'll make you say it!

"K-Kamoshida-sensei has a point," Ushimaru puts in. "These," and he holds up the card he had just tried to hide beneath the notebooks on his desk, "are very vague. Why they could mean anything!"

"Fine then," Kawakami replies and clears her throat. "Kamoshida-sensei, what do you think 'twisted shit,' in this case, means?"

Kamoshida turns his back on them and puts his hand on the door handle. "I'd say it means fuck all, and if these Phantom Thieves had something to say, they should've come out and said it. And I'll thank you not to make any unfounded accusations against me, Miss Kawakami." He throws open the door and steps outside, his vision growing spotty.

#

Makoto sits in class. One of the Calling Cards is in her desk. She's read it a half dozen times. Nothing the teacher says sticks. But, to be fair, no one else looks like they're paying any attention either. She runs her thumb over the cheap paper once more. What is this thing?

What's more, her thoughts can't help but return to one specific person.

Kurusu.

He wouldn't do something like this. Or would he? Could he? What did any of it mean, anyway?

Makoto is not someone to speak out of turn in class, but she can't help it. Saying it in her head alone isn't enough. "What the hell is going on?" She whispers.

#

Akira finishes washing his hands and holds them beneath the dryer. "Remember," Morgana tells him, from his bag. "Low profile. Nothing to draw attention to yourself today. Just go to class, and leave at the end of the day."

"Yeah, I got it," Akira replies as he shoulders his bag. He heads for the exit. "You just worry about keeping an eye on Kamosh-"

A Shadow appears before him. It stands dead center between Akira and the exit. Unlike last time, it looks directly at Akira. It lifts its sword into the air and swings it down as Akira yelps and throws himself backward.

“What are you doing?” Morgana hisses as they hit the floor.

Akira looks up. The Shadow is gone. “There was a Shadow,” he says, quickly.

“What?” Morgana asks. “Where? Here?”

“Yes,” Akira says, and he pushes himself to his feet. “I saw one the other day. It was marching in the hall. I thought it was a hallucination, but I just saw another one, standing right in front of us.”

“Well, I didn’t see it,” Morgana insists. “And besides, there can’t be Shadows here. They can only exist in the Metaverse and-”

“I know that,” Akira insists, moving for the exit. “But we don’t actually know how all this works. Maybe the Shadows can-” His words become a gasp because when he exits the bathroom, hands seize his uniform's collar and lift him into the air, and thrust him back inside. The mad eyes of Suguru Kamoshida bore into Akira's own, and there is a snarl across his face. Akira has never seen someone snarl before, not in real life. It is a terrible thing.

"Time's up," Kamoshida whispers and shoves Akira up against the stalls.

Akira shimmies around in the man's arms and lets the bag drop to the ground. Kamoshida puts his foot against it and violently slides the bag away from them. Akira watches as Morgana exits the bag. He looks at Akira, but Akira shakes his head, just fractionally.

"Did you hear me?" Kamoshida demands, and Akira looks at him. Kamoshida's face is his entire world now. Akira can feel his pulse beating in his chest like a horse galloping across concrete.

"Yes," he replies. "I heard you. But Ann is-"

"I don't care," Kamoshida growls out. Akira's eyes flicker towards his bag, and he sees that Morgana is gone. "You had enough time. You're gone."

"C-come on," Akira pleads. This is genuine. We're so close! Just one more day! Don't do this to me now! He can hear Morgana's words in his mind. The longer you wait, the worse he'll get. Did they wait too long? Kamoshida must've seen the Calling Card, and it must've driven him over the edge.

"You're assaulting me right now," Kamoshida tells him. "You keep trying to punch me because you're a violent criminal, but I'm too fast for you. Eventually, I subdue you, and you tell me Sakamoto put you up to it. I take you both to the Principal and get him to kick you out. You're going to go back down whatever hole you got out and..."

Akira is not listening anymore. The walls of the bathroom have become sterile white. The sink has become a bunk on which he will sleep. The door is locked now. Back in the box, he thinks, and something in him rages against the idea. Akira begins to lift his hand.

"Stop."

Kamoshida turns. Akira looks over the man's shoulder. Ann Takamaki stands at the entrance to the boy's room.

"Stop," she repeats, eyes wide, skin pale, hands shaking. "Please, stop."

"You can't be in here," Kamoshida drawls, as if drunk, and idiotically, Akira finds himself agreeing. He notices the bag at Ann's shoulder twitching. Morgana.

"Don't hurt him anymore," Ann begs. "Okay? I'll do what you want." The words hit like the train Akira had witnessed bash through the station. "I know what you want. I know what you were trying to get Akira to do. I'll do it."

"Really?" Kamoshida asks as if he doesn't quite believe her but wants to.

She nods. "Yes. Tonight. Right? At your place? Tonight."

"Tonight," Kamoshida says, and it is not a question.

"Tonight," Ann repeats. "Just, please stop it."

Kamoshida lets go, and Akira sinks to the ground. He scrambles away from Kamoshida as the man turns and faces Ann. "Alright," he says. He lifts one heavy foot and tramps his way towards the exit. When he stops next to Ann, Akira feels bile rise in his throat.

Kamoshida lifts a hand and rests it against Ann's cheek. She flinches, but she meets him in the eye. Akira feels something scream within him, and he begins to rise, but Ann flicks her eyes in his direction, and he knows enough to stop himself.

Kamoshida says nothing, then he lowers his hand and walks out. He utters a final, "Tonight," before he is out of sight.

Ann pivots and dashes to Akira's side. Morgana struggles his way out of the bag. "Are you okay?" Ann asks.

"We need to get out of here," Akira tells her. "You can't be in here."

"Did he know about the Calling Card?" Morgana asks as Akira rises to his feet. "Did he know it was us?"

"No," Akira replies and shakes his head. "He didn't even bring it up. I think..." and Akira looks at the door where Kamoshida left. "I think he's finally lost it. I think whatever effect the Calling Card had on him pushed him off whatever tightrope he was on."

"Come on, Akira," Ann tells him. "We should get to class."

"Ann," he says and takes her hand. "Thank you."

Ann sighs and nods. "Let's just make sure we steal this bastard's Treasure."

#

The four thieves crouch on the balcony that overlooks the Treasure Room. From their roost, they see that the Treasure has materialized into the form of a giant, kitschy, red plush crown. The room swarms with guard shadows.

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Mona asks.

Panther nods. "Yep. I take the lead on this one, and then you scatter them with Zorro."

"And Skull and I finish them off," Joker says and smiles. "Sounds good."

"No questions, then?" Mona asks.

Skull raises his hand. "I got one."

Mona sighs. "What is it?"

"Is no one going to bring up how awesome the Calling Card was?"

"Seriously?" Panther asks. "This is not the time!"

"Hey, I put a lot of effort into it. And I risked a hell of a lot getting into the school this morning." He crosses his arms, a pout on his face. "Someone could've said something about it."

"Skull," Joker says. The thieves turn to look at their leader. He smirks. "The Calling Card was awesome. I especially liked the end. 'Look forward to it?' Perfect. And your infiltration of the school was brilliant.”

Panther frowns. "That was pretty impressive, actually. I'm kinda surprised you even thought to wear a disguise, even if it was just some cheap wig."

Skull beams. "That's what real thieves would do, right?" He drives a fist into his palm. "We gotta keep up our rep! You know, like those guys on the news from a few months ago. What were they called again? Tatter-"

“We should get moving,” Joker says quickly.

"Right," Mona says, glaring at each of the others. "Now that we’ve finished massaging Skull's self-esteem, can we get on with this?”

Panther winks. "Leave it to me!" She vaults over the balcony. As she falls, she draws her submachine gun and begins to spray.

The bullets pepper into the guards, shattering the silence. A few cower behind their shields, while others fall in the hail. Many die in puffs of ash. Others try to raise themselves back up.

"Now, Mona!" Panther shouts as she lands.

The cat is already falling. "Zorro, Magaru!" Wind whips from the Persona and slams into the remaining shadows. Those that do not die are stolen from the floor and hurled into heaps upon the mounds of Treasure.

Joker and Skull hit the floor seconds behind Mona and dart forward.

"Wreck em, Cap!" Skull shouts, and his Persona bursts forth, levels its cannon, and sends bolt after bolt of lightning. Electric current rips through their enemies.

"Arsene!" The final strike comes in the form of the terrible and familiar black and red coils, hurled from the Persona's sable, corvid wings.

A single, wailing moan is all the last Shadow can manage before it evaporates.

"Treasure Room, secure!" Mona cries and leaps into the air, waving his arms wildly.

"Now that's an ambush!" Skull shouts and high-fives Joker. "Nice shooting, Panther!"

She grins and throws up the 'V' sign. "We did it!"

Joker stands before the crown. "So this is it?" He asks. "Figures."

"Alright,” Mona says. “Now, we need to get this thing out of here."

"How?" Skulls asks. “It’s huge.”

"We carry it," Mona says. "How else?"

Panther sighs. "I was afraid you'd say that."

#

Joker, Panther, and Skull hoist the crown off the floor between them and cart it out. Mona takes point out of the Treasure Room and into the Throne Room.

Halfway down the gaudy rosy carpet, a volleyball hurtles through the air, smashes into the crown, and sends it flying from the hands of the thieves.

"What the hell?" Skull shouts.

Joker spins about in time to see a caped figure arch through the air over them and land in a crouch alongside the throne.

Kamoshida straightens and extends his hand. The crown pulsates, shrinks to the size of a melon, and catapults through the air and into his palm.

The mad whites of his eyes rim his golden pupils. His lips curl into a snarl. "This is mine!" He shouts, voice cracking. "Mine! I earned this! I've earned the rights this gives me! That's what makes me King! No one can have it!"

Skull shakes his head. "Man, now who sounds like a little bitch?"

Panther unfurls her whip. "Give it up, Kamoshida! We're taking that whether you like it or not."

"No, no, no, no, no! No! NO! NO! NO!" Kamoshida screams. He hunches over, his breathing ragged and hollow. "What don't you get? This is how it works! ALL OF IT! If I achieve results, I get to do what I want! It's right! It's fair! That's what I do! I achieve! Everything else is compensatory! That's why no one ever stops me!"

"What you did to Shiho wasn’t right or fair!" Panther shouts back.

The scowl becomes a juvenile little smirk. "Yes it was. She wanted it. You all do." He spreads his arms wide. "You all do! Why wouldn't you? Look at me! I'm a success! I'm attractive! I have a legacy! What do any of you little shits have?"

Joker draws the pistol from his coat and aims. "A soul."

He pulls the trigger.

Kamoshida's head snaps back. An awful, still second passes, and then his body collapses before his throne.

Skull blinks and looks at his friend. "Dude."

"That conversation was pointless," Joker says and holsters his weapon. "Let's take the Treasure and get out of here." He starts up the steps. Then the laughter begins.

Kamoshida's head snaps up, a red hole in the center of his forehead. "Fine," he howls, between manic bursts of glee. As if pulled by strings, he lifts off the ground and returns to his feet. "Fine! No more guards! I'll kill you damn thieves myself! After all, this is my Castle!  This is my world! My rules!"

His scream rises in pitch until it becomes a distorted, cataclysmic wail. Joker leaps away as Kamoshida expands.

His skin turns a viscous pink, and two additional arms burst from his stomach. His face deforms until his mouth becomes an animalistic caricature, and a slick purple tongue the size of an automobile lolls from it and pendulums through the air. His hair shrinks into his skull, and a twin set of horns bursts from the round, sick dome. Upon this rests the crown. A trophy materializes between his thighs, pairs, and pairs of squirming feminine legs flailing about like maggots. In one arm, he clutches a fork; in another, an enormous glass of red wine. Yet another holds a sword, while the last of his limbs grips a dinner knife. The eyes in his head are bulbous and bloodshot. His head tilts back, and another screech shakes the room.

"Holy hell!" Skull shouts. "Are you freakin' kidding me?"

"This is his shadow's true form," Mona says as he backs away. "His true power."

"Don't you little shits understand who I am?" The thing roars. "I AM KAMOSHIDA!" It swings its sword. The blade slices through the air, and the thieves fling themselves away.

"How are we supposed to get the Treasure away from that thing?" Panther asks once she’s regained her footing.

Joker pulls out his gun and fires, but the bullets ricochet harmlessly off the King's hide. "Damn."

"Screw this," Skull shouts and runs forward. "Fry em, Captain!" His Persona materializes and hits Kamoshida with a bolt of electricity, but the thing barely flinches.

Instead, it thrusts its golden knife at him.

"Crap!" Skull shouts and steps aside in time, but not quick enough to avoid the dagger's flat side. It smashes into him and sends him cartwheeling through the air. He lands in a heap by the feet of the other thieves.

"Skull!" Panther shouts, running up to his side.

"You should've learned your place long ago, Sakamoto," the thing that is Kamoshida screams.

Mona hits Skull with a Dia, and the four stare up at the thing.

"What now?" Panther asks.

#

Joker slings back one of Takemi's medicines and feels it work its strange magic on his ribs. Thank God for cognition. He peeks out from behind the pillar he hides behind. Skull fires blast after useless blast of his shotgun into the body of Kamoshida, who roars and swipes at him with the sword once more.

Skull ducks and hobbles away. He's already taken a few hits but has run out of medicine. If this doesn't work, it'll be bad.

"Get back here, you little-" Kamoshida starts, but his words die in a grunt as a wave of fire rushes up his back. He shifts his gargantuan form around and spots Panther. His grotesque face breaks into a grin. "There you are! Get your sexy ass over here!" Panther sprints to the side, and Kamoshida begins to crawl his way after her.

Now.

Joker ducks out from behind the pillar, runs for the spot behind Kamoshida's legs, and shouts, "Andras!" The avian Persona appears before him, and with a beat of its wings, an icy wind bursts forth and swaddles the trophy. Frost strangles it, and Joker hunches over as his Persona vanishes and throws himself at the object. His knife punches through the ice, and with a grunt, he thrusts it upward. The rim cracks and the perverted trophy shatters.

Kamoshida screams as Joker rolls away. The sword, knife, and fork all crash and spark across the spot he’d just occupied.

"Alright!" Panther shouts, coming around his side.

"Nice dude!" Skull pants, his hands on his knees.

Kamoshida ate the female legs from the trophy. He ate them. Somehow, doing so had a regenerative effect, so no matter how much damage they did to his body, so long as he could consume those limbs, he wouldn't go down.

Kamoshida's massive form scuttles towards the three, who have backed into the corner of the throne room. "I'll kill you for that, you little fucks! How DARE you destroy what's mine?"

He raises his weapons into the air, and-

"Now, Mona!"

From where he sits, perched on the chandelier above, Mona smirks. "About time!" He takes a running start, then hurls himself down, directly at Kamoshida's crown.

He smashes into the side of it, and the massive bejeweled thing flies off Kamoshida’s head and clatters to the floor, further down the hall.

All his hands drop their weapons and reach for the now bare spot on his head. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Where is it? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He sees the crown where it lays and begins to drag himself towards it. His voice shrinks to a whimper, "My Treasure. Give it back!"

Joker smiles. "Hit him with everything!"

"Carmen!"

"Zorro!"

"Captain Kidd!"

"Arsene!"

As he inches towards his crown, Kamoshida is blitzed with flames, lightning, biting winds, sharp, piercing tendrils, and then the stings of Panther's whip, the bruisings of Skull's pipe, and the stabs of Mona and Joker's blades.

Still, he tries to reach his crown, but as the attacks pummel him ceaselessly, all the creature can do at last is stretch out one clawed hand in a final, halting effort before it drops to the ground and is still.

With one scathing scream, the monstrous form of Suguru Kamoshida disappears in a great burst of ash.

The thieves are still and stare at the pile until the deflated form of Kamoshida's Shadow digs itself out, and caked in a coat of smoky dust, falls back, and begins to scramble away.

Panther and Skull glance at one another, then both stalk over to the sniveling thing.

"P-please," Kamoshida says and raises a hand in supplication. "Please, stop."

Skull stomps his boot down onto Kamoshida’s leg kneecap. The Shadow throws his head back and screams. "What's wrong?" Skull shouts over Kamoshida’s cry. "Your leg hurt, asshole?"

The man shakes his head back and forth. "They just kept pushing!" He shouts, spit flying with every word. "Every time I achieved something, they just kept giving me more responsibility! Don't you understand? I couldn't keep up! There was always some other hurdle, some other mountaintop!" He looks up at two teens with a sad little smile on his face. "All I've done was for them, so is it so wrong to ask for a reward?"

Panther looks down at him, and Carmen materializes behind her. "This is for every girl you touched." Flames swirl down and consume Kamoshida's placating hand. Kamoshida's screams intensify.

She points to the leg Ryuji isn't pinning down. “This is for every student you tortured and abused.” Fire wreaths the leg, and when they dissipate a moment later, Kamoshida's skin is a popping, bursting mixture of red and black.

"STOP IT!" Kamoshida begs. "PLEASE!"

"And this is for Shiho." Carmen's attack flies towards Kamoshida's face. At the last moment, the fire averts and punches into the tiled floor alongside him. Some of his hair strands twist and curl away from the heat.

Kamoshida gasps, blinking.

Skull takes his foot from Kamoshida's leg. "You're not worth it, asshole."

Panther regards the charred ornamentation around the man’s head. “This is the only crown you deserve,” she whispers. Then, to Joker, "Have you got the Treasure?"

The crown had shrunken to the size of a baseball cap. Joker holds it in his left hand. "Yep."

She nods and presses one stiletto-heeled boot down onto Kamoshida's chest. The man trembles. "We stole it, Kamoshida. Whatever twists you up inside. It's ours now. So, listen up. I don't know how all this works. I don’t know if you’re about to croak or not, but if you don’t, you're going to get yourself - your real self - to confess to everything. All your crimes. All of them."

The thing nods. "Alright. I will. I swear."

“Atone, you bastard. For everything.”

A strange look comes over Kamoshida's face. It features settle. He begins to glow a pale white and starts to fade away. "I will," he says as he vanishes. "I promise."

Panther's boot clicks against the floor.

Joker reaches out a free hand and rests it on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She looks at him and smiles. "Totally. This means we did it, right?"

The room begins to quake. "Actually," Mona shouts as a piece of the ceiling crumbles and dashes to the ground. "This means we did it!"

"What the hell, Mona?" Skull shouts. "You said the Palace would disappear once we stole the Treasure!"

"I said it would 'collapse!' What did you think ‘collapse’ meant?"

"Just run!" Joker shouts, and the four beat it for the Safe Room.

#

Kamoshida smiles to himself as he descends the stairs. Everything had worked out after all.

Takamaki had fallen in line. She had learned what was best for her, just like everyone always did.

It didn't matter what obstacles popped up. Kamoshida walked his own path, and those that stood in his way got crushed. Kamoshida images everything he will get up to with Takamaki that night, and his smile widens.

Please stop.

Kamoshida grasps the stairwell's handrail.

It hurts!

Sweat leaks from his forehead and drips down his face. His breath comes in ragged gasps. He sits on the steps.

What am I doing? What am I thinking?

What has he done?

He sees their faces, one after another. Their horrified expressions, the blood, and bruises upon their bodies. He sees Shiho Suzui and sees her tears as he'd climbed on top of her.

Oh my god.

The girl had tried to kill herself because of him!

How? How could he have done all this? Why?

He drops his head into his hands and begins to sob. "Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god!"

What have I done?

#

They sit against the walls of the alley. No one says anything for some time. Morgana lies curled up beside Akira. Ann and Ryuji sit across from him, leaning against each other, their eyes closed, their mouths opened as they suck in air.

It had been a close call, their flight from the castle. At one point, Ryuji had tripped, and Akira had felt his heart seize. But then Ryuji had stood, and pushed through the pain, and all four had emerged into reality’s light.

It takes a while before Akira realizes he's not holding the crown anymore. "Hey," he says. "Check it out." He holds up, instead, a gold medal with a red lanyard strung through it.

"The hell?" Ryuji asks, straightening. "I thought it was a crown."

"This is the true form of the Treasure," Morgana says. "It's what his distorted desires originated from."

"His Olympic medal," Ann says and shakes her head. "I guess if you're looking to inflate someone's ego, that's one way to do it."

Ryuji groans. "So, like, did we win?"

"We stole the Treasure," Akira replies. He looks down at Morgana. "That means we changed his heart, right?"

The cat nods. "It should. The Palace collapsed, just like I knew it would. I suppose now we just have to wait and see if Kamoshida has changed."

“Or if we killed him,” Ryuji replies.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Ann asks, “How will we know?”

Akira stares down at the Olympic medal. It is a small thing. “If he dies, it’ll be all over the school. So we have to wait.” He looks up at each of his friends. It wasn’t a mistake. “But no matter what happens, we did the right thing.” Everyone nods, but no one looks satisfied.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

4/27

The man's smile sparkles. He beams it to the studio audience, then throws his hands in the air as the show's intro music – a flamboyant remix of a trending pop song - kicks in. "Welcome, Welcome, Welcome Back! It's another episode of 'Tokyo Girls and Country Boys!'"

Thunderous applause and screams - mostly feminine - from the audience.

"I'm your host, Tatsuya Ota!"

"Ota! Ota!" Everyone screams.

The man laughs and bows his head. "Thank you, thank you. My adoring fans. Always willing to chant my name, despite my never actually doing anything." The crowd laughs. He lets them, then holds up a single finger. Silence reigns.

"Now then, I think we should begin! You all know the rules. We will introduce three boys from the country and three girls from Tokyo. Then you, yes, you, the audience, will vote. You will pair one guy with one of the girls, and those two will go on a date! And hopefully, we get to see some sparks fly!"

Whispers spread amongst the crowd.

"Now, now, don't go getting excited just yet!" Ota shouts. Everyone laughs. It is, in fact, the same laugh as before.

"It's time to introduce our first guy!" He swings around in his chair and motions to one of the armchairs behind him. "Tell us who you are, Akira Kurusu!"

The spotlight refocuses. Akira Kurusu smiles out at the crowd. He nods and holds up his fingers in a 'V.' "Hello," he says, loud and clear. "My name is Akira Kurusu. I'm seventeen years old. I just moved to Tokyo from the country. I attend Shujin Academy. My ideal girlfriend would be someone who speaks her mind, is cute, and is goal-oriented." He stands and bows. "Please treat me well with your voting!"

The crowd laughs.

That same laugh.

Akira sits down. Ota chuckles and smiles warmly at him. "A fantastic introduction, Kurusu!"

"Thank you, sir!"

"But, I have to ask a question if you don't mind."

"Of course," Akira says. "Please, ask away."

"Why are you lying to us?"

The crowd is silent.

Akira blinks. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Why are you lying to us?" Ota asks. His smile is no longer warm. It is a cheap plastic thing, glued on a dummy. "Why are you lying to us?"

Akira shakes his head. He looks out at the audience. He can't see any of their faces. They are silent, still silhouettes. "I'm not lying."

"Why are you lying to us?"

He looks back at Ota. The man's skin is too smooth. It has no pores. "What am I lying about?" He asks. His breath is coming quicker now. His heartbeat too.

Ota's head tilts to the side, farther than a human head can tilt. "Who are you, Kurusu?"

"I'm Akira Kurusu. I'm seventeen years old. I just moved to Tokyo-"

"Why are you lying to us?"

"-from the country. I attend Shujin Academy. My ideal-"

"Who are you?"

"-girlfriend would be someone who speaks her mind, is cute-"

"Who are you?"

"-and is goal-oriented."

"Why are you lying to us?"

Akira looks out into the audience once more, but he cannot make anything out. "My name is Akira Kurusu. I'm seventeen years old. I just-"

"Who are you?" whatcan’tyoureyessee

"-moved to Tokyo from the country." He spots a camera operator. It is himself, Akira Kurusu. Only, this figure wears a sable overcoat, blood-red gloves on his hand, slick shoes. On his face - Akira's face - he wears an ivory mask.

Joker smiles at Akira. "Who are you, Akira?"

Akira wakes and sits up in bed. Sweat soaks his clothes.

Morgana lays curled alongside him, undisturbed.

Outside, the sun begins to rise.

#

"This is killin' me," Ryuji groans. "If the guy's had a change of heart, that's great. But at the least, I’d like to know if we killed the guy!"

The four thieves relax on Shujin’s rooftop. When the discarded lawn chairs are stood up and brought together, it's a surprisingly lovely spot.

Ann flicks through her phone. "Everyone's talking about his leave of absence, but no one thinks it's anything serious." She sticks out her tongue. "Bleh. A few are actually worried about him."

Morgana lays on his back, purring in the sunlight. "Don't get down, guys. We stole Kamoshida's Treasure. His Palace collapsed. He had a change of heart, I'm sure of it. We just have to wait."

“You’re ‘sure of it?’” Akira asks. “How?”

Morgana looks away. “I don’t know. I just am.”

Akira sighs and looks up at the sky. “That’d be the perfect ending to this month, wouldn’t it? Kamoshida, dead?” The others glance at him, odd expressions on their faces. “What with everything else that happened. The Personae, the train crash, Makoto and the Shadow I saw yesterday.”

Ryuji and Ann stare at one another, then look back at Akira. “What do you mean, dude?”

Akira sighs. “With everything going on yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to tell you guys.” He mentions the Shadow he saw in the bathroom and how he’d seen another marching through the halls of Shujin several days ago. “But Morgana couldn’t see it, and Ann couldn’t see or hear the one from the other day.”

“No,” Ann says. “I definitely didn’t see anything like that.”

“It makes no sense,” Morgana says. “You shouldn’t be able to see a Shadow here, because we’re not in the Metaverse. And if there was one there, why couldn’t I see it?”

Ryuji makes a small “Hmph,” noise, a thoughtful look on his face. Everyone turns to look at him.

“What’s wrong, Ryuji?” Ann asks.

“It’s probably nothing,” Ryuji says. “But all this talk about seeing Shadows at the school’s got me wondering. Akira, remember that day when I waited for you? You were studying with the Prez, and then we went to get some food?”

“Sure,” Akira replies. “We talked about all that exercise stuff.”

“Right,” Ryuji nods. “Well, before all that, when you were still in the library, I got a little bored, so I took a stroll around the school. Most of the other students were gone, so I had the halls mostly to myself. I could’ve sworn I heard something like those footsteps you were describing.”

Akira stiffens. “Seriously?”

Ann’s eyes widen. “Wow, really?”

Ryuji nods. “Yeah. I thought they were coming from the direction of the gym. I had no idea what they were, so I went looking for them. They were steady, just like the footsteps you described hearing, but then they just stopped. I don’t know, I figured it was something wrong with the school’s A/C unit or something, so I didn’t think about it anymore. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

Morgana looks unconvinced. “Maybe it was the A/C unit, Ryuji. You don’t know.”

“Take it easy,” Ryuji counters. “I didn’t say it was a Shadow. I just heard something that – when I think about it now – sounded a lot like how those Shadows walked in Kamoshida’s Castle.”

If Ryuji did hear a Shadow, Akira thinks. What does that mean?

“Well, I haven’t heard anything like that,” Ann says. “Or seen anything. What about you, Morgana?”

“No,” Morgana insists. “And I still say it shouldn’t be possible. We’ve all been on edge lately, and Akira, you’ve had a lot of stuff happen to you recently. Maybe this is what that Doctor was talking about.”

“You saying I need a therapist?” Akira asks, a small smile on his face.

The cat smiles back. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“All jokes aside,” Akira says. “Maybe you’re right. Doctor Maruki did say that my brain was more active than usual. But I don’t know why that would let me see Shadows outside the Metaverse.” No one can provide much in the way of answers, and the four lapse into silence. After a time, Akira finally says, “Well, there shouldn’t be any more Shadows, anyway. Kamoshida’s Palace collapsed.”

“Yeah,” Ann says, then looks at Akira. “Hey, Akira? I’ve meant to ask you about something.”

“About what?” Akira asks.

She shrugs. “Like, the whole story with you. The stuff that happened to you before you got to Tokyo. I mean, I saw your record and stuff online, but that's obviously not the whole story."

Akira straightens. "I didn't tell you?"

Ryuji beams. "He told me."

“Me too,” Morgana says.

"No one asked you guys," Ann says, with a pout on her face. She looks back at Akira. "If it's okay with you, would you mind telling me about what happened?"

Akira shrugs. "Sure, I don't mind."

He tells his story, and everyone makes the same protestations. Even Ryuji and Morgana, who have heard all this before, get mad all over again. Ann shakes her head, and then a voice says, "Whoa. So that's what happened."

Everyone jumps. "Who's there?" Ann shouts, dropping into a poor approximation of a fighting stance.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Open-palmed hands poke out from behind the roof's entrance. Mishima steps out from behind, his eyes on the ground, face pale. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Damn, dude!" Ryuji shouts. "Are you a freakin' ninja? How long have you been there?"

Mishima lowers his hands and nods towards the door. "I came up a little while ago. I was about to announce myself, but then Kurusu started talking about his past, and I would've felt bad about interrupting." He blinks and stares at Morgana. "Is that a cat?"

"Don't worry," Morgana says. "He can't understand me. He hasn't been to the Metaverse."

"He's Akira's," Ryuji says.

"What're you doing here?" Ann asks.

"Um," Mishima says. "I just, well, the thing is..." He gulps, stiffens, and bows. "I'm very sorry!"

The four look at each other. "Who're you bowing to?" Akira asks.

"All of you. I'm very, very sorry! For everything." He lifts his head and looks at Ann. "I'm sorry, Takamaki. I knew what Kamoshida was doing. I knew how bad he was, and I never did anything about it. And because I kept my mouth shut, all that horrible stuff happened to Suzui." He looks at Akira. "And I'm sorry I put your stuff online. Kamoshida made me do it, but if I were braver, I wouldn't have. Then, no one would know about you, and you wouldn't have to listen to everyone bad mouth you all the time." He looks at Ryuji. "And I'm sorry to you too, Sakamoto. If I'd come forward when you'd first pressured me, then maybe Suzui wouldn't have jumped. Maybe she'd be fine now." He lowers his head and keeps his body stiff and bent.

Ann is the first to speak. "It's okay," she says with a sigh. "I mean, I knew what he was like too. And I didn't do anything either."

Ryuji clears his throat. "Yeah. I've known what he was like since last year. But it's not like I stopped him or anything. If I'd done something back then, something else, then maybe we wouldn't be here."

Akira nods. "You're a victim too. Don't forget that."

"But still," Mishima says. "There must've been something I could've done. But I never did. I'm sorry."

Ryuji smiles. "C'mon dude, stop bowing. People keep doing that to me lately, and it's making me uncomfortable."

Mishima straightens, and his eyes are red-rimmed as if he's about to cry, but no tears fall. "I just wanted you all to know."

"Hey," Ann says. "How'd you know we were up here anyway?"

Mishima's face turns red. "Well, I've been building up the courage to say this all day. So when school ended, I sort of followed you guys up here. I'd been standing outside that door for a while." He sighs. "Not like my apology means anything. We're still going to get expelled for all this."

Ryuji chuckles. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Certain 'parties' have dealt with Kamoshida."

"Shut up, you idiot!" Morgana yowls. Ann and Akira turn their glares on him.

"What?" He asks.

Despite their solitude, Mishima whispers his next words. "Are you talking about the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?"

Ann belts out a laugh. "Like, the what?"

Mishima frowns. "Oh, come on. You know what I mean. There was that Calling Card yesterday and everything. I thought it was just a prank. Is that what you're talking about, Sakamoto?"

Ryuji shrugs. "Maybe." Morgana juts out a paw and slashes him across the back of his hand. "Ow! What the hell, Mona?"

"Stop blabbing," Morgana shouts.

"I didn't blab!" He blinks and looks up at Mishima, who watches him with furrowed brows. "I mean, uh, bad cat."

Akira sighs and stands. "Yuuki," he says. Mishima's eyes widen at the sound of his name. He steps up to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "I forgive you. For posting my information online."

"Y-you do?"

Akira nods and smiles. "Kamoshida forced you to do it. I know you'd have never done it otherwise. As for the expulsion?" He lowers his hand and shrugs. "At least if we get kicked out, we all get kicked out together. Plenty of free time to hang out. I've wanted to check out some Tokyo arcades."

Mishima smiles. "I could show you those."

Ryuji and Ann glance at each other. Both shrug.

"Cool," Akira says. "So don't worry, alright? Everything will be fine, one way or another."

"O-okay," Mishima says, grinning. "I'll, uh, leave you guys alone now. Thank you for forgiving me!" He bows once more, turns, and heads out the door.

Akira frowns and sits back down.

"You really gonna hang out with Mishima?" Ryuji asks.

Akira shrugs. "I don't know. I'm still pretty pissed. I mean, he posted all my stuff online."

Ann blinks. "You just said you forgave him."

"Well, he wasn't going to leave otherwise. And we didn't want him to keep asking about the Phantom Thieves."

"Man," Ryuji says. He chuckles, but there's an uneasy edge to it. "That's kinda cold."

Akira remembers his dream.

Who are you?

He shrugs.

Ann's phone vibrates. She takes it out and purses her lips. "Oh."

"What's up?" Ryuji asks.

"There's a shoot in town, and one of the other girls just dropped out last minute. They want to know if I can come by and fill in for her."

Morgana's jaw drops. "You're a model, Lady Ann?"

She nods and grins. "Mmhmm. I should get going."

"This, uh, this 'shoot' as you call it," Morgana says. "It's probably pretty far away, right?"

She shakes her head. "No. It's only a few blocks. I won't even have to take the subway to get there."

"I see," Morgana says.

"Later guys, text me if anything comes up."

"See ya," Ryuji says.

"Bye," Akira says.

Ann opens the door and disappears through it. Morgana stares at the door for a few moments. "I'm gonna go scope out the neighborhood for a while." He turns back to Akira. "I'll meet up with you later." Then he darts away.

"Weird," Ryuji says, and then his face brightens. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I started putting together that workout plan I was telling you about."

"Oh yeah?"

Ryuji stands, fists clenched. "No time like the present, right? Come on, let's get started!"

"Right now?" Akira asks. He hadn't planned on getting any exercise in today.

Ryuji nods. "I can't sit around waiting, dude. I gotta move! You're with me, right?"

Akira smiles and stands. "Okay. Let's do it."

#

The two boys make several circuits around the school before they collapse in a heap against the gym's outside wall. "Man," Ryuji groans. "I'm really outta shape."

Akira takes a few deep breaths. "It's crazy, how much fitter we are in the Metaverse."

"I know, right? That's the reason I want to do this. So we can be even tougher over there." He frowns. "But, I guess that's kind of pointless now."

"What'd you mean?"

Ryuji shrugs. "If Kamoshida's heart changed, is there a point to going back there? His Palace collapsed, so can we even go back?"

Akira pulls out his phone. "That app is still here."

Ryuji nods. "Yeah, it's on my phone too. I haven't tried it out since yesterday, though. Too nervous." He chuckles. Then, his face grows somber. "I have to level with you about something, dude."

Akira, his breath finally returning to normal, says, "What's up?"

"Remember yesterday, when we were running out of the Palace, and I fell?"

Akira nods. It had been a quick thing, just a short trip. Ryuji might've been on the ground for no more than a second or two. Then he had pushed himself back up and kept going.

"Well, I didn't trip. It was my leg. The one Kamoshida broke. Ever since we started going to the Palace, it's been acting up."

"Like, hurting?" Akira asks. Ryuji nods. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want people to worry about me. I didn't want to be a burden. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I was fine. Even when it hurt, I could stomach it, you know? But when we were full-on sprinting out of there, towards the Safe Room and the exit? It just gave out for a second. I nearly pissed myself." He pauses. "You know how, sometimes, you have a really big thought, all at once, a lot faster than you'd be able to speak it?"

"I think so," Akira says, then nods. "No, I know what you mean. Like, when you look at someone, and you immediately know something about them."

"Yeah, kinda. Well, when I fell, I remember thinking, 'This is it. Kamoshida's gonna get me after all.'"

Akira leans forward and folds his hands together. "To be honest, when you fell, I was scared too."

"For real?"

Akira nods. "I don't really remember what I thought, but I don't think I could think anything at that point. I just really didn't want to die, and I didn't want any of you guys to die either."

Ryuji smirks. "Then I guess it's a good thing I didn't."

Akira smiles, but he doesn't feel anything behind it.

"So, that's another reason why I wanted to do this today." Ryuji reaches down and starts to massage his leg. "I want to get stronger. I want to be able to run again without having to worry about my leg giving out, like yesterday." He frowns and averts his eyes. "So, if it's cool with you, could you help me with that? Training is easier when you've got someone to do it with."

Akira grins. "Of course."

#

"So," Akira asks as they near LeBlanc. "How was Ann's shoot?"

Morgana squirms from inside the bag. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right.”

He speaks, but his mind is elsewhere. He's barely had any time to process the Palace's collapse. Or seeing Shadows in the real world. Or his dream. He can still see himself, as Joker, smirking over at him from behind the camera. Who are you?

And what did the collapse of Kamoshida's Palace mean? Were they done with the Metaverse now? Had the man changed?

He opens the door to LeBlanc and steps inside. It is early enough that the cafe is still open, but there are no present customers.

Sojiro stands behind the counter, an old paperback propped open on the bar, and when he sees Akira, he flips the book closed without marking his place and moves off towards the kitchen.

Akira takes a seat on his usual barstool and sets his bag down alongside him. Morgana poises himself, then leaps onto the stool next to Akira's, his little head coming up just over the bar. Sojiro returns from the kitchen with two plates in hand. He wordlessly deposits one, covered in curry, in front of Akira and places the other - this one with a few pieces of cheaper, but by no means poor quality, tuna - in front of Morgana, who meows just like a cat should and digs in.

Sojiro absently reaches out and strokes Prince's head as Akira says, "Thank you," and digs in.

This had been their routine the last few days. Akira isn't quite sure what prompted it to start. One day, after visiting the Palace, he'd returned to LeBlanc and found himself too tired to climb his stairs. He'd collapsed onto one of the barstools, and a few moments later, Sojiro had put some food in front of him. It hadn't taken long for Morgana to take advantage of the charity, and despite Sojiro's insistence that the cat not frequent the restaurant, the older man didn't seem to mind.

Sojiro waves away Akira's thanks and settles across from the two with his arms folded across his chest. "How's school?" Sojiro asks. "Still a pain?"

Akira shrugs. "Not so bad. Made some friends."

"The cat doesn't count," Sojiro replies with a slight smirk.

Akira suppresses a smile of his own. He still cannot get over the way Sojiro treated him when he first arrived. However, all the physical beatings Akira had taken recently seemed to have warmed the man up to him somewhat. Akira, at least, hadn't gotten into any trouble since Sojiro's last warning. No trouble in this dimension, anyway.

"Been thinking," Sojiro says, as if the thought had just popped up into his mind, and he didn't care one way or the other about it. "Maybe you should think about getting a job. You know, some nighttime thing."

Akira blinks. It has been effortless to set Sojiro off in the past, so Akira thinks before he speaks. "Uh, yeah. I could do something like that." Why not? He thinks. With Kamoshida's Palace gone, I've got the time. "Know of any openings?"

"You're a teenager," Sojiro points out. "There's a ton of places that hire kids like you."

Morgana nibbles on his food and says, "Bringing in extra cash would help our future endeavors."

Akira wants to ask about that but says nothing. He picks up some food with his fork and says, before eating it, "I'll start looking tomorrow. Tokyo's a big place. You're right. I'm sure there's something."

Sojiro nods, looking a little disoriented as if he'd expected Akira to put up more resistance. The meal continues in silence until Sojiro asks, "So, have you spoken to your mother recently?"

Akira feels his pulse skyrocket. He becomes very aware of all the physical sensations, sitting in the chair, holding the fork, smelling the food, as if his brain has decided it would instead focus on all that than anything Sojiro just said.

Morgana pauses eating and looks up at Akira, then seems to remember he's supposed to be a cat and dips his head back down towards his plate.

"No," Akira replies. "I haven't."

"Don't you think you should?" Sojiro asks.

Akira feels something in him go cold. "No," he says. "I don't."

Don't piss off Sojiro, a part of his brain warns him.

Fuck him and his questions, another, angrier part that sounds an awful lot like Joker snaps.

"Have you two spoken at all since you came here?" Sojiro asks.

"No," Akira replies. "And she could've called me, but she hasn't. Not exactly surprising."

"Alright," Sojiro says, holding up his hands. "I won't ask about it anymore. It's just, you never know how long you have with the people you love. So you shouldn't waste any of that time being angry with them."

Akira steadies his breathing and looks Sojiro in the eye. "Sakura-san, I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. I still don't know how you're connected to my mother, but it was great of you to take me in. And I understand what you're saying. I do. But I don't have a good relationship with my parents. And I don't like talking about them, either of them. So please, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you, but please don't bring them up."

Sojiro regards Akira for a moment, then nods. "Okay. I apologize. Though, for the record, I don't know jack about your father."

Akira cannot stop the bitter words that pour forth. "Then I'm envious."

The meal finishes in silence, and Akira and Morgana return to Akira's room.

"What's up with your Mom and Dad?" Morgana asks.

Akira rounds on him, and when the cat shrinks back, Akira has to calm himself down physically. "I'm sorry, Morgana. I didn't mean to scare you. But I meant what I said to Sojiro. Please don't bring up my family, and please don't mention them to the others."

Morgana agrees, and Akira decides to start on his homework.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

4/28

"Dammit!" Ryuji shouts and slaps his legs. He is hunched over and takes deep, dry breaths. "I'm slow as shit."

Akira, soaked in sweat, leans against the courtyard's wall. At Ryuji's protestation, Akira regards his friend from behind his fogged-up glasses. "You call that slow?"

Near the end of their jog, Ryuji had taken off at a pace Akira's mind had quickly dubbed, 'lightning-like.' He'd blown ahead of Akira, legs and arms pumping in an almost mechanical fashion, breathing synchronized.

Ryuji shakes his head. "This is nothing compared to how I used to be. The me from a year ago could run circles around the me now."

"Geez," Akira says. "You must've been fast."

Ryuji shrugs and straightens. "I guess."

It is the second day of Kamoshida's leave of absence, and the school continues to buzz. After school, Ann had gone to visit Shiho - still comatose - in the hospital. Morgana had taken to wandering around the neighborhood, and Ryuji, unable to cope with his nerves, had insisted Akira join him in another bout of training. Akira had been more than happy to run with Ryuji, anything to keep his mind of Kamoshida’s fate and the conversation he’d had with Sojiro the previous night.

"Want to grab something to eat?" Akira asks, then discreetly sniffs himself. "After a shower, of course."

"Nah, man, we gotta stretch first," Ryuji says, grinning. "Can't let your muscles stay tight and all."

He barely recalls Ryuji's instructions from the day before, so Akira has his friend walk him through each stretch once more. Admittedly, it feels good.

Once done, Ryuji plops onto the ground, spread-eagle on his back, and stares up at the sky. "It's going to take me a long ass time to get back into shape." Akira, figuring that they won't be moving for a time, sits in the grass alongside him. "That was one great thing about being on the team. Daily practices. You couldn't help but develop good habits from that."

"Do you miss it?" Akira asks.

"What, the track team?" Ryuji asks. Akira nods. "Sometimes. I mean, I don't miss the crazy shit Kamoshida made us do. But before that? Yeah, I kinda do." He lets out a long sigh. "Oh well. All that's in the past, dude."

"And if we changed Kamoshida's heart, no one will have to go through that again."

Ryuji grins. "Hell yeah! But this waiting is wrecking my nerves! I had some crazy nightmare last night where Kamoshida was chasing me through a forest."

Akira recalls his own recent nightmares. "It's hard for all of us. The other night, I-"

"Hey!"

The two friends glance in the direction of the shout. A trio of lean, grimacing boys stalks towards them from across the courtyard.

"Ah, crap," Ryuji groans.

"What's going on?" Akira asks.

Ryuji sits up, then stands, a frown on his face. "Old friends," he mumbles.

The trio reaches them as Akira gets upright, and the lead boy, tanned and chestnut-haired, glares at Ryuji. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Sakamoto?" He spits Ryuji's name like a curse.

"Yo, Nakaoka," he says, then nods at the other two. "Guys."

"Are you seriously running?" Nakaoka asks. "Here? At school?"

Ryuji lets out a sigh and turns his eyes to the ground. "We really gotta do this?"

Nakaoka takes another step forward, and Akira tenses. "The track traitor's got no business running around here! Not after everything you did."

"Yeah," says one of the other boys. "You're not welcome on the team, and you're not welcome here. This is where we train now."

Ryuji blinks. "The team? The hell are you talking about?"

Nakaoka spreads his hands and rolls his eyes. "What a surprise, Sakamoto's got no idea what's going on. Listen, jerk. Ever since our team got disbanded, because of you, we've had to train where we can. And it just so happens that this spot is ours."

Akira opens his mouth, but Ryuji speaks up before he can reply. "Fine, we'll find somewhere else on campus to train."

Nakaoka shakes his head. "You're not getting it. The whole campus is ours. We train when and where we can. So we'll take any spot we can get. And we better not see you running anywhere around here."

Akira's face is red, but he keeps quiet. His hands have balled into fists. Then the third boy - the one who hasn’t said anything - notices him.

"Hey," he says. "Isn't that the transfer student? The one with the record?"

Nakaoka looks Akira up and down and frowns. "Oh, yeah. You look like you've got something to say. You gonna assault us too?"

Ryuji's eyes narrow a fraction. "Don't talk to him like-"

"I might." The two words tumble from Akira's mouth. He regrets them the moment they've escaped. Shit.

No one says anything for a time. The three instigators look at each other in quick, darting glances, their faces just a bit paler. Then Nakaoka barks out a laugh. "Birds of a feather and all that shit. Come on guys, let's go. Don't train around here anymore, Sakamoto. Like we said, you're not welcome."

The three turn and march off.

Ryuji is quiet for a few moments and watches their backs retreat. Then he sighs. "Aw man, why'd you say that, dude?"

Akira frowns and dips his head. "Sorry. I just didn't like the way they were talking to you."

"I appreciate you having my back, man. I do. It's just, I don't know. Those guys used to be my friends. I know it sounds weird, given how much shit they were just talkin', but I do kinda get where they're coming from."

"Seriously?" Akira asks. "They can't just ban you from training around the school."

Ryuji nods. "You're right. They can't. But I'm still going to respect what they want. It's not like they're wrong. If I had kept my cool against Kamoshida, none of us would be in this mess."

"You said Kamoshida wanted to take down the track team no matter what," Akira says. "So if it wasn't you, it would've been something else."

"But it was me, Akira," Ryuji replies. "I hear what you're saying, but I still threw the punch."

He disagrees, but what can he say? "I'm sorry. I should've kept my mouth shut."

Ryuji rolls his neck and shrugs. "Well, it's not like it would've mattered. Those guys were going to think the worst of us anyway."

"Still. I didn't make things any better."

Ryuji cracks a small smile. "It got them to shut up for a few seconds. So there's that." He looks askance at Akira. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What about your friends? From back in your hometown. You ever keep in touch with them?"

Akira answers without thinking. "I don't have any friends back in my hometown."

Ryuji shakes his head. "Nah. You're a good guy. I'm sure you had some pals back there."

Now it is Akira's turn to shrug. "I thought I did. Then the trial happened. Then no one wanted anything to do with me."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "Didn't you tell them what happened?"

"I never got the chance. They told me it was because their parents didn't want them talking to me anymore, but I know that's bullshit."

Ryuji nods. "Yeah, with phones and the internet and stuff..."

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry, man."

Akira smiles and shakes his head. "Me too."

They nod at each other, and that is that.

Ryuji stretches his arms over his head. "Man, we were supposed to work off this stress from Kamoshida. Instead, everything got all heavy."

"Yeah. We should work on that."

#

Morgana squirms in his bag and pokes his head out of the little gap. "Wow. Look at all this stuff."

They cut their way through Shibuya's Underground Mall, a colorful, mobbed collection of storefronts. Despite the evening hour, people pack the halls, from the elderly peering curiously in every direction to students doing much of the same.

Their destination, Rafflesia, is a flower shop. Akira had found some ‘Help Wanted’ ads on some local boards and figured a small-time job in a flower shop was the kind of thing no one from Shujin was likely to find out about. Morgana remained evasive about what the ‘endeavours’ he’d mentioned earlier were, but besides that, living in Tokyo was beginning to get pricy.

When they arrive, Hanasaki, the shop owner, regards him with a discerning eye. "I see," she says after he explains his presence. She peers at his bag, which he has set at his feet. "And that cat in your bag. Are you interviewing as a team?"

Akira pales a bit, leans down, and zips the bag shut, with Morgana inside. "He's well-behaved. I, um, kind of have to keep him with me. He won't mess with anything, I promise."

She nods. "I suppose I'll hold you to that promise. People do tend to find cats cute, so perhaps if it becomes known that we have our own, foot traffic might increase." She shrugs. "And you said you attend Shujin, yes?"

Akira nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"I just hired someone else from Shujin. What a coincidence."

So much for that, Akira thinks.

Hanasaki turns back into the storefront, ornamented as it is with a spectacular array of tulips, roses, and flowers Akira cannot name.

"Oku-chan, could you come out here, please?"

Near the back of the storefront is a slightly ajar door, and at the sound of Hanasaki's call, it opens just a bit further, and a girl steps out. "Coming!" Comes a high, sweet voice.

The girl wears denim overalls over a dirt-dusted white shirt. Cheap sneakers caked in what looks like dried mud sit on her feet. On her head, pulled tight over her brown, curly hair, she wears a New York Yankee's baseball cap. She pats down her legs and straightens, then stares at the two.

When she sees Akira, she stiffens, pales, and bites her lower lip. "Um, hello," she mutters.

Akira frowns. The girl looks familiar, but he can't place her. She probably recognizes me as the transfer student. Great. Just great.

"Look here, Oku-chan," Hanasaki says with a smile. "We've got a new potential employee. And he goes to Shujin. Do you know him?"

"In... in a way," the girl mumbles.

Akira fights away his sigh.

"Well then, it might make it easier for you two to work together. Would he be a good hire, Oku-chan?"

Here it comes, Akira thinks. The 'No, he wouldn't because he's a dangerous criminal' part.

The girl nods. "I have no reason to think otherwise."

"Oh, good," Hanasaki says.

"Huh?" Akira asks.

The manager accepts Akira's proposal, cat and all, and has the girl show him into the back storage room. It is there that - with the two of them secluded - she turns to him and frowns. "I suppose you'll be telling everyone at school that I'm here." Akira opens his mouth to reply, but the girl turns her gaze to the floor and asks, "Did Makoto at least like her gift?"

He imagines her in another outfit—a pink cardigan over a Shujin uniform. "Hey," he says. "I do know you! You're that girl that was in Niijima-senpai's class."

She looks back up at him. "You didn't recognize me?"

He shrugs. "You seemed familiar but dressed differently." He rubs the back of his neck. "But, um, why would I tell people you work here?"

She frowns. "Please don't play dumb. I know that someone like me working in a place like this would be prime fodder for the rumor mills."

"Sorry, but I don't know who you are."

She blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. I don't know who you are. Is there some reason why people at school would freak out about you working here?"

Her jaw works soundlessly for a few moments. Then she says, "I'm Haru Okumura."

"I'm Akira Kurusu."

"Yes, I know. But I'm Haru Okumura." Akira just meets her eyes. She tilts her head. "Oh. You don't know."

"Sorry."

A smile lights up her face. Akira nearly takes a step back at how vast the difference in her is. "Oh my. I'm so sorry. Please forgive my silliness." She bows. "My name is Haru Okumura. It's very nice to meet you, Kurusu.”

The girl's pleasantness is infectious, and Akira can't help but smile back. He bows as well. "It's nice to meet you too, officially that is, Okumura-senpai."

She straightens and waves her hands dismissively. "Please, there's no need to be so formal. Call me Haru."

It feels like a breach, but the girl seems insistent, so he cannot help but feel obligated to do so. "Then, you've got to call me Akira."

"Agreed. Let's both work hard." She turns back to the flowers and points to a stool near the wall. "You can set your bag down there. There's little work done in that area, so it won't get dirty." She turns back and looks at him. "Akira?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is your bag, um, shifting?"

"Oh," Akira says and unzips the bag.

Morgana pokes his head out and takes a big gulp. "Don't zip me up in there! I can't breathe!"

"Oh," Haru says, blinking. "You have a cat in your bag. That's, um, new."

Akira sets his bag in the spot and opens it a bit wider so Morgana can step out. "Yeah, this is Morgana. Mona for short."

Morgana regards Haru as she walks up to him and crouches down. "Who's this?" The cat asks.

"Aww, he's so cute," Haru says and holds out a finger towards his nose. "Mona-chan."

Morgana makes a face. "Seriously, who is this?"

"This is Haru," Akira says, in a sing-song voice. "She's our new co-worker. Be nice, Mona-chan."

The cat's eyes narrow. "Your face will meet my claws tonight, Akira. Mark my words."

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

You could find out most things, if you knew the right questions to ask. Even if you didn’t, you could still find out a lot.

- Iain M. Banks, “The Player of Games”

 

4/29

Ryuji yawns and stretches his arms over his head. "And here I was, plannin' on sleeping through the morning class."

Akira peers past him and looks at Ann. "Any idea what this is about?"

She glances back and says in a hushed voice, "My guess is that it’s about Shiho. I mean, nothing else has happened that would make them call for an assembly."

The announcement had come during homeroom. All Shujin students were to report to the gymnasium.

Principal Kobayakawa stands in a quiet huddle with a few other faculty members upon the stage. None of their words carry to the students.

Whispers bounce back and forth. Akira stretches his head and sees Kawakami near the stairs to the stage. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and her head droops forward. She'd looked the same during homeroom too. He scans the crowd, trying to find Makoto or Haru, but only finds a sea of faceless kids.

"You alright, man?" Ryuji asks.

"Hm?"

"You got a bunch of scratches on your face."

"Oh," Akira says and rubs the tiny cuts. "Yeah. Morgana doesn't like his new nickname."

Ryuji smirks. "What's the name?"

"Mona-chan."

Both Ryuji and Ann laugh. "That's perfect," Ann says. "How'd you come up with that?"

Akira smiles. "I didn't. It was-"

"Attention." The word booms through the room with microphone feedback, and the student body collectively cringes. Principal Kobayakawa stands at the stage's podium, the vomit-colored suit still bulging with his barely contained mass. "Quiet, please." He clears his throat into the mike as the whispers die down. "In light of the recent tragedy-"

CLANG.

Everyone turns their head to the gymnasium's door.

Kamoshida stands in the entryway, head dipped forward, arms at his sides, slack. His posture is stooped. His skin is pale. His hair is a scraggly mess, absent its typical style.

"Dude," Ryuji whispers. "Dude, dude, dude!"

Akira knows what his friend is trying to say. This is it.

"Kamoshida-sensei," Principal Kobayakawa states into the microphone. "I didn't… that is to say, we didn't expect you back today."

Kamoshida’s name animates him, but he winces at it. He takes one haggard step forward, then another. His feet barely leave the ground, as if loathe to do so. Kamoshida shambles towards the stage, and the students in his path push and shove themselves out of his way. It does not affect him. The man seems unable to focus upon anything but his slow, awful march.

He climbs the steps to the stage with what looks like extreme difficulty. Ryuji puts a hand on Akira's shoulder. He looks at his friend and sees his brow knitted, eyes fixed on the stage. When he looks at Ann, he sees her pale, clutching Ryuji's hand in a desperate grip.

Kamoshida turns to the crowd, drops to his knees, and begins to sob. "I'm sorry," he moans. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

No one says anything. Every student is silent.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Kamoshida repeats the words, again and again like a mantra, a rite.

It is the Principal, still at the podium, who breaks the cycle. "Kamoshida-sensei, what're you talking about?"

He stops his chant and looks out at the students with red-rimmed eyes. "I raped Shiho Suzui."

The crowd ripples and gasps. Akira feels Ryuji's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"I am the reason she tried to kill herself. I have solicited sexual favors from other female students and held designs upon numerous others." His head tilts forward, but Akira does not get the impression that he looks at anything. "Recently, I have made attempts to coerce Ann Takamaki into a sexual relationship. I spread false rumors about our being together to facilitate this." The words fall from him. "I threatened the transfer student with expulsion if he didn't assist me in this. I forced other students to leak his information online. I have both physically and mentally abused students, both male and female. I actively sought to disband sports teams and clubs that drew attention and funds from the volleyball team. I have...I've..." The sobs return. "I am so sorry. For all I've done."

Akira's heart hammers in his chest. It worked. It actually worked.

"To atone for my crimes, I hereby resign from Shujin Academy, and I fully intend to kill myself."

Another gasp from the students. The whispers begin anew.

Ann takes her hand from Ryuji's and steps forward. She shoves her way past the students ahead of her, approaching the stage. Ryuji and Akira glance at one another and follow in her wake.

Kamoshida is still speaking. "Now then, I'll-"

Ann reaches the front of the crowd and screams, "No!"

Silence. All eyes turn to her, even Kamoshida's. A spark of life returns to him as he regards her.

Ann's hands are clenched into fists. When Akira and Ryuji catch up to her, they see her teeth are gritted, and her eyes are hard and storming. "You don't get to run from this, you bastard! Shiho's in the hospital, in a coma because of you, and you just want to kill yourself and get it over with? That's not good enough!" She points one long, shaking finger at her former tormentor. "You should live with what you've done. You should have to remember it every day!"

"Ann," Ryuji whispers and reaches out a hand for her shoulder. She turns to look at him, and Ryuji falters under her gaze. Then he nods and turns towards Kamoshida. "Yeah," he shouts. "Dying’s easy. You don't deserve easy."

Kamoshida looks at them both and bows his head. "You're right," he mumbles. "You're absolutely right." He looks up at Principal Kobayakawa. "Sir, would you please contact the authorities? I'll turn myself in."

#

The three stand in the empty gymnasium, the call to return to class forgotten.

"I can't believe it’s over," Ann says.

Ryuji and Akira nod. The police had arrived and escorted a sniveling Kamoshida out of the building. The flustered Principal had ordered everyone back to their classrooms, but few had listened. Unable to move, the three teens had retreated to the back of the gym. A procession of students had approached Ann then, offering their apologies for believing Kamoshida's lies. Ann had smiled, nodded, thanked them, and given them acquittal, but Akira could tell her heart wasn't in it. Her outburst, though short-lived, had exhausted her.

When those same students had met Akira's gaze, however, their eyes had quickly dropped. No one offered him any condolences or apologies. A sick feeling twisted itself in Akira's gut, but he tried to be happy for Ann.

"At least we didn't kill him," Ryuji mutters, and sighs. "Gotta admit, I almost feel kind of bad for him."

Ann glares at him. "Seriously?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, you saw him up there. He seemed really sorry for what he did. He must've been a normal guy once before his shit got all messed up."

"And when we changed his heart," Akira says.  "All that came back to him."

"Must've been one hell of a shock."

"Bastard deserved it," Ann mumbles.

"I'm not sayin' he didn't," Ryuji grumbles. "It's just, I don't know."

They stand in silence until Ann's phone vibrates, and she pulls it from her pocket. Her eyes widen. "It's Shiho's mom." Without another word, she puts the phone up to her ear and says, "Hello?" She takes a few steps away from the two boys, who regard each other with worried glances.

"Uh-huh," Ann says. "I see." Her voice drops a few octaves, becomes dim. "Okay... Yeah, of course. I'll talk to you soon."

She hangs up and lets her hand drop to her side; the phone held loose in quivering fingers.

"Ann?" Akira asks. The two boys each take a half-step towards her. "What's wrong?"

"...woke up," she whispers.

"What'd you say?" Ryuji asks.

Ann whirls on them, and tears streak down her face. "Shiho woke up!" She crosses the distance between the two of them and throws one arm around each of their necks. Her head drops between their shoulders, and her sobs burst from her lips in a loud, relieved wail.

Akira stands there, his shock matched by Ryuji's wide-eyed face. Their eyes meet across Ann's back as she shudders into both of them. Then, they both smile, and each rests a hand on Ann's back.

The three stand like that for a long while.

#

Makoto sits in the student council room. She holds the Calling Card in her hands. The poorly drawn top-hatted figure smirks out at her. She turns it over and reads the words once more.

We're going to steal your sick desires and make you confess your sins with your own mouth.

And so he had.

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts. This can't be real. How had this happened? Blackmail? Some kind of threat? Psychological manipulation?

Ultimately, it didn't matter. The Phantom Thieves had singled out Kamoshida, and they'd beaten him.

Then everything Kurusu and Sakamoto said about Kamoshida was true. They were right all along. Makoto blinks. Akira Kurusu. Ryuji Sakamoto. Ann Takamaki. Something about this didn't sit right with her. Students had deluged the halls with whispers.

"Did you hear what he said about Kurusu?"

"Can you believe Kurusu agreed to help get Takamaki to sleep with him? What a scumbag!"

"I saw him trying to do it the other day! Hell, I heard him trying to convince her to go to him."

"Bet it didn't take much convincing. Expulsion probably doesn't mean much to someone like Kurusu."

The words were barbs in her skin, but Makoto brushed them off as best she could. Perhaps she could cull the gossipers from the halls one day, but too much spun about in her mind.

Kamoshida had broken Ryuji Sakamoto's leg and torpedoed the track team last year. This reframed the narrative of Ryuji Sakamoto, which supported Akira's attestation that Ryuji was a good person. Makoto knew from experience that while Akira had a temper, he was - fundamentally - a decent human being.

She had seen Akira and Ann Takamaki together, at various times, over the past few days. Akira could not have been trying to convince Takamaki to engage in a sexual relationship with Kamoshida. This begged the question, what had they been doing?

Kamoshida had pursued a sexual relationship with Takamaki and was directly responsible for Suzui's - Takamaki's best friend - suicide attempt.

Kamoshida had ruined Sakamoto's scholastic career and reputation.

Kamoshida had brutally beaten Akira just the other day and blackmailed him with expulsion.

Makoto shudders at the memory of Akira's bruised and broken face. She looks once more at the Calling Card. Could it be them?

She hadn't spoken with Akira since Sakamoto and Takamaki had rushed him out of the school. Makoto hadn't even thanked Akira for the birthday present. Had this been what he was doing?

She shakes her head. There are too many questions, too many threads. Did it even matter? Kamoshida was in police custody. He would atone. Whatever the Phantom Thieves had done - regardless of who they were - it was over now.

Wasn't it?

#

Kawakami is alone in the faculty office. The day's events have sapped whatever energy remained to her, and she sits slumped over in her chair, a ragdoll not yet toppled. Kamoshida's confession blares through her thoughts like a song she can't shake. Somewhere buried beneath the textbooks on her desk is the crumpled-then-smoothed Calling Card left by the Phantom Thieves. She'd snatched it from the hallway the day it appeared and had felt a thrill at the criminality it summoned within. Kawakami had felt a thief herself. Confronting Kamoshida in front of everyone had charged her in a way she's forgotten she could feel.

The upside was gone now. All Kawakami felt was the roiling agony of watching a student attempt suicide. At seeing Shiho Suzui's broken and battered limbs splayed upon the courtyard's green. And what had she done? What had she really done? Call out Kamoshida? What had that accomplished? Nothing. It had been an indulgence, a micro-adventure she'd set out upon and concluded all in the span of a few sentences.

Kawakami does not know how the Phantom Thieves got Kamoshida to confess, or if they are the ones responsible, but she feels shame at her inability to feel relief at the man's confession. All she feels is redundant despair, feeding itself to itself.

The sun begins to set outside. Kawakami's phone vibrates with her appointment reminders. It reminds her of so much more. Who she is - really is. What she is. What she isn't. When she examines the drama that had unfolded at Shujin, Shiho's suicide attempt, Kamoshida's Calling Card, and confession, Sadayo Kawakami had been inconsequential.

A thousand various things spiral through her head, but with the clarity of someone who has done so many times before, she shuts down all speculation and begins to set herself through the motions. She has places to be.

#

"...after which, the police were called, and Suguru Kamoshida was taken into custody. There is speculation among the student body and online," the newscaster continues, "as to whether the apparent Calling Card left by a group calling themselves 'The Phantom Thieves of Hearts' is responsible for..."

Takemi switches off the TV and turns on her music. It blares in an instant hellfire of noise, but this drowns out all distractions. Takemi can sleep with this music on if she needs to. She has before. A half dozen threads tug at her attention, and they all lead back to one person.

Kurusu, she thinks. Was this you?

#

Akira sits at his desk. Morgana snoozes at the foot of his bed.

Akira’s phone is open, and his eyes soak in the RINE chat messages.

…poor Takamaki!!!!                                                               (Bet she enjoyed the attention!)

don’t b a dick

What he said about Kurusu though! Fucking crazy!

…kind of piece of shit would agree to that????                                 (He would. He totally…)

…Phantom Thieves should take care of HIM next…

(…be stupid. The Phantom Thieves aren’t real…)

…in the hall together!

Heard he was studying in the Library. Anyone confirm?

(I saw him there.)        (Me too)     (Me too)         (Was studying with the President.)   (Seriously?)

Absolutely. She looked miserable just being…                                 (Doesn’t surprise me, actually)

…guy killed someone, pimping out Takamaki wouldn’t be a…

DOES NO ONE CARE HOW KAMOSHIDA GOT HIS HEART CHANGED

DOES THIS FREAK OUT NO ONE ELSE

WTF ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT

Chill out dude who cares?

(…still say Kurusu should get a Calling Card…)

Akira tosses his phone down on his desk. He sits in the silence for a few minutes, then decides to try and sleep.

#

Akira opens his eyes.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A faint, far-off wail. The soft clattering of shifting chains.

"The king is dead," Igor intones.

Akira sighs and sits up. He turns his head and looks through the bars at the long-nosed thing.

"Or," Igor whispers. "Close enough."

"Is this a dream?" Akira asks.

"Yes," Igor replies.

Akira lets out a long sigh. "So, this isn't real?"

"Yes.”

Akira feels something twist in his stomach. "Wait, yes as in this isn't real, or yes as in it is real?"

Igor chuckles. "Yes."

Akira approaches the cells and snaps, "Can't you give me a straight-"

MINDYOURTONGUEINMATE

Akira cringes beneath Caroline's onslaught and shuts his eyes.

"Fear not, inmate," Justine whispers. "Our forms are still hidden from your uncomprehending sight. But my sister speaks wisely. You would do well to guard your behavior here. Though, our Master may be having a bit too much fun with you."

Akira inches his eyes open, and Igor's grin spreads wider than it has any right. "I confess," the thing says, a hint of humor in his voice, "I indulge far too much. But there are only so many outsiders who come here. This is a dream, as you would understand it, Trickster. Your mind is within my Velvet Room. It is - very much - real."

"I don't suppose you can prove it?" Akira asks and glances at the strange distortion in the air that must be either Caroline or Justine. "No offense."

"There is a way, but it is not open to you yet." Igor shrugs. "The time will come."

Akira shakes his head. "No. No way. I'm done with all of this. We stopped Kamoshida, and we did it cleanly. He didn't die. He confessed his crimes. He turned himself in. There's nothing to..." Akira trails off, and he forces himself to recall the last conversation he had with this thing. "You implied something the last time I was here. Now, maybe you are a dream, and that was really my subconscious voicing concerns I hadn't articulated to my conscious mind yet, or maybe you are real and do know something I don't know."

"You've given this some thought," Igor says.

"Apparently," Akira snaps. "Which is it? I told you there was no way for the police or for anyone else to trace what happened with Kamoshida back to us. You asked if I was certain. What did you mean by that?"

"I am invested in your rehabilitation," Igor replies. "I wanted to know how far you were willing to go, and you answered. Now, I've another question for you. How much do you really know?"

"About?"

Igor's teeth gleam in the dim light. "Everything?"

"The Metaverse?" Akira asks. "Kamoshida? What?" He hears the thrumming pulse of his alarm, jarring him back towards wakefulness. Akira grips the bars. "What is the Metaverse? Why can I carry multiple Personae? If you're real, if this is all real, prove it. Right now!"

"All in due time," Igor replies. "When next we meet, I will bestow upon you a gift, and then you will know if I am truly a sliver of your imagination or something more. Look forward to it. As to your other questions, I direct one back to you." The Velvet Room and its inhabitants begin to fade as Igor's voice rings out once more. "Why can you carry multiple Personae?"

Notes:

12/31/2021: And we wrap up the Kamoshida arc! I hope you all enjoyed the revised edition. The next arc is a smaller arc totaling five chapters. I refer to it as Mini-Arc 1, or the Nakanohara Arc. I hope to post this smaller arc in a few months, probably March or April. I will let you all know when. In the meantime, feel free to drop a comment or send me a message.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious.

- Donna Tartt, The Secret History

 

 

Exit Interview II.

 

Sae reaches out, picks up the photo of Kamoshida, and places it back within the file. "The officers assigned to Suguru Kamoshida's case hypothesized the 'change of heart' resulted from blackmail. They reviewed the Calling Card but considered it nothing but a prank. A coincidence."

Akira shrugs.

"We can't deny the existence of the Metaverse," Sae continues. "But are you sure you want to stick with this statement? That some human caricature installed an app on your phone, and that you were guided through your initial infiltration by a talking cat?"

"Morgana insists he's human," Akira points out.

A sigh from his father, still smoking in the corner. "Let's not get hung up on that again, yeah?"

"I won't belabor the point," Sae replies, scowling. "As we've much still to get through." She turns over a sheet of paper in the file. "At this stage, the Phantom Thieves only existed in their connection to Kamoshida's confession, which meant they were little more than a minor internet talking point. Your 'PhanSite' went online after Kamoshida's confession. From what we've reconstructed, we're confident the next choice of targets came from the site's Request system. Natsuhiko Nakanohara, followed by Ichiryusai Madarame. Given the connection, it's believed you first learned of Madarame via Nakanohara. Am I right?"

Akira nods. "A request against Nakanohara came to the Site. From there, it was a pretty quick jump to Madarame."

Sae is silent for a moment. "Why didn't you stop after Kamoshida?" She asks.

Akira smiles. "I wanted to. I thought we were done. For some stupid reason, I didn’t think the Metaverse extended beyond Kamoshida’s Palace." Arsene beats his wings once, and Akira's eyes drift to where his Persona idles. "The thing is: you always hear about people like Kamoshida. You get told the stories and think, ‘Wow, that’s horrible. Good thing I don’t have someone like that in my life.’ But once you’ve met a Kamoshida, you begin to see them everywhere. You realize they are everywhere. I knew this, thanks to my trial, but the others… well, they’d only just begun to understand. The difference was I could accept the Kamoshidas of the world, so long as they left me alone." Akira grins, leans back in his chair, and rubs his bruised wrist. "But they couldn’t.” Akira shrugs once more. “Besides, even with Kamoshida out of Shujin, it wasn't as if things changed for me. His whole, 'I used Kurusu to try and score with Takamaki' didn't do much for my reputation."

Sae nods. "Yes, I've seen the RINE chats."

Akira blinks. "You know about those?"

"I attended Shujin some years ago," Sae says. "I never unsubscribed from those message boards. I paid them little attention, but once I learned about you, well..." She trails off.

”What did I tell you?" Akira's father asks. "Always assume the other guy knows more than you think they know."

"Regardless," Sae says, and whatever Akira is about to say is cut off by her hand chopping through the air. "Continue. There's much to discuss."

 

4/30

Akira taps his pencil against his desk. The teacher drones on, but Akira's mind is elsewhere. It is back in that cell, in the dimly lit Velvet Room.

"Why can you carry multiple Personae?" Igor had asked.

Igor hadn't answered any of Akira's questions. Not really. He still didn't know if the Velvet Room was real or some part of his subconscious, an interpretation his brain put forward to cope with events. But that didn't seem right.

Igor had said there was a way to prove his existence, but Akira would have to wait. Akira didn't like that. He didn't enjoy not knowing if there was some supernatural power anchored to him. If Igor wasn't real, from where had the Metaverse Nav app come? If Igor was real and had given Akira the ability to summon a Persona, why hadn't he appeared to Ryuji or Ann? Or Morgana, for that matter?

"How much do you know?" Akira knew precious little. He would have to ask Morgana some pointed questions later. Fortunately, there was no reason to return to Metaverse. Kamoshida's Palace had collapsed, and with it, there was no place left for them to go.

Akira leans back in his chair and exhales. He really should try and pay attention to the lecture. A few whispered words drift over to his ears, and Akira glances in the direction from which they originated. Two teens stiffen when they notice him staring and fall silent. Not sure what I expected, he thinks. Kamoshida may have confessed, and Shiho may have woken up, but Shujin still thought the worst of Akira Kurusu.

Convincing Kamoshida you were upholding the deal was part of the plan, Joker reminds him.

Yeah, Akira thinks. Well, it might’ve worked too well. He rubs his cheek. And it still didn’t save me from an ass-kicking.

Akira turns his gaze back to the teacher and tries to forget everything else.

Ann hunches over her desk all morning. Her early greeting to Akira was soft-spoken and distracted. So when the bell rings, and she spins around and plants her palms on Akira's desk, he recoils from the sudden outburst.

"I need a favor, and you have to say yes!" She blurts.

"Yes," Akira replies.

Ann blinks, pulls her hands away and drops them into her lap, and dips her head forward. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so crazy all of a sudden."

"That's alright," Akira says. “What’s up?”

Ann's hands ball into fists, and her gaze drifts to the notebooks on Akira's desk. "You know how Shiho woke up yesterday?" Akira smiles and nods. "Well, I wanted to go see her right away, but her family didn't want to overexcite her right after she came out of the coma."

"Makes sense."

"Right. So, Shiho's parents told me I could come today. But..." She trails off and bites her lip.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

It takes Ann a full minute before she can reply. "Shiho."

"You're scared of your best friend?"

Ann rolls her eyes. "Not like that. But, what if she's mad at me? What if she hates me?" Her voice drops to a whisper. "After all, if I had just done what Kamoshida had wanted, nothing would have happened to her."

"Ann, come on."

"What?" She asks and glares at him. "I'm not saying it's something I should've done, but it's the truth. Isn't it?" Akira frowns and says nothing. "We both know it. Shiho probably knows it too. So, if I go, and it turns out she hates me... I just, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Do you not want to go?" Akira asks.

She shakes her head. "I'm going. I said I would. And no matter what she thinks about me, she's still my best friend. So I have to be there for her." She looks Akira in the eye and says, "I want you to come with me."

Akira thinks about Ann’s offer, though he realizes there’s isn’t much to consider when he does. He would be impressed with Ann’s resoluteness if he hadn’t seen it on full display during the Kamoshida operation. And he’s no fool, either. Ever since Ann had joined them, they hadn’t been on the best of terms. So maybe this was Ann’s way of extending an olive branch.

He nods. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Of course. Should we bring Ryuji too?"

"Umm..." Ann says and looks away again. "I kind of want to ask him, but I also kind of don't want to ask him. Does that make sense?"

"Not really."

She frowns. "Well, you know how Ryuji is. He's like, the living opposite of the word 'calm.' I just don't want Shiho to get even more riled up. Do you get it?"

Akira thinks of Ryuji's abundant personality. "A hospital isn't his kind of place."

She nods. "Exactly." Then she blushes. "I mean, I'd like it if he came. But, it's just, you know, Shiho. Plus, if she totally hates me now, I don't think I'll be able to stand it, and I, uh, don't want him seeing me like that." Her eyes widen, and she stares at Akira. "Not that it's all that important anyway, and look, why are we sitting here? Can we go?"

"Sure," Akira says. "Let's do it."

#

Makoto finds Kurusu as he exits Shujin by the front gate. He stands shoulder to shoulder with Takamaki, and the sight elicits something inside her. It feels a bit like bile in her throat, but she does not feel sick or nauseous. "Kurusu," she calls, and the two stop and turn back to her.

Makoto halts a few steps above them, suddenly wordless. Takamaki looks from Makoto, back to Kurusu, and back to Makoto. "I'll, uh, keep going." She turns around but glances at Kurusu. "You'll catch up, right?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," he replies, and Makoto suddenly feels like she's inhaled smoke. He looks up at her. "What's up?"

What's up? What's up? Her hands clench around her bag. She fights to keep her face neutral. What's up? She thinks. What's up with you? "Are you... heading somewhere with Takamaki?"

"Hmm?" He asks, then nods. "Oh, yeah. We're going to see Shiho in the hospital."

Makoto's eyes widen. "Suzui's awake?"

Kurusu frowns. "Oh, crap." He looks around, but no one else is near them. "Listen, could you keep that to yourself for right now? I'm not sure I was supposed to spill that."

Makoto nods. "Of course. Of course." Wait, so they're just going to the hospital? Good. People don't go on dates to hospitals. Wait... do people go on dates to hospitals? What would they do there?

She shakes her head clear. Steels herself. She is a Niijima. Courage. No. Not courage. Fearlessness. "We haven't talked," she says.

Kurusu meets her eyes, and she refuses to look away. They stare at one another for a few moments, and then he averts his gaze and says, "No, I guess we haven't. Not since Kamoshida beat the hell out of me."

"Not since you got me out of his office," she says. "I assume that was you who pulled the fire alarm?"

"My cat, actually," he mumbles. Makoto is about to reply to that when he asks, "Why did you go with him?"

Makoto swallows. She had been so sure at the time, but now? "I wanted to investigate him. To get evidence that he was really committing those crimes." She blushes and says in a lower voice, "And I wanted to stop your expulsion." A sudden image pops into Makoto’s head. Not one of the approaching, leering face of Kamoshida, but the broken and bloody snapshot she got as Sakamoto and Takamaki dragged Kurusu from Shujin. “I’m sorry, Kurusu.” She cannot bear to look at him just then. “I wanted to help you, but instead, I put myself in a terrible situation. A situation you had to get me out of and one you paid for.”

“I’d do it again, too,” Kurusu says in a clear voice.

Makoto feels her eyes widen, and she looks at him then, which causes Kurusu to clear his throat and look away, a hint of crimson on his cheeks.

"W-well, anyway,” Makoto stammers. "Kamoshida confessed. So everything worked out." He stiffens at this, then relaxes, more than he had been. As if he's trying to appear relaxed. "But, thank you, Kurusu. For what you did." She smiles. "And for the birthday present."

He grins and looks back at her, his eyes alight. "I had a feeling you'd like that."

"Where did you find it?"

"At a second-hand store near where I live."

"I couldn't believe it when I saw it."

"That's what I was going for."

"Thank you," she says. "Really. Thank you."

He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. "It was nothing. I'm sure you got a lot of cooler stuff than that."

Her eyes narrow. "There's nothing cooler than Buchi-kun," she says, an edge to her voice.

Kurusu's smile morphs into that teasing, knowing, crazy smirk he always wears for her, and Makoto feels her heart flutter. "Whatever you say."

She realigns herself. Ask him. "There's one last thing I wanted to speak to you about, Kurusu."

"What's that?"

She halts just a moment before she can say, "Our study sessions."

"Oh," he replies. "Right."

"We never really followed up on those. What with everything that happened immediately afterward, I never got a chance to reach out to you. But, you did meet with me every day, after school, for a week. So, I'll be blunt. I think you can further benefit from them, and I'd like to continue them." She smiles a bit, and her pulse quickens. "It doesn't have to be every day, of course." She keeps her breath steady.

"I'd like that," he says, with no hesitation, and Makoto starts to feel something, but then he walks back up the steps, pulls out his phone, and says, "Why don't we exchange numbers? That way, if I ditch you, you can threaten my life right away, instead of having to wait until the next day," and Makoto feels something else entirely.

She blushes and says, "That would be agreeable," and then realizes that she just said, ‘That would be agreeable,’ and inwardly groans at herself for saying something so dumb. But her voice is steady when she gives Akira her number, and she is very proud of that. Small victories, she thinks.

 Then she goes for a larger one. "There's one more thing. You don't have to keep calling me Niijima-senpai." She resists the urge to swallow and sort of succeeds. "I'd prefer it if you called me Makoto."

His flirty smirk disappears, and something else writes its way across his face. Something warm. "Then you're going to have to call me, Akira."

"Very well, Akira." The name, not said in anger or frustration, feels good on her tongue.

He nods as if he's confirmed something. "I should get going. But we'll talk soon, yeah? Set up our next session?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Good." He half-turns from her, then looks back. The smirk has returned. "See you around, Makoto." Then he turns and walks off.

It takes a significant amount of effort for her not to sigh. When she realizes what she's resisting, she shakes her head and whispers, "Get ahold of yourself, Niijima."

#

Room 345. The door is thick, painted beige, with a smudgy, rust-red knob. A plastic chute hangs off it, and inside rests a clipboard covered in papers in turn covered in phrases and numbers Ann cannot understand. A small whiteboard sits dead center, with 'Shiho Suzui' written in thick, black marker.

Ann's lips form a thin, pale slice across her face. Akira stands alongside her, singular and silent, the sterile beams of light glancing off his glasses and turning them to opaque reflections of odd shapes and refractions. His bag is still. Morgana is outside.

"You okay?" He asks, and his voice seems to echo as if from very far away.

"Not really," she replies and hates the way her voice sounds. It is trembling, emaciated, and she had promised herself she wouldn't be this way. Not in front of Shiho.

She's going to hate me. She's going to hate me. She's going to hate me. And she will be justified.

"Do you want to come back later?" His voice echoes up from some bottomless pit.

"Thank you for coming with me," she says, and she realizes that her hand is halfway to the knob. "I might be a while."

"I'll be here." The words are a warm compress on her chest. She opens the door and steps inside.

The lights are off, and the blinds are drawn. A faint orange early twilight creeps in around the latter's edges, giving the small, box-like room an otherworldly quality.

She sees the bed. Like any hospital bed in any hospital in any country, it is nondescript, and this strikes Ann as severely unfair. Don't they know what happened to her? She should get a better bed!

Shiho Suzui lays in it, propped up by a set of pillows, blankets folded up across her waist, hands folded in her lap. Her black hair is absent her typical ponytail, and it lays loose down her back. Her head is turned from her, staring at the blinds as if she can see the Tokyo skyline that hides behind them.

Ann's mouth works, but her words become dust before they can escape as sounds.

Her friend's head turns, and Ann sees what she is now. Her skin is so papery, dehydrated, and worn. Her eyes are dim and glazed. Strands of her hair clutch, sweat-damp, to her forehead. Her lips are cracked, scabbed, and purplish.

Ann finds her tongue. "Shiho?"

For a brief moment, the worst moment in Ann Takamaki's life, there is no recognition. Confusion scribbles its way across Shiho's face, bringing together brows, narrowed eyes, and pursed lips.

And then.

Lights flick on behind her eyes, and they widen. Her cheeks flush. Her withered mouth works and sputters out pale exhales before she finally manages one love-filled, "Ann!"

And then.

And then Ann is crossing the room, and a film of tears coats her eyes, and broken gasps escape her lips, and she leans over Shiho's bed and buries her face into her best friend's neck and clutches her as tight as she can, and she is shouting, "You jerk! You jerk! You jerk! How could you do that?" And she says so many other things about how scared she was and how lonely she would have been, and how every day without her had felt like the worst year in the history of years.

And then Shiho's hands rest on Ann's back, and through her own choked sobs, she manages to say, "Wow. Your bedside manner sucks."

And then Ann is laughing, and she has never felt so good.

Time passes the way it does, and eventually finds Ann sitting in the room's sole chair, bag at her feet, her body leaning towards the bed. "I'm so sorry," she says.

Shiho's head shakes. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"No," Ann says and stomps her foot on the ground. "You didn't do anything! Kamoshida-" but she stops when her friend winces. "S-sorry."

Shiho looks at her lap, a distant look on her face. "It's alright. I know he's not here. My mom and dad told me about what he did. Is it true he confessed in front of the whole school?"

Ann nods. "Pretty much."

They are silent for a time, and when next Shiho speaks, the words are barely above whispers. "I didn't want to die. I just wanted it all to stop."

Ann rubs her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. It comes away wet. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

Shiho looks at her with a fragile smile. "I know you led him on for me, Ann." Ann blinks. "I'm sorry I didn't..." but her lip begins to tremble, and her head dips forward. "It hurt."

Ann reaches out and takes Shiho's hand, who squeezes it in return, and again they lapse into quiet. Eventually, Ann ventures to speak. "I think," she says. "That if we had been a bit more honest with each other, we could've figured a way out." Shiho nods. "So, that's it. No more secrets. From now on, we tell each other everything." She puts as much steel behind her voice as she can. "I never want to get that close to losing you again." She wets her lips and looks back at the still-closed door. "That's why I have to tell you something. It's going to sound crazy, but I promise it's the truth."

"O-okay," Shiho replies. Ann tells her of the past few weeks, and as she does, Shiho's eyes widen.

#

Akira flips mindlessly through his phone in the hospital's hall, seated in a spare chair seemingly thrown up against the wall. Whatever nurses and doctors pass him pay him no mind, and that suits Akira just fine.

Ann exits Room 345 and looks happily exhausted. She smiles when their eyes meet, and Akira stands. "So, she doesn't hate you."

Ann shakes her head. "Nope."

Akira returns his phone to his pocket. "That's good."

"Listen," Ann says and walks up to him. She folds herself up against his arm, cups her mouth, and whispers into his ear, "I told her about the Metaverse."

Akira blinks and recalls one of his earlier conversations with Igor. Ann must read his face because she bites her lip and hurriedly blurts out, "I'm sorry, I just had to tell her. The whole reason I got involved was because of her anyway, and-"

"No, it's fine," Akira says. When Ann blinks, he quickly adds, "Did she believe you? Did you show her the app or anything?"

Ann steps away from him, and a grin cracks her face. "I did. But it’s not like I could use it. I think she believed me, anyway. She knows I’d never make something like that up." She giggles. "I'm nowhere near that creative." Akira smiles, and they head down the hall together, towards the elevator. "Thanks for coming with me, Akira," she says.

"Anytime."

"Yeah, well, I may take you up on that." Ann pressed the elevator's button and turns back to stare down the hall. "I need to be strong now, for Shiho's sake. She's been through so much, and she'll need me. So, do you think you could help me, help her?"

Akira grins as the doors slide open and says, "Of course."

Ann breathes a sigh of relief and steps inside. She leans back against the wall of the elevator and allows Akira to push the ground floor button. "But you know," she says as the doors shut. "Seeing Shiho and being able to talk to her? I finally feel like this whole thing is over." She slaps her cheeks with both hands, a grin on her face. "So, no more sad stuff! Tomorrow is our victory party!" She lifts her hand into the air for a high-five, and Akira smiles as he answers it with his own.

"We're going to pawn the medal tomorrow," he says. "Right?"

"Mmmhmm," she replies, nodding. "We'll go to that Airsoft store Ryuji took me to. He can't come because he's crazy but make sure you bring the rest of the loot. We can cash it all in." She throws back her head and laughs. "Listen to us, talking about selling off all the loot. We sound like real thieves!" Akira feels a sharp pang at that, but he doesn't let it show.

Notes:

And with that, the King is dead! But it sure as hell ain't the end.

What a ride. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story and left comments, subscribed, left a Kudo, and all the other wonderful things you people do.

As for the decrease in chapters for next week, I think I'm going to do it. I'll probably post Monday and then Friday. I hope you all have a great weekend!

UPDATE 4/1/2022: The new updated chapter is here, and with it begins Mini-Arc 1.

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

5/1

Sweat rolls down Akira's forehead. The eyes of the man seated across from him burrow into his own, shove their way through his defenses, and tunnel into the depths of his mind. They writhe inside, rip him to pieces, reduce him until he is no more than a marionette. He gathers what little courage remains him and spits out, "Sixty-five."

The man does not blink. "Thirty."

Akira grits his teeth and pushes ahead. "Sixty."

"Thirty."

Akira plants his hands on the countertop and says, "Fifty and-"

The man stands. He towers over Akira, glares down with gunmetal eyes sunken in a grizzled face. His charcoal cap is pulled low, and shadows dance across his features. With one gnarled hand - crisscrossed with bone white scars - he pulls the thin stick of a lollypop out of his mouth. His voice is a deep growl. "Kid, I'm gonna tell you this one last time, and then, if you keep goin', I'm gonna tell you to get the hell out. Thirty." He looks down at the Olympic medal lying on top of the glass. "And you're lucky to get that."

Ann clears her throat and steps up to the counter. She flashes the manager a bright smile, bats her eyes and with one hand, flips one of her blonde ponytails over her shoulder. In a high, lulling voice, she asks, "Are you, like, sure we can't convince you to give us more for it?"

The manager shifts his eyes over to Ann, sighs, and sticks the lollipop back in his mouth. "Missy, I add sweet girls like you to my coffee in the morning when I'm getting ready for a night with the real women. You can't handle me, and I ain't got the patience to acquaint you."

Ann's eyes widen, and her mouth drops open even as the red in her cheeks rises. "What? You jerk!"

"Jerk?" The man asks. "You're the one half-assing your own seduction. Put some effort into it next time." He begins to shift his focus to Akira, then snaps his gaze back to Ann. "By the way, where's the genius?"

"The who?"

"The blonde Mensa candidate who kept askin' stupid questions the last time you were here. You two break up?"

"No," Ann says.

"Sucks for him."

"No!" She shouts as Akira puts a hand on her arm. "I mean, we're not even dating!"

Akira lifts the medal off the glass and holds it beneath the light. "You really won't give us more than thirty thousand yen for it?"

The man snatches it out of Akira's hand. "This is obviously a fake. You two ain't Olympians; otherwise, you'd know it's illegal to exchange these for cash."

Akira and Ann glance at each other. They had not known that.

"Plus, neither of you strike me as the athletic type. So it's a fake, albeit a good one, and you're both too dumb to know it's illegal to sell."

Ann crosses her arms. "Well, if that's true, why are you even going to give us anything for it?"

"Because I have connections who would buy this, knowing it's fake, and turn around and sell it to some dumbass millionaire who wants to feel important and likes shiny things."

Akira blinks. "So, couldn't we just do that?"

The man spits out a half-grunt, half-sigh that passes - in Akira's mind - as his version of a laugh. "You got no connections, kid."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're in an Airsoft shop, trying to sell me a fake Olympic medal."

Akira and Ann stare at each other, and both realize they're in a corner. "Fine," Akira says. "Thirty thousand."

The man nods and slides the medal under the counter. "What else you got?"

Akira opens the duffle bag and begins to pull out the series of pieces and artifacts they'd taken from Kamoshida's palace. The man takes them all in and says, "I'll give you ten for the whole set."

"Ten?" Ann shouts. "But look how much there is!"

"Uh-huh," the man replies and lifts a golden bust of Kamoshida. "And how exactly am I going to resell a stupid-looking statue of a guy I don't know?"

In the end, they settle for a total of forty thousand. The man hands over the bills and moves off with the stuff to the back room. "By the way," he says when he returns. "It's not illegal to sell Olympic medals. The sad truth is, some of those fine athletes do it all the time."

"You lied?" Akira asks, angry.

The man shrugs. "Couldn't help it. It's your fault for not doing your research. Next time you go to a negotiating table, have a leg to stand on. Life lessons, kids."

#

Ryuji leans back on the couch with a heady sigh punctuated by a loud belch.

"Ryuji!" Ann shouts and glares at him before matching his with her own. Her cheeks tint, and Ryuji shoots Akira a look before both boys lurch forward in barely contained laughter. "Shut up!" Ann says, but they continue until she cannot help but join in.

He watches Akira grab another piece of sushi and hold it out to Morgana, secure as ever, within the former's bag. The cat lolls out his tongue and stretches his mouth wider than Ryuji thinks is possible, and Akira overturns his hand and drops the fish into the pink gullet of his friend's throat. "Soooo goooood," the cat purrs, once it can.

"Man," Ryuji says, throwing his arms up along the couch's back. "I gotta hand it to you, Ann. You sure picked one hell of a place!"

Ann's smile glitters. "I know, right? I've always wanted to come here, but it was one of those 'someday' fantasies. I didn't think I'd be able to afford it while still in high school!"

Ryuji looks around the room once more. It's freaking insane. A high-ceilinged dining room that stretches far longer than one would think. Plush, crimson rugs tile the floor, ornamented with leather couches bookmarked by end tables topped with dusted ivory lamps. Numerous buffet stations splatter the room, and dozens of well-dressed, soft-spoken men and women circle them.

Some political symposium is happening upstairs, underway in one of the hotel's grand ballrooms. A trio of upcoming politicians engaged in a lively debate about the future of Japan. When Ryuji had heard that part, he'd blanched, but once Ann and Akira had expressed their disinterest as well, he knew he could rest easy. It's probably just more of the same crap anyway—nothing those guys do changes anything.

"I can't believe they let us in," Akira says, sweeping the room with his eyes as well.

Ryuji chuckles and points to his hair. "I thought they'd take one look at this and tell me to beat it."

"Not to mention your choice of outfit," Ann mutters.

Ryuji glances down at his purple sweatshirt. What's wrong with this? He wonders. "What's wrong with this?" He asks.

"Just about everything."

"Lady Ann is right," Morgana says, with that condescending tone he seems to only use for Ryuji. "You seem very out of place."

Ryuji was getting a little tired of the cat's crush on Ann. "Can it, cat! You're like, the most out of place one of us!"

"I look sophisticated," Morgana counters. Ryuji swears he sees a malicious glint in the feline's eyes. "You look like a hoodlum."

Ryuji crosses his arms and runs his eyes over the clothes of his friends. "It's not like you two look like you belong here either."

Ann looks down at her varsity jacket, skirt ensemble and rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I look great." Ryuji has to admit that she does, but he keeps his mouth shut. Despite popular opinion, he knows when to do so. Ann glances at Akira. "And he looks good too."

Akira straightens his dark blue, slim-cut blazer, worn over his white V-neck, and smiles. "I try."

Ryuji lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "Whatever." Then he remembers. "Oh, I forgot! I had to show you guys something." He reaches into his pocket, rips his phone free, and spends a few moments swiping and poking. Then he turns it around to face them. "Check it out!"

Akira, Ann, and Morgana lean forward, with the latter tumbling out of the bag as he does so. Ryuji smiles, but then Ann says, "The PhanSite? What's that?"

"We've got a website," Ryuji exclaims and gives his friends his best and biggest smile.

Akira and Ann glance at one another. "Ryuji," Akira says, his voice calm and polite. "Please tell me you didn't create a website and post all of our information on it."

Ryuji feels his eyes widen. "Dude, seriously? Do you think this was me? No way! I'm not an idiot. I found this last night. It's like a chat site." He sets it in the middle of the table so the others can see. Akira picks it up and brings it closer to Ann. "People are writing about how we changed Kamoshida's heart. Most of them are probably from Shujin, and a lot of them are even thanking us."

"What's this... poll, thing?" Akira asks, squinting at the screen.

"Oh, that?" Ryuji asks. "The admin posted it. Last I checked, the question was, 'Do you think the Phantom Thieves are real?'"

Akira hands the phone back to Ryuji, a small smile on his face. "It's only at two percent for yes."

Ryuji chuckles and shrugs. "Yeah. It looks like all the people thanking us can't seriously believe we actually exist."

Ann shakes her head. "Does it matter? Whether we're real or not, Kamoshida's heart changed. He confessed to his crimes. We won."

A silence passes over them, and Ryuji is back in the school's gym once more, watching the man who had wrecked his life sniveling and bawling upon the stage. "Yeah," he mumbles. "We won."

"I still can't believe it's over," Akira says. Ann nods. Ryuji does too. "I haven't even been here for a month."

Ryuji belts out a laugh. "That's right. Man, that's crazy! I feel like I've known you forever."

They all laugh and chuckle and giggle along, but the conversation doesn't pick back up.

"I'm gonna get more food," Ann says, standing suddenly.

"I want some more too," Morgana exclaims and hops back into Akira's bag. "We've already paid for it, so let's stuff ourselves!"

"Okay, okay," Akira says, standing and hefting the bag along his shoulder. "You good, Ryuji?" He asks.

Ryuji pats his stomach. "For now, dude. I kinda ate a lot before we came."

Ann fixes him with a confused look. "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't know if I'd like anything here," he says.

Ann shuts her eyes, shakes her head, and sighs. "You're so hopeless."

"What?" Ryuji asks as they all walk away. To him, it had seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

They leave him, and he sits alone with his typically uncomplicated mind. Typically, because right now, Ryuji's thoughts race. He didn't tell them about the other part of the PhanSite. The Requests. Dozens of people have scribbled their problems across the site, begging the Phantom Thieves to intervene. He's not stupid, despite what so many think. The vast majority are only doing it to be part of the latest fad, but some of them have to be genuine.

We can do more, he thinks, but even as he does so, he wonders if it's not just wishful thinking. They got Kamoshida. They stopped him from hurting anyone else. Shouldn't that be enough?

It should.

But it isn't.

Before he can continue to dwell, a voice cuts through the din in his mind. "Excuse me?"

Ryuji blinks, swings his head around, and spies an older woman with streaks of gray in her hair, bundled up in something he assumes to be fashionable. Her outfit looks almost business-like, a dark suit over a white blouse. Ann would know what to call these things, he thinks, then asks, "What's up?"

The woman stares at him, and it takes Ryuji a moment to recognize the look. He feels his defenses start to rise. "Are you almost done with this table?" She asks.

He looks at the piles of plates they've left bare. "I dunno," he says and shrugs. "Why?"

The woman makes a little tsk sound and straightens. "My friends and I are looking for a place to sit."

"Uh, okay," Ryuji replies. "Aren't there any other tables?"

"They are occupied."

"Well, so is this one."

The woman shuts her eyes, sighs. Her lips twitch as she speaks, "Young man, you're very rude."

"Huh?" Ryuji asks, straightening. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Oh, that language." She shakes her head. "You are aware of the standards of this establishment, are you not?"

He crosses his arms. "No, I'm not."

She throws her hands in the air. "Unbelievable. Young man, I insist you give up this table and vacate this building at once."

"Why the hell should I?" Ryuji asks, louder than before. "My friends and I reserved this table."

"While my associates and I paid-"

"We paid too!" Ryuji feels himself getting worked up. A part of his brain tells him to calm down, but he never knows how to do that. "Why don't you go and ask someone else to move?"

"Keep your voice down," the woman scolds. "To behave like that in a place like this, your parents must be ashamed."

Ryuji feels his lips curl back in a snarl. "Aw, why don't you beat it, you old hag!" Heads turn. Shit.

The woman takes a step back in shock. "You...you... you, uncouth delinquent. I'm going to get security, right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuji says, feigning indifference. I hope I don't get us kicked out of here. "Do what you want, and when they get here, I'll tell them you were harassing me."

The woman's face contorts into a small grin. "Like they'd believe a problem child like you." Then she walks away.

Ryuji sulks, and it is not long before Akira, Morgana, and Ann return. Each sits with their own face a mirror of his own. "You okay?" Ryuji asks Akira.

Akira nods. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looks from Ryuji to Ann. "What's wrong with you two?"

Ryuji blows his top as he relates the tale to them.

Ann nods. "That happened to me too! I was in line, and this couple behind me just kept talking about me and saying how the hotel must've 'lowered their standards' to let someone like me in. It was crazy! Like, I was right there! I could totally hear them, and they just didn't care!"

"I bumped into this guy," Akira says, nodding back towards the buffet tables. "And he just went off. Started talking about how I didn't deserve to be here and that his suit was expensive, and if I had spilled something on it, would I be able to pay for it. He talked about how hard he's worked and just... I don't even know." He shakes his head. "It was nuts." He looks up at his friends. "Who even are these people?"

"I think they're called jerks," Morgana says, a hopeful lilt to his voice. No one laughs.

When Ryuji speaks next, he does it without thinking. "Maybe the Phantom Thieves should pay some of these assholes a visit."

A lull passes over the group as they all glance at each other—Morgana's eyes glint. Ann brightens. Akira pales. Ryuji's heart begins to hammer in his chest. "No, seriously," he says.

"Well," Ann says, leaning back in her seat. "Why not?"

"There are a ton of people out there just like Kamoshida." Ryuji barrels onwards. "And I don't know if you guys have checked, but the app is still on my phone!"

Akira stares ahead, silent.

"Think about it, guys," Ryuji continues. "If we could find other shitty assholes out there and beat the hell out of their Shadows, they'd confess too. The Phantom Thieves would be heroes!"

Akira inhales sharply but remains silent.

Ryuji looks at him. "You okay, dude?"

"Fine," Akira says.

Morgana, a smirk on his face, chuckles. "I was wondering how long it would take until you guys figured it out."

"What'd you mean?" Ann asks.

"Palaces are only created when the distorted desires of an individual warp so badly that they become a danger to themselves or others, in reality. And since there are plenty of other people with desires just as bad as Kamoshida's, it stands to reason that there are plenty of other people with Palaces. And since we're the only ones who can enter a Palace..."

Ryuji fills in the blank. It is the one thing he has wanted to hear. "We're the only ones who can stop them! It's our freakin' responsibility!"

"Precisely," Morgana says, nodding in his direction.

Ann looks from Ryuji to Akira, and back to Ryuji. "Are we really considering this?" The question sounds serious, but she wears a big smile on her face. "Like, really really?"

"I'm game!" Ryuji says. He looks at Akira. "What'd you think, man?"

"Huh?" Akira asks, turning to him. "What'd you mean?"

"What'd I mean?" Ryuji asks, laughing. "About sticking with the Phantom Thieves! C'mon man, we can't do this without you."

Akira's eyes look to glaze over for a moment, and his mouth works soundlessly. Then, he smiles. "Let's do it."

"For real?" Ryuji pumps a fist into the air. "Alright!"

"Are you sure?" Ann asks, staring at the bespectacled boy.

He fixes her with his gaze and nods. "Definitely. We're not done yet."

Ryuji picks up his glass. "Then this here is a toast!" He says, then drops his voice. "To the official formation of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts! Let's kick some ass!"

Ann brightens and raises her glass. "Totally!"

"I'll be counting on you guys," Morgana says, smiling.

"Hear, hear," Akira says.

Ryuji meets his friend's eyes, and for the briefest of moments, sees something pass over them, but then the look is gone, and Akira is smiling, and as far as Ryuji is concerned, all's right with the world.

#

It is, anyway, until Ann shatters it.

"Ryuji, what's going on with Akira?"

The two are walking down the block towards the subway station. Akira had offered to stay behind in the hotel to settle up the bill, and naturally, Morgana had stayed behind with him.

When Ryuji glances over at Ann, her eyes are on the ground, and she's biting her lower lip.

He lets out a sigh. "What'd you mean?"

"Didn't you notice how strange he looked?"

"When?"

"When we were talking about the Phantom Thieves, you dolt!"

"Hey," he says, rounding on her. "Why are you always yelling at me like that? I just asked a question!"

Ann takes a step back and shakes her head. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Ryuji groans and rubs the back of his head. "My bad. I didn't mean to snap. But, seriously, what're you talking about?"

Ann looks back towards the hotel as if afraid Akira would suddenly appear behind them. "Back at the table, when we decided to keep being Phantom Thieves, he was so quiet. He looked, I don't know, afraid, even."

Ryuji remembers the look in his friend's eye. "He's always quiet."

"Oh, come on," Ann says. "Don't you think it was a little odd?"

Ryuji dropkicks the uneasy feeling in his gut and crosses his arms. "No. I don't. Akira is always quiet. And honestly, the idea of going back to another Palace freaks me out too. But it's like we all agreed, it's necessary." He nods, more sure of himself than he was the barest of seconds ago. "If Akira was freaking out, he would tell us."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

Ann smiles a bit, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I hope you're right, Ryuji."

He lets a grin spread over his face. "Ann, c'mon. I'm tellin' you, Akira's fine."

#

Akira is the hotel's bathroom, shut in one of the stalls. He leans against the wall, his breath coming in ragged, choked gasps. It feels as if there is ginger ale in his chest. He is lightheaded.

Morgana is still at the table, snuggled in his bag. Akira had excused himself a few minutes ago.

Ryuji and Ann have left.

He is all alone.

He is all alone.

He is alone in this fucking box.

I can't get out. I can't get away. Part of him had known they would suggest continuing as the Phantom Thieves. He’d hoped the battle with Kamoshida would've marked the end of his tenure as a thief, but now he has agreed.

He has agreed, and he does not know how to move forward.

Or rather, he does.

But the notion leaves a putrid taste in his mouth, a strangling fetor in his nostrils. He hates it.

Because the only way Akira can be the Phantom Thieves leader is if he becomes just like the one person he swore he would never emulate.

There's a voice in his head, and it belongs to his mother. Look at you. Just look at you!

It's all a box.

He'll never get out.

He'll never get out.

His head grows lighter, and his hand falls to the lock on the stall's door.

He'll never get out.

He'll never get out.

"Don't think like that."

Akira looks at Rokuro as He speaks. Rokuro is yourAkira’s age, with a familiar mop of uncombed black hair, but the similarities stop there. His face is all edge, jawline thin and straight, and nose hooked downward. Rokuro's eyes seem to dart around, though there's nothing to look at in the cell. There's energy beneath them, but it seems cruel, or at least agitated. Akira does not know what Rokuro has done to be here.

"Think what way?" Akira asks. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't need to." Rokuro’s back is against the wall, and one long arm extends with one long finger to point at ⬛. "You've got the look of a guy that's lost all hope. You're thinking, 'That's it for me, I'm done. This is the end of the very short road that was my life.'"

Akira looks back up at the ceiling. "I wasn't thinking that, but now that you mention it..." Akira trails off.

Rokuro’s arm drops, and a sigh reaches Akira’s ears. "You need to open your eyes to the possibilities, man." His words are quick and clear, almost bitten off. "There's always a way out.  You have to take up the responsibility to find it."

It's our freakin' responsibility!

Akira's hands fly to his chest, to his head. But he is unharmed. There is no pressure there. No nausea, no acid churning in his chest. Nothing.

"What're you doing?" Rokuro asks. "Feeling a bit ragged? A little dilapidated?”

Rokuro laughs, but Akira can only ask. "Where are we?"

"Huh? The hell is wrong with you?" Rokuro’s face grows serious. "You’re not jumping at Shadows again, are you?"

"I-" Akira starts, but he can't finish. His mouth is suddenly desert dry, and his words shrivel and die in his throat. His head pounds, he aches everywhere. His hands shake.

"Hey, hey," Rokuro says. He stands beside your cot, though you do not recall witnessing any movement. "Are you okay? You can talk to me, you know."

Just, please remember. You can talk to us.

There's something he needs to decide. A choice he must make. What was it? He hears a voice, small and indecipherable. It's sporadic, but the longer it goes, the more of his attention it takes.

"This isn't right," Akira manages to choke out.

His eyes shift to Rokuro, to the walls, the ceiling, the thick metal door shut and secured from the outside. This isn't where Akira is supposed to be. This isn't where he is.

He has already been here.

Rokuro's hands grip his wrists. "Calm down, man. Calm down."

"Hey? You okay, kid? Answer me!"

Rokuro leans down, His eyes inches from your own. "Remember. There's always a way out."

How far are you willing to go, T r i c k s t e r?

His vision grows hazy. What he sees begins to twist into other shapes. Rokuro is gone, disintegrated, replaced by a pair of alert, concerned eyes in a lean, tanned face.

He shakes his head. The voice repeats and repeats until the words become crystal. "Are you alright? Seriously, kid, answer me!"

Oh.

He is on the floor of a bathroom stall. The door is open. He must've unlocked it before he had passed out. A man is crouched before him, dressed in a stylish but sensible dark brown suit, a red tie. There is a legislature's pin in his lapel. "Kid?" He asks. "Kid?"

Akira's mouth creaks open. "I-"

The man blinks in surprise.

"I can hear you, sir."

The man lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "You had me worried. I was about to call for a doctor." He nods to the bathroom stall. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," Akira says. The man holds out his hand. Akira takes it, and the man pulls him to his feet. "Thanks."

The man meets his eyes. "You're not on drugs, are you?"

Akira shakes his head. "No." He looks down at the floor. "But I guess I can see why you'd think that."

The man frowns. "Well, you look alright now. Would you like me to call someone for you?"

"No, I'm fine. Really."

"Alright, alright," the man says and pats his shoulder amicably. "You should go home and get some rest, though. And set up a doctor's appointment as soon as you can." He smiles. "Hopefully, it's just stress."

"Stress?" Akira asks, then thinks about everything. He smiles. "Heh. Yeah. I guess it is stress."

The man turns towards the sink. "You're young. It's natural to feel stressed about your future. But," and he turns on the water. "Let me tell you something my father used to tell me." The color leaves his face, and an uncomfortable look crosses his face. "Um... it's, uh..."

Akira blinks. "Are you okay?"

The man's head shakes slowly, from side to side. "I'm sorry, I-" He begins but does not finish.

Instead, he turns back to the sink, and a jet of vile-smelling, black bile spews from his lips, splashing down into the virgin white sink.

Akira shouts and jumps back.

The man manages a single intake of breath before black liquid vomits out of him, forming a thick, obsidian pool in the sink's receptacle.

Akira is frozen, his limbs wanting desperately to move but unable to do so.

The man begins to convulse, and a horrible moaning escapes his throat. His face turns towards Akira.  His eyes are bone white. His skin is beyond pale. The black bile leaks, not just from his mouth, but from his eyes, his nose, even his ears. It pours from him like a faucet, dripping down upon his crisp suit, staining it.

He manages one shuddering step towards Akira and then falls to the floor and moves no more.

The silence stretches for a few moments before Akira can think to scream, "HELP!"

His body executes a series of uncoordinated actions. He takes a few steps forward, then more back. He reaches out his hands and then retracts them. He looks around as if he's expecting to see something, but this is just a bathroom.

"HELP!" He keeps screaming as he does these things, and it is after the fourth shout that people run into the bathroom.

They are young men, dressed in well-maintained suits, and when they see the man, they cry out, "Sir!" and rush to his side.

There are three of them in total, and they crouch down and begin to hover around the body, and yes, it's a body. Akira knows this just like he knows his name is Akira Kurusu, even as they check the pulse and find it gone. "What happened?" One of them shouts at him.

Akira has forgotten how to speak, which is odd since he had just been screaming for help. What had happened?

"Shit," one of the men says. "He's not breathing!"

"Call a damn ambulance!" Another is shouting.

Still, the third is looking at Akira with hard eyes and yelling, "What happened, dammit?"

Then, Akira's mind begins to work, and the oldest part of his brain screams at him to RUN. He begins to shimmy his way past the trio of men still crouched on the floor.

One of them has pulled out his cellphone and is hastily requesting medical assistance.

#

It is late. Takemi stares at her notes, turns to her computer, and plugs in some new figures. A new simulation begins to run. She yawns and stretches her arms overhead. It has been a long day, but a slow one. No patients, but the lack of any outside distraction meant she had to focus primarily on the tiring work of developing her medicine.

She knows it is a good thing she is doing, but damn if it can't be slow and tedious sometimes.

The simulation won't complete for another two hours. If Takemi goes home, she can sleep and come back early to view the results with fresh eyes. It's better than sitting here with nothing to do.

She stands up, sheds her lab coat, and dons her leather jacket.

There's a knock at the clinic's door. With a tired groan, Takemi schleps out of her office, around the corner into the waiting room, and pulls it open. The words, "Sorry, but we're closed," die on her lips when she sees Akira Kurusu standing there.

His hair is matted from the rain. His glasses are streaked with droplets. He is absent his bag, but his hands are not in his pockets. He holds them up. They are shaking. Badly. "Do you have anything that can deal with this?" He asks.

"Come inside," she says and holds the door for him.

A short time later, Akira sits in the examination room, propped up on the table. When he shifts, the sanitary paper crinkles beneath him.

Takemi reenters the room with a mug of something hot. Akira watches the steam as it rises off the liquid, and he asks, "What's this?" as she holds it out to him, and he takes it into his hands.

"Tea," she says. "Chamomile."

"No drugs?" He asks, taking a sip.

She shakes her head. "No drugs."

"Thanks Doc," he says, then smiles a bit. "Can I call you Doc?"

"No."

He nods. "Okay."

She stands there and watches him slowly drain the mug. The tremors in his hands have diminished. They're not bad enough to cause spillage, but they are present, and that worries her.

What the hell happened? A million other questions zip through her mind, but for whatever reason, the thing she winds up asking is, "Where's your cat?"

"Back home," Akira says. "He insisted on coming, but I told him I wanted some time alone."

Takemi lets out an exasperated sigh but allows the boy to finish the mug. He holds it out to her. She takes it, sets it down on the counter, and turns back to him. "Feel better?"

"A bit."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" She asks.

He nods but doesn't say anything. He just sits there, silent, staring out of his streaked glasses at the floor.

She frowns, steps forward, and draws his glasses off his face. He looks up then, startled, but she pulls down a clump of paper towels from the dispenser in the corner of the room and begins to wipe them. "You shouldn't look through these if they're dirty. You'll get a headache."

"I don't actually need those," he says.

"Really?" She asks and holds them up. She can see through them perfectly. They're just for show? "Why do you wear them then?"

"I used to have a reason," he says, and then, "A man died in front of me."

Takemi feels her blood go cold. His words are spoken with such dispassion, such distance. A thousand different reactions war their way through her, and the victor makes her straighten, look him in the eye, and say, "I assume you're not responsible?"

Akira blinks at her, then starts to laugh. "No," he says, as his laughter builds. "Wasn't me. I don't know what happened." His mirth increases. "He helped me up. I was on the ground, and he helped, and he said something..." He shakes his head, his laughs quick and mean barks more than anything. "Isn't that messed up? He helped me up, and he died in front of me, and I can't even remember what he told me."

And then his laughter isn't laughter anymore.

Takemi watches this for a moment, and then she sets the glasses down on the counter. She walks over to the examination table. She hops up onto it—shifts around until she's sitting next to him.

Takemi doesn't hold his hand. She doesn't put her arm around his shoulder. She just sits there.

When he squeaks out, "I don't know what to do," she replies with, "It's alright."

"I don't know what happened. One second we were talking, and the next..."

"It's alright."

He shakes his head. "And I thought it was all over. I wanted it to be all over. I don't know how to be a leader. I don't know how to be what they want me to be without becoming like him."

Takemi has no idea what he's talking about. Was this him different from the him that was dead? She couldn't tell, but still, she says, "It's alright."

"I don't want to be like him."

Again, which 'him?' "It's alright."

Then, Akira shakes silently for a time.

This, Takemi thinks. Is not how I wanted to spend my night. She'd wanted some sleep. Maybe a nightcap. But here she was, with this damn Kurusu kid.

At least his wounds have healed nicely.

"I don't want to upset you, but I want you to tell me what happened tonight."

Akira tells her he felt lightheaded in a bathroom. He tells her he fell. He tells her a man helped him up. He tells her what happened after.

That was no heart attack. No brain aneurism. God, what the hell did he witness? "And you're sure it's wasn't blood?"

He nods. "It was black. Like tar, but more fluid."

Some sort of new virus? No. Those didn't just pop up out of nowhere like in the movies. But if it was, had Kurusu been infected? Had she? She shakes her head clear. Don't be stupid. No virus can turn you from a normal Good Samaritan into a white-eyed, vomit-zombie that quickly.

The paramedics and the doctors who would investigate would get to the bottom of it. They always did. Her only responsibility was to the young man seated next to her.

"I think you need to talk to someone. A professional someone."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine."

"No. You're not. You just witnessed something horrible. And then you showed up at my clinic, shaking like a leaf. Then you sat here and cried for ten minutes. Sorry, Kurusu, but you're very clearly not fine."

He's quiet again, this time for a few minutes. Then he says, "I'll think about it."

"No," she says, finally standing. "You’ve been dodging this. I’ve already told you to speak to someone, and you haven’t. Doctor Maruki told you to speak with someone, too. It’s time you did that. I’ll insist as much to Boss when I see him." She snatches his glasses up off the counter and returns them to him. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

"I'm sorry for coming here," he says and stands. His glasses are clean, but they reflect the dull fluorescents of the room. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Oh, stop," she says. "The penitent schoolboy routine isn't a good look for you. If you keep it up, I'll force-feed you some of my medicine. Maybe then, you'll just call me 'sexy lady' for twenty minutes before passing out, like you did that one time."

Akira blushes but smiles. He follows her out of the room, down the hall, and into the waiting area.

Takemi opens the front door to the clinic and turns to glance at him.

Akira moves forward, then stops and stiffens. "You watch the news?"

"Was that a question?"

"Yes."

She shrugs. "On occasion. Why?"

"You've heard about Kamoshida." This is most definitely not a question.

Takemi stares at him for a moment, then looks away. "I did. Was he the one that..." she trails off and gestures to her face.

Akira must read the implication loud and clear because he nods. "Aren't you curious? Why didn't you ask about it?"

She sighs and shakes her head. "Because you've clearly got enough on your plate tonight, Kurusu. And, frankly, I've got a feeling that conversation would be too damn exhausting. You are too damn exhausting."

When he grins, it almost looks like his normal one. "Try walking in my shoes for a day."

Takemi glances down at her high heels. "Might be a nice change of pace."

 

 

Notes:

After approximately 70K words and 22 chapters, we've finally reached the end of April.

Holy smokes.

Well now, there's nothing for it but to move onto May! As I said last week, due my finals, I won't be posting again this week until Friday. If that changes... well, you'll probably notice because I'll have posted something earlier than Friday, haha. Thank you very much for all your comments! For all your Kudos! For all your Favs and Follows!

You people are rivers in the dry land that is my soul.

UPDATE 4/1/2022: Chapter is now updated!

Chapter 23: Chapter 23

5/2

Akira wakes from unintelligible nightmares to a clear sky. Morgana sleeps soundly alongside him. He reaches out, scratches the cat's head, and proceeds with his routine.

He stretches.

He packs his books.

He sheds his pajamas.

He dons his school clothes.

He buttons his uniform.

He ties his shoes.

He keeps his mind as clear as he can, free of errant thoughts revolving around black bile and Phantom Thievery.

Sojiro comes upstairs. His typically stern face deflates into a mix between worry and confusion.

"Maybe it'd be better if you stayed home today," he says.

Akira frowns. Takemi had walked him home the night before and had pulled Sojiro to the side and explained the situation as best she understood. The man had been appropriately shocked, and even more so to learn later, through the nightly news, that the deceased was Yukio Kan, an up-and-coming politician in the 'New Dawn' segment of the Diet. Putting a name to the face had done little to quell Akira's tensions, especially since the official cause of death had yet to be declared.

Morgana, awake, hops off the bed and puts a paw on Akira's foot. "I think you should listen to him."

Sojiro tries to smile. "See? Even Prince is worried about you."

Akira kneels and presents his open bag to Morgana. "Thanks, but I'm okay." His friend stares at him for a few moments before climbing into his carrier.

Sojiro shakes his head. "Kid, you saw a man die last night." He takes a step forward. "Not to mention all the other shit that happened to you. For God's sake, if you're okay, I'm the Emperor."

Akira smiles and stands. "I didn't think you were that old," he says.

"Dammit, Akira," Sojiro growls. "Stop messing around! This is serious. People can’t brush these things off."

"I thought you wanted me in school."

"Don't be petulant," Sojiro replies and shrugs. "You've got most of this week off anyway, right? What's another day? I can keep the cafe closed. You can stay up here. Sleep. Whatever."

"I..." Akira starts, then trails off. His gaze falls upon the couch and stays there. "I want to see my friends."

Sojiro's eyebrows rise. "You've got friends?"

"You don't have to sound surprised."

Sojiro crosses his arms. "You can see them later. You're not going to school today. If I need to play the stern jackass, I will."

Before Akira can stop himself, he says, "You mean you weren't already?"

To his surprise, the corners of Sojiro's lips tick upward into a smirk. "Cute. Want something to eat?"

"Sure," Akira replies.

"This is for the best," Morgana says, and joins the two by hopping onto Akira's shoulders. They make their way downstairs.

Sojiro says little as he preps the food, and Akira is content to sit in the silence. A few minutes pass and Akira has a plate of curry, and a cup of coffee set out before him. He thanks Sojiro and digs in, finding himself hungrier than he would've imagined.

The image of Yukio Kan vomiting up black bile pops into his mind, but Akira is so hungry that - while it disturbs - it doesn't stop him from eating.

"We need to find a therapist for you to talk to," Sojiro finally says, staring at Akira from behind the bar.

"Doctor Takemi said as much last night. Not just for the guy dying, but for everything else."

"Yeah," Sojiro replies. "I'll make some calls later today. Hope I can find one with some availability. All you kids are basket cases these days."

"Thanks a lot."

Sojiro shrugs. "Well, in your case, it's warranted."

Akira lets out a small laugh. "Yeah. Guess so."

Sojiro looks at the floor, then sighs. "I don't know your mother well. At all, actually. I know her sister."

Akira's eyes widen. "Aunt Tomiko?" A sudden realization dawns on him. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Is she a customer, or-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Sojiro quickly says. "But I... well, a few years ago, I had an issue. A situation that I won't be getting into that involved the Child Guidance Center she works for. She helped me settle things over a few months, and then that was that. I guess I made a good impression."

"So, after the trial and everything, she reached out to you?"

"Tomiko asked if I would be willing to take you on. She knew I had the cafe, knew it had some extra room upstairs. I mean, she must have hundreds of case files to get through. I suppose she just wanted to smooth things out for your mother."

"Yeah, that's Aunt Tomiko. Always bending over backward for her." He smiles a bit. "I probably should've realized. Tomiko and I don't talk much."

"Yeah, well, you asked me why I took you in, and I figured I owed Tomiko for her help. Though, I did not think you were going to be this much work."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Sojiro shrugs. "Whatever."

Akira takes another bite of food. Why would Sojiro need the help of someone in Child Protective Services? He'd been to Sojiro's house the night of the train crash. There hadn't been any children there. None that Akira had seen, anyway, though he hadn't explored the house. "What was the issue my aunt helped you with?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Sojiro snaps, then sighs and shakes his head. "Look, do me a favor. Just leave that alone for now, okay? It's not a happy story or anything."

Akira nods. "Alright," he replies. "Thanks, then. For taking me in."

Sojiro moves towards the kitchen. "I'll make some calls about that therapist."

#

Ann and Ryuji send Akira texts throughout the day, inquiring as to his whereabouts. Akira does his best to set their minds at ease, but Morgana suggests it might not be a bad idea to see them. Akira, who spends most of the day wandering around Yongen-jaya, jumps at the chance to see people. He’s spent the early afternoon in a small café across the street from an old movie theatre that looked like it was in the process of being renovated.

The team invites Akira to join them in Shibuya, and with Sojiro’s blessing, Akira makes his way to the city center via train.

When Akira and Morgana arrive at the outdoor diner, they find it mostly empty. Ann sits in a corner booth and waves as they arrive.

“Where’s Bonehead?” Morgana asks, as Akira slides into his seat. “How’d we beat him here? Wasn’t he with you, Lady Ann?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Ann replies. “I saw him after school, but he told me he’d catch up. How’re you feeling, Akira?” Before Akira can answer, Ann sits straight up, wide-eyed. “Oh, I just remembered! Did you hear? Some guy totally died at the hotel last night, right after we left. Isn’t that freaky?”

Akira swallows. "Yeah," he says, slowly. He'd been intending on waiting until Ryuji arrived to discuss this. "About that..."

"Yo!" Comes a voice from the café’s entrance. All three thieves look and find Ryuji, hand raised in greeting, a broad smirk on his face. Behind him stands Mishima, lips pressed together in a tight white line, eyes darting from one teen to another.

Akira's shoulders droop. "Hey," he says.

"What took you so long?" Ann asks, a pout on her face. Morgana nods but remains silent.

"I was chattin' with this guy," Ryuji says and pats Mishima on the shoulder. "Turns out, we had a lot to talk about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ann asks.

But then Mishima, who looks to be quivering, shoots past Ryuji, rushes up to the table, and blurts out, "Are you guys really the Phantom Thieves?"

Silence.

Then, everyone speaks at once.

"Like, what?" Ann asks, her voice high. "No way!"

"Of course not," Akira says, eyes darting around the café.

"What'd you say, Ryuji?" Morgana yowls.

"Guys," Ryuji says, shrugging, the grin still stapled onto his face. "I already told him."

"What?" Morgana hisses.

"Ryuji!" Ann screams.

"Why?" Akira asks, straightening. He feels his skin flush. What if he puts it online? He already put all my other shit online. He'll put this there too!

"Guys, chill!" Ryuji says, patting the air with his hands. He walks up behind Mishima and throws an arm around his shoulder. "Mishima here, is the creator of the PhanSite."

Three sets of eyes turn toward Mishima, but no one speaks until Akira asks, "How do you know?"

"Eh?" Ryuji replies, his smile shaking just a bit. "What'd you mean?"

"He just walked up to you and said, 'I'm the guy who made the PhanSite, are you a Phantom Thief?' How do you know he's not lying?"

"Uhh, well," Ryuji says, paling. He removes his arm from Mishima. "You see-"

Mishima takes another step forward. "I'm not lying!" He pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Just sit down,” Akira says, and Mishima plops down next to Ann, who looks none too pleased.

 "I can prove it to you," Mishima insists. He begins to type something into his phone, face scrunched up in concentration. "Everyone check the PhanSite's front page in thirty seconds, I'm logging in as the admin, and I'll type a random string of numbers there."

The silent thirty seconds seem to last a lot longer, but after the allotted time, Akira sees, as promised, a random set of numbers posted by 'Admin' on the front page of their new site.

"There, you see?" Mishima asks, a newly minted grin on his face. "I told you!" No one says anything. His smile falters, and he reddens. "So, um, look. The reason I made this site was so I could support you guys! I'm like, your number one fan, and I felt that more people should know about you."

"Why?" Akira asks.

"W-why?" Mishima replies.

"Guys," Ryuji says, sitting down next to Akira. "Have you seen the site? I mean, have you really taken a look at it? People are requesting our help!"

"Seriously?" Ann asks and lowers her gaze back to her phone.

"Uh-huh," Mishima puts in. "A lot of people heard about how you got Kamoshida to confess. I mean, they talked about it on the news, how he was abusing us and everything. But the news also mentioned the Phantom Thieves and the Calling Card. I'm sure most people think it's just a joke, but there are a lot of people out there that believe in you!"

"Yeah," Akira says. "A full two percent."

"That's better than zero! And if you guys start fulfilling the Requests on the site and proving that you're real, that number will skyrocket!"

Akira glances down at Morgana and whispers, "What'd you make of all this?"

The cat purrs and hops up into Akira's lap. "I don't like how Ryuji just spilled the beans, but if we can become a part of the public subconscious... well, I'm all for it."

"Why?" Akira asks.

"I'll explain later," Morgana whispers.

"Think about it," Ryuji says, his grin back in force. "All those other big-time groups, like Medjed and Tatterdemalion, people know them. If we're gonna compete with those guys, we've got to become household names, just like them!"

"Compete?" Akira asks, jaw set, hands clenched into fists.

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

Ryuji groans. "How are we gonna change the hearts of bad guys, and how are we gonna help people if they don't even know we exist? We're not robbing museums or banks! If someone's in trouble, just like Shiho or Mishima were with Kamoshida, how will they know they can ask us for help, if they don't even believe in us, or have a place where they can reach us?"

Ann frowns. "I guess that makes sense."

Mishima nods. "Right? So, let me tell you some more about this site." Akira sits and listens to the boy rattle off various terms and features. The words flow in one ear and dance out the other. He keeps his mouth shut, choosing instead to move his jaw around in slow, clocklike circles. His hands have yet to unclench.

Eventually, the boy finishes speaking and leaves, citing some errands to run for his family. The four thieves remain in the booth, and from Akira's perspective, everyone seems convinced the PhanSite is a fantastic idea. "Ryuji," he says, his voice low.

"What's up, dude?"

Keep it together. "The next time you're going to tell someone about us," and Akira looks over into his friend's eyes. Whatever Ryuji sees there pales him by another shade. "Please ask us first."

"Yeah, seriously," Ann says, nodding. "I know Mishima is harmless and all, but revealing ourselves should be something we all decide to do."

Akira glances her way and decides to stay quiet about her revealing the Phantom Thieves to Shiho.

"Absolutely, Lady Ann," Morgana says. He narrows his eyes at the blonde boy. "You could've blown our entire operation!"

"Alright, alright," Ryuji mumbles, rubbing the back of his head. "My bad, okay? It's just, he came to me and told me he was the one that made the PhanSite. Isn't that kind of a big risk, too? If we weren't the Phantom Thieves, he'd have just revealed himself to us as the administrator for their website."

Ann frowns and sighs. "Well, whatever. It is what it is. Just check with us next time, okay?" Ryuji nods and offers more affirmations. Then, Ann continues, "But, I've been looking through these Requests, and some of them are kind of scary."

"What'd you mean?" Akira asks, taking out his own phone.

"I mean, people are posting the full names of the people whose hearts they want us to change. Isn't that kind of messed up?"

Akira finds his way to the site and begins to flip through them. "Yeah, but a lot of these are petty. This one girl wants us to change her mom's heart because, 'she won't let me do anything fun,' and this one is asking us to change his brother's because he keeps, 'looking at my stuff.'"

"What'd you expect?" Morgana asks. "The majority of people who know about us would be Shujin students. It makes sense we’d get some immature requests."

"Whoa," Ann says, eyes widening.

"What's up?" Ryuji asks.

"There's one here that's a bit freaky." She clears her throat and begins to read. "'A few weeks ago, I broke up with my boyfriend. Ever since then, I can't get it out of my head that he's been stalking me. Whenever I go outside, especially at night, I feel that he's right behind me. At first, I could brush it off, but now it's starting to scare me. I don't know what to do, and the police say they can't help unless he actually threatens me, but what if it's too late by then? Please, change his heart, Phantom Thieves! His name is Nakanohara Natsuhiko.’"

"Damn, that is scary," Ryuji says.

Morgana stretches out his paws. "If we don't do something, this girl could be in some serious trouble."

"Yeah," Ann says, putting away her phone. "If that guy keeps it up, he may eventually get violent."

"Well, wait a second," Akira says. "Don't we have to confirm that he has a Palace before we can change his heart?"

A small chuckling sound emanates from Morgana. "I was hoping you'd ask about that. The truth is, no. We can change this Natsuhiko guy's heart, without him having a Palace."

"For real?" Ryuji asks, sitting up. "How?"

"Allow me to explain Mementos," the cat says.

#

Akira had barely any time to process the information about Mementos when Morgana insisted that Akira tell them what happened to him the night before.

So, Akira does.

“For real?” Ryuji asks when Akira finishes his tale.

Ann blinks and reaches into her school bag.

"He freakin' died? Right in front of you?"

"Yeah," Akira says. Ann continues to rummage around in her bag. "He started puking all this black stuff, and it leaked from his eyes and nose, and… it was awful."

Ryuji – who had ordered food - sets his chopsticks down. "Holy shit. Dude, are you okay?"

Ann pulls out a wad of school paper from her bag.

"I think so," Akira says. "I mean, I wasn't at the time, but now… I think I'm alright."

Ann works the papers into a roll. Then she stands, leans over the table, raises the freshly-made cylinder, and brings it down onto Akira's head.

"Ow," he says, more surprised than hurt. It is paper, after all.

"Jerk!" She hisses and hits him again. And again. "Jerk! Jerk!"

"Uh, Ann?" Ryuji asks, looking around at the room. Customers are beginning to stare. "What're you doing?"

"Why didn't you call us?" Ann asks. "You should've gone to the doctor's or something!" Her brows knit together, and her words are sharp. She whacks him on his head again.

"Stop," Akira says. He leans back in his seat and raises his hands, hoping to ward her off. "I went to Takemi's last night, right after. And I stayed home today!"

"That doesn't explain why you didn't call us!" She swings again and still somehow hits him.

"Lady Ann?" Morgana asks. "I think you've made your point."

"Like hell!" She spits. "Do you know what I did last night?"

Akira shakes his head. "What?"

"I watched my dramas until midnight! That's it. That's all I did. Why didn't you call me?" She whacks him once more.

"I'm sorry," Akira says, shrinking away. "I promise, if someone ever dies in front of me again, I'll give you a call."

Ann drops back into her seat. The roll of papers sits in her lap. She dips her head forward, and when she speaks, her anger is gone. "Shiho jumped off a building, Akira."

Ryuji's expression softens. "Ann..."

Akira feels his throat go dry.

"It was the worst thing ever. I thought Shiho was going to die. She was hurting that much, and I didn't realize it. Or maybe I did realize, but I didn't say anything, I don't know!" She looks up at him, and Akira can see her eyes misting. "So, I'm never going through something like that. Not again. If something is happening to you, Akira, you have to tell me. I can't... I can't watch another friend jump." She stops speaking and just sits there, looking at him. She sniffles, just a bit, but no tears fall from her eyes.

"Lady Ann," Morgana says, but nothing else.

Ryuji reaches out and rests a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Ann. Cut him some slack. He was probably too freaked out."

Akira can't meet her eyes anymore and lowers them to the tabletop. "I'm sorry, Ann. I am."

She shakes her head. "Promise me that you'll talk to me about everything that's bothering you. Or, if you don't want to talk to me, talk to Ryuji. Or Morgana. Someone, Akira. There has to be someone."

He nods. "Okay."

She shakes her head again. "No. Say it. Say you promise."

A few seconds pass. Then, Akira says, "I promise. Sojiro’s already going to set up a therapy appointment for me. I’ll shy away from the Thief stuff."

"Good," she says and wipes her sleeve across her face. "Oh, God. You're going to make me cry, you jerk. And I'm so sick of doing that."

"Yo," Ryuji says, turning towards Akira. "But for real, that's some serious shit you saw!" He shakes his head. "Honestly, was it too much to ask for one day where we could just kick back and chill? I feel bad for you, man. We had an awesome meal, and then someone's head exploded right in front of you."

"Ryuji!" Ann growls.

But Akira laughs. "Yeah, it was pretty horrifying." He fixes Ryuji with a grin. "I almost pissed myself."

"Good thing you were in a bathroom, then," Ryuji replies, wearing a matching smile to Akira's. Then he starts to laugh as well.

The two boys continue this way for a few moments as Ann watches them. "Honestly," she says, after a time. "I don't understand you two morons."

"That makes two of us," Morgana says, with a shake of his head.

Soon, the laughter dies down. The four thieves sit in silence, each alone with their thoughts though the diner's din bustles outside them.

Finally, Ryuji leans in. "Dude, did you say… black stuff?"

"Huh?" Akira asks. "You mean, from the guy? Yeah. He vomited a bunch of black tar or something. I don't know. Why?"

"Well, like, what could make someone do that?"

Ann pulls out her phone while the boys confirm neither has any idea what that could be. "What the hell?" She asks, staring at her phone's screen.

"What is it, Lady Ann?" Morgana asks.

Ann turns the phone around so the others can see it. "Yukio Kan, right? You said that was his name?"

"I only learned that this morning," Akira says. "I didn't know it last night." He reads the article Ann has pulled up on her phone.

Ryuji squints at the text. "Hold up. This says he died of a heart attack."

"That's..." Akira begins and shakes his head. "That's not right. That can't be right."

#

Takemi reads the article, then rereads it. She pulls up an associated news video and plays it. "The man often considered to be the New Dawn movement’s leader passed away last night after a political conference in a Tokyo hotel. Yukio Kan, forty-eight, has been confirmed to have died of a sudden heart attack. This unfortunate event is sure to have significant political ramifications throughout the Diet as…"

Takemi tunes out the rest.

Akira had seen Yukio Kan die. He had witnessed some black substance pour from the man’s eyes and mouth and nose.

That's no heart attack, Takemi thinks to herself, and she finds she is absurdly afraid to say this out loud.

All she can make herself say to her empty office is, "What the hell is going on?"

Notes:

What a swell shindig that turned out to be!

To be honest, I'm not all that happy with this chapter. I think the imagery and descriptions work well, but Akira's mental state was harder to navigate than I anticipated, and I'm worried I may have cut a few corners. No chapter has been through this many revisions since 'Clear Consciences.'

Regardless, I'm happy the chapter is at least done, and that my classes are done (for two weeks, anyway), and that all you wonderful folk are still finding time to read my fic. Now, all of you have yourselves a wonderful weekend!

UPDATE 4/1/2022: Chapter is now updated!

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

5/3

Akira does another circuit through the front of Rafflesia, checking to ensure all the flowers look purchasable. Hanasaki is particular about all the variants in the storefront. "The customer," she always says, "should be drawn to us from across all of Shibuya's Underground. Before they see us, they should smell us, and before they smell us, they should have heard of us." Akira isn't quite sure what she was talking about - probably something to do with marketing - but the task allows him to spend a lot of his shift in the storefront, which enables him to sweep the mall's crowds with his eyes again and again.

While he has a very set task, Akira cannot help but think about Yukio Kan's death. The conflicting story had thoroughly stumped the Phantom Thieves. However, to their credit, no one questioned whether Akira had seen Yukio Kan dying in the manner Akira described. Akira’s brain flashes with the potentialities of Morgana's Mementos description, as well as the unresolved questions regarding Igor and the Velvet Room.

"Um, Akira?"

He turns from the jasmines to find Haru; her hat pulled low over her face, overalls dusted with dirt. "What's up?"

Hanasaki is by the register, ringing up a customer.

Haru nods towards the flowers Akira stands before. "I think they're as hydrated as they're going to get."

Akira glances down at the spray bottle in his hand. "Right," he says. "Sorry."

She shakes her head. "Oh, no. It's fine. I just wanted to know if you were alright. You seem a bit distracted today."

Phantom Thieves. Yukio Kan. Nakanohara Natsuhiko. The PhanSite. Mishima. Ryuji. Shiho. Ann. Igor. Kamoshida. Makoto. Mementos. My family.

He shrugs. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"I see," she replies and collapses into a short silence. "I, um, don't see Mona-chan anywhere. Did you not bring him today?"

"He's out with friends," Akira replies.

Haru smiles. "Cat friends?"

"Nope. Regular human ones."

"O-oh," she says. Akira sets the spray bottle down on the nearest stool and rolls his shoulders. When he yawns, she asks, "Tired?"

"Very."

"Good thing we're on break then," she says. "Are you doing anything for Golden Week?"

Just crime fighting. Or crime, depending on your perspective. "Not really," Akira replies. "You?"

She shakes her head. "To be honest, I didn't do much this morning." She giggles. "I haven't been lazy for a long time, but my father was out at a meeting, and there was no one at the house, so I figured I could just sleep in."

Akira smiles and nods. "Must've been nice."

"It was." Haru glances around, and Akira looks back out at the crowd.

Come on, he thinks. Haru is just trying to talk with you. Say someth-

"So," Haru says, a mischievous lilt in her voice. "Have you talked with Mako-chan lately?"

Akira turns his attention back to her.

Her face is the very picture of innocence. Her eyes are directed upward at the ceiling. Her hands are clasped behind her back, and she rocks back and forth on her heels.

"Just, uh, the other day, in fact," Akira says, turning back to the flowers and grabbing the spray bottle once more.

"Any plans?" She asks, stretching out the last word.

"Not really," Akira says, hating that he can feel the red in his face. "We're just-"

"Excuse me?" Comes a nervous, shaky voice.

Akira turns around and stiffens when he sees a young woman standing beside them in her early twenties. She wears an ankle-length brown skirt and a red blouse. Her eyes dart about, and she cannot seem to stop moving her hands.

"Oh," Haru says, disengaging from the conversation and moving over to her. "May I help you, ma'am?"

The woman clears her throat and says, as if she has rehearsed it, "I would like to buy eleven red roses, please."

Haru blinks. "Eleven?" She glances back at Akira, who says nothing. "Are you sure," she says, turning her gaze back to the woman, "that you don't want a dozen?"

The woman shakes her head. "Eleven, please."

"Alright, then." Haru turns back to Akira and says, "Shall we?"

"Would you mind starting?" Akira asks and steps back towards the storage room. "I'll be right back."

"Oh," Haru replies, frowning. "Okay."

Akira ducks into the storage room, withdraws his phone and sends a group text.

AKIRA: Here. Watch the front.

It doesn't take long before the response comes in.

RYUJI: Awesome! We'll take it from here!

#

Nakanohara waits for her to ascend to the street level and then follows her up the steps. It is so easy to track her, thanks to the flowers she bought in the Underground.

Still, it eats at him.

For who could she be buying flowers? Had she taken another lover? Already? It's absurd. She was his. It was for reasons like these that he kept tabs on her. Nakanohara couldn’t trust her. She was a snake.

Nakanohara peers into the growing night and spies her walking towards the crosswalk, straight-backed, the roses clutched against her chest. It's as if she hasn't a care in the world. He works his jaw soundlessly, and the familiar grating of his teeth rubbing into each other keeps him grounded. He sets off across the crosswalk, following in her wake.

She takes off down Central Street, her head straight ahead. From his perspective, she doesn't appear to be looking anywhere except directly in front of her.

For what feels like the hundredth time, he reaches across the void between them to convey his feelings so she will understand. He knows it is a childish impulse, a fantasy, but it brings him some kind of comfort.

Well, no. Comfort isn't the right word. He hasn't felt comfort for a long time.

But to open up his heart, to vomit his emotions into the ether of the universe? It almost makes him feel like an artist again. Not that he ever was one. He had only been a trusting fool. He had buried his skepticism during his 'apprenticeship' in favor of promised returns. And then he had been tossed out.

He shakes her head as his one true love turns at an intersection. Can't she understand? He's not doing this because he hates her. He's doing this because he needs her. She'd been the one thing in his life that hadn't been a disappointment. She had to bear that responsibility. They had to bear it together.

He turns to follow her down the intersection and sees her running. "Huh?" He says before he can catch himself. Why would she take off like that?

He starts to pick up his pace, but then he realizes that she's full-on sprinting, and he hisses out a curse and speeds up too. He was never an athlete, but neither was she. If he can close the distance, he can keep up his watch.

She drops the roses and vanishes into a side alley. Nakanohara is a block away, and he snarls at anyone in his path before shoving his way past them. He is panting by the time he reaches the mouth of the alley, and he spins into it and-

He collides with someone, rears back, and falls flat on his ass.

"Gah!" He shouts when he lands.

"Ow!" Comes a voice.

Nakanohara blinks and looks into the wincing face of a young, blonde boy wearing a purple sweatshirt and jeans, sitting on the ground just like him.

A young girl, also blonde, stands over the boy, hands clapped over her mouth. "Oh no! Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," the boy groans. "I'm fine."

The girt swats him on his head. "Not you!" She steps over him and crouches next to Nakanohara. "You! Are you okay?"

"Fine," Nakanohara groans and starts to push himself to his feet.

"Wait, wait," the girl says and puts her hands on his shoulders. "You should stay down. You might be hurt."

"Don't worry about me," the blonde boy, an angry undercurrent to his voice. "I'm perfectly fine."

The girl frowns. "Oh please, your skull is thick enough to take a brick." She looks back at Nakanohara and winks. "I should know. I've thrown a few at him."

"Really," Nakanohara says, sliding himself away from the girl. "I'm alright. I need to get moving."

"Oh?" The girl asks, blinking. "Are you in a rush to get somewhere?"

"I have business, yes."

"Like, what do you do?"

He shoves himself to his feet. "Is that relevant?" He growls.

The girl looks appropriately cowed, but the boy stands up. "Hey, man! My girlfriend just asked you a simple question. You don't have to be a dick."

"Excuse me?" Nakanohara asks, rounding on the boy.

"No, come on," the girl says, tugging at the boy's sleeve. "It's fine."

"Like hell it is," the boy says. He jabs a finger in Nakanohara's direction. "You collided into me, man! Now, I don't really care, but don't you go lookin' down on her and talking that way to her. Freakin' rude is what it is."

The girl continues to pull on his sleeve. "Seriously, let's just go."

Nakanohara narrows his eyes. "You should listen to your girlfriend. I'm not one you should cross."

"Oh yeah?" The boy asks, stepping up to him. "What's so special about you, jerkwad?"

A sudden, clear thought pierces its way into his mind. Why am I wasting time here? He turns back towards the alley, but his ex is long gone. He does not know which direction she turned at the other end, but given how winding Shibuya's streets and alleys are, she could be anywhere. If she hadn't stopped running, she might've even made it back to the station and boarded a train.

"Dammit," he spits, glares at the two teens, and stomps off.

"Yeah, keep walking, asshole," the boy shouts at him.

"Oh, fuck off!" Nakanohara shouts and doesn't look back. He reaches the end of the alley and glances around. As he suspected, she's gone.

#

Once Nakanohara turns the corner and vanishes from sight, Ryuji spins on Ann and lifts his hand. Ann, grinning, gives him a high-five. "That was awesome!" She shouts.

"Totally! Did you see how pissed he was?" Ryuji laughs, then sobers. "I hope she managed to get away."

"I bet she did," Ann says, nodding. "We stalled him long enough."

Ryuji looks back down the alley. "So he really was stalkin' her, huh?"

"Looked like it to me." She squints into the alley. "I don't see Morgana hiding by that can anymore, so he probably thinks so too." Ann frowns and raises an eyebrow at Ryuji.

"What?" He asks when he sees her look.

She shrugs. "Nothing. I was just surprised by your acting skills. You got into your role," and she snaps her fingers, "like that."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Right. Because bein' a loudmouth is something I have no experience in."

Ann throws back her head and laughs. "You're right. It's the role you were born to play."

Ryuji smiles and shakes his head. "We should get back to Akira, let him know we've got all the evidence we need."

Ann nods and follows him as he starts to walk away. "It's all on Mona now. I hope he'll be alright."

Ryuji waves her worries away with a single hand. "He'll be fine."

#

Nakanohara slams the door to his apartment shut.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

He stands in the darkness, his breath heavy and his shoulders quaking. He can't stop picturing the faces of those two blonde delinquents. Can't stop hearing the words that one boy had said to him. What's so special about you? They didn't know. He very nearly was someone, once.

And then that fucking Madarame...

And that woman! She had made everything better, and now she wanted to be rid of him? Impossible. Impossible.

His apartment smells of yesterday's garbage, but his nostrils adjust quickly. He is used to the stench. He stomps across the floor to the mat and drops down onto it.

In the end, it doesn't matter that he couldn't find her again. He knows where she lives. If he has to, he'll go there directly. Give her an ultimatum. Either she takes him back, or he'll...

He'll...

The doorbell rings.

"Who's there?" He shouts, his voice cracking.

No response.

Nakanohara pushes himself back to his feet and makes his way back to the door, grumbling the whole way. "I'm not interested in whatever you're selling," he shouts through the door.

No response.

With a growl, Nakanohara throws the door open and looks out. There's no one there. He sticks his head out into the hall and sees what looks like a black cat dashing around a far corner. It probably belongs to that old hag that lives upstairs.

He is about to go back inside when he notices something on his welcome mat. It is a small card, written in red and black characters. He bends down and picks it up.

Dear Nakanohara Natsuhiko: We know what you're doing. Stalking your ex-girlfriend will not bring her back to you. Your actions and obsessions are ruining both her life and your own. That is why we have decided to change your heart. We will steal the corruption out of you, and you will amend your ways before you do something you can't take back. This will happen tomorrow. Prepare yourself.

Sincerely, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts

Nakanohara stares at the small card in his hands. "Wh-what the fuck is this?" He shouts. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts? He feels as if he's heard the name before; he cannot remember where. "No," he says and slams the door shut. He retreats further into the darkness, his only assailant the thin line of light from the hall that shines beneath his door. "No, she's mine!" He knows what they're talking about, what they're really saying. That bitch was buying flowers for them! They're just trying to keep him away from her. He begins to laugh, and it grows until it hurts his throat, but he cannot stop. "She's mine! She's mine! And if I can't have her, no one can."

#

"We need to talk," Akira says.

Morgana looks down at Akira from the windowsill. "It's getting late. We're going into Mementos tomorrow. You should get some rest."

"I know, and I will," Akira replies. "But I want to know a few things first." He sits down on his bed and stares up at the cat. "We've talked about this before, but I don't think I ever got a clear answer. If we're going to continue dealing with the Metaverse, then I want to know."

"Alright," Morgana says, turning to face Akira fully. "Go ahead."

"What were you doing in Kamoshida's Palace?" Akira asks.

Morgana smirks. "Heh. You're lucky I was there. You and Bonehead would've bought the dust if I hadn't-"

"Morgana," Akira cuts him off. "What were you doing in Kamoshida's Palace?"

Morgana rolls his eyes. "I don't need the app. I'm just that skilled. I can enter any Palace and-"

"Morgana," Akira insists. "Answer the question. What were you doing in Kamoshida's Palace?"

"Infiltrating, duh. I was going to steal the Treasure and-"

"But why?" Akira asks. "You didn't know Kamoshida. You didn't know us. You had no connection to Shujin. If there are more Palaces out there, why that one? I've asked you this, again and again, Morgana, but you never actually answer. What were you doing in Kamoshida's Palace?"

Morgana blinks. "Can we just drop this? It's not relevant to the Nakanohara operation and what's done is-"

"Morgana," Akira snaps. "What were you-"

"I don't know!" Morgana yowls. Akira jerks away from the sudden noise. He's heard Morgana get angry and lash out, but not like this. He's never heard this horrified, absolute panic come from the cat. Some of the hairs on Morgana's back have raised themselves. "I don't know why I was in Kamoshida's Palace. Are you happy now?"

Akira is quiet for a moment. Then, "I didn't mean to upset you, Morgana. I just wanted to know. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Obviously, I'm glad you were there. I'm glad you're here now too. I just don't understand why you would've been in that Palace in the first place."

"Yeah, well, I don't either." Morgana sighs, and then leaps off the sill to land alongside Akira on his bed. "And that worries me, Akira. Just now, when you were asking that question, over and over, I felt... almost compelled to shift away from the real answer. It's the same as before. It's like, I have to push myself to straight-up tell you that I don't know the answer. I don't know what that is either, but it freaks me out."

"Can you tell me what you do remember?" Akira asks.

"The truth is, everything is a blur. I remember bits and pieces of Mementos. I remember pieces of Tokyo. I remember the outside of Shujin, and knowing I could enter its Palace. But do you want to know the first clear memory I have?"

"Yes," Akira replies.

"It's saving you and Ryuji from Kamoshida. I remember seeing you summon Arsene and then, just, I don't know. Everything snapped into place. Akira, I can't even remember talking to anyone before our first conversation. I have no idea why I spoke to you the way I did, and I have no idea why I was after Kamoshida's Treasure. Because you're right. I didn't need to steal anything from Kamoshida."

"Your first memory is meeting us?" Akira asks, stunned.

"The first clear one. And that's a memory of an event. All this knowledge I have about the Metaverse, about Palaces and Mementos and Shadows? I don't know where it comes from. The only thing I know is that the answer lies in Mementos."

"Can I ask something else?" Akira asks. Morgana nods. "How do you know you're human?"

Morgana takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "I don't know, Akira. I just hope I am. Because otherwise, I'm just a talking cat."

#

Akira wakes in the Velvet Room.

"Trickster," Igor whispers. Akira sits up and looks out the bars. "You'll recall our last conversation."

Akira stands and moves to the cell's door. "You said there was a way you could prove you were real to me. Is that what this is?"

The desk and its sole occupant shimmers and then vanishes. Akira blinks at the now empty Velvet Room. Igor's voice booms from everywhere. "The power of Persona is the strength of your heart. You possess the Wild Card, which grants the use of multiple Personae. By combining those masks, by breaking them apart and stitching them together, you could craft even more distinct, powerful Personae."

He feels the drifting presence of Justine floating just before his face. "Our Master presents you with this gift."

Two guillotines snap into reality, constructed of white, maggoty wood, and scratched, rusted blades.

"Some gift," Akira mumbles.

YOURFLIPPANCYISUNWARRANTEDANDFOOLISHINMATETREADLIGHTLY Caroline roars.

Akira puts one hand to his head and groans. "Right. Sorry."

"Think of two of your Personae," Igor says.

He does it without a moment's hesitation. Agathion and Andras appear in the cell before him, hovering there, eyes wide and white. "What's going-"

"Observe."

The two Personae convulse and collapse to the floor. They are lifted into the air by something unseen and moved, as if by many limbs to the guillotines.

"Hey, wait," Akira says.

The heads of the two struggling Personae are shoved into the round holes of the guillotines.

"Seriously, wait!"

They are secured, and the two stop struggling.

"Stop!" Akira shouts.

The blades fall. The heads are struck.

Akira feels himself lurch. A sharp, stabbing pain races through his abdomen, and just like that, it is gone. The two bodies condense into blue light, float towards the center of the room, and slam into each other. Another shape takes form.

It is a turtle, green-eyed and shelled. From its back rises a long red tail that ends with a dragon's face. The thing looks at him, and snarling, says, "I am Genbu. I shall be your new mask." Then it condenses into a blue flame and snaps across the room and onto Akira's face.

It feels as if ice slushes through his veins. He doubles over. This is not the same as capturing a Persona in a Palace or Mementos. This is very different.

"I-" Akira starts. His mind feels muddied, like it's coated in a sheen of something sticky.

"In this way," Igor continues. "You will craft yourself new powers. New Personae. The stronger your bonds, the stronger these will become." Akira can almost hear the smile in the thing's voice. "From now on, whenever you wish to make use of this gift, merely proceed to sleep with thoughts of this room, and we shall hear them."

Akira tries to demand answers to his questions, but his head hurts too much.

"Your coming trials will be all the more difficult, inmate," Justine says. "Perhaps you find this method distasteful, but it is the only way to craft more powerful weapons to use against the enemies you will face."

Akira retreats to the bed and sits back down. As he begins to rub his temples, the horrid ringing strikes out into the cell. "And now we have reached the end," Igor says. The two machines vanish and are replaced by the desk once more. He smiles over at Akira. "We'll see you soon, Trickster."

“Wait,” Akira yells. “I need more answers. If you’re real, can you tell me about Morgana?”

He sees Igor’s head tilt to one side as his vision starts to go blank. “Who?” To Akira’s shock, the thing looks almost surprised.

 

5/4

"Yeah, so this is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Skull says.

Joker cannot disagree. Where before had existed one of many entrances to the Shibuya Underground, now there is a gaping maw of rust-red veins strangling the familiar. They pulse and cling to the escalators, the walls, the signs - scrawled upon with a collection of unsettling gibberish - everything.

"Mementos," Mona says. "Humanity's Palace."

Skull shakes his head. "If this is Humanity's Palace, then humanity is pretty messed up."

Joker steps up to the escalator and peers down into the depths. It is a black throat.

Mona hops up onto his shoulder and leans against his head, forelegs crossed over his chest. "You're not scared, are you, Joker?" The cat asks, smirking.

Joker smiles. "Natsuhiko's Shadow is down there?" He asks.

Mona nods, turning serious. "He is. I'm sure of it." The cat's eyes narrow. "And so is..." He trails off.

Joker knows what his friend is thinking. He had apologized earlier for upsetting him the previous night. Mona had shed details after that, about his lost memories, about the distortion affecting him—the key to unlocking the first and undoing the second lay in the depths of this dungeon. Nonetheless, whenever Joker gently pressed him on how he knew anything he claimed he knew, Mona’s answer was always, “I don’t know.” Joker had – this morning – even explained about Igor’s apparent ignorance towards him, but Morgana knew even less about the Velvet Room and Igor than about the Metaverse and himself.

Skull lets out a groan. "You're not gonna be all sad again, are you Mona?" He asks.

The cat turns his head, and Joker can almost hear the bitter rebuke on his friend's tongue, but Skull is smiling.

"We already told you that we're gonna help you get your memories back."

Mona blinks.

"Yeah," Panther says, joining them. "No matter how deep it gets. So stop looking so down every time you talk about them."

Mona averts his eyes. "Thanks, you guys." Then, he shakes his head and shouts. "Okay! Let's do this." He leaps off Joker's shoulder and lands on the first step of the escalator. "Our target isn't even that deep. This will be a great introduction to this place."

Skull pumps his fist in the air and hefts his pipe. "Let's rock!"

Panther grins at Joker, and their leader nods.

The four thieves rush down the escalator, their weapons drawn.

And then, at the bottom of the escalator, Mona turns into a bus.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Skull screams, falling back as the smoke from Mona's transformation drifts up into the air.

"Mona!" Panther scream. "Oh my god! Mona!"

"Huh?" The bus asks. "What's wrong?"

Joker stands there, knife held in limp fingers, the terrifying environment surrounding him forgotten. "Uh... you just turned into a bus."

"And?" The cat bus asks.

"And?" Skull shouts, standing. "What'd you mean, 'and?' You just turned into a freakin' bus!"

Panther peers into the windows. "Are you, like, okay?"

"Are you worried about me, Lady Ann?"

"Stop messing around, Mona! Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay."

Joker frowns. "So, maybe we should take a second, so you can walk us through how this works."

In the form of a bus, Mona proceeds with a rundown of the relationship between cats, buses, and cognition.

At the end of the explanation, Joker shakes his head. "Wait, so, because people sometimes think about cats turning into buses, it lets you actually turn into a bus?"

"Only in the Metaverse," Mona says, his engine whirring like a purr.

Joker looks over at Panther and shrugs. "I don't understand any of this shit."

Skull scratches his head. "Can you turn into a plane?"

"No."

His eyes widen. "Oh! What about a badass car, like a Mustang or Corvette or somethin'?"

"No," Mona shouts.

"How about a submarine?"

"No!" Mona yowls. "I can only turn into a bus. This is it!"

Skull frowns. "Lame."

"Lame?" Mona replies. "Do you have any idea how big this place is? You guys would be screwed if I couldn't do this!"

Joker pushes up his mask and rubs his eyes with gloved fingers. "Okay. So, Mona can turn into a bus. Fine." He slides his mask back into place. "This doesn't change anything. We're still hunting Natusuhiko's Shadow." He smiles. "Mona's ability just lets us get to him faster, right?"

The front radiator of the bus expands in what Joker could almost swear is a grin. "Exactly."

"But, you can change back, right?" Panther asks.

"I can change any time I'd like," Mona replies. "Obviously, I'll do it before any battles."

She nods. "Well, in that case, I guess it's all aboard the Mona-Mobile!"

Skull looks at Joker as Panther opens one of Mona's doors. "We're not seriously calling it that, right?"

"I kind of like it," Joker says, opening a door on the other side and sliding in. Skull sighs and follows him, and the three thieves sit in the middle row of seats.

"Um," Mona says after a few seconds. "You do realize that one of you is going to have to drive me, right?"

#

"She's mine, she's mine, she's mine, she's mine." he chants.

Beneath the rat-colored girders, burrowed into the ruins of the Palace of Everyman, he paces.

Eyes aflame in gold, an angry smile on its face, hands running around themselves, again and again, the Shadow of Nakanohara Natsuhiko pushes itself along.

"She's mine, she's mine, she's mine."

A train rockets past on the track, but the Shadow ignores it. Its light bathes him as if in blood; the dark silhouettes of the shadows aboard play across his body like withered tendrils seeking purchase.

"She's mine, she's mine, she's mine."

As faint as its words are, they echo through the tunnel and become a booming mantra, reverberating through the thing's skull, the approximation it has of a brain. They are all it can think, all it can do. And then there is a moment, where a new thought, unbidden, escapes its lips.

"And if I can't have her, no one can."

And from the black that surrounds it, a voice calls out, "That's a selfish way of looking at it."

It halts. The voice had come from above, and the Shadow lifts its golden gaze to the rafters. "Who said that?" It screams. "Who said that?"

A new voice replies, "We're the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, asshole."

"And we've got a few bones to pick with you." This from a third voice, female this time.

"Phantom Thieves?" The shadow mumbles. "Phantom Thieves? Phantom Thieves?"

That's right. It knows what this means. It understands.

A knife slashes down from above and sticks itself into the wall alongside his head. He turns to look and sees the same card that had been on his doormat the night before, pinned to the wall.

"Target: Nakanohara Natsuhiko!" says yet another new voice, high-pitched and boyish. "Accused of stalking his ex-girlfriend."

"No," he says, his head jerks from side to side. "No, no, no, no."

"Don't bother denying it, jackass. We got all the evidence we needed."

"To confirm your crime, we provided your ex with a series of instructions, several tasks for her to complete at various locations. From there, all we had to do was follow her, and we ran right into you."

The Shadow remembers now. He remembers the stupid blonde kid he'd crashed into on Central Street. Remembers the stupid pig-tailed bitch who had offered so many apologies.

"No!"

"Sure looked like stalking to me."

"Shut up! She's mine, goddammit! She belongs to me! She's my property!"

From above, four dark shapes fall. The Shadow of Nakanohara Natsuhiko watches them descend one on each side. They land in a crouch, and four weapons are drawn and aimed down at him.

Joker smirks. "I'd say that this could go well for you, or poorly, but that would be a lie. It's just gonna go poorly."

The Shadow throws back its head and begins to cackle. "Phantom Thieves? Don't make me fucking laugh! Do you think these little antics of yours are going to change anything? Do anything? That's not how the world works. That's not how life works! The weak and stupid get eaten by the strong! The only choice they have is to feast on those even weaker and dumber than they are!"

"Geez," Panther says. "With an outlook like that, it's no wonder she broke up with you."

The Shadow screams and digs its fingers into its stomach. Black ooze boils forth and congeals upon the ground. Natsuhiko screeches once and collapses into the obsidian bile.

"The hell?" Skull asks, jumping clear of the puddle. "Now what?"

"He's transforming into his Shadow Self!" Mona shouts as the pool rises into a shape. "Just like Kamoshida!"

The black bile twists and bursts into an impish demon, purple bangs hanging low over its face, mouth split in a too-wide grin full of razor teeth. Sharp claws bleed out of its hands, and several metallic gray swirls pepper its pink body. "Change me?" It screeches. "You'll never change me!"

The monster snarls and hurls itself at Joker, and he leaps back with a cry of, "Arsene!"

His Persona rises, and the creature cascades into a garden of the black and red tendrils, screaming as they puncture his skin. As he falls back, Joker aims his gun and fires, and the bullets hit the creature's face, but it only growls and pries itself free of Arsene's hold. It tilts its head back and roars, and a wave of something spits into the air around it and crashes into Joker.

He grunts as he's thrown back and lands in a roll on the tracks.

"Joker!" Panther shouts, then narrows her eyes at the Shadow. "You jackass!" Behind her, Carmen blooms, and a fresh wave of fire lances out and envelops the Shadow.

It groans, and Joker flips back to his feet. His heart slams in his chest, and before he realizes he is doing it, he shouts, "Genbu!" The turtle-thing from the Velvet Room appears before him, and its tail slashes out and slaps into the side of the Shadow.

The monster drops to its knees, hands smashing into the dust. "No," it whispers. "No! I don't have anything else!" It pushes itself into the air and opens its palms wide, unleashing its claws. "I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HER FROM ME!" It falls towards Panther, who stares wide-eyed as it approaches.

"Move!" Skull shouts and slams into her side, pushing her out of the way as the thing falls on him. The monster digs its claws into his shoulders, and Skull screams. The other thieves tense, but the blonde boy's yell turns into a growl, and he brings his shotgun up and fires point-blank into the thing's stomach. "Get off, asshole!"

"Got your back, Skull!" Mona says, closing the distance between the two as the monster flies into the air, its entrails a black mess and hanging limply from a hole in its stomach. "Oh, gross." He hits Skull with a Dia and then keeps moving, falchion clutched in his paws. "Let's straighten this jerk out, once and for all!" He jumps in the air towards the falling enemy and swings his sword in a bright and brilliant slash through the air.

The monster spits out more black as the force of the strike sends it careening into the ground.

And then, Joker is there. The monster looks up, and through its long, purple hair, sees the muzzle of a pistol pointing right at him. "You had your fun," Joker says. "But it's time to stop now." He pulls the trigger.

The Shadow drops to the dirt, limp, and evaporates into a cloud of ash.

From this, Nakanohara Natsuhiko, eyes still golden, but absent their glimmer, rises on his knees. He looks at the thieves as they close in on him, beseechingly. "Please, you don't understand. That bastard Madarame, he took everything from me. My art, my life, it felt like he stole my very soul!" He looks down at his hands. "So when she said she liked me, I felt so happy. I thought if she loved me, if I could be with her, then everything would be okay. The past wouldn't matter. And then she left me, so-"

Panther huffs. "Whatever happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to intimidate others."

"Yeah," Skull says, rubbing one of his shoulders. "You can't just lay claim to someone because they used to go out with you. You need to move on, just like everyone else does."

Mona hops up onto Joker's shoulder. "Deep down, I bet you knew that what you were doing was wrong."

The Shadow slowly nods. "I did. Oh, god. I must've scared her so much. I never wanted that. I just wanted her to take me back."

Joker speaks. "You can't ever go back to the past. All you've got is your memory of it. If they're good, cherish them. If they're not, learn." The other thieves turn to regard their leader. "Return to yourself, and leave your ex alone."

A faint white light begins to emit out of the man's chest. "You're right," he says. "I will." Then he smiles, warm and calm. "Thank you." Then he is gone. In his place is a small shining orb, and inside that is a small, framed photo. Joker reaches out and takes it. The frame is elaborate silver, and inside is a picture of Nakanohara Natsuhiko and the woman who had bought the eleven roses. They are both smiling.

"What's that?" Skull asks, looking over Joker's shoulder.

"It's the bud of a treasure," Mona says. "If we hadn't stopped him when we did, it could've grown more and more until it turned into a palace."

"It's a photo of the two of them," Panther mumbles. "I guess, on some level, he really did love her."

"Not much of a reward," Skull says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Panther turns towards Joker. "Hey, what was that turtle you summoned earlier? I think you called it Genbu? I don't remember encountering that earlier."

Joker nods and sighs. "I'll explain later. We should get out of here for now."

The group shifts about, uncomfortable for a moment. Then, Mona asks, "What about the photo?"

"Let's leave it," Joker says and pulls out the back of the frame, removing the picture. "It doesn't feel right to take it."

"It’ll vanish when this vortex does,” Mona says.

“I’d say that’s fitting.” He turns to the others. “Let’s get going.”

“Ugh,” Skull groans, following him. “Does this mean we have to get back into the Mona mobile?”

“Stop complaining,” Mona growls. “You should be honored to drive around inside of me!”

Panther giggles. “That sounds so wrong on so many levels.”

“And where’s the honor?” Skull asks. “You turn into a freakin’ van! It’d be one thing if you turned into a sports car or something, but a van?”

“At least I can turn into something! How else would we get around here?”

Joker listens to them bicker and takes one last glance at the photo of Nakanohara Natsuhiko and his former lover. Then he lets it drop into the dirt. As he passes, Skull steps on it without even realizing it.

Notes:

Hey everyone! Hope you all had a great weekend! I spent the majority of mine in the car on two separate six hour journeys! Thank God for Audible! I want to thank everyone for their comments and whatnot about the last chapter. As I said, it went through a lot of revisions, but I'm glad many of you seemed to like it!

Now then, an update. As I've mentioned before, I'll be getting married soon and taking my honeymoon. Given that the week leading up to my wedding will most likely be busy as all hell, and that for the two weeks I'm on my honeymoon, I won't be doing much writing, I'm thinking that my break will begin on September 11, and probably stretch through the rest of the month of September. It stinks to take that big block of time off, but the reality of my situation is that even if I manage to do a lot of writing during that time frame, I don't know what my internet connection is going to be like. Plus, I'll be in completely different time zones which will probably really mess up my posting schedule. I'll keep you all up to speed the closer I get to the actual date.

Regardless, thank you very much for reading Crimson, and for all the wonderful other things you people do. I'll see ya soon!

Update 4/1/2022: Part Four of the Mini-Arc 1 is uploaded!

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

5/5

Akira narrows his eyes. Concentrate. You've got this. A single bead of sweat runs from his brow down his cheek. Its slide needles its way through his focus. Come on! His hands tighten on his weapon, and with a whoosh, his target speeds towards him.

Now! Akira swings. The baseball clatters into the cage behind him.

"Swing and a miss!" Ryuji shouts, laughing, from behind the grate.

"You're surprisingly bad at this," Ann says, giggling.

Akira grits his teeth and resumes his form. This time. This time, for sure.

He misses again. "It's rigged," he calls, nodding. "Definitely."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "It's not rigged, dude. You just suck."

Another pitch. Another miss.

Akira leaves the batting cages with his head hanging low. Morgana sits atop his bag, a sad look on his feline face. "And to think, I put all my expectations on you."

"Oh, shut up." He drops onto one of the benches outside the cages, alongside Ryuji.

Ann squeezes a helmet over her head. "My turn!"

Ryuji yawns. "So," he says, as Ann takes her position in the cage. "Anyone hear anything about the stalker dude?"

"Yeah," Ann says. A ball flies. She takes a moment, then swings. CRACK. The ball hurls away. "I took a look at the PhanSite this morning. Nakanohara called his ex and apologized for harassing her. She was so excited that she made a follow-up post where she told everyone about the whole thing."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "That's incredible! We're two for two!"

Another pitch. Ann swings. CRACK. "Me too!" She cries.

Akira takes out his phone and makes his way to the PhanSite. "There's a bunch more requests on here." He scrolls through a few and frowns. "But a lot of them seem like the same stuff as before. ‘Help, my brother's a jerk.' 'My mom just, like, totally doesn't get me.' Junk like that."

"That's too bad," Morgana says as Ann hits another ball towards the fences. "You're incredible, Lady Ann!"

The girl turns back to them, smiles, flashes a 'V' sign with her fingers, and reassumes her batting stance.

"But if we're gonna make a name for ourselves," Ryuji says. "We need someone bigger than just some small-time stalker. We need to target someone like a celebrity."

"Or a CEO," Ann says, swinging. CRACK.

"Or a politician," Morgana says. He looks over at Akira. "Any ideas?"

"Should we-" Akira begins, but then his phone vibrates. He frowns. "It's Mishima."

MISHIMA: Did you see?! The PhanSite is really buzzing!

Akira shows Ryuji the message. "That dude's got no chill,” the blonde boy says.

"He reminds me of someone," Morgana mumbles.

Ryuji's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Akira ignores their bickering as he replies.

AKIRA: That's good.

MISHIMA: Good?! It's great!

MISHIMA: BTW, what are you up to later?

Akira remembers what he told the boy on the school's roof.

AKIRA: I have work. At the flower shop.

MISHIMA: You work at a flower shop?

AKIRA: Yes.

MISHIMA: OK, cool. Let's meet up after!

"Hey Ryuji," Akira says.

The boy's eyes follow Ann as she hits another ball. "What's up?"

"You busy tonight?"

"Nah, I've got nothing going on."

"Wanna meet up with Mishima after my shift at the shop ends?"

The boy puts his hands behind his head and frowns. "Sure."

AKIRA: Sounds good. Ryuji is in too.

MISHIMA: Okay, awesome!

Ryuji looks over at Akira. "You're not just asking me to hang out because you don't want to chill with Mishima alone, right?"

Akira flashes him his best grin and says, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Uh-huh." Ryuji turns his gaze back to Ann. "Yo, Ann! Wanna hang tonight with Mishima?"

She shakes her head as the last ball flies towards her. This does nothing to break her concentration, and she swings and sends it flying. She steps away from the plate, a smile on her face, and pulls her helmet free. Her blonde curls cascade down to her shoulders. "I can't. I have a shoot downtown later." She exits the cage and stares down at Akira. "You really are going to hang out with Mishima then?"

Akira shrugs. "I guess so."

"Damn," Ryuji says, as Ann hangs up her bat. "How'd you get so good at that?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. It's not that hard. You just follow the ball and swing when it gets close." She sits down next to Akira.

"Yeah, I know how to hit a baseball, Ann. I was asking how you got so good at doing it. I don't remember you playing it back in middle school."

"I didn't," she says, with a shake of her head. "I didn't play anything. I was so bad at sports growing up."

"Well, you got good at it somehow," Ryuji mutters.

"Aww," she says, and reaches over Akira's shoulder and ruffles the blonde boy's hair. "You're so sweet."

Ryuji's cheeks flush, and he swats her hand away. "Knock it off."

A faint little hiss escapes Morgana. "Anyway! Akira, weren’t you going to tell us about that new Persona you used against Nakanohara?"

Akira slides his phone back into his pocket. “You’re right. I’ve been trying to find a time to bring that up. Thanks for reminding me." Akira had been too exhausted to explain everything during their exfiltration of Mementos.

The other thieves gather around, and Akira gives them a brief explanation of Igor and the Velvet Room.

“That,” Ann says, once he’s finished, “is insanely creepy.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji says. “I remember us talking about it, but I thought it was just a dream you were having. I didn’t realize you were still having it. You said he’s the one who gave you the Nav app?”

“He’s claimed to,” Akira replies, with a shrug. “He’s not big on answering questions. So, who knows?” He looks down at Morgana, who has sprawled out alongside him. “There’s something else weird, too. He doesn’t seem to know about Morgana.”

Morgana shakes his head. “I still have no idea what that means.”

“Are we sure this Igor thing is real?” Ann asks. Everyone looks at her, and she reddens a bit. “Well, I mean, okay. You dreamed you could summon a new Persona, right? And you had to use some of your other Personae to create it? Maybe this is your subconscious, or unconscious, or whatever, doing… I dunno, something?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes, but Akira nods. “I had the same thought,” he says. “If you want to get technical, I still don’t have any real, tangible proof Igor exists. We know the Metaverse exists because we’ve physically been there. We can bring things back from it and into it, and we affected Kamoshida through it. But is Igor somehow responsible for my use of Personae, or is he just some hoop my mind jumps through to try and make sense of this power?” He pats the pocket that holds his phone. “We all have the Nav app, but I’m the only one who’s interacted with Igor. Why didn’t you guys visit the Velvet Room after obtaining your Personae?”

“Maybe it has something to do with you being the Wild Card?” Morgana asks. “That would be my guess. Plus, you’re our leader. If Igor can combine Personae into other Personae, but the three of us can only use one Persona, there isn’t much reason for us to go to the Velvet Room.”

Akira nods. “Maybe.”

Ryuji chuckles. “Man, and I thought I was having a crazy month.”

Akira smiles up at them and sighs. “Well, at the least, we can try and look into this a bit. Who knows? Maybe someone else has been to the Velvet Room. Not to mention,” and Akira suppresses a shudder, “I’ve got no idea what Igor wants.”

#

"This one?" Haru asks.

"Enamored Orchid."

She nods and points to another. "This one?"

"Justice Jasmine."

"Very good," she replies. Her finger drifts over the shelf of flowers, and she hums a little tune to herself. "Oh, how about this one?"

Akira shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest. "Please. That's a Gold Gerbera. Piece of cake."

"You know," Morgana purrs from his spot on the shelf. "You don't sound nearly as cool as you think you do right now."

Haru nods, straightens her baseball cap and fixes him with a bright smile. "Well done, Akira! You've learned them all in such a short time. I'm impressed."

Her grin is a little too much for him, and Akira averts his gaze. "Uh, thanks."

Haru's smile soon grows tired, and she lets out a little sigh and stares out at the small crowd out in the mall's central corridor. "It certainly is slow tonight."

Akira yawns and nods. "I know. It's nice to get a break now and then, but time sure is dragging." He pulls out one of the shop's small metallic chairs and takes a seat. Morgana leaps down from his spot and settles in Akira's lap. He idly strokes the cat's head, and Haru smiles down at the two of them.

"So," she says, after a few moments. "You never told me."

“Never told you what?”

“Did Mako-chan like her gift?”

Akira, for all his self-control, feels his face flush. "She, uh, appreciated the gesture."

Haru sucks in her lips in a small smile and stares up at the ceiling. "That's all it was? A gesture?"

"That's not-"

"Because it certainly seemed more than a gesture."

"You have to understand-"

"A gesture is something small. I don't think sneaking into a classroom before school to hide a present in Mako-chan’s desk would be a gesture, Akira."

"Haru, I-"

"She certainly seemed taken by the gesture."

Akira blinks. "Did she?"

Haru shrugs. "But I suppose, if it were only a gesture, you wouldn't be too interested in her reaction."

She meets his eyes. They're narrowed. "You know," he says, tone flat. "You're kind of sadistic."

Haru blinks, and then they are both laughing. "I'm sorry," she says, once she catches her breath. "But she did seem to like it. I didn't get a good look at it, not that I was trying to pry. But she put it in her bag and left the room. Her cheeks were redder than yours right now."

"I see," Akira says, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. "That's... good."

They spend a few moments in companionable silence before Haru breaks it once more. "The other night, you seemed rather distracted, Akira."

"Hmm?"

"When that woman showed up and ordered those red roses, you seemed a little flustered."

"Well," Akira says, clearing his throat. "It was an unusual request."

"I suppose," Haru says and glances towards the front of the shop. Then, she leans in conspiratorially. "Want to know something interesting?"

"Uh, sure."

"I think that woman was involved with the Phantom Thieves," she whispers.

Akira and Morgana stiffen. "Crap," Morgana mewls.

Akira tries to settle into a more relaxed posture. "What would make you say that?" He asks calmly.

"You've seen the PhanSite, yes?" Haru asks.

Akira shrugs. "I've heard of it."

Haru pulls out her phone and flips to it. "Well, I was scrolling through it this afternoon..." She begins to relate the details of the woman's request and the strange instructions the PhanSite's admin had privately emailed to her. 'Go to Rafflesia in the Shibuya Underground Mall. Wear red. Order eleven roses. Exactly eleven.' Sure, they had given her some additional instructions. They'd told her to go to a jewelry store and ask to see a specific necklace, go to the music store and place a series of CDs in a particular order back onto the shelf. All of that to disguise who they were and from where they watched her.

But.

"And so, it looks like the Phantom Thieves managed to change his heart! Isn't that incredible?"

"Yeah," Akira says. "Amazing."

"We need to be more careful," Morgana says. "We were way too careless."

Akira nods. It was stupid to use a place we frequent. Hell, a place I work! If someone ever got suspicious, all they had to do was follow the path the woman took through the mall, and they'd cross paths with him. Haru continues to chatter away, but Akira’s mind begins to backtrack, and he recalls Igor’s words. If they didn’t notice this, had they missed something else?

#

Ryuji leans across the table towards Akira. “So, I’ve been thinking about that Yukio Kan, guy.”

Mishima spins around in his chair and glances at them. “That guy who died? What about him?”

Akira doesn’t glare at Ryuji, but the look he gives him is not the warmest. “Nothing,” he assures Mishima, then thinks better of it. “I was at the hotel when he died. It’s nothing and-“

“You were?” Mishima asks, eyes wide. “Whoa.” He glances back at the door of the diner.

“Anyway,” Ryuji cuts in. “I was thinking about what you said and about how the official story definitely isn’t what happened. You said there were some guys in there with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Akira replies with a nod. “I ran out before-”

“Wait,” Mishima interrupts. “You actually saw him die? Of his heart attack?”

“Wasn’t a heart attack, dude,” Ryuji tells him. “Akira says he was, like, vomiting black stuff and-”

“Seriously?” Mishima asks.

“Look,” Akira quickly cuts in. “I’d rather not talk about this right now.” Akira gives Ryuji a look and compels him to understand that they’ll talk about this later, then takes a sip of his tea and asks Mishima, “What’d you keep looking at the door for?” He asks.

Mishima glances back at the two boys. “Huh? What’d you mean?”

“Akira’s right,” Ryuji says, mouth half-filled with udon. “You’ve been staring at that door for, like, ten minutes now. You expectin’ someone else?”

“N-no. Well…”

Morgana squirms inside Akira’s bag. “He’s up to something.”

Akira’s eyes narrow. “What’s going on?” It’s not terribly late, but the dinner crowds have gone home. The diner is empty, save for a few scattered couples and groups of friends.

Mishima glances back towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Yes!” He says, then raises his hand in the air.

Ryuji and Akira turn to look, and their eyes bulge. Nakanohara Natsuhiko stands in the diner’s doorway, spots them, and begins to walk over.

“What’s going on?” Ryuji asks, then turns to Mishima. “What the hell is going on?”

Akira’s hands clench. “What did you do?”

“What is it?” Morgana mewls. “What’s wrong, guys?”

Mishima pales. “I didn’t do anything. I figured-“ but then Nakanohara stands next to their table and regards the three teenagers.

Morgana, from his little hole in Akira’s bag, cries, “Oh, crap!”

“May I, um, sit?” He asks.

“Sure,” Mishima says and slides over.

“No,” both Ryuji and Akira say. Ryuji’s eyes narrow. “We don’t know who you are, man. So, like, get your own table.”

Nakanohara’s eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was told-“

“No, it’s fine,” Mishima says and looks at the other two boys. “You guys are gonna want to hear him out.”

Morgana begins to moan, “Get him out of here!” But it is too late.

Nakanohara sits down. He wears a suit similar to the one he wore in Mementos. He sets a briefcase down on the ground alongside him. He dips his head. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?” Akira asks, already guessing where this conversation is going.

Nakanohara smiles. “For what you did. To me. For me. I feel a lot better than I have in a while.”

“We don’t-“ Ryuji starts.

“You are members of the Phantom Thieves, yes?” Nakanohara asks. Mishima beams at the two of them. Ryuji and Akira glance at one another. They say nothing. “Right, of course. You wouldn’t want your identities known.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know what you did to me, but the night after I got that Calling Card, I just… felt different. I realized what I’d done to my ex-girlfriend, and I knew how horrible I’d been. I called her to tell her I was sorry. She didn’t forgive me, but I wasn’t expecting her to, and that’s fine. I went on the PhanSite, and saw what she’d written. I can’t believe I’d done something to scare her that much. I reached out to the admin, and here I am.”

“So,” Ryuji says. “The only reason you’re here is to thank us?”

“Ryuji!” Morgana growls. Akira shuts his eyes. Goddammit.

Nakanohara smiles. “Well, no. I mean, I do want to thank you for changing my heart. But, there’s something else I want to talk about.”

“And what’s that?” Akira asks.

Nakanohara meets Akira’s eyes. “I’d like to request that you change someone’s heart.”

Ryuji scoffs, crosses his arms, and leans back in his seat. “There’s a site for that, man. What’re you tellin’ us for?”

Nakanohara blinks. “Well, I did originally go to the site to make the request, but the admin-”

Mishima cuts him off. “The guy he wants to request is a big deal, and I figured it’d be better if we kept it off the site for now. He’ll never see us coming that way.”

Akira turns his eyes to Mishima. ‘Us?’

“This is not how this is supposed to work,” Morgana growls.

“So, then,” Ryuji asks with a shrug. “Who’s this big shot?”

Nakanohara pales a bit, swallows, and says, “Ichiryusai Madarame.”

#

Kamoshida sits in the room. Its walls are a dull gray, and the air tastes stale in his nostrils and upon his tongue. It has been a long few days. He is so tired.

The two detectives regard each other from across the table. "I think that's enough for tonight," the one says. They had given their names, but Kamoshida doesn't remember them.

The door opens, and a uniformed officer steps in. He walks up to the nearest detective and whispers something in his ear. "Seriously?" The man asks in response—the officer shrugs. The detective turns to his partner and whispers something to him.

"That right?" The second asks.

Kamoshida follows this exchange, uncomprehending.

Both detectives stand and follow the officer out the door, without another word to the disgraced Olympian.

He sits in the quiet, alone with his terrible thoughts.

Then the door opens.

A thin figure steps inside. He is young. Sandy brown hair falls to his shoulders, but it is immaculate in its style. He wears a school's tan uniform, but Kamoshida does not recognize the institution. Black gloves cover his hands.

He carries with him a steel briefcase, and after shutting the door behind him, sets it on the table. The noise is sharp, single, and painful. Kamoshida shrinks from it.

When the boy speaks, his words are smooth, silken. "A man spends his days fulfilling whatever sick desire pops into his head, beyond reproach or impeachment. Then, without warning, he confesses to it all. Turns himself over to the authorities. Demands he be arrested and made to pay for his crimes." The boy unsnaps the briefcase and opens it, withdrawing a pencil, a pad of paper, and a tape recorder. "One might say you had a complete and sudden change of heart."

"Who are you?" Kamoshida asks, his voice a quiet whimper.

"Unimportant." The boy pulls out one of the chairs previously occupied by the detectives and sits. "My name doesn't matter to you, though it's not as if it's a secret. Soon enough, you'll be prosecuted and jailed. Your name will tarnish headlines, and you'll be the talk of Tokyo for a week, perhaps two. Then you'll vanish. Forgotten. Just like everyone else." He holds up a solitary, black-gloved finger. "But, before all that happens, Suguru Kamoshida, I need you to relate every detail of the past, let's say… six months, to me. I want to know who you spoke to and what you said to them. I want to know who you touched, raped, and hurt. And then I want you to tell me again. And then again, and then again, until you are sure that you have left nothing out."

"Why?"

"Questions don't become you. Do yourself one last favor and do what I tell you."

Their eyes meet until Kamoshida can no longer hold the gaze. "Okay," he mumbles. "I'll tell you everything."

Goro Akechi smirks. It is an awful thing to behold.

He presses the appropriate button on the tape recorder.

Notes:

UPDATE 4/1/2022: This concludes the first Mini-Arc, bridging the gap between Kamoshida and Madarame!

It always bothered me that the PTs never actually looked for evidence that the Mementos Targets were committing crimes. Anywho, thanks for reading, as always!

EDIT: Regarding Mementos and Investigations:

A lot of people are saying that investigating a Mementos target isn't necessary, as their very presence in Mementos proves their guilt.

I disagree.

Let me pose a question. How does Mementos work? A few people and I have discussed this in the comments over the past few months, and the general consensus seems to be, no one really knows.

For instance:

- Mementos is supposedly Humanity's palace. But what does that mean, geographically? If someone lives in Canada, and their desires become distorted, would they show up in Mementos? Even though Mementos is apparently located in Tokyo? If Mementos is EVERYONE'S Palace, it would stand to reason that EVERYONE'S shadow would be located there, but we never have confirmation or denial of that.
- How do the shadows work? We know what shadows are, but how do they work within the context of Mementos? Can you locate anyone in Mementos, just by saying their name into the Nav? If you said, 'Dowdz' and 'Mementos' into the Nav, would you be able to locate my shadow? What if my desires are not distorted? What if I'm just chugging along, happily through my life, content? Would I even get a shadow? Or do shadows only appear when desires are distorted? If that's the case, then what about all those people getting carted around on the trains?

So, Mementos, by itself, was always given a rather hand-wavy explanation.

But. This is about the investigation of a Mementos target.

Let's say, for instance, I have a desire for intimacy. Being alone, I feed this desire by the frequent and unhealthy use of an escort service. The more I do this, the more my desires distort, until my views on women are... well, let's just say 'bad.' That being said, I have not actually hurt anyone. All I have done is engaged in consentual inter-course with paid professionals (BTW, I feel like I shouldn't have to point this out, but I'm not recommending or justifying prostitution here, I'm using it an as example). So, I pop off a vortex in Mementos, and my shadow starts pacing around in the dark and talking about how much he loves to bang escorts, or whatever.

Now, let's say someone who is pissed off at me, for whatever reason, decides to hop on the PhanSite and post a request. 'Dear Phantom Thieves, please change Dowdz's heart, because he's robbing old people and eating babies!' In game, the Phantom Thieves would take one look at that, and hop in Mementos. They can do this, because my desires ARE distorted, but THEY ARE NOT distorted in the way the request makes them seem. The Phantom Thieves are coming to change my heart based on nothing more than my name appearing in Mementos, and some internet stranger's word.

That's pretty fucked up.

Now, in that example, my desires were distorted.

But remember how no one is quite sure how Mementos works? Well, what if you really CAN find anyone's shadow in Mementos? What if the qualification for being in Mementos, is that you DON'T have a Persona? If that's the case, anyone could be in Mementos, and anyone could post anything onto the PhanSite about anyone.

The Phantom Thieves may not have reasoned all this out themselves, but think about it from another angle.

Akira Kurusu is a kid accused of a crime he never committed. He is forced to transfer schools and change cities. At his new school, someone (cough cough Mishima cough cough) posts his record online and the rumor mill begins to churn. Akira himself hears numerous fantasies about all kinds of horrible shit he's supposedly done.

So, Akira has - phrase it however you'd like - been the victim of internet bullying. So, I would think that Akira, of all people, would choose NOT to just jump into a Mementos Request without confirming the crime first. Because if he does that, he's just doing the exact same thing that was done to him.

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

All information looks like noise until you break the code.

- Neal Stephenson, Snow Crash

 

5/6

Akira flips the business card over his middle finger, rolling it along his knuckles. An aggressive but otherwise welcome gust of wind jars the card loose and threatens to carry it off, but Akira manages to snatch it out of the air and, embarrassed, slides it back into his pocket.

"Geez," Ann says. She sits atop the roof's A/C unit, legs kicking idly, a frown on her face. If she saw Akira's near loss of a lead, she doesn't mention it. "Dozens of kids?"

Ryuji nods without looking up from his phone, his thumbs manic across the screen. "That's what Nakanohara said. This Madarame asshole takes em in, 'tutors' them, and just plagiarizes whatever they make. Then they're back out on the street."

"That's..." Ann trails off, trying to find the words. After a moment, all she can settle on is, "Wow."

"Yeah, no kidding."

It is their first day back to school, lunchtime, and the day is overcast, muggy, and oppressive. Akira tugs at the collar of his uniform and laments it does little to cool him off.

"But," Morgana says. "If this is true, then Madarame is the perfect target."

Ryuji grins. "Totally. I can see why Mishima wanted to keep his name off the PhanSite." He holds up his phone. "He's like, a huge deal."

Ann hops down, leans forward, and reads the text on Ryuji's phone. "So he's famous? I've never heard of him."

Ryuji rolls his eyes, his grin becoming self-satisfied. "That's cause you got no class."

Ann swings her hand to smack the back of his head, but Ryuji ducks, and darts away from her, laughing. "Like you do?" Ann snaps at his back.

"Nakanohara didn't even know about the other victims," Akira says, and pats the pocket holding the business card. "A reporter approached him and gave him 'vague' details."

"'Vague?'" Ann asks, turning to Akira.

"Nakanohara's words," Ryuji replies and says, "Ichiko Ohya," sounding out the name phonetically. "Dude told us if we wanted to know more, we need to contact her."

Morgana bobs his head in a nod. "But obviously, we can't just call her up and say, 'Hi, we're the Phantom Thieves. Wanna tell us about Madarame?' We need a plan." Morgana drifts towards the center of the group, absently rubbing himself against Akira's uniformed leg before rearing back on his hind legs and spreading his front paws in approximating a shrug. "One that doesn't expose us as Phantom Thieves."

Ann folds her arms across her chest. "Hold on. Isn't this premature and stuff? How do we even know Madarame has a Palace?"

"Oh," Ryuji says, swiping his fingers across his phone. "He's got a Palace. Check it." He holds up his screen. Sure enough, within the Nav app, a new menu item has appeared beneath the name 'Suguru Kamoshida.' It reads 'Ichiryusai Madarame.' "It's the first thing Akira and me checked once Nakanohara left. 'Match Found' and everything. We just need some digging for the rest of the keywords."

"You guys stumbled across the location and distortion of Kamoshida's Palace," Ann says, smiling and turning to Akira. "Is it too much to hope that Ryuji just crashes his way inside again?"

Akira laughs as Ryuji protests with a loud, "Hey!" but then shakes his head. "We don't need the distortion for Madarame's Palace. We only need the location."

The three other thieves turn to look at him, with Morgana's head snapping around in a way he seemed to think was undignified after the fact.

"Huh?" Ryuji asks. "What'd you mean?"

Akira nods toward Morgana. "All we need is the location of Madarame's Palace. Once we know where it is, Morgana can just pop in and report back on the distortion."

The silence elongates until a dry wind stirs the group, and Morgana says, "Okay...well, I mean, yeah. I guess. I didn't know Kamoshida's distortion either. I just knew there was a Palace at the school, and I entered the Metaverse. That's when I saw his Palace was a Castle."

"Yeah, but," Ryuji replies, pointing at his phone. "There's a whole spot for it here."

"The app requires all the keywords to take us to the Metaverse. But Morgana doesn't need the app to travel there. The app was - presumably - designed and given to us by Igor. And Igor doesn't know about Morgana."

I think.

Ann's face defaults into a pout. "Um, I'm confused."

Akira tries to put his words together. "It's not clear what Igor knows," he says after a moment. "He's always vague and talks in circles. I met Ryuji and Morgana at roughly the same time, but Igor has only ever referred to you, Ryuji. He knew when we stopped Kamoshida, but didn't reference anything specific. He's hinted he can read my mind, but when I mentioned Morgana out loud, he seemed to have no idea who I was talking about." Akira shrugs. "Igor gave us the app to access Palaces, but why would he require us to find the distortion if one of our team members could just go in and out of any Palace they wanted without it?

"And believe me," Akira says, holding up a hand when he sees Ann's mouth opening. "I realize this brings up many new questions about him. But. If all we need is the location of Madarame's Palace, and Morgana can fill in the blanks, why not do it?"

Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets. "Kinda feels like cheating."

"We are thieves," Morgana points out. "We should exploit what we can."

"Exactly," Akira says. He glances at Ann. "Sorry, Ann. Go ahead."

Ann's brows crease and worry etches itself across her features. "Okay, I get it. That's an awesome advantage. But Akira, are you sure you should be trusting this Igor guy?"

A smirk splits Akira's face, but he manages to stifle the laugh that wants to erupt from him. "Hell no, I don't trust him," he says. "Sure, merging Personae will be handy, but I'd give that up for some answers. I'm preparing a list of things to ask Igor the next time I visit the Velvet Room. Once I finish, I'll run it by you guys, and we can add whatever. But beyond that? I'm planning on keeping the Velvet Room at arm's length. At least until we can learn more about it. Besides, Igor not knowing about Morgana does seem to prove something."

"What's that?" Morgana asks.

"That he's not some omnipotent god or anything. He doesn't know everything."

Ann has nothing to say about this, and Morgana is quiet. Only Ryuji thinks to say, "I'm all for stopping bad guys, but fighting gods isn't something I'm really up for, man. If you want to learn more about the Metaverse from Igor, go for it. But maybe watch your step?"

"I'll be careful," Akira promises. "As I said, if there's anything you want to ask, let me know. I'll put it on my list."

"I'm sure the mysterious, creepy guy with invisible monster sidekicks will appreciate you showing up with a 'To-Do' list," Ann points out. Akira can only shrug, a gesture quickly becoming muscle memorized.

Morgana clears his throat with sounds more like a purr. "Well, this is all great and stuff, but don't forget that my memory is hazy up until I met you guys. I'll try to infiltrate Madarame's Palace without us learning the keywords first, but I can't guarantee it'll work."

"That's alright," Akira says. "If it doesn't, we're no worse off than before. We still need the location of the Palace. Hopefully, this reporter can help us."

"How are you going to get in contact with her?" Ann asks.

"What're you gonna say to her?" Ryuji asks.

Akira smiles at his friends. "I'm still working on all that."

A throat clears. "Excuse me?"

Ann yelps and stiffens. Ryuji jumps with a yell.

Mishima stands in the roof's doorway, only his head poking out.

"Damn, dude," Ryuji shouts. "Stop doing that!"

Mishima dips his head and mumbles, "Sorry."

"It's alright," Akira says, sitting in one of the many strewn-about chairs scattered across the roof. "I asked him here." Morgana hops onto the cracked armrest beside Akira. "I wanted to talk to him about some stuff." He turns to face Ryuji and Ann. "Do you guys mind if it's in private?"

Ann blinks, but Ryuji stretches his arms overhead. "No sweat, bro. I'm dying out here anyway. We'll leave it to you." Mishima exits onto the roof proper, and Ryuji pats him on the shoulder as they pass one another. "C'mon Ann," Ryuji calls, before vanishing through the door.

"Everything good?" Ann asks.

Akira provides her with a smile and nods. "Yep."

"O-okay," Ann replies, but gives both boys a funny look before following Ryuji downstairs.

Mishima brightens a bit when both are gone. "I'm glad you asked me up here," he says. "I found something out about-"

Akira holds up his hand, and Mishima's mouth snaps shut. He had not expected the gesture to actually work and feels a short swell of pride at how easy it was to silence Mishima. Akira removes his phone from his pocket and queues up the PhanSite. "I wanted to talk to you about this," he says, turning the screen so Mishima can see. Akira forces a sheepish grin onto his face. "Honestly, I'm pretty inept at this stuff. I'm wondering how..." He trails off, pretending to search for the right word. "Safe? Yeah. I'm wondering how safe the site is?"

"Safe?" Mishima asks, cocking his head a bit.

"You're the admin," Akira replies, and gestures towards another chair on the roof. After a moment's hesitation, Mishima slides it over and takes a seat. "Is it safe? Secure? Would that be the better word?"

Mishima releases a deep breath and slumps a bit in the chair. "Oh man, you had me freaked out." He laughs without a hint of nervousness. "Don't worry. The site is totally secure." He begins to list a series of terms. Akira recognizes a few, but only in their context within some fiction he's read, and he's no idea what they mean in reality.

Anonymous email accounts. Linked to VPNs. Build on proxy servers. ODN redundancies built-in to minimize the-

Morgana glances at Akira. "Sounds like he knows what he's talking about."

Yeah, Akira thinks. But how would I know? He could be rattling off a bunch of made-up bullshit—a script from some sci-fi show.

So, what do you want to do? A voice in his head asks.

I've got no choice. I need to learn this crap.

Mishima's spiel ends, and Akira says, "You're good at this stuff, huh?"

Mishima blushes and nods. "I guess so. It's a hobby."

"Some hobby. How'd you learn so much about it?"

"I've been interested since I was a kid. The knowledge is out there. You just have to know how to apply it. Learn by doing, you know?"

"Have you built a lot of websites for criminal organizations?"

Mishima smiles. "Heh. No. I just mean that there are places online where you can experiment. That's all."

"So, I could learn it?"

Mishima sits up straighter. "Sure! You'd need a set-up, though. What do you have at your place?"

"What'd you mean?" Akira asks.

"Your computer," Mishima says, as if he were repeating something obvious. "What are its specs?" Akira tells Mishima that he does not presently own a computer, and Mishima blanches. "Are you joking?"

"No," Akira replies, slightly offended at the boy's shock. "I've got my phone."

First Ryuji's body stats, now Mishima's computer specs. It wasn't as if Akira were a Luddite.

Mishima sighs in a way Akira really doesn't appreciate. "That's a start, I guess. But a computer is better if you want to learn this stuff." Akira starts to reply, but Mishima cuts in. "Actually, this reminds me of what I wanted to talk to you about."

As Akira laments having lost control of the conversation, Mishima leans in, quite conspiratorially despite their being alone - sans Morgana. "I did a little digging on that stuff you were talking about yesterday."

Who told you to do any digging?

"What 'stuff?'" Akira asks.

"Remember? Ryuji mentioned that Yukio Kan guy. How all that black stuff came out of his eyes and mouth? The guy you saw-"

"Die," Akira snaps, and shoves the mental image away. "Yes, I remember. Thank you." He takes a moment and brings his breathing back down to normal. "I remember," he repeats and refocuses on Mishima. "Why were you looking into that?"

"Because of that black stuff. It reminded me of something." Mishima glances back at the door to the roof. It remains only slightly ajar. Seemingly satisfied, Mishima continues, "A few months ago, after the mental shutdowns started, there were a ton of posts about them. People near the shutdowns reported seeing all kinds of crazy stuff. A few people said they saw 'black ooze' leaking out of the victims."

The realization settles over Akira. "Are you saying you think Yukio Kan suffered a mental shutdown?" A mental shutdown reported as a heart attack.

Mishima nods, then shrugs. "Well, I mean, maybe. It's hard to trust anything you find on those boards. A few were on the deep web, which is pretty shady."

Akira feels his brows lift as he regards the boy. "You hang out on the deep web? Isn't that the place with all the drug sales? And, like, murder?"

Mishima giggles and rolls his eyes. "Man, you really are a noob. The deep web is really just a bunch of sites you can't access via your standard search engines or browsers. And by a bunch, I mean a bunch. Most people think it's all crazy drugs, weapons, and porn, and sure, there is that side of it, but there are all kinds of stuff there. I mostly hang out on the privacy boards, but there are some spooky supernatural sites too.

"That's where I read about the mental shutdowns. I didn't pay much attention. The ooze was only one of a couple of things people reported seeing. Others claim they saw aliens, the ghosts of children, human-sized crows, lots of nonsense."

Akira considers this, and when he glances at Morgana, he can tell the cat is doing the same. "Do you think...?" Morgana starts, trailing off. Akira nods slightly, not wanting to look to Mishima like he's talking to a cat. Perhaps there was a slim chance they could use this resource to find something on the Metaverse, or even on Igor and the Velvet Room. Not that Akira had any idea how to navigate it.

"What else did it say?" Akira asks. "About the mental shutdowns?"

"I didn't find anything recent," Mishima says with a shrug. "Which is kind of weird since the shutdowns are still happening. I just thought I'd let you know, since it seemed like a big deal to you guys."

Akira spends the next few minutes pressing Mishima on how someone like Akira might get access to these sites. Once Mishima begins his second technobabble list of the day, Akira waves away any further explanation. "Forget that. You say I can find this stuff in Akihabara?"

"Well, to get on the sites we're talking about, you'll need software."

"Right, right. Look, why don't you and I go to Akihabara together?"

"Seriously?" Mishima asks, looking delighted.

"I need someone who knows what they're doing," Akira replies, doing his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his guts. "And I need someone I can trust. I can trust you, right?"

"Absolutely," Mishima says, nodding vehemently.

"Once we've got the equipment, I'll need you to show me how to set it up and access those sites. Are you okay with that?" Again, Mishima nods. "Good. Listen, it's important that you stay quiet about this, yeah? No talking about it at school or texting about it. We talk about it in person, in private."

"Got it. Understood. No problem," Mishima says.

I started this conversation wanting to take over as admin of the PhanSite, Akira thinks.

And now you've got a playdate with Mishima, a voice in his head says.

It can't be helped. Ryuji and Ann don't know this technical stuff either. It's a gamble, but we need Mishima close to us for now.

Mishima says something else, but Akira's mind is drifting. Still, it's clear Kan didn't die of a heart attack. These mental shutdowns don't have anything to do with Madarame, but it can't hurt to learn as much as we can about them.

"Let's get back to the PhanSite," Akira says, cutting off Mishima. "I've got some ideas on how requests should work going forward." Keeping the details vague, he walks Mishima through what happened with Haru at Rafflesia and the plan's exposed flaws.

The Requests required layers for safety.

From now on, anyone with a Request had to post it on the PhanSite, but could not include the intended target's name.

After selecting a Request, the Phantom Thieves would send a private message to the poster, and only in response to that could the target's name be revealed.

Once the Phantom Thieves changed the target's heart, the original poster may make a follow-up post on the PhanSite, detailing the resolution.

However, all communication with the Phantom Thieves - messages, instructions, and whatnot - had to be kept vague or omitted entirely.

Anyone who posted their target's name on the site would find their Request rejected and deleted.

"This is to protect anonymity," Akira says. "You understand."

"Okay," Mishima says, eyes bright. "We can do that. I'll start planning that out and get to work implementing it." The boy pulls out his phone and checks the time. "Oh man, lunch is almost over. We should get back to class."

"Right," Akira says, standing. "One more thing, though." He leans towards Mishima and does his best to keep his voice neutral. "Don't pull what you did with Nakanohara, again."

Despite Akira's efforts, Mishima pales a bit. "R-right. Sorry."

Akira stifles a sigh and hesitantly raises his hand to pat Mishima on the shoulder, mirroring Ryuji's gesture from earlier. "But, thanks for all your help. We wouldn't even have the PhanSite without you, let alone a way of accepting Requests. So... yeah. Thank you."

Mishima beams.

#

"I dunno, man," Ryuji says, rubbing his head. "That stuff sounds like it's going to give me a headache."

After school, Akira and the other Thieves relocated to a small corner cafe in Shibuya, and a quiet table in the corner.

"Better a headache than handcuffs, right?" Akira asks.

"But all this tech stuff?" Ryuji asks. "I hate to break this to everyone, but that's not something any of us are good at."

"Which is why we need Mishima," Akira points out. Ann and Ryuji give him looks, and Akira replies, "Trust me, I'm not exactly thrilled. But until we understand how to run the PhanSite ourselves, we'll need his help. Plus, it'll be worth it if we can find information on the Metaverse or the Velvet Room."

"Not to mention this mental shutdown stuff," Morgana says.

Ryuji raises his hands in surrender. "Alright. Just don't expect us to become, I don't know, elite hackers or anything."

Ann rolls her eyes. "I don't think there's any danger of that."

Ryuji starts to frown at her, but shakes his head instead. "What's the game plan in the meantime?"

"We investigate Madarame," Morgana says. "Which means we'll need to reach out to that reporter discreetly."

"I've got an idea on how to do that," Akira says. "We've also got the Mementos Requests."

Ann pulls out her phone. "I haven't checked since Nakanohara. Any good ones?"

Ryuji clears his throat and sits a little straighter. "There's one I noticed. I recognized the name. There's a second-year named Minoru Maehara. He's claiming that Daisuke Takanashi is bullying him."

Akira narrows his eyes. "A second-year? You mean he's a Shujin student?"

"Well, yeah."

"A bully?" Morgana asks, frowning. "Isn't that a step backward? We took down Kamoshida and stopped a stalker. Is a bully such a huge deal?"

Ann taps to the appropriate screen. "Here it is. ‘Dear Phantom Thieves, My old friend Daisuke Takanashi is bullying me. He’s forcing me to give him money and the answers for tests. He’s not a bad guy, not really, but I don’t know how to get him back to the way he was. Please, Phantom Thieves, I know you guys are probably more concerned with jerks like Kamoshida, but it’d be great if you could help change his heart. Your fan, Minoru Maehara.’”

"Sounds serious," Ryuji says.

"Sounds small," Morgana replies.

Akira takes out his phone and queues up the Request. "If we keep changing the hearts of people at Shujin, that'll point to a clear connection between the school and us."

"But we can't just ignore it," Ryuji replies, not sounding desperate but starting to sound incensed. "He's asking for our help."

"Shujin aside," Morgana says, maneuvering himself to Akira's lap to read the phone's screen. "We have to be selective in what we choose to do. If we become bigger names in the future, the number of Requests will increase. We can't help everyone."

"But we can help Maehara," Ryuji points out. "We're not too big yet."

"Besides," Ann says, scrolling through her phone. "The rest of these Requests suck. I'm with Ryuji. If Maehara thinks the Phantom Thieves can help, shouldn't we try?"

Akira queues back to the list of public Requests and starts to scroll. Morgana follows along. The cat eventually capitulates. "Well... if there aren't any other good ones, then maybe we should." He glances up at Akira. "What'd you think?"

Akira thinks for a few moments. "If we're going to do this one, we need to make sure no one can trace it back to us." He shakes his head and puts his phone away. "Let's give that some thought, but we also need to tail Maehara and see if Takanashi's bullying him. The last thing we want is to change a heart for no reason."

Ryuji cracks his knuckles and smirks. "Time for some action!"

#

Akira steps out of the office. Sojiro stands from where he's presumably been sitting for the last forty-five minutes, stretches, and nods to Akira. The two walk out of the waiting area and into the night.

"Well?" Sojiro asks, once they're well away from the building. "How was it?"

Akira considers lying but sees no real reason to do so. "I didn't like it," he admits instead.

Sojiro frowns, but before he can say anything, Akira continues. "I tried. I did. But I didn't know where to start, and whenever I tried, she'd interrupt and start talking about guided meditation or some new book she co-authored that could help with teenage anxiety. I was involved in a train crash. I'm not stressed about, like, mid-terms or something."

The look on Sojiro's face softens as Akira speaks. "No luck then?" He asks once Akira finishes.

"I just didn't feel comfortable talking to her. That's the point, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," Sojiro says, quickly. Then, he clears his throat. "But, I imagine therapy isn't much good if you're not okay with the person you're talking to." Sojiro reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, his gaze falling to the sidewalk. "Guess I'll keep looking. Sorry it wasn't what you hoped it would be."

"It's fine," Akira says, and manages not to shrug. "I appreciate you trying."

The truth was, Akira had gone into the session with almost no expectations.

After concluding the meeting with the Phantom Thieves, Akira returned to LeBlanc intending to work on the problem of the Daisuke Takanashi operation. Only, when he'd stepped inside, Sojiro had bluntly reminded him that his first therapy session had been scheduled for that evening. So Akira had to deposit his bookbag and Morgana up in his room and scarf down some food before joining the older man outside. Akira had figured they'd drive, but Sojiro informed him the office was on the other side of Setagaya Park and could be reached with a brisk walk. Akira scolded himself for forgetting all this. Sojiro had told him that he'd made this appointment the other night, but it had seemed unimportant compared to everything else. So Akira had placed it out of his mind.

Having had no time to prepare, Akira found himself tongue-tied as he sat across from the middle-aged woman in the conservative jacket, an open notebook on her lap. Akira had tried to determine where best to begin, but the events of the last few months had become so cluttered in his mind that he didn't know which thread to pull on first. So - it seemed to Akira - the woman had filled the silence with her own prattle, and Akira sat in near silence for the entire session.

Akira wouldn't have even agreed to go to therapy if Sojiro and Takemi hadn't pushed. He understood the necessity - his stress levels had never been so high - but the idea of seeking a therapist felt like some box he had to check to move on with his life. At least now, when Takemi asked about his search, he could answer in the affirmative.

You fulfilled the obligation, a voice in his mind noted. You looked for a therapist. No one ever asked you to keep looking.

No, Akira thinks right back. I was supposed to talk to a therapist. And I didn't do much of that in there. Akira doubted Takemi would appreciate the distinction.

Sojiro didn't seem ready to give up either. Akira and the older man continued to shuffle their way back to LeBlanc. Akira let the thoughts of therapy fade from his mind. He still had work to do.

 

5/7

"God, would you hurry up?" Ann demands, fists on her hips. "You're taking forever!"

Ryuji tears his face away from his phone long enough to scowl at her. "I'm coming," he insists, returning to the screen. "Just give me a minute. Damn."

"We're going to lose Maehara if we don't keep moving," Morgana snaps from where he stands between the two. "Get the lead out, Bonehead!"

The three briskly stride towards the Aoyoma-Itchome train station. Saturday, after school, the three had snuck off after Maehara as the second-year departed Shujin.

"Why do we even need to do this?" Ryuji asks, gesturing towards Ann. "Couldn't Mona just follow him and find out?"

Ann groans. "Weren't you all psyched about 'action time' or whatever yesterday?"

"And what happens if Maehara goes indoors?" Morgana asks. "I can't just waltz in anywhere I like."

"You can't?" Ryuji asks.

"N-no," Morgana replies. "I could try sneaking in, but what if Maehara goes into a... I don't know, a dog place?"

Ryuji turns to face the cat. Ann stares at Morgana as well. "A 'dog place?'" Ann asks.

"It-it could happen," Morgana insists, casting glances between them.

"Fine, fine," Ryuji mutters. "Let me send my message, and we can make sure Maehara ain't going to any 'dog places.'"

"Shut up," Morgana hisses.

"Ryuji, come on," Ann demands, starting to march back towards the boy. "We're gonna lose him!"

Ann begins to reach for the phone, but Ryuji twists himself away and shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Okay. Okay!"

"Who're you even texting anyway?" Ann asks as they resume walking. "Is it Akira?"

"No," Ryuji replies, speeding up to put some distance between himself and Ann. "It was... never mind. It was no one."

"What?" Ann asks, a taunting grin breaking out over her face. "Was it your mom or something?" Ryuji's face reddens, and Ann's smile grows even more jeering. "Aww, is she checking up on you?"

"You're seriously texting your mom during an undercover operation?" Morgana asks, sounding disgusted.

"Undercover?" Ryuji asks, and jabs a finger at the sky. "We're in broad freakin' daylight. Just drop it, okay?" He peers ahead of the group, squinting. "Where'd Maehara go?"

Ann and Morgana snap their heads around, following Ryuji's gaze down the street. "Uh oh," Ann says.

"Nice going, Ryuji," Morgana hisses.

"Hey, I'm not the only one who was supposed to be keepin' an eye out!" The three power walk towards where they last saw Maehara and find themselves outside a small bookshop with an alley running off to their left.

"You guys see him?" Ann asks.

Morgana attempts to peer into the bookshop. "Did he go inside?"

"There," is all Ryuji says. Ann turns to find him pointing down the alley, his brow knotted and lip twitching into a snarl. She moves up next to him and peers into the dim alley, and sees the pudgy body of Maehara on the ground. Another boy in a Shujin uniform stands over him. It is apparent what is happening.

"Okay," Morgana says, joining them. "Looks like confirmation to me. Let's get out-" But Ryuji is storming down the alley before Morgana can complete his sentence. A shout of "Knock it off" rings out and draws a few eyes from nearby pedestrians, who promptly return to ignoring it all.

"Ryuji," Ann calls after him.

"Low profile," Morgana shouts. "Low profile!" The cat turns a pleading glance up to Ann. "Lady Ann, you need to go after him. I'll stay here, keep an eye out, and make sure no one else shows up. But we need to get him out of there!"

Ann begins to march down the alley as the other boy, whom she now recognizes as Daisuke Takanashi, turns towards Ryuji and grimaces. Ann tries on a scowl, but even as she walks, she's unsure which boy should be subject to it.

"What're you doing to him?" Ryuji asks, when he stops alongside the two.

Takanashi rolls his eyes. "Oh, piss off, Sakamoto. This is between us." He focuses on the boy on the ground. "Right, piggy?"

Maehara's eyes never venture higher than anyone's knees. "Y-yeah," he mumbles.

"See?" Takanashi asks, shrugging.

"Like hell." Ryuji takes a step forward, and Takanashi takes one back. The blonde boy positions himself between the two. "I saw you knock him down."

"It's his fault. I asked him nicely for the answers to the test he had a period ahead of me. The idiot gave me the wrong ones."

"B-but," Maehara protests. "I told you I'm not very good at history. I warned you yesterday!"

"Then you should've cheated off someone near you and then given me the answers, fatass!"

Maehara shudders, and nods as if he agreed he should've thought of that.

"Stop it," Ann says, finally finding her voice and herself among the boys. "Don't talk to him like that."

Takanashi looks at her. Then he looks her up and down. "Takamaki? Seriously? What're you doing here with this loser?"

Ann's eyes narrow. Crap, better think fast. We need an alibi. "We're on a date."

Takanashi blinks. Ryuji reddens.

"Really?" Takanashi asks.

"Yep," Ryuji bumbles out, back suddenly straight. "We are on a date. That is definitely what is happening right now."

Ann manages to not sigh at Ryuji's awful acting. And I thought I was terrible.

"Wow," Takanashi says. "You sure are easy, Takamaki. Kamoshida had the right idea. Maybe I should've asked Kurusu to help you score with me."

Ann opens her mouth to retort, but then something happens.

One minute, Takanashi leers at her, and the next, he is up against the alley's wall, his uniform lapels wrapped in Ryuji's fists. The snarl seems to have found its way onto Ryuji's face.

"Say that again," Ryuji says, his voice low. "Please."

"Ryuji," Ann says because she cannot think of anything else.

Ryuji looks back at her, and his expression loses some of its intensity. He lets Takanashi go. "Get lost, man."

Takanashi makes a show of dusting himself off as if he were never genuinely concerned. "Whatever, Sakamoto. You're all bark."

"Keep talking," Ryuji insists. "Seriously."

Takanashi shrugs and starts to walk off. "We'll settle up later, Piggy," he calls, and gives a lazy wave before he's down the alley and gone.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, and when he exhales it, his shoulders slump forward, and his posture creens to the side a bit. He turns to Maehara, who remains on the ground. "You okay, man?" He asks, and offers a hand.

"Huh?" Maehara asks, blinking. He stares down the alley as if expecting Takanashi to reappear. "Y-yeah. Thanks." He hesitantly reaches out and allows Ryuji to pull him up.

"Is he really forcing you to give him the answers?" Ann asks.

Once Maehara stands, he seems to shrivel up. "Well, it's not like I mind," he replies, a jovial look on his face that convinces no one. "But, I did tell him I suck at history." He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Ryuji insists. "That jerk is totally using you."

"I know," Maehara says. "But, we used to be friends when we were kids. He's not that smart, and he stinks at studying. I guess I figured I could help him out, and then..." He sighs. "Well, whatever. I appreciate what you did, Sakamoto. You too, Takamaki, but nothing's going to change." The corner of his mouth twitches at this, and he smiles. "Unless the Phantom Thieves change it."

Okay, time to leave, Ann thinks. Ryuji says nothing.

Maehara appears to take the silence as inquisitiveness because he perks up even more, glances past them down the alley, and gestures for the two to move closer. Ann remains still, but Ryuji takes him up on this. "Check it out," Maehara says, taking out his phone. "I put up a Request on the PhanSite." He shows them the screen, and Ann and Ryuji pretend to read the Request for the first time.

Maehara chuckles a bit once they've finished. "Honestly, I think it pissed off Daisuke even more. Normally, if I don't give him the right answers, he shoves me around, but I think someone must've told him about the Request. He seemed extra annoyed with me."

"Probably doesn't want any attention," Ryuji suggests with a shrug.

"Yeah," Maehara replies, sounding crestfallen once more. "Anyway, thanks for sticking up for me, guys. I should get going." He collects his bag from where it has fallen. "Man, Daisuke is really gonna give it to me tomorrow." He nods once more and slides past the two, beginning his trek out of the alley.

"Hey, Maehara," Ryuji calls out. The young man turns. Ann's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to cut him off, but Ryuji just goes right ahead. "Don't worry, dude. The Phantom Thieves will definitely change Takanashi's heart."

Maehara blinks, then smiles. "I sure hope so!" He gives them a wave and resumes his walk.

Ann spins to Ryuji and begins to say, "What're you-" but he cuts her off.

"I know what you're gonna say, Ann." He looks at her then, a small smile on her face.

Ann stares at him, then sighs and takes out her phone. "Well, whatever. It's over and done. Since we've confirmed Takanashi is bullying Maehara, we don't have to follow either anymore." She queues up her message app and sends Akira a text.

ANN : All done. Are we still meeting up?

A few seconds later, the reply comes through.

AKIRA : I'm heading over now. Meet up in twenty minutes?

ANN : Sounds good.

Ann slides her phone back into her pocket. "Alright, let's go let Morgana know what's up. Then I've got to go meet with Akira."

Ryuji flexes his hands, shaking them out a bit. "Sounds good. Guess I'll start heading to gyms like he suggested."

Ann and Ryuji start heading out of the alley, where they spot Morgana waiting for them with a stern look on his face.

"Hey, Ryuji?" Ann asks.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sticking up for me," she says, without looking at him. "When Takanashi said-"

"Pssh," Ryuji replies, blowing a raspberry. "You don't got to thank me for that. That douche was asking for it."

Ann glances over at Ryuji, but the blonde boy - intentional or oblivious - keeps staring ahead. Ann finds herself smiling and keeps walking alongside him.

#

Ann and Akira turn the corner of Central Street.

"So therapy was a bust, huh?" Ann asks.

Akira shrugs. "I'm sure she's a great therapist. Just not a good fit for me, you know?"

"Not sure there will be many therapists who specialize in," Ann gestures in grandiose circles with her hands, "whatever the hell we're all dealing with."

"Fair point."

Once Ann had arrived at Shibuya station, she'd brought Akira up to speed on the Takanashi operation. Akira had bit his lip when he heard about Ryuji charging the bully, and again when he'd heard Ryuji basically promise Maehara that the Phantom Thieves would change Takanashi's heart.

Ryuji really flip-flops on the subtlety, he thinks, recalling how well he'd performed getting the Calling Cards into Shujin.

"Well, I've only got one question," Ann says as the two come to a stop outside their destination.

"Go ahead."

"Why do I need to be here for this?" Ann asks, staring up at the sign for 'Untouchable.'

Akira smiles rather than sighs. "We all need alibis."

"I get that," Ann replies. "Couldn't I have just gone shopping?"

"Then you'd be no different from the hundreds of other schoolgirls kicking off their weekend. That's why Ryuji-"

"Is going around to different gyms and asking about their facilities, I know," Ann cuts in. "Couldn't I have just gone with him?"

"Sick of me?" Akira asks.

"Sick of him," Ann replies, gesturing towards the building.

Akira chuckles. "Look, we're here now. Let's go inside and see what happens."

"Fine. I'll let you do the talking."

"I'm honored," Akira says, pushing the door open.

A blast of cool air greets them as they step inside. Three sets of eyes turn towards them. Two belong to some young men, who look to be in their early twenties, standing together near one of the aisles, heads ducked together in conversation. They make no effort to hide their staring at Ann, who does not look pleased.

The third belongs to the grizzled man with the charcoal cap, reclining behind the register. "You're back," he mumbles.

Akira waits for him to say more. When he doesn't, Akira says, "We are."

The man removes his feet from the counter, and leans forward in his chair. "If you want your fake medal back, it's already gone."

Akira shakes his head and withdraws Nakanohara's picture frame from his bag. "I was looking to sell this."

The man holds out his hand, and Akira passes the frame over to him. "Okay," he grumbles and tosses it onto the counter. "I'll give you a thousand yen for it."

"A thousand?" Ann blurts. The two men in the back twitch at her outburst, the sudden increase in volume a violation. "That's crazy!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' pawnshop to you?" The man asks. "Despite what you think happens here, this is a legitimate business. You can't just haul your junk in here and expect me to offload it for you."

Akira gently places a hand on Ann's shoulder. "We're not really here for the picture frame."

"Don't care. You want the thousand yen or not?"

Akira straightens himself before the surly man and narrows his eyes. "We'll take it, but we were hoping you might have something else."

The man stares up at Akira, unfazed. "Oooh," he says. "Something. Else. Cut the bullshit and tell me what you want. I'm busy."

"Doesn't look like it," Ann mumbles.

The man looks to be preparing some undoubtedly biting remark, but Akira quickly interjects. "The last time we were here, you mentioned you had connections, and we were-"

The man jerks out of his chair. "Shut up."

Akira blinks. "What?"

"Not another word," the man snaps, and kneels beneath the counter.

"What's he doing?" Ann whispers. Akira isn't sure, so he can only shrug.

The man straightens up a moment later, a metallic gray, paddle-like object gripped in his hands. Another second passes, and he marches around from behind the counter. He positions himself before the two teens and without a word begins to pass the object over them, held only a few inches from their skin and clothes.

"What're you doing?" Ann demands, taking a step back. The man follows. "You pervert!"

"I told you, you're not my type," he replies. "Just stand still for a goddamn minute." The device passes over nearly every inch of their bodies, and at the lack of anything exciting, the man seems satisfied and moves back behind the counter. "You're not wired."

"Wired?" Akira asks.

"You come into my store, sell some shit, then come back a few days later and start with the weird questions? I didn't think you were simulcasting, but it never hurts to check."

"Wired?" Ann asks. "Like by the police?"

The man nods.

"We're not," Akira insists.

"Yeah, no shit," the man replies, patting the scanner before placing it back beneath the counter. "So, what do you want?"

After that strange ritual, Akira feels more exhausted than he has any right to be and tries to recapture what little poise he possessed earlier. "I need something. A device."

"Is this device a model gun? Because if not, I can't help you. You wanna try being more specific?"

"I need a device that would let me communicate with my friends without being tracked or recorded."

"So, a burner phone."

"Well, it would need to be something we could get on the cheap. Disposable. Preferably something I could get more of if I needed it."

"So, a burner phone."

"It wouldn't have to be a smartphone or anything. Just something simple I could use to make calls. I'd need a few."

"Kid," the man grunts. "You're talking about a burner phone."

Akira blinks and clears his throat. "Oh. Okay then."

The man makes a show of looking around his store, then raises his hands in a shrug. "And why would you come to me for a burner phone?"

"'Connections,' remember?"

He frowns. "Why not just go to a store? You can buy burners legitimately. They're just prepaid pieces of junk."

Akira has thought of a proper response to this but abandons it to say, "I'd rather not simply."

The man stares at him, then smirks. "I get it."

"Can I go through you for these or not?"

"How many?"

"Three, for starters."

"It'll cost."

"How much?"

The man cites a figure. Ann, from behind Akira, makes a kind of half-gasp, half-choking sound.

Akira frowns. "You said they'd be prepaid. How much would they be prepaid?"

The man quotes another figure. Ann makes the same noise, only louder.

Akira plays with the numbers in his head. Of course, this might mean he'd need to wait a little while before going to Akihabara with Mishima to grab computer parts. Still, the Phantom Thieves had an immediate need for a communication avenue. "Fine. That's good for now."

"For now?" The man asks, and chuckles. "Planning on getting into some shit, huh?"

Akira tries to smile, realizes he's probably overdoing it, and shrugs. "Do you need to know?"

The man barks out a laugh. "Suppose not. But. I don't like the idea of you walking out of here with a bunch of prepaid phones, so here's the deal. You'll have to buy some legitimate merchandise when you pick them up. I'll put the phones in the boxes."

Akira nods. "Deal."

The door chimes, and everyone stares at the young, bespectacled boy that hurriedly steps inside. Despite the heat outside, his uniform is buttoned up to his chin. "H-hey Dad," he squeaks.

"Kaouru," the man replies.

The boy nods at Akira and Ann, before making his way back behind the counter. "I'll, uh, be in the back, doing homework."

The man waves him away, and the boy closes the door behind him. He regards Akira and Ann for a few moments longer. "If I'm gonna do this for you," he finally says, as if reaching some conclusion. "I need to know you're trustworthy."

"Uh," Ann replies. "We are giving you a lot of money for those burners."

The man shrugs. "Consider this a test of your authenticity." He leans back in his chair. "Hey, Kaouru," he shouts.

There's a small commotion from the backroom, the sound of numerous boxes falling over, and the door opens, and the boy pokes his head out. "Y-yeah?"

"We still got that package back there?"

The boy stares at him, as if unsure, then blinks. "Oh. Uh, yeah. We do."

Ann leans in towards Akira and whispers, "Package?"

Akira shakes his head. He isn't quite sure where this is going either.

"Good, seal it up and bring it out here," the man replies. Kaouru looks both taken aback and confused, but he nods and disappears into the backroom again. "See," the man says, returning his gaze to the two. "I got this thing I'm responsible for, but I've got a few too many eyes on me at the moment. So, since I'm going through all this trouble for you, I need you to go through a small amount of trouble for me."

"What do you mean?" Akira asks.

Kaouru emerges from the back room, holding a small brown package sealed with black packing tape in his hands. He hands it to his father, who takes it, places it on the counter, and slides it over to the two.

"I mean," the man says. "I want you to hold onto this for a little while. If you do, I'll knock the price off those phones by half."

Akira stares at the box and turns to glance at Ann. She mouths the words, 'No way.' Akira looks back at the box and asks, "What's in it?"

"Come on. You think I'm gonna tell you that?" He glances at the door, then says, "And don't open it. I'm dead serious. I'll know."

Akira reaches out and picks up the box. As he does, he can feel something shift inside. Not something completely solid, but as if a weight were gradually moving from one end of the box to the other. It has an almost granular feel and-

Akira's eyes widen, and he looks back at the store owner. The man grins knowingly. "Your choice. I'd put it in your bag before you leave, though."

Ann begins to protest. "You can't expect us to-"

"Okay," Akira says. Hurriedly, as if afraid someone would see, he unzips his bag and shoves the package inside. "But if I get busted with this, I'm telling them exactly where it came from."

The man shrugs. "Do what you gotta do, I guess."

Akira frowns at him as he closes his bag. "You know, I never got your name."

"Right," the man says. "Like I'm about to give you that now." He reaches out a hand and taps a pile of fliers on his counter, advertising a new type of airsoft accessory. "It'll take me a few days to get the stuff. Once I do, I'll put this flier in the window. That'll be the signal that things are all clear. You can bring it back then."

There are no more words to exchange, and Akira and Ann make their way from the shop.

Ann whirls on Akira once they're outside. "Akira, what are you thinking?"

Akira takes a minute and puts his hand against an alley's wall. "We need those burners, Ann."

"So you agreed to, what? Traffic drugs?"

"Ssshhh!" Akira hisses, putting his finger to his lips. "Don't just announce it! Look, we don't know there are drugs in there."

"Oh, come on!"

"It'll be fine. We're not selling anything, not doing anything. I'm just going to keep this in my bag, and that'll be all. Then, we get the phones for a lot cheaper."

"And if you get caught?"

Akira shakes his head. "I'm not going to get caught. Let's just get out of here."

#

Kaouru stares out the blinds as the two teens turn the corner. "Dad?" He finally asks.

"Yeah?" The man asks, from behind the counter. He had gone back to reading his magazine.

"Why do you want them to hold onto a box full of sand?"

Munehisa Iwai just smiles.

#

Makoto sits at her desk.

The clock cuts away the evening minutes.

Makoto regards her college prep work. The equations run along the page until they congeal, becoming one long hieroglyph of numbers and formulas she can no longer discern.

Another minute passes, and no higher education is accomplished.

Makoto's eyes flicker to the Bucihmaru pencil case. They then flicker to her phone, face up alongside her workbook. Normally, usually, actually every single time, Makoto does not keep her phone next to her while she studies. There is enough literature and data to make a compelling case that having a phone near you while studying is too distracting.

But.

Makoto squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.

Makoto returns to the math. Makoto brings her pencil to the page and resolves to do the math.

Makoto does not do the math.

Makoto puts her pencil down, pushes herself away from her desk, stands, and paces in a tight circle around her room, completing eight circuits before she allows her brain to actually think of anything.

Makoto picks up her phone, queues up the Messenger app, walks over to her bed, and promptly collapses.

"I suck at this," she declares to her ceiling.

The ceiling does not offer any tips.

It has been several days since she exchanged contact information with Akira Kurusu, and while she had not expected her phone to explode with inbound communication, she hadn't expected nothing.

And with each sliver of time that crept by without said communication, the expanding absence weighed upon her and drew her thoughts like a black hole. Makoto was now, she was convinced, well past the event horizon, and no amount of steeling her mind or self-recrimination seemed to help.

It did not help that the topic of Akira Kurusu seemed to swell around her during her time at Shujin. Rumors ricocheted through the halls like stray bullets, and Makoto could take hearing about how evil he was so many times before she had to retreat to the quiet of the Student Council room or a bathroom stall to collect herself.

"Stop talking about him like that," she had wanted to scream. Still, as her thoughts revolved around the unmistakable conclusion Makoto held that Akira Kurusu was a good person, they would change lanes to the other unmistakable conclusion. The one she didn't even talk aloud about, even to herself. The one involving Akira Kurusu and whatever his connection was to these Phantom Thieves of Hearts (which of course was the only OTHER thing everyone was talking about, and since Makoto was convinced Akira was a part of the Phantom Thieves, THIS MEANT that everyone was always talking about Akira Kurusu all the time every moment ad goddamn nauseam!).

Makoto takes a deep breath. She knows this is not how she should be. She knows she shouldn't let this boy get to her like this, and really, how could she have allowed it to get this bad?

"But what the hell am I supposed to do?" Makoto asks the ceiling.

Once more, if the ceiling has any answers, it is not forthcoming.

She can't help how she feels. She didn't choose to feel this way.

And maybe, if Akira would get off his bespectacled ass and just text her, she wouldn't be so strung out on-

Makoto's phone beeps and she yelps and falls off the bed.

Several terribly embarrassing seconds later, Makoto manages to pull herself back together and onto the bed.

She checks her phone.

AKIRA : Hi.

Makoto blinks. Hi? He says, 'Hi?' That's it? Rage subsides quickly as the more analytical part of her brain, desperate to be used after several inactive days, begins to work. Relax. What should I say back? Hold on. Is this only the first part of a message? Should I wait for more? I don't see those blinking dots meaning more is incoming. It's also been a few seconds since he sent it. If a longer message were on its way, surely it would be here by now. If I continue to wait, Akira could think I'm ignoring him. READ RECEIPTS ARE A THING. Respond!

Makoto steadies herself and begins to type.

MAKOTO: Hello.

The next message comes a moment later.

AKIRA : I was hoping we could set a date for our next study session. How about Monday?

Makoto feels her adrenaline spike when she sees the word 'date,' but she manages to retain her composure.

MAKOTO : That is acceptable. I shall meet you Monday, after school.

AKIRA : Alright. Great.

Makoto smiles. Now, what do I write? She wants to let Akira know she's happy about this but can't seem too eager. That's just logical.

MAKOTO : Wonderful. Smiley face.

There is no response for several long moments.

AKIRA : You know, you don't have to write 'Smiley face.' You can just type : and ).

Makoto stares at her phone, puzzled. She tries it.

MAKOTO : :)

MAKOTO : Oh, I see! Thank you for correcting me.

AKIRA : No worries.

AKIRA : I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself. Like how you just did.

Makoto feels the heat in her chest rising. She smiles, and her eyes narrow.

MAKOTO : Tell me something.

MAKOTO : Is there a series of keystrokes that indicate a fist moving towards a face?

AKIRA : Try ( ง •̀_•́) ง

Makoto laughs.

MAKOTO : Perfect.

AKIRA : ;)

"Huh?" Makoto asks.

MAKOTO : I thought you said it was :)?

AKIRA : That was a wink, Makoto.

MAKOTO : Oh.

Her eyes widen. "Oh."

MAKOTO : I suppose we'll talk soon then. Goodnight Akira.

AKIRA : Goodnight, Makoto.

The texts stop.

Makoto stares at her phone, then sets it down next to her on the bed.

She lays back down. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she says to the ceiling.

The ceiling doesn't reply, and knowing her luck, it probably wouldn't even if it could.

Notes:

UPDATE 8/2/2022: First few chapters of the revised Madarame arc are coming up. I apologize for not getting these up last month. My son got sick with coxsackie and gave it to myself and my wife. We're only just recovering now, lol. We're all fine though. Thank you for reading Crimson!

I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter. It's all over the place. Not my best work. Just another reason why I need to get my shit together over my break. Need to get the quality back up.

Anyway, thanks for reading everyone! I'll see you all next week!

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Notes:

UPDATE 8/2/2022: Thank you for reading Crimson!

B-B-B-B-Bonus Chapter!

5/8

Daisuke Takanashi opens his eyes to sunlight trickling in through his shades. He lets out a yawn. Remembering it is Sunday, Daisuke rolls over and throws his blanket back over his head. He's got a lazy day ahead of him and intends to make the most of it.

Daisuke's phone vibrates from its place on the nightstand. He snatches it up and curses when he sees who it is.

Sakoda. Damn it .

The whole gang is meeting up at the usual arcade, expecting Daisuke to bring enough money for everyone.

They'd want all the yen he'd taken from Maehara the day before. "Man, what a drag." As far as Daisuke was concerned, that money belonged to him. Maehara had screwed him by giving him the wrong answers to that test, and he'd also had the nerve to namedrop him on that stupid PhanSite, or whatever. The cash I got should be sacrosanct, Daisuke thinks. He's pretty sure that's the proper use of the word.

Daisuke peels himself from his bed and shambles his way downstairs, a scowl on his face.

His mother hunches at the stove, eyes focused on whatever she's cooking. It smells like eggs, but Daisuke can never tell until it's in front of him. "Morning," he grumbles.

She grunts in response, which is about as warm as it gets in the Takanashi household. Then, she straightens as if she's just remembered something. "You've got a letter."

"Huh?" Daisuke asks, as he pulls up a chair at the table. "A what?"

"A letter," his mother says, slowly, as if he were a moron. The worse part was, he was convinced she was convinced he was one. "A paper and envelope one. I found it in the hallway this morning. Someone slipped it through the mail slot." She turns from the stove long enough to nod towards the table. Daisuke follows along and finds a small, white envelope with his name scrawled across its front.

Daisuke leans over and picks it up. "Maybe it's a love letter," he says, smirking.

"I doubt it," his mother mumbles, returning to her cooking.

Daisuke frowns, stands, and makes to move towards the toaster but stops. He rubs his fingers across the smooth paper of the envelope and, for some reason, feels a creeping sense of dread bubble up in his stomach. Daisuke shakes this off and snatches a piece of crisp bread from the toaster. "I'll eat in my room," he says, turning back towards the stairs.

"If you want to be rude," his mother snaps without turning around. "Go ahead."

Daisuke tromps back upstairs, enters his room, shuts the door, and plops down in his chair. He takes a small bite of bread and studies the envelope. It looks simple, unlike those overly-decorated love letters he's seen in anime and manga. So why does it distress him so?

Maybe I've won a million yen , he thinks as he says, "Screw it," and slides one finger into the groove and rips it open.

Daisuke has not won a million yen.

A red and black card greets him. "What the-?" He starts to say, then he sees what it says.

Dear Daisuke Takanashi, the Scourge of Shujin:

We've been watching. We know how you bully your fellow students. How you cheat and lie and steal from them. Your actions have harmed your schoolmates and led you down the road to ruin. That is why we have decided to steal your heart. We will steal the corruption out of you, and you will see the error of your ways. This will happen tomorrow. Prepare yourself.

Sincerely,

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts

Daisuke reads it once more.

"No way," he says. "No freaking way."

This was bullshit. It had to be. The Phantom Thieves had taken down Kamoshida, who'd been an Olympic athlete or something. Why would they come after someone like him? Why would they take Maehara's complaint seriously? Didn't they have more important shit to do?

Maybe it was a trick—a scam. Maybe Maehara sent the Card. Maybe Maehara wanted Daisuke to back off, so he sent the Card so Daisuke would think the Phantom Thieves were after him.

What if it wasn't a trick, though?

Daisuke's breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps. Calm down, he tells himself. Calm down. The Phantom Thieves weren't real anyway. They couldn't be.

"Yeah," he says, to no one. "Nothing to worry about. Nothing."

But, of course, he doesn't believe it.

With great trepidation, he queues up the RINE boards, sets up a throwaway account, and logs into one of the many conversations revolving around the Phantom Thieves.

Hey so, say someone got a Calling Card? Does anyone know of a way to prevent it?

(Like a fucking chant or something?)

Yooooooo is this Takanashi

LOLOLOLOLOL Holy shit this is totally Takanashi

(Did you get a Calling Card?)

RIP TO DAISUKE TAKANASHI

(Lol you suck anyway Takanashi)

Daisuke throws his phone across the room, where it smacks against the wall.

What had he expected, really?

#

Joker stands, arms folded, before the gaping maw of Mementos. Mona crouches on the ground alongside him, one of his hind paws on the diseased concrete, eyes narrowed and focused.

Skull leans against a pillar behind them, tapping his foot against the ground. "How much longer is this gonna take?" He asks.

"As long as it's supposed to, Bonehead," Mona hisses through his teeth. "This isn't an exact science."

"Yeah, well, we're kinda on a schedule here."

Joker turns to Skull and holds up a hand. "Just let Mona do his thing. He's got this."

"Thank you," Mona replies, as Skull rolls his eyes. The latter's foot-tapping increased in tempo.

Joker turns his attention back to the shaft leading down into the depths, is silent for a moment, then asks, "How is it going, Mona?"

"It would be easier if you didn't keep distracting me!"

"Okay," Joker says, taking a few steps away from the cat and turning to join Skull at the pillar. "Sorry."

"What if Mona can't sense Takanashi's Shadow?" Skull whispers, once Akira is within earshot. "We've already sent the Calling Card.”

Joker had to admit, he was equally nervous about the aspects of the plan that involved the many moving parts and about Mona's ability to actually detect Shadows. So far as Joker, or anyone in the Phantom Thieves knew, it had only worked once. Still, Joker's position as leader required him to project an air of confidence, so all he can say is, "Mona will find-"

"Got it," Mona shouts, standing straight. "Takanashi's Shadow just appeared."

Joker lets some of the tension drain from his jaw, as Skull pushes himself off the pillar and asks, "How far down is he?"

Mona turns to the two with a cocky smile. "Two floors. Piece of cake."

Skull slumps forward with a sigh. "That's good. Any deeper, and we might've been screwed." He straightens and pulls his phone from his pocket. "I gotta meet up with Mishima soon. You guys good?"

Joker nods. "Remember," he says, as Mona hops onto his shoulder. "Don't go into too much detail. We don't want to overwhelm him. Just show him the ropes, tell him where to go, and give him the script."

"I got it, I got it," Skull says, grinning. "Don't worry. I won't screw it up." Joker opens his mouth, but Skull cuts him off. "Mishima won't, either." Their friend turns, heads off towards the front of the train station, and pushes a button on his phone. A moment passes, and Joker and Mona are alone in the Metaverse.

"Should we head out?" Mona asks.

Joker turns to glance, once more, back at the pit of Mementos. "What's it like, Mona? Sensing a Shadow?"

Mona blinks. "Like, how does it feel?" Joker nods. "I don't know how to describe it. It's as if I'm listening to a bunch of static, and then, out of nowhere, I can understand something in the background. The static is still there but tuned down for a moment. Long enough for me to know the Shadow's there."

"And you can somehow tell it belongs to Daisuke Takanashi?" Joker asks. "How?"

Mona sighs. "I know you're tired of hearing this, but I don't know. I just do. Maybe it's like the app."

"The app?"

"Yeah. The app knows who you mean, right? When Ryuji accidentally unlocked Kamoshida's Palace, he didn't say 'Suguru Kamoshida, the gym teacher at Shujin Academy.' He just said, 'Kamoshida,' not even 'Suguru Kamoshida.' I mean, how many 'Kamoshida's' are there in the world? How did the app know the specific one? Just now, I'm sure it's Daisuke Takanashi's Shadow that's down there. Not some other Daisuke Takanashi, or some other Daisuke, or other Takanashi. Our Daisuke Takanashi."

Joker doesn't say anything. That's a good point. After meeting with Nakanohara, Akira and Ryuji checked the app to see if Madarame had a Palace. True, they'd said 'Ichiryusai Madarame,' but while not a common name, it certainly wasn't unique to one man. So how had the app known?

What if I'm thinking about this the wrong way? What if the app is based on Morgana's ability to detect specific Shadows?

But if Igor had designed the app, and provided it to the Thieves, and had done so based on Morgana's ability, that would mean he did know about Morgana.

"Add that to the list," Joker says.

"Which one?" Mona asks.

"The 'Things I need to ask Igor' list. How does the app know who we're talking about?"

"Does it matter?" Mona asks. "I mean, seriously. Are you complaining that the app isn't making you provide a million specific details to help narrow down the search for Palaces?"

Joker smiles. "It's unsettling, but I suppose you're right. For the time being, it doesn't matter. Still, it's something I'd like to know." Joker removes his phone and checks the time. "Alright, let's get going."

 

5/9

"And then," Makoto says, placing her finger next to the appropriate equation, "You would use this to..." She trails off.

Akira sits next to her, but his eyes are on his phone. His smile is cheerful, and he types away with his thumbs.

Unacceptable , Makoto thinks, a grin of her own creeping onto her face.

"Is there a problem, Akira?" She asks, putting as much steel into her voice as she can.

Akira pales by a fraction and glances over at her. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's Ryuji. He needs advice. Badly."

"Oh? And that takes precedent over studying?"

Makoto cannot decide which of Akira's smiles she likes better, but the nervous grin he flashes her is a top contender. "Well, it's kind of important." He leans in, which kicks up Makoto's pulse a bit, and whispers, "Don't tell anyone, but he's going to ask Ann out pretty soon."

Makoto's eyes widen, and all thoughts of math equations vanish. "Seriously?" Sakamoto is going to ask Takamaki out? Does that mean Akira isn't interested in her? Does that mean Takamaki is interested in Sakamoto and not Akira? Perhaps their trip to the hospital to see Suzui had been purely platonic. Makoto feigns disinterest in her voice when she asks, "And you support him in this?"

"Of course I do," Akira says, with a confused look. Then, his lips slowly curve back into another kind of smile. "Wait. Did you think I liked Ann?"

Makoto opens her mouth, but her words turn to dust, and nothing comes out. When she manages to wrestle her composure back, she replies, "No, I didn't think that. I was just wondering."

"It's just that you seem awfully interested," Akira says, his voice doing that teasing, annoying thing it does that makes Makoto's heart flutter.

"D-don't you think he should focus on studying?"

Akira spits out a laugh, then quickly quiets himself when he sees the looks the other library patrons give him. "Ryuji?" He asks. "Study? Yeah, right. He's wandering around Shibuya Underground right now, looking for a gift for Ann." Akira sets his phone down in front of her. "Check it out. It's hilarious."

Makoto's eyes fall to the screen.

RYUJI : All hands on deck bro!

AKIRA : What's wrong?

RYUJI : Remember how I told you I wanted to get something for Ann? Well I'm kinda stuck! HELP!

AKIRA : Physically stuck? Or figuratively?

RYUJI : Stop jokin' dude, this is an emergency!

RYUJI : What do I get Ann? She likes fashion and all that shit, but I don't know anything about it! Hold on, let me take a pic of some stuff. Let me know what you think.

The following series of texts includes numerous images of clothing items, jewelry pieces, and chocolates, all collected and photographed from haphazard angles.

"When Ryuji gets an idea in his head, he goes all out," Akira replies. He texts his friend back, and a moment later, the phone vibrates in response. Akira chuckles and shows Makoto the screen once more.

AKIRA : You should buy everything. Ann's got expensive tastes.

RYUJI : Are you serious?! You know I can't afford all this shit! Dude HELP!

Makoto says nothing.

Akira shakes his head, and pulls his phone back. "He knows I'm just messing with him. Besides, I can't just tell him what to get her, right? She'll appreciate it more if he figures it out independently."

"That's..." Makoto starts, then frowns. "That's, uh..."

Akira sits up a bit straighter. "You okay?"

Makoto looks at him. Looks at the small smile on his face, another top choice, and the way he's looking at her. Makoto thinks of the conversation she's just read.

And for some reason she cannot put her finger on, a single thought races through her mind like an alarm.

Something's not right .

Makoto pushes the thought away. "I, sorry. I was just going to say, that's a rather romantic way of looking at things."

That smile snaps back into place on Akira's face. "I'm a romantic guy."

Makoto tries to smile and succeeds but feels like she's faking it. "I'm sure Takamaki will appreciate whatever Sakamoto gets her."

"Hope so," Akira says, hesitating as if expecting Makoto to say something else. When she doesn't, he quickly adds, "She's visiting Shiho today. At the hospital."

"Oh," Makoto replies, and nods. "That's good. How is she? Suzui, I mean."

Akira seems to relax visibly, which Makoto finds odds, then says, "I'll ask." He types out another message on his phone and sends it. A few moments later, his phone vibrates. Akira turns the phone towards Makoto.

The attached picture is a selfie. Ann, in what indeed looks like a hospital room, dressed in a black sleeveless t-shirt, with her arm thrown around Suzui, who smiles from the room's bed. The black-haired girl looks exhausted but happy, if a bit nervous.

"I'm glad to see she's recovering," Makoto says, unsure of what else to say. That feeling - the sensation that all of this is wrong somehow - will not go away.

Akira nods, sets his phone down, and sighs. "Sorry," he says. "I know I've been a bit distracted today. You've got your own exams to study for, and here I am, texting my friends while you're helping me."

Makoto looks away from him. "It's fine," she says. Her mind is elsewhere, so she doesn't register that she also says, "I like helping you," until after the words have left her mouth, which sets off a new brand of panic in the executive function section of her brain. "I mean, uh-" She looks at Akira and finds his face turned away. His eyes have a distant look and a slight downward hitch at his mouth.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"For what?"

Akira blinks and turns back to her. "Uh, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Should we get back to it?"

"Yes," Makoto says, grateful to return to something she can understand, like mathematics. "Let's."

The next forty minutes pass in relative normalcy, but Makoto can not shake the feeling that now pervades.

As they wrap up the session, Akira - smiling once more - stands up and says, "Hold on. I need to grab something."

He heads back into the stack of library shelves. One student sees him coming and takes a few steps back, but if this bothers Akira he doesn't show it. Instead, he grabs a book off a shelf and heads for the circulation desk. As he passes Makoto, he shows her the cover.

The Lies of Locke Lamora .

"I heard it's pretty good," he says.

Makoto twists in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable all over again. She continues packing her bag, then waits for Akira to finish checking out the book before returning to their table to put away his work.

Soon, they step out into the nearly deserted halls of Shujin.

"Right," Makoto says. "Well, I hope you enjoy the book. And good luck on your exams!" She adds that last part quickly. She nods her head towards the student council room. "I need to catch up on a few things," she lies. "I'll see you soon?"

"Y-yeah," Akira says, studying her face.

What is it? Makoto wonders. Did I not make a big enough deal of him picking up the book? It really is terrific. Why do I feel so-

But the following thoughts disintegrate when Akira says, "Makoto?" His mouth is contorting into different shapes, but he makes no other sound. His gaze is entirely different now, almost naked and exceedingly nervous. Even Makoto can see that.

"Yes?" She asks, her voice rising.

"Do you think you'd want..." Akira says, then trails off.

Part of Makoto thinks, This cannot possibly be what I think it is. Another part thinks, Oh my god, oh my god, this is it.

"Yes?" Makoto asks, her voice somehow going even higher.

Akira stares into her eyes, and finds herself back on that rooftop, pressed together alongside the A/C unit, hiding. "Do you..."

Akira looks down, and the spell breaks. Makoto opens her mouth, but Akira looks back at her with a small smile. "You know what? Don't worry about it. We can talk after exams. We've both got enough going on, I'm sure."

"O-oh," Makoto says. "Are you sure? I'm quite capable of multitasking." All of her brain groans at that one.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Akira says, and his shoulders seem to settle. "I'm sure."

Makoto nods, trying not to let the disappointment show on her face. "Alright then. After exams."

#

Daisuke is on the subway when it happens.

The anxiety, rage, and hate slough off him like a second skin. Daisuke shoots out of his seat, startling the other commuters, and presses his head into his hands. A single, cracked sob breaks from his lips.

"Maehara," he groans. "I'm so sorry, Maehara."

I need to call him. I need to CALL HIM . Daisuke runs to the door, but the train is still moving, so he stands there and hops from one foot to the other. At one point, his hands move towards the doors as if he's about to try and pry them open. Daisuke shakes his head as he sees the next station further down the track through the window. It's not his destination, but when the train stops and the doors open, he bolts out and squirms his way through the congestion of people.

Daisuke rips his phone from his pocket, tearing the fabric of his uniform pants a bit, dials Maehara, and waits.

Maehara answers on the second ring. "H-hello?"

"Maehara?" Daisuke moans. "It's me."

"Takanashi? Maehara asks, then clears his throat. "I mean, Daisuke? Seriously? It's you?"

"I'm sorry, man," Daisuke says, and finds that he needs to lean against a railing overlooking the local neighborhood to keep from collapsing. "All that horrible shit I did to you, I'm so sorry. I just... I was scared, man. There are these guys, and they kept picking on me and told me they'd only stop if I passed it along. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Daisuke notices a few people starting to turn their attention his way. He glances at them, and most return to whatever they were doing.

"Wow," Maehara mumbles into the phone. "It worked."

"Huh?"

"Oh," Maehara says, as if remembering he was still on the phone. "It's fine. Really. I forgive you. We're friends, after all. But listen, I gotta go. I promised them I'd let them know the second you called."

"What?" Daisuke asks. "Who?"

"Duh! The Phantom Thieves, of course!"

The phone disconnects, and Daisuke finds himself alone in the station, despite the multitudes that swarm around him.

#

Skull, Panther, and Mona lay panting at the entrance of Mementos.

"Never again," Skull groans between gasps. He rolls onto his side and glares at Panther, who has her forearm flung over her face. "You're never driving again!"

#

"Not that I'm complaining," Akira complains, stopping for a moment to ensure he's got a good grip on the box. "But couldn't you have had this delivered directly to your house?"

Sojiro turns, languidly, back to Akira and regards him with a cool gaze. "I like to take actual delivery, kid. You think I want a box with a bunch of expensive stuff in it sitting outside my house all day?"

"Right," Akira says, trying to angle his arms to lighten the strain. "But why do you need me to carry it?"

Sojiro shakes his head, frowning. "I'm an old man. You should want to help your elders. Besides, you could use the exercise."

"Thanks," Akira mumbles, resuming his march. They manage another block before Akira asks, "So, what's in here anyway?"

"Computer stuff," Sojiro replies, hands in his pockets. "I think."

"You think?" Akira asks. "Didn't you order it?"

"You grilling me now?" Sojiro demands. "I don't know all the specifics. It's stuff that goes in a computer, or it's a computer, I don't know. It's none of your business."

"Right now," Akira points out, leaning back a bit. "It very much is my business."

"Maybe you should save your strength," Sojiro replies. "We're almost there."

Akira can only speculate on Sojiro's explanation, but another thought occurs to him and quickly develops into an idea. "Do you have a lot of these things? These computer things?"

"Eh?" Sojiro asks. "I dunno. I suppose. Why?"

"Well, if you ever want to get rid of any and need someone to lug them out of your house, I could take them off your hands." Akira tries to smile. "I could use a computer for school."

Sojiro frowns. "So instead of sitting in my house, they'd be sitting in the attic of my cafe? You know when you move out, I'm still gonna have to get rid of them, right?"

"True," Akira says. "But if you're not using them, someone might as well put them to use."

The two turn the corner and approach Sojiro's home. "I'll... think about it," the older man replies. He then unlocks the gate and proceeds towards the front door, motioning Akira to follow. When they reach the entrance, Sojiro nods to Akira. "Alright, that's far enough. Thanks, kid."

"I can bring it inside," Akira replies.

"No, just set it down. Gently." Akira does so. "Right. Thanks. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Akira replies and turns to go.

"I'll take stock of that computer stuff," Sojiro says, and Akira turns back to regard the older man. Sojiro stoops down and hefts up the box - with what looks to Akira like relative ease - and turns the key to unlock his front door. "I'll let you know."

"Okay, thanks," Akira says as Sojiro disappears inside and closes the door. Then, Akira returns to the streets of Yongen-jaya, making sure to close the gate behind him.

A moving van rumbles past him as he starts to return to LeBlanc, stopping another block away at a previously shuttered business. Akira does not stay to watch as his thoughts turn to the day's activities. His phone vibrates.

RYUJI : Hey dude, thanks for the help today. I decided to get her a necklace. It's not expensive but don't tell her that, okay?

Akira types out a response.

AKIRA : Your secret is safe with me.

And there's the code phrase. Ryuji's phone was back in his possession.

Akira passes by an alley, and a voice comes from the shadows. "Hey." Akira stops as Morgana emerges from the dark and starts trotting alongside him.

"Couldn't wait for me?" Akira asks.

"I forgot to mention this to you," Morgana continues, falling into line as Akira continues his march down the sidewalk. "Lady Ann wanted me to impress upon you that we should never split up before a fight ever again."

"Ryuji said it wasn't too bad," Akira replies.

"Ryuji was lying. Or maybe not lying, but it certainly wasn't an easy fight. We need our Ace when we go up against powerful Shadows."

"Noted," Akira says. "Going forward, we'll stick together."

"That would be for the best."

After Morgana had sensed Takanashi's Shadow within Mementos, Ryuji had met with Mishima in Harajuku. Together, they had purchased a blonde wig that - more or less - matched Ryuji's signature hairstyle. Then, Ryuji had coached Mishima on how to walk just like him.

Monday morning, the three human Phantom Thieves and Mishima had met before school and exchanged phones. Akira took Mishima's cell, Ryuji took Akira's, and Mishima took Ryuji's and Ann's.

It had been Mishima texting Akira from Ryuji's phone, during his study session with Makoto. They'd had him follow a script Ryuji and Akira had put together.

If anyone checked the security cameras in the Shibuya Underground, they'd see a blonde boy in a Shujin uniform stalking from shop to shop, looking for a gift, and texting his friend, asking for advice.

When prompted by Akira's text, Mishima sent a selfie of Ann and Shiho, which Ann had taken when she last visited Shiho.

Not only had Mishima been texting his own phone - in Akira's possession - but he'd also been texting Akira's. Given that the Phantom Thieves only needed one phone to access and exit the Metaverse, Ryuji and Ann had used Akira's. After defeating Daisuke Takanashi's Shadow and leaving Mementos, Mishima's texts flooded into Akira's phone in one big download. The timestamps were off, but Akira could always cite a bug.

Meanwhile, after getting his phone back from Akira at Shibuya Station, Mishima deleted all the texts from his phone. He swore there'd be no trace of them left on his phone.

In the end, the Phantom Thieves all had alibis during Daisuke Takanashi's change of heart.

Ryuji Sakamoto was in Shibuya Underground, searching for a potential gift for the girl he liked.

Ann Takamaki was visiting her best friend in the hospital.

Akira Kurusu was spending the afternoon studying for his exams with Makoto Niijima.

And Morgana was... well, Morgana was a cat, so didn't need an alibi.

While all three human-bodied Phantom Thieves were otherwise occupied, Daisuke Takanashi's heart changed, as confirmed by Maehara's post on the PhanSite.

Akira and Morgana reach LeBlanc, and Akira unlocks the front door, letting them both inside.

"You know," Akira says. "If anyone bothers to check the security cameras at the hospital, they'll see Ann wasn't anywhere near Shiho today. And if Mishima isn't as good as he says he is, someone might be able to see that we screwed with the messages."

Morgana stretches his legs out and yawns. "I think you're worrying too much."

"Isn't that my job?"

"Sure," Morgana replies. "But who's going to dig that deep? I know we're supposed to err on the side of caution and all that jazz, but even if someone were that suspicious of us, they'd have to have some idea of how we change hearts to know how we pulled it all off. Who'd doubt Shiho if she told them Ann came to visit? Who'd doubt the shop owners if they said some blonde kid was walking around, looking for gifts? And you actually were with Makoto, so there's that."

"Yeah," Akira says and starts to head up the stairs to his room. "I was with Makoto."

"How was that, anyway?" Morgana asks, bounding up the steps behind him. "Did she buy it?"

ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS

The words hit Akira as he reaches the top of the stairs, and he has to reach out and balance himself against the banister.

"You okay?" Morgana asks, resting a paw on his pants leg.

"Yeah," Akira replies, shaking his head. "I just, uh, I don't like lying to her." Akira makes his way over to the couch and sits down. Morgana hops up alongside him, and Akira reaches out a hand to stroke his head. "I don't know. I did everything I knew I should do, but it felt... different. It wasn't the same."

Morgana says something, but Akira isn't listening.

He knows precisely why it all felt so different. Because he had been lying to Makoto, he was lying to the girl he liked. Taking out the book hadn't been part of his plan. But he'd done it to try and salvage the situation and recapture some of the chemistry they'd always seemed to share.

Only, that hadn't done the trick. And then, Akira made the out-of-the-blue decision to ask her out. What had resulted was stumbling, awkward, and didn't make him feel any better.

I was willing to kill Kamoshida, but I'm not ready to lie to Makoto?

Of course not, a voice in his head says. You really, really like Makoto. You really, really didn't like Kamoshida.

"The Takanashi operation is complete," Akira says, interrupting whatever Morgana is going on about. "The PhanSite will have the new posting rules up soon, so for now, we can focus on Madarame."

#

Her father had always told her to trust her hunches.

Makoto lays on her bed and stares at the ceiling. Stray thoughts and half-formed lines of reasoning tumble through her skull.

I want to trust Akira .

The Phantom Thieves had stopped Kamoshida.

Now, the Phantom Thieves had changed the heart of Daisuke Takanashi. A random Shujin student.

Makoto props herself onto her elbows, and her eyes drift to her desk. The Buchimaru pencil case stares back at her.

Ann Takamaki.

Ryuji Sakamoto.

Akira Kurusu.

Three students Kamoshida had terrorized.

Three students Makoto suspected were the Phantom Thieves.

Three students Makoto knew the exact whereabouts of during Daisuke Takanashi's change of heart.

I want to trust Akira .

Makoto has only known Akira for a month, but it's felt much longer. She has - she believes - known where she stood with him.

'I know I've been a bit distracted today,' he'd said. Very distracted. What with all those texts and conversations.

Something he's never done before. Not during our study sessions .

Makoto shakes her head. It's a feeling she cannot lose from herself. When she imagines Akira Kurusu as a Phantom Thief, the conceptualizations snaps into place like a puzzle piece with a perfect fit.

Her father had always told her to trust her hunches, and he'd also spoken of the blind spots you couldn't see into but knew were there, swimming with the insight you needed to crack open a case. Canals and highways crisscross in her mind, twist and reconstruct themselves into the idea itself.

I want to trust Akira .

Everything had felt so wrong, so strange and unsettling. Makoto had gone into the Student Council room, but not to do any work. She had just wanted some space. She had wanted to explore the feeling that had settled over her skin during his time with Akira.

She poked at that feeling until it revealed itself.

Makoto felt used.

I want to trust Akira .

But her father had always told her to trust her hunches.

I want to trust Akira .

But I don't .

Notes:

Remember last week, when I only posted two chapters because of my finals, and you stupendous people were absolutely fantastic about it? Well, I figured I'd even things out! Happy Saturday!

Note: This DOESN'T mean next week's posting schedule will be affected. I've still got three chapters I'll be putting up, but - just a reminder - I will be going on an extended hiatus starting 9/11, that will continue to October.

Once again, thank you very much for reading Crimson! It means a great deal to me! I'll see you Monday!

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

5/10

 

When the knock at the door comes, Makoto takes a few moments before responding. She straightens in her chair, slides the half-completed paperwork aside, ensures not a thread of her clothing is out of place and that her hair isn't doing anything it shouldn't.

"Come in."

The door opens to reveal Daisuke Takanashi, one hand in his pocket, shoulders slumped, head down. "G-good morning, Niijima-senpai," he mutters.

Makoto folds her hands upon the table and nods. "Please, come in, Takanashi."

Takanashi steps inside and slides the door shut behind him. Then, he remains still, his posturing folding in on itself.

"How are you?" Makoto asks. "Are you prepared for your exams?"

Takanashi shrugs. "Guess so."

"That answer does not inspire confidence."

He shrugs again.

Makoto sighs. "Takanashi, are you aware of why I called you here?"

Face still angled towards the floor, Takanashi shakes his head.

Makoto allows a hint of annoyance into her voice. "I would appreciate it, Takanashi, if you would look at me while I speak with you."

The boy sucks in his lips, forming a pale, thin slash across his face, and lifts his head.

"There," Makoto says. "Isn't that-" She stops when she sees his face. Takanashi's right eye swells in a black bruise. "What happened?" She asks, standing. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing happened, Takanashi replies, and looks away. "I'm fine. It's nothing. I walked into a glass door."

Makoto sees the broken and bloody face of Akira Kurusu as his friends drag him from the building. "That's not nothing, Takanashi," Makoto says, moving around the table. "Tell me what happened."

Daisuke Takanashi shrinks back from her. "N-nothing happened! I swear! I walked into a glass door."

"That's a lie."

"It's not!" He glares at her with his one good eye. "And it's none of your business! Is this why you asked me to come here? To give me shit about this?" He jabs a thumb towards his bruise. "Because if it, I'm leaving."

"No," Makoto replies. She begins to reach a hand out towards his face, but when he steps back, she stops. "That's not what I wanted to ask you about."

"Then, what do you want?"

Who did this to him? It couldn't have been the Phantom Thieves. That doesn't make sense.

"I wanted..." Makoto starts, then trails off. She shuts her eyes. Focus. Don't get distracted. Makoto takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and tries not to focus on the boy's face. "I wanted to ask if you were okay."

"I told you, I walked into-"

"Not about that," Makoto says.

Daisuke Takanashi's eye goes wide. "Oh," he mumbles. "Right. The PhanSite."

"I heard that Maehara posted your name."

"Yeah."

"The Phantom Thieves performed a change of heart on you."

Takanashi nods. "I guess so."

"So?"

"So... what?"

"What happened?" Makoto asks.

"I don't know what happened," Takanashi says, his voice low and dry. "I was on the train, yesterday, and the next thing I knew, I just had to call Maehara and apologize to him."

"Did anyone coerce you? Force you to call him?"

Takanashi shakes his head. "No. That's what I'm telling you. I wasn't doing anything. Just riding the train. And then I realized what a shit I'd been to Maehara, and it felt so bad, and I just... I just had to call Maehara and apologize to him."

Makoto stares at him. "No one spoke to you? No one touched you or did anything to you?"

Takanashi shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think so. I bumped into some people rushing off the train, but I don't remember anyone grabbing me. No one spoke to me."

"If no one spoke to you or did anything to you, how do you even know the Phantom Thieves changed your heart?"

"They told me they would," Takanashi says. His gaze drifts back down to the floor. "They sent me a Calling Card. Just like Kamoshida-sensei."

"They did? When?"

"I got it in the mail on Sunday. I thought it was a joke, so... No, that's not true. I treated it like a joke, but I knew it wasn't."

"Do you have it?" Makoto asks, her hands clenched.

"No. I was pretending it was a joke, remember? So I threw it out."

Makoto opens and closes her hands several times. She sucks in her lower lip and shuts her eyes once more. "Do you remember what the Card said?"

Takanashi relates the gist of it to the best of his recollection. "It was short," he says. "Only a few sentences."

As Makoto listens, she tries to fit this new information into the larger picture she's constructing in her mind.

"Thank you," she says once he finishes. "I know it's getting close to homeroom. But, please humor me for a few more questions."

"Fine."

"Have you, in the last few days, had a run-in with Akira Kurusu?"

"Akira Kurusu?" Takanashi asks. "Why would I want to mess with that guy? He's crazy."

Makoto sighs. I see the rumors are still going strong. "I can assure you, Akira Kurusu is not 'crazy.' I take your response to mean you haven't encountered him?"

"No," Takanashi says. "I haven't."

"And what about Ryuji Sakamoto or Ann Takamaki?"

Takanashi blinks. "Well, yeah. I did see them the other day."

Makoto stops herself from leaning in. "In what capacity?"

Takanashi clears his throat, looking nervous all over again. "I'd, uh, caught up with Maehara. He'd given me the wrong answers for a test, plus I was pretty pissed at him for putting my name on the PhanSite. So I was, um, pushing him around."

Makoto's eyes narrow. "I see."

"W-well, anyway, that was happening. Then, out of nowhere, Sakamoto and Takamaki showed up. They tried to stop me. Said they were on a date."

Makoto stiffens. "When was this?"

"Friday," Takanashi replies, and his brows furrow together. "Wait. Yeah, no. It was Friday. After school."

That doesn't align with what Akira said. Why would Sakamoto ask Takamaki on a date if he'd already been out with her when they encountered Takanashi?

Makoto works her jaw in a slow circle, staring ahead as her brain processes this.

"Uh, Niijima-senpai?"

Makoto blinks and looks over at Takanashi. "Yes?"

"Can I go now?"

"Of course, I apologize for keeping you."

Takanashi gets up and leaves the room, but Makoto pays him no attention.

Akira lied to me.

#

Ryuji lets out a long, angry groan and drops his head into his textbook. "I can't take it anymore!"

Ann rolls her eyes and jabs him in the shoulder with her pen. "Stop complaining. You've said that, like, eight times now."

"Seriously," Morgana mumbles. "I'm retaining this stuff better than you."

Ryuji glares across the booth at Morgana, whose head pops up over the table just enough. "Can it. It's not like you're under any pressure to do well on these exams."

"You aren't even studying," Ann whispers. "You've just been talking about Takanashi non-stop."

Ryuji straightens and shakes his head. "No," he replies, voice as low as Ann's. "I just think we should do something about that bullying ring. The one his Shadow told us about. It sounds more important than some stupid tests."

Akira drums his fingers across his textbook's page and lifts the tea to his lips with his other hand. "We need to draw attention away from Shujin." When Ryuji opens his mouth to counter, Akira shakes his head. "I get where you're coming from." He glances around the diner. It's after school on Tuesday, and most patrons are in school uniforms, though none are from Shujin. "But the Phantom Thieves can't only be known as the saviors of Shujin."

"I agree with Akira," Ann says. "The bullying ring Takanashi mentioned does sound bad, but Ryuji, it's high school. Even if we did stop it, you know there will be someone else to pick up the slack."

"Lady Ann and Akira are correct," Morgana puts in. "Besides, there's been no Request. We can't start changing hearts without Requests, even if the system is private now. It'll be too suspicious and point directly to us."

Ryuji slumps a little deeper in his seat. "Fine, fine. You guys win. It sucks, but I get it." He picks up his phone. "But can we at least take a break from studying to go over these workout plans I put together? I worked really hard on them and-"

"No," Ann and Morgana say together.

Akira laughs. "You really don't like studying, huh?"

"It's not my fort, no," Ryuji says.

Ann frowns. "Are you trying to say forte?"

"S-shut up," Ryuji snaps. "You know I-"

"Okay, okay," Akira interjects, before the two draw any more stares. "Let's get back to the books, yeah?" The three thieves return to their textbooks. "Maybe you should read some English, Ryuji."

Ann clamps a hand over her mouth to stop her from laughing, and Ryuji frowns at Akira. "Whatever."

"Look," Akira says, patting his bag. "If you want to talk about workout stuff, we can on the way to 'Untouchable.' I’m going to swing by after this. Want to come? If we get the burners tonight, we can reach out to the reporter..." Akira trails off as Ann and Ryuji stare wide-eyed at him. "What?"

"You've got that package on you, right now?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods. "Yeah, I never took it out of my bag."

"Which is very annoying, by the way," Morgana mutters.

"Are you nuts?" Ann whispers.

"Well, what was I going to do? Leave it at home where Sojiro could find it?"

"So you took it to school?" Ann demands.

"Not a good move, dude," Ryuji scolds. "What if it was a bomb?"

"Thanks Ryuji," Akira replies.

Ann hits Ryuji's shoulder once more. "Don't be dumb. It's not a bomb. Why would the guy give Akira a bomb and then ask him to return it later?"

"What if he never planned on you bringing it back?" Ryuji asks. "What if you planned on blowing you up in your house?"

Akira's eyes drift back towards his bag. "D-don't be ridiculous. Why would an Airsoft store owner want to blow up a high school student?"

Ryuji throws his hands into the air. "I don't know, man. Crazy people don't need reasons to do things!"

"You guys are idiots," Ann says. "It's not a bomb, it's very obviously drugs, and we definitely should have nothing to do with that store owner anymore."

"Okay, SmartyPants," Ryuji says, crossing his arms. "Why would he give Akira drugs to hold? That makes less sense than the bomb!"

"No, it doesn't," Morgana points out.

"True, it doesn't," Akira says. "Just relax, alright? It's not a bomb, and it's not drugs."

"How do you know?" Ann and Ryuji ask him together.

Akira stares at them. "Okay, I guess... I mean, I guess I don't know. But it seems unlikely."

"Right," Ann says, drawing the word out. "Super unlikely that the extremely shady store owner who won't give us his name and is supposed to get us a bunch of phone burners -"

"Burner phones," Morgana says.

"-would want you to hold something illicit in exchange. How stupid of me."

"Okay, I get it," Akira say, patting the table to calm everyone down. "Not the best idea. Here's the plan. Ryuji and I will go to Untouchable and-"

"No way, dude," Ryuji interjects. "If that's a freaking bomb, I don't want to be anywhere near it."

"You're near it now," Morgana points out.

"It's not a bomb," Ann says. "It's drugs."

"Regardless," Akira snaps. "I’ll take it to Untouchable. If the guy takes it back, then we're all good. If he doesn't, I'll just get rid of it."

"How?" Ann asks.

Akira sighs. "I don't know, Ann. I'll throw it in a dumpster somewhere. Or burn it or-"

"Great," Ann replies. "Set the drugs on fire. I'm sure that will work out well."

"I don't think burning the bomb is a good idea," Ryuji says.

"It's not a bomb," Morgana, Ann, and Akira all say together.

#

Akira spends very little time getting Ryuji to change his mind. All it takes - oddly enough - is an appeal to masculine solidarity and the logical conclusion that the more time Ryuji spends with Akira doing Thievery-things, the less time he'll spend studying.

Ann concludes that this means Ryuji is more averse to studying than possibly dying in an explosion. Still, it works, and once the group disbands from the cafe, Akira and Ryuji head for Untouchable.

The flier the man told Akira to watch for is in the window.

With a sigh Akira cannot pinpoint as relief or trepidation, they step inside, where a cold burst of air greets them.

With his feet propped up on the counter, the manager regards the two and sighs. "Great. You're back."

"You told me to watch for the flier," Akira replies.

The man's brow arches. "Huh? Oh yeah." He straightens, stands, then kneels beneath the counter, returning with the detector from the other day.

"Again?" Akira asks, and glances around the store. There are no other customers.

"Again," the man says, and makes his way over to them. "So why'd you get stuck with this guy and not the pretty girl?" He asks, as he passes the paddle over their bodies.

"Dudes stick together," Ryuji replies, looking proud of the statement.

The man scoffs but seems satisfied the two aren't wired. As he returns to his usual spot behind the counter, making sure to replace the detector in whatever its hiding place is, he asks, "So, do you have it?"

Akira unzips his bag and removes the small, wrapped bundle. Then, he places it on the counter and slides it over to the manager.

The man looks down at it, then asks, "Did you open it?"

"No."

"Smart."

"Is it a bomb?" Ryuji asks, and Akira shuts his eyes and lets out a long exhale.

The man smirks, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a boxcutter. "Want to find out?"

"Not really," Akira says, but the man is already bringing the blade to bear upon the package.

Oh god, please don't be drugs. Please don't be drugs.

The man slices the tape, pulls back a flap, and turns the package over to reveal its contents to Akira and Ryuji.

"Holy shit, dude," Ryuji says. "It really was drugs!"

The man scowls. "Don't be an idiot."

"I think that's sand, Ryuji," Akira says.

"Of course, it's freaking sand."

"Why 'of course?'" Akira asks. "Why would you have me carry around a package full of sand?"

The man shrugs. "Thought it'd be funny."

Ryuji leans in and whispers to Akira, though the man can still clearly hear everything he's saying. "How do we know there's no bomb in that sand?"

"Do you really hang out with this kid?" The man asks.

Akira pats Ryuji on the shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring way. "Look, do you have the stuff I asked for?"

"Yeah," the man replies, nodding towards the model gun racks. "Go pick something out, and come back when you've finished.

Akira and Ryuji retreat into the store proper. Ryuji manages to find a more deadlier-looking shotgun than the one he already possesses, but Akira's mind is a bit scrambled.

What if it had been drugs? He wonders. Akira had always assumed the ‘ALL SACRELIGIOUS ACTS’ part of his contract with Arsene leaned towards the Metaverse aspects of being a Thief. But Ann was right. Akira had barely batted an eyelash to potentially smuggling drugs for a man he hardly knew. All to get burner phones. Why hadn't he refused? Why hadn't he asked more questions? Why hadn't he panicked about it?

Well, I'm panicking now, Akira thinks. No more drug smuggling.

It was just sand, someone in his head replies.

Still.

Akira picks out another pistol and brings it over to the counter. He idly wonders if it really matters what they select, as it isn't as if the Shadows are going to care if one gun looks more impressive than another. Then he recalls that in the Metaverse, cognition is critical, so it very well might matter how impressive the guns look.

The man takes both models, steps into the back room, and returns with them boxed and bagged. "Phones are tucked inside. Typed up some instructions for you too." He slides the boxes over to them, and Akira yanks out the bills from his wallet and hands them over.

"Nice doin' business with you, kid."

"Are you going to give me your name now?" Akira asks.

"Sure, why not?" The man grunts. "Munehisa Iwai."

"Akira Kurusu."

"Didn't ask," Iwai says. "So, we done here? Or do you have something else weird to sell me?"

#

Makoto peers around the corner at the neon sign of 'Untouchable.' Okay, so what are they doing in there?

She glances down at the open notebook in her hand, which she has cleverly hidden within the open pages of a much larger manga.

She notes down the time and location. This might warrant further investigation. When Akira and Sakamoto had stepped inside, she'd done a quick online search. Untouchable was one of the only places in central Tokyo where you could purchase airsoft weapons. She'd no idea Akira and Sakamoto were model gun enthusiasts. I wonder if they carry a model of a Ruger Redhawk? Of course, it seemed strange that two boys would spend their afternoon in such a store during exam season.

Sakamoto, maybe. But Akira?

Is it any stranger than my tracking them?

Makoto sighs and leans against the brick wall of the building she's hiding behind.

What am I even doing?

Once Takanashi had left, Makoto had called Maehara to the Student Council room. The boy was very nervous even after Makoto explained that he wasn't in trouble. Maehara had confirmed Takanashi's story. Ryuji Sakamoto and Ann Takamaki had involved themselves in the Takanashi altercation, and both had claimed to be on a date.

What's more, after Maehara had brought up his request on the PhanSite, Sakamoto had stressed that the Phantom Thieves would 'definitely' change Takanashi's heart.

There had to be something there. It couldn't all just be random miscommunications. But between the meetings with the two second-years, exam prep, and Makoto’s inability to silence her disquiet surrounding Akira's recent behavior, Makoto had hardly had a moment to think. So when she'd seen the Akira, Takamaki, and Sakamoto group leave Shujin, she'd just started following them.

When they got off the train in Shibuya, she'd followed them.

When they'd gone into the diner, she'd run back down the block to a bookstore, purchased the manga in which to hide her notebook, and staked out a spot across the street.

What was her endgame here?

All she had was her hunch. At best, the evidence linking Akira Kurusu to the Phantom Thieves was circumstantial. She needed actual, solid proof.

But for what?

I just want to know, Makoto tells herself.

But is that really it?

The door to the shop jingles open, and Akira and Sakamoto step outside. Each has a black plastic bag in their hand, within which hangs a boxy-like shape.

Did they buy models? Makoto had assumed they'd been up to something shady inside, but maybe they were just enthusiasts.

As they head towards her hiding place, Makoto retreats further down the alley towards Central Street. Makoto has blended in with the crowds by the time they turn off towards Shibuya Station, manga held up to hide her face. As Akira and Sakamoto walk, she falls in step a reasonable distance behind them.

I have to know, she thinks. And once I do, I'll know what to do.

Makoto knows how shallow this thinking is. All her life, she has started with an end goal in mind. Exam scores, positions within the school, academies, and future universities. Her father may have told her to trust her hunches, but she's never had to actually do it.

#

The sign reads, 'Rafflesia.' A middle-aged woman stands behind the register, smiling and bowing at patrons as they pass. Dozens of bright, healthy-looking flowers ornament the storefront.

Makoto stands alongside a kiosk a short distance away, eyes flickering from its assorted wares, back to the flower shop, again and again.

Akira had split off from Sakamoto at the entrance to Shibuya's Underground. A few minutes later, Akira had entered this flower shop, opened a door near the back, and disappeared inside.

Could the flower shop be a front? Is this the secret headquarters of the Phantom Thieves?

The door opens once more. Makoto stiffens. Akira steps out, no longer in his school uniform, but in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved beige shirt, over which hangs a dark-green apron.

What.

Did Akira Kurusu work at this flower shop?

Makoto runs over her previous conversations with him. Never once did he mention something like this. He had cited a job when he'd snatched 'The Biology of Shrimp' from the library, but that had been...

Well, that had just been weird.

Akira moves up alongside the middle-aged woman and begins to mimic her movements. He bows to potential customers, a smile on his face.

He looks... nice.

Then, a girl steps out from the back room.

She is dressed in dusty overalls and a baseball cap. She walks up to Akira, smiles, and begins to chat.

Akira looks down at her, grins, and starts to speak.

Thunder rattles inside Makoto's mind.

Just who was...

Hold on.

Makoto narrows her eyes and stares.

"Haru Okumura?" She asks no one.

She focuses as hard as she can and realizes that, yes, this girl is Haru Okumura.

Why would the daughter of Okumura Foods' CEO be working at a flower shop?

She begins to cycle through several scenarios.

Was she a runaway?

Had she been disowned in some way?

Did she not want to be a part of the family business?

Was she a Phantom Thief?

Customers begin to enter the shop, and Makoto checks the time. It's getting late. She still needs to prep for tomorrow's tests. Okay, she thinks. Haru Okumura. That's another lead. The girl was in her class. Maybe Makoto could get something from her. Makoto watches the two for a few more minutes, then leaves.

#

Ohya lifts the empty glass into the smoky air. "Lala-chan! Another one, please!"

Lala Escargo looks down her nose at the ruby-cheeked reporter and says, "I would say you've had enough, but-"

Ohya cuts her off. "You know I'll just keep pestering you!"

Lala-chan nods and snatches the empty whiskey glass from Ohya's hand. "Just take it easy, yeah?"

Ohya grins. "Oh, Lala-chan, you simply are the best!" Lala grabs a bottle of whiskey off the bar's rack, and pours. When she sets the drink down in front of her, Ohya raises it with reverence, brings it to her lips, and takes a smooth sip.

Her phone vibrates. She rips it from her pocket and checks the caller ID. "Unknown number?" Ohya asks, then rolls her eyes. "Great." She brings it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Is this Ichiko Ohya, the reporter?" The voice is low, but unfiltered. It sounds like someone trying to disguise their voice and doing a lousy job of it.

"Uh-huh. And let me guess, you've got a hot tip?"

The voice on the other end hesitates. "Um, well, actually, I'd like to speak with you about something. Or rather, someone."

"You know, you don't have to keep talking like that. I already don't know who you are."

The voice coughs and sounds more normal when it picks back up. "Right, well, could we set up a meeting?"

"About who?"

"I'd rather not discuss it over the phone."

Ohya lets out a sigh. "Fine."

 

5/11

 

"Pencils down."

Makoto complies and leans back in her chair, letting out a small but satisfied sigh. Exactly as planned. There were no topics she hadn't studied for. The questions had been familiar and easy to answer. Even with all her extracurriculars lately. Makoto allows a solitary moment of relief, then snaps her mind back to attention. There are still several more days of exams, and she has another mission for today.

She slides out of her seat as her classmates converse amongst themselves.

Nodding at each as she passes them, she approaches the back of the class and stops alongside one particular student's desk.

Haru Okumura looks up at Makoto and smiles. "Good afternoon, Niijima-chan. How do you think you did?"

Makoto returns the smile. "Well, thank you. I was wondering if you were free this afternoon."

Haru blinks. "Oh. Um, yes. I am."

"I see. Would you like to study for tomorrow's tests together?"

Haru's face brightens, and Makoto feels her stomach twist. "I would love to!" The girl declares and stands. "Should we go to the library?"

No. Not here. Not where Akira might see me. "Actually, there's a cafe in Shibuya, and-"

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Haru spins around and snatches up her bag. When she turns back and Makoto sees the look in her eyes, Makoto feels her own smile flicker. "Shall we?"

"Yes," Makoto says. "Let's."

They leave Shibuya unimpeded, take a short ride to Shibuya, and find their way to the cafe. As they traveled, Haru chatted about the day's exam.

Where she thinks she did well.

Where she thinks she didn't do too well.

Where she thinks she could've improved.

They sit down, and Makoto pulls a few books from her bag and sets them on the table. Haru does the same and says, "So, I thought we could start with calculus. I'm afraid it's my weakest subject and..."

Makoto hardly hears her. I got her here. Now what? How to broach this topic?

"Are you alright?" Haru asks, staring at her. The question brings Makoto back to reality.

"I'm sorry?"

Haru frowns, a not-quite suspicious look on her face. "It's just, you haven't said anything for a while. Not since we left school. Are you okay?" Her expression changes to surprised sympathy and she leans forward, whispering, "You're not worried about the exams, are you?"

"No," Makoto replies, shaking her head. "I'm not."

"Then what's wrong, Mako-chan?" Haru asks.

Mako-chan? Thirty minutes ago, I was Niijima-chan.

Screw it. What else can Makoto do? When it comes down to it, she's not good at this kind of thing. "Okumura-chan, I-"

"Please, call me Haru," Haru insists.

Makoto trips over that, but complies. "Well, um, Haru, the truth is, I was at Shibuya Underground last night."

Haru looks at her, and Makoto watches as the girl's eyes widen. "Oh. I see." She glances down at the tabletop. "Is that why you asked me here?" She asks, in a low voice. "Because you saw me working at Rafflesia?"

"I guess," Makoto stammers, fumbling over the words. "I guess I was just wondering why the daughter of a CEO is working at a flower shop in the mall."

Haru doesn't say anything for a long time.

"Forgive me," Haru replies. "But I fail to see how that is any of your business." Haru does not meet Makoto's eyes, but there is an undercurrent of defiance in her voice, something Makoto is shocked to hear from the typically quiet and reserved girl.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Perhaps," Haru says and begins to slide her books off the table. "It would be best if we studied separately. Good luck on your exams, Niijima-chan."

"Wait," Makoto says, reaching out and grabbing Haru's forearm. The girl halts. She doesn't move. She doesn't breathe. Haru simply sits and looks at Makoto's hand on her arm. There is a dignity in that stare, and Makoto snatches her hand away and stutters, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." How to salvage this? What would be a believable excuse for Makoto Niijima to be at the Rafflesia shop but not approach? Makoto hardly ever went to Shibuya Underground anyway. What would bring her there?

"I was following someone." Crap! That makes me sound like a serial killer!

"Following someone?" Haru asks. Her voice still holds that edge, but she relaxes a bit in her chair.

Makoto nods. "I saw him go down into Shibuya Underground, and I thought I might see what he was doing, and then-"

Haru gasps. Makoto jumps a bit at the noise. The former's eyes are wider, and her hands are clasped together beneath her chin. "Are you talking about Akira?"

Makoto stares at her. I suppose I was leading to that question, but she was quick on the uptake. "Yes, actually."

Haru's mouth splits into a huge smile. "I see. You were following him, is that right?"

What's with that tone? "W-well, I noticed him and-"

"You noticed him, huh?"

"That's... what are you doing?"

"You know, I never did ask. Did you enjoy your gift?"

Makoto feels as if she has lost complete control of everything. "I... what gift?"

"The one Akira put in your desk."

Makoto's jaw has never dropped before. It does now. "Wha-? How do you know about that?"

Haru giggles. "Who do you think told him which one was yours?"

"Y-you?"

"Me!" Haru declares proudly. "Obviously, me! It was so cute. He came in, all nervous, and didn't notice me until I spoke up. Then he asked me to help him find your desk."

Makoto tries to place all this information into the narrative she's constructed and realizes she may have gotten a few things wrong. "But, hold on. What about the flower shop?"

Haru frowns. "Ah. I'm afraid I must ask that you promise not to tell anyone I work there. I wouldn't want people to start spreading rumors about my family."

Makoto is a bit taken aback by the sudden change. "Yes, of course. I would never do something like that."

Haru stares at her, and after a few moments, nods. "Very well, I choose to trust you. Truth be told, the situation - as it is now - at Rafflesia was a complete coincidence. I had only started to work there about a week before Akira began. It was after I saw him put the gift in your desk. What was it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"A pencil case," Makoto says, gesturing to the Buchimaru case that's been present throughout the conversation. "This one, actually."

"Oh, it's so cute!"

"Th-thank you. So, you just happen to work with him?"

Haru nods. "That's right. We've worked together for a few weeks now. We're friends."

"Oh."

Haru gasps again, and Makoto startles at the noise once more. "You must think-" Haru starts. "But, no, it's not like that. We're just friends, as I said."

Haru gasps a third time, and at the looks of the other patrons, Makoto leans in and whispers, "Please, stop doing that."

"I'm sorry," Haru whispers back. "But I've just realized what you must think, and why you've asked me here." She shakes her head. "But you don't need to worry. I will help in any way I can. I can even do reconnaissance for you!"

Makoto blinks. "Are... are you sure? It could be dangerous."

Haru giggles. "Dangerous? Don't tell me you believe those silly rumors about Akira. He gets uncomfortable whenever he gets dirt under his fingernails. I doubt he's leading any secret assassin guild."

"Secret assassin guild?" Makoto asks. She pats the air. "Let's back up a moment. Just what, exactly, do you think I'm asking you to help with?"

Haru shrugs. "Well, it's a bit obvious, no? You want to know what I know about Akira."

"Yes," Makoto says, not sure she can believe Haru could deduce all this so quickly.

"And since we're friends now, and I work with Akira, you'll probably want me to spy on him for you and collect little nuggets of information you can use."

"Y-yes, I suppose."

"Right, and that's because you suspect Akira has a secret. Not a well-kept secret, if you ask me, but a secret, and you want to expose that secret and do something else."

"I, Haru, how do you know Akira-"

"Has a crush on you?" Haru asks. Makoto feels her heart stop. "I'd say it's a bit obvious. You don't sneak into a girl's classroom to leave little gifts because you feel platonic towards them. And it's clear you feel the same way, so I'm to acquire all this information on Akira, so you know the best way of getting him to ask you out."

Makoto's jaw drops for the second time in her life and the past two minutes. "I... what?"

Haru holds up her hands defensively. "Or so you can ask him out. Whichever you prefer. It makes no difference to me."

#

Akira brings the vial to his nose and sniffs. An aroma not unlike overripe fruit shoves its way up his sinuses. "This isn't going to make me pass out, is it?"

Takemi sits in her swivel chair, staring at him. "It shouldn't. I've switched up the formula since last time. No promises, though."

Akira frowns. The doctor's gaze feels heavy, like there's a weight pushing deep into his chest. Akira isn't sure, but he can't recall seeing Takemi blink since he entered the clinic. He opens his mouth and tosses back the medicine. It doesn't burn but tickles his throat as it goes down. Akira runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth, which now feels slick. "Not bad, I guess."

"This isn't a taste test," Takemi replies. "How do you feel?"

Akira sits still for a moment, gauging his many extremities and insides. "Fine, I think."

Takemi nods, finally removing her gaze from Akira and returning it to her clipboard, jotting something down as she does so. "You're not lying, are you?"

The words are cold, minus the doctor's typical sardonic lilt. They stake Akira to his seat on the examination table, and he feels a flush spread through his palms, neck, and cheeks. "What?"

"The question was clear."

"Am I lying? About what? How I feel? Why would I do that?"

Takemi's sigh is weary, and she sets her pen down with a slight slam that manages to echo through the suddenly claustrophobic room. "You're not one for subtext, are you? Suits me." Almost cruelly does Takemi toss the clipboard onto the desk, and she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms, unafraid. "You're a Phantom Thief."

Akira is silent. The bees in his head swarm and a half dozen voices shout over one another.

Deny!

Stall!

Admit!

Deflect!

Leave now!

For all this, Akira manages to keep his face remarkably smooth. He will congratulate himself on this later. "What makes you say that?"

"Suguru Kamoshida," Takemi replies, matter-of-fact. "He attacks you, and you tell me you're going to take care of him. I tell you to go to the police, to tell someone, but you assure me things will work out. And lo and behold."

Akira shrugs. "Lots of people hated Kamoshida. Half the students at Shujin were his victims at one point or another."

"Yes, but they're not here helping me conduct illegal experiments in exchange for medicine. They're not constantly crossing my doorstep with bruises, possible concussions, or having just witnessed a death." She raises a hand when Akira opens his mouth. "And, as far as I can tell, none of them are new to Shujin Academy. But you transfer in, out of the blue, and one month later, Kamoshida confesses his crimes and goes to jail. Quite the coincidence."

"Sounds pretty circumstantial to me," Akira replies.

"This isn't a court, and you're not on trial."

"Sure feels like it."

"Dammit, Akira," Takemi snaps, her facade cracking into an almost-snarl. "I'm not attacking you. I'm worried about you. You were nearly involved in a train crash. You told me you were experiencing hallucinations. A man died in front of you, and you were involved in everything that happened at Shujin. And now you've got a website and are taking Requests." She throws her hands in the air. "And I'm willing to bet you still haven't 'had the time' to find a therapist so-"

"Actually," Akira interrupts, grateful that here's at least something he can use, some life preserver onto which he can latch. "I did find a therapist. You can even check with Sojiro. He came to the office with me."

Takemi's tirade falters, the wind suddenly stolen from her sails. "Oh. I see. I'm, uh, sorry, Kurusu. Sorry. I just assumed-"

"Lots of people just assume things," Akira replies, doing nothing to keep the bitterness from his voice. When Takemi winces, he sighs and shakes his head. "But the truth is, we weren't a good fit. Sojiro's going to try and find someone else. Someone I'm comfortable with."

Takemi is quiet for a minute. "Well, that's important."

"Yeah," Akira says, suddenly very weary and fed up with all of this. "Look, I don't want to lie to you. Can I just say nothing?"

"No," Takemi replies, sternly. "No, you can't. Maybe, maybe if there were just one thing, that would fly. But there are too many unknowns circling you, Kurusu. I've got a lot of questions, and even though I don't know the specifics, I have something you need."

Akira smiles. "So, you're gonna withhold the medicine if I don't come clean?"

"This isn't extortion, you... you jackass," Takemi grumbles. "It's trust. Trust is a two-way street. I want to trust you, and I hope you want to trust me. But we're well past 'need to know' and 'deniability.' I need to know what you're doing if you want to keep using my services."

"What if I just say I won't help you with your illegal research?" Akira asks. "I thought that was the deal."

"I'm updating the terms. And if you back out of testing the medicine, I'll live. So the question is, can you afford to back out?"

The voices in Akira's head quiet down, collapsing into one clear way forward. It is all Akira can think to do. "I suppose not," he answers.

#

Ohya sits at the bar of Crossroads, far soberer than she would prefer. Where the hell is this guy?

Sure, more times than not, these shady folk with 'insider information' never showed, but that didn't mean she appreciated being stood up.

"You look more concerned than usual," Lala says, sliding up alongside her.

Ohya nods, frowning. "I've got a hunch, Lala-chan."

Lala rolls her eyes. "You always say that."

"Yeah," Ohya replies. "But I've only had one drink tonight. The less I've had to drink, the more accurate the hunch."

"Is that the science of journalism?"

Ohya grins. "Nope. Just my personal formula."

"Well, be careful," Lala tells her, and slips her a glass of water. "Just in case."

"Always am," Ohya says, as Lala begins to walk away.

"No, you're not," Lala shouts back.

The door to the outside opens, and a young, slim figure slides his way inside. Ohya runs her eyes over him. Sweatshirt in May. Baseball cap on under a hood. This is my guy. She stares at him until he notices her doing so, and she nods towards the empty barstool next to her.

With his hands deep in his pockets, he starts to move through the gloomy bar towards her.

Ohya's eyes widen as he gets closer. He's young. Very young. Wait, is he a teenager?

"Ichiko Ohya?" He asks. His voice is deep, but not that of an adult. She doesn't reply, and he seems to take that as acknowledgment. "Sorry I'm late. I was held up having a... long conversation."

"How old are you?" Ohya asks, ignoring whatever it was he said. This is not her typical first question, but it's the only one she can think of.

"Does that-" He starts, but then she reaches out, and shoves back his hood. He jumps back in surprise, but she's too fast, and swats the hat off his head.

"Oh, goddammit," Ohya groans, rolling her eyes. "You are just a kid." The boy pales by such a degree that Ohya can even see it in the dim light of Crossroads. He bends over and snatches up his hat. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"N-no," he says, and sits down on the stool she'd offered initially. "It's not."

Ohya sighs and spins back to the bar. "Hey, Lala-chan! I'll take another drink after all."

"What about your hunch?" Lala calls from the other side.

Ohya sticks out her thumb towards the kid. "Looks like I need a new formula."

Lala nods and ducks down below the bar.

"Um," the kid says, but Ohya glares at him and cuts him off.

"So, what's your hot tip? Is there a cheating problem at your school? Are the teachers super mean?"

"Actually," the young man says. "I was asked to contact you."

"By whom?" Ohya asks. Lala returns and sets her drink down.

The boy stares at Lala as she heads back to tend to a few other patrons.

"You got a problem?" Ohya asks, putting an edge in her voice.

"No," he replies, quickly.

"Then don't stare. It's rude. Now hurry up and tell me who told you to call me."

"Nakanohara Natsuhiko."

Ohya spins through her mental Rolodex. Nakanohara. Sounds familiar. Wasn't he some creepy clerk I talked to a few months ago? Why was that again? Oh, yeah! Madarame! She looks over at the kid, reappraising him. "He told you to talk to me? Why?"

"He said you might have some information on a person I'm looking into."

"And that would be?" Ohya asks.

"Ichiryusai Madarame."

Ohya stalls to think by slowly picking up her drink and bringing it to her lips. As the alcohol pours down her throat, she recalls everything she had learned about that man. So, who is this kid? Another apprentice? "What's your relation with Madarame?"

The kid wets his lips with his tongue before answering. "I'm concerned about him."

"Concerned?"

"Concerned."

"About what?"

"Well... I don't think he's such a great guy."

Ohya sets her drink on the bar. "Do you have anything to tell me or not?" When the kid stares at her, she shakes her head. "Wow. You didn't think any of this through, did you? What'd you expect? You could just sit down here, and I would spill whatever I know? Look kid, if you don't have any information on Madarame, you can beat it. I'm not in the habit of giving something for nothing."

"Nakanohara Natushiko said you were the person to talk to if I wanted to learn more about Madarame," he protests.

Ohya takes another sip. "Yeah? Well, I'll be sure to thank him for giving out my number to a know-nothing juvenile. If you can't give me any information and can't help, then I've got nothing to say."

The kid looks away from her, staring at the bar's rack. "Trust is a two-way street, huh?"

"Trust?" Ohya asks. "Who the hell said anything about trust? I don't know you, and I sure as shit don't trust you, no offense. Tit for tat, kid."

The boy seems to sink a little deeper into the stool. "I can help, actually," he says, so low she can barely hear him over the smooth music drifting from the jukebox in the corner.

"Oh yeah? How so?" She peers into the kid's face. His eyes are flickering back and forth rapidly.

"What if I gave you something else? Something you can use for another story? Would you give me information on Madarame then?"

Ohya shrugs. "Depends on what you know. I try not to cross the streams, so to speak."

"Suguru Kamoshida," the kid says.

Ohya blinks, and thinks. Former Olympian. Rapist. Gym Teacher. What was the school? Shujin Academy. "What about him?"

"I can give you information about him. What he was like. Maybe," and he pauses, and a pained look crosses his face, "maybe I can even get you interviews with his victims."

Ohya mulls this over. "Kamoshida's victims, being minors, were kept out of the papers, but that didn't mean other journalists hadn't tried to pry their names and faces out of the dirt and into the limelight.

She shakes her head. "Pass."

The kid's eyes widen. "Pass?"

"Kamoshida is old news. He confessed, what? Two weeks ago, or something? This is 2016, kid. The world spins on. They should teach you that at Shujin."

His eyes manage to widen further. "How'd you know-" He cuts himself off, but it's too late.

Ohya groans and rubs her temples. "Kid, come on. Who else would have dirt on Kamoshida? And don't ever just confirm something someone says about you, by asking how they know about it!"

It's hard to tell in the light, but Ohya thinks his face reddens. "I need to work on my tells."

"No shit," Ohya replies, and takes another sip.

"Okay, then. What if I give you information on something else? Something new? Something that hasn't been reported on yet, by anyone?"

Ohya cracks a grin and slaps his arm. "Ooooh, look at you. You've managed to pique my interest. That's more like it. Don't disappoint me now. Go on."

"The Phantom Thieves."

Ohya's smile drops. "The Phantom Thieves," she repeats. The boy nods. "You're joking."

"No. I'm not."

"Kid, the Phantom Thieves are nothing but an urban legend. They're a freaking meme. They don't exist. Maybe there was a group at your school that blackmailed or forced Kamoshida to confess, and they tried to be all picaresque about it with that Calling Card, but even if that were all true, they were nothing but a couple of teenagers with a grudge. A justified grudge, but that's about it."

"Haven't you seen the site?"

"You mean the 'PhanSite?'" Ohya asks. "No, I haven't. Because I have a job, and my job doesn't let me waste time on the Internet."

Lala walks by. "No. You just waste time here, instead."

Ohya sticks out a tongue. "Is this how you talk to your best customer?"

"You're not my best customer," Lala replies, beaming. "You're just the loudest."

"You're so mean, Lala-chan!"

"The Phantom Thieves are real."

Ohya turns back to the boy. "Is that so?"

"Nakanohara was stalking his ex-girlfriend. She requested that the Phantom Thieves change his heart to make him stop. They did, and he did.”

Ohya looks at the kid one more time. He seems different than just a few moments ago. She can't put her finger on it, but he no longer appears to be the bumbling neophyte. When did we stumble into his territory? "And? That's hardly conclusive evidence of their existence."

"You're a journalist, yeah?"

Ohya nods. Now I'm answering his questions?

"And you protect your sources?"

"Of course," she barks. "That's journalism one-oh-one, along with 'tell the truth.'"

"Then you won't repeat what I'm about to tell you, to anyone?"

"So long as you're not pulling my leg."

"After the Phantom Thieves changed Nakanohara's heart, he put in a Request against Madarame. Nakanohara wants the Phantom Thieves to change his heart."

"And how do you know? Is that on the site?"

"No," the boy replies. "I know because he told me."

"Why would he tell you that?"

"Because he thought I was one of them."

Ohya stares. "Are you?"

The kid smiles. "I know the admin of the website. But even he doesn't know the identities of every member. Nakanohara wanted to put it on the website, but because Madarame is such a huge name, the admin thought it best to keep it off the site. The Phantom Thieves were intrigued, so, the admin asked me to meet with Nakanohara, pretend I was a Phantom Thief, and get information on Madarame. Nakanohara gave me your name."

"That sounds suspiciously complicated."

The kid's mask falters a bit, but he shakes his head. "It's the truth. So, there's your information. The Phantom Thieves are real. They're going to go after Madarame. Want to help?"

"Why not put Madarame's name on the website? It's not like he'd believe it."

The boy smiles. "The rules for posting were updated recently—a precaution to protect identities. But, as I said, I know the admin. So if you want, I can have him post a small message to the site tomorrow to prove it."

Ohya is stuck. Something tells her that while the kid isn't telling the whole truth, he's not exactly lying either. "What's your name?" She asks.

The boy scoffs. "Right. Like I'm about to give you that now."

Ohya's phone buzzes. She takes it from her pocket and reads the text. "Sssshhiiiittttt," she moans.

"Something wrong?" The boy asks.

"I've got to go. The boss needs me." She glares over at him. "So, let's say, hypothetically, I believe you. How would I contact you?"

"Tell me a good time, and I'll call you."

Ohya feels her eyes narrow. "You're not as inept as you look. This weekend. Anytime is fine."

Ohya stands, but the boy turns towards her. "Hey, I gave you some information. How about you give me something?"

She turns back to look at him, frowning. "Hey, Lala-chan," she calls. Lala turns and stares. Ohya points to her drink. "Put that on my tab." Lala rolls her eyes but nods. Then, Ohya leans in towards the boy. "I'll give you a name. You connect the dots." He stares up at her, expectantly. "Yusuke Kitagawa." Then, she turns and jogs out of the bar. Don't think I'm going to sit on this, kid. Next time we meet, I'll know exactly who you are.

#

Ohya runs out the door, and Akira lets his posture slip. Damn. That was nuts. The woman had been indefatigable. Battering him and hitting him from all sides, Akira had almost given up and split. He'd been forced to wing the whole 'I know the admin' thing. God help him if Ohya wanted to meet Mishima.

Akira was already exhausted after his conversation with Takemi. It took some time to bring Takemi up to speed, and she voiced all the usual objections to his explanation:

• This is all bullshit.
• There's no way that's real.
• What are you talking about,'
• Etc.

Akira could only tell her what he knew. Akira admitted he was a Phantom Thief, and they used the Metaverse to change the hearts of corrupted individuals. The medicine Takemi sold him could be imbibed in the Metaverse to heal their wounds since cognition was everything there.

After a while, Takemi had looked as exhausted as Akira felt, and then they'd started talking about Yukio Kan.

Faint music drifts through his ears, and a few hushed conversations catch his notice. Akira lets himself sit back and look around the interior of Crossroads bar. Velvet. Red. Very odd decor. Where the hell am I?

A glass is set before him. Akira looks up into the face of the bartender. She smiles.

"What's this?" Akira asks, looking down at the brown liquid.

"A drink. You look like you need one," she replies.

"Um," Akira says. "Sorry, but I'm seventeen."

"Yes, darling, I figured you were. That's why this is a special drink."

Akira lifts it and looks closer. "What is it?"

"A Jack and Coke, minus the Jack," she says. Akira remembers that Ohya had called her Lala-chan.

"Wouldn't that just make it a Coke?"

"Oh, you're so smart!" Lala chuckles and leans her elbows on the counter. "Word to the wise, young man. Whatever scheme you're cooking up with that young lady, keep your head. She's a good girl, a great girl, but she skews towards drama and trouble."

"Great," Akira replies, and takes a sip of the soda. "I could always use more."

"More?" Lala asks.

Akira shakes his head and waves his hand. "Oh, sorry. You wouldn't want to hear it."

"Sweetie, I stand behind a bar all day and serve drinks. I hear everyone's problems." Lala glances down the length of the bar. "And it's rather slow right now, sad to say. So, come on, tell Lala Escargot your troubles."

Akira inclines his head. "I've got plenty."

"That's the perfect amount," Lala replies.

#

Tae Takemi stares at her bedroom ceiling.

It was all so unbelievable. Everything Akira Kurusu had said. There was no way it could be real.

Metaverse.

She'd heard the word before. When she was younger, she'd read a few Western science fiction writers, and one had used the term regularly. She doubted it was the same application, though.

Akira had shown her the 'Navigation app' on his phone. However, Akira refused when Takemi asked him to show her this cognitive world. He'd already accidentally sucked one friend in and gotten them involved. He wasn't about to do it again.

Takemi had pointed out that excuse was awfully convenient.

But as Akira had gone on and on about the nonsensical rules and his pursuit of Kamoshida's 'Treasure,' Takemi couldn't help but find something familiar about it.

During her years in medical school, she'd come across a lot of research. Most of it either reinforced or refuted existing medical practices or understandings. Rarely did she come across something that promised to revolutionize how medicine worked. Even when something did, it often was just some crackpot theory dreamed up by some disgraced practitioner.

Hey, kind of like me, Takemi thinks, wearily.

Still, she'd once read something that came across as more science fiction than actual science. No, not even science fiction. It was more like science fantasy. A "developing" (read, "nonexistent save for a few lunatics") field in neuroscience (or was it an offshoot of neuroscience claiming to be its own thing? Takemi couldn't remember) that cited the possibility of altering human consciousness through an interaction with a mental plane or underlying reality. It was all nonsense, but Takemi had dived into it.

Not because she found it engaging, but because the idea was so silly.

The idea that you could physically go somewhere that might correspond to someone's unconsciousness and alter something that would impact their psyche.

Cognitive Science.

That was its name.

A bunch of bullshit.

But here was a boy claiming the ability to do just that, and it certainly hadn't seemed like he'd come across the idea in any medical journal.

Takemi knew that cognitive scientists were laughed out of universities and research labs. All talk of the study had vanished.

But then there was Yukio Kan. Akira had said he'd died with black fluid pouring from his eyes and mouth. But the media reported his death as a heart attack. And if what Akira's friend had said was true, then the man's death was tied to the mental shutdown cases.

...alter something that would impact their psyche. Such as shut it down completely?

Takemi did not like this. She did not like any of this.

And the worst part was, she knew she wouldn't be able to let it go.

 

Notes:

Things are kicking up a notch! Sorry for the late posting, it's Labor Day, so I stayed up all night and didn't wake up until 11.

Just a reminder, this is the last week I'll be posting until my extended. I suspect I'll be back in October, but if anything changes, I'll be sure to let you all know.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 29: Chapter 29

5/12

 

Kawakami yawns.

"I trust," Principal Kobayakawa says, "that I am not boring you, Kawakami-sensei."

"I'm sorry, sir," she blurts out. "It was-" She is about to say, 'a long night,' but wisely snaps her mouth shut. "I'm sorry, sir," she repeats.

Kobayakawa nods and continues to lurch his way forward. Kawakami follows him a half-step or so behind, a respectful distance. They stroll the early morning halls of Shujin. The only students present are those belonging to clubs.

Her whole body feels sluggish. It really had been a long night. And it's shaping up to be a long day too.

"You were saying?" the Principal prods.

"Yes. Ann Takamaki," Kawakami says. "There isn't much to tell, sir. She's a decent enough student. She excels in English."

"And her relationships?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

The Principal glares over his fat shoulder and spits, "Her relationships, Kawakami-sensei. I'm asking how well she gets along with her classmates."

Kawakami frowns but averts her gaze. "Well, her best friend is Shiho Suzui. But, thanks to Kamoshida's rumors, she doesn't have many other friends."

The Principal makes a harrumphing noise, but says nothing.

Kawakami blinks. "Sir, if I may ask, why are you asking me about her? Has she done something wrong?"

"I am not in a position where I have to address your questions."

Jackass.

"What of Akira Kurusu?"

Kawakami shrugs. "There was a hiccup a few weeks ago, but I can't complain since. I got Makoto Niijima to tutor him privately."

"Did you now?" Kobayakawa asks. He whirls and stares at her. "And what prompted that decision?"

Kawakami balks under the weight of his attention. "I just figured he could use a helping hand. Who better than the student council president?"

"Who else, indeed?" Kobayakawa asks, and to Kawakami's ears, it seems he's speaking to himself. He turns and continues his waddle down the hall. Kawakami follows. All she wants to do is retreat to the faculty office, where she can drop her head and grab a few winks before the day officially begins. Why the hell is he asking me all this?

"Do all these students," Kobayakawa begins, gesturing casually, as if the point had just struck him. "Get along? Amongst themselves?"

"All three of them?"

Kobayakawa nods. "Kamoshida-sensei - during his confession - indicated that he'd asked Kurusu to assist him in... well, you were there."

The thought makes Kawakami sick. "I recall. Though, if I'm being honest, sir. I never got that impression from the two of them. Takamaki and Kurusu seemed to get along fine. I didn't see him trying to pressure her, but I know plenty of students claim otherwise."

"Yes," Kobayakawa drawls. "I've heard as much."

"As for Niijima, I couldn't say. I believe the study sessions are ongoing, but I can't recall ever seeing Niijima interact with Takamaki."

Kobayakawa is silent for a moment. "Keep an eye on them," he says, finally. "I want to know if they're more than just... chummy."

Chummy? "Uh, okay," Kawakami replies. "Anything I should be looking for, in particular?"

Kobayakawa sighs in that way he does when he feels he must condescend to explain. "You've been in this school for the past month, haven't you, Kawakami-sensei? I don't feel I should have to elaborate."

Kawakami rolls this over in her mind. "Does this have anything to do with the Phant-"

"It does not," the Principal snaps. "And you would do well not to entertain that notion. Simply do as I've instructed." He lifts his large wrist towards his face. "I believe the students will begin to arrive in earnest soon. You're dismissed."

Kawakami politely excuses herself and breaks from Kobayakawa's orbit as fast as she's able. She retreats to the faculty office and collapses at her desk. Since Kamoshida's arrest, the place has been exceedingly quiet and tense. Those teachers that do speak with one another do so in hushed voices. No one seems willing to bring attention to themselves, which suits Kawakami just fine.

She had wanted to escape the Principal and take a quick nap, but now she finds that she's wired. Why did he want to know all that? Kawakami pulls out her phone and queues up the PhanSite. She rereads the new rules for posting.

None of the teachers want to discuss the Phantom Thieves. When Kamoshida's Calling Card had appeared, the faculty room had been abuzz with speculation. Clearly, it had been the work of one or possibly a few students Kamoshida had victimized. Once Kamoshida suffered his change of heart, however, the topic became less fun.

Kawakami wasn't dumb. Someone had to have blackmailed Kamoshida, or maybe the scumbag had seen the writing on the wall and decided to play into it. No one could just change a heart.

Yet.

Over the past week, Kawakami has found her attention wavering, continuing to come back to the PhanSite. Why keep it up if all the Phantom Thieves had wanted to do was stop Kamoshida? Not for the first time, Kawakami thinks about making her own Request, but the guilt this elicits rises within her, and she turns the phone face down on her desk.

She doesn't deserve an out like that.

#

Lunch. Ann stands from her desk, turns to Akira, and with a twinkle in her eye and a 'haha I know something you don't' hitch to her smile, whispers, "I know who Yusuke Kitagawa is."

Akira feels his eyes widen. He'd hoped, after he relayed his conversation with Ohya to the team that morning, during which Ann had declared that the name 'Yusuke Kitagawa' sounded familiar, that she would produce results. He didn't imagine it would be during lunch, though he had peered around her hunched-over back during class and seen her furiously scrolling through her phone.

Further back, in his peripheral vision, he sees Kawakami-sensei staring at the two of them. When she sees Akira seeing her seeing them, she pauses a second longer than is comfortable, and it almost looks as if she's about to approach them. She aborts this a moment later, snatches her materials off the desk, and leaves the classroom, head hung.

"Roof?" Ann asks.

"Roof," Akira acknowledges.

The two exit their homeroom, detouring to snatch Ryuji as he saunters out of his own, and adroitly climb their way to the roof. The A/C rumbles, providing sufficient white noise, and Morgana greets them, perched on one of the chairs. The cat frequents this spot every lunch, officially if there's any need for a meeting, and in reality, there's a significant chance one of the three Phantom Thieves will likely feed him some of their lunch.

"What's up?" Morgana asks, pretending not to eye Ryuji's packet of ramen the boy pulls from his bag.

"Not much," Ann says. "Just proving, yet again, that I am the most valuable member of this team."

Akira and Ryuji glance at one another. "We bow to your superiority," Akira says flatly.

"Yeah, what he said," Ryuji replies, jerking his head in Akira's direction. "Now, what's all this about Kitagawa?"

Despite their exams and the deep-sea level of pressure on the team, Akira knew he couldn't keep his very many conversations from the previous day from the others.

He'd informed the Phantom Thieves of his conversations with Takemi and Ohya. No one seemed particularly concerned with his giving himself away to Takemi, which surprised Akira until he recalled that Ryuji and Ann had told or confirmed their secret to others. Ryuji did lament that there were just as many people who weren't in the Phantom Thieves but knew their identities, as there were actual Phantom Thieves. Though no one beyond Shiho knew Morgana could talk. There were still some surprises.

Akira had left out the part where he'd tried to lie to Takemi, insisting that he only knew the Admin of the PhanSite, and therefore had only a passing connection - but still a connection - with the Phantom Thieves. She had not believed him, and Akira couldn't blame her, so he had come clean. His explanation of the Metaverse and Palaces had been an abbreviated one, and he had opted not to show her his phone to verify, as he didn't want to risk spreading the app to her.

Takemi, while not having appeared sold, did seem thoughtful, and the rest of the visit passed without incident. Akira did feel guilty, though. He genuinely liked Takemi, and keeping things from her had hurt far more than he had thought. Coming clean alleviated that somewhat, but part of him still felt muddied by the whole thing.

To his rapid-fire exchange with Ohya - in the telling of which Akira ensured he sounded more proficient than he'd been - Ryuji only commented that Shinjuku was 'a weird place' and Akira could do nothing but agree.

At the name Yusuke Kitagawa, Ann's brow had furrowed, and her face had taken on the look of someone trying to remember something they hadn't deemed important at the time. She had promised to look into it for them, and Akira agreed. He had not been looking forward to blitzing his way through all of Japan's social media and news articles, trying to find a specific person by that name, and then deducing their connection to Madarame. Especially since he hadn't made his way to Akihabara yet to secure any of the material Mishima cited as necessary to mask his searching.

Ann clears her throat for no reason Akira can see. "Yusuke Kitagawa is Madarame's apprentice."

"For real?" Ryuji asks. "Like Nakanohara used to be?"

Ann nods. "Exactly. But he's Madarame's current apprentice." She brings up her phone so the two boys and the cat can read the screen's contents.

"'Modeling Gig - Artsy Fartsy?'" Akira reads, feeling his confusion and his brows lift as one.

Ann's face explodes with crimson, and she quickly scrolls past the subject line. "My agent's weird," she stammers. "She didn't think I'd be interested in this thing, and I wasn't. It's a request for some modeling work, but not for a magazine or anything. Yusuke Kitagawa is looking for someone to paint."

"I thought all you models only, uh, modeled for magazines and shit?" Ryuji drawls. "Guys paint you too?"

"Are you even reading the email?" Ann asks.

"No," both boys say.

"Not really," Morgana says.

"Just tell us what's going on," Ryuji groans.

"Fine. God, you guys are the worst," Ann snaps, shoving her phone back in her pocket. "Okay, look. Yes. Typically, I model for magazines and ads. Stuff like that. No one at my agency will take a painter's request seriously, especially a student painter no one's ever heard of.

"The only reason it got posted was because of Kitagawa's connection to Madarame. I didn't even know that when my agent sent it to me. I read the first two sentences and declined. 'A student named Yusuke Kitagawa is looking to paint someone. Will pay, but not much.' Talk about a hard sell. Anyway, that's all I needed to hear." Ann nods toward Akira. "You said the name, and it took a bit, but I remembered. I was texting my agent during class. The gig is still open. I requested it, citing my interest in Madarame, which is true, but I've got this huge fascination with art, which is total bullcrap. My agent booked me for the gig as soon as exams wrap up."

Ann beams.

Akira smiles.

Ryuji grins.

Morgana does that thing he does when he's happy.

#

"High-Intensity Interval Training," Ryuji declares, sounding the words out.

Akira sighs, and looks across the table at Ann. "Did you finish those practice problems yet?"

Ann nods, but makes a face. "Yeah, if by finish you mean 'crashed and burned.'" She turns her book around so Akira can read the scratchings she's made on the paperwork. "I think I'm about ready to give up. I don't have a head for math."

"You guys aren't even listening to me, are you?" Ryuji asks.

"Nope," both Akira and Ann say, together.

Ryuji leans back in the booth, crossing his arms, a scowl etching itself across his face. "Can't believe you guys are still trying to study. It's-"

Ann cuts him off by dropping her head onto the table, then rearing back and glaring at him. "And I can't believe you're still trying to get us to discuss exercise plans! We're in the middle of exams, Ryuji. I mean, seriously, if you keep this up, Akira and I will just study without you!"

Not one to just sit quietly and take abuse, Ryuji digs in his heels. "If you know you're going to do bad, why bother? I'm talking about real stuff we could be doing now that could impact... well, you know what I mean."

"Just because I don't think I'm going to do well doesn't mean I'm not going to try," Ann counters. "And I see a bunch of books open in front of you, Ryuji. So why are you even studying since you're so dead-set on doing bad?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "What else was I gonna do?" He lowers his voice. "Explore Mementos by myself?"

Akira finishes copying down Ann's answers and compares them to his own. He's sure he's done alright on the practice questions, but if that's true, then Ann is in a rough spot.

Or, Akira thinks. I'm not half as good at this as I thought.

"Let's be real," Ryuji says. "You may do well on English, but the only one of the three of us who's going to get a good score is Akira, and that's because he had the Prez helping him." Ryuji blinks and quickly turns to Akira. "Not that you're not good at studying without Niijima's help or anything, man." Ryuji frowns. "Actually, are you a good student?"

"Little on the nose, don't you think?" Ann asks.

"What's that mean?" Ryuji replies, then turns back to Akira. "Seriously, dude. Are you, like, good at school?"

Akira lifts himself away from his textbooks, leans back, and adopts a slight smirk. From deep within him resonates a faint chuckle, and he raises one hand to his glasses, adjusting them with splayed fingers so the light of the cafe will glint off them just so. "As a matter of fact," Akira replies, a lilt to his voice. "Not especially."

Ryuji and Ann deflate. "All that buildup for that?" Ryuji asks.

"Lame," Ann mutters.

Akira shrugs. "I don't know. I'm not a genius or anything. I don't like studying or tests. I get decent grades, though. Plus, with the help of Makoto, I think I'll end up with a pretty good score."

Ann's brow arches up. "Since when do you call her, 'Makoto?'"

Ryuji's eyes squint. "Speaking of the Prez..."

Ann's frown deepens. "No. I've got a better idea. Let's not talk about Niijima-senpai."

"No, but for real," Ryuji says, waving for Ann to be quiet. "I think she's sitting over there."

Akira feels his pulse jackhammer. "Seriously?" He asks, and is immediately embarrassed by how his voice sounds. He clears his throat and quickly says, "I mean, Oh?"

Ann gives him a look he reads as 'Oh please,' and turns to follow Ryuji's gaze. "Where?"

"There," Ryuji says, and points at some booth on the other side of the cafe. "The chick behind the... uh, I mean, it looks like a magazine or manga or something. A big one."

Akira spots her. As he does, the hands that hold the manga lower it just enough for a pair of eyes to peek out over the top. Then, just as quickly, they vanish again as the periodical shoots back up.

Yep. That's definitely Makoto.

"What the hell is she doing?" Ann asks.

"Reading, duh," Ryuji replies.

"Like that?" Ann asks. "Have you ever seen someone read like that?"

Ryuji is silent for half a moment. "Okay, yeah. It does look pretty weird."

"Is she trying to hide?" Akira asks. "From someone?"

"From us?" Ann asks.

"Why would she..." Akira begins, but trails off. His mouth quiets, but his brain speeds up. What is she doing here? Why wouldn't she want me to see her? Is she following me? What could she want? Is she following me, or us? Akira feels himself settle. This is going to require some subtlety. I need to figure out what's going on without-

Ryuji stands up in the booth and shouts, "HEY YO! PREZ! IS THAT YOU?"

Every head in the diner turns towards them. The hands that hold the manga tighten, visible even from across the room.

Or, Akira thinks. We could take the Ryuji approach.

"HEY!" Ryuji shouts again and lifts his hand, waving. "PRESIDENT NIIJIMA-SENPAI? THAT YOU?"

"Ryuji," Ann hisses, face extraordinarily red. "Sit down!”

Ryuji waves a hand to hush her, and then, "STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT NIIJIMA-SENPAI, THAT'S YOU, RI-"

Makoto slams the manga down on the table and bolts upright. "Yes," she growls into the sudden silence. "Yes, thank you, Sakamoto. It's me."

Ryuji nods as if everything had gone as planned. "Oh, cool. Come on over." He plops down in his seat. "Guess it was her."

"Guess so," Akira says, through gritted teeth.

Ann says nothing, having just reburied her head in her hands.

Akira turns and gazes back at Makoto, meeting her eyes. She has yet to move. Akira offers what he hopes is an apologetic smile and spreads his hands in a shrug. You might as well come over, he tries to transmit.

Having received this signal, Makoto straightens and begins to walk toward them with as much dignity as she can muster, which is still a lot considering the situation.

"Hello," Makoto proclaims once she reaches the table.

"Hey," Ryuji replies, beaming.

"Hi," Akira tries, suddenly blank on what he should be saying.

"Niijima-senpai," Ann says, without looking up. Indeed, she seems to have become more interested in reviewing the answers to her math problems.

"Thought that was you," Ryuji says.

"Yes," Makoto grunts. "I know." She runs her eyes over the various texts and open notebooks. "Preparing for your exams?"

Akira smiles. "I figured I could still use some brushing up, not that you're a bad teacher or anything."

Makoto smiles a bit at that.

"Wanna sit with us?" Ryuji asks.

"She's not even in our grade," Ann points out, still without looking up. "She's studying for different topics."

"It's fine," Makoto says, glancing around the room. "I'm not sure I... well, it is true that I have my own exams to study for."

"Right, so?" Ann says, leaving a hanging thread for Makoto to exit the conversation. Akira shoots her a look, but the girl doesn't respond.

Akira opens his mouth, wanting to say something, but with Ann and Ryuji this close, he finds that he's stumbling over his words. "Let's uh, go back to your table?" He suggests. "Alone," he adds when he sees the other two stare at him. "I'll be right back."

Akira slides out of the booth and, too late, realizes that Makoto is standing almost on top of him. The girl blushes a bit and takes a few quick steps back while Akira waits for her to move before he finishes exiting the booth. He gestures towards Makoto's table, and the girl nods.

Fortunately, by this time, the rest of the patrons have returned to whatever conversations or food they'd been previously interested in, and Makoto can return to her table without them dragging the stares of anyone else. Akira does glance back at his table to find Ann frowning after them, but he resolves to deal with that later.

"How are your exams going?" Makoto asks, sliding back into her booth.

Akira remains standing. "Pretty well, I think." He nods his head in genuine respect. "Your help was invaluable."

"That's good."

Akira blinks at the abrupt silence. "So, what brings you here? Not following me, I hope?"

Makoto frowns at this, and looks away, then shakes her head. "No. I came here to read and study. I noticed you and your friends over there, but I figured you were in the middle of your prep work, so I didn't want to bother you."

Akira laughs. "Really? That doesn't sound like you. Next time you see me somewhere, just march over. Save Ryuji some breath."

The corners of Makoto's mouth twitch up a bit, but then fade back down. "So, did Sakamoto manage to ask Takamaki out?"

"Ah," Akira says, and makes a show of turning back to regard his two blonde friends. "I'm afraid he hasn't quite gathered up the courage to ask her out on a date yet. But he's getting there."

Akira turns back and, for a moment, is very confused. A rather sad look has passed over Makoto's face as she stares up at him. A hint of shame snakes its way through him, and Akira finds that he cannot meet her gaze.

"I should be on my way," Makoto says. "I've intruded on your study session enough."

"No, hey, come on," Akira counters. "You can stay. Are you sure you won't join us? I could even sit with you if you want some help studying."

Makoto shakes her head and starts to gather up her things. "No, thank you."

"Okay," Akira replies. "That's, um, next time, then."

"Mmmm," Makoto passively agrees.

"Oh," Akira says as Makoto begins to stand. "I started reading Lies of Locke Lamora. I'm only a few chapters in, though. Cool book."

"Indeed," Makoto says. Then she fixes him with a stare. "Apt title." She takes a step away from him, then speaks. "Goodbye, Akira. Good luck on your exams."

"Yeah," Akira says to her back. "You too."

Geez, Joker whispers in his mind. What did you do?

#

Haru leans forward. "So, do you think there's another girl?"

The concept jolts through Makoto like ice water. "What?"

"Another girl," Haru says, then shakes her head. "I'm not saying there is one, but it seems like he's doing a lot of... I don't know, avoiding?"

"I don't think there's another girl," Makoto adds. "But I know he's lying about something." She has brought Haru up to - relative - speed. Of course, Haru has no idea that Makoto is just looking into the Phantom Thieves, so Makoto wonders why she thinks Makoto is so interested in the private lives of Sakamoto and Takamaki.

"Well, when I work with him at the flower shop, I'll try to get more information from him. Want me to turn it towards Sakamoto and Takamaki? If that will help."

"I don't know," Makoto adds, sighing. The incident in the cafe had been very embarrassing, and it hadn't helped when Akira continued to lie.

Hypocrite, she thinks. Here she was, complaining about Akira lying while doing the same thing to her 'friend.' "I suppose I could put together a list of things to ask."

Haru waves this suggestion away. "I already have a list. So don't worry, Mako-chan. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Makoto is beginning to wonder if any of this is worth it.

#

Morgana's paw arches out, swats the fluffy substances, and curls back towards his belly.

"Stop that," Akira says.

"I can't," Morgana replies. He swings his arm out again, and bats his target. "It's so fluffy."

"You're bothering Haru."

Haru smiles over at him. "No, it's fine."

Morgana turns to him and says, "See?"

Morgana takes another swing at Haru's hair. She giggles and scratches his ear. She holds him in her arms, and smiles down at him. "You're so sweet, Mona-chan." Then she grins up at Akira. "It's like you two are having a conversation."

Akira sets the box of plant seeds down and smiles.

"Sometimes, I think he's the smartest person in the room." Morgana beams. "Sometimes, not so much." Morgana hisses.

Haru nods and deposits Morgana onto a nearby table. The two teens are in the back office of Rafflesia, organizing some shelves. Hanasaki mans the floor at the moment and given that it's a slow night, they don't expect to return to the front.

"Hey, Akira?"

"Yeah?" Akira replies, absently.

"What kind of movies do you like?"

Akira feels his brows knit together. Morgana, from where he lazes on the table, looks over at him as well. "What kind of movies do I like?"

Haru nods. "Yes. I was just wondering."

"Oh, well, all kinds, I guess."

"All kinds? Surely you must have a favorite genre?" Haru’s breath appears bated.

Akira feels his cheeks redden. What's going on? Why is she asking me this? "Action movies are fun. Mysteries. I'm not really into romances or horror."

"I see. You like action and mysteries, but don't like horror or romances."

"Yes." That is, indeed, what I said.

"Good to know."

"Why?"

"Hmm?" Haru frowns.

"I mean, why is that 'good to know?'" Akira asks.

Haru smirks and shakes her head. "I'm just curious, is all. We're friends, yes? I was interested to know what kind of movies you were into. Oh, and what about books?"

"Books?"

"Yes, what kind of books do you like?"

Akira sighs. Now what's going on?

Akira sighs. "I don't know. The same. Mysteries and action novels."

"But, you don't read horror novels? Or romance books?"

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't be caught dead with a romance book. Have you seen those covers? And horror stuff freaks me out." He thinks of Caroline and Justine and shudders. I get enough horror in my real life, thank you very much.

“Hmm…” Haru hums, she nods as though in confirmation of suspicions. “I’m going to ask you something else, alright?”

“Okay,” Akira drawls, not sure why his nerves spike.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Had Akira been sipping a beverage, he would’ve spit out the contents, but as his mouth is empty, all he can manage is a strange noise that sounds like, “Shbeehwha,” but isn’t quite.

Morgana arches onto his hind legs and yells, “Conference!” so loud that Haru jumps in her seat.

Morgana jumps down off the counter and bounds over to Akira. He leaps, and Akira barely has any time to catch him.

"Is he alright?" Haru asks, standing.

More than a little taken aback, Akira asks, "You okay, Morgana?"

"Conference, idiot!" Morgana says. "Move away from the girl!"

Akira frowns. "Uh, Morgana wants a few moments of private time. Sorry, he does this sometimes. I'll be right back."

Haru nods, and Akira takes a few steps away and turns his back to her. "What's going on with you?" He hisses.

"Are you really this dense?" Morgana mewls in response. "Don't you know why she's asking you these questions?"

“I’ve got a few guesses, yes,” Akira replies.

“She’s going to ask you out,” Morgana insists, apparently assuming all of Akira’s guesses to be wrong.

Now that it is spoken out loud, the ground falls away from Akira's feet. A million thoughts vie for his focus. Haru? Ask me out? Impossible. Makoto! What will she think? What will she do? What about the team? What will they do? The investigation! Madarame! Mementos! Haru?! Movies? Romances aren't all bad!

Morgana shifts in Akira’s arms and peers over the boy’s shoulder. “Poor Haru. She’s probably been pining after you all this time!”

“Thanks, that helps,” Akira growls. Then, he shakes his head. “Hold on. This can’t be right. She teases me all the time about Makoto."

"That's a classic diversion! Duh!"

“No, that still doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you wise to the ways of women now? I hadn’t noticed.”

“And you are?” Akira demands.

“I’m a third party. I’m being objective!”

“Um,” Haru says. “Is everything alright?” Akira glances back and finds Haru with her hands clenched together in front of her, a worried look on her face.

“Yep,” Akira replies, and smiles at her. “All good. Just a sec.” He turns back to Morgana. “What should I do?”

“Haru’s great,” Morgana says. “But things are complicated right now. A romantic entanglement would only put more stress on you. I would let her down, but gently.”

Akira sighs then nods. “Awesome. This won’t make work awkward at all.” He sets Morgana down and then turns back to Haru.

“Everything okay?” She asks, as he approaches.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” Akira replies, then sticks his hands in his pockets. How am I supposed to do this? I’ve never turned down a girl before. “So, listen Haru.”

“Yes?” She asks.

“I’m, uh, flattered. Yeah, flattered. I really am. But, I’ve got a lot of things going on in my life right now, and I don’t think-“

“Oh my,” Haru says, turning red. Then she begins to shake her head, vehemently. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I think you have the wrong idea. I wasn’t-”

Akira blinks. “Wait, you weren’t-”

“I wasn’t-”

“Oh, good.”

“Asking for me.” Haru finishes her thought, pauses, and says, “Oh, oops.”

Akira stares at her for a long time, then says. “Wait, you weren’t asking ‘for you?’ Does that mean you’re asking for someone else?”

“Ummm,” Haru replies, by way of confirmation, then turns to the boxes. “Oh, Hanasaki is going to be mad at us. We’ve barely done any work back here! We should, uh, get on that.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Akira says, moving in front of her. “What did you mean by that?”

“N-nothing,” Haru replies, side-stepping around Akira. “It’s just that I wasn’t asking you those questions because I was interested. Not that I don’t think of you as a friend, Akira. I’m…um, well, I don’t think I should really say anymore. Confidentiality and all that.”

Confidentiality? He looks back at Morgana, and the cat shifts his legs around in a shrug. He lets out a long sigh and says, “Okay, fine. Whatever you say.”

Haru flashes him a smile as she lifts a box of seeds from the floor.  “By the way, you never answered the question.”

“The question?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, no,” Akira replies. “No, I don’t.”

“Very good,” Haru says, and walks gingerly away, the box of seeds secure in her arms.

 

Notes:

No holiday today, just pure chaos! Thanks for reading, and if I haven't gotten to your comment/review yet, I will as soon as I've got the time.

Chapter 30: Chapter 30

5/13

 

Ryuji spins to face the group with furrowed brow and set jaw. He takes a deep breath, clenches his hands into fists, and growls, "Are you ready?"

Ann and Akira look at one another. "Yeah," Akira says. At the same time, Ann replies, "I guess."

Ryuji frowns and jabs at them with his finger. "That is not the right attitude for training." Ryuji half turns and gestures towards the treadmills, collecting dust in the back corner of the gym. "These might not be impressive, but they'll get the job done. If you're going to train, you need to train seriously, regardless of the situation!"

"Oh, so like how you study?" Ann deadpans.

Ryuji's eyes widen, and he sputters, "Th-that's different." Then, mumbling something under his breath, Ryuji bends towards his bag and starts rummaging around.

Akira has to admit that Ryuji seems to be in his element regarding physical fitness matters. It was a shame his discipline and enthusiasm didn't extend to academics.

"Hey," Ann whispers. Akira leans in towards her. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Akira shrugs. "We've just got English tomorrow. Are you worried about how you'll do?"

Ann makes a face. "Uh, no. I'm super excellent on English," she says in English.

That doesn’t sound right, but English is weird, so Akira lets it slide. "Right, well, I'm not worried either."

"Yeah, but Ryuji..."

Akira glances back at their friend. "You know how much this means to him. Did you want to spend another study session listening to him talk about PRs and strength percentiles?"

Ann sighs. "I know. But shouldn't we be helping him study?"

Ryuji withdraws a few sheets of paper from his pack with a triumphant yell. A few other gym patrons glance in their direction, looking annoyed.

"We will," Akira promises. He wasn't sure it would do much good, though. The only way to get Ryuji to shut up about his concocted exercise programs had been to give in. That's why, on the afternoon before their final exam, the Phantom Thieves found themselves in one of the gyms Ryuji had visited while establishing his day-before alibi for the Takanashi operation. If the Phantom Thieves promised to indulge and take Ryuji's efforts to exercise seriously, then Ryuji was expected to take his final study session - scheduled for right after their collective run - seriously as well.

Akira felt it was a fair trade-off. Akira and Ann felt confident in their English abilities, so time spent on a treadmill at this stage wouldn’t likely impact their score. Plus, if it got Ryuji to study, it was worth it.

"Alright," Ryuji says, and holds out two pieces of paper, one in each hand, towards each of his friends. "Here's the program I put together. Since this is the first day, it's mostly light cardio and warm-up exercises, topping it off with a bit of low impact." He grins at Akira. "I've already seen how you run, so I was able to put a few more details and challenges in yours, bro. Ann, I have no idea what you're capable of outside of the Metaverse," he says this last part quietly, "so I kept it pretty simple."

"Simple?" Ann asks, snatching the paper. "How long does this workout last? There's like, multiple intervals on here."

"Uh yeah, just because it's low impact doesn't mean it can't be challenging, right? Don't worry about it. Make adjustments as you need to, but try to push yourself. Alright, so-"

"Excuse me," Morgana snaps. The three Thieves glance down at Akira's open bookbag, which has housed the - up until now, silent - cat. "But what exactly am I doing? You don't just expect me to sit here, do you?"

"Course not," Ryuji snaps. "I was getting to you, dude. Damn." Ryuji reaches into his bag again and yanks his hand out with a flourish. "Check it!" He declares and tosses a small piece of black string at Morgana.

The string lands in front of the cat, who regards it with a blank face, before looking back at Ryuji. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Ryuji asks. "You can't exactly run on a treadmill with us, but I looked up exercises for cats, and they said the type of cardio you'd get with this should be good."

"I'm not-"

"Yeah, I know, bro. You're not really a cat. Hate to ruin your day, but you've got a cat's body," Ryuji reminds Morgana. "So, I don't know what to tell you. You wanna work out? I've got some string. Maybe Akira could build you some sort of maze to play around in back at LeBlanc, but-"

"A maze? What am I, a rat?"

Ryuji opens his mouth to respond, but Akira steps in. "Okay, I think we're getting a little worked up. Ryuji, I don't think the string will work in this case. And Morgana, you can't blame Ryuji for not devising a suitable workout plan. I don't think anyone's ever tried to develop a thief-based workout plan for a human trapped in a cat's body."

"Hmph," Morgana answers, as Ryuji says, "Yeah. Okay. My bad, I guess."

Ann glances back towards the other gym patrons. "I mean, no one's really in this corner with us? Couldn't Morgana just hop on the treadmill? Is it going to bother anyone?"

Ryuji frowns. "I don't know. People in gyms can be... problematical.”

“Are you trying to say ‘problematic?’” Morgana asks.

Ryuji ignores this. “You never know what's going to set someone off. Or what they'll let slide." He shrugs. "Alright, well, whatever. Morgana, why don't you hop on the treadmill next to mine? That way, I'll keep an eye on you, and I'll be able to adjust your speed if you want."

Morgana rears onto his hind legs and crosses his forepaws over one another. "Am I supposed to be grateful?"

Akira manages not to roll his eyes. "Morgana, come on. You don't want the string, right? Ryuji's compromising."

"Yeah," Ann says. "Can we just get this over with so we can finish studying?"

Ryuji glares at her. "I told you, that's not the right attitude for training!"

Akira, to his delight, does not have to spend much more time rallying his friends to just get on with it, and soon all four Phantom Thieves are executing their workout programs on their respective treadmills.

The session lasts about twenty-five minutes, and Akira is drenched in sweat by the end. In the Metaverse, this would be nothing, he thinks, and hopes that Ryuji's theory about the strength correlation between reality and the Metaverse pans out.

Akira removes himself from the treadmill. Ann slows to a stop, and leans against the treadmill’s handrails, gasping. "Ryuji...what...the hell...?" She demands.

"Oh, cool," Ryuji replies, slick with sweat and breathing hard but seemingly unperturbed or bothered. "You managed to finish it."

He joins the other two as Morgana continues to trot along the treadmill, a surprisingly satisfied look on the cat's face.

"So, how was it?" Ryuji asks.

"I'm okay," Akira replies, and Ryuji nods.

"That was too much," Ann gasps, despite having caught some of her breath. Akira wonders if she's laying it on a little too thick.

Ryuji shrugs. "Well, this was to test your limits, so I guess we sorta found them."

"You..." Ann tries, but a new voice cuts her off.

"Sakamoto?" It comes from behind them. Ryuji peers over Akira’s shoulders, and his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"I-Ikeda-senpai?" He asks.

Akira turns and finds a boy only a bit older than them. The boy’s eyes are alight, and he wears a handsome grin. His dark hair is tied back in a small ponytail, and he wears the clothes Akira is beginning to associate with runners.

When Ryuji names him, the boy throws back his head and laughs. "Hey, Sakamoto, come on. You don't have to call me senpai anymore. I'm an official college kid now, after all." Ikeda steps around the group and approaches Ryuji, who stiffens a bit. But Ikeda just reaches out and slaps Ryuji on the back. "How are you, man?"

"Uh...good, I guess. Good," Ryuji replies. He glances away, eyes flickering all over the place, and Akira knows enough about his friend to see the nerves.

Ikeda also seems to sense this, and he takes a few steps back. "Hey, sorry, Sakamoto. I didn't mean to surprise you. I thought I heard you, but I wasn't sure. Once I finished my workout, I glanced over and saw the hair." He chuckles once more. "I knew it was you."

Ryuji begins to relax into his usual, laid-back posture. Whatever danger he sensed seemed to be dissipating in Akira's eye. "Right, sorry, uh, Ikeda." Ryuji finally breaks out a smile. "It's good to see you. How you been, dude?"

Ikeda matches Ryuji's smile. "Not too bad. College ain't easy, but it's got its perks." He nudges Ryuji in the ribs. "College girls, you know?" He laughs and glances at Ann and Akira. "Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn't introduce myself." He squints at Ann and says, "I think I recognize you. You're Takamaki, right? You're in Sakamoto's grade?"

Ann nods. "Yeah, that's me. Sorry, I don't recognize you."

Ikeda shrugs. "That's okay. I wasn't a big man on campus or anything. Just on the track team." He looks at Akira. "I don't think you were on the track team, right?"

Akira shakes his head. "Nope. I transferred in this year."

"Ah," Ikeda replies, and inclines his head. "Well, I'm Kiyotaka Ikeda. I was on the track team with Sakamoto, last year. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," Akira responds, somewhat taken aback by the lack of disrespect, fear, or discomfort this newcomer has concerning him. The world's a bigger place than Shujin, Akira reminds himself. Why would Ikeda know who Akira is, let alone any rumors surrounding him? The thought serves to warm Akira to Ikeda almost instantly. "It's nice to meet you too," he says, far more pleasantly. "You were friends with Ryuji?"

Ikeda beams. "Oh, I think it's fair to say I took him under my wing." He throws an arm around Ryuji's shoulder, who grins in response. "We had some good times before... well, you know."

"Oh, we know," Ryuji says, face falling. He takes a deep breath, steps away from Ikeda, and then takes a deep bow. "I never said I was sorry about losing my cool and getting the track team disbanded. I played right into Kamoshida's hands and let everyone down."

Ann frowns. "Ryuji..." She says, but trails off when Ikeda lets out a scoff.

Ryuji glances up, and Ikeda shakes his head. "Man, you're still upset about that?" Ikeda claps his hands to his side and gives an even deeper bow. "That's on me, Sakamoto. Not you."

Ryuji holds out his hands and mutters, "No, no, no-" but Ikeda cuts him off.

"Sakamoto, you were a freshman. You were a freshman, and I was an upperclassman. We all saw what Kamoshida was doing. He picked you to hassle, and to be honest, I think we were all just happy he wasn't focused on us. But we still saw it. He pushed you to your breaking point, and of course, you had a breaking point. Maybe you did what he wanted, but those of us who were older, we should've stepped in and stopped it." Ikeda sighs and averts his gaze. "I don't blame you for what you did, Sakamoto, or the outcome. You certainly don't deserve that stupid nickname."

"'Track traitor,'" Ryuji mumbles.

"Yeah, talk about original," Ikeda says and scowls. "It's not like anyone else, Nakaoka included, would’ve done anything differently."

"Thanks," Ryuji says. "For saying that. That, uh, means a lot."

Ikeda appears embarrassed now too. "Don't mention it." He shrugs. "But hey, it looks like the track team might be coming back. I just wish it was under better circumstances."

"Eh?" Ryuji asks. "What'd you mean? I knew Nakaoka and those guys were still drilling, but I didn't hear about them getting reinstated."

"I still keep in touch with some of the guys," Ikeda replies. "I guess after Kamoshida's confession, the school realized it would look bad if they kept his changes intact. But, unfortunately, it looks like Yamauchi is the guy they chose to advise it."

Ryuji's face falls. "For real? That jerkoff?"

Ann takes this moment to speak up. "Wait, isn't that the guy who was always following Kamoshida? I haven't seen him much this year, but I remember him from when I was a freshman."

Ikeda nods. "The very same. I guess he volunteered or something. I know some of the others are enthusiastic, but I didn't have the heart to tell them not to hold their breath."

No one says anything for a moment, then Ikeda takes a deep breath and exhales. "Well, I don't know. Maybe it'll all work out. Or maybe those Phantom Thieves will need to visit him."

Ryuji and the others glance at one another. "The Phantom Thieves?" Ryuji asks.

Ann clears her throat. "You think they're real?"

Ikeda nods. "Of course. Anyone who could take down Kamoshida and get him to confess to all that crap has got to be something special. Gotta say, I'm a fan. But listen, I got to go. I’ve got a part-time job interview, and I still need to shower." Ikeda soon insists that he and Ryuji exchange contact information, and they do so. Ikeda makes his goodbyes to the rest of them and stops only briefly to inquire after the cat running on the treadmill, but Akira assures him that it's his, and this answer seems to satisfy Ikeda, who takes his leave.

Ryuji is silent for a few moments after his old friend leaves. "Yamauchi, huh?" He finally says.

"You're going to look into him, aren't you?" Ann asks.

Ryuji crosses his arms. "Better freakin' believe it."

#

Principal Kobayakawa grunts and slams the phone down. Another journalist. Someone else who wanted to discuss Suguru Kamoshida. Kobayakawa had - once more - referred them to the superintendent's office and had to keep himself from cursing them out. He fumbles with the wire behind the phone and yanks it out. He can't afford to waste any more time thinking about that bastard. The calls had diminished as the neverending news cycle moved forward, but still, some upstarts were desperate for a scoop.

They were vultures, enjoying Shujin’s carcass. Kobayakawa had worked so damn hard on this place, and Kamoshida skyrocketed the school's prestige. So if Kobayakawa looked the other way to keep the man happy, what of it? But now?

Kobayakawa sighs and debates, not for the first time, actually taking a vacation. It's been a long time, and God knows he deserves one.

He glances out his office window and sees the sun hanging high in the late afternoon sky. A moment later, he imagines himself on a beach somewhere, relaxing, with no one and nothing else around. How pleasant that would be.

Something pounds behind his eyes, and he reaches up ■ rub his temples

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and

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                                                                                    as

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then Kobayakawa jerks in his seat. He blinks a few times and lets his eyes adjust. The light is different from a moment ago. When Kobayakawa looks out the window, he sees that the sun has begun to set. Kobayakawa checks his watch, and his mouth falls open.

Two hours have passed.

"Oh," he says. "Oh." Kobayakawa leans back in his chair, which creaks beneath his bulk. There is a wine bottle on his desk. It is open and three-quarters of the way empty. He does not remember bringing it in nor drinking any of it. His mouth does not taste of it. Searching his immediate vicinity, he sees a small drawer at the bottom of his desk unlocked and opened. The bottle must've come from within, though he has no recollection of placing it inside.

It must've happened during the last… session.

The door to his office is locked. Kobayakawa can see the latch from his desk. Of late, he has taken to locking himself within, as it is the only way to get actual work done and save himself from the endless refrain of his subordinates, concerned parents, and students.

Kobayakawa is stalling and knows it, but he does not like any of this. Still, he takes a moment to shut his eyes and recollect.

Fragments of the conversation return to him. Words, phrases, instructions.

But the door is locked, his phone remains unplugged, and the chairs on the other side of his desk are unmoved. Kobayakawa does not know why he thinks he has just talked with someone, but Kobayakawa knows he has. He has a strong suspicion but does not allow himself to dwell on it. Kobayakawa does not let himself even think about it.

Thinking about it might trigger something. Kobayakawa is not the kind of person to use that word: trigger. Yet, it is the word that comes to mind when he gives any thought to giving any thought to the cause of his memory lapses and the sensations of having just had a conversation. So Kobayakawa does not believe the word came from him. He thinks someone warned him.

Think about it too much, and you're liable to trigger it.

A thought comes to mind in a voice not his own. So Kobayakawa shuts down that mental line of inquiry.

The blackouts began several months ago. Kobayakawa would be somewhere, alone and secure - in his office, his apartment, wherever - and his head would start to hurt. Time would pass unaccounted, and Kobayakawa would wake to feel compelled to do certain things, say certain things, and look into certain things. Kobayakawa can recall typing something on an old typewriter and handing it to someone, but he cannot remember what he typed or to whom he gave it. He does not even know where the typewriter is now.

Whatever Kobayakawa retained of his instructions were little things.

Be here.

Witness this.

Take the train to this location.

Pointless little excursions that meant little to him.

He tried talking to a therapist and then went to a doctor, but no one could help. Afterward, Kobayakawa suffered from intense migraines that kept him housebound for three days. He stopped looking for help after that.

Kobayakawa picks up the bottle, licks his dry lips with his tongue, and brings the bottle to his mouth. The people who can do this to him are not happy.

Kobayakawa does not understand why, but he supposes that is the point. Kobayakawa's assessment of the 'Phantom Thieves' was that they were little more than pranksters. He'd received a list of individuals to investigate, and he had. He had spoken to teachers and kept tabs on them during the recent exams—nothing out of the ordinary, from what he could tell. Most of them didn't even know each other. The only ones that did were those on the volleyball team and that loose collection comprising Sakamoto, Takamaki, and that transfer student. Kurusu, or whatever.

Kobayakawa had reported as much. At least, Kobayakawa assumes that's what he reported. Again, he recalls the sensation of collecting his findings and sending them... somewhere, but he does not know where, and he doesn't even remember how he sent them. He doesn't think it was an email.

Keep looking, the voice in his head says, or had said. Keep investigating. We want to know more about these people. The names again. Students. Fewer students than before, but all from the original list.

"Fine," Kobayakawa says, setting down the bottle and pushing himself away from the desk. "Fine, damn you," he shouts at his office walls. Trepidation settles over him. This minor seizure of anger is all his mind will allow. Kobayakawa is soon tamed once more.

Kobayakawa is not an evil man. Kobayakawa does not think of himself as an evil man, anyway. He wants what's best for the students, which means he wants what's best for the school. What's best for the school is what's best for him. Yes, Kamoshida had his issues, but ultimately many students would've received scholarships thanks to his influence. In addition, his presence would've driven up enrollment, which meant more funding, better facilities, and faculty. The students would’ve benefited.

Why did it seem like he was the only one who could see that?

No, Principal Kishi Kobayakawa did not consider himself an evil man. All this strange business terrified him and shook him to his core.

Principal Kishi Kobayakawa did not consider himself an evil man, but he knew he wasn't a brave man, either.

Kobayakawa will go along with whatever this was and hope that one day, he will have done enough.

Kobayakawa begins to brainstorm on how best to approach the problem.

#

After fifteen minutes on the subway and the short walk through Yongen-jaya to LeBlanc, Ann turns to Ryuji, brings her hands together, and bends forward, pleading. "Ryuji. I swear. Tomorrow, after the exams, we will talk to you about Yamauchi all you want."

"Speak for yourself," Morgana mumbles from Akira's shoulder.

"But in the meantime," Ann says, sparing a glare for the cat. "Please, just let it go until the exams are up. Please, please, please."

Ryuji lets out a sigh and looks at Akira. "What do you think, dude?"

Akira shrugs. "We'll look into it with you, Ryuji. But we do have our final exam tomorrow. So yeah, all this exercise and track team stuff, let's set it aside for now. That was the deal, remember?"

Ryuji holds up his hands in surrender. "A'ight, you guys are right. I said I'd study and shit. Deal's a deal."

Much to the chagrin of the others, Ryuji had speculated wildly on their return from the gym. Ann had pointed out, various times, that there wasn't much they could do about Yamauchi or the track team, but Ryuji insisted that the man's position as the new track team coach was problematic. A 'disaster waiting to happen,' as he'd put it.

Still, the Phantom Thieves had collected their things and were now making their way to LeBlanc, for one last cramming session before the final exam. Akira had cleared it with Sojiro, who'd informed him that he would be closing early to take care of some business around town. Akira and his friends would have the run of the place. Sojiro reminded Akira not to let anyone steal anything, but Akira could tell it was said more in jest than anything else.

The Phantom Thieves make the final turn down LeBlanc's street, and Akira halts.

Standing outside the cafe's door, leaning against the window and staring ahead at nothing, is Tae Takemi.

Ann and Ryuji peer around his shoulder. "Ain't that the doctor?" Ryuji asks.

Ann lets out a groan. "Great. Another distraction. I thought you said we'd have the place to ourselves?"

"We're supposed to," Akira says and starts to walk once more.

Why is she here? I haven't missed any appointments. She wouldn't come here just to grill me on the whole 'therapy' thing, would she?

She would, another voice in his head insists.

Takemi turns to face them and straightens from her position. Her hands are shoved deep in her white coat, and her forehead is a furrowed mess. She does not look pleased.

"I didn't realize Boss was closing early today," she says as the four Thieves approach. "We need to have a conversation."

Akira glances back at his friends. "We're supposed to be studying. Tomorrow's our final exam."

"It won't take long," Takemi replies. "Besides, I'm assuming these are your... confederates?"

"Confedewhats?" Ryuji asks.

"Yes," Ann replies, crossing her arms. "We're the Phantom Thieves. Akira told us you knew about us."

Takemi frowns. "Well, he told me he was a member. He didn't tell me who you all were, but it wasn't hard to guess."

Ann reddens. "O-oh."

"So, you three took down Kamoshida?" Takemi asks.

Morgana meows, and Akira jerks his thumb at the cat. "He helped too."

"Prince?" Takemi asks.

"'Prince?'" Ann and Ryuji ask together and turn towards the cat.

"Th-that's-" Morgana starts.

"The cat's name is Morgana," Akira tells her. "Sojiro is the only one who calls him Prince." He glances around. The street is as empty as it always is, but Akira does not feel comfortable talking about this in the open. "Let's head inside, okay?"

Takemi nods. "Lead the way." Akira steps around her and takes the key from his pocket. He braces himself for whatever is coming, unlocks the door, and leads them inside.

A few minutes pass, and formal introductions conduct. Though Ann and Ryuji had dragged Akira to Takemi's after Kamoshida's assault, they had not spent time socializing. Nor do they do so here. Instead, Akira goes behind the bar, makes everyone a quick cup of coffee, and slides Takemi's over to her, where she sits on one of the stools.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Akira asks as he hands Ann and Ryuji their cups.

"After we last spoke, I remembered something and-" Takemi gets cut off as Ryuji spits out his coffee onto the table.

"Ryuji, what the hell?" Ann demands, sashaying her way out of the booth they share, away from the encroaching liquid.

"Dude," Akira says, reproachfully.

"What are you doing, Bonehead?"

"It's hot!" Ryuji complains.

"It's coffee," everyone - including Takemi - counters.

"Well, yeah, I know, but I've never had it before," Ryuji says.

"Then why did you ask for some?" Akira demands.

Ryuji shrugs. "I thought I'd like it. Sorry, bro. Give me some towels or something. I'll wipe it up."

Akira goes to fetch said towels and notices Takemi giving him a look. Yes, Akira thinks. He is a Phantom Thief.

Akira returns from the kitchen with some wadded-up paper towels and thrusts them towards Ryuji. Ryuji takes them, not meeting Akira's gaze, and begins to dry up his mess. When Akira turns back to Takemi, he takes a moment to compose himself and asks, "You were saying?"

"Right," Takemi says and takes another sip of her coffee, eyes on the floorboards. "When we last spoke, you gave me a lot of information. And I believe you, I think. But I'm not sure I believe in everything you told me."

"Huh?" Ann asks. "How's that possible?"

"I told you," Akira says. "Providing proof would be dangerous, and I'm not-"

"I'm not asking for a tour or anything like that," Takemi snaps. "But what you told me about Yukio Kan. The heart attack that wasn't. And when you mentioned what your friend said he read online. Well, all those tiny dots started to connect in my head. I remembered something I read about back in medical school.

"This weird thing called cognitive science. One of those fields that shows potential for all of five minutes before all the quackery latches on. No one believed in it, and I don’t know if I do either, but it sounds a lot like what you described."

Takemi proceeds to provide a brief overview of what she can recall. She had spent some time looking through archives of online medical journals but could find no mention of the topic, so everything she tells the Phantom Thieves comes from her memory banks.

When she finishes the rough outline of cognitive science, the Phantom Thieves look at one another.

"I mean," Ann says. "I guess that kinda sounds like the Metaverse."

Takemi chuckles. "The Metaverse. Does it beat the shit out of the U-Stor-It?"

"Huh?" The Thieves ask, as one.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"Yeah," Morgana pipes up. "A place where you could physically rewire someone's brain? Sure sounds like a Palace and Mementos."

"If that's true," Ryuji says. "Wouldn't that mean the Metaverse has something to do with all these mental shutdown cases?"

"How's that possible, though?" Ann asks. "We're the only ones who can enter the Metaverse."

No one says anything about this. The natural follow-up question floats in the air.

Aren't we?

"This is all just something you pieced together though, right?" Akira asks, finally.

Takemi nods. "True enough. I have no idea if any of this relates at all. If someone ever did any more work on cognitive science, they never published. From what I can tell, anyone who ever breathed any interest in cognitive science got laughed out of their research grants, academia, everywhere and anywhere."

"So we don't have any conclusive evidence that the mental shutdowns are linked to the Metaverse, Palaces or Mementos, or anything," Akira says.

"But dude, don't you remember?" Ryuji asks. "Back when we had cold feet about stealin' Kamoshida's Treasure? Mona told us it could cause him to, like, stop eating and wanting to breathe and shit."

"I never said he'd stop breathing," Morgana insists.

"Whatever," Ryuji counters. "I mean, doesn't that sound like a mental shutdown?"

"Not really," Ann replies. "If Akira saw a real mental shutdown, it was a bunch of black stuff pouring out of the guy."

"But all we have to link that to the mental shutdowns is what Mishima saw online a few months ago, and even that was only one of a few rumors flying around," Akira points out. "I know we've been leaning towards thinking that way, but we don't know anything for sure." He pauses, considering. "Now that you mention it, Mishima said he hadn't seen any online activity speculating about the mental shutdowns, which he said was strange."

"Look," Takemi says, in a voice that silences the Thieves. "I have no idea what any of this means. I don't know if it's connected, or if cognitive science is a real thing and linked to what you do, or if what you do is some weird...magic shit with your phone. I don't know. The point is, I wanted you to know about it since you're all so settled on doing this."

"Thanks," Ryuji says, with a big grin.

"Also, who's Mona?" Takemi asks.

"Morgana," Ann says, nodding towards the cat.

"Present," Morgana replies.

"It's his code name," Ryuji explains. "We all have them."

"And the cat, whose real name is Morgana, and whose code name is Mona, told you about the potential repercussions of targeting Kamoshida?"

"Well, yeah," Ryuji says.

"She can't understand me, remember?" Morgana says.

"Morgana can talk," Akira says, with a sigh. "Did I not mention that before?"

"No," Takemi says. "You didn't." Takemi takes a long drag on the coffee. "I'm assuming I can't understand him?"

"You'd have to have gone to the Metaverse," Ann says.

"Naturally," Takemi replies. She sets her now empty mug down on the counter. "Well. I'll let you get back to your Thievery, or whatever it was you were about to do."

"Studying, remember?” Akira asks. “Last exam and all?"

Takemi blinks. "Oh. I see. Well, that's good, then."

"Thanks for all the info about the cognitive what's it," Ryuji says.

"Right," Takemi says and steps towards the door. She stops, balls her hands into fists, and turns back to the group. "I don't think you should be doing this." When Akira opens his mouth, Takemi holds up a hand. "I know. I know. You've all got your reasons. But this is serious. Yukio Kan didn't die of a heart attack, but that's what the report said. The mental shutdowns still happen, and no one knows why. There's no evidence of cognitive science anywhere, at least no place I thought to look. So if all these things are connected, and they all have something to do with however you're all able to do whatever it is you do, then what you're doing is more dangerous than just fighting monsters."

The Thieves are silent. Then, Akira says, "To be honest, I was starting to get that impression myself." He looks over at his friends. "But as you said, Doctor, we have our reasons."

"Yeah," Takemi says. "And by this point, I know better than to try reasoning with you." She turns and heads back towards the door. "When you need supplies, drop by and see me. Otherwise, I expect you to come by the clinic once your exams finish. I've got another batch of medicine for you to try."

"Will do," Akira says.

"Thanks for the info and all the other stuff," Ryuji calls after her. Then, he snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know! You want a code name?"

Takemi stops and turns back to the group. "Excuse me?"

"What're you talking about, Ryuji?" Ann asks.

Ryuji shrugs. "Well, she's going out on a limb for us. With the stuff we get from her and all. I know she can't come beat up Shadows, but maybe she could be an honorary member?" He looks around at his friends for what appears to be confirmation. "What'd you guys think?"

"We have honorary members?" Morgana asks. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Ryuji asks. "I mean, she already knows who we are."

"You want me to join your teenage crime-slash-monster fighting group?" Takemi asks, and Akira is somewhat surprised to hear a faint hint of excitement in her voice, disguised as doubt.

"It can't hurt," Ann says, shrugging. "We're all on the same side, right?"

Akira chuckles and shakes his head. "Do you want a code name?" He asks. "I think I once asked if I could call you 'Doc,' and you said no."

"Yeah, and I'm saying no to that one again." Takemi reaches up a hand and rubs her temples. "Why not? I'm already in this deep, aren't I?"

"Cool," Ryuji says, pumping his fist. "So, welcome to the Phantom Thieves - sort of - Doc!" He makes a little 'meep' sound when Takemi glares at him. "Sorry, sorry. Uh, so like, what do you want to be called?"

Takemi is silent for a time, face blank in thought. "Never thought I'd have to come up with a code name," she mutters.

"You don't have to come up with one now," Ann says. "We could-"

But suddenly, Takemi laughs and says, "No, it's fine. You can call me 'Plague.'"

Once more, silence fills LeBlanc.

"Uh, you sure?" Ann asks.

"Badass," Ryuji points out. "But-"

"I should get going," Takemi says. She meets Akira's eye, and the two regard each other for a few moments. Then, Takemi nods and walks out the door.

"Not being able to talk to people is annoying," Morgana complains.

"Plague, huh?" Ann asks, ignoring the cat. She glances at the others. "There's probably a story there, right?"

All Akira can think to do is nod.

#

"I should get going," the doctor's voice comes in, clear and final. There's silence for a few moments and then the sound of the door opening and closing.

The cat meows, and the girl says, "Plague, huh? There's probably a story there, right?"

The listener knows the story. The listener did their research. Knows all about Tae Takemi and the controversy that surrounds her.

But the listener never expected this. Never expected the ten minutes of recording information to be as earth-shattering as a thing could be.

The listener brings their knees to their chest and hugs themselves tightly.

"Phantom Thieves," the listener whispers. Then, the truly terrible words. The ones that bounced around in her head like a ricochet. "Cognitive science."

The listener stops listening and switches off the computer's monitor. No longer awash in the screen's blue light, the listener lets the room's shadows congeal. Their patterns lull her into sleep—one filled with nightmares and the screech of tires.

Notes:

UPDATE 8/2/2022: It's pretty wild that when I initially posted this chapter, I was still unmarried and childless. Wow. Thank you everyone who stuck with me over the years. It's been an honor to write this story, and I truly appreciate each and every one of you. :)

2+ months.
30 Chapters.
100K words.
It's hard to believe. To be honest, when I started writing Crimson, I figured each month would approximate at 40-50K words. And yet, here we are, at the end of May 6th, with twice that. Lol, perhaps that speaks to my poor plotting.

With this chapter, I take my leave. I'll be getting married next Saturday, and then it's off to Akira's adopted home for our honeymoon. Provided I survive, I will be back in October. When, exactly? Honestly, I'm not 100% sure, as I've also just started my capstone project for Grad School. (My Professor is PISSED that I'm missing three weeks, lol.) I'll probably drop a line in the comments over at Ao3 (this is directed to everyone at FF.net) stating when I'll be back, and if you comment or leave a review, I'll do my best to reply.

Thank you, so goddamn much for reading Crimson. Thank you for reading it, talking about it, reviewing it, liking it, favorite-ing it, and binge-ing it. It means a lot more to me than I could ever say.

You people are simply the best. I'll see you in October!

Chapter 31: Chapter 31

5/14

 

"Yahoooo!" Ryuji screams. Dozens of students turn their heads his way, but the boy is oblivious.

Besides, Akira considers, who doesn't feel relieved? Akira has met with Ryuji on the front steps of Shujin. The exams are over. No more cramming, no more studying, no more late-night panic.

After Takemi had left LeBlanc, the Phantom Thieves had managed to drag their attention back to studying, and Akira and Ann made a decent effort to improve Ryuji's English.

"Done testing final done over," Ryuji says in English.

Oh well.

Akira smiles and slaps his friend on the back good-naturedly. "Now we can talk all you want about those exercise programs."

Ryuji barks out a laugh. "Sure bro, but not today. We gotta celebrate! Where's Ann?"

Akira turns back to the school's entrance. "She's coming, I think." Akira checks the time on his phone. Morgana should be checking in at any moment.

Akira puts his phone back in his pocket, spots Ann's blonde hair, lifts a hand, and waves her over. Ann has her own phone out and smiles when she sees her friends. "Hey guys. Are you as happy as I am?" She asks.

"Happier," Ryuji declares. He throws his arm around Akira's shoulder. "We're going out. You in?"

Ann smiles but shakes her head. "I'd love to, but I told Shiho I'd visit her at the hospital today. I haven't spent much time with her since exams started."

"How's she doing?" Akira asks.

Ann's face kind of crinkles up at the question. "She's... doing okay. She's started physical therapy. So that's good."

Akira nods. He has not forgotten Ann's request to assist with Shiho's recovery, nor has he made any attempt to shirk the responsibility. However, there have been a few things stealing his attention. A grain of guilt starts rubbing against his brain, and Akira resolves to visit Shiho soon.

With Ann, of course.

"Cool, tell Shiho we hope she gets better soon," Ryuji states. "We should all do something tomorrow, then. But," and he tightens his grip on Akira's shoulder. "This means it's dude night tonight!"

"Oh," Ann says, rolling her eyes. "What a shame I'll miss it."

"You're just jealous because we're having dude's night."

"You wish."

Akira clears his throat. "As excited as I am for dude's night, I need to take care of something here first." He pulls out his phone and checks the time. "Where's Morgana?"

"Eh?" Ryuji asks, looking around. "Oh yeah. Where is that guy?"

"Psst," comes a small, feline voice. Akira and the others turn and find Morgana, head popping up over the handrail. He has propped and poked himself up, so he's mostly hidden from view.

"There you are," Akira says. "How'd it go?"

"Mission accomplished," Morgana replies. He shifts around on his paws, trying to get more comfortable. "Makoto's in the Student Council Room, as you expected. She's probably got some work to do since she's been studying for exams these last few days."

Ann sticks out her tongue. "Yeah, or just being creepy and following us."

"That was just that one time," Ryuji points out, then looks at Akira. "Why are you tryin' to find out where the Prez is?"

"Yeah," Morgana says. "Would you mind explaining why it was, as you put it, 'supremely important,' that I follow Makoto around and tell you where she was once exams ended?"

Akira smiles. "You both have excellent questions." He reaches up and adjusts his fake glasses. "And I will answer them... later." Akira spins on his heel and starts marching into Shujin, a set look on his face.

"Hold on!" Ann nearly shouts and snaps out an arm, snagging Akira's uniform sleeve. Akira turns to regard her. "You're not...?" Akira raises his brows. "You are!" Ann lets him go, crosses her arms, and shakes her head. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Exams may be over, but we're going to be very busy with our other activities, you know."

"Thanks for the emphasis," Akira replies. "I wouldn't have known what you were talking about otherwise. I'm aware of what we need to do next." Akira smirks. "But I'm good at multi-tasking." He turns and heads inside Shujin.

"No, you're not," Morgana calls, and others must hear the meow because a few students turn their heads towards the noise, but Morgana has already dropped out of sight.

The nerves settle in once Akira reaches the stairwell. The other students slide out of his way, but Akira ignores them.

Holy shit, he thinks. Am I really doing this?

Yes, Joker snaps. Yes, dammit, we are.

#

There's a knock on the door.

Makoto looks up. She stands from the table in the center of the Student Council room and moves to the door. She peeks out into the hallway, sees who it is, unlocks the door, and opens it.

"Mako-chan," cries Haru as she slumps inside. "We're done!" Haru spreads her arms wide and slides past her friend, collapsing almost bodily onto the table.

Makoto smiles and laughs. "Was the last exam that difficult?"

Haru shakes her head, still facedown on the table. "Not really," she mumbles against the wood. "I'm just being dramatic. Our study sessions helped. But you're supposed to be relieved too." She pushes herself up and stares at Makoto, frowning. "Why do I not sense enough relief from you?"

Makoto shakes her head. "I'm relieved enough. I have no issues with tests, but they require significant prep time. So now, I can get back to pursuing other endeavors."

Haru smirks. "Like following Akira?"

Makoto reddens. "I was thinking towards college prep work."

"Uh-huh," Haru says, her smirk splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. "Sure."

"Do you have to tease me about this?" Makoto asks, succumbing to a groan.

"Yes," Haru replies. She drops her bag on the table and claps her hands. "But come on, there's no time to wait. We have work to do, don't we? What's the next step? I relayed all the information Akira gave me at Rafflesia, but I think it might be time to move beyond recon." She punches the air. "It's time for action, no?"

Makoto folds her arms. "I suppose we have been spending a lot of time in the intelligence-gathering phase. Moving onto plan execution would be... what?" She asks, when Haru starts laughing.

"You sound like a military commander," Haru teases.

Makoto frowns. "You're the one throwing fists around and calling for action!"

"Well yeah, but oh, you should try that, Mako-chan. Throwing fists can be fun!"

"I'm aware," Makoto replies.

Haru's eyebrows rocket up at that, but Makoto decides not to get into her extracurriculars with her.

Makoto could still watch Akira with the exams over, but her cover had already been blown once. There was little else she felt she could do at this stage. There may not be any concrete evidence of Akira's involvement with the Phantom Thieves, but-

There's a knock on the door.

Haru lowers her arms to her side. "More Student Council members?" She asks.

Makoto shakes her head, as she moves toward the door. "There's no meeting scheduled for today," she replies. She peeks out into the hallway, sees who it is, and immediately wrenches herself out of sight and collapses her back against the wall.

Haru's eyes widen, as if expecting an attack.

"It's Akira," Makoto shout-whispers.

"Akira," Haru whisper-shouts back at her. Haru looks around, snatches her bag from the table, bounds into the corner closet, and slams the door behind her.

"Haru, what-" Makoto starts, but from behind the door, Haru calls, "Good luck, Mako-chan!"

Good luck with what? Makoto's mind demands. Another part of her brain scolds her for ignoring reality. There can only be so many reasons for Akira's visit.

Makoto steels herself, or at least pretends. But, really, she's an absolute cargo container of nerves. Makoto goes to answer the door.

She opens the door and is about to belt out "GREETINGS" but manages to stop herself. Makoto forces herself to meet Akira's gaze and says, "Good afternoon, Akira."

"Hi," Akira replies, with a small smile. He glances around the hall. "Could I, uh, come in?"

"Certainly," Makoto replies, backing away from the door. Her eyes flicker to the closet, but Haru remains silent.

Akira steps inside, and Makoto shuts the door until it's only open a fraction. She doesn't want anyone to feel uncomfortable, after all. "So," he says as he turns back to her. "Exams are done."

"They are," Makoto says and nods. "For now. I hope you will not neglect your new study habits."

"No way," Akira says. "You grilled those into me."

And don't you forget it, Makoto's brain says, but her mouth doesn't cooperate.

"What can I do for you, Akira?" She asks.

"Well," Akira begins. "I wanted to thank you, first. For all the help you gave me in prepping for the exams. I know I've thanked you before, but now that they're finished, I just wanted to let you know that your help was invaluable. I think I did well."

Makoto inclines her head. "You're welcome. It was my pleasure."

"Uh-huh," Akira says and starts glancing around the room. "Yeah. Okay. So. That was the first thing."

Makoto waits, but when Akira’s silence stretches, she asks, "And, um, was there a second?"

"There was," Akira answers, still glancing around.

"Are you going to elaborate?"

"I'm getting to it."

Makoto feels her heart launch itself into low orbit. "Okay. Take your time."

"I'm trying," Akira mumbles. Then, his face tightens, and he turns back to her. "The reason I wanted to see you, here in this room, away from the others, other students, I mean, is that I wanted to ask you something, and I figured it'd probably be best to do it away from others. The other students, I mean. I said that, right?"

"You did," Makoto replies, her heart plotting a course towards the Moon.

"Of course I did," Akira says. "Anyway. You're here. I'm here. We're both here. And I've been thinking that there was something I wanted to say - or ask, I'm just asking after all - since before exams started but figured it'd be better to wait until they ended. The exams."

Makoto nods as her heart tries to figure out how to land on Mars. She briefly wonders if Akira is having some kind of stroke. "A wise decision. No need to complicate things during such an important time."

"Right?" Akira asks. "That's what I thought. So. There was all that. But again, I had the thing I wanted to ask you, and I realize I'm kind of going in circles. I did have something planned, but I'm not sure-"

Makoto's heart says 'Fuck it,' and punches it towards the Oort Cloud. "Oh my god," Makoto snaps. "Just ask the question, Akira! Just ask it!"

"Would you like to go out sometime?" Akira asks.

"Yes."

"Cool. How about tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"Yes."

A thunk comes inside the closet, but Akira doesn't turn from Makoto (who spares a bit of brain processing power to wonder if Haru is alright).

Akira's face is red, and Makoto imagines that her own must be as well, but there isn't much either of them can do about it.

"Okay then," Akira says, and he grins. It's that grin—the one Makoto really likes.

Makoto smiles back. A voice in the back of her mind is shouting warnings at her, but dammit, at this moment, she doesn't care because the boy she likes has asked her out and screw everything else. This is allowed to feel nice.

"Yes," Makoto replies, and realizes she has not said much else.

"I will text you then," Akira says, and starts to slide back towards the door.

"Alright, that sounds acceptable," Makoto replies.

"So then, tomorrow," Akira says, as he places his hand on the handle. "We will go on a date. The two of us."

"I believe so, yes," Makoto says.

"Good. I'm glad," Akira answers. "I'm really glad."

"Me too," Makoto says.

Akira pulls the door open and steps out into the hall. "Until tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," Makoto says.

Then, Akira is gone.

Makoto's brain finally catches up in his absence, and about ten billion thoughts start rushing through her head.

Some examples:

- I have no idea what to wear.

- Where are we even going?

- What time? Do I have to review my schedule?

- Did that really just happen? DID THAT REALLY JUST HAPPEN?

- Is this a trick?

- What do people wear on dates?

- Am I supposed to bring a gift?

- Does this have anything to do with the Phantom Thieves?

- Do I bring money? I should bring money, right? Is he supposed to pay? Do I make him pay? What if he doesn't pay?

- DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?

- I should check on Haru.

At this last one, Makoto whips around towards the closet and calls, "Haru!"

Another thunk from inside. "Um, I'm fine, Mako-chan. But it appears the door is stuck."

"Yes," Makoto says, walking over. "It does that. One moment."

Makoto seizes the doorknob, brings her shoulder up against the wood, then braces herself and firmly throws her weight against the door.

The door unjams, and Makoto opens it the rest of the way to reveal a grinning Haru.

Haru lifts her hands and starts to punch the air. "Yay," she says, softly, then starts to repeat it, getting louder each time. "Yay, yay, yay!"

"I'm guessing you heard all that," Makoto asks.

"Come on," Haru says, and seizes Makoto's arm. "We've got work to do!"

#

Ann opens the door to Shiho's room and steps inside. The lights are lower than she expects. Before, they had all been on when she'd visited, and the doctors had drawn the curtains. Then, the sun shone. The room is dark and dingy now, and hot.

"Shiho?" Ann asks. Her eyes adjust, and she sees the form of her friend sitting up. "Hey."

"Hi," Shiho replies.

Ann lets out a long sigh and drops down into the chair next to the bed. "Well, exams are over. Finally. Overall, I think I did pretty well."

"Uh-huh."

"Ryuji wants to have a party or something, but I'm pretty worn out. Besides, I've got that painting gig coming up. I'll need some rest if we're going to start trying to take down Madarame and-"

"I don't care," Shiho whispers.

Ann turns to look at her. She really looks at her friend for the first time since entering this room. Shiho's hair is matted and pressed against her scalp. Dark circles ring her puffy eyes. Ann notices the girl's hands are clenched, tight in her lap. Her lips are thin, and her breath is starting to become ragged.

"Shiho, what's-"

"I don't want to hear about your adventures today, okay? I don't want to talk about Akira or Ryuji or the talking cat or your crime-fighting or whatever it is you do. I don't want to hear about it!" Her words rise in volume but don't become shouts.

Ann swallows. "Shiho, did something happen? Today, in therapy? Did you..." she trails off, trying to find a delicate way of putting the word 'fall.'

"No," Shiho replies. "It all went great. I'm making progress. Moving my foot a few centimeters. Being able to stand for three seconds instead of two, all on my own. It's progress, Ann."

Ann wets her lips and tries to be careful with her words. "I know it’ll be hard, Shiho. But you'll get there. You're okay and-"

"Don't," Shiho snaps. "Don't say that. I am not okay. I am not okay. I don't get to play hero or travel to Palaces or whatever, Ann. All I see every day is this stupid room and stupid doctors who tell me the same things over and over. And Mom can't stop crying, and Dad won't even look at me when he's actually here. And I can't move my stupid legs to go somewhere - anywhere - else because HE put me here.

"And yeah, HE'S going to go to jail, but I can't even be happy about it because they still talk about HIM. They talk about HIM and the things HE did and what HIS punishment will be, and how HIS behavior reflects larger societal issues or whatever. But they don't ever talk about ME, and I don't even want them to talk about ME, but it's like I don't exist. I don't exist except as an extension of what HE did, and I'm HIS victim, and it's all about HIM and HIM and HIM."

Shiho tilts forward and starts to cry. Ann stands up, moves to the bed, and wraps an arm around her. "I'm sorry, Shiho. I'm sorry."

Shiho shakes her head, then turns her face into Ann's shoulder. "He was on the news. I turned on the TV before therapy, and his face was just there. I wish you had broken his brain. I wish he'd died."

"I'm sorry, Shiho," Ann says, and rubs her best friend's back. "I'm so sorry."

And really, what else can she say?

Ann stays there for a long time.

#

Ryuji's grin nearly breaks his face. "Dude."

"You can stop smiling now," Akira says.

"But dude," Ryuji counters.

"You're happier about this than Akira is," Morgana says, propped on Akira's shoulder.

"Why aren't you guys psyched? This is a huge deal."

"I am psyched," Akira replies and finds himself adopting his own smile. "I think I'm just exhausted."

"You're exhausted from asking a girl out?" Ryuji asks.

"It was stressful, man!" Akira says. "I was stumbling over my words and spouting nonsense. My brain wasn't working right. By the time I finally got around to it, I was ready for a nap."

"Should've brought me along," Morgana replies.

"I'll remember that for next time," Akira says.

"Oh, and by the way, I don't appreciate you using my talents to stake out locations your crush will be," Morgana says.

Akira reaches up and pats his head. "But you did so well."

"Maybe don't tell Niijima that you felt like taking a nap after you asked her out," Ryuji points out.

"I wasn't planning on it."

They reach LeBlanc and push the door open. Sojiro stands behind the counter, bent over one of the coffeemakers, squinting and picking at it with a fingernail, attacking - in his way - a bit of detritus clinging to the material. He glances up as the trio enter. "Hey- oh," he says when he sees Ryuji. Sojiro sets the coffeemaker down. "You must be one of Akira's new friends."

"Ryuji Sakamoto, nice to meet you, and thanks for having me," Ryuji replies, with a light bow.

"Yeah," Sojiro says. "Good to meet you. Coffee?"

"Uh..." Ryuji says, trailing off. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"I'll have some," Akira says. He sets his bag down on the counter and settles onto a stool. Morgana hops off his shoulder and lands on the countertop. Sojiro rubs the cat's head before turning to see to Akira's request.

"All done with exams, then?" Sojiro asks.

"That's right," Akira says.

"Finally," Ryuji mutters, then he beams. "So we thought we'd celebrate!"

Sojiro cracks a grin. "Celebrate, eh? And you came here? That's kind of sad."

"Well," Ryuji says, as Sojiro sets a full coffee cup in front of Akira. "We've got some planning to do."

"Oh?" Sojiro asks. "What kind of planning? Not making any trouble, I hope?"

"Nothin' like that," Ryuji says and throws his arm around Akira's shoulder, jostling him a bit. "This guy's got a date!"

Sojiro freezes, hands stuck in mid-air, grasping nothing. Then, the older man says, "You?" Akira nods. "You have a date?"

"Uh, yeah," Akira says.

"How'd you pull that off?"

"Um, I asked her."

Sojiro sighs and shakes his head. "Alright. Give me the details."

Akira explains the situation. Makoto was his tutor who became his friend. After a few weeks of spinning his wheels, Akira finally sucked it up and asked her out.

Sojiro seems satisfied by this. "You get credit for summoning the nerve to ask, but next time, just man up and ask her at the beginning."

"That's what I told him," Ryuji says.

"You did not," both Akira and Morgana say.

"Where are you taking her?" Sojiro asks.

Akira looks up at him over the rim of his coffee cup. "Huh? Oh. I haven't decided yet. I'm going to text her tomorrow and-"

Sojiro slams a hand down on the table. Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana all jump. "Are you kidding me?" Sojiro demands. He turns to Morgana and says, "Sorry, Prince," strokes the cat head once more and says, "Good kitty," and then turns back to Akira. "You don't even know where you're taking her?" Sojiro reaches up, removes the glasses from his face, and rubs his eyes. He suddenly appears very, very tired. "Kid, that's something you're supposed to set up before the date. You get everything prepared in advance. You don't wing that part after you get the okay!"

Akira blinks. "O-oh. Well, I mean, I guess I can figure something out and-"

"Yeah, you damn well better figure something out," Sojiro scolds. "The date's supposed to be tomorrow?"

"Y-yeah," Akira says. He begins to feel the fluttering of panic in his chest. Akira’s preoccupation with asking Makoto out resulted in no thought to what they’d do.

Why didn't I think of that ahead of time? Akira wonders.

Don't ask me, Joker replies. I just fight Shadows and take down bad guys.

Not much time left, comes an oily voice from the recesses of his mind. But I bet I could scrape something together. Akira shuts that voice down and refocuses on what Sojiro is saying.

"...gonna have to make some calls. Maybe I can get a last-minute reservation. Someplace nice. What were you planning on wearing?"

"Uh..." Akira starts.

Sojiro just waves his hand through the air. "Yeah, never mind. Stupid question. You've got no idea." Sojiro turns to Ryuji and starts to say, "You should help him..." then he takes in Ryuiji's haphazard uniform and blonde hair. "On second thought, you probably shouldn't help him."

"Hey," Ryuji retorts. "I got some sick fashion sense."

"I don't think 'sick fashion sense' will impress Makoto," Morgana points out. "You don't have the best track record when it comes to women."

"H-how do you know?" Ryuji snaps.

Akira eyes him. "Seriously?" He asks. "Ryuji, come on. You know what he's talking about."

"No, I don't know what he's talking about."

"What a surprise," Morgana mumbles, then glances at Akira. "What am I talking about?"

"Ann," Akira says, and looks back and forth between the shocked faces of his friends. "What?"

"L-Lady Ann has nothing to do with this," Morgana snaps.

"What about Ann?" Ryuji asks, face reddening. "What's she got to do with anything?"

Akira furrows his brow. "Oh. My bad. I didn't realize we were pretending that isn't a thing. Never mind."

"D-dude," Ryuji says. "What did you mean?"

Akira holds ups his hands. "No way, man. I'm not getting involved. You heard Sakura-san, right? You gotta man up."

"Who's Ann?" Sojiro asks, as he scrolls through his phone. Then, he shakes his head. "Forget it. Don’t care." He holds his phone up to his ear. "Yeah, hello? I need a reservation for two. Tomorrow. Afternoon. Anytime, I suppose."

Akira turns back to his friends. "Well, look, now everyone's got me freaked out. What am I supposed to do tomorrow? I've barely been in Tokyo for a month. I don't know all the cool spots." He shakes his head when Ryuji starts to open his mouth. "And no offense man, but I'm not sure you'd know the best places to go that would impress a girl like Makoto."

Ryuji looks as if he's deciding whether not to take offense, and ultimately shrugs. "That’s fair."

"Why not bring her here?" Morgana asks.

"Here?" Akira asks, looking around. "I don't know. That's a little personal for a date, right? I mean, I sleep upstairs. I don't even have a door. If you want to get technical, this is kind of my room. I don't want to freak her out."

"Bringing a chick to your room on the first date is an alpha move," Ryuji says.

"What the hell does that mean?" Akira asks.

"I don't know. I read it online," Ryuji admits.

"Okay, forget about the destination for now," Morgana says. "What about your clothes?"

"I've got some pretty casual stuff upstairs," Akira replies. "Haven't worn them much since I got here, but I suppose it's better than nothing. I don't have any fancy stuff. I didn't go on a lot of dates back in my hometown." Akira flips through his mental catalog of clothes. He's not sure how to match things, but he's got a pretty good idea. He's no slob. Akira may not have the hippest threads, but he's not... well, Ryuji.

"Okay," Sojiro says, rejoining the Thieves. "I've got you a reservation."

Akira blinks. "Seriously?"

"Nothing fancy, but it's decently swanky. A new lunch joint that opened a few months ago. Shibuya, so it's not too far, and it's got an open patio so you can sit outside. The food's supposed to be good. So’s the music. You're lucky. While I was on the phone, they had a sudden cancellation for tomorrow, so I jumped on it."

"Uh, wow," Akira says. "Thanks."

"I'll send you the details. Make sure you keep a hard copy written down in your pocket in case your phone dies. You don't want to be left standing in the middle of Shibuya with a dead phone and no idea where the restaurant is."

"Sounds like a young people kind of place. How did you hear about it?" Ryuji asks.

Sojiro stares at him and says, very calmly. "I'll give you a minute to soak in just how bad of an idea it was to ask that question."

Ryuji reddens and gulps.

"Now," Sojiro says. "Can I leave the outfit up to you? I'm assuming you've got something casual but nice. If you don't, there's nothing I can do to help you, and you're screwed."

"O-okay," Akira says. "I think I can handle that." He nods, reaffirming it to himself. "I've got the clothes part down. I'll figure it out."

"Good." Sojiro holds up a hand. "Last thing." He moves towards the kitchen and returns a few minutes later, holding a shut laptop. "Here."

"Huh?" Akira asks, staring at it.

"This is for you," Sojiro replies, holding it out to him. "Remember? Our conversation from a few days ago? Turns out, w- I didn't need this one anymore. So, as it's available, you can use it for school."

"Thanks," Akira says, happily, taking the computer.

"Hey," Morgana says. "Maybe we can finally get on those spooky sites. Look into the Igor and the Velvet Room?"

Akira nods. "I really appreciate this, Sakura-san," he says. "Seriously. This will be a huge help."

"Yeah, don't mention it. Just don't use it for porn or whatever."

Ryuji makes a face, as does Akira, but he clams up a second later and nods.

First things first, Akira thinks. I'll need to check with Mishima to see if I can use this. But Morgana's right. If it checks out, we can finally start doing some digging on our own.

A few minutes later, Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana head up to Akira's room, both to boot up the new computer and to ensure Akira has an actionable wardrobe for his date.

Akira can't help but smile as they climb the steps. It finally feels like things are coming together.

Notes:

UPDATE 8/3/2022: Second update of the Madarame arc. I'll be posting chapters 31-34 today.

I'm back.

Took long enough, am I right? Thanks to everyone who kept reading, who kept leaving me comments and reviews and kudos while I was away. I really appreciate it. It was a busy couple of weeks, but things finally feel like they're settling back down. Hope you all enjoyed the new chapter!

I'm thinking of setting up a Twitter so people can drop a line if they would like to. Will probably do that sometime later this week, whenever I get the chance.

Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful Monday, and I'll talk to you soon! Thanks again!

Chapter 32: Chapter 32

5/15

 

"Well?" Akira asks.

Mishima stands from where he'd been sitting at Akira's desk, turns, and shrugs. "It's a pretty good machine. Not high, high end, but very good. I don't see anything wrong with it, either. Nothing weird installed, or anything like that." Mishima glances back at the laptop on Akira's desk, a plain black desktop with a few icons greeting them. "I did notice a few files that look like old game saves. You said your guardian gave it to you? Does he game?"

Akira opens his mouth to state that Sojiro unequivocally does not game, but stops himself. Akira doesn't actually know that. Maybe the old man does enjoy gaming. Hadn't Akira helped Sojioro transport a hefty computer to his house? And on the day Akira visited Shujin for the first time, Sojiro had fielded a call from someone about a computer issue, if he remembers correctly.

"I don't know," Akira says. "He doesn't strike me as a tech guy, but maybe he is. I think he's got a couple of computers at his house."

Although, when Akira thinks, he doesn’t recall seeing any computers when he spent the night at Sojiro's.

"Well," Mishima continues. "That's fine. I think this should be okay to use. Of course, you'd be better off with a full kitted-out desktop, but we can work with this. Are we still going to Akihabara?" A faint note of hope trickles into Mishima's voice.

Akira nods. "Yeah. I'm still not sure what I'm doing. I don't want to scurry across the dark web or deep web or whatever until I know it's secure."

"Well, to do that, we'd need software, which we could start downloading now. But I think you could probably grab a few extra pieces of hardware to help round this thing out."

Akira checks the time on his phone. "Alright. Maybe next weekend, then. I can't today. I've got someplace to be."

"Oh," Mishima says, and glances around Akira's room again.

Mishima had made a big deal of entering 'The Lair of the Phantom Thieves’ when Akira had invited him over. Akira had pointed out this was just his room, and only Ryuji had been over here, and again, only the night before for unrelated reasons.

Morgana sits on the corner of the bed, observing their exchange, completely lost with all the computer talk and not even bothering to fake understanding.

Akira had been reluctant to invite Mishima over, not because of the still-bruised feelings towards the boy over his leaking of Akira's information, but due to the upcoming date he'd set with Makoto.

Akira had texted Makoto the previous evening, letting her know about the rendevous location and time. Ryuji had been useless with fashion tips, and Morgana hadn't been much help either, so Akira hopes the nondescript but casual clothes he chose are appropriate. Sojiro hadn't classified the restaurant as a high-end type of place, just hip, so hopefully, no one expects Akira to show up in a suit and tie.

"Anything..." Mishima lowers his voice to a whisper. "Thief related?"

"No subtlety," Morgana hisses from the bed.

"No," Akira replies. "I'm just going out for a bit. No big deal. But I should get going." He offers Mishima a smile. "Thanks for swinging by. I'm looking forward to the Akihabara trip."

Mishima grins. "Me too!"

#

Akira adjusts the shirt once more. It's an olive green short sleeve that goes well with the slacks and shoes he wears. Akira had put serious thought into this outfit but realized maybe he should apply less. Either way, the clothes were on, and he was around the corner from their rendezvous location, so unless he bolted into one of the over-priced clothing stores dotting the streets of Shibuya, Akira was stuck.

Morgana had insisted on coming, but Akira had first carefully and then resolutely shot this idea down. He did not want to try and explain the constant meowing to Makoto. Though Morgana had proven himself repeatedly, having him around was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

"Alright," Akira says to himself. There was nothing else to do. Akira had gotten this far. All that was left was turning the corner and meeting up with the girl he liked.

What if she doesn't show? His brain suddenly wonders.

Why would you ask that? The rest of Akira wonders.

Akira shoves himself forward - mentally - and the momentum continues down to his legs, which finally move.

When he manages to propel himself around the corner, it only takes a moment to find Makoto. She stands separate from the crowds shuffling their way up and down the sidewalk. Under an overhang, she clutches the strap of her bag in one hand.

Akira feels a great sense of relief wash over him.

She came.

Akira realizes this is the first time he's seen her in anything beyond the Shujin uniform. Makoto wears a plain, sleek, vanilla blouse, cinched with a thin black belt that hangs over dark leggings which end just before her ankles. Akira doesn't know much about women's shoes, but he's pretty sure the black things she wears are fashionable. Still, from what he can tell, she hasn't overdone it, which makes him feel better about not overdoing it.

Knowing that he'll sabotage himself if he stops, Akira starts marching toward her. Makoto stands in the shadow of the overhang, casting her eyes about, and when she sees him, she looks past him at first, then snaps back.

Is that good or bad?

Akira raises his hand in greeting but still must awkwardly close the distance between them before he can reasonably say, "Hi."

"Hi," Makoto replies. "I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you."

Akira grins. "Was it the shirt or the glasses?"

Makoto chuckles. "The glasses. Or lack thereof."

Akira almost reaches up to adjust them but leaves his hand at his side. "So, funny story. I don't actually need those."

Makoto blinks, her head tilted almost imperceptibly to the side. "You don't?" Her smile broadens. "Then, um, why do you wear them?"

Akira feels something tug at his insides. "Originally, I wanted to hide myself away, I think. They're fakes. I guess I figured that if everyone saw me as some stereotypical student with glasses, no one would give me a hard time." Akira shrugs. "But then, Kamoshida leaked my information."

Makoto's eyes widen. "That was Kamoshida?" She demands.

"Yeah. Did you not know that?" Makoto shakes her head. "Oh. Well, yes. It was him. He had Mishima do it and-"

"Mishima?" Makoto asks. "Yuuki Mishima?"

Akira holds up his hands. "We're getting a little off track. To hear Mishima tell it, Kamoshida threatened him. But, you know what? We're talking about Kamoshida during what's supposed to be a happy... thing. How about we go in?"

Makoto takes a deep breath and sets her shoulders. "Yes. I think that's a good idea. I apologize for bringing it up."

"No, it's fine," Akira says, smiling. "Feels nice to talk about it. The only other person I've told is my doctor."

"Well, that stands to reason."

Akira suppresses a laugh. "Naturally." He turns and gestures for her to follow him down the sidewalk. The restaurant is only a short walk away, and Akira can't think of anything to fill the brief gap during the trek. Instead, he tries to admire the restaurant but finds himself nearly vibrating with giddiness at Makoto's proximity. Makoto, for her part, appears to be having similar thoughts, as her cheeks have a hint of red that she seems to be struggling to bring under control.

It's like a cuteness feedback loop or something, Akira thinks.

Joker groans from within his mind.

The restaurant, a two-story building with a sign reading 'Juniper' in English, had a style apart from your traditional Japanese. Carefully pruned vines and feelers streamed down from potted plants that dotted the facade, reaching down almost to the sidewalk. The second story consisted of an outdoor patio area in which several patrons lounged and looked down at the other citizens of Tokyo.

"I'm impressed," Makoto says, staring up at the place. "I didn't realize you knew about places like this."

"I'm just full of surprises," Akira intones, deciding that he doesn't have to mention how Sojiro saved his ass.

Makoto's face falters for a moment, but she says nothing.

Akira increases his speed and reaches the door just before Makoto and holds it open for her. She smiles and steps inside. A fresh wave of A/C washes over them, and Akira breathes a little sigh. Yes, the reservation is for the outside patio area, but hopefully, it'll be a bit cooler up there. It isn't a humid day, but it is summer.

Akira lifts his hand to the maître d’, who nods and approaches him. His partner, a young woman, is having a hushed conversation with an older man and a significantly younger woman. "This isn't right," the older man says, and Akira only glances his way for a moment before giving his information to the maître d’. "I had a reservation for this time. I booked it online."

"Excuse me," the young hostess says. "I do apologize, but according to our system, the reservation dropped."

"That's not-" The man continues, but by then, Akira and Makoto are moving towards the stairs.

"Wow," Makoto says as they step onto the second floor. Though they are only one floor up, the sun is shining, and Tokyo's skyscrapers greet them happily as they follow the maître d’ to their table. "It's beautiful up here."

Even Akira reels at the view.

I really need to thank Sojiro for setting this up.

Makoto sets her bag down and turns to Akira, brows raised in speculation. "How did you hear about this place?"

Akira's mind works at this for a nanosecond, then he answers, "I heard about it from my gang."

The maître d’ pauses to look at Akira before shaking his head and distributing menus.

Makoto smirks. "Your gang?"

"Haven't you been reading the latest RINE chats?" Akira asks. He makes a show of flicking his shirt's collar. "I'm in with the yakuza or some yakuza-adjacent thing. They told me about this place."

"Ah," Makoto says. "So all those rumors are true then? Even all that stuff about being an assassin?"

"Oh, especially the stuff about being an assassin."

A waiter brings water, but Akira and Makoto put off perusing the menu for the time being. To Akira's delight, Makoto doesn't appear to be in any hurry.

"Do you know what surprises me?" Makoto asks.

Akira smiles. "What?"

Makoto opens her mouth, then shuts it again. "Ah, well. Never mind. We don't have to talk about it."

Akira feels his grin fading, but not unpleasantly. "Are you okay? If you want to ask me something, go ahead."

Makoto hesitates, then says, "For all those rumors flying around about you, none of them involve the Phantom Thieves."

Akira manages to keep his face neutral. Before leaving for the date, he had given himself a small pep talk, reminding himself that there was every chance that Shujin's favorite topic - aside from him - would come up. "Why's that surprising?" He asks.

"Well," Makoto says, and takes a small sip of water. "It's just that you arrived only a few weeks before the Phantom Thieves struck. No one had heard of them before the Kamoshida incident. Interestingly, everyone's throwing around these crazy rumors about you, but no one suggests you could be involved." Makoto raises her hands and laughs. "Not that... well, I suppose I'm just wondering why they'd-"

"It's pretty simple," Akira says. This had been another part of his preparation. Or rather, he'd coached himself to avoid this topic, but now that it's come up, Akira finds he can't.

Akira has wondered about this, himself.

"The Phantom Thieves stopped Kamoshida. The abuse is over. His crimes came to light. People got justice. The Phantom Thieves are heroes." Akira shrugs. "And I guess the students at Shujin can't see Akira Kurusu as a hero." He tries to smile and sort of succeeds. "I'm with the yakuza, remember? I carry a knife in my bag. Or a gun. I've got the assault charge. So why would anyone draw a connection between a bunch of heroes and me?"

Makoto seems thoroughly deflated, and Akira kicks himself. That was not what he'd wanted to convey. Akira starts figuring out how to backpedal, but Makoto cuts him off.

"They're idiots," she snaps.

Akira's mouth opens and closes. He blinks. "Who?"

Makoto looks up at him, a new intensity in her eyes. "The other students, obviously."

"You probably shouldn't say that about the students you represent."

Makoto scoffs. "Oh, whatever. I'm already the President. What are they going to do, impeach me?"

Akira laughs. "I guess not."

Makoto leans in. "But seriously. I'm tired of hearing all this horrible stuff about you. I know we're joking, and I'm glad you're comfortable enough to do so, but it makes me angry."

"You don't have-"

"Yes, I do," Makoto insists. "You got me out of that room." Makoto's eyes suddenly widen, and she pales significantly.

Oh shit.

"Hey," Akira says, and before he can think about what he's doing, he's reaching across the table. Makoto's hand sits on the table, and Akira rests his over it.

This brings Makoto back to reality, but she reddens faster than an allergic reaction once she sees Akira's hand covering her own.

"Sorry," Akira says, pulling his hand back. "I just... I didn't want you to get-"

"No, no, it's fine." Makoto rubs her temples. "We certainly have chosen interesting topics of conversation."

"Wanna talk about Buchimaru-kun instead?" Akira asks.

Makoto smirks. "Want to talk about the book you picked out?"

Akira smiles. "I would."

They spend some time discussing the finer points of 'The Lies of Locke Lamora.' It is a very harmless and easy conversation. Then, they order food at some point, and at some later point, it comes.

For a time, Akira and Makoto's date behaves as it should. And maybe, in another life or universe, it could've continued that way. Maybe, if you zoom out far enough, you can pretend destiny wove this. That this happy moment between two young people who care for one another is all that will ever need to happen. That the story can end here. Wrapped up. This is what we all want, right? This is what we'd hoped to see. Akira and Makoto together, woven around each other and content to discuss an excellent adventure/fantasy story.

But Akira's only read so far. Makoto knows how the book goes. Akira does too, if he bothers to think about it.

And we all know how this story is going to go.

We want to stay here – in a world that ceases to exist beyond the pleasant boundaries of this table's earshot. Two people, happy in one another's company, discussing safe topics of fiction.  It's easy enough to imagine this going on forever and ever and ever.

Easy enough.

But it doesn't.

Conversational pitfalls play out, and the topic leaves the sheltered realm of fiction and returns to the reality of Akira and how he's come to reside in Tokyo.

"You know," Akira says, as the food arrives, and immediately after Makoto makes a flippant remark about the RINE chats. "You should start a wager or something, which insane story about me is true. Then, we could rake in the cash."

Makoto raises a brow at this. "You think I should knowingly deceive the other students at Shujin?"

Akira nods. "Uh, yeah." He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite. It's good. "I could be your inside horse," he says, once he's swallowed. "Give you the real information. You post that online, and when I make the big reveal, you collect all the money, and we split it." He almost says it could cover the lavish costs of his intended second date but can't quite bring himself to say it.

Makoto nods. "Well, if we're going to go that route, I'll have to know what the story is."

Akira ponders this. "Let's see. How about, I'm some abandoned orphan raised by the matriarch of some minor gang. Thanks to her tutelage, I rose through the ranks and managed to elevate the gang as well. But then, some jealous contender wanted my spot, so they framed me for-"

Makoto gives a small, awkward laugh. Akira shuts up. "Yes," Makoto says. "That's quite the story. Specific too. But, Akira, I was hoping for the real thing."

"Ah," Akira says. "Right."

Why not? A voice in his head asks. You already told Ryuji, and the rest of the Thieves.

Makoto's not one of us, Akira thinks.

No, but you'd like her to be more.

"You know," Akira says. "I want to tell you. I do. I think it's important that I tell you what happened that night. But..."

"But this might not be the place for it?" Makoto asks, face falling a bit.

Akira nods. "I'm sorry. Maybe when we're not in such a nice place. When we're somewhere dreary. Maybe if you came to the cafe."

Makoto tilts her head. "Cafe?"

"Point is," Akira says, shaking his head. "Is that I'm having a good time, and I don't want there to be any secrets between us, so maybe we could..." Akira trails off. Makoto's face has frozen. Before, it had been relaxed and vibrant. It is now stiff and controlled. Akira blinks. There's been very little perceptual change, but Akira can recognize it, and even as he marvels at how he can recognize it, another part of him worries about what this means.

"No secrets," Makoto says solemnly.

Akira kicks himself for that. He'd just been talking and hadn't been watching what he was saying. "Listen, I-"

Makoto holds up a hand. Akira stops speaking. Makoto sucks in her lips, and her eyes glaze over. It appears she is thinking about something very hard.

Then, Makoto finally says, "Akira, why did you lie to me about Takamaki and Sakamoto?"

There is no voice in Akira's head offering counsel. Instead, his thoughts are quiet and decidedly unhelpful. "H-huh?" Akira asks.

"During our last study session, you told me that Sakamoto intended to ask Takamaki out. You showed me all those texts indicating such. But, according to Daisuke Takanashi, Takamaki and Sakamoto had been on a date already."

Akira's brain runs in reverse. Takanashi? What the hell did he have to do with anything? Ryuji and Ann had confronted him together, but what Akira recalls from the description of that encounter was how Ryuji had promised Maehara that the Phantom Thieves had changed Takanashi's heart. Neither Ann nor Ryuji had mentioned anything about saying they were on a date.

"I-" Akira starts.

"So, either Takamaki and Sakamoto lied about it to Takanashi, or you lied to me."

"Why were you even talking to Takanashi?" Akira asks. "I don't even know why they would be-"

"The Phantom Thieves targeted Takanashi. Surely you know this?" Makoto replies. "Maehara put a Request up on the PhanSite shortly after it went live, but before the new criteria for posting were implemented. Soon after, Takanashi caught up with Maehara and attacked him. Only, Sakamoto and Takamaki arrived and thwarted him, and when Takanashi asked what they were doing together, Takamaki claimed they'd been on a date. After I heard about his change of heart, I asked him to the Student Council office. I spoke with him. I spoke with Maehara too, and he confirmed it. Takanashi and Sakamoto had claimed to be on a date." Makoto leans back in her seat and seems neither fired up nor exasperated in Akira's eye. She doesn't appear to be much of anything. Rather, Makoto comes across as though she's reading off a mental checklist. Just citing facts one after another, with no emotional context. "And that's not all," she says, before Akira can interject. "Takanashi's change of heart happened approximately at the same time as our study session, Sakamoto's sojourn to Shibuya Underground, and Takamaki's trip to the hospital to see Suzui. All confirmed via your texting.

"But you know all of this, don't you, Akira?"

Makoto stops talking and stares at him. Akira's mind reels. A single sentence. That was all that had undone this.

No time to worry about how it happened, a voice says. You need to do something about it.

Akira remains silent, staring first at Makoto, and then at his food. Then, finally, he leans forward and asks, in a low voice, "What is it you want to ask me, Makoto?"

"I already asked, Akira. I want to know why you lied to me." When Akira makes no reply, Makoto asks, "Was it to use me as an alibi? But, of course, that would only work if we knew how the Phantom Thieves change hearts. Maybe you can time it. I don't know. After all, Kamoshida confessed during a schoolwide assembly. That's quite convenient timing."

Akira exhales. Actually, that was a coincidence. "Is that what you're really asking? If I'm one of them?"

"If you are, why haven't you told me?"

"If I was, could you blame me?"

"Akira, I-"

"I was walking home one night. I don't even remember from where. I think it might've been a manga cafe, but it could've just as easily been a ramen shop I used to frequent in my hometown."

That's it, a voice Akira hates whispers. Take back control.

"It was late because I always tried to stay out as long as possible before going home. I didn't want to interact with my mother any more than necessary. So anyway, I'm walking home and staring off into space. I'm on autopilot. The next thing I know, this commotion shakes me back into reality. I look around and see some guy standing next to this big car. He's wobbling and has his hands all over this young woman. He's muttering all these things to her. 'You look just like her.' 'It's been so long.' And then he's yelling at her, 'Get in the car.' She's crying and sees me, and I'm just a kid. I'm just some kid who doesn't want to go home, who's never been in any trouble. And she asks me to help her. She calls to me.

“And you know something? Something I didn't realize until later? That wasn't fair, Makoto. It wasn't fair that she asked me to help her. It wasn't fair that life put me in that position, that there was no one around to help. I was, am, just a teenager. But I didn't hesitate. I think back on that moment a lot. I know that I didn't hesitate. I moved across the street, grabbed the guy, and shoved him off her. And because he was so drunk - I could feel the booze that made his shirt cling to his chest - he stumbled, fell, and hit his head." Akira smiles a little when he sees the look of shock on Makoto's face. "No, he didn't die. It was barely a scratch. But then he starts claiming that I assaulted him, and the next thing I know, the police show up. And, what do you know? The woman who pleaded for my help? She said the same damn thing - that I assaulted him. That I'd come out of nowhere and attacked him. 'Open and shut.' That's what the judge said. And so I'm here. And so I'm at Shujin, and I've got a lunatic gym teacher leaking my information to the student body, and that just isn't fair either, but at this point, who cares?

"And now I'm sitting with the girl I like, and she's asking me if I'm a Phantom Thief. So I'm asking you again, if I were, could you blame me for keeping quiet about it?" He leans in a bit further, just for added effect. "Don't you think I've been burned enough times? Why would I risk that again?"

Makoto is silent. Her eyes aren't bulging, but they are wide. Then, finally, after a few moments of silence, she takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Thank you for telling me that, Akira. I do appreciate it. And I'm sorry that happened to you. I'm sorry about everything that happened to you." She folds her hands together. "But I can't help but think you just weaponized your own story to try and throw me off. I understand it. I do. But the fact is that it's highly probable that you used me as an alibi for you and the other Thieves, which I suspect to include Sakamoto and Takamaki. And you've kept up that lie. You've told it again and again. You haven't even denied it since we started down this road. So you know what I'm asking and what I suspect. I want to know if it's true. And I want to know if you're just using me, or..." And here, Makoto trails off for a moment, then shakes her head and fixes Akira with a much sterner gaze. "Or if you actually do like me. Because if you did, I can't imagine why you would keep lying."

So much for taking back control, Joker mutters.

Akira stares at Makoto. What can he say? He's only got one out.

You've got more than one, his father's voice comments. But you're not willing to walk down that road.

"If I wanted to tell you the truth," Akira says. "Could I trust you with it?"

"Akira," Makoto almost whispers. "I've known you for, what? A month? A little more? Doesn't it feel longer than that? I'm not trying to arrest you or expose you. I just want to know. After everything that happened between us, and then Kamoshida, and today, I want to know, and I want you to trust me and know that I'm not going to betray you. You saved me. Do you think I'd give you up after that?"

Akira does not. And Akira imagines himself spreading his hands as if to be handcuffed, adopting Joker's little smirk and saying, 'You got me,' and accepting everything that comes from that.

But Akira knows he can't do this.

Because Akira is not the only Phantom Thief.

"If," Akira says slowly. "If I were a member of the Phantom Thieves, then it stands to reason there are additional members. And if I were a hypothetical member of this organization, I couldn't just bring someone into our confidence without discussing it with the others. I'm sure you can understand that."

Makoto sighs. "So you need to talk this over with Sakamoto and Takamaki?"

Akira shrugs. "If they were members of this group, and if I were a member of this group, that would be a reasonable assumption." Akira clears his throat. "And if I were going to discuss it with them, it would be tonight, before I saw you again tomorrow. I would discuss it with them and give you my answer at school. Hypothetically, of course."

"Of course. Hypothetically."

Naturally, the rest of the date is super fucking awkward.

#

Akira waited desperate and anxious hours for Ann and Ryuji to make their way to LeBlanc. He had waited for Ann to introduce herself to Sojiro, and then led the two upstairs, where Morgana awaited.

Akira launched into a summary of his date, and while Ryuji seemed interested and Ann did not, both had sat up straighter once Akira got to the point.

"Dammit," Ann spits. "She knows?"

"She doesn't know," Akira points out. "She suspects."

"Sure sounds like she knows," Ryuji states, crossing his arms.

"Fortunately, Akira didn't give himself away," Morgana says. "He kept everything hypothetical."

Akira casts a glance at the cat. "What? You think she was wearing a wire or something?"

The cat moves its hind legs in the approximation of a shrug. "Why not?"

"We were on a date," Akira replies. "Why would she wear a wire to our date?"

"Maybe the date was a cover to get you to confess to being a Phantom Thief," Ann suggests.

Akira shakes his head. "No way."

"Either way," Ryuji says. "Akira didn't confess to nothin'. But what do we do now?"

Akira clears his throat, and the others look to him. He is their leader, after all. "I think we should tell her."

Ann's face falls, but to Akira's surprise, Ryuji speaks first. "Eh. I don't know, dude."

"She apologized to you, Ryuji. Don't you remember that?"

Ryuji replies with an actual human shrug. "Sure I do, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"I agree with Ryuji," Ann says. "I don't see why Niijima needs to know about us. And, well..." She trails off.

Akira keeps himself under control, and calmly asks, "What?"

Ann meets his eyes. "Well, I think you want to tell her only because you like her. But that's not the same as having a legitimate reason to tell her."

"Yup," Ryuji says, nodding sagely. "What Ann said."

Akira feels a slight grin spread over his face. He can understand this, but ignores it to say, "Ryuji, you told Mishima about us. And Ann, you told Shiho."

Ann's spine straightens completely. "Hold up. Shiho deserved to know about us after what Kamoshida did to her. It's not the same thing at all!"

Ryuji reaches out a hand and pats her shoulder, trying to calm her down. "Yeah," he says. "And, uh, Mishima does run the PhanSite. I know you guys don't like how I spilled the beans, but wouldn't this all be much more difficult if Mishima didn't know about us?"

"To get even more technical," Morgana says, almost but not quite smugly. "I'm the only one who hasn't given us away to someone."

All three fix Morgana with gazes that manage to all translate to, 'Yeah, and why do you think that is?'

Morgana shifts about, uncomfortable. "M-my point is that if we're going to tally up who's told who what, then Akira, you're not exactly innocent here. You told Takemi, Plague, or whatever we're calling her now."

Akira rolls his eyes. "Yes, but she'd practically figured the whole thing out. Besides, she's one of our main contacts. We couldn't function without her medicine."

"That's Morgana's point," Ann says. "Takemi is valuable to us. Shiho deserved to know, and Mishima may be a bit of a clutz, but he does run our website, and even if he messed up with the Nakanohara thing, he's the reason we're targetting Madarame now.

"But Akira, what does Makoto bring to the table? What does Makoto knowing the truth do for us?"

"I kinda like the Prez," Ryuji puts in. "But like you said before, man. We can't just tell people because we feel like it, right?"

Akira doesn't remember phrasing it precisely that way, but Ryuji is right. And the frustration boiling within him is fed by the absolute truth of what his friends are saying.

"It isn't like Makoto is useless. She's brilliant. If we could have her brain on our side-"

"To do what?" Ann asks. "Help us with our homework?"

"Actually," Ryuji mumbles. "That might not be so bad."

"She figured out our whole strategy based on a single throwaway sentence you guys said to Takanashi, Ann. If that's not impressive, I'm not sure what is. She's not just a good student."

"I'm not sold," Morgana says, arching his back.

"Shouldn't we be bringing Takemi into this?" Ryuji asks. "She is an honorary member, after all. So this does kinda concern her."

"Forget Takemi," Akira says, and sits on his bed. "I'm asking you guys."

"I think you have our answer," Ann replies.

"Sorry bro," Ryuji says. "But unless we've got a good reason to tell her, I don't think we should."

Morgana trots over and rests a paw on Akira's leg. "Listen, maybe our concerns are overblown. But we don't know that. Doesn't the fact that she's spent the time necessary to figure all this out bother you? We've no idea what her intentions are."

"It's Makoto," Akira says, looking at them all in turn.

"And you're the only one that means anything to," Ann says.

The silence stretches, but though Akira seeks some kind of solution, he finds none. How can he argue with their points?

"If we're not going tell her, we do need to have some way to explain all this."

"What's to explain?" Ann asks. "That you lied about Ryuji and me? Why not just tell her it was all an excuse to get the conversation away from studying, to show her what a romantic you are? Then again, you could just blow her off."

Akira glares at Ann, and Morgana speaks up. "Look, why don't I tail Makoto a bit, tomorrow? Maybe I can figure out why she's so intent on figuring all this out."

"I..." Akira starts. "I don't think that's it, Morgana. I think she just wants to know why I lied to her."

"Then my explanation still works."

"Then why didn't I just say that on our date?"

Ann shrugs. "I don't know. But it's not like she's got any real proof, right?"

"Yeah," Ryuji replies. "You were with her while Ann, Mona, and I changed Takanashi's heart. She's got no clue about Palaces or the Metaverse."

Akira leans back and fully lowers onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Dammit,” he says.

#

"Why?" Haru demands, gripping Makoto's hands in a vice grip. "I need to know!"

"Haru, I..." Makoto trails off.

"Why won't you tell me what happened?" Haru asks, then gasps. "Oh no. Don't tell me. Was it horrible? Terrible? Did he invite another girl along?"

"What?" Makoto asks. "Of course not!"

Haru sighs, and releases some of the tension in her grip. "Well, that's a relief."

"I just..." Makoto says, and can't finish the sentence. This time, Haru just stares at her, imploringly.

Makoto sees herself reflected in Haru's eyes. The two sit together in a small cafe only a short distance from where Makoto's date had taken place. Haru had posted herself there hours ahead of time, diligently waiting for Makoto's 'after-action report.'

Hypocrite. How else can Makoto think of herself? All that time she just spent calling out Akira on his lies, and here she was, having befriended Haru under false pretenses. It shamed her. And Makoto would have no more of it.

"Haru?" Makoto says.

Haru stiffens as if expecting some blow. "What is it, Mako-chan? Seriously."

"I need to tell you something."

And just like that, it all comes tumbling out of her. The early days of getting to know Akira, her suspicions following Kamoshida's confession, the strange gut instinct she followed, and her reason for approaching Haru in the first place. "I'm not sure what I wanted to do or why I wanted to find out," Makoto says, unable to stop herself from talking. "Maybe I wanted to help? Maybe I just wanted to play games. So, when I asked for your help, I was hoping your working relationship with Akira would provide some clue into his activities as a Phantom Thief. I lied to you. I'm very sorry."

A range of emotions pass over Haru's face. Confusion in wide eyes, hurt in a pouted lip, anger in furrowed brows, and a kind of acceptance in closed eyes and a deep breath. "I see," Haru finally says.

"But, hanging out with you has been really fun. I don't... I don't have many friends. Actually, I don't think I have any friends. Not like you. So please know that while my initial intentions were dishonorable, being your friend has been great." Makoto sighs. "I'm sorry, that didn't sound so good. I'm-"

"You do like him, right?" Haru asks.

"Huh?" Makoto replies, blinking.

Haru stares at her and releases her grip on Makoto's hands. "Do you like him? Or was that a lie?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, it's not a lie. I do like him. I even... I, well, yes, I do like him."

Haru nods, as if in confirmation. "I believe you." She takes a deep breath and holds it.

And holds it.

And holds it.

After about thirty seconds, Makoto asks, "Um, Haru? Are you-" But then Haru releases the air in one large exhale.

She smiles. "It's fine. I forgive you."

Makoto feels her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes."

Makoto cannot help herself. "But why? I haven't been honest with you from the start."

"Well, maybe not, but I don't know if I'd call you a liar," Haru replies. "I'd be pretty upset if it turned out you didn't even like Akira after all this. I do consider him a friend, after all." She shrugs. "But beyond that, you seem like you could use a friend. I know that feeling too."

Makoto feels something rise behind her eyes, and she manages a meek little, "Thank you."

"Besides," Haru says, a hint of crimson in her cheeks. "I've enjoyed spending time with you as well."

They sit in silence for a short time.

Then, Haru's eyes widen, and she says, "Okay. So. Wait a minute. Akira is part of the Phantom Thieves?"

Makoto nods. "I'm almost positive. He's planning on discussing it with his teammates - hypothetically - and will get back to me with his answer tomorrow."

Haru leans back in her chair and plays with a strand of her hair. "Wow. That's... huh."

"What is it?" Makoto asks.

"There was a woman," Haru replies. "She came to the flower shop one day and ordered eleven flowers." Haru relays the story.

Notes:

Hey hey! Thank you to everyone who has read Crimson! I'm glad Monday's chapter was so well received, and I hope you all enjoyed today's as well.

Just an FYI, I think that, starting next Monday, I'll decrease the chapter output from 3 to 2 per week. I know, it sucks, but I think this is the best way to ensure I can keep posting consistently and with a level of quality I'm happy with. Once things settle down in my life, I may switch back, but for now, I think this is the best way forward. Thank you for your understanding, and again, thank you for reading Crimson! I'll see you on Friday!

Chapter 33: Chapter 33

5/16

Kobayakawa sits at his desk. The students have all arrived. His door is thick, but he can still feel the bustle as they make their way through the halls. Ridiculous, he thinks. Maybe so, but denial eludes Kobayakawa. Phantom Thieves. The blackouts. This is all some months-long nightmare from which he cannot wake.

Somewhere deep inside him, a tiny gear of guilt grinds his blood. But it is so very small, and Kobayakawa is so very large.

There's a knock at his door.

She has arrived.

"Come in," he calls.

#

Makoto steps into the Principal's office and stands at attention before his desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Kobayakawa does not look well. Sweat peels from him like another skin. When he turns to her, a second's contact seems all his eyes can bear, and he glances away from her. "Yes," he mutters, then takes a heaving sigh.

For her part, Makoto is in no mood for whatever this is. Her emotions have ranged wide today, and it is only mid-morning. She has not caught sight of Akira and has not received any answer. The relief Makoto feels at coming clean to Haru still resonates within her, but she cannot clamp down on the giddiness at the prospect of finally having an answer about Akira and the Phantom Thieves.

Kobayakawa finishes his sigh and looks back at Makoto. His eyes are suddenly sharp and narrow. Distrustful, even.

"Niijima-san," he says, and nods his bulbous head. "I want to begin this conversation by saying a few things."

"Yes, sir."

Kobayakawa clears his throat and continues. You are a remarkable student and an excellent Student Council President. You are hard-working, diligent, and the staff and your classmates respect you. If you continue down the path you tread, I have no doubt a shining future awaits you."

Makoto blinks, having not expected the Principal’s lauding words. Makoto wasn't sure what she had expected when she received the instruction to come to the office, but it certainly wasn't this.

"Thank you, sir."

"So then, I want to ask you this directly. Are you a member of these so-called 'Phantom Thieves.'"

Makoto's eyes widen. "What?"

"I am not hearing a denial."

Her words fall from her in a stutter. "N-no! Of course not!"

Kobayakawa stares at her for some time. Then, he says, "Then let me ask you this, do you have any idea who the Phantom Thieves could be?"

Akira Kurusu. Ryuji Sakamoto. Ann Takamaki.

Makoto's heart beats faster. Sweat pools within her hair, but does not yet slide down her face. She thinks of Akira. Was this really happening? Right now? Today?

"No," Makoto answers. "I do not."

The Principal sighs and collapses back into his chair.

"May I ask, sir," she begins. "Why are you asking these things?"

Kobayakawa's eyes seem to scowl at her. "Do I honestly need to explain that?" Makoto opens her mouth, but Kobayakawa continues before she can speak. "Really, now. I expect a bit more deduction for someone with such high test scores." He spreads his hands wide. "Who else but disgruntled Shujin students would bear a grudge against Kamoshida-sensei? Who else would be aware of the man's... problems?"

Problems? Makoto thinks. He was a rapist! "Sir, he-"

Kobayakawa holds up a hand. "I am aware of Kamoshida-sensei's misdeeds. He confessed to them before me just as much as before you. However, I cannot condone students who think they can blackmail, manipulate, and otherwise extort and exploit this institution's faculty members!"

Makoto cannot believe what she is hearing. "Why would they, sir?" She asks. "They made their point, didn't they? They called out Kamoshida. They got him to confess. What else would they..." Makoto trails off because she very well knows what they can do. What they have done.

Kobayakawa nods. "I see you understand the flaw in your logic, Niijima-san. The Phantom Thieves have - apparently - already targetted a Shujin student. Their website, the PhanSite, has been up and running for some time now. And if you honestly had your finger on the pulse of the student body, you'd know that's all anyone is talking about."

Not quite all," Makoto thinks, recalling the very many rumors circulating about Akira.

"The point," Kobayakawa continues. "Is that the Phantom Thieves are not done. And I will not permit them to use this school as some kind of... staging ground." Kobayakawa's hand darts out, yanks open a drawer, and snatches out a manilla folder. "I would prefer to believe your denial, but as I cannot be sure, you leave me with no real choice."

Makoto's heart smashes against her ribcage. "Sir?" She asks.

"You wish to have the full recommendation of this institution. With it, you would have a relatively easy time securing your position at any university." Kobayakawa pauses, and Makoto feels the dread ink its way through her, tattooing itself on her organs. "If you wish to receive this recommendation, seek out, and find the Phantom Thieves."

This isn't real. This isn't happening. He can't do that! Thoughts of Akira flee her mind, and new images - those of her sister - fill her mind. And not only of Sae but of everything. Without the letter of recommendation, getting into a top-tier college would be much harder, and even if she could, the letter would have a much more significant impact on her future and career choices. Stabs of panic rampage through her skin. "Sir, you can't honestly-"

"What?" Kobayakawa cuts in, and Makoto swears he's almost sneering. "I can't honestly, 'what?' Because if you're doubting my ability to do what I'm outlining, then you are tragically mistaken." Makoto feels as if all the blood has drained from her body. "What's wrong? Are you unwilling to turn in your confederates?"

Something rises in her. "Sir, I am not a Phantom Thief."

Kobayakawa nods. "Then I suggest you find out who is." He shoves the folder across his desk. It stops just before sliding over the edge, only a few inches from Makoto. When Makoto looks at the Principal, he nods.

Makoto reaches out one trembling hand, picks up the file, and opens the flap.

Akira Kurusu's face stares out at her. It is his student record. Her throat dries. This can't be happening. There are more pages. She flips to the next. Ryuji Sakamoto glowers out from his student photo. Makoto turns the page. Ann Takamki grins. Another page. Yuuki Mishima stares tentatively at the camera. Once more. Shiho Suzui wears a small smile.

"Suzui?" Makoto asks, then looks up at the Principal. "Sir, she was in a coma after her suicide attempt."

The Principal's eyes are hard, and his tone suggests no further argument when he asks, "And?"

Makoto returns her eyes to the folder. There are more pages. She turns the next page and stares at herself.

This is not happening.

"Sir, I-"

"Akira Kurusu. A recent transfer student with a criminal record. He was threatened with expulsion by Kamoshida-sensei a scant handful of days before his confession. Coerced by Kamoshida-sensei into facilitating inappropriate relations with Takamaki, but by all accounts, he remains friends with Takamaki. Ryuji Sakamoto. A delinquent who physically assaulted Kamoshida-sensei last year. Also threatened with expulsion. Also friends with Kurusu and Takamaki. Ann Takamaki. The target of Kamoshida-sensei's advances. Yuuki Mishima. Frequently abused at the hands of Kamoshida-sensei. Threatened with expulsion. An associate, if not friend, of Sakamoto's and classmates of Kurusu and Takamaki. Shiho Suzui. Victim. Takamaki's friend." Kobayakawa says nothing more on Suzui. He says nothing more about Makoto's presence in the file. Makoto begins to peel back the remaining pages. A few more students are in the file, but Kobayakawa stays silent.

He doesn't think any of the others are involved, Makoto realizes. And he was almost entirely correct.

Idiot! Makoto thinks, and she is not sure whom she means.

How could the Phantom Thieves be so careless?

And how could she? Makoto had spent all this time looking into the Phantom Thieves. How could she have been so naive to think actual authorities wouldn't also be interested?

If I can figure all this out, so can the Principal. So can the police.

"Sir..." Makoto starts, then trails off.

This isn't happening.

This isn't happening.

This isn't happening.

Makoto shuts her eyes. She breathes. In and out. In and out. What would Sis do? What would Dad do? Makoto's brain burns, and she settles on only one possible way out of this.

She opens her eyes.

"I understand, sir. I will investigate the Phantom Thieves."

Kobayakawa smiles. "Very good. That will be all. Keep me abreast of the investigation."

From the corner of her eye, Makoto notices a black flash out the window, but when her gaze flicks towards it, whatever it was has gone.

"Sir, I have one question."

"What is it?"

"Did you know? About Kamoshida's abuses?"

A scowl explodes across Kobayakawa's face, and he lurches to his feet. "What kind of inane question is that, Niijima? I won't even dignify that with an answer! Need I remind you that your name is on that list as well? So if you want to continue down the path to success, don't waste my time with foolish inquiries, and get to work!"

"Yes, sir," Makoto says, and forces herself to look cowed. Then, to herself, she whispers, "That's all I wanted to know."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then get to class."

"Yes, sir." Makoto turns and walks out the door. As she shuts it behind her, she thinks, Piece of shit.

#

Akira walks the alley's length, turns, and walks back to the group. He looks at each person, then turns and takes off down the alley once more.

"Akira," Ann says, when he does this again.

Akira turns back, looks down at Morgana, and says, "You heard wrong."

"I didn't."

"You heard wrong."

"I'm telling you," the cat replies. "I didn't."

Ryuji's face is pale, and his feet tap out a rhythmic beat, even as he leans against the wall. "This is bad. So freakin' bad."

"What did she say?" Akira asks.

"She said she understood. She said that-"

"Word for word, Morgana," Akira cuts. "Word for word."

The cat begins to wilt under Akira's gaze, then finds his resolve and stiffens. "Don't snap at me. I didn't get a chance to listen in on the entire conversation. Once Makoto left her homeroom, I had to climb to the roof, then hop around on some of those damn window ledges until I could find her. It's not my fault she's working with the Principal."

"Morgana's right," Ann replies, then sighs. "Guess we know why she wanted to know about us so badly."

Ryuji shakes his head. "This is so bad."

"After the Principal gave her the list and named all of you," Morgana says. "Makoto flipped through the file and said she understood. She said, ‘I will investigate the Phantom Thieves.’ Then, the Principal dismissed her, and I came to find you guys."

"What about before that? What did she say before that?" Akira asks, his mind racing.

Morgana, confident once more, stands all the straighter. "She asked why Shiho was on the list since she'd been in a coma during Kamoshida's confession."

"And before that?"

"I don't-"

"What did she say before that?" Akira shouts.

"Akira, stop it," Ann says, walking up to him and grabbing his shoulders. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Akira's eyes find their way to hers. "There's another reason. There's-"

Ann's hands tighten on Akira's shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself."

"I told you," Morgana hisses. "I told you something like this could happen. This is why Makoto wanted to know so much about us."

"Well," Ann says, trying to fix a smile onto her face. "We're okay, right? Akira didn't tell her the truth, so we're good?"

Ryuji lifts his head. "Good? Ann, they've got our freakin' names."

"Ryuji's right," Morgana says. "Whatever Makoto's role is in this investigation is secondary to the fact that there is an investigation."

Ann steps away from Akira. "I'm sorry, Mona, but one more time, what happened, and what did the Principal say, specifically?"

Morgana sighs and rolls his eyes. "Usami told Makoto the Principal wanted to see her. By the time I got to the window outside Kobayakawa's office, he'd given Makoto a file and listed your names, one by one, starting with Akira, then Ryuji, then Lady Ann. He also suggested Shiho and Mishima as suspects. Makoto asked him why Shiho was in the file, but he didn't answer."

"Oh god," Ryuji mumbles. "How? How could they know it was us?"

"They don't know it was us," Morgana says. "They suspect us. Strongly."

"What the hell is the difference?" Ryuji shouts.

"Calm down," Ann snaps.

"Like hell," Ryuji spits back and straightens. "Don't you get how bad this is?"

Akira turns from the group and takes a few steps away.

"Of course, I do," Ann protests.

Akira turns and puts his back to the brick wall of the alley. He clasps his hands together and slides down, dropping his rear against the ground. He keeps his eyes focused on the puddle of dirty water centered on the blacktop.

"Dude," Ryuji says, and steps around Ann. He kneels next to Akira. "Are you okay? Come on, leader, this isn't the time to lose it."

"You are," Ann points out.

"I'm not the leader!"

Ann ignores him and asks, "What'd you want to do, Akira?"

Akira looks up at them, but he doesn't see them. Not really. All he can see is the white ceiling, mismatched with the dull ivory walls. All he can see is the cot where he'll sleep and the massive door that locks him inside. All he can see is the box.

You fell for it, Joker whispers. Akira wasn't careful enough. Makoto's been investigating us all along.

You're not thinking, another voice whispers, and Akira recognizes his father's voice, dragged down from too many years with a cigarette between his lips. I'm here because you need someone who knows how to do this. Think about the timeline. The words wriggle in his brain.

The pieces are all jumbled, Akira thinks. Something doesn't make sense.

Panic still pumps through his system, which does not allow further exploration.

Akira's phone vibrates. He pulls it from his pocket.

MAKOTO: We need to talk.

"It's Makoto," Akira says. "She's asking for my answer."

Ann huffs. "I knew we couldn't trust her."

Akira opens his mouth to spit a scathing retort, but he manages to swallow it.

Breathe, he thinks, and does just that.

It wasn't Makoto's idea to tutor me. That was Kawakami. And we flirted for a long time before we ever announced ourselves as the Phantom Thieves.

Right, his father whispers. But then again, what did you once call her? A robot? You know she's looking into you. You just thought it was on her own. But now? What conclusion would you draw, and what should you draw?

Akira lets his breathing slow and wills his heart rate to decelerate. We need to know more. We need to keep Makoto off our backs. Fool her and-

No, his father's voice is harsher now. You already tried that, and it didn't work.

Akira is silent.

Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana speak to one another, and Akira hefts himself up. They turn to him as he rises.

What do I need to know? What do I need to do?

"Morgana, we need to know what was in that file."

"I need to warn Shiho," Ann says.

Akira nods. "Sure."

"But what about the Prez?" Ryuji asks.

Akira is silent for a few moments. Then, dragging the words out, he says, “I’ve got an idea.”

#

Akira checks his phone.

MAKOTO : Where are you?

Akira scowls and slides the phone back into his pocket. Maybe I should've talked to her, he thinks. Told her something. That's what she was expecting.

We need some distance, Joker replies.

This is why Akira makes his way back to LeBlanc, alone. After school, Ann had gone off to warn Shiho about Makoto's investigation. Akira had left Morgana in the care of Ryuji with the instructions to see about getting access to the file the Principal had shown Makoto. Per Morgana, the Principal returned the file to his desk, so it shouldn't be too much of an ask to break in.

In the meantime, Akira's idea for handling Makoto needed some thought. Hell, this whole thing had come about due to Ann's declaration to Takanashi. The timeline would have worked out if she hadn't said she'd been on a date with Ryuji when they confronted the bully.

No use worrying about that now, Akira thinks. What's done is done. Still, it was a valuable lesson. If the Phantom Thieves were ever to do something like this again, they'd need to know what they could and couldn't say. Takanashi had only spoken with Makoto, as far as Akira knew. But Akira and the others had ample communication with Kamoshida.

It was too much to assume they could get away with not interacting with targets from now on, but if they went in with a script or at least a mental list of prohibited topics, they could avoid this mistake.

It was too much for Akira to think about Makoto. Hard to imagine that just over a day earlier, he'd been ready to have a great time. And he had had a great time, until the topic arose.

Why? Akira thinks. Why did it have to be this way?

The voices in his head remind him that he does not have the time to lament, but he shuts them up. Yeah, I know.

Akira pushes the door to the LeBlanc and steps into the dim light of the cafe.

"Oh, good," Sojiro says, from behind the bar. "You can take over for a few minutes."

Akira glances up, noticing the small cast present within. Sojiro stands in his usual spot, and a young woman in her twenties with silver hair stands before him, a stern look on her face. Her eyes flash across Akira, and he gets the impression of being vivisected. The woman turns to Sojiro and says, "Then, should we take this in the back?"

Sojiro nods, and glances at Akira. "Mind the place, would you? Don't try to make anything too complicated. We'll be just over there."

Akira stifles a sigh and moves behind the bar, shedding his bag. Hopefully, these people will leave soon.

The third person sits at the bar. His gloved hands are clasped together before him, casually. Sandy brown hair matches his school uniform, and a briefcase sits next to him on the floor.

The woman moves off as Sojiro slides from behind the bar into the far booth, joining her. They begin to whisper in hushed voices, but Akira can’t bring himself to care.

"Hello," the third person says, and Akira spares him a glance. It's a boy, about his age, maybe a year older. He smiles calmly and regards Akira without any hint of malice or contempt.

"Hey," Akira replies. He scoops a spare apron off a shelf behind the bar and dons it.

"Are you Sakura-san's assistant?"

"Sure feels like it," Akira mutters.

"Ah, well," the boy replies, nodding. He drums his fingers along the bar's wood for a moment, then fixes an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I had placed an order, and well..."

Akira smiles. "Boss forgot about it?" The boy nods, seemingly embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I'm not much of a cook, though."

"Oh, it was just coffee."

"That I can do," Akira replies. "What blend?"

The boy tells him, and Akira pours it, black. The boy requests no creamer or sugar.

"Easy enough," Akira replies, setting it before him.

The boy bows his head. "Thank you very much. I need all the energy I can get in my line of work." He reaches out, almost daintily, and lifts the cup to his lips. He takes a small sip, then sets the cup back down, sighing contentedly. "Wonderful." He relaxes onto his stool, then glances back at the two adults sequestered in the booth. "Any idea what they're talking about?" He asks.

Akira arches a brow. "Didn't you two come together? I would've thought you'd know."

"Alas," the boy says. "She tells me little. Just drags me from place to place, not that I mind. This place is charming."

"First time?" Akira asks.

"Coming here?" The boy asks. Akira nods. "Yes, though I hope it's not my last." He grins at Akira and inclines his head. "Goro Akechi. Pleased to meet you."

The name sounds familiar, but Akira cannot place it. "Akira Kurusu," he says, nodding. "Likewise."

What? Are we making friends now? His father's voice demands. We've got more important things to worry about.

If the authorities are after us, or at least have our names, why would they ask the Principal to investigate us through Makoto? Joker wonders.

That doesn't make sense, Akira thinks. He knows, from experience, that the authorities wouldn't need any excuse to come for them. So why send a Student Council President after them?

And the way she phrased things, Akira thinks. If what Morgana said is true, she said, 'I'll investigate the Phantom Thieves.' It almost sounds like this was the first she'd heard of it.

Can we afford to think it all a coincidence? Joker asks.

"Excuse me?" Akechi asks.

Akira blinks and returns to the present. "I'm sorry. Did you need something else?"

"Oh, no," Akechi replies. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your thoughts. I just noticed your uniform. Are you a Shujin student?"

"Yes, I am," Akira answers.

"Interesting, so-"

"...not gonna order anything," Akira suddenly hears Sojiro say, "then I've got nothing left to say." Akira turns and sees Sojiro stand, a stern look on his face. He removes himself from the booth and crosses his arms.

The woman doesn't sigh or show any discernable emotion. Instead, she rises, turns, and begins to march down the bar. "Let's go, Akechi."

"Ah," the boy replies. "One moment." He takes the coffee and takes a big slurp, swallowing as much as possible. He sets the cup down and makes a face. "Oh, dear. That might've been too fast. Could I trouble you for some water?" He asks Akira.

Akira pours him a cup, and hears the woman take a long sigh, standing next to Akechi. Akira glances at her once more as he hands Akechi the water. She looks to be around Kawakami-sensei's age. Her outfit is a stern black business suit over a black turtleneck. Her hair is tinged more towards gray than silver, and her eyes are a deep brown Akira almost mistakes as red.

These eyes flick towards him, then pause, and scrutinize him. Akira, however, cannot mistake the dullness shot through them, the exhaustion. Though her makeup is applied precisely, Akira can see the faint hints of dark circles beneath her sockets.

"I see you noticed, too," Akechi says, as he finishes his water. "I already asked."

"I'm sorry?" Akira asks.

"That's a Shujin Academy uniform, no?" She asks. Her voice is direct and authoritative.

Why so many questions about my damn uniform?

"Yes," Akira replies.

She nods, a single, solid dip of her head. "I see. What brings a Shujin student out to this place?" A look to her suggests she will not accept silence as a response. Akira can almost feel himself wilt beneath her gaze. Had he not been behind the safety of the bar, he is not sure he could stand it. He glances back towards the far end of the bar, but Sojiro has stepped into the kitchen - he can hear the sink running - and provides no explanation or protection.

"I live here," he says. What am I doing? Akira wonders.

Who even is this? Joker asks.

Stop talking, his father demands.

She blinks. "I was unaware Sojiro had taken in..." She pauses, then shakes her head. "I suppose it really has been some time since I visited the file."

The file? Akira wonders.

"The file?" Akechi asks.

The woman's attention refocuses on Akira. "Well, I suppose your living here would explain your presence. Is Sojiro your uncle?"

Akira considers staying silent, but what can he do under her gaze? "N-no."

Akechi offers a brief little wave to the woman. "Um, Sae-san? You're doing that thing again."

The woman - Sae, fixes her gaze on Akechi, and Akira feels as if he's been holding his breath. "What thing?" She demands.

"He's just a student at the school," Akechi points out.

Sae sighs. "Fine." She glances at Akira. "I attentded Shujin in my youth. Now, my younger sister attends."

Akira nods and makes an effort to start sliding away from the two. "Oh. Maybe I've seen her."

"I would hope so," Sae says. "She's the Student Council President."

Akira's eyes snap back to hers. He sees it now. The red tint in her eyes. This is Makoto's sister? This is Makoto's sister. And here she is. In LeBlanc.

Akira starts to laugh. It does not begin as a laugh but more of a chuckle. But then it grows until the smile splits his face wide, and the sound belts from him.

Sae's eyes narrow. "What's so funny?"

Akira shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, regaining control of himself. "I apologize. It's nothing."

The woman stares at him, a newfound intensity in her eyes. Akira's laughter diminishes and eventually dies. He breaks his gaze and pretends to stare at the various coffee-making equipment behind the bar. "I suppose," Makoto's sister says after a long pause. "We should be going. Let's go, Akechi."

"Yes, let's," Akechi replies. "Thank you for the coffee, Kurusu."

The two turn and begin to walk towards the door. Akira hears the click-click-click of her shoes and recalls the same sound from the courtyard's alcove. It is the sound of a Niijima on the march. Most likely, an angry Niijima.

"Yeah sure," Akira calls after them. Then, before his brain realizes what his mouth is doing, he adds, "Tell Makoto I say 'hi.'"

The footsteps stop. Akira does not hear the chime of the bell.

When Sae speaks, it is the sound of shattering ice. "And why would I do that?"

"Oh dear," Akechi mutters.

Somehow, the already low lights in the cafe dim a bit closer to total darkness.

Click. Click. Click.

Akira is not laughing now.

Click. Click. Click.

Akira feels the elder Niijima's presence grow before him. What was the answer to that question Inui-sensei asked us today? The one about the sisters that could turn you to stone if you looked at them?

Akira has never wanted to not look up so badly in his entire life, but he does.

Oh, that's right, Akira thinks, when he sees the eyes. Gorgon.

"Tell her you say 'hi?'" Sae demands. The length of a heartbeat passes. "What is your name?"

Akira's mouth creaks open. "I didn't-"

"Don't dodge the question. What is your name?"

"I-"

"Sae-san," Akechi says, quickly. "I don't think he meant anything by it. If he-"

"Quiet, Akechi," Sae snaps. "I heard you call him Kurusu. I want your full name, Kurusu. I can find it just as easily on my own, using my resources, but that would waste my time, and I promise you, Kurusu, I am not someone whose time you want to waste."

"A-Akira," Akira stutters. "Akira Kurusu." The name topples from his lips, but she presses onward before he can even regret it.

"And what is the nature of your relationship with my sister?"

"Relationship?"

"Judging by the uniform, you're a second year. Yet, you refer to her as 'Makoto' and not 'Niijima-senpai.' That indicates some degree of familiarity. Am I wrong?"

Her glare is a supernova, a blizzard, a sandstorm, a tidal wave. A small, dim part of himself realizes his brain has completely shut off. "S-she asked-"

"She asked you to call her that? I find that highly unlikely. So perhaps I should rephrase my question. What are your designs upon my sister?"

"To be fair, Sae-san," Akechi says. "I use your first name."

"Quiet, Akechi. Answer the question, Kurusu."

Akira's mouth is full of sawdust, and his jaw works uselessly.

"Answer me!"

"She tutors me!" Akira blurts.

The woman blinks. "She tutors you?"

"Yes! She sometimes meets with me in the library to help with my homework after school. The teachers asked her to."

They also asked her to investigate my connection to the Phantom Thieves. Akira keeps this part, thankfully, to himself.

"How long has this been going on?" Sae asks, slowly.

"Um, a few weeks."

Sae leans in closer, eyes narrow. "You're lying."

"Okay," Akechi says, lifting his hands as if they could somehow stop this woman. "Perhaps we should take a break and-"

"What aren't you telling me, Kurusu?" Sae asks.

"I-" Akira starts, but then Sojiro's voice echoes from down the bar. "Hey!" Akira turns and sees the older man approach. "What're you grilling him for?"

"This doesn't concern you," the woman retorts, her words sharp and biting. "I'm inquiring into your ward's designs upon my younger sister, Makoto."

"Makoto?" Sojiro asks, then looks at Akira. "That's not the one you took on a date, is it?"

Akira wants to die.

"Oh no," Akechi whispers.

"What?" Sae asks.

Sojiro seems to realize what a horrible mistake he's made. "Look, just leave the kid alone, Sae."

"You took my sister on a date?" Sae asks, slowly.

"It-"

"Enough," Sojiro growls. He puts a hand on Akira's shoulder, drawing him away from the duo. "I've been exceedingly polite towards you, Sae. But it's time for you to leave. Now. He did it right. Even if it was your sister he took on a date. Hell, he was back here way before the sun went down. Maybe you should try asking your sister if you've got questions."

Oh god, Akira thinks. Did that make it better or worse?

Sae is silent, and Akechi stands stock still, eyes moving between Sae and Akira. "Very well," Sae says. But before she makes to leave, she steps closer to Akira and, in a tone that brokers no argument, says, "Stay away from Makoto."

Then, she turns and marches out the door. Akechi follows her, then turns to Akira and mouths, 'Sorry!' before following her.

Sojiro shakes his head. "Kid. Please. Please tell me you didn't take a Makoto Niijima on a date."

"Uh," Akira replies.

"Shit," Sojiro spits. "Welp. Hope you're not in love or anything, because that's the end of that."

"Who even was that?" Akira asks. "What was she doing here?"

"That's..." Sojiro says, then clams up. "That's none of your business, but you don't need to worry about it. She's not here for you. So far as I know, she knows nothing about you. Well, I guess except for your name and that you were insane enough to try and date her sister."

"Why would she be here for me?" Akira asks. "Who were those people?"

"That was Sae Niijima and Goro Akechi," Sojiro replies. "He's the 'Detective Prince' or whatever, and she's a Public Prosecutor."

Akira leans forward until his head rests on the bar. "Of course she is."

#

"What if," Ann starts. "I pretend to have been dating you all along?"

Akira and Ryuji look at her. The four Phantom Thieves have reconvened in Akira's room, which has - Akira realizes - begun to feel like the unofficial headquarters of their team, despite Akira's protestations to Mishima the day before.

"Huh?" Akira and Ryuji ask.

"Out of the question," Morgana hisses.

Ann shrugs. "Why not?"

Akira stares at Ann. "Well, for starters, we already lied and said that Ryuji was about to ask you out. Then, I took Makoto out on a date. So I don't see how us pretending to have been dating would help rectify the situation."

Ann pouts. "Fine, fine. It was just a suggestion."

Ryuji shakes his head. "Whatever. Look, I gotta be honest. I'm not sure how much suspicion there is out there. I mean, Morgana couldn't break into the Principal's office so-"

"Th-that's not my fault," Morgana counters. "I couldn't get to his office door because his secretary was in the way, and the window was shut from the inside! I can't pass through walls, and I-"

"Dude," Ryuji cuts in, holding up his hands. "Relax. I wasn't blaming you. If you couldn't get in, you couldn't get in." Ryuji turns back to face the group. "Maybe we can trick the secretary or something, or pull the fire alarm and send Morgana in to check out the file. I thought about doing that but didn't want to do it with so few people in the school. It would've looked too, uh..." He snaps his fingers. "What's that word where you stand out too much?"

"Conspicuous?" Ann asks.

"Yeah, that one," Ryuji replies, pointing at her. "Woulda looked too conspicuouolosly or something."

Ann rolls her eyes, but Akira nods. "No, that was smart. If we do something like that, we should do it when more people are around. It'll be easier for us to blend in with everyone."

Ryuji nods. "Right, but besides that shit, I checked the RINE app. I'm not seeing anything on there talking about us being Phantom Thieves."

Ann shrugs. "That's hardly surprising," she says. "Why would any of the students think we were involved? It's the Principal and the President we need to worry about."

"But doesn't that seem strange?" Akira asks. "Why would the Principal be looking into us?"

"We did make our big debut at Shujin," Morgana points out. "And we really haven't strayed from the school."

"Save for Nakanohara," Ryuji points out. "And Madarame, if we ever get around to him."

"Right, but that's what I'm saying," Akira says. "If anyone in actual power - like the police - had any idea who we were, why would they use the school's Principal to flush us out? And why would he use Makoto?"

Ann frowns. "He probably knows that Makoto's close to you. Hell, that's probably why she got close to you in the first place-"

"No," Akira replies, shaking his head. "That's wrong." Akira holds up a hand when Ann starts to protest. "I did think about that, but it doesn't make sense. Makoto and I were hanging out and flirting way before we sent Kamoshida's Calling Card. And I can't imagine Kawakami-sensei getting involved in some conspiracy, and she's the one who introduced us.

"Plus," Akira continues. "Makoto's sister was here. Today." He shudders. "And she's a Public Prosecutor. But she had no clue who I was. She didn't even know I'd gone on a date with Makoto. If that were part of the investigation into the Phantom Thieves, you'd think she'd somehow know about it. So, why would the terrifying Public Prosecutor not know about an investigation into the Phantom Thieves, but the Student Council President of a high school would? It doesn't make sense."

"Shit man," Ryuji replies, after the silence that follows. "Maybe it is just the Principal?"

"Can we afford to think like that?" Morgana asks. "Even if it were the Principal, he's got our names, and he's roped Makoto into investigating us. So we need to be very careful."

"But then, isn't that more reason to just ditch Shujin?" Ann asks. "I mean, I realize most of the Requests come from Shujin students, but that will change if we change Madarame's heart, right?"

Akira nods. "I agree. I know there are still a lot of shitty things happening at Shujin, but I think we should focus on Madarame for now. Once we change his heart, it should take the spotlight off Shujin. If that happens, maybe the Principal's investigation will go away. But," and Akira says this with a raised index finger. "We still need to see what's in that file."

"If you can get the Secretary and the Principal out of the office," Morgana insists. "I can get to the file."

The four regard one another, and one by one, they nod. "Alright, but what about the other elephant in the room?" Ann asks.

Ryuji snickers. "The Principal?"

Ann spits out a laugh and quickly high-fives Ryuji. Akira chuckles and rolls his eyes. "No. You know who I'm talking about."

Akira nods. "Makoto."

"She's investigating us, and her sister is a Public Prosecutor, and she hangs out with the Detective Prince?" Ann asks. "That's a lot of red flags, Akira."

"You're right," Akira replies. "And it sucks, and I hate it, but I know what I've got to do."

The others are quiet, though Ryuji moves over next to Akira and offers a sympathetic clap on his shoulder. "Sorry, bro."

#

"I see," Makoto says, into the phone. "Thank you, Suzui-san. Please, give my regards to your daughter and tell her that everyone at Shujin hopes she has a speedy recovery."

"Thank you for calling, Niijima-san," Shiho's mother replies. "I'll let her know."

Makoto exchanges a few more pleasantries and hangs up the phone.

Well, Makoto thinks. I suppose that's that.

So the whole Takamaki visited Suzui in the hospital during Takanashi's change of heart was bullshit.

It had been relatively easy to figure out. Makoto had called Shiho Suzui's mother, inquiring about dropping off homework assignments and schoolwork that she'd missed. She’d braced for the possibility that Suzui's mother would tell her to buzz off, but surprisingly, the woman was grateful. She thought it would be good for Suzui to have her mind on something other than... well, everything that was on her mind.

Makoto had stretched the truth and stated that she knew that Takamaki had come to visit but was hoping to have the dates, so Makoto could know which day's assignments might've already been provided. As far as an excuse went, it was pretty weak, and Makoto doubted Takamaki was even bringing the assignments. She seemed like the kind of person who would forget such things.

Suzui's mother had confirmed the visitor log. Ann Takamaki had not signed in on May 9th, though she had visited Suzui earlier that week.

Taken to its natural conclusion, Ann Takamaki did not have an alibi for Takanashi's change of heart.

Makoto sets her phone down on her mattress and leans back, staring at the ceiling.

There'd been no word from Akira. Not even a text.

When Makoto coupled that with the Principal's request, she found her brain shutting down.

Of course, she'd only agreed to get out of Kobayakawa's office. Makoto has no intention of betraying the Phantom Thieves. She'd wanted to speak to Haru afterward, but the girl had been absent from class, and her texts had gone unanswered.

Makoto feels very alone.

She shuts her eyes and blows out a long sigh. "What am I going to do?" She mutters.

Her stomach growls.

Food. That is what I'm going to do.

Makoto had already eaten dinner, but it had been small and tasted flavorless. She ignores her protesting limbs and exhausted mind and pushes herself to her feet. Makoto trudges in her pajamas, out of her room, and into the hall. When she turns into the dining room, a throat clears behind her.

Makoto jumps. Sae sits in an armchair in the living room. Her sister's eyes level themselves towards Makoto in a look the younger Niijima recognizes. What did I do now?

"Hey, Sis," Makoto says, giving Sae a small smile. "I didn't know you were home. Want something to eat?" Makoto begins to turn towards the kitchen.

"Akira Kurusu," Sae says.

Makoto's feet freeze, and she feels a flush spread through her whole body. "Huh?"

"I met him today," Sae says, and tilts her head to the side.

Makoto does not understand what is happening. She shakes her head and says, "Wait, what? You did? How?"

"I am acquainted with the man who has taken him in."

Makoto knows Tokyo is not Akira's hometown, but Akira had not mentioned his living conditions when he revealed his story the other day.

"I stopped by his cafe today," Sae continues. "It's a small hole-in-the-wall in Yongen-jaya. LeBlanc. I rarely see any customers there. So imagine my surprise when I see a young man in a Shujin uniform, working behind the bar."

Oh no, Makoto thinks.

"He told me to tell you, 'hi.'"

"Oh. Um-"

"And you went on a date with him."

The floor drops out from beneath Makoto's feet. "He told you that?"

"No. His guardian let it slip. All he told me was that you tutor him."

"Well, yes, and I-"

"So you tutored him and then proceeded to date him?"

"I-it was a date. We're not dating and-"

"Are you aware of his record, Makoto?" Sae snaps.

"Just wait for a second," Makoto replies. "I do tutor him, and I do know about his record and-"

"You do know about his record?" Sae asks.

"Yes, but-"

Sae lets out an angry groan and withdraws her cell from her bag, which sits at her feet. "And are you aware of this?" She asks, turning the phone's screen to face Makoto.

The too-familiar RINE chat screens appear. Even from this distance, Makoto can see the neverending speculation about Akira.

"Those are nonsense," Makoto says, trying to smile, feeling increasingly agitated by the second. "I mean, have you read them? Also, why are you even reading them and-"

"I attended Shujin as well, Makoto. I retain access, though I've had little cause to view these chats in recent years." Sae lowers her phone, leans back in her chair, and shakes her head. "This is unbelievable," she whispers, not even looking at Makoto now. "What were you thinking?"

"Those aren't-"

"Who cares?" Sae demands, fixing Makoto with a glare. "Obviously, they're not true. But do you want to be associated with someone like this? Someone who has rumors like these flying around about him? Regardless, you do not have time for this, Makoto. Your studies are supposed to take priority. Your work."

"Sis," Makoto says, trying to remain calm. "The teachers asked me to help him."

"And you have. The exam season is over, no? Time to cut the cord. No more tutoring and no more dating. You're not to see him again. You're not going to waste what precious time you have on some delinquent."

"He's not a delinquent," Makoto whispers.

"Oh, no?" Sae asks, and reaches into her bag once more. She withdraws a manila file, and Makoto feels vertigo. She sees the Principal in his office, sliding the file across the desk towards her. "That's not what his record says."

"You... you have his record?"

"Of course I do," Sae replies. "Did you think I wouldn't? Did you honestly think I wouldn't find all the information I could on someone dragging my little sister down into the mud with him?"

Makoto sits down on one of their couches, across from Sae. "Sis, please. That's not what's happening. Calm down for a second and let me-"

"Read it," Sae says, and throws it onto their living room table. The edges of a few pages creep out from the confines. Sae nods towards it when Makoto makes no move. "Go on."

"No," Makoto says, and shakes her head.

"Excuse me?"

"I already know what it'll say. Akira told me what-"

"So he told you how he assaulted someone? And you still chose to go on a date with him?"

Actually, he told me during the date, Makoto thinks, shaking her head. "He told me, and I don't care. Maybe you don't know the full story. He was walking home, and he saw-"

"Oh, come on," Sae replies, rolling his eyes. "Do not tell me you're naive enough to believe his story."

Makoto's hands have begun to shake. "He's not-"

"You do not have time to waste on this boy."

"I'm not wasting time," Makoto whispers. "You don't... you don't know."

"What?" Sae demands, shrugging. "Tell me what I don't know, Makoto."

Makoto feels very cold and shivers. "K-Kamoshida."

Sae's eyes narrow. "The pervert who assaulted that girl?" She shakes her head. "What's he got to do with Kurusu?"

"H-he..."

"What?" Sae asks.

"He..." And Makoto is in that room again.

"So why don't we talk about how exactly you can help me, help you."

And then he is coming towards her and he's wearing that terrible smile and the fire alarm will ring but what if it didn't and she knows it only lasted a moment and she knows that nothing happened but she knows something could've happened and in that long moment before the fire alarm went off she was so fucking scared and didn't know what to do.

And the tears come.

Makoto wraps her arms around herself, hugs herself tightly, and whispers, "He tried to..." and she can't say the word, but she does manage, "with me." Makoto dips her head and short, wet sobs break from her, and she doesn't want to be doing this because she's a Niijima, and Dad never cried, even when he was scared, but she can't stop.

And as Sae watches her, realization spreads across her sister's face. Sae pales. And then Sae stands and barrels her way across the room and drops down next to Makoto on the couch. She reaches out and takes Makoto's hands in her own, and she rubs her thumbs across the backs of them as she used to when they were both much younger.

"Makoto," she whispers, and all the anger is gone. "Makoto, it's alright. Tell me what happened."

And Makoto looks into her sister's eyes and sees that it is her sister, her real sister, Sae Niijima, and not the one that's always around and always angry, and Makoto hates that it's taken this to bring her Big Sis back.

Sae lets go of one of Makoto's hands and pulls her into a hug. Makoto snuggles her face into her sister's shoulders and cries some more.

And cries.

And cries.

And then she tells her what happened.

She ends it with, "Akira pulled the fire alarm. He knew what Kamoshida was trying to do, and he got me out of there." Makoto looks down at the file, still unopened on the table. "That's not going to be in his record, but that's what he did for me. And that's what I'm sure he did for that woman, who lied. So I don't care what that file says about him."

Makoto remembers the Principal and his instructions. God, was that only this morning? "Everyone thinks he's horrible, but he's not. Even the Principal thinks so. He wants me to investigate him."

"What?" Sae asks. "Why?"

"He thinks... oh, it doesn't matter. He thinks Akira is up to something at the school. That he's involved with Kamoshida's confession."

Sae frowns. "Is this that 'Phantom Thieves' nonsense I keep hearing about?"

Makoto shrugs, trying not to let on too much. "It is nonsense, but the Principal thinks Akira may have had a hand in it."

Sae strokes Makoto's hair and lets out a hmph noise. "Please. The boy I met today couldn't pull something like that off."

Makoto rolls her eyes. You don't know, she thinks. "Yeah, well, that's because he was talking to you. You're scary sometimes."

Sae shuts her eyes, and a small sigh escapes her lips. "I suppose I can be... a bit harsh, at times. Akechi did say I might've gone overboard."

Akechi was there? Makoto thinks.

Sae refocuses. "Makoto, why didn't you say anything?"

Makoto doesn't answer for some time. "I wanted to be like Dad."

Sae stiffens. "Oh, Makoto."

Neither says anything for a time.

Then, Makoto asks, "What should I do?"

Sae sighs. "I am, obviously, happy that this young man protected you. But. He is still a criminal."

"Sis, I just-"

"No, Makoto," Sae cuts in, but her voice is soft. The prosecutor has not returned just yet. "I need you to focus on what's important right now. I know that may not seem fair, but it's the hand life dealt us." Makoto opens her mouth to speak, but Sae continues. "And don't worry about the Principal. I'll take care of him."

"Wh-what are you going to do?"

"Have a friendly chat," Sae says. "But first, tell me everything he said."

Makoto does, and they stay like that for a little longer.

Eventually, Makoto remembers she is starving.

"No," Sae says when Makoto tells her she'll make something to eat. "I'll get it." And Sae stands and moves to the kitchen.

Makoto sits on the couch, feeling light, sleepy, and hungry, but better than she has since...

Well, since Akira asked her out.

Makoto thinks of Sae, and the implication she has laid out just a few moments earlier. Makoto knows her sister, and while Sae may have become more sympathetic towards Akira, her message was clear. Stay away from Akira Kurusu.

Makoto crosses her arms while Sae pulls some dishes from the fridge.

Like hell.

Akira still hasn't given her the truth. Maybe his teammates weren't comfortable with her knowing, but that was too damn bad. Tomorrow, Makoto would march up to Akira and demand that he explain.

And who knows? Maybe afterward, she'd kiss him or something.

Notes:

Happy Friday people! Hope you're enjoying your weeks, and I hope you enjoyed this last chapter of Crimson!

So, I've decided that going forward, I will switch to a Monday/Friday posting schedule. I know, it stinks, but I think this is the best thing for this fic. As I've told several people now, I don't want to scribble something out just to make a deadline, and these chapters are getting longer and longer.

Anyway, thank you, as always, for reading! Have a great weekend!

Chapter 34: Chapter 34

5/17

"His scores?" Kobayakawa asks.

Kawakami is about to answer when she feels a yawn rise within her chest. She forces it down and sucks in her lips to cover the spasm her traitorous mouth attempts to evoke.

"Are you alright?" Kobayakawa asks.

"Mmm-hmmmm," Kawakami manages before the sensation dies away. "Thank you for asking. Yes, well. Akira Kurusu. I looked over the parts of his test that I proctored, and he seems to have done well. No doubt we have Niijima to thank for that."

Kobayakawa grunts. "What of Sakamoto? And Takamaki?"

Kawakami shakes her head. "I don't know about Sakamoto, but Takamaki seems to have done well in English. That's hardly surprising, though."

The door to Kobayakawa's office opens smoothly and silently, but it draws Kawakami's eyes into orbit. Someone stands at the threshold of the Principal's office, eyes narrow, lips in a scowl. The young woman wears a jet-black business suit and holds a shoulder bag in white-knuckled hands.

Whoa, Kawakami thinks. This chick is pissed.

The Principal recovers enough from this invasion to open his mouth and demand, "Just who-"

"Principal Kobayakawa," the woman snaps, just as the secretary squeezes herself into the space behind her, nearly shouting apologies, "My name is Sae Niijima."

Sae Niijima? Like, Makoto Niijima? When Kawakami looks again, she can see the resemblance. Makoto's sister doesn't look like she'd be formidable, but her tone and body language leave no doubt. At times, Makoto Niijima can be docile, but Kawakami has seen her mad several times and did not envy the students subject to her wrath.

"I'm quite busy at the moment," Kobayakawa states, and when Kawakami stares at him, it looks like he's struggling to get the words out. The Principal's face is a shade redder than usual. An impressive feat.

"We will speak now," Sae declares and steps, uninvited, into the office.

"Now, wait just a moment," Kobayakawa spits, standing. "What is the meaning of this? You think you can just come in here and-"

Sae Niijima continues until she stands alongside Kawakami. "I'm here to discuss the blackmail you are committing against my sister."

Say WHHHAAAAAAA- Kawakami feels her eyes wide, and they begin to dart back and forth between the two. The secretary has also gone silent, though whether in response to Sae's suggestion or outrage, Kawakami cannot say. The room is quiet for a long time, but Sae Niijima does not seem discomforted by this.

Kobayakawa's face deepens in color. "Kawakami-sensei, if you wouldn't mind excusing us?" For the secretary, Kobayakawa only waves his hand.

Kawakami opens her mouth to acquiesce, but Sae cuts in. "She can stay. I'd like her input as well." Sae's gaze turns towards Kawakami, and Sadayo feels her blood go cold. "You are Sadayo Kawakami, correct?" Kawakami nods. "Makoto has, on occasion, spoken highly of you."

"Oh," Kawakami replies. "That's, uh, swell."

Swell?

Kobayakawa hurls a glare towards Kawakami. "I'm afraid it would be entirely inappropriate for Kawakami-sensei to be privy to this conversation and-"

"As inappropriate as you holding my sister's letter of recommendation hostage? As inappropriate as you hiring a rapist?"

Kobayakawa shakes his head and slumps back in his seat. Sae remains on her feet, seeming to loom over the man. The Principal glares at Kawakami, who feels rather silly for still just being there. "Don't you have anything else to do, Kawakami-sensei?"

Kawakami recoils but dips her head in an apology. "Of course, sir. I'll be on my way." Kawakami hastily makes her way to the door, but does manage to cast one final look at Sae Niijima. The woman stands there like a pillar, and when she notices Kawakami looking at her, she gives a single, resolute nod.

"Shut the door behind you," Kobayakawa barks.

Kawakami does.

#

Kobayakawa does not get to offer Sae Niijima a seat. Once Kawakami has left, the woman simply sits down across from him, uninvited. Kobayakawa bristles at the rudeness.

Kobayakawa had banked on Makoto Niijima simply doing what he had instructed. But of course, he's heard the name Sae Niijima. Despite everything aligned against her, the Public Prosecutor has made a name for herself in the legal world. "Niijima-san, I assure you that-"

"You are withholding my sister's letter of recommendation until she digs up dirt on another set of students for you," Sae says.

Goddammit! Kobayakawa smiles and forces out a chuckle. "I'm afraid that you are mistaken. I have made no such arrangement with your sister. I merely asked her to look into a situation at Shujin and explained that I would provide the already promised letter of recommendation once the task was complete. I am not, as you put it, holding it hostage. I am certainly not blackmailing anyone."

Sae shakes her head. "Please. I am not some naive parent you can string along. You are withholding your letter of recommendation for my sister, Makoto Niijima, until she figures out how involved Akira Kurusu and others were in Suguru Kamoshida's confession."

Kobayakawa fights down the urge to swallow. "Again, I-"

"Are you aware that Suguru Kamoshida attempted to assault my sister?"

His mind goes blank. "I... what? When?"

Sae leans towards him, and despite himself, Kobayakawa reclines further into his chair. "Does it matter?" She asks. "He attempted to assault my younger sister in this building. In your school."

"K-Kamoshida-sensei's proclivities are-"

"'Proclivities?'" Sae asks. Her hand slaps down onto the hardwood desk, fingers splayed. "You do not seem to grasp what I'm getting at. You will provide my sister with the letter of recommendation. The letter you already promised her—the letter she earned. You will not require her to further probe into the business of her fellow students. If you do not do these two things, I will make life very hard for you."

Kobayakawa has reached his limit, and he stands. "I will not be spoken to like-"

Sae erupts from her chair as well. "You will shut up and do what you're told. Do you expect me to believe you were unaware of a rapist operating on your campus? You were either complicit, or truly were unaware and are therefore incompetent. Which do you think will play better?" Sae's words drip from her mouth like venom. "Do what I tell you, or I will come after you with the entire backing of the Special Investigation Department. We will ruin you. I will ruin you. Do you understand me?"

Kobayakawa's hands shake. "I-I have friends in high-"

"No," Sae replies, her voice cold. "You do not." She straightens and shoulders her bag. "I trust I've made things clear. Stop this sham of an 'investigation' and give my sister her letter of recommendation. If you don't, you will regret it." She turns on her heel and marches out the door. As one final insult, she slams it behind her.

#

Makoto steps out of the Student Council room and joins the throng of students pulsing their way through Shujin's halls. It is almost time for homeroom, and despite everything, Makoto still had work to do as President.

Sae had accompanied her to school, quelling Makoto's fears about arriving at her office later than usual but explaining that such an action would necessitate her staying late for the next few nights. Makoto felt terrible about that, but once Sae set her mind upon something, she did not waver.

Neither did Makoto. When they arrived, Makoto pointed Sae in the direction of the Principal's office, to which her sister replied, "Yes, Makoto. I did attend this school, as you might recall," and marched off without another word. During her time in the Student Council room, Makoto had kept her ears pricked for the sound of incoming sirens, whether an ambulance or police cruiser. You never can tell with Sis.

Still, Makoto knew that Sae's proximity should encourage caution, but she was fed up with that. Makoto makes her way down to the second-year hallway and keeps her eyes peeled for Akira. All-day yesterday, and still no word today. Makoto was not about to let him get off the hook.

It isn't hard to find him. Makoto only has to follow the current of whispers and gossip. Akira has his head lowered, eyes on his phone, and moves towards Kawakami's classroom. "Kurusu," Makoto says, careful not to use his first name around so many other students.

Akira pauses. A few other students glance their way, but Makoto fixes them with a glare, and they move on. When she glances back at Akira, she sees that his eyes have not risen from his phone. Instead, Akira's face is very stiff, and with a small breath, he looks at her.

Makoto finds herself almost taking a step back.

There is no warmth in Akira's eyes. Not even a sense of familiarity. They're just cold.

"Yeah?" He asks, and Makoto could swear he almost sounds bothered by her presence.

Yeah? Makoto's brain shouts. That's all you have to say to me?

Makoto's confusion must be evident on her face. "Could we please talk?"

"Sorry," Akira replies, not sounding sorry at all. "I've got homeroom."

And just like that, Akira makes to move past her.

"Hold on," Makoto snaps, and seizes his arm. Akira stiffens. In an almost whisper, Makoto asks, "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Akira mutters. "We done?"

Despite Makoto not wanting to make a scene, one glance around shows she's doing just that. There are more students in the hallway now, and though many have backed off, Makoto catches the little looks they steal towards them.

"We'll talk later," Makoto says, and then, whispering, "Stop avoiding me."

"No," Akira replies, and pulls his arm from her, not ungently. "I don't think-" Akira freezes. Makoto looks at his face and sees his eyes are wide in fear.

Makoto follows his gaze and sees that Sae now stands in the center of the hall. Whatever aura Makoto's sister gives off, the other students pick up on it, and they all promptly beeline for their homerooms.

Sae regards Makoto and Akira in the quickly emptying hallway, arms crossed, a frown on her face.

"U-uh," Akira babbles, his face quickly reddening.

"Hi Sis," Makoto says, louder than necessary, hoping against hope Sae isn't about to do something dreadful. "How'd it go?"

Sae's eyes don't even flicker from Akira. "There should be no further issues."

"Th-that's good," Makoto replies. "Thank you."

"Akira Kurusu," Sae Niijima says, and Akira straightens.

"Yes?"

"Join me outside, won't you?"

Neither Makoto nor Akira says anything for a moment, then the latter stutters out, "W-well, homeroom is starting soon, so-"

"A moment is all I need."

Makoto issues a strangled, "Sis!" under her breath before Sae brushes past her and closes in on Akira.

"I'll see you at home, Makoto," Sae says and gestures for Akira to follow her out to the front steps of Shujin.

Akira glances at Makoto for one tragic moment before he trudges after Sae.

Sae is mad, Makoto thinks. Crazy mad. She'd warned Akira to stay away from Makoto. Plus, she'd told Makoto to stay away from Akira. And here, she had skipped out on her significant job to straighten things out at Makoto's school and discovered the two of them defying her orders. Then again, Makoto thinks. Akira didn't seek me out. He almost seemed like he wanted nothing to do with me. Why was that? Makoto knows she'd pushed Akira with all the questions regarding the Phantom Thieves, but would that really cause Akira to push her away? After all they'd been through in the last month?

Makoto had to find some way to fix this.

But now Akira was at Sae's mercy, and Makoto found herself genuinely wondering if she would ever see the boy she liked again.

#

Akira angles himself towards the steps, prepared to sprint to safety. A few students rush past the two and into Shujin's halls. Sae stands there, waiting for them to pass, issuing them a cold look to hurry them along.

When they are alone, Sae says, "I talked with my sister last night. About you."

If the stairs aren't an option, I could dash back inside. No one would help me, but I know the hallways by now. I could run out to the courtyard and leap over the wall. Akira says, "Okay."

"She told me what you did for her."

Akira's mind runs blank. "What I did for her?"

Sae nods. "She told me she was in a room with Kamoshida, alone. She told me you got her out of that situation."

Akira's hands drift up to his cheeks. He can still remember the gift Kamoshida had given him for that defiance. "I-"

"Thank you." Sae's face deflates. A small smile crosses her lips. It looks nice. "If it were not for you, my sister would have been in tremendous danger. So, thank you." As Akira begins to wonder what he should say in reply, Sae's shoulders slump slightly, and her eyes drop to the ground. "Makoto's still young and sheltered. She doesn't understand how things work. I'm sure she thought she had a good reason to be there, but to put herself in a compromising position like that..." She shakes her head. "She needs to be more careful."

Before Akira realizes what he is doing, he says, "It's not her fault." She was trying to help me. She didn't ask to be taken into that room by that bastard. And even if she had, so what? She still wouldn't have deserved it!

Sae's eyes snap back to his. "I didn't say it was." Sae's shoulders stiffen. She straightens her posture and tilts her head back. Sae looks down at him. "As Kamoshida is now secure, the danger has passed. I recall telling you yesterday, to stay away from my sister. I'm sure she's learned her lesson and no longer needs you to look out for her, if that is what you mistakenly believe you are doing."

"That's-"

"Enough," Sae says, and Akira's mouth slams shut. "I know about your past. And while I am not ungrateful, my sister will not waste any more of her time on you. Do I make myself clear?"

Akira's eyes narrow. "How did you..." but then he remembers. Of course. Sae Niijima is a Public Prosecutor. Finding out about the assault would've been easy for her. I wonder if Makoto bothered to tell her the truth?

"This isn't about you," Sae replies as Akira trails off.

Akira's mask slips. "Yeah, it never is."

"Understand that my sister is someone with a bright future ahead of her. And to successfully get there, she needs to focus. What she does not need to do, is take time away from her studies and her work, and engage with the affections of lost causes."

And there it was.

Akira's jaw works itself through a circle. Finally, after a few circuits, he mutters, "Okay. I understand."

Sae takes a step closer to him. "I don't know if you do, Akira Kurusu. So, get this through your head. Leave my sister alone."

"I get it."

"Good," Sae turns and begins to walk down the steps. "I don't expect we'll have reason to meet again, Kurusu. Goodbye. And thank you, once more."

Akira watches until Sae reaches Shujin's front gate and turns into the street.

Morgana pops his head out from Akira's bag. "Yikes. She's even worse than Makoto." The cat glances up at Akira. "You okay?"

"Fine," Akira replies. "It's not like she's wrong, anyway. Makoto's got a future, and I... well, it doesn't matter."

"Akira, it's-"

"It's fine, Morgana," Akira snaps, then shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Sorry. But I've got to get to homeroom. For now, focus on finding out what's in that file."

"Sure," Morgana replies. "Got it."

#

Makoto's day decays into long, painful, anxiety-ridden moments. They are small and primarily involve Makoto checking the time on her phone or the school's clock. Haru does not come to class, and Sae is gone, so Makoto has no one to speak to.

When the bell rings for lunch, Makoto shoots out of her desk and classroom and heads for Akira's homeroom. When the door to the classroom opens, Makoto peers inside but cannot locate Akira. "He's not in there," comes a voice. Makoto turns, and finds Ann Takamaki glaring at her from where she stands outside the classroom's other door.

"Takamaki, I-" Makoto starts towards the blonde girl.

"He said he wasn't feeling well."

"So, he's with the nurse?" Makoto asks.

Takamaki shrugs. "I dunno." The girl shoulders her bag and starts walking down the hall.

"Hold on," Makoto says, speeding up until she's walking alongside Takamaki.

"Just leave me alone," the girl replies. "I have nothing to say to you."

"What's going on?" Makoto asks. "Why won't Akira talk to me?"

"Does someone need a reason not to talk to you?" Takamaki asks.

Makoto increases her speed by a fraction and whips around in front of Takamaki until she can longer move forward. Makoto stares into Ann Takamaki's eyes. "I know what you did."

Takamaki glances around before replying. It's lunchtime, but there are few students in the halls. "I've got enough rumors flying around about me, thanks. Lay off already."

Makoto steps closer, and to her grim satisfaction, Takamaki takes a hesitant step back. "I know you weren't at the hospital the day Takanashi's heart changed," Makoto whispers, so low even Takamaki has to lean in to hear her. "The photo of you with Suzui wasn't taken on that day. It was taken earlier and sent from your phone, or maybe someone else's phone, I don't know."

"You're nuts," Takamaki replies. "Now, for the last time, get out of-"

"You realize this makes your friend an accomplice, right?"

Takamaki freezes, and a faint look of concern passes over her face. Then, Ann's eyes harden, and she leans in closer to Makoto, who finds herself taking a step back. "Fuck off." And with that, Takamaki breezes past Makoto and down the hall.

Shit, Makoto thinks. I didn't even get to warn her that Suzui was in that file. If the Phantom Thieves wouldn't talk to her, there was a chance she'd have to take more drastic measures.

#

Morgana waits until the after-school rabble has mostly cleared before he pulls the fire alarm. With the halls deserted, it is relatively easy to hide alongside some lockers and avoid the footfalls of the remaining students as they exit the building.

A few seconds pass before Kobayakawa, followed by his secretary, lumbers out of his office and down the hall. "There were no drills scheduled for today," he exclaims, rebuking the secretary as if it were her fault. "Especially at this time!"

When they are out of sight, Morgana darts down the hall to the office, and over to the Principal's door.

"Show you who's skilled," Morgana mumbles, hopping up and grasping the doorknob with his paws. He waits to steady himself, then extends one claw into the lock.

"Child's play," he states as the lock clicks open a few moments later. No one replies as there is no one around, and Morgana once again wishes that someone was here to praise his talents.

Morgana lurches himself off the doorknob, yanking the door open as he does so, and lands awkwardly but with pretend perfection. Then, he's off across the room to the desk and into the Principal's desk.

"No," he says, opening the first drawer, revealing nothing.

"Nope," he says, pulling another to find a bunch of unsharpened pencils and loose stapler cartridges.

"Nada," he mutters on the third drawer, which holds many incredibly dull-looking forms.

"Bingo," on the fourth drawer, revealing an unmarked but familiar file. Morgana reaches in and paws it out, placing it in his mouth until he can climb onto the top of the desk. Akira had advised Morgana not to steal the file, as that would be a dead giveaway (as if Morgana needed to be told something obvious!) and replace it once done.

Morgana has hustled up to this point, as he's unsure how much time he has left and doesn't know what is in the file specifically.

He flips it open and finds Akira's face staring out at him. "Okay, figured as much," Morgana replies, and keeps going.

It doesn't take him long to realize that the file contains no factual information on the Phantom Thieves. Instead, it's nothing but student dossiers.

Nothing about Palaces, the Metaverse, or even one of the many copies of Kamoshida's Calling Card!

"What gives?" Morgana asks, as he turns to find Makoto's student photo. "Huh?" Morgana's mind buzzes as he tries to interpret this. Finally, a possible realization hits him in the face. "Uh oh."

#

"Are you sure about this, Ann?" Her manager asks. The older woman casts a worried glance towards the far end of the room. "This guy seems kind of... weird."

Ann does another spin before the mirror. I really do look great. "I'm sure he's just eccentric. That's what artists are like, right?"

Her manager frowns and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well, I dated an artist back in college. I wouldn't call him eccentric."

"What would you call him?"

"Annoying."

In the corner of the room, before an easel, sits a reed-thin Yusuke Kitagawa. His dark hair slides elegantly to the side of his face, framing soft, gray eyes. One hand rests gently against his cheek, and the other cups his elbow. His uniform is simple and form-fitting, and when Ann stares at him for too long, her mind begins to drift towards the image of a scarecrow hanging in a field.

"Well," Ann says, glancing over at her manager. "I'm sure it'll be-"

Yusuke suddenly launches off his stool, and snatches up a brush from where it sat on the table alongside him. "It is upon me," he cries. "The muse!" He tilts his head forward and gestures to the center of the room with his free hand, where a white and straightforward tatami mat sits. "Let us begin... the channeling."

"Uh," Ann's manager says. "I think that's your cue."

"R-right," Ann replies. What have I gotten myself into?

Ann's kimono is red, ornamented with white lilies. Yusuke Kitagawa had brought it, though Ann has no idea where he'd gotten it. She walks to the center of the mat and looks over at Yusuke. "So, um, where do you want me to go?"

Yusuke does not take his eyes off the blank easel. "Assume whichever position you believe best accents the contours of your beauty to the utmost."

Okay, so that was lewd. But Ann has heard much worse in the world of modeling. She sighs and kneels on the mat, righting herself into a traditional post, head tilted forward demurely and hands resting calmly in her lap. "Is this okay?"

"Indeed," Yusuke says, finally glancing her way. "Now, we shall begin." His hand holding the brush whips out to a small blot of pain upon a wad of paper, twirls, and returns to the canvas.

"So," Ann says. "It sure must be something to apprentice under the great Madarame."

"It is quite the honor," Yusuke replies. "But, apologies, I must ask for complete silence. True art can only be crafted in a vacuum, devoid of the imperfections of the everyday world. You may, of course, ask me whatever you'd like once I've finished."

"Oh, okay," Ann says, frowning. "Sure."

Great. Just great. How long is this supposed to take anyway?

From where she kneels, she watches as Yusuke shifts his hand with the barest of motions, before frowning. "No. No! That's not right," he grumbles. "Must begin again."

Crap...

Time ticks on, and Ann finds herself alone with her thoughts. Alone, because although she shares the room with Yusuke Kitagawa, it's clear he's gone off into his own world. She returns, in her mind, to thoughts of earlier. I hope Morgana has some luck getting access to the Principal's file. Ann had not appreciated being ambushed by Makoto during lunch, though to be fair, she was the one who had initiated contact.

Ann couldn't figure the Student Council President out. On the one hand, she seemed to be into Akira, even if she had punched him in the face that one time. Then again, it seems like he might be into that kind of thing—the perv.

On the other, they knew she was looking into them. Investigating, but why? And why would she even be involved in the first place? If she had figured out all that about the photo of Ann and Shiho, then surely she could piece together a few other things. Akira had said as much, but after lunch, when Ann had warned Akira about what Makoto had said, he hadn't seemed overly concerned. He had, she recalls, said, "That lines up with what she was telling me the other day." Which, okay, sure, great. Except, not really.

Makoto shouldn't have brought up Shiho. She'd been through too much lately, and Makoto's involvement couldn't be more unwelcomed.

I'll have to warn Shiho to be on the lookout for her. Ann had already given Shiho an overview of what the Thieves had learned in the last day. Ann was worried. At first, it seemed like Shiho had nowhere to go but up. However, Shiho had exhibited a new side Ann had never seen in the previous few weeks.

Ann curses herself. Of course I've never seen it! It wasn't there before Kamoshida... did all those things. The man had hurt Shiho in more than one way. And it was becoming clearer by the day that 'recovery' wasn't just a straight line but a zig-zagging Escher painting.

Speaking of painting, Ann thinks, and lets out a sigh, shifting the barest of a fraction on the mat. She's used to holding poses for stretches of time, but for photographs, not paintings. Ann's legs are beginning to cramp. God, did women really sit like this for hours at a time in the old days?

As this thought runs through her mind, Yusuke Kitagawa drops into a heap upon the floor. Ann gasps and straightens up, cringing at the stab of pain in her legs. "Are you alright?" She calls.

“Failure,” Yusuke mumbles from the floor.

“Huh?” Ann asks, approaching.

Yusuke extends a single, empty hand to the sky, grasping at something and moans, "The muse has fled, and my work is a failure. I apologize, Takamaki. Your beauty remains unrealized upon the canvas!"

"Um," Ann says, standing over him. Is this guy for real? "That's fine, I guess."

"Fine?" Yusuke growls, and extends upwards, like a dancer unfolding himself. "It is most certainly not 'fine.' My task was to capture the ascetics of your beauty, but all I managed to achieve was that." He gestures to the canvas, and Ann takes a peek.

She sees a beautiful, half-complete painting of herself, a small smile on her lips, eyes gazing as if looking at something far away. "Wow, this is really good," she says with no exaggeration.

Yusuke shakes his head. "Someone with your sensibilities would say that."

Ann frowns. "Okay, ouch. I think it looks great. Just because you don't doesn't mean you get to be a jerk about it."

Yusuke sighs, and his shoulders slump. "I apologize. My temperament has been abysmal as of late. If Sensei were here, he would've known how to complete this work to its fullest potential."

Ann glances back at him. "Sensei? You mean, Madarame?"

"Indeed," Yusuke says, with a nod, and then looks up at her. "Ah, that's right. You cited interest in Sensei's work, did you not?"

"Totally," Ann says, smiling. "That's the whole reason I took this gig. Would it be okay if I asked you some questions?"

A small grin spreads across Yusuke’s face. “Of course. It is always a delight to discuss the Master’s genius with others.”

Ann blinks. “Uh, right. So, what’s it like apprenticing for him?”

Yusuke frowns. “An interesting question, but I do not believe I can answer adequately. I have been Madarame’s apprentice since I was a child. He raised me as a father would, taught me everything I know about the world of artistic expression, and continues to push me to achieve my dreams of becoming an artist.”

“Oh. So, he’s a good guy?”

Yusuke chuckles. “I wouldn’t use such a colloquial term, but yes. Sensei is a ‘good guy.’”

Ann rolls this information around in her mind. Was Nakanohara just blowing smoke? But we checked Madarame on the app. He has a Palace.

“You said Madarame raised you from when you were a kid,” Ann says, trying a new line of inquiry. “Were you that good of an artist as a child?”

Yusuke’s smile becomes a sad one. “I don’t believe so. Actually, Madarame was an acquaintance of my mother’s. She was an artist as well, under his tutelage. She, unfortunately, was prone to seizures, and died of one when I was three. Sensei took me in and has cared for me ever since.”

“Wow,” Ann says. “Not many people would do that.”

Yusuke nods. “Not many people are as kind as Sensei.”

Ann's mind races. Wait a minute. "Have you ever heard of someone named Natsuhiko Nakanohara?" She asks.

Yusuke purses his lips and is silent for a moment. "No, I don't believe I have. Who is this person?"

"No one, forget I said anything." What the hell? He's never heard of Nakanohara, and he's head over heels for Madarame. I can't just straight up ask him if he's getting plagiarized, can I?

"If I may ask," Yusuke says, suddenly. "As a follower of Madarame, what piece of his enchants you the most?"

Ann breaks out into a big smile. "Oh, gee. There's just so many..." Okay, okay. Think! I researched this. What was that famous one? Right! "But I'd have to say, 'Sayuri,' is my favorite."

Yusuke closes the distance between them, grabs her hands in his own, and then stares into her eyes.

"Hey," she shouts. "What're you-"

"That's my favorite as well," Yusuke declares, energy dripping from his voice. "It inspired me, as a child, to pursue the life of an artist. To create my own 'Sayuri,' is my dream! Tell me, what about 'Sayuri' resonates with you the most?"

"Um," Ann says. "The colors?"

"Yes, yes," Yusuke says, nodding. "The colors Sensei used do indeed elicit an emotional response. Well put!" He releases her hands and takes a few steps away, staring off into space. "He told me the inspiration came to him in a dream one night. He saw a woman looking at something, and the look on her face was so intriguing, so inscrutable, that he had to try and capture it." Yusuke smiles and shakes his head. "If you believe Sensei, he claims that what he created does not actually live up to his dream. Privately, he calls it his 'most popular failure.'"

“It’s too bad it got stolen,” Ann says.

Yusuke nods. “Tragic indeed. A loss not just for Sensei, but the world at large. To deprive everyone of original beauty like that is a crime like no other.”

We're getting sidetracked here. Got to get back to what's important. “So,” Ann asks, trailing a finger through her hair. “Have you ever worked on a piece with Madarame?”

“Of course. Sensei’s tutelage is instrumental in my work. He oversees everything I undertake.”

“Oh, cool,” Ann says. “Has any of it ever been shown to the public? I’d love to see something you’ve completed.”

Something passes over Yusuke’s face. Or rather, his smile, his eyes, and every part of him freezes. It only lasts a second, but it’s long enough. “N-no,” Yusuke replies. “I’m afraid my work has yet to see the light of day. One day, when Madarame deems me ready, I shall unveil it upon the world.”

What was that? Ann doesn't say anything for a moment. It's like when Akira lies, and his face does that little twitchy thing. Yusuke was fine up until I asked him that last question.

If Madarame was plagiarizing Yusuke Kitagawa’s work, it stood to reason that he would know about it. Madarame was a prominent artist, and any exhibit he held drew widespread notice. So, if he had used a painting of Yusuke’s, the kid would’ve found out almost immediately. But to hear Yusuke tell it, Madarame was a wonderful and kind teacher. What the hell is going on?

#

Makoto stands outside the door. She stares at it, hands clenched around the straps of her bag.

This isn't a good idea. This is pushing it. Makoto shakes her head clear.

Makoto bites her lower lip. Just do it! If she wanted to learn the truth, she had to do things that made her uncomfortable. Akira was nowhere to be found, and the other Thieves wouldn't talk to her. Shiho Suzui was one of the last remaining threads Makoto could pull.

Makoto steels herself, knocks, and opens the door.

The lack of light stuns her. The curtains hang over the window and muffle the sun.

A figure stirs across the room, and Makoto sees the head of a shadow turn towards her. "Ann?" Comes a soft voice.

"Um," Makoto says, and steps closer.

Shiho Suzui blinks up at her. Her skin is pale, and she looks much thinner than Makoto remembers. It is her hair that upsets her the most. Suzui's is matted and sticky and absent the personality of her sideways ponytail.

For a moment, the memory of Suzui’s broken body in the middle of the courtyard, and Akira's harsh words from a few weeks ago, paralyze Makoto.

I saw you, the day Shiho jumped. I saw you on the edge of the crowd, standing there, doing nothing.

"Hi, Suzui," Makoto manages in a weak voice.

The girl continues to stare up at her, and then she tilts her face down towards the blankets on her lap. "Hello, Niijima-senpai." The voice is distant, cold. "My mother told me you called."

"May I sit?" Makoto asks, gesturing to one of the chairs alongside the bed.

Suzui shrugs. "Why are you here?"

Makoto nods, and moves for the chair before realizing she's not sure if Suzui's shrug warranted permission. "Oh," she says, realizing Suzui asked her a question. "Oh, I um," and Makoto reaches into her bag, withdrawing a few notebooks filled with handouts and assignments. "I wanted to bring you this. It's the schoolwork you've missed."

Suzui stares at the binder as though it's a foreign object. Then, she scoffs. "Are you joking?"

"Well... no," Makoto says, not sure what else to say. "I didn't want you to fall behind. So I thought I'd go around to your teachers and collect-"

Suzui's hands ball into fists. "You didn't want me to fall behind?" Suzui asks.

Poor choice of words, Makoto realizes and mentally kicks herself. "No, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean about the-"

"Huh?" Suzui looks up at her, then shakes her head. "Oh. That. That's not what I'm talking about."

"You're not coming back for a long time, correct? Surely you want to keep up to date on your studies?"

Suzui reaches out a hand for the binder. Makoto, feeling relieved, hands it over to her. "Thanks," Suzui mutters. Then, she promptly tosses the binder into the corner of the room, where it slams into the tiled floor and lays still. "I'll be sure to look later."

"Right. Good," Makoto says, feeling a sheen of sweat form on her head. "Good."

"Why are you really here, Niijima-senpai?" Suzui's words are harsher now.

"I just wanted to check up on you, and-"

"Liar," Suzui snarls.

Makoto doesn't realize she's gasped until the sound seems to hang in the room for a moment longer than possible.

Shiho Suzui glares at her. Her head is tilted forward, and strands of black hair obscure her face, but Makoto can see her lower jaw working at a furious pace, chittering and chapped and scabbed. Her eyes stare out from beneath that cowl, white with anger, pupils dilated.

Makoto takes a step back. "I'm the Student Council President," Makoto manages. "It's my responsibility to-"

"You don't care," Suzui whispers. "You never cared. You're a liar. I hate liars. Liars keep pretending nothing's wrong." Her words come faster now, her breath more ragged. "Liars don't tell the truth, even when asked. Liars keep telling you that everything will be fine. Liars act like they care, but they don't. Liars won't do anything until it's safe." Suzui's hands are shaking. "You don't want me to fall behind? Now you care?"

Makoto knows nothing can happen here. She knows Shiho Suzui is weak and can't move much due to her injuries. Makoto knows this, but beneath the girl's glare, Makoto doesn't feel safe.

"Alright," Makoto says, raising her hands. "I'm sorry. But you need to know something. I know you know about the Phantom Thieves. You need to-"

"Get out of here," Suzui says, barely above a whisper. Makoto doesn't move. "Get out of here." This, a bit louder.

"Listen, please," Makoto says. "Akira won't talk to me. The Principal asked me to investigate and-"

"Get out of here," Suzui says. "Get out of here! Get out of here!"

"Okay," Makoto says, backing up. What did I just do? Why did I do this? "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Suzui."

"Get out of here!" Suzui screams. "Get out of here! GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

Suzui doesn't writhe in bed. She doesn't do anything. She sits perfectly still as she screams at Makoto, which terrifies Makoto more than anything else.

When Makoto reaches the door, it opens from the outside, and a nurse rushes in. "What's going on?" She asks Makoto, and turns to Suzui as the girl continues her terrible chant.

"GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

The nurse looks back at Makoto. "What did you do?"

Makoto runs out the door and down the hall. She dashes onto the elevator, blessedly alone, wraps her arms around herself, and begins to shake. She thinks she is about to cry, but no tears come. She just stands there, trembling, as the elevator slowly makes its way down to the ground floor.

Then, the door opens, and Makoto steps out into the lobby, and leaves the hospital.

#

They stand in a huddle outside Room 345.

“I’m confused,” Ryuji says, hands shoved into his pockets. “Why is he here, again?”

Yusuke Kitagawa blinks. “I could ask the same of you, you uncouth youth.”

“What’d you say?” Ryuji growls. He takes a threatening step forward.

Ann smacks him on the shoulder. “Knock it off, Ryuji. I was with Yusuke when Shiho called. I was so freaked out that he offered to come with me.”

Ryuji crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, he should watch what he says.”

“You don’t even know what ‘uncouth’ means,” Ann blurts.

“It doesn’t sound good!”

“Indeed, it is not,” Yusuke replies.

“See?”

“Hey!” Akira snaps. “Enough already.” Morgana squirms in his bag. Ryuji, Akira and Morgana had been reviewing what the latter had learned from Kobayakawa’s office when Ann had called. The request had been hasty, and Akira hadn’t had time to ask questions. He knew something had happened with Shiho and Makoto, and Ann wanted everyone to meet her at the hospital. “How’s Shiho?”

Ann grits her teeth. “Not good. That bitch really rattled her.”

Yusuke frowns. “I fail to see how a visit from the Student Council President could elicit such an extreme reaction. Is Suzui, perhaps, a problem student?”

“Hell no,” Ryuji replies, and turns to Ann. “How much did you tell him?”

“Not much,” Ann says. “Look, Yusuke. Shiho’s my best friend. She had… an accident a few weeks ago and has been here ever since. Niijima thought she could roll in here and harass her.”

Yusuke shakes his head. “How reprehensible.”

“You got that right,” Ann says.

“Hold on,” Akira says. “Is that what she was doing here?”

Ann glares up at him. “What else would she be here for Akira? You know what she was asking about, don’t you?”

Akira glances at Yusuke, then sighs. “Morgana got a look at the file, Ann. I think we should talk.”

“It might not be what we thought,” Ryuji puts in.

“Who is this ‘Morgana?’” Yusuke asks.

Ann sighs. “Look, Yusuke, I appreciate you coming, but would you mind if we spoke in private?”

“Not at all,” Yusuke says, and takes a step away. “I saw a vending machine in the waiting room. I will stare at it while you discuss.”

“Eh?” Ryuji asks, as the lanky boy walks away. “That dude is weird. Why’s he staring at a vending machine?”

"Does that matter?" Ann demands.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira's bag. "Lady Ann, listen. I found the file. The one the Principal showed Makoto. Shiho was in the file, but so was Makoto. And it wasn't just us. There were other students in it. Most are volleyball players. Everyone Kamoshida victimized."

Ann crosses her arms. "When Shiho calmed down, she told me a few things. Niijima tried to tell her something about the Principal before... well, she mentioned it."

"I don't get this shit, man," Ryuji whispers. "If Makoto was in the file, why'd she agree to investigate us? If she was trying to warn Shiho, why didn't she come to us and-"

"She did," Akira says. "She tried to speak to me this morning. Plus, her older sister was at Shujin earlier. Makoto asked if she handled everything, and her sister said yes. What if Makoto was forced to look into us? And not just us, but everyone in that file? What if agreeing to investigate - what Morgana saw and heard - was her only way to get away from the Principal?" Akira looks at the others. "None of this makes sense. Why would Makoto bring all this up to me during our date if she didn't agree to investigate us until yesterday? We don't know the full story. We can-"

"Stop," Ann says.

Akira stops.

Ann sighs. "Even if that's true, so what?" Ann gestures her head back towards the door to Shiho's room. "Do you realize what Niijima just did to her? She crossed a line."

"But if-" Akira starts.

Ryuji clears his throat. "I gotta agree with Ann on this one, dude." Akira looks at him, and Ryuji's face reddens, but he shrugs. "What? Pushing a girl in a hospital bed? That's messed up, man."

"I realize that," Akira says. "But we should clear up whatever-"

"Shiho was raped and traumatized Akira. And Niijima just came here and harassed her. Are you seriously so love-struck that you don't see how bad that is? You say, 'I realize that,' but do you?" She takes a step toward Akira, glaring at him. Akira holds his ground but has to fight very hard not to back up a pace. "I joined you guys to bring Kamoshida to justice, and I believe in what we're doing. But if this is what being a Phantom Thief is now, I'll walk away. Because Shiho needs me."

"Lady Ann," Morgana protests. "You can't mean that."

"Yeah, hold up, Ann," Ryuji says.

"I do mean it," Ann says. "Besides, it's not as if you ever intended on bringing me onboard in the first place? Right, Akira? You weren't going to tell me about-"

"You're bringing that up now?" Akira snaps. "Do you want to settle on a plan, or do you want to just punish me for shit I already apologized for?"

"Guys," Ryuji says, stepping between the two. "Chill. We're on the same team, remember?"

"I used to think that," Ann says. "But here we are, with Akira trying to make excuses for Niijima and-"

"Fine," Akira nearly shouts. "You've made your point."

Ann sighs, but her face remains firm. "Well then, Leader, tell me what you think we should do. And think carefully."

#

Yusuke returns to the atelier, slinks his way through its dilapidated halls, and drops into the sole chair in his room. What an utterly depressing day.

There's a knock on his door.

Yusuke pushes himself to his feet. "Come in, Sensei."

The door slides open, and Madarame steps inside, brows furrowed in concern. "Ah, Yusuke. Thank goodness you're alright. The school called and told me you had dashed off campus in a rush. Is everything alright?"

Yusuke shakes his head at his foolishness. "Oh, I'm very sorry I didn't call, Sensei. I got so caught up in events that it never crossed my mind."

Madarame smiles and waves the comment away. "Please, it's perfectly fine. I'm just glad you're okay. But what happened?"

Yusuke sits back down and recounts the events of the day. "Takamaki was so upset that I offered to help her get to the hospital."

Madarame beams. "That was a very considerate thing to do, Yusuke. I hope the poor girl is alright?"

Yusuke shrugs. "I can't say with certainty. She was reluctant to specify how her friend got to the hospital, but I gathered it was an unpleasant topic."

"These things often are," Madarame replies. "Might I ask how the painting is coming along?"

The air feels like it seeps from Yusuke's body. "I'm sorry, Sensei. It was a failure. Takamaki is beautiful, but I could not convey it to the canvas."

Madarame chuckles. "How often must I tell you this, my boy? Failure is a far more valuable teacher than success. Do you recall every stroke you made upon the parchment?" Yusuke nods. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

"I believe so."

"Then, you must commit the lesson to memory and take it upon yourself to do better next time."

Yusuke takes a deep breath, and a bit of the tension leaves him. "You are right, of course." Then, he remembers. "I hope you don't mind, Sensei, but I invited Takamaki and her friends to your gallery this coming week. She seemed quite taken with your work. She mentioned the 'Sayuri.'"

"Well, of course it's alright," Madarame says and pats Yusuke on the shoulder. "It is always refreshing to find young people interested in art. Too often, it feels like the realm of old men like me. When they arrive, please, introduce them to me."

Yusuke smiles. "I will, Sensei. Thank you."

Madarame nods and moves to leave. "Well, I'll leave you to it, Yusuke. I'm sure you've some work you still wish to do."

"Indeed," Yusuke says, and glances at the assortment of brushes and paint tubes shoved into the corner. "Um, Sensei?"

"Yes?" Madarame asks.

"Well, I did not foresee my trip to the hospital today. Takamaki was in such a panic that we rushed the whole way there. It was... taxing. I know I failed in my task of completing the portrait today, but I wonder if I still might have some dinner?"

Madarame's smile doesn't shift. "Yusuke, my boy. We've talked about this. Hunger. Pain. Absence. It is through these avenues that the muse enters and possesses us. To surrender to ease is to abandon our hope of understanding what truly makes art, art. So you may have your allotted meal tomorrow morning and not before."

Yusuke sighs and stands, smiling. "Of course, Sensei. Forgive me for such a foolish question."

Madarame shakes his head. "There's nothing to forgive. That is why I am here, to guide you on the artist's path."

Yusuke nods. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. Goodnight, my boy."

Madarame slides the door shut.

Notes:

Happy Monday! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. To be honest, this one went through some heavy revisions. In the game, the exams were these annoying sequences where you weren't allowed to do anything besides take a test. Here, it feels like I'm trying to squeeze as much in as possible, lol.

Anyway, I'll see you all on Friday! Thanks for understanding about the post decrease, and if I haven't gotten to your comment/review yet, I will as soon as I can!

Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Notes:

UPDATE 9/30/2022: It took a while, but here's the 35th chapter of Crimson, updated. Apologies for the delay. I'm managing numerous projects at work and this summer was hectic. I'll hopefully get the rest of the Madarame arc up by the end of the year. Thanks everyone!

Did someone say 3 AM Crimson update!?

No?

Oh.

Well, I'm kinda drunk. So, here it is. Enjoy!

5/18

Ohya's phone rings.

Her mouth tastes of ash, and a horse bucks about in her skull. Her limbs ache.

Ohya's phone continues to ring.

She groans as she rolls over and manages to snatch up her phone just before it vibrates off the nightstand and onto the filthy, blue carpet.

"What?" She moans as she answers it.

"It's me," comes a voice.

Ohya throws an arm over her eyes to shield herself from the light sneaking in through the shades. "Oh my god. Whoever this is better start making sense, or I'm hanging this shit up!"

There's a pause on the other line. Then, "I know who Yusuke Kitagawa is."

Ohya wrestles the horse in her brain under control and forces herself to think. It's that kid from the bar. The one who thinks he's slick.

"So," she says. "Who is he?"

"Madarame's apprentice."

"Don't get excited," Ohya mutters. "That was an easy one. What else?"

"What'd you mean?"

Ohya rolls onto her stomach and buries her face in her pillow. "Kid," she shouts. "I'm not your teacher. This isn't a test. What did you get out of Yusuke Kitagawa?"

"I... uh-"

"You got nothing. Wow. Amazing. Incredible work."

"I thought you wanted me to figure out who he was?"

"Yes! But you weren't supposed to stop there. You were supposed to dig something up on your own. That's why I gave you the lead in the first place."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Ohya replies, then sighs. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's a little after nine."

"Why the hell are you calling me so early?"

"I mean, it's not that early."

"Kids," Ohya grumbles and pushes herself out of bed. Then, dressed only in her t-shirt and underwear, she schleps her way through her overheated apartment to the bathroom, where she promptly turns on the water, waits for it to get cold, then splashes some on her face before she sticks her mouth beneath the faucet and takes a long gulp. "Is there any other reason you called me?" She asks once done.

"I..." The kid says, and Ohya feels that rather than having nothing, he's debating whether he should hold something back.

"Spill it," she growls.

"I got invited to Madarame's gallery showing," he spits.

Ohya looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. An unfortunately familiar face returns her stare. "How'd you manage that?"

"Yusuke Kitagawa invited me."

"So, you didn't just find out who he was. You actually met him?" This kid may not be so bad after all.

"That's right."

"That's... good. That's really good." Coffee. I need coffee. Ohya can come up with something. She knows she can. She just has to have that caffeine kick. "Listen up. I'll reach out to you soon. Just be ready. You may just prove valuable after all."

"Wait, you don't have my-" The kid starts to say, but Ohya hangs up.

Ohya smiles down at the now silent phone in her hand. "Don't you worry about that, kid."

#

Makoto climbs the stairs to the roof, doing her best to keep her heart rate under control.

Akira's text had taken her by surprise.

AKIRA : We need to talk. Meet me on the roof.

Makoto may not have been the most experienced girl regarding relationships, but she knew that the phrase 'we need to talk' held implications on an international scale. None were good.

Of course, it wasn't as if she didn't expect backlash. Makoto's intrusion into Shiho Suzui's recovery was borderline criminal.

She knew what she'd done was wrong, but Akira had thrown the gauntlet first by giving her the cold shoulder. This all ends now. One way or another, Makoto would come clean, and hopefully, Akira would too. Then they could find some way to put all this behind them. Makoto wouldn't accept anything less.

She barely hesitates when she reaches the door and pushes it open to a sunny day that does not align with the muckiness inside herself. Akira stands on the roof, only a short distance from the A/C unit. His eyes snap to her as she steps out onto the roof, from behind those glasses she knows are fake.

Neither says anything. Makoto steels herself as best she can and closes the distance between the two of them.

Akira looks at her, then away, sighs, and looks back at her.

"How is Suzui?" Makoto asks.

"Not great," Akira answers. "She called Ann. Ann called Ryuji and me. We went to the hospital. Only Ann talked to her. I don't think she was in a good place to entertain many visitors."

"I will find some way to make it up to her. I'm very-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Akira replies. "I don't think you should do anything regarding Shiho. Just leave her alone."

"D-did she say anything? About why I was there? I tried to-"

Akira interrupts her again. "Why don't we just get right to it?" Makoto straightens and doesn't reply. Akira nods at this and continues. "Given everything that's happened, I think we should keep our distance." He clears his throat and glances away. "What I mean is, I think we should stop hanging out. Study sessions and everything else."

Makoto lifts one hand into the air but cannot remember the gesture she meant to convey and just lets it drop to her side. "Akira, I think... I think everything just spiraled out of control. I'm sorry for what I did to Suzui. I am, you have to know that, right? But everything that came before, it... I just-"

Akira shrugs his shoulders. "A year ago, if we'd met, I'd bet there'd be no problems. Of course, I don't think there's any way we'd have interacted, but still." He holds up his hand, making a small pinching motion with his thumb and index finger. "I'm this close to getting thrown back into jail. And I can promise you one thing, Makoto. I'm not going back. Ever. But people with a past like mine don't have much choice."

"You told me what happened," Makoto says. "You didn't do anything wrong. You don't deserve to-"

"God," Akira snaps. "Do you still not get it? It's not about what I deserve. It has never been. It's about what some file in some room in some office somewhere says. And some people in that office could, on a whim, decide my second chance is up. People like your sister."

Makoto shakes her head. "Sae would never do something like that. She's-"

"Oh, bullshit," Akira replies, almost sounding amused. "She made it very clear to me that I’m to stay away from you. You've got a future, and I don't. Very simple."

"You can't," Makoto starts, and feels her fists clenching. "You don't know her. You don't know what she's had to endure. To put up with. And she's had to do it all on her own." Makoto feels something welling up inside her, and she narrows her eyes. "Do you know how hard my sister had to fight to get where she is? Don't you dare look down on her!"

"Look down on her?" Akira asks. He shakes his head. "I'm not looking down on her. I'm afraid of her. I'm afraid of what she could do to me. So, she worked hard and dealt with a lot? Okay, fine. I guess all that hard work has paid off. Because do you have any idea how easily she could end my life?"

#

The voices in Akira’s mind swirl around each other. Joker’s voice. His father’s voice. Arsene screams within Akira. Akira knows what each tries to say.

“Bury thisGO FORTH AND BE DONEtoo long already let itSTOP THIS CHARADEthe prosecutor could nail us for this much son it is too long END IT”

For all this hurts, part of Akira congratulates himself on being able to keep together. To restrain the desperate desire to reach out and take Makoto’s hands and tell her all is forgiven and that he is a Phantom Thief, and would she be his girlfriend? But he does not. The world ticks on, and Akira stares at Makoto as if expecting an answer to his question, but he doesn’t. Makoto must know her sister’s capabilities, and if not, then maybe Makoto isn’t as bright as she seems.

“I’ve had my suspicions,” Makoto says. “Since the day you changed Takanashi’s heart. That study session. But you know that. I followed you. I followed your friends. I don’t know why. I think, in some ways, I wanted to get close to you.” Makoto lifts a hand and makes a small gesture, indicating the distance between herself and Akira. “I don’t know how to do this whole thing, Akira. I’ve never even really had that many friends. It’s just been my sister and I for years now, and being with you was so damn confusing.” She sighs. “Then, the Principal called me into his office. He told me to spy on you. He showed me some folder, and my name was in it, and so was yours’ and Ryuji’s and Ann’s and Suzui’s. He wanted me to spy on you, or he was going to withhold my Letter of Recommendation. I told Sae, and that’s why she was at the school. She set the Principal straight. I have no idea how the Principal got that information on you or if he suspects you and your friends for reasons other than the ones he gave me, but Akira, I never betrayed you. I agreed so I could get out of that office and devise a plan. I tried to talk to you immediately, but you ignored me. Did you bug his office or something? Is that how you found out so fast?” Makoto takes a step forward, but Akira doesn’t move. “I promise you, Akira. I’m on your side. I’ve always been on your side. Since Kamoshida. Before Kamoshida. Please believe me. If you’re a Phantom Thief, that’s fine, but please, don’t just throw all of this away. Talk to me. Let’s figure this out.”

Akira nods. That more or less lines up with what we suspected. Akira takes a deep breath, and Makoto watches him, imploringly. As he lets the air out of his chest, Akira sticks his hands in his pockets and slumps a bit. “For the last time, Niijima-senpai. I’m not a Phantom Thief. Goodbye.” Then, he turns and moves towards the door. Makoto makes no reply beyond the slight hitch in her breathing Akira assumes he is not meant to hear. Then, Akira is through the door and heading downstairs. As he descends, he increases his pace. He wants to put distance between the two of them.

This is for the best, Akira thinks.

Indeed, Joker replies.

There’s too much going on: Madarame, the mental shutdowns, Igor, the Velvet Room, and the Metaverse.

ALL SACRELIGIOUS ACTS, Arsene’s voice booms, and Akira nearly trips on the stairs as he reaches the ground floor. Akira puts a hand to his temple and rubs it, shutting his eyes.

“Akira?” Comes a voice.

Akira opens his eyes and finds Mishima standing before him, a worried look on the young boy’s face. “Oh, hi,” Akira replies.

“You okay?” Mishima asks. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because if you’re not you-”

“I said I’m fine,” Akira snaps. Mishima shrinks away from him.

Akira feels a deep loathing rise within. Mishima, always the coward, always slinking off like a whipped dog. Mishima, useless save for his technical expertise and-

Akira blinks. Takes a deep breath. Slows his thoughts down. At that moment, he regards Yuuki Mishima. The boy tormented and brutalized by his coach, whose parents did nothing. The unnoticed boy who did stand up to Kamoshida at the end, in his little way. The one who’s been supporting the Phantom Thieves. Were it not for the PhanSite, Morgana may have no way of recovering his memories.

Yuuki Mishima, just a kid. A terrified kid. Like me.

Akira opens his mouth, “Hey, Mishima. Sorry about that. Bad day.”

Mishima straightens a bit. “I-it’s no problem.”

“No, I was a dick just now. Sorry.”

Mishima brightens a bit.

What is this shit? His father asks. Absolution? Trying to make yourself feel better for lying to the boy? For using him? Are you just going to forget what he did?

Akira does not forgive Yuuki Mishima. But he comes very close. “Hey man,” Akira says. “Want to go get some food?”

Mishima smiles. “Sure!”

#

Ryuji finds Ann outside the ramen shop. “Hey, thanks for meeting me,” he calls to her.

“Mmhmm,” Ann mutters, nodding at her friend. Ryuji bites back a retort and instead ushers her further down the street. The two walk in silence for a time, with Ryuji checking their surroundings periodically to see if anyone follows. Of course, no one does, though Ryuji admits that he may not be the most insightful person to tell if they’re tailed. Ann should also be keeping watch, but she’s too busy sulking. Not that Ryuji can’t understand, but still.

Sometimes it was a pain in the ass, being the only serious member of the Phantom Thieves.

“I got a little more info on that Yamaguchi,” Ryuji finally says, confident they are in a bubble of privacy.

“Huh?” Ann asks, finally coming out of whatever trance she’d been within. “Who?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “You know, Yamaguchi. The guy Ikeda-senpai was talking about.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ann replies. “Sure.”

“C’mon,” Ryuji complains. “Would you take this seriously? This guy could really eff up the track team if we-”

“Ryuji, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve got some other things on my mind,” Ann replies.

Ryuji raises his hands. “Okay, I get that. Shiho and the Prez, whatever happened there-”

“Whatever happened there?” Ann demands.

Shit, Ryuji thinks. I shouldn’t have brought that up. “Sorry. I understand. It’s a big deal. But this whole thing we’ve got going with-”

“I can’t bring myself to care about the track team, Ryuji,” Ann mutters. She fixes him with a stare. “And why do you care, anyway? It’s not like you’re joining, are you?”

Ryuji shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Then why bother with it? They all turned their backs on you, didn’t they? They all call you ‘track traitor’ or whatever. So why should you care about what happens to them or their track team?”

Ryuji had pondered that himself. “I dunno,” he replies, shrugging. “But the track team used to be important to me. Maybe it still is.”

“We almost got exposed as the Phantom Thieves,” Ann whispers. “You were freaking out not too long ago. Now, you’re suddenly up in arms about the track team?”

“I’m not saying I’m not still freaking out,” Ryuji says. “But Akira is handling the whole Makoto situation.”

Ann sticks out her tongue. “Oh yeah, finally. After we had to twist his arm.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. He’s getting tired of this dynamic. “Don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet with Akira? You can’t blame a guy for being into someone. Not like he picked her at random or something.”

Ann glares at Ryuji, shakes her head, and starts to storm off. “You just don’t get it,” she shouts over her shoulder, causing other pedestrians to turn their gazes towards him. Ryuji hears a few chuckles from the crowd but ignores them.

He watches Ann go, then sighs. “Great,” he says to himself. “Looks like I gotta fix everything. Again.”

#

Makoto slams her fist into the punching bag and imagines it is Akira Kurusu's face.

She had forgotten how good this feels.

Haru's response had been uncompromising. "I will obliterate him." Haru had offered - after school - what Makoto imagined were the proper condolences and suggested they meet up and eat something terrible for them, like ice cream or candy, but Makoto had just wanted to go home.

Haru had started to defend Makoto's actions leading up to this predicament, but Makoto noted that she gave up about halfway through. Makoto couldn't blame her and even felt a twinge of gratitude. There was little in the way of excuses she could offer, especially when it came to Suzui.

Akira's words about Sae bounced around in Makoto's head, and found more purchase than none. Makoto hated, hated, how true it all sounded. Even as she denied Akira's accusations regarding her sister, another part of her hummed with doubt. "Do you really think she wouldn't?" A voice rumbled within her.

Of course not! She declared to her mind, but she knew she was only arguing with herself, so it wasn't as if she didn't think that.

Akira's words had stung, and once Makoto had returned home, she'd found that the tears had come readily. The frustrations of the past few days boiled over and rang out in the empty apartment, which offered very little solace.

But now?

She was done with tears.

And so she used her fists.

She throws a haymaker against the bag and takes a deep breath.

There was no way Akira Kurusu wasn't a Phantom Thief.

Too many coincidences. Too many parallels. Hell, even the Principal seemed convinced he was one. Akira continued to lie even after Makoto had come clean.

THE AUDACITY

Deep down, Makoto knows she could stand to examine her actions during this time frame, but during this time frame, she is content to beat the shit out of this punching bag located in the basement gym of her apartment building.

An older man, one of her unfortunate neighbors from upstairs, walks past the mat she works on and calls, "C'mon sweetie, don't look so glum. Can I get a smile?"

Makoto feels an engine rev inside her chest, and she turns a snarl on the man. "Back off!"

He pales in a considerably appealing manner and scurries away.

Makoto turns her attention back to the bag and lets her mind go blank as she attacks it. But as her mind never completely blanks, her subconscious continues her preparations.

When she finishes, and after she's showered, she takes out her phone and calls Haru.

"So," Haru asks, unprompted upon picking up, "What's the plan?"

Notes:

Yeah. So, I might've had some Jack myself after class tonight. Hey, I got tomorrow off work! Let me say that you guys and gals are fabulous! I love having you guys as readers, and I love your comments! I hope you enjoyed this relatively long chapter, and I'll see you on Monday!

Chapter 36: Chapter 36

5/18

Akira trudges his way toward Shujin. A drizzle darkens the pavement. Umbrella in hand, cat in the bag, he continues. Two boys dressed in Shujin uniforms walk ahead of him, but whatever their words, they fail to capture his attention. Akira’s mind remains insistently focused on Makoto and the disaster from yesterday.

Distracted as Akira is, only the familiar yet alien to this situation sound of a picture being taken grounds his attention back to his surroundings. Akira whips his head around and finds Ohya, shoulder against the sterile metal of a streetlight, lowering a blocky camera from her face. She smiles.

Unconcerned by the rain, she says, "Hi!"

Shit! Akira looks around but isn't sure what he's hoping to see, then gives up and beelines to the woman. "What're you doing here? How'd you find me?"

Ohya frowns and glances up at the clouds. "Yes, how did I manage to find you? How did I, the investigative journalist, manage to track down the boy I already knew attended Shujin? What a conundrum." She chuckles at herself, then holds up a single finger. "Journalism one-oh-one, kid. Sometimes, to get what you want, you have to sit in one place for a long time and wait for it to walk past."

Akira rolls his eyes. "I thought journalism one-oh-one was 'protect your sources' and 'tell the truth.'"

"Meh," Ohya replies with a shrug. "There's a couple of one-oh-ones."

"Fine, whatever. What're you doing here?"

Ohya nods toward the school just down the road. "Let's walk and talk. Don't want you to be late." She steps out into the road with a yawn, and Akira falls in alongside her. "So," she says, voice low. "You've got the Madarame thing coming up, yeah?"

"I do."

"Cool," Ohya says. "I'm going to need you to hack his phone."

Akira stops. "Huh?"

Ohya turns back to him, brows furrowed. "Did you not hear me?"

"No, I heard you. I just-"

"What?" Ohya asks. "You're the one who called me from an unregistered number. I thought you were all about this clandestine crap."

"But I don't know how to hack a phone!"

Ohya groans and shakes her head. "Yeah, I figured as much. But, look, I've already taken care of that part. All you have to do is get close to him."

"What'd you mean?" Akira asks.

Ohya reaches into her pocket, pulls out a small, boxy device, and jiggles it before his eyes. "See this button on the side?" Akira spots it and nods. "When you're close to Madarame, press it." She hands it to him.

Akira turns it over in his palm. "This isn't a bomb, is it?" He asks, remembering Ryuji's criticism about Iwai's package.

"Are you joking?" Ohya asks, eyes widening.

"Never mind," Akira replies, not wanting to inflict the agony of going down that road onto himself. "What exactly is this? What does it do? Where'd you get it?"

Ohya makes a face and raises her hands. "Easy there, inspector. One question at a time. Look, it's simple. You press the button, and the device locks onto the nearest phone less than a meter away. So, make sure there's no other phone close by, especially yours. Turn it off. It mirrors the GPS of the target phone and sends the data back to a remote source, a device I can access. As to where I got it, I got a guy."

"You've got a guy?"

Ohya nods. "I got a guy."

"You have a 'mirror a phone's GPS' guy?"

Ohya releases a frustrated groan. "And you've got a 'Phantom Thieves website admin' guy. Are we going to plan this or keep comparing our guys?"

They reach the front gates of Shujin, and the rain begins to let up. Ohya runs her fingers through her hair and yawns again, apparently unconcerned. A few students heading inside stare at the two as they pass, and Akira mentally wishes he could kick something. Great, another rumor about me.

"So, okay," Akira says. "Why, exactly, am I doing this?"

"Why are you mirroring the GPS of Madarame's phone?" Ohya asks. When Akira nods, she says, "You tell me. What reason would someone have to mirror a phone's GPS?"

Akira thinks for a moment. "You want to know where they're going."

Ohya nods. "Aaaaannnnnddddd?" She drawls.

"You want to know where they've been."

"Bingo," Ohya replies. "You in?"

Akira mulls it over for a moment, then mumbles, "I'm in. But, isn't this all illegal?"

Ohya laughs and shakes her head. "Oh, man. So illegal." Like someone has flipped a switch, her laughter cuts off, and she glares at him. "Don't tell me that bothers you?"

"I don't want to get into it, but I'd prefer if we did things above board."

"Kid, you've got a small keychain thingy in your pocket, not a knife. So don't wave it around, and you'll be fine."

Akira shoves down his trepidation and nods. "Okay."

"Perfect. I'll-"

A voice cuts, "Kurusu!" Akira turns without thinking and finds Kawakami-sensei heading down the steps, frowning.

"Huh," Ohya says, grinning. "So your name is Kurusu, eh?"

Akira scowls but manages to smudge the look from his face by the time Kawakami reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning, Kawakami-sensei."

"Good morning," she says, frowning. "You're usually early. I was beginning to suspect you were going to cut school again."

"Again?" Ohya asks, and she takes an exaggerated gasp.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Akira replies through gritted teeth.

"Who is this?" Kawakami asks, eyeing Ohya.

"This is," Akira starts, and spins his mind once more. "Uh, my cousin."

"That's right!" Ohya replies and throws an arm over Akira's shoulders. "I thought I'd walk him to school today. Isn't that right, cuz?"

Akira tries to smile, and what ends on his face is close enough. "Uh-huh."

Kawakami's brows furrow. "Okay. Well, homeroom is about to start. I trust you'll be there?"

Akira nods and is about to say something to exit the conversation when another voice erupts into his eardrums. "Yo, Akira!"

Akira shuts his eyes. Ryuji, goddammit.

Ryuji trots up to the three of them, his smile wide. "Hey, Kawakami-sensei," he says.

"Sakamoto," Kawakami replies, with a nod.

Ryuji looks over at Ohya, and the arm she has around Akira's shoulder. "Who's this lady, Akira?"

"Yes, Akira," Ohya says, her grin bigger than before. "Tell him who I am."

"This," Akira says, jabbing at Ohya with his eyes. "Is my cousin, Ohya. I've told you about Ohya, right?"

"Oh," Ryuji says. His eyes widen. "Oh! Oh, uh, yeah. Yep, that is something you have told me about."

Kawakami rolls her eyes and sighs. "You know what? I can't with you two right now. Get to class." She turns and stalks her way back up the steps.

Ohya removes her arm from around Akira's shoulder and moves away. "We'll be in touch, Akira Kurusu. I'm looking forward to it, Akira Kurusu. Bye, Akira Kurusu!" Then, laughing, she takes off down the road.

Ryuji and Akira stand at the entrance of Shujin, watching her retreat.

"So," Ryuji says, after a time. "Just so I'm clear, that wasn't your cousin, right?"

"Bonehead," Akira hears Morgana whisper from his bag.

#

The door to 'Untouchable' offers Akira an escape from the afternoon rain. He sees no customers, not even the slivers of patrons sometimes smuggled behind the aisles in the back, but does notice the bespectacled boy from the other day behind the counter. The boy stiffens and nods as the door jingles shut behind Akira, and blurts out, "Welcome to 'Untouchable,' sir!"

"Uh," Akira replies. It feels off to be greeted so warmly in this place. "Thanks." Akira casts around in his mind for some thread that can lead him back to the boy's name. "Your name was..." He starts, hoping to lead the boy into giving his name, and too tired to be embarrassed about forgetting. The boy stares. It dawns on Akira. "Kaoru. Right? Your name was Kaoru?"

The boy's face alights even more, and he nods. "That's right. I know you too. You're the one who had the box of sand."

Akira forces the corners of his mouth up. "Yeah. That's me."

Mishima had been less than helpful when it came to Ohya's GPS phone box thing. Akira had grabbed the boy during lunch, dragged him up to the roof, and shown him Ohya's little gift. Mishima had speculated wildly before Akira told him what it was supposed to do. Mishima had shrugged and told Akira he guessed that was what it would do. Akira asked him if there was any other way to tell, and Mishima had suggested using it, but Akira wasn't prepared to go that far yet.

After politely thanking Mishima for his help (Akira had had a nice enough time going out to eat with Mishima yesterday), he found Ryuji in the hall on his way back to class.

Against his better judgment, Akira had said, "Hey Ryuji, what'd you suppose this is?" and showed him the device.

"A bomb," Ryuji replied with almost no hesitation.

Akira figures Iwai is his next best choice, so after leaving Morgana on 'patrol,' he made his way through Shibuya and down Central to the store's dark alley. "So," Akira says to Kaoru when the boy prompts no further response. "Is your dad home? Or 'in,' I guess?"

"Nope," Kaoru says, then winks.

"What?"

"I said," Kaoru replies, a bit louder this time, "that my dad is definitely not in right now. No way. He's not in the back room at all."

A very loud sigh escapes from the back room, and a moment later, the door opens, and Iwai stomps out. "Kaoru," he growls, and subjects the boy to a long, hard stare. "Awful."

Kaoru's smile deflates, and his shoulders slump.

Iwai slides past Kaoru and takes his spot at the counter. "What're you doing here, kid? Don't tell me those phones ran out of minutes already."

Akira tries on a smirk. "You're not gonna scan me?"

Iwai frowns. "I wasn't." Then, he bends down and pulls out the paddle-shaped device. Akira rolls his eyes and submits to the search. "What do you want?" Iwai asks, once he's finished.

Akira removes the small device Ohya had given him and places it on the counter. "I'd like to know more about this."

Iwai stares at it. So does Kaoru. "What is it?" The older man eventually asks.

Akira shrugs. "I was hoping you could tell me. It's supposed to be able to hack phones."

"Cool!" Kaoru exclaims.

Iwai smacks his kid on the back of the head. "Go in the back and see about that shipment."

"What shipment?" Kaoru asks.

"Any shipment," Iwai replies. When the boy hesitates, he grumbles, "Now." Kaoru slinks into the back room from where his father emerged. Once his son is gone, Iwai turns his attention back to Akira. "Why'd you bring it here?"

"I told you," Akira replies. "I wanted you to tell me a bit more about it. You seem knowledgeable on all this technical stuff. You got me those burner phones after all, and..." Akira waves his hand across his body, indicating Iwai's paddle scanner.

The gruff older man shakes his head. "Kid, burner phones are hardly technical. They're just... burner phones. And as for the scanner? Necessary precaution. A three-year-old could operate it." He reaches out a hand and taps the small, black device. "This kind of thing? After my time."

After his time?

Iwai frowns. "Shouldn't you know someone good with computers? With whatever vague shit you're into, I figured that would be a given."

"Already tried that," Akira mutters, and picks up the device from the counter. "Thanks anyway." He starts to head towards the door.

"One more thing," Iwai says, an edge to his voice. Akira turns back and suffers the man's glare. "It's about Kaoru." His voice drops. "Don't tell him about this kind of shit. Tell him to get me if you swing by and I'm not out front. I'll send him on an errand or something. But not one damn word to him about what you're into."

Akira sees no room for argument in the man's eyes. He nods, says, "Got it," and walks out the door.

#

"Nothing adverse, then?" Takemi asks. A heart rate monitor is wrapped around Akira's arm. The pressure seems to lessen at the same pace as the sick, chalky taste in his mouth fades.

"Beyond the taste," Akira replies, over-enunciating each syllable to stretch his mouth open, hoping to force the remnants of the medicine away. "No."

"Mmmmm," is Takemi's almost lackadaisical response. She unwraps the monitor from Akira and lays it on the counter by her clipboard, which she takes up in its stead. A pen appears from her pocket, and Takemi begins scratching over the paper Akira cannot see. "And how have you been feeling otherwise?"

Akira considers before replying, "I broke up with the girl I wanted to go out with. So there's that. That sucks."

Takemi pauses in her jotting for only a moment, then says, "If you only wanted to go out with her, I don't think that would qualify as 'breaking up.'" She begins to write once more, then stops again, just another moment later. "Then again, I wouldn't put it past you to manage something like that."

"Thanks," Akira grumbles.

"I'm asking after your medical health. Not girl trouble. That's just part of being a teenager, or were you too busy stealing hearts to notice?"

"She's the one who," and Akira gestures to his face with the fingers on his hand splayed out. "That time? When Kamoshida beat the shit out of me? It's because I stopped him from going into a room with her alone. She was trying to help me. We had a rocky start and a rocky middle, but outside of the Thieves, she felt like someone I could talk to. Someone who could've been a friend. Was, actually."

"So, why'd you break up?" Takemi asks. Akira summarizes Sae Niijima. "Yeah, I suppose that'll do it."

“Hard to justify spending time with her, you know?” Akira continues. “Plus, she was spying on us. But it wasn’t bad spying, but we thought it was because we heard about it secondhand. She came clean, but by then?” Akira shrugs.

Takemi nods and takes some more notes. “I think the medicine may be having an actual effect. A loquacious one.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means you won’t shut up,” Takemi replies. She sets the clipboard down and crosses her arms. “Not the worst side effect, all things considered.” Takemi jerks her head towards the door. She doesn’t smile but doesn’t look unkind. “Come on, let’s take a walk. If I have to stay cooped up here while you talk about your girl problems, I’m liable to go insane.”

Akira does not protest but follows Takemi out into Yongen-jaya. The rain had let up shortly after his afterschool jaunt to ‘Untouchable,’ and the local residents populate the slowly drying pavement more than usual. They aimlessly move through side streets, and within a block or two Akira no longer feels like discussing Makoto. Takemi slows when they spy a bench that looks drier than the others they’ve seen and takes a seat, motioning for Akira to join her. He does and finds that the bench is dry enough not to inflict any dampness upon his clothes.

Across the street, a small commotion has gathered around a local movie theatre. Akira remembers seeing it during his initial pass through the neighborhood, but where it was shuttered before, it now appears to be undergoing a renovation. A few folks and some children mingle outside, and someone has set up a food stand, handing out skewers of something Akira can only catch a whiff of but smells meaty.

“When I asked after your mental well-being-”  Takemi starts, but Akira cuts her off.

“I know. Sojiro set up another MRI appointment for this weekend. A therapist too.”

Takemi nods. “That’s good. Have you been having any more hallucinations?”

Akira shakes his head. “They weren’t hallucinations, remember? My Persona. The Metaverse. The app.”

“Still,” Takemi says. “The last time you saw that doctor, they mentioned the sensory input, right? It’ll be good to see if that’s still an issue.” Akira just shrugs in response. “Have you managed to dig anymore into that whole Metaverse thing? Cognitive Science?”

“No,” Akira replies. “I have a computer set up now. I plan to use it to look for more information online, but I need to be careful. I’ve got someone showing me how to navigate safely, so I’m hesitant to start until I know what to do.” He leans back on the bench and watches the people across the street. One little girl, no older than two or three, is given a skewer and takes a healthy-sized bite out of the proffered food. “Honestly, if you can remember anything, that would probably be a huge help. I don’t even know where to start.”

The little girl puts her hand to her throat. Akira watches as her mouth opens and shuts, and though he is across the street, he doesn’t believe any sound emits.

The parents, both in their early thirties, glance down at the girl with matching looks of confusion, then growing alarm.

Akira opens his mouth, but Takemi is already up and moving. By the time Akira is halfway off the bench, Takemi is halfway across the road. She closes the remaining distance between herself and the family and moves behind the little girl. With strength Akira did not know she possessed, Takemi lifts the child into her arms, spins her around, and props her up on her left forearm, then brings her right arm back before slamming it down onto the girl’s back with a solid thwack Akira has no problem hearing.

Akira can just make out a small something exit the girl’s mouth and splash onto the concrete. The girl begins to wail, but Takemi calmly grips the girl beneath her armpits and hands her back to her stunned mother. The father steps up to Takemi and starts to offer what looks to Akira – based on the man’s body language – a mixture of gratitude and apology. Takemi just waves him off and starts to walk back toward Akira.

“What were we talking about?” Takemi asks.

“That was awesome,” Akira tells her.

Takemi shrugs. “I guess.”

Akira feels a bit deflated at this and checks the time on his phone. “I need to head back to Shibuya. It’s almost time for my shift.” He glances up at Takemi, who nods, and wants to say more about what the doctor just did but cannot find the words. Finally, Akira settles on, “See you,” and heads off.

#

"Hey, Haru," Akira calls, his hands above his head as he reaches for the fertilizer bag on the top shelf. "Can you roll that dolly over here?"

What follows next is a distinct stomping, coupled with the squeak of wheels. When Haru straightens the dolly, she slams the flat metal bed against the ground and punctuates it with a distinct, "Humph!"

Akira yanks the fertilizer off the shelf, turns, and finds wrath itself emanating from her eyes. The look takes him aback, and he drops the bag. It slams onto his foot. "Ah!" He yells and pulls himself out from beneath it.

"Did that hurt?" Haru asks, her voice like a still volcano before an eruption.

"Yes!" Akira groans, reaching down and rubbing the sore spot through his shoe.

"Good," Haru says.

Akira's eyes snap up to find hers. "Haru, what the hell?"

"What the hell?" Haru asks, hands on her hips. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?" She shakes her head. "Oh, I'm so mad at you I can't even think straight."

Akira glances up at Morgana, who stares back, eyes wide in confusion. "What did I do?"

"How should I know?" The cat hisses back.

"Are you serious?" Haru asks. "You're going to feign innocence?"

Akira straightens back up. "Haru, honestly. I have no idea what-"

Haru leans over until her face is inches from his own. "I'm talking about the Makoto Deception."

Akira blinks. "The Makoto Decep..." He stops talking. Recalls the awkward conversation from the other day. The questions. Haru's assertion that she was, 'asking for someone else.' "Oh, crap," Akira says.

"Yes," Haru replies.

"So you were-"

"Yes."

"And it was for-"

"Yes."

"Because-"

"Yes."

Akira stares at her. "Oh, crap," he says, again.

"What?" Morgana asks, from his perch. "What?"

"Your friends with Makoto," Akira says. She nods. "And Makoto-"

"Mako-chan told me everything," Haru states.

Akira feels his head start to swim. "Everything?"

Haru frowns. "Well, not everything. But she told me enough. After all the ridiculous dancing you did, after taking her out, you decide to stop seeing her?" Haru throws her hands in the air. "Preposterous!"

"Haru, there's-"

"Preposterous," Haru proclaims once more.

Akira hesitates another moment if only to ensure she won't blurt the word once more. "There's a bit more context I don't believe you understand."

"So I'm a fool, now?" Haru demands.

"I didn't say that. But if Makoto didn't tell you everything, then it stands to reason you don't know the full story, right?"

Haru gasps. "And now you're trying to drive a wedge between us? What is it about Makoto's happiness that you find so abhorrent, Akira?"

Akira nods and takes a few steps back. "I think I'm going to stop talking."

"Probably for the best," mutters Morgana.

Haru crosses her arms across her chest. "Do whatever you like. It's fine. After all, you don't deserve Makoto."

"Listen, Haru," Akira begs, immediately disregarding his stated strategy. "I'm willing to admit there was some misunderstanding, but-"

"Misunderstanding?" Haru blurts out. "If there was a misunderstanding, it was your fault. You're the one who got that present for her. You're the one who did all the smiley face texts, and you're the one who made her think she was special."

"She is special," Akira says, quickly. "But things got out of hand, and-"

"Please don't try and backtrack now, Akira-kun. It's unbecoming." Haru shakes her head and turns away. She glances up at Morgana. "Come to think of it, you don't deserve Mona, either. I'm taking him."

"Wait, what?" Akira asks.

"Huh?" Morgana asks.

"You heard me," Haru says. "Mona will be staying with me from now on."

"Uh," Akira replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haru, I know you're mad, but you can't just have my cat."

"I disagree," Haru retorts.

She marches up beneath where Morgana sits and raises her arms. "Come here, Mona-chan."

"What should I do?" Morgana asks.

"Well, don't go with her!" Akira replies.

Haru glares at him over her shoulder, but lowers her arms. "Fine. I suppose it'll take a bit longer for Mona-chan to realize how terrible a caregiver you are." She turns and stomps away to undertake some other task in the flower shop, leaving Akira speechless.

The rest of their time passes in awful and angry silence.

#

Once her shift ends, Haru calls Makoto. When she picks up, Haru states, "Operation Punish Akira is underway!"

"Um," Makoto answers. "I thought we agreed to call it something different."

"Did we?" Haru asks, putting a little twist to her voice. "I don't recall."

"Well, whatever," Makoto says, her voice increasing in excitement. "So, did he buy it?"

"Oh yes," Haru replies, grinning. "Akira believes I'm holding quite a grudge. Although, I suppose I am. I said a few nasty things to him." She giggles. "I even tried to kidnap his cat."

Silence from the other end. "I'm sorry?" Makoto asks.

"Something wrong?"

"Did you just say that Akira has a cat?"

Haru nods. "I did. Morgana. Mona-chan. He carries him everywhere in his bag. Did you not know that?"

Makoto says nothing for a while. Then, with an almost amused cadence, she says, "Son of a bitch." 

Notes:

UPDATE 12/20/22: Final chapters of the Madarame arc are now up. Enjoy!

Hope everyone had a great weekend! I've been rather busy these last few days, so I haven't gotten to any comments at all. Apologies. As soon as I've got the time, I'll go back and check them out! Thank you for reading and I hope to see you all on Friday!

Chapter 37: Chapter 37

5/20

Light stirs him. His eyes crawl open, and the too-familiar aches skitter through his muscles. Before he can stop himself, he mutters a short, gruff growl, and the figure alongside him stirs.

She wakes, and he watches the life snap on through her body. He feels a twang of envy until she smiles and traces a hand across his chest, trailing her fingers through the gray hair. "Good morning," she whispers.

And like that, he takes up the mask. The grin he gives her is contemplative and aloof. "Good morning, my dear," he replies.

"Ready for your big day?" She asks, yanking some of the blankets further up towards her chin.

The words, as practiced as they are, come easily to him. "What happens today is insignificant compared to the creation of art itself. All I ask of this day is that the people who arrive to partake of my work enjoy it as much as possible."

Madarame long ago mastered the empty-headed colloquialisms that artists have used for generations to give themselves an 'other-ness,' or a mentality or personality perpendicular to your average individual. None of it means anything, but he's found that ornamenting his sentences as such make many nod in appreciation.

This dumb broad is no exception.

"Wow," she says, and shakes her head. "That's just a great way of looking at it."

"It is the only way I know how to look at it," he replies.

They have sex.

Once Madarame finishes, he lays spread-eagle on the sheets, panting. His girlfriend goes on and on about how good he is, and he smiles as if he is happy to hear such flattery. She's lying, of course. Tell enough lies in your life, and you know when someone's feeding you bullshit.

She continues to pontificate about his skills at lovemaking, and he uses the time to take stock. She's still young. A young art student, as a matter of fact. She's got no talent to speak of, so making her an apprentice was out of the question, but her body was divine, and she knew enough - academically, anyway - about art to hold a conversation.

Still, he'd noticed her drinking a lot recently. To preserve his image, he didn't take her to public outings, but instead, put her up in this ritzy loft in Shibuya. Such prime real estate, coupled with the gifts he lavishes, is usually enough to keep the females in his life content and reticent. But drinking can make one say anything. And as the adage goes, 'Loose lips sink ships.'

Soon - sooner than he'd like - he may have to make a phone call.

Madarame lifts himself out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. It will be a hot day. He can feel it, even in the air-conditioned apartment. The thought of wearing those idiotic robes grates at him, but what can he do? The fans of Madarame expect things of Madarame. He's gotten this far by giving people exactly what they want.

He showers and eats a light breakfast his girlfriend has prepared for them. He notices her eyes linger on the half-empty six-pack of beers in the fridge, when she opens it to get at the juice.

She'll be hammered by noon.

One phone call. That's all it will take.

He prepares himself for the day. Kisses her goodbye. She flatters him a bit, and then he extricates himself.

Madarame's phone rings in the elevator. He answers it. "Yusuke, my boy. Good morning."

"Good morning, Sensei. How did your meditations go?"

"Very well," Madarame says. "This mountain air always manages to revitalize these old bones of mine."

"The monastery was agreeable, then?"

Madarame thinks of the young woman writhing atop him. "Very agreeable," he says, then chuckles pleasantly to cover up the lilt he'd stupidly allowed into his voice.

"Wonderful," Yusuke says. He's never been one to doubt. "I wanted to remind you that I'll leave school early to help prepare the exhibit. What time will you be arriving?"

The elevator reaches the bottom floor. "I should be arriving in Tokyo in a few hours," Madarame says, and heads for the busy streets of early-morning Shibuya. "Say, around four."

"Excellent. I shall see you there, Sensei."

"Very good, my boy. Very good."

They exchange a few more pleasantries, and Madarame hangs up. He has plenty of time. He exits the building, and his driver opens the limo door. Madarame slides in.

It is time to make his rounds. He gives the address of their first stop.

#

Madarame finishes his rounds and arrives at the exhibit site shy of four o'clock. When he enters, a brief smattering of applause breaks out at the hands of the gallery's staff. He nods, bows, and smiles cheerfully, the very picture of graceful acceptance. It is a waltz he's danced many times.

Yusuke cuts his way through the small crowd, and waves. "Good afternoon, Sensei."

Madarame glances around the gallery, and takes in the dozens of his paintings dotting the walls. On the far wall sits the exhibit's masterpiece. 'Refractions at Dusk' is a marvelous piece detailing a forest on the peak of nighttime, dotted with precise strokes of red. It evokes both the tranquility and ferocity of the wild. At least, that's what he'll tell people. "Thank you for helping me put this together, Yusuke."

Yusuke shakes his head. "I did very little. I merely suggested to the gallery workers where to place the pieces for them to complement one another to their fullest potential." Based on the dirty looks those staffers were giving Yusuke, he probably did more than 'suggest.' Madarame chuckles and claps Yusuke on the shoulder. This one was his greatest. All the others had come with their baggage, self-serving dreams, and ambitions. Yusuke was pure enough to want to do art for art's sake. He sought no reimbursement or recognition. Privately, Madarame knew those desires plagued him as much as anyone else, but Yusuke still believed in 'art in its purest form,' which was just some crap Madarame had made up to keep him on a short leash.

Yusuke pulls out his phone and frowns. "Those students I told you about should be arriving soon, Sensei. As I said, Ann was very much looking forward to meeting you."

Madarame smirks. "And I would hate to disappoint, my boy. Once they arrive, please, show them to me."

Yusuke agrees to do so, and Madarame excuses himself. He has a few more tasks to complete before he needs to greet the public. He retreats to an upstairs office where he's sure he can be alone. One of the perks of being famous is that you can include odd requests in your negotiations, and no one will bat an eyelash. He takes out his phone and proceeds to call his publicist. It's a clear and concise conversation. Madarame will give an interview with a prolific art magazine in the next few weeks. Beyond that, he's got little to do in the way of marketing.

He smiles when he hangs up the call. This is something at which he's always been excellent. Even in his youth, when he was coming up, he took care to never over-expose himself. In today's world, everyone smears themselves across every platform they can manage. Madarame limits his involvement to just a few pieces a year. Chum for the sharks. It keeps him interesting, keeps him mysterious, and aloof. It makes him seem uninterested in fame and therefore results in more fame. This, in itself, is an art form.

His phone rings. It is an unlisted number. He answers. "Hello?"

The voice on the other side is unrefined and bored. "Madarame-sama, I'm calling on behalf of your third favorite customer."

Madarame frowns. "I-I see."

"We're thinking of makin' another donation. Understand?"

He nods, though no one is around to see it. "I do. The Foundation will be most pleased."

"Glad to hear it!" The voice says. "So, we'll be in touch about the amount. But expect it to be sizeable."

"That's, uh, fantastic."

"Good. Good. And now, don't take offense, but I've been instructed to request the, uh, reiteration of your understanding."

Madarame's eyes narrow. "Our relationship has always been mutually beneficial, and there's never been a complication. So, yes, I understand."

"Cool," the voice replies. "Because, let me tell ya, if there's one thing my boss hates, it's a misunderstanding."

"And tell him I don't appreciate his grandstanding," Madarame growls.

Silence on the other end. Then, the voice asks, "Are you sure you want me to repeat that to him?"

Madarame sighs. "No. No, thank you."

"Okay, then."

The line goes dead.

Madarame lowers the phone and hisses, "Fucking-" before he stops himself. He takes a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to lose his composure. People would be arriving downstairs.

He shuts his eyes and reminds himself of how hard he has worked to get where he is. He will not throw it all away for nothing.

Then, after plastering a cheerful look onto his face, he leaves the room.

#

He decides, right away, to sleep with Ann Takamaki. The blonde hair. The curves of her body. The shape of her face. Even her voice. It all delights and inspires.

Yusuke introduces two boys who had accompanied her, but Madarame offers them only vague pleasantries before returning his attention to the girl.

A model? That's perfect.

The younger, the stupider. The stupider, the easier. Madarame can tell, by the way she talks and smiles and stares, that she's got little going on behind her eyes, but so much the better.

"Yusuke tells me that you find 'Sayuri' to be particularly enchanting," Madarame says to her.

"Totally," she replies, nodding, eyes wide. Another pretty young thing taken in by my fame. It still tickles Madarame to know his presence can provoke such a reaction. He's no fool. He knows they are attracted to his money. But the only thing wrong with a gold digger is if you don't know they're a gold digger.

"It's a shame," he says, snatching a flute of champagne off a passing server, "that you cannot see it in person."

Her face falls. "I know. I can't believe someone would be horrible enough to steal it."

An idea begins to circulate in his mind. I wonder if she wouldn't like a 'private viewing' of the recently recovered 'Sayuri.' It was certainly within his power to make it happen, but he'd have to get her to shut up about it afterward. Well, he could work out the details later.

He goes on about the awful loss of 'Sayuri' for an appropriate length, then switches the topic back to her. "Would you be interested in doing more modeling work, in an artistic sense?" He asks.

"I sure would," Ann replies, and smiles at Yusuke. "He doesn't think so, but Yusuke's painting of me was fantastic."

Madarame laughs as Yusuke's eyes fall toward the floor. From the corner of his eyes, he notices the two young boys shifting further away. Glad to know some kids can take a hint. “Forgive my apprentice. He can take his art so seriously." He casts a glance at Yusuke. "My boy, would you mind checking with the staff and seeing if they need anything more of me?" It is a weak request, but one Madarame knows Yusuke will strive his utmost to fulfill.

Yusuke nods. "Of course, Sensei."

When the boy leaves, Madarame turns back to Ann and notices the small smile on her face. Oh ho. What's this?

"I'd definitely be interested in modeling for you. Is there a place nearby where we could talk more about it?" She finishes this by flicking her fingers through her blonde hair.

Someone's certainly more forward when no one's around. Madarame smiles. "Of course." He snatches another two flutes of champagne from a nearby server. "There's an office upstairs where our privacy is assured."

"That's great," she says, and hungrily eyes the drink in his hand.

"Come," Madarame says, and nods towards the stairwell. Ann glances around, conspiratorially, then follows. He walks ahead of her but keeps his body at an angle, so he watches as she takes out her phone – a rather old-looking one – to send a quick text. "There's nothing to worry about," he says, in his calmest voice. "All we will be discussing is a business proposition."

"I know," she replies, and winks up at him. Madarame suppresses the urge to swallow.

He leads her back to the office, and gestures toward one of the chairs. She sits, and he settles himself across from her, and continues to sip at the champagne. "So, tell me, would you seriously consider modeling for me, back at my atelier? I'm sure it would do wonders for your career."

"Your atelier?" Ann asks. She starts to bring the champagne to her lips, then stops. "What's that?"

Madarame grins. "Little more than a shack, I'm afraid. A place where I partake of simple things. I find that it helps me find my muse all the more."

"Cool," Ann says, then nods. She reaches one hand down and slides it into her pocket. "I'd totally be willing to model for you."

"Wonderful."

"I just think," Ann continues. "That your art is, like, so amazing. How do you even come up with it all?"

Madarame runs his eyes up and down her body. "Inspiration can come from anywhere, and-"

Something vibrates, and Ann's eyes widen. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's my phone." She pulls it from her pocket, and her eyes widen even more. "Oh, no."

"Something wrong?" Madarame asks.

"It's... about my friend," Ann says, and puts it to her ear. "Hello?" A slight pause follows, and then she says, "Oh my god. I'm on my way." She hangs up. "I'm sorry," she says, bowing her head repeatedly as she straightens. "But I have to go." Then, she spins and marches towards the door. "I'm sorry. I'm definitely interested in modeling for you, but I've got to get going."

"It's quite alright," Madarame says, and stands. "My people will be in contact with your people." Damn.

"Great, thanks!" Ann says, opens the door, and steps out.

Madarame remains in the office for a short time after the door closes.

#

When Ann emerges at the top of the gallery's stairwell, Akira breathes a sigh of relief and hangs up the burner phone. Ann sees him and hangs hers up as well.

"You okay?" He asks her, when she walks up to him.

She grimaces. "That old perv makes my skin crawl. Did we get it?"

"Ohya confirmed it," Akira says, and pats the pocket with the burner. He smiles at her. "Good job, Ann."

Ann blushes a bit, stares at him, and says, "Thanks."

Akira turns, and together they head back into the gallery. "Sure."

They find Ryuji amid a conversation with Yusuke. It does not appear to be going well. "What, exactly, is your implication?" Yusuke asks, an edge to his voice.

"Nothin'," Ryuji says, with a shrug. "I'm just wondering if you ever help Madarame with his paintings, that's all. You're his apprentice, right?"

Yusuke glowers at him. "That..."

Akira frowns. It looks as though Ryuji is getting somewhere, but they must leave as soon as possible.

"Ryuji," Ann says, walking up to the two boys. "We need to go. It's Shiho."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "For real?" He asks, then nods. "Right. Later, Yusuke. No offense meant, dude."

"Oh my," Yusuke says, as the three turn from him. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Ann replies. "I'll text you later about it."

Yusuke nods. "Very well."

"You've got his number?" Ryuji asks, as they leave.

"Duh," Ann replies, then smirks at him. "What, are you jealous?"

Ryuji reddens. "N-no!"

They speed their way to the entrance, push outside, and head down the street toward the station.

"So, are we good?" Ryuji asks.

"Yeah," Morgana echoes, popping his head out of Akira's bag. "If Lady Ann had spent one more second in that room with that old bastard, I was gonna break the door down!"

"Seriously," Ryuji mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I still don't think that plan was a good one."

Ann shakes her head, and holds up an index finger. "All guys, especially old guys, want to believe one thing more than anything else. That younger girls want to sleep with them."

Akira nods, and keeps his mouth shut. Let her have this. As soon as Ryuji and Akira had left her with Madarame, Akira had dialed Ohya on his burner. He stayed with her, on the line, until she confirmed the GPS hack had worked.

"I've got it!" She'd said. "Not bad, kid-" But Akira had hung up the phone and dialed Ann's burner. It had been risky, no doubt. Akira would've preferred to wait until Madarame had gone to the bathroom or something, but they couldn't guarantee he would be alone.

But since Ohya had confirmed that the device wouldn't hack a phone that didn't have GPS, they could keep their burners on while hacking Madarame's phone, provided there were no other phones with GPS in the vicinity. And Ann had had the – as she'd put it – perfect way of getting Madarame alone.

"We've mirrored the GPS on Madarame's phone," Akira says. "We'll be able to see where he's been and where he's going from now on."

Ryuji and Morgana sigh. "Nice work, Ann," Ryuji says.

Morgana nods. "Agreed. Lady Ann, you're a credit to the Phantom Thieves."

Ann rolls her eyes. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery." She looks at Ryuji. "Did you get anything out of Yusuke?"

Ryuji shrugs. "I dunno. He kept staring at this one painting, so I went up to him and asked him about it. I didn't really get it. It mostly just had some trees covered with red splotches."

"Cheery," Akira mutters.

Ryuji chuckles. "Tell me about it. Dude was staring at it like crazy. I asked him some stuff about helping out Madarame with painting, and he got all defensive."

"Do you think he painted that piece?" Ann asks.

"I don't know," Ryuji replies. "He never came out and said it, but he was sure acting weird about it. But here's something I wanted to ask you guys. You know how there were, like, twenty or thirty paintings in there?"

"Yeah," Akira and Ann say.

"Well, how long does it take to finish a painting? Because if Madarame really is plagiarizing Yusuke, did Yusuke paint all of them? Feels like that would take a long ass time."

Akira frowns. "I was wondering about that too."

"Well, maybe," Ann says, and pulls the small device from her pocket. "This will give us the answer. Plus, Madarame invited me to model at his atelier."

"His atelier?" Akira asks.

She nods. "He says it's where he 'finds his muse' or something, but apparently, it's little more than a shack."

"Hey," Ryuji says, snapping his fingers. "Yusuke said something about this ateli-thing. He says he lives there."

The Thieves regard one another in silence. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Morgana asks.

"Palace?" Ann inquires.

"Could be," Akira replies. "If we find out where it is, you could pop inside and fill us in on the details."

"Right," Morgana says, face looking a bit drawn. "Again, though. I don't think we should rely on my ability to do that."

"We can do both, can't we?" Ryuji asks, shrugging. "We've got the data from the GPS, and we've got the Morgana option. Even if this atelleyway comes-"

"Atelier," Ann mutters, rolling her eyes.

"-up a bust, we can still use the phone stuff," Ryuji finishes.

"I need to meet with Ohya," Akira says. "I'll see what I can get from her." He turns to regard Ann. "Do you think you could get your agent to at least ask where Madarame's atelier is?"

Ann nods as Ryuji says, "Couldn't we just ask Yusuke? He lives there."

"We should try to draw as little attention as possible," Morgana says. "Ann's performance just now gives us a bit of an in."

"We can ask Yusuke as a last resort," Akira says. "But hopefully, we won't have to be obvious about it." Akira pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. "Speaking of, I need to get going to Shinjuku. Ohya's meeting me soon. I'll let you all know how that goes."

He begins to head off, and Morgana waves goodbye to Ann, insisting he is not bidding Ryuji farewell. The two blondes raise their hands in salutes before Akira and Morgana turn the corner.

#

Akira steps into Crossroad, and the low music spreads over him in a warm wave. He begins to slide past the occupied tables towards the bar when Ohya's voice rings out, "Hey there!" She sits at the same spot as before, with a short glass in hand and a smile on her face. To Akira's shock, she appears the wear the same clothes she wore on Monday.

He makes his way over and plants himself onto the stool next to her. Ohya takes another sip of the dark brown liquid before she runs her eyes up and down the length of him. "Well, look at you. Who'd have thought you'd pull it off?"

"You're sure you got it?" Akira asks.

"Well," Ohya replies. "Last I checked, the GPS you mirrored was still in the gallery. But, I checked its history, and I'm pretty sure we've got our man."

Akira lets out a sigh of relief. "Great." Then he looks at her, looks at the bar top, looks down at her bag. "Can I, uh, see it?"

Ohya cocks a brow at him. "See it? As in the GPS?" He nods. "Why do you need to see it?"

He frowns and whispers, "The Phantom Thieves will need that information."

Ohya sets her drink down and taps the side of the glass with her finger. "The Phantom Thieves, huh?" She turns back to him and stares at him, suddenly seeming much less drunk. "You know, I checked out that PhanSite. You were right. It's all private now. No one can see the requests being made."

Akira leans forward. "Just like I said it would."

"So then, tell me. Why do the Phantom Thieves want to 'steal Madarame's heart,' or whatever it is they're supposed to be able to do?" Akira casts his gaze around the room, and Ohya laughs. "Kid, I know every face in this bar. Believe me, none of them are listening to you right now. C'mon, spill it."

"Well, you know, don't you?" Akira asks. "They got your name from Nakanohara. Plagiarism. Madarame is stealing the art from his apprentices."

"Uh-huh, and have you got any proof of that?"

"Huh?"

"Proof?" Ohya drawls. "You know, the thing you traditionally need to have before you make an accusation?"

"Nakanohara said-"

"Nakanohara is a failed artist living in an apartment that is actually shittier than mine. He's a low-level clerk and has no friends or social life. His claim that his former mentor stole all his work is just a bid for attention and a last gasp for fame."

Akira's eyes widen. "But, you-"

"That," Ohya cuts him off. "Is what Madarame will say. It's what he'll say about all his former apprentices. It's a classic, he-said, he-said, and the 'he' with the most money, fame, and goodwill will always win out."

"Then-" Akira starts, but again Ohya slices her way in.

Her words come faster. "No, no, no. What we need is an accusation and proof from a current apprentice. One that has everything to lose. 'Why,' people will ask, 'would a promising young artist hamstring his own career? Might there be some truth to this?' That's what we need."

"So, a current apprentice? You mean, Yusuke Kitagawa?"

Ohya lifts her drink and takes another sip. "He's one option."

"What'd you mean, 'one option?'"

Ohya glances down at his feet, then smiles. "You got a good pair of walking sneakers? Tokyo's streets can wreak havoc on a nice pair of loafers like those."

Akira shrugs. "I've got some running shoes," he replies. "Why?"

"Tomorrow," Ohya replies, and she reaches out with her free hand and pats him on the shoulder. "You and I are going for a walk." 

#

Ohya stumbles out of the bar, citing the need for, “Good rest and all that shit,” and leaves Akira alone on his stool.

When Ohya turns the corner of the bar and vanishes from sight, Akira hears a soft clunk behind him, and turns to find Lala Escargot standing before him, hands on her hips, and a fresh ‘Jack and Coke without the Jack,’ set on the counter.

“Well?” She asks.

“Well, what?” Akira replies.

“Well, everything!” The woman retorts. “What did Ohya ask you to do this time?” Akira opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, Lala rambles on. “You know, I warned you about that girl. If she stopped dressing like it’s 1995, she would turn a lot more heads than she does. You seem like the kind of guy who can see past all that. So, if you think you’re falling for her, don’t.”

Akira blinks, and almost spits out the small sip he’s taken of his drink. “I’m not falling for her!”

Lala throws back her head and laughs. “Oh, relax sweetie. I’m only teasing.” She shakes her head. “I still got it. But seriously, watch out for her. When she works her way up to it, she finds it all too easy to jump headfirst into the deep end. I wouldn’t follow if I were you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Akira replies.

Lala doesn’t move, save to flamboyantly wave out a relatively pristine-looking rag, slam it down on the counter, and begin to wipe up spots that aren’t there. “So, young man, the last time you were here, you seemed all out of sorts in a whole manner of fields that had very little to do with Ohya. Well?”

Akira sighs. “Well, what?”

Lala scowls. “I just gave you a perfect segue, and you ‘Well, what’ me? Don’t make me come around to that side and smack you on your head, Kurusu. I told you before, Lala Escargot will listen to your problems. So, shoot.”

 Akira shrugs and picks up his drink. He’s about to take a sip, but he pauses and regards the woman again. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Let’s see. You’re young. You’re male, or so I presume. My guess is that it’s a girl problem.”

Akira raises his glass. “There you go, then. You nailed it.”

“You fighting with the girl of your dreams?”

“Fighting with a couple of girls, actually.”

“A couple?” Lala asks, mouth wide. She brings a hand up to rest on her cheek. “Well. Kurusu, aren’t you the tomcat?”

“It’s not like that.”

“‘It’s not like that,’” Lala mouths. “Whatever you say.”

“The girl I like interrogated my friend’s best friend at the hospital, which triggered a re-traumatization.” Akira frowns. Is that even a word? He regards his drink once more. Maybe there was alcohol in it?

Lala blinks. “Oh, my. That’s… not good.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Wait, so your friend’s best friend, is currently in the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“And this girl you like went that and did what, exactly?”

“That’s a little complicated,” Akira replies. And I just went through all of this with Takemi yesterday. He didn’t feel like rehashing everything all over again. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.” Akira smiles. “Oh hey, I could tell you about my…” He pauses a moment to think. “Second? Yeah, second day in the city. I was in a train crash caused by those mental shutdowns. That’s something juicy.”

“Dear Lord,” Lala mutters, this time with real shock on her face. “Are you okay? You weren’t too badly hurt, I hope?”

“Nope. I wasn’t on the train, just at the station. I got checked up afterward and everything. Still, it was pretty scary. Almost died.”

Lala nods. “Go on.”

Akira shrugs. “It’s just, it feels so anticlimactic. One minute I was standing there, the train crashed into the station, and the place became hell, but I don’t even really remember it that well. I was so shaken up that I just… well, left. At the time, I got checked by the rescue medics, but then I just went to my new home. Passed out later, but at the time, I just left.” Then there was the guy who died in front of me. Akira bites back a laugh. This isn’t funny. None of this is supposed to be funny. So why is he trying hard not to giggle?

“And you’re not afraid of the trains or anything?” Lala asks.

“Huh?”

Lala shrugs this time. “I just think it’s admirable that you’re able to go about your day, despite having witnessed something so horrific. Not everyone could do that.”

Yeah, but what choice do I have? Akira wonders.

Notes:

Hey gang, happy Friday! Hope you enjoyed this chapter of Crimson. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to be able to post next week. A number of things just came up, and I've got to handle them all soon, which means I can't give this fic the attention it deserves.

Never fear though, I will be back the week of the 13th with more Crimson. We get to meet Yusuke!

Thank you all for your understanding, and I hope to see you back here soon! As always, thank you very much for reading Crimson!

Chapter 38: Chapter 38

5/21

Akira exits Shujin and finds a familiar retro-clad woman at the base of the steps. When she spies him, Ohya lifts her hand into an exaggerated wave and cries out, "Hey, cuz!"

The eyes of the surrounding students snap to him, and, scowling, Akira descends to the street. "Was that really necessary?" He asks, and nods towards the alley.

"I wanted to make sure you saw me."

Akira rolls his eyes. "You're hard to miss."

"Awww, thanks."

Wasn't a compliment, Akira thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Well, ready to hit the bricks?" Ohya asks.

"I don't know what that means."

Ohya stomps her foot on the concrete. "Hit the bricks. With your feet? As in, walking?"

"Oh, yeah." Akira sets his bag on the ground, kneels, and zips it open. He pulls out his running shoes and sets about putting them on. He'd left Morgana at home to make room for the shoes, with instructions to take the day off. The cat had been disappointed not to be part of the operation, but Akira pointed out that depending on the information gathered today, Morgana might have plenty to do later.

"So, what's the plan?" Akira asks, as he ties his laces.

Ohya pulls her phone from her pocket and taps it. "I took a look at the GPS data you captured. A lot of it was places you'd figure he'd visit. Art galleries. Restaurants. A bunch of other businesses. People go to a lot more places than they realize."

"Are we going to look into them all?" Akira asks.

Ohya frowns. "Obviously not. We can rule all those places out as points of interest. But." She turns the phone around so he can see it. Akira sees an aerial map of Tokyo with several red pins marked. All of them were a good distance away from one another. "These are locations Madarame visits regularly. And get this, they're all residences."

"Is that weird?" Akira asks. "I mean, he's famous, right? He's probably got a few houses." One of these must be the atelier.

Ohya shakes her head. "Normally, I'd agree with you, and Madarame frequents one ritzy apartment complex almost weekly. But these are different." She points out four of the pins. "These are all in run-down neighborhoods. Dirt cheap. I dug a little deeper, and found that a different property management company owns each. And I couldn't find anything on those. No contact number. Not even an address." She grins. "Which means?"

Akira looks up at her. "You're asking me?"

Ohya groans. "Come on Kurusu, use your head! Madarame frequents several run-down properties, and each is owned by a separate management company that has no presence anywhere?" She spreads her hands wide, but when he doesn't answer, she says, "The companies are dummies! Set up by Madarame to hide that he owns those buildings!"

"Oh," Akira says. "Are you sure?"

"No, of course I'm not sure. If I were sure of everything, I wouldn't have to investigate anything, would I?"

Akira frowns, and takes a minute to think. "Wait," he says. "That doesn't make sense. Why would Madarame, a world-famous artist, hide the fact that he owns those? Why would a famous artist need beat-up buildings anyway?"

"Exactly!" Ohya shouts, pumping a fist into the air. "That's the exact question! Why would he need those buildings? Why would he hide them? That's what we're going to try and find out."

"You know, he did mention something about an atelier yesterday," Akira says, in a voice mixed to sound as if he had only just remembered. "He told my friend about it. Said it was little more than a shack."

"Ah," Ohya says, nodding. She points to the map. "Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s one of these. Unless he was stringing your friend along."

Akira shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, don’t worry. We’re gonna visit all of these. Maybe not today, but soon. See, I’ve got a theory.”

"What's your theory?" Akira asks.

Ohya shakes her head. "Sorry, but I don't like to disclose those. I'd rather not inform any budding ideas in that noggin' of yours. First, we'll make the rounds. Then, you'll tell me what you think is going on."

Akira rolls his shoulders and adjusts his bag, now holding his regular loafers. "Okay, let's get going."

Ohya stares at him. "Uh, aren't you going to change your clothes too?"

Akira looks down at his uniform. "Why?"

Ohya droops her head forward. "Kurusu, please don't tell me you plan to spy on these buildings in your school uniform."

Akira feels his cheeks redden. He hadn't even thought of that. "I can buy a shirt and some pants on the way."

"Yeah," Ohya says, and turns down the alley. "Probably a good idea. Come on."

#

They swing through Harajuku, and Akira finds himself an overpriced t-shirt and a pair of slacks. He changes in a cafe's bathroom, and shoves his uniform into his bag. When he exits, he finds Ohya seated at one of the tables, a cup of coffee and a small pastry set before her. "First place is around the corner," she says, as she nibbles on it. "It's gonna be a long afternoon-slash-evening. Better to eat up now."

"Shouldn't we get these to go?" Akira asks, taking the seat across from her. "That way we can scope out the place and eat simultaneously."

Ohya rolls her eyes. "You're obviously not from Tokyo."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because if you were, you'd know how freakin' hard it is to find a public trashcan on the street. Nope. We eat here. Then, we don't have to worry about lugging our trash everywhere."

Akira shrugs and nods, and when the waitress returns, he orders the same as Ohya.

"So," she says, breaking a piece off her food, and dipping it in the coffee. "What brings a kid like you to Tokyo?"

"Nothing special."

"Uh-huh," Ohya replies, popping the soaking bit into her mouth. She makes a face. "Ugh, that wasn't a good idea."

The waitress returns a moment later with Akira's order. She sets it in front of him, thanks him, and bows before she scurries off elsewhere. Akira takes a sip of the coffee. It's his turn to make a face.

"Not a fan?" Ohya asks.

"Nope," he replies, shaking his head.

She leans back in her chair and smiles. "Okay, so 'nothing special' brought you to the city. How'd you get involved with the Phantom Thieves?"

Akira's eyes dart to the other tables, but the only other customers are two men dressed in business suits sitting by the door, talking with exaggerated hand gestures. "I'm not involved with the Phantom Thieves," Akira says. "I told you, I just know their website's admin."

"That I believe," Ohya replies, nodding. "But I find it strange that this secret group of vigilantes would ask a high school student for help."

"You're asking me for help."

Ohya throws back her head and laughs. "Shit, kid. You've got me there." She takes another sip of her coffee. "Besides, the Phantom Thieves are probably your friends or something."

"What would make you say that?"

"Because their first target was a mean gym teacher."

Akira's eyes narrow. "He was a little bit more than 'mean.' He was a rapist, and he abused-"

"Alright, alright," Ohya replies, patting the air. "No need to get all touchy about it. I read the articles that covered Kamoshida. Still, don't you think that says something about the Phantom Thieves? That their super-awesome activities would kick off by getting a gym teacher to confess to his crimes? And now they're going after Madarame?" She shrugs. "It's interesting, is all."

"If you say so."

"I do," Ohya replies. "Tell me, how do you think the Phantom Thieves change hearts?"

Akira looks her in the eyes. "How would I know?"

Ohya's smirk tightens. "I didn't ask how you would know. I asked what you thought. How do you think they do it?"

Akira smiles. "Maybe they use an app? There's one for everything these days."

Ohya chuckles. "True. But that would be a little anti-climactic, don't you think? Press a button and change a heart? It's gotta be something else."

Akira bites off a piece of his pastry to buy more time. "All I know is, a Request goes up on the website, and a few days later, the person’s heart changes."

Ohya's eyes glaze over, and she frowns. "Maybe it's all just folie a deux."

"Folie a what?"

"Madness shared by two. It's French, I think. Yeah, pretty sure it's French. It's a psychological thing, where delusional beliefs are passed from one person to another, like a virus. Well, maybe not like a virus, but it works as a metaphor."

"And you think that's what the Phantom Thieves are doing?"

Ohya shakes her head. "I doubt it. But I wouldn't be all that surprised if the belief that the Phantom Thieves could change hearts influences many people to have a change of heart. Who knows? Maybe the stress of his actions was eating away at Kamoshida, and the Calling Card was the straw that broke the camel's back. Maybe all the Phantom Thieves did was make him aware that they knew about his... activities. And that was enough to trigger some break in him."

Akira scoffs. "Yeah, right."

Ohya glares across the table at him. "How would you know?"

Akira sighs. "Look, aren't we supposed to be looking into Madarame? We ate our food and had our terrible coffee. Shouldn't we get going now?"

Ohya nods. "Good point." She stands. "You'll cover the bill, right?"

"Huh?" Akira asks.

"What?" She replies, grinning. "It's polite."

#

The building has seen better days. It isn't poorly designed or collapsing on itself. Instead, it just looks tired, like an elder who has seen too much and wants to shut their eyes and sleep forever.

Geez, Akira thinks, and shakes his head. I hang out with an artist once I start getting all allegorical. That's a word, right?

PROBABLY, Arsene thunders in his head.

It's an old, two-story domicile. But its wooden walls are patchy with white, and something like mold clings to the shutters. The windows are dusty but not filthy, and the front door's forest green paint chips away. Sandwiched, as it is, between two larger buildings, the place seems abandoned, but a faint light from inside indicates someone is home.

"This whole area," Ohya says, "will be under redevelopment in a few years. The real estate snatch and grab has already begun. It'll be a few months before this place becomes a prime target. If Madarame does own it, he'll probably get a hefty sum if he sells it. Then again, he's freaking rich, so selling off this place might not mean much to him."

They are across the street, ducked into a smaller alley that gives them a good view of the front of the house. They've been standing there, staring at it, for twenty-five minutes. "Um," Akira finally asks, "are we going to do anything?"

"Patience, kid," Ohya replies. "That's the name of the game."

As she finishes her sentence, the front door opens. A middle-aged woman steps out. Akira can't tell much about her from this distance, but she looks a bit haggard. She glances around as if afraid of being spotted, and her posture folds in on itself as she shuts the door and locks it.

Ohya lifts her camera and takes a series of photos. "Okay, and who might you be?" She frowns. "Too old to be a girlfriend. Maybe a relative? A nutjob niece or something?" She shakes her head. "No. In the art world, having a crazy relative is a good thing."

"Where do you think she's going?" Akira asks, as the woman skitters down the street, head twisting around as if searching for them.

"No clue," Ohya replies. Once the woman turns the corner, she lowers her camera and turns to Kurusu. "Shall we go take a look?"

"What if there's someone in the house?"

"Carpe diem, kid! Seize the day!"

"I thought you said, 'Patience was the name of the game?'"

"Are we gonna stand here and bicker, or are we going to take a peek inside that house?" Ohya asks, and starts to jog across the street.

Akira follows her.

Ohya approaches one of the windows as if she belongs there, and puts her face up to the glass. Then recoils, coughing. "Ah! Dust! Gross." She takes the hem of her shirt, lifts it, and rubs it across the glass, then reassumes her former position. Akira comes to her side and sneaks a peek as well.

The little they can see inside reveals a small room with a torn-up couch, and broken chair in the corner. A rug is draped across the floor, but its edges are so frayed Akira can't tell if the thing was meant to be bigger. "Looks like a dump," Akira mumbles.

"Looks like my apartment," Ohya mutters.

Before Akira can reply, a young boy walks into the room, a book under his arm. Both Ohya and Akira duck down, then slowly rise back up. The boy hasn't noticed them and has plopped himself down on the couch, and opened the book. Akira can't tell what he's reading, but he's not as interested in the book as the boy.

The kid has a mop of unkempt dark hair on his head. His light blue shirt hangs off his frame like a second skin. The boy is thin from what little Akira can see of his actual body. Upsettingly thin. "Who is this kid?" Akira asks. "Madarame's son?"

Ohya's eyes narrow. "I don't think so." She backs away from the window and walks over to the door.

"What're you doing?" Akira asks, and to his horror, Ohya rings the bell. They hear an awful metallic screeching from inside, then silence. She waits a few seconds, then presses the doorbell again.

A moment later, from inside, comes a muffled, "Who are you?" The voice is small and shaky.

"Hey," Ohya calls.

As she's about to continue, the boy inside shouts, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, or let them inside!"

"We're not strangers," Ohya says. "Madarame-sama sent us to check on you."

A pause. Then, "Sensei?"

“Yep," Ohya replies, putting as much warmth in her voice as possible. "So, could you let us inside?"

"Seriously?" Akira whispers, as he hears the lock disengage.

"What?" Ohya replies, frowning. "It's not like we're gonna hurt the kid or anything."

The door opens and the little boy stands there, staring up at them. "Is everything okay? Sensei isn't sick again, is he?"

"Sick?" Ohya asks.

The kid nods. "He gets sick a lot. That's why he has to go to the mountain retreat for his health stuff. He just got back the other day!"

"Uh," Akira says, looking over at Ohya. "Madarame-sama is fine. He just wanted us to come and check on you."

The kid frowns. "Why didn't he come himself?"

"Well," Ohya puts in. "You know, he's got the exhibit."

His face brightens. "Is Sensei happy with it?"

"With what?" Ohya asks.

The kid stamps his foot. "'Mucus!' The piece I helped him create. Is he happy with it?"

"You created a piece of art with Madarame-sama?" Ohya asks.

"And you named it, 'Mucus?'" Akira whispers, wearing a frown. Ohya jabs him in the shoulder with her elbow.

"Of course I did," the kid says. "That's why you're here, right? To see the other one."

Akira and Ohya look at each other. "Yes," they both say.

"Kumi-chan is out," the boy says, but beckons them inside. "She went to get tonight's dinner. She should be back soon."

Akira and Ohya follow the kid inside.

The place smells awful. It's one of those stenches that isn't immediately apparent. It somehow blends in with the background, but once you search for it, you find it, and it twists its way into Akira's nostrils.

Ohya makes a face. "How long have you been here, young man?"

"Hmm?" The kid asks, apparently unperturbed by the stench and the general disrepair of the place. "I've only been here about six months. I was in the other place before that."

"The other place?" Ohya asks.

The boy nods. He turns into a separate room ahead of them. "It was in Shinjuku. Down the block from the Samurai Museum! Kumi-chan used to take me sometimes."

Ohya doesn't say anything, but grabs Akira by the shoulder, then points to her phone. On Madarame's GPS is a red pin in the Shinjuku section of Tokyo. Akira nods.

They follow the boy into the room, and stop.

On a massive easel in the center of the room is an elaborate sketch of what might be a landscape. Only the landscape is more of a hellscape. The trees are like matchsticks, their tops burn, which light the skies above a broken city in the distance. A lake of what looks like mud bubbles in the foreground.

Akira takes a step back. Relax. It's just a painting. Ohya looks just as dumbfounded. "This is... uh-"

"I call it, 'Visions of Hell,'" the boy says as if discussing the weather.

Sudden and painful, a voice erupts from behind Akira in a wave. Ohya, her attention on the boy, does not notice the jerky motion Akira exorcises from his limbs as he spins about to face – what he can only assume – is someone who has caught them. His head hurts. His ears ring.

There is no one behind them. No one physical as when Akira squints his eyes at the faint mass of shapes from the other room, his brain could almost swear it registers something, but what that thing is, is quickly snatched away and blotted into the detritus of the room. A scuffed table. A threadbare chair. Nothing else. Akira is afraid to take his eyes from the room, terrified to glance away from that spot, sure he will be attacked if he diverts his attention.

"You painted this?" Ohya asks.

The boy nods. "Of course. Sensei's helping me. Once it's finished, he'll show it to all his art friends. I bet he'll even let me come to the atelier after that!"

The word brings Akira back to the real world. Whatever sensation or encounter he has experienced recedes from him as quickly as it came upon him. "So,” Akira says, turning back to the two, and only feeling the slightest relief that he remains unmolested. “You painted this whole thing?"

The kid nods, then looks panicked. "Is he mad because it's not done yet? Oh, please! Tell him not to be upset. It'll be done soon, I promise."

Ohya snaps a picture of the painting with her camera. "Don't worry, he's not mad at you," she says. She looks over at Akira. "We should probably get going. Kumi-chan will be back any minute, and I'm sure she'll be annoyed with us taking up your time."

The boy shrugs. "Kumi-chan doesn't get mad." Then he mumbles, "She doesn't do anything."

Ohya nods, and kneels next to the boy. "Hey, listen, little man. Could you do us a favor? Could you keep it a secret from Madarame-sama that we were here?"

"Why?” The boy asks, brows furrowing.

She grins, reaches out, and ruffles his hair. "Because," she says, but she stops when she pulls her hand away. A number of loose strands stick to her skin.

What the hell? Akira thinks.

Ohya snaps her smile back into place. "If you do, we'll make sure to put in a good word with Madarame-sama for you. He may even let you go to his atelier sooner rather than later!"

The boy's eyes brighten. "Really?"

"Really, really," Ohya replies. "So, be a good boy, and keep our little visit a secret, yeah?" He nods. "And make sure you work hard for Madarame-sama!" The boy nods again. Ohya, still grinning, turns to Akira and whispers, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Akira doesn't disagree.

The boy locks the door behind them, and they set off across the street. "What the hell was that?" Akira asks, when they're back in the alley. He is not certain to which event he refers.

"I'm pretty sure that," Ohya replies, teeth gritted. "Was Madarame's apprentice."

That jars him. "No. Yusuke Kitagawa is Madarame's apprentice."

"Uh-huh," Ohya replies. She pulls out the GPS. "Come on. We've got more places to check out. We'll spit theories at each other after."

#

It takes them another three hours to visit only a handful of the remaining locations.

The Shinjuku residence contained a seven-year-old girl. At least, that's how old she looked, when Akira and Ohya peered in the window. They decided not to try and enter that one.

The next they visited was in Ueno, and it held another boy, maybe a bit older than the one they'd seen first.

Ohya knocks on the door of the fourth residence, a craggy shack in Ikebukero. A teenager answers. He is perhaps thirteen or fourteen, and he regards the two with disdain when he opens the door. They try the same lie they'd given to the little boy.

The teen scowls. "If Sensei needs me, he can visit me himself. I see no reason to converse with his toadies."

"Toadies?" Akira asks.

The boy rolls his eyes. "If he must know, the work is almost complete. He'd best keep his word and promote me to the atelier if he wants me to continue to produce for him. It's about time my talents make their official debut." He slams the door shut in their faces.

They trudge their way back to the train station. Ohya yawns and rubs the back of her neck.

"Alright," Akira says, and leans against a nearby building's wall. He has not had another experience like the one in the first house. "Tell me what you think is going on."

Ohya smiles at him, but the usual playfulness is gone. "I recall saying that you would be the one to tell me what you thought first." She nods back in the direction of the shack. "What's your take, after everything you've seen today?"

Akira is exhausted from schlepping his way across Tokyo, from one ramshackle house to another, and dealing with whatever was in the first. He sighs, pushes up his glasses, and rubs his eyes. "Are they Madarame's kids?"

"BUZZZ!" Ohya shouts in his ear. Akira jumps and cringes. "That's your takeaway? You think all those kids who don't look like one another are all that old guy's spawn?" She shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"Fine," Akira says, throwing his hands in the air. "So, what do you think? You've had an opinion from the start!"

Ohya crosses her arms and nods. Then, she sticks her thumb toward a nearby bench, and says, "Let's take a seat."

They do, and Ohya stares at the concrete for a while before she says anything. Akira finds the silence a bit unnerving, coming from the usual upbeat and vocal woman. "You went to Madarame's exhibit, right?" She asks.

Akira nods. "Yeah."

"How many paintings were there?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe twenty or more? I didn't really count."

"Are you an art connoisseur?"

"No."

Ohya nods. "Well, here's the thing about Madarame. He's famous. Like, crazy famous. But he's also very aloof. It's branding, of course. He portrays himself as this wise old man, who only deigns to show himself a few times a year. But his output is insane. He's painted hundreds of pieces.

“And what's more, so many of them are different. Madarame claims that his tastes change as he ages. For five years, he was into cubism. Then, surreal work. And so on, and so on. As a result, he's considered a master of many different types of styles. If you look at his work critically, you'd think he was some kind of savant. One piece will have finely detailed brush strokes, and another will be raw, rough, and brutal. Yet, they've both got his signature in the corner." She looks at him, expectantly.

You know," Akira says. "When I was at the exhibit, I wondered how Madarame could plagiarize so many works from Yusuke."

She nods. "Exactly. How many could Yusuke Kitagawa have painted himself? Five? Maybe six? Where do the others come from?"

Akira's eyes widen. "Then, those kids-"

"Bingo," Ohya says. "I first noticed it when Nakanohara brought it to my attention. He insisted that Madarame stole all his work. But when Nakanohara was Madarame's apprentice, the latter had one of his most productive years. Forty or so paintings, Nakanohara claimed seven as his own. Yet, Nakanohara claimed he was Madarame's sole apprentice."

"So..." Akira trails off.

Ohya's smile droops. "Madarame doesn't have just one apprentice. He's got several. All staggered at different ages. He plagiarizes from all of them at the same time. Yusuke Kitagawa may be his public apprentice, but those other kids? They're his backups. Like, reserve inventory. And none of them know about each other."

Akira nods. "So, if Yusuke ever said, 'Madarame plagiarized five of my paintings,' then everyone would just say, 'well, about the other twenty?'"

"It adds a degree of doubt to the story," Ohya says. "That's why I started digging after Nakanohara told me his story. Madarame has been doing this for years. I've compared the styles of paintings he's claimed as his own. In total, I believe Madarame has had somewhere in the ballpark of thirty apprentices."

"What happened to them all?" Akira asks.

Ohya shrugs. "Believe it or not, Nakanohara, with his dead-end clerk job, is one of the lucky ones. Most of them are orphans, and Madarame kicked them to the street shortly before they became legal adults. Some became homeless. Some became drug addicts. Some became homeless drug addicts. Two..." She pauses, takes a breath, and continues, "have killed themselves."

Akira stares at the ground for a while. "And no one knows about this?"

She reaches into her pocket. "If anyone does, they've either been paid off or don't give a shit."

"God," Akira whispers, then straightens. "So, if this keeps up, those kids and Yusuke-"

"They'll suffer the same fate as the ones before them. Kicked to the curb and left to fend for themselves."

#

“Whoa,” Morgana says. “Seriously?”

Akira nods. He’s finished relating the story and Ohya’s theory. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense.

Morgana purrs and swishes his tail. “Did you check out the atelier?”

Akira shakes his head. Stalking through Tokyo had exhausted both Akira and Ohya, and after Ohya’s discussion, they’d gone their separate ways.

Upon his return to LeBlanc, Akira considered telling Morgana about his strange experience within the first house, but elected not to. Akira had a bad feeling and theory but wanted Morgana’s intelligence before he voiced any concerns.

“Well, no worries,” Morgana says. “Tomorrow, Ryuji and I will visit the houses you were at today and see if any are the Palace. Although, given how much emphasis those kids put on the atelier, I’m starting to think our initial guess was right.”

“Yeah,” Akira mutters. I’m not so sure anymore. He sighs, reaches out, and strokes Morgana’s fur. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Yep,” the cat replies, a grin on his face.

“Let’s go see what’s for dinner.”

Morgana makes a face. “Wanna bet it’s curry?”

Akira chuckles and heads for the stairwell. As he descends, he hears a distinct sound.

Two adult voices. Laughing. One male. One female. There’s a certain lilt to their voices, a tone Akira has come to recognize as ‘flirty.’

Great, he thinks. His thoughts turn serious as he nears the corner. Akira recognizes that female’s voice.

Akira leaves the stairs and enters LeBlanc proper. His jaw drops.

Ohya sits on one of the stools. She leans forward over the bar, elbows on the countertop, a cup of coffee alongside her. Sojiro stands before her, arms crossed, an easy smile on his face.

“What,” Akira says.

Ohya spins around on the stool. “Hey there!”

Sojiro’s smile falters. “You two know each other?”

“He’s my apprentice,” Ohya replies, swinging her legs.

Is she drunk? How is she drunk? We only split up an hour ago.

“Apprentice?” Sojiro asks.

Ohya nods. “I’m a journalist. He’s helping me with a story.”

“Really?” The older man asks.

Akira sighs, and nods.

Sojiro’s smile returns, and he regards Ohya once more. “Awfully nice, taking someone like that under your wing.”

“Aww,” Ohya says, waving the comment away. “I could say the same about you. I take it he lives upstairs?”

“Good guess.”

“What’re you doing here?” Akira asks.

“I figured I’d drop by before heading to my regular stop in Shinjuku.”

“Shinjuku?” Sojiro replies, and leans a little closer. “A lovely lady like yourself shouldn’t be hanging around that place at night.”

“Easy Pops,” Ohya says, a smirk crossing her face. “I’m not as innocent as I look.”

“Is that so?” Sojiro whispers.

THIS IS TOO WEIRD! THIS IS TOO WEIRD!

Akira crosses the floor and plops down on the stool next to her. Sojiro frowns at him. “Prince is hungry,” Akira explains and points at Morgana.

Sojiro’s expression softens, and he shrugs. “Let me see what I’ve got.” He shuffles into the kitchen, shoulders drooped.

Akira turns to her. “What’re you doing here?”

“I told you, I-”

“I don’t mean like that. I didn’t tell you where I live. I know I never mentioned that. So, how did you-” But before Akira can finish, Ohya pulls a small device out of her pocket and dangles it before him.

Akira recognizes the little black box. His mouth opens and shuts several times before he can spit out, “You hacked my phone?”

Ohya shrugs, and returns the device to her pocket. “Honestly, I’ve no idea why you didn’t see that coming.”

“Wh-why? When?”

“When?” Ohya asks. “When we were sitting on that bench a little while ago. We were the only two around, so I figured I’d take a little peek. As for the why, well, why not?”

“It’s an invasion of privacy!”

“Meh,” Ohya replies, shrugging. “I just wanted to find out a little more about you.”

“Then you could’ve asked.”

“Right, because you’ve been so forthcoming. C’mon, Kurusu. Don't be all upset. We’re still partners in this, yeah? Now, I just know where you sleep at night.” Ohya grins. She darts her eyes in the direction of the kitchen. “So, what’s the deal with him? Is he, like, your uncle or something? I didn’t see a ring.”

“Nope,” Akira says, sliding away from the bar. “Nope, nope, nope, nope.”

“Don’t you want dinner?” Ohya asks.

Akira shakes his head and plods back upstairs. Morgana remains at the bar. Ohya looks down at the cat. “He’s so sensitive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Morgana replies with a purr.

 

5/22

“This,” Mishima says, and holds up the box for Akira to observe. “You’ve got to get this.”

“It’s a mouse,” Akira says. “And a pricey one. I don’t need something that expensive. Why not-” Akira is about to point to one of the considerably less expensive models, but Mishima shakes his head.

“No way, dude,” Mishima replies, and takes a step closer. “Look, you want to dig around online, right? Well, when it comes to specs for your computer, it’s better to pay for quality instead of getting a bunch of cheap junk that’s going to break.”

Akira frowns. He can understand Mishima’s point. I wouldn’t want the mouse to break at an inopportune time, especially if I’m on some website I shouldn’t be. Akira does some mental arithmetic to calculate the total costs. It’s adding up. Almost all the money he made from the Flower Shop and some of the yen he got from hawking random Metaverse items is being sapped by this project.

Nonetheless, this was important, and while there were many threads vying for Akira’s attention, he did want to get himself online and searching for any clues on the mental shutdowns, Velvet Room, Metaverse, and everything else.

“Alright,” Akira says. He would raise his hands in surrender, but bags of more upscale computer equipment held down his arms. Mishima had selected all of it. Akira admitted Mishima had handled himself well during their little excursion to Akihabara. The boy had been his usual goofy self, but hadn’t once blabbed about anything he wasn’t supposed to, and when they’d entered some of the stores, Akira found him more than capable of selecting a good deal and spotting rip-offs and overpriced junk.

The two boys make their way to the checkout, and Akira purchases the mouse, feeling a twang of bitterness as he hands over the yen.

“That should just about do it,” Mishima says as they step outside into the cloudy morning air.

Akira nods. “Thanks for helping me with all this,” he says, hefting the bags. “You can come by later this week and help me set up, right?”

“Sure,” Mishima replies. “But most of this stuff is pretty intuitive.”

“Uh huh,” Akira says, smiling. “All the same, I’d rather have someone who knows what they’re doing than me.”

Mishima beams at this, and Akira is surprised to realize the comment was meant genuinely instead of something to ingratiate himself with Mishima.

“So, what now?” Mishima asks.

Akira checks the time. “I’ve got a while before I have to meet up with my next contact.” There was no reason to disclose Ohya’s role or existence to Mishima.

“Want to check out some arcades?”

Akira hefts the bags. “Will these be okay? I don’t want them to get stolen or anything.”

Mishima shakes his head. “No, it’ll be fine. It’s still early, right? The arcades will be pretty dead, so we should have plenty of room and be able to keep our eye on the stuff.”

Akira shrugs. “Sure, okay. Let’s do it.”

Mishima starts to walk down the block. “Great. Follow me. I’ll take you to my favorite spot.” Akira picks up his pace to match Mishima’s, and the two head deeper into Akihabara. The place is still relatively dead, though there are plenty of people walking around, from what looks like workers and clerks to foreign tourists here before the mad rush. Akira has never been one to delve deep into the otaku or gaming culture, but he appreciates it in principle. The neighborhood's sights are fascinating, to say the least, even if some of the buildings look like firetraps.

Mishima leads him into an arcade that looks to have no discernable qualities aside from the rest of the block's arcades, but Mishima insists is the best one. “Because of the selection,” Mishima clarifies once they enter.

They walk further into the arcade, and the lack of too many people means the cacophony of sounds comes strictly from the electronic devices. The ricochet of bullets, the spinning electronic beeps of the gacha games, the kid-friendly suggestions to move towards the claw machines, it’s all a bit too much this early in the morning, but Akira doesn’t mind.

Mishima pauses for a moment and pulls out his phone. Akira only glances at the screen for a second, but when he sees the RINE app queued up, he feels his spirits dampen.

“Oh,” Mishima says, when he notices this. “Sorry. It’s not Shujin’s group. This one is for a bunch of arcade game enthusiasts. There’s a new game I wanted to try out, so I was asking about it on the group chat.” His shoulders slump. “I’m so dumb. I’m sorry, I should’ve realized-”

“It’s fine,” Akira says. “Really. Not everything on that site is about me. It’s no big deal.” Akira makes a point of taking a few steps away from Mishima and glancing around the arcade. “So, where’s this new game? What kind is it?”

“A shooter,” Mishima explains. He leads Akira deeper into the arcade until he holds up a hand. "This is it!" He explains, grinning at the contraption.

Akira reads the title aloud. "‘Gun About?’" An impressive-looking pitch-black arcade machine with neon blue lining holds center stage in this arcade section. It looks like a standard shooter, and has two ports carrying twin plastic handguns.

At present, a young boy clutched one of the guns and, having glanced back at Akira and Mishima when they entered, turned his attention back to the game and was cursing up a storm. "Shit, shit, shit!" He cried as the virtual enemies - presumably, as Akira wasn't at a good enough angle to see - attacked his character. A short ‘Game Over’ jingle plays, and the kid shoves the gun back into the holster. "Not again!"

As he turns, Akira gets a better view of him. He's young but not as young as Akira first thought. Shaggy black hair shoved under a red cap with the words "GET SMOKED" stenciled across it in English reveals a face that must've belonged to a middle schooler. The rest of his attire screamed as much. Rolled-up jeans, bright blue sneakers, and a sky-blue varsity jacket that read "NOOBS" on the chest.

“Cool hat,” Mishima says, nodding toward the kid.

The kid perks up and approaches. "Hey man, got any extra cash? I'm all out."

"Huh?" Mishima asks. "Uh, no. Sorry."

The kid spreads his arms wide. "Then what are you doing here? C'mon, spot me one game. You can even play me. One vee one, dude. I win, and you fund my gaming for the rest of the morning."

Mishima eyes the kid. "And what if I win?"

The boy shrugs. "How about my hat? It’s a collector’s edition, you know?"

Mishima glances around. "Uh, well, that hat is pretty cool."

It is? Akira thinks.

The boy frowns. "I mean, I’ve got others like it, so it’s no big loss. We good then?"

"Mishima," Akira says, in a warning tone.

Mishima smiles, still believing this to be a friendly wager. “Sure. Let’s do it."

Akira shakes his head as Mishima sets his bags down and pulls out some yen. Akira lays his bags next to Mishima's and stands back to watch.

The boy savages Mishima. It is no contest and over in moments.

"Deal's a deal," the kid says. "Better go get my money."

Mishima stares at the screen for a few seconds, mouth agape, before finally saying, "Y-yeah, be right back." Then, he leaves the room, looking for a coin machine.

"Not bad," Akira says to the boy.

"Hmmm?" The kid asks.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don’t."

Akira walks up until he's standing alongside the boy. "Yes, you do. Sucking at the game right as we walked in? Then the, ‘oh, would you like my hat?’ bit. Not bad."

The boy makes a noncommittal sound.

“So, you’re pretty good at this game, huh?” Akira asks.

The boy smiles. “The best.”

“Care to show me how it works?”

“Pretty straightforward, man. You point and shoot.”

“There must be a reason you’re better at it than everyone else, right?”

The kid jerks his head towards the game. “Want me to show you why?”

“No bet this time?”

“Nah, man. Friendly game.”

Akira puts in enough yen for both of them, and they spend a few minutes in contest. The boy is good, but Akira has had some experience with weapons in the Metaverse, and he uses that ability now. Part of Akira wonders if his using weapons in the Metaverse is a better proxy for this game than using a real gun would. Akira has never used a real gun; thus, his cognition of a weapon in the Metaverse is akin to an arcade shooter.

Akira wins, but only by a bare amount.

“Wow, guess you’re pretty good,” the boy says.

Akira goes to put away the gun and says, “Thanks,” but the boy holds up a hand.

“Hold on,” he says. “You’ve got to enter your name on the leaderboard.”

“Oh,” Akira says and turns his attention back to the board as the boy sets his gun down and takes some steps back.

“It takes a minute,” the boy says, and Akira nods, staring at the screen.

A few cutscenes play out, and then some more gameplay examples. No leaderboard appears.

“Hey,” comes Mishima’s voice. Akira finally pulls his eyes from the screen to spy his friend returning. “Where’s that kid?”

Akira looks around. The boy is gone.

So is one of Akira’s bags. The one with the mouse.

Akira looks back at the screen. Still no leaderboard.

“Son of a bitch.”

#

Akira and Ohya’s trip to Tokyo Bay lasts that awkward time between too long and just long enough. They ride the line with the beleaguered salarymen and women, eyes glued to screens, their newspapers, or just plain shut. Ohya keeps quiet for the duration, and Akira sits beside her, uncomfortable in the strange silence between them.

He wonders, for instance, if she knows he has turned his phone off for today’s excursion. Knowing Ohya can see his GPS is troubling, and he had racked his brain all night trying to figure out a way of limiting her knowledge of his movements. Then he realized he could keep his phone off. Akira used the burner for Phantom Thief business anyway.

He’s also still a bit pissy about getting played by a little kid.

He had wanted to visit the atelier after his trip to Akihabara, but when Ohya picked him up in Yongen-jaya, she’d insisted on coming to Tokyo Bay, citing a hunch on which she refused to elaborate.

They ride, and as they go, people rise from their seats and leave, as quietly as they’d sat. When enough people are gone, Akira leans towards Ohya and asks, “Are you going to tell me what this hunch of yours is, or am I going to have to guess again?”

Ohya blinks as if coming out of a daze and smiles at him. Then, she pulls her phone out, holds it up, and points to another red pin on the GPS. “We’re going here,” she says.

“What’s that?” Akira asks. “Another house Madarame owns?”

Ohya shakes her head. “Not quite.” She says no more, until a short while later, when they’ve arrived at the bay, exited the train, and are marching away from the station.

“Ahhhh,” Ohya exclaims after taking a deep breath. “Smell that sea air!”

"Smells like fish," Akira replies. "Not so great fish."

Ohya lets out a sigh. "You must be really fun to hang out with in ordinary circumstances."

Akira ignores her and takes in his surroundings. "It's nothing but warehouses and... uh, warehouses."

She nods. "Yep. No houses here. Not in this district, anyway. We're heading to Natsuki Storage."

"What's Natsuki Storage?"

She lifts her phone back up. "This little dot on the map."

"What's it got to do with Madarame?"

"Glad you asked."

"This is like, the third time I've asked."

"Quiet. Now then, when you first hacked Madarame's phone for me-"

"You never said thanks, by the way."

"Hey! I'm paying you back by taking you along! You should be the one thanking me. Anyway, after Madarame's phone was hacked, I told you I narrowed down the suspicious locations based on places he visited frequently. But, after I got home last night, it dawned on me I had also ruled out places he'd been infrequently."

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean, that Madarame visits Natsuki Storage once every five to six weeks."

"I'm assuming Natsuki Storage is a storage facility."

Ohya claps her hands. "You're getting smarter all the time."

Akira feels his face flush, and he glances away. "Shut up."

"But you're right. It's simple. No different from an apartment or safe deposit box. You rent a room, get a key, and pay your rent once a month. No one can go in but you."

Akira mulls this over. "What does Madarame need with a storage facility?"

Ohya nods, and her smirk turns mischievous. "Annndddd?"

Akira stares at the concrete he stands on. "And why would he need a storage facility way out in Tokyo Bay? There's got to be others closer to him."

"Exactly," Ohya says. "What's he got that he has to keep in a storage facility out in Tokyo Bay? What's he hiding? I did a little digging on Natsuki Storage last night. I couldn't find much on them. Their website looks like it was built in the nineties and-"

"Kind of like your outfit," Akira mutters.

Ohya glares at him. "Are you done?" He shrugs. "And their phone number just rang and rang when I called it."

Akira thinks this over as they walk. Does he really need to do this? If the atelier or one of those other houses was Madarame's Palace, then all they needed was for Morgana to go inside and provide the keywords. Did it matter what the old man kept in this place?

"Here we are," Ohya says, stopping outside a one-story building that extends far back towards the waterline. The words 'Natsuki Storage' are scrawled on the wall in black paint. A rusty-looking chain-link fence bridges the distance between the building, and the two empty-looking warehouses it stands between. "Here's the plan," Ohya says. "We're going to go in there and pretend we want to rent a storage unit."

"I'm guessing we shouldn't say anything about Madarame?"

"Correct," Ohya says, nodding. "It's not like the bozo staffing the front desk is going to have any idea who that is. They probably keep all their records in a filing cabinet and don't take them out except to ensure a client is paid up. Just let me do the talking."

"Sure," Akira replies, and follows as she steps inside.

The first thing Akira notices is the eyes of the man at the desk. They are not the eyes of a bozo. Akira feels them clawing over his skin like a rake, sizing him up. He's young, maybe in his mid-twenties, and dressed in a comfortable short-sleeved shirt, and jeans. A cigarette trails small patterns into the air around his slicked-back hair.

The office itself is small and dark and silent. The only light sources are a muted television screen playing a baseball game and a beat-up-looking lamp behind the desk.

"Hi," Ohya says, but Akira notices an edge in her voice. She hadn't expected this either.

"Help you?" The young man asks, his voice low and husky.

"My cousin and I are looking to rent a storage unit, and-"

"Full up."

Ohya blinks. "Excuse me?"

"I said, we're full up. Booked to capacity. No new clients. Besides, we only operate by referral."

Ohya's eyebrow cocks. "A storage facility that only takes referrals?"

"Doctors do it."

There is a presence to Akira's right. A shambling mass of limbs and a mask that hides a true form. It bears down upon him. A Shadow. It's a fucking Shadow, and somehow it's here in this place, and it knows Akira is there too, and it shouldn't be possible

It's gone. Nothing is there, and nothing was. Sweat beads itself and slides down his small back. The people around him are still speaking.

"How would I get a referral?"

He smiles a bit. "You'd have to know someone who could refer you."

Akira doesn't like this. There's something off about the man. Something off about the whole place: he has to believe that Ohya can sense that too, but the woman can't let go of something once it’s in her teeth. "Do you know someone who could refer me?"

"Listen girl," the man says, and takes a drag of his cigarette. "You're thinking about this all wrong. Even if you got a referral, we're full up."

"That's hard to believe, given that there's zero information about you online."

"That's why we got the referrals, and you found us alright." He looks over at Akira. "How come that one isn't talking?"

"He's not the talkative type," Ohya replies.

"What'd you know? That's my favorite type of person."

"Well, thanks for your help," Ohya mutters. "I don't suppose you'd know of any other place to look?"

“Not here."

"Right."

She turns and motions for Akira to follow. When they're outside, he turns to her and says, "Oh man."

"That was interesting," she says, mostly to herself.

Akira tries to right himself. He can't tell Ohya about the Shadow he saw. But how could that even be possible? The last time he'd seen something like that had been at the school, back when they were fighting Kamoshida. Only, that wasn’t entirely true. There was yesterday's incident. What did all this mean?

Good thing I'm getting a check-up later, Akira thinks.

Akira takes a moment to readjust himself to the conversation with Ohya.

"What about that was interesting?" Akira asks. "We didn't learn anything."

"I'd say we learned something very significant," Ohya says, a smile creeping its way back across her face. "We learned that Madarame likely keeps a storage unit at a facility run by the Yakuza."

Akira's eyes widen. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. "Yakuza?" He asks, and turns back towards the building's door, suddenly afraid the guy would be standing right behind him.

Ohya nods. "Oh yeah. Big time. Couldn't you tell?"

"No!"

"Oh. Well, look harder next time because that guy might as well have had 'Yakuza' tattooed on his forehead. Come on." She nods her head towards the street. "We've got to come up with a strategy."

"To find out if Madarame really has a storage unit there?" He asks.

She nods. "And what's inside it. If only we had some way of getting in there. Right now, it's just speculation."

Akira thinks about this and begins to form an idea.

#

Ryuji yawns. "My feet hurt."

"Stop complaining," Morgana replies. "It's not like we're doing anything all that hard. Are we almost there?"

Ryuji glances at his phone. "Few more blocks."

"One of these places better be the Palace," Morgana mumbles.

"Tell me about it. This was much easier back when I discovered it was the school."

"Discovered? You just said a few words, and the app on Akira's phone picked it up. I don't know if I'd count that as discovering anything."

"Can it, cat," Ryuji mutters. "Let me have this."

They continue until Morgana says, "So, we need to talk."

"About what?" Ryuji asks, frowning. Akira had asked Ryuji to accompany Morgana on this scouting mission, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He checks himself. C'mon, he's not so bad. Okay, yeah, he's annoying as shit, but he's part of the team, so stop being a tool. He clears his throat and says, "What's up?"

"What'd you think?" Morgana hisses up at him, reminding Ryuji just why the cat is his least favorite friend. "The whole, 'Akira and Ann,' thing."

"Oh," Ryuji sighs. "That."

"Yes, that. We need to figure out how to fix things between them. Because it's bad."

"Wasn't so bad at the exhibit."

"Yeah, but that was during a mission. In case you haven't noticed, they're hardly talking. I don't know if they've even said anything to one another since the other day."

"They were talking the other day. After the..." He grimaces. "I think I see what you mean."

It shames Ryuji to admit it, but he'd been trying to ignore the whole thing since it had started. It hadn't felt like his business. That didn't mean he didn't have an opinion. He kicks a stray pebble on the sidewalk. "But what're we supposed to do about it? Ann's not gonna apologize anytime soon."

Morgana halts. "Wait, why would Lady Ann apologize?"

Ryuji feels his eyes widen as he turns back to the cat. "Huh? You think Akira should apologize?"

"Well," Morgana mutters. "Maybe not apologize, but I don't think Lady Ann should have to."

"Like hell, she shouldn't!" Ryuji shouts, throwing his hands in the air. "She went ballistic! That whole, 'I might leave the Phantom Thieves' thing? That was nuts! That was blackmail!"

"Wh-what'd you expect?" Morgana hisses. "Makoto totally messed with Shiho; besides, she was investigating us! Akira was getting way too chummy with her."

Ryuji raises his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Dude, she came clean about all that. We know what she was doing." Ryuji scratched at his head. Ryuji wasn't entirely clear on what Makoto had been doing, but it didn't sound so terrible. Then again, it didn't sound harmless, either.

"That doesn't excuse her behavior!"

Ryuji shakes his head. "I never said it did. I just think we're spending too much time worrying about this whole thing when we should be getting on with things."

"We're focusing now, aren't we?" Morgana asks. "That's what we were just doing—hunting for a Palace. But look, we're getting sidetracked. What's most important is figuring out how to fix things between Akira and Lady Ann. I think Akira should make the first move."

"No way, dude. Ann may have felt bad over what happened to Shiho, but she took it too far. She should apologize first."

"Lady Ann shouldn't have to-"

"Oh my god, would you stop doing that?" Ryuji yells.

Morgana blinks. "Doing what?"

"The 'Lady Ann' thing. Dude, we all know you're crushing on her."

"I-is it that obvious?" Morgana asks, eyes wide.

"It's pretty much a running joke at this point."

The cat stutters a few times before he manages, "Irrelevant! We need to get them to stop fighting! We need a plan!"

"A plan?" Ryuji asks. He stops and thinks. "Okay, how about we lock them in a room somewhere and don't let them leave until they hash everything out?"

Morgana stares up at Ryuji. "That's the dumbest plan I've ever heard."

"Do you have a better one?"

Morgana blinks and is silent for a moment. "Where would this, uh, room be?"

Ryuji shrugs. "I dunno. Could we do it at LeBlanc?"

Morgana shakes his head. "I don't think so. Sojiro probably wouldn't appreciate it. How about at school?"

"Where at school? It's like, a school. There are people around."

Morgana sighs. "I'm not sure I like this plan."

"We don't need to overcomplicate this shit and..." He trails off as he glances at his phone. "Hold up, dude. This is it."

They raise their eyes to the dilapidated building of rotting wood and rusted shutters.

"Damn," Ryuji says. "Don't know what I expected, but this place is a dump."

"Ryuji," Morgana says, his voice suddenly very serious but with a growing hint of excitement. "There's a Palace here. I can feel it." 

Ryuji rounds on the cat, beaming. “F’real?” He pumps his fists into the air. “That’s awesome! The first place we check, and it’s the Palace? Crazy, dude!” He turns back to the house, staring at it. The place is as decayed as Akira made it out to be and certainly doesn’t warrant the moniker of ‘Palace.’ “Well, it doesn’t matter what it looks like outside. Morgana, can you get in there and give us the rest of the details?”

Morgana pads, tentatively, towards the house. “Yeah,” the cat replies, but Ryuji gets the impression Morgana is not speaking to him. “I… I think I should. I think I can go inside.”

“Guess you were worried about nothing,” Ryuji says, pulling out his phone. “Okay, you go in and come back out with the keywords so I can plug them into the app.”

“Right,” Morgana says, quietly. The cat doesn’t move.

“You okay?” Ryuji asks.

“Yes. I’m fine,” Morgana says. “It’s just a little weird. I didn’t know I could do this, and now I know I can do this.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Morgana shoots him a look. “Wouldn’t you be a little freaked out if you suddenly discovered you could, I don’t know, breathe underwater?”

Ryuji shrugs. “I’d be pretty stoked about that, actually.”

Morgana yowls in frustration and turns back to the house. “Whatever. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Morgana gingerly paces himself towards the house, and in an instant between two steps – right as Morgana is about to ascend to the curb from the street proper – the cat vanishes into thin air.

Ryuji grins and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Several minutes pass.

Ryuji would like to give Morgana the benefit of the doubt, but as the seconds continue to tick by and the cat does not materialize, the boy begins to fret. This manifests first as pacing, then jumping around in place, a few punches into the air, and finally, he sits down on the curb and stares at the spot Morgana disappeared, willing him to rematerialize.

He is about to take out his phone and send an SOS to the rest of the Phantom Thieves when Morgana’s face, and then the rest of him, strides back into existence into the road. The cat glances around before crossing to Ryuji, who stands and says, “Dude, what happened?”

Morgana stares up at Ryuji, a worried look on his face. “So, uh, we may have a problem.”

#

“Well, this looks much better,” Doctor Takuto Maruki says, beaming. He holds the printed-out report in his hands and nods. “Much, much better.”

“Uh, that’s good,” Akira replies.

“Hmm?” Doctor Maruki asks, glancing at Akira. “Oh, yes! It is good. Based on the most recent scan, the overstimulation seems to have subsided.”

Akira matches the doctor’s nodding. “Great.”

“And you haven’t been experiencing anything lately? No headaches or hallucinations? Nothing of the kind?”

Akira shakes his head, even as he recalls the strange experiences within the house and the storage facility. “Nope.”

There was nothing to do about it. The doctor wasn’t going to be able to explain why Akira could see – or at least sense – Shadows in the real world. Akira couldn’t bring up the Metaverse, the Palaces, or anything. Looking into this phenomenon was just another of those ceaseless tasks piled up on Akira’s mental To-Do list.

Akira wants to leave the office. Morgana and Ryuji were to report soon. If they’d found Madarame’s Palace, they could start their infiltration. Akira didn’t want to waste any more time on medical procedures that would ultimately tell him nothing.

Doctor Maruki moves towards Akira’s exam table. “So, how are you doing? Regarding therapy?”

“Oh, um,” Akira sighs. This again. “I’ve got a lot of things on my plate, but my guardian has been looking for a therapist. I did try one out a few weeks ago, but I didn’t like them very much.”

Maruki nods. “Yes, trust is important in therapy. But Kurusu, you should take an active role in finding one. Don’t just rely on your guardian to find you one. There are a lot of factors that go into this. Being present in the selection process can go a long way and save time.”

Akira suppresses a sigh and smiles instead. “Okay. I’ll try that.”

The doctor makes pleasant enough chitchat for a few more minutes before Akira can finally dismiss himself. When he reenters the waiting area of the neurologist’s office, Sojiro stands from where he’d been sitting, flipping through a magazine.

“Well?” The older man asks as they begin to leave.

“My head’s back to normal,” Akira says.

Sojiro chuckles. “That’s good, at least. He didn’t find anything wrong?”

Akira shrugs. “My sensory inputs are back to normal. Whatever was going on with my brain seems to have stopped.”

A few days after I last visited this guy, we stopped Kamoshida. The Palace at the school collapsed, and I didn’t see another Shadow until we ventured into Mementos.

Was it possible that eliminating the Palace at the school had reversed whatever had been happening with Akira’s brain? They’d regularly gone into the Metaverse when fighting Kamoshida, but their trips to Mementos had been few and far between in recent weeks. Would the same thing happen to Akira again if they started regularly visiting Madarame’s Palace?

“We should do something to celebrate,” Sojiro mutters. “Want me to make you some curry when we get back?”

Akira eyes the older man. “You make curry every night and morning.”

Sojiro scowls. “Is that a complaint?”

Akira raises his hands in surrender. “Nope. No complaints here. Sounds good.” If his friends had arrived, they could have a quick meal and then debrief in Akira’s room.

“How’s that computer working out?” Sojiro asks. “I saw you coming back with bags filled with electronic junk.”

Akira nods. “Yeah, my friend and I went to Akihabara today. He knows a lot more about computers than I do. So he helped me get some stuff for it.” Akira leaves out the part where he got hustled out of one of his bags.

“You makin’ that much money at your flower shop job?” Sojiro asks, and shakes his head. “You kids today are spoiled.”

Akira shrugs. “He found some good deals, so it was much cheaper than I thought it would be.”

Sojiro nods and looks as if he’s considering something. “Well, if you ever need anything else, make me a list. I… uh, know someone good with computers too. They might be able to give you some tips.”

Akira smiles. “Sure. Thanks.”

Sojiro grunts in reply and the remainder of their walk is in comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question from Sojiro. “How’s school?” “How’re you getting on with the other kids?” Things like that. It’s all very expected, but Akira doesn’t mind. He answers honestly (albeit keeping his criminal activities under wraps) and tells Sojiro about Shujin. Akira neglects to mention the RINE chats as he doesn’t want to damper the conversation.

This kind of conversation all feels so normal that Akira doesn’t know how to handle it at first. He never had a conversation with his father like this. At first, Akira tries to keep cognizant of any trap questions or phrases meant to knock him off guard, but Sojiro seems genuinely honest in his curiosity about Akira’s life.

There were some things Akira considered asking. Questions about his aunt and his mother. Questions about Sojiro. But as the cool night wraps around him, Akira realizes he doesn’t want to interrupt this walk. Who knew when he’d get a break like this again? Who knew when he’d get to have a normal conversation again?

#

Akira and Sojiro approach LeBlanc and find the rest of the Phantom Thieves in attendance.

"Hey kids," Sojiro calls, raising a lazy hand. "Ain't it a school night?"

Ann, who holds Morgana in her arms, smiles and says, "We wanted to go over our homework together."

Ryuji grins and nods. "Totally."

Sojiro smiles back. "You're gonna have to do much better than that to fool me. Anyways, come in."

Akira is surprised at his lack of surprise. But, then again, perhaps Akira was getting used to this version of Sojiro Sakura. The one without a stick up his ass.

As Sojiro leads the way through the front door, Ryuji plants a hand on Akira's shoulder and asks, "How was the doctor?"

"Fine," Akira replies. "I guess I'm fine now." But I know I saw a Shadow at Natsuki Storage. So was that real, or was it a hallucination? Akira wasn't sure which would be worse.

The kids thank Sojiro for his hospitality, decline coffee and food, and then head upstairs to Akira's room.

"So," Akira asks when they've all settled. "What's wrong?"

"That house," Morgana says, hopping out of Ann's arms and onto the table. "The one with the apprentice you and Ohya visited? The first one you went to?"

"Yes," Akira says, too late to cover the impatience in his voice. "What about it?"

Morgana glances at Ryuji, then at Ann. "It's a Palace."

Akira blinks. He takes in the unsatisfied faces of his friends. "Okay. Isn't that a good thing? Now we know where Madarame's Palace is and-"

"The next house was a Palace, too," Ryuji cuts in, frowning. "And the next. And the next. Dude, all those spots you sent us to? They're all Palaces."

Morgana says something, but Akira doesn't hear him. "How?" He asks. "How is that possible?"

"Hold on," Morgana insists. "Did you hear what I said? They're all part of the same Palace."

"It's all one big Palace, Akira," Ann says. "All the houses extend and connect to some other location."

Akira raises his hands, pleading. "Let's back up. What happened when you guys got to the first house?"

Ryuji and Morgana quickly summarized the events preceding Morgana's entrance to the Metaverse. "So, silver lining," Morgana points out. "You were right that I could enter the Metaverse without issue, so long as there's a Palace at the location."

Ryuji crosses his arms. "Yeah well, it doesn't help in this situation."

Ann swats his shoulder. "Don't be a dick."

"No," Morgana says, looking crestfallen. "Ryuji's right. I could enter the Metaverse and see the Palace, but I can't get you guys in there."

"Why not?" Akira asks. "Just tell us what the Palace is and-"

"I can't tell you that."

Akira feels the threads of his patience snapping one by one. "Why not?"

"Because I have no idea what it was," Morgana blurts out. "How am I supposed to give you the keywords if I don't know what I was looking at?"

Akira stares at Morgana. Then, he looks at Ryuji and Ann. "Seriously?" He asks.

"It was like this big, concrete building that kept going up and up and up. It wasn't like the Castle at all. Just a building. No windows. No door save one. No signs or guards or anything. Its only other feature was that its top started to slant away and vanish over the tops of the surrounding buildings.

"I tried to find a way inside, but a contraption or something protected the only door. I don’t know. It looked like it might take a keycard."

"Okay, hold on," Akira interjects. "So, this is Madarame's Palace, right?"

Ryuji shakes his head. "After Morgana came out, we tried putting the location into the Navigation app. It didn't take."

"How can that be?" Akira asks.

"We checked out all the other locations. It's all the same," Morgana continues. "The same kind of building, the same lock, the same way it sweeps out over the skyline. None of them were considered the Palace, per the Nav app."

Akira sighs, pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes. "Alright. Do we think the Palace belongs to someone else?"

Morgana shakes his head. "I don't see how. Maybe, if they were all different, they could be the Palaces of the apprentices, but they're all the same. Plus, there's the way they extend out and up. From the angles, it looked like they were all leaning towards the same place."

"Morgana thinks it's all one Palace," Ann says, finally speaking up. "And that the buildings all connect to one central spot."

"So, we need to find that spot to plug it into the Navigation app," Ryuji says. "At least, that's what we think."

"Even then," Morgana says. "I still don't know what the building is. Hopefully, the center of these Palace-parts, or whatever, is much more obvious."

"Did you try guessing?" Akira asks.

"We did," Ryuji says. "We got nothing."

Akira leans back in his seat and stares at the ceiling. “Ohya brought me to a storage facility today. It showed up in Madarame’s GPS. And…” Akira trails off, reconsiders, and says, “I think I might’ve seen a Shadow there.”

“Seriously?” Ann asks. “Like back at the school?”

Akira nods. “I don’t know what that means, but Madarame regularly visits this facility. So maybe it’s the central location we’re looking for?”

“Where was it?” Ryuji asks.

“Tokyo Bay?”

“Did it look like the stuff was stretching out that way, Morgana?” Ryuji asks.

Morgana frowns. “Hard to say. I’d need to see a map.”

“Or,” Akira points out. “We could just head over there.”

#

Akira and Morgana stand outside Natsuki Storage, the sun having just set, the city lights springing up around them. Morgana eyes the chain-link fence and runs his eyes along the side of the building.

“Well?” Akira asks.

“No doubt about it,” Morgana says. “It’s a Palace. Or part of one. It’s got the same feeling as the houses.” With no further prompting, Morgana steps forward and vanishes. He reappears only a short while later, and nods to Akira. “Just as I said. It’s the same setup. Not the central location, though. Whatever it is, it extends out into the sky over Tokyo. Some giant building façade that keeps going and going. I can’t make out where it ends.”

“Alright,” Akira says. “Then we need to find out what Madarame has in here. I don’t know if it’ll help us find the central location or identify the Palace, but hopefully, it’ll help with something.”

“Roger,” Morgana replies. “I’ll get inside, find where they keep their list of clients and confirm Madarame’s storage unit. Then, get access.”

“If you can,” Akira says. “If it gets too crazy in there, just get out.”

“Oh please,” Morgana protests. “I can handle it just fine.”

Akira nods. “Okay then.” He bends down, lifts Morgana off the ground, and hefts him toward the top of the fence. Morgana reaches out, sets his paws between the two holes, and grips. “Got it?” Akira asks.

“Got it,” Morgana says, and steadily climbs the rest of his way up. “Piece of cake.”

“Good luck, Morgana,” Akira replies. “Be careful.”

Morgana gets to the top, thankfully absent barbed wire, and hefts himself over and drops to the ground. He lands softly and runs for the shadow of the building.

Morgana was happy to do something like this to compensate for the lack of information he could provide regarding the Palace. Akira and the others had relied on Morgana’s ability to enter the Metaverse at will, but they hadn’t anticipated what they’d find. Morgana needed to do what he could to raise his stock back up in the eyes of the group.

Morgana finds what appears to be a service entrance around the back of the building. He hops up and jiggles the handle with his paw, but it’s locked. Sighing, the cat brandishes a claw and sticks it in the lock. Minutes of nothing pass, but Morgana keeps his focus. This is his time to shine, after all.

When the lock clicks, Morgana has to stop himself from letting out a whoop of excitement and drops back to the ground and into the shadows as the door creaks open. It reveals a room empty of people with some maintenance paraphernalia pushed up against the wall, a mop and water collector, a few sets of tools, and spare lightbulbs. Beyond all this is another door; when Morgana tries this one, he discovers it unlocked.

Morgana exits and finds himself at the tail end of a long, white hallway. Matching doors with numbers etched onto them line the hall, and attached to each door is a card reader. Hey, Morgana thinks. They look just like those devices protecting the doors of the Palace! But, even with that information, there was little Morgana could do with it right now. Even if he can determine which unit is Madarame’s, Morgana can’t hack a card reader with his paw. Morgana begins to trot down the hall, muttering curses, looking for the records.

A door marked ‘Records’ answers that. Simple enough, he thinks, and is ecstatic to find it unlocked and unoccupied. The room is a typical office, with a desk and chair on one end, and three sets of filing cabinets on the other. He darts over, opens the first drawer, and begins to rifle through the names. He doesn’t recognize any of them.

The soft sound of footsteps echoes from outside, and Morgana shuts the file he’s checking and sprints into the space between the desk, where he crouches in the shadows.

The door opens and a young man enters, cigarette between his lips. On his tail is another man, this one older, dressed in a business suit. The young man moves to the filing cabinet, opens one drawer, and spends a few seconds searching. He pulls out a file, and turns to the man. “Well?”

The older man reaches into his pocket and withdraws a hefty-looking envelope. He extends it to the young man, who takes it, and slides it into his pocket. He moves to the desk, and Morgana tries to make himself smaller, but the man doesn’t notice him. Morgana hears the rustling of paper from above him, and the young man says, “You’re all paid up. Feel free to go inside.”

The older man nods, and exits. The younger man returns to the cabinet, returns the file, and follows.

Morgana sneaks back over to the cabinet and slides it open. He continues to go through the names, and when he can’t find Madarame’s, he goes to the next. And the next.

He searches through each name, but Madarame’s name is nowhere. Is there nothing here? Has this just been a waste of time? But it couldn’t be. This facility was part of a Palace, which couldn’t be coincidental. Then, Morgana’s eyes fall on one name in particular. It catches his attention, but it isn’t until he’s passed it that he thinks to go back and look. What’s this?

With his jaw, he yanks the file out and opens it up. Unit 47. Paid in full. But it is the name that stands out to him. The more Morgana thinks about it, the more convinced he becomes. Madarame’s name isn’t in the filing cabinet.

With more difficulty than he will later admit, Morgana rolls the thin file up and puts it in his mouth. Then, he gingerly makes his way to the door, peers out, and ensured that the coast is clear, bolts for the back entrance. He dashes outside, around the bend, and sprints for the fence. Akira waits for him.

“What’s that?” Akira asks, from the other side.

“’ere!” Morgana hisses, and slides the file between the chain-link holes. “’eke it!”

Akira grabs the file and pulls it free, and Morgana starts to climb the fence. When he gets to the top, Akira reaches up his arms and Morgana jumps into them.

“You okay?” Akira asks.

“Just fine.”

“What is this?” Akira asks, and holds the rolled-up paper in his hand.

“Look at the name.”

Akira does. His eyes widen. “Do you think…?”

“It can’t be a coincidence, right?”

Akira nods, and stuffs the file into his bag. “We need to talk to Yusuke.”

Notes:

Happy Monday! Hope everyone enjoyed their weekends. I'll be getting to the comments/reviews I didn't get to soon, and as always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 39: Chapter 39

5/23

The lunch bell rings.

When Ann turns to him, it is slow, as if she’s unsure whether she should. It has been another silent, awkward day in class. “Hey,” she says, but won’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah?” Akira asks. He is far removed from the relief of seeing her step out, safe, from Madarame’s office. The weekend further drained him, between all his investigations and the reveal that the Palace was significantly more complicated than Kamoshida’s. Akira is in no mood for Ann’s bullshit.

“Want to go see our scores?”

The announcement had come earlier, accompanied by the typical chorus of groans and heads collapsing onto desks. Akira does not answer for a while. He feels ashamed for thinking poorly of Ann mere seconds earlier. He does, however, want to say several things. What he says instead is, “Sure,” and stands.

The two file out of the room, several hands’ worth of distance between them. “You spoke to Yusuke, right?” Akira asks. “He’ll meet us after school?”

“Yeah,” Ann replies. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking,” Akira replies.

A procession of students marches its way towards the stairwell, their faces a majority mix of indifference and fear. A few look excited. Stomping his way against this tide is Ryuji.

Ann steps in front of him and crosses her arms. “Where are you going?”

“Huh?” He asks, glancing from her to Akira, and back again. “N-nowhere.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, eyes narrowing. “You just don’t want to see how you did on your tests.”

Ryuji opens his mouth in what looks to be a protest, then his face falls. “Yeah, so?”

Ann’s softens. “I’m sure you didn’t do that bad. We’re going to look for ourselves. Come with us.”

“No thanks,” Ryuji replies, eyes falling to the floor. “It’s cool.”

Akira steps forward and lays a hand on Ryuji’s shoulder. “You’ve got to look eventually, right? I’m sure I didn’t do that great either.”

Ryuji frowns. “What’re you talking about, man? You’re like, super smart.”

Akira chuckles and lowers his arm. “If you say so. But it’s fair to say we had more shit on our minds than the average student.”

A grin cracks Ryuji’s face. “That’s true.”

“Yeah,” Ann says, stepping up alongside them. “So, come on. Rip the bandage off, right? It’s not like my scores are going to be awesome.”

“Also true,” Ryuji mutters, which earns him a slap on the shoulder from Ann. Ryuji rubs the spot and turns into the mass of students. Akira sticks his hands in his pockets and walks beside him. He feels relieved to have a buffer between himself and Ann, then feels guilt over it being Ryuji. By the time they reach Shujin’s first floor, he’s shoved the thoughts aside.

Students swamp the board, and the noise is a white cacophony of whispers, shouts of excitement, and moans of things not excitement.

Stricken with sudden bravery, Ryuji shoves his way through the crowd, Akira and Ann following in his wake. When he reaches the front, his eyes skim the board, and he lets out a small groan. “Damn…”

Akira closes the distance between them and finds his friend’s name at the bottom of the list. Or rather, second to last.

“H-hey,” Ann says, and pats the blonde boy on the same spot she’d just hit. “You’re not dead last. That’s… something.”

“Yeah, it’s real awesome,” Ryuji replies, and points to the name right above his. “This guy’s been out with pneumonia for the last month. So the guy who doesn’t even come to school still does better than me.” He shakes his head and steps back into the crowd. A few others glance towards him, barely contained smiles on their faces. Akira throws a few scowls their way before they straighten their looks out. Assholes, he thinks. If he’s going to be the scourge of Shujin, he might as well play the part when it suits him.

“Alright,” Ryuji says, forcing some brightness into his voice. “Let’s see what you guys got!”

The three move to Akira and Ann’s respective board. Ann gets there first, and finds her name almost immediately. “Okay,” she says, nodding. “Not bad.” She’s smack dab in the middle, Akira sees. His eyes hover around her name, searching for his own. He can’t find it.

Then he feels an elbow jabbing into his shoulder, again and again. “Ow, what?” Akira asks Ryuji.

The boy’s eyes are wide, and his mouth is hanging open. “Dude,” he says, and points. Akira follows his finger and sees his name.

Number… seven?

“Dude, dude, dude!” Ryuji exclaims, and starts slapping Akira’s shoulder. “Top ten, man! Top freakin’ ten! That’s freakin’ awesome! Freakin’ incredible!” The louder he gets, the more eyeballs turn to them. The surrounding student conversations die, and louder whispers pick up their slack.

“…got lucky…”

“…way he did that well…”

“…blackmailed the teachers, no other way…”

Akira hears these things and feels his mood blacken, but then Ryuji throws his arm around Akira’s shoulders and laughs, and Akira looks at his friend, and suddenly the voices around him seem very small and very far away.

Akira smiles. “Alright man,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Calm down.”

He looks at Ann, and sees her face twisted up into a smile, but a misshapen one.

He remembers another young woman’s face, all gnarled up.

“You must be, like, a super genius or something,” Ryuji states, still delighted.

No, Akira thinks. I just had a good tutor.

Sometime later, during a bathroom break, against Akira’s better judgment, he steals a look at the RINE app.

Kurusu got top ten status – wtf were the rest of you idiots doing lol?

No way no way he got that legit

(Dude can barely answer questions in class and suddenly he’s a genius? Yeah, no.)

LOL You guys are all just dumb

How’s it feel to be beat by a delinquent retards?

Akira exits the app and sits in the stall for a few minutes before he finds himself ready to return to class.

#

Iwai prefers not to use names. He has come to accept that they are a necessary inconvenience of life. It is easier for him to attach a short descriptor to an image. His customers frequently fall into this classification.

Short-haired weasel.

Anime haircut.

Sweatshirt-obsessed virgin.

That isn’t to say he never uses names. Iwai just opts for the simpler choice when it suits him. Kaoru gets his own name. A few others too.

When the door opens, and two girls step inside – the taller one holding it ajar for the shorter – he dubs them, ‘tallish short-haired girl’ and ‘pink cardigan girl.’ They are not something he expects to see in his shop. Getting to be the norm around here. He lets his gaze drop back to the magazine he’d been reading and listens to two sets of footsteps, one receding deeper into the store, and the other approaching him, and stopping just short of the counter.

“Hello,” comes a voice, calm and mature.

Iwai groans, shuts the magazine as loudly as it allows itself to be, and rolls his head up until he’s facing ‘tallish short-haired girl.’ “Need somethin’?”

“I’m hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a gift for my boyfriend.”

His metaphorical hackles rise. The way she’d said ‘boyfriend’ felt off, like she was pushing the word out of her throat. He jerks his head towards the many replica firearms lining the wall behind him. “These don’t make romantic presents. Can’t you make him chocolates or whatever?” That’s what girls who like boys do, right? Iwai thinks about asking Kaoru, then smiles. That one wouldn’t know.

“I’d rather get something more personal. He’s a gun enthusiast. I believe he’s shopped here before.”

Iwai thinks of ‘short-haired weasel,’ ' anime haircut,’ and ‘sweatshirt-obsessed virgin.’ No way one of them landed a girl this anatomically correct. “Describe him.”

She frowns, then says, “Um, his name is Akira Kurusu.”

Iwai keeps his face under control. “Sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction. “Are you sure? Akira is a fairly common name.”

“Then I must only know a bunch of uncommon people.” He mentally kicks himself. He’s doing it again. Giving lip. Being cute. His defenses are up. The situation reminds him too much of others. Interrogation rooms and solitary lamps burning dull fluorescents into his retinas. But this isn’t a cop. It’s a high school girl. And this isn’t a precinct. It’s a shop. His shop.

Still, something’s off about the girl. It’s her poise. Her precise way of speaking. It reeks of law. Iwai learned a long time ago how to sniff out something like that.

Iwai wrestles his mind back under control and thinks. Akira has never mentioned having a girlfriend. There’s that blonde girl, but they definitely aren’t together. So, who was this? And Akira – for all his faults – wasn’t stupid enough to tell some outsider about their little arrangement, was he?

He stops himself. Technically, Iwai hasn’t done anything illegal. Burner phones were on the up and up. That they were the favorite of drug dealers and criminals was irrelevant.

“This… what’d you say his name was?” He asks.

“Akira Kurusu.”

“Right, this Kurusu guy. Did he say he was here?”

Rather than answer, tallish short-haired girl says, “He’s tall and lean. His hair is black and messy, and he wears glasses.”

He rolls the dice. “Oh,” he mutters. “The quiet one. Yeah, I know him.”

The girl blinks, but it’s enough for Iwai to suppress a smile. Hadn’t expected that answer, eh? “He’s been here a few times. I don’t ask for names, on principle. You’re his girlfriend?” He looks her up and down and flashes his most repulsive grin. “How’d he manage that?”

Her face reddens, and her following sentence starts with a stammer. “Do you remember what he bought?”

Iwai presses his sudden advantage. “Seriously. How’d someone like that kid get someone like you?” It’s one of the older tricks. Make the one asking the questions answer questions. Uncomfortable questions. He’s seen veterans of the interrogation exchange crumple with just a few well-intentioned sounding barbs.

This girl, though.

The red leaves her cheeks. She says, “I punched him in the face.”

His composure fails him, and he barks a laugh. The sound is sharp and pinballs its way through the shop. It surprises even him. The girl looks nonplussed. “Guess that’s one way to stake a claim,” he says.

The corners of her mouth curl up. “I suppose. Do you recall what he bought?”

Iwai throws up a not-too-casual shrug and raps his knuckles against the counter glass. “Just a pistol or two. Big ones, but cheap. Not the kind that would fool anyone.” Disclaimers are important.

“I see.” She finally peels her gaze from him and stares down through the glass counter. Her eyes brighten a fraction, and she points at a replica revolver on the shelf inside. “Could I see that one?”

Iwai opens the cabinet and removes it. He holds it out, and she lifts it up better than any amateur he’s seen. With a flick, she pops out the loader, spins it, and snaps it back. The sound is dulled by the fact that it’s plastic, but the heft of it is similar to the real thing. “You’ve got an eye,” he tells her. “That’s a Type 26. First-”

“It’s the first Japanese revolver adopted by the Japanese military,” she replies. “It’s old. Hasn’t been used since the Second World War.” She turns it over, eyes wide with admiration. When she catches him starting, she says, “I’m at the top of my class.”

Do they quiz you on guns at your school?

“Wanna buy it?”

Her face freezes, and she sets it back on the counter. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure it would suit him.”

“I wasn’t sayin’ you should buy it for him.” At this, the tallish short-haired girl’s lips suck in, and her eyes run over the gun repeatedly. He smiles despite himself. She’s actually considering it.

“Thanks, but no. What would it be if you had to recommend something for Akira?”

“The most expensive thing in the store,” he replies.

She fixes him with a tired gaze, but the edge is gone. She looks almost comfortable.

Iwai decides to keep her off-balance. “If you don’t want the gun, I’ve got some brass knuckles. In case this boyfriend of yours gets out of line again.”

She smiles. “I just have one more question for you, sir.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever seen Akira Kurusu with a cat?”

Iwai’s brows raise. If your boyfriend has a cat, shouldn’t you know about it? Still, Iwai can’t see the harm in answering this one truthfully. “I think I recall seeing a cat in his backpack once. And there’s been a few times when he’s here that I swear I’ve heard meowing.” Iwai shrugs. “So, sure, I guess. I have.”

The girl looks about to reply when an exclamation of excitement echoes from the back of the store. “Oh my!”

Iwai glances over the tallish, short-haired girl’s shoulder and sees ‘pink cardigan girl’ stepping out from the shelves. “Look at this one, Mako-chan!” She calls, absolute joy sketched across her face.

She holds a replica RG-6 Grenade Launcher, primarily used by the Russian military.

“What,” he says.

Tallish short haired girl’s smile grows. “That definitely suits you, Haru.”

#

Yusuke finds the batting cages at the top of an exacting set of stairs. The entire experience of ascension leaves him feeling quite surly upon reaching them. Surprise snaps into him. Having never been to a place such as this, he had assumed it alight with the banter of young ruffians, put upon parents, and the clatter and clanging of baseballs and their respective bats.

All Yusuke finds is a napping clerk behind the cash register, and his new acquaintances sitting outside the furthest cage from the entrance.

Ann, he sees, has her elegant fingers wrapped through the chain link, her eyes far away and mouth folded in on itself in worry. A piece begins to construct itself in his mind, before he thinks to wonder what worries her.

Ryuji spins a baseball bat in a slow rotation in his hands, the top of the blunt object flat against the ground, revolving like a drill going nowhere. Bespectacled Akira leans against the wall, hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his uniform, a tired look writ across his face.

The cat sits with its tail dangling off the edge of a thin, metal bench. It is the first to see Yusuke enter, and when it meows, the eyes of the others snap toward him.

Ann speaks first. “Yusuke, hi.”

“Good afternoon,” he says, and sets his schoolbag alongside the cage. “It is-” He starts to say, but a pang stabs his stomach, and he distracts himself from the sensation with exaggerated movement, and takes a seat next to the cat. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabs at the sweat that has bubbled up along his forehead. “Apologies. It is good to see you all. May I ask what prompted you to call me out here?”

He has a lot of work to do. The muse had pierced him the night before, and he’d gotten a significant amount done. Yet, he’d stopped before completion and had to forego dinner. It’s not something that worries him. He’ll stagger his finish dates sometimes. The accentuated hunger makes him feel the art all the more, and the delayed gratification he receives for a job well done is worth every cold sweat and spell of dizziness.

His mind drifts to the meal he might request of Sensei. Perhaps some takoyaki. Or sushi. Or curry. Or udon. Or soba. Perhaps even a hamburger, or something exquisite and foreign. Something French or Italian. Their fare is supposedly delectable. He may be able to convince Sensei to spring for pizza. Or pasta. There is that shrimp-thing he has seen in some magazines. Or perhaps he will decline all that, and simply pick a place randomly. His daily sojourn to Kosei takes him past many an enticing hole-in-the-wall establishment, and the smell of their rich dishes wafting out into the stale Tokyo air, snaking its way into his nostrils, infecting him, and-”

“Yusuke?” It is Akira’s voice.

Yusuke blinks himself back to the present, and feels the flush of his skin. His stomach quivers. It no longer growls. “I am sorry,” he says, quickly. “I seem to have lost myself for a moment. You were saying?”

“We wanted to ask you something,” Ryuji says, his eyes and tone hard.

“By all means.”

“Yusuke,” Ann starts, and glances at the other two boys – as well as the cat, oddly enough – before she continues with, “What was your mother’s name?”

The question gallops through him, and it is a long moment before he can say, “I admit, I did not expect that. Why do you wish to know?”

“You said she was a painter, right?” Ann says. “We wanted to know if we could see anything by her. Anything she painted.”

“Ah,” Yusuke smiles, and he knows from experience it must come off as sad, but that is truly not how he feels. “Unfortunately, she never painted anything of note. Sensei says that, had she lived, she would have become one of the greats.”

“Was she an apprentice to Madarame too?” Akira asks.

“Indeed. Madarame took me in due to his affection for my mother.” Then he adds, without thinking, “He’s a great man.”

The three – no, four if you count the cat – exchange chary looks with one another. Yusuke begins to wonder why they asked him to Yongen-jaya. He begins to wonder why they are the only ones at the batting cages. He begins to wonder if these fellow teenagers have ulterior and sinister motives. Am I to be mugged?

“Yusuke,” Ann says, insistent. “What was your mother’s name?”

“Well, if you must know, it was Chisako Kitagawa.”

Yusuke can feel the tension that dashes about their bodies when they steal looks at each other this time. It pumps through him, and the headache behind his eyes that he’s been carrying since waking builds in pressure by a few fractions. He rubs his temple with one hand, and rests the other on his leg. “I would like to know why you are asking me this. I am beginning to suspect ill intentions.”

Akira takes a step forward. “You live at Madarame’s atelier, right? Where is it?”

“Why do you need to know? Why do you care?” Yusuke demands.

Akira’s face grows softer. “Yusuke,” he says, and Yusuke cannot stand how many times his name has been said in that tone of voice. Soft and hesitant. As if they pity him. As if he were some victim. As if they were in any position to look down on him. “I think you should talk to a friend of mine,” Akira continues. “She’s a reporter, and-”

The word slices through the fog in his mind. “Ah-ha!” Yusuke shouts, and stands. The sudden movement makes his head spin, but then the anger hooks him in its arms, and he forges ahead. “I knew this situation stank of villainy! You want me to talk to a reporter? Why? So you can write an article on Sensei? Are you so unsatisfied with his lack of appearances and his refusal to cater to the media's whims, you have to stoop this low? Vultures! How dare you disrespect his privacy? How dare you use me to do so?” The last few words he yells, and the four – cat included – jump at the sudden shift.

Good.

“To think I believed this the seed of genuine friendship. When in truth, it was conspiracy!”

Ann pats the air with her hands. “Yusuke, calm down. We-”

“Conspiracy, I say!” Specks of kaleidoscopic colors pepper his vision, but Yusuke ignores them. “Sensei told me to never talk to you people, that you’re all parasites, swarming and devouring, seeking to profit from his fame and talent!”

Akira steps up to him. “Did you just say Madarame told you never to talk to reporters?”

Yusuke feels his breath grow more ragged, his chest rattling like an empty paint can with a single yen coin within. “I will not betray his confidence. I will not trample on what Madarame has given me!”

And then Ryuji closes the distance between them, seizes Yusuke by the shoulders, and gives him a single, solid shake. He hears the words, “Get your shit tog-” but then a rumbling darkness rises to claim him, and he sees and hears no more.

#

Yusuke drops to the ground, out of Ryuji’s grasp, and lies still.

The Phantom Thieves look at him, then at one another.

“Nice going, Bonehead,” Morgana hisses. “You killed him!”

#

Tae Takemi is beginning to believe she’s lost all control of her life.

The slip had started what feels like forever ago, but has been aggravated by the persistent presence of one particularly troublesome schoolboy.

First, Akira Kurusu had shown up at her place, blunderingly, albeit cutely, determined to get his hands on ‘medicine.’ She had fingered him a perfect candidate for her experiments, so their relationship had begun.

And now, she was some pseudo-member of the Phantom Thieves, an otherwise all-teenager-slash-cat crime-fighting unit that utilized their phones to access the Metaverse, a hypothesized realm Takemi remembers from medical school.

The shit just kept piling on. Aiding and abetting doesn’t feel harsh enough for what Takemi is doing. She could’ve stepped back at many points, but she never did. Full steam ahead. That was her modus operandi. It’s how she got into this mess and why she’s working at this hole-in-the-wall in Yongen-jaya.

So, when Akira bursts into her office in the late afternoon, accompanied by his entourage of fellow Phantom Thieves, carrying – between the three of them – an unconscious boy, Takemi is decidedly having none of it.

“Kurusu,” she yells, unable to contain herself. “What the actual fuck?”

“I don’t know,” the boy stammers, not bothering to wait but storming through the waiting room to the exam area. “He just fainted at the batting cages.”

Takemi feels a – what her mother used to call – ‘murder smile’ carve itself across her face, shoves herself to her feet, and is halfway to the door she’d seen them go through before she turns, runs back into the waiting area in her fucking high heels, locks the door, and shoves a ‘Closed’ sign into the window.

Then, she sprints to the exam room, which is terrifically crowded.

“He was shouting at us,” Akira is telling her, at the same time the blonde girl – Ann – is saying, “We don’t know what happened, but he lives in a crappy building, and do you think the dust –” and Takemi cannot hear the rest because the other one, Ryuji, is shouting at the damn cat, “Stop saying it’s my fault, dammit,” and the cat is hissing up at him, because apparently the cat can speak.

And so Takemi shouts, “EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!” and everyone shuts the hell up, including the cat.

Takemi pushes her way through the sea of teenagers and leans over the prone boy on the exam table. “Who is this?” She snaps, as she feels his pulse. It’s there and not too faint, she’s happy to see. His breathing is steady as well.

“His name is Yusuke Kitagawa,” Akira says.

“What happened to him?”

“He fainted.”

Takemi whirls on Akira. “Mental shutdown?”

Akira shakes his head. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. We were at the batting cages down the block.”

“Did anything hit him? A baseball or anything?” Takemi gingerly presses her hands to his scalp. There are no tender bits or bumps that she can feel. Her practiced eyes roll over his complexion. It’s pale. Other things begin to alarm her.

“No.”

“What was he doing right before he fainted?”

“He was upset with us. He thought we were-”

“I didn’t ask what he thought. I asked what he was doing.”

Akira clears his throat. “He stood up fast and started yelling at us. I don’t know. He seemed unsteady the whole time. Even before he was mad, then, he just collapsed.” The cat meows, and Akira says, “Ryuji shook him once, but I don’t think that’s what did it.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only doctor here,” Takemi replies. “Is he diabetic?”

Even with her eyes on the unconscious Yusuke, she can almost feel them staring at one another. “We’re not sure,” Akira says. “I don’t think so. He’s never mentioned that to us.”

“I’m guessing you don’t know his medical history either.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

So she was in the dark. Fine. “You,” she says, and points to Ryuji. “Take that cat and get out of this room.”

Ryuji gulps but doesn’t argue. Instead, he scoops up the cat and exits.

“Have you contacted Yusuke’s parents and told them what’s happened?” Takemi wants to know if she’s going to have to.

Akira glances at Ann, who doesn’t reply. The silence stretches too long.

“Well?” Takemi snaps.

“Yusuke is an orphan,” Akira mutters, and Takemi’s hands hesitate for a moment before they continue their examination. “He’s got a guardian. We haven’t told him.” There’s a hitch to his voice, but Takemi can’t be bothered to try and figure out what it means.

“Alright, Takemi says. “Both of you. Get out.”

The two scurry from the room and leave Takemi with the thought that one of these days, Akira Kurusu will need a doctor, and it would be because of something she did to him.

#

Time goes by. The four thieves sit in Takemi’s waiting room, silent. Akira can’t speak for the others, but he doesn’t know what to say. The whole thing has exhausted him, and he was already plenty tired to begin with, but every time he thinks this, Akira feels a stab of guilt. What he should be thinking of is Yusuke’s well-being.

But what can he do?

What can any of them do?

Nothing, his father’s voice whispers.

Eventually, the door to the exam area opens, and Takemi sticks her head out. “Kurusu,” she says, and jerks her head for him to follow. After casting wary glances at the others, he does so, and she leads him to an empty exam room. “How’s Yusuke?” Akira asks.

Takemi leans against the empty desk and points to the exam table. Akira hops up onto it. She crosses her legs and leans forward, like she always does, but there’s no fey seductiveness this time. “You said he has a guardian. Who is he?”

“Is Yusuke okay?”

“Answer the question, Akira.”

Akira has to wet his lips a few times before saying, “His name is Ichiryusai Madarame. He’s a famous painter. Yusuke is his apprentice. He’s also our next target.”

Takemi perks up at this. “You’re going to change his heart? Like you did Kamoshida? Why?”

“He’s been plagiarizing his apprentices for years. The majority of his work has been stolen from young students. Once he’s used them up, he throws them out, and they become destitute. Most of the time.”

Takemi nods, and her brows furrow. “Your friend is severely malnourished. The symptoms you described earlier are consistent with that diagnosis. And if this ‘guardian’ is stealing from him, it makes more sense.”

“Malnourished?” Akira asks. “You mean, like, he’s not eating right?”

Takemi shakes her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not eating at all.” The words are like twin hammers against Akira’s chest, but as he absorbs this, Takemi continues. “He’s underweight. His skin is the wrong kind of pale. You told me he was dizzy from just standing up. The exertion caused him to faint.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Akira says. “I’ve only known him for a few days. I thought… but, not that.”

Takemi looks thrown. “This isn’t your fault, Kurusu.”

Akira shakes his head. “No. We invited him out. We asked him questions he didn’t want to answer. We’ve been using him as a source during our investigation. We pushed him. He-”

Takemi cuts him off. “Stop it. Now. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault. You need not to freak out right now, Kurusu.”

The words cut deep. She’s right, Joker whispers in Akira’s head. Focus. Akira nods. “Sorry. As I said, I’ve only hung out with him a few times. I’ve never seen him eat anything. I don’t even think I’ve seen him take a sip of water.”

Takemi smiles, then. It isn’t much, and there’s little feeling behind it, but it’s a smile that makes him feel a bit better. “As much as I don’t appreciate you barging in with unconscious teenagers, you did the right thing, bringing him here.”

Akira leans back against the cool wall of the room. He shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. “He thinks Madarame is this amazing person. That he can do no wrong. This bastard has been lying to him, stealing from him, and now you’re telling me he can’t even be bothered to feed him?”

Takemi nods, then says, “I’m going to call the police.”

Akira’s eyes open. “What?”

“This is child abuse,” Takemi says, and straightens. “I need to notify the authorities.”

A million thoughts sprint through his mind, and Akira jumps off the table. “You can’t do that. Please. We need-”

Takemi stares at him, and her smile is gone now. “You’re going to change his heart, right?”

“Yes. If you call the cops, we won’t get the chance and-”

“I’m sorry, Akira,” Takemi says. “But I’m not doing this again. I understand your reasons, but I didn’t call the police with you, and I should have so-”

“Even if you had, it wouldn’t have changed anything,” Akira snaps.

Takemi holds up a hand. “The Metaverse is dangerous, no? So why not get this guy off the street the old-fashioned way? Besides, nothing you’ve said changes the fact that Madarame’s neglect of Yusuke’s nutritional needs constitutes child abuse. I am reporting it.”

Akira feels his hands ball into fists. “It won’t matter. They won’t do anything. You’ll just be making it harder for us to do what needs to be done.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can.”

Takemi looks away, not out of shame, guilt, or anything. Her eyes remain determined. “Well then, I can’t. I’m flattered your friend out there gave me a code name, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a doctor. I choose to believe that someone will give a shit and stop this.” Takemi puts her hand on the doorknob. “I won’t tell them anything about the Phantom Thieves. Let me try to handle this the right way.”

Akira shakes his head as Takemi opens the door and steps out.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he says, to the air. “This isn’t the right way.”

#

Madarame stretches across the bed, and yawns. It has been a long day. He’d spent most of it at the gallery, entertaining questions and critics and the usual sycophants. It had gone well enough.

The bathroom door opens, and his girlfriend steps out. She is dressed in the new lingerie he’d bought for her, all black and lacy, and she looks at him seductively and poses with her hands on her hips, and a little shimmy that makes him smile. Then she nicks her toe against the dresser's edge, and he scowls. She’s drunk. Again.

Before he can be bothered by this for too long, his phone rings. He groans but reaches for it. Few people would dare call him after hours, and the reasons for doing so were typically good.

He freezes when he sees the number is unregistered. Madarame shoots out of bed, faster than he’s been in years, and leaves the room, ignoring his girlfriend’s protests. His throat is dry by the time he answers the phone. “Hello?”

“Madarame-san,” comes a voice. “Evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I’m calling on behalf of your third favorite customer.”

Madarame feels a knot tie itself in his chest. “What is it?”

“Hey now, no need to get snippy. This is a courtesy call, after all. We’re trying to help you out. Give you a head’s up.”

“Fine, fine,” Madarame snaps. “Just tell me what it is.”

“Geez, man. Relax. Or don’t. One of your little shitbirds is about the fly the coop.”

“What?” Madarame may talk in nonsensical idioms, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates it when they’re served to him.

“I’m sayin’ you’ve got a problem on your hands. One you need to deal with.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! I’ve had enough of your nonsense.” Madarame pulls the phone away from his ear and holds it before him like a microphone before shouting into it. “Why don’t you put your boss on, and maybe he can speak like a normal person and explain whatever damn garbage you’re spewing at me!”

There is a brief bit of silence. Then, the voice says, “Hold on.”

Madarame feels his pulse shudder in his neck.

More silence, then a new voice. “Madarame.” It is not a question. The voice is smooth and soft, but though this is not a voice he has ever heard before, Madarame knows the person speaking is neither.

“Yes?” Madarame manages.

“What about this do you not understand?”

“I just think that if your people want to tell me something, they should speak plainly.”

“I would think a man of your stature and artistic sensibilities able to cut through the trappings of veiled speech.” There’s no humor in the voice, only thin annoyance.

“Please,” he says, after swallowing. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” the voice says. “He’s at a doctor’s office in Yongen-jaya. The physician just called the police. Your apprentice is severely underweight and malnourished.”

“Fuck,” Madarame spits. That stupid boy! “Wait, how do you know that?”

“We have people in the police,” the voice replies. “Anything reported to the authorities related to you, gets passed along to us.”

“I… I don’t-”

“Let’s keep this simple,” the voice says. “Whatever method you use to cut your students loose, use it. Now. Yusuke Kitagawa has become a liability to our arrangement. I will not tolerate liabilities to our arrangement.”

Madarame surprises himself by finding something resembling a spine. “You don’t have to threaten me,” he states. “Don’t forget that I’m vital to your operations and-”

The voice interrupts. “You’ve overestimated your importance. You use your scam to make money. We use your scam to make money. But it’s not our only scam. It is, however, your only scam. If the scam goes away, we have other scams. If the scam goes away, you don’t. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t like being misunderstood. The collapse of your scam would inconvenience me. But eventually, things would settle for me and mine. There’s always another scam.” A pause, and then he says. “You should remember that, Madarame. There’s always another scam.”

The line goes dead.

Notes:

And just like that, it's Friday! Pretty boring chapter, right? Not much going on. Oh well.

An aside, I finally got around to looking at the 'Bookmarks' for Crimson on ao3. Some of you said some very nice things, so thank you! I appreciate it!

For curiosity's sake, is anyone participating in NanoWrimo? We're just over halfway done with November, after all. How are your novels coming?

Thank you very much for reading! You are all the last ace in a lost hand. (That's the line, right?)

Chapter 40: Chapter 40

5/22

When Yusuke wakes, the mud in his brain allows just two thoughts, each scrambling over the other to be the first to coherence.

‘Where am I?’ and ‘How long was I out this time?’ It takes only a moment for both to flutter through his mind, and Yusuke pushes himself into a sitting position.

He is on a kind of table lined in ruffled, coarse paper. The room he’s in is a vile cerulean blue. An assortment of paraphernalia catches his eye. A glass cylinder of cotton balls. Charts he cannot decipher are strewn upon the wall. A stethoscope tossed onto a desk, as if in haste. A doctor’s office? The last he remembers, he’d been at the batting cages in Yongen-jaya. Ann was there. And Akira, with his questions. And the hooligan. Had they brought him here? Yusuke can remember the fight and his outrage at their false motives. The hunger has sapped the anger from him.

All he wants is to go home.

Yusuke spies his school bag in the corner. Convenient. Regardless of their justifications, Yusuke did not consent to be brought here and will walk out and never return.

He inches the door open, and finds an empty hall. Shouldering his bag, Yusuke steps out and begins his escape. He’s no idea which way is out, but the hall is small enough. He creaks open another door and finds what appears to be a lobby. Smiling at his deduction, he slides out and hears a voice that halts him.

“…waiting for hours! I called yesterday. Why hasn’t anyone shown up yet?” The voice is a woman’s, smooth but edged and frustrated. A break in the wall leads to another office, and Yusuke pokes his head around the side to find a dark-haired woman in a fetching white coat speaking into a phone. She holds it out before her face as if her anger could transmit better through the signal by the phone's position. “I want someone from the police here, now. Do you not take abuse like this seriously?”

There is a muffled, garbled response that Yusuke cannot hear.

“It’s being ‘processed?’ What the hell does that mean?” Another static reply. “No! Do not put me back on hold. Get up, and walk into your supervisor’s office. Tell him to get their ass down here. This is a kid who is not being fed properly. I’m telling you, it’s child abuse.”

Child abuse? Yusuke blinks. Could she be referring to him? He almost wants to laugh at the thought, but the intensity of the woman’s voice permits no such thing. Yusuke wonders, briefly, if he should make his presence known. He’s sure he could clear this whole thing up. But she seems unable to comprehend reason at the moment, given her spitfire conversation. No. I need to get back to Sensei. Yusuke has to explain this to Madarame. He’ll know what to do.

Resolute, Yusuke ducks down and sneaks his way past the window to the office. Then, he is out the door and walking down the street as quickly as possible.

The fatigue grabs him, and spotting a convenience store on the corner, he pauses. Yusuke stares at the building for a long time, then walks inside. He buys a candy bar with a smattering of coins in his pocket and devours it outside.

“Damn,” he whispers, once done. Yusuke knows this is a stressful situation, but to do something so rash and foolish doesn’t become him. No matter the pain of the hunger, enduring it would ensure his future as an artist.

Yusuke shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. There are two missed messages. He hadn’t been home for a whole night, and had expected more. Both were from Madarame.

He dials Sensei’s number, and the ring lasts for only a millisecond before it’s answered, and he hears a voice say, “Where are you?” It is Madarame, but different somehow. Gruff and angry and on edge.

Yusuke sighs. “I’m sorry I worried you, Sensei. I was out in Yongen-jaya, and I passed out. It appears some young people took me to a local clinic. I have to see you. They are making some horrid accusations and-”

“Listen to me,” Madarame barks, and Yusuke shuts his mouth. “I need you to get to Kosei High. Now.”

Yusuke blinks. True, he was late to class, but he would’ve thought this trumped school. “But… shouldn’t we-”

“Never mind all that. I’ve set up a meeting with Principal Oryu. You must be there.”

“But, we need to talk about what this doctor is-”

“Are you telling me what to do now?” Madarame asks.

“No,” Yusuke replies, and he feels and hears his voice crack a little. “But, is this meeting essential? Can it not wait until later?”

“No,” Madarame snaps. “It can’t. Get to Kosei.”

The call ends.

Yusuke stands on the sidewalk, his stomach roiling at the injection of strange food, his mind – still exhausted – bouncing around, trying to make sense of everything. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and marches to the subway station.

#

It doesn’t take him long to get to school. Yongen-jaya is only one station from Shibuya, after all, and though the train is particularly sweltering, he manages the journey with little physical discomfort. It is the mental anguish that plagues him. Given the seriousness of the doctor’s accusations, Yusuke cannot understand why Sensei would set up a meeting like this.

Kosei is an immaculate building, shining in the sun and modern by architectural standards. Though not as well-known as schools like Shujin, it is no less prestigious.

Yusuke makes his way up to the front entrance, opens the door, and bathes in the A/C for a few moments before continuing to the second floor, where Principal Oryu keeps his office. He has arrived during class, so the halls are empty.

When he knocks, he hears a short, “Come in,” and enters. Yusuke finds Principal Oryu, slight and bespectacled, seated at his desk, his fingers in a steeple before his face.

Madarame sits alongside him, his chair just a bit askew from the desk itself.

There is a look on his face. It makes Yusuke very uncomfortable.

“Kitagawa,” Principal Oryu says, and collapses the steeple to gesture towards the sole empty chair, across the desk from both of them. “Have a seat.”

“Of course,” Yusuke says and slides into it. Neither of the adults say anything, and Yusuke can’t stop his hands from fidgeting. He folds them, unfolds them, tries to stick them in his pockets, and then refolds them once more. All in seconds. “May I-”

“Let’s get to the point,” Oryu says, his voice heavy. He leans back, shakes his head, and states, “We know about the plagiarism.”

The word is like a hammer to his stomach, but Yusuke remains upright, staring. Madarame’s face has cracked, and he raises a hand to his eyes as if to spare the others from his tears and glances away.

“Plagiarism?” Yusuke finally manages. “What’re you talking about?” It wasn’t plagiarism. I created those works at Sensei’s direction. He made them as much as I did. They’re trying to ruin him! Yusuke wouldn’t let them. “There is no such thing,” Yusuke spits. “Sensei is-”

“Yusuke,” Madarame moans. Yusuke’s mouth shuts when he sees the look Sensei gives him. Horror and sadness. “Yusuke,” his master, the man who raised him for thirteen years, says, “How could you?”

Whatever thoughts Yusuke held in his mind wink out. His mouth blurts nonsense. “Huh?”

“Madarame-san discovered the discrepancies,” Principal Oryu states. “The pieces you’ve submitted to your classes. They are lifted directly from Madarame’s personal studio. Some, from the same exhibit he’s presently running.”

Yusuke looks back and forth between the two men. “I don’t understand.” Then, he repeats it. “I don’t understand.”

Madarame extends a single hand, palm outward as if trying to calm Yusuke down. “Yusuke, my boy, it’s over. We know everything.”

“I do not know what you hoped to accomplish,” Oryu continues. “But passing Madarame-san’s art off as your own. It is disappointing.” He shrugs. “But, we have no other choice. For such a gross violation of the academic policy, Yusuke Kitagawa, you are to be expelled from Kosei High School.”

The words are like an electric shock. Yusuke’s brain kicks back online, and he starts to shout, his voice high and weak. “No, wait! Please, there must be some mistake. I would never pass someone else’s work off as my own, especially not Sensei’s!” He looks at Madarame. “Please, you know me, Sensei. You know I wouldn’t do this. I couldn’t. This is wrong. Tell him, please.”

“Yusuke,” Madarame says. “Please, just stop.”

“Stop what?” Yusuke demands. “I haven’t done anything. Please!”

Principal Oryu shakes his head. “That’s enough Kitagawa. This is a shameful display. Try to control yourself.”

Yusuke looks back at him and stands. “But you’re accusing me of something I haven’t done!” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “This is a mistake.” Yusuke nods and forces a calm smile onto his face. “Sensei, they must’ve seen what I assisted you with for the exhibit. Tell them I was involved with creating those pieces and did so at your whim. That must be what this is all about. You know I’d never do something as reprehensible as cheat or pass another’s work off as my own. It has to be that. Tell them how I helped you paint those pieces for the show.”

And Madarame stares up at Yusuke, his eyes wide, and replies, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And Yusuke’s heart breaks. “What do you mean?” He asks, his voice quiet and small. “I’ve helped you for years. Not just for this show. You’ve… you’ve…” He can’t continue. The words will not come. He cannot make the accusation, even as it is leveled against him.

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.

Oryu sighs. “I was hoping we could keep this civil and not have you hurl such vile charges at the man who raised you. I suppose I should’ve expected as much from a plagiarizer.” The word is spoken with such malice, that Yusuke has to sit back down. Oryu folds his hands over each other. “The official process of expulsion will begin shortly. I will file the paperwork for processing. By next week, you will officially be expelled from Kosei High.”

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Yusuke’s mind drifts towards his options, but there’s nothing. Without his scholarship, he has no money. Without Madarame, he has no place to live. Without his reputation, he will never be an artist. The panic he feels triples. Am I homeless? Did I just become homeless? But, then, another thought cuts through the others.

I’m going to die.

He will, too. There’s no place left for him to go. He has no money. It’s all over.

The others continue to speak, but he cannot hear them. He is falling somewhere. Somewhere deep and very far away.

#

Lunch, and the Phantom Thieves are on the roof of Shujin. There are many things to discuss. Least of all, how to keep a lid on whatever can Takemi has opened by going to the police about Yusuke, but everyone has their threads they wish to pull.

“Why do you think Madarame’s keeping a storage unit in Yusuke’s mom’s name?” Ryuji asks.

Ann frowns from where she sits next to the A/C unit. “Because he doesn’t want anyone to know it’s his, duh.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I know that. I’m asking, why name it after Yusuke’s mom and not… I dunno, some random dead person? Or someone who never existed?”

“Tribute?” Akira asks. “Who knows?” But the question does irk him. Why would Madarame do something like that?

“If he treated her the same way he’s treated his other apprentices,” Ryuji grumbles. “Then that’s some pretty effed up tribute.”

Akira’s phone vibrates. He withdraws it from his pocket and sees a text.

TAKEMI: Kitagawa is gone. Is he with you?

“Shit,” Akira says. He shows the team the text. “If Yusuke’s run away, he’s probably heading back for Madarame right now. He could tell everyone about us and the things we were asking.”

“We need to find him,” Morgana replies.

Ann is looking at her own phone. “Whoa, guys. I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I just got a text from him. He says he wants to meet up.”

Akira considers this. “Tell him to head to LeBlanc after school. We’ll meet him there.”

#

Sojiro turns and holds out the plate, but when Akira reaches out to take it, he pulls it back, just a bit. “What’s the deal with him?” Sojiro asks and stabs his eyes upward. “The new one?”

“Yusuke?” Akira asks.

“If that’s his name.”

“He’s a friend,” Akira replies. “And he’s famished. I don’t think he eats a lot.”

Sojiro rolls his eyes. “I could see that. The kid looks like the offspring of a twig and an even thinner twig. Is he okay?”

“I think so,” Akira says, trying to maintain his calm. Yusuke had been despondent when he’d arrived, and it wasn’t clear how bad things were for him yet. Sojiro provides Akira with the food, and Akira takes the steps back up to his room, two at a time.

The Phantom Thieves, plus Yusuke, sit arrayed around his room.

Yusuke, eyes dim and wandering, sits slumped on the couch. “This is quite spacious,” he mumbles. Ann sits alongside him, a worried look on her face.

Ryuji leans against the railing, his arms crossed and foot tapping away. Morgana is perched on the bed, watching them all.

“Thanks,” Akira says, as he sets the food on his table and drags it over for Yusuke. “Here. LeBlanc’s special curry. Eat up.”

Yusuke regards the food, and his face twists up. “Well, perhaps a bite or two would-”

“Screw that,” Ryuji suddenly blurts. He marches over and slams both hands, splayed open on the table. “You’ll eat all of it, dude. Because you freakin’ need it. Malnutrition is not a damn joke!”

No one says anything. They stare at him, eyes wide. Eventually, Ann manages a, “Ryuji…” and Akira shakes his head and pulls up his desk chair to the table.

Yusuke picks up the fork and leans over the food. Life quakes back into his eyes as he inhales the curry’s smell, and to say he dives into it would be an understatement.

After devouring about half the food, Yusuke leans back and mutters, “I apologize for my inexplicable presence.”

Akira chuckles and shrugs. “Don’t know if I’d call it ‘inexplicable,’ but don’t worry about that. What’s going on?”

Yusuke’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “It would appear I’ve been expelled.”

Everyone has their mixed reactions of outrage. Ryuji asks, “Expelled? Like, expelled, expelled?”

“Yes, that one,” Yusuke says.

“Why?” Akira asks.

“How?” Ann asks.

Yusuke sighs. “I have been accused of plagiarism. Of stealing Sensei’s work and passing it off as my own.”

“For real?” Ryuji asks, shaking his head. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about? I thought Madarame was the piece of shit stealing from you!”

Yusuke slams a fist onto the table. “How many times must I say this? It is not plagiarism! Sensei requested my help on several pieces, and I did so because I was his apprentice. That is what an apprentice does!”

“Bullshit,” Ryuji spits back. “An apprentice helps his Sensei with his work. He doesn’t do all the work for the Sensei, so the Sensei can say it’s his own!”

“Ryuji’s right,” Ann says. “I’m pretty sure that’s the actual definition of plagiarism.”

“Look,” Akira says when he sees Yusuke’s mouth open in further protest. “Tell us what happened, okay? We dropped you off at the clinic yesterday. What’s next?”

Yusuke walks them through his day in between forkfuls of food. It is a long, rambling story, with Akira requesting a course correction several times. When he reaches the end, the others sit in silence.

Then, Akira stands. “I’ll be right back.”

The others watch him go, but not one moves to follow him. Akira descends the stairs, crosses through the empty café – beneath Sojiro’s eye – and steps outside.

Akira pulls the burner from his pocket and dials Ohya.

“’ello?” Ohya yawns into the phone.

“Were you sleeping or something?” Akira asks.

“Power napping. It’s a thing. What’d you want?”

Akira sighs and says, “Yusuke Kitagawa got expelled from Kosei High today.”

When Ohya speaks next, her voice is awake, calm, and authoritative. “Tell me everything.”

Akira relates Yusuke’s story and, at the end, asks, “Could you come over and explain things to him?”

There’s a brief silence. Then, “So, Madarame got tipped off, huh? It must’ve been the police. Damn. The Yakuza and the police? How many people does this creep know?”

“Hello?” Akira asks.

“Hm? Oh, no, sorry. I can’t come over now. I’m busy.”

“I thought you said you were napping.”

“The nap was a prelude to work. Madarame isn’t my only story.”

“But you can use this, right? Madarame got Yusuke expelled because he thought his little scam was in danger.”

“Honestly? It’s a he-said, he-said, Kurusu. And Madarame has a lot more oomph behind his he-said. Suppose Kitagawa goes public with accusations against Madarame. In that case, everyone will see him as another pissed-off teenager raging against the kind-hearted man who took him in and cared for him.”

Akira opens his mouth to protest but realizes he doesn’t have one in him. “Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

“Sorry, Kurusu. That’s how the world works. We’re going to need another angle to get to Madarame.”

We need to change his heart, Joker whispers in Akira’s mind. “I know,” Akira says to both Joker and Ohya.

Akira returns upstairs and informs everyone of his conversation.

“Seriously?” Ryuji asks, eyes wide. “She’s not going to do anything? I thought she was gonna blow this whole story wide open!”

“But she’s got a point,” Akira says. “No one will believe Yusuke.”

“But it’s the truth,” Ryuji insists.

This one still doesn’t get it, his father states. “And you should know by now,” Akira replies calmly, “that that doesn’t matter. The truth is about perception. Even if we gave facts and had proof, people will see Madarame as a beloved saint and Yusuke as a bitter former apprentice.”

Yusuke stares at the ground, his hands clasped together. “I… don’t know what to do.”

Ann lays a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out, Yusuke. We’re going to help you.”

Ryuji throws his hands in the air. “Great, so it’s back to the drawing board. And Madarame gets to keep churning out paintings and using up kids like they’re on some damn conveyor belt.”

Akira’s eyes widen.

That could be it.

“Yusuke,” Akira says and leans forward. “You lived at Madarame’s atelier, right?”

“Correct,” Yusuke replies. “Though I doubt I’ll be able to reenter now.”

“Could you show us where it is?”

“Why do you need to know?” Yusuke asks.

“It’s important. We have a way to help you. But we need to find something vital to Madarame first. We think it’s in the atelier, but we don’t know where it is. Could you bring us there? Now?”

Dejectedly, Yusuke rises to his feet. “Very well. Perhaps I’ll be able to retrieve some of my few personal items.” Yusuke shakes his head. “I’ve no idea where I’m to sleep tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Akira says, joining Yusuke in standing. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Akira,” Ann says, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Akira stares at her and smiles.

And this one, his father states. Wanted to leave us high and dry? And for what?

Yusuke is an intelligent guy, Joker says, and Akira can almost see his shrug. And he’s got no connection to Shujin. He could be less of a liability than some people. Who knows?

ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS

Akira blinks his head clear and ushers Yusuke down the stairs. “I’ll be back in a bit,” Akira tells Sojiro.

“You got your keys?” Sojiro asks.

Akira nods. “Yes. No worries. I won’t be out too late.” Sojiro seems to accept this explanation. Akira bundles Yusuke out of LeBlanc, followed closely by Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana. “I’m sorry about all this, Yusuke,” Akira continues. “To be betrayed like that, it’s hard.”

Yusuke shakes his head. “No, there’s some misunderstanding. I cannot believe that Sensei would truly-”

“My mother,” Akira says, cutting him off. “She did something similar to me. Although, I’d mostly come to expect something like that from her. She never strung me along. She had her ways and always told me she was doing what was best for me. But it didn’t take me very long to realize what was happening. You can only be left alone for so many weekends for so long.

“You don’t have to believe that Madarame betrayed you. Not right now. But I want to show you something that may convince you otherwise.”

“I doubt it,” Yusuke replies. His voice has a faint note of challenge, but it’s weak. The fight has seemingly gone out of him.

“Akira,” Ann says as they approach the station. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Akira nearly snaps back at her, but keeps himself under control. “Yes,” he says. “I’m sure.”

#

They arrive at the atelier with the moon high in the sky. The building is run down, though perhaps not in as poor a state as Madarame’s other properties. That Akira never visited this spot was pure luck. He and Ohya could’ve easily seen this one first, as it was near the center of the various locations identified via Madarame’s hacked GPS.

It is dark out, but hot. Everyone chatters as they approach, but Akira has kept quiet most of the trip, running his impromptu plan through his head. He doesn’t believe he’s made a mistake.

When they stop outside the building, Akira turns to Morgana. “Well?”

“Oh yeah,” the cat answers. “Just like before. There’s a Palace here.” Morgana pads himself forward, and disappears into the Metaverse.

“Good Heavens!” Yusuke exclaims, staring at the spot Morgana vanished. “The cat is gone!”

“He’ll be back,” Akira tells him, and steps closer to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. But something bizarre is about to happen. Something weird. You don’t have to be here, Yusuke. You can go back to LeBlanc and spend the night.”

Yusuke tears his eyes from where Morgana disappeared. “No. I will stay.”

“Alright,” Akira replies. “But if you do, you have to promise that you won’t say anything about this to anyone. We’re trusting you, yeah?”

Yusuke frowns, and Ann takes a step forward. “Hey, Akira. Wait a second. Let’s talk about-”

“Very well,” Yusuke says. “Provided we are not about to murder Madarame-sensei, my lips are sealed. I choose to trust you.”

Akira nods and turns to Ann and Ryuji. “I think I’ve figured it out. Morgana will confirm, but if I’m right, this is the Palace’s entrance. We’ve been thinking of Madarame as an artist. We figured the Palace would reflect that. But we’re wrong. It’s just like Kamoshida. He wasn’t really a king. He just treated the school like his Castle. Madarame isn’t an artist. He just pretends to be one. The Palaces reflect the inner self, right?” Akira nods to Ryuji. “It’s like you said, man. He churns out kids like they’re on a conveyor belt. Mass production. Inventory.”

Morgana phases back into reality, a grin on his face.

Akira pulls out his phone and activates the app. “Well?”

“You were right,” Morgana replies. “It’s the central location. You can see, high above, all the other locations converging. And it’s much easier to tell what it is too.”

“Let me guess,” Akira says. “Factory?”

“Match Found,” the app chimes.

The world shifts.

#

Yusuke runs.

He runs from the twisted thing of metal and stone that spits black smoke into a crimson sky and its stone tendrils that extend out into this warped city.

He runs from Akira and the others, even as they shout his name. Even as their clothes burst into blue flame.

He runs from the talking cat.

He runs from all of it.

He runs until he is all alone.

Yusuke sits on the ground, his back against an alley’s walls, hands clamped over his skull. “Wake up,” he whispers. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

He doesn’t.

This Tokyo is a ghost town. As he fled, he’d seen no one yet had recognized landmarks. Buildings and the like. It was all the same. Save for the lack of people. And that horrid factory that had materialized before them as the world spun. And that awful red and angry sky.

Yusuke stares at the ground. A thin layer of dirt and dust clings to the alley. He focuses on the little grains, trying to bring himself back to some kind of reality.

A reality that makes sense.

Only, reality makes no sense.

Plagiarism. Expulsion.

And now he was here, in this alley, staring at grains of dust and dirt, trying to figure out what to do.

Perhaps I’ve gone mad. Yusuke once read somewhere, ‘It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.’

He had always liked that witticism.

Yusuke stands and inches his way to the alley’s mouth. He peers around the corner.

There.

In the distance, beyond the rooftops he knows so well, juts the massive façade of the factory, reaching high into the sky with its smokestacks and windows, bleeding dirty light out into this shell of Tokyo.

He swallows.

Just what is that?

He’d heard the others throw around words. ‘Palace’ and ‘Metaverse’ and ‘Treasure.’

They mean nothing to him.

But.

Yusuke cannot keep running through this vacant landscape.

If this is a nightmare, perhaps that factory holds the key to waking up.

If this is not a nightmare, perhaps he can still find some way out.

It takes Yusuke a few long moments to move. Then, he takes a deep breath, steps back into the road, and heads for the factory.

#

In hindsight, bringing Yusuke into the Metaverse hadn’t been Joker’s best idea.

Who knew someone so malnourished could run so far and fast?

Joker stands on the lip of a building and peers down into the street below.

Skull groans alongside him. “This sucks! Where the hell did he go?”

Panther, across the roof, searches for Yusuke in the other direction. “Do you see him?” She calls, looking back towards them.

Joker shakes his head. “Nope. Couldn’t have gone far, though.” He darts a glance at Morgana. “Hey, Mona. Exactly how far does this version of Tokyo go?”

“Uh,” Mona replies. “Well, technically, we’re seeing how Madarame interprets his atelier in the context of the larger city. You can see the links to the other parts of the Palace going out over the city, so, my guess is, forever.”

“For real?” Skull shouts, throwing his hands into the air. “We have to search all of this Tokyo for him? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

Joker throws back his head and laughs. “Wait, so the whole world is just out there? But absent people?”

“Kind of. I think so. It differs from distorted heart to distorted heart. But it looks like Madarame views Tokyo relatively normally, unlike the pieces of his Palace.”

Joker’s laugh lowers to a chuckle. “Man, these rules just get better and better.”

Panther walks over to them. “So, how’re we going to find him? We can’t search all of Tokyo.”

Joker adjusts his gloves. “Well, Yusuke isn’t stupid. And he’s not crazy. He’ll probably eventually figure out that, to get out, he’s got to either head back towards the Palace or find us.” Joker turns to regard the Palace. It is a monstrous thing, extending from the street into the sky, the focal point of all those twisting concrete buildings, to where it forms a factory, eclipsing the small residential neighborhood it surrounds. A bright sign hangs above it. ‘Madarame Productions, Corp.’ “And that is hard to miss. So I say we head back and wait for him.”

“But, who knows how long that will take?” Panther asks.

Joker spreads his hands in a shrug. “Well, it’s either that, or we split up – with no way to communicate with each other – and try and find him. There are four of us, one of him, and an entire city where he could hide. How long would that take?”

Panther frowns but doesn’t reply.

Skull looks down at Mona. “You sure you can’t, I dunno, turn into an airplane or something?”

Mona shakes his head. “I’ve told you before. It’s all about cognition. If the public doesn’t already have a preconceived notion of cats turning into airplanes, then I-”

“Okay, okay!” Skull shouts, clamping his hands over his ears. “Forget I asked.”

Joker passes his eyes over the empty cityscape of Tokyo. It is uncomfortably quiet.

“What’s it like inside the buildings?” Joker asks.

“Huh?” Mona replies.

“All these buildings,” Joker says. “All these empty homes and offices. What are they like inside?”

“There wouldn’t be anything inside,” Mona says. “This is Madarame’s cognition. If he’s never seen what the inside of the building looks like, it won’t have anything in it.”

“But, if he has been inside a building, it would be similar to the real world, right? Since the atelier is his Palace and all?”

Mona shrugs. “I guess.”

Joker smiles. “Interesting.”

“Can we focus, please?” Panther asks. “We need to find Yusuke!”

“Right,” Joker replies. “Right.” He nods towards the Palace. “Let’s get going.”

#

Yusuke stands before the factory’s maw. A break in the chain-link fence surrounding the towering behemoth is capped with another large sign reading ‘Madarame Productions, Corp. Trespassers Will Be Dealt With!’

Now then, Yusuke thinks. How do I get out of here? He has returned to the point where he and the others entered, but he sees no clear way back to reality. Akira did something with his phone, Yusuke remembers.

As his hand moves towards his pocket, Yusuke feels something churn inside him, and a sharp spike of pain lances through his skull. He gasps and brings his hands to his temples, but before he can think, he hears a voice.

“You!” It is loud and stern. “Why aren’t you at your station?”

Yusuke blinks and looks up into the face of a monster. From behind a blue mask, red eyes burn like coal. Inky, rippling black floats around it, bulging and pulsing into an exaggerated humanoid figure. It is dressed in a hideous beige jumpsuit, and a cap of the same make is pulled low across its head.

“I-” Yusuke manages.

“Don’t talk back,” the thing shouts. It reaches out with an overlong arm, grabs Yusuke by the shoulder, and hauls him towards the entrance. “Be grateful you even have this opportunity!”

“St-stop,” Yusuke cries. “Please, I don’t understand!”

“You don’t need to,” the thing replies, and then they are through the factory’s doors.

#

The Phantom Thieves arrive in time to see the Shadow drag a barely struggling Yusuke into the factory.

Joker’s eyes scale the thing until they reach the top, where the facades of the other pieces of the Palace coalesce into a strange crisscrossing network, culminating just below a solid piece of masonry that gives way to smokestacks puffing out black clouds into the red sky.

It looks to be a very big place.

“Well, shit,” Joker says, frowning. He draws his knife from his belt. “Let’s get in there.”

#

Beyond a simple lobby where a receptionist of the same black material as his captor cleaned its nails, is a massive floor almost beautiful in its horror.

Yusuke’s eyes travel upwards and beyond numerous, crisscrossing convey belts rising to an almost cathedral-sized ceiling, like some bestial spider’s web. On the floor, forklifts zoom and zip by, carrying pallets with nothing on them. More black figures stomp their way past, their movements almost mechanical, as if on a set track. The air is heavy with the smell of paint, smoke, and rubber. Between everything, there are wooden boxes with the words ‘Madarame Productions, Corp.’ stenciled on the side in black characters.

There are also children.

They line the conveyor belts, their feet either upon the concrete floor, or – for those above – on raised platforms of puke-green metal.

They are copies of one another. Or rather, each large section of conveyor belts has copies of the same children. Yusuke is dragged past one area, where a little boy with long, greasy hair stands, surrounded by twelve others that look identical to him. Great tubes open into the air high above, and when Yusuke hears a soft pop sound, he glances up and recoils in horror at the limp body of the little boy plummeting to the concrete. It hits with a wet smack and slowly lifts itself up, where it joins its twelve brethren at the conveyor belt.

Their hands dart across the conveyor belt, slipping, sliding, brushing, and stabbing.

And Yusuke sees that the boys do not have hands. Where their hands should be, are sharp stumps covered in a rainbow of paint. The stumps are brought to a point, and as they dart their way along, Yusuke sees that each iteration is working on many paintings. The same painting, over and over again, each copy of the boy adding its stroke to the piece.

“What in the name of-” Yusuke starts, but another monster bursts from a black pool before them. It is identical to the thing that pushes him along. “What’re you doing?” This new one asks.

“I’ve got a Kitagawa 2.0 unit,” Yusuke’s captor says. “I’m taking it to its station.”

“Didn’t you get the memo?” It turns to regard Yusuke. “They’ve been decommissioned.”

“Yeah?” The one who holds Yusuke’s shoulder looks down at him. “Seems pretty capable to me.”

The second monster shrugs. “It ain’t up to us. This comes down from the Manager himself.”

“Alright, I’ll put it in for processing.”

The second monster marches off, and the thing holding Yusuke changes its course. “What’s going on?” Yusuke asks.

“Quiet,” it spits. They pass a new section of conveyor belts, and Yusuke sees they are unmanned. However, there are a slew of paintings on the belts themselves, as if they had only just been being worked on. Yusuke’s eyes widen when he sees them. They are all the present work Sensei had asked him to complete.

“Let me go,” Yusuke yells, and tries to break the monster’s grip. “Tell me what’s happening!”

The thing leans down into his face and shouts, “I told you to shut up!” They approach a door that reads ‘Outbound Processing,’ and the monster yanks it open.

Yusuke can see nothing beyond but a long, stretching darkness and the vague impression of figures standing within. “No!” He screams, once more.

It is too late. The thing shoves Yusuke inside, and slams the door shut behind him.

#

The awkward little doll-like Shadow quivers on the ground. Joker levels his gun. “Where’s Yusuke?”

“Wh-who?” The Shadow asks, and turns its beady eyes to the others. “I don’t know who that is!”

“Don’t play dumb,” Skull shouts, and pumps his shotgun. “We saw one of you bastards drag him in here.”

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” Panther growls. “We won’t ask again.”

“Kitagawa?” The Shadow asks. “You mean the Kitagawa 2.0 units? They’ve been decommissioned. It was in the memo!”

“Memo?” Mona asks, and loosens his hold on the slingshot just a bit. “What memo?”

“It came earlier today,” the Shadow replies. “A general notice to all employees. The Kitagawa 2.0 units needed to be decommissioned and pronto! I thought it had already been done!”

Joker scowls. “What’d you mean by ‘units?’”

“Huh?” The thin line of its mouth hangs open in confusion.

Joker shakes his head. They’d snuck in through one of the windows after finding a fire escape around the backside of the factory and discovering the front entrance to be positively packed with Shadows.

Joker has to admit, aside from the size itself, Madarame’s Palace has been a bit disappointing. Kamoshida’s Castle had been as narcissistic as the man himself. But all they’ve seen of Madarame’s Factory, at least on this floor, was pretty straightforward. A couple of rooms with filing cabinets. A break area with a vending machine. Sure, there were Shadows, but nothing that suggested the extent of Madarame’s distorted heart.

And that worried Joker.

“Where do you guys send your decommissioned units?” Joker asks.

“Where?” The Shadow repeats. Joker cocks his gun. “Downstairs! Downstairs in ‘Outbound Processing.’ It’s on the main floor. You can’t miss it.”

Joker nods and pulls the trigger. The Shadow bursts into ash.

The others stare at him.

“What?”

“Nothin,’” Skull says and clears his throat. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Same plan as before,” Joker answers. “Find Yusuke. Now, we’ve got a direction.”

“You know,” Mona says, as he returns his slingshot to his utility belt. “I can sense the Treasure, and it’s further up. We may want to check that out, so long as we’re here and-”

Panther interrupts. “We can’t worry about the Treasure now! We have to save Yusuke!”

Panther’s right,” Joker says, and nods at her. “Yusuke is our priority. I won’t turn my nose up at any intel about the Treasure, but we’ve got to find him before he gets ‘decommissioned.’”

“Yeah,” Skull says. “That doesn’t sound good.”

#

When the furnace door opens, Yusuke’s fears are confirmed. In the sudden light, he can finally make out the features of all the still figures around him.

They are all him. Two dozen Yusukes, all standing in a line, all staring ahead, and rather than hands, each has a sharp stump covered in dried paint that – in the firelight – looks like blood.

Before he can even whisper, “No,” the figures march forward. Their steps are unhurried, and their faces are blank.

They walk.

They walk.

They walk.

And they begin to burn.

The first catches fire before it reaches the furnace. Yusuke watches as his hair lights up like a match, then his clothes, and then his skin. The figure collapses, ablaze, but continues to drag itself further along.

The same happens to the second figure.

And the third.

And the fourth.

One by one, Yusuke watches his doppelgangers stoically step to their deaths.

Every part of Yusuke that can think, rebels. Through the wave of horror, he denies. He makes himself believe he is asleep, safe in bed, and that everything – the meeting with the Principal, this awful place, the terrible sight before him – is nothing but a surreal dream. Perhaps he will try to capture it upon the canvas on the morrow.

Perhaps, when he wakes, he will go to Sensei and share his concerns.

Perhaps Sensei will finally have conquered his creative block and no longer need Yusuke’s services.

Perhaps he can finally unveil his own work to the world.

As the last version of himself burns away, Yusuke thinks that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

And then the furnace door shuts, and he is in darkness again.

You know what this is.

The voice is his own, but different. Deeper, more wizened. Angrier.

It feels like someone is pushing a thumb through the back of his skull.

You cannot deny the truth to yourself.

Yusuke shuts his eyes and feels something shift inside him, and then there is a hand on his shoulder.

“Yusuke.”

Yusuke jumps, and opens his eyes to the black. “Wha-? Who’s there?” He demands.

“Yusuke, it’s us,” the voice whispers.

He squints. The fresh darkness makes it difficult to see, but he can see three figures, and one smaller one, standing in the room with him. “Akira? Ann? Other one?”

Yusuke hears Ryuji groan. “Seriously?”

“That’s not what we call ourselves here,” he hears Akira says. “But yes, it’s us. Are you okay?”

Yusuke shakes his head, even though he knows they probably can’t see it. “I don’t understand any of this.”

The figure that is Akira steps forward. “I think you do.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Ann says. “We need to get him out of here.”

Akira is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “You’ll tell us what you saw later. Right now, we’re leaving.”

Akira steps up to Yusuke and takes his arm in hand. “Stay close.”

The group moves to the door and opens it back onto the Factory floor. The sudden light blinds Yusuke, so he does not see who speaks.

But he recognizes the voice.

“Well, well, well,” it says.

“Madarame,” Ryuji growls.

Yusuke’s eyes adjust. The five stand just outside the door marked, ‘Outbound Processing,’ and are surrounded by those black monsters.

In their middle stands Sensei.

Only, this is not a Sensei Yusuke recognizes. It is the same face—the same hair. But the eyes are bright gold, and the smile he wears is sinister.

Rather than his traditional robes, Madarame wears an expensive-looking suit, dark blue, with a starched white shirt, powerful red tie, and dark shoes polished to a shine.

He looks… like a businessman.

Madarame chuckles. “I admit, I was annoyed to hear production levels had dropped off, but who could have guessed it would be for such an interesting reason?”

Yusuke steps away from Akira, who whispers a quick, “No, stay back!” and says, “Sensei, what is all this?”

Madarame stares at him for a moment. It is one of the longest moments of Yusuke’s life. Then Madarame scowls and says, “I thought I ordered all the Kitagawa 2.0 units decommissioned? I believe there was a memo!”

One of the creatures nearest Madarame makes a sound like a throat clearing. “Apologies, sir. We’ll finish the job right away.” It marches towards Yusuke.

Ryuji jumps between them, shouts, “Stay back, asshole,” and brings what looks like a pipe down on the monster’s head. It collapses into a pile of ash at Ryuji’s feet.

Madarame’s eyes narrow. “I know what this is. Corporate sabotage! How dare you abscond with my property? I demand you turn over the unit this instance!”

“Unit?” Ann asks, and for the first time, Yusuke notices she is wearing an enticing suit of red leather. Even he realizes this is an odd thing to notice, given the situation. “Wasn’t he your apprentice? Didn’t you raise him since he was a kid?”

The golden-eyed Madarame scoffs. “He’s not the first. Won’t be the last, either. ‘Apprentice’ has always just been a pretty word we use to dress up ‘laborer.’”

Yusuke feels Akira step up behind him. “This is how he views himself,” Akira whispers. “And this is how he sees you. He’s not an artist. And you’re nothing to him.”

Yusuke takes a pace forward. “Is this all true, Sensei? All these years you’ve asked for my help? The creative blocks? Are they all lies?” Yusuke smiles. “I won’t believe that. You said it yourself. You took me in because of your fondness for my mother.” Something flickers over Madarame’s face at that, but it is gone in an instant. “I can’t believe you would be so callous and unscrupulous in-”

“Oh, Yusuke, just shut up,” Madarame groans. No one speaks. “Enough with the thesaurus bullshit. Do you think speaking like that makes you an artist? Do you think it means you’re higher-minded than everyone else? Grow up. No one important is impressed, and anyone that is impressed is not important.” Madarame shakes his head. “Did you really think you could make it in this business? Did you think your ideals and your pure thoughts or any of that other nonsense actually matters a damn? There’s no such thing as art, you moron. It’s a business. It’s all a business. And you cling to your outdated beliefs like they’re a life preserver, but you don’t realize that by having them, you’ve already gone under!”

Madarame takes a step closer to Yusuke. “I kept you around because you were good at painting. You had a great work ethic and a wonderful output. But all your babbling about artistic levels of consciousness, the muse, and all that other drivel? It doesn’t mean anything. And because you don’t get that, you were never going to make it.” Madarame smirks. “You should thank me for letting you be a part of it. Without me, you would never have even had a chance.”

Yusuke stares at him. “Thank you?”

Madarame waves him away. “Enough of this. Production has been delayed long enough. Kill them all.”

“Thank you?” Yusuke asks.

The monsters burst and materialize into more, even stranger creatures.

“Shit,” Ryuji shouts. “Yusuke, step back, man!”

“Carmen,” comes Ann’s voice, and a torrent of fire lashes out at the monsters.

Yusuke cannot take his eyes off Madarame, who moves away from the fray. He feels a hand grip his shoulder. It is Akira. “Dammit, Yusuke! Stand back!”

Yusuke yanks his shoulder from the boy’s rip. “You want me to ‘THANK YOU?’” He screams.

Pain.

Needles slide through his skull, piercing his brain's gray matter. He collapses to his knees, screaming, gripping his head in his hands, trying to stop the blood that must be flowing out from escaping.

Yusuke feels heat on his back. “Do not turn away.”

Yusuke falls forward and hits his head against the warm concrete floor. Through the awful pounding in his head, he can see a burning figure step around him. For a moment, Yusuke thinks it is one of the things from the furnace room, but this one is different. It is adorned in a cobalt halo of fire, and its eyes are golden, proud, and bore right into him.

With one smoldering hand, its points to where Madarame watches. “Do not turn away. For too long, you have excused his treatment, closed your eyes to his dereliction. Denied the truth that you know in your heart.”

Yusuke tries to lift himself, but the pain is too great, and all he manages to do is drag his fingers across the floor. To his horror, thin red lines of blood trail in their wake.

“You know this man. You know what he is. So why give weight to his words? Tell me, should you toss aside your truth based on the withered excuses of a tired, spiteful old man?”

Yusuke stares up at himself but cannot answer.

His Shadow’s eyes narrow. “Even now, you stop yourself from speaking the truth? The truth is like a painting. If it only exists in your mind, it does not truly exist. You must put it upon the canvas, bleed it from your fingers, speak it so it may be known!” The Shadow speaks faster now. “That man thinks his truth is absolute. Show him he is wrong. Show the world he is wrong.” It kneels down so it can face Yusuke. All around him, a bizarre battle rages. Yusuke feels the electricity of it across his face. His Shadow speaks. “But you cannot show them the truth if you do not speak it to yourself first. So tell me, what is he? What is Madarame? What is your Sensei? What is your master? Your teacher? Your father? What is he?”

And Yusuke spits it out through gritted teeth. “He’s a fucking fraud.”

His Shadow smiles. “Very good.”

Something wraps around Yusuke’s face. It is cool and tingles against his skin like long-dried plaster.

Words beat through his mind. “Let us seal the contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Let us dispense with falsehoods.”

Yusuke grips the kitsune mask and begins to rip it away.

“NOW GO FORTH AND PAINT THE JUSTICE OF YOUR TRUTH UPON THE CANVAS OF THE WORLD!”

Yusuke pulls the mask free with a scream and erupts.

#

Joker feels the cold first.

Arsene has a Shadow pinned with its dark tendrils, but more are approaching. All the Phantom Thieves have their hands full, and Joker cannot spare Yusuke a glance when he hears the scream.

Then, a wave of frost rushes over him and slams into the Shadows. They halt their advance, and some topple over, shattering.

Joker turns and smiles. Yes!

Yusuke wears a high-collared, puff-sleeved black jumpsuit. A fox tail hangs from a sash he wears around his waist. Opposed to Joker’s bright red gloves, Yusuke’s are a deep blue. His friend grips a sword housed in a red sheath.

Above him stands his Persona.

It is a spectacle. An ukiyo-e come alive, painted face and all. Its blue robe flutters in a breeze, its pipe smokes from small, dainty hands. It grimaces over at Madarame.

Yusuke opens his eyes and smiles. “I apologize, Sensei.” He slowly raises his hands and looks at his new outfit. “You are correct. I would be nowhere without you. You gave me direction, misguided though it was.”

Yusuke steps forward, and his Persona follows. “And indeed, the apprentice must help his Sensei shine all the brighter.” He wraps his hand around the sword’s hilt. “But you forget, the apprentice must also surpass the master.” Yusuke draws the blade, and Joker feels the cold rush up anew. “So, Madarame-sensei. Allow me to thank you properly.”

Madarame scowls and glares at the Shadows. “What’re you all doing? I told you to kill them!”

Joker leaps back and lands alongside Yusuke. “Think you can handle this?” He asks.

Yusuke’s smile never falters. “Abominations are fated to perish!”

Joker blinks. “Uh, okay.”

The thieves close ranks. “Dude, this is freakin’ awesome!” Skull shouts, staring up at the Persona.

“Who’d have thought you’d get a Persona too?” Panther whispers. Joker smiles.

“Let’s celebrate later,” Mona says. “We’ve got Shadows to fight.”

“Shadows?” Yusuke asks. “An appropriate name.” He steps ahead of the group. “Allow me.” The Shadows grow closer, and Yusuke levels his blade at them. “Goemon, STRIKE!”

#

Yusuke looks over at Akira from the couch. “Are you certain it is alright that I stay here?”

Akira sighs. “It’s fine, Yusuke. I already cleared it with Boss.”

Yusuke nods and lays back down. “I must find a way to thank him. Perhaps a self-portrait.”

“You want to paint a picture of Sojiro?” Akira asks.

“No, that would be silly,” Yusuke replies. “I would paint a picture of myself so that he could always put a face to the one thankful to him.”

“Don’t do that,” Akira says. “That’s so much worse.”

The fight hadn’t taken long. Goemon’s ice abilities had shredded the Shadows. Madarame had lost himself in the scuffle, and despite Yusuke’s insistence on going after him, the exhaustion had set in, and they had carried him out.

What followed was a discordant discussion of the Metaverse, the Palace, Madarame and their investigation, and their role as Phantom Thieves.

Then, it had dawned on them that Yusuke hadn’t a place to stay. Akira had managed to pull some strings with Sojiro, and here they were. They had so much more to talk about, but it would have to wait until later.

“The important thing,” Morgana says, from where he lays on Akira’s chest. “Is that you’ve got your own Persona now, Yusuke. That’s going to be a huge help.”

Akira nods. “It really is.”

Morgana looks down at him. “It’s good that you decided to take Yusuke into the Metaverse with us. We never would’ve gotten a new teammate if you hadn’t.”

Akira smiles but says nothing.

It isn’t long before Yusuke and Morgana are asleep. Akira stares at the ceiling and goes over the day's events, trying to think if he could’ve done anything differently.

Then, from his left, he hears the now-familiar voice of his father. So, tell me truly, son. Why did you take Yusuke into the Metaverse?

Akira stares at the ceiling.

It just seems that someone concerned with security and secrecy wouldn’t be too keen on letting another person in on the big sinister secret.

Akira mentally shakes his head. Yusuke deserved to know the truth.

The mental image of his father, now leaning against his window, shrugs. Sure. Sure. But how is that your problem? C’mon, Akira. You can fool them. You can’t fool me. I’m in your head, remember?

Joker drifts around in the back realm of his mind. We’re all in your head.

Akira tries not to think of anything. He fails.

His father smiles. There you go, son. Honesty is the best policy, after all.

Akira shuts his eyes and tries to force himself to sleep.

Notes:

Hope you all had a good weekend. Mine consisted of car salesman and exhaustion.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a bit lighter than the last few. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on Friday. Have a good Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it! If not, have a good week anyway!

Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Chains and a soft, lilting moan some distance away.

Akira opens his eyes and rises off the cot, making his way to the cell’s door. The distorted figure at the desk smiles wickedly and spreads its talon hands. “Trickster,” Igor drawls. “Welcome back to the Velvet Room. It has been some time, but congratulations are in order over your new member.”

Akira files that little nugget away and nods in response. “Igor. Thank you for seeing me.”

Igor merely shrugs or does something that approximates a shrug. “As I have stated before, I am at your disposal. You may make use of my services as often as you like.”

“Thank you,” Akira says. “You know about our new member, and there’s another Palace we need to infiltrate. So, I’d like to merge Personae.”

“Of course,” Igor replies. He tilts his head to the side and turns so that only one of his bulging eyes faces Akira. Akira does his best to keep his face neutral. “But before all that, I believe you have some questions you wish to ask.”

In the shadows of the Velvet Room – because there are no corners here – Akira detects the subtle movements of the wardens, their bulk hidden from his senses, but the intensity of their attention coats him like oil.

“If that’s alright,” Akira attempts.

“By all means,” Igor whispers.

“I’d like to know how Palaces work,” Akira says. “Kamoshida’s Palace was the school. A single location. But Madarame’s Palace is a network of multiple points, all connected to a central location. But those points have no relationship in the real world. How’s that possible?”

Igor chuckles. “You answered that yourself, or do you not see? True, your first target perceived his influence to extend over the single, physical building in the real world. Thus, his Palace remained fixed to that point. But, your more elusive, slippery second intended victim holds sway over, as you put it, a network of points.”

“So it all comes back to cognition?” Akira asks. “Because of how Madarame views the houses where he keeps his apprentices? Different locations, but all with the same purpose.”

The Factory. Igor’s nod is subtle but there. It’s not a one-to-one thing, then. Depending on the cognition, a Palace could contain almost anything. A neighborhood, even a city.

“Then, there aren’t any rules,” Akira continues. “Or am I wrong? If a Palace can be anything, consist of anything, and it depends upon the ruler’s perception and cognition, then there’s no way to understand how a Palace will work until we find its entrance, is there?”

“It would be too much to say there are ‘no rules,’” Igor permits. “But limitations upon Palaces are imposed by the limitations only within the mind of their creators.”

Something about what Igor has said bothers Akira, but he cannot specify what. Regardless, there are other things he must ask, and if Igor is in a chatty mood, Akira will seize the opportunity.

“Are the mental shutdowns related to the Metaverse?” Akira asks.

Something shifts and approaches Akira’s cell. He cannot see it but feels it and recoils before an invisible something crashes against the bars, and a voice deep and acrid spits out, “YOUPRESUMETOASKTOOMUCHINMATEWHOAREYOUTODEMANDSUCH-”

“Enough,” Igor hisses. The thing that is Caroline retreats from Akira’s presence, and he could swear he hears something akin to a whimper in the air. “Forgive the wardens, Trickster. I am happy to answer your inquiries, though I would beg a similar indulgence once you’re satisfied.”

I don’t think I could ever ask you enough questions about how all this works, Akira thinks, but he waves his hands and says, “It’s fine,” and then, “Of course.”

“Again, you ask a question you may solve yourself. The world of Mementos and Palaces and Shadows has consequences for the real world. You steal the Treasure, the Palace collapses, and your foe confesses. Is that not how it works?”

That is how it works, Akira thinks. But again, the weird bastard stick man thing wasn’t giving him any solid answers. What did ‘consequences’ mean in this capacity? There was an obvious follow-up question if something happened in the Metaverse that caused a mental shutdown.

“You allowed me to access the Metaverse via the app on my phone. Whenever I use my phone to bring someone else into the Metaverse, they gain that same ability. Have you given that ability to anyone else?”

Igor’s smile grows. “My dear Trickster, you know everyone who has access to the Metaverse.”

Myself. Ryuji. Ann. Yusuke. Morgana. There were only five people who had that access. The Phantom Thieves weren’t causing the mental shutdowns, and the mental shutdowns had begun before Akira had met Igor. How were the shutdowns triggered, then? Again, something about Igor’s answer bothered Akira, but with the continued gaze of Caroline and Justine on him, he found it difficult to concentrate. Five people. But then again-

“Permit me a question, now, Trickster,” Igor says.

Fortunately, before Akira had drifted off to sleep, he’d rehearsed this moment mentally. He knew what Igor would ask.

“When last we met, you asked me to tell you about someone. Someone named ‘Morgana,’ I believe. What did you mean by this?”

“It was a Shadow,” Akira answers. “When I was in Kamoshida’s Palace. There was a Shadow that called itself ‘Morgana.’ Shadows don’t typically do this, so I was curious. That’s why I asked.” Akira shrugs. “I saw a lot of new Shadows in Madarame’s Palace, but I only ever saw the Morgana Shadow once. So I wanted to know if you could tell me more about it.”

Igor is silent for a time, and Akira wonders if the lie failed. He tries to keep his thoughts steady as he does not know how much Igor can read him. If Igor did not know about Morgana, what did that mean? How did Igor think the Phantom Thieves learned the rules of the Metaverse? How had they found Madarame’s Palace? Mementos? What did Igor know, and what did Igor not know?

“I see,” Igor whispers. “I am afraid that the Shadows' workings are beyond my understanding. I can interact and explain only when they become a part of you and turn into Personae.”

“Understood,” Akira replies and nods. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“It was a pleasure,” Igor says. “Shall we commence with the merging of the Personae?”

“Yes, please,” Akira says.

The two do not interact for the next few minutes, except when Akira summons a Persona to merge. When this is complete, he exits the Velvet Room with little fanfare.

#

The Velvet Room is silent.

Igor sits at his desk, staring at the spot previously inhabited by the Wild Card.

“Girls,” he growls out. The attention of the wardens becomes fixed upon him. “I have a task for you.”

#

5/25

“So then, everyone was like, ‘Oh no, what do we do?’”

“A dire situation, indeed.”

“Right, but then I was like, ‘Never fear! Mona’s here!’ And I leaped off the chandelier. Remember how I told you I snuck up to the chandelier?”

“Of course. A harrowing bit of exposition.”

“Exactly. So, I’m up there, leap off, and BOOM. I knock the crown right off Kamoshida’s head.”

“I see.”

“And then Kamoshida was like, ‘No! No! My crown! My Treasure! Blargh! Blurg! Argh!’ and Lady Ann was like, ‘You’re a hero, Mona!’ and I was like, ‘Thanks, no big deal,’ because I’m humble and all.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And Akira said something cool, but I couldn’t hear him because Ryuji was like, ‘Blehblehbleh,’ or something, so I missed it.”

“That does sound like something he would say.”

“Right? Then Lady Ann had Carmen shoot some fireballs at Kamoshida a few times, and the Palace collapsed. And that’s how we stopped Kamoshida.”

Yusuke nods. “What a story, Morgana.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

The two cross the street. “I am a bit unclear why Ann complimented your heroics so many times. I would think once would be enough.”

Morgana bobs his head in his approximation of a shrug. “What can I say? I’m pretty great. Lady Ann’s an exceptional… lady. She sees this greatness in me.” Morgana’s smile fades a bit. “But, uh, don’t tell her I told you all this. It’d probably just embarrass her, you know?”

“Ah,” Yusuke replies. “That makes sense. Do not worry, Morgana.” His eyes sparkle. “I will not let this cat out of the bag.”

Morgana doesn’t reply.

Yusuke stops walking and stares down at him. “Did you hear me, Morgana? I said I would not let the cat out of the bag.”

Morgana doesn’t reply.

“Morgana? Do you understand? Cat and bag, yes?”

“I get it!” Morgana blurts out. “Are you done?”

Yusuke chuckles to himself and nods. “Quite.”

As it was Wednesday, and Akira needed to attend school, Morgana had been assigned the all-day task of bringing Yusuke ‘up to speed’ on the Phantom Thieves and their activities.

Though not fully expelled yet, Yusuke had opted not to return to Kosei High. No doubt, the lie of his plagiarism had circulated among the staff – possibly even the students – and he did not think himself up to dealing with their ire.

He’d eaten breakfast alongside Akira at LeBlanc, again expressing gratitude to Sojiro, who had shrugged – stoically and shoveled more curry onto this plate.

Akira had advised Yusuke to ‘take it easy,’ but Yusuke felt antsy before too long. His days had always been regimented. Wake. Practice. School. Practice. Sleep. Wake. Practice. School. Practice. Sleep. Food, occasionally.

That he now had hours to kill made him uncomfortable.

Therefore, he’d insisted to Morgana that they revisit the atelier, if only for Yusuke to test out using the Navigation app on his phone. The extended stroll down to his former home allowed the cat to explain everything to him.

When they arrived at the Palace site, however, they were alarmed to discover that it was no longer there. Instead, the main entrance for Madarame’s Factory had been replaced with another locked façade, identical to the ones Morgana had first spotted during his follow-up investigation with Ryuji.

Panic had set in, as Morgana couldn’t understand how this was possible. Finally, Yusuke pointed out that, per Morgana’s logic, the Palace was still present, just moved. Therefore, they had decided to trek through the previously identified homes of the apprentices, hoping that one now held the main entrance to the Palace.

According to Morgana, the next nearest in age to Yusuke was a pissy teenager that had yelled at Akira and Ohya. They found this one’s home quickly, as it had been Yusuke’s old primary residence before he’d lived in the atelier. A quick test of the app revealed that this building now housed the primary entrance to Madarame’s Palace.

“Maybe the Palace switches to whoever is the next in line of being apprentice,” Morgana suggests. “If this kid gets moved to the atelier, I bet the Palace would move with him.”

“Then wouldn’t that mean the Palace is contingent upon the person rather than the location?” Yusuke asks. To this, Morgana has no explanation.

Once that had been established, Yusuke had set himself upon another course of action and informed Morgana.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Morgana asks.

“Yes,” Yusuke whispers, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

The truth is, he doesn’t know. Seeing his old house brought up many new and conflicting emotions within him. The tired old house with its two stories, disgusting shutters, and splotchy paint job. He used to have such warm feelings for it. Now, it sickens him.

“But you only found out about the Metaverse yesterday. Akira’s right. You should take it easy.”

Yusuke approaches the property’s limits. “Please, wait here, Morgana.”

The cat sighs. “Sure. But if this causes the Palace to jump again, finding it will be a pain.”

Yusuke walks across the street and up to the window. He has no plan. No real idea of what he’s doing here. But then, through the dirty window, he sees a familiar face.

It must be the boy Akira and Ohya encountered, but it is someone else entirely to Yusuke.

It is the boy he’d seen manning the conveyor belt—the boy crafting the terrifying and beautiful landscapes.

Another of Madarame’s apprentices.

Something rises in him, and he marches to the front door, lifts his fist, intending to knock, then stops. Yusuke lowers his hand.

Yusuke stands there for a long time.

Then, he turns around and walks back to Morgana. “Let’s go.”

Morgana keeps pace with him down the street. “I thought you would barge in there and tell him about Madarame.”

“I nearly did.”

“So, why didn’t you?”

Yusuke shrugs. “You all told me about Madarame, and I didn’t believe you. So why would that young man be any different? I only became convinced after entering the Metaverse.” Yusuke looks back down the street at the house. “And I will not subject that young man to such horrors. I won’t make life more difficult for him. It will be more than hard, soon enough.”

“What’d you mean?” Morgana asks.

Yusuke’s hands curl into fists. “We will change Madarame’s heart and free this boy and all the others from his corruption. But what will we be freeing them into?” He sighs, shakes his head, and unclenches his hands. “But that is an issue for another day. Besides, you said it yourself, were I to inform this boy of Madarame’s true motives, it might cause the Palace to change locations again. Better to keep it secure in one spot.

“Now, come. Tell me of this ‘Mementos’ place.”

“Well, that’s a little complicated,” the cat replies. “Have I told you that I can turn into a bus?”

“You most certainly have not.”

#

“Come on.” Ohya’s voice bounces out of the burner’s earpiece.

“No,” Akira replies as he scrolls through the latest onslaught of texts from Takemi on his regular phone. “I can’t.”

TAKEMI: WHERE IS KITAGAWA? CALL ME

TAKEMI: NOW

TAKEMI: AS IN, NOW!

“Oh please,” Ohya mutters. “What could you be doing that’s so important?”

“School just got out, and I’ve got something going on,” Akira tells her as he types out his response.

AKIRA: I’m bringing him over. He’s fine.

“I’m a student, remember? I can’t go traipsing around town with you every day,” Akira says.

“Did you just say ‘traipsing?’” Ohya asks, her voice flat.

“So?” Akira asks. “That’s a thing I say.”

“That’s a thing no one says.”

The truth was that Akira enjoyed spending time with Ohya, despite her infuriating capacity. But Akira had what he needed from Ohya. The Phantom Thieves knew where the Palace was. All that remained was infiltration, leaving a Calling Card, and stealing Madarame’s Treasure. Akira didn’t need Ohya for that.

Akira sighs.

“Am I boring you?” Ohya asks.

“No, no,” Akira says, as he gets off the train at Yongen-jaya. “But look, I can’t today, okay? I’ve got a study session I need to get to.”

“A study session? Seriously?”

“I’m a student,” Akira blurts out. “I study.”

Silence from Ohya.

Then, Ohya sighs. “Fine,” she says and hangs up on him.

Akira exhales, slides both devices back into his pocket, and leans his head against the concrete wall of the train station. I need an assistant or something.

Akira chuckles and exits the train station, where he spies a familiar duo. Yusuke lifts his hand in greeting, and Morgana – from where he sits perched on Yusuke’s shoulder – offers a paw.

“We’ve got something to tell you,” Morgana says, as soon as Akira approaches.

Yusuke and Morgana proceed to tell Akira about the Palace situation. Akira squeezes his eyes shut and lets his brain run over the issue, but when he reopens them, he shrugs. “Okay, that’s a surprise. Still, it shouldn’t be an issue. We know where the Palace is. Let’s hope that it doesn’t switch again. But even if it does, we should be able to find it.”

“Yeah, but what if it switches after we send the Calling Card?” Morgana asks.

Akira opens his mouth, shuts it, and then shrugs once more. “What if it does? We go find it and steal the Treasure.” I sure as hell hope that’s not what happens.

“Morgana and I were thinking,” Yusuke says as the three turn and head down the block. “Seeing as I have been rendered homeless and my schooling is on hold, perhaps it would be best to spend my days keeping track of the Palace’s whereabouts.” Now it was Yusuke’s turn to shrug. “It is not as if I have other pressing concerns.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Akira replies. “Though I’m not sure I like the idea of you hanging out in the Metaverse for hours with no backup. Morgana, you go with him. Or at least, switch out with him.

“My guess is that Takemi will want you to take care of yourself, though.”

“Mmm,” Yusuke replies, nodding.

Akira hadn’t lied to the doctor earlier. He had every intention of taking Yusuke back to Takemi’s. It wasn’t so much a question of whether or not Yusuke was malnourished but of how. Yusuke’s collapse at the batting cages had been evidence enough. And while the Metaverse amplified Yusuke’s strength, nothing times nothing typically worked out to be nothing, so Akira wants to make sure Yusuke is on some recovery plan.

Ryuji wanted to be part of the process and immediately began to factor the new guy into his workout plans.

That reminds me, Akira thinks, as they near Takemi’s clinic. I’ll need to ask Ryuji about that whole track team situation.

When they enter Takemi’s office, and Takemi sees them, she bolts out of her seat and shoves her way past them to lock the door and throw a ‘Closed’ sign in the window.

Takemi whirls on Akira. “Did you tell him to leave?”

“Huh?” Akira asks.

“Did you convince Kitagawa to leave my office? I know you weren’t too keen on my calling the police, but-”

“No!” Akira replies.

“Kurusu, don’t you-”

Yusuke clears his throat. Takemi’s glare shifts to him. “Forgive me, Plague.” Takemi blinks. “But Akira had nothing to do with my escape. I walked out.” Yusuke shakes his head. “Really, your security is quite lax for an honorary member of the Phantom Thieves.”

“You walked out?” Takemi asks, and then rubs her temples with her fingers. “Wait, hold on. Did you say ‘Phantom Thieves?’”

“Yeah, so, there’s been some changes since we last saw you,” Akira says.

Between Akira and Yusuke, it takes several minutes to update Takemi. About halfway through, she motions for them to walk into the waiting room as she collapses on one of the chairs.

“You’ve been expelled?” Takemi asks.

“Indeed, though the process has not been finalized. I am most certainly not attending any classes.”

“But, how did they know?” Takemi asks.

“We think Madarame has a source of information inside the police. Yusuke hadn’t done anything to raise Madarame’s suspicions.”

Takemi sinks a little lower in her chair. “So, because I called the police, you got thrown out of your home and expelled from school?”

Yusuke waves his hands through the air. “Do not fret. Had it not happened now, it would’ve happened later. Without this prompt, I would never have been inducted into the Phantom Thieves nor accepted Madarame-sensei as he truly is.” He provides Takemi with a bow. “Thank you for contacting the authorities on my behalf, though it did not turn out how you had hoped.”

“You couldn’t have known how this would play out,” Akira says. He keeps his face neutral. But inside, his voices swarm and buzz.

But didn’t I say something like this would happen?

We told her. We told her nothing good would come of her calling the cops. And look what happened.

 Now Plague knows what happens when you put too much trust in the authorities.

Takemi and Yusuke continue to speak to one another, but Akira zones out to calm his mind. Nothing can be gained by mentally rubbing this in or taking a celebratory lap inside his head. Takemi had wanted to help Yusuke after all. She had just gone about it in the wrong way.

But Akira had warned her.

Yusuke agrees to a follow-up check-up after apologizing once more for evading Takemi. The two soon disappear into one of the exam rooms while Akira and Morgana sit in the waiting area.

“I’ll stick with Yusuke,” Morgana says.

“Hmm?” Akira asks. He had closed his eyes and begun to drift off, but Morgana’s voice startled him back to wakefulness.

“What you said earlier about the Palace? I’ll stick with Yusuke if he’s going to keep an eye on it. No problem.”

“Sure,” Akira replies. “Sounds good. Make sure he gets some food too.”

“Naturally.” Morgana is silent for a few moments, then asks, “Akira, why did you bring Yusuke into the Metaverse?”

“I had a feeling,” Akira says. “I figured someone like Yusuke, living that life for the past thirteen years, would be a candidate for having a Persona, no?”

“Well, sure, but you could say that about almost anyone. Heck, Mishima could awaken a Persona if given the proper push.”

“There’s the fact that Yusuke has no links to Shujin,” Akira points out. “That was a bonus. I know Ryuji wants to handle Requests from Shujin. So having Yusuke might let us do that.”

“Oh,” Morgana says. “Okay. Yeah, that’s a good point.”

Akira nods and says no more. The check-up doesn’t last much longer, and Takemi returns, Yusuke in tow, with instructions Akira more or less expected.

#

Most people think stuttering is the telltale sign of a liar. But, in Ohya’s experience, someone’s lying when their vocabulary inexplicably diversifies.

‘Traipsing’ my ass.

You can’t be stagnant in journalism. You must always be moving and always thinking ahead. If your plan doesn’t pan out, have a backup.

Ohya stares down at her phone and the mirrored history of Akira’s GPS.

Akira had started to turn off his phone, but only occasionally, to mask his movements from her. But that didn’t delete his GPS’s history and didn’t stop Ohya from engaging in the age-old practice of tailing someone. She’d watched Akira protest on the train from a few cars back and then followed him from the Yongen-jaya train station to the medical clinic with two companions. Yusuke Kitagawa, and that black cat.

Folie a deux, Ohya thought, as she watched Yusuke and Akira intently listening to whatever the cat had to say.

Ohya had posted up in an alley during their visit to the medical clinic and used her honed ability of information gathering to do all the research she could on the ‘Takemi Medical Clinic’ in the brief time they were inside.

Once Akira and Yusuke Kitagawa left, Ohya waited a few minutes before approaching the door to the clinic. Let’s see why you spend so much time with ‘The Plague,’ Akira. Ohya jogs up the steps and has only a moment to wonder at the odd vibration from inside before she opens the door and fast, brutal music assaults her ears.

“Ah! Fuck!” She screams, and claps her hands over her ears. It’s a cross between punk and something, but Ohya can’t focus and determine what.

Then the sound cuts and a frustrated voice comes over the ringing din in her ears. “Sorry about that.”

Ohya blinks and looks around. The waiting area is what she expected. Humdrum nothingness. Very nondescript.

The doctor is not.

Tae Takemi sits behind her desk, looking somewhat annoyed. That annoyance gives her an edge of sexiness accentuated by the ridiculous heels and dress she’s somehow pulling off beneath a white lab coat.

Ohya finds herself rattled and Ohya does not like being rattled.

“Can I help you?” Takemi asks.

Ohya sticks a finger in one of her ears and makes a show of it before saying. “Some waiting room music.”

The doctor just blinks, slow and bored. “Mmmhmm.”

Ohya forces herself back to composed and adopts the look of someone the right kind of nervous. “So, uh, I’ve been getting these headaches lately.” She taps her skull with a few of her knuckles. “And they’re not going away.”

Takemi nods, snatches a clipboard off her desk, and hands it out to Ohya. “Fill this out.”

Ohya takes it and reads the attached form. Boilerplate medical information. She takes a pen from the barrier, scribbles nonsense down, and hands it back.

Takemi glances down at it, face inscrutable, and nods towards the door marked ‘Exam Rooms.’ “Head through. I’ll meet you over there.”

A few moments later, Ohya sits on the crinkly paper of an exam table, and Takemi stands alongside her, the clipboard held in a lazy hand, her bangs drooping down into her face.

“When did these headaches start?” Takemi asks.

“They’ve been going on for a while now,” Ohya replies. “A couple of weeks. Since early April, I think.”

Takemi nods along. “Have you changed your diet recently?”

Ohya shakes her head. “No.”

“Do you use drugs or alcohol?”

“No drugs,” Ohya replies. “But I have the occasional drink.”

“How occasional is occasional?”

“Few drinks a week. Never more than one or two per day.”

Takemi hesitates for a moment before she nods and jots something down on the board. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Does anyone?” Ohya retorts.

Takemi shrugs. “I’ll take that as a no. How many hours would you say you get per night.”

“It’s not like I don’t sleep,” Ohya says. “Anywhere between four and six.”

Takemi glances at her. “You know humans are supposed to get seven to eight hours of sleep per night?”

Ohya shrugs. “I’m in a high-pressure job. I can’t just sleep when I want.”

“Then you should consider finding a less stressful job with more consistent hours.”

Ohya smirks. “Says the doctor.”

Takemi sighs, sets the clipboard down, and retrieves an ophthalmoscope from a drawer. “Stare straight ahead,” she says, shining a light into her eyes. It hovers there for a moment, and then she lowers it. She doesn’t step away, however. Instead, Takemi hovers there, just before Ohya’s face. Ohya feels the doctor’s eyes traveling over her skin. It’s a strange feeling and makes her more self-conscious than she’s felt in a long time.

Then, Takemi steps away and reaches out her hands. “Could you take my hands, please?”

Ohya blinks. “What for?”

“Please. Just do it.”

Ohya reaches out and wraps Takemi’s hands in her own.

“Now, squeeze.” Ohya does so. “Thank you.”

Ohya lets her hands drop.

Takemi takes up the clipboard, writes a few more things, and says, “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

Once she’s gone, Ohya lets herself recoup. Okay. So, the rumor is that she sells barely legal prescriptions. If I can get my hands on some, I can probably pivot that around to find out about her connection with Akira. The kid’s a healthy seventeen-year-old. He wouldn’t go to a doctor’s office as often as he does unless it was for a specific reason. And there are plenty of other clinics in the area too. So-

But then Takemi returns, and Ohya pretends she hadn’t been thinking anything.

The doctor’s face is grim, and without saying anything else, she holds out a single card to Ohya. “Here. I think you should take this.”

“Eh?” Ohya asks, and takes it. Her eyes widen when she sees what it says. “What the hell is this?”

Takemi sticks her hands in the coat’s pockets and shrugs. “Based on what you told me, I don’t think your headaches are due to stress. I’m willing to bet they stem from alcoholism.”

Ohya jumps off the table, the paper ruffling as she does so. “So you give me the card for a Substance Abuse Center?”

Takemi nods. “Your eyes are bloodshot. There are burst blood vessels around your sockets and nose. And when you held my hands, I detected a slight tremor. Those are all symptoms of alcohol abuse.” Takemi jabs her eyes toward the card. “I know one of the doctors that work there. We went to Med School together. I could give him a call if you’d like.”

“No! No, no, no!” Ohya says, and with each word, her voice raises an octave. “Where the hell do you get off, giving me a bullshit diagnosis like that?”

Doctor Tae Takemi doesn’t blink. She stares at Ohya, looking sympathetic, looking worried. “Given your lack of healthy sleeping habits, the amount of alcohol you consume is likely having a more detrimental influence over your body than for a normal person your age. I suggest you check this place out sooner rather than later.”

Ohya throws back her head and laughs too loud. “Yeah, right! Like I’d accept medical advice from ‘The Plague!’” The words rush from her before she can even think them through.

Takemi takes a step back, looking shocked at the name, but then she settles down and sighs. Ohya has never heard a more infuriating exhalation of breath. “If you know who I am, why’d you come to me?”

Ohya bites her tongue. She’s said too much. Shit! There’s no way to salvage this situation. “Just get out of my way!” She growls and marches past Takemi and out into the hall.

Takemi follows her at a leisurely pace. “Feel free to come back,” Takemi says, and Ohya glances back to see her lift the clipboard. “Maybe you’ll feel comfortable using your real information next time.”

Ohya briefly considers knocking over the dead dracaena she sees in the waiting room but scowls and stomps her way out.

Goddamn Akira, going to stupid doctors who make stupid assumptions about me. Alcoholism? Please! I’d like to see that bitch try and handle all the bullshit I’ve got going on and not need a drink afterward.

It isn’t until she’s down the block that Ohya remembers she’s still holding the card for the Substance Abuse Center.

#

The Phantom Thieves crouch in the shadows across the street from the Palace. “Damn,” Skull whispers. “They amped up security.”

Joker nods. The entire front of the Palace is swarming with Shadows. Even the light from among the windows they snuck in previously is blotted out by writhing shapes. Joker hates to admit it, but the Palace looks inaccessible.

“We could fight our way in,” Panther offers, but her face falls. “But even with Yusuke’s Goemon, it’d be tough.”

Yusuke clears his throat.

Mona rocks back and forth on his feet. “You know, maybe there’s another way inside. Remember what Yusuke told us about when the Shadows first brought him here?”

Yusuke clears his throat.

“What’cha mean?” Skull asks. “I don’t think we can get in through those furnaces where they were burning all the Yusuke’s. And I don’t really want to try.”

Yusuke clears his throat more abruptly.

Joker finally turns to him. “What is it?”

“I was under the impression,” Yusuke says. “That I had a codename.”

The other Thieves glance at one another, then smile and bow their heads in apology.

“My bad, Fox,” Skull says.

“We’re sorry,” Panther puts in. “And you’re right. We should’ve called you by your name over here, Fox.”

“Quite,” Fox replies, waving off the comments as if they meant nothing. “It is alright. Now then, I believe I know to what Mona refers.” He turns to face the cat. “The other Palace entrances, correct?”

Mona nods. “Bingo.”

The Thieves quickly exit the Metaverse and spend the next half an hour trekking across the city to reach one of Madarame’s other homes. They reenter the Metaverse and find that the façade remains but that security is nonexistent.

“Dude,” Skull shouts and pumps his fist in the air. “This is awesome! We can go in here.”

“But like I said,” Mona says. “We’ve got a small problem. That keycard reader. I can’t pick that.”

“Could we not simply blast the door down?” Fox asks.

Panther shakes her head. “It’s based on cognition, right? I don’t think that would work. Even if we did, security would tighten at all the other entrances. We’d have to one-shot our way to the Treasure and find Safe Rooms along the way.”

“And there’s no guarantee of that,” Joker says, nodding at Panther. “We’d need to find a way to get through those doors without setting off any alarms.”

“How are we supposed to do that without the keycard?” Skull asks.

“The readers on these doors look identical to the ones at Natsuki Storage,” Mona says. “If we got ahold of Madarame’s keycard, we could probably just open them.”

“How the heck are we supposed to get the keycard, though?” Panther asks.

“Indeed. I do not think I have the influence with Madarame I once had. If I were to ask him for it, I believe there is only a slight chance he would hand over the card.” The other Thieves glance at Fox, who meets their gaze levelly. “That was a joke,” he finally says.

“Oh,” Panther replies.

“Well,” Joker says. “Maybe there’s a way we can get the keycard from Madarame without having to steal it outright.” The Phantom Thieves regard him, and Joker outlines the skeleton of the plan he’s formed.

#

“How long?” Sojiro asks from behind the bar.

Akira looks up from his plate, mouth full of food, mind returning from a million miles away. “Hmm?”

Yusuke is in LeBlanc’s bathroom, washing his hands. Sojiro nods towards the shut door. “Bringing home a stray cat is one thing, Akira. But a kid?”

Akira manages to keep his face calm. “His dorm should be ready soon. It won’t be more than another few days.” Provided we can steal Madarame’s Treasure, get him to confess, and nullify Yusuke’s expulsion.

Sojiro doesn’t quite frown. “Yeah, well, if it’s any longer than that, he better start cooking and cleaning around here.”

The door opens, and Yusuke steps out, patting his hands dry on his shirt. “What was that bizarre contraption beside the sink?”

Akira and Sojiro glance at each other. “Are you talking about the hand dryer?” Akira asks.

“Ah, so that’s what it was. It looked rather unseemly. It indicated I was to put my hands inside it, but I certainly did not trust it.”

Sojiro shakes his head and heads into the kitchen nook, grumbling under his breath.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira’s bag as Yusuke sits down. “Boss is getting suspicious. We can’t coast on his goodwill for much longer. We need to find the Treasure and get Yusuke into those dorms at Kosei.”

Yusuke blinks. “If my presence here is causing you stress, I can certainly relocate and-”

“Forget it,” Akira cuts him off. “You’re not sleeping on the street or in some shelter. You’re staying here.” Akira looks over at Sojiro’s back. “We’ll figure it out. And we’ll steal Madarame’s Treasure before it becomes an issue.”

Yusuke smiles and nods, but his face quickly falls again. “I’m afraid I don’t think I’ll be much use in the Metaverse. If what Doctor Takemi said is true, it could take time before I can do… well, anything.”

Akira shakes his head. “We’ll get you a gun. And besides, physical strength is amplified in the Metaverse. So you can still pack a punch.”

Morgana nods. “Yeah, and Goemon’s powerful. Stick with him, build your strength, and you’ll be okay.”

Akira says something in agreement, but his mind is already working on the problem. For his plan to work, he only had one option. Well, two, but Mishima didn’t particularly count. If he struck out with Iwai the next day, they might have to punch their way through the Shadows at the main entrance.

Yusuke finishes his meal and yawns. “Forgive me, my friend. I am afraid I am spent. Permit me to retire upstairs.”

“Yeah,” Akira says. “Knock yourself out. I’ll be up later.”

Morgana lets out a feline yawn and stretches his legs on the table. “I’m gonna head up with him. I’m beat too.” Morgana hops down to the floor and pads after Yusuke. He meows to Sojiro as they pass the kitchen.

“Night,” Sojiro mutters in response.

Akira sits at the bar, an empty bowl of curry before him. Silence is something he appreciates.

The door chimes.

It is late, but Sojiro gets enough lonely, late-night customers that Akira doesn’t look up.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice Akira recognizes but needs a moment to place.

Akira turns and looks at Goro Akechi as the latter steps into LeBlanc.

“Evening,” Sojiro says, exiting the kitchen and drying his hands on a rag. His eyes narrow. “I remember you. You were with Sae, weren’t you?” He sighs and swats the rag down on the hardwood. “Is she right behind you? Come to stick her nose in matters that don’t concern her again?”

Akechi lifts his hands in surrender. “I assure you,” he counters. “My presence here has nothing to do with the Public Prosecutor. She doesn’t know I’m here, and I see no reason to inform her of such.”

“Then why are you here?” Sojiro asks.

“Secondarily, I would like some of the coffee I had last time,” Akechi says. “And primarily, I had hoped to run into your ward.”

“Him?” Sojiro asks, glancing at Akira.

“Me?” Akira asks.

Akechi nods and gestures to the stool next to Akira. “Might I sit?”

“If you’re a customer and nothing else,” Sojiro replies. “Then go right ahead.” Akechi does, and Sojiro takes his order and pours him a cup of coffee. “You good?” Sojiro asks Akira. “Can you take care of things here?”

“I’m fine,” Akira replies. “Thanks.”

“Alright then. Goodnight.” He glances at Akechi. “I’d tell you not to have a party, but this kid doesn’t look like the kind to go to any.”

Akechi smiles at Akira. “Your guardian certainly has a way with words.”

“Tell me about it,” Akira whispers as Sojiro dons his jacket and hat and heads out the door. “So,” he says into the sudden quiet of LeBlanc. “You wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to apologize on behalf of Niijima-san,” Akechi says and bows his head. “The way she spoke to you was unbecoming of someone in her position.”

Akira glances at the clock over the bar. “Pretty late for an apology,” he says.

Akechi smiles and rubs the back of his head. “Ah, well. Unfortunately, my duties and studies did not permit me to drop by earlier. Forgive me.”

Akira shrugs. “All’s forgiven, then.”

“Just like that?” Akechi asks and takes a sip of coffee.

“What’s the difference? Niijima isn’t going to come here and apologize to me. I appreciate you feeling as if you had to, but you didn’t say those things to me. You were just here, and that’s all. You tried calming her down, but that didn’t do much good. So if you want, I’ll forgive you for that.”

Akechi nods a bit, looking unsatisfied. “Yes, I’m afraid I can’t speak for Niijima-san on these matters. She can be lousy with people. Especially people who are getting close to her sister.” Akechi’s brows rise. “Speaking of, are you truly going out with Makoto Niijima? Because if so, I must congratulate you. She’s an idol to many, not just within Shujin.”

“Makoto’s a good person,” Akira says. “She’s a very focused individual. Possibly the most focused individual I’ve ever known. But we’re not dating or anything. It’s not like that.”

Akechi bobs his head. “Ah. Apologies then. I didn’t mean to presume. But, yes, I suppose the life of a Student Council President wouldn’t leave much time for romantic pursuits. Especially at a place like Shujin, what with everything happening there.”

“Sure,” Akira replies. “Shujin can be a crazy place. And I’ve only been there a few months.”

“Is it safe to assume there were no Phantom Thieves at your old school?” Akechi asks.

Akira grins. “That’s a pretty safe bet, yeah.” He glances at Akechi. “Hey, out of curiosity, what does a ‘detective prince’ do, exactly?”

“You’ve looked me up?”

“Well, you showed up at what is basically my house with a Public Prosecutor. I was curious. You’re a student, so why were you with her? It didn’t take long to figure out. You’re a celebrity.”

“Some celebrity,” Akechi mutters. “I mostly review evidence presented to me from various sources within the police departments. It isn’t as if I can arrest anyone myself. I’m still a minor. Essentially, the ‘Detective Prince’ moniker is used to denote a young man or woman pursuing a career in law enforcement who assists the police in deciphering clues or compiling evidence.”

“So, you’re super smart?” Akira asks. “Like Sherlock Holmes?”

“Sherlock Holmes’ deductions were magic,” Akechi replies. “No, I cannot look at someone’s shoes and ascertain where they lived based on the level of grime from the sole up. Likewise, I can’t observe someone’s mannerisms and somehow tell that they murdered their wife in 2007.”

Akira laughs. “That’d be a pretty great ability.”

“And if someone truly could do that, they would be doing that and put people like me out of business. But, no. I’m human, just like everyone else. I make mistakes, just like everyone else. But yes, I am considered a prodigy and have been called to solve several high-profile cases.”

“Wow,” Akira says. “You were selling me on that humble bit there, and then you just went in the opposite direction at the end.”

Akechi spreads his hands out. “What can I say? I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but I am the Detective Prince. A certain pride does come with the role.”

“Have you ever made a mistake?” Akira asks.

“No,” Akechi replies immediately. He reddens a bit. “Though, it isn’t as if I believe I’m incapable of making one. Someday, I’m sure I will.”

“Right,” Akira says. “But see, when I make a mistake, it means I got someone’s order wrong. If you make a mistake, someone could end up in prison for the rest of their life."

“Ah,” Akechi replies. “Then I suppose I don’t have to ask you for your opinion on the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira shrugs. “I don’t have much of an opinion on them.”

“Really?” Akechi asks. “They struck at Shujin. From what I’ve heard, they’re the only thing students at that school can talk about.”

“Not the only thing,” Akira replies. “But sure, they talk about the Phantom Thieves a lot. But just because they talk about it doesn’t mean I do.”

“True. It’s your choice. But you think they were right to expose Suguru Kamoshida?”

“The guy was a scumbag,” Akira replies.

“Yes, he was,” Akechi says. “But I wonder if how they went about ‘stealing his heart’ was the correct way.”

“No one else was doing anything about it,” Akira points out.

“To their knowledge,” Akechi replies. “The wheels of justice may turn slowly, but they do turn.”

“So the Phantom Thieves were… what? Supposed to hope that the police were secretly investigating Kamoshida and would arrest him?”

Akechi spreads his hands. “Nothing so dramatic. I’m simply throwing out alternatives. I am glad that Kamoshida was removed from your school, where he could no longer pose a threat to students, including Makoto.”

Akira gives a noncommittal grunt.

“Would you like to play a game?” Akechi suddenly asks, hefting his briefcase onto the bar. “I don’t get much free time, and when I do, I enjoy engaging in simple board games. But, alas, I do not have many people to play with.”

“It’s getting late,” Akira replies, glancing up at the clock. “But sure, why not?”

Akechi pulls out a gameboard, and Akira’s eyes widen. “Were you expecting chess?” Akechi asks. “Everyone always expects chess.” He lays the Go board on the bar between them. “But I have always preferred this game.”

“I don’t get to play this much either,” Akira says.

“So you are familiar with it, then?” Akechi asks. Akira nods. “What Go is to philosophers and warriors, chess is to merchants and accountants.”

“That’s from Satori, right?” Akira asks. “I read that not so long ago.”

“Did you also read Shibumi?”

Akira nods. “I read them back to back. Fun books. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to read them, though.”

“Nicholai Hel is a personal hero of mine,” Akechi says as he separates the pieces. Himself, white. Akira, black. “Though I doubt I could ever accomplish as much as that man.”

“Spy, cave explorer, assassin, lover?” Akira asks, then nods at the board. “Not to mention Go player. Plus, there’s the fact that he’s fiction.”

“Yes, I feel better about myself when I remember that my idol isn’t real.”

“Sherlock Holmes is too much for you, but Nicholai Hel is your idol?” Akira asks, smirking. “Seems like a contradiction.”

“It’s because of the perception,” Akechi replies. “The cognition. How both have entered the minds of the populace.” He finishes separating the pieces and nods to Akira. “Your move.” Akira places his first piece. “People look at Sherlock Holmes and think that’s how a detective should behave, should deduce. It’s all nonsense. Doyle wrote Sherlock Holmes as a kind of satire on those characters but ended up molding the trope in his image. In contrast, Nicholai Hel is presented as an absurdity. You know he’s an absurdity, but you don’t mind. Nicholai Hel could never be real, and we know that. Sherlock Holmes could never be real, but we all wish he were.”

“Sure,” Akira replies, placing another piece after Akechi’s response. “But how people see the characters are hardly the fault of the characters themselves, right? If Sherlock Holmes was satire, but everyone took him too seriously, that’s not the author’s fault. Not the book’s fault either. The reverse could’ve been true, right? People could’ve latched on to the Nicholai Hel stories, started wishing he were real, and turned their noses up at Sherlock Holmes. Would you be reading the latter instead of the former, then?”

“Hard to say,” Akechi replies. “But I take your point. Have you ever read A Study in Scarlett?” Akira shakes his head. “Well, about halfway through, the story shifts from Baker Street to Utah, America, in the mid-eighteen hundreds, and follows a bunch of Mormons around. After that, I confess, I grew bored. Perhaps that’s colored my general perception of the character and the books all these years.”

Akira frowns. “That does sound boring.”

“There’s a reason that part of the story never gets brought up in all the modern retellings,” Akechi says and moves another piece.

Akira looks down at the board. It does not look good for his position. While the game was amiable enough, it was clear Akechi meant business when it came to winning. His game was relentless, even with the feints and tricks—a pure drive towards victory.

“Would you tell me, then,” Akechi starts, “What you truly think of the Phantom Thieves? I am curious.” He nods toward Akira. “By your earlier defense of them, I imagine you’re a fan?”

Akira shakes his head. “I’m defending their actions towards Kamoshida. I don’t know them personally, and I’m not someone who gets all hyped about the next big fad.”

“Not sure I’d call convincing a rapist to confess to his crimes, a fad,” Akechi says.

“But you know how people are,” Akira replies and places another piece. “Something interesting comes along, and it’s all anyone can talk about. Video games, TV shows, whatever. It’s always the same. No one wants to miss out. At Shujin, it’s the same but multiplied by ten because the Phantom Thieves struck Shujin first. But it isn’t as if people are changed. Well, aside from Kamoshida,” Akira adds with a smile. “People are still jerks, still assholes, happy or good people, or whatever. The people at Shujin who go on and on about the Phantom Thieves just like them because they’re the latest thing.”

“That’s a very mellowed approach,” Akechi says, countering Akira’s move.

“I’m a mellow guy,” Akira replies. “I just want to go to school, see my friends, and come home. I don’t want to get swept up in anything. Least of all, something I don’t understand.”

“Yes,” Akechi says, nodding. “That is alarming, isn’t it? The whole ‘Changing of the Heart?’ How do you think they do it?”

Akira leans back in his seat and considers. “Folie a deux?” He suggests.

“Really?” Akechi responds and bites off a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d say that.”

“You know what that means?”

“I am the ‘Detective Prince.’ Give me some credit. You think it was enough that a Calling Card existed, then?”

Akira shrugs. “Maybe Kamoshida was mentally in such a terrible place that the idea of someone actually exposing his misdeeds drove him to confess.”

“And not, say… blackmail?” Akechi asks.

“Have the police found any evidence of blackmail?” Akira asks.

Akechi grins. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that. Kamoshida’s trial will be a matter of public record soon enough.”

“Well, whatever,” Akira replies. “I honestly don’t know and couldn’t fathom a guess. Maybe they drugged him or something. Or maybe they did blackmail him. Or maybe there are no Phantom Thieves, and it was just some weird stunt that got out of control. It’s not like they’ve done much since Kamoshida.”

“They’ve taken some Requests,” Akechi points out.

Akira shrugs. “Yeah, but who knows if the website is real?” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Next, you’re gonna tell me everything you read on the internet is real.”

Akechi laughs and shakes his head. “Fair enough. I suppose you’re right. The website could be people mooching off the fame of the Phantom Thieves to make themselves the center of attention.”

“That’d be something,” Akira replies, staring into space. “Someone claiming they had a change of heart, who never even got touched by the Phantom Thieves. Make it look like you’ve changed your ways without having actually to do anything.”

“Heavens forbid,” Akechi says, rubbing his temples after placing another piece. “Imagine trying to sift through the real changes of hearts from the fakes?”

“Glad I don’t have your job,” Akira says.

“Oh, believe me, sometimes I wish I didn’t either.”

Akira smirks. “Don’t tell me that when you’ve got legions of fan girls waiting outside TV studios just to get a glimpse of you.”

“Have you ever had legions of fan girls?” Akechi asks, deadpan.

“No,” Akira replies, the idea too outrageous to be embarrassing.

“It gets old.” With that, Akechi moves his last piece, and the game ends. “Seems I’ve claimed victory,” Akechi says, setting his last piece on the board.

Akira leans back on the stool and nods. “Yeah, sure does.”

“I hope that doesn’t spoil your impression of me.”

“I’m not a sore loser if that’s what you mean. It was a fun game.”

“And an excellent conversation,” Akechi says. “I do hope we can continue it at some point.”

Akira nods and bends over to lift his bookbag back onto the bar. He zips it open, intent on retrieving a few of his items now that he imagines himself going to bed.

“Oh my,” Akechi says. Akira glances over at him, and the boy’s face reddens. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s just that I noticed the book in your bag.”

Akira looks down. ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’ stares back at him. “Have you read it?”

“Several times,” Akechi replies. “It’s sure to be considered a classic one day.”

Akira smiles. “I’m not sure if it’s weird or not for the ‘Detective Prince’ to be reading a book about gentlemen thieves.”

“Well,” Akechi says. “Perhaps I’ve got a secret identity of my own, or perhaps my occupation requires that I get inside the mind of people like said ‘gentlemen thieves.’ Which one sounds cooler?”

Akira ponders. “The second one.”

“Then let’s go with that,” Akechi says, as he clicks his briefcase shut. He stands and bows. “Thank you for the coffee, the game, and the conversation. Would you mind if I dropped by again sometime?”

Akira smiles. “No problem. Be warned, though. Boss will probably glare daggers if you don’t order more than a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll bring my appetite with me, then,” Akechi replies, stands, and bows. “Goodnight, Kurusu.”

Akira returns the bow. “So long, Akechi.”

Notes:

Hope you all had a great holiday! Sorry about the delayed post. You know how it goes, holidays and the like.

So, here's the thing. Given how intense my capstone is growing, and due to a recent shakeup at work, I may have to take a bit of time off from Crimson soon. Not next week. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, but I need to make sure I handle business in the other aspects of my life. And, as I've said, I do not want to rush through deadlines and turn out a slew of bad chapters. That's not to say I'm going to abandon this. I will not do that. I've come too far, and people have invested too much into it to stop writing it now.

Again, this is speculative at the moment, but it's looking increasingly likely. Thank you for sticking with Crimson as long as you all have. Thank you for reading and commenting and discussing it. I'll have another update on this in a coming chapter.

UPDATE: Oh, and someone by the name of 'KnowledgeSeeker66' expanded on the TV Tropes page for Crimson. Thanks! Check it out: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/CrimsonAU

Chapter 42: Chapter 42

5/26

Akira expects certain things when he walks into Untouchable.

Akira expects seedy customers, hidden in aisles and behind the covers of violently themed magazines.

He expects the faint aroma of cigarette smoke, mixing with the smell of plastic and glue.

He expects the subdued music curling through the store.

He expects Iwai to be seated at the counter, cap pulled low, lollypop in mouth, eyes pretending to be lazy.

When he steps into the store this time, Yusuke in tow, he does not expect the man to storm from the backroom, scowling, march around the counter, grab Akira’s arm, and haul him towards said backroom.

“I suppose I’ll wait here,” Yusuke calls after them.

Iwai and Akira enter the small chamber, and Akira finds it stacked to the brim with clutter. Boxes of model guns, plastic-wrapped appliances, tubes filled with airsoft bbs. He cannot see the walls.

Iwai slams the door shut behind them and releases Akira’s arm, only to jab him in the chest with a finger stained with tobacco. “I don’t know what you’re doing, runnin’ your mouth about this place, but here’s another life lesson for you, kid. Don’t.”

Akira resists the sudden urge to swat Iwai’s finger away and keeps his voice calm. “Whoa. What’re you talking about?” He feels Morgana squirm inside his bag. “I haven’t told anyone about this place or you.” Akira doesn’t add, I’m not an idiot, though he thinks it.

Iwai’s alight eyes bore into his own, and for far too long to be comfortable, he says nothing. Then, “Makoto and Haru. You know 'em?”

The names dunk his head in a bucket of ice water. Akira’s brain shuts off. “Wha?”

Iwai’s grimace is something to behold. “Yes or no, Kurusu!” It is not a question.

Akira nods. “Yes, yes.” He nods some more. “I work with Haru at my part-time job. And, uh, well… Makoto’s more complicated.”

“Enlighten me,” Iwai says, slowly.

Akira wonders where to start. “Okay. She’s the Student Council President. She was my tutor, but now that’s not happening because of bunch of stuff and-”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Akira feels his eyes nearly pop from his head. “Huh? No! She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Iwai’s eyes move toward the door, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, she’s sayin’ she’s your girlfriend. She came in the other day and asked about your shopping habits.”

Akira knows the big, dumb smile he feels growing over his face is the last thing Iwai wants to see, but he can’t help it. “Makoto said she was my girlfriend?” He mumbles.

“Knock that dumbass grin off your face before I smack it off, kid! What’re you telling people?”

Akira shakes his head. “Nothing. I swear. I haven’t told anyone anything. But Makoto is stalking me. Or was. She was stalking me. I guess she still is.” Is she still looking into the Phantom Thieves? Why? “What, exactly, did you tell her?”

Iwai walks him through the interaction. “Then, the fluffy-haired girl, Haru, bought the model, and they split. So what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Akira says. “Makoto followed me around for a while. She had a crush on me.”

“On you?” Iwai asks, the disbelief plain in his voice.

“Yes, and thanks. But we stopped hanging out for a while. But if Makoto knows about this place and how often I come here, maybe she thought she could get information on me from you. But-”

“But luckily for you,” Iwai cuts in. “I’m not an idiot.”

Akira nods. Iwai had played things well. Makoto knew Akira visited Untouchable, but she didn’t know why he came. “Thanks. I’m sorry I caused you trouble.”

Iwai’s grimace softens. “Yeah, covering for your ass isn’t part of our deal. Try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“I will,” Akira says, nodding.

Iwai sighs. “So, what’re you doing here?”

Akira remembers Yusuke. “My friend, the one I came in with, needs a gun. And a burner.”

Iwai doesn’t say anything for a time. “You ever heard the saying, ‘three people can keep a secret if two are dead?’”

“Are you going to kill me?” Akira asks, eyeing the confined space they presently inhabit.

“Not yet,” Iwai growls. “You’ll have to wait on the burner.” Iwai narrows his eyes. “Just what do you kids use those guns for anyway?”

“I told you,” Akira replies, straight-faced. “We’re enthusiasts.”

Iwai smiles. “Good boy.”

“There’s something else,” Akira says.

Iwai’s brows rise. “You need to stop saying that and lead with the point, kid.”

“Right. Sorry.” Akira clears his throat. “I need to know if you can get it by tomorrow.”

Iwai’s eyes narrow. “Tomorrow?”

Akira nods. “Tomorrow.”

“It’ll depend on what you need and what you can pay.”

Akira smiles. “I need a card skimmer.”

#

“Yo,” Ryuji calls as Yusuke exits the Metaverse.

“Ah,” Yusuke says, as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Greetings. What are you doing here? I thought Morgana was to relieve me?”

“Morgana’s running late,” Ryuji replies. “But he’ll be here soon. I came to check up on you. How’s the Palace doing? Still there?”

“Indeed,” Yusuke says and nods toward the old house. “It’s quite odd. I occupy a position within the old house across the block from the Palace.” He nods towards the building they both stand beneath. “And while it conceals me from the Shadows, it is otherwise empty. The place leaves me with a rather hollow feeling.”

Ryuji shrugs. “The Metaverse is like that, dude. It’s a creepy place. I try not to dwell on it too much.”

“That sounds like sage advice. I did not expect that from you.”

Ryuji frowns. “Yeah, thanks. Look, dude, I came to see if you wanted to get something to eat.” Yusuke stares at him, surprise evident, but Ryuji jams his hands in his pockets and says, “Don’t gimme that deer in headlights look. Come on.”

Ryuji brings Yusuke to his favorite ramen place, but unlike with Akira, the conversation is stilted and one-sided. Yusuke cannot stop commenting on the ‘aesthetics’ of everything he sees, even making a remark about how ‘the arrangement of the food coalesces in such a way as to draw the eye of the eater.’

Ryuji has no idea what it means, but he pats the kid on his back and slurps up his food.

“So, he nearly chokes when – out of nowhere – Yusuke says, “Ryuji, might I ask a question? Regarding Akira and Ann?”

Once he’s finished coughing and taken a healthy gulp of water, Ryuji sets his chopsticks down and asks, “What brought that on?”

“Earlier today, when Akira and Morgana took me to the airsoft shop, the manager spoke with our leader. It seems Makoto had been to the store, asking after him.”

Ryuji’s groan is so loud it draws the eyes of the other patrons. “Seriously?” He asks, softer, before letting his head hang over the steaming ramen bowl. “Man, that’s just what we need.”

“After we requested the,” and Yusuke lowers his voice, “device from the owner, Akira walked me through the situation regarding himself, Makoto, and Ann. However, I was left with the impression I did not get the full story.” Yusuke clears his throat then and mutters, “Ann, in particular, did not come off well from the retelling.”

Ryuji shuts his eyes and rubs them with his thumb and forefinger. “Alright, man. Tell me what he said.”

Yusuke does, and when he’s finished, Ryuji shakes his head.

“Okay, so that’s kinda how it went down, but you were right. That’s not the full story.”

“Then, perhaps you could shed some light on the situation for me?”

“Okay, since like day one, Akira and the Prez have had this ‘will they, won’t they’ thing going on. Akira even went on a date with her, but the Prez started talking about how we were the Phantom Thieves.”

“Which we are,” Yusuke points out.

“Well, yeah. But the point is not to let anyone know. So, Akira wanted to let her in on the secret because he’s head over heels for her, while the rest of us were like, ‘Nah.’ Akira got all mad about that, but it wasn’t a big deal until we found out that the Principal was asking about us, and Makoto agreed to investigate us.”

Yusuke frowns. “You do not seem concerned about that.”

Ryuji shrugs. “Well, Makoto only did it because the guy was blackmailing her. She wasn’t really after us. Well, she sort of was, but not because of him. Anyway, she only agreed to look into us for him to get out of the room. Then Makoto tried to tell Akira, but because Morgana overheard part of the conversation, we thought she had betrayed Akira and was secretly after us the whole time, but she wasn’t. But before all this could get cleared up, the thing with Shiho happened. But I don't know, man. Makoto apologized to me for shit I didn’t even know she did. So she’s okay in my book. I just don’t know if we should tell her about our alter egos and stuff. But then Ann freaked out over the Shiho thing and gave Akira that ulti-thing-”

“You refer to the ‘ultimatum?’” Yusuke asks.

Ryuji nods. “Yeah, that one. She gave him that, which just pissed him off even more. Because as far as he’s concerned, Makoto is on the up and up, but we vetoed the whole thing, and Ann thinks we shouldn’t have even had to do that because why should Makoto know about us, right? Anyway, everyone’s mad, but no one wants to talk about it.”

“I see,” Yusuke says.

“Really?”

“No. Not at all.”

Ryuji can’t help smiling. “Tell me about it. Shit’s confusing.”

Yusuke sits back and folds his arms across his chest. “Forgive me, for I am little more than a neophyte to the Phantom Thieves, but it seems a lot of our internal issues could be solved if Akira and Ann were to ‘talk it out,’ so to speak.”

Ryuji spins in his chair until his whole body faces Yusuke. “You know, it’s funny you mention that. See, Morgana and me? We’ve got a plan.”

“You’ve joined forces with the cat?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “He’s human, remember? But yeah, we have.” His smile grows. “Actually, it’s sorta thanks to you.”

“How so?” Yusuke asks.

Ryuji explains the plan. “So,” he asks, once done, “you in?”

“It’s a bit simplistic.”

“No shit. That’s why it’ll work.”

Yusuke smiles. “Very well. I am in.”

#

Ann takes a breath, then lifts her hand to knock. It is not enough, and she lets her hand fall. Come on, she thinks. What is wrong with me?

But she knows very well what the problem is. When Ann first started to visit Shiho, the issue had been the fear that Shiho hated Ann for her role in the abuse at Kamoshida’s hand. When that had not been the case, Ann had felt relief. But it had not taken her long to discover that the inside of Shiho’s head was far more complicated than ‘does she hate me or not?’ Ann’s visits with Shiho could be fairly straightforward, laid back, and otherwise pleasing. Or, they could be temperamental and filled with bitter emotions that Ann was unsure how to deal with.

Ann shakes her head. This was Shiho, and she deserved a friend, no matter what. Ann raises her hand once more and knocks on the door. A tepid, “Come in,” tells Ann nothing about what she’s about to experience. Gently, Ann opens the door and sticks her head inside.

“Shiho?” Ann calls. “It’s me.”

“Hi, Ann,” Shiho replies, and Ann is relieved to see the girl smiling and sitting in her bed. The lights are on, and the shades are pulled back.

“Your parents aren’t here?” Ann asks, stepping inside. The lights are on too. That’s good.

Shiho shakes her head. “No. They… uh, they needed a break. So… they took a break, I guess.”

“Oh,” Ann replies, then frowns. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Shiho says, and shrugs. “Come on in.”

Ann does, and places herself in the chair beside Shiho’s bed. “How are things?”

“Could be better,” Shiho says. “Though physical therapy is going well. It’s not such a pain once you get used to it.” Shiho blinks. “Well, no. It still hurts a lot. But I suppose I don’t mind doing it as much anymore.”

“That’s good,” Ann exclaims, trying to force joviality into her voice.

Shiho nods. “I guess.” She sighs and glances out the window. “How’re things with the Phantom Thieves?”

“We’ve got a new member,” Ann says. She explains Yusuke. “I’m a little suspicious of Akira, though.”

“Why’s that?” Shiho asks.

“He’s usually very protective of our secret. So, him just inviting Yusuke along doesn’t add up.”

“Why do you think he did it, then?” Shiho asks.

“I told him I would quit the Phantom Thieves after what Niijima,” and Ann looks at Shiho, then lowers her gaze, “did. I wanted him to understand that it wasn’t right what she did. But I think he hasn’t trusted me much since.”

“And you think he brought Yusuke into this Metaverse place, hoping that it would trigger his Persona thing, and then he’d have an extra member so he could maybe replace you?” Shiho asks.

Ann’s eyes widen. “Um, yeah. Exactly.”

Shiho shrugs. “Maybe he did.”

“Don’t you think that’s, I don’t know, twisted?” Ann asks.

“Sure, but so what?” Shiho asks. “Can you blame him? Things get hard, and you threaten to leave.”

“I only threatened to leave because of what happened to you!”

Once again, Shiho shrugs. “What’s done is done, right? Are you going to quit changing hearts because of all this? Didn’t you tell me this Madarame guy is starving kids?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Look,” Shiho says. “I don’t want to be in the middle of all this, okay? I don’t want to be an excuse. You guys go out there and do all these things and have all these adventures, and I’m stuck in here, but it’s like I’m still somehow a part of it. Not in a good way, though. So, whatever, okay? Just patch things up and get back to saving lives or whatever.”

Ann is about to reply to that when there’s another knock on the door.

“Shiho?” Comes a voice, far too young to be the girl’s mother.

Shiho sits up a little straighter and calls, “Come in,” then glances at Ann and says, “Sorry, I forgot to mention. Someone else was going to come by.”

The door creaks open, and a young girl sticks her head inside.

Tired eyes beneath long brown hair and thin. So very thin.

“Oh,” the girl says, when she sees Ann. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“It’s okay,” Shiho says. “Come in, Mika.”

Something about the girl reminds Ann of someone, but she cannot recall who.

“Hi,” the girl says, as she walks towards Shiho’s bed, falling into the other chair. “You’re Ann, right?”

Ann nods. “That’s right. And you’re Mika? It’s nice to meet you.”

Mika smiles, sinking into the chair. “We’ve met before. I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. I don’t have any makeup on.”

Ann squints at the girl, trying to place her. Mika suddenly lifts her hands and strikes a pose, touching her fingertips beneath her chin so that her arms form a small heart. She gives a winning smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and Ann suddenly realizes.

“Hey, yeah. I do know you! You’re from that shoot earlier in the Spring, right? The one for Sweet magazine at Tokyo Tower! I was there too.”

“Ding ding,” Mika says, smiling. “That’s me.”

“Wow,” Ann replies, then shakes her head. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Mika gestures down at her hospital gown. “You haven’t guessed?”

“We attend physical therapy together,” Shiho says. “She’s staying a few rooms down.”

“The sessions aren’t boring,” Mika says. “But it can be pretty crummy being stuck here all day without anyone to talk to.”

“She’s my friend,” Shiho says.

“And Shiho’s mine,” Mika replies. The two girls smile at each other, but it lacks the warmth Ann expects from such a declaration.

“That’s great,” Ann says, surprised to realize she means it. She cannot always be here with Shiho, so knowing her best friend has a friend calms her.

“So, how’s the modeling biz?” Mika asks.

Ann shrugs. “Oh, you know,” she says, glancing at Shiho. How much did Shiho tell her? I can’t imagine she would mention the Phantom Thieves. Shiho meets her gaze and gives a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. “The same, I guess.”

“Then I won’t be back anytime soon,” Mika says, barking a laugh.

“Mika,” Shiho says. “I don’t think-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mika replies. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Ann looks from one girl to the other. “What’d you mean?”

“It’s nothing,” Shiho says. “Nothing, any of us, want to talk about, I’m sure.”

“I mean,” Mika drawls. “I probably should say something. After all, we’re in the same industry, right Ann?”

Ann feels very uncomfortable all of a sudden. She meets Mika’s gaze. “I think what you’re saying will upset Shiho, so I’d like you to stop.”

Mika grins, and Shiho sighs. “Shiho’s not trying to get me to shut up for her sake, Ann. She’s doing it for yours.”

Ann looks back at Shiho, who shrugs.

“What do you think I’m in physical therapy for?” Mika asks.

“I have no idea.”

“Really? Hadn’t you heard? I would’ve thought someone would be talking about it. But I guess I’m old news.”

Ann wants to feel annoyed, but she doesn’t. Instead, all she feels is dread. Ann shakes her head.

“My motor functions got all fucked up when I overdosed on pills, trying to kill myself,” Mika snaps.

Ann says nothing.

“Now, I’ve got to relearn how to walk. All because-” She stops, settles back in her chair, and stays quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Ann replies. “I really am.”

Mika shrugs, deflated. “Thanks.” She looks up at Ann. “Do you know the manager over at Harajuku Gals Modeling Agency?”

Ann shakes her head. “I don’t know him personally. I’ve seen him around shoots before.”

Mika nods. “Stay away from him.”

Ann does not stay for much longer.

#

Morgana stares up at Akira, eyes wide and concerned. “Are you ready for this?”

The two stand in the Shibuya Underground, around the corner from Rafflesia. Akira knows there’s nothing to fear here, but after his last confrontation with Haru, he’s not been looking forward to this. Akira would’ve quit Rafflesia, but between the money he’d required for the computer, plus the funds he’d need to pay for Iwai’s card skimmer, he needed all the income he could acquire.

“I think,” Akira replies.

“Because Haru is probably still really mad at you. And Haru is scary when she’s mad.”

“Yeah, thanks. I remember.”

“I’m just saying. Because if she’s working with Makoto, you must be even more guarded.”

“I got it.”

Morgana nods and retreats into Akira’s bag. “Okay, well, I won’t hold my breath. Good luck.”

“Your pep talks never cease to inspire,” Akira replies.

Silence from the bag.

Given that Iwai confirmed Haru was working with Makoto to trail Akira, it followed that some of her anger towards him was an act. How much was up for debate. It was unlikely Makoto and Haru anticipated that Iwai would disclose their visit to Akira, so he had that going for him. All that remained was to find out what they really knew and find another way to throw them off.

Akira takes a few more deep breaths, shoulders his bag, turns the corner, and marches towards the flower shop.

“Good evening, Akira-kun,” Hanasaki calls as he approaches.

“Hello,” Akira replies, and spies a figure behind a fichus plant stiffen. Then, a pair of violet eyes glare from behind the leaves a moment later.

Akira enters the shop, moves past the register and the display shelves, and enters the backroom.

A few seconds later, Haru enters with a bag of fertilizer in her arms, gazing pointedly at the ceiling, nose upturned.

“Hey, Haru,” Akira says. Morgana’s head pops out of the bag.

Haru sets down her charge, crosses her arms, and turns to regard him. Then, just before her glare can rip the flesh from his bones, she turns to Morgana and says, “Hello, Mona-chan.”

Morgana meows. “Oh yeah, she’s still mad.”

Akira tries on a smile, but it does nothing to faze her.

“Hanasaki-chan wants us to feed the jasmines. I assume you can handle that without me, yes?” Haru turns her back and begins to head back out towards the storefront.

“Haru, come on,” Akira blurts. “I need your help.” Haru hesitates for only a moment. “Can I just talk to you for a second?”

Haru makes a small humph noise but stops walking. “You may speak at me, Kurusu-kun. I will not promise to listen or respond.”

Akira rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Look. Things got out of hand with Makoto. I need to talk to her.”

Morgana glares up at him. “What are you doing?” He demands.

Akira pats the air in his direction. Not now, Mona. “I know she’s upset with me. I need you to convince her to talk to me. Please.”

No response.

“This is your plan?” Morgana asks. “How is this helping?”

“Mona-chan seems upset with you, too,” Haru replies.

“Haru, please. I’m begging you.”

Haru turns one eye back on him. “Mako-chan will speak with you when she’s good and ready. And that’s if she deigns to do so.”

Akira tries to squeeze as much pathetic into his voice as he can. “I don’t want her to hate me.”

Haru flinches at that. He sees it, but before he can act on it, she blurts out, “You should’ve thought of that before you brushed her off. Before you got mean. You told her all those nice things, asked her out, and then you just decided to ignore her and act like a jerk? Now you want to speak to her?” Haru shakes her head. “Get bent, Akira.”

Akira is taken aback by Haru’s outburst, but part of him realizes it is not wholly undeserved. “Please,” Akira says. “I have to explain. I have to.”

Haru frowns, and her shoulder slump. She appears tired over her words. Her head tilts forward, and she stares at the ground for a time. “I will speak with Mako-chan, regarding you. It may or may not be on your behalf.”

Akira feels the air rush from his lungs. “Thank you.”

“I will need something in return.”

“Anything,” Akira replies.

Haru turns, a touch of crimson on her cheeks. “I will need an afternoon with Mona-chan.”

Akira and Morgana stare at her. “Huh?” Akira asks.

“Me?” Morgana asks. “What’s she want with me?”

Haru brings the index fingers of both hands together and says, shyly, “I don’t have any pets, but I like looking at cat pictures. I’d like to, um, take some pictures with Mona-chan.”

Akira is about to say, “Deal,” when Morgana hisses, “Conference!”

Akira looks down at the cat and then at Haru, who finally meets his eyes. “I need to confer with him, for a second.”

“Naturally,” Haru replies.

Akira scoops Morgana up and retreats further into the flower shop’s backroom.

He sets the cat down alongside some rhododendrons.

“No. Freakin’. Way,” Morgana says.

“Mona, please. You’d be helping me out.”

“I am not a feline fashion model! I don’t take pictures with cute girls! I’m a human trapped in a cat’s body! I’m a Phantom Thief, for crying out loud! Your whole plan for getting access to the Palace hinges on me!”

Akira kneels and clasps his hands together. “Morgana, please. I need your help. Just do this one thing for me.”

“This is a distraction! How does you talking to Makoto help with anything?”

“If my lies didn’t throw her off, then we need to know what she knows. This could give us an in to figure out-”

“Oh, give me a break!” Morgana hisses. “You just want to start talking to Makoto again! You don’t care about what she does and doesn’t know about the Phantom Thieves. You were happy when Iwai told you she was still looking into you. Don’t shake your head! Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Akira sighs. “Morgana… please.”

“No. Explain it to me, Akira. Explain why we need to do this. How does this benefit the Phantom Thieves?”

Akira doesn’t lie. Morgana spends the majority of his time around Akira, so it’s natural that he understands and notices Akira’s tells. “Okay,” Akira says. “You’re right. I was happy. I am happy that Makoto is still looking into the Phantom Thieves. I believe her, Morgana. I don’t think she means us any harm.”

Akira doesn’t lie. But he doesn’t tell the whole truth either.

“But let’s not forget, Morgana, Makoto’s sister is a public prosecutor. So even if I believe Makoto isn’t against us, that doesn’t mean for sure that she’s not. And, if Makoto does know about us and starts piecing things together, there’s no guarantee she won’t give it to her sister. Or her sister won’t just find out and deduce it all alone. If that happens, we need to know what’s coming. One way or another, Morgana, Makoto, and Haru are loose ends, and we need to know what they know.

“And you are in a perfect position to do that. Haru might let something slip to you. Makoto might join you two, and then she’ll let something slip. It might be small, but it isn’t as if they believe you can convey information to us. You may be human, but you look and sound like a cat. Even if I don’t get to talk to Makoto, you could help us determine what they know.”

Morgana frowns. “I guess that’s a good point.”

“I’d like to reconcile with Makoto someday,” Akira says. “But that isn’t what this is about. It’s about keeping us all safe. Please, Morgana. Let’s do this.”

Morgana rolls his eyes and stays silent for a time. “Fine,” he eventually says. “But I’m not wearing any stupid hats.”

#

Ohya shoves her way into Crossroads, and wonders if she’s forgotten about any shots she took earlier because Akira Kurusu is standing alongside the bar.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ohya says, as she slides into her usual seat, eyes narrow. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Akira says. He’s smiling at her, but it’s a different kind of smile. A cocky one. One she’s never seen him wear. What’s he got going on that’s so special?

“You just came here hoping that I would show up?” Ohya asks.

“I figured you would. Lala-chan told me you were here most nights, so it wasn’t that crazy of a bet.” Ohya waves down Lala, and Akira leans in closer. “So, I was wondering.”

“Stop the presses.”

“Nice. I was wondering, remember how Madarame has that storage unit?”

“I remember how we suspect he has one but can’t confirm it.”

Akira’s grin grows. “It’s confirmed.”

Ohya stares at him. “How do you know that?” Akira shrugs. “Don’t play that shit with me. I’ve had a rough few days.”

Akira’s face softens. “Okay, okay. Sorry. But look. I’ve got an idea to see what’s inside. I need your help. Are you in?”

Ohya shakes her head and shouts over at Lala, who still hasn’t approached. “Lala-chan. Let me have my usual!”

“Going home alone and waking up with a crushing headache?” Lala-chan asks.

“Oh ha, haa, haaaaaaaaaaaa,” Ohya replies. “Seriously.” And then she looks back at Akira, and she allows just a tinge of respect into her voice when she says, “I was never not in, cuz.”

Notes:

Hey everyone, hope you had a great weekend!

I hate to do this, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a break from Crimson. Between school, work, and the usual life related shit, I don't have the time to give this story the attention it deserves. I love writing this story, and I love talking to all of you about it, but my other duties call.

I will return to it, in a few weeks. I'll be sure to drop a line about when, once I have a better idea about that.

Again, thank you so much for reading, commenting, reviewing, Kudo-ing, Favorite-ing, and all other associates ing's. Feel free to drop me a line in the comments or via PM, and I will do my best to get back to you. I'll keep my eyes on my inbox.

I appreciate your understanding, and I'll see you all soon!

Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Notes:

Smiley Face

5/27

Yusuke pushes open the door to ‘Untouchable’ and steps inside. He has adorned himself in one of Akira’s hoodies that conceals his face. Yusuke had thought it best to hide his identity as much as possible, though given that it was late May, the heat had become a bit uncomfortable. Fortunately, it was still early, and the day’s promised humidity hadn’t descended upon the city yet.

“Great,” Iwai groans, when Yusuke approaches the counter. “Akira sent you.”

“I have come,” Yusuke says, spreading his arms in anticipation of the metal detector, “for the device.”

Morgana sighs from the backpack Yusuke carries, slung over one shoulder. Akira needed to attend school, and it had been vital to get the card skimmer in place as early as possible, but that meant Yusuke was the only one available to pick up the device and help Morgana cart it to Natsuki Storage.

“Uh huh,” Iwai replies. “Put your arms down.”

Yusuke does so. “Do you not wish to ensure my-”

“It’s fine,” Iwai says, raising a hand to stop Yusuke from continuing. He frowns. “Yeah. It’s fine.” Iwai reaches a hand behind the counter and procures a package much more petite than Yusuke anticipated. “The directions are inside. It’s fairly simple. You gonna be able to handle it?”

Yusuke chuckles. “Never fear. We will be successful.” Little does this man know that I only need to escort Morgana. It is he who will be doing the hard work.

“Alright then,” Iwai replies. “Then take it and get moving.” The older man sits back in his chair, a faint scowl on his face, though Yusuke is sure he has done nothing to warrant such cold disapproval.

Perhaps I should say something to alleviate his ill will towards me.

Yusuke studies Iwai the same way he examines models for his craft. After taking in the man’s face, an idea springs to Yusuke’s mind. “You know,” he says. “My new friend Sakamoto has been teaching me all about the wonders of various nutritional foods.”

Iwai stares back at him. “I’m going to hate wherever this is going.”

“For instance,” Yusuke continues, undeterred. “He explained that vegetables are excellent for the complexion. Perhaps you should-”

“Get the hell out,” Iwai snaps.

“Right away,” Yusuke replies, turns on his heel, and exits ‘Untouchable’ with the package under one arm and Morgana scaling the other.

“You probably shouldn’t antagonize that guy,” Morgana says, once he’s settled on Yusuke’s shoulder.

“That was not my intention,” Yusuke counters. “I merely noticed the horrid condition of his skin and-”

“Look,” Morgana says. “Let’s focus, okay? We got the card skimmer. We’ve got Ohya’s camera. Let’s get to Natsuki Storage. It’s going to be a long day.”

Yusuke mentally runs through his outlined activities for the day. “You are quite right,” he admits, increasing his pace towards the Shibuya train station.

#

Makoto sits and stares at the pages before her.

From what feels very far away, a voice says, "...should handle the permissions required for the newspaper club."

Another voice. "Doesn't the newspaper club have, like, one member?"

"Club's a club. We need to honor their requests as best we can, and..."

Makoto lifts her phone off the table and peeks at the time. "Alright," she says, putting as much benevolent authority into her voice as she can. "I think we've covered enough ground for today. Let's wrap it up."

The rest of her administration falls silent and steals glances at one another. Her Treasurer is brave enough to speak first. "Um, Niijima-san, are you sure? It's kind of early."

Makoto smiles at him. "True, but we've all been working hard. It won't hurt to postpone these discussions until our next meeting."

Her Secretary, his pencil tapping away against the desk, asks, "This isn't a trick, is it?"

Makoto blinks. "A trick?"

"Yeah, you're not going to have us leave and then chew us out for leaving early, are you?"

Makoto's smile suddenly feels very grating. "Would I do a thing like that?"

Silence.

She lays her hands atop one another and pretends she's smothering each of them with a pillow. "This is not a trick. We've all been working very hard. Let's take a break. You're all excused for the day."

There is a single beat of nothing, where even the air seems to hang still, and then they begin to pack. They shove their books into their bags with abandon. A few continue to glance Makoto’s way, anticipating danger.

Is this really the impression I give off? She wonders, and cannot decide if this makes her sad. Then, they stand and file out of the room as fast as decorum allows, one by one.

And then Makoto is alone.

And then there is a knock on the door.

And a pause.

And then another knock.

Makoto stands, makes her way to the door, and knocks on it twice.

Another pause.

Then, from outside, knock.

She opens the door and finds Haru beaming at her. "All set?" The girl asks.

"Of course," Makoto replies.

She steps aside, and Haru shuffles in and drops her book bag on the table. "Shall we begin?"

Makoto grins, and opens her own bag.

In a short time, the two transform the student council room into the headquarters for 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic.'

They ornament the marker board with surveillance photos, taken with Makoto’s smartphone and printed at home, detailing the suspected Phantom Thieves engaged in various activities, such as standing in the school, standing outside the school, and sitting in a diner. Over the top of the board, Makoto has written, 'The Cat is the Key.'

A map of Tokyo, dotted with notations, covers the table. Locations like LeBlanc, Shujin, Untouchable, and Shibuya Underground are marked in red.

A large file labeled 'Supplementary Material' is sprawled open and contains two piles, one consisting of notes and turns of phrases Makoto remembers Akira using in the past. The other is composed of doodles Haru put together of Makoto and Akira holding hands.

"Where did we leave off last time?" Makoto asks.

"We were discussing Mona-chan's possible role in... I think you called it, 'information conveyance,'" Haru replies, sitting at the table as though she were in class.

"Right," Makoto says, and turns back to the board. "I think there must be some small camera attached to his collar. Maybe it's linked to Akira's phone?"

Haru frowns. "I guess that's an option. But it doesn't explain how he can get Mona-chan to do things, like pull fire alarms. I still say it's because he's-"

"Please don't say it," Makoto begs.

Haru ignores her. "Magic."

Makoto sighs. "Haru, we've been over this. There's no way the cat is magic."

Haru rolls her eyes. "How do the Phantom Thieves change hearts, then? You spoke to Daisuke. All he got was the Calling Card. What if the Phantom Thieves are magic? Then their cat could be magic too."

"Akira isn't magic. And I'm still not entirely convinced they can 'steal hearts.'"

"He-" Haru starts.

"Don't say it!" Makoto blurts.

"-stole yours, didn't he?" Haru's smile is enormous, and she throws her head back, giggling.

Makoto feels her cheeks redden. "You know, that gets less funny every time you say it."

Haru shakes her head. "No, it doesn't. It really doesn't."

Her jocularity is infectious, and Makoto can't help but smile and fantasize about certain things for a moment before she returns to business. "Well, anyway, it was good thinking. Getting Akira to agree to give you Morgana for a day. That'll give us time to examine him."

Haru frowns at that. "You're not going to run tests on him, are you? I love Mona-chan. I don't want to see him hurt."

Makoto shakes her head. "Of course not. I just want to check his collar. His fur. There's got to be some evidence, some explanation for how that cat does the things it does."

"Magic," Haru whispers, and when Makoto glares at her, she says, "Have you thought about what you're going to say to Akira?"

Makoto drops into a chair with a heavy sigh. "Honestly? I keep running through these scenarios, but I know it won't go how I want it to." She smiles at her friend. "I'm terrified it's going to blow up in my face. Like it already did."

Haru nods. "I'll ask Akira for Mona-chan the next time I see him at work. Then, we'll get to the bottom of all this."

"You're right. I guess I'm-"

Makoto is interrupted by a muffled buzz from Haru’s bag. Haru smiles and pulls out her phone. When she looks at it, her eyes go wide.

"Oh," Haru says. "Oh."

"Something wrong?" Makoto asks.

"I need to, um, go. I'd forgotten I had a previous appointment."

"I see. Something for your father's company?"

Haru's nod is quick and sharp. "Something like that." She stands, lifts her bag, and brushes a few stray hairs from her face. "I'm sorry, Mako-chan. Could we talk about this later? I have to get going."

"Of course," Makoto tells her. "We can't take another step forward until we've got Morgana, after all."

"R-right. You're absolutely right," Haru says as she speeds towards the door. She opens it, smiles at Makoto again, and quickly blurts out, "Thanks! Bye!" Then, she shuts it.

Makoto stares up at the board. She can't shake a bad feeling in her gut. Her eyes drift down to the desk and spy Haru's notebook on the table. Oh, she forgot that.

She snatches it up and stands. Haru had only left a few seconds ago. Makoto should still be able to catch her. Besides, Makoto barely has enough room in her bag for all her schoolwork and her share of the investigation material.

Makoto exits their headquarters into the hall, locking the door after her. It wouldn't do for another student to walk in and discover all the evidence. Not seeing Haru, Makoto quickly makes her way to the stairwell and descends to the first floor. It's getting late, and students are either involved in club activities or gone for the day, so Makoto passes few in the halls.

She doesn't find Haru until she steps out of Shujin's front entrance and looks down the steps leading to the school.

Haru is in the street just outside the gates. She stands next to a limousine. An older man, perhaps in his twenties, has his hand wrapped around one of her wrists. He wears an expensive white suit and a sneer.

Makoto does not think. She barrels down the steps, a snarl of her own sketching itself across her face, and a strange feeling in her chest, like an engine revving. She utters something close to, "Get off her," but isn't quite, and then, her hand wraps around the man's arm, and shoves.

The man yells, "Ah! What the-" at the same time Haru gasps, "Mako-chan?"

Then, there is a great flurry of limbs, and the man ends up with his back against the limousine, groaning and rubbing his arm through his suit. Makoto's hands are up, and Haru's are on her arm. The girl is begging her, "Makoto, stop!"

The man straightens and glares at them both. "Who is this, Haru?"

The venom in his voice takes Makoto aback, but she holds her ground. "I don't know who you are, but you'd better get out of here before I call the police."

Then, he tilts back his head and laughs. "The police? Go ahead! I'll have you arrested for assault."

"Assault?" Makoto asks, and puts as much swagger into her voice as she can. "I don't think so. I saw you hurting my friend, and I-"

"I don't remember hurting her. We were having a nice chat, weren't we, Haru?" There is silence after that. "Weren't we, Haru?" He repeats.

"Y-yes," Haru replies. For the first time, Makoto becomes aware of the pleading tone in her friend's voice. "Please, Mako-chan. Please, stop."

Makoto doesn't want to take her eyes off him, but she can't help but turn to meet Haru’s gaze. "What is going on? Who is this?"

The man makes a show of dusting off his suit. "She's never mentioned me, huh? Some friend."

Haru can only look at Makoto's eyes for a few moments, and then she averts them. "Please, Mako-chan. I'm fine, alright? Please, stop."

"No," Makoto says. "What's going on?"

"I'm bored," the man says. "Haru, get in the car. I'm not asking again. And you," he says, and points at Makoto. "I'd better not see you again. Challenge me like that, and I'll have the police on your ass so quick, you'll be behind bars before you can even blink."

"Haru," Makoto says, ignoring him. "Who is this?"

"He's-" Haru begins. "He's... I'll call you later!" And then Haru steps away from her and into the limousine. The man gives Makoto one last, disgusting smile before following her inside. The door shuts.

The car drives away.

Makoto stands there, watching it go.

#

The court smells like sweat and wood. It's stuffy. Too many bodies packed too tightly.

Sae can feel a flush throughout her body. Relax, she thinks. Just do your job. There's nothing about this case that makes it different from any other.

But, of course, that isn't true.

She tries to keep her eyes on the paperwork laid out before her. Tries to keep her back rigid, her posture pristine, seated as she is, at the Prosecutor's table. She fails.

Her eyes inch up, bit by bit until she spies the defendant slumped in the too-small chair she's convinced is designed to make the accused as uncomfortable as possible.

As if he can sense her gaze, Suguru Kamoshida lifts his eyes, dull and exhausted, and looks at her.

For a short time, they stare at each other.

Then, Sae begins to think about this thing touching her sister. Then, she thinks about herself, standing, picking up a pen, and stalking across the courtroom floor and over to him, where she jabs it into his neck again and again.

Sae thinks about herself, strangling him with the dumb fucking tie he wore to make himself look something close to presentable.

She thinks about herself, sneaking into his cell, tying him down, dousing him in lighter fluid, and striking a match.

She thinks about herself, breaking every bone in his perverted body.

She thinks about herself.

Kamoshida looks away.

Three judges enter. Sae stands. Kamoshida stands. Everyone stands.

The motions begin, but before they can proceed for long, Kamoshida's defense attorney spits out, "Your Honors, we move to have this entire case dismissed."

The judges, all older men with graying hair, all wearing serious and thin glasses, make muffled, hmmph noises and glance at one another.

Sae keeps a smile off her face.

The judge on the left clears his throat. "We are under the impression that your client has confessed to his crimes. On what grounds would you propose we dismiss these charges?"

The attorney, skin slick with sweat, smiles in a way that almost looks genuine. "Because said confession was coerced and must therefore be considered inadmissible."

Sae stands. "The defendant confessed to the sexual and physical assault of minors. Moreover, he did so in front of the entire student body and faculty at Shujin Academy. You consider that inadmissible?" She knows where this is going, but she wants him to say it.

"Before his confession, Kamoshida-sensei received a specific threat in the form of-"

"Your Honors," Sae cuts in. "May we approach?"

The three judges look at one another, and then the center one raises his hands and beckons them forward. The defense attorney shuffles his way over. Sae strides. "The defense," she begins, before anyone can talk, "in no doubt about to cite the well-known 'Calling Card' from the group known as the 'Phantom Thieves.' I'm sure the defense will claim that this group somehow managed to force Suguru Kamoshida into a confession, and while that's a fascinating theory, I would like to point out that no one has figured out how. And, of course, ample testimony is collected from the students at Shujin Academy themselves."

The defense attorney shakes his head. "The testimonies of those students have yet to be corroborated. Suguru Kamoshida is a celebrated Olympian, a representative of our very country. If this trial proceeds, I intend to show…"

Sae tunes out. Is he serious? Would this little weasel go through all this trouble to take a stand for, of all people, Suguru Kamoshida? Think. She has too many important things going on to waste any more of her time on this bastard. I need to convince these judges to go ahead and convict already. How?

The defense attorney is still prattling on when she figures it out. She interrupts the man. "There is something else to consider, Your Honors."

The rightmost judge cocks a brow at her. "Oh?"

"You're aware, I'm sure, that this is a high-profile case. One that many people are following very closely." She locks eyes with the centermost judge. She knows him. Knows he's as ambitious as everyone else in this profession. "This is the kind of case that can draw national attention to all parties involved. The defendant. The prosecution. The judges." She allows a small smile to tug at the corner of her lips.

"What?" The defense attorney asks.

Sae ignores him. "I would also like to point out that, at this moment, the public's perception of Suguru Kamoshida is negative. In the eyes of the people of Japan, he's a rapist. A monster."

The attorney shakes his head. "Just a moment, you-"

"To dismiss this case on the grounds of an 'ill-gotten confession' would likely cause mass discontent throughout the country. If a monster like Kamoshida can walk under our justice system, how capable is our justice system? Do you want to be the judges that put this notion in their minds, Your Honors?"

"Wh-what?" The attorney's mouth hangs agape. "Sirs! Your Honors, this is-"

"Well put, Niijima-san," the center judge replies. He glances over at the attorney. "We will proceed with the trial. I hope, for your sake, you have something else up your sleeve." The other two judges nod. The defense attorney pales.

As she returns to her respective position, Sae knows she's wearing a shark's grin, but she can't help it.

I win.

The remainder of the trial is quick. Kamoshida himself readmits to his guilt, as Sae figured he would, despite his attorney's insistence that he remain silent. The judges nod as if this were all rote and declare their sentence. Life.

When Sae leaves the courthouse, she finds Akechi standing at the base of the building's steps. "Well?" He asks, beaming. "How did it go?"

"Acceptably," Sae replies, but she knows she dresses the word up in an amused tone.

"Niijima-san!" Comes a voice from behind. She turns and finds the defense attorney, red-faced, glaring daggers at her. He charges down the steps and gets halfway to her when he begins to say, "What was that, Niijima-san? You and I both know that-"

"That," Sae spits, cutting him off. "Was how you win. You should try it sometime."

She turns and walks away.

“Bravo,” Akechi tells her as they head down the street. “I believe that is what the people of my generation call a burn.”

“Are you done?” Sae asks, but there’s no bite behind it. That rush is back. The pounding in her chest. Sae knows she should be elated because that sick bastard got what he deserved, but she knows she’d feel no different if someone else had been on trial.

She’d won.

It might’ve seemed brutal, unethical even, playing the judges like that, but it was elegant in its way.

The feeling sparkles within her. It lights up her brain so that everything and anything seems possible.

It dances behind Sae’s eyes, and briefly, she can live with it all. Live with the dead parents. With the dependent sister. With the male-dominated arena she enters day in and day out. Because today, she won. And she’ll win again, and again, and again because winning is what she does.

The feeling races through her like lightning.

And then it starts to fade.

Sae walks down the street, towards her office, with the same stoic demeanor she forces all day. But she feels it leaving, leaking out of her somehow and leaving her.

And then it is gone. And Sae feels like she always feels.

Just have to win again.

“Akechi,” Sae barks.

The boy blinks at the sudden harshness of her tone. “Yes?”

“Did you look into that thing I mentioned before?”

Akechi nods. “I did.”

“And?”

“Well, Yukio Kan had many political opponents. It’ll take some time to sift through them and find who might’ve posed a real, physical threat to him.” He clears his throat. “And forgive me, but I also followed up with the corpse. The coroner stressed that the man died of a heart attack, just as reported. So I see no reason to suspect a…,” and here Akechi pauses and glances behind them, “mental shutdown.”

“Keep looking,” Sae says. “There’s something there. I’m sure of it.”

“Very well,” Akechi replies. “By the way, I ran into that boy from the other day.”

Sae stops in her tracks. “What ‘boy?’”

“The one you yelled at while at Sakura-san’s place. You know. Akira Kurusu.”

Sae’s eyes narrow. “And just what were you doing with him?”

“Nothing,” Akechi insists. “I happened to be in the area of the LeBlanc café, so I stopped by. Kurusu was there. We spoke. We played Go. I won. That’s all.”

Sae whirls around on Akechi. “What random circumstance brought you to the vicinity of LeBlanc?”

“I was following up on a case,” Akechi replies, raising his hands. “And I recalled I enjoyed the coffee there. So I dropped by. There was nothing sinister about it, Sae-san.”

“Did he happen to mention Makoto?” Sae asks.

“A few times,” Akechi admits. “But only in the past tense. I got the impression that he was not seeing her. If I may say so, there was a bit of a melancholic vibe to his entire persona.”

“I see,” Sae whispers. “Well, good then.”

“You really are adamant about him not seeing your sister?” Akechi asks.

Sae glares at him, but the boy merely meets her gaze. “He’s a criminal, Akechi. He has no business being with Makoto.”

“Even if Makoto were to wish to be with him?”

Sae scoffs. “Makoto’s a child. She doesn’t know what she wants. The whole idea is absurd. It was a short flight of fancy if she intended to go out with him. A fantasy, nothing more.”

“Some fantasy,” Akechi says.

Sae steels her gaze, and this time, Akechi does flinch. “That’s enough. I will not tolerate any more discussion of Akira Kurusu. Clear?”

“Certainly,” Akechi replies. “Though I hope you understand that as I am not a blood relation, you don’t have much say over who I do and do not spend time with?”

Sae shrugs. “Do what you will, Akechi. I don’t care, so long as Kurusu stays away from my sister.”

The two continue down the street.

#

Madarame gestures to the piece. "And with this, you see the juxtaposition of nature and mankind's encroachment upon it."

The people nod and make hushed noises of appreciation.

Madarame smiles, basking in their acceptance. The piece is nothing but a bunch of swirls, but in his experience, the more vague something is, the more specific a 'meaning' you can attach to it.

He turns and moves along the wall towards the next painting in his exhibit, and this day's gaggle of sycophants follow, squawking and gesturing and letting him know through all their many ways how much they love and appreciate him.

This continues for a time. It is much the same as the time before it. And the time before that. And the time before that.

When Madarame is alone at night, away from his girlfriends and students and dealings, when he sits in his hotel rooms or First Class airline seats, a faint little thought tends to wiggle its way into his brain.

This is all so boring.

There's no challenge to it. And Madarame is so famous no one dares critique his 'work.'

He spends the remainder of the day walking these people around his exhibit, spouting all the nonsense they love to lap up.

Then, he leaves via the back exit. It is a hot day, and the air hangs heavy in the small alleyway. He steps through it towards the spot where his limo awaits.

"Sensei?" Comes a soft voice.

His adrenaline spikes. He feels his blood race through his veins.

Very slowly, Madarame turns around and comes face to face with Yusuke Kitagawa.

The boy stares at him, a strange mix of longing, fear, and anger in his eyes. He wears the same clothes he'd worn the last time Madarame had seen him, on Sunday. It occurs to Madarame that he has no idea where Yusuke has been. He's been so busy.

"Y-Yusuke," Madarame starts, but the boy cuts him off.

"Sensei, please!" Yusuke stammers and closes the distance between the two of them. "I have no place to stay. I have nothing to do. I can't take this anymore."

"Yusuke," Madarame says, taking a step back. "That's close enough." This isn't the first time a disgruntled former apprentice has tried to accost him. He knows what to say, what to do. Feign the surprise. Feign ignorance.

"Please, please tell them it was all a lie. Please, let me come home."

"You know I can't do that," Madarame says, picking up his pace.

"But why?" He demands. "I don't understand. Why did you do this to me? Why did you throw me out? Why did you lie?"

Madarame shakes his head. "I've no idea what you're talking about, my boy. But I think it would be best if you kept your distance."

"Answer me!" Yusuke pleads, his voice high and pathetic. "Please, answer me. Why did you do all this? Why do you do all this?" And then, he asks, "Why do you have a storage unit in my mother's name?"

Madarame stops. "What did you just say?" He asks. His mind spins. How does he know that? Does he know what's inside? HOW DOES HE KNOW THAT?

"Sensei, please," Yusuke says, and lunges. He grabs Madarame's robes by the collar and moans, "Why do you have a unit in her name, Sensei?"

“Get off of me," Madarame shouts and shoves the frail boy away. He spins and sprints down the alley's length toward the limo. I need to get there. I need to check. If they know what's inside. If anyone knows what's inside, it's all over!

He does not spare another glance for Yusuke. If he had, he might've seen the boy take his cell phone from his pocket and start to type.

#

Akira waits outside Shibuya station, staring at his phone.

It vibrates.

It's a text from Yusuke.

YUSUKE : I find myself quite hungry. Might I trouble you for some LeBlanc curry?

Akira smiles as he reads the message.

He puts his phone away, pulls out his burner, and dials a number.

"Go," he says, when it's answered.

#

Madarame taps his foot against the limo's floor as it crawls through Tokyo.

"Hurry up," he shouts at the driver, more than once.

The skyscrapers slowly recede as they enter Tokyo Bay, with its warehouses and the faint aroma of the ocean.

"Come on, come on," he whispers as they turn towards Natsuki Storage.

He's racked his brain the entire trip. How could Yusuke have learned about the unit in his mother's name? And what did it mean that he had? Upon reflection, Yusuke hadn't made any mention of what was actually inside the unit. Did that mean he hadn't seen inside? Would he have even had the opportunity to see inside? Security at Natsuki Storage was supposed to be tight, given the clientele.

Evidently, it's not that tight.

When they pull up outside, Madarame leaps from the car and narrowly avoids stepping on a black cat that hisses up at him. He considers kicking it for the briefest moment but realizes he doesn't have the time and continues on and into the building.

"I need entrance to my unit," he says, to the shady-looking young man who sits at the desk. "Now."

"Easy there," the kid replies. "Let's keep things civil."

"Enough of this," Madarame blurts. "Buzz me in."

The kid, nonchalantly and without taking his eyes from Madarame, takes a deep breath and sighs. "Let's see some ID."

"I came through here a few weeks ago!" Madarame shouts.

The kid shrugs. "Lots of people come through here. I'm not so great with faces. My mother says it was because my dad dropped me on my head too many times. Course, she blames him for everything, and-"

"Fuck!" Madarame shouts, fumbling around in his robes before he pulls out his ID card and hands it over. "Here!"

The kid picks it up, looks at it, and then slowly draws a binder from beneath the desk. He flips through it, painstaking page by painstaking page. "Ah. Here we go. For the Chisako Kitagawa unit, yeah?"

"Yes, yes, that's mine," Madarame growls. "Now please, buzz me in!"

The kid sets his ID on the counter and slowly slides it over to him. Then, he reaches beneath the desk, and Madarame hears a faint and familiar BUZZ ring through the room.

Madarame flies past the desk and shoves open the door, before barreling his way down the hall to his unit. He blunders through his robes once more and pulls out his card. He comes to a halt before his unit and slides the card through the reader. It feels sticky, but he doesn't have time to think about it before he punches in his numerical code.

He hears the door unlock with a vibrant click, and it swings open. He switches on the light, and takes it all in.

He inhales.

He exhales.

He inhales.

He exhales.

"Oh, thank god," he whispers.

It's all still there. Madarame knows the count like the back of his hand.

But he still doesn't know how Yusuke knew about the unit.

He slams the door shut and heads back towards the entrance.

"I need to see my file," he demands, once he's back.

"Huh?" The kid asks.

"My file. The one your lot had me sign when I first took out this unit. I need to see it."

"Why?" The kid asks. "You're all paid up."

"I need to make sure it's safe."

The kid rolls his eyes and says, "Fine." When he stands, Madarame is convinced it is the slowest anyone has ever stood in the history of standing.

Madarame follows him, hands shaking, into the room marked 'Records' and waits while the kid slides open one of the filing cabinets.

"Let's see... Chisako Kitagawa, Chisako Kitagawa," the kid replies.

Then, silence save for the shifting of paper.

And more silence.

And more silence.

"Well?" Madarame demands.

The kid frowns. "Where the hell is... oh." He straightens, a folder in hand. "Here it is."

Madarame snatches and opens it. All the paperwork is there, and nothing's missing.

He lets out a sigh of relief. Everything is where it's supposed to be.

So how did Yusuke find out?

"Someone knows about my unit here," Madarame says.

The kid shrugs. "Wasn't from us. We've got a strict, 'No Talking' policy."

"Well, someone told my former apprentice about it."

The kid blinks. "Well, why don't you ask him where he found out about it?"

Madarame's eyes narrow. "I may do just that."

He shoves the folder back into the hands of the kid and takes his leave of Natsuki Storage, his head lost in his thoughts.

If he'd been paying more attention, he might've noticed the black cat from earlier, poised and ready to climb the facility's fence.

#

Makoto stares at her phone.

MAKOTO: Haru, please! Call me!

Makoto has sent a variation of this message several times in the last few hours. Haru has yet to reply. Makoto’s heart hammers in her chest. Was Haru okay? Who was that man? Was he a relative? Someone else?

Makoto doesn’t know, and it is killing her.

She stands up, leaves her phone on the kitchen island, and begins to pace. Her eyes never leave her phone. “Come on, come on,” she whispers.

When the door opens, and Sae walks in, Makoto rushes to her side and begins babbling before she can think better. “Sis! I’m so glad you’re home. I need your help! My friend is in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.”

Sae regards Makoto with tired eyes, the eyes Makoto has seen her carry many times before, and she knows better than to push during these times, but she can’t help it. Sae grumbles out a small, “Can I put my bag down, at least?” She slides past Makoto and deeper into the apartment. She sets her purse on the couch and slides down next to it with a heavy sigh.

Makoto walks up to her, hands clasped in front of her, regarding her sister. “Um, Sis?”

“Kamoshida’s trial was today,” Sae says. “He’ll be going away for a long time.”

“Oh,” Makoto says, blinking. It wasn’t as if she had forgotten, but Akira and Haru had preoccupied Makoto. “That’s good. That’s great.”

Sae nods, opens her eyes, and stares at the ceiling. “Makoto,” she mutters, and Makoto has to step back. Because when her sister speaks, it isn’t the abrasive Sae, or the unstoppable Sae, or the rarest of all Sae’s, the one that listens to her. “I’m drained. Can we talk about whatever you need to discuss, tomorrow?”

Makoto wants to nod. She wants to say, “Sure,” and pretend it’s not a big deal. But then she remembers the man in the white suit, with his hand around her friend’s waist, and she just can’t. “I’m sorry, but I really need your help.”

Sae sighs again, but his one is long and frustrated. “What, then? Is that idiot Principal giving you a hard time again? I told him to back off.”

“N-no,” Makoto says. “I haven’t heard from Principal Kobayakowa for a while now. I’m talking about my friend, remember? She needs help, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What friend?” Sae asks, the words harsh and sharp.

“Haru Okumura,” Makoto says, meekly.

Sae finally turns her gaze to Makoto. “I don’t remember you ever mentioning a Haru Okumura.”

“We…we’ve been hanging out lately.” She can’t bring up Akira Kurusu now. “She’s my friend, and this afternoon I saw her with some man, and-”

“Her boyfriend?”

“No! It couldn’t be. He had his hand on her waist and was yelling, and I went up to them and shoved him and-”

“You what?” Sae demands, and shoots up, until she towers over Makoto as she used to when they were little kids. Only, when they were young Makoto had always felt safe in her sister’s shadow. Now she feels the unmistakable tang in the air of threat. “You attacked someone?”

“He was assaulting-”

“Makoto,” Sae spits. “How could you be so stupid?”

Makoto feels a sharp sting pierce her. She feels the sinking feeling of dread when Akira shouted at her that day. She feels the inky wrongness she’d felt when she had lied to Haru. She feels all these things and so much more, so much worse, because Sae glares at her, and in that terrible moment, Makoto is entirely sure that her sister hates her.

Makoto cannot reply, and just makes little choking sounds instead.

“Do you think I have time for this?” Sae demands. “Do you think I have the time to clean up another of your messes?”

“He… he was-”

“How old was he?”

“I don’t know,” Makoto blurts. “In his twenties, maybe?”

“An adult. Perfect. What was his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“I’m trying. I keep texting and calling Haru and-”

“Well, keep texting and calling. I need to know his name.”

“Sis, please, calm down.”

“Calm down,” Sae says, and shakes her head. “Calm down. That’s so easy for you, isn’t it, Makoto?” She bites off a small chuckle. “Must be so great, to hang out with your friends. Haru Okumura. Akira Kurusu. Oh yes,” Sae says, when Makoto’s eyes widen. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about him.”

“Sis, I-”

Sae lifts her fingers until they’re in front of Makoto’s face, and she makes a space between her thumb and index finger. “You’re this close to getting into a good school. I got you that letter of recommendation back. Your grades are acceptable-”

“Acceptable?” Makoto asks. “I’m at the top of my class.”

“Like I said,” Sae snaps. “Acceptable. And yet you still can’t wrap your head around this, can you? I got your moronic Principal to back off and get you that letter of recommendation. I put that sick bastard Kamoshida behind bars for the rest of his life. I let you stay with me in this apartment that I pay for. I put you through school. I do all this for you, and to thank me, you assault some random man on the street?”

Makoto wants to explain. She wants to scream right back at Sae. She wants to grab her sister by the shoulders and shake her until she shuts the fuck up and listens to her. But she doesn’t. She can’t.

Because Makoto is afraid. There’s malice in her sister’s eyes. An intensity she’s never seen before. It burns into her own gaze, smothers her, drowns her.

Sae snatches her purse off the couch and marches toward her room. “Find the name, and get it to me as soon as possible. I’ll fix this for you too.”

Her bedroom door slams shut, and Makoto is left staring at the space Sae had just occupied.

Sae had always been the person Makoto could rely upon, a solid presence in her otherwise lonely life. But now? Something has shifted between the Niijima sisters. Makoto can feel it, and in the sudden quiet of the apartment, she feels very alone.

I need help.

And then, Makoto hears the vibration on the kitchen island. It’s her phone. Makoto drags herself over to it and checks the message.

HARU: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

#

Ohya scrolls through each picture slowly.

She sits in her apartment, hot and silent, the only illumination the scalding blue light from her desktop.

When Ohya reaches the end, she returns to the beginning and goes through them again.

She lets out a long whistle and whispers into the darkness, “Not sure how you did it, Akira. But you did it.”

#

The door built into the Palace’s façade slides open, and the Phantom Thieves suppress a cheer, then brace themselves for assault. None comes.

Mona dashes inside and pokes his head out a moment later. “Looks clear. There’s a big conveyor belt that leads higher into the building. It looks like we can ride that to the main part of the Palace.”

“Way to go,” Panther shouts, and steps forward to lift Mona into a tight hug. The cat makes the face of one whose dream has just come true.

“You too, bro,” Skull says and slaps Fox on the back. “You killed it today.”

Fox smiles, but it’s small.

Joker slides the skimmer out from the card reader. “You okay, Fox?” He asks.

“I am,” Fox replies. “It’s just…”

“You’re wondering about what we saw inside Madarame’s unit.”

Fox nods. “Indeed. I know we’ve more important things to focus on right now, but I must admit, I’m fairly disturbed by what it contained.”

Skull throws an arm over Fox’s shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, dude. Once we get Madarame’s Treasure, we’ll make him confess everything.”

Joker nods. “Skull’s right. We’ll get Madarame to tell us the truth. I promise.”

Fox’s smile grows more genuine. “I’ve no doubt. Thank you, my friends.”

“Alright,” Panther shouts, tossing Mona into the air. “Let’s get moving, Phantom Thieves! We’ve got a Treasure to steal!”

“R-right,” Mona states, righting himself. “Let’s secure our infiltration route!”

The Thieves run through the open doors.

The walls belch body parts. A crisscross of a half dozen conveyor belts jumbles itself within the center of the room. Each is punctuated at the concrete wall by a hole beyond which lies blackness. Joker knows the walls are too thin for these to lead anywhere but outside, but no glimpse of distorted Tokyo presents itself within the darkness. Out of the holes, pump the pieces of a body. From one, a head of a young man Akira recognizes as one of Madarame’s apprentices. From another, the young man’s torso appears. From others, legs, and from even more, those distorted art supplies – pencils, paintbrushes, ballpoints – that represent the arms. Each piece almost imperceptibly bounces its way down its conveyor belt until they enter the mass of tangles within the center. There, mechanical arms that begin nowhere grab each piece and snap them together. A whiiiirrr noise and the ‘boy’ is complete.

The finalized product is shunted onto a massive conveyor towards where the ceiling should be. Instead, it vanishes into a new kind of darkness Joker knows leads it toward the main Factory. Somehow, despite being all one large contraption, the belt’s speed increases the closer it gets to the darkness, and the constructed child vanishes in the blink of an eye.

“Okay, I know we were expecting something like this,” Panther says. “But yikes.”

“Dude,” Skull says, turning to Fox. “Your Sensei is one effed-up guy in the head, man.”

Fox’s mask conceals most of his expression from the rest of the team, but Joker spots his mouth curled into a thin, white line. “Yes, well,” he starts, pauses, then begins again, “shall we go?”

Mona stares at the conveyor belt that extends into the darkness. “We’ve got to ride that, right? Into the main Factory? Sure there’s no… I don’t know, fire pit or something at the end?”

“Fire pit?” Joker asks, staring at Mona.

Mona shrugs. “I said I don’t know!”

“There’s no fire pit.”

“How do you know?”

“Why would there be a fire pit?”

“Why-”

“Dudes, let’s just go,” Skull complains. “If there’s a fire pit, we’ll jump off or something. C’mon.”

There is no fire pit.

The floor dwindles as the Thieves ascend amid the new constructions of Madarame’s apprentice. The speed increases, and Joker shuts his eyes against the sudden gale, crouching down to brace himself. Someone pats him on his leg, and he looks to find Skull yelling something, but whatever his words are, they get sucked away by the wind the moment they leave his mouth. Darkness soon settles around them, and the floor disappears entirely, yet the Phantom Thieves rumble along this rollercoaster ride with no seats, bracers, and safety harnesses.

Joker squeezes his eyes shut once more, more comfortable with that familiar darkness than the one that now envelopes him. The only hint he receives of the ride’s ending is an almost imperceptible change. Against his eyelids, a small fraction of light makes its way, and Joker opens his eyes to see a small light getting closer and more considerable.

He turns to his team and nudges those closest to him with his feet. Then, one by one, the group notices the light and brace themselves to enter the main Factory area. The light grows until it appears about to explode, and as the conveyor belt ends, the Phantom Thieves leap.

Joker descends from a dizzying height and spreads his arms out. Beneath him, the constructed apprentice drops like a comet to smack into the Factory’s floor, where it rises and shambles away. Joker directs himself towards the nearest conveyor belt and slams into it, rolling among the half-completed artwork. He hears a series of thunk-thunk-thunks as the rest of his team entangle themselves on other belts, with Skull ending his with a “Son of a-” groan.

Joker hauls himself to his feet, noticing Fox and Mona in his immediate vicinity. Panther has landed a short distance away and spins around before she notices them above her. Skull has managed to land the highest and gives a small smile and waves from above.

Shadows pack the floor below, but if any have heard their infiltration, they give no sign.

The Thieves run along the conveyor belts for a few moments, trying to locate the quickest route to rendezvous. When they do, they all take a moment to congratulate themselves on a successful – if not graceful – entry.

“Alright, Mona,” Joker says, turning to the cat. “Point the way to the Treasure.”

Mona lifts a paw and points towards the ceiling, where several catwalks extend towards several doors. “Let’s start climbing.”

“This shit is making me dizzy,” Skull mutters, but falls in as they begin to climb.

The route to Madarame’s Treasure Room is surprisingly straightforward, in stark contrast to the actual infiltration of the Palace and the labyrinthian layout of Kamoshida’s Castle. Once the Phantom Thieves have accessed the catwalk, it is a short trek through a handful of underpowered Shadows until they reach what appears to be an open-sky lounge area.

“Corporate Headquarters?” Fox reads on the otherwise unadorned door. “Fitting.”

“I was expecting more,” Panther says, steering clear of the tacky furniture to approach the glowing orb of the unmanifested Treasure.

“I don’t think we can count on the exfiltration being as easy,” Mona points out. “Remember last time? Once we send the Calling Card, they’ll beef up security. Plus, we didn’t find any Safe Rooms below. So we’ve got to straight-shoot our way back in here.”

Joker shrugs. “If we take the same route as before, we should be fine.” He looks over at Fox, who has left the door behind, and is glancing at all the accouterments in Madarame’s office. “Are you alright, Fox?”

“Yes,” Fox replies. “Just a bit disgusted.”

Joker smiles. “I may have an idea that might cheer you up.” He spreads his arms wide. “This didn’t take too long. What say we make a detour before we head back to the real world?”

#

Mona rumbles along the boulevard, away from Madarame’s Factory. The Phantom Thieves are shoved up against one another inside, with Joker behind the wheel.

Their exit from the Palace had been a bit more complicated, as they’d needed to fight their way out the front door, as exiting via the other location’s conveyor belts hadn’t been available. The fights had been more strenuous, but given they were trying to leave, not fighting to get further within, and the Shadows had been defending the interior, it had been a simple matter to pretend to retreat and move out the door.

Once outside, Mona had transformed into his bus form, and the Thieves had piled in.

Panther crosses her arms and huffs. "Mona," she snaps at the bus that surrounds them. "Do you know anything about where we’re going?"

"Hehehe," the bus replies. "Maybe."

Fox leans over and whispers to Panther. "Do you suppose he intends to kill us and leave our bodies in the Metaverse? It would be the perfect crime."

"What?" Panther blurts. "No!"

Joker chuckles. "I can hear you, you know. You're sitting right behind me. And no, I'm not going to kill anyone. We're just about there."

They pull up alongside a building, and Skull says, "Hey, we've been here before, right?"

Joker parks Mona, and the Thieves slide out. "This," Fox says, staring at the two-story structure. "This is the art gallery. The one where Madarame's exhibit is taking place."

Mona bursts into a puff of smoke and resumes his regular form, a giant smile on his face. "That's right!"

"What're we doing here?" Fox asks, turning to Joker.

Joker strides forward and pats Fox on the shoulder as he passes him. "Follow me." He leads them to the front door, unlocked but heavy, and when he shoves it open, the resulting clang echoes out into the street.

They enter the main room and look around. It is absent of people but full of art.

"This is kind of creepy," Panther whispers.

Joker watches as Fox makes his way to a single piece hanging on one of the walls. It is a painting of a forest dotted with red paint. Fox stops before it and stares.

Joker steps up alongside him. "I got the idea when you took off the first time we brought you here." He spreads his hands wide. "This whole version of Tokyo is Madarame's cognition. The Palace is distorted, but the rest of it seemed pretty normal. It got me thinking."

Fox says nothing.

"I figured if everything outside the Palace was more or less the same, then maybe the art gallery would be the same as in the real world. And maybe it would still have all the artwork inside it."

Beneath his mask, Fox's lip quivers.

"Soon, Madarame's going to confess to his crimes," Joker continues. "He’ll tell everyone how he's been plagiarizing his apprentices for years, how all of this art is stolen. After that, who knows what will happen to it in the real world? The police may take it as evidence and lock it away somewhere. Or maybe the gallery owner will toss them out. I've got no idea.

"But, if you want, we can take your painting out of here. It's not the piece you painted, but it still is, right?" Joker gestures towards the work. "This is your painting, Fox. You did this. It doesn't deserve to sit in some evidence locker or a dumpster. Look around. No one's here. We could take it, walk right out of here, and exit to the real world with it intact. No one would stop us. No one would know. You'd get to keep it."

Fox nods. "And when the Palace collapses-"

"When the Palace collapses, all of this goes away. Everything we just drove past. This building. Every building. All the work." He smiles at his friend. "So, let's take back your work, Fox!"

Skull laughs. "Hell yeah! That'll stick it to that Madarame bastard!"

Fox dips his head, reaches out a hand, and rests it on Joker's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. Words cannot express what this means to me."

And then Fox draws his sword, steps up to the piece, and in one smooth cut, slashes the canvas in half.

No one moves for some seconds.

Then, Fox releases a heavy sigh and sheathes his blade.

Joker blinks. "Okay, so I kind of thought you were going to react differently."

Fox looks at the ruins of his piece. "It is as you said, Joker. This is not the piece I painted. It is merely Madarame's cognitive representation of my work. And even if it were the true piece, I do not want it, however much it means to me. I created it under false pretenses. Its purity is lost." He shakes his head. "No. From now on, the work I create will spring from my mind, uncorrupted, my fingers, my soul, to serve no ends but the expression of the artistic, be that ugly or beautiful."

Skull frowns. "Wait, so you're still planning on being a painter?"

Fox whirls on him, aghast. "But, of course! Did I ever give you the impression otherwise?"

Skull shrugs. "I dunno. I guess I just figured the whole 'Madarame turned out to be a dick' thing would've turned you off to it."

"Never," Fox replies, his head snapping from side to side. "Art is in my blood. My bones." He lifts his hands skyward. "The muse rides within me, and I am but an instrument to its will. To shake off the mantle of artist would be to sever my very limbs from my form!"

Skull frowns. "Alright dude, my bad."

Fox turns back to Joker. "Thank you very much for bringing me here, Joker. As thanks, I will paint you something."

"Oh, no," Joker replies. "That's really not necessary."

"I insist! It will be a piece of such magnitude as to stagger your very mind."

Joker sighs. "Okay, cool. Thanks, Fox."

Fox smiles, satisfied, and turns to regard the rest of the gallery's art. "Now then, we must see to the rest."

"Eh?" Joker asks.

"See to the rest?" Mona asks. "What'd you mean?" 

“While I am prepared to move on from the work I created under Sensei, I would not presume to speak for his other apprentices. We should abscond with the rest of these paintings to the real world, so that we might return them to their rightful creators.” Fox looks down at the cat. “Mona, I believe there is ample room in your trunk for the lot.”

Mona’s eyes bulge.

Joker clears his throat. “The thing is, I thought we were only going to take the one painting. If we take the other twenty, I don’t know what we will do with them. It’s going to look pretty weird if we walk down the street with that many paintings between the four of us.”

Skull shrugs. “Can’t we hide them in our uniforms?”

Panther’s jaw drops. “Hide them in our uniforms? Are you serious? They’re paintings.”

“Moving one wouldn’t be a big deal,” Joker says. “But this many. It’s a lot, Fox.”

Fox flings his arms wide, as if to protect the gallery. “But we must find a way! The other apprentices deserve the same choice you gave me!”

This is what I get, Joker thinks. This is what I get for doing something thoughtful. Joker pushes his mask up and rubs his eyes with his fingers. “Okay. Without raising suspicion, we need to figure out a way to transport twenty stolen paintings from the middle of Tokyo to LeBlanc’s attic. Any ideas?”

Skull coughs and raises his hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re not hiding them in our uniforms, Skull,” Panther snaps.

“It’s not that,” Skull replies. He runs his eyes over the paintings. “Yeah, they look small enough. I think they’ll fit.” He glances at Mona. “If they fit inside you, they’ll fit inside hers’.”

The other Thieves share a look. “Hers’?” Joker asks.

#

“It is so nice to finally meet all of you,” Ryuji’s mom says, behind the wheel. “Ryu-kun talks about you all so much. He absolutely gushes.”

Ryuji groans from the passenger seat. “C’mon Mom, you’re embarrassing me.”

The thin, bespectacled woman, dark hair cropped short, snorts and waves her hands at him. “Oh, huh. You know you do.”

Ann’s grin is wide and sinister. “What exactly does Ryu-kun say about us, Miss Sakamoto?”

Ryuji spins around and glares at the blonde girl. “Don’t answer her, Mom.”

“Oh, he talks about how you’re all the best and so interesting. Especially you, Akira-kun.”

Akira smiles from where he sits in the middle row of the van. “Me? Interesting?”

Ryuji turns around and faces the front, but Akira can see the red in his cheeks under the streetlights as they drive.

“Mmmhmmm,” his mother says. “He told me you motivated him to start running around. I swear, that was something I never thought I’d see Ryu-kun do again. It was a delight when he asked me for money for new running shoes.”

“Shouldn’t you be focused on driving or something?” Ryuji grumbles.

His mother chuckles, and is silent for a few moments. “So, if I may ask, what exactly are all these paintings for?”

From where he sits, scrunched up next to Akira, Yusuke stiffens. “Ah, they are for an art project. Your son and our other friends were assisting me in their creation.”

“We, um, helped carry all the painting supplies and stuff,” Ann says. “Yusuke needed a lot of paint.”

“I can see that,” Ryuji’s mother replies. “It looks like quite an assignment. How many paintings are there in total?”

“Eighteen,” Akira says. “He’s been working on this for a while.”

“Yes,” Yusuke says. “We were lugging them from the pick-up sit back to my Sensei’s atelier when our previous ride fell through. Your availability was most fortuitous.”

“Anything for Ryu-kun and his friends,” she says, and pats the van's wheel. “It’s a good thing I had this baby. It’s been with me for a good five years, and would you believe it, aside from the regular maintenance costs, has never let me down.”

She begins to go into a detailed history of the van’s life story, and Akira settles back in his chair. Morgana rolls over in his lap and stares up at him. “This is lame,” the cat whispers.

Akira holds a finger up to his lips.

“Seriously,” Morgana continues. “We’re supposed to be notorious thieves, and our getaway car is Ryuji’s Mom’s van?”

“At this point,” Akira whispers back. “I’m not going to complain.” He glances at the collection of paintings stacked neatly into the van’s ample trunk space. “I’m just happy they all fit.”

Akira feels an elbow bump into him. Ann, sitting alongside him, whispers, “Hey?”

Akira frowns. “Yeah?”

Ann doesn’t meet his eyes. “That was a nice thing you did. For Yusuke, I mean.”

Akira nods, and steals a glance over at the boy. For whatever reason, Yusuke appears enraptured with Ryuji’s mom’s story about the van. “Thanks,” he replies to Ann.

Akira turns to her then and looks at her for what feels like the first time in a while. There are circles under her eyes, deep, even covered with liner or whatever she uses. “Do you think,” Ann begins, “that we could, like, talk when this whole thing with Madarame is over?”

Before Akira can stop, he says, “What do you want to talk about?”

She winces a bit. “You know what.”

Akira keeps his words behind his teeth for some time, and when he feels ready, he replies, “Yeah.”

Most of the ride passes in silence until Akira’s phone vibrates. He removes it from his pocket and stares at the message, carefully hiding the screen from everyone.

MAKOTO: I need your help!

#

Akira and Yusuke exit the train station and turn towards Shujin. “Stick to the alley across the street,” Akira tells him. “No one should see you there. Keep an eye on things and text me if there’s anything weird going on.”

Yusuke yawns. “I understand. Though, I hope this will not take long. I am eager to work on the Calling Cards, and it is already late.”

“I know,” Akira says. “I appreciate you coming with me.”

“Not at all,” Yusuke insists and falls silent.

Akira had elected not to tell Ann and Ryuji about Makoto’s text. Firstly, he did not want to hear Ann’s response, and secondly, everyone needed to get plenty of rest before the Palace’s final infiltration.

If that’s what you need to tell yourself, his father whispers.

Akira hadn’t asked for more elaboration, fearing what Makoto might commit to text, and had instead sent instructions to meet him outside Shujin Academy later that night.

Once Ryuji’s mother had dropped them off at LeBlanc, Yusuke and Akira had unloaded all the paintings, taken Morgana, and set out for the Yongen-jaya’s train station.

“I still don’t see why we’re risking this,” Morgana mutters from Akira’s backpack.

“She wouldn’t text me if it wasn’t important,” Akira replies. “I need to know what this is about.”

It wasn’t as if he could keep it hidden from Yusuke or Morgana. He couldn’t leave LeBlanc this close to the infiltration without them asking about what he was doing. If Akira was honest with himself, he couldn’t imagine what Makoto would want at this point.

One of the dozen scenarios that had rapidly fired through his imagination had been a love confession, but Akira was not about to let himself get his hopes up.

Maybe she’s going to bust me.

With what evidence? Joker wonders.

The group nears Shujin, and Akira motions for Yusuke to slink into the alley. Within a few moments, Yusuke is hidden. Only then does Akira turn towards Shujin’s front gates and finds Makoto sitting on the steps, looking very lonely.

Something inside him hitches at that image. “Makoto?” He asks.

Her head darts up. “Akira!” She shoots to her feet, takes a few steps toward him, and then stops. “I, um, thank you.” She clears her throat and straightens. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah,” Akira replies, and glances around. He doesn’t see anyone lurking, and he can’t make out any faces hiding within the darkened windows of the school. “Did you come alone?”

“Yes.”

Akira starts to clear his throat, realizes Makoto just did, and tries to stop the aborted little sound that escapes his lips. “Right, well, you should be careful. It can be dangerous out here at night.”

“I can handle myself,” Makoto says.

“I know,” Akira says, thinking of the punch she’d delivered to his face. He walks over to the railing and climbs a few steps until he’s on even footing with Makoto. “What did you need help with?”

“I think something is happening with Haru,” Makoto says.

Something freezes within Akira. “What’re you talking about?”

Makoto begins to describe her experience with the man in the white suit. Akira listens and goes someplace else in his mind as his blood begins to boil.

Haru is my friend.

Haru is Makoto’s friend, a voice corrects.

Haru is my friend.

“I don’t know who to go to,” Makoto continues. “I tried to talk to Sae, but she just got mad that I shoved the guy. I don’t know who he is. I don’t even know where Haru is. You’re the only one I can ask for something like this.” At this, Makoto’s voice hitches. “I… that is, I think I need your help. All your help. Of the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira feels his hackles rise.

This could all be a ploy to get you to admit to being with the Phantom Thieves.

Don’t say anything. You should leave. Right now.

You can’t say something here and play dumb later. Morgana’s in your bag and Yusuke is across the street.

“This again?” Akira asks. “Makoto, I’ve told you before, I have no idea what you’re-”

“Okay, fine!” Makoto shouts, throwing her hands into the air. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. You have no idea. You’re definitely not a Phantom Thief! Well, you know what, Akira? I think you’re full of shit! I think you are a Phantom Thief, all your friends are Phantom Thieves, and I don’t think you’re all that good at being secretive.” Akira opens his mouth, but Makoto shouts, “Shut up! And I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about all this stupid stuff! I’m sorry about the Principal even though I tried to talk to you right afterward, and I’m sorry about my sister being such an obnoxious jerk, and I’m sorry for all of it, okay Akira?” Makoto does not look like she’s about to cry, but her face contorts to look as if she’s about to look like she’s about to cry. “And I promise I’ll leave you alone and stop talking to you, looking at you, or doing anything regarding you, okay? You never have to see me again after this or talk to me, but just please help!”

Under the sound of Makoto’s heavy breathing, Akira can make out the soft noise of Morgana whispering, “Sounds like she’s almost making a Request.”

Akira is silent for several long moments.

“Okay,” Akira says.

“Huh?” Makoto asks.

“I’ll help you. Haru’s my friend too.”

Makoto’s exhalation is the longest one Akira’s ever seen. “Thank you.”

“I’m not admitting to anything about these Phantom Thieves,” Akira says carefully. “So I can’t promise anything about their help. But you and I can do something about this.” He takes a few steps closer to Haru. “First, are you sure she’s gone missing? Like, really missing, and she just hasn’t had time to get back to you?”

Makoto swallows. “Well, no. She did send me a text earlier.” She takes out her phone and shows Akira the message. “But she hasn’t responded since.”

“Before we make any moves or conclude anything, I think we should try contacting Haru directly. Face to face. She must have a side of the story.” Akira works his jaw, mulling this over. “You keep trying to get her via the phone. I can try and get in touch with her through Rafflesia. If I get Hanasaki-san to reach out to her, maybe she’ll answer.”

Makoto nods. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Who knows?” Akira asks. “She might be in school tomorrow. Maybe she’ll clear things up then.”

“Right,” Makoto says, and chuckles. “I almost forgot tomorrow’s a school day.”

“You? Forget about school?” Akira asks. “That’s not very Student Council President-y of you.”

Makoto sighs. “Oh, shut up, Akira. I’m worried about my friend.”

“Hey,” he says, and almost reaches out for her hand, but settles on gently brushing her shoulder with his fingertips. She doesn’t flinch but glances up into his eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

“I know. You’re right.” She glances at the stairs. “I guess we should start heading home.”

I’ve still got more work to do tonight, Akira thinks. “Yeah. Let’s.”

They descend the stairs and turn toward the train station—Akira’s mind whirls.

Haru’s my friend. We’ll help find her, and if anyone’s hurt her, they will pay.

Weren’t we just lecturing Ryuji about the whole ‘no more connections to Shujin’ thing? Haru is a direct connection to Shujin Academy. How many fucking neon arrows are you going to set up and point at the school?

Just because we’ve done things one way so far doesn’t mean we don’t have to do things a different way. There’s no reason we have to send the Calling Card the same way.

The Calling Card is the Calling Card. If we do send one, it has to be-

But what if we didn’t? What if we did it differently?

Akira thinks, and Makoto halts. “Akira,” she whispers.

Akira stops and turns to face her. “What’s wrong?”

Makoto puts her finger to her lips and makes a shushing sound. She takes a step back, then another, toward the alley.

“Oh crap,” Akira says. “Hold on, Makoto, it’s not-”

Too late, as Makoto darts around the corner and shouts, “Hi-ya!” to which the reply is a distinct yelp. Makoto then drags Yusuke out of the alley and into the faint light of the street lamps.

Makoto grips Yusuke by the shirt collar and shakes him. “Who are you?” She demands.

Akira, remembering what happened the last time someone shook Yusuke, darts forward. “Be gentle with him!”

“Spare me!” Yusuke cries. “I’ve too much inspiration to die!”

“Why were you spying on us?” Makoto demands.

“Makoto,” Akira calls. “Stop!”

Makoto stares at him. “Do you know this boy?”

“Yes,” Akira says, placing his hands gently on Makoto’s and softly prying them off Yusuke’s shirt. “This is my friend. We were together when you texted. He tagged along.”

Makoto takes her hands from Akira and stares at Yusuke. “A ‘friend,’ huh? The same kind of friend as Takamaki and Sakamoto?”

“I am acquainted with them, yes,” Yusuke replies, straightening his shirt and dusting himself off. “But beyond that, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What am I talking about?” Makoto asks. “I haven’t said anything.”

“Ah, well,” Yusuke says, then falls silent.

“Look,” Akira says, into the sudden quiet. “He was with me, and I didn’t want to freak you out, so I asked him to hang back until we finished our meeting. So that’s it, okay?”

“Sure,” Makoto says. “Right.” She takes a few steps away from Yusuke. “What’s your name?”

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” Yusuke replies before Akira can intervene.

“Makoto Niijima,” Makoto says and offers a light bow. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you.”

“We should get going,” Akira says, and turns toward the train station. “I’ll message you about Haru tomorrow, okay?”

Makoto nods, and the three teenagers renew their march for the last train out of Aoyoma-Itchome.

Notes:

Happy New Year!

I'm back and so is Crimson, to kick 2018 off right.

Thank you so much for your patience, and for continuing to read and talk about Crimson in my absence. It delighted me to see that little 'Hit Counter' rising each day. Again, thank you!

A lot of you are probably wondering what the posting schedule will be like. Well, after a lot of consideration, I've decided to alternate weeks. What I mean is that, one week, I'll post MWF, and the following week, I'll post MF. Then, the week after that, I'll do MWF, and so on and so forth.

So, basically, for this week, I'll also post chapters on Wednesday and Friday. Next week, the week of the 8th, I'll post on Monday and Friday. This way, the pace remains consistent, but I've still got some wiggle room. Every month should churn out about 10 chapters or so. My final semester of grad school is coming up, so I may have to take some time off then, but I'll be sure to let you know.

An aside, I recently set up a Twitter. https://twitter.com/DowdzWritesALot

Feel free to drop by and say 'Hello,' as I'm always happy to hear from you wonderful people.

And, as ever, thank you so much for reading! See you soon!

Chapter 44: Chapter 44

5/28

A thump, and Akira’s eyes shoot open. He sits up, and Morgana, draped across his chest, topples to the floor and wakes with a yowl.

Akira turns and finds Yusuke at his desk, standing, gloved hands raised in the air, fingers splayed. “They are complete,” he states.

Akira shakes the fog from his mind. “Oh man, I’m sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Yes, I noted your snoring some time ago,” Yusuke says, folding his arms across his chest.

“I don’t snore,” Akira protests, then looks at Morgana. “Do I?”

“Oh yeah,” the cat replies, licking his paw and wiping it over his face. “Big time. I usually just hit you a few times until you stop. Seriously though, you might want to get that checked out. Sleep apnea is no joke, from what I’ve heard.”

Akira feels his eyes narrow. “You’ve heard of sleep apnea?”

“Hey, I hear things. I keep my ears peeled.”

“It’s eyes, and-”

“Pardon me,” Yusuke interrupts. “But as I stated earlier, I have finished my assigned task.”

Akira pushes himself off the couch and rubs his shoulder. He’d meant to stay awake and supervise Yusuke, but watching the boy work had been exhausting. Combined with everything the Phantom Thieves had done the day before, plus Makoto’s late-night request, it was no wonder Akira had passed out.

“Whoa,” Akira says, when he finally makes his way over to the desk.

Dozens of Calling Cards litter his desk. Stylized in red and black, each Card holds a single image of a crimson top hat, beneath which fire burns. In blocky English letters, he reads, “‘Take Your Heart.’” Akira smiles at Yusuke and pats him on the back. “They’re perfect.”

Yusuke nods. “Excellent.” He stands and raises his hands over his head in a long stretch. “Are we to deliver them today?”

Akira frowns. “I know that was the original plan,” he replies. “But-”

“You are concerned about your friend.”

Akira nods.

“It’s not smart to leave these here,” Morgana points out. “If we’re not going to send them today, we need to keep them hidden. Somewhere Boss won’t just happen across them.”

“He doesn’t make a habit of going through my things,” Akira replies, nodding toward the desk. “Once they dry, put them in one of those drawers. It’ll be fine.” Morgana looks ready to say something else, but Akira cuts him off. “I take your point, though. The sooner these are out here, the better.”

“Ryuji and Ann still don’t know about the Haru situation,” Morgana says. “They’re going to want an explanation if we don’t deliver the Calling Card today.”

“And I’ll give them one,” Akira replies, frowning at Morgana. “But if Haru shows up at school and everything is fine, then there’s no reason to get everyone riled up.” Akira takes his phone from his pocket and checks the time. “We still have a few hours before I need to get to school. Let’s all get some sleep. Morgana, you’ll stay here with Yusuke today. If I contact him, it’ll be time to deliver the Calling Card.”

“Very good,” Yusuke says, with a nod. “Then, if you will excuse me, I will descend into the void.” He walks past Akira and plops down on the couch. In a moment, his eyes are shut, and his breathing becomes slow and regular.

“Whoa,” Morgana says, staring at him. “Is he asleep already?”

“No wonder,” Akira says. “He was up most of the night making these and running around like crazy yesterday. Hopefully, we didn’t beat him up too much.” Carefully, Akira reaches into his desk and pulls out another pair of gloves. After pulling them onto his hands, he begins to collect each Calling Card, stacking them atop one another and keeping his hair away from them. “Will you be able to handle it, if we send them today?”

Morgana beams. “Compared to the storage facility, this’ll be easy.”

Akira chuckles. “I thought the storage unit was easy for you?”

“It was,” Morgana replies, calmly. “That’s why this will be extra easy.”

Akira grows serious. “Just be careful. That whole thing with the card skimmer? That was risky. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Morgana rolls his eyes. “You know, for a daring Gentleman Thief, you worry way too much.”

“Right,” Akira grumbles, and slides the Calling Cards into one of his desk drawers. “Because we’ve never had anything we’ve needed to worry about.”

#

Some hours later, once Akira has refreshed himself, eaten, and whispered positive affirmations to himself several times, he steps off the train at Aoyoma-Itchome station and finds Makoto waiting for him. The circles beneath her eyes are wider than last night, and the first thing Akira asks is, “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some,” Makoto answers. “I tried texting Haru a few more times. I did get a one-word response when I asked if she’d be in school today.”

“What was the response?” Akira asks, bracing himself.

“Yes.”

Akira blinks. “Oh.”

Makoto’s eyes leave his and glimpse absently at the churning pedestrians entering and exiting the station. “Thanks for meeting me, Akira. I, uh, feel better doing this with you.”

Akira masks his embarrassment by turning down the street. “Sure thing. Let’s go.”

Their walk to Shujin is short, but they remain silent. Initially, Akira figured Makoto would pepper him with questions regarding the Phantom Thieves, then chastised himself for thinking such things. Until Haru was found safe and sound, Makoto’s priority would be just that. Akira knew better than most how single-minded and focused, how tenacious and obstinate Makoto could be when it came to what she wanted. And to think her sister doesn’t believe she can make her own decisions. Akira glances at Makoto and smiles. Sae Niijima must be some idiot.

Makoto suddenly meets his gaze, holds it, and gives him a small smile of her own. Akira feels his grow.

As their journey brings them closer to the school, they enter throngs of converging Shujin students. More than one notices the two walking together.

“Is that the Prez with… Kurusu?”

“What are they doing together?”

“Didn’t they used to study at the library together?”

“Hey, didn’t Kurusu get a good score on his exams? Do you think that was the reason?”

Yes, Akira wants to shout even as he tries to ignore the simpering crowd. Yes, that was the damn reason.

“Nah, couldn’t be. I heard he broke in and stole the test scores from the teacher’s desks.”

“Wow. Wish he’d shared them with me then.”

Makoto clears her throat. “It has always disturbed me,” she says, just loud enough that her voice won’t carry beyond their immediate range.

“What?” Akira asks.

“That a school as prestigious as Shujin could be host to so many idiots.”

Akira shoves the smile off his face. “Careful, Miss President. I don’t think the Student Body would care much if they heard you talking about them like that.”

“What are they going to do?” Makoto asks. “Im-”

“Impeach you?” Akira finishes for her. She glances at him. “You already made that joke.”

Makoto’s face reddens. “Must you always make fun of me?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you updated your material.”

Makoto’s blushing fades into a glare. “That’s the last time I stand up for you.”

They climb the steps of Shujin together, ignoring the looks from the other students, and enter the school.

Once inside, Makoto picks up her pace, and Akira follows in her wake. It is still early, so while students line the halls, most have yet to enter their respective classrooms. Makoto nearly shoves a couple aside as she approaches the door to her homeroom, then hesitates with her hand on the handle as Akira catches up. Without a word or glance at Akira, Makoto slides the door open.

Haru sits at her desk, her head laid upon her folded arms, and turned toward the window.

“Haru,” Makoto and Akira both exclaim and step inside, shoulders brushing against one another.

Haru straightens in her chair and turns to face them. “Mako-chan! Akira? What are…? Wait, together?”

“Haru,” Makoto repeats and slides into the desk next to her, reaching out across the gap and grabbing one of the girl’s hands. “Are you alright?”

Akira satisfies himself by standing near the two, unsure if he should even sit anywhere. “Makoto told me what happened,” he explains, when Haru glances up at him.

“You did?” Haru asks, turning to Makoto. “I see. Yes. I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” Akira asks, as Makoto asks, “But who was that man?”

Haru sighs, an uncomfortable furrow of brows and silent movement of her lips accompanying it. “I don’t know that this is the time to go into everything. Or if I even should.”

“Haru-” Makoto starts, but Haru fixes her with a gaze, and Makoto stops speaking.

“I realize,” Haru continues. “That you two were worried about me. And I appreciate that. But I’m fine. Nothing has happened to me. And as we’re here, at school, I don’t want to discuss it any further.”

Makoto holds Haru’s gaze for a moment longer, then nods and looks up at Akira. “Thank you, Akira. I think I can handle things from here.”

Akira is unsure what he senses, but there’s something silently communicated between the two girls. “Right,” he replies, taking the hint. “Glad you’re okay, Haru.”

Haru smiles at him. “Thank you, Akira.”

Akira nods at the two girls, turns, and leaves the room.

#

Makoto waits for Akira to exit before she says to Haru, “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes,” Haru says. “I promise. But not here. After school, maybe. If I’m feeling up to it.” Haru places her free hand on top of Makoto’s. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Forget about that,” Makoto replies. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah,” Haru says, and looks away. “I’m okay.”

Makoto feels something sink in her gut.

#

She’s okay, Akira thinks, as he heads down the hall towards the bathroom. She’s okay. He repeats this within his mind, circling it around in his head, blocking out all other thoughts as much as possible.

Haru is okay, he thinks.

For now, someone whispers.

His thoughts scatter like bees from a broken hive, and Akira pauses to lean against the wall for a moment. A few students regard him strangely, but Akira ignores them, rights himself, and continues his march to the bathroom.

Once inside, Akira finds an empty stall, takes his burner from his backpack, and calls Yusuke.

“We’re clear,” he says, when Yusuke answers. “Tell Morgana to go.”

#

Madarame paces the office. “No, no. You’re not listening to me. Put your boss on!”

“I told you,” comes the voice on the other end. “He’s not here. I will relay your message if-”

“Do you understand what this all means? Do you? Someone knows about the storage unit. Someone is talking to someone, and that someone needs to be held accountable.”

“Would that be the first someone? Or the second someone?” There’s an amused lilt to the voice on the phone.

“Is this funny?” Madarame shouts. “This concerns your business as well as mine. Don’t you care? Don’t you care that someone in your organization shares information about the storage units?”

“Listen, man. You need to calm down. When my boss returns, he will talk to you, and you’ll have to be a lot calmer than you are right now. Hysterics aren’t going to get us anywhere.”

“This isn’t hysteria,” Madarame squeals. “This is figuring out where your leak is.”

There’s a knock on the office door.

“Not now,” Madarame shouts at it. He turns his attention back to the phone. “I need to speak with him. I need to make him understand. If I have to move things out of-”

“Whoa, whoa,” the voice says. “Move things?” That’s a big no-go there, buddy. You move things when we tell you it’s okay to move things, not before. Never before.”

“But if its location has been leaked and-” He’s cut off by another knock at the door. “Goddammit! I said, ‘Not now!’”

“M-Madarame-sama?” Comes a voice on the other side of the door. “It’s urgent, I’m afraid.”

Madarame growls and shouts into the phone. “Hold on.” Then, he marches to the door, yanks it open, and glares at the young gallery attendant on the other side. “What?”

The young man pales, and with trembling hands, holds out a small, red and black Card towards him. “Th-this was found outside. There are more of them. A lot more.”

“The hell?” Madarame asks, and snatches it out of his hands.

Madarame reads it, and his eyes widen. He shuts the door on the young attendant without saying a word and lifts the phone back up to his ear. “I need to talk to him. Please. There’s been a… um, complication.”

#

“His name,” Haru says. “Is Sugimura. Rin Sugimura. And, well, he’s my fiancé.”

Makoto isn’t sure what keeps her eyes locked in her head. “Fiancé?” She spits. “That… that asshole?”

Haru winces a bit, but nods. The two are seated in an out-of-the-way booth at a café in Shibuya. They’d both met up after school and come here in relative silence, Makoto allowing Haru the time to mentally prepare herself for whatever she was to divulge. “Yes,” Haru says. “It’s all been arranged by our respective families. It makes sense, in a way. My family has pull in the business world. The Sugimura’s are influential in the political world. So…” instead of continuing, Haru slowly brings her hands together until they clasp one another.

Makoto has heard of this kind of thing before. It isn’t uncommon. Sae had tossed around the idea of finding a match for Makoto a year or so back, but nothing had ever come of it. Of course, she’s heard the wealthy and influential play these kinds of games with one another, but to see it in reality, writ across her friend's face?

Makoto shakes her head. “I… Haru, I’m sorry. I’m at a loss.”

Haru smiles. “I know. It’s not ideal. But it’s the hand I’ve been dealt.” And she shrugs her shoulders, and Makoto’s heart breaks a bit more.

So, Makoto shakes her head again. With more force this time. “No. We’ve got to do something. You can’t marry that jerk. We’re getting you out of it.”

Haru’s eyes widen in surprise. “I can’t, Mako-chan. It’s pretty much official at this point. It won’t be finalized for another few months, but this is how it’s going to be.”

“Unacceptable,” Makoto says, frowning. She thinks. “My sister knows people in the law. Maybe we can-”

“Makoto,” Haru says, cutting through her train of thought. “Please. Enough.” Makoto watches her friend as her eyes get all misty. “I appreciate this. I do. But can we drop it? Can we just pretend that it didn’t happen? I don’t want to think about this any more than I have to, and I don’t want the last few months I’ve got left before I have to marry him spent trying to get out of the whole thing!” Haru’s voice rises as she speaks, and she nearly reaches a shout at the last word. She looks nervously at the other patrons and whispers, “I’m sorry, but can we please go back to how things were? I convinced him to let that thing that happened between you two go. I don’t want to think about this. Please?”

And Makoto almost caves. Almost relents. She almost lies and tells Haru that she’ll drop it. That things can return to the way they were. She opens her mouth to do so, and then Makoto shuts it again.

When Makoto opens it next, she says, “No.” Haru blinks. “No, I’m not going to lie. I’m not okay with this. I’m not going to accept this. I’m not going to let you marry that jerk. You’re my best friend, and I will not watch this happen to you.” It doesn’t take long for Makoto to realize what she’s said. When she tries to find her way out of the hole, all she manages is, “Um… you see, I, uh-”

And then Haru, eyes wide, a big smile on her face, asks, “I’m your best friend?” Her voice is small but delighted.

Makoto’s mind works overtime. She had not intended to admit that. She tries to figure out a way of rephrasing but eventually stops, blushes, and says, “Well, of course. Who else am I going to investigate magical Thieves with?”

Haru beams. “So you admit they must be magic!”

Makoto rolls her eyes. “I will admit to the remote possibility. Nothing more.”

The two girls look at each other, and both start to laugh. It grows and grows; before long, the two can’t stop.

“Thank you, Mako-chan,” Haru replies, once she can.

Makoto nods. “I’m serious, you know. We’ll find a way to get you out of this.” When Haru opens her mouth to protest, Makoto states, “We will.”

Haru doesn’t say anything for a time, then she whispers, “Alright. But what about-”

“The Phantom Thieves?” Comes a voice.

Both girls blink and look over at the table next to them. Two older girls sit there, staring at their phones. One looks up at the other and says, “Is this for real? This is like, really close by!”

The other girl shakes her head. “It’s gotta be, right? They’ve struck again!”

Around the café, the people, whether they are older or younger, take their phones out and begin whispered conversations. Makoto hears the words, “Phantom Thieves,” and “Calling Card,” repeatedly. Then, people start to leave.

“What’s going on?” Haru asks.

“I don’t know,” Makoto replies. She looks out the diner’s window. The typically crowded Tokyo streets are just that, crowded. But there’s an energy to their movement, a singlemindedness that heads in one direction, looks of wonder and excitement mixed across their faces.

“Come on,” Makoto says, and stands. Haru follows suit, and the two girls dash out of the café to join the horde of people as they slide forward down the road.

They wind their way through the street and find themselves in a massive crowd outside an art exhibit. Makoto and Haru try to peek over people's heads but to no avail. “Excuse me,” Makoto says, tapping the man in front of her on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

He flashes her a smile. “It’s those Phantom Thieves. They just left a Calling Card for Madarame!”

Makoto blinks and searches her memory. “The painter?” The man nods.

Haru straightens. “My father has a piece by Madarame in our study. He’s famous worldwide!”

The man turns his attention away, and Makoto frowns. “Come on,” she says, and grabs Haru’s hand. Together, they start to cut their way through the crowd.

It takes a few minutes before they can reach the front, and they spy an extensive line of police tape. Many black and red Cards lay scattered across the front of the exhibit. Makoto squints, trying to read them from a distance.

“Look, Mako-chan,” Haru says, and points at a second-story window. It’s a small ledge, and another batch of the Cards sits on it. The window next to it contains a bunch as well. Makoto lets her eyes travel across the entire building’s façade. Every ledge and sill contains a small pile of the Calling Cards. With every breeze, more scatter into the air and the crowd. People laugh and reach and jump for them when they get close.

Makoto’s eyes narrow. “You know, that’s a pretty narrow ledge. I don’t think a person could get up there.”

Haru nods. “But a cat?”

The two girls look at each other. “That’s a different story,” Makoto says.

#

Junichiro Maki runs his eyes over the woman sitting next to him one more time, sighs, and takes another sip of his drink.

She turns to him, finally, and says, “Is there a reason you keep doing that?”

Juni fixes a partially confused look on his face and replies, “Sorry. Don’t what?”

“That sighing,” she replies. She doesn’t sound upset by it.

“Oh,” Juni says, and shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was being so obnoxious about it.” He offers a weak smile, shrugs, and says, “But hey, if you can’t sigh in a bar, where can you?”

She frowns and averts her gaze, so he can tell she’s not apologetic but regrets snapping at him. “Well, I suppose you’re right.”

He looks past her, and feigns surprise at the lack of someone next to her. “You’re alone?”

Her turn to shrug. “I just came for a drink.”

Juni smiles. “I’ll drink to that.” He lifts his glass and angles the lip towards her. She smiles a bit, takes up her own, and they clink. He nods at her business attire. “Did you just get off work?”

“I did. And in,” she checks her watch, “twelve hours, I’ve got to get right back there.” She’s young, then. Not used to the daily slog. He can work with that.

He brushes some of his hair out of his eyes. “What’d you do?”

“Oh, I work for Okumura Foods.”

He smiles. “Last time I checked, Big Bang Burger waitresses don’t wear clothes like that.”

She rolls her eyes. “No, smart guy. I work in the corporate office. In accounting.”

“Really?” He asks, turning to her.

She blinks. “I have to say, telling a guy that I’m in accounting rarely gets that kind of response.”

He allows a faint bit of color into his cheeks. “Oh, well, you see, I just love numbers.” He chuckles and pats the air with his hands. “I know that sounds weird, but I do.”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “What do you do, exactly?”

“Actually,” he says, and pretends to be embarrassed. “I do consulting work. Primarily with numbers. Mostly for tech companies. Biopharma guys, and whatnot. I come in, talk about algorithms for an hour, and a bunch of guys who have no idea what I’m saying kind of nod and act like they do.”

“And people pay you for that?” She asks, grinning.

He lets out a nervous laugh. “That they do. But, then again, that’s why I’m here. I’m tired of doing it. Tired of people who don’t get it. My buddy and I, we went to college together, we’re talking about setting up our own company.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, getting into it. “See, what we’re looking to do is-” A hand clamps down on his shoulder. Juni twists without thinking about it and lifts the hand away without leaving his chair. He turns to face his attacker with something approaching a snarl, then sees who it is.

A slight, middle-aged man with chestnut hair, a face of all angles, and a crew cut. “Juni,” he says. “We need to talk.”

Juni turns back to the woman. “Speak of the devil; here he is! I’m sorry, but would you excuse me for a moment?”

She nods, and he stands, patting his friend on the back. “Buddy,” he says, friendly. “Good to see you.”

“We need to talk,” Akio reiterates. They walk towards a booth near the edge of the bar.

When they’re both seated across from one another, Junichiro folds his hands atop one another, leans forward, and asks, “What are you doing here, Aki? You know how we do this.”

“Something’s happened.”

Juni sighs, drops the act's last vestiges and sprawls himself across his seat. A strand of hair falls across his face. It’s jet black and touched up with some dye, but he’d never admit that. “Fine. What’s so dire?”

Aki leans forward. “I’m passing you something under the table.”

Juni steals a peek. In his left hand, Aki holds a small card towards him. Juni snatches it and brings it to his lap. “What’s this?” He asks.

“Just read it.”

Juni rolls his eyes. “Take your heart? Aki, you know I’m strictly a ladies’ man.”

“Turn it over, genius,” Aki growls.

Juni does, sees the words, and begins to read.

Sir Ichiryusai Madarame, the talentless, greedy exploiter: You’re finished. We know about the droves of students you’ve turned to the streets, the hordes of children who adored you that you betrayed. We know you’ve done nothing but pilfer and plagiarize. No longer will the innocents feed the machine of your greed. Soon, you will confess your sins to the world because we will have stolen your twisted desires straight from your heart. See you soon. Yours, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Juni reads it, then rereads it.

He looks up at Aki and asks, “What the fuck am I reading?”

“What it looks like,” Aki replies. “A Calling Card.”

Juni groans and leans back in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Then, he stiffens. “I’ve heard that name before. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

Aki nods. “They were on the news recently. There was some asshole gym teacher or something over at Shujin Academy, in Aoyome-Itchoma. These Calling Cards showed up one day, and the next thing you know, the guy’s on stage at a school assembly, blubbering about how he raped some poor kid and beat up a bunch of his students.”

Juni darts his eyes towards the tabletop, indicating the Card below it. “And this? Are these the same guys? They go from gym teacher to world-famous artist?”

Aki shrugs. “Don’t know. At first, I figured it was some student revenge thing, but now? Who can say? I’ve got Dunk scouring all the usual online places, looking for anything relevant. They’ve got a website.”

Juni taps the Card in his hand. “Okay, let’s have him keep digging. Where was this Card exactly?”

“Outside Madarame’s exhibit. There were a bunch of them. Some have already gotten out and circulated online.”

Juni’s eyes narrow. “It said he was a plagiarist.”

“I caught that.”

“You think they’re talking about the Sayuri’s?”

“Again, I don’t know. But maybe. Dunk’s also looking at the footage from Natsuki Storage to see if we missed anything.” Aki frowns. “This could just be a coincidence.”

Juni chuckles. “A coincidence? Seriously? Aki, how long have we been doing this?”

Aki sighs. “Long enough to know coincidences never work in our favor.”

Juni spreads his hands. “Precisely.” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Breathe it in, he thinks, and drifts off into his own little world. Breathe it in.

Juni sits there for a few moments, thinking. Then he shrugs, opens his eyes, and says, “Call everyone and let them know it’s off.”

Aki’s mouth drops open. “Off? As in off?”

“Yes, the opposite of on.”

“We’re close, Juni. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Regardless, we’d be laughingstocks.” Juni taps the Card one more time. “How would it look if one day after the Phantom Thieves send Madarame their little Calling Card, we send him ours as well?” He shakes his head. “Nope. It’s off. They struck first, called dibs. Let’s let them run it. See how they do.” He smirks. “I’m interested to see if these Phantom Thieves can pull this off. Getting someone to confess their sins? Quite the heist.”

Aki sighs and stands. “I’ll let the others know. They won’t be happy.”

Juni smiles and lifts his drink. “They know where to find me.”

Aki nods and walks out of the bar.

Junichiro Maki, the leader of Tatterdemalion, takes another sip of his drink. “Alright, Phantom Thieves. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

5/29

Madarame wakes with a jolt to the sound of his phone vibrating. He blinks at the faint rays of morning peeking through the shades of the office. Did I fall asleep?

He checks the time on his phone. The last he can remember, it had been sometime after two in the morning. He’d spent the entire day trying to mitigate the Calling Card disaster, figuring out what to tell the multitudes of reporters and people calling him, begging him to explain the context of the Card’s message.

Exhaustion still sits heavy in him, and when he answers the phone, he doesn’t bother to check the number. “Hello?”

“Hold,” the voice on the other end says.

Madarame is about to voice a protest, but then another man picks up the phone, and speaks in a voice that Madarame remembers quite well.

“What have you done, Madarame?” The smooth-sounding man asks.

Madarame tries to shake the tiredness from his skull and focus. “Wh-what do you mean? I spoke to you about the Calling Card yesterday, and I-”

“I’m not talking about the Calling Card, old man.” There’s a pause. “Do you not know?” There’s surprise there.

“Know what?”

“Are you by a computer?”

Madarame turns to the office computer, black-screened and silent. “Yes.”

“Turn it on. Get online. Now.”

Madarame hastens to do so but keeps the phone to his ear. He can hear the man’s low breathing through the receiver, and it spurs him on, even as his hands shake as he turns the system on, takes the mouse, moves the cursor to the right icon, and double clicks. “What am I looking for?”

“Yourself.”

“What?”

“Search for yourself, Madarame. The thing I want you to see is at the top of any search page.”

Madarame types his name into a search engine, and the first result makes his eyes wide. “Wh-what is this?”

“You tell me.”

It’s a link to a blog article. The site’s name is ‘Devil’s Dispatch,’ which is something Madarame has never heard of before. Rather, the title of the article is what incenses him.

‘The Great Sayuri Scam.’

Madarame clicks through. “No,” he says, as he begins to read. “No, this isn’t possible.”

The article is short, it asks more questions than answers them, but its implications are substantial.

And then there are the photos.

A series of photographs appear to have been taken in quick succession. One of the shut door of Madarame’s unit at Natsuki Storage. One of Madarame appearing in the frame, keycard in hand. One of Madarame swiping it, and another of Madarame punching in his code. Then, the door is open, its contents splayed for the lens to see.

The Sayuri’s.

You can’t see them all from the camera’s angle. There are many more. But the camera has enough resolution to spy the ones aligned across the back of the storage unit. There’re ten in complete focus, with the edges of others alongside them.

The blog post asks a few simple questions. Why does Madarame have a whole storage unit filled with reproductions if the Sayuri was stolen? Is he selling them under false pretenses? Is he scamming art collectors around the world? Was the original even stolen in the first place, or was it ‘lost’ to cook up this scam? The article is accusatory, but it doesn’t outright make any claims. It simply states facts and proposes what those facts imply.

Of course, the answer to all the article’s questions is ‘Yes.’

“This can’t be,” Madarame says. “How… how did they get this?” Who even was ‘they?’

“Did you bring a camera into my storage facility, Madarame?” The voice asks. Madarame shifts at the sudden voice. He had almost forgotten he was on the phone with someone.

“N-no! They must’ve hacked your security,” Madarame says. “Gotten into your cameras and-”

“We don’t have cameras, Madarame.”

Madarame shakes his head, even though there’s no one to see it. “I-I don’t… who’s seen this?”

“It went viral about two hours ago. Along with the timing of the Calling Card, it would seem like you’re the man of the hour.”

“We have to figure a way out of this,” Madarame says. “We have to meet and think and-”

There’s silence on the line. Then, “Yeah. You’re right. We’re in this together, after all.”

“That’s right,” Madarame says, a grin splayed across his face. “That’s right, we are. We can figure this out. We can fix it. We can. I know we can.”

There’s a deep sigh from the other end. “Sit tight. We’ll be in contact.”

The line goes dead.

Madarame sets the phone down and stares at the photo of himself, his back to the camera, staring at the Sayuri’s.

“I can fix this,” he says, as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. “I can fix this.”

The gallery’s office feels very small.

#

Joker studies Madarame’s Treasure Room. The open sky room is an ornate cross between a CEO’s office and a corporate lounge. He hadn’t given much thought to its opulence when here last. Near the entrance sits several easels with paint cans strewn about beneath them. Along the far wall are enormous windows looking out onto the distorted Tokyo skyline. Kinda odd since there’s no ceiling, Joker thinks. A few couches lay scattered around atop an expensive-looking rug with an elaborate weave. At the far end of the room is a vast wooden desk, the kind one would expect an executive to have. Behind this desk, as they had discovered the other day, hung the Treasure, then a kaleidoscopic blob.

It does not hang there any longer.

A portrait sits on the wall, drawing everyone’s eyes to it. Its gravity pulls them in and presses them. Akira recognizes it as the Sayuri.

“It’s different though,” Panther whispers. “Different from all the others in the storage facility.”

No one says anything when the door opens behind them, and Madarame’s Shadow enters the room. He moves with deliberate purpose past the group of Thieves and toward the painting, sparing them not a single glance. In an almost childlike way, he snatches the painting off the wall and hops up onto his desk, feet dangling just off the floor. His Shadow is attired in the same suit, his hair is slicked back, and his eyes are golden. Madarame’s Shadow holds the portrait in his hands and stares at it, a sad look on his face.

No one says anything, lost in some strange trance until Madarame breaks the silence. “This is all your fault, Yusuke.”

The others draw their weapons, but Fox steps forward. “Sensei,” he says, his voice low. “This end is inevitable. Please, give us the Treasure, and it will all be over.”

Madarame shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the painting. “This is all your fault. But I can fix it. I know I can fix it. If they just give me time.”

“‘They?’” Joker asks, glancing at Skull, who shrugs.

“Sensei,” Fox says again, and steps forward. “Please. Enough.” He extends a hand, palm out. “Give it to us.”

Madarame turns the portrait around so it faces Fox. “This is how it looked originally.” He chuckles. “It’s true form, so to speak.”

Fox lowers his hand, and his eyes narrow. “Tell me, Sensei. Why is there a baby in the corner?”

Joker hadn’t noticed at first, as he’d been focused on the subject, the woman. But Fox is right. There’s a bundled-up baby in the corner, held by the woman’s arms. Where, in the real world, the woman stares only at some tree branch, here she stares directly into the child’s eyes, a small smile on her face.

Madarame’s voice, when he answers, is small. “It’s you.”

Silence.

Madarame draws one finger down the length of the painting and taps the baby. “It’s you,” he repeats, as if they hadn’t heard him.

“I see,” Fox replies. “The baby is supposed to represent the whole of humanity. The entirety of our nascent time on this planet, and the woman represents the whole of the universe, swaddling us in-”

“Yusuke,” Madarame cuts in. “Yusuke, it’s you. And this,” Madarame moves his hand up to the woman. “Is her.”

Joker takes a step toward his friend. “Fox?”

The boy’s hands tremble. “Elaborate,” Fox demands, an edge to his voice. “Explain what you mean.”

Madarame sighs. Then, he shrugs. “I didn’t paint the Sayuri. Chisako did.”

Fox blinks. “My mother?”

Madarame nods. He wears a small smile. “Chisako painted the Sayuri. And then she died.”

Fox dashed forward, the blade leaving his scabbard.

“Dude, wait!” Skull screams, but it is too late. Fox brings his blade down toward Madarame’s head, but with a flick of his former Sensei’s wrist, Fox is thrown back across the length of the room and crashes into the back wall. The easels splinter, and the paint cans go flying.

“Fox!” Panther calls.

“Shit,” Joker says, and turns to Fox. He runs toward his fallen friend, even as he hears Madarame behind him.

“Why don’t you get it? This is how the world works. No one cares about art, not really. They care about the prestige it endows and the money it brings in. Expression, self-fulfillment, these things don’t mean anything.”

Joker slides up to where Fox lays and grabs his arm. “Are you okay?”

Fox opens his eyes, and Jokers sees a fire there only rarely glimpsed. With a growl, Fox pushes himself to his feet. “You’re wrong. Perhaps every piece of art cannot change the world, cannot make it a better place. But art has that capacity. It has that potential. It always has.”

Madarame spreads his hands. “Maybe once upon a time, Yusuke. But the world has gotten too saturated. Too big. Too full. Too loud. Nothing worth anything can cut through the noise. You can paint shit, and if the right blog or influencer highlights it, people will pay millions for it. It’s ludicrous. It’s nonsense. It’s madness.” His smile grows wide. “It’s business.”

Madarame begins to convulse. “Yes, business. And I can fix it. I can make it right. All I have to do, is kill you kids.” His voice rises as he speaks until it becomes a blabbering squeal. Madarame collapses onto the floor and bursts, and the vile black that spills from him expands into the space where the ceiling should be.

Joker turns to Fox. “You ready for this?”

“Fear not,” Fox replies, straightening. “For this morning, I took vitamins!”

An awful groan rises from the black, and it coalesces into eight paintings, separated but connected to a series of spiked, whirling gears. Four paintings depict Madarame’s arms and legs, while the remaining depict swiveling wide eyes, a shriveled yellowed nose, and a stretched smiling mouth with jagged, bleached white teeth. The room drowns in the smell of rotten paper and metal splinters. The whirr of the gears rises in pitch, and the paintings dart about, supplanting one another, forming something. A caricature of a human, but then it isn’t. The gears stretch until they become spindly and multi-jointed, and the eight paintings have arranged themselves and their arms into a giant, mechanical spider.

The spider hovers into the air, then leaps off nothing and lands on the far wall, climbing in a way that makes Joker’s skin crawl.

A voice crackles like an intercom. “I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE WHAT I HAVE EARNED!”

Skull scowls. “You ain’t earned shit, asshole.” His mask vanishes in a puff of blue. “Take em’ down, Captain!”

The skeleton materializes and sails towards the spider, a bolt of electricity charging within its cannon. It aims down at the leftmost eye, which rises on the leg to peer at it, and as it does so, the nose reverts its position, and a stream of steam hisses out. Captain Kidd fires, and the electric bolt strikes the smoke-like substance. The explosion’s shockwave hits the Captain and sends him backward, Skull cringing. “The hell?”

The spider leaps away, covered by the strange mist.

Panther and Fox rush forward, weapons at the ready. They crouch, side by side, and fire into the smoke, their weapons’ recoil echoing off the walls and into the open air above. One of the paintings darts out, the mouth, sneering, and the bullets clatter into the teeth, and fall, harmless, to the floor.

“Let’s go Zorro,” Mona calls, and his Persona rises above him. A massive gust of wind sweeps the mist away, revealing the spider. The right eye suddenly swings above the mouth, and a bolt of electricity is discharged directly into the cat. Mona groans in pain and drops to his knees.

Skull runs up alongside Joker. “Dude, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Joker says, staring. “It’s like the different legs and paintings are blocking us whenever we attack one of them.”

“How the hell can they tell? Only two of the damn things are eyes!”

“Does any of this shit make any sense?” Joker spits back.

A screech escapes the spider, and it leaps into the Phantom Thieves' midst.

“Shit,” Panther cries. “Everyone scatter!”

The spider sweeps out a leg that catches the weakened Mona, sending him flying through the air. Joker jumps, grabs Mona, and rolls to the floor, holding his friend. Panther darts to the edge of the room, then circles around as Skull and Fox launch attacks against Madarame.

“Is he okay?” Panther asks.

“He needs some healing,” Joker says, and lays Mona down, allowing Panther to work with Carmen. Then, he turns his attention back to the spider, trying to figure out how best to attack.

#

The fight drags on. Mona and Panther fire off Dia after Dia as the group takes more hits. No matter how they angle their attacks or how strong each assault is, the paintings seem to cover for one another. The gears spin and the paintings shift as the spider skitters around the lounge.

Joker yanks another of Takemi’s medicines from his jacket and downs it. He feels the pain in his arm lessen. One of the legs – the one with the left arm – had come down on it earlier.

He thinks he has this figured out.

The appendages cover another based on the elemental composition of the attacks. This disadvantaged Panther, Skull, Fox, and Mona as their Personae could only deal certain types of damage. The few attacks that had worked and halted the leaping of Madarame’s Shadow had been due to Joker’s various Personae changes. Trying out the different elements had been exhausting. Still, Joker now knew which of the spider’s legs would cover due to an attack by a specific element and then could counter.

Joker turns to Panther, who lies next to him behind the lounge’s couch. “Wait for Fox’s ice, then use Carmen against the leg that protects.”

“Got it,” she gasps, then peers over the edge.

Joker doesn’t need to look. He feels the change in atmosphere as Goemon attacks, and then Panther is maskless and charging. Carmen appears above her, and a great bout of flame covers the geared leg that holds the right eye.

Madarame’s Shadow screams in pain. Joker leaps up, and Arsene’s tendrils extend out. The mouth counters, and Arsene’s attacks bounce harmlessly off the painting, but not before Joker cries, “Mitra,” and a new Persona appears, and a Makouga attack slams into the mouth, which opens in a howl.

“Everyone, go,” Joker calls. And the others emerge from their hiding places, assaulting Madarame in an all-out attack. The elements crash into the spider, which rotates and spins its portraited legs to protect itself, but the blitz comes from all sides, and as busy with defense as it is, it cannot escape.

In the end, defeating Madarame is exhausting but straightforward. A battle of attrition between the stamina of the Phantom Thieves and however much the spider can take. Mona attacks the leg, and the arm counters, but Captain Kidd’s electricity blasts it. Conversely, Panther’s attack on the nose is repelled by the right leg, which Goemon freezes.

The gears begin to whine, and between the flashes and the spots of blue dotting his vision, Joker believes he can see bits of rust forming. Whatever Madarame’s cognition, it knows it is losing.

In one last wave of attacks, the gears fall away in a hiss of black, and all eight paintings linger in the air for a moment before they too drop. When they hit the ground, they do not vanish as the gears and legs did but begin to twitch.

Joker draws his knife and stabs it into the back of the mouth’s piece. The others pull their weapons and begin to swing, bludgeon, stab and slice at the things on the floor.

It is messy work.

But then it ends. The paintings burst into ash, and the Thieves dart away as the cloud settles.

The five, breath coming in gasps, stare at one another. “That’s it, right?” Panther asks. “We got him?”

A whimper escapes the pile.

Madarame’s Shadow crawls from the ashes. His hair hangs down in his face. His suit sits upon him in tatters. Ash sticks and stains his skin as he rises.

Before Joker can collect himself, Fox rushes past him, sword drawn.

Fox brings the blade down to Madarame’s neck, and his mask vanishes as Goemon rises behind him, the Persona’s glare leveled at his former Sensei. The air shivers with a chill, and Joker watches as frost coats the room’s smashed furniture.

“Speak,” Fox growls. “I want to know the truth. If my mother truly painted the Sayuri, why do you claim it as your own?”

Madarame holds up a hand. “P-please, I-”

“Speak!”

“I just wanted to show it to the world. I just wanted to-”

“You’re a liar,” Fox cries. “All you’ve ever done is lie. Tell me the truth, why did you steal it? Why?”

“Because I knew!” Madarame screams.

Fox blinks. “Knew what?”

Madarame’s mouth works in a few silent circuits before he can speak again. “She called me over that day. She said she wanted me to see something special. I’d never heard her like that.”

“I entered her apartment, and she showed it to me. And I just knew.” Madarame’s face falls. His eyes dim. “I knew that nothing I would create would ever compare. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To work, sweat, bleed and endeavor for something your whole life? And then, a single glimpse, one look, and it’s enough to know you’ll never amount to your own dreams?” Tears well and river their way down his face. “It shattered me, Yusuke. I couldn’t believe it. The Sayuri was everything I had ever wanted to paint. For years, I’d tried to create it. And that afternoon, I knew I never would. Never could.”

Madarame shuts his eyes, but Fox presses the blade harder against his throat. “What happened?”

“Your mother, Chisako, kept talking about it. She did it all in one night. Can you believe that? She did that,” and he nods to where the Sayuri lays flat on the ground, “in one night. She was so excited and just kept going and going, and then she wasn’t talking anymore. She collapsed and started shaking.”

“No,” Fox says, and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Even you… even after everything…”

“I wanted to help her,” Madarame blurts. “I wanted to, but I just froze. I don’t know why. But, she was shaking and shuddering and… I just, I couldn’t move, Yusuke! But then she was gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I just took the painting, and I was going to leave, or I was going to call an ambulance. I don’t know!”

Fox’s hands curl tighter around the blade. “You killed my mother for a painting?”

Madarame breaks down into sobs. “I don’t know. I don’t know, I swear. God Above, I hope not. I don’t remember! And then…”

“And then, what?” Fox asks.

“I’m sorry.”

“And then, what?” Fox demands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Madarame moans. “It just became easier, you see? It just became easier after a while. To distance myself. To take the work. To take the money. I felt sick about it at first. I really did. I really did. But then, it just got easier. And it kept getting easier.”

There is a storm on Fox’s face. Joker walks up behind him. “If you kill him, we don’t know what will happen to the real Madarame.”

“I think,” Mona puts in. “That if you kill him here, he’ll die in real life too.”

Fox’s words are stones. “Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

“I’m not saying anything, Fox,” Joker replies. “It’s your decision. But I think the world deserves to hear the truth from his mouth.”

Fox nods. “I don’t disagree. But I shall not lie to you. I want to watch his head roll.”

Madarame shakes his head. “Forgive me, Yusuke. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

With one smooth motion, Fox sheathes his blade. “I am not the only one Madarame has wronged. There are many he has tossed aside over the years. They all deserve the truth. We all deserve recompense.” Fox steps away from them and walks to the Sayuri. He lifts it, and turns it around until he’s staring at the woman. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I let him get away with it for so long.”

Panther wipes her eyes. “Yusuke, it’s not your fault.”

Fox ignores her. “I’m sorry I let him hurt more people.” His hands tighten on the painting’s frame. “But he’s not going to hurt anyone else.” Fox turns and stares at Madarame. “Where is the real Sayuri?”

Madarame drops his gaze to the floor. “It’s gone. I… I burned it. When I started making the copies. That way, it couldn’t be traced.”

A cruel smile works itself across Fox’s face. “You burned it. Of course you did.” He nods. “Of course you did. And that’s why you kept the storage unit in my mother’s name.”

Madarame’s nod is frantic. “I’ve always wanted to apologize to her, but I couldn’t.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Skull spits and points at Fox. “You wanted to apologize to her, so you got her son expelled and threw him into the street? You’ve had his whole damn life to apologize!”

Madarame doesn’t reply.

Fox turns his whole body to face him. “You’re going to go back now, Sensei. You’re going to go back to the real world, and you’re going to confess all your crimes. You’re going to give the names of all your apprentices, and you’re going to do right by them. You’ll contact the Principal at my school and tell him you lied. You’ll tell everyone the truth about the Sayuri and your scam. You’re going to come clean about everything.”

There’s a hitch of fear in Madarame’s voice when he says, “Everything?”

Fox nods. “Everything.”

The anguish leaves Madarame’s face, and he begins to glow. “V-very well. You’re right. I will confess my sins. I will make things right.” As he fades, Madarame looks at Fox one last time. “I’m sorry, my boy. Thank you.”

And then he is gone.

The Thieves stand and stare at the spot he occupied. “I-” Fox starts.

The building begins to shake. “Crap,” Mona shouts. “The Palace! We gotta go!”

Fox clutches the Sayuri to his chest. “Very well, let us be off!”

#

There’s no other choice.

Madarame sits in the gallery’s office. Sweat drenches his robes, but he doesn’t feel it. His mind has been racing, but it’s calm now. Quiet. Still. Resolute.

There’s no other choice.

It’s a relief, in a way. To have all your options shrink bit by bit until there’s only one clear path forward.

I’ve got to give them Yusuke.

That’s the only thing he can do. Hand Yusuke Kitagawa over to those soft-spoken, deadly men. They can make him talk. And then everything can go back. He can weather this storm.

His phone rings again, but he ignores it. Everyone’s been calling him. All day.

He doesn’t know what it’s about anymore. The Calling Card. The Sayuri. He just doesn’t know. People were skewering him online. Screeching at him. Raging at him.

It was all so ridiculous. What proof did they have? A few photos from some anonymous blog? The assurance of the ‘Phantom Thieves?’ None of it meant anything.

So why are they all losing their minds at me?

Madarame shakes his head.

No. Focus. He knows what he must do. Hand Yusuke over to his ‘third favorite customer.’ He can issue a statement. He can clear the air. Some lawyers specialize in this very thing! People will believe him

People will believe him.

They’ll believe him.

And Yusuke Kitagawa?

Well, he’d…

He’d…

Madarame remembers.

It was just like you said,” Chisako says. “Just like you said. The Muse got into me somehow, and I just kept going and going and going. All night.”

“You did this?” Madarame asks, and points to the piece. “In one night?”

“Uh-huh, can you believe it? It’s incredible, right? It’s incredible. Incredible. And it’s all because of you. All… Madarame-sensei? Why are you crying?”

Madarame reaches up and wipes his eyes. “It’s nothing, my dear. Nothing at all. This is marvelous. Otherworldly.” He beams. “You, Chisako, are brilliant.”

And her smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And then her eyes glaze over, and she is falling. Her head hits the side of the table. And then she’s on the ground and convulsing.

Madarame remembers.

He remembers his limbs were like ice—the breath held in his lungs like poison.

He remembers her wide, empty eyes. Remembers the spittle, still wet on her lips. He remembers staring at her and then falling to his knees. He remembers begging her to wake up. To get up. To blink.

To do something.

He remembers the shame as it clawed at his insides.

Leave, his mind had screamed. Leave. Get out of here. Get out now. If someone finds you here, it’ll all be over!

And still another part of his mind had raged, Why didn’t I call? Why didn’t I call someone? An ambulance, anyone?

And over all this madness in his mind, a voice had said, Take the painting.

Take the painting.

It had been small, barely a whisper. It didn’t stop. Take the painting. Take the painting. It spread, and grew like an infection. TakethepaintingTakethepaintingTakethepainting.

He’d looked at the Sayuri. Even as the tears stained his eyes, he could see its beauty. She’s dead, his mind had argued. She’s dead, and it’ll do her no good. He’d shaken his head against the horrid thought, against the very notion of it, but it made sense, didn’t it?

He’d stood. And hating himself, Madarame had taken up the painting.

And then he’d heard the crying.

He should’ve left. He should’ve run as far and as fast as possible.

But he didn’t.

Madarame had found little Yusuke in his room, tucked into his threadbare bed, freshly awake from his nap, his face scrunched up in a pout, his cries echoing through the small, empty apartment.

And Little Yusuke had looked up at him and sobbed, “Madaramama?” He could never get his name right. “Where’s Mom?”

Madarame had helped him out of bed. Taken his hand. Told him to shut his eyes tight, and not to open them for any reason.

Then, Madarame had led Yusuke out of the apartment, the Sayuri tucked under his free arm. “It’s alright, Yusuke,” he had cooed as they’d made their exit. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

Madarame’s knees hit the floorboards. “What…?” He starts, but can’t finish.

Oh God. Oh God.

The sobs erupt from him. The faces of his apprentices flash through his mind.

Sensei, look at this!

Sensei, how do I make something like that?

Is this good, Sensei?

Can you look at it, Sensei?

You’re the best, Sensei!

He sees Yusuke, smiling up at him from behind an easel.

He sees Yusuke, hunched over sketchbooks, eyes filled with wonder.

He sees Yusuke, so like his mother.

“Chisako,” Madarame whispers. “Chisako, I’m sorry.”

Madarame leans forward until his head is against the hardwood. “I’m sorry, Chisako. I’m sorry, Yusuke.”

His phone vibrates once more. He pays attention this time. He drags himself to it. He has so many calls to make. So many amends. So many mistakes to fix. A thin sliver of his mind screams at him to think about what he’s doing and what’ll happen to him if he confesses.

But Madarame sees Chisako on that floor. Sees Yusuke and the fear in his eyes.

And he doesn’t care.

#

The Phantom Thieves sit in one of LeBlanc’s small booths. They are the only ones in the café, aside from Sojiro, who stands behind the bar, measuring beans with the look of a man lost in his little world.

No one talks. Akira cannot speak for the others, but his muscles feel as if they’re tied down with weights. The others wear expressions that match his.

Morgana lies in his lap, eyes shut, breathing steadily.

The Sayuri is upstairs, tucked away with the remaining artwork they’d taken from Madarame’s cognitive gallery.

“What a week, huh?” Akira asks.

Ryuji is the first to grin, from where he sits alongside Ann. “Totally.”

Yusuke fidgets beside Akira. “When will we know?” He asks, casting a glance at Sojiro. “If it worked?”

Ann leans in. “Kamoshida confessed, like a day or two after. Just hang tight. I’m sure it’s coming. We definitely did it.”

Morgana twitches in Akira’s lap and utters, “Fatty tuna,” in his sleep. Everyone smiles.

“We should celebrate,” Ryuji says. “This is like, a huge win for us.”

Ann nods. “But we should probably wait for the confession first. We shouldn’t jump the gun.”

Ryuji shuts his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Aw, c’mon. Why wait? It’s not like we can go back into the Palace anyway. We should do something fun.”

The TV, up to this point a faint white noise in the distance, belts out a word that catches Akira’s ear. “… Kamoshida.”

The others notice it too and twist their necks to stare at the screen. A newscaster sits behind a desk, papers in hand, and says, “Following the successful prosecution of Suguru Kamoshida the other day, he has been mandated to serve his sentence at…”

“Prosecution?” Ryuji asks, eyes wide. “Holy crap.”

“Kamoshida?” Yusuke whispers. “Isn’t that your former adversary?”

Akira nods. “Yeah, it is.”

“Wow,” Ann says. The screen cuts to a scene outside what looks to be a courthouse. Kamoshida, dressed in a poorly-tailored suit and tie, exits, flanked by police officers and a thin man who must be his attorney. “I didn’t even know that was going on.”

“Same,” Ryuji replies. “I totally forgot that asshat was going on trial.” He turns to Ann. “Hey, you should tell Shiho!”

Ann’s face stiffens a bit. “Um, yeah. Definitely.”

Akira watches Ann for a moment, until something else the newscaster says catches his attention. “Wow. He got life in prison?”

Ann’s eyes narrow. “Good.”

Akira turns from the television and regards his friends. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? That all that happened while we were focused on Madarame?”

Ryuji beams. “But this means we have to celebrate, right? I mean, Kamoshida’s going away for life. That’s it. Game over, man!”

A small smile works across Ann’s face. “I mean, it is pretty great. We should do something to celebrate it.”

“But Yusuke-” Akira starts, but their friend holds up his hand.

“Please,” he says. “Do not postpone your festivities on my account. You’ve told me that our mission was successful. I believe you. And with this other foe fallen, we should celebrate our victories.”

“That’s the spirit, bro,” Ryuji says. “Come on. Who’s in?”

Ann raises her hand. Yusuke raises his. Akira smiles and lifts his own. Then, he reaches down, takes one of Morgana’s paws in his free hand, and lifts it as well. “Unanimous.”

“Hell yeah,” Ryuji cheers.

Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke continue talking while Akira reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

He sends a quick message.

AKIRA: I saw the news. Kamoshida got life.

A few moments pass before a response comes.

MAKOTO: Good.

AKIRA: Ann said the same thing. How’s Haru?

MAKOTO: She seems okay. Thank you for asking. How was your day?

AKIRA: Busy.

MAKOTO: No doubt. ;)

Akira stares at the message, then puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Gotta say,” Ryuji says, reaching his hands into the air, then folding them back behind his head. “Feels like things are finally starting to look up for us.”

#

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” Haru says, and slides the printed paper toward Makoto.

Makoto picks it up and looks at the photo. “That’s definitely him.” The image was attached to a news article from several months ago, detailing a small gallery showing Madarame had put on in Ikebukuro. In the photo, standing beside the main piece, a monumental landscape showcasing Mount Fuji, is Ichiryusai Madarame, with his hand on the shoulder of the young man Makoto had seen Akira with the other night.

“It says he’s his apprentice.”

“Then there’s the connection,” Makoto replies.

Haru leans back in her chair. “So, Yusuke Kitagawa realizes he’s getting his art stolen by his master, and he goes to the Phantom Thieves? Wouldn’t it be risky for them to contact him directly?”

Makoto shrugs. “The Calling Card said Madarame had done it to others. So maybe one of them reached out to the Thieves.” She grins. “It’s smart. There’s no immediate connection to Shujin.”

“Unless you know that a certain apprentice has suddenly become good friends with a bunch of students from Shujin,” Haru points out.

“Exactly.”

“Do you think Kitagawa is a Phantom Thief too?”

Makoto frowns. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t think he was involved with Kamoshida. In terms of making a splash, you’d think they’d start with the world-famous artist first.”

Haru nods. “Maybe Kitagawa figured out how they change hearts? Or maybe it’s something else.”

Makoto leans back in her chair. The two girls have relocated the headquarters of ‘Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic’ to her bedroom. Sae’s schedule was temperamental, but Makoto’s sister stayed in her office more often than not. Even if she were to come home, Makoto wasn’t too concerned about her coming in here. One thing that could be said for Sae was that she respected the privacy of her younger sister when it came to their home. Makoto doesn’t even need a finger to count the number of times Sae’s barged into her room unannounced.

Plus, Makoto wanted to keep an eye on Haru. Perhaps she couldn’t force the girl to lam it at her place, but she could watch out for her when they weren’t in school. The ‘Operation’ gave her an excellent excuse to do that, and Haru didn’t seem perturbed about staying away from home so long over the weekend.

“Whatever the situation,” Makoto says. “We’ve got another connection between Akira Kurusu and the Phantom Thieves.” There’d been a faint hint of doubt when Makoto had read Madarame’s Calling Card. How could Akira be connected to this guy? She’d thought.

Yusuke Kitagawa had been the only actual new lead. After that, Makoto and Haru started to dig.

“It’s coming together,” Makoto says. “We know who the Phantom Thieves are. Akira Kurusu, Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki, and possibly Yusuke Kitagawa.”

“Don’t forget Mona-chan,” Haru points out.

Makoto sighs. “Yes, I suppose him too.”

“When I see Akira next, I’ll ask him to let me borrow Mona-chan. I doubt he’s forgotten his promise.”

“And then,” Makoto says, and her concentration wavers a bit. And then, what? Makoto had told Akira she’d drop all of this if he helped her with Haru. So was the current point of her figuring out his secret identity to leverage him into helping her with Haru? Leverage? Makoto wonders. More like blackmail.

Would she really do it?

Makoto looks over at Haru. Thinks of the only true friend she’s ever had married to that piece of shit Sugimura. Something revs inside her chest.

I’ll do what I have to do.

“I think,” Makoto says to Haru. “That it’s time to settle things.”

Notes:

Happy Wednesday! I'm glad the last chapter was so well received. Thanks for reading! I'll see you guys on Friday!

Also, I'd like to mention that the initial seed for the Takemi x Yusuke scene comes from Vivvav's 'Confidant Roulette.' The whole thing is great and well worth your time. Check it out!

Chapter 45: Chapter 45

5/30

Ryuji stretches his arms up until they pop, and settles his hands behind his head with a satisfied yawn. "This," he states, a lazy grin on his face, his eyes shut, "is more like it."

Ann's face lacks Ryuji’s enthusiasm. "I thought you wanted to celebrate?"

He slides one eye open. "We are celebratin'."

"At Big Bang Burger? Last time we went to a fancy hotel."

"Uh, yeah, and remember how well that turned out?" His voice hitches on the last few syllables.

Two blonde heads turn nervous looks towards Akira, who keeps his face buried in the menu, pretending not to have heard. "Sure are a lot of options," he mutters.

From where he sits - curled and hidden in Akira's lap - Morgana extends a paw and pats a picture of a mass of meat. "I want that."

"You're not going to eat the whole thing."

"Yes, I will."

"I think this burger is bigger than you. It's actually impossible."

Morgana bristles. "You should have some faith. I can do it."

Ryuji, satisfied he has not offended his friend, turns back to Ann. "Besides, this place is more our style. It's filled with the people the Phantom Thieves are fighting for."

She swats his shoulder and hisses, "Keep your voice down."

Ryuji makes a show of rubbing his arm. "Ow, relax. Look around. No one's listening." His eyes roll over the clientele. "And I'm not wrong. Remember how those rich assholes treated us? But here we are. No one's giving us dirty looks. No one's questioning our right to be here."

Akira can't help himself. "It is a fast food joint, Ryuji."

Yusuke glances up from his own menu. "I've been meaning to ask, what about this food makes it 'fast?'"

Ann rests her cheek on her fist. "They make it in a hurry, so people can eat it in a hurry."

Yusuke purses his lips. "Curious they would not wish to savor it."

The waitress arrives. She carries a tray stacked with glasses filled with water. Once she's set them, everyone places their orders, and Akira acquiesces to Morgana's request for a 'Behemoth Burger.'

As the waitress heads to the kitchen, Ryuji lifts his water and holds it aloft.

"Here's to," and his voice drops to a whisper, "taking down Madarame."

Ann takes up hers'. "Here's to Kamoshida getting what he deserves."

Yusuke smiles and follows suit. "Here's to the expression of the artist, and the baring of one's soul."

Akira grins. "Here's to the weird stuff Yusuke says." They clink their glasses.

A soft vibration sounds from Yusuke's pocket. He pulls out his phone, and his eyes widen. "Excuse me for a moment, friends." He stands and scoots away.

Ryuji watches him walk away. "You don't think that's Madarame, do you?"

Ann bites her lip. "Geez, I never considered he might actually call Yusuke. You don't think he'll say anything, do you?"

Akira shakes his head. Ann might not have considered it, but Akira had warned Yusuke of the possibility. He'd been clear. Yusuke could express shock, anger, heartbreak, whatever he wanted. But he could give away nothing that linked him to the change of heart. Nothing that linked him to the Phantom Thieves.

"He's weird," Akira says. "But he's not stupid. He won't say anything."

Morgana bobs his head. "Akira's right. Besides, you know how Yusuke is. If he does get upset, he'll just paint or something."

Yusuke returns shortly, eyes glazed, phone hanging from a limp hand. "You okay, bro?" Ryuji asks, as the boy slides back into his seat.

A smile breaks his face. "That was Kosei. The Principal. My expulsion has been revoked. Madarame called him and confessed to everything." A short, choked laugh escapes his lips. "I can even keep my scholarship, and I can stay in the dorms."

"That's great," Ann says, and everyone goes about agreeing.

Yusuke dips his head forward. "I knew it would work. The change of heart, I mean. But to have this confirmation and be free of this burden?" He wipes his face on his sleeve. "Thank you, my friends, for helping me."

Ryuji reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. "Wasn't nothin' man. We'd do it again in a second."

"That's right," Morgana replies. "You're one of us, remember?"

Yusuke nods. "Thank you. A thousand times!" He lifts a hand into the air, signaling the waitress.

She arrives and asks, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Madam," Yusuke proclaims. "My buoyancy knows no bounds today! I would like to buy everyone in this establishment a burger."

“Wait, what?" Akira asks.

Ryuji's jaw drops. "What're you doing?"

Yusuke sweeps his gaze over them. "This is cause for celebration. Further celebration. Burgers, I say." He stands and throws his arms wide. "Burgers for everyone."

Morgana mumbles to Akira, "I hope you've got enough in your wallet."

Akira sighs, but keeps his smile. "Me too."

#

Yusuke drags his feet down Central, one hand on Ryuji's shoulder. His face is pale. His moan is perpetual but barely audible above the clamor of the crowd.

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "C'mon, dude. I told you not to eat the whole thing. A Deluxe Bacon and Bleu Cheese is way too much for you to handle now."

Ann waits ahead of them, hands on her hips. "Then you shouldn't have let him order it."

Ryuji glares back. "I didn't hear you protesting. He's a big boy. He can order what he wants." He calls back to Akira, "How's Mona?"

Akira stares at the cat, who staggers his way down the sidewalk, breath coming in ragged gasps. "I think he's regretting not listening to me," he replies. He lowers the carryout bag to Morgana's eye level and shakes it. "Keep up. We've got to get this back to LeBlanc's fridge."

"So... filling," Morgana whispers.

"So... tasty," Yusuke mutters.

Akira shakes his head. "I told you it was too big."

Morgana bumps into his leg. "Just need to... center myself."

"Center yourself?" Akira asks, and Morgana nods, then groans at the movement. "Right, okay." He kneels down, scoops the cat up - who makes a pained, belching sound - and sets him on his shoulder. "We're never going to get back at this rate."

"F-fine," the cat mumbles. "Just don't move too fast."

Yesterday, we fought a giant spider and lived. Today, we've been reduced by oversized burgers.

The gang stumbles into Shibuya proper and hurl themselves into the shuffle. They're about to enter the station's entrance when Ryuji, who turns to glance back at the others, stops.

"Uh, guys," he says, and points.

They turn. Across from Shibuya Station sits a skyscraper whose facade features numerous screens typically reserved for important broadcasts and music videos.

The gray face of Madarame peers down at them.

That he is so huge is unsettling. His eyes are wide and misty, and he sits behind a table lined with microphones.

"My name is Ichiryusai Madarame." His voice booms between buildings. "I have achieved fame as an artist, not just in Japan, but worldwide. I am here today to confess that this fame is built on a lie."

Shibuya draws a collective breath, and Akira looks to find many with their eyes glued to the screens.

Morgana's claws tighten on his shoulders.

"I have lied to the public. I have cheated my students and covered up terrible deeds." His eyes fall toward the tabletop, and his mouth sputters soundless for a few moments. "None of the work for which I am known, not a single piece, is my own. I stole every painting I claim as my own from my students. My most famous piece, the Sayuri, was painted by a woman who was once very dear to me." His face scrunches up. "She died. An event I failed to stop and to which I may have contributed. I then tarnished her memory by stealing her work." He lets out a long breath and leans forward, as if the words are knives slicing his insides. When his head lifts, tears run from his eyes. "I'm sorry. To everyone I hurt. I'm sorry for every lie I ever told. I'm going to take responsibility. I will provide an accounting of all those I've stolen from, so that I might repair some of the lives I've ruined. I will confess everything to the proper authorities. Even if it takes the remainder of my miserable life, I will make things right." He opens his mouth as if to say more but only sobs. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm sorry."

The camera switches off.

Akira turns to Yusuke, who watches the black screen. His lip quivers. "Hey," Akira says, and walks up to him. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Y-yeah," Ann tells him. She rests a hand on the boy's shoulder, and gently pulls him towards the station. His eyes narrow and cloud. "It's okay," Ann says. "It's okay, Yusuke. We've got you.

#

The news tears across the city. It slithers into online forums and plasters itself across every computer, smartphone, and tablet screen.

Soon, it is not a thing people are talking about. It is the thing people are talking about. Within minutes of Madarame's confession, all of Tokyo knows. And they speak it, loud whereas before they only suggested it in whispers between confidants. They say it in many different ways, but it all means the same thing.

"The Phantom Thieves are real."

#

Madarame stares at the minor imperfections in the table's wood. He runs his fingers over them, feeling the bumps with non-calloused hands. This is nice, he thinks. To focus on something small. Unimportant. He wonders if this is how so many other people feel, frequently. It has been so long since he's really looked at anything and been taken by it.

"Madarame-san." His attorney's voice is near manic. "I have to urge you, again, to reconsider this."

Prison, Madarame thinks. I'll have plenty of time to study the walls. He smiles at the thought, though he cannot say why. This must be what it feels like, to be empty.

It is not unpleasant.

"I've made up my mind." His words are quiet but firm. He can still feel the trails the tears mapped across his face. "My funds, all of them, will be dispersed to my apprentices. My properties will be sold. My assets, liquidated. I know this is a lengthy process, so I would like you to begin at once. I want these Trusts established before the end of June."

His attorney frowns and sighs. "I will see to it, then. But-" and he gestures to the waiting police officer, who stands in the corner, patient, face blank. "There's a better way to do this. A cleaner way."

Madarame shakes his head and pushes himself away from the table. They are in a Green Room for the studio that hosted his confession. Madarame had called the police himself and requested they bring him in. Perhaps out of respect for his position, they insisted on holding off until his affairs were in order.

"Perhaps, but this is the right way. I deserve incarceration after everything I've done." He stands. "I'm ready, officer."

The policeman nods, and approaches. Madarame turns his back, and presents his hands.

The click of the steel along his wrists feels oddly satisfying. "Well then, let's be off," he says.

The officer sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Right this way, sir."

His attorney trails them as they exit. A number of station personnel line the hall, craning their necks to look at him.

This is for the best, he reminds himself. The students will get what they deserve.

When they step out of the studio, a crowd descends on them. Cameras from unaffiliated stations zoom into his face. Reporters shove microphones toward his mouth. Spectators and ill-wishers line the sidewalk. The latter shout curses and incriminations.

This all washes over him like so much water.

He glances up at the sky. It is a clear day—a sunny, blue-skied afternoon.

It is beautiful.

Well, Chisako, he thinks. It took a very long time, but I finally did the right thing.

Madarame remembers her smile, the eagerness with which she worked, and the love she bore for her art and her son. He remembers the long hours the two of them would spend in conversation, on the phone or at his studio, discussing art for art's sake. He'd been old even then, but those nights had returned to him a life he thought had passed him.

He knows he doesn't deserve forgiveness, but he can't help but recall the same traits in Yusuke. The same love of art. The same, oftentimes bizarre, eccentricities.

He grins at the blue above him. Who knew? Maybe one day, when all this was in the distant past, and things had been made right, he could sit with Yusuke and just talk.

That would be nice.

Someone stabs him in the stomach.

Madarame looks down at the knife in his gut, and traces his eyes back up the arm and into the red face of a young man. "Remember me?" The man screams.

The man yanks the knife out and slams it home once more. "Remember me?"

Again.

"REMEMBER ME?"

Madarame does. Even as the intense rushing sensation spreads through his body and his vision darkens, he can recall the boy's face.

Daiki Aoe.

The knife stabs him again, and again, and again, and people are screaming. He hears a shout that must be from the police officer who became obstructed due to the crowd, and Madarame can't understand why any of this is happening. Still, he sees something at the corner of Daiki Aoe's mouth, and he somehow manages to focus on it, and it has to be drool, but it can't be drool because it's black.

Then, he falls. His back hits the ground, landing on his still-cuffed arms. A part of his brain that still fires sees the officer seize the young man, and someone crouches next to him and shouts, but Madarame can't tell what's being said.

Daiki Aoe. He remembers this boy. Remembers the work he'd done for him. Remembers kicking him out, just like all the others.

Daiki Aoe.

He'd been such a good boy.

And then Madarame hears and sees nothing else.

#

Makoto sits on her couch and listens as the news anchor continues, “… quickly seized the assailant and placed him into custody. Ichiryusai Madarame, having received multiple stab wounds to his torse, was rushed to Tokyo General hospital, where he was pronounced dead upon arrival. This coming only two hours after his televised appearance, in which he admitted to multiple counts of plagiarism and potential murder. This has led some to speculate that-”

“Makoto.”

She jumps off the couch and turns to find Sae in the doorway, stern-faced.

“Oh, hi.” Makoto snatches the remote off the cushion and mutes the television. “Did you hear? That painter, Madarame, the one from the Phantom Thieves’ Calling Card? He confessed, and they just said he was stabbed to death in the street outside his studio. Isn’t that-”

“I need the name.” Sae’s voice is soft, but it smothers Makoto’s words.

“The name?”

Sae steps forward, and drops her bag onto the couch. “Yes, Makoto. The name. Of the man.”

“Oh.” Makoto looks down at her hands, swallows, and chooses her following words carefully. “I have his name, Sae. But I don’t think you need it.”

“And how’s that?”

Makoto winces at her sister’s tone. “Haru convinced him not to do anything about the incident.”

“Well, thankfully, the restraint of strangers has always been something you can rely upon. The name, Makoto.”

It tumbles out despite herself. “Rin Sugimura.”

Sae’s eyes widen a fraction. “Sugimura? As in the Sugimura’s?” Makoto doesn’t reply. “Figures. I’ll deal with this.”

Makoto steps around the couch. “Please. Please don’t. I know I messed up, but if you do anything, it’ll get Haru in trouble and-”

Sae’s scowl is something special. “I don’t care about this Haru, Makoto. Her future is not my priority.”

“But I-”

“Enough,” Sae snaps. Then, quieter. “Enough, Makoto.” She raises her hands and whispers. “I don’t want to hear about this again, understand?”

Makoto wants to say more and beg her sister for help ending Haru’s engagement. But once more, the look on Sae’s face is enough to still her tongue. Makoto only nods, and Sae nods in response, then moves out of the room and down the hall.

Makoto feels very ashamed.

#

Akechi steps off the elevator, his hand behind his back.

When he reaches his destination, he slides inside the office and walks up to the receptionist, a young woman who keeps her eyes on her computer’s screen. Her fingers dart over the keyboard, and her mouth is drawn thin in concentration.

Akechi clears his throat and reveals what’s behind his back with a flourish. He holds it out to her.

Her eyes flash to him, and widen. “Akechi-kun!” She cries. Then, she sees what he holds. “Oh, you are too much!” She laughs as she takes the bouquet into her arms.

Akechi lowers his head and says, “Mori-chan, I’m afraid I’ll never be enough for you.”

Mori sighs and rolls her eyes. “You are such a charmer. Honestly, I can’t even with you sometimes.”

He gives her his best smile. “How have you been?”

She waves the question away. “Oh, you know. Changing the country.”

“So, busy?”

“Too busy.”

“And no time for a love life? What a shame.”

Her grin morphs into a smirk. “Keep dreaming, young man. Maybe once we’ve won, I’ll have a night to myself.” She sets the flowers on her desk and plants her hands on her hips. “But, what about you? Any interesting cases?”

Akechi thinks of Madarame, bleeding out on the sidewalk.

“Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

She nods. “That’s too bad.” She holds up an index finger and recites, “One derives their happiness from the full application and direction of their talents toward a just and worthwhile goal.”

Akechi’s grin twitches. He shuts his eyes. “I can’t place that one. It sounds like something he said to the NPA.” Before she can answer, he asks, “Speaking of which, is he in?”

“He is.” Mori jerks her head to indicate the double doors behind her desk. “There are a few advisors in there, but you can go in. He’s expecting you.”

“Then, I regret I must leave you, my lady,” Akechi replies, and gives an exaggerated bow.

Mori giggles. “Alright, alright. Enough of that. I’ve got to get back to work.”

Akechi smiles, moves past her, opens the doors, and steps through.

Some heads turn his way. A few men sit on the plush office couches, and a few stand behind them along the walls.

Masayoshi Shido reclines at his desk, a look of calm reflection on his face. “And I’m telling you, gentlemen, the New Dawn movement no longer poses a threat.”

A squirrely-looking man speaks up from the couch. “But sir, just because Yukio Kan is dead doesn’t mean his group is. There have been rumors that-”

Shido cuts him off. “Those rumors are being spread on my orders, Shan-san. The truth is that the remaining members of New Dawn have already aligned with us.”

Akechi watches the heads swivel around. They oink at one another like pigs. A few look like they would prefer to say something else. Akechi notes their faces.

“But now, I’ve got another appointment. If you will excuse us?” Shido remains sitting, and waits as the men file out. Akechi watches them leave. A number of them stop alongside Mori’s desk, anxious to get their requisite flirting in. Akechi shuts the door behind them.

“What’d you make of the talking heads today, Goro?” Shido asks.

Akechi sits across from him. “I was hardly here long enough to form an opinion.”

Shido smiles and peers at him through those tinted glasses. “We both know that’s not true.”

“I think they would’ve appreciated being made aware of your plans to acquire the New Dawn.”

“They’ll get over it. Besides, if any of them had brains, they would’ve realized what I was doing.”

Akechi doesn’t reply. Together, the two sit in silence.

Shido is the one who breaks it. “I heard about the Painter.”

Akechi rests a gloved hand on the desk and drums his fingers across it. “Yes… about that. I feel I must apologize.” He has to drag the words from his gut.

Shido’s brows rise. “Apologize? Why?”

“It was sloppy. By the time the Gangster’s request reached me, the Painter’s Palace had already collapsed. So I had to improvise.”

“I saw.”

“Had I been faster, I could’ve been more surgical.”

Shido nods, and a look drifts over his face that Akechi has come to associate with long, twisting thoughts. “The boy that did the deed. Where’d you find him?”

“Do you want his name?” Akechi asks.

Shido shakes his head.

“I try to plan for contingencies. We’ve kept tabs on the Painter’s former apprentice. A good number of them have a presence in the Metaverse. This one happened to be a drug addict. Unstable.”

Shido spreads his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “So, an addict takes revenge on his former, unscrupulous Sensei. The Painter’s secrets die with him, including whatever connections he may have had to various parties. I’d call that impressive improvisation.”

“Still, the former apprentice may-”

“You just said he was a drug addict. People will believe this because that is the story they’ve been told. It won’t matter what story he tells afterward. If it makes you feel better, keep an eye on him. Take measures to ensure this doesn’t go sideways. Still, you did well.”

Akechi brushes a lock of hair from his face and allows himself a smile. “Thank you.”

“Now then, what about these Phantom Thieves?” Shido asks. “Are they a threat?”

“If they can access the Metaverse in the same manner as I, then yes, they pose a threat.”

“Are you closing in on them?” Shido asks. Akechi nods. “Good. I don’t like what I don’t know, Goro.”

Akechi nods. “It’s my top priority.”

Shido lets out a small laugh. “You have a lot of those.”

Akechi shrugs. “No more than necessary.”

Shido stands and moves around the desk until he stands beside Akechi. Then, he reaches out a hand and rests it on Akechi’s shoulder. “I want you to know, I could never have gotten this far without you. All the work you’ve done, all the things you’ve endured. It means so much to me to know that it’s directed towards our shared goal.” Shido beams. “I’m proud of you, son.”

And Akechi smiles up at him and says, “Thanks, Dad.”

Notes:

That Madarame sure is a swell guy, isn't he?

A few of you guessed the Palace's keyword, and a few of you were 99.5% of the way there. But, we'll just have to wait until Monday to see the inside. ;)

Sorry about the late post, I was feeling a bit under the weather thanks to the bad weather I weathered yesterday in Jersey. Snow, man. That shit's no joke.

Thank you very much for reading, and have a great weekend!

UPDATE: FF.net is giving me a hard time about posting the latest chapter. I've got to get to work, so I don't have time to resolve it. I'll try and get it taken care of sometime this evening. If you swung by here after checking FF.net, never fear, I'll get to the bottom of it. Thanks!

Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Notes:

UPDATE 3/30/23: Mini Arc 2 is now uploaded!

Life is a very terrible thing, mostly, with points of wonder and beauty. Most of what makes it terrible, though, is simply that there's so much of it, blaring in through the five senses.

- Samuel R. Delany, Dhalgren

 

Exit Interview III.

Something within Akira slides, and though he knows whatever it is can't have moved more than a fraction of anything, he stiffens in anticipation of some rupture, tear, some leakage. The pain is bad too.

Sae slides a photo across the table, oblivious to Akira's hurt. The picture captures the sprawled-out, robed body of Madarame. God, he thinks. We're only at Madarame. There was no chance Akira could grit his way through the entire tale.

Arsene's wings unfurl in the corner behind Sae.

What I wouldn't give for a Dia. Or some of Plague's medicine.

Sae speaks, and Akira yanks his attention back to the present. "I'm sorry?"

"Daiki Aoe," Sae states.

Akira nods. "Innocent. And you know why."

"I believe I do. Daiki Aoe did not act of his own accord. Am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong."

"Then do I take that as an admission?"

Akira grins. "Do you really want me to walk into that? Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?"

"Daiki Aoe's murder of Ichiryusai Madarame is considered the first instance of the Phantom Thieves-"

"Yeah, I know," Akira interrupts. "I've read the rumors.”

“You can’t tell her she’s being played,” his father whispers. “People like her don’t want that pointed out to them. She needs to reach it on her own.”

Sae stares at Akira, considering. “Kamoshida,” she says. “Madarame.” She leans forward. “Your next target-”

Akira turns his palm up on the table. Sae stops. “First. We need to go over what happened in between.”

 

5/31

Yusuke stares at the curry. Smoke no longer curls off the food. The television whispers in the background, but he cannot focus on it.

He will never admit this to anyone, but Yusuke is quite proud of his hair. He does his best to maintain its sleek shine and volume. He does this, because a long time ago, Madarame had said - in passing - that Yusuke had hair similar to his mother's. He cannot remember the context of the conversation.

Now, however, Yusuke's hair hangs loose in his face. Strands slide through his vision. This is fine. Yusuke does not want to face the world today.

"That's gonna get cold if it hasn't already."

Yusuke lifts his gaze. Sojiro stands further down the bar, his back to him. The older man writes the day's specials on a small blackboard that hangs at eye level.

"My apologies," Yusuke mutters.

Sojiro shrugs. "It's no skin off my back, but it's not as good cold."

Yusuke does not know what to say. For the last few days, Akira has acted as a buffer between himself and 'Boss.' Though Yusuke has no reason to suspect the man harbors any ill feelings toward him, he is at a loss for communicating.

Akira is at school.

Morgana had offered to stay behind, but Yusuke had insisted on solitude. There was enough to process without interference.

Madarame was dead. Stabbed.

The others had all looked at him, their expressions a mix of apprehension, confusion, and curiosity. How will he react? They all seemed to wonder.

Yusuke said little.

Despite his dropped expulsion, he'd opted to stay out of school an extra day.

Akira seemed to understand Yusuke's desire to be by his lonesome.

Now, Yusuke sits with Sojiro.

"I would like to apologize," he mumbles. "For the great imposition I must be. Rest assured, I will be gone tomorrow."

"Finally got that dorm situation resolved?" Sojiro asks. He finishes scratching out the specials, steps back, and nods.

"Ah. Yes. I’ve adequately untangled the mess."

"That's good."

"Indeed." Yusuke is not hungry, though he knows he has every right to be. He scoops up a spoonful and brings it to his mouth. It is still so good.

Sojiro turns and walks the length of the bar, towards the kitchen.

"Thank you," Yusuke says, as he passes. "For allowing me to stay here." Sojiro pauses and glances back. "My situation was dire."

Boss' eyes linger on him, and his face forms a frown. "You're one of those kids, aren't you?"

Yusuke blinks. "Kids?"

"The ones that Madarame guy stole from."

"You're... aware of that?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's been all over the news. I can put two and two together."

Yusuke clears his throat. Does he know about the Sayuri? It's right upstairs. "You are quite perceptive." He nods. "But, you are correct. I am one of Madarame's apprentices. Or, rather, I was one."

Sojiro's gaze flicks toward the TV. "So, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The guy, Madarame. He's dead, right?" Sojiro shrugs. "But, then again, he was a real bastard, wasn't he?"

Yusuke feels himself bristle at the words, but only for a moment. He nods once more. "He was. He truly was."

And yet...

"And yet," Yusuke says. "I cannot help but wish he were still alive. It angers me to say it because his greed rampaged unchecked and seemed infinite. He betrayed me. He betrayed my mother. He betrayed so many people."

When Yusuke looks up at Sojiro, he knows tears run down his face, but he doesn't care.

"But now he's gone, and I feel... I feel so sad. Why? He was a criminal of the highest caliber. He robbed me again and again. He never fed me. But when I think about our last exchange of words, I wish things had gone differently.

"Part of me, a not insubstantial part, wishes I knew none of it. That I had continued in ignorance, oblivious to his abuse and crimes. Because, even in the lie, I was happy, and I can't accept that a part of him wasn't happy either, even as he juggled all the sins." The words tumble from him faster than he's used to. "What does that say about me? What does it say about me that a part of me wishes for that? That I wish he were here now, eating this food with me? Smiling? Happy? Content? What does it mean that I want that?"

Sojiro shrugs. "I dunno."

Yusuke blinks, and some of the mist in his vision clears. "Oh." He wipes a sleeve across his face. "I was under the impression you'd have something more insightful to say."

Sojiro purses his lips. "Do I look like an insightful guy?"

He nods. "Quite. I believe it is the goatee and glasses."

Sojiro releases a deep chuckle. "I'll keep the look then." He steps forward and reaches for the plate. "Let me make you something fresh. Like I said, it's better hot."

"It's good regardless," Yusuke counters, but he lets Sojiro take the plate. 

#

When school ends, the Phantom Thieves file into LeBlanc. Yusuke meets them in Akira's room, idly doodling in a sketchbook. Ann is quick to offer additional condolences, and Yusuke graciously accepts.

A silence stretches. They'd all been together when the news of Madarame's murder had crashed through the internet. It shocked not only Yusuke but all the Thieves. While his temporary roommate had lost his surrogate father, Akira had been more interested in the perpetrator. Much later in the evening, after Yusuke had drifted off to sleep, the killer's name had been released.

Daiki Aoe. A former apprentice of Madarame. Per various sources, years of the young man's life lay victim to drugs. Clear cut. Simple.

Something about it bothered him. Despite spending long enough reading article after article to make his eyes hurt, Akira could not pinpoint the issue.

Sleep offered little save for a strange dream in which he stood in a desert and heard a familiar voice calling his name.

It wasn't until Akira entered Shujin the following day and found the Student Body - for once - wholly unconcerned with him and, thus, willing to speak at ample volume within his earshot that it struck him.

"Think the Phantom Thieves did it?" This from a first-year Akira did not recognize, only one-quarter whispering to his friends. Akira's legs froze, and he stood still in the hall, but if anyone noticed or cared, Akira missed them.

The first year's friends didn't seem to think so, but Akira could already imagine the damage.

A few of the voices in his mind suggested he was catastrophizing. Akira doubted that.

He only heard a similar suggestion one other time in the halls during the school day. But one glance at RINE showed the notion decently prevalent among the conversations surrounding Madarame.

In the silence of his room, Akira drags his phone from his pocket. "Has anyone been reading the RINE messages?"

Ryuji nods. "I have." He withdraws and fiddles with his phone. "Man, they're still going."

"What'd you expect?" Morgana asks. "We made our move to the big time."

Now that the topic has turned that way, Akira queues up RINE, and the messages stream across his screen at the same pace as that morning.

ADIOS MADARAME (GO GO PHANTOM THIEVES)

PTs ROCK

How come they haven’t taken my Req yet?! WTF

(Don’t see what the big deal is)

My phone sounds like it's about to explode could you all SHUT UP PLEASE

(TURN IT OFF THEN DUMBASS)

Think they got the guy to kill the other guy?

lol oh cool a conspiracy theory

don’t be dumb why would they? They already won

Madarame’s art was ass anyway

"It kind of makes me uncomfortable," Ann mutters. She places her phone down on the table between them, then immediately picks it up again. " I'm glad people are talking about us, but I don't know, it's kinda freaky."

"Sure," Morgana says. "But think of it like this: every time one of those messages floats out into the world, we become increasingly embedded into the public's conscious and subconscious. That means we can travel deeper into Mementos."

"But doesn't context matter?" Akira asks. The others turn to regard him. "I understand that the more people acknowledge us, the deeper we can go. Shouldn't we care, though, about how they perceive us?"

"We stopped Madarame," Ryuji points out. "I'd say people think pretty highly of us, right?"

Neither Ann nor Yusuke seem to share Ryuji's enthusiasm. "I'm worried about some of these messages," Akira says, raising his phone to indicate the RINE chats.

"The ones where they think we had something to do with Madarame's death?" Ann asks, casting a furtive glance at Yusuke as she says the last two words.

"C'mon," Ryuji groans. "No one seriously believes that. How would we even do that?"

Yusuke straightens in his seat, arms crossed. "Similarly to how no one seriously believes we can steal hearts?"

"It's the timing," Akira continues. "If Daiki Aoe had killed Madarame a few days later, no one would probably make the connection. But this happened immediately after the confession. The confession we triggered."

Ryuji's expression darkens. "You sayin' people are gonna really think we did this?"

"I heard a few students at school suggest it," Ann says, and Akira nods in confirmation. "No one seemed to listen to them, but isn't that how rumors start?"

"But Madarame didn't die under mysterious circumstances," Morgana insists, seemingly unaware he'd chosen to side with Ryuji during this conversation. "A completely different person killed him. It didn't have anything to do with us."

"Yeah," Ryuji says.

"We know that," Akira replies.

"And we are the only ones who know how we steal hearts," Yusuke continues. "No one else knows how we triggered Madarame's confession. Such is our mystique. Who's to say we could not also induce another to attack him?"

"But why?" Ryuji asks at the same time Morgana asks, "Why, though?"

Akira shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe Madarame had some dirt on us or knew our identities? Maybe we wanted to shut him up after his confession? No one knows. It's all speculative. But that could be enough."

"So, what?" Morgana asks. "We get Madarame to confess and then decide to kill him right after? We'd already gotten what we wanted."

"No, Akira's right," Ann says. "We're the only ones who know the full story. As far as everyone else is concerned, the Phantom Thieves might as well be magic. Who knows what we're capable of, and who knows why we do the things we do?"

Ryuji mutters, "I mean, we kinda are magic."

"We cannot control the minds of the populace," Yusuke says. "Therefore, we cannot dictate how they perceive us." He frowns a bit and takes a deep breath. "As much as this series of events has shaken me, must we chalk it up to more than horrific timing? You said so yourself, Akira. Had Aoe taken Sensei's life a few days later, little connection would be made between ourselves and the death. From my perspective, there is little we can do than to continue holding ourselves to a high standard. I am not clear on how we could safeguard our targets post-confession from every broken person who wishes to revenge themselves upon them."

"Yeah, what he said," Ryuji says.

"We could release a statement saying we had nothing to do with Madarame's death," Morgana says, but before Akira can counter, he continues, "But that would only make people talk more."

Ann nods. "That'd probably convince people we did do it."

"Then there's nothing we can do about it," Morgana says, lifting his paws into a shrug. "Save for what Yusuke said. Keep changing hearts. It isn't as if everyone we target ends up dead. Kamoshida, Nakanohara, and Takanashi are all still around."

Ryuji raises his hand. "If we're picking targets, I've got a few ideas." Then, without waiting for any response, he states, "The bullying ring at Shujin Daisuke's Shadow told us about, and the coach of the new track team, Yamaguichi-sensei."

Akira's thoughts still linger on Madarame's death, but Ryuji's suggestion draws him into the current conversation thread.

"We just established ourselves outside of Shujin Academy," Morgana protests. "And now you want to go back and pull two jobs?"

Ryuji frowns. "So, what? We can't ever help someone at Shujin again? What if one of those kids Madarame starved got settled into another abusive house, and made a Request? Would we ignore him because we already handled Madarame?"

"That's a bit different," Akira says, and holds up a hand when Ryuji opens his mouth. "Besides, has anyone made any Requests on the bullying ring? Or on Yamaguichi-sensei?"

Ryuji's face blanks for a moment. "Well, no. I don't remember Mishima mentionin' any. But what if there was?"

"We'd deal with it then," Akira says, trying to cut that line of questioning short. "And I think we should consider our momentum, no? Madarame was a big target. A track coach isn't in the same league."

"Oh," Ann says, and raises her hand as well.

"You guys don't have to raise your hands," Akira says. "This isn't school."

"I've heard some rumors lately," Ann says, lowering her hand. "About a manager within the fashion industry. He's been preying on some of the models that work for him."

Ryuji crosses his arms. "I don't remember Mishima mentioning that one either."

Akira glances from Ryuji to Ann. "This guy, did anyone make a Request?"

Ann shakes her head. "It's just something I heard."

Akira considers. "It sounds like a good opportunity. But how would we have heard about it if there's no Request?"

Yusuke raises his hand.

"Guys," Akira says. "I told you, you don't have to... never mind, what's up, Yusuke?"

Yusuke lowers his hand and says, "If our current crop of Requests is limited, and we are looking for someone with a Palace, could we not send Morgana to find one?"

"Huh?" Morgana asks.

"What'd you mean, dude?" Ryuji asks, straightening in his chair.

Yusuke shrugs. "Morgana can sense Palaces, can he not? Much like how you discerned Madarame's, couldn't we wander around until we found a Palace?"

"We'd still need to know who it belongs to," Akira says, then turns to Morgana. "Right? It'd be like working backward."

"Yeah," Morgana replies, and nods. "I can sense Palaces, but I don't know who they belong to or what they look like until I enter the Metaverse. And even that ability wasn't much help with Madarame."

"But you could still locate them, yes?" Yusuke asks. "And those with Palaces are those with desires that have run amok? As Akira suggests, if we were to work backward, we would certainly have a wide range of targets."

"Well, yes, but..."

"Oh boy," Ryuji mutters. "Trailing off is never good."

"Quiet, Bonehead," Morgana snaps.

Ryuji raises his hands in defense as Ann goes to swat him, but she gives up and turns to Morgana. "But, what, Morgana?"

Morgana sighs. "You guys realize this is Tokyo, right?"

"I believe we are all aware of this," Yusuke replies.

"And this is the most populous city in the world."

"Tokyo's crowded," Ryuji says. "What's your point?"

Akira sits back in his chair and whistles. "Wow. Okay. How many do you think there are, Morgana?"

"A lot," Morgana replies. "As in, a lot a lot."

"A lot of what?" Ryuji asks, then his eyes widen. "Palaces?"

"Tokyo is swamped with them," Morgana says. "It's not bad here, in Yongen-jaya, but whenever we head to Shujin or someplace else, I can sense them. They litter Shibuya. Plus, there's the presence of Mementos, humanity's Palace, so that's always in the back of my mind."

"You picked Kamoshida's at random, right?" Akira asks.

Morgana nods. "And I didn't even know it was Kamoshida's at first. It was easy to infiltrate, but if I'd picked Madarame's first, I don't know what I would've done. There are a ton of Palaces in Shibuya and plenty in some of the other districts too. Even when we went down to the Bay to sneak into Natsuki Storage, I felt two or three in the area, outside of Madarame's."

"Oh man," Ann whispers. "Morgana, are you okay?"

"Huh?" Morgana asks.

"Like, isn't that a lot to have in your head all the time?" Ann looks genuinely worried.

"I guess so, but I'm used to it by now. It's not like there's a big alarm going off in my brain that screams 'PALACE' whenever we walk past one. It's just a sensation."

Akira taps his desk with his fingernails, considering. "Let's keep that in our back pocket. I think it'd be better to stick with existing Requests for now. Any objections?"

Ryuji folds his arms and frowns, but says nothing.

The conversation turns to the current list of Requests, but no one seems enthusiastic about any. Akira considers Morgana's ability once more. There's no reason we couldn't do it that way. We could work backward too. We could stage everything depending on who we wanted to target.

And if they could choose their 'Requests' any way they wanted, it stood to reason they could operate differently.

Could we send a Calling Card without leaving a trace?

The conversation shifts to the newfound fame of the Phantom Thieves, as Ryuji queues up an article written in a major metropolitan newspaper.

Another box, Akira thinks, and blinks. From where had that thought come?

He'd been acclimating to his role as leader of the Phantom Thieves, or so he thought.

Unclear on how to proceed, the meeting soon wraps up. "Let's get going," Ryuji says, and pats Yusuke on the shoulder. "Last checkup for a while. Hope it's a good one."

"Quite," Yusuke replies, and the two head for the stairs. Morgana trots after them.

"Hey," Ann whispers, and Akira turns around. The others descend the stairs, and Ann says, "You said we'd talk after Madarame."

Akira considers his response. "You're right. I did."

"So, can we?"

"What? Now?" Akira asks, and immediately regrets it.

Ann's brows furrow. "You're just taking Yusuke to Plague's, right? Any reason Ryuji can't do that on his own?"

Akira raises his hands, palms out. "I'm sorry. You're right. I did say we'd talk. But can we not right now?" Akira can think of no other way of putting this. At the look on Ann's face, he quickly adds, "Soon. Please. Madarame's murder wrenches things, and I've had a lot on my mind."

"Alright," Ann mutters, making it sound anything but. "You're serious about this, right?"

A germ of rage seizes Akira's mind, and he almost snaps, I wish you'd stop questioning every single thing I say, but he controls himself enough to manage, "I am."

#

Akira's hand touches the doorknob, and the vibrations travel up his arm. He cracks the door open, and the music shrieks. Ryuji clamps hands over his ears. Yusuke stiffens. Akira rushes inside, braced against the onslaught, and enters Takemi's waiting area.

Plague sits at the check-in window, index finger swiping across her phone. When Akira slaps his hands down on the divider, she looks up and clicks the remote to kill the rock.

Staggered by the silence, Akira only sees Takemi's lips move. "Huh?" He asks.

"I've been texting you," Takemi says, her voice still faint.

"School," Akira says, and rubs his ears. "I had school."

Ryuji and Yusuke enter, flanking Akira on either side. Takemi's brows crease, and her eyes flick from one boy to the next, unsure of to whom her glare should subject.

Settling on Akira, she asks, "What happened?"

Akira guesses the context, but Yusuke whispers to Ryuji, "Do you think she refers to Madarame?"

Takemi rises from her chair, steps forward, and opens her mouth, then seems to remember the wall between her and the others. Her mouth closes slowly, and with her lips pushed together, Takemi works her jaw in a circular stretch. She jerks her head to the left. "Come on."

The Thieves file out of the waiting room and follow Takemi into one of the exam rooms. She shuts the door after Yusuke, the last, enters.

"You changed his heart?" Takemi asks. "Madarame's?"

Akira nods. Ryuji says, "Yeah."

Some tension around Takemi's eyes lifts when she looks at Yusuke. "My condolences. I know he meant something to you."

"Once," Yusuke says, then his face scrunches up, and he says, "But I thank you all the same."

"But whether any of us like it or not," Takemi continues as if Yusuke remained silent. "I'm an accomplice. Am I an accessory to murder?"

Ryuji sighs and drops into one of the room's chairs. "Shit, man."

Yusuke says, "Do you-" but stops as Akira clears his throat.

"No," Akira says. "You're not."

"What a relief," Takemi replies, frowning. She crosses her arms. "What happened to Madarame, then? Is that story accurate?"

"As far as we know," Yusuke says. "Though, as we discussed before our arrival, the timing could not have been worse."

"Did you seriously think we might've had something to do with it?" Ryuji asks, glaring at Takemi.

"We're dealing with a science none of us understands," Takemi says, meeting Ryuji's gaze with her own. She points at Akira. "You’ve said the rules don't make any sense. So how am I supposed to know what you are and aren't capable of?"

"We didn't do it," Akira says. "We got Madarame to confess. That's all. But there have already been some rumors at Shujin that we might've caused his death."

Takemi nods. "There are some sites out there speculating as much too. I hate how cliché I sound around you kids, but I've got a bad feeling about it."

"We do too," Akira replies.

Ryuji shakes his head, then straightens in his chair, scowling. "This is bullshit. How can people think we-"

"Take it easy," Takemi says, but Akira nods and pats his friend on the shoulder. "I know," Akira says. "It is bullshit. But there's nothing we can do about it for now." He motions towards the door. "Let's let Yusuke get his checkup."

"Yeah," Ryuji mutters, standing. "Sorry, Doc."

Takemi opens her mouth to reply but just sighs, then says, "It's fine. You two can wait outside."

Akira leads Ryuji into the hall. Takemi and Yusuke disappear as Ryuji shuts the door behind them. The two return to the waiting room and sit in a pair of chairs. Akira scrolls his phone, while Ryuji sits and stares ahead.

A few minutes pass.

"Yo, can I ask you something?"

Akira lowers his phone and turns to his friend. "What's up?"

"Why don't you want to help the people at Shujin?"

Akira stares at Ryuji until his brain can queue up the proper response. "We've been over this, man. We can't-"

Ryuji shakes his hand. "Nah, man. I know the logic or whatever. But is that for real? Or is that what you're just sayin'?"

Akira feels his defenses rise. This is Ryuji, he reminds himself. The spark of emotion notwithstanding, Akira keeps his voice flat when he responds. "Do you think I have an ulterior motive?"

"I'm not one hundred percent on what that means, but I can guess what you're asking." Ryuji releases a long sigh. "Look, bro. I'm not saying I think you're lying."

"Then what are you saying?"

"You wanted to take down Kamoshida because he was a bastard, yeah? But also because he was hurting people you like, like Ann and Shiho. And if you hadn't gotten in his way, he would've hurt the Prez too."

"He broke your leg too."

"I remember," Ryuji says, extending the leg into a soft stretch. "I also remember he tried to rearrange your face. The point is, we all went after Kamoshida because he was a piece of shit. But he was a piece of shit to us. And yes, other guys like Mishima and the volleyball kids, but for us, it was personal.

"And we sorta fell into the Daisuke situation. I dropped the ball there. But even though there are a ton of Requests from Shujin students, you never want to touch those."

Akira considers, then says, "Alright. But if you don't think the explanation I've given is adequate, what do you think?"

Ryuji looks away, starts to speak, and then turns back to meet Akira's eyes. "I think the whole 'let's not do Shujin Requests because it'll be suspicious' is a convenient way for you not to help anyone at Shujin."

Akira cannot help the grin that rises to his face. "And why wouldn't I want to help them?"

Ryuji doesn't smile. "Because I think you hate them."

Akira's grin drops. "I hate them?"

"Yeah," Ryuji replies, with a shrug. "I think you hate them and don't care what happens to them."

"When have I ever said that? The students? The teachers? When did you ever hear me say, 'I hate them?'"

"Dude, are you serious?" Ryuji asks, as the corners of his mouth tilt up. "You don't have to say it. I see you scrolling through RINE. I know what they say about you on there. Do you think kids only talk about you when you're around? I hear the shit they spout. And those effin' teachers. They treat you like shit. The school treats you like shit."

"And so I don't want to help them?" Akira asks. Ryuji sucks in his lips, raises his brows, and shrugs once more. "Ryuji, we don't have any solid Requests from Shujin. You keep bringing up a bullying ring that antagonizes other bullies and a coach you don't like. If we changed Yamaguchi's heart, it would only benefit the kids on the track team. The ones who gave you shit and banned us from training at Shujin, remember?"

"But that's what I'm saying, dude. You don't like the kids at Shujin, so who cares about the bullying ring? And I know you don't like Nakaoka. You almost got in a fistfight with him, so why would you want to help him? Or any of them? Shit, man. I don't like em either."

"So why do you want to help them?" Akira asks.

Ryuji's voice lowers despite their solitude. "Because we're the Phantom Thieves, man. Isn't that the whole point?" Akira leans back in his chair and lowers his gaze to the floor tiles. "What if we got a good Request from someone at Shujin? What if someone asked us to change Yamaguchi's heart? Would you ignore it? Or forget Yamaguchi. How about anyone for anything else? Something serious? Would you want to help them?"

I'd help Haru, Akira thinks.

Another voice in his mind replies, Haru is your friend. Isn't that what Ryuji is saying?

He doesn't know what he's talking about.

But you don't like anyone else at Shujin. You hate Shujin. If Kamoshida hadn't made things personal, if you'd never befriended Ryuji or Ann or Makoto, would you have even given a fuck?

The thought discomforts Akira. Silence and isolation as a strategy. His initial moments in Tokyo inspired by such, but the Metaverse, Igor, and Arsene nullified the plan. Would a different path materialize from a change back then? Would Akira act against the injustice at all?

Would he learn of it?

Would he care?

Ryuji, always discerning.

"You may be right," Akira says. Ryuji stiffens in anticipation of whatever may come next. "I don't like the people at Shujin. The way they talk about me. The way they look at me." Ryuji remains silent, surprising Akira. "Maybe I really don't want to help them. Just because no one puts their hands on me doesn't mean I'm not bullied in my own way. And fuck Nakaoka. That part's true. I don't give a shit about what happens to the track team." Akira looks at his friend. "Sorry, man. It's true. Maybe if you wanted to join, I'd care. But unless I've missed something-" and Ryuji shakes his head, "you won't be doing that any time soon."

Akira sets his elbows on his knees and applies slow pressure. "I think it's smart to keep the Phantom Thieves away from Shujin. We shouldn't call attention to that connection. But I am lying when I act like that applies to everyone. If something happened to you, or Makoto, or Haru, or anyone I did care about at school, we'd head to the Metaverse. Maybe you're right, and I am a hypocrite."

"Damn," Ryuji mutters. "I didn't say all that."

He does not add 'you did,' as both hear the words.

"But maybe," Akira says, drawing out the word. "We have an opportunity with Yamaguchi."

"F'real?" Ryuji asks, and his good leg starts to jitter. "What'd you mean?"

"I've thought about this for a little while, but what if there's a way for us to change hearts without letting the world know the Phantom Thieves were involved?"

"Uh, ain't that the whole point?"

Akira smiles and begins to outline his concocted plan.

#

Ann knocks on the door, then grips the knob. Sometimes a sense of the mood on the other side leaks out and intuits itself for Ann. She feels nothing this time.

"Who is it?" Shiho calls.

"It's me," Ann replies.

"Oh. Come in, then."

Ann, gentle with the door, enters. Relief floods her when she sees Shiho and only Shiho. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Shiho's parents the last few times I've been here. A memory of Shiho's previous reference settles over her as a dark cloud.

"Hi," Ann says, and shuts the door.

"I didn't expect you today," Shiho replies, and gestures with a remote towards the muted television in the corner. "What with all the press."

Ann sees Madarame's pale face soundlessly speak words she recalls with no effort.

"Yeah," Ann replies, and sits in her usual chair. "We got him."

"And someone else got got him," Shiho says, a faint note of humor in her voice.

Ann nods. "Crazy, right?"

"The news is saying he's a former apprentice. Like your new friend."

Ann summarizes the previous conversation about Madarame's confession and death. They then sit in the quiet, watching the ghost of Madarame speak.

Shiho switches off the television when the report ends, and Ann steadies herself. Shiho's erratic mood swings - which totally were not Shiho's fault - made conversation difficult at times. For Ann's plan, she required Shiho's assistance.

"I'd like your help with something," Ann says.

Shiho's face flusters, but her voice remains calm. "There isn't much I can do from this hospital."

"Actually," Ann says, careful with her words. "There is. Are you going to see Mika-chan soon?"

#

Iwai stands by the door, foot tapping. "Would you hurry up?" He calls back into the gloom of his shop.

Kaoru's voice rebounds from deeper inside. "Coming! I'm- ah!" The familiar sound of many boxes collapsing punctuates his son's words.

Iwai heaves out a sigh, shoves his hands in his pockets, and marches toward the commotion.

Kaoru lays flat on his back, a dazed look on his face, half-buried in debris. A quick head shake, and Kaoru looks up at Iwai. "S-sorry, Dad."

"Uh-huh," Iwai replies, extending a hand.

Red-faced, Kaoru grips his father, and Iwai withdraws the boy to his feet. "I'll clean it up," Kaoru says and turns to the mess. "Right away."

Iwai reaches the previously proffered hand and gently smacks Kaoru on the back of his head. Little more than a tap, but Kaoru emits an, "Ow," anyway.

"Forget it," Iwai says. "Pile them up there. I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't be sayin' it if I wasn't," Iwai replies. Kaoru sets off to the task, and Iwai watches him work. After a bit, he asks, "Wanna get some imagawayaki on the way home?"

Kaoru turns, and his glasses seem to magnify his already wide eyes. "Seriously? Can we?"

"Why the hell not?" Iwai demands, and when Kaoru flinches, he continues, "Of course we can." He eases out a shrug, embarrassed in softening his approach. "We had a good day today."

"Okay, cool!" Kaoru returns to the boxes, moving faster now, and Iwai leaves him. He takes a sucker from his pocket, unwraps it, and slides it into his mouth. As ever, a voice in the back of his head mumbles something about cavities and dentists. Guess it has been a while. Iwai refuses to think about what his X-rays may reveal.

The front door's bell rings. "We're closed," Iwai growls, without a look.

"Even for me?"

Akimitsu Tsuda stands in the store's entryway, a small smile on his face.

Iwai stares at the man, openmouthed, sucker held steady by his tongue. Tsuda's brows rise in expectation, and Iwai cuts across the floor, arms wide.

The two men embrace and clap each other on the back. "Been a long time, brother," Tsuda says.

Iwai scoffs. "That's on you, you fucker. You knew where to find me."

They step clear of one another. Tsuda studies Iwai's face and says, "Shit, you got old."

Iwai jabs him in the shoulder. "No shit. You look like garbage yourself."

Tsuda's laugh remains the same. "True. One too many nights at the hostess clubs finally caught up with me. Used to be, I could drink all night and run circles around Shibuya. Nowadays, I down a shot and barely make it out my front door come morning."

Iwai feigns a sigh. "Where'd all the damn time go?"

"Where it always goes, to the fuckin' kids."

"Dad?" Kaoru's voice whispers down the aisle, and Iwai stiffens.

"Oh, speaking of," Tsuda exclaims as Kaoru steps into view. He half turns to Iwai and whispers, "This him?"

Iwai nods, and replies quickly but softly. "Go easy on him, okay?" He waves for Kaoru to approach. "This is an old friend of mine, Kaoru. His name's Akimitsu Tsuda."

Kaoru bows. "Now to meet you, Tsuda-san."

Tsuda laughs. "You got one hell of a proper kid here, Muneisha. How old are you?"

Kaoru swallows but replies, "Thirteen, sir."

"Thirteen," Tsuda says. "Man, the shit I got up to when I was your age." He knocks Iwai in the stomach with his elbow. "Say, Kaoru. How's your lady situation? Your old man teaching you all his tricks?"

Kaoru tilts his head to the side. "Huh? Tricks?"

Iwai wraps an arm around Tsuda's shoulders. "Say, why don't we step outside, eh?" He looks at Kaoru. "Make sure that mess is all cleaned up, yeah? I'll be right back."

Iwai half-leads and half-drags the middle-aged Tsuda out the front door. Kaoru says something in reply, but Iwai ignores him. Tsuda's storytelling always skewed toward the inappropriate.

Into the hot summer night step the sworn brothers, and when the door clangs shut, Iwai releases his friend and asks, "So, what's up?"

Tsuda frowns. "I can't visit?"

Iwai glares. "Fuck off. I'm happy to see you, brother. But you wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. You've known where I've been." Tsuda opens his mouth, but Iwai holds up a hand. "And listen, Kaoru doesn't know shit about the past. So don't say anything about back in the day."

Tsuda's face freezes as he processes Iwai's order. "Wait. Hold on. He doesn't know? About you?" Tsuda rolls up the sleeve of his forest green dress shirt, revealing an aging tattoo of a snarling dragon. "About this?"

Iwai shakes his head. "No. I mean, the kid suspects, sure. But-"

"Munehisa," Tsuda says, cutting him off. "Holy shit, bro. You can't just hope for the best here. Kid's got glasses, right? That means he's smart. He's gonna figure it out."

Iwai feels a familiar frustration churn within his stomach. "I know, alright? I'll deal with it. Now, what did you want?"

Tsuda clams up and replaces his sleeve. "I know you're out. But you've heard about what's been happening, right?"

Iwai scowls and glances at his shop. He can’t see Kaoru. "Kaneshiro, right?"

Tsuda sucks his teeth, turns, and spits. "Yeah. Guy's a fuckin'... well, I'm sure you've heard. I don't like it. Thought his little disappearing act three years ago would be permanent. But now he's back, and there've been whispers. Talks of connections. Outside the Syndicate. Outside all the Groups."

"Unsanctioned?" Iwai asks.

"Word is the Boss is pissed. But Kaneshiro's still working whatever this new angle is."

Iwai lowers his gaze to the concrete. "I can't get involved, man. I'm sorry. I've got the kid."

"Not too many bastards like us left, Munehisa," Tsuda replies. "Shit you'd say would go a long way."

"I doubt it," Iwai says. "What is it that Kaneshiro wants anyway? He's been pushing for months now. What's it all for?"

Tsuda stares at 'Untouchable's sign for a moment. Then, he says, "Manpower."

#

Ohya descends into Shibuya Underground holding herself aloft in the exaggerated togetherness only the veteran inebriated can pull off. Most people around her pay her no mind, but dotted bystanders outside shops throw occasional glances or double-takes. A small collection of teenagers spot and snicker as Ohya passes, but the middle-aged and elderly only shake their heads in disapproval.

Ohya believes her state overblown. A mind clear enough for her purpose. Everyone can fuck off. She may or may not say this phrase to some who stare a little too long, but the haziness of the lights plays hell with her brain, and by the time Ohya finds herself outside Rafflesia, she remains half-convinced she said nothing to no one.

"May I help you?" The woman out front asks. This is Hanasuki or Hanasaki or Hanasomething. Akira's boss. Ohya feels delighted the woman doesn't seem to regard her poorly. She must think I'm a customer.

"Yeah, thank you," Ohya says, in a practiced voice. "I was hoping I could speak with Akira Kurusu."

Hanawhatever's face doesn't change but does stiffen for a moment's fraction that Ohya detects despite her drunkenness. "May I ask why?"

Ohya knows Akira's working. Even when he doesn't bring his phone in an adorable effort to throw her off, he attends to his employment with duty and responsibility. "Could you tell him it's his cousin? It's very important. A family thing." Ohya flashes Hanaperson a winning smile - said smile procures more interviews than most would fathom - and finishes with, "I promise I won't keep him long."

Hana[insertnamehere] bows slightly, and retreats to the backroom.

Ohya steps away from the storefront and sags against the far wall, willing her mind to focus. Akira emerges from the backroom, along with Hanaboss and another teenager sporting a baseball cap and overalls. Ooh-la-la, Ohya thinks and then stops herself from guffawing once she witnesses Akira's getup.

Akira bows in apology to his boss and coworker, and Ohya's jocularity extinguishes. He zooms over to where Ohya stands. "You don't answer your fucking messages?" Ohya demands once Akira enters earshot, but still softly to avoid eavesdroppers.

"You called me away from work to ask that?" Akira asks.

Ohya nods towards a hall leading to one of the mall's emergency exits. "Are you seriously shocked right now?" Ohya asks, as they enter the secluded spot. "God, kid. What the hell are you involved in?"

Akira raises his hand and rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, leaving Ohya to wonder if this kid has the gall to act like she's the inconvenience. "Look, I've still got a lot of time left in my shift. Can we skip to where you plainly say what you're talking about?"

"Madarame?" Ohya asks. "Daiki Aoe? Helloooo?"

A look crosses Akira's face that befuddles Ohya. It is not one of indignation, fear, anger, or anything expected, but one of tired annoyance. That's... that means... Ohya tries to fit the pieces together, but the new information won't cooperate.

"Let me guess," Akira says. "You're wondering if the Phantom Thieves had something to do with it?"

It clicks. Akira's heard this... what was this, exactly? A complaint? Ohya files the information as a complaint until she can retrieve her thesaurus. Akira's heard this complaint before.

I'm not the only one who knows about his connection with the Phantom Thieves. Ohya regards her ward. Then, she says, "Madarame confesses, and minutes later, he's dead? What if the Phantom Thieves wanted to shut him up?"

Akira shakes his head. "The Phantom Thieves didn't kill Madarame. I've already seen this rumor flying around my school's message boards, okay?"

Oh.

"It doesn't make sense," Akira continues. "Madarame had already confessed. The Phantom Thieves won. Why would they have killed him? How would they even have done that?"

Ohya stares at Akira. "How'd they get him to confess?" She asks. "No one knows how they do that either."

"Folie a deux?" Akira asks, smiling. Ohya no longer listens.

Connections and chemicals fire through her brain, fighting through or circumventing the haziness the booze gifted. Akira Kurusu. Shujin. Kamoshida. Madarame. Yusuke Kitagawa. Admin. Nakanohara. Calling C-

"Ah, fuck," Ohya says, before she can stop herself.

Akira blinks, and his brows furrow. "What?" He asks. "What is it?"

The words almost tumble from Ohya's mouth, but she keeps them in her head. You're a Phantom Thief, cuz.

Of course Akira Kurusu was a Phantom Thief. 'Knows the admin,' yeah fucking right. Akira says something else, but Ohya releases a huge groan that shuts him up.

"What is wrong with you?" He asks.

"Nothing," Ohya mutters, and waves a hand through the air. "It's fine. It's all fine. So are you a wizard or something?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Ohya says. Okay, so Akira Kurusu is a Phantom Thief. Next question, if we think the Phantom Thieves killed Madarame, do we believe Akira Kurusu killed Madarame? It takes a second for Ohya to decide. Nope. Alright. So Akira Kurusu didn't kill Madarame, and Daiki Aoe did. The timing is still ridiculous.

"Are you even listening to me?" Akira asks.

"No," Ohya replies.

Akira throws his hands into the air. "Look, I need to get back to work."

"Uh huh," Ohya mutters, now only one-fifth listening. Akira turns and marches away, and Ohya resolves herself. I need to speak with Daiki Aoe.

#

Akira returns to Rafflesia.

"Is everything alright?" Hanasaki asks, once Akira enters the shop.

"Yes," Akira replies. He turns to look back down the hall but sees no Ohya. Briefly, Akira worries the stench of alcohol that clung to her has seeped into his clothes, but a quick sniff reveals no odor. He bows to Hanasaki. "I'm very sorry about that. I'll head back and see about those orders."

Hanasaki nods and doesn't press the topic, though Akira feels her eyes on him as he walks to the back room.

Morgana waits just beyond the door. "What was that about?" He asks, as Akira pulls the door shut.

Akira searches for Haru and sees her crouched over some fertilizer bags on the other side of the room. "The same thing. Madarame's death and the Phantom Thieves."

"Ohya too, huh?" Morgana asks.

"Everyone's worried about it." Akira shrugs. "Save for Ryuji."

"Do you think there's something to it?" Morgana asks.

"Something to what?" Akira replies, his eyes still on Haru. "We know we didn't do anything to Madarame. Or Daiki Aoe."

"Yeah, but the more people talk about it, the more I'm starting to wonder."

"Me too," Akira says.

Haru stands and approaches. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Akira says, and smiles. "Morgana and I were just having a little disagreement."

"Oh," Haru replies, and glances down at Morgana. "I meant with you and your cousin."

"Oh, that," Akira says, his voice neutral. "Yeah, nothing to worry about there. She can be a bit disruptive, but she's harmless."

Haru nods. "Was she okay? I didn't get a good look at her, but she seemed a bit unsteady."

"She's naturally clumsy. Runs in the family. Fortunately, I didn't inherit the gene."

"Mmmm," Haru replies. "What's her name?"

"Ohya," Akira says, then freezes. "Tomiko. Ohya Tomiko."

"I see. I would've liked to meet her."

Akira stops himself from rolling his eyes. "Next time. She just came back for a quick chat. She'll be heading home."

Haru's grin expands. "Very well, then. Shall we see to these orders?"

The two begin arranging and pruning the custom orders Hanasaki handed down earlier. Simple work, and the colorful flowers allow the task to avoid tediousness and provide room for thought and conversation.

Akira grasps for something to say. "Haru?" He asks.

"Yes?"

Did you hear about that painter, Madarame?

"Never mind."

Haru tilts her head a bit, then shrugs. As she returns to work, she perks up, almost a tiny jump. "Oh, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"About our deal," Haru says, then trails off, opening a path for Akira to fill the remainder.

Akira thinks, then says, "Oh, about you and Morgana? Sorry, it slipped my mind. The photos, right? You wanted to take pictures?"

Haru nods shyly, evidently still embarrassed about the request.

"Sure thing," Akira continues. "This weekend?"

Haru nods once more.

"Alright. We don't have a shift then, though. Want to meet up somewhere? I can bring you and his carrier."

"Carrier?" Haru asks. "Can't he travel in my bag?"

Akira rubs the back of his neck and smiles. "Well, the thing is, uh, Morgana and I have a weird relationship. He mostly just clings to me and hangs out in my bag. If you try to do that, I'm afraid he may run away or at least hop down off your shoulder or out of your bag. You could get separated. I'd rather have him in a carrier until you get him back to your house."

Haru offers a thin smile. "I suppose that makes sense. He's only used to me here, after all. He might get nervous if he's in some new environment."

"He does well in new environments," Akira replies. "But if he doesn't feel secure, he might get antsy and run off in the middle of Shibuya or something."

"We wouldn't want that," Haru says.

"Exactly."

Morgana stares up at the two. "I hate every part of this conversation."

Haru crouches before Morgana and smiles. "Awww, that's right. We're talking about you, Mona-chan!"

Morgana looks ready to hiss. "I'm starting to find you more annoying than delightful."

"Don't be a grouch," Akira orders, and Morgana replies with one of his 'don't trifle with me' looks. Akira returns to his job.

"Would you mind sending me a list of his requirements? I'll pick them up at a local pet store after school."

Akira looks up and stares at her. "Requirements?"

Haru nods. "Mmmhmmm. You know. His litter box, litter brand, preferred food brand, brushes, any coating, passwords to his collar tag in case he does get lost and I have to log in to locate him, all those things."

"Uh," Akira says.

This time, Morgana does hiss. "I don't use a litter box. I'm a human!"

"Where do you go to the bathroom?" Akira asks, before he can stop himself.

Morgana's offense radiates off his little body. "I use the toilet like a normal person!"

"I'll get you that list," Akira replies. As soon as I figure out what should be on it.

"Are you serious?" Morgana demands. "It's one thing to be carted around in a carrier. Now I'm supposed to shit in a box? Unacceptable!"

"We'll talk about this later," Akira says, and tries to work.

"And what's this bit about tracking? If you think I'm going to have some... some microchip shoved into me just so we can keep going with this stupid plan, you'd better start thinking about finding another human-trapped-in-a-cat's-body-who-can-also-transform-into-a-bus. But I don't think you're gonna have much luck!"

"Is he alright?" Haru asks, hand to her mouth. "He seems upset."

"He'll be fine," Akira says, then looks at Morgana. "It'll be fine." Morgana looks ready to say more, so Akira cuts off his avenue by asking a question he intended to ask earlier. "Haru? Are you alright?"

Haru nods. "Yes, I've never seen Mona-chan so agitated before, though. Is he-"

"No, not about him," Akira says and turns from the flowers. "I meant, are you alright?"

Haru remains silent for a moment, then says, "I assume you're referring to the incident Makoto informed you about?"

"I am," Akira says, genuinely concerned but also relieved that Morgana has shut up. "This guy was bothering you? What's the deal?"

"It's complicated," Haru says. "And, Akira, while I appreciate you letting me borrow your cat and consider you a friend, I'm not comfortable enough to confide in you about this particular topic."

Akira seeks a response but finds none. "Okay. I understand. But if you need help, please ask."

Haru returns to the flowers she'd been pruning. "Thank you, Akira. If that moment arrives, I won't hesitate to Request assistance."

Notes:

Thanks for reading! I hope this chapter makes your Mondays a bit more bearable!

I appreciate the recent comments I've been getting, and if I haven't answered you yet, I'll be sure to get to them soon.

And now, an aside. I've got a question for you people. I'm throwing around some ideas in my head for a new project. One that will NOT detract from Crimson, don't worry. I'm wondering if any of you wonderful people are familiar with visual novels. If you are, what are some of your favorites?

Chapter 47: Chapter 47

6/1

Yusuke finishes packing, and places his sole bag at the top of Akira's stairs. "Well then," he says. "I suppose that is it."

Akira isn't sure what to say. Akira had mixed these last few days of Yusuke with the others, and Akira never got the chance to discuss Madarame's death and its impact on his friend, one on one.

Yusuke hefts the Sayuri and extends the painting towards Akira. "Here."

Akira reaches without thinking, and only after he holds Madarame's Treasure does he ask, "What're you doing?"

"I would like you to have it," Yusuke replies.

"Yusuke, come on. I can't-"

Yusuke raises a hand, and Akira stops talking. "Please. It deserves a place of honor. And I can think of no better place than the headquarters of our little group of troublemakers." His hand drifts over to his shoulder, which he rubs. "Besides, were I to hang it in my new dorm room, it would draw regrettable attention, given the 'Great Sayuri Scandal.'" Yusuke grins. "It will be enough to see it when we convene to plot thievery."

Akira's eyes wander to the now empty space on the wall. "You know, you don't have to just come for that."

"Yeah," Morgana says, from the bed. "You're welcome here, anytime!"

"Thank you," Yusuke replies. "I am aware. Boss stated that seeing as I was the one-millionth customer of this establishment, I would have a year's worth of free curry."

Akira opens his mouth and begins to say, "That's-" but he shuts it and says instead, "Cool." He regards the Sayuri, particularly the baby in the corner. "But I'm just going to hold this for you, got it?"

"Of course," Yusuke says, and shoulders his pack. He looks back at the other paintings, rescued from the Metaverse's gallery, and shoved behind Akira's dresser. "I shall endeavor to soon relieve you of those, as well."

Akira nods.

Yusuke hesitates before he descends. "I felt helpless, you know," he says.

Morgana hops off the bed and trots over until he's alongside Akira. The two say nothing.

"When Madarame kicked me out and got me expelled all in one stroke of villainy. I felt utterly hopeless. And yet, here I am. I have come out the other side, not unscathed, but whole." Yusuke beams. "So, thank you, my friends."

Akira returns the smile. "You know, I'm gonna miss having you as a roommate, Yusuke."

Yusuke shakes his head. "I'm afraid I do not feel the same way. As I've said, you snore." He nods to Morgana. "You have my sympathies, Morgana. Farewell."

Then, he turns and walks down the stairs.

#

The room stinks of recycled air and stale sweat. There's a bare amount of sunlight, but it inches in from a window Ohya barely sees through the small observation window beyond the room's glass. No one watches her. It hadn't been easy to arrange this meeting, and despite the expediency, it required committing to more favors than it called in.

She wants a drink, but any suspected inebriation would result in a boot in her ass. The day lengthens, and Ohya's thirst deepens, but she chalks it up to the atmosphere. This place gives me the creeps. Journalistic endeavors rarely land her in this place. Most times, if a piece required an interview, Ohya managed to arrange one over the phone. But this time, Ohya's gut tells her she needs to look this man in the eyes when he speaks.

As if by some supranatural prescience, Ohya straightens in her chair a moment before the door beyond the glass opens. Two figures enter, one leading the other. The first, a corrections officer, looks around as though surprised to find the room absent save for Ohya. The second is Daiki Aoe.

The officer shoves Aoe toward a chair on the opposite side of the glass from Ohya. The table at which Ohya sits extends through the divider, with a chair at both ends. The young man drags himself forward, eyes blank and staring at the ground. This room has no phone, but a few holes in the glass permit sound to travel.

"Move it," the officer growls, pushing the prisoner forward. Aoe staggers forward, and his hip connects with the chair's iron frame.

"Take it easy, Hondo," Ohya spits.

The man spares her a glance. "You know what this guy is capable of, Ohya," he replies. "I'm doing a lot for you, here. But if he's not gonna cooperate, it's not gonna go well for him." He reaches out and taps a knuckle against the glass. "So long as he's on my side, he's in my world."

"We're not filming a drama here," Ohya replies. "How's he supposed to talk to me if you rough him up?"

Hondo doesn't reply, but with the same hand he rapped the glass, forces Aoe into the chair, secures him, then takes a few steps away. "I'll be outside," Hondo says and turns his back on the two. "Shout when you're done." At the door, he pauses. "You better not forget about this, Ohya."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ohya replies, and waves the man away. The door shuts, and Ohya sits alone with Madarame's murderer. "Sorry about him."

Daiki Aoe shrugs. Ohya studies him. His hair hangs in long clumps before a drawn face. He's very thin, evident even in the oversized charcoal jumpsuit. When he lifts his head to look at her, Ohya sees a black ring surrounding his left eye socket.

"Did they do that to you here, or did it happen during your arrest?" Ohya asks, removing her notepad and recorder from her pocket.

"Does it matter?" Aoe asks, his voice as thin as him.

Hollowed out, Ohya thinks. "Not if it doesn't matter to you," Ohya replies. "I won't ask again if you don't want me to." She slides the recorder closer to the holes in the glass partition. "Do you mind if I record you?"

"What for?" Aoe asks.

Ohya sighs. Of course. They didn't even tell the prisoner why he was coming to meet me. He probably doesn't even know my name. It wasn't as if they gave him a choice. "I'm Ichiko Ohya. I'm a reporter."

"I don't think I'm supposed to talk to the press," Aoe says, and as Ohya prepares to respond, he nods toward the recorder. "It's fine. Go ahead."

"You consent to this interview?"

"Sure."

Ohya activates the recorder. Hardly any animation, she thinks. Guess it's natural. He did kill someone. He's probably worn out from all this. Ohya anticipated her research's lack of yields. When a story involves murder, nothing replicates talking to a primary source, the doer of the deed.

"If you can, think of this as an opportunity," Ohya says. "You can share your side of the story. About why you did what you did."

Aoe's lips haltingly stretch away from his dirty teeth. "I don't think I have one."

Ohya leans back in her chair, and brings her pen to paper. "Everyone has a story. We can start with the reason if you want. Why did you kill Ichiryusai Madarame?"

Aoe shrugs. "I don't know."

Ohya regards him. "You don't know? Witnesses heard you shouting, 'Remember me?' as you attacked. Seems pretty cut and dry to me, no?"

"I guess."

"Do you remember shouting those things?"

"I don't remember any of it," Aoe replies, sighing. "After, when I came to my senses, I was in the back of a police car. I asked the officers to tell me what was happening, but they wouldn't say anything until we reached the station. That's when I knew what I'd done."

Ohya takes notes. Poor bastard. Maybe he was whacked out on drugs. Still, it'd have to be powerful to blot out a murder.

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Ohya asks.

Aoe frowns, and lifts his eyes to Ohya's. "I had a shift at my part-time job. It's a convenience store in Shibuya, near the Cerulean Hotel. I, uh, was there, and then..." Aoe stares at the wall behind Ohya, brows furrowed. "I don't know. I don't know what happened. Then, I was in the car. The police car."

"Alright," Ohya says. "Do you recall taking anything?"

Aoe's genuine smile still lacks humor. "You mean drugs?" He shakes his head. "No. I didn't take any drugs."

Something underlines his voice that stops Ohya's pen. Iron. Conviction. "You didn't take drugs?"

"No. I didn't. I wouldn't."

Ohya chooses her next words carefully. "But you do have a history of drug abuse, yes?"

Aoe scowls. "Yes. I know that. But this time was different. I'd been going to rehab. You can call and check with them." He rattles off the name of some clinic, and Ohya's mind snaps to the card Takemi provided. "I was clean—thirty days last Monday. I haven't been clean in years. I wasn't going to mess that up. Nothing was going to mess that up."

Ohya begs a moment to jot down the name of the clinic. "Alright. I can understand that. But when Madarame confessed, did you feel anything? Joy? Frustration? Anger?"

Aoe stares at Ohya, and his following words hammer her chest. "What do you mean, 'he confessed?'"

A few thoughts slide through Ohya's mind, and it takes her a moment to reply. Then, leaning forward, Ohya says, "Madarame's confession. The televised one. Surely you heard it."

"No," Daiki Aoe replies, straightening. His eyes dart around, and his limbs animate. "What are you talking about?"

Ohya shakes her head. "Your lawyer must've-"

Aoe barks a laugh. "My lawyer spent five minutes with me and got my name wrong twice. They didn't tell me anything except how things would go for me, and how to streamline the whole thing. Why would they bother telling me anything else? I did it, didn't I?"

"You really don't know?" Ohya asks.

"You're the first person who's said more than a few sentences to me. No one's told me anything. Just that I did it. What did Madarame confess?" Aoe's wrists jerk up, and the chain clangs against the table's restraint.

Ohya sucks her lips and rolls her wrists before she says, "All of it. He confessed to all of it. To stealing his students' art. To turning them out on the street. The Sayuri. He confessed to all of it be-" and she stops. A reference to the Phantom Thieves would derail the conversation.

Aoe slumps in his chair, the abundant energy now drained. "He did?" His eyes plead with Ohya when they reach her. "He actually admitted to it?"

Ohya nods. "He was in police custody when you attacked him. He'd turned himself in."

Aoe opens his mouth, then closes it, and is silent for a time. When he speaks, he appears shrunken. "He found me after I won an art contest at my middle school. My parents were deadbeats and didn't really look after me, so he did. Took me in. Put me up. Worked with me. I thought I'd won some lottery, and the house... well, the house wasn't any worse than I was used to." His eyes squint as if trying to recall something. "High school was a blur between class and the work I completed for him. I must've done eight or nine paintings he claimed as his own. The rest weren't good enough for him to display. I asked if they could be released under my name, but he said I wasn't ready. I think he didn't want to draw any attention to the similarities between 'his' work and mine. And then, one day, it was over. I was out on the street. My parents were no help. I was done. In every sense."

"Is that when you started using?" Ohya asks.

Aoe nods. "It's not a dramatic story. I used drugs because it was an easy way to make things simpler and less bad. I know how that sounds, believe me."

Ohya feels very uncomfortable for several reasons.

"But one day, I ran into someone I knew from school. They saw my state and let me crash at their place. I haven't seen them in a while. I kept trying to get clean, but it didn't work. But this time..." Aoe trails off, and his face contorts. "This time was going to be different. Was different." His voice shudders, and Ohya expects tears to fall. They don't. "That's the story. But I hadn't blamed Madarame for... no, that's not true. I always blamed him, but it's my life, you know? My responsibility. That's what you learn, what I tried to internalize. I got a job, not much, but it's a job. And I even started to think about painting again, just for myself. I don't know what happened."

"The theory," Ohya says, slowly. "Is you saw the broadcast of Madarame's confession, and it pushed you into using drugs, which, combined with your hatred for him, caused you to go and murder him."

Aoe lowers his head and places it on the table. "But I don't even remember seeing the confession. And I don't remember taking anything. I haven't seen my dealer in over a month. I was at work!"

"When was your last shift?" Ohya asks.

"Sunday," Aoe replies. "The 29th, I think. Yeah, it was the 29th."

Madarame was killed on the 30th. Daiki Aoe took drugs during his last shift on Sunday and didn't come out of it until directly after his murder of Madarame?

"That's... strange," Ohya says. "You didn't kill Madarame until the next day. Did your, I don't know, sessions usually last that long?"

"No," Aoe says, panic creeping into his voice. "No, I've never passed out for that long. Never." He whispers his next question. "What happened to me?"

Ohya does not know how to answer. The hints and suggestions in Aoe's story raised new and terrifying potential scenarios. "I don't know," she replies honestly. But something did. "You should-" She snaps her mouth shut. No. No suggestions. If there's more to this story, you don't want to let on that you suspect.

Ohya's phone vibrates, and she excuses herself from Aoe to check.

AKIRA: I need your help with something.

Ohya stares at her phone, then returns it to her pocket with a reply.

#

"I trust," the woman says. "This won't happen again?"

Rin's father nods. "Of course, Niijima-san. Please, you and yours at the SID need not trouble yourselves."

Sae Niijima stands. "I'll take my leave, then." Her eyes flash across the table and regard Rin's. His throat constricts at the look she provides him, and the shame infuriates.

Rin stands, along with his father. They go through the proper motions until the woman leaves.

Rin Sugimura sits as his father does. The old man doesn't look at him. Instead, he stares at the door through which Niijima exited. "How many times?" He asks.

"Sir?" Rin asks.

"How many times have I had to tell you to keep yourself in check?"

"I didn't know she was the sister of-"

"That's not the point," His father's voice is quiet, but it silences Rin. "The point is that your little activities have landed me on the radar of the SID, which is a place I do not wish to be."

Rin shakes his head. "What do we care? We've our protections and-"

"Protections can be lifted. They can go away. If we become a liability." He turns to Rin. "I do not wish to become a liability. You do not wish to make me a liability."

Rin scowls. "How was I supposed to know Haru had-"

"What? Friends? She's the daughter of a rich man. Powerful people come with powerful friends."

Rin's eyes narrow. "I thought you said Okumura was a jumped-up peasant who didn't know his place?"

"That doesn't mean he isn't powerful. He thinks he'll gain political clout by joining us. He doesn't foresee that we're using him as much as he's using us. Or maybe he does and doesn't care." His father shakes his head. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with. The point I am making, son, is that you need to keep your proclivities private. I don't care what you do to the Okumura girl so long as she can marry at the appropriate time. But keep it out of the spotlight."

Rin wilts beneath his father's gaze. Beneath the table, his hands curl. If that bitch Haru hadn't made such a scene, none of this would've been necessary. He'll remind her when next he sees her.

#

Juni raps his knuckles on the door. The sound echoes out into the pale, silent night. The noise skitters away like a spooked intruder into the always-quiet district.

The door opens, and Akio studies him. More casual clothes adorn his friend, a t-shirt and jeans, as Aki never adapted to the high life.

"Well?" Juni asks, as the moment stretches. "Are you waiting on a bouquet or something? Let me in."

Akio mumbles something but slides to the side. Junichiro slips inside and moves with purpose down the dim hall, deeper into the repurposed warehouse. Tucked into the ceiling's shadows, wrap the silhouettes of dozens of wires. The perceptible hum of electricity weighs down the air.

Akio keeps pace behind.

"Have you seen it?" Juni asks.

"Oh, I saw it."

"And?"

Akio laughs. "You'll just have to look for yourself."

"C'mon, give me a synopsis."

"The short version?" Akio asks, as they near Dunk's door. "It's pretty fucking weird, Juni." He steps around Juni and shoves the door handle down. The door swings open.

Blue light burns his retinas, and Juni squints until his eyes adjust.

Numerous computer systems, modems, servers, and all the other high-tech machines Juni pretends to understand encompass the left side of the large room. Dunk refers to the setup as his 'workshop,' and as Tatterdemalion's resident hacker and tech expert, the location serves well.

The right side of the room is a gym. Dunk lies on a bench and shoves the bar into the air, grunting with each rep.

Juni approaches and stands over the mountain of a man. "You know," he says. "It's dangerous to do this without a spotter."

Dunk's face doesn't belong behind a computer screen. Too many street fights slanted his nose and cauliflowered his ears. He scowls at Juni, and hisses, "Then help a guy out!"

Juni grips the bar, and Dunk lets some strength escape. Juni nearly topples forward. "Goddamn," Juni shouts, and Dunk laughs. The big man reestablishes control over the bar and eases it down.

Dunk rises. "You need to learn to enjoy the weight."

Juni shakes out his arms. "I get enough enjoyment out of life. I don't need to add 'lifting heavy things' to my repertoire."

Dunk snatches a towel off the ground and wipes his face. Juni isn't sure why Dunichi calls himself Dunk, and the big man has never explained. So Juni chalks it up to another example of Dunk's contrary nature.

"So," Dunk says, walking over to one of his computers. "You ready to take a look? I already showed Aki." He glances at the door. "Are the others coming?"

"They're out and about," Juni replies, grabs a chair, and pulls it up alongside Dunk's as the man sits. "I'll fill them in."

Dunk shrugs. "Alright." His fingers scatter across the keyboard. "Let's talk Phantom Thieves."

Aki crosses his arms and leans against a table behind them. "Do you think they killed Madarame?"

"It makes sense," Juni replies. "In a messed-up kind of way. They make him confess and then shut him up. They're heroes, and Madarame can't do anything against them."

Dunk smirks. "But there's always a 'but.'"

Juni slaps him on his shoulder. "But," he says. "How did they do it? How'd they change his heart while we're on the topic of impossible shit?"

"No one knows," Akio says. "Plenty of speculation online, though."

"Sure, but we know a bit more than most folks. At least where Madarame's concerned. What makes more sense? Did the Phantom Thieves magically get Madarame to confess and then magically get this Aoe kid to stab him to death un-magically, or did the yakuza group that runs Natsuki Storage get sick of the old painter's shit and solve the problem themselves?"

Dunk frowns. "I could buy the yakuza angle, but how would they have gotten Aoe to stab the guy?"

"Drugs can make you do crazy things," Juni replies. "The right ones can make you strongly susceptible to outside influence."

"That's some high-precision chemistry for a bunch of gangsters," Akio says. "It is possible that the kid just offed him on his own. Unprompted."

Juni rolls his eyes. "You've got no imagination, Aki."

"Well, here's where things get a bit weird," Dunk says, then laughs. "Okay, not here here, shit is already pretty weird. Did Akio tell you what we saw?"

"He said it was-"

"Weird," Akio says. "It is."

"Enough with the suspense," Juni says, and spreads his hands. "Just show me."

"Right," Dunk replies, and queues up a video file. "First, I went back a few days. I found this." He hits 'Play.'

An image of Natsuki Storage's main hall appears. The angle evidences the thumbnail-sized camera Juni installed weeks earlier. The footage shows a static image, until a door near the back of the hall opens, and a black speck appears.

Juni squints. "What's that?"

"That would be a cat."

The cat approaches the camera, oblivious. Its head swings back and forth as it walks the hall length, eventually out of sight.

"Wow," Juni says. "A cat snuck into a building. Stop the presses."

"Juni-" Dunk starts.

"Call the police."

"Juni-"

"Alert the SDF. We have to do something about this cat-filtration menace."

"Juni," Dunk growls. "Shut up and watch the freakin' screen."

The cat appears on the screen and walks in the opposite direction toward the exit. It grasps something in its mouth.

"Is that a... file?" Juni asks.

"Mmmhmm," Akio replies. "It's rolled up in its mouth."

Juni leans back and frowns. "Okay. That's weird. But I'm not getting it. Cats don't have respect for human property. Ask any cat owner."

Dunk nods. "Sure. I thought so too. A call walks into a building, then walks out with something. Who cares? But check out this footage from a few days later. Before Madarame received his Calling Card from the Phantom Thieves."

Dunk hits another button, and the hall appears again. The same door opens.

The same cat enters.

Juni isn't sure what to say. Held aloft in the cat's tail, dangles a manila folder. In the cat's mouth hangs a thin piece of plastic, and a small orb balances on the cat's head.

The cat stops alongside Madarame's door. It sets down the folder and piece of plastic. Then, it rolls whatever's on its head into its paw, takes a running start at the opposite wall, leaps, and smacks the orb against the wall at approximately human eye level.

The cat picks up the plastic, jumps onto the door's card reader, and fiddles. The cat returns to the floor only after inserting the plastic into the card reader. Lastly, it picks up the file and darts out of sight.

"Holy shit," Juni says.

"Just wait," Dunk replies.

A few moments later, the cat reappears and rushes down the hall and out the door it entered.

Dunk speeds up the footage, and Madarame arrives. He rushes to his door, slides his card into the reader, and opens it. He stares but never enters, then shuts the door and vanishes off-screen.

Moments after that, the cat reenters the hall. First, it jumps onto the card reader and extracts the thin plastic. Next, it retrieves the orb from the wall, darts to the exit, and doesn't return.

No one says anything.

Juni leans forward and dips his head toward the floor. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Breathe it in. Breathe it in.

"Told you it was weird," Akio says.

"This is nuts," Juni blurts and stands. "Unbelievable, even."

"I did some thinking," Dunk says. "And that little thing the cat shoved onto the wall? It has to be the camera that took those photos. The ones on the 'Devil's Dispatch' site.”

Juni pulls at the strands. "Okay. The cat filched a file. Then it returned and installed what looked like a card skimmer and a camera. It waited until the appropriate time, leaving Natsuki Storage undetected with the skimmer and camera. After having returned the stolen file." Juni looks at his friends. "That's one well-trained cat."

"What do you think this means, Juni?" Aki asks.

Juni grins. "I've got no idea. But if this cat is connected to the Phantom Thieves, they're much more interesting than I gave them credit for." He blinks. Frowns. "I wonder what that file was. And why would they need to simulate Madarame's pass card and know the PIN?"

Dunk bites off a laugh. "Know what else is weird?"

"What?" Akio asks.

"Juni riffled through Natsuki's files when he snuck in there weeks ago. There was nothing in there about Madarame, right?"

Juni nods. "Nothing I recognized."

"But the cat still took that file and brought it back before anyone realized it was missing. If that file had something to do with Madarame, and we can all agree it did, then these Thieves knew something about Madarame we didn't." Dunk stiffens. "Holy crap."

"What?" Akio asks. Juni's eyes narrow.

"It doesn't mean only that," Dunk says. He shakes his head. "But nah, that's ridiculous. That can't be right."

"What?" Aki asks, impatient.

Juni understands. "There were no pictures in the files. No labeling system, color or otherwise. Nothing aside from some standard forms. If the cat stole a specific file and didn't grab one at random, but chose Madarame's, then not only did the cat know something we didn't, but the cat can also read."

#

The room smells of cologne. Iwai never touched the stuff, so he has no idea if the brand's cheap.

Three men sit in the room if he counts himself. Two others stand near the door, silent and still as boards. They vibrate with a violent energy familiar to Iwai.

Tsuda sits to Iwai's left, ramrod straight, face guarded.

Across from Iwai, the third man, Junya Kaneshiro, regards him.

His rolled-up sleeves showcase his tattoos, but Iwai gets the impression Kaneshiro doesn't peacock. The room is just a little warm.

A pair of glasses and a dark, muddy bottle of whiskey stands guard on the table between them.

"How old is he?" Kaneshiro asks, voice soft and smooth.

"Thirteen," Iwai answers, throat dry.

Kaneshiro smiles. At first glance, the smile appears genuine. But keep staring, and you'll soon see what's looking back. Kaneshiro leans forward, unscrews the bottle, and fills each glass with a healthy dose. "Should drink to that. Thirteen's a good age."

Iwai shrugs. "Any age is good when you're above ground."

Kaneshiro slides one of the glasses toward Iwai. "That's funny." He doesn't laugh.

Iwai lifts the drink. "You're gonna make me remember my drinking problem," he growls, trying to sound at ease.

You're overdoing it.

Kaneshiro laughs this time. A low, deep chuckle. The man raises his glass and tilts it in a toast. "To being above ground, brother."

Iwai nods and takes a pull. The whiskey bites his mouth like a razorblade, but he's drunk worse.

Kaneshiro sips and sets the glass down. "Tsu-chan here tells me he seems like a good kid. Capable."

"Actually," Iwai replies. "Kid's a klutz."

"Not a nice thing to say about your own."

"Not like I called him retarded. Kid's smart. Just not very coordinated. He's got a head for books." He rolls his eyes around the room, confident Kaneshiro understands the look. "Not for any of this shit."

Kaneshiro's silence stretches. Then, he replies, "I'm sure we could change that."

Iwai fights to keep from swallowing. To buy time, he takes another drink.

"Look," Iwai says, and holds his free hand up, palm out. "He's not in this world. I left to make sure he wouldn't be. No offense, but I don't want him to have any part in this."

Kaneshiro's light shrug is almost playful. "I'm not offended. You want what's best for your son. So do I." Iwai opens his mouth, but Kaneshiro shakes his head. "Don't misunderstand me. You seem to think I'll treat him like one of those bozos we recruit from the high school." He spreads his arms wide. "But the son of Munehisa Iwai? I'd take him under my wing. He'd be my..." He snaps his fingers a few times, then glances toward the two men by the door. "Nanashi, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Ward?" One of the men suggests, without moving.

Kaneshiro snaps a final time and grins. "That's it. He'd be my ward. Under my protection. I wouldn't expose him to any danger."

And Iwai knows that even were this not an elaborate game for Kaneshiro to take his son hostage, he'd still rather stuff the kid into a box and toss him out a plane than let him learn one thing from this man.

He'd heard the stories. Seen some of their truths written across Shibuya's streets. Kaneshiro infects the town like cancer. And like any cancer, every day, he expands.

"I'm sorry," Iwai replies. "But no."

Kaneshiro's smile never flickers. Instead, he takes a deep breath. "You know, I think you've lingered too long on the outside, brother. You've forgotten just what you can have."

Kaneshiro lifts his gaze back to the two men by the door. "Muzaki," he calls.

The second man turns, opens the door, and steps out. Ten seconds later, he returns.

His hand grips the forearm of a girl, maybe seventeen. Maybe. Black hair is done up in some style Iwai assumes is modern, but it feels very haphazard as if done by someone who hadn't quite known how to do it. A pink bow wraps through.

Her clothes are typical of the sexy schoolgirl uniform. Dark plaid skirt yanked higher than necessary. White blouse, tied rather than buttoned, revealing cleavage. High heels clickclack their way across the floor.

Iwai looks into the girl's eyes. They swim in a foggy pool, faint and far away. He knows these eyes well. These eyes only know how to look for one thing.

The next fix.

As if the track marks on her arm weren't a dead giveaway.

"What's your name?" Kaneshiro asks.

The girl sways in Muzaki's grasp, then answers dreamily. "Eiko."

Kaneshiro turns back to Iwai. "What'd you say, brother? Maybe giving Eiko a spin will change your mind."

Iwai doesn't let himself glance at Tsuda, who remains silent. He hopes Kaneshiro isn't as familiar and cunning as he seems because Iwai can almost feel the disgust bleed off his friend.

"As a general rule," Iwai says. "I try only to bang girls that know what planet they're on."

Kaneshiro's smile fades. "Each and owns, I suppose." He glances back at Muzaki and jerks his head toward the door.

Wordlessly, Muzaki drags Eiko out. He returns a few moments later and resumes his post.

"I think we're in danger of not settling this," Kaneshiro says, and his voice runs an octave deeper. "But let me be clear. All these things you're talking about. All the reasons you've listed. I fail to see how any of them are my problem."

Iwai sighs. "I can't give you Kaoru, Kaneshiro." He wishes for all the whiskey in the world to keep his tongue behind his teeth, but he plays his only card left. "But, I know this other kid. He may be more of what you're looking for."

Notes:

Thanks for reading! I hope you all have a great weekend!

I really appreciate all the comments I received regarding what VNs to check out. My reading/to-play list just got a lot longer.

Next week, we'll be back at the M-W-F update schedule. Which means I've got some editing to do. ;)

Chapter 48: Chapter 48

6/2

 

IWAI : COME TO THE STORE

The eighth message of the same variety.

Whatever he wants, Akira thinks. It can wait.  He straightens his back off the alley's wall as footsteps approach.

Ohya materializes around the corner in the dim sunlight, a frustrated look on her face. Akira raises his hand in greeting. If anything, she seems more cognizant than when last they'd spoken.

"Hi," Akira says as Ohya approaches, but the woman replies without greeting and extends her hand in a fist.

"There," Ohya says, unfurling once Akira reaches out. The small, circular camera enters Akira's palm. "You've got it. That's what you wanted, right? For your next mission?"

Mika issued her Request the day before.

‘Dear Phantom Thieves, My name is Mika Aizata. I was recently a part of Harajuku Girls Modeling Agency. Their manager, Kaito Miura made my life a living hell. He sexually assaulted a few of the other girls in the agency and me. It got so bad that I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I overdosed on pills in an attempt to take my own life. I don’t know if you guys are real or if this is all some scam, but if you’re legit, please do something about this bastard!’

"Pretty clear, yeah?" Ann had asked.

The group agreed.

"This is another job," Akira says. "The Phantom Thieves are looking into Kaito Mirua, a director at a modeling agency. I figured you could do something on Devil's Dispatch or-"

"I spoke with Daiki Aoe," Ohya says.

Akira stares at her, then asks, "What for?"

"Because I wanted his side of the story, Akira. I wanted to know why he killed Madarame. And here's the thing, he doesn't have a side of the story." Ohya quickly recounts her experience with Madarame's killer.

Akira slides the camera into his pocket as Ohya speaks. "Can we be sure he isn't just making stuff up?" Akira asks, once she finishes.

"I didn't get that impression," Ohya replies. "And I've been doing this for a long time. Something's off about this. Drugs can blot out memories, but they can't time things, and the timing here is everything."

Akira reaches up and sticks his fingers into his shoulder, and rubs. "Rumors're flying around. About the possible involvement of the Phantom Thieves with Madarame's death, and-"

"Yeah, I know," Ohya says, and shakes her head. "But that's bullshit. You didn't kill him. But it's still weird."

“Exac-” Akira starts, then stops.

Ohya frowns. “Gotta think before you speak, eh cuz?”

“I didn’t-”

“Can we skip to the part where I plainly lay out just how I know you’re a Phantom Thief, Akira, or do you want to pointlessly protest for another ten minutes before conceding that I know?” Ohya shrugs. “We both have busy schedules, but I can spare the time.”

Akira says nothing for a while. Then, he asks, “Did Daiki Aoe say anything else?”

Ohya shakes her head. “I gave you the gist. I don’t like it. Do you think it has anything to do with how you change hearts?” She leans closer to Akira. “Are you the only ones who can do it?”

Akira remembers Igor’s words. “Possibly. I’m not certain of anything. Just that we had nothing to do with Aoe stabbing Madarame.”

“That I believe.”

Akira nods. “Well, thanks for that at least. Am I supposed to say this is all ‘off the record’ or something?”

“You probably should’ve led with that, but I’ll let you off the hook this time. I’m not about to expose you. I think you will be making headlines for a while yet.”

Akira shrugs. “We’ll see. As for Madarame’s murder, I’m not sure. But do I think it’s possible for someone else to have made Aoe stab him? I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I don’t know what kind of resources you have, but they can’t be robust if you’ve got to rely on me and the Plague for help,” Ohya says. “But if you have any way of looking into this further, I suggest doing some sleuthing.”

“Yeah,” Akira says absently. “I think I’ll do just that.” He blinks. “Wait, how do you know Plague’s name?”

“Takemi?” Ohya asks. “I hacked your phone, remember?”

“Right, but how do you know her codename?”

“Codename?” Ohya asks. She spits out a laugh. “Wait, you’ve all got codenames? Oh my god, what’s yours? Is it ‘Glasses’? Tell me it’s ‘Glasses.’”

Akira frowns. “I’m not telling you that. But Takemi gave us that name. How do you know about it?”

Ohya rolls her eyes. “Do you even know who you’re dealing with, Akira? Takemi’s gone by that moniker for a while now.”

“I had no idea.”

“Maybe sleuth around on that front, too,” Ohya replies.

“Alright.” He straightens. “Don’t you have more questions?”

Ohya grins. “So many questions. I’m dying to know all this shit, but I think you’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.” She nods toward Akira’s pocket. “That’s for your next target, right? Is it going to be as big a splash as Madarame?”

“Hopefully yes,” Akira replies. “But only for the right reasons.”

#

Makoto breathes. Slow. Rhythmic.

Her assailant's arms tighten.

Adrenaline kicks, and she moves. Reaches up. Grabs. Holds. Pivots.

Makoto feels her opponent's body collapsing over her back as she pitches forward and pulls. A sudden lightness and a cry of brief panic, snuffed by a smack from the mat and an "Oof!"

Makoto winces. "I'm sorry. Was that too hard?"

Haru lays, spread-eagled, and blinks at the ceiling. She smells of sweat and cinnamon, and her groan manages to charm.

Makoto speeds to the mat's edge, snatches up the plastic water bottles, and returns to present Haru with one.

Haru's arm flops like a choking fish for a moment, then reaches up and grips the water. "I'm afraid I'm not quite used to this," she mumbles and takes a swig.

Makoto folds herself down next to her friend. "There's nothing wrong with that." After a sip, she continues. "You're pretty good for a beginner." She thinks of adding, 'I used to be much worse,' but she rejects the lie. Per her father, Makoto always possessed a, 'talent for connecting her fists with things.'

Haru smiles and forces herself to sit. "Is everything supposed to hurt?"

Makoto shrugs and smirks. "Yes."

"Wonderful."

Makoto hears the whistling before the footsteps. The older man, one who once tried to coax a 'smile' from Makoto, enters the gym. His jaunty tune faulters upon spying Makoto, and he turns and marches out. Makoto feels a contented purr in her chest, like a low-rumbling engine, and suppresses a smile.

"Who was that?" Haru asks.

"Some jerk."

"Oh."

"Speaking of," Makoto says, her voice rising a degree. "Are you okay? Regarding Sugimura?"

Haru's eyes dip toward the mat. "I'm alright. He's been distracted lately. His father keeps bringing him to these important meetings, so I haven't seen him much."

Makoto nods because she's uncertain about what else to do. The basic self-defense. The constant check-ins. Makoto aches to assist her friend in some final way.

There's someone you could ask. You already have, whispers a voice in Makoto's mind. She ignores it. "Haru," Makoto says, delicately. "If you don't want to do this, if you don't want to marry him, why are you going through with it? Why don't you ask your father to cancel the engagement?"

Haru stands, quiet. She lifts the pair of gloves from the edge of the mat, and approaches the punching bag. "Would you mind holding it?"

"S-sure." Makoto walks over, takes a position behind the bag, and settles.

Haru throws a punch. It's not terrible. Makoto offers a pointer. Haru's next improves. Makoto feels the next through the bag. The one after, faster.

Sweat escapes Haru's pulled-back hair. "My first memory of my father is him arguing with my grandfather."

Makoto remains silent.

"I mean," Haru continues. "I have earlier memories, but they're just pieces. A smile. A hug. Being picked up. Him shouting at someone. But the first, real, solid memory I have of him is him fighting with my grandfather. It was over food, of all things." Haru throws another punch, loses her footing, and steadies herself against the bag. "They were arguing over the proper way to cook something, I think. I remember them being so intense about it. Later, the two of them were sitting in our living room, laughing about something completely different. My father looked so happy then. My grandfather too." Another punch. "Then, my grandfather died, and my father changed. Smiled less. Argued more. Ordered more. I didn't notice, of course. I was young, very young. I had to hear about it from his assistants, employees, and mother in passing. You never really notice those things when you're a child, do you? Everything's so fresh and new that you accept whatever's happening as the norm. It doesn't matter if it hurts. It's just normal. That's what you think because you don't know how not to feel that way."

Haru pauses her assault and her speaking, and stares at the bag. Haru raises her arms for a few moments as if she intends to continue the strikes. She lowers them each time. "I've made my displeasure over my situation clear. I've tried to speak to my father about it. I've tried to make him understand. He doesn't. I think, he thinks, that this is all for the betterment of our family. I think he thinks, he can manipulate the Sugimuras. Maybe he expects me to do it for him."

Makoto speaks. "But that's not you."

Haru shakes her head. "That's why I started working at Rafflesia. I just wanted to do something for myself and not for the family, even if it was something small. Because, when my father says, 'Do this for the family,' what he really means is, 'Do this for me.'" With a low grunt, Haru hits the bag. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I've never really said any of this out loud before. Everything makes sense in my head, but it comes out in a jumble when I try to let it out. Does that make sense?"

Makoto offers her a smile. "Oh, I know exactly what you mean."

Haru sighs and leans forward, draping herself across the bag. Makoto keeps up the pressure so the bag doesn't buckle. "Doesn't your father ever make ridiculous requests of you sometimes?"

The words hit Makoto like a freight train. Her mind switches off, and it's all she can do to keep her grip on the bag.

Haru pushes away and blinks. "Mako-chan? Are you alright?"

"I, um... my dad is, well..."

Haru's eyes study her face, then widen by degrees. "You live with your sister," she whispers. Then, louder. "You live with your sister! Oh, Makoto, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I didn't think."

Makoto steps away from the bag. "It's okay." She tries to smile. "I just wasn't expecting that."

Haru buries her face in her hands. "Oh, I'm so dumb. It didn't even dawn on me."

"It's fine," Makoto tells her, voice insistent. "Really, it is." Except it isn't. Her mouth moves before she can stop. "It's been three years."

Three years is a strange amount of time. It's long enough to feel like the distant past, but short enough to still be fresh.

And just like that, Makoto returns to the house. Sae stands in the foyer, listening to the officers holding their caps in their hands. Their heads are bowed, and their mouths move.

Sae shakes.

Makoto waits. Waits to hear that everything is okay. That everything is fine. Waits to hear that the most horrible thing that could have happened hasn't happened.

In many ways, Makoto still waits.

"He was a police officer," Makoto says. "Our mother died when we were little. She got sick. Even though he was always busy, he spent as much time as possible with us." Makoto sits on the gym's floor. Haru joins her.

"Things had been scary," Makoto continues. "He'd been investigating this group. They were trafficking drugs and girls. They threatened him. Threatened all of us."

Haru whispers. "D-did they..." But she can't finish.

"Kill him?" Makoto asks. "No. It was a few days after my sister graduated from law school. Dad got hit by a truck. The driver was on drugs. He didn't even remember doing it. The impact killed him."

"I'm so sorry, Makoto."

"It's alright. Sorry. We were talking about your situation, and I made it about me."

Haru shakes her head. "I asked. And you should always feel free to talk to me about that stuff, even if it's hard. We're friends, yes?"

Makoto smiles. "Right. We're friends."

Haru sighs. "Perhaps we should change topics? Prepare for our upcoming interview with Mona-chan?"

Makoto laughs. "Sure." The word exits her mouth harsher than she intends. Haru's eyes study her own. "What?"

"We haven't discussed Madarame's death, have we?"

Makoto glances down toward her feet. "That's because I'm unsure what to say about it."

"Have you heard the rumors?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods. "The ones about the Phantom Thieves? Yes, I've heard them." Her pulse seizes, and she turns to Haru. "You don't believe them, do you?"

"That they had something to do with Madarame's death?" Haru asks, and shakes her head. "No, of course I don't. The murderer was some poor man Madarame took advantage of. Besides, Akira's several things, but I don't believe he's a killer."

"Exactly," Makoto replies. "It doesn't even make sense. How would the Phantom Thieves have even done it?"

Haru shrugs. "Then again, no one knows how they steal hearts. I still say-"

"Don't say magic."

"It's magic," Haru finishes, and smirks.

Makoto regards her friend with mock exasperation. "Hopefully, we'll finally get to the bottom of this once we've seen about this Morgana. But, until then," and Makoto nods toward the bag. "Want to go another round?"

#

Akira pushes himself away from his desk with a frustrated exhalation. The motion tips the chair, and only a significant amount of pinwheeling his arms saves Akira from toppling over. Once his heart rate slows, he stands and rubs his eyes. For the past hour, a headache drilled into his brain, between the screen's light and the lack of progress.

"Waste of time," Akira mutters to no one.

Morgana went with Ann to install Ohya's camera in the Harajuku Girls' office.

Yusuke and Ryuji tailed Yamaguchi.

Akira's self-appointed role involved digging up as much as possible about cognitive science, the Metaverse, Igor, and the Velvet Room.

The only reference Akira found to the 'Velvet Room' involved a store at a mall that closed years ago in a town he's never heard of.

And worst of all, the damn computer - assured by Mishima to be relatively high-end - slowed down whenever Akira accessed a new site or searched for something. More than once, Akira checked Mishima's provided notes, convinced he'd done something incorrectly, but no. Akira followed the instructions. Akira waited fifteen seconds for his search results to return with no helpful information.

Akira paces his room for a few moments, then beelines to his bed, where he collapses.

Too many threads, he thinks. I need a new approach.

Going haphazardly won't accomplish anything, one of the voices echoes. So pick something and dedicate some time to it.

Which thing? Akira wonders. Igor and the Velvet Room? The Metaverse? Cognitive science and its links to mental shutdowns? Yukio Kan? Daiki Aoe?

Then there was Ohya. Akira still groped for a way to explain that to the team.

Thus far, Ohya has earned her credibility. Knowing the identity of the Phantom Thieves, she'd said nothing, not even in a drunken blog post. The way Akira figured it, the Phantom Thieves represented a potential long-term story. Blowing their identities now gave Ohya something juicy in the short term, but in six months, it meant nothing. Akira hated selling himself and his friends short, but it was the truth.

Ohya wouldn't betray them so long as it suited her, and beyond that, Akira wanted to trust her.

Still need to break the news, though, Akira thinks.

That matter aside, there was the pressing issue of the two potential targets. Miura and Yamaguchi. Akira itched to try his experiment. The concept was simple enough.

The computer dings. Akira sits up and stares at it. It hadn't done that before. The recent search results on ‘cognitive science and researchers’ finish loading, and Akira approaches the screen, bracing for disappointment.

There was, predictably, nothing of interest except for a single hyperlink that Akira initially overlooked.

American Fringe Scientist Goes Missing.

That was odd. Most of Akira’s search results yielded data and strange feedback he couldn't decipher. This was the first genuine news article he'd seen. He checked the source but didn't recognize the name. It sounded American, and the link provided a translated text copy into Japanese. Akira clicked through.

A photo of a tired-looking white man appeared on Akira's screen. The man's close-cropped brown hair looked in need of a trim, and round glasses hung off his face as if he'd forgotten to put them there. A cigarette hung from the man's mouth, and the mouth itself seemed captured at the point of opening to say something. Akira could make out the fractions of yellowed teeth. The man, as a whole, looked sickly, with sunken cheeks and dried-out skin.

Robert Cunningham, the article read, a man shunned by academia yet revered within certain circles of fringe science groups, has gone missing during a layover in Tokyo, Japan, on a flight between San Francisco and Beijing. On route to a summit in Beijing, he did not disembark the plane he was known to have booked passage on from Tokyo, having arrived in the city the same day, six hours earlier, as confirmed by the airline located in San Francisco.

Authorities were alerted, but no word on his whereabouts has been forthcoming. Few seemed concerned beyond those at the summit expecting his arrival. When pressed for a comment, his semi-estranged son, Daniel Cunningham, said, 'He does this shit all the time.'

Robert Cunningham's research into the saccadal glitch, built on the study of Russian neurologist Yarbus, was considered cutting-edge. In recent years however, Cunningham drifted down more and more fringe avenues of science, including the effect of outside stimuli on the brain and its observation, as well as the relatively new fields of cognitive science and the neuro cohesion theory.

Akira sat back in his chair. He looked at the date of the article. October 8, 2011. Five years earlier.

What even is this? Akira wonders. He copies the text of the article and saves it to the desktop.

Some American disappeared in Tokyo some five years ago? Still, it did mention he'd been involved in cognitive science, among other things. Hopefully, that wasn't a translation error. Akira resolves to speak with Takemi about this and follow up on Robert Cunningham's fate.

#

She waits until she's sure the idiot's finished.

No key traces, no additional searches, nothing.

She rekeys the reminder to ensure the system prompts her whenever he begins doing dumb shit again.

Yawning, she lays her head on the keyboard, careful not to hit anything sensitive.

Whoever told him how to navigate the dark web had been an absolute moron. Only by sheer luck had he managed not to do something that landed him in jail before she'd managed to log in and safeguard him.

It wouldn't do to have the cops pick around Sojiro's place, after all.

She cringes at the idea of her used computers going to this airhead. Still, if everything she compiled about him panned out, they could do something with the article she'd slipped into the search field.

Long shot, but better than nothing.

#

Crow watches the scenery roll by out the window.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

He glances down at his gloved fingers and runs them over the armrest.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Though fun, Crow's job came with drawbacks.

"What're you thinking about?" Asks the thing alongside Crow.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Crow sighs. "I'm thinking about how utterly annoying your chewing is."

The thing replies with a laugh. Or the approximation of one. It's a loud, booming, horrid thing—animal noise.

And then.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Crow turns to face his companion. "I don't appreciate my time wasted."

Junya Kaneshiro's Shadow smiles back. He appears very much like the real Junya Kaneshiro. Tall. Muscular. Clean shaven. Close-cropped hair. He's absent much of the glitz and glamor of his fellow Yakuza, at least here, in his Palace.

His teeth, however.

They shine like glass. Like razor. Each tooth - as long as Crow's thumb - slides together into a jack-o'-lantern grin.

"And I don't appreciate my meals being interrupted. Not my fault you showed up when you did." Kaneshiro's Shadow reaches into the bucket between his legs and pulls out a fistful of fractured bones. His jaw unhinges, and the teeth slide open to reveal a gaping maw. Kaneshiro tosses the bones in, and the teeth snap shut.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Two cognitive representations of Kaneshiro's underlings sit in another row, chuckling amongst themselves. They appear very ordinary. Very human, save for the masks.

That the denizens of Kaneshiro's Palace closely resemble their real-world selves alarms Crow, but not by too much.

"Shall we get to it? Then we can go back to doing whatever we do," Crow says.

"I want a meeting."

Crow blinks. "A... meeting?" Realization hits hard. Crow stands. "You know exactly what my services are for. You do not contact me unless you've got a request for a shutdown. I am not some messenger that-"

Kaneshiro thrusts his hand back into his bucket of bones. A rattling, gravely sound emanates. "I did make a request, Crow," he replies, with a sneer. "But you couldn't follow through with it. Had to make that other kid go schitzo and do the deed for you." He shakes his head. "Sloppy. Real sloppy."

Crow takes a few deep breaths. "I would remind you, that your organization's failure to keep your facility secure led to the situation in the first place."

Kaneshiro's grin, somehow, grows larger. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm glad things settled the way they did, but I figure your poor handling should get me - real me, or whatever - some face time."

Crow glares down at him. "That is not how this works."

Kaneshiro lifts his hands over his head, tilts his face back, opens his mouth, and lets the bones fall into his gullet. His mouth shuts.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

He swallows and shrugs. "I don't really care."

Silence, save for the Palace, moving along.

Crow lets his body relax, and his fingers hang loose. "This isn't a negotiation, Shadow. You do not dictate terms to me." He keeps his voice low and calm. "Don't tempt me. If I wanted to, I-"

Shadow Kaneshiro launches out of his seat to his full, hulking height. A hand lashes out and wraps itself around Crow's throat. The arm extends and slams Crow's head against the glass window so hard it cracks.

"Don't tempt me, boy," it hisses. The windows seem to shake with each syllable. "I see you. You act big. You talk big. Walk big. But inside, you're real small. If you wanted to, what? You could kill me? Execute a mental shutdown on me? Try it." Crow tries to push himself free, but the grip holds firm. "So go back to your little hole, you self-important pissant, and tell the man upstairs what I said. And tell him no more of this spooky science bullshit." He leans in until Crow can smell his breath through his mask. "I want face-to-face."

Kaneshiro releases Crow. Crow pushes himself away from the window, and sets about straightening his outfit. "Do not-" he starts, but Kaneshiro interrupts once more.

"Spare me. I'm not interested in your posturing. Make no mistake. The head honcho of this whole thing may want to run the country." Kaneshiro points out the window. Crow looks. "But this? This is my town."

Notes:

Happy Monday! If you've gotten off work, congrats! If you're at work or school, my sympathies.

I'd like to reiterate my thanks to everyone who gave me a VN rec. My list is a lot longer now, but I plan on thinning it a bit when I get the chance.

I hope you enjoyed today's chapter! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on Wednesday!

Chapter 49: Chapter 49

Akira's eyes open. A thin, viscous membrane surrounds him, the pink shade of a throat's interior. Bleached spires of smooth bone stretch overhead.

This maw replaces the walls of his room, but the furniture remains. Someone sits at his desk with arms folded across the back of his chair.

"I'm only here to talk," Akira's father whispers.

Akira sits up, and the blanket sloughs away. Humid air clings to his bare chest. He'd worn pajamas to bed. His eyes skitter across his bed, but he finds no evidence of Morgana.

His mouth opens, but his lips remain still and refuse to articulate. "Although Nobunaga was Nobuhide's legitimate successor, the Oda clan divided into many factions, and the clan was technically under the control of Owari's shugo, Shiba Yoshimune." The voice belongs to Inui-sensei, from one of his droning lectures. It flies from between his teeth.

"I never hurt her," his father continues. "Never like that. Came close." The eyes glint a pale color despite the absence of any light source. They narrow. "I never asked how you saw it."

Akira's head swims. Something.

"By 1559, Nobunaga had eliminated all opposition within the clan and Owari Province. He continued to use Shiba Yoshikane as a pretext to make peace with the other daimyos, though it was later discovered that Yoshikane had secretly corresponded with the Kira and Imagawa clans, attempting to oust Nobunaga and restore the Shiba clan's place."

"I knew you'd say that," his father replies.

The walls vibrate in pace with a rapid heartbeat. A ring encircles the appropriate finger on his right hand. It gleams in the pink glow. Soon it sears and begins to sink into his skin. Akira digs at it and claws with his fingernails, but the more he tries, the more he tears his flesh away, punctuated with the clink of handcuffs. The ring disappears, and a raw and blistered fence circumnavigates his finger.

"Those things are tricky," his father says. His words reverberate. Their enunciation feels stiff, like someone haltingly reading from a script. "Shouldn't bother. With them." Akira feels Inui's words ready to vomit again, but his father continues. "Tell me about Morgana." Someone sits behind his father's voice. "Stare and play with the fire, too long, and. youwon't notice the water until you've drowned. have drowned. What is Morgana? Too bad ghosts ain't real."

Something hangs behind his father's silhouette. Something else writhes within the membrane. "When Nobunaga launched a campaign into the Asakura clan's domain, Azai Nagamasa, to whom Oichi was married, broke the alliance with Oda to -"

"No," his father growls. "NoNOno." His father's figure contorts and bends at the waist in a way no sitting human could. "Hail to the King. No one getsathronew ithout horses andMEN. EXplainMorgana."

And finally, Akira hisses out a response all his own. "I'm not you."

The angles of his father's face ripple and his teeth are bare. Shadows rise in the corners. "You sound real fucking sure of that. THISISPOINTLESS"

The legs of something press from within the mucous walls, dimple them with arachnoid tips, and push.

His father no longer inhabits the chair but pins Akira to the bed. His father grins his reaper's teeth. "Liar. Tell us-"

This is a dream, Akira's mind screams. The realization rampages through Akira's system like blood, and he orders himself awake.

 

6/3

 

Akira jerks up in bed as the sun peeks above the cityscape. Morgana lies curled next to him. His walls contain no membranes or bones.

The shirt clings to his chest, stained dark gray by sweat, and Akira scuttles out of bed as softly as possible to not wake Morgana. Fleeting moments of the dream roll themselves over within his mind. His father. The things that were not his father. The walls. The strange conversation.

Akira approaches his desk chair, then stops. He studies it in silence for a time, but he cannot remember if the chair remains in the same position he'd left it the night before.

#

The inmate vanishes from the thoughtscape. The manifestation of the inmate's progenitor fades.

The girls keep the facade of Akira's room active for a fraction of a moment before compelling the setting to revert. The throat and bones collapse into sand and stretch to a horizon, and the furniture bursts and settles as grain.

Caroline regards Justine in the way only she can, and her sister responds in kind. They converse in their language, one manifested for them alone, cryptic and in many ways ancient, but outside the capacity of beings from reality to understand. To be understood, the sisters make themselves understood. Such steps are unnecessary when they commune.

Their elongated limbs and unseen appendages wrap around themselves, and depending on perspective, their discussion takes eternity or nanoseconds.

They concur.

"That did not work."

#

Akira places his foot on the next step and shoves himself upwards. "Was this really the only dorm room available?" He asks.

Yusuke pauses, a few steps ahead of Akira, and turns to peer down at him. "Of course not. Several on the first floor were unused, but given the nature of Sensei's crimes and how easily he manipulated the school into believing his falsehoods, the Principal decided I could have my choice of room."

"Hold up," Ryuji says, setting down his burden on the landing below them, and then taking a breath. "You're tellin' us you had options?"

"Indeed," Yusuke replies. "But why would I have chosen a room downstairs when the upper floor affords me a more scenic vista to draw inspiration?"

"I knew it," Akira says, shaking his head. "I knew it would have something to do with art." He turns to look at Ryuji. "Didn't I say that? When he told us it was on the top floor? Didn't I say it would be because of some ridiculous art reason?"

"It's true," Ryuji says, leaning against the wall. "He did say that."

"I hardly see the issue," Yusuke says. "Are we not all carrying our fair share of the burden?"

Each Phantom Thief carries a large, black garbage bag, within which are a few paintings they'd taken from Madarame's cognitive gallery. Though Yusuke left the majority in Akira's care, he'd cited the need for 'inspiration derived from my peers' and requested a few of the paintings relocated to his dorm room. Loathe to rely upon Ryuji's mother again, Akira, Ryuji, and Yusuke each shoved a few into a garbage bag and began the trek across Tokyo. Considering Yusuke's nascent settlement into his new dorm, the three could reasonably be said to be helping him move.

"Your share," Ryuji points out. "Is one freakin' painting."

Given Yusuke's weak constitution - outside the Metaverse - Akira and Ryuji offered to carry the majority of the artwork between themselves.

"A little head's up would've been nice," Akira says.

Yusuke's head tilts to the side, and he readjusts the garbage bag hanging limply from his shoulders. "I thought you enjoyed exercise, Ryuji?"

"I do," Ryuji counters. "But this ain't exercise. It's freakin' torture."

"I hate stairs," Akira groans.

"Everyone hates stairs," Ryuji says. "Everyone."

"I suppose we could've taken the elevator," Yusuke mutters.

Akira and Ryuji fall silent.

"There's an elevator?" Ryuji asks.

"Why wouldn't there be?" Yusuke asks. "The building is hardly medieval in origin."

"I'm gonna kill him," Ryuji says, looking at Akira. "I'm seriously gonna kill him."

"Look," Akira says, and gestures to a small plaque alongside Ryuji's shoulder. His friend turns. The number '5' jumps out in acrylic lettering. "We're close. There are only six floors. One more, and we're done."

Ryuji sighs and hefts the garbage bag up onto his shoulder. "Never again, dude. I'm never helping him with something like this again. I can't believe I agreed to this."

"He did help you with Yamauchi," Akira points out and continues his trek up the steps.

"And you are quite welcome for that," Yusuke says, a sly smile on his face from far above.

The stakeout of Yamauchi revealed what Ryuji expected. One of Kamoshida's former sycophants at Shujin, Yamauchi-sensei saw himself as an athletic know-it-all. Having learned of the man's drinking habits and patterns in a detailed and precise manner that surprised and delighted Akira, Ryuji sent Yusuke to tail him. The Kosei student reported that Yamauchi believed his star was finally rising. After reinstating the Shujin track team, he would promptly pivot off that achievement into another position, similar to Kamoshida's use of track to further his own ends with the volleyball team. Only Yamauchi had no experience and saw no issue with the bullying and heavy-handed practices Kamoshida preferred.

From a big-picture perspective, being a dick of a coach didn't qualify as something criminal, but taking care of the track team mattered to Ryuji. So Akira let it matter to him if only so he could launch his experiment.

The Thieves reach the top floor, and Yusuke holds the door for Ryuji and Akira as they shimmy their way into the hall.

"Which way?" Akira asks.

Yusuke nods and leads them down the hall. "Mine is the room at the end," he says.

"Of freakin' course," Ryuji mutters, before joining.

Yamauchi's Shadow existed in Mementos but still required a Calling Card to manifest. A Calling Card sent in an unusual fashion. If it worked, it worked. If it didn't, Yamauchi's 'crimes' wouldn't impact anyone beyond the Shujin track team. Ryuji might not like it, but the success or failure would result in valuable information regarding the nature of Calling Cards.

Yusuke opens the door, and the three slide inside.

An easel sits in the corner, hoisting a half-completed work of what looks like a landscape. Spartan describes the remainder of the room. Yusuke's possessions numbered few when he'd left LeBlanc, with only a single bag necessary to transport them.

To Ryuji's credit, he gingerly sets the garbage bag of paintings down in the corner, rather than dropping them flat on the floor. Akira does the same. Yusuke removes the painting he holds from the bag and sets it alongside the easel. "Perfect," he whispers.

"Hold up," Ryuji says, glancing out Yusuke's window. "I thought you said this room had a view?"

"It does," Yusuke replies.

"What'd you call that?"

Akira approaches and stares out the window. A few meters from Yusuke's window is a smooth, brick surface of a skyrise. "What the-" Akira starts, then shakes his head. "You can't see shit."

"Ah, but I can conjure what the view lacks in reality with my mind's eye. You see, my friends, the muse often illustrates a portrait of sublime beauty upon the most mundane of surfaces, and one must endeavor to-"

Ryuji clasps his hands to his head. "I can't take this shit, man! Can you be normal for like, five minutes?"

Yusuke crosses his arms. "I could ask the same of you."

"Whatever," Akira says, and sighs. "If you want more of these paintings, Yusuke, maybe you should arrange for other students to help next time? And we could use the elevator."

"That does sound like an excellent plan."

"At least it's done for now," Akira says.

"Right," Ryuji says, and leans against Yusuke's desk. "So, what was this important thing you needed to tell us?"

"I too, am curious," Yusuke says, sitting on his bed.

Akira looks around. "It's a bit stuffy here with all three of us and the paintings. Yusuke, can we go somewhere on campus to get more room?"

Yusuke's gaze drifts to the ceiling, and his hand cups his chin. Akira knows this stance well by now. "I suppose we could head to the chapel," Yusuke says and shrugs. "It's rarely in use."

Ryuji's head perks up. "You guys got a chapel? On campus?"

"It's not religious, though it was designed to be. The foundation of Kosei High was originally established by some Portuguese missionaries some hundreds of years ago. The chapel was constructed around then and maintained, but it has since been repurposed into a gathering place."

"Wow," Ryuji says. "I didn't know South Americans founded your school."

"That's not-" Akira starts, then closes his mouth. "Never mind. That sounds good. You don't think anyone will be there?"

"I rarely see anyone use it."

The three exit Yusuke's room and make their way downstairs - ensuring the use of the elevator. Larger than Shujin, the Kosei campus contains numerous facilities beyond the dorms and primary school building. A gymnasium, student center, and library all ring the main building. Their walk to the chapel, sequestered behind the gymnasium, takes only a few minutes but draws noticeable attention.

Where Yusuke walks, students stare.

"Guess you're something of a celebrity now," Akira says.

"Perhaps they're staring at Ryuji," Yusuke suggests. "We rarely have someone so colorful on campus."

"Uh huh," Ryuji mutters, not taking the bait. "So basically, everyone's stuck up."

Once off the main path that encircles campus, the three find themselves outside the small, two-story chapel. Constructed of wood and painted a deep charcoal color, the cross hangs from a window just above the main entrance.

Yusuke pushes the doors open and holds them for his friends. It is as quiet as promised. Seven rows of pews and an altar, but no one present. Akira sits in one of the pews and motions for the others to join him. Preparing to discuss these matters in such a solemn place feels odd but appropriate.

Yusuke and Ryuji settle down alongside Akira. "Ohya knows," Akira says.

Ryuji's face remains blank for a moment, then his brows rise. "Damn."

"About all of us?" Yusuke asks.

"No. Just me, for now. But I'm sure she's figured out you're a member, too, Yusuke. She told me not too long ago, but I didn't have a chance to bring it up."

"Does Ann know?" Ryuji asks. "Shit, does Morgana know?"

"Morgana, yes. Ann, no. I wouldn't be surprised if Mona's told her by now." Ann and Morgana's investigation into Miura continued. "I'm going to try and limit what she learns. But she's resourceful, even if she's drunk a lot of the time. She hasn't blown our cover yet, which is a plus, but-"

"I don't think she would," Ryuji says, and shrugs. "I mean, she's been cool about working with us so far."

"Yeah, but she's a journalist," Akira replies. "And thanks to Madarame, we're a big story."

"Has she not been an ally?" Yusuke asks. "In the same manner as Doctor Takemi?"

"Hey, that's a good idea," Ryuji says. "We can make her an honorary member like Plague. Then she can't rat us out because she'd be ratting herself out." Ryuji smirks, and taps his skull with his index finger. "Eh? Think about it. Pretty smart, right?"

Akira remains silent for only a fraction too long. "Yes. That's a good idea. I don't think that's exactly how that works, but yeah. I do think she'd be a good asset."

"She did have much information on Sensei," Yusuke says. "We would never have learned about Natsuki Storage without her."

"And the Devil's Dispatch site is a good way of getting our name out there," Ryuji says. "It's like the PhanSite, sort of."

"Alright. I'll propose this to Ohya. But that's not all." Akira spends a few minutes discussing Ohya's report on Daiki Aoe, and his research resulting in the Robert Cunningham story.

"Not sure I get what one has to do with the other," Ryuji says, frowning.

"I'm not saying they’re connected," Akira replies. "But the story online was the only reference I could find to cognitive science. As for Daiki Aoe, I'm worried about what might happen if the story he told Ohya leaks. It might fuel more rumors that we had something to do with Madarame's death."

Yusuke leans back in the pew and stares ahead at the altar. "What if there is something to that?"

"What do you mean?" Akira asks.

"Obviously," Yusuke continues. "We had nothing to do with Sensei's death. But what if whatever caused Daiki Aoe to blackout does involve cognitive science? On the surface, our target seems to decide that they must confess. But we know the confession derives from our theft of the Treasure. Our actions in the Metaverse have direct consequences in the real world. Could not additional actions within the Metaverse cause additional consequences?"

Ryuji's brows scrunch, but Akira nods. "I've considered if we could coach a Shadow to cause its human to do something other than confess. We may want to test that out."

"Well, hold up," Ryuji says. "What kind of test are you talking about here?"

"Nothing crazy," Akira says, and outlines his plan for Yamauchi.

Ryuji shrugs. "Yeah, I guess that could work. But still, there's a big difference between getting someone to 'not' do something and getting that same someone to stab a guy."

"And, of course, there is the conclusion to this line of thinking," Yusuke says.

"What'd you mean?" Ryuji asks.

"If someone did use the Metaverse to make Daiki Aoe stab Madarame," Akira says. "And we know we didn't do it; that means someone else did."

Ryuji leans forward and curses, then looks around, embarrassed to have said something in such a place. "But didn't you check into that with Igor?"

"Sure, but what if he lied?" Akira asks.

"Great," Ryuji mutters.

"If our benefactor cannot be relied upon for the truth," Yusuke whispers. "Then perhaps we should put some permanent distance between us."

"Then again," Akira says. "He may reveal more to us. I don't know." Akira sighs, and places his head against the pew. It was all becoming too much again. The Metaverse, Daiki Aoe, Ohya's knowledge, Yukio Kan, some potential conspiracy, all of it flew around in his head and gave him no answers.

The door to the chapel opens.

Akira sits up, and straightens his posture. The faint click of footsteps echoes through the small space. Ryuji and Yusuke focus their gazes forward.

A form walks into Akira's peripheral vision. He glances at the tall and rail-thin form of a girl in a Kosei High uniform with long dark hair adorned with a red ribbon as long and thin as her.

Her eyes find Akira's group, and she offers a faint nod. "Kitagawa-kun, good afternoon."

Yusuke smiles and inclines his head, keeping his voice low. "Good afternoon, Togo-chan."

The girl's smile is barely perceptible, and she moves up a few pews.

"Dude," Ryuji whispers in a voice that still manages to resound through the entire place. "Introduce me."

"What?" Yusuke asks.

"Huh?" Akira asks. "We're in the middle of a meeting, man."

"Well, we can't keep up the meeting if she's here, right?" Ryuji asks, swayed by his logic. "C'mon Yusuke, she's your friend, right?"

"We have an assortment of classes together," Yusuke replies. "Were we close friends, I would still not subject her to your advances."

"Bro, come on. We're pals, man."

"We are in church," Yusuke hisses.

"I ain't religious," Ryuji points out.

"If God is real," Akira says. "I think what you're doing is a damnable offense. So drop it, Ryuji."

"She is here to pray for luck in her coming match," Yusuke says. "And we should not disturb her."

"What, is she a track star or something?"

"Nothing so crude," Yusuke says.

"Hey, who're you calling crude?" Ryuji demands.

Yusuke continues, ignoring the response to his provocation. "She is a master shogi player. Top tier, in fact."

"In what?" Ryuji asks. "The school?"

"No, the country."

"For real?" Ryuji demands, at full volume.

The three boys turn to the girl as Ryuji's voice echoes through the chapel. She stares back at them.

"Sorry," Akira says, and seizes Ryuji by the arm. "Our friend is often loud in inappropriate places."

"Indeed," Yusuke says, hustling Ryuji out of the pew. "It takes several moments for his brain to catch up with his mouth."

"I'm not-" Ryuji protests, but then they're in the aisle, hustling for the door. "Good luck in your match," he calls back.

Once outside, Ryuji shakes off the grip of the others and glowers. "Geez, man. I was just askin'. She was cute, and I wanted to meet her. You didn't need to be a dick."

"Togo-chan is notoriously non-approachable," Yusuke replies. "And besides, I would think our present duties leave us little in the way of room for romance."

Ryuji nudges Akira with his elbow. "I don't know. Try askin' this guy."

Akira raises his hands in surrender. "Yeah, but you saw how that turned out."

The three deflate a bit until Yusuke straightens and says, "I am glad we had this discussion, but I am afraid I have an engagement I must attend. Could you two sees yourselves off campus?"

"You don't have a date, do you?" Ryuji asks.

"I do not."

"He just said he doesn't have time for romance," Akira says, putting an arm around Ryuji's shoulder and dragging him away. "We'll talk soon, Yusuke. If I've got news, I'll call on you know what."

"Understood," Yusuke says and nods as his friends leave.

#

Yusuke shifts in his seat. A few beads of sweat roll down his neck, and catch in his collar.

One would think air conditioning a priority in this kind of establishment.

Given the unoccupied space, it should not be so hot.

The priest continues his chant, his tone more bored than ecclesiastical. Yusuke hardly blames him.

Madarame's wake is embarrassingly unattended. Yusuke had entered, adorned in a second-hand suit he'd purchased at a thrift store in Yongen-jaya, complete with black tie. The shirt's collar does not fit properly. It squeezes around his neck, and Yusuke feels the seed of a headache forming in the center of his skull.

Yusuke knows he should feel no pride in himself, given the circumstances. Attending this wake had not been a difficult choice. Even so, he'd kept it a secret from the rest of the Phantom Thieves. One day, he believed, they'd understand.

Well... perhaps not Ryuji.

This is something he must do. For all the complications revolving around his relationship with the man, Madarame raised him. Madarame cared for him - admittedly in a twisted way - and sheltered him (in a series of ramshackle buildings).

Yusuke looks to his left and right. The chairs remain empty.

Madarame's friends from the art world.

His associates.

His fans.

His girlfriends.

No one had come.

How quickly they abandoned you, Sensei.

Yusuke sighs and then becomes concerned over the volume of said sigh. But the sutra continues and continues, uninhibited.

Then, it ends.

Yusuke stands and turns toward the exit. From his vague recollection of his mother's wake and funeral, he knows that more tends to happen. But as Madarame had no family, there's nothing left to undertake.

Yusuke blinks in surprise.

A young man sits in the back of the room. His eyes stare at the floor behind a pair of glasses. The conservative haircut of an office employee sits atop his head. A threadbare suit faded from too many washings hangs off his shoulders.

The man glances up, meets Yusuke's eyes, and looks away.

Yusuke steps up to him. "Hello."

The man lets out a long breath and stands. "Good afternoon."

They lapse into silence. Behind them, the priest grumbles something just out of earshot.

The man wets his lips. "I only heard the end of the prayer. It seemed... nice."

Yusuke shrugs. "I suppose. Were you an associate of Madarame-sensei's?"

A look crosses the man's face. A flicker of rage that dies into exhaustion. "I was. Some time ago."

Yusuke inclines his head. "I did not expect anyone else to come. My name's Yusuke Kitagawa."

The man blinks in surprise, and a small smile flits across his lips. "It took a long time for me to decide. I'm Natsuhiko Nakanohara."

Yusuke's eyes widen. Part of him wants to reach out and grab the man's hands. It was, after all, this man who put Akira and the others onto Madarame's trail. Without his direction, Yusuke would remain beneath Sensei's tutelage.

He suppresses the urge. Akira spoke with him - at length - about the need for secrecy and anonymity. Takemi and now Ohya knew at least some of their identities, and the fewer that did, the better.

But Yusuke knows he must say something. "Were you," he mutters, clears his throat, and continues, "one of Sensei's former apprentices?"

Nakanohara sticks his hands in his pockets. "Yes, I was. It's been a few years now." He chuckles without mirth. "A few bad years."

Yusuke doesn't pry. He's heard enough about Nakanohara's Shadow from the others. "If I may ask," he continues. "Why did you come today?"

Nakanohara looks beyond Yusuke, toward the front of the room. "Madarame's dead. This is what you do when people die, right?"

Yusuke frowns. "And yet, it would appear we are the only two aware of that tradition."

Nakanohara’s face scrunches up, and he pries his eyes back to the ground. "It's..." He trails off, then scowls. "He was a piece of shit."

Yusuke has grown accustomed to vulgar vocabulary, thanks to Ryuji, but to hear such a phrase in this place feels sacrilegious. He is about to open his mouth to protest when Nakanohara continues. "He threw me out into the street. He stole all my work. He made me hate art. He starved me, and I didn't even realize he was doing it until after.

"Still. I can't help but feel responsible, to a degree, for this." He nods back towards the dais.

"Responsible?" Yusuke asks. "You didn't..." he stumbles over the next word, "kill him."

Nakanohara shrugs once more. "Maybe." He glances around, as if they weren't the only two in the room. Yusuke notices the priest has stepped out of the room. "But I told the Phantom Thieves about Madarame. They went after him because I asked them to. They made him confess his crimes, and then..." He takes his hands from his pockets and spreads them as if to say, 'You know.' “If I hadn’t sent them after Madarame, he never would’ve confessed. Then, that kid wouldn’t have stabbed him to death.”

Yusuke isn't sure what to say. Should I feign ignorance? Something else? He chooses his following words carefully. "Well, I feel that I should thank you."

Nakanohara frowns. "Thank me?"

He nods. “I don't think I would've had the insight, nor the awareness, to free myself."

Nakanohara's frown doesn't leave his face, but his features soften. "You don't have to thank me, Kitagawa.”

"No. I do." He bows. "I wish it did not end this way, Nakanohara-san, but thank you for helping me."

When he straightens, there's a small smile and blush on the man's face. "Well, I guess, you're welcome."

"And," Yusuke puts in. "It should be noted that I am not alone. All of Madarame's present pupils have been freed from his clutches. And those who have already been cast aside have been vindicated."

Nakanohara's smile fades. He looks back towards the dais once more. "I wonder about that." Yusuke says nothing and waits for him to continue. "When I heard the news the other day, I was happy the Phantom Thieves had succeeded. But I don't know. I didn't feel better about anything." He sighs. "It just feels like it's convenient for people to believe that Madarame was a bad person. But I've been saying it for years. I'm sure others have been saying the same thing, but no one listened then. Now, well, look around. No one's here but us. No one cares. It just feels like believing Madarame was a good person was the thing to do. And now it's believing that he wasn't a good person." He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, a gesture Yusuke has seen Akira perform numerous times. "I don't know if I'm saying this right. It just feels so over and done. I guess I'm just not satisfied." Yusuke ponders this, but before he can say anything, Nakanohara turns his gaze to him and asks, "Are you?"

And to this, Yusuke can only say one thing. "No. I am not."

#

Airi exits the Harajuku Girls headquarters into the damp summer night. The sun set an hour earlier, and the lights of Tokyo blot out the stars. Airi once loved those lights. Once secured in her bearings, she pushes herself toward a dark alley between the Harajuku Girls building and the department store next door. Once within the shadows, Airi probes the darkness to ensure her solitude, then leans against the scabbed brick and slams her fist into the wall. Her nerves scream, but nothing breaks.

So she does it again. "Bastard," Airi hisses. "Bastard!"

How could she have been so stupid? Nothing was worth what that piece of shit wanted.

And I just went along with it! Why? I knew it was wrong, so why did I let him...

Airi slices off her line of thinking, unwilling to replay the images from moments earlier.

"Stupid," she whispers. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

People warned her about this industry. They told her how her career might devolve.

But Airi was just so mature and so smart, and she wouldn't let any of that nasty shit happen to her.

Airi sinks down the wall, and her blouse rolls up her back and sandpapers her skin. Her designer jeans rest in the alley's grime. She starts to wrap her arms around herself, but a deep revulsion overtakes her and makes her want to crawl out of her skin. "I can't," she says, and cannot determine what she means. "I can't."

"Meow," comes a sound.

Airi jerks and turns her head. A small black cat with a few tufts of white to his coat approaches her and stares into her eyes with a look she swears resembles sympathy.

Airi sniffles and reaches out a hand, slowly. The cat steps closer, sniffs her palm, and then rubs his head against it. Airi chokes out a laugh. "Aww, aren't you cute?" She rubs the cat's head and then reaches under his chin to scratch. The cat's eyes shut, and he purrs. "I did a really stupid thing, Mister Kitty Cat," Airi says. "And I'm really upset." The cat approaches, places a paw on her leg, and meows again. Airi nods. "Thanks. I appreciate it.

"But I don't know what I"m going to do. I could quit. But if I do, what's the point of what I just did? Oh god, doesn't that make me sound awful? What kind of person am I?" Airi squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head, and feels the cat's fur as he brushes himself against her leg. When her eyes open, the cat crouches down beside her. Airi takes out her phone and sighs. "I don't know, Mister Kitty Cat. What do you think I should do?" The cat meows. Airi smiles. "Maybe I should ask the Phantom Thieves for help. Think they're real?"

The cat's tail flicks, and Airi's phone flies from her hands. "Hey," Airi calls, as the cat jumps, snatches the phone in his jaw, and darts away. Airi jumps to her feet. "Come back here!"

The cat drops the phone a few yards away, and Airi closes the distance quickly. The cat, hunched over the phone's screen, scurries away as Airi extends a hand to catch him. She curses, kneels, and picks up her phone. Airi stares at the screen. Earlier, she'd queued open her Message app, intending to text her friend.

"Weird," she says.

The cat's claws evidently clicked their way across the screen. Incomprehensible described most of the text, but the characters came together in the center to make a few legible words.

apoasdwedsjwefLEAVETOUSfudobakuwn

"No way," Airi whispers. She deletes the text and puts the phone back in her purse. She can't remember what she intended to text anyway. She peers into the shadows, but the cat is gone.

#

"I see," Yusuke says.

"It's confirmed," Akira says, through the phone. "The manager and the coach. Both."

"But you only want a poem for the manager?"

"That's right. I told you my idea for the coach."

"Understood. I'll begin at once."

Akira hangs up his burner.

 

6/4

 

Kaito Miura throws open the door to his office, struts inside, and slides into his desk chair. He reclines, a position he often finds himself in and stares at the ceiling.

Life is good, he thinks.

The dividends he anticipated from the blitzkrieg he initiated within the Tokyo modeling scene weren't only materializing; they were exploding. The models from Harajuku Girls shimmer across the covers of magazines, billboards, and even commercials. A few even caught the eye of talent agents, and Miura nearly inhales the aroma of lucrative contracts. Some of his favorites might scurry up the chain, but Miura facilitates happily as long as he gets what he wants.

The girls may be the face, but Miura is brain and body both. Even since assuming control of this agency, Miura wanted more than his competitors. He needed to erupt onto the scene and make a real name for himself. Of course, the occasional blowjob didn't hurt, either.

Really, luck shined on the girls. Had they a less competent manager, not one would secure a deal. Some couldn't handle the pressure, like that idiot Mika Aizata. He didn't anticipate she'd have such an extreme reaction to the spotlight's duties. Well, whatever. She was in the hospital, therapy, or wherever and no longer his problem.

Miura leans forward and checks the mail his secretary deposited earlier that morning. Nothing catches his eye, save for a small red envelope. Curious, Miura slides his finger through the crease and opens it.

A small Card falls onto his desk. Miura's eyes widen. He recognizes the top-hat symbol.

Dear Kaito Miura, the sleaze of Harajuku Girls,

You've preyed upon your last innocent. We know what you've done to the models who work for you, insisting they trade sexual favors for your assistance. Your twisted desires have hurt the people around you and ruined lives. That's why we're going to steal those desires from you. You will confess to your crimes and use your profits for compensation. Prepare yourself.

Signed,

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts

Miura shakes his head. "Ridiculous." Ruined lives? He's done nothing of the sort. Everyone's responsible for their actions, aren't they? Those girls chose to give themselves over to him. It's not his fault. Why not get compensation for the hard work he did on their behalf?

Miura crumples up the Card and tosses it into his waste bin. "Not happening."

Miura doesn't care what these so-called 'Phantom Thieves' are capable of; they have nothing on him. Whatever they'd pulled on that gym teacher and that Madarame painter, they couldn't do the same on Miura. They weren't magic. Miura never sent a text, never sent an email, took a photo, nothing. All his exploits occurred within his office, his secure office.

Miura flips on his computer and logs into his email, intent on putting the matter behind him. Within his inbox are dozens of emails from business associates.

Subject: You need to see this

Subject: Are you nuts?

Subject: Cancelling Contract

Subject: Termination of Support Regarding Your...

"What the hell?" Miura asks, and opens the first email. It contains little text but a link to some site called 'Devil's Dispatch.' He follows the link and finds a photo of himself in a very unprofessional position. The girl's face is blurred. His isn't.

The headline reads, 'Scumbag Boss Get Paid a Different Way.'

"Fuck," Miura whispers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

How did someone see that? His building stands taller than those around it, and the thin windowsill offers no purchase. So how could someone reach the outside of his office with a camera?

Miura tears his eyes from the computer and reaches into his garbage bin. "No, it can't be." He removes the crumpled-up piece of red paper and smooths it out.

Across the city, deep within Mementos, a Shadow fully materializes.

#

Yamauchi's phone vibrates just as he heads out for lunch. He pulls it from his pocket and checks the message. Unknown number? Clicking his tongue, Yamauchi opens the message and reads.

Dear Shouhei Yamauchi, the wannabe Kamoshida,

You use the track team for your own ends. We will not let you. We will steal your Heart.

-The Phantom Thieves

"What the hell?" Yamauchi asks. A prank, surely. From one of the students on the track team. Nakaoka, most likely. Why would the Phantom Thieves target him? He hadn't even done anything. Who cares about his intentions with the track team? They weren't illegal or even unethical. Besides, he received a text message, not a Calling Card. If the Phantom Thieves did try something, Yamauchi would go to the police. Undoubtedly the cops possessed some device or software to identify the source of such messages. Yamauchi chuckles, shakes his head, and slides the phone back into his pocket.

#

Akira twists the burner phone in half and tosses the broken pieces into a garbage can in Roppongi. A few minutes later, his second burner rings. He answers.

"It's there," Ann says.

Morgana sensed Yamauchi's materialized Shadow. Akira smiles, switches off his burner, and begins the trek back to Shibuya.

#

"The form of the Calling Card doesn't matter," Joker says, as the Mona-mobile plunges deeper into Mementos. "So long as we trigger the idea, the Shadow manifests."

"Still," Panther says, lounging in the backseat. "Wasn't that a risk? Sending Yamauchi a text like that?"

"From a burner," Joker reminds her. "A burner that's already broken and disposed of."

"It gets us around the Shujin problem though, right?" Skull asks, sitting beside Joker in the passenger seat. "If we want to change a heart, we could tell em to their face, or call on the phone."

"Let's not go crazy with it," Mona replies, his voice filtering into the bus. "The Calling Card is, well, our Calling Card. The public doesn't have the same reaction if we don't use it. Besides, I don't think walking up to someone and saying, 'I'm gonna steal your heart, hahaha,' will go over well."

"Yeah, I get that," Skull replies. "But it's good to know we've got the option. If we're in a pinch and can't smuggle a Calling Card to someone, we could send a text like Joker did."

"That's only if we really need to change someone's heart," Joker says. "Without the public being aware of the change, it won't build their knowledge and awareness of us. It'll help us work with Shujin people as well."

Fox gasps.

"What's wrong?" Joker asks.

"If the form does not matter, then even my works of art may be used to facilitate the manifestation of the Shadow." He places his gloved hands against his head and appears to swoon. "My mind brims with the possibilities."

"Great," Panther mutters. "Your plan broke Fox. Again."

"I agree with Joker," Mona cuts in, before Fox plunges off whatever ledge he's found. "We only use this as a last resort. In this case, it helps us to avoid alerting the public we're targeting Yamauchi, a teacher at Shujin."

"Meanwhile," Skull says, smirking. "Everyone thinks we're dealing with Miura."

"Well, we are dealing with Miura," Panther replies. "That bastard needs a good ass kicking."

"And he'll get one," Joker promised. "But first, we change Yamauchi's heart. Then we find Miura. We don't want Yamauchi to show anyone the Calling Card before we get the chance to take him down."

"Are we getting any closer?" Skull asks, peering into the gloom of Mementos.

"I'm working on it, geez," Mona mutters. "I'm not exactly traveling at the speed of light here."

The drive takes another few minutes before they reach one of the lower tunnels, and descend deeper. Joker studies the walls as they pass, and his mind replays the dream from the other night. The tall bones of Mementos remind him of the strange scape in which he found himself. Fragments of the dream return to him, and he shoves them aside and only tells himself he needs to focus.

The walls of Mementos continue to close over them as Mona continues to truck deeper, white specters stretching over them like branches.

#

Yamauchi's Shadow bursts into a bubble of smoke and ash and congeals upon the floor. Then, slowly, the desiccated and disheveled figure of the new track coach rises.

"Just leave me alone," the Shadow moans. "I'm just trying to-"

"Yeah, we don't care about the sob story," Joker says, and places his gun against the Shadow's temple. "Skull?"

"You're gonna resign as the track team coach at Shujin, got it?" Skull asks. "But not before doing your very best to find a suitable replacement. Someone who'll give a shit. You should make the case to the Principal and whoever else that they should take over the team. Understand?"

"Yes," the Shadow responds, and nods. "I do. I understand. I will-"

"One more thing," Joker says, as the Shadow starts to fade into the light. "Don't tell anyone you received a Calling Card from the Phantom Thieves. Delete the texts on your phone and never talk about them again. Got it?"

The Shadow looks almost confused, but it nods and fades away.

The Treasure materializes above the head of where the Shadow had stood, and Skull reaches up and snatches it down. "Look at that," he says, turning around and showing it to the others.

"What is that?" Fox asks.

"Looks like a pair of old running shoes," Skull mutters. "I don't know. Maybe the guy was a track star back in his day."

"Think they're worth anything?" Panther asks.

Skull shakes his head. "A beat-up old pair like this? Nah." He regards the Thieves and smiles. "Yo, but for real, thanks for your help with this one, guys. I really appreciate it."

Panther smirks. "No worries, Skull. I'm just hoping you'll stop talking about it now." Her face grows serious. "Now that we've dealt with Yamauchi, let's make our way over to Miura's Shadow."

Joker nods. "Mona, do your thing."

A puff of smoke and Mona transforms into the bus once more.

"Let's roll," the cat calls.

#

Miura fields calls from his business partners all day, not to mention the many enraged calls from the parents and guardians of some of the minor models. In response to the Devil's Dispatch article, a few additional girls contacted his office and requested their contracts terminated.

In a handful of hours, Miura's life crumbles.

His heart hammers in his chest, and he throws his keyboard across the room. What is he supposed to do?

I'll find whoever leaked this, and I'll kill them, his mind screams, but even he knows this is an empty threat. Still, there must be something he can-

Something spreads through Miura like a flush. Images of all the girls he's hurt flash through his mind, and for the first time, he recognizes the look of shame and fear in their eyes.

He runs out of his office, into the bathroom, slams the stall door shut, and vomits into the toilet.

Miura remains in the stall for a few minutes, muttering to himself, the cacophony of ringing phones a backdrop to his words. Finally, he stands and drags himself back to his office. He disconnects whatever calls wait for him and dials the police.

At no point does his mind turn to the Phantom Thieves.

Notes:

Did you think with a title like that, it would be a happy chapter?!

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you all have a good Wednesday!

Chapter 50: Chapter 50

6/5

 

Time's up. Iwai sends another text. Makes another call. Akira ignores. The man feels the world's weight upon his back, and in the fraction of the moment he considers throwing his phone and decides not to, the oppressive expanse of his years pricks his skin and clings to his organs in a new and awful way. His mind, always regimented if crude, alights.

What have I done?

Where is he?

Why won't he answer the goddamn phone?

Kaneshiro's getting impatient.

What if Kaoru finds out?

Each a loaded gun to his temple. Each an acidic sanitary wipe across the inside of his ribcage. No time left. Time's up. Same thing. Everything apexes at the same point, no matter the articulation - a desperate cognitive tactic to avoid action.

I need to find Akira.

#

Akira's phone vibrates as he enters the Cafe Assiette, a new joint on Central Street, Shibuya, he never frequents but smells of delightful cinnamon and the congealed aroma of a dozen varieties of pastries, all but masking the faint whiff of standardized coffee.

He ignores the call. Takemi, Ohya, Iwai, Sojiro, someone else; it doesn't matter. This is the handoff, and it is delicate.

Haru, sipping a coffee (standardized, Akira realizes with a grimace as he approaches) and dressed in a breezy but refined cerulean summer dress, launches herself from her seat when she spots him but regathers her poise halfway and unfolds herself upwards instead. Her grin mixes excitedness, playfulness, and a hint of slyness Akira chalks up to a misread on his part. "Good morning, Mona-chan!" Haru calls.

Akira hefts the purple carrier, and the black mass with white tufts within replies, "Yeah. Whatever."

"Here he is," Akira says, unnecessarily. He begins to set the bag on the table before placing it on the floor instead. Morgana glares up at him through the carrier's grate. "How's it going, Haru?"

A fuse flips, and Haru's expression for Akira radiates pure neutrality. "Well, thank you for asking. And you?"

"I'm g-"

"Glad to hear it," she says. "I received the email with your instructions. Rest assured, Mona-chan is in good hands." She lifts the carrier, holds it gingerly before her, peers into the cage and says, "We're going to have such fun, Mona-chan!"

"Right, well," Akira says, eyes drifting to his feet. Is this really a good idea?

 "I hope you two do. Have fun, that is."

"I won't forget my end of the deal," Haru says, still not looking at Akira. "I will speak with Makoto."

"Thank you," Akira replies, and begins backing towards the door.

"I still say," Morgana calls as Akira retreats. "That this is a bad plan."

#

Each step on the concrete of Akira's race to Ryuji's house pumps another doubt into his head. Morgana always insisted on his independence even if he did rely on Akira's (really Sojiro's) goodwill for shelter, and the cat frequently placed himself in the care of the other Phantom Thieves. But this plan surrendered Morgana into the hands of an enemy.

Akira turned a corner, not slowing down, and realized he didn't truly consider Haru an enemy, but an outsider.

Morgana made his displeasure known, but Akira sanctioned the plan regardless. The explanation to Ann yielded its own difficulties, whereas Ryuji and Yusuke accepted without much resistance.

Ryuji's residence resides off Shibuya proper, in the small residential section upon which development encroaches. Ryuji's mother answers the door. "Akira-kun! Welcome!"

"Hi, Miss Sakamoto," Akira manages, trying to control his breathing. "May I come in?"

"Of course," she replies, and takes a step back. A smell wafts from behind her, swirling up Akira's nose and triggering his saliva. Hot and spicy, but very different from the typical aroma of LeBlanc. Ryuji's mother smiles at the look on Akira's face. "I'm making Ryu-kun's favorite. It'll be ready in a few hours. You should join us."

"Sounds great," Akira says, stepping inside. He removes his shoes and bows. "Thank you for having me."

"They're up in Ryu-kun's room."

Akira glides through the house, heading for the stairs. The house's quaintness clashes with Ryuji's robust walls. Eggshell white walls.Framed photos of child Ryuji - perfect blackmail material - and comfortable-looking furniture, if a bit threadbare.

Akira climbs to the second floor, finding Ryuji's room easily enough.

Dead giveaway: The door with the 'BIOHAZARD WARNING' poster unevenly taped across the wood.

Akira knocks.

"Akira?" Comes a voice.

"Yeah."

"C'mon in."

Posters of rock bands, racers dashing across finish lines, and sports apparel logos decorate the walls with no apparent logic to their placement. Rather, they all compete for space.

The room is otherwise sparse, save for a pile of clothes shoved into the far corner. Akira finds it all too easy to picture them scattered across the floor an hour ago.

Ann sits on Ryuji's bed, flipping through her phone. She glances at Akira when he walks in, then returns to her screen. "Did you hear the news?" She asks. Akira shakes his head. "Miura turned himself in. It didn't get much traction outside the fashion world, but when the police showed up at his office, they found our Calling Card."

Ryuji sits in a black and red gamer's chair, phone up to his face. "Looks like we're makin' headlines again."

"Mmmhmm," Ann replies, still not looking up. "Which makes me wonder why we're doing this whole thing."

"Which I've explained," Akira says, keeping the irritation from his voice. Honestly, why are you even here, then? If you didn't want to participate? "You know," Akira continues, turning to Ryuji. "It's pretty cool of your Mom to let you hang here with Ann. Door closed and everything."

Ann's cheeks redden as she glares up at him. Ryuji's eyes never leave his computer screen. "Nah. She knows Ann's more like a sister than anything."

A sports magazine sails through the brief span of air between Ann and Ryuji, and slams into the side of the latter's head. "Ow," he yells, rubbing the spot and turning to face her. "What the hell?"

"Jerk," Ann hisses, then her face resets. She regards Akira, an even more severe frown on her face.

Before she can pick up the thread, Akira asks, "How's Morgana doing?"

Ryuji casts one last glance at Ann, then returns to his computer screen. "I dunno. So far, so good, I guess? I've got no idea where Haru lives. Looks like she's heading through Aoyoma-Itchome, though."

"Akira, you-" Ann starts, then pauses. "Wait, Aoyoma-Itchome? Why would she be there?"

Ryuji shrugs. "Oh gee, I don't know. Maybe 'cause she lives there?"

Ann rolls her eyes and stands, leaning over Ryuji's shoulder. "Wouldn't an heiress like her live in a ritzy neighborhood?"

Akira and Ryuji both say, "Heiress?"

She steps away from Ryuji's computer and regards both boys. "Yeah. Haru Okumura."

Ryuji looks at Akira, who shrugs. "What about it?"

Ann's mouth drops open. "You're joking. You're seriously joking."

"About what?" Akira asks, annoyance infiltrating his tone.

"Yeah, spit it out, Ann," Ryuji grumbles.

Ann drops her head into her hands. "Oh my god, you guys are hopeless! Haru Okumura, as in Okumura Foods, as in the company that owns Big Bang Burger? As in her father's the CEO."

Akira smirks. "No way."

"Yes, way," Ann nearly shouts. "You've worked in the same flower shop all these weeks, and you didn't know that? Are you freaking kidding me?"

The hundred-thousand-plus gears turning in Akira's head halt their spin, jerk in random directions, and break off into the abyss of his gray matter. "Now that you mention it," Akira says, after clearing his throat. "She did seem a little put off when I started working at Rafflesia."

I'm Haru Okumura.

I'm Akira Kurusu.

Yes, I know. But I'm Haru Okumura.

Oh. You don't know.

He frowns. "I never did ask what she meant."

"Why not?" Ann demands.

"I was being polite," Akira snaps back. Plus, I forget about it. "It wasn't my business."

"Not your business?" Ann asks. "Was this before or after you decided to send an undercover operative to her house to spy on your wannabe girlfriend?"

"Before, obviously," Akira shouts, and regrets it.

Ann shakes her head. "Wow. All the careful planning. All the Operational Security, and you didn't even figure out one of the country's richest-"

"Yo," Ryuji says, standing. "Keep your voices down in my Mom's house, alright?" He steps between them, a scowl on his face. "Morgana's countin' on us, so stop this bullshit, yeah? Both of you."

Neither Akira nor Ann reply, but neither escalates.

Ryuji sighs and looks at Ann. "But if she's so rich, why's she working part-time in a flower shop?"

Ann shakes her head, and her shoulders sag. "I don't know, Ryuji. Why do rich people do anything? Why'd you not know this? Last year, when she transferred in, it was a huge deal."

Ryuji resumes his position at the computer. "In case you forgot, I kinda sorta had my hands full with the whole Kamoshida situation."

Ann crosses her arms and sits on the bed. "You two are damn lucky I'm part of this team."

"But like, what's the big deal?" Ryuji asks. "If Haru's some rich girl, doesn't that mean Mona will be lounging in a mansion instead of Akira's attic? Sounds like a sweet deal to me."

Akira thinks this through. "I guess that's true. But Ann's right. Why are they heading through Aoyoma-Itchome?"

"Maybe they're going to meet Makoto," Ann mutters. "That should make you happy, Akira."

Akira turns to her. "This is the best way to figure out what danger Makoto poses to us. They're not going to suspect a cat of retaining any information. We'll learn what we need and-"

"Oh, give it a rest," Ann says, rolling her eyes. "For someone who's always talking about how we need to 'move on from Shujin, ' you sure spend a lot of time chasing around after its Student Council President." Akira opens his mouth, but Ann continues. "What could Makoto even prove? Nothing. She's got nothing on us, Akira. She doesn't have the app. She doesn't have access to the Metaverse. All she's got are some connected dots, and that's not enough to do anything."

"And that might be all that someone does need," Akira interjects. "Need I remind you that I've been in a situation where testimony was enough to put me away?"

"You already implemented the 'give Makoto the cold shoulder' plan, Akira," Ann says. "But now you're breaking that plan by doing this. I mean, pick a fucking lane already."

"Cool the language in my Mom's house," Ryuji snaps. "And could you two like, shut up for a second? This is getting weird."

Akira shoves the roiling emotions in his chest away and joins Ryuji at his computer. "What's up?"

Ryuji adjusts the monitor so Akira can see. "I might be lookin' at this map wrong," Ryuji says. "But doesn't it look like Haru's heading for Shujin?"

#

Mere millimeters, that's the true measurement of the world. It's so very small. So very inconsequential. And the people within are worse. Fragments of fragments, all following the direction of their cognitive geometries.

Regardless of shape, a Palace is a Palace.

A Shadow is a Shadow, no matter the form.

The Metaverse is the Metaverse, whether that be a throat, meadow, cityscape, or desert.

Everyone a slave to themselves. Beholden to a higher power imprinted upon them since time immemorial.

All those forgotten ancestors with their junk DNA and dead tongues. All those neurons firing in a knee-jerk reaction to danger long extinct.

Only a few are free. And even then, among those outside Humanity’s Palace, their ids and egos ground them to a solitary function.

The Wild Cards, though. The liquid in the cracks of humanity, eroding, rushing, drowning. We are who we are—slaves of nothing, not even God. Adopt a face, change your voice, change your mind, change you. Flexible against the rigidity of our species.

First though, you must learn control.

#

Morgana readjusts himself, covering the false bottom of the carrier that contains Yusuke's phone. This thing is so cramped.

"Almost there, Mona-chan," Haru chants in her sing-song voice.

"Uh huh," Morgana mutters. Boredom settled in long ago. Spending the weekend like this? Taking photos and hoping that Makoto disgorged her plans? Akira would pay.

His gaze, primarily unfocused as it stares out the carrier's grate, passes over some familiar landmarks. Familiar enough for Morgana's brain to task switch over to giving his surroundings some attention.

Wait a second.

At the end of a familiar road waits Shujin Academy. "What are we doing here?" He asks, aware Haru cannot understand but unable to help himself.

Relax. Think. Clubs operated on Sundays. Was Haru a member of any clubs? Morgana can't recall her mentioning any. To his knowledge, Makoto remained Haru's only confirmed friend and confidant.

Haru doesn't pass the school, but turns toward the steps and takes them two at a time. Morgana peers up at her, and she sees her texting with one hand, smiling.

Did Haru have a boyfriend? Were they taking a detour so she could enjoy some quality time with a hunk on some sports team?

Haru enters Shujin and walks the length of the ground floor to the stairwell. The clubs meet in the other building. Why's she going upstairs?

Haru's third-year status meant her classroom sat on the ground floor. Morgana fathomed Haru stopping at the library, but why bring him along?

Haru ascends to the top floor and exits the stairwell.

She strides past the library.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

Haru knocks on the Student Council Room's door. Then, she knocks again.

A moment later, two knocks sound from the inside.

Waitwaitwaitwaitwait-

Haru pauses, knocks once more, and the door opens.

Makoto Niijima stands within, a smile on her face.

"Are we prepared?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods. "Let's get to the bottom of this." Haru lifts the carrier, and Makoto peers inside. "It's nice to meet you, Morgana."

#

"Okay," Ryuji says. "So, like, Haru doesn't live at the school, right?"

"Of course she doesn't," Ann replies.

"Then what's she doing there?" Ryuji growls.

Akira peers at the screen. The phone's location hovers more or less still somewhere in the Main Building. "We can't get any more details from Yusuke's phone? Like, what floor they're on or something?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Bro, look around. This ain't the freakin' Pentagon. We set up the GPS track for Yusuke's phone, and that's it."

Akira frowns. Why would she head to Shujin? The school remained open on Sundays for clubs, and Haru could've accomplished whatever task needed doing before picking up Morgana.

Unless, his father whispers. She couldn’t complete her task until after she picked up Morgana.

Akira's eyes widen. "Shit."

#

Haru shuts the door behind them. Locks it.

Simple door lock, Morgana thinks. Grab the handle and pull. It'll unlock on its own.

His eyes drink in everything. He spies the words written across the marker board. 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic.’

This...

Haru sets the carrier on the table.

Beneath the 'Operation's' title sits a collection of dozens of pictures. Blurry, distant shots of Akira and the other Phantom Thieves. A map of Tokyo, with pins marking locations like LeBlanc, Shibuya Station, 'Untouchable,' and others, resides beneath the photos, which stick to it with pins.

This was...

"Should we begin?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods. "I'd like to check his collar first. Perhaps there's evidence of a previously planted device."

Haru unlatches the carrier's grate.

"A setup," Morgana hisses. Haru's encroaching hand snaps back.

"It's okay, Mona-chan," Haru says, a nervous smile now on her face. "This is my friend, Makoto."

"Yeah, no shit," Morgana mutters. His gaze darts back to the board. Morgana knows his memory excels, but it's not perfect. Akira wanted details on Makoto's plan? Well, here was Makoto's plan. I need to get photos. He notices a phrase written near the bottom of the map. 'The Cat is the Key.'

How much had they figured out? Surely not the Metaverse component?

The name 'Yusuke Kitagawa' appeared on the board as well. Made sense, since Akira revealed him to Makoto some weeks back.

Akira, you moron, Morgana thinks. Focus!

Okay. Maps. Photos. They must've figured out I communicate with the team. Morgana thinks of all those - from Haru's perspective - one-way conversations at Rafflesia. What if she didn't think they were one way? Morgana feels sick.

Slowly, Morgana extracts himself from the carrier.

"There we go," Haru says gently, and moves to lift Morgana, to which he complies. The board contains information on Nakanohara and Daisuke. Madarame. Kamoshida. Nothing about their latest targets. Precious little about the PhanSite. A copy of Kamoshida's and Madarame's Calling Cards hang taped to the board.

Morgana feels someone gently tugging on his collar. "Easy there, kitty," Makoto says, sliding Morgana's collar off.

"Hey, give that back," Morgana snaps, then shuts himself up.

Makoto runs her finger around the inside. "I don't see any listening device. But, then again, there might be something so small I can't detect. Some militaries use small spying equipment, so you'd need a microscope to detect them."

Haru frowns. "So, the cat being magic is too ridiculous, but Akira having access to top-of-the-line military equipment isn't too far-fetched? This is the same Akira who hangs out at an airsoft store?"

"Yeah," Morgana grumbles. "You're giving us too much credit."

Makoto places the collar on the table. "Check his fur next." Haru does this by pretending to scratch Morgana's head and then slowly lets her hand drift down until she's more or less just poking him all over.

"Quit it," Morgana growls. He yanks his hind leg back as Haru inspects it, and in her shock, she drops him. Morgana lands on the floor (gracefully, he will later insist) and hops onto the table in the center of the room. The better to see the board.

"I don't think there's anything on him," Haru says. "Plus, he's a cat. I don't think he'd like carrying something like a camera around in his fur all the time."

"Damn straight," Morgana replies, absently.

"What's he keep staring at?" Makoto asks.

Morgana freezes, then says, "Meow."

"The board, I guess?" Haru asks.

"Yes, but why?"

"I don't know," Haru replies. "The shapes, maybe?"

"Well, let's check the carrier next. Maybe they smuggled something in there."

Morgana turns and darts back into the open carrier.

"Hey," Makoto says, jumping backward.

"Mona-chan," Haru cries, indignity in her voice. "What's gotten into you?"

Morgana lays himself on the carrier's false bottom, and begins to roll around, trying to find an angle to allow him to extract the phone without the girls noticing.

"What's he doing?" Makoto asks.

"Convulsing?" Haru asks. "Mona-chan, are you sick?"

"Oh my god," Morgana mutters. Hopeless. He cannot pull the phone from its hiding spot without these two noticing. Morgana shuts his eyes and pretends to nap.

"What? He's sleeping now?" Makoto asks. "What's this cat's deal?"

"Um," Haru replies. "He is a cat, Mako-chan."

"Alright, I'm dumping him out." Makoto moves to side of the carrier opposite the grate, places both hands on the sides, and begins to heft.

"Oh, come on," Morgana cries. Nothing for it now. As Morgana begins to slip forward, he slaps a paw down on the false bottom of the carrier. The thin plastic sheet pops up, and Yusuke's phone tumbles onto the table. As Makoto angles the carrier perpendicular to the table, Morgana falls alongside the device.

"Is that..." Haru starts.

"A phone?" Makoto finishes, setting the carrier down.

Morgana arches his back and hisses at the girls, and they both retreat a few steps. Then, Morgana's claws dart around on the phone's screen. "Come on, come on," Morgana grumbles. Insistent on prepping for every contingency, Morgana made Yusuke show him how to work his phone. Simple enough, but a phone made for people did not operate as smoothly for a cat.

A few misplaced scratches later, and Morgana queues up the camera app. He raises the camera toward the board and snaps a photo of the upper section.

"What th-" Makoto begins to blurt, then she darts in front of the board. "Haru, quick! Block him!"

"I don't..." Haru says. "What is going on?"

"He's taking pictures of the board," Makoto yells.

"But he's a cat," Haru replies.

"Move," Morgana says, trying to capture what little he can with another photo.

Makoto gasps. "Morgana, can you understand me?"

"Screw this," Morgana replies. He'll have to wing it when he recounts the rest of the board to the team. Morgana tosses the phone into the air and catches it in his tail. Haru, to everyone's surprise, claps delightedly.

"Sorry," she says, as Morgana beelines for the door.

Morgana leaps, wraps the handle in his paws, lets his body weight pull it down, and unlocks the door.

"Don't let him out," Makoto shouts, as the door clicks and swings open. Too late. Morgana drops to the floor and slides through the small space toward freedom.

#

"Check this out," Ryuji says, straightening.

"We're already right behind you," Ann replies.

"Whatever." Ryuji points at the screen. "Mona's goin' haywire."

The dot representing Yusuke's phone began shifting within Shujin, rapidly—a short burst in a straight line, then circles.

"Stairs," Akira says, and snaps his fingers. "They're going up or down stairs."

The dot halts, and a moment later, Akira's burner vibrates. Everyone jumps at the noise. Akira snatches it out of his pocket, and his eyes widen. "It's Yusuke's phone."

"His burner?" Ryuji asks.

"No, the actual phone."

"Crap," Ann says. "Do you think Haru found it?"

Akira shakes his head. "Even if she did, our burner numbers aren't saved. We've been deleting the records after every call."

"You gonna answer it?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods, presses the receive button, and brings the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

A series of screeches beat into his ears, and he jerks away from the phone with a wince.

"What's wrong?" Ann asks.

Akira hits the speaker button. A high-pitched sequence of meows and yowls batter the walls of Ryuji's room. Ann curses and covers her ears.

"Is that Morgana?" Ryuji asks.

"Why does he sound like that?" Ann asks.

"Morgana?" Akira says, bringing the phone back to his ear. "Morgana, we can't understand you. Slow down."

The cat noises slow, but no coherent words arrive.

Ryuji's eyes widen. "Oh shit, dude. I don't think the phone can understand him."

"What?" Ann asks. "That's stupid. We can understand him. Why would it be different talking over the phone?"

"But we're not really hearing Morgana, you know?" Ryuji says. "We're hearing how the phone hears Morgana. You never really hear the person on the other end. You're hearing a scramble of code that kind of sounds like them, but it's not really their voice."

Ann's brows rise. "How do you know that?"

Ryuji shrugs. "I watch a lot of TV."

"Clearly."

"Guys," Akira snaps. Both shut up. Akira tries to think. Morgana sounded troubled, but felt safe enough to communicate. But if they couldn't understand him, how could they help him? "Okay. Morgana, listen up. For whatever reason, we can't understand you over the phone."

A series of screeches follow.

"I know, I know. It's bullshit," Akira calls back. "Just calm down. We don't know what's wrong, but we're still tracking you." He glances at Ryuji's computer screen. "You're still at Shujin, right? Hang up and text me. Tell us what's happening. We'll figure it out from there."

A short meow, and the call ends.

#

Morgana laments the 'Metaverse versus Reality' rules only as time permits. Outside Shujin, the now-familiar alley beckons. Morgana queues up Yusuke's Messenger app once he's within the pathway's shadows.

YUSUKE : AMBUSH! MAKOTO&HARU 2X TEAM! HELP!

Morgana sends the text. And waits. And waits.

Yusuke's phone vibrates after an unpleasant eternity.

AKIRA: Head to Shibuya Station. We'll meet you there.

Morgana fails to suppress a groan. I'm having so many words with these idiots when they find me!

A gasp, and Morgana lifts his eyes from the phone.

Makoto and Haru stand at the gaping mouth of the alley, and Morgana realizes the phone's blue light means he's no longer hidden.

"It's..." Makoto starts. "It's..."

"Texting?" Haru asks.

"Crap." Morgana wraps his tail around the phone and darts down the alley.

"After him," Makoto cries.

"So many words," Morgana shouts at the sky.

#

Akira and Ann try not to appear in a hurry as they reach Shibuya Station. Akira keeps his phone to his ear. "We're here."

"Alright, so he should be by the entrance," Ryuji says, from his burner. "I can't tell, though."

"By the entrance to the Ginza line?" Akira asks. "Or the statue of Hachiko?"

"Dude, I don't know." Ryuji wanted to come with them, but Akira instructed him to remain at home and give directions as Akira and Ann went.

Akira yanks out his burner, checking for another message.

YUSUKE : PURSUIT! BAD TIMES!

Ann puts her hands on her legs, breathing heavily. Akira hardly blames her, as he feels his own sheen of sweat sticking to his arms, shoulders, and upper chest, all from the mad dash from Ryuji's house. "You know..." Ann groans. "We should've taught Morgana how to text properly."

Akira nods. "Teaching the cat how to use Messenger wasn't at the top of my priorities list."

"Just... saying," Ann mutters.

They cross the street and enter the pulsing crowd. Akira calls his position into the phone, but Ryuji's directions never change beyond, "He's around there somewhere."

Ann curses and seizes Akira's arm surprisingly firmly, given how winded she appeared moments ago. Their direction abruptly changed, Akira juggles his phone as the surrounding pedestrians jostle them. He manages to regain control as the two reach a series of smoking booths. "What the hell?" Akira asks, shaking his arm loose from Ann's grip.

"Look," she replies, and points. Akira turns and follows her finger's direction. His eyes widen when he sees the familiar forms of Makoto and Haru cross the street, their eyes darting every which way.

"They're looking for him," Akira says.

"Who?" Ryuji asks, over the phone.

"Makoto and Haru just showed up."

"For real?"

Ann frowns, thin bullets of sweat running down her forehead. "Guess we know what, 'Pursuit, bad times,' means now."

They chased him from Shujin? Just how dedicated are these two? A moment of reflection on all Akira knows of Makoto, and Haru is enough to realize the question is stupid.

"Do you guys see Morgana yet?" Ryuji asks.

Akira's burner vibrates.

YUSUKE : AT ENTRANCE? WHERE AT U?

"Is he saying he's at the entrance?" Ann asks, when Akira shows her the text. "Or is he asking if we're at the entrance?"

"I don't know," Akira says, and starts texting.

AKIRA : We're by the smoking booths on the surface. Where are you?

YUSUKE : AT ENTRANCE DUH

"Oh my god," Akira says, and draws a hand over his face. "He never gets a phone again.

The many entrances - cluttered with bodies - of Shibuya Station reveal little when Akira looks, until a coincidental thinning out of people by the Toyoko line reveals the small black shape of Morgana, paws holding Yusuke's phone. A few people bend to pet his head, but he hisses at them before they get too close.

Akira prepares to approach when he spots Makoto and Haru. The latter tugs at Makoto's sleeve and points at Morgana. She mouths something that looks like, "There," and the two start running.

Morgana stiffens when he spots them and darts into Shibuya Station.

Akira curses, and a few pedestrians turn sullen glances his way.

"Now what?" Ann asks.

Akira starts toward the entrance. "We need to find him before they do, and we need them not to see us." Akira runs it all through his head. "Okay, you take the mall. It won't look out of place if you're shopping. I'll go down by the commuter lines and see if he's there. Ryuji," he says, into the phone. "I don't suppose you can give us a hint to his location."

"Hard to say. But his little dot thing made a circle just now. Looks like he went down some steps."

Akira turns back to Ann. "Text if you see him. Something simple."

Ann frowns. "Okay. Uh, I guess I'll say I found something in a department store. Something cute."

Akira almost asks why she would tell him that but foregoes the question to nod and run down the steps.

#

Ann's heart threatens to punch its way out of her chest, but still she searches. No sign of Mona in the mall, and checking her cell every few seconds yields nothing. If Morgana saw her, Ann felt sure he'd bound out of his hiding spot and leap into her arms.

The flower shop, Ann recalls. Morgana knew the place well. Hiding there made sense. She starts to cut through the crowds, hoping her hunch correct. Hold up. Haru works there too. What if she thinks the same thing?

Too late. Ann turns down the path that leads to Rafflesia, and finds the shop shuttered. A sign posting the hours hangs from the metal links, and she steps up, looking for any spot allowing Morgana the room to sneak inside.

"Mona?" She whispers into the dark of the shop. "You in there?"

No response.

"Damn." Ann steps back and rechecks her phone—no message from Akira. A service tunnel breaks off a short way to her left. Perhaps he'd gone there?

Makoto Niijima comes around the corner.

The girl stops.

Ann feels her eyes widen.

Makoto's narrow.

"Hello, Takamaki."

#

Akira climbs to the level above the commuter terminal. Ryuji's feedback provided no assistance, and the sprawling underground mass of Shibuya remained difficult to navigate, even with his two months of experience.

Commuters didn't frequent several corridors on the upper level. Maintenance professionals primarily used them when the station shut down for the night. The occasional homeless cluttered them, but never more than a handful. Akira figures Morgana might've hid within one.

Akira turns into one of them and is rewarded with, "Finally!"

Morgana scurries across the dirt-streaked linoleum floor and hops into Akira's arms. "Are you okay?" Akira asks, scratching his head.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Morgana replies, with a scowl, as he climbs onto Akira's shoulder. "But you were right. They've got a whole operation going." He twitches Yusuke's phone, still held in his tail. "I got some evidence."

Akira nods, and puts his phone back to his ear. "Ryuji. I got him. I'm hanging up. We'll get Ann and get out of here."

"Roger," Ryuji replies.

"Did you track me?" Morgana asks.

"Yes, but when you went downstairs into the station, it got harder to locate you. Ann's in the mall, searching there."

"It's not my fault," Morgana replies. "Makoto and Haru followed me here."

"Don't worry about it," Akira says. "Let's just smuggle you out of here while we can. I'll text Ann and tell her to meet up on Central."

Morgana trots down the hall.

AKIRA : Found a cool hat. Want your opinion. Meet up at Central?

"Crap," Morgana hisses, and retreats back up the hall.

Akira looks up. "What?"

"Haru," Morgana says. "She's coming this way. I think she spotted me."

Akira moves to the only service entrance door and tries the handle. It doesn't move. "Shit."

"This is bad," Morgana says.

Akira thinks, and his eyes widen. He stares at the ceiling. At the ground around them. "I've got it," he says, and queues up the Nav app on his phone.

"What're you doing?" Morgana asks.

"Mementos," Akira replies. "We'll wait until she passes, then come back out."

Morgana dashes for the phone. "Wait-"

Too late.

The world shifts.

#

Joker replaces his phone in his pocket. "That's weird."

Despite their physical location being at least one level down in Shibuya Station, the actual transportation of Mementos has taken them only a few steps down from the entrance.

He smiles. "Guess it's better than being trapped six levels down." He turns to Mona.

The cat crouches with his paws over his head, a wince frozen on his face. As Akira watches, the cat opens one eye, glances around, and breathes in relief.

"You moron," Mona says, a moment later. "The layout of Mementos doesn't match the actual layout of Shibuya Station. We could've gotten trapped super deep. Or in a wall. Or in the floor or something."

Joker shrugs. "Alright, well, my bad. What's the big deal? Aren't your memories buried deeper in Mementos?"

Mona shakes his head. "That's not the point. You can't just pop into Mementos or Palaces willy-nilly from wherever you feel. The inside of the Palace doesn't match the inside of the physical location. You could've buried us alive! Or we could've popped up in the middle of some really strong Shadows."

Joker feels some blood leave his face. "And you didn't think that was important to mention?"

"I didn't think it'd be relevant. I didn't think you'd try to enter Mementos from a location already inside Mementos."

Joker blinks. "What happens if we leave? Are we going to pop out at the entrance?"

Mona lets out a sigh and glances around. "I think we should be okay. We're right by the entrance, so maybe we'll exit into reality where we always do, or maybe we'll exit to where we entered. If we tried to exit Mementos from a few floors down, though? There's a reason we retreat to the entrance every time we're about to leave."

"Okay, yes. I see your point."

"Don't do something like that again."

Joker crouches until he's more or less at eye level with Mona. "Alright. I'm sorry. But take it easy. No need to panic. It got us away from Haru and-"

"Hello?" Comes a voice. A girl's voice.

Mona's eyes widen. Joker feels his own do the same. Together, they creep up the steps until they're just shy of the landing outside.

Haru Okumura stands by herself. Trembling hands clutch her phone to her ear. Her eyes are white saucers. "Mako-chan? Are you there?" When no answer comes, she lowers the phone and calls, "Hello? Is anyone there? Is this, um, a dream?"

Joker looks down at Mona. "Oh, shit."

Notes:

Hoo boy.

Sorry about the delayed post. Class didn't end until 9:30 last night, and then I had an hour's drive home. So I overslept this morning, and had to race to work. The trials of the working man never cease!

Well, well, well. FIFTY chapters. Not bad, if I do say so myself. I want to thank everyone for sticking with it this long. I really appreciate it. It's been one hell of a ride, and I'm glad to have you all as readers.

So... why not speculate on the chapter's title? What do you think is in Madarame's storage unit?

Also, I think I'm going to take a break from posting the week of 1/29. Getting back into the swing of classes is going to be a bit tricky, given that I'm taking more courses than I have before while writing this. I'll be back on 2/5 with another M-W-F update week. I will be posting next week, the week of 1/22. I'll post Monday and Friday. I appreciate your understanding. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

"Okay," Mona says. "This isn't good." The faint tremor in his voice betrays the attempt at sounding matter-of-fact. The cat paces on the steps, ears twitching.

"Is anyone there?" Haru calls. The panic feels deeper now, closer to terror than simple fear of the unknown.

Can you blame her?

From where he sits upon the cracked stairs descending into Mementos' subterranean maw, Joker sighs and looks up. Overhead hangs a crimson sky, cloudless and angry. Shibuya's twisted towers claw upward as if trying to escape something. The air is heavy with the stench of dust, copper, and rust.

"Snap out of it," Mona spits. "We need a way to get Haru out of here."

Joker nods.

"She shouldn't be too far from where she entered. If we could force her to that spot..." Mona trails off, shaking his head. "No, that won't work. How are we supposed to do that?" Somehow, the cat snaps his paws. "Oh, I know. You've got that Persona, White Rider, right? What if you summon that and scare her so much that she passes out? That could-"

Joker stands. His coat rustles as he spins and begins to climb.

They put you in a box.

"W-wait," Mona whispers. "I don't think that's the best option. I was throwing it out-"

Joker ascends out of Mementos. A short distance away, Haru does not notice him yet, her eyes captured by the terrible skyline. She looks so small and frail in her Sunday casual clothes.

Mona grabs the tail of Joker's coat and pulls. "Stop! What're you doing?"

Joker spares his friend a glance, seizes his coat, and yanks it free of Mona's grasp. "It's fine. I'm done."

"Done with wha-"

Before Mona can finish, Joker raises a red-gloved hand and calls, "Haru."

She yelps and takes a stance that looks like a mix between a fighter's ready pose and someone trying to shrink into themselves. Her hands snap around her head as if expecting a blow. Haru’s eyes find him quickly enough, but that does nothing to lessen her tension.

"Haru, it's okay," Joker says. He lowers his hand to his mask, takes a deep breath, and pulls it free.

Haru's face contorts into a squint, and then her mouth drops. "Akira? Seriously?"

Unsure of how to respond, Akira says, "Seriously."

Haru's arms lower fractionally as Mona clears the steps, muttering, "Great. Just fantastic."

"What the-" Haru begins but stops as Mona approaches Akira and places his paws on his hips.

"I told you this was a stupid plan. I said it, like, ten times!"

"Um," Haru starts, pointing. "Is that...?"

"Yeah," Akira replies, gesturing at the cat. "This is Morgana."

Haru stares at Morgana, who meets her gaze with a flat, "Hi, Haru."

"Are you magic?" Haru asks.

"No," Morgana says.

"Sort of," Akira says.

Haru shakes her head and takes a breath. "I knew it." As if suddenly recalling her situation, the fear returns. "Is this a dream?"

"No dream," Akira replies, raising his hands. "You're really here. So are we."

Haru glances around. "And where is here, exactly?"

"Complicated," Akira says.

"You should get out of here," Morgana says. "It's not safe."

"We'll explain everything," Akira tells her.

Morgana glares up at him. "We will?"

"What choice do we have?" Akira mutters.

Morgana spreads his paws. "Well, I guess none since you decided to suck us all here and reveal yourself!"

Akira sighs and fixes Haru with a gaze he hopes she reads as, 'See what I have to deal with?' and says, "We should go. We'll help you return to Shibuya. The important thing is to get you out of here." Akira motions for her to approach them and takes his phone from his pocket. "Let's go."

#

Makoto's eyes narrow.

"Hello, Takamaki."

Takamaki's step back and constricted throat both appear involuntary. Her eyes dart from Makoto to the corner and back again. With tremendous force, Takamaki straightens herself and mutters, "Niijima." Without another word, Takamaki makes to move past her, blonde hair flung in apparent indifference.

"Looking for Morgana?" Makoto asks.

Takamaki does not freeze, but her steps do lose their steady cadence. Her jaw works in a slow rotation, and she says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"This is where Akira works, isn't it?" Makoto asks. "The Flower Shop. He works here with Haru and always brings Morgana along. If Morgana were looking for a hiding place, I imagine he'd come here."

"Get out of my way, please," Takamaki replies, her pace increasing.

"I guess he isn't here," Makoto continues and slides her feet like she has done so many times in boxing practice to place herself in front of her opponent. "But I'm sure the Phantom Thieves have plenty of other hiding places around here."

Takamaki heaves a too heavy sigh. "Oh, give it up already. Your weird obsession with Akira needs to end, Niijima. Did you ever stop to think that maybe he's not that into you?"

Impossible! Makoto's mind rages, even as she keeps her face impassive. "You'll have to try better than that, Takamaki. I know Akira's a Phantom Thief. I'd say there's a ninety-five percent chance you are too."

"Is that because Kobayakawa told you?"

"No," Makoto replies, ready for the jab. "I figured that out on my own."

Takamaki frowns. "Get out of my way."

"Why haven't you asked me why I'm looking for Morgana?" Makoto asks. "Shouldn't he be with Haru right now? But I've mentioned him twice, and you haven't said anything."

"I don't keep tabs on Akira's pet, Niijima." Ann keeps her voice still, but her brows furrow.

Got you. "Akira's here somewhere, isn't he? You both came running once you learned Morgana was in trouble."

"God, enough," Takamaki spits, throwing her hands in the air. "You're so freaking creepy, Niijima. Stop acting like you're some police detective in some drama! You're not good at it! All your planning and plotting just to look for a cat in a mall?"

"Maybe I'm not good at it," Makoto counters. "But if I could figure this out, then you all are in big trouble."

"I'm over this bullshit," Takamaki says and stomps toward Makoto. "Get out of my way, or I'll-"

"Push past me?" Makoto asks, crossing her arms. "You're welcome to try."

Takamaki comes to a halt before her, and Makoto watches as all the girl's indecision and deflecting in her eyes vanishes. "Is this how pushy you were with Shiho? Is this how you tried to get her to tell you what she knew?"

Makoto feels a chunk of ice slide into her stomach. Her mouth opens; nothing comes out. The memory of Shiho's breakdown plays itself out once more. GET OUT OF HERE! The hate, betrayal, and loathing. Not a day has passed without her recalling that scene. Slowly, Makoto slides her lips shut.

Takamaki, to her credit, doesn't push it or twist the knife. Instead, she uses the silence as an opening to move, slips past Makoto, and makes for the central Underground.

"You're right," Makoto calls on the back foot, suddenly desperate for more than one reason. "I messed up." Takamaki does not halt. "I want to apologize to her."

Takamaki pauses, turns, and says, "As if I'd let you anywhere near Shiho."

Makoto moves, trying to convey an authoritative yet relaxed demeanor as she closes the distance between them. "That's not your decision, is it?" Takamaki's face flushes red, and Makoto pushes her renewed advantage. "It's great that you care about your friend and want to protect her." A sudden barb springs to Makoto's mind. Even though you couldn't protect her before. Makoto briefly reels at the words and keeps them behind her teeth. Instead, she says, "But Shiho needs to make her own decisions, doesn't she? I want to apologize to her. It should be Shiho's decision whether to hear me out or not."

Takamaki's hands clench into fists, and she looks ready to snap again when Makoto's phone vibrates.

Before Takamaki can bolt once more, Makoto snatches it from her pocket and checks the caller ID. "It's Haru," Makoto says, as if to herself. "I bet she's found Akira and Morgana." She brings the phone to her ear, her eyes fixed on Takamaki's, and answers. "Hi, Haru."

"Mako-chan," Haru says quickly. "I think I've found Morgana. I thought I saw him down this service corridor."

"Excellent, you're closing in on him then?" Makoto asks. Takamaki's eyes widen by yet another fraction, and Makoto feels something warm stir in her chest. This is it.

"Yes, I believe so. I'm going to AAHH-" The line disconnects.

"Haru?" Makoto asks.

In that compressed moment, a hundred scenarios form and fire off within Makoto's mind, and each shakes her back into the grim reality of Haru's situation. Sugimura. Unlikely, yes. But not impossible. Not impossible. And that nonzero chance terminates the well-honed reason from Makoto's mind and sends her into a tailspin.

Makoto's eyes slide over Takamaki, seeing but not registering. For whatever reason, the girl remains by Makoto's side. Her mouth moves, but Makoto doesn't hear. "What?" Makoto asks.

"I said, 'Are you okay?'" Takamaki asks. "You look freaked."

Makoto blinks. "That was Haru, but she cut out. She yelled, and, I don't know, she sounded scared."

"The phone cut out?" Takamaki asks and shrugs. "I mean, stuff like that happens, you know? It's probably nothing."

"But what if it's not?" Makoto asks. Takamaki doesn't reply and seems unsure of what to say. "I need to go," Makoto says, turning toward the Underground. "Haru said she was near a service corridor or something. God, there must be so many. I don't know where to start. But I should start somewhere near the entrance. Yeah, that'd be good." Makoto speaks and hears other things: the rustle of the people in the Underground proper, the A/C pumping overhead, and the long, somewhat annoyed sigh that escapes Takamaki.

Makoto starts to move off when Takamaki asks, "Do you want some help?"

"What?" Makoto asks, turning back to her.

"Do you want help?" Takamaki asks, enunciating each word, arms crossed, face pouting, eyes not meeting Makoto but fixed somewhere overhead.

"I-" Makoto starts, then nods. "Yes. Yes! Thank you."

Takamaki grunts. "Don't mention it."

#

"Hey," Haru says.

Akira and Morgana remain silent.

"Hey," Haru says.

Akira and Morgana say nothing.

"Hey," Haru says.

"Would you stop?" Morgana snaps.

Haru beams and claps her hands. "That's amazing!"

Akira sighs and stops walking. Morgana, perched on his shoulder, stares at Haru. The congregation of people sifting through Shibuya Underground doesn't bother noticing them. "Would you mind," Akira asks, as he pulls out his phone to text Ann, "Not making a big deal out of this? We don't want to draw suspicion."

Haru nods vehemently. "Oh, right. Yep, that's fine." She leans in and whispers. "So this is why it always seemed like you two were talking to each other. You were!"

"I hate this," Morgana mutters.

They'd exited the Metaverse mere moments ago, and Haru remained amazed by Morgana’s speaking ability. Then again, that's because I'm used to it. He is a talking cat. Akira reads the messages from Ann and frowns.

ANN: I'm with Niijima. She's freaked out about Haru or something. Find Mona and GET OUT

Akira sighs and types out a message.

AKIRA: We're with Haru now. Come meet us.

ANN: WTF

AKIRA: Just come meet us at the entrance to the Underground.

ANN: WTFWTFWTF

Akira turns to Haru. "Were you talking to Makoto before you got... transported?"

Haru gasps. "Oh my goodness, you're right! I forgot."

"Understandable," Morgana grumbles.

"Ann's with her now. They'll meet us at the entrance to the Underground. Let's go."

Five minutes later, Makoto barrels across the floor and wraps Haru in her arms. "I thought something had happened," Makoto says. "When the phone cut out, I-"

"Um, well," Haru replies, patting her friend on the back. "Something did happen, Mako-chan."

Ann approaches Akira and Morgana and whispers, "Seriously, what the hell?"

"Haru got sucked into the Metaverse," Morgana says.

Ann's eyes widen. "Oh, come on," she groans.

Makoto seems to retrieve herself, and her eyes focus past Haru onto Akira and Morgana upon his shoulder.

"I," she starts, then frowns. "What's going on?"

"You were right," Haru says, taking her friend's hands. She beams. "Mako-chan, you were right!" She whirls and points at Akira and Morgana. "They're the Phantom Thieves. Oh, and Morgana can talk."

Ann fixes Akira with a glare. "Akira, what the hell?"

Akira opens his mouth, ready to proclaim the situation complicated, when a terrific boom erupts through the station. The floor quakes. The screech of metal and the pulverization of stone rebound through the corridor and their bodies, and Akira’s legs shake. People scream and fall to the ground, and Akira darts forward. Morgana's claws dig into his shoulders, and Akira’s hands reach out.

The world settles, and Akira holds Makoto in his arms. Haru and Ann crouch on the ground, hands wrapped around their heads. Makoto's arms wrap around Akira's back. Her face is pale and terrified, but her eyes meet his.

The two stare at each other as panicked screams and rushing feet rise around them. "Are you okay?" Akira asks.

"Y-yes," Makoto says, but she doesn't release him. "Are you?"

"I'm good," Akira replies, nodding.

"I'm fine too," Morgana says.

Makoto's eyes break from Akira's, and she stares at the cat. "You can talk?"

"You can't understand him," Akira says. "It's-"

"What was that?" Ann demands, rising to her feet, then helping Haru up.

"Sounded like an explosion," Haru says.

"Train crash," Akira says. "That sounded like a train crashed on one of the lower platforms." Of course it did. Akira has heard those sounds before. Maybe I should've kept trying to get therapy, he thinks.

"We should go," Ann says.

"We still need to talk about this," Makoto says quickly.

"Shujin," Akira says. "We'll go to Shujin. You guys ran from there. We can go back and use the Student Council Room."

"Can we just leave, please?" Haru asks as the tide of fleeing people grows.

The four teens and one cat join the evacuating crowd of people. The rescue workers move against the tide, shouting and begging people to make way as they rush into the fray. Fragmented memories bubble up in Akira’s head; of the potential bodies from his prior experience.

They emerge into the afternoon sun and pull themselves away from the crowd, stopping near the Crosswalk. "We need-" Akira starts, but his phone buzzes. He glances down.

OHYA: Cuz! You okay? I saw you were near the station just now. You weren't near the train were you?

Akira stares at the message and then sighs. "Still tracking me, eh?" He asks.

AKIRA: I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll be in touch.

OHYA: No one's sure yet, but they're saying it was a mental shutdown!

AKIRA: I bet. We'll see what they say. Sorry, gotta go.

Akira goes to put his phone away, when it vibrates once more. Expecting another message from Ohya, he blinks when he reads the sender's ID.

SOJIRO: Akira, where are you? Are you near the station? Safe?

Something warm turns over in Akira's chest.

AKIRA: Yeah. Thanks for checking on me. I'm okay. We were in the station but nowhere near the crash. We're outside now.

SOJIRO: You with your friends? Do you need someone to pick you guys up?

AKIRA: No, we're okay. I think we want to be outside in the air, you know? I'll be home later. And I'll walk.

SOJIRO: Text me if you need anything. I'll close up.

AKIRA: Thanks.

"Akira," Ann calls. Akira raises his eyes from his phone and slides it into his pocket.

"Right. Sorry. Okay." He turns to Haru and Makoto. "We need to grab the others and meet you at Shujin. Give us an hour? It may take a while for one of us to get here."

Ann frowns and whispers, "Don't just decide that, Akira."

Akira turns to face her. "Haru was in the Metaverse. What're we supposed to do?"

Ann looks away. "Fine. But we're all going to talk about this."

"Damn straight," Morgana says.

"We'll meet you there," Haru says, pulling Makoto away.

But Makoto darts out and seizes Akira's arm. "Wait. Guarantee me that you’ll show up."

"Guarantee?" Akira asks. He reaches up, takes the hand that she's placed on his arm, and lowers it. "Fine. I do. We need to talk about this. No more bullshit." He nods toward Haru. "If only to protect Haru."

"Protect her?" Makoto asks. "Why would you need to-"

"Makoto," Akira says and steps closer to her. "I'll explain everything. I promise. Just don't let Haru use her phone until we talk."

Makoto gazes into his eyes, then nods. "Alright. I'll see you at Shujin. Don't make me come looking for you."

Akira almost grins at this. "I wouldn't dream of it."

#

Ryuji hangs up his burner. "Alright, Yusuke's on his way. It may take him a minute to get here, but he's coming. Guess he'll be glad to get his phone back early."

Akira, Ann, and Morgana had met Ryuji halfway back to his house, requesting he meet them so they could explain the situation. Ryuji’s disappointment with forfeiting his mother’s cooking vanished when he learned what had happened.

Ann leans against a lamp post, face contorted into a frown. Her gaze hasn't left Akira this entire time. "You shouldn't have told Haru-" She starts, but Akira turns to her.

"Shouldn't have told her what?" He demands. "Haru got sucked into the Metaverse."

"By your phone," Morgana points out.

"Which means the app is on her phone now too. It was only a matter of time before she discovered it, used it, and got herself trapped in the Metaverse."

"Couldn't we have broken her phone?" Ann asks, shrugging. "Once you'd figured out a way to get her out of there without exposing yourself, couldn't we just have stolen her phone and gotten rid of it? She's rich; she'd get a new one."

"Didn't Akira ask Igor about that?" Ryuji asks. The two turn to him, and he shrugs. "What? Didn't he? And the weirdo said something about how the app was 'with the person' and not necessarily the phone?"

Akira nods. "Even if she got a new phone, the app would follow her. It's tied to her somehow. And we've tried deleting the app off our phones, but it just returned."

"Then why'd you have to include Niijima?" Ann asks. "Why not just come clean to Haru?"

"C'mon Ann, that ain't fair," Ryuji says, and from Akira’s perspective, seems to throw a knowing look Morgana’s way. "From all we've seen, Haru would've just told the Prez everything she heard from us. Telling one is as good as telling the other with those two."

"Why are you so calm about this?" Ann asks, turning to Ryuji. "Our identity is exposed."

"It's not like it's the first time," Ryuji counters. "Plus, we've been going back and forth like this with them for weeks. I say it's better to have everything out in the open. It ain't like they're gonna tell on us or anything."

"How do you know that, though?" Morgana asks.

Ryuji frowns. "Okay, well shit, I guess I don't, but it's a feeling."

"I agree with Ryuji," Akira says, nodding at his friend. "There's nothing to do about it now. We've got to tell them. So let's collect Yusuke and make our way back to Shujin."

#

"'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu,' huh?" Ryuji asks, staring at the board. Makoto and Haru only managed to clean half of the incriminating evidence before the Phantom Thieves' arrival.

"'Or Something Less Drastic,'" Haru points out. Makoto sinks lower in her seat, face a mix between open curiosity and mortification.

"This is off to a great start," Ann mutters.

"In hindsight," Makoto whispers. "We could've come up with a better name."

Haru turns to Morgana, who sits perched upon the Student Council room's desk. "I'm sorry about trying to capture you earlier, Morgana."

Morgana offers his cat shrug in response.

Makoto leans closer to Haru. "Did he say anything?"

"Morgana talks just like us," Akira puts in. "If he's meowing, he's saying something. You can't understand him because you've never been to the Metaverse and heard him there."

Makoto blinks. "Oh." She frowns. "Sounds complicated."

Yusuke inclines his head. "Indeed."

Akira glances at Yusuke, then back to the two girls waiting for their explanation. "Well then," he says. "I guess we should get into it, then."

Akira will often reflect on that moment in the coming weeks and months. The fine dividing line between when Makoto and Haru correctly suspected and when they definitively knew. In his mind, the tale he weaves is a coherent listing of facts and events, but from what the others tell him, the story is a chaotic mess. To their credit, Makoto and Haru ask almost no clarifying questions. It falls upon Ryuji, Ann, Morgana (who then must be translated for Makoto), and Yusuke to fill in the blanks and straighten out details. About halfway through the story, Akira begins to fear the picture he paints of himself, but he has chosen this course, so there is nothing but to charge forward.

It takes less time than he thought. Granted, minutiae and finer points are left out to keep things concise.

But then he has no more to say and reflects on how clinical it all felt. How sterile the story must seem, spilling from him as it did.

Many months later, when Akira and Sae share a table in a dark and foul-smelling room, Akira will dredge up memories of this tale and try to make certain parts at least sound entertaining, if only to embed some warmth into Sae for the storyteller. (He does not relate this tiny part to her.)

Akira punctuates the story with, "So, yeah. That's everything.”

Makoto and Haru lean back in their chairs simultaneously, gently pushing themselves away from the desk. Haru lets out a heavy sigh and glances at Makoto, who stares at the tabletop, considering.

"So then," Haru begins. "You guys had nothing to do with Madarame's death?"

Ryuji's eyes widen. "That's what you wanna ask?"

Yusuke shoots to his feet. "Of course not!" All eyes turn to him, and he gesticulates as he expounds on the conflicting emotions of his love and disdain for his father figure.

"Okay," Haru says quickly, once she realizes Yusuke's monologue is not intended to be quick. "I was just asking. We didn't think you did, but hearing you say it is nice. It's just a rumor, is all."

"We've seen the rumors," Akira points out and pats the pocket that holds his phone. "We're all on RINE too."

"It's all bullshit," Ryuji says. "We've never killed anyone."

Makoto lays her hand on the table and, to Akira's eyes, attempts to regain some of the poise the wild story shook loose. "This is a lot to take in." She reaches out and pats Haru's arm. "I'm not sure I would believe it if Haru hadn't seen this Metaverse for herself." Makoto's hand travels to her chin, which she rubs. "Although, it does explain a lot."

"It does?" Ann asks, then looks annoyed. Of everyone present, including Morgana, Ann had spoken the least. Akira had skipped over the Shiho-centric parts of the story, not out of disrespect, but because there was enough tension in the room.

"Morgana's intelligence and some of the things you've been able to pull off—the lack of physical evidence for influence over Kamoshida. The story Daisuke Takanashi related to me. How you," Makoto nods at Akira, "managed to randomly become friends with a Kosei High student, who also happened to be Madarame's apprentice." She lowers her hand and crosses her arms. "Well. Thank you for telling us. Though, these mentions of mental shutdowns concern me. Especially what Akira witnessed within the hotel."

"Speaking of," Ryuji says, glancing at his phone. He holds up the screen for all to see, but everyone must lean in to read the text. "They're calling it an official mental shutdown. The government’s making a big stink. This is like the sixth train crash."

Haru frowns. "And you think this has something to do with the Metaverse?"

Akira nods. "We think so. Well, we suspect."

Yusuke shrugs. "It is hard to imagine there could be another concrete reason."

Makoto stands and begins to pace around the room slowly. "Will you look into it? The mental shutdowns, I mean. I believe I grasp the mechanics of the Navigation App, but it doesn't seem to lend itself to assistance regarding the shutdowns."

"The app only helps us change hearts," Morgana says, and Haru quickly translates. "It doesn't have anything to do with mental shutdowns."

"And Igor hasn't been forthcoming on the topic," Akira mumbles.

Haru straightens. "Igor is the strange extradimensional figure that visits you in your dreams, and only you can see, correct Akira?"

Ann snorts. "When you say it like that..."

Akira says, "Yes," very quickly. "And yes, we are looking into the mental shutdowns. We're convinced there's some link between them and the Metaverse."

Ryuji grins. "We've got some help on that front."

Makoto's eyes arch. "Surely you don't mean Yuuki Mishima?"

Akira shakes his head. "No, Mishima works on the PhanSite. We've some help from outside sources."

#

Takemi groans and buries her head in the crook of her arm. She can feel the warmth of the computer's screen blanketing her scalp, but she wants to take a break from this search.

A new restaurant had opened down the block a week or so ago. Takemi hadn't been, so maybe it was time.

She picks herself back up and moves to shut off the computer, but a tiny fragment of text catches her eye.

In her promise to Akira, Takemi spent much of her free time researching cognitive science and anything she could concerning the Metaverse and the mental shutdowns. Unfortunately, there was little to find. But thanks to the article Akira found on Robert Cunningham - the American researcher who had gone missing in Tokyo some years back - Takemi found another avenue of attack.

Thanks to a translated search her computer finished running, a journal article involving research spearheaded by Robert Cunningham appeared. From what Takemi could tell, the findings were all gibberish, and the 'journal' that published them seemed remarkably similar to those American tabloids she'd heard about. However, one of the lines jumped out at her due to its non-English words. '...the study was conducted with assistance from cognitive science researchers in foreign nations, including Anatoly Shakarov, and Wakaba Isshiki...'

"Wakaba Isshiki," Takemi read aloud. The name was Japanese enough, though the American article didn't mention which 'foreign' nation the scientists belonged to. Still, another cognitive scientist, a possible Japanese one? It was worth a look. Takemi did a quick search.

'Scientist Commits Suicide.'

"Damn," Takemi whispers. Wakaba Isshiki had been dead for two years. The article in the Japanese paper never confirmed her field of study. The names were similar enough, but was it definitive proof of a link? Takemi leans back in her chair and stares at the screen. "Wakaba Isshiki, cognitive scientist, and a suicide?" If this was the same Isshiki mentioned in Cunningham's old research, it only added to the bodies that seemed to surround the mental shutdowns and the field of cognitive science.

#

Rin Sugimura stares at his phone, willing a responding message to populate; a vibration; FUCKING ANYTHING. But nothing. Hours now, he watched his phone, anticipating the incoming communication from Haru Okumura.

But nothing.

Maybe she's forgotten about you? A voice that sounds like a mix between his father and some other part of himself floats into his mind, and he reclines in his seat as if struck.

"That's not possible," he mutters. It couldn't be.

Haru Okumura belonged to him. Maybe not in the official, legal sense, but so far as his father and Haru's father were concerned, the two were married.

For Haru to ignore him, to force him to suffer this disrespect, was unacceptable.

Some final piece of something slides out of place within Sugimura, the last domino to fall in a years-long process.

"Haru," Sugimura whispers, and there's no affection there. But then again, there never had been.

#

I need to find Akira.

No longer a vague plot point but a very concrete action plan. Time ran out eons ago. Kaneshiro will want a response, and Iwai needs to provide.

Shujin, Iwai thinks as he dons his jacket and locks the door to his store. Kaoru is home and safe. Iwai will not find Akira at the school today, but classes resume tomorrow.

If Iwai needs to drag the boy from homeroom, he will. With adrenaline and stress hormones pumping through his veins, Iwai sets off on foot, and his feet slap on the pavement, betraying his nervous pace.

#

Akechi enters Sae's office as the latter hangs up the landline. Her eyes rise to Akechi's and bore into him, and Akechi feels the familiar tremor.

"You asked to see me?" Akechi asks, effecting his boyhood charm that wins over so many of those his senior.

Her words are clipped and dance into his ears like gunshots. "You heard the news?"

"About the mental shutdown?"

Sae's eyes narrow as they always do whenever he gets something wrong. "The head of the Bureau of Transportation is stepping down. This was the last straw."

Exactly, Akechi thinks. "It's hardly his fault. No one knows what's causing the mental shutdowns. Least of all a bureaucrat."

"I wonder at that," Sae says, and Akechi knows enough of her mannerisms to recognize the bait.

"You think this is all connected, don't you?" He asks. "Yukio Kan, the mental shutdowns throughout the city, and-" Akechi pauses for sufficient time, "Wakaba Isshiki." Sae's eyes narrow for an entirely different reason. Akechi lifts one gloved hand in a half-hearted shrug. "It was hardly difficult to figure out. You do visit Sojiro Sakura semi-frequently."

"Then do you see where I'm going with this?" Sae asks, testing.

Akechi loves her tests. "You want to launch an investigation, a comprehensive one."

"The Phantom Thieves," Sae says.

Akechi's plotted turns of phrase and the dance of innuendos collapse within his mind. "I'm sorry?" He asks, then wants to jab his palm with a pen for asking something stupid. He might've asked the same thing had he planned for it, but that it came unbidden stings.

"I think they may be the next stage of this entire phenomenon. And catching them may prove more conclusive than simply grasping at air, as we've done with the mental shutdowns." She drops into her chair and folds her hands into a small steeple. "Someone wrote those Calling Cards, Akechi. Someone placed them there. Someone runs the PhanSite. And the idea that these 'changes of heart' have nothing to do with the mental shutdowns is laughable."

Akechi nods, and when Sae gestures toward the chair opposite her, he takes the seat. "Do you think you'll be able to sell that to the higher-ups?"

"I do. There are enough unknowns to warrant an investigation. The fact that the original investigation turned up little did us a favor. The absence of anything concrete makes creating a case all the more necessary."

Akechi makes the appropriate noises but goes deeper into his thoughts. Speculation concluded no one would link the Phantom Thieves to the mental shutdowns this early. Akechi assumed he possessed more time to investigate on his own. But if Sae Niijima involved herself, it provided more avenues and opportunities. Akechi says, "You can count on me."

Sae grunts and turns her attention to the files on her desk. "That much is a given."

Akechi's smile is nearly genuine.

#

Exhausted, Haru lies in the dark. Makoto's soft and steady breathing echoes from the bed. Haru knows that her body is ready for sleep, but she can’t make herself drift off just yet.

She clutches her phone, the screen bleeding blue light into her eyes.

All the explanations circle each other in her brain, but from the moment Akira explained how the Navigation App worked, Haru's primary focus zeroed in on the possibility she meant to test.

But to test meant potentially receiving confirmation; if she did, what would she do? What could she do? What would any of them do?

What if her suspicions were unfounded? All of today's events, terrifying as they'd been, had revealed an out for her situation. But the Phantom Thieves spoke clearly. They could only go after those with Palaces or Shadows within Mementos. Everyone else was out of their reach.

"What are the chances?" Haru wonders aloud but softly. Makoto shifts in her sleep but doesn't stir beyond the slight movement.

Steeling herself, Haru queues up the new app on her phone. It stings to break a promise within only a few hours; worse, Haru knew she would the moment she made it.

The app waits, hungry.

Haru whispers, "Rin Sugimura."

In a voice louder than Haru anticipated, the app replies, "Match Found."

Makoto's breath catches, and she sits up.

Chapter 52: Chapter 52

6/6

 

"I'm sorry," Haru says, holding her phone out toward Akira. "I said I wouldn't use it but-"

Akira rubs his eyes. "It's fine. I understand."

“Are you alright?” Haru asks.

“Fine. Bad dreams,” he replies.

Makoto and Haru texted Akira that morning, requesting a meeting before school. The three of them, plus Morgana, had met outside the Aoyoma-Itchome train station. The lines were running again, though with significant delays.

The girls provided Akira with a quick rundown of the Sugimura situation, including that he had a Palace.

"If he's got a Palace," Morgana says. "That means he's gone off the deep end."

Haru nods, then straightens, turns to Makoto, and translates.

Makoto, who stands enshrined in the sunlight instead of the alleyway's shadow that Akira, Haru, and Morgana reside within, frowns. "So then, what happens now?"

"It's not that simple," Haru says, staring at Makoto. "Remember what they told us yesterday? If they draw more attention to Shujin, it could finally draw a definitive link between the Phantom Thieves and the school."

"There may be one of those already," Makoto replies.

Akira sighs. "Sugimura isn't a Shujin student, but Haru is. It wouldn't be hard to draw a connection."

Makoto takes a step toward the shadows. "What if we went another route? The police." Haru and Akira look at her, the latter with open skepticism. "I'm serious."

"You already told your sister, Mako-chan," Haru says.

Akira snorts. "And she didn't help? What a shock."

Makoto's eyes narrow. "My sister isn't the only person in law enforcement. We could bring this to my father's old partner. He'd know what to do. Maybe he could-"

"Alright," Akira says, nodding. He was anxious to move this conversation along to something more concrete. He didn’t want to be late to class, and arouse Kawakami’s suspicions. "You can try that, so long as you don't mention anything about Palaces or the Phantom Thieves."

Makoto crosses her arms and frowns at him. "What do you take me for?"

"In the meantime," Akira says, turning his attention back to Haru. "I'd like to loan you Morgana." He smiles when Haru's eyes widen. "For real this time."

"I agree," Morgana says. "I can help keep you safe and ensure you can get back to reality if you accidentally use the app."

Haru reaches out and pets the cat's head. "Thank you, Mona-chan. I'd feel more assured with you around."

Makoto clears her throat and withdraws her phone. "I'll reach out to my father's old partner. Maybe the Phantom Thieves won't even have to do anything."

Akira nods but says nothing. Don't hold your breath.

#

"And then there's this one," Mishima says and scrolls down the list on his phone. "About a girl who claims her ex-boyfriend has stolen some of her stuff and won't return it..." He trails off. Mishima knows how these must sound. The Requests seemed paramount when he'd first seen them posted on the PhanSite. Saying them aloud now, however, fills him with a deep foreboding. These are lackluster at best.

Akira, Ryuji, and Ann sit near the massive A/C unit on Shujin's roof. Mishima, for his part, stands a bit away from them.

"Pass," Ryuji groans, eyes on his phone. "None of these seem like anything worth our time."

"I don't know," Ann mutters. "That last one might be something."

"It'll probably just turn out to be 'he kept my hoodie even when I told him to give it back,'" Ryuji says, his voice mimicking that of a young girl's. Ann smiles and swats at his arm, but Ryuji quickly moves away.

"I agree," Akira says. He is the only one who meets Mishima's eyes, and Mishima is grateful for that, though he's hard-pressed to say why. "We can't solve every spat between people. If it were more serious, that'd be something else, but these don't warrant our attention."

Mishima nods. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"What're you apologizing for?" Ryuji asks, yawning in his chair. "It ain't like you're the one making the posts."

"We appreciate you giving us a rundown," Ann says, smiling at him. Mishima blushes a bit and glances away. He's always found it hard to meet Ann's gaze.

"There was one more," Mishima says, quickly. "I was going to discount it because it was a Shujin student, but then I saw it came from their mother."

"Geez," Ryuji says. "A mother put a Request out on her kid?"

Mishima nods and scrolls down. "She says he's gotten involved in some crime group in Shibuya. She's worried about him. Thinks he's joined some gang."

"Couldn't he just be hanging out with his friends?" Akira asks.

"Hold up," Ryuji says, raising his hand. "I've heard of some stuff like this. Remember what Takanashi's Shadow said? About that bullying ring? Well, a couple guys in my class were talking, and they said there's been a lot more crime in Shibuya lately. Petty stuff, but also some muggings and fights and stuff. Apparently, it's all under the leadership of one group."

"You think this is that?" Ann asks.

Ryuji shrugs. "I don't know. It could be, I guess. Should we check it out?" Mishima's heart beats faster.

"Who's the leader?" Akira asks.

Ryuji shakes his head. "Dunno. No one seems sure. Some say yakuza, others say another group, bikers, all the usual suspects, man."

Akira nods. "Alright, well. Let's keep that one in our back pocket. I don't like that it's Shujin, but maybe we can make a target out of whoever is running this crime out of Shibuya."

“So long as he doesn’t end up dead like Madarame, I’m cool with it,” Ryuji replies.

“You can’t listen to those rumors,” Mishima nearly cries. He has spent hours defending the reputation of the Phantom Thieves online, doing his best to convince the general populace that they had nothing to do with Madarame’s demise.

“What rumors?” Ryuji asks, and his eyes widen. “Oh, those? Don’t worry, dude. It’s all good.”

“Thanks for bringing us these Requests,” Akira says to him.

Mishima nods and saves the little note on his phone, grinning from ear to ear.

#

"I hate to be a burden," Haru says as Akira hands her Morgana.

Akira shakes his head. "It's fine, really," he tells her.

Morgana hangs from Haru's grasp, slowly rights himself, and climbs onto her shoulder. "Yeah, it's not a problem," he says. "Besides, I can educate you on the Metaverse some more. And this way, you won't accidentally get trapped there. Even if you did, I could help you get back."

The three are outside Shujin, with classes having ended for Monday. Akira held this little rendezvous far enough away from the school's entrance to ensure no one noticed him handing over the cat.

"Thanks again," Haru says. "I'll be in touch. Once Makoto wraps up her meeting, we'll meet and head to her place."

Akira nods. "Keep your head down as much as possible until we figure out more."

"I understand," Haru says and smiles. "Thanks again!"

"Later," Morgana raises a paw in farewell as Haru turns and walks away.

Akira waves at the cat, then turns and makes his way toward the train station. When he passes the now-all-too-familiar alley, a figure steps out of the shadows, seizes him, and drags him into the darkness.

Akira struggles as the hands shove him up against the brick, and he seizes the wrists of his attacker and is about to fight back when he sees who it is.

"Iwai?" He demands.

The man looks as though he has aged an entire decade. His skin is pallid, and there are deep circles under his eyes. His stubble, usually well-kept, is a haggard mess. He looks almost pleading when he says, "We need to talk, kid."

#

The man sits in a corner booth, the smartphone's light pale across his face. It's a face she recognizes but does not remember well. She can see the old edges, the blocky nose, the perpetual frown, but coated by extra bits. Jowly cheeks. An extra chin. The man's brow looms above his eyes. He is rounder now, and his suit still seems too big.

"Um," Makoto starts. "Detective Kagawa?"

Hidetoshi Kagawa looks up at her, and for a brief second, there's no recognition. She sees the years hanging off him like gravity, and wonders, If my father had lived, would he have looked like this?

Then, life injects itself back into his eyes. The frown shatters into a smile, and the man drops his phone onto the table and lifts his hands high into the air. "Mini-Makoto!" He cries. Makoto can feel the eyes of distracted cafe-goers on her back, but she pays them no mind.

"It's good to see you," she says and bows.

Detective Kagawa pushes himself half out of his seat, bobbing his head in a close approximation of a bow. He laughs from his belly. "It's been too long. Too long. I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch. The job pays havoc on your personal time." He pats his stomach. "Not to mention your diet," and he howls again. "How are you? How's your sister?"

"Sae's well," Makoto replies, eyeing the chair across from him. "May I sit?"

"Absolutely," he says, gesturing. "Please, please."

Makoto sits and smiles at this man who worked alongside her father for so many years.

"Heard she's making a name for herself at the SID," Kagawa whispers, as if the information were confidential. "She put away that bastard Kamoshida, yeah?"

Makoto nods. "Yes, she was involved in the prosecution of that case. How have you been?"

The man shrugs. "Eh. You know. The job is the job. It takes its toll." He picks up his phone, smiling, and runs his fingers across the screen. "Here, check it out!" He turns the phone towards her. Two smiling little girls grin up on the screen. "Look how big they got!"

Makoto wants to swallow, but stops herself. She had forgotten Kagawa had children. "They look healthy," she replies and wants to kick herself.

His smile breaks for a moment. "Well, that's thanks to their mother. Living out in the mountains, you know, they got a lot of clean air. Not like this place." He waves his hand in a slow circle above his head. "This place is a cesspool. Not somewhere kids should grow up." He frowns. "No offense."

Makoto shakes her head. "No, it's quite alright." She doesn't ask the obvious question, why his children are living with their mother somewhere out in the mountains. "I'm sorry to reach out to you like this. I know you must be very busy."

He grins. "I'm never too busy for Akihiko's kids."

Makoto stiffens at the sound of her father's name. It's strange. She hasn't heard it spoken in so long. It's always been 'Dad' or 'Father.' Never 'Detective Akihiko Niijima.' She can't stop herself from swallowing this time.

Her reaction must be evident because the glee fades from Kagawa's face. "Three years already." He sighs. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but that's not enough time to forget."

"No, it's not."

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Like I said, I'm fine." Makoto tries to reply with cheer.

He shakes his head. "No, you didn't say anything. You said your sister was well. I'm asking how you are."

"I'm alright," she says. "Really. But I did want to ask you something." She puts herself back together and says, "My friend and I need your help."

She tells him about Haru's situation. Spells it out, as clear as she can make it. He listens, asks no questions, and when the story is complete, he leans back in his chair and sighs.

"Geez," he mutters.

"Do you think you can help us?"

"Your friend is Haru Okumura, from Okumura Foods?" Makoto nods. "And her fiancé is Rin Sugimura, as in the Sugimuras?" Makoto nods again. "Geez," he repeats.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. "I know it's a lot to ask, but she's scared. I'm afraid that if we don't get the authorities involved, and soon, she may be in danger."

"Why come to me?" Kagawa asks. Makoto blinks at the change of subject. "Why not take this to your sister?"

"Sae..." Makoto starts, but cannot finish. What could she say? Sae's intervention only made things worse. She focuses on Kagawa's face. And this? Will this make it worse too? "I came to you because of your relationship with my father. I wanted to talk to someone I trusted."

Kagawa reaches up and digs his thumbs into his temples, rolling them slowly. Then, he lets out another sigh that grows in volume until it becomes a groan. "Sae didn't help, did she?"

Makoto blinks. "Huh?"

Kagawa sits up straighter. "You already went to Sae, right? And nothing changed?"

"I-" Makoto isn't sure how to proceed. She knows the answer but can't bring herself to say it.

Kagawa shrugs. "I'm not surprised. The Sugimuras aren't people the police can shove around."

Shove around?

"I can help you," Kagawa continued. "At least, I can try. But you need to be aware of what you're doing, yeah? Going against the Sugimuras in this matter may bite you unexpectedly."

Makoto shakes her head. "I'm prepared for that. So long as my friend is-"

"Are you? Are you really? Because one thing they could do, and I'm just spitballing here, is ruin your sister's career."

"Wh-what?"

Kagawa drops his head in exasperation. "Your sister is a Public Prosecutor, heavily involved in the SID. The SID relies on the goodwill of political factions. If Sugimura decides he wants to repay you for his son's stupidity, he could make an enemy of them." He shrugs. "Then again, the SID is backed by some powerful people. But, they could also decide they'd rather not get into a pissing match and just can your sister right then."

The words are barbs, cutting into her. "But that... that's not-"

"Fair?" Kagawa asks. He doesn't elaborate. They both know what they could say. Your Dad got hit by a truck. What part of that was fair?

Her father's friend sets both hands on the table and expels a good amount of air. "Look, I'm sorry. I just want you prepared for what could happen. Politics and law enforcement don't generally go well together."

Makoto stares at him. "So then, what exactly are you going to be able to do?"

Kagawa drums his fingers on the table. "We can discreetly monitor Rin Sugimura."

"But we already know what he's capable of," Makoto snaps back. "Following him isn't going to stave him off." She couldn't tell him about the Palace, about what it meant. Her hands balled into fists. This is what I can do, she thought. And it amounts to nothing?

"I can't arrest someone for something they haven't done yet," Kagawa says. "And if he has done something, we'd need evidence to present."

Makoto nods. "I see." She stands. "Thank you for your time."

Kagawa's face falls. "You just got here, Makoto. We can still-"

"No, thank you," Makoto replies, trying to keep her face still. "It's alright. I need to meet with Haru anyway. I hope to see you again, Detective Kagawa."

Makoto spun and marched for the door, anger welling up inside her. She'd been so sure this was the right course, but now that she played the conversation back, had she really expected it to go any other way?

#

"That's why we're trying to get deeper into Mementos," Morgana explains. "My memories are down there, and once I get them back, I'll be able to help the team even more."

Haru nods. "It must be frustrating not to know how you know things related to the Metaverse," she says.

"I'll say," Morgana mutters. The two of them head down the block toward Makoto's apartment. Once her meeting with Detective Kagawa is complete, Makoto plans to meet them and call it a night. "It's like, I can sense all these Palaces around us, but I can't understand why."

Haru nods, and they step down a side street, cutting through an alleyway. "Well, I'm sure you'll find out Mona-chan," she says. "And I do appreciate you staying with me."

Morgana is about to respond when he stiffens. The tingle at the back of his neck that he's learned indicates the presence of a Palace begins to grow steadily. "Stop walking," he says. Haru halts. The presence continues to grow. That's never happened before. He's felt similar when he approaches a Palace, but in this case, it feels like the Palace is approaching him.

Tires screech.

Haru darts forward, and Morgana falls from her shoulder. He lands on the pavement and sees a pair of feet charging in Haru's direction. Without thinking, he pursues.

A man has grabbed Haru. Haru struggles, but the man is gripping her tightly. Morgana launches at the man's face, raking his claws against his skin. The man backs up and howls.

Haru takes a few steps away, and Morgana plants himself between them. "What's going on?" Morgana asks.

"Rin," Haru cries.

"Fucking cat," Sugimura screams, lowering his hands from his face. Red marks split the skin across his cheek and forehead. "I'll break your back!"

"Bring it, bitch," Morgana spits back.

Sugimura charges, and Morgana prepares to leap once more.

Another presence steps forward, grabs Morgana by the scruff of the neck, and throws him onto the ground.

The wind leaves Morgana's body, and his legs turn to jelly.

"Well done," Sugimura says. "Kill it."

"Mona!" Haru screams.

There's silence for a half second, then a new voice. "I'm not going to kill a cat."

Sugimura mutters something and grabs Haru's wrist. "I applaud your ethics," he says. "Now, come on."

Morgana's eyes drift upward, and as his vision gets blurry, he sees a man dressed in a suit and a cap grab Haru by the legs and lift her screaming into the air. Sugimura holds her arms, and together, the two men carry her toward a parked limousine.

If there's anyone around that's witnessing this, Morgana cannot see them.

Haru screams Morgana’s name, but his damn legs will not move. The man opens the car’s trunk, and they toss Haru inside. Together, they get back into the front of the car, and it drives off.

"Haru..." Morgana manages.

The presence of the Palace diminishes as the car drives away.

#

Makoto walks down the street, her mood black. Some car speeds by, and the sound momentarily distracts her, but soon her thoughts return to Hidetoshi Kagawa.

What had she been thinking? Well, no. She knew just what she'd been thinking. She'd thought that her father's best friend would help her friend now. She thought the police would assist a distressed girl, no matter the odds.

And now what? What options were there? The Phantom Thieves could take down Sugimura's Palace. But Makoto could not help with that.

A faint mewling catches Makoto's attention. Her eyes snap down an alley, and she sees a small black shape unsteadily trying to push itself to its feet.

Makoto blinks. "Morgana?"

The cat collapses and meows, but Makoto is sure it's Morgana.

Where's Haru?

Makoto darts forward and kneels next to the cat. "Are you alright?" She asks. "What happened?"

The cat meows.

I can't understand him, she realizes with horror. I've never been to the Metaverse.

The terror and anxiety kick around in her mind for a few seconds before she wrestles them under control. She needs help, and she needs to find Haru.

Makoto pulls out her phone and texts Haru and Akira both. When no response or read receipt arrives, she curses and tries to devise another plan.

Takamaki.

When Takamaki had offered to help her find Haru the previous day, they exchanged numbers in case they got separated. There's no other choice. Makoto doesn't know where Akira lives. She doesn't know any of the other Phantom Thieves' numbers.

With no hesitation, Makoto types a quick message to Takamaki.

MAKOTO : I need your help! Morgana is hurt!

The reply comes almost instantly.

ANN : Where r u?

#

Akira stares at Iwai. The other man - introduced as Tsuda - sits next to him. All three sit tucked into a booth at LeBlanc. Sojiro had an errand to run, something to do with his family, so Akira found himself alone with these two aging gangsters and a droning television reporting on the resignation of some government official.

Iwai's explanation had been brief, but it pulped Akira's guts like a sledgehammer. He'd been bartered. Sold. Passed off to this Kaneshiro, all so Iwai could save his son.

Another box.

"I can't do that," Akira says.

"It's not like they're expectin' you to murder anyone," Iwai says, as if that made it better.

"No, but it won’t be no picnic either," Tsuda replies, staring at his friend. Iwai gives him a pained look, but Tsuda shrugs. "Don't lie to the kid, Munehisa."

"Ain't a lie," Iwai snaps. "But-"

"I can't do it," Akira nearly shouts. "Are you crazy?"

"The terms are struck, kid," Tsuda mutters.

Akira turns to him, aware that these men are dangerous but beyond caring. "What terms? No one said a fucking thing to me. Do you honestly think I'll go hang with this psycho?"

"It's for Kaoru," Iwai says.

Akira stares at him, and the words pour from him before he can think to halt them. "I don't give a shit about your son." Iwai glares at him, and for a moment, Akira thinks he's about to hit him. But the man restrains himself. "I like Kaoru," Akira says, trying to soften the blow. "But this whole thing has nothing to do with me. I'm sorry, but my answer's no."

"It's not a request," Iwai says. "All these weeks, you've been coming to my shop, offloading shit. Requesting shit. Burners. Tech. You're up to somethin', kid. And maybe if you-"

"What?" Akira asks. "What are you doing? Blackmailing me? What are you going to do? Tell the cops? How are you going to explain your involvement?" Akira shakes his head. "You're not going to say anything, Iwai. You've made that pretty clear. So, I guess that's-"

The door to LeBlanc bursts open, and Ann rushes inside. "Where have you been?" She demands, spotting Akira in the booth. "I've been texting you for, like, thirty minutes!"

Akira sees Ann holding something in her arms. It’s Morgana. Akira almost misses Makoto entering behind them.

"Morgana," Akira shouts, jumping out of the booth and racing towards the two girls. "What happened?" Something else occurs to him. "Where's Haru?"

Ann looks past Akira's shoulder at Iwai and Tsuda. "What're... who's that?"

Akira glances back at the two men, who stand but don't move any closer. Akira places a hand on Ann's shoulder and guides both her and Makoto away from them.

"What's going on?" Akira hisses.

Morgana rolls over in Ann's arms and stares up at Akira. "I'm sorry... Sugimura, I think. He took her."

Makoto grabs Akira's arm. "What's he saying?"

"I told you what he said," Ann snaps.

"What's he saying?" Makoto demands.

Akira looks back at Iwai and Tsuda. "Just wait there," he calls, and turns to his friends. "Explain."

The disjointed story comes out in pieces, but the events are simple enough that Akira grasps reality in moments.

Haru is gone.

#

The trunk opens. Haru looks up at Sugimura, who gleefully stares down at her. "Won't be long now," he whispers, stroking her hair. Haru jerks forward, attempting to escape, but he slams the trunk down, returning her to darkness. From what glance she got out of the outside, they were in some parking garage.

When she'd heard him approaching, she'd rolled over on top of her phone, hiding it. It was a miracle that Sugimura hadn't taken it from her. She took it back out but saw the same problem. No bars. She tries once more to call, but nothing happens. She sends a text to Makoto and Akira, both hastily constructed words that mean little, but they both reject.

Wherever she is, her phone is useless.

There's a commotion outside. Haru can hear voices. She stops moving and strains to hear.

"...my friend," she can hear Sugimura saying, his words echoing through the garage.

"What're you doing here?" This voice is deeper, and more powerful.

"...so pleased with your product," Sugimura says. "I figured you could help me with my troubles."

"I've got a lot on my mind, kid. Get to the point."

Haru's blood goes cold. "...told you... having problems with my fiancée, right?"

Think, Haru commands herself. Think, think, think, think! There had to be something she could do!

"What about it?" The man asks.

There must be a way out. She remembers hearing something about releases within the trunks of cars. She begins fiddling in the dark, trying to find a lever or something she can use to escape.

"...do what you do to your other girls," Sugimura says, and the words stab Haru in the chest. "Make her nice and obedient. I'd pay handsomely, of course."

Haru wants to throw up. She wants to scream and cry. She tries to force herself to ignore what's happening outside but can't. She begins to shake. She's trapped here. There's no way out.

"I'm tired of running after her," Sugimura continues. "Tired of her disrespecting me. After seeing how well your girls treat people of my stature, I thought, 'Hey, why can't Haru act like that?' With a little help from you, of course."

Haru squeezes her eyes shut. Someone help me. Get me out of here!

You already have a way out, says a voice. Haru opens her eyes.

The phone.

She pulls it out. Still no bars. But that doesn't matter.

The Navigation App. Sugimura has a Palace.

The fight with Sugimura and his driver had been quick and intense. She'd almost forgotten what Morgana had told her.

She hears the big man speak. "The woman you're engaged to, it's Haru Okumura, right?"

Sugimura says something in response, but Haru ignores this. She opens the app and begins to speak.

"The daughter of the CEO of Okumura Foods, right?"

Once again, Sugimura replies. Haru whispers furiously into her phone.

"And I'm guessing she didn't come here willingly, did she?"

"Match Found," the app whispers. Haru had been right. The car was Sugimura's Palace. Two down, one to go, she thinks. I need his distortion.

"So," the man continues. "You threw the daughter of Okumura Foods' CEO into your trunk, intending to drug her up so much that she doesn't know what's real and what isn't, and you brought her here, to me, because you figured I could help you with that?"

"Mansion," Haru whispers.

"No Match Found."

The sound of flesh hitting flesh, accompanied by a shriek of pain from Sugimura.

"Palace," Haru blurts.

"No Match Found." Dumb guess. Think!

"You stupid limp dick little shit," the big man says, his voice so cold and quiet. "How fucking dumb are you?"

"I-" Haru hears Sugimura moan. "I thought-" Again, that smack. Again, that cry.

"That's your problem, kid. You don't know how to think."

"Garage,” Haru whispers.

"No Match Found."

Think, think, THINK!

#

Kaneshiro flexes his knuckles and stares at the prone form of Sugimura, who clutches his face and stares up at him, wide-eyed.

Even his bones had felt soft.

He feels Nanashi step up behind him. "Boss?"

Kaneshiro nods. "She was never here," he says, stepping over Sugimura. "This mess is too much of a pain in the ass to clean up, so we won't let it become a mess."

"Wh-what?" Sugimura asks, and sits up.

Kaneshiro ignores him. "Muzaki, take care of the girl. Once you're done, drive her to the bay and sink her deep."

"Hold on," Sugimura mumbles. "That's my wife."

"Fiancée," Kaneshiro says, and kneels next to him. "And you'll have to find another." He reaches out and closes a fist around the boy's neck. "I don't care what you think of me after this, but if you speak of this to anyone, including your father, you will die."

"My father will-"

"Your father," Kaneshiro cuts in. "May well disinherit you for the bullshit you pulled today. Do yourself a favor. Once we take that girl out of the car, get back in it, and drive away. Pretend this was all a bad dream." He pats Sugimura's cheek and stands. "Muzaki."

The man nods and strides towards the car.

"And don't pull any shit with the girl before you off her," Kaneshiro says. "It'll be bad enough if someone finds her. I'd rather not have to explain why she'd been deflowered."

Muzaki grunts in response, reaches the car, and opens the trunk. He stands still, frowning.

He turns back to Kaneshiro, a strange look on his face.

Kaneshiro walks up to him, and his enforcer steps out of the way. Kaneshiro bends down and peers inside. The car is empty.

#

"Akira," Iwai says, and takes the boy's arm.

Akira yanks free of his grasp. "I don't have time for this right now," he tells them. "My friend is... never mind."

He turns, but Iwai seizes Akira once more. "Hey," Makoto yells and starts approaching them. Akira holds up a hand.

"Look," Akira whispers. "I can't be talking about this thing right now, I-"

"Tsuda just got a message from Kaneshiro's group. They said not to bring you today," Iwai tells him.

The tension in LeBlanc is palpable, but Akira feels himself relax, if only by a fraction. His future with the yakuza is not his primary concern. For the last fifteen minutes, the Phantom Thieves have discussed finding Haru and Sugimura. Morgana seemed to be coming around, and Ann had been dispatched to grab Takemi to swing by for a visit.

Ryuji and Yusuke had quickly arrived, having been texted by Ann during her run toward LeBlanc.

Ryuji and Yusuke eye Iwai and Tsuda suspiciously, but the two groups have managed to stay apart.

"We'll be going," Iwai says. He nods toward Akira's friends. "We don't want to get in the middle of whatever this is."

"Alright, fine," Akira says. "So, what? I'm still expected to show up tomorrow?"

Iwai nods. "Yeah. I don't know. According to Tsuda, some punk politician’s son that Kaneshiro has dealings showed up, trying to get him to do something to some girl that wasn't there. Kid was probably on drugs or-"

Akira seizes Iwai by the shoulder. "Say that again, please." Iwai repeats himself, his usual gruff demeanor thrown off due to whatever he sees in Akira's eyes. For once, Akira is glad to frighten someone. Akira pushes past Iwai and goes to Tsuda. "Sugimura," he says. "Was it Rin Sugimura who showed at... what's his name? Kaneshida?"

"Kaneshiro," Tsuda says, frowning. "And yeah. How'd you-"

"The girl he was supposed to have with him," Akira asks. "Was it Haru Okumura?"

"I don't know," Tsuda replies, shrugging.

"Then ask," Akira demands.

Makoto rushes up behind him, followed by the remainder of the Phantom Thieves. "What is it, Akira?" She asks.

Tsuda glowers at Akira, but at a look from Iwai, he types in his phone. A response text arrives a few moments later. "Yeah," Tsuda says, eyes widening. "Yeah, he said he had Haru Okumura in the car. But when they checked, she wasn't there."

"Not there?" Makoto asks.

"Wait, who is this dude?" Ryuji asks.

"Can someone explain what's going on?" Yusuke asks.

"For the record," Takemi grunts, as she and Ann step into LeBlanc. "I'm not a vet."

"Where's 'there?'" Makoto asks.

"What's going on?" Ann asks. "Do we know where Haru is?"

Akira pushes himself out of the crowd of people and toward where Morgana sits on the counter. "Remember what you said about sensing that Palace, right before Sugimura showed up?"

Morgana nods. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

All hear Tsuda's whisper, "Why's this kid talking to a cat?"

"Who are they?" Takemi asks, staring at Tsuda and Iwai.

Akira stares at the wood of the bar's counter and thinks. Sugimura kidnapped Haru and took her to Kaneshiro, a gangster. But when they looked for Haru, she wasn't in the car. Morgana said he detected a Palace approaching them before Sugimura attacked them. When the car left, the sense of the Palace diminished. Lastly, Haru had her phone. Haru knows Sugimura better than any of us. We explained how the app worked.

Akira motions for everyone to gather around. "Not you," Akira says to Tsuda and Iwai as they approach. The two gangsters look affronted but remain by the booth.

"What's going on?" Makoto asks.

Takemi starts feeling Morgana's fur. "I know the cat can talk, so can someone translate this for me?"

"I will assist," Yusuke says, answering Takemi's questions as Morgana speaks.

"I think Haru is in the Metaverse," Akira tells everyone.

"Huh?" Ryuji asks. "How? Isn't she in a car or something?"

"I think the car is Sugimura’s Palace."

Makoto's eyes widen. "Can that... can that happen?"

Morgana turns to her. "A Palace can be anything. It’s just a physical place. Size doesn't matter. The car must be important to Sugimura. Haru already knew Sugimura had a Palace. If she figured out it was the car, all she'd need was the distortion. She's still in the car, just in the Metaverse."

Makoto stares at Morgana. "I, um, didn't understand any of that."

"He said, 'Yes,'" Ann replies.

Makoto frowns. "All that was 'yes?'"

"More or less," Akira says. "Morgana's right, I think. Haru's in the car, in Sugimura's Palace."

"Well, she can use the app to get out," Ryuji says, then looks horrified. "But dude, how would that work with a moving car?"

Everyone looks at Morgana, who has a stethoscope against his belly. "I don't know," the cat hisses. "It probably wouldn't be pretty. She'd either materialize inside the car, or outside, on the road."

"We need to find the car," Ann says. "Get inside, get Haru, and get out while the car is parked." She groans. "How the hell are we gonna do that?"

"First, we need to find it," Akira says. He looks back over at the two gangsters. "And I think I know how."

#

The spotlight swivels towards her, and Haru ducks back behind the sandbags. Hidden, she takes the moment to seize back her breath, and reaches to pull her phone from her pocket.

Then, she hears the barking.

The dogs, those twisted black and masked things, tear from the nearest building towards her. Haru swallows a sob and sprints away.

Fortress.

That had been the final keyword.

Sugimura thought of his car as a Fortress.

His Palace was a great, massive complex bordered with barbed wire fences, troop barracks, helicopter pads, command centers, and guard towers, all shoved together on a platform that bumpily rolled its way through a thick mist.

At the height of her pursuit, Haru had considered scaling the fence and jumping off - regardless of the sharp wire at the top - but the black fog beneath the rolling fortress summed up the image of twisting tendrils, and she had kept on.

She hadn't been given a chance to use her phone to escape. Always, those Shadows tailed her, just seconds away from laying their hands on her.

The truth was, she didn't know what to do. Escape seemed like the most obvious choice, but if she did that, she would be back in Sugimura's car. Had he left the garage yet? She had no idea how much time had passed in the real world. And what if he had left? What if he left and they were speeding along a highway or stuck in traffic? What if she left Sugimura's Palace and found herself sitting next to Sugimura himself? Not only would he punish her, but the secret of the Metaverse would be out.

The spotlight bathes her, and alarms ring. More Shadows leak from the closest, half-circle-shaped barracks. They are dressed in army fatigues and carry rifles slung across their shoulders.

"Halt," they scream at her.

She does not.

A shot rings out, and Haru feels something whizz by her ear.

"What're you doing?" She hears from behind. "She belongs to the Commander!"

Haru hurries down a dark alley between two buildings, sprinting for her life. They're shooting at me! They're really shooting at me! What would happen if she got hit here? If she died here, what happened to her body? Would it never be found?

"I can't stay here," she heaves, and stops before she exits the alley. "I've got to get out of here." She rips her phone from her pocket and pulls up the app.

Another shot rings out, and Haru's hands snap back. There is the sound of shattering plastic, and Haru lowers her gaze to the ground.

Her phone lies in a few pulverized pieces on the gravel.

"No," she whispers.

Two Shadows muscle their way into the alley.

"I told you not to shoot," one growls.

"It's fine," the other replies. "I'm a top marksman!"

Before she can even think to move, they seize her and drag her from the ruined remains of her only chance at escape.

The toes of her shoes drag and skip along the blacktop. The Shadows hold her aloft, their thick, heavy hands gripping one arm each.

#

The feedback came much quicker than Akira anticipated. Whatever reach Kaneshiro had, it seemed to blanket all of Shibuya and the neighboring communities.

"Help me find Sugimura's car," Akira had told Iwai. "And I'll go along with your plan."

Iwai hadn't hesitated. "Deal."

Tsuda sent the word out to a few minor crews throughout the neighborhoods.

Akira and his friends approached Shibuya, and Tsuda texted Akira's burner with a location.

Sugimura had stopped at a restaurant on his way home. The car was parked outside, and it didn't seem to be leaving any time soon. That Haru hadn't been spotted seemed to indicate she remained trapped in the Palace.

After a checkup by Takemi, Morgana seemed to have mostly recovered, though he requested to be carried - by Ann, of course - and still seemed a little edgy after his assault.

Makoto also tagged along, and while searching for a thing for her to do, Akira decided to request she stay behind with Yusuke to ensure Sugimura didn't exit the restaurant and get into his car.

Makoto agreed.

After about fifteen minutes, the Phantom Thieves did their best to approach the vehicle casually.

#

I can't get out, she thinks. I can't get out.

Dimly, she is aware of her surroundings. The hodgepodge of buildings has given way to a large, flat area marked with various symbols in white paint. Supply trucks and tanks are lined up just a short distance to her right, and she can hear the rhythmic beat of helicopter blades from somewhere, though she hasn't the strength to look up.

There are more Shadows here. They stand at attention, rigid, rifles in hand, black spaces staring out of the holes within their blue masks.

In the back of her mind, Haru begins to hear music. It is the faint, upbeat, anonymous marching music one always equates with the military. A few moments pass, and Haru realizes the noise isn't in her head.

She grinds her mind back to reality. A single, tall tower is in the center of the wide-open space. Behind it, she can see an imposing building stretching four stories into the sky, rimmed by dozens of searchlights and manned by what she assumes are snipers.

The tower, however, is what draws her attention.

That is where the music comes from. A set of black speakers are attached to the roof, pointed upward, blaring the music into the sky. She can see them vibrate, ever so slightly, as the entire Palace continues its ceaseless progression through the mist outside.

The Shadows halt and drop her to the ground. She lands in a heap and raises her gaze with enough time to see a solitary figure making its way down the steps.

This one wears a military dress of forest green. Medals pin its chest, but they appear to sway and flux as the light hits them. A pistol belt is strapped along its waist. Black boots stomp down the metallic steps and echo out onto the blacktop.

The music stops.

The figure approaches her and comes to a halt right before her.

Haru stares up into the grinning, golden-eyed face of Sugimura.

"Hello, Haru. You're not hurt, are you?" He asks. Haru can only stare. His eyes snap to the two Shadows that brought her. "What did you do?"

"N-Nothing," the first one bellows, as the other one points an accusing finger and shouts, "He shot at her! I told him not to, but he did it anyway!"

Sugimura sighs and shakes his head, then looks back at Haru. "You're alright, aren't you, darling?"

Haru finds herself swallowing. Sugimura stares down at her with something in his gaze, something she doesn't recognize.

Kindness?

Shadow Sugimura tuts and kneels beside her, his eyes scanning her summer clothes. "They're not ripped. You don't look like you've been hurt." He stands and regards the two soldiers. "Get out of here."

They snap their heels together and salute. "Yes, sir!" Both turn and bolt away. The remaining platoon of Shadows stays at attention.

Sugimura folds his hands behind his back and watches them scurry away. "I suppose it's better this way. You gave me quite the scare, Haru. But now you're here. Everything is better now." He smiles at her and holds out his hand.

Haru does not take it. "Wh-why are you acting this way?" She manages. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" Sugimura blinks as if confused. "Because I love you, Haru."

Despite her wealth, Haru considers herself a grounded person, but even she has fantasies about hearing those words.

This is not how she pictured it.

"You love me?" She asks.

"Of course I do," he replies, and chuckles a bit. "Shouldn't that be obvious? We're destined to be together, after all."

Haru knows her mouth hangs open, but she can't close it.

Sugimura shrugs. "Your father. My father. They put it all together. But so what? I still feel love for you."

The world comes crashing back into Haru. "You... you wanted to drug me! To turn me obedient! You call that love?"

Sugimura purses his lips. "Well... yeah, of course it is."

Haru feels like she's been slapped.

"I don't want to do those things to you, Haru. But I have to. Because you won't listen. You won't obey. You're willful." He shrugs again. The gesture feels very out of place with his military uniform. "You need to learn to respect me. To be the right kind of wife. That's why I took you to Kaneshiro. That wouldn't have been necessary if you had just done what I'd told you to do."

"You were hurting me," she spits back at him. "You were threatening me!"

"Sometimes I find it difficult to articulate my feelings," Sugimura replies. "You can't blame me for that. Besides, you're the one who keeps making things difficult. Your father wants this. My father wants this. I want this. I think you want this too. If you'd just do what I tell you, life could be effortless. You'll be the wife of a powerful man."

"I don't..." Haru starts, then swallows. "I don't want that."

Sugimura spreads his hands, then drops them back to his sides. "That's not really your decision, is it? Your father made this call. If you disobey me, it's like you're betraying him. Would you really do that to him? Would you really be so selfish?"

Selfish?

He turns his back to her. "Maybe you don't know any better. Maybe you weren't properly raised." He adjusts his uniform. "I supposed that will be my burden to correct."

Maybe he's right, Haru thinks. Against the combined weight of her father's wishes, and those of the Sugimura family, what hope did she have? For so long, she tried to keep herself away from this, to hide in the shadows among her newfound friends. But to what end? Here she was, back in Sugimura's clutches. The whole thing stank of inevitability. To go against father, against Sugimura, against everything? Wasn't that a true betrayal?

Who was she, after all, to defy fate?

It would be easier to give in. To accept it.

Besides, Sugimura liked them young. After a few years, he'd probably tire of her and have a string of affairs with younger women. He'd leave her alone.

It would be easier to smile and accept it all.

It really would.

But a voice in her head asks, So what?

Something in her chest shifts.

Sugimura continues to speak, his voice a hollow drone.

Haru isn't listening anymore. She isn't even looking at him. Instead, she focuses on the doppelganger of herself that kneels alongside her, wreathed in blue fire. Haru's eyes meet her double's golden copies.

Pain erupts in her skull like fireworks.

Already on her knees, Haru clasps her hands to her head, fingers digging against her temples. She doubles over, collapses, and her forehead hits the concrete. A groan drips from her lips.

"Haru?" Sugimura asks.

The sensation pulses through her. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her jaw clenches.

She feels a warm hand rest on her scalp.

"Don't avert your gaze," her doppelganger whispers. Haru inches her eyes open and sees the blacktop beneath her. "I know this isn't what you want, which is to say, you know this isn't what you want."

Someone runs a knife down the center of her mind. She chokes out a scream.

Sugimura kneels alongside her. "Haru, what's wrong?"

Her double's words hack through her brain like an axe. "All your life, you've played within the rules set out for you. Your family decided your future. This thing wants to decide your present. Even your past isn't your own."

Sugimura puts a hand on her back, and calls for the Shadows around them to, "Do something!" They only stare at one another, confused.

Haru drags one leg up to her chest.

"And for all this, they've the audacity to claim you've betrayed them?"

Haru shoves her other leg beneath her, and pushes herself up to her knees, fingers still wrapped around her head.

To her left, Sugimura stares at her, face a caricature of concern. He moves his mouth, but his words are dull, faraway thuds.

To her right, this golden-eyed Haru smiles at her. "So what, then? If that's what they wish to call it, so be it. If you must betray them to reclaim yourself, choose betrayal, and do it with pride."

Sugimura moves around until he crouches before her, and sets his hand on her cheek.

"But at the least," her doppelganger says as she fades into the air. "You must choose."

"Haru," Sugimura cries. "Haru, are you-"

"Sugimura," Haru whispers. She lowers her hands from her head, and rests one against the clammy thing on her cheek.

He beams. "Are you alright, Haru? I thought-"

"Sugimura," Haru repeats. She gently wraps a fist around his pinky and ring fingers, peeling his hand from her face. "Rin."

"Yes?"

"Get your hands," she growls, "off me!" She yanks down, and the crack that echoes out from Sugimura's hand as his fingers split is ever so satisfying.

Sugimura throws back his head, screams, shakes his injured hand free, clutches it to his chest, and backpedals away from her.

Haru feels something tighten across her face, snug and velvet.

"Very good!" The voice cackles. "With your choice comes our contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Your future is your own. Now go forth, and show what happens to those seeking to steer it!"

Sugimura glares down at her. "You-"

"Oh, Rin," Haru spits, as she takes hold of the edge of her mask. "Do shut up." She rips it free with a scream.

Behind her, a pillar of blue fire erupts into the air.

#

Joker steals another peek over the sandbags. The patrolling Shadows move off down the path. He ducks back and returns to the Thieves.

Mona, Panther, and Skull huddle around a crude map drawn in the dirt. It represents what they know of the Palace so far. Which, Akira thinks, is very little.

"They gone?" Skull asks.

Joker slides his knife back into his belt. "They are." He kneels next to Mona. "Find anything?"

The cat shakes his head, a frown on his face. "Recon's a no-go. This place is like a maze; too much looks the same. I can't tell where they took Haru. Heck, I can't even tell if she's here."

Panther curls her whip around her forearm. "Then it's back to Plan B, right? Find a Shadow, and make them talk."

"We need to be careful," Joker replies. "You saw those weird, dog-like Shadows earlier. They'll probably alert the whole place if they catch or smell us."

Skull sighs and taps his foot. "Yeah, but can we afford to be careful, bro? Time's not on our side here."

He's not wrong, Joker thinks.

If Sugimura headed for his car, and Makoto and Yusuke couldn't distract him, Yusuke would jump into the Palace and alert the other Thieves.

And after that?

Getting into the Palace had been easy. The car sat in the middle of a parking lot. All they'd had to do was keep their heads down as they snuck up to it. The driver hadn't even glanced in their direction as they snuck toward the trunk. Morgana entered the Palace and returned moments later to inform them of the distortion. Akira texted Yusuke about the distortion, and the team entered the Palace.

Although, Joker hadn't expected the 'fortress' to be so literal. In Madarame and Kamoshida's Palaces, the rest of Tokyo had existed as a hollow, empty world on the outskirts. Nothing seemed to exist outside the Palace's perimeter—just black, tendril-like smoke.

"Alright," he says. "It's Panther's plan then. Find a Shadow. Make them talk."

"And if it turns out Haru's not here?" Mona asks.

"Then we return to the real world and figure something else out," he tells them. "Either way, we're finding Haru."

Panther sighs and shakes her head. "Poor Haru. She must be so scared right now. All alone and-"

BOOM.

The Thieves turn their eyes skyward. A column of blue flame reaches up into the red clouds. A moment later, alarms begin to sound.

"Uh,” Skull says. "This is just a guess. But maybe we should head that way."

 #

It wears a black and pink Rococo style dress, with red striped puffs on the sleeves. Its bottom is adorned in golden trim, with a lip curved in the center. It reminds Haru of a smile.

Which is what she does.

With one hand, the figure holds a thin, light red mask with golden eyes up to where its face should be. In the other, it flourishes a sunlit fan.

Haru feels a hat materialize on her head. She reaches up and removes it and finds it to be a dark purple cavalier's, with a feather plume tucked into the band. Her clothes have shifted into a long-sleeved pink blouse. She brings a hand to her neck and finds a gem pin holding the jabot shut. A black corset hugs her chest, and bloomers do the same with her thighs. Sable gloves and pantyhose hide her hands and legs.

Then, of course, there is the battle-axe—a long, thick, monstrous thing. Haru hardly noticed it, given everything else going on. But then she looks, and there it is, in hand, blade above her head. She rotates her forearm, and the axe head slashes into the concrete at her feet.

"Oh my," she says.

"Wh-what the hell is this?" Sugimura asks. He stands surrounded by his soldiers, who seem uncertain about what to do.

"I think," Haru says. "It would be best if you leave now."

His voice cracks as he screams. "You're giving me orders? Are you that stupid? This is my place!" He thumps his chest with his uninjured fist. "Mine! Soldiers!" The Shadows stiffen and raise their rifles. "Take her back into custody. I'll force her obedience if she doesn't want to listen to reason!"

The soldiers begin to advance.

"That's not a good idea," Haru replies.

Sugimura cackles. "Why not?" He glares up at her Persona. "Even with that thing, you're still outnumbered. I don't care if your clothes have changed. I don't care that you have a weapon now. What can you do, Haru?"

She tilts her head. The dress of her Persona slides up with a mechanical whirr. From within emerges the barrel of a massive Gatling gun, aimed at the approaching Shadows.

Sugimura blanches.

Haru clears her throat. "If you would, Milady?"

The barrel begins to spin.

#

"Goddamn," Skull screams as the DATDATDATDATDATDATDAT starts. He leaps to the ground and throws his hands over his head.

Panther stops and hunches over. "What're you doing?" She shouts. "What is that?"

"I've played enough video games to know," Skull replies. "That's freakin' machine gun fire!"

Panther peers down at the Uzi slung in her belt. "Oh. I thought it sounded a little familiar."

"Wait," Mona says, sliding up to where Joker squats. "A machine gun? That's not good. Very not good!"

Joker nods. "Very, very not good." He springs from his hiding spot and runs towards the sound. "Let's move!"

Panther yanks Skull to his feet, and the four Thieves sprint into the shadows of the building, dart down their alleys, and emerge in a clearing of concrete marked up with chalk. Joker sees a few motionless cranes at the far end of the space.

In the center stands a lone figure, a battle-axe raised over her head. A Shadow cowers before her, but before it can beg for its life, the woman brings the weapon down and splits it in half.

"Dude," Skull says.

"Dude," Panther says.

"Is that..." Mona starts.

"Haru?" Joker calls.

At the sound of his voice, the figure turns to them. Joker recognizes her eyes and the few waves of hair that peek out from beneath her new hat.

She hefts up the axe, rests its shaft on her shoulder, and treats them to a polite smile. "Hi, everyone!"

#

Akira sighs deeply and sits down on the sidewalk. Everyone has separated. Haru reunited with Makoto and informed her of what had happened. The flight from Sugimura's Palace had been quick, and rather than an intense debriefing, Akira had elected to bring Haru and Makoto to a local cafe to catch everyone up quickly.

He has since returned to Yongen-jaya. Morgana had trotted ahead toward Takemi's clinic for a quick revisit of his wounds. Akira is not ready to reenter LeBlanc. He's sure Iwai and Tsuda might be there and does not wish to have another difficult conversation today.

He is spared from this, but only because Iwai approaches him from down the block.

"Kid," he says.

Akira nods.

"Everything settled?" Iwai asks.

Akira shrugs. "Sort of." He glances up at the man, his earlier frustration finally rising back in his mind. "Thanks for your help, I guess." Akira cannot be sure if he means that authentically.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Iwai asks.

Akira frowns. "Would you?"

Iwai shrugs. "Fair enough." He sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. "Listen, kid, about what we were talking about earlier. I-"

"I'll hold up my end," Akira snaps, turning his attention away. "That's what you were going to say, right? Remind me that you helped me find my friend, and now I owe you to show up for this yakuza madman?" Iwai is silent. "Well, I'll do it," Akira continues. "Even though you basically promised me to this guy, like I'm some pet you can control."

"It was for Kaoru," Iwai mutters.

"I didn't say I didn't understand," Akira grunts. "But don't expect me to be happy about it." Akira shoves himself to his feet and starts walking toward LeBlanc. He just wants to go to his room and be left alone.

"You'll be expected to show up tomorrow," Iwai calls after him. "I'll meet up with you after school."

"Can't wait," Akira spits.

Chapter 53: Chapter 53

“I’m just a gangster, I suppose. And I want my corners.”

Avon Barksdale, The Wire

 

Exit Interview IV.

 

Sae leans forward in her chair. She opens the folder and withdraws a few pages, laying them out in a semi-circular pattern, facing Akira. "We need to discuss the movements of the Phantom Thieves after Madarame's demise. At this point, events become difficult to follow."

The pages contain photos of individuals and Calling Cards. He recognizes some, but others are strangers to him. "What we announced on the PhanSite-" Akira begins, then stops.

Sae looks at him expectantly.

"What's wrong?" His father asks.

Something scurries along the wall behind Sae. Something massive.

But no.

She cannot be here.

Akira squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them, he keeps his gaze on the tabletop. Focus, he thinks.

He imagines a hand on his shoulder. Akira remembers the grip and the man to whom it belonged. "Junya Kaneshiro," Akira whispers.

Sae's eyes narrow. Akira detects the slightest tremble in her hands as she snatches them off the table and folds them together in her lap.

A hiss behind Sae she does not hear—Caroline's form twists and skitters in place.

"Stay focused," Akira's father whispers. "Whatever's going on with you, you have to tell the story."

"Daiki Aoe didn't kill Madarame," Akira says as the thing behind Sae moves onto the ceiling. The suggestion of eyes bore down into Akira's own. "Junya Kaneshiro did."

A jerky movement, and Akira hears a voice in his mind. "Morgana, tell us." Akira winces.

"Junya Kaneshiro killed Madarame?" Sae asks. "How did he manage that?"

"Daiki Aoe," Akira says. "Mental shutdown. It's what I think you think." He looks back at Sae.

Rokuro sits alongside Sae in a chair that has only just appeared. One of his father's cigarettes held in his fingers. The boy brings it to his lips, inhales, and exhales blue smoke that forms into a butterfly that flaps its wings a few times before dissipating. "Man, you really are something," Rokuro whispers.

"Rin Sugimura and Junya Kaneshiro," Akira says. "I can tell you what happened with them." He shrugs.

"You're admitting the Phantom Thieves had something to do with Rin Sugimura's-"

"We changed his heart," Akira cuts in. "That's all we've ever done."

The desk melts away. Sae melts away, turns to fine grains of sand, and falls.

Akira stands amid a massive desert. A sun that seems too close bears down upon him. He looks around, rubbing his wrists. Two small figures greet him as he turns, wearing the outfits of prison wardens.

"Please," one says in a lilting feminine voice.

"You must tell us about Morgana," says the other, sounding crueler but just as pleading.

"Tell us," they both cry, and it sounds like one voice. And then one asks, “What can’t your eyes see?”

Akira wakes from the dream with a scream and finds himself in bed on the morning of

 

6/7.

 

The Phantom Thieves and Makoto occupy various spots around Akira's dim room. Makoto sits on his couch, hands in her lap, eyes glued to the floor, while Akira leans against the far wall. A part of him thrilled at having Makoto in his room, but knew he couldn't act in any meaningful way. Makoto maintained a silence, her contributions to the conversation minimal. Akira figures he understood. Earlier, Makoto proposed the Student Council room for the Phantom Thieves’ meeting spot, but Akira declined. The convergence of Akira, Ryuji, Ann, Haru, and a cat, not to mention Yusuke, into one room would trigger alarms in even the most absentminded observer. Makoto seemed to take the refusal personally, though Akira didn’t intend it as a slight.

Said conversation revolved around Sugimura. Though Akira expected to meet with Kaneshiro that evening, the Phantom Thieves couldn't leave Sugimura free to harass Haru, given that he'd gone off the deep end.

Haru would reside at Makoto's apartment until Sugimura's change of heart. At this suggestion, Makoto nodded and said, "Seems like the only thing I can do, anyway." An uncomfortable silence followed that.

"Couldn't we just sabotage the car?" Ryuji asks. "Break the car and keep it in one place?" His eyes widen. "Dude, what would happen if we blew up the car?"

"Huh?" Ann asks.

"Think about it. The car is the Palace, right? What if the car explodes? Would the Palace be gone too?"

Everyone turns to Morgana, save for Makoto. The cat frowns. "I... I don't know. Maybe? I mean, the Palace is tied to a physical place. But if we did blow up the car, maybe it would just make the Palace inaccessible?"

Yusuke clears his throat. "Has anyone an idea on how we might procure and set explosives properly?" No one replies. "Then perhaps we should focus on keeping the car stationary."

Akira nods. "I agree. We could sabotage the car, but even if we do that, it'd be on a short time frame. Sugimura could get the car towed. We can’t sneak onto his property either. We’ll have to time things just right."

"Shouldn't we be discussing Akira's upcoming meeting?" Haru asks.

Ann looks ready to say something, but Akira beats her to it. "I appreciate that, Haru. But we need to resolve this thing with Sugimura. First, we need to ensure there's no connection with Shujin, which means we can’t let anyone know the Phantom Thieves took part."

"Like we did for Yamauchi?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods. "We know we can deliver Calling Cards through text. If we could find some discreet way of getting one to Sugimura, we could limit knowledge of our involvement. Second, we'd need to send the Card while the car is stationary and keep it there."

Makoto stiffens. “What about Yamauchi-sensei?” No one says anything, and then she asks, “Are you all the reason he quit?”

Ryuji shrugs. “We’re the reason he’s no longer coaching the track team. But we gave him a qualifier not to mention anything about the Phantom Thieves or the Calling Card.”

Ann clears her throat. “Anyway. You seriously want to send the Calling Card and keep the car in one place at the same time?"

"Yes," Akira says. "We can't just keep going back in and out of Sugimura's car. Our infiltration route will have to be secured after we send the Card. We'll have to deliver the Calling Card, enter the Palace, and ensure the car doesn't go anywhere while we change his heart. Lastly, we’ve got to let Sugimura’s Shadow know he can't say anything about getting a Calling Card." He nods toward Ryuji. "Again, just like Yamauchi."

"But how would we do any of that?" Yusuke asks.

"We need to draw him out," Akira says. "Maybe by giving him something he wants."

"What?" Haru asks. Akira meets her gaze. "Oh," she replies.

#

Sae stares down at the paperwork. The words bleed. She shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, then pushes herself forward and opens them again.

The words are distinct now, and her brain kicks in and processes them accordingly. Much better.

"Knock, knock," comes a voice at the door.

She looks up at the source of the voice and has just enough time to stop her jaw from dropping. Hidetoshi Kagawa stands, with half his bulk in her office and the rest in the hall. He grins over at her, and Sae feels many things crashing together within her.

"Ka-Kagawa-san," she says, and stands.

Absently, she adjusts her suit jacket, then curses herself for doing so.

"Oh, come on," he replies, waving the words away. "No need for that."

She forces a smile onto her face and nods her head in something close to a bow. "How may I help you?" She asks, then shakes her head. "Please, um, come in."

"Thank you," he says. He steps inside and sticks his thumb back toward the door. "Open or closed?"

Sae waits a beat. "Is there a reason it needs to be closed?"

He shrugs. "No. I just figured you'd have a preference."

"I don't," she replies.

"Okay, then." He leaves the door open and moves over to her desk, glancing around the room as he does so. "You sure have a lot of work. I guess the SID is keeping you busy."

"A Public Prosecutor often has a full plate," she replies, and gestures to the chair before her desk.

"Thanks," he says, and slides into it. "And no doubt, I'm sure." He looks around as Sae sits, whistling. "Don't you have an assistant or something?"

She narrows her eyes. "I don't need an assistant."

He lifts his hands, palms towards her. "I didn't mean that you did. It's just that anyone with this kind of workload could probably use an extra pair of hands."

"Are you offering?"

Kagawa laughs. "I'm afraid not. Unless you officially request my help, that is."

Sae nods, but her reply is only to ask, "What brings you here, Detective Kagawa?"

Kagawa frowns at the official title but doesn't address it. "Well, I wanted to ask about your sister."

Sae frowns. "Makoto? What about her?"

"The little Miss called me yesterday and asked me to sit down with her. She told me that her friend was in some trouble." He cocks his head to the side. "The name Rin Sugimura ring any bells?"

Sae expels a long breath of air, and once it's gone, whispers, "Goddammit."

Kagawa blinks. "I don't-"

"She said this to you?" Sae asks. "She specifically said the name, 'Rin Sugimura,' to you?"

Kagawa nods. "She did. Apparently, the guy is engaged to her best friend, Haru Okumura. The bastard is supposedly unhinged. She also mentioned that she's brought this up to you."

I told her not to get involved. I explained this to her! "I wouldn't call what she did 'bringing it up to me.'"

"Oh?"

Sae glares at the man. "What is it that you're here for, Detective Kagawa?"

Kagawa purses his lips. "I'm just following a hunch. Has Mini-Makoto been acting strange these last few weeks? Has she done anything out of the ordinary?"

Sae throws back her head and laughs. She laughs, and she laughs, and she laughs. It does not sound good, even to her ears. Judging by Kagawa's face, it doesn't sound good to him either.

She stops it soon enough and says, "My sister is fine, from what I understand. She's associated with some colorful individuals, but this phase will quickly pass. Before long, she'll be back on the correct path."

"Okay," Kagawa replies, drawing the word out. "Still, though, maybe you should talk to her. Maybe we should talk to her together."

Sae rolls her eyes. "And what would that achieve?"

Kagawa is silent for a short time. Then he asks, "Big Sis Sae, are you okay?"

Sae puts as much weight behind her glare as she can. "Don't call me that."

He blinks. "Seriously. Are you okay?"

"That's not your concern."

He makes a face. "Well, it sort of is. Akihiko asked me to keep an eye on you and-"

"And this is the first I'm seeing you since," Sae snaps. "So don't pretend that you care, Detective Kagawa. You're not a very good liar."

He frowns. "I'm not lying, Sae. And I do care. Akihiko was my fri-"

"And a great lot of good that friendship did him," Sae replies, voice just shy of shouting. "Splattered across the grill of a truck." She nearly breaks on the last word but manages to hold it together. Kagawa looks like he's been slapped. Good. "I think it's time you left, Kagawa."

"Yeah," he says, pushing himself to his feet. "You're probably right." He turns and shuffles towards the door. "I'm sorry if I bothered you, Sae. And I... well, I'm sorry."

Sae watches him walk toward the door. Then, biting the inside of her mouth - hard - she says, "Wait."

Kagawa turns to her. "Yes?"

Sae cannot meet his eyes. "Are you working on any pressing cases at this time?"

Kagawa shrugs. "We've got a couple of things brewing, but I'm part of a team. Why?"

"Earlier you said I could requisition your assistance."

Kagawa's brows shoot up. "With your paperwork? Sae, I'm not a secretary, and I-"

"It's not that," she says, returning to face him. "I'm putting something together. Our issues aside, I know from what my father told me, you are a considerable detective. I may call upon you to assist with my investigation."

Kagawa nods, turns to face her, and crosses his arms. "What's the nature of the investigation?"

Sae shakes her head. "You'll be hearing from me shortly." Kagawa waits, then turns to leave. "And thank you for bringing the news of my sister to me, Detective."

Kagawa sighs. "Don't be too hard on her, Sae. She just wants to help her friend."

"She should focus on helping herself," Sae replies. "Your concern is noted."

Kagawa looks ready to say more, but he inclines his head and leaves instead.

#

Takemi and Ohya enter the booth across from Akira. Iwai was due to arrive soon and take Akira to meet Kaneshiro, but he wanted to get these items out of the way.

"So?" Ohya asks.

"I need to track someone," Akira says. "A car, actually."

Sojiro still had yet to return from his errand, and LeBlanc had been closed for the day. Thus, the three of them were able to meet in seclusion.

"Sounds illegal," Ohya whispers, turning back to Akira.

"He's threatening my friend," Akira says. "We're going to change his heart, but his Palace is his car."

"Run how all this works by me one more time," Ohya says, and Akira sighs.

Takemi quickly cuts in. "If the Palace is the car, how will you keep the occupant in one place?"

Akira leans close and says, "I was hoping you could get us some chloroform."

Takemi's eyes widen, then narrow. "Absolutely not," she snaps, then leans in closer. "Are you crazy?"

"We just need-"

"Do you have any idea how that stuff works?" Takemi asks. "It's not like the damn movies, Akira. You can't just shove some over someone's face, and they'll pass out. Plus, in the wrong dosage, it could be really hazardous."

"I was just asking you to-"

"You were asking me to provide you with an illegal substance which you could further use to conduct illegal activity," Takemi says. "And I'm drawing the line there, Akira. Figure something else out."

Ohya takes a sip of her coffee and, without meeting anyone's eyes, says, "I'm surprised you'd say that, Plague.'"

Akira frowns, staring at Ohya. Did we ever tell her Takemi's codename?

Ohya must interpret his look for curiosity, and she says casually, "She never told you? Why she's working in some clinic in a back alley in Yongen-jaya instead of an illustrious hospital?"

"Do we have time for this?" Takemi asks neutrally.

Ohya shrugs. "You won't give Akira chloroform, but you rushed the production of an experimental drug that killed a patient."

Takemi stares at Akira blankly.

"Really?" Akira asks.

Takemi shrugs. "That's what the papers say, isn't it?"

Ohya frowns. "Are you saying that's not what happened?"

"I'm saying I won't provide Akira with chloroform," Takemi says, turning to Ohya. "And that's all I'm saying."

Ohya opens her mouth to respond, but to Akira's amazement, she clamps down on whatever she's about to say and instead mutters something through clenched teeth and returns to her coffee.

Guess I've got something else to ask about, Akira thinks.

Takemi folds her hands together. "My backstory aside, I've dug more into the mental shutdowns." She pulls a piece of paper from her coat and slides it to Akira. "I found some information on cognitive science, but not much. Beyond that, I think you're right based on what you said and what's been reported. Yukio Kan died of a mental shutdown, not a heart attack."

Ohya crosses her arms. "Daiki Aoe ain't lying either. At least he doesn't think he's lying. If this Metaverse shit happens the way you say it does, it's possible the same thing happened to him." She raises her hands. "Sorry, but I don't have some paper to slide over to you all clandestine-like, but after going back over the last few years, I'm starting to see a thread running through these mental shutdown cases. Found some cases from a few years ago that sound similar to what Daiki Aoe described. A factory manager. Some detective. The problem is separating the bullshit from the truth."

"It always is," Takemi mutters.

Ohya ignores this and says to Akira, "As for that article on ‘Robert Cunningham,’ or whatever his name is, I’m not sure I buy it. Whoever wrote it writes like trash.”

“That’s hardly a reason to discredit it,” Takemi points out.

“It is in my book,” Ohya replies. “Beyond that, I’ve got other sources say that some shit is going down in the yakuza world. So, here's my updated deal, Akira. If you want me to keep digging into this mental shutdown stuff, I want whatever dirt you can provide me on the yakuza."

"Have you heard of this Kaneshiro?" Akira asks.

Ohya nods. "Oh yeah. Real scumbag. Vanished a few years ago. Came back a handful of months ago. Operates for the Dragon Syndicate."

"Alright," Akira says. "That sounds fair."

"As for your friend with the car," Takemi says. "You should figure out another plan. I assume he's not the driver. Even if you knocked out the passenger, wouldn't the driver still be around?" Akira recalls Morgana's brief description of the driver who'd assaulted him. He nods.

"Why don't you just hit him over the head?" Ohya asks.

The door to LeBlanc jingles as it opens.

"Time to go, kid," Iwai says. Akira nods and steps out of the booth.

"Who's this guy?" Ohya asks, frowning. "Why do you look familiar?"

"Must have one of those faces," Iwai replies.

"Hey," Takemi says. Iwai turns to her. "Watch out for him," she says.

"Thanks," Akira says. Quickly, he darts upstairs to store the paper Takemi provided and returns to join Iwai.

Outside LeBlanc, they find Tsuda standing with his hands shoved into a light jacket. He nods in the direction of the highway, and the two follow. A car is parked some distance away, and all three get inside, with Akira and Iwai in the backseat and Tsuda behind the wheel.

The drive into Shibuya is short, but Akira sits in the back and lets the city light roll over his eyes. His nerves are calm, which surprises him. He had expected a few more last-minute freakouts, but he finds that he's barely thinking.

Tsuda and Iwai say a few things to him, but when it becomes obvious Akira isn't listening, they both shut up.

Finally, after maybe twenty minutes of driving, Tsuda pulls over and says, "We walk from here."

It's comforting, at least, that they are in a familiar part of Shibuya. It's only a few blocks from the train station, and Akira realizes that he's genuinely become a denizen of this city if he recognizes so much of it. The lights dim as they exit the main roads, and though there are still many pedestrians, their faces become shrouded in shadows as they move. If Shibuya Crossing is a many-limbed organism, then the peripheral alleys and streets manifest as a distinct entity, something lurking in the dark, preying on those who stray from the billboards and neon.

They approach a massive warehouse Akira has never seen before. "This is the place," Tsuda says, and Akira notices a few tough-looking men, and some teenagers, standing around randomly outside the building, doing their best to pretend not to notice them as they approach.

He sees a small dark alley and says to Iwai and Tsuda, "Give me a second," and then promises when they protest, he isn't about to run off.

Akira steps into the alley, pretending to feel just a little sick, and pulls out his phone.

Once the Navigation app opens, he whispers, "Junya Kaneshiro."

"Match Found."

Great, Akira thinks. Not only yakuza, but also crazy. "Warehouse," Akira whispers, eyeing the building.

"No Match Found."

Perhaps too much to hope for, then. Still, if Akira worked for this man, it stood to reason he'd learn of more locations to run through the app. Then all the Thieves needed was to send Morgana to recon the distortion. If all went well, perhaps Akira wouldn't have to spend much time with this madman.

Akira returns his phone to his pocket and rejoins Iwai and Tsuda.

#

Music plays from somewhere but is muffled. The hallways are carpeted and well-maintained. They pass a few people, but the lights are dim, and Akira can't distinguish much from their faces. However, Akira sees a familiar shape more than once and wonders if it’s a Shujin student in Kaneshiro's employ.

The higher they get in the builder, the thicker the personnel. A floor down, Iwai had been asked to remain behind. Tsuda and Akira proceed alone, and Akira finds his throat getting fractionally drier as they ascend.

"Alright," Tsuda says, his voice jarring as he's been mostly silent the entire trip. "Here we go. Stay calm and behave as we told you."

Akira is too nervous to speak, so he merely nods. This man has a Palace, Akira thinks. Even if he didn't, he's yakuza.

Tsuda stops before a door, knocks, and opens it.

The bright light jabs into Akira's retinas, and he squints once inside. The room is small, with an assortment of couches surrounding a low table covered with drinking glasses and a bottle of brown liquid.

Two men stand alongside the couches. One is slim but in a muscular way, with a jagged face covered in blemishes and slicked-back hair. His hands are folded in front of him, and he watches Akira coldly. The other is bulkier and bald and muscle makes a band down the back of his jaw; if he looks at anything, Akira can't tell.

The third man sits on the couch. A few women lounge alongside him, but a vacancy in their eyes chills Akira. The sleeves of his charcoal button-up are rolled up and reveal sinewy arms, unadorned with tattoos. His eyes drill into Akira’s brain, rooting around. Kaneshiro, Akira thinks, without having to be introduced. The man snaps his fingers, a sharp sound, and the women rise and exit. The two men remain behind.

Tsuda bows and says, "Here he is, Boss."

Akira takes a step forward and bows. "Kaneshiro-sama, I'm-"

"Akira Kurusu," Kaneshiro rasps, his words languid and deliberate and resonating with a depth that forces Akira to strain to hear. "I've heard of you."

Akira rises and tries to keep his face from showing any apprehension. "Thank you."

A heavy silence stretches before Kaneshiro speaks once more. "Iwai tells me you come to him for burners. And to pawn things."

"Yes, sir."

"Funny how none of the rumors surrounding you mention that."

Akira swallows and says, "If you mean those rumors from school-"

"I do mean those," Kaneshiro interrupts. "I didn't think you were an assassin. Too thin." One of the men, the thinner one, chuckles.

Everyone goes quiet. But even in the silence, Akira must stop himself from squirming. Kaneshiro's eyes dig into his guts. Not in any surgical way, but a savage rending, skin flayed, ribs shattered, and this man’s hands plunged into the exposed viscera. This man has killed before, Akira thinks. This man has done terrible things. Kamoshida, Madarame, the man who threw Akira into the box, none of them carried the same presence as this man. Kamoshida may have beaten Akira, but Kaneshiro’s eyes promise to go far beyond that.

"You're a smart kid. I can tell,” Kaneshiro says. “You understand the benefits of working for me."

Akira nods.

Kaneshiro's grin widens. "And if a legend like Munehisa Iwai vouches for you, who am I to turn you down? So, this is how this will work. By the end of the week, you’ll bring me one hundred thousand yen. I don't care how you get it. Think of it as a fee. Anything else you make, you keep. Understand?"

Again, Akira nods.

Kaneshiro's eyes finally leave Akira and regard Tsuda. "That's it, Tsuda-chan."

Tsuda straightens and says, "Let's go, kid."

Akira's mind rolls over the figure. How am I going to bring him that amount of cash?

Tsuda and Akira make to leave when Kaneshiro calls out, "It was nice to meet you, kid."

Akira whirls around and bows. "You too, sir."

Kaneshiro laughs and keeps laughing as the door closes behind them. The sound is deep, and Akira does not like it one bit.

#

It is with the one hundred thousand yen on his mind that Akira exits Kaneshiro's complex. Once out of the room, Akira felt doused in cold water, but that feeling of threat remained.

The conversation is short and quick when Tsuda and Akira meet up with Iwai on the bottom floor.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine."

Nods all around. Whatever else they wanted to share would be done once outside.

They are about to leave when a voice calls, "Kurusu!" Akira turns. The source is a young man Akira recognizes from Shujin. In the streetlights, Akira sees that it is Sakoda, a student from Shujin.

Akira blinks. He had not been aware Sakoda was part of Kaneshiro's crew, but it made sense. According to Tsuda, a few troublemakers at Shujin had been roped into this group and were busy running odd jobs and collecting money for Kaneshiro. None were considered as formal members of the Dragon Syndicate, but nearly all the kids operated under that delusion. Mishima had mentioned Sakoda’s mother’s Request the other day. Akira hadn’t given it much thought since.

"What's up?" Sakoda asks, approaching Akira.

"Make it quick," Tsuda whispers to Akira, who shrugs.

It's not like I invited him over. "How's it going, Sakoda?" Akira asks.

"You met the Boss?"

Akira shrugs.

Sakoda takes this as confirmation and says, "Pretty badass, isn't he?"

I thought he was suitably psycho, but sure, Akira thinks. "Uh-huh," Akira replies.

"He gave you the order to bring in one hundred thousand?"

"Uh-huh," Akira replies.

Sakoda nods and says, "Well, he might've forgotten to mention this, but I'm something of a middleman for him. Insulation, kind of. You bring me the money, and I give it to Kaneshiro for you."

Akira blinks. "You're a middleman?" Sakoda nods. "You want me to bring you the one hundred thousand yen before I bring it to Kaneshiro?"

"That's right. It's what everyone does. Ask around."

"Why didn't Kaneshiro tell me that directly?"

Sakoda smirks and shrugs. "C'mon Kurusu, you're new. You can't expect the Boss to explain everything. That's why I'm here."

"Then why didn't any other Dragon Syndicate members explain it?" Akira asks.

Sakoda says, "Well, they've got their-"

Akira holds up a hand, and Sakoda stops talking. Let's see how much stock he puts in those rumors about me. Akira takes a step closer to the boy. "Sakoda," Akira says. "Fuck off. I'm not bringing you shit. Find some other idiot to trick."

Sakoda scowls. "I'm not tricking you, asshole. It's-"

Akira takes another step closer. "I'll say it once more. Fuck off, Sakoda. Don't bother me again."

Akira turns and heads back to Tsuda. He hears Sakoda cursing after him, but Akira ignores this.

"Where to?" Tsuda asks as they approach his car.

Akira shakes his head. "Nowhere in that. It's Tuesday, and I need to get to my job at the Shibuya Underground." Haru was laying low with Makoto, which meant he'd need to do double the work.

#

Makoto and Haru are in Makoto's room, discussing nothing in particular when they hear the door open. "Sis?" Makoto calls.

"Get out here," comes Sae's stern reply.

Makoto feels herself pale, and there's a look of trepidation on Haru's face as well. "Wait here," Makoto replies, and leaves her room. She'd been thinking about Akira's trip to meet the yakuza group and hoping that he was alright, but now all thoughts of him had fled her mind.

Sae met her in the living room, arms crossed, eyes furious.

"Sae, what-"

"You went to Hidetoshi Kagawa about Rin Sugimura?" Sae demands.

Makoto sighs. "He told you?"

"I told you to drop it," Sae says coldly.

"Sugimura is threatening Haru. He's getting more unhinged by the day and-"

"Makoto," Sae snaps. "I don't care. I told you not to get involved. I told you to drop it. And instead, I find that you went to our father's old partner to discuss this with him?"

Makoto frowns. "Well, you weren't helping. I thought that I-"

"Do you know what kind of trouble the Sugimuras could make for us?" Sae demands.

Makoto remains silent.

Sae steps closer, and Makoto feels her looming over her. "I don't want to hear about Rin Sugimura ever again. This is Haru Okumura's problem, not ours."

"She's in my room," Makoto whispers. "She's too afraid to go home."

Sae's eyes narrow. "Then she needs to find another place to stay." Makoto opens her mouth, but Sae continues, "This is the last we'll talk about this." Then she marches past Makoto and slams the door shut to her room.

Makoto staggers back to her room and opens the door to find Haru on the bed, white as a sheet. "Did you hear that?" Makoto asks.

Haru nods. "I did." She takes out her phone and holds it up for Makoto to see. Makoto squints and sees a text exchange between Haru and Takamaki. "I appreciate you letting me stay here, Mako-chan," Haru says. "But I don't want to cause you any more grief. Ann said I could stay with her for now until we find a more permanent solution."

Ann, Makoto thinks. Not Takamaki. She's becoming friends with the Phantom Thieves. Why wouldn't she? Haru could access the Metaverse. Haru had a Persona. Haru would fight to change Sugimura's heart and free herself.

And Makoto? It had become apparent that Makoto's only method of assisting had been offering Haru an off-the-grid place to stay. And now I can't even offer her that, Makoto thinks. So what good am I?

Chapter 54: Chapter 54

6/8

 

Akira sits in the waiting room. Ann lounges on the chair beside him, idly flipping through a magazine. Ryuji paces the room, brow furrowed. Morgana lays curled in Akira's lap, watching the blonde boy walk.

"Would you relax?" Morgana asks.

"Give me a break," Ryuji replies. "I'm nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Morgana protests. "Yusuke's with Takemi. She'll take care of him."

"I know that. But what if he's got something seriously wrong with him?"

"Like what?" Akira asks. "This is just a checkup. Yusuke’s been fine lately."

"Yeah, but you know what he was like when we first met. All falling over and stuff. What if he's-"

"Oh my god," Ann snaps. "Would you stop with the pacing? It's driving me nuts."

Akira sighs and tries to sink further into the chair. The Phantom Thieves meeting had wrapped up only fifteen minutes ago, and Ryuji had insisted on bringing Yusuke to Takemi’s for a routine checkup. Yusuke had requested additional personnel in the form of support, and so Ann, Akira, and Morgana had been dragged along. Makoto and Haru declined to join, and for that, Akira was grateful. Makoto’s subdued demeanor during the previous meetings bothered him, and he didn’t know what he could do. On the plus side, Haru’s agreement to provide Akira the hundred thousand yen – a significant but feasible amount for her – eased his worries over paying Kaneshiro by week’s end.

Ryuji halts his pacing. "Screw this. I'm gonna go check on him."

Akira shakes his head. "Don't. Takemi told us to wait here."

"Takemi's paying attention to Yusuke," Ryuji counters. "I'm just going to listen at the door."

Akira straightens in his chair. "No, seriously. That's a bad idea, Ryuji."

"It'll be fine," Ryuji replies, and heads for the exam room hallway.

Akira opens his mouth to protest further, but Morgana cuts in. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." He hops down to the floor and follows Ryuji into the hall.

Akira leans back in his chair, praying to whatever god that was listening that the two didn't make things worse.

Akira runs his tongue over the back of his teeth, uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Ann fidgets in her seat.

Ryuji and Morgana burst back into the room.

"Guys!" Morgana shouts.

"We've got a problem!" Ryuji blurts.

Akira and Ann stand. "Is it Yusuke?" Akira asks.

"No, it's worse," Ryuji replies and motions for them to follow. "Come on."

"Hurry," Morgana hisses.

"What's going on?" Ann asks as they charge into the hall.

"You'll see," Ryuji says, leading the way. He takes them towards a room near the end of the hall Akira hasn't seen before. "It's in there."

"In where?" Akira asks.

Ryuji throws the door open and holds it for them. "Hurry, get inside. You'll see when you’re in."

"What-?" Ann starts, but Morgana interrupts with, "Get in already!"

Akira steps inside, followed by Ann. He looks around. "Is this a storage room?" He asks, and the slamming of a door answers his question. A lock clicks. Akira turns around. "What the hell?"

Akira shares the room with only Ann. The girl stares at the newly shut door, wide-eyed. "Ryuji, what are you doing?" She walks up to the door and grabs the knob. It doesn't turn.

"It's for your own good," comes Ryuji's voice from the other side. "You guys aren't leaving until you hash everything out."

"What?" Akira shouts and joins Ann at the door. "Are you insane? Let us out!"

"No!" It's Morgana this time. "You guys have been on the outs for weeks, and we're sick of it. I'm sorry Lady Ann, but we can't stand by and watch this happen any longer."

Akira tries the knob again. Nothing. "Guys, seriously. Open the door."

"Not until you guys settle all your bullshit," Ryuji replies. "Sorry, bro. But this goes beyond us. This is about the Phantom Thieves. We can't keep doing this. Besides, it sucks hanging with you guys when you're like this."

Akira and Ann glance at one another, then quickly away. "Ryuji," Ann cries. "I swear, if you don't open this door right now-"

"You can yell at me all you want, Ann. I ain't opening it."

#

Takemi removes the stethoscope from her ears. "What was that noise?" She asks, turning towards the door.

Yusuke clears his throat. "I believe that was the beating of my heart, yes?"

She shakes her heart. "I know what a heartbeat sounds like, Kitagawa. And that came from down the hall and-"

"Oh!" Yusuke cries, and throws an arm up against his forehead. "I suddenly feel very faint. Please, Doctor, continue your examination. I must be made well!"

Takemi looks back at him, then to the door, then back to Yusuke. She sighs and says, "Fine."

Yusuke nods. Best of luck, friends. I'll keep her here as long as I can.

#

They stand silent together.

Akira suddenly finds it essential to take inventory of the room's contents. He notates the boxes of empty vials—the felt tips—the plastic-wrapped syringes. To the wrong person, this could be a dangerous room.

Ann shoves her back against one of the few spots along the wall not lined with shelves and boxes and slides down until she sits. "Well," she mutters. "This is awesome."

Akira hums in agreement, and his eyes fall to a window in the back of the room. It's your standard, regular window. It's a simple window, not high off the ground or intricately locked. "We can get out this way," he says, walking up to it. Outside is an alley leading down to one of Yongen-jaya's main throughways. "Come on."

Akira yanks on the window's latch, and it loosens. Given that Ryuji and Morgana devised this plan, he isn't surprised they overlooked a critical detail such as this. That he isn't surprised worries him.

"Wait a second," Ann says, her voice hollow and faint.

Akira's hands pause against the windowpane. "What?" He turns back to her.

Her arms wrap around and pull her knees up to her chest. She glances towards the door. "This is stupid, but they're not wrong."

Akira opens his mouth, and closes it before any words get out.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while. But I haven't figured out how."

Akira sucks in as much air as he can and lets it out in a long, loud breath. "Ann, we don't have to do this." He knows it's a lie, but he doesn't care.

Ann glares at him, some of Carmen's fire behind her eyes. "Yes, we do."

Akira watches her for a moment, then continues trying at the window.

"What're you doing?" Ann asks. "Are you seriously leaving?" There's something desperate in Ann's voice now.

Akira turns to her and beckons her forward. "No, we both are. We're not doing this here. Not in some storage closet our friends locked us in. Let's get some coffee."

Ann stares like she doesn't understand, then a small smile lights her face. She stands, takes his hand, and he helps her out the window.

#

Morgana and Ryuji both press their ears against the door.

"I don't hear them," Morgana whispers. "Do you think they're still in there?"

"Of course, where else would they be?"

"Then why are they so quiet?"

Ryuji glares down at him. "How should I know?"

Morgana's eyes widen. "What if... no!"

"What?"

"What if they're... doing stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"Stuff, stuff."

Ryuji rubs his eyes with his fingers. "Dude, start makin' sense. What stuff are you-"

"What if they're making out, Bonehead?" Morgana hisses.

Ryuji's eyes widen. "Wh-what? No way! Don't be an idiot! They aren't... they're not like that!"

Morgana stares at the door as if it terrifies him. "What if we misread the situation? What if we've misjudged!"

Ryuji reaches down and snatches the cat off the ground, who howls in protest. "Listen," he growls. "You better quit it with all that 'Akira and Ann making out' bullshit. I'm tellin' you, they're not like that. You're panicking, and you're making me panic, so chill the hell out!"

He lets Morgana drop to the floor, then presses his ear back to the door.

#

LeBlanc is empty.

Akira and Ann sit across from one another in a booth. Their coffee remains untouched. The short walk provided Akira some courage to begin. "I'm sorry," he finally says. He reaches for his cup, hesitates, then sighs. "I'm sorry, Ann." He looks over at her. "I hate this."

"The coffee?" She asks.

He rolls his eyes. "No, the fi-" Then he sees the smile on her face. "Very funny."

"I hate it too, Akira," she replies. "Sometimes I'm so mad at you I want to scream and strangle you. Other times I just want you to do something silly or say something weird so I can laugh like I used to." Her giggle lasts little more than a second. "It's crazy. I've only known you for two months, but it feels like forever."

"Given what we've been through," Akira replies. "That's understandable." He stares down at the coffee. "I'm sorry for what happened with Shiho. That's my fault." Ann opens her mouth, but Akira keeps talking. "I could've been honest. With Makoto. With you. I wasn't. And it just kept getting harder, and it kept snowballing. It wouldn't have happened had I been truthful from the start."

"She was investigating us," Ann says, then grunts. "But then again, we know why she was." Ann takes a sip of her coffee. "When all that stuff at the hospital went down, I was so mad." Her eyes narrow. "No, that's wrong. I was scared. Terrified. All I could think of was Shiho stepping off that roof. I was afraid she'd get out of bed and go to the hospital's roof and try again." The index finger of her left hand taps the ceramic mug in a slow rhythm. "I know because of everything you've gone through with Makoto, you like her." Akira moves to speak, but Ann shoots him a look. "Just let me talk. You've studied with her. You've talked with her. You've flirted with her. Gone out with her. Even told her about us being Phantom Thieves." Ann shrugs. "Honestly, it's pretty clear that she likes you too. That's your Makoto Niijima.

“But I've known Makoto since starting Shujin. And in all that time, before you showed up, we never said more than two words to one another. She was always so... aloof? I think that's the right word. Yeah, aloof. And proper and quiet and a good little student council member." Ann's fingers tighten on the cup. "When I got bullied because of my looks, she didn't do anything. When Kamoshida showed up and started throwing his weight around, she didn't do anything. When Shiho jumped? She just stood there and didn't do anything." She looks up at him. "So, I'm sorry, Akira. But from where I'm standing, Makoto Niijima isn't some magical, incredibly awesome, beautiful girl who can do no wrong. She's just Makoto Niijima. For crying out loud, she punched you in the face after, like, a week!"

Akira frowns and realizes he's rubbing his jaw.

"I don't have many friends," Ann continues. "You know that. Until you guys, Shiho was my only friend. My only real friend. Think of it like this, and I know it's a shitty thing to say, but just deal, okay? Imagine if Ryuji or Morgana had been seriously hurt and traumatized. Hell, imagine if it had been Makoto."

Akira remembers the red thoughts when Kamoshida had entered the library. He remembers the animal panic. The hate. The acid in his chest. The words bleating in his skull like klaxon alarms. Have to stop him. Have to stop him. Have to stop him.

“Now, imagine that when they’re trying to heal, someone else, who has no business doing it, bursts into their hospital room and makes them relive the bullshit all over again.”

And he tries. He tries to picture what it would've been like, how it would've felt, to learn that that had happened to Makoto.

And then it snaps into place.

And he gets it.

He looks up at her. "I would've killed them." It's not puffing himself up. It's not alpha male preening. It's truth. "Not just for her. If it had been Ryuji. Or Yusuke. Or Morgana." He feels something sink in his chest. "Or you."

Ann's lips curl, and she reaches a hand away from her cup and wraps it around one of Akira's. "Shiho's my Morgana, Akira."

He cannot help himself. "She's your cat?"

She pulls her hand back and stands. She leans across the table and smacks Akira on his head. "You ass," she says, but her face is brighter than he's seen in ages.

Something shifts in him, and he laughs. Then, Ann does too.

"Can I ask you something?" She asks, after they've both calmed down.

He nods. "Sure."

"When we first started hanging out with Yusuke, and you wanted to bring him into the Metaverse."

Akira feels a familiar crawling sensation in his guts. He doesn't want to talk about this. This is ugly. But if there's a time for it, it's now. "Yeah?"

"You did it because of me, right?"

Akira doesn't answer right away. What can he say? That mere days after Ann's threat to leave the Phantom Thieves, Akira had seen an opportunity to increase their ranks? That he had gambled on Yusuke awakening a Persona, and with him on board, Ann's departure could be hedged against? That he had endangered Yusuke to gain a potential replacement for Ann?

"Yeah."

She nods. "I figured. You're always so anal about security. That's why I thought it was weird that you would bring him along.” She shrugs. "And Yusuke would be grateful for being shown the truth. Ryuji would be on your side. Morgana, when push comes to shove, would side with you too. I'd have been left out."

Akira sighs. "You're wrong about the others, you know. Ryuji can be a complete... well, you know. But he'd never betray you."

"Even if it meant going against you?"

Akira can't stop the smile. "Well, if that did happen, he'd probably lock us in another storage closet until we got past it."

Ann barks a laugh. "I can't believe that was the best idea they could come up with."

"See, this is why they need us. Both of us. I'm sorry, Ann. I'm sorry for the lies. I'm sorry for being an asshole. I'm sorry for the past few weeks. I fucking hate this."

Ann lets out a long breath. "I know. I'm sorry too."

Akira rubs his temples with his fingers. "I don't know what I'm doing, Ann. I'm trying really hard to make this all work, but it feels like whenever I figure something out, two more crazy issues pop up. And now there’s this whole yakuza thing and Sugimura…"

"You don't have to figure everything out yourself. I know that's what you think, but it's not true. We can help. I don't think any of us are as clever as you, but sometimes you miss things. You focus on one thing and forget about others."

"After everything that happened to me," Akira says. "It's hard for me to believe there are people on my side." At Ann's look, he shrugs. "I mean, I see it. I know it, but it's different than believing it. I get caught up in my head. A holdover from my family."

Ann pauses before replying. "You never told us about them."

Akira nods. "My Mom and Dad are... well, they're messed up."

"Would you tell me?"

"Do you really want to know?" Akira asks. Ann nods. Akira sighs. "Don't tell the others about this, okay? I don't like talking about them and don't want it spread around." Akira finds his eyes lowering to the tabletop. "I don't talk about my father because I don't like him. But people love him. They adore him. But he's awful. My father never hit or touched me or any of that gross stuff. He never did what Kamoshida did to Shiho, but I guess it's in the same vein. So, please get it. When I can't talk about my father, it's not because I don't want to. It's because whenever I do, it feels like someone is filling my chest with battery acid." His mouth works in a few soundless circuits. "He made Mom fall in love with him. He got her pregnant but never married her. The way she used to tell it, for a while, the thought of being a dad excited him. He was going to settle down, and we would be a family. And then she went into labor. And then he wasn't there."

Ann says nothing.

Akira feels his lips curl into a snarl. "On the day I was born my father left my mother a note. 'I'm sorry,' it read. 'I can't do this.' As it turned out, neither could she. But that's it. That's all my father had to say to the mother of his child. That's all he had to say to me."

"Akira," Ann says, but Akira presses on.

"I've met him. He pops in every few years. Says he wants a relationship. Wants to teach me things. It usually ends up with my telling him off." He feels some of the vitriol leave him. "The last time I saw him was… well, he’s out there. He always is. I never know when he'll show up. It's almost a relief to see him because I know I won't see him again for a while. And when he is around, he’s always going at it with my mother.” They became nothing but animals who snapped and snarled at one another. They revolved around one another due to a kind of instinct, not love, and Akira hated that it was his gravity that drew them together. “I-" He starts, and then the words dry up. "I'm sorry. Can I stop?"

Ann's hands return to his. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, Akira. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

He smiles at her, and feels his own fingers curl around hers. He has never articulated this to anyone. He's said it into the air and over the hiss of a shower. But never to another soul. Not his friends here. Not his false friends where he used to live. He looks at Ann Takamaki then. Really looks at her. Then, he feels his cheeks flush once more. Because in that moment, he realizes that had things gone differently, if an entirely separate series of circumstances had unfolded since his coming to Tokyo, Ann Takamaki could have occupied the place in him where Makoto Niijima now resides.

He squeezes her hand tighter. "I'm sorry, Ann."

Ann stands up, moves around, and sits beside him in the booth. She rests her head on his shoulder, and Akira lets her. "Me too, Akira. I'm sorry too."

Akira's voice is tentative, but he doesn't bother to do anything about it. "Can we be friends again?"

She nods, an awkward sensation against his shoulder. "Yeah."

#

Ryuji and Morgana sit with their backs to the door. "Plague sure is taking a long time to examine Yusuke," Ryuji mutters, and pulls out his phone to check the time. "It's been like, a freakin' hour."

"She's a professional," Morgana replies. "She's probably making sure. And you know how he was malnourished. Maybe there're extra precautions." He rolls his head back towards the door. "I seriously don't think they're in there anymore."

"Then where could they have gone?" Ryuji asks.

"We're right here." Ryuji and Morgana snap their heads toward the sound. Akira and Ann stand in the hallway, smirks on both their faces.

Ann has her elbow resting on Akira's shoulder. "Have you guys been there the whole time?"

Ryuji stands, eyes wide. "What? How?"

"Dude," Akira says. "We went out the window."

"The window?" Ryuji spins to the door and unlocks it. His mouth gapes.

"I told you, Bonehead!" Morgana shouts.

"When?" Ryuji asks.

"We left like, forty-five minutes ago," Ann says, then laughs. "Did you honestly think we were still in there?"

Ryuji's face flushes. "Well, uh-"

"I didn't," Morgana replies. "But this one here didn't believe me."

"Traitor," Ryuji spits. "And you thought they were making out."

Morgana's jaw drops. "Why would you tell them that?"

Akira and Ann glance at one another, then throw back their heads and laugh.

Morgana and Ryuji frown. "Hold up," Ryuji says. "You two are friends again?"

When Akira can, he says, "Yeah.”

Ann nods. "Yep."

Ryuji turns to Morgana. "That means it worked, dude!" He holds out his hand, palm open. "We did it!"

Morgana stares at the hand, then rolls his eyes. He leaps off the ground and smacks his paw into Ryuji's palm. Once he lands, he mutters, "I can't believe that worked."

"So," Akira says. "Was the whole, 'let's take care of Yusuke' just a trick?"

Ryuji rubs the back of his head. "Well, no. I figured it'd be better if we all came, but he was in on it."

A throat clears behind them. Akira turns to find a sufficiently pissed-off-looking Tae Takemi standing in the hall and a docile Yusuke alongside her.

"Hi," Akira says.

"Apologies, friends," Yusuke mutters. "I was forced to admit my involvement. The plan is exposed."

"This place," Takemi growls. "Is not a teenage summer camp where relationships are made and repaired. It is a clinic. A place for healing. A place for me to diagnose what's wrong with sick people." She takes a step closer to Akira. "And shame on you for using your friend's condition as an excuse to set this all up."

Akira lifts his hands in defense, palms out. "Hey, wait! It wasn't my idea."

"True," Yusuke puts in. "The fault must lie with myself and Ryuji. Primarily, Ryuji."

"Dude!" Ryuji shouts, eyes wide.

"Um," Ann puts in, raising her hand. "Is Yusuke okay?"

Takemi frowns. "That's between myself and my patient. If he wants to tell you, there's nothing I can do to stop him."

Yusuke nods toward Ann. "Thank you for inquiring. I have low triglycerides, which I must remedy. Some vitamin deficiencies too."

Akira pales. "So, you're not okay?"

"On the contrary," Yusuke replies, shaking his head. "I'm much better than when last I was here. Doctor Takemi suggested varying my diet and frequent checkups."

Ann's eyes brighten. "Oh, you need to vary your diet? That's great. There's this new crepes place I've been meaning to try and-"

"No," Takemi says. "No crepes. Nutritional value. Say it with me."

No one does.

Takemi scowls. "Does it look like I'm joking? Say it! Nutritional value."

The Phantom Thieves glance at one another, and stammer, "Nutritional value."

"Fine," Takemi says, and waves her hand towards the exit. "Now get going. I've got other work to do than dealing with you lot." When Akira turns towards the door, she holds up a hand. "Not you."

"Not me?" Akira asks, and swallows.

Takemi smiles. "Not you. The next iteration of my medicine is ready. And since you're already here..."

Akira sighs and looks over at his friends. "I'll see you guys later."

#

Kagawa steps into Sae's office, frowning. When Sae said, 'You'll be hearing from me soon,' Kagawa assumed she'd met in weeks, not hours. I suppose that's why she's becoming a superstar. She doesn't waste any time. A part of him swelled with pride thinking of all Akihiko's daughter had accomplished. Another aspect of him wondered if she was pushing herself too hard. There I go again, he thinks. Would I ask the same thing if she were a man? The therapist had pointed out a few instances of what he called 'internalized misogyny.' Kagawa thought the man an overpaid dipshit, but once he saw past his pride, he realized the guy might have a point.

Sae looks up from her desk and nods. "Detective Kagawa." She stands and gestures to the other man in her office. "I believe you know Goro Akechi."

Kagawa suppresses a groan.

The kid turns to face him. He looks particularly tired, with dark circles under his eyes. Kagawa may have moments of internalized misogyny, but he's never been a fan of the 'Detective Prince' shtick and doesn't believe kids should be solving violent crimes.

"Good afternoon, Detective Kagawa," Akechi says, standing to bow. "It is good to meet you."

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Kagawa asks, not caring if it's inappropriate. "Or in a club or something?"

Kagawa appreciated Naoto Shirogane, given that she tended to keep herself out of the spotlight and focus on the case. But this one? Goro Akechi always seemed to be on a talk show, award ceremony, or public event. Kagawa found it annoying, even if the kid always made a point to pontificate about the virtues of the police.

Akechi's face falters momentarily, then he shakes his head and says, "I'm afraid I'm not a member of any clubs."

"Maybe you should think about joining one," Kagawa replies. Kagawa knew the Detective Prince had virtually been on loan to Sae for some months now, but he didn't think he'd be dragged into a meeting with him.

His supervisor had told him of a reassignment earlier that afternoon, and Kagawa had been happy to learn it was with the elder Niijima, if only so that it would allow him to repair the damage from the day before. But Akechi's presence didn't bode well.

"Enough," Sae snaps. "Please, Detective Kagawa. Have a seat." She moves around him and shuts the door to her office. "I told you yesterday that I might request your assistance on an investigation."

"And I'm happy to oblige," Kagawa replies.

Sae returns to her chair and sits down. The three remain silent before Sae says, "I trust you're familiar with the mental shutdown phenomenon?"

Kagawa shrugs. "Sure. I know about it. That train crash the other day was only the latest. I haven't investigated directly, though."

Sae nods. "Then, are you familiar with the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?"

Kagawa blinks. "Yeah. I know that name. Those Calling Cards, right? Ichiryusai Madarame? You put away Suguru Kamoshida after he confessed, didn't you?"

Again, Sae nods. "Correct. As of this morning, the SID has begun its investigation into the Phantom Thieves. I'll be the lead on the investigation. What I need from you, Detective Kagawa, is to act as a liaison between our branch of the investigation and the rest of the police department."

Kagawa blinks and shakes his head. "Wait, back up. I don’t see a connection here. I'm flattered and whatever, but why do you need a liaison? Some officers specialize in that kind of thing."

"A fair point," Akechi replies, a little smug twist to his voice.

"Yes," Sae says, ignoring the jab. "Better qualified officers exist. But I feel that by working with you, the SID will have an easier time communicating between the various departments. You're well-liked. You've been a detective for a long time now. Despite what I'm sure are your upcoming protestations, you're well respected among your fellow officers." She frowns. "Let's just say that if I ask for something from MPD, it might take longer than if you ask." Kagawa opens his mouth, but Sae steps in before he can say anything. "Furthermore, the expediency with which you might lend us is a benefit but not the only reason I'm asking this of you."

And here's why she closed the door, Kagawa thinks.

"Understand that this does not leave this room," Sae says. "If you repeat this to any outsider, I will find out about it and make sure you regret it." She folds her hands together and looks at Akechi. "Most of what I’m about to say, I’ve already explained to Goro Akechi. He has already agreed to assist in this investigation."

Akech nods, looking pleased with himself.

Sae turns to Kagawa. "And I'm telling this to you, Detective Kagawa, because of your prior relationship with my father." Her voice hitches over the last word. She takes a deep breath, and Kagawa watches as doubt plays across her face. "This is not found in any case file. There's no record of what I'm about to tell you. The media is acting like the mental shutdown situation is a relatively recent phenomenon. However, I believe otherwise."

Kagawa tries to order his thoughts, even as Sae barrels onward. "That it's not recent?"

She nods. "A few years ago, a young woman named Wakaba Isshiki died when she walked into traffic and was struck by a car."

Kagawa looks at Akechi, who remains silent. "Is that a name I should know?"

"No," Sae replies. "She was a scientist. Her field of expertise was a little-known subject involving cognition and its manipulation and application."

"Sounds above my pay grade," Kagawa mumbles. Akechi remains silent.

Sae glowers. "Her death was ruled a suicide. I believe otherwise."

Kagawa arches a brow. "Why?"

Sae sighs and leans back in her chair. "It's... it's a hunch. But after Dad... after Detective Niijima died, didn't you think there was something strange about it?"

Kagawa frowns. "Akihiko's death was ruled an accident, Sae. The driver was out of his mind on drugs and-"

"That's just it," Sae snaps. "The driver insisted he'd never done drugs before. He insisted he couldn't remember doing drugs or driving his truck that day. He didn't remember hitting him."

"Sae, that's..." Kagawa replies, almost at a loss for words. "I don't think that's... people say all kinds of things to get off the hook. You're a prosecutor. You know that."

"He had no prior drug-related offenses. His record was clean. And on the day he killed my father, he suddenly decided to hop himself up on enough pharmecuticals to erase his memory? It doesn't make sense."

Akechi finally opens his mouth. "The suggestion is the truck driver was inflicted with a mental shutdown, which caused him to drive his truck into Detective Niijima. Possibly, deliberately."

Sae looks at Akechi, then back to Kagawa. Her face reddens a bit. That's probably the first time anyone's said it out loud. She's just heard how ridiculous it sounds. "No one knows how mental shutdowns work," Sae replies, keeping her voice firm. "Who's to say what they can do?"

How long had she been mulling this over? Akihiko had been dead for three years.

Akechi continues. "Perhaps the same thing happened to Wakaba Isshiki."

Kagawa settles back in his chair and lets his mind spin. He isn't a detective for nothing. He takes what Sae is saying, what she has said since the beginning of this meeting, and starts fitting it together. "You think this has something to do with the Phantom Thieves?"

Akechi nods. "A few weeks ago, Sae had me look into the death of Yukio Kan. By all accounts, he died of a heart attack. But there were inconsistencies in the autopsy that warrant further investigation. It’s possible he too, died of a mental shutdown.”

Sae lowers her gaze to the desk. Her face firms up, and her brows crease. "As I said, it's a hunch."

A hunch? Kagawa thinks. This is conspiracy theory territory. This is fucking crazy.

"It’s possible the mental shutdowns are not a random instances," Akechi says. "But are purposely being used to target specific individuals."

"If that's true," Kagawa says. "Who's doing it? What's the motive? Cops? Scientists? Politicians? Artists? Random subway conductors? What's the point?"

"I'm not sure," Sae says. "It's a feeling, and I just can't shake it."

"Feelings aren't evidence, Sae."

"I know that," she snaps. "I do."

Kagawa takes a deep breath and blows it out. "No wonder you didn't make this official. They could sack you for this."

Sae looks at Akechi. "You’re going on that show tomorrow. You’ll be voicing your opinion on The Phantom Thieves. How do they change hearts? Get their targets to confess?” Sae turns to Kagawa. “What if they’re able to manipulate cognition and the minds of individuals? To not just confess to crimes, but to kill themselves? Or drive a truck into a police officer?”

Akechi nods, slowly. "It is alarming. There's been some speculation that they were involved in the death of Madarame. His murder almost immediately after his confession is very interesting. And the circumstances are very similar to the ones you've laid out with your father."

"Hold up," Kagawa says. "Wasn't their first target a gym teacher? Seems a little small-time, no? Especially if they've got these incredible powers and can make people do whatever they want."

"Maybe," Sae says. "They're not the only ones who possess it." She brings her hands down to her desk. "But there's something here. I know it. I can't put all the pieces together myself. I need help, and I need you two to provide it. If we can link all of this together and put a case together, think of what it might mean for us. Think of... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Kagawa frowns at this. He doesn't like this at all. But Sae seems determined, which was always a sign of her never letting things go.

"If you want to think about it, that's fine. But if you don't wish to pursue this with me, I'd ask you to keep all this to yourself."

Akechi smiles. "Well, you already know that I’m in."

She gives him a faint smile, then turns to Kagawa.

This is crazy. She's going off the deep end. Kagawa glances at Akechi. This punk won't catch her when she falls. He sighs. Akihiko, this is my fault. Maybe she wouldn't be this far gone if I'd kept in better touch. Still, he could help her now. Help bring her back. He could play along and show her how little sense this all made.

There was no conspiracy.

There was no link between all these deaths and incidents.

"Okay," he says. "I'll help."

#

Ohya lets the dim light of Crossroads blot out her skin until it becomes the same muddy color of the drink. She picks up the glass with her fingertips, hanging it down from her palm, and sloshes the liquid around before finally bringing it to her lips.

Akira's information on Kaneshiro had left her wanting. Not that she blamed him. Only so much one can get out of a Dragon underboss during their first meeting.

"You okay?" Lala asks, leaning across the bar.

"Just thinking about universal constants," Ohya mutters, and she tilts the drink toward Lala. "Like you, for instance. You're always here, always behind the bar." She grins. "If you tried to leave, would you wink out of existence?"

Lala frowns. "Well, this is my job. And I do go home eventually. And I wonder if you haven't had too much already."

Ohya shakes her head. "I'm fine, just thinking." The truth was, her mind had surprisingly turned toward Tae Takemi. Of all things, Ohya figured she'd be thinking about the Phantom Thieves, yakuza, or the mental shutdowns she was investigating. But no, all she could think of was how unfazed Takemi had been during Ohya's revelation of her private life.

Ohya also felt like shit because of that. It was one thing to keep that info in her pocket, but another to throw it out there. Why did I do that?

"Lala-chan," Ohya says, and Lala moves a step closer. "Do you think I have a problem?"

"You'll need to be more specific, dear."

Ohya scoffs. "With this," she says, holding up her drink again.

Lala is silent for a moment. "As a bartender, it's counterintuitive of me to suggest that my patrons have issues with alcohol, but I do think you could stand to drink a little less." And then, sounding genuinely curious, Lala asks, "Doesn't it make you feel terrible, to drink so much every day? And isn't your job incredibly demanding? How do you stand it?"

"If you talk to certain people," Ohya says. "They'd say that I don't." She shakes her head. "But I can still function. I'm not broke. I don't spend all my time drinking or thinking about drinking. Isn't that-" She stops, aware of how she sounds. God help her, she still has that damn card for the substance abuse center Takemi had given her. Why the fuck does she have to be so calm all the time! Now that they both knew the secret of the Phantom Thieves, Ohya figured they'd have some relationship or partnership, being the only two adults in on the thing (unless you counted those gangsters, but Ohya is pretty sure they don’t know).

"Then, as a friend and not your bartender," Lala says. "I say this with love: you should take a break. See how you feel."

Ohya sighs. "But isn't that the issue? If I really do have a problem, I'll know how I feel. I'll feel like shit. I know how bonkers this sounds, Lala, but I can't be going through withdrawal symptoms right now. I've got a lot of critical stories and-"

"Ohya," Lala says. "I don't think there's such a thing as a convenient time to kick a bad habit or a serious problem. You just have to deal with it as best as you can."

Well, Ohya thinks. I can do that. She nods to Lala and takes another sip of her drink.

#

Akira sends off his text message to Iwai, keeping it deliberately vague, when the door to LeBlanc chimes. Exhausting as the previous few days had been, Akira asked to be left alone by Morgana, who was snoozing upstairs and feeling very pleased with himself despite his nonchalance-ness in having helped resolve Akira and Ann's issues.

Sojiro steps inside, his fedora and coat on, and a familiar scowl across his face.

"Haven't seen you in a bit," Akira says, and Sojiro stomps toward the kitchen. Akira knew Sojiro had had some issue he needed to take care of, but it had allowed Akira to use LeBlanc as something of a headquarters the last few days, and to permit Tsuda and Iwai to show up.

"Family business," Sojiro snaps, but his face only takes a few more paces to soften. "It’s frustrating, that's all. I may be in or out over the next few days. Things okay with you?"

Akira nods. Discussing his father with Ann had triggered something inside him, and he felt tired. "Had a conversation with Ann about my parents today."

Sojiro's eyes rise a bit. "Didn't think I'd hear you mention them. I didn’t want to pry."

Akira smiles. "I thought you just didn't want to concern yourself with it?"

"Bit of both, I guess." Sojiro leans against the bar. "Have you heard from them? Your mother?"

"No," Akira replies. "A few texts, but I don't answer."

"She might like that."

"She might," Akira concedes but doesn't say more.

Sojiro nods. "But you might not."

"What was your family issue?" Akira asks.

Sojiro smirks. "Fishing, eh?" Akira shakes his head and moves to speak, but Sojiro keeps talking. "It's fine. It's a sensitive topic, though. I don't know. The last few years have been difficult."

"But you said you weren't married," Akira says, remembering the blowup Sojiro had.

"I'm not. There was someone I liked a few years ago."

"What happened?"

"They died."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Sojiro shrugs. "Yeah. Me too. But that's how it is sometimes. We can't give up because things don't work out how we want."

Akira nods and thinks of his own family and then of Makoto. "Guess not."

“You’ve got that school trip tomorrow, right?” Sojiro asks. “To the television studio?”

Akira stares at Sojiro. “You know, I actually forgot all about that.” Akira pushes himself away from the bar. “I should get some sleep.” He hopes his dreams will be free of nightmares.

Chapter 55

6/9

 

Something aches behind Akira's eyes. The dull throb of a headache greeted him upon waking and remained as he dressed and set out for school. Only halfway to the station did Akira recall today's outing to the television studio, and he adjusted his route accordingly.

Shujin students trickle into the parking lot, already packed with the cars of studio personnel.

A sleep full of nightmares had dulled the joy of repairing his relationship with Ann.

Workers and students march past him. For a moment, their steps match cadence. All the people and every one of them different save for the hunch of their necks as their eyes drown in their phones.

Akira spots Haru and Makoto approaching. He offers them a subtle nod, then moves around behind one of the cars. Haru, not Makoto, soon approaches.

Behind her, a collection of pigeons lifts into the sky. Their bodies congeal into a pattern that grabs Akira's attention, and he stares, wide-eyed and short-breathed, as the birds whirl into something he nearly terribly understands, but then they disperse into a hundred directions and Akira knows nothing more than he did a moment before.

"Are you alright?" Haru asks.

"Fine," Akira replies.

Haru looks back beyond her shoulder, then turns to Akira. "You look pale and-"

"It's nothing," Akira says. "I haven't been sleeping well lately. You know how it is."

Haru's nod is solemn. "I do." Akira chastises himself, as whatever his night terrors and weird daytime perceptions, they're nothing compared to the actual horror of Haru's situation. "I wanted to let you know I've got the money."

Akira's exhale is slow. "Oh. Oh! Great."

"I imagine you don't want it now, given where we are?"

"Yeah, I don't want to carry around one hundred thousand yen all day."

"At the Flower Shop, then," Haru says.

Akira agrees then, apart from the throng of people, he spots someone he thinks he recognizes. But when he blinks and squints, the person is gone. "Right," Akira says to Haru's questioning gaze. "The Flower Shop."

#

Yusuke raises his hand and calls to Ryuji. "Greetings!"

Ryuji sticks out his fist, and Yusuke bumps it after an awkward bumbling moment. "Dude," Ryuji says. "Do you ever go to school?"

"My classes are done for the day," Yusuke replies.

"But it's only lunchtime."

"Special dispensation," Yusuke says, as if that explains everything.

Ryuji had expected the tour of the television studio to be livelier. He watched enough TV to wonder at the production of said programs, but instead all he got were a bunch of rooms with cables and boring ass guides who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. It didn't help that most of the Shujin students seemed bored and mindless.

He could have gotten lunch in the studio's cafeteria, but that prospect didn't excite him, so he'd left the building and texted Yusuke, who'd been willing to meet him. Akira planned to join them momentarily, but Ann and Haru were still within the building.

"Where did you wish to go?" Yusuke asks.

Ryuji shrugs. "I dunno. Random place, I guess. I've never been to this part of the city."

Yusuke nods, and the two turn toward the exit. "Isn't that," Yusuke starts, "Niijima?"

Ryuji follows Yusuke's gaze and sees Makoto Niijima leaning against the studio wall. "Oh yeah," he says and beams. He begins to march over and raises his hand before yelling, "Yo, Prez!"

Makoto jumps, but it only takes her a moment to spot the approaching teens. "Oh, Sakamoto. Kitagawa. I didn't realize you were... wait, Kitagawa, what are you doing here?"

"Special dispensation," Yusuke replies.

Ryuji frowns. "No one knows what that means but you, dude."

Yusuke does not elaborate.

"You're not ditching the tour, are you?" Makoto asks Ryuji, eyes narrowing.

"Nah," Ryuji says, holding up his hands as if to ward off the accusations. "Nothing like that. I just wanted to get some lunch. The cafeteria didn't sound too tasty, ya know?"

Makoto shrugs. "I didn't really pay attention if I'm being honest."

Ryuji blinks at this. "Oh. Uh, well, why don't you come with us? We're not going far. We'll just check out what's within a block or two, then come back."

Makoto sighs. "Thank you, Sakamoto. But I don't know. As the Student Council President, I should probably stay with the group and-"

"Akira's coming," Ryuji mutters, pretending to turn his attention to the clouds overhead. A bunch of pigeons fly by, and he feigns study of them.

Makoto's voice isn't stone, but it's close when she says, "I appreciate the offer, as I said, but I-" She stops as the sound of wheels screeching belt through the parking lot.

All three turn and spot a limo in the last half-second of its halting stop. Faint skid marks appear for a few yards past, where it halts.

"Ain't that-" Ryuji starts, but then the question is answered.

The door opens, and a young man exits.

Makoto gasps, seizes both boys by the shoulders, and yanks them down beneath the nearest car. "Sugimura," she whispers.

"That's Sugimura?" Ryuji asks, peering through a window at the young man.

"Don't you know?" Makoto asks.

Ryuji shrugs. "I've only seen his car. Haru fought off his Shadow in the Palace, and I've never seen him in the real world."

"Why is he here?" Yusuke asks.

Makoto's eyes widen, and she locks her gaze with Ryuji. "Haru!"

"How's he know she's here?" Ryuji demands.

Makoto shakes her head. "The whole school is here. It wouldn't be hard for him to find out about this trip. Oh, I'm so stupid! Why didn't I think of that?"

Ryuji whips out his phone and starts texting the group.

RYUJI : Haru, your fiancé is out front!

The reply comes only a moment later.

HARU : Rin is here!?

AKIRA : Where?

ANN : RU serious?

Ryuji frowns. Sugimura approaches the studio. Who knew how much sway he had with the studio's personnel? Maybe none, maybe a lot. "Gotta come up with a plan," he says. Quickly, he sends another text.

RYUJI : Hide

"What'd you think, Yusuke?" Ryuji asks.

"I have an idea," Yusuke declares, and stands.

"What're you-?" Makoto asks, but Yusuke holds up his hand to halt her question.

"I am not a Shujin student, remember?" Yusuke then beelines for the studio entrance, walking at a pace Ryuji judges will allow him to intercept Sugimura the moment they reach the door.

His call is correct, and Yusuke reaches the door just as Sugimura does. Sugimura appears to offer Yusuke a single glance, then says something quick and harsh, though Ryuji cannot make out the words. Then, Yusuke falls to the ground and cries out.

Makoto gasps. "Did he hit him?"

Ryuji squints. "No, I don't think so. I didn't see him do anything."

"Then why is Kitagawa on the ground?" Makoto demands.

Ryuji opens his mouth to respond, but then Yusuke screams at the top of his lungs, "I have been assaulted!"

There are not many other people in the parking lot. A few Shujin students appeared to have the same idea as Ryuji, and had exited the studio to mill around in the lot, waiting for their friends to go to lunch. A few other station personnel seemed to be messing with their phones by their cars, or staring up at the sky at nothing. As one, all their heads turn toward the door when Yusuke makes his proclamation.

"What?" Makoto asks.

"Damn," Ryuji says.

Sugimura takes a confused step back, then says something Ryuji cannot hear.

"Why have you done this?" Yusuke cries again. "I would have let you enter first. Oh, someone summon a physician!"

The front door opens, and a few other people exit, one in the blue uniform of a security guard. They take in the scene and begin mouthing questions. Sugimura starts backing up toward his car.

The security guard shouts for Sugimura to remain still, but the young man ignores this and speed walks the rest of the way to his limo and gets inside. Moments later, the limo begins driving away. Once it has left the lot, Yusuke hops up, bows to the surrounding people, and quickly walks back toward Ryuji and Makoto.

"What the hell was that, dude?" Ryuji asks.

Yusuke shrugs. "Improvisation."

"That was quick thinking," Makoto admits. "Though I wonder if there wasn't some better way of handling that."

"It got Sugimura out of here, didn't it?" Ryuji asks, and pats Yusuke on the shoulder. "Good job, man."

"Thank you," Yusuke says, and bows. "Though I believe I should make my exit. That security guard had many questions, and I believe I've called enough attention to this matter. Hopefully, Sugimura will not be back today. Perhaps Haru should remain at Ann's house tomorrow."

Makoto's face falls, and Ryuji notices this but isn't sure what to say or what it's about. He nods and thanks Yusuke again, then sends a message to the group.

#

Akira swelters beneath the studio lights. After lunch, Kawakami and the other Shujin faculty informed the students they'd be involved in a taping of a show. Collectively, they'd filed into the studio and taken seats, though Akira was careful to take his near the back. Ann sat beside him, and Ryuji got a spot just before them. Haru and Makoto were off in another aisle, and when Akira spotted Mishima, the boy looked disappointed there were no available spaces nearby.

Ryuji informed Akira of what had happened during lunch. While humorous, Akira must remind Yusuke of the purpose of keeping a low profile. He doubted much would come of it, but calling any attention to themselves was a problem. Nonetheless, Akira wondered if his chastising of Yusuke stemmed from the fact that he hadn't anticipated Sugimura showing up at the studio.

Why wouldn't he? He jets around the city in that limo, doing whatever he wants, abducting whomever he wants. What's to stop him from coming in here? Haru and Ann had plans to leave the scene immediately after the trip.

"Phantom Thieves!"

Akira's eyes snap to the set. He hadn't noticed the show's start. A heavily made-up, middle-aged woman sits on the stage, smiling between the camera and the audience. "Hackers!" She continues. "Bandits! Today, we'll discuss the rise of these supposed 'purveyors of justice' and how they've captured the public's imagination. I'm Mitsuyo Togo, and this is 'Eye on Tokyo!'”

The Shujin students begin to clap, but soon the noise grows. Akira wasn't the only one caught off guard. Through the rows of heads, Akira spots Sakoda lounging in one of the middle aisles, a bored look on his face and a yawn escaping his lips.

"But I can't handle this topic alone," Togo says. "So we've brought along a special guest to discuss with us! Please welcome the ever-popular Detective Prince, Goro Akechi!"

This time the applause is genuine, and its source is primarily female. Akira lowers himself in his seat, hoping Akechi won't notice him. I thought I spotted him. Then again, it wasn't as if Akechi wouldn't know his audience, and Akira could surmise that Akechi knew he was present.

Akechi steps onto the stage, looking for the whole world like someone in over his head. His cheeks are flushed, and one gloved hand is clenched at his side while the other gives the audience an awkward wave.

"Great," Ann mutters. Akira nods.

"Thank you for having me," Akechi says, once the applause has died. His voice is soft and apologetic as if he doesn't believe he deserves to be on stage. The grin he flashes the audience is a shy one. "I'm quite honored to be here."

"Oh, please, Akechi," Togo states, her grin almost painful. "It's an absolute joy to have you on the show today. I admit, I'm something of a fan of yours, myself!" A few people in the audience laugh. Akechi's cheeks redden further.

"That's, uh, very kind of you to say."

"Oh my," Togo says, taking in the camera and audience with one sweeping glance. "I do believe I've made the Detective Prince blush!"

Even more laughter.

"But honestly," Togo rolls on. "I, and I'm certain my audience shares this sentiment, are simply in awe of your abilities. To have solved so many cases, at such a young age, it's truly remarkable!"

"No, no," Akechi says, shaking his head. "While I appreciate your words, I would be nowhere without the cooperation of the police, the Public Prosecutor's office, and the hundreds of hard-working men and women who strive to keep us all safe. Perhaps I've made some deductions, but their efforts bring the evidence to light. They're the ones who put themselves in harm's way, all in the name of justice. Really, they are the ones who deserve your admiration."

Ann leans toward Akira and whispers. "How many times do you think he rehearsed that line?"

Akira replies with a soft chuckle and another nod, still paranoid about speaking up in this environment.

"Well said, well said!" Togo exclaims, clapping her hands together in an almost frantic beat. Most of the Shujin students follow in kind. Once the silence returns, Togo says, "Now, we've brought you on the show today to share your insights into the explosive rise in a particular type of crime."

Akechi nods, his expression growing serious. "Of course, I understand what you mean. The news about groups like Medjed and their ilk may seem sparse to a person going about their daily life. Still, statistically, there has been an - as you put it - dramatic rise in criminal activity cloaking itself in the disguise of justice."

Togo's eyes widen. "Wow. 'Cloaking itself in the disguise of justice.' What an incredible way of putting it! May I ask you to clarify for our viewers what you mean by that?"

Akechi turns his attention to the cameras. "Recently, our society has seen an increase in vigilantism. Specifically, groups that appear to target the wealthy, the powerful, and - in the minds of the criminals - the corrupt and unjust have formed.

"Now, this alone is not something new. However, the actions these groups are taking are what lends these cases their... quirkiness, I suppose you can say. These criminals do not just target and rob or hack their victims. They seek to embarrass them. They do not just commit crimes but rub their victims' noses in it."

Togo nods along. "You mentioned Medjed, specifically."

"Correct," Akechi intones. "Medjed, the international hacker group, claims they are 'Executors of Justice.' Since their initial rise to fame some three-odd years ago, they have claimed responsibility for hundreds of computer attacks worldwide. They electronically break into companies, steal or corrupt valuable data, and sneak back out again. But that is not all they do. They often accumulate evidence of corruption and illicit business practices, exposing this information to the public. One could say the inevitable PR nightmares that followed were more disastrous to the companies in question than the loss of the stolen or corrupted files."

"But certainly Medjed isn't the only group to have done something like this?"

"They aren't. Plenty of other groups scurry around the Internet that do the same thing. Blitzkrieg. LOL@U. DowdzDrinks2Much. But Medjed is so flamboyant in their boasting, in their proclamations. They announce what they're doing. They come right out and say who they will target, what they will do, and then do it. They don't accept bribes from the companies they hack. They don't show any mercy."

"Much has been said about this group in the past. I understand that they are not so popular anymore, yes?"

"Correct. Recently, some rumors have been circulating certain online gathering places that the Medjed of today is not the original Medjed. No one is quite sure how this came to be, but members of those other groups I mentioned claim that Medjed presently operates, and indeed, may have always operated, as a kind of corporate hitman."

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"Again," Akechi says. "I'm not one to indulge in rumors. But the prevailing theory is that corporations hire Medjed to hack into their competitors, steal and corrupt data, and then expose their executives' skeletons."

"All under the guise of promoting justice."

"Correct. If it's true, then Medjed are nothing but liars. Similar to the other popular group, Tatterdemalion."

Akira’s feet begin to tap against the concrete floor.

"They struck again a few months ago," Togo says, eagerness infecting her voice. "That was... quite the heist."

"Indeed," Akechi replies, and frowns. "For those unaware, Tatterdemalion is a group of thieves that have operated on and off for several years, not just in Japan but internationally. Their most recent crime was to steal the prized car collection of one, Morihiro Koshiishi, CEO of Koshiishi Synthetics. Naturally, as a CEO, Koshiishi-san received many threats during his tenure. However, it is - as ever - how Tatterdemalion declared their intention that caused such a fuss."

Togo smiles and looks at the crowd. "And that would be... the Calling Card!"

Akechi's frown deepens. "Yes. Koshiishi-san discovered a 'Calling Card' in his dining room from Tatterdemalion. In it, they exclaimed that they disagreed with his 'shady business practices,' and had decided to steal his prized car collection that night. Having heard of Tatterdemalion, Koshiishi-san took what he thought would be necessary precautions."

"Which were?" Togo asks, prodding.

"He had his cars loaded into several trucks to be delivered to a secure location."

"And what happened?" Togo asks, giddy.

Akechi sighs. "When the trucks arrived and reopened, it was discovered that somehow the prized cars had been replaced with papier-mâché replicas."

The students burst into laughter. Even Togo joins in. Akechi does not. He draws a long, sad look over the crowd. "I fail to see the humor in this."

Togo brings her giggles under control. "Well, you have to admit, Akechi, it was quite clever."

"Was it?" Akira mumbles.

"Was it?" Akechi asks. Togo blinks in response, and Akechi sighs. "I'm sorry if I don't share the admiration so many people seem to have for this group. But, Tatterdemalion consistently cites itself as a group fighting for the common man against overlord oppressors. Against the rich and the corrupt. But what have they done for anyone other than themselves?

"Some weeks after the cars were stolen, some appeared on the black market. I'm told they fetched a significant price. How much of that money went to 'the people?' Was any of it donated? Not that we can tell. Was any of it used to further the causes of the 'common people' Tatterdemalion supposedly represents? Again, no. How much of it went to line Tatterdemalion's own pockets? I believe, all of it.” Akechi's eyes drift over the audience, and Akira feels his pulse quicken further. "These people are criminals, nothing more. Perhaps they have more panache than the average group, but criminals they remain. Their choice of victim is irrelevant. Their methods and their tricks, and all their little tools are irrelevant. They steal. They flaunt the law. And they do it not out of some Robin Hood-esque loyalty to the common man, but to further themselves. They are selfish. They are liars. I'll say it again. They are criminals."

Togo is no longer laughing. Instead, she clears her throat and says, "You seem very opinionated about Tatterdemalion."

He nods. "My apologies, but I am. I know, better than some, how disappointing and frustrating the world can be. I was orphaned at a very young age. I cycled through the foster system and can tell you it is a place filled with corruption. I'm not naive. I know this same corruption permeates many levels of our society. So I can understand the desire to strike back, vicariously, through groups like Medjed and Tatterdemalion. These people spit in the faces of the unjust and corrupt. Seeing a vile person getting what we all believe they deserve can feel so cathartic. But we are a society based on law and order. We put our faith in the justice of our systems."

Akira shakes his head. Because that works so well for everyone.

 “Sometimes,” Akechi continues. “Those systems fail us. Sometimes they even hurt us. But our response should not be to lash out with lawlessness. Real change can only occur through the reformation of our systems. It is a slow process. It is a frustrating process. But it is our only option.” The crowd is silent. Togo looks unsure of herself. “If we instead, chose to commit crimes to get back at those who have wronged us, then we are saying that illegal activity is acceptable, as long as we’re doing it. That it’s okay to break the law, if we’re hurting those who first hurt us. This is not the way of a just society. This is medieval.”

"Bullshit," Ann whispers. A few of the surrounding students who hear her fuss amongst themselves, but her words don't seem to reach the stage.

Togo clears her throat once more. “So, then, Akechi. Tell us, what do you make of this latest group? The ones calling themselves the ‘Phantom Thieves?’”

Akechi nods, as if to himself and sits still for a moment. His face takes on a speculative look. "On the surface, the Phantom Thieves would appear to be nothing more than an internet fad. A juvenile Tatterdemalion rip-off. I know this audience have all seen the Calling Card left at their school, and the follow-up one left for Madarame. The language used was nearly identical to that of Tatterdemalion's. The Phantom Thieves have set themselves up as these mysterious do-gooders who would steal the corruption directly out of the hearts of the corrupt." Togo nods along, eyes staring directly into Akechi's. "Here's the thing though. You can't steal corruption. It's intangible. You'd have just as much luck stealing joy or fear. And yet, as evidenced by Suguru Kamoshida and the Ichiryusai Madarame, it would appear the Phantom Thieves succeeded." A small cheer breaks out from the collection of students, but it does little to slice up the tension in the air. Akechi continues as if uninterrupted. "But it's not only that. Let's ignore that the Phantom Thieves could steal the corruption from Kamoshida and Madarame. Follow-up investigations revealed nothing stolen from either's homes. No evidence of outlandish or odd bank transactions. Aside from the Calling Card, there is no evidence of recent communications or additional threats."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Akechi?" Togo asks, brows furrowed.

"Unlike the other groups we've discussed, the Phantom Thieves seem to have targeted Kamoshida and Madarame to steal their corruption. They did not rob them. They did not, as far as we can tell, blackmail them. There was no extortion. No threat of physical harm if they did not confess. Nothing. The Phantom Thieves targeted Kamoshida because he was a rapist and an abuser and Madarame because he was a thief. The Phantom Thieves took them down for those reasons alone."

Togo brightens. "So, wouldn't that prove that the Phantom Thieves are the genuine article? You say that Medjed and Tatterdemalion lie about their true purpose. Would it be safe to say the Phantom Thieves aren't lying?"

Akechi shrugs. "It's a bit too early to say. But from what we've seen, the Phantom Thieves are just what they claim to be."

Togo grins. "Well, then-"

"And that should terrify you," Akechi states, his voice hollow and cold.

Akira's blood turns to lead. A ripple passes over the assembled Shujin students, but no one appears to have said anything.

"And why is that, Akechi?" Togo asks, voice faint.

"Because if they can steal the corruption out of someone, what else can they do? Tatterdemalion steals valuable objects. Medjed steals data. But the Phantom Thieves appear to steal states of being. And if they could do it to Suguru Kamoshida, why couldn't they do it to me?" He looks at Togo. "Or you?" Then he runs his eyes over the audience. "Or any of you? Who knows if the Phantom Thieves haven't done other damage? Who knows what kind of damage they could do?"

"You're wrong!" The voice is more angry than confident, and Akira stifles a groan as Mishima rises to his feet.

"What's he doing?" Ann whispers, and Akira jerks forward to rest a hand on Ryuji's shoulder, who also appears ready to bound to his feet.

"Relax," Akira says, as softly as he can.

"You're wrong," Mishima says again, but now his eyes are lowering to the audience. Everyone stares at him, and even from several rows away Akira can spot the sweat on his brow. Togo gestures and one of the camera operators spins his camera around until it points at Mishima. "The Phantom Thieves are the good guys."

Akechi nods, as if in understanding. "Of course, as Shujin students I realize this may be somewhat uncomfortable to hear. But it would be best if you looked at this objectively. Does anyone here know how the Phantom Thieves do what they do?"

No one says a thing.

"We don't know who they are. We don't know how they operate. All we know is that they somehow got Kamoshida to confess to-"

"Kamoshida was a rapist and an abuser," Mishima calls out. "You said it yourself. He did," and Mishima's voice hitches a moment, "horrible stuff to the girls, and he beat me up regularly."

"I'm familiar with Kamoshida's crimes," Akechi says. "I work closely with the Prosecutor who put him away. But I stress again, the issue isn't what or whom they've targeted, but their methods." Akechi leans forward a bit. "How do you, my friend, know that the Phantom Thieves haven't cajoled you to come to their defense?"

"Huh?" Ann asks.

"Wh-what?" Mishima demands. "That's, no, that's crazy. I haven't seen a Calling Card. And I haven't done anything, and that's not even how it works!"

"We don't know how it works, as I've been saying," Akechi says. "Maybe the Calling Cards are just for show? Maybe they can do something else? There's been much happening in this city that we do not understand." Akira straightens at that, but Akechi sighs. "I apologize. I do not mean to offend you, or belittle the horrible things that were done to you. But I sincerely pray that we overlooked something in our investigations. I hope the Phantom Thieves did bribe or blackmail Kamoshida and Madarame. Because if that's not the case, then we as a society are being held hostage. Held hostage by a group that could alter the make-up of our personalities and minds."

Togo coughs, apparently having had enough of no control. "That does sound rather scary," she says.

Akechi shakes his head. "Again, I apologize. I just believe in looking at things clearly. At facts, not fads." He looks back out at Mishima and offers him a contrite shrug. "Perhaps I should have said nothing."

Mishima looks lost, and his mouth works soundlessly for a few moments before he shoves himself back down into his chair and dips his head, cheeks red.

A commercial break is called, and as Akechi thanks Togo and the audience and disappears backstage, the Shujin students stand and begin to filter out of the studio. The studio wanted to capture the discussion over the Phantom Thieves, and now that it's done, the students have served their purpose.

Akira stays silent as they exit, keeping himself close to Ann and Ryuji, who remain quiet. But he hears the talk among the students. How could he not?

#

Ann left to help Haru back to her house, which left Akira alone with Ryuji and Mishima.

The RINE messages were expected, even if they weren't what Akira wanted to see.

(AKECHI IS RIGHT)

bullshit he is he's just good at speaking

Mishima got owned lol what a loser

(suckup alert!)

(Stick to manga bitch!)

How do the PTs operate though

who gives a shit as long as they don't come after me

can i get a RIP Daisuke in the chat!!!!!!!!

"I can't believe that guy," Mishima says, pacing. "All those horrible things he was saying about you guys."

"Keep it down," Ryuji snaps. "You don't want to tell everyone who we are, yeah?"

Mishima nods. "Right. Sorry. I'm sorry. I just, ugh. I got so mad."

"We could tell," Akira says, and puts his phone away. "It's fine. You did fine." He doesn't tell Mishima that he came across as a fanboy and didn't do himself or the group any favors, but given how unlikely it was they would find themselves back in that situation, it doesn't hurt to boost Mishima's confidence a little.

Shujin students were to gather in the parking lot, but since school was technically over, no one was under any obligation to return with the faculty. Akira didn't mind hanging back to spend time with Ryuji. Mishima had found them soon after the screening.

"Thanks," Mishima replies to Akira's words. "It just got me so upset."

"No shit," Ryuji mumbles, while a door further down the hall opens.

Goro Akechi steps out into the hall and notices the three of them. "Oh, hello," he calls.

Mishima stiffens. Ryuji frowns. Akira raises his hand in greeting. "Hey."

Mishima's mouth drops open, and he turns to face Akira, an almost-accusatory look writ across his eyes and mouth. "You know Goro Akechi?"

Akira nods. "Uh-huh," he says. "He stops by for coffee from time to time." Idly, Akira wonders if Mishima is aware of his living situation, then realizes he doesn't care too much.

Akechi smiles and comes to a halt a few paces away from the group. "It's good to see you, Akira. How's things?"

Akira shrugs. "Can't complain." He nods to Mishima. "You already know Yuuki Mishima."

"Of course," Akechi says, and bows lightly. Mishima begrudgingly does the same.

Akira gestures to Ryuji. "And this-"

"Ryuji Sakamoto," Ryuji cuts in, and nods. "Good to meet you, I suppose," he says, sounding anything but.

Akira offers Akechi an apologetic look, but says nothing. "Ah," Akechi says. "My remarks must have touched plenty of nerves beyond Mishima-san's."

"You really don't like the Phantom Thieves?" Mishima asks, as if goading Akechi to agree in front of the actual Thieves.

Akechi sighs. "I don't know what to think about them at all. Perhaps I'm cynical. I tend to look at things from the perspective of the worst-case scenario."

Ryuji spreads his hands. "Well, if that's how you're looking at it, I can't say I blame you for what you said."

Akira is impressed with Ryuji's decorum. "Plenty of people at Shujin think they're heroes."

"Like me," Mishima nearly spits.

"Yes, I gathered," Akechi says, locking eyes with Mishima, who seems to wilt beneath the gaze. "Still, once we remove the mask - so to speak - we shall see what they're really all about."

Ryuji smirks. "You guys seriously looked at Kamoshida's bank records? Did he pay a bunch of money to sleazy websites and stuff? Please say yes."

Akechi chuckles. "I'm afraid I can't divulge that kind of information. But what I said was accurate. We can find no link between the Phantom Thieves and Suguru Kamoshida. The only thing that indicates their existence are the Calling Cards and their PhanSite." Akechi shrugs. "Alas, that too is beyond our capacity to investigate. The site is very well protected. A few firewalls were breached, but the information is being routed to proxies all over the planet. Obviously, we suspect the originating point is somewhere in Japan, but we cannot locate it. There seems to be some automatic detection software that continuously rewrites the site's code when our tech analysts investigate."

Akira nods along at this, then glances at Mishima.

The boy's face is pale. Akira peels his gaze away before his face reacts to this, suddenly feeling strange.

"Well," Akechi says, once concluding his technical discussion. "I should be going. I've a meeting to attend. It was lovely meeting you all. Akira, should we have another round of Go soon?"

Akira nods. "Sure thing."

"Again, nice meeting you." Akechi bows and heads down the hall, leaving the three boys alone.

Akira turns to Mishima. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Mishima asks, after a second.

"I asked if you were okay. What Akechi said seemed to upset you."

"I, uh, no. I'm fine. I'm totally fine," Mishima replies.

"Dude," Ryuji says, and throws an arm around Mishima's shoulder. "I didn't realize you were so on top of your game, dude. You the man!"

Mishima smiles, but to Akira, it looks nervous.

“You guys go ahead,” Akira says to Ryuji and Mishima, as they begin to head toward the exit. Once they’re out of earshot, Akira pulls his phone from his pocket and calls up the Navigation App. “Goro Akechi,” he whispers.

“No Match Found,” comes the response.

Well, Akira thinks. I guess that’s that.

Chapter 56: Chapter 56

6/10

 

Makoto lazily lifts her hand. Dust motes and sunrays slither through her splayed fingers. "I don't know," she whispers. "Everything is so different now."

Akira considers saying, 'I get it,' but settles on, "How do you think I feel?" instead. "Two months is not long enough to get used to this." He grins. "Or you."

Makoto's hand drops and swats him. She props herself up onto her side and gently punches Akira's shoulder. He raises his hands in mock surrender and scurries back on the bed, apologizing as he laughs.

She settles on her stomach, hands tucked beneath her chin. "Do you know what bugs me?" She asks.

Akira shifts back towards her, reaches out, and runs his fingers over her upper arm. "What?"

"Morgana."

Akira tries to sculpt a response. "You don't like him?"

"It's not that," Makoto replies. "I just don't understand him."

"Yeah, but that's because you've never been to the Metaverse."

"But what is Morgana, Akira?" Makoto asks, turning her face away.

Akira sighs out a contented, "Ha," and says, "Didn't I tell you all this? When we told Haru? If you ask me, there are bigger mysteries than Morgana."

"Tell me again," Makoto whispers, and her voice sounds distant, familiar, but with an edge of eagerness.

"Well, his memories are buried..." Akira trails off. "Hey," he says. "What're we doing here?"

"Morgana's memories are buried?" Makoto asks, still turned away.

"Yeah, they are supposed to be deeper in the, no. Hold on. How are we here?" Akira asks and regards her form. "How are you in my bed right now, Makoto?"

Makoto says nothing. Akira turns and looks out the window.

Tokyo is gone.

A vast desert stretches to the horizon. Fever heat pulses through the glass, cementing Akira’s clothes to his skin with sweat.

Akira looks back at Makoto. Her limbs twist and split, evolving into arachnoid appendages. Something looks up at Akira through the hair on the back of her head. Pedipalps click and first whisper, then roar, TELLUS

Akira hits the floor with a shout.

Morgana yowls and stiffens, his form a small dark nimbus upon his bed. "Akira, you okay? What happened?"

Akira skitters away from his bed. Once he can breathe, he says, "I, uh, sorry. Bad dream."

Morgana's silence throbs in accusation, but he tempers his words when he speaks. "This is getting pretty common, Akira. Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

The sun has only just begun to rise, so the city remains encased in retreating night. The shadows start to stretch across his room. It feels as though someone's jabbed a needle into his lungs. "Actually," Akira replies. "There is."

#

Makoto found Takamaki and Haru not long after school ended. Boredom marked Shujin's second day at the television studio compared to the liveliness of the previous day—no tapings, no surprise guests, only more tours and explanations. To Makoto's ears, the studio personnel spoke a nonsense language. It all rolled over and around her. None of it punctured her.

Makoto felt Haru's absence like a stone in her stomach. Haru and Takamaki elected to play hooky to avoid repeating yesterday's Sugimura confrontation. This left Makoto with no one to accompany her through the studio, and she saw to her Student Council duties with grim resolve. She knew she could've sought out Akira or even Sakamoto but avoided this for reasons she didn't explore. She'd spotted them throughout the day, but they constantly seemed huddled together with Yuuki Mishima, so Makoto avoided interrupting.

Haru texted Makoto their location shortly before school ended. During her travels, Makoto doubled back more than once to ensure Sugimura wasn't following her. When she found the two girls, they knelt in a side street near Takamaki's home. Morgana grinned up at them and was the first to spot Makoto.

Haru turns and approaches Makoto, hugging her. "Good news," she says. "We've got a trace on Sugimura's phone."

"Oh," Makoto says. "How'd you manage that?"

Morgana meows in reply. There is a long, dead pause.

"Hack track," Takamaki quickly says. "He, uh, did what we call a hack track. It copies the subject's GPS, so we can see where they're going."

"So long as they bring their phone with them," Makoto points out.

"Obviously," Takamaki mutters.

"But this is good," Haru quickly says. "We can keep tabs on Sugimura now. I know it's only on his phone, but he brings that everywhere."

"I see," Makoto says and nods to Morgana. "Um, good work." Morgana unleashes a string of meows, and Makoto turns to Haru. "What's he saying?"

"He's just bragging," Takamaki says. At Morgana's affronted look, she reaches out and rubs his head. "But it was marvelously done, Mona." The cat beams.

"Well," Makoto says. "I'm glad this operation is coming to fruition." She wants to kick herself. What mindless drivel she spits. Her sentences and statements are little more than tacked-on filler. She serves no purpose here.

"Niijima?" Takamaki asks. She stands, slides her phone into her pocket, turns, and faces Makoto.

"Yes?"

"I've thought about what you said." Takamaki's eyes study the concrete, then drift upward until they meet Makoto's. "About Shiho."

Makoto prepares to brace for another round, but her defenses never materialize. She spreads her hands and says, "Okay."

"What you did to Shiho was wrong," Takamaki continues, but her voice lacks rancor. "But I don't want this thing to exist between us. I'm tired of being angry and upset all the time." Takamaki shakes her head. "It's exhausting, and I don't like it. I'm not saying we can be friends or anything, but if you want to apologize to Shiho, I can ask if she's ready to let you."

Makoto regards Haru, hoping for confirmation on what she's hearing. Glee scrunches Haru’s face, and her hands clap beneath her chin.

"I-" Makoto starts, then pauses. "Thank you." A sliver of masochism forces her to ask, "What made you change your mind?"

"I talked with Akira," Ann replies, and shrugs. "That's all."

#

Natsuhiko reads through the paperwork one last time and stamps it. He closes the folder, stands, tucks it under his arm, and walks to his supervisor's desk.

He bows and places it before the man. "Here you are, sir."

His supervisor, a veteran of this office for twenty-five years, grunts in response and doesn't bother to look up. He remains hunched over his own work, notating and marking the paperwork before him with a rigid, rhythmic fury.

Natsuhiko knows he should keep his mouth shut.

Apparently, he overstays his welcome because his supervisor raises one hand and waves him away. Natsuhiko straightens and retreats to his desk.

There's already another file waiting in his inbox. He sits, with a heavy sigh, and takes it out. At least he got paid today. Once he pays off a few bills, he should have enough left over to save away for his special project.

His thoughts turn to said project, and he sits up straighter. He can't afford to get discouraged now. The Phantom Thieves saved him. They stopped him from doing something terrible and stupid. He couldn't let himself drift away into the workplace like he'd been doing. He had to keep pushing.

"Right," he says, and opens the file. "Stay strong."

"Nakanohara?" Comes a feminine voice. He glances up.

One of the secretaries, a middle-aged woman with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, stands before his desk.

"Yes?" He asks, fixing a pleasant smile on his face.

"There are, um, some men here to see you," she whispers, glancing about. "They're out front."

"Men?"

She nods. "They're..." she leans forward, and her voice is even softer, "police."

Natsuhiko gulps. He doesn't mean to. It just happens. He looks around. His coworkers all pretend not to listen. "I see," he says. He forces himself to stand and buys a few seconds by ensuring his desk is tidy before nodding to the secretary, who leads him out of the forest of clerks.

They step into the lobby of the municipal building, and Natsuhiko can immediately pick out the two who wait for him.

One is a plump man with close-cropped hair and a relaxed posture.

The other is Goro Akechi.

Natushiko doesn't pay much attention to idols and whatnot, but even he'd seen the viral video of Akechi discussing the Phantom Thieves on yesterday's 'Eye on Tokyo.'

The big man sees them first and turns to him with a significant smile. "Natsuhiko Nakanohara?" He asks.

"Yes," Natsuhiko says.

The cop dips his head in a short bow. "Detective Hidetoshi Kagawa. I'm with the MET." He gestures to Akechi and says, "This is-"

"Goro Akechi," Natsuhiko says.

Akechi maintains a warm smile on his face. "Ah, I see you've heard of me. That's a bit embarrassing."

Kagawa rolls his eyes. "Right. Well, it's nice to meet you. We're sorry to pull you away from work."

"That's alright," Natsuhiko says, remembering himself and bowing. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Kagawa and Akechi both look at the secretary, who hasn't moved. "Oh," she says, and starts to back away. "Right then. I'll leave you gentlemen to it."

"Thank you," Kagawa says, sweetly. When she's out of earshot, he says, "Is there a place we can go where you'd be more comfortable? Maybe, away from your office?"

"There are some benches outside," Natsuhiko replies. "Why don't you come with me?"  He steps between them and leads them out of the building.

His mind races. He knows there's only one thing they could want from him. I have to think before I say anything.

"Impressive place," Kagawa says, glancing at the high ceiling.

"Agreed," Akechi replies. "I can see how it might make someone feel small, though."

Natsuhiko winces at the implication. Akechi said it pleasantly enough, but he's been dealing with minor barbs and potshots for a while now, ever since the PhanSite publicized his name. Ignore him. "It's an older building," he says. "But newly renovated."

They don't say anything else until they get outside.

He leads the men to a few benches on the grass and gestures for them to sit. Akechi does, but Kagawa remains standing.

"Well," Natsuhiko says, trying to keep his voice steady. "We're alone. I appreciate you not coming into my office directly."

"From what we understand," Kagawa says, and shrugs. "You've had a hard time of it lately."

"It can't be easy," Akechi says. "Having your name broadcast all across the internet."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Natsuhiko replies.

"That's the spirit," Kagawa says, and grins. "And you've got your job and your health, yeah?" He pats his gut. "That's one more thing than you could say I've got." He laughs.

Natsuhiko imagines people tend to find this man endearing, but he doesn't. "I'm sorry, sir. But may I ask, what is it you wanted from me?"

Kagawa's smile diminishes but never entirely fades. Akechi straightens and says, "We'd like to discuss your relation to the Phantom Thieves of Hearts."

Natsuhiko nods and lets out a short sigh. "I've explained this before. I spoke to the police already. I have no connection to the Phantom Thieves. I don't know how they managed to change my heart. I don't even know how the Calling Card reached me." He shakes his head. "It's all a blur. Please understand, that was a dark time for me. I was... of a one-track mind."

"Stalking your ex-girlfriend," Kagawa says.

Natsuhiko winces. "Yes," he admits. "Exactly. I was obsessed. She put in a Request on the PhanSite. Then, the Phantom Thieves changed my heart. That's all I know."

Akechi takes a step closer to him. "Permit me to ask, have you been feeling strange as of late?"

Natsuhiko blinks. "Strange?" He sees an aggrieved look pass over Kagawa's face. "What do you mean?"

"Lightheaded?" Akechi asks. "Have you been blacking out? Perhaps finding yourself in places with no idea of how you got there? Possessed by impulses you find counter to your cognizance?"

Natsuhiko looks from one man to the other. "No, I can't say I have. Though, I find the question very odd."

Akechi smiles a bit. "Forgive me. I was only curious."

"Getting back on track," Kagawa mutters. "You say you've got no relation with the Phantom Thieves, but you can understand why someone might find that hard to believe, yeah? After all, their next target, immediately after you, was Ichiryusai Madarame."

Natsuhiko feels his fists clench.

"Your old mentor," Akechi points out.

"I know who he is. Was." Natsuhiko forces himself to calm down. It takes a few breaths. "And I was under the impression that their next target was that young man, Takahashi?"

"Daisuke Takanashi," Akechi corrects. "And you are not mistaken. However, isn't it odd that the Phantom Thieves went almost directly to Madarame after dealing with one of his former students?"

Kagawa nods. "You could even suggest that they got the idea from him."

Natsuhiko dips his head forward and tries to keep his emotions from his face. "I've put that part of my life behind me. I don't know how the Phantom Thieves got their information on Madarame. Maybe one of his other students. There were many."

"Yes, there were," Akechi says. "But only two went to his funeral."

Natsuhiko feels his blood go cold. He looks back up. Akechi looks calm. Kagawa looks perturbed. "How do you know about that?"

"You were seen," Kagawa replies, without answering the question. "Attending the funeral, along with Yusuke Kitagawa. That's pretty interesting, yeah? Yusuke Kitagawa, I get. The wounds were fresh. But you? You hadn't had contact with him for years. Why go to the funeral if you put all that behind you?"

Natsuhiko grimaces. "That part of my life was done. It still is. I may have put it behind me, but that doesn't mean I forgot. I went because I thought I could get some closure. I thought that, with Madarame dead, maybe I'd feel better. Maybe I'd be able to forgive him." He looks each man in the eye. "Well, I couldn't. Not even close. But I did get the chance to talk with Kitagawa. He's an intelligent young man, and meeting him was a pleasure. He seems to have landed on his feet. His scholarship at Kosei is still intact, and he can live in the dorms for now.

"I think," he continues. "What is happening here is that you're trying to guess why the Phantom Thieves chose Madarame." He shrugs. "I don't know. He was a bastard that ruined many lives. Isn't that reason enough? If you're also trying to get me to help you catch the Phantom Thieves, I won't do that either. I know nothing, as I've said before. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. The Phantom Thieves saved me, and that's not something I try to hide." He crosses his arms. "I know very well your opinion of the Phantom Thieves, Akechi-san. I do not share it. Madarame hurt many people, and his heart changed and-"

"He also died," Akechi cuts in. His face looks different all of a sudden. He pokes himself in the stomach. "He was stabbed right here. Multiple times. Again and again. He bled out in the street and died in the ambulance to the hospital. That change of heart, and for what, Nakanohara-san?"

Natsuhiko remembers the news. He remembers he couldn't decide between laughing or crying, and then, he'd just done nothing. He remembers his conversation with Yusuke.

Are you satisfied?

"I think I've said all I'm going to say," Natsuhiko says. "If you don't mind, I've got to get back to work."

"Of course," Kagawa says, and takes a step back. "We didn't mean to harass you if that's what you think happened here. We're just trying to ascertain how things all fit together. It's hard, you know? Trying to figure out who all these Phantom Thieves are? How can they do what they do? Especially given their age."

Natsuhiko almost stumbles as he turns around. He pauses and runs over the last sentence. Why did he mention their age? Did they know the Phantom Thieves were teenagers? Did they know he knew that? No, impossible. He turns back. "I wouldn't know about any of that, Detective. But for what it's worth, you should probably spend more time putting people like Madarame behind bars rather than trying to catch the Phantom Thieves. They're Heroes of Justice."

Kagawa blinks. "'Heroes of Justice?'" He asks.

"I've heard that phrase," Akechi replies. "It's being used online, along with the abbreviation of 'PTs.' It's all a little too anime for me."

Natsuhiko nods. "Good day, gentlemen." He returns to the building and does his best to walk steadily but slowly enough not to make it look like he's rushing.

#

"Why'd you bring up their age?" Akechi asks.

"You tell me," Kagawa says, watching Nakanohara flee.

"Well, it's an innocent enough tidbit that if Nakanohara does know their identities, he might think we're closer to locating them than we are."

"If he does know them, and their age is relevant, he might slip up and try to contact them and let them know we might know something. If he knows them and their age isn't relevant, he might still slip up and contact them and let them know we're heading down the wrong path. If he doesn't know them, then it's just harmless information. Junk. Can't hurt to throw it out there and see what happens."

Akechi nods and stands. "Shall we be on our way?"

The train ride to Shibuya is short, and neither says much to one another. Kagawa already clarified his disapproval of Akechi's 'discussion' from yesterday. On the other hand, Sae apparently knew Akechi would broach the topic to the Shujin students and had okayed it.

She'd then proposed Kagawa and Akechi interview previous Phantom Thieves victims (those still alive). Kagawa's suspicions after meeting with Nakanohara stretched the length of the Tokyo subway system, but he hadn't said anything overtly incriminating. If the Phantom Thieves had communicated with Nakanohara, he might've told them about Madarame. Then again, investigations uncovered enough victims Madarame's name might've reached the Phantom Thieves from many routes.

The train enters Shibuya station, and the two disembark. "How do you find Sae, three years later?" Akechi asks.

Kagawa frowns. "What brought this on?"

Akechi shrugs, then yawns. "Apologies," he says, covering his mouth with a gloved fist. "I'm only interested. Thanks to your relationship with her father, you knew her as a child. I'm curious if you saw her taking this direction in life."

"Sae's always been driven," Hidetoshi replies, and starts walking. But never driven to this level of paranoia. Her request he interview Nakanohara disillusioned Hidetoshi on his role as only a 'liaison.' "What about you?"

"I've only worked with her for under a year. But it's been a rewarding experience."

"And do you subscribe to the same ideas she has?" Hidetoshi asks, rounding on the teenager. "That the Phantom Thieves, the mental shutdowns, and all these deaths she's dug up are all connected?"

Akechi's face furrows as he ponders. "It defies belief that there is not some connection, but I do not believe that everything is joined."

"If she trusts and listens to you, why haven't you told her that?"

"Because I trust and listen to her, Detective," Akechi counters. "And just because I cannot see the bigger picture doesn't mean she can't. I have learned to trust Sae Niijima's insights, and though I remain skeptical, I will see what our investigation produces."

"Uh huh," Hidetoshi replies. A nice, neutral reply. He turns and starts to walk away. A response forms in his mind, and he turns to speak again to Akechi, but the boy is gone.

Kagawa surveys the train platform but cannot spot him, and whatever barb he intended to inflict no longer stands ready.

#

"... it was then, by some great manner of fortune, I discovered a new marketplace for my needs."

Akira nods. "Cool."

"To think, a place of such marvels existed this entire time, under my very nose!" Yusuke allows himself a self-deprecating chuckle. "I tell you, friends, I would surely have been lost without it. The discounts."

Akira checks his phone. Ryuji's running late. Akira and Yusuke loiter on the corner, exactly where Ryuji proposed. Morgana lounges across Akira's shoulder and mumbles something about Boneheads and punctuality.

With Ann and Haru absent and no further surprise guests or show tapings, the final day of the television studio visit passed without note. However, Ryuji insisted on a 'Dude's Night Out,' given the absence of the girls, and proposed utilizing his out-of-town cousin's apartment near Shibuya as a rendezvous. Akira wondered if Ryuji's success at mending his relationship with Ann had gone to his head, with Ryuji proclaiming himself a kind of Chief Morale Officer for the Phantom Thieves.

Given tomorrow’s Sugimura operation, Akira didn't deny himself a bit of fun. After he swung by 'Untouchable' to ensure things proceeded smoothly, he joined Yusuke at the appointed spot.

"Where was it?" Akira asks, returning his phone to his pocket.

"Pardon?"

"This new market you found. Where was it?"

Yusuke's eyes twinkle. "Ah. Prepare yourself. It was... online."

Akira turns to Yusuke. "Wait, are you talking about the internet?"

"Quite so."

Morgana stiffens. "This super awesome, hidden marketplace of art supplies you found was just, the internet?"

A frown solidifies on Yusuke's face. "You sound shocked at my shock."

"That's because everyone already knew about the internet, Yusuke," Akira says.

"Everyone? Who is this everyone?"

"Everyone." Akira sweeps his hand through the air. "The world."

Yusuke looks ready to press, but a cry of, "Hey dudes!" arrives from down the block, and the three turn.

Ryuji struts towards them, fist raised in the air. Behind him shuffles Mishima.

"Who is that?" Yusuke asks, cocking his head to the side.

"That's Yuuki Mishima," Morgana says, breaking in before Akira can answer. "He operates the PhanSite for us. Have you not met him before?"

"I know the name, of course," Yusuke replies. "But I have never had the opportunity to encounter him."

Ryuji and Mishima approach them, and Akira plasters a smile on his face. "What's up, guys?"

Yusuke steps up to Mishima. "Greetings."

"Uh, hi," Mishima replies. "You must be Yusuke Kitagawa. I'm Yuuki Mishima. I go to Shujin with Ryuji and Akira."

"Indeed, I am Yusuke and I attend Kosei. I infiltrate the Metaverse and steal the hearts of criminals with Ryuji and Akira."

Mishima nods. "It's good to meet another Phantom Thief."

"I prefer the term, artist."

Akira slides up to Yusuke, claps him on the shoulder, and digs his fingers into the giving flesh. "Okay, so now we're all acquainted. What'd you have planned, Ryuji?"

Ryuji nods toward the apartment building looming over them. "Let's head inside." Ryuji guides the small pack of teenagers toward the stairs, leading them to the second floor and stopping at a door overlooking the parking area. He removes a key from his pocket, fumbles with the lock for a moment, and then opens the door and steps inside.

The apartment is small but usual by Tokyo standards. A microscopic kitchen. A decently sized living room with a couch and television. A washroom down the hall. A door leads to a balcony overlooking a few houses.

The boys gather in the living room's center. Ryuji turns to face them, a broad smile on his face. He reaches into his pocket and yanks out a crumpled sheet of paper.

"What's that?" Mishima asks.

"Tonight's entertainment," Ryuji replies, chuckling. "Check it out."

He smooths out the page and thrusts it out towards the group.

The image of a scantily clad maid greets them. In one hand, she holds a vacuum. In the other, a duster. She smiles daintily out at the viewer. It is otherwise tattooed in loud exclamations of 'SERVICE!' and 'DREAMS COME TRUE!' in bold greens, reds, and blues.

Akira studies the page for a few moments. "Ryuji, what exactly is this?"

"I ordered us a maid!"

Akira, Mishima, and Yusuke glance at one another. Mishima breaks the silence and asks, "A maid? Like, a cleaning lady?"

"Dude," Ryuji says, shoving the paper in the boy's face. "Are you dense or something? Read between the lines, bro. A maid to service us. Get it?"

Silence.

Then, Akira asks, "Ryuji, did you order us a prostitute?"

Mishima's face pales. "What? Are you serious?"

"Fascinating," Yusuke whispers.

"You idiot!" Morgana hisses.

"Guys, guys, chill." Ryuji pats the air with his hands. "She'll like, massage us and stuff. And she's gonna be totally hot."

"Oh my god, oh my god," Mishima whimpers. He lowers himself to the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I'm not ready for something like this!"

Ryuji rolls up the paper and swats him on the head. "Get your shit together, Yuuki! This is what growing up is all about. Experiencing this kind of thing. Becoming men!"

"I'm not a man!" Mishima cries. "I'm too young to be soliciting!"

Ryuji turns to Akira. "Dude, I know you're in on this. C'mon."

Akira stares at him. "In what context did you imagine I'd be down for this?"

Ryuji pales. "Yusuke?"

The boy nods. "I believe this experience will ultimately benefit me as an artist. My relationship with the carnal is somewhat lacking, and to capture true beauty, I would need to study the act of copulation as it unfolds."

Ryuji blinks. "Okay. Yusuke doesn't count. Akira, bro. You're a cool guy. You've got to have had experience with this, yeah?"

"Experience in ordering prostitutes? No, I don't."

"But you've like, you know..."

"What?" Akira demands.

Ryuji gyrates his hips. "You know..."

Akira mimics the movement. "What's this supposed to mean?"

Morgana swats him on the ear. "He's talking about sex, genius!"

"Sex?" Akira asks, eyes widening, face flushing. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Ryuji replies. "You've done that, right? I mean, you're into all that weird shit with Makoto."

"Makoto?" Mishima asks, stiffening. "The President?" He gasps. "Are you having sex with the Student Council President?"

"No," Akira screams. "No, I am not. And no one repeats that!"

Mishima's face scrunches up. "But, Ryuji said-"

Ryuji shakes his head. "I only meant that it seemed like he had specific preferences. Like, physical pain and shit, and-"

"Really?" Mishima asks.

Akira throws his hands against his head. "Ryuji, stop talking!"

Yusuke frowns. "I have heard that various types of pain can be a gateway to particular pleasures."

"No one asked you!" Morgana spits.

Mishima's hands shake. "Hey, we can just leave, right? Like, why don't we all just split? Right out the door?"

Ryuji grimaces. "Thing is, I kinda already paid for it."

"Huh?" Mishima asks. "How much?"

"How?" Akira asks.

"Over the phone," Ryuji replies. "And it was five thousand yen."

"Five thousand yen?" Mishima's jaw drops.

"That's quite expensive," Yusuke puts in. "Do ladies of the night typically warrant such a price?"

"I don't know!" Ryuji replies.

"What was your ultimate plan here, Ryuji?" Akira asks. "Was she going to service all of us? Was it five thousand yen for four dudes and a cat?"

He frowns. "Well, uh, no. I think it was only five thousand yen for one person, so-"

"So, in that case, she'll probably be pretty pissed if she shows up and finds a bunch of people expecting to be 'serviced.'"

Ryuji doesn't reply, eyes shut, face scrunching. "Okay, yeah," he says, a few moments later. "That's a good point."

The doorbell rings.

"Oh, shit," Ryuji whispers.

Akira spins towards the door. "The hell? What time did you tell her to show up?"

"Like, around now."

"I can't do this!" Mishima screeches. "I'm not ready to become a man!" He scrambles towards the balcony.

"Crap, crap, crap," Ryuji cries. "Akira, stall her!"

"What? Me? Why?"

"You're experienced in these things, that's why!"

"We already established I'm not!"

Ryuji isn't listening. Having furiously worked the door open, Mishima has vanished onto the balcony. Ryuji follows him and slams it shut behind them. They are quickly out of sight.

Akira hears the closet door shudder open and turns to find Yusuke stepping inside. "What're you doing?"

"As I said," Yusuke replies. "I believe this observation will further improve my talents as an artist." He smiles. "Try not to disappoint me." Inside, he shuts the closet door.

Morgana hops down and lands on the carpet. Akira stares at him. "How have we not been caught by the police yet?"

"Don't know, but good luck." Morgana darts away and under the couch.

Akira is about to protest when he hears, muffled, "Master? May I come in?"

The voice is high and obviously not the woman's everyday one. All at once, the only thing Akira can think of is the excruciating torment Makoto will visit upon him were she ever to learn of this.

"Uh, no thanks," he calls. "We, I, changed my mind. I'm good."

Silence. Then, "I should remind you, Master. Services have already been paid for." He hears the doorknob jiggle. "Oh, looks like it's unlocked. I'll be coming inside, Master."

Oh, come on! Who forgot to lock the fucking door?

You did, a voice in his head whispers.

Akira turns as the door opens, facing the balcony. There's no sign of Ryuji or Mishima. Yusuke is eerily quiet in the closet, and Akira is willing to bet Morgana has relocated his hiding place to a more secure location.

He hears the clackclackclack of heels on wood, then, "Greetings, Master!" Her voice is singsong and cutesy. "My name is Becky!"

Akira is positive this woman's name is not Becky.

How do I get out of here? If I had Morgana, I could throw him at her and use the distraction to make a run for it.

"Gosh, Master, you sure look young. You wouldn't happen to be a high school student, would you?"

Akira winces. "Uh, no," he replies, doing his best to make his voice gruff. "I just look young for my age."

"Oh, wow. That's so interesting, Master! Would you mind turning around, so I could see your face?"

Nothing to it but to do it. Here we go.

Akira turns around.

Focus. I can do this. Explain this was all a misunderst-

He stares at her.

Holy shit, that's Kawakami.

His homeroom teacher stares back at him. Her hair is pulled back in twin pigtails. The maid's outfit clings to her curves, accentuating her considerable cleavage. Her frilly skirt reveals just enough of her legs to draw the eye before they're hidden again within a pair of sable boots.

The silence stretches. Then, Kawakami-sensei says, "Ah, fuck." Her high, dainty voice is gone. In its stead is the worn, tired drawl Akira has come to associate with his homeroom teacher.

Because he cannot think of anything to say, he blurts out, "Uh, hi."

Kawakami does not blush. She does not move to cover herself. Instead, she glares daggers. "And just what do you think you're doing, Kurusu?"

His mouth moves faster than his brain. "This is a big misunderstanding. I didn't think it'd be you. I mean, why would it be you, right? I didn't mean to be here at all, and this isn't anything it's not supposed to be. And have you seen a cat, by chance? I've lost mine, and-"

"Kurusu. Stop talking."

He shuts up.

Kawakami huffs and crosses her arms. "God, this is embarrassing," she mutters. "Of all the people to call, it had to be one of my students."

A thump sounds from the closet.

Kawakami's eyes widen and turn towards the noise. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Akira shouts.

Kawakami marches over, and yanks the door open.

"Hello," Yusuke says.

"Who the hell is this?" She hisses, whipping her head to face Akira.

"That's my friend. He likes to watch." His eyes widen. "That came out wrong! He likes to watch people doing stuff. Not that kind of stuff, but-"

Kawakami turns to Yusuke. "You. Leave. Now."

Yusuke nods. "Yes, that would probably be for the best. It does not seem you two will join as lovers anytime soon."

"Get out!" Both Akira and Kawakami scream.

Yusuke speeds out of the apartment and shuts the door behind him.

Kawakami shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Then, she asks, "What is going on, Kurusu?"

"I can explain," Akira replies. "My friend set this whole thing up." No need to name-drop Ryuji. "But he didn't tell us what was happening until we arrived. I wanted to call the whole thing off, but then you rang the doorbell, so that one guy hid in the closet, and my other friend ran off."

"So, Sakamoto set this up." It is not a question.

Akira blinks. "How'd you know?"

"You've only got, like, two friends. Three if you count the perv in the closet. Besides, he's dumb enough to have thought this was a good idea, and I doubt Takamaki had anything to do with this."

Akira doesn't point out that she's the one in the apartment dressed as a maid. Instead, he frowns and says, "That doesn't sound like something a teacher should say."

Kawakami gestures to her outfit. "Maybe you didn't notice, Master, but I'm not in my role as a teacher right now." She glances towards the kitchen. "Got anything to drink?"

Akira shrugs. "I dunno."

She clomps to the fridge, opens the door, and peers inside. Despite himself, Akira finds his eyes traveling down the length of her body. Damn.

"Stop staring," Kawakami says, face still in the fridge.

"I-"

"You're a teenager."

Akira decides his best move is to stay quiet.

"Here we go," Kawakami says, pulling out a beer can. Akira is somewhat shocked to see it. Given Ryuji's aversion to alcohol, perhaps he didn't know his cousin had left them. She cracks the can and takes a sip. "So, Sakamoto's going to jump out any second, right? With a camera?"

Akira shakes his head. "No, I told you, he ran off. Besides, he wouldn't do something like that." He's no idea if Ryuji and Mishima are still on the balcony. Perhaps they jumped.

"Uh-huh," she replies. "No need to beat around the bush. You might as well get your kicks in. It's not like I’ll have a job at Shujin tomorrow."

Akira frowns. "Why?"

Kawakami takes another sip. "Don't get smart with me, Kurusu. You're gonna post this, right? Hop on the internet and spread the word?"

Akira blinks. "I'm not going to do that." He rewinds the last few minutes in his head. At no point has he considered exposing his teacher's secret.

Kawakami snorts. "Right."

He shakes his head. "I'm not."

"Okay, sure." She laughs, but the sound has no humor in it. "You expect me to believe someone like you wouldn't tell the whole school their teacher moonlights as... well, this?" She gestures to her outfit once more.

There's a dull ringing in Akira's ears. "Someone like me?"

"It'd get you in good. No doubt about it. Take their attention off you for a few minutes."

He feels the heat rise to his face. "I don't care about any of that. I'm not going to tell anyone."

She rolls her eyes. "The school will love that. Especially after all that Kamoshida crap. I'll be out on my ass, thanks to you." Again, that awful, tired, hateful laugh.

Akira's hands tighten into fists. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Sensei."

"Don't rub it in with the 'Sensei' crap, Kurusu. Just get on with it, and -"

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he spits out. "How many times do I have to fucking say it?"

"Hey," she shouts. "Don't you curse at me, Kurusu!"

"Then stop blaming me for something I haven't even done!" His legs wobble. His hands shake. A few dots of light swim in his vision. Akira takes a few staggered steps over to the couch and sits down.

"Kurusu?" Kawakami asks. She sets the beer down on the kitchen counter and approaches him. "Are you alright?" Akira nods, but his mouth tastes dry. She crouches down next to him. "Crap. Okay. Breathe. Just breathe Kurusu."

He does. His words find him quickly. "I'm fine. I'm fine." He glances over at her. Absurdly, the only concrete thought that manages to worm itself into his brain is, Man, Sensei's hot. "Could I have some water?" He asks, not because he needs it, but because he's suddenly desperate for his homeroom teacher-slash-maid to be further away from him.

"Yeah, sure." She stands and beelines back into the kitchen. She fumbles around in the cupboard until she finds a glass, then holds it under the sink until it's practically filled to the brim. She brings it over to him and holds it out.

A bit of water spills as he takes it from her, but he doesn't comment, choosing instead to drown whatever he was going to say in large gulps.

He downs half the glass, and she asks, "Are you alright?"

He nods. "Yeah, I think the weirdness of the situation just got to me."

She laughs then, and it's not the humorless one from earlier. This is genuine. "You and me both." She frowns. "You're really not going to tell anyone about this?"

Akira sighs and takes another sip. "I mean, hell, if you want me to, I can go ahead and-"

"Alright, alright," she cuts in. Her eyes run over the apartment. "I suppose that wasn't fair. Sorry. And in a way, this beats what I thought the assignment would be."

Akira clears his throat. He's not ready to think yet, and so blurts into the silence, "Uh, why exactly are you doing this?"

"Keep your pants on, Kurusu," Kawakami says, shaking her head. "We're not besties, so let's not start reading one another's diaries, okay?"

Akira lifts his free hand in surrender. "Fine, fine."

Kawakami crosses her arms once more and frowns. "How about this? You pretend you never saw me like this, and I pretend you didn't use a fake name to order a maid."

Akira mulls this over. "That's... fair, I guess?"

Kawakami nods. "This was my last gig of the night, so I guess I can just head home. Not a bad outcome, all things considered." She eyes him up and down. "Aside from the obvious."

"I'm not exactly thrilled either, Sensei."

"Isn't this a standard teenage fantasy? I'm not that old, you know." Her smirk is teasing.

Akira rolls his eyes. "I mean, yeah, but I'm not one to indulge in fantasies."

She laughs—the good one. "Oooh, look at you. ’I don't indulge in fantasies.'" She sways her head as she says it, melodramatic. Kawakami turns and marches back into the kitchen, snatches up her beer, and downs it in a series of deep gulps. Once done, she wipes her lips with her forearm and sets the can back on the counter. "Alright, I'm out of here. Be careful getting home. See you in class, Kurusu."

Kawakami picks up her bag, which Akira is sure is filled with things he cannot imagine, and walks out the door.

The bathroom door opens from the inside. Morgana pokes his head out. "Was that-"

"Yes," Akira replies.

"And she was-"

"Yes," Akira replies.

Morgana turns to glance at the apartment's shut door. "Whoa."

"Yeah." Akira sighs, and stands. He steps into the kitchen, takes the empty can, and drops it into the recycling bin. "I guess we should go find the others."

Chapter 57: Chapter 57

6/11

 

Spiders crawl through Kawakami’s brain. Her name, bellowed over the loudspeaker. One of the senior teachers, stern and smug, storming into her class.

Just get it over with!

She'd been so careful. She kept her students at arm's length. Management supposedly vetted all work requests.

Kawakami resigned herself to another night of some sceev's eyes traversing her body, watching her scrub, dust, or any of the other things that got their jollies off. Debts never got repaid on a teacher’s salary. That was a fact.

Then she'd entered that apartment and found Akira fucking Kurusu. Hell, if it had been Yuuki Mishima - bless his heart - she could've intimidated him into silence. Kurusu perplexed her. He'd ditched class his first day but done well on his tests. He befriended Ryuji Sakamoto but kept up study appointments with Makoto Niijima. He didn't participate in student activities but acted as an apparent pillar of support for Ann Takamaki in the wake of Suzui’s suicide attempt.

He'd insisted he wouldn't spill the beans. And thus far, today, nothing happened.

The bell rings. The students rise, bow, and begin their exit for the weekend.

Kawakami jerks out of her seat and, before she can think, calls out, “Kurusu, I’d like a moment.”

The remaining students are polite enough to hold their snickers until they enter the hall.

Takamaki looks at Kurusu and mouths, “What’s up?” but at his responding shrug, speeds out of the room.

Akira Kurusu approaches and stands rigid alongside her desk. Neither speaks.

Then she asks, "Any plans for the weekend?" She had intended to say one of many other things.

Kurusu blinks. "I'm... helping out a friend."

"Oh. That's... considerate."

Kurusu shrugs.

Kawakami feels her lips tighten. She throws her hands in the air. "Oh, for crying out loud! Enough."

Kurusu takes a step back.

"Not you," she growls. "Me." She squeezes her eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and lets it out over five seconds. Come on, Sadayo! Focus! It's a technique she deployed back when she began teaching. "I noticed,” she says, opening her eyes, “I still have a job."

Kurusu nods slowly. "I noticed that too."

"I figured after our little run-in last night... well."

Kurusu's face sags. His lips suck in a fraction, and his eyes glaze. Two months ago, in Kobayakawa’s office, he had looked the same.

"I told you," he mumbles. "I wasn't going to tell anyone."

Kawakami hisses out a breath and stands. "And I guess I'm sorry I didn't believe you." Her torso false starts twice before she can provide him a short bow. "So there."

Kurusu stares at her. "It's, uh, fine. Yeah."

Kawakami straightens. "Good. Now go and enjoy your weekend. Or help your friend, or whatever it is you're doing."

Kurusu nods and heads for the door.

"Kurusu."

He looks back at her.

"Thanks."

He leaves.

#

Rin Sugimura paces his room. An untouched meal languishes on his desk. He can’t recall the last time he ate. His thoughts circle and circle, screeching.

Where is she? Where is she?

Sugimura couldn't call up Haru’s family. His family could survive a battle with the Okumuras, but he might not. On that, his father’s position remained crystalline.

Where is she?

No sign of her at the school.

That strange boy drove him from the television studio.

Sugimura needs to deal with her. Inside his jacket, his phone vibrates.

An unidentified number.

??????? : I have your fiancé. You want her?

His hands shake.

SUGIMURA : Who is this?

???????: Doesn't matter. I'll trade her to you, but it'll cost.

Sugimura’s jaw squeezes his teeth together like beams about to splinter.

SUGIMURA : Why should I believe you?

???????: You took her to Kaneshiro.

??????: You asked him to drug her up.

??????: He beat you up in response.

??????: Sound familiar?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

??????: I'd pay up. Wouldn't be good if what she told me got out.

Sugimura collapses into his chair. Forces himself to breathe. Okay. Okay. This is fine. Someone's got her. If all they want is money, I can give him that. I need to get Haru back so I can shut her up.

SUGIMURA: What do you want?

A figure follows. The skin beneath Sugimura’s right eye flinches.

SUGIMURA: Fine.

??????: Good boy. I'll text you an address. Don't even think about involving anyone else.

??????: The deal is off if I see anyone save for your driver.

??????: Everything will go public.

Sugimura lowers his head until it touches the phone’s warm screen. "Shit."

SUGIMURA: Okay.

??????: Good. When you get here, I'll send more instructions.

The address follows. Sugimura heads for the garage, sending a message for his driver to prepare. The rendezvous is down by the Bay. He has enough time to withdraw from the bank and reach the location before sunset.

#

Broken windows. Cracked concrete. The old warehouse looms, its frontage black from soot. Erosion and neglect made illegible whatever name once sat etched into the plaster over the entrance.

His driver, Fumihiro, regards Sugimura with gunmetal eyes. The wind-chiseled lines on his face betray nothing. "Shall I accompany you, sir?" His bored voice filters through the glass divider to where Sugimura sits, hands grasping one another.

Sugimura gabbles before he manages, “No. Wait with the car. This won't take long."

"Uh-huh," Fumihiro replies. The man's eyes flicker to the satchel jammed up against Sugimura’s side.

Sugimura’s phone vibrates. He yanks it from his jacket, tears the pocket a bit, drops the phone to the floor, and snatches it up.

??????: I see you. Get out of the car and come inside.

??????: Alone.

His pulse clatters in his throat. Just do this little thing, and then everything can return to normal.

Normal.

Haru.

He'll need to keep her quiet.

Sugimura counts to eight in his head for no particular reason and shoves the door open. He slinks out of the car, satchel cradled beneath his left arm.

With his free hand, Sugimura texts.

SUGIMURA: Where do I go once I get inside?

??????: I'll let you know.

Sugimura creeps towards the derelict warehouse. This is a mistake! This is nuts! Get back in the car and go!

Sugimura eases open the front door, and trapped dust and the stench of oxidation wafts up his nose. His face scrunches in response. Light filters in from outside, but not enough to inform Sugimura of much.

His phone's vibration erupts like a gunshot within this aged quiet.

??????: Head straight and go to the back of the building.

Sugimura shuffles across the warehouse floor. Shifting and bubbling shapes seem to leer from the inky blotches of darkness, rearing as those old fears from childhood do so often.

But there's nothing here—just some broken pallets and pieces of piping painted with rust stacked in scattered piles between support columns.

Sugimura plunges through the dark.

#

Haru and Akira peer over the low wall, watching the car.

The position cramps her lower back, but Haru remains fixed. Akira whispers, “Come on. Come on.”

A teardrop of black falls from the vehicle’s underside, and Morgana scampers out, pausing briefly to raise his paws into the air. Then he vanishes, having entered the Palace.

The other Phantom Thieves lay in the rubble beside Haru, dressed in dark clothes and huddled together despite the warm summer air. “Morgana’s finished,” Akira says.

Akira checks his burner. “He’s near the back of the building. He’ll see the other phone any second now.”

Acid pumps through Haru’s chest and arms. Her throat is sandpaper.

“I asked this before,” Akira says, turning to Haru. The fading light glints off his glasses, and she cannot see his eyes. “But this is the last chance. Are you sure you want to do this? Once we send the Calling Card, there’s no going back.”

Haru feels Ann’s soft hand on her shoulder. She regards the others. Ryuji flashes her a thumbs up. Yusuke strikes some pose, but Haru isn’t sure what he’s going for.

Her voice is a weight she drags up. “Do it.”

Akira twists his burner in two and places the pieces in his pocket. He removes a second burner, queues a prepared text, and hits SEND.

#

Sugimura's annoyance began to win out against his fear.

To his left, he hears the familiar vibration of a small object on plastic. A chair sits against a wall next to a stairwell.

Set on the chair is a cheap little phone, flashing with a message icon.

"The hell is this?" Sugimura asks, picking it up.

He flips the phone open and reads the message.

??????: RinSugimura, we knw abt u. Wat u have done. Wat u tried 2do. We will steal ur desires and u will confess ur sins. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

"What?" Sugimura asks. The phone clatters to the ground. "What the hell is this?"

Phantom Thieves of Hearts? They're real? They're here?

A footstep behind him, and Sugimura starts to turn.

An arm wraps around his throat and jerks him off balance. A tightness constricts around him, and a gloved hand reaches over his mouth. His legs flail but find no purchase. His mind seizes and throbs, but the air in his lungs squeezes out. He hears his heart in his head, and his vision clouds. The scrabbling sound of his feet marks his fall into darkness.

#

Iwai lowers Sugimura to the floor. He removes his hand from the kid's face and feels for breath.

Still there.

Good.

Iwai withdraws the zip ties and gag from his coat. He works fast—arms first, then legs. Sugimura’s eyes flutter as Iwai winds the gag through his mouth. Iwai ensures the mask covers his face as Sugimura's eyes snap open and roll frenzied until landing on Iwai.

Muffled protestations.

Iwai pulls out a bottle of chloroform and a rag. He moves behind Sugimura, who tries to shift. Iwai dumps a dose marked by a reflective sticker on the bottle's side into the rag, then kneels and places it over Sugimura’s face. He squirms, but Iwai holds him firm.

This could backfire and end with Rin Sugimura dead. The black-market supplier might’ve guessed the dosage based on Sugimura’s eyeballed weight. Iwai knew enough horror stories from his younger days involving improperly administered chloroform. But Sugimura settles, and his eyes drift close after a short while. Iwai removes the rag, bundles it, and stores it with the bottle. He verifies Sugimura remains alive and stands to clear the scene.

Iwai settles his foot upon the phone Akira placed ahead of time, and pauses.

Akira hoisted these roles upon Iwai, an additional caveat to working with Kaneshiro.

But none of this sat right with him. Getting the chloroform via Tsuda had been easy enough, but Akira's cagey attitude...

Iwai removes his foot, kneels, and picks up the phone. He reads the message, curses, and then snaps the phone in half.

He hefts the unconscious Sugimura onto his shoulders and begins to climb the stairs to the upper floors.

On the third-floor landing, the deadweight screams into his back, shoulders, and biceps. Sweat sticks his mask to his face.

Amongst hollowed-out administrative offices, Iwai lowers Sugimura to the ground and crouches. He brings his breathing under control and forces himself to think.

Akira's a Phantom Thief.

Not really a surprise.

A non-zero possibility: Akira was simply fucking with Rin Sugimura, but extravagantly so.

A hundred questions buzz through Iwai's mind, but one certainty blazes. Akira didn't want me to know. Desperation forced Akira to include Iwai in the plan. Akira gambled on Iwai remaining ignorant.

Akira held Iwai’s selling him out to Kaneshiro over Iwai.

But now, Iwai knew something Akira didn’t want found out.

There might be a way out of this after all.

#

Rose’s fingers fiddle over her axe.

Joker presses the muzzle of his gun against the Shadow's head. "Anything else?"

The Inugami sniffs and sucks some slime back up its snout. "N-no," it mutters. "I've told you everything." It jerks its long neck towards the tall building in the distance. "The General's Vault Room is in there. Five floors down."

Mona nods. "Sounds right. I can tell the Treasure's in there, at least."

Joker holsters his gun, then plunges his knife into the Shadow's neck. The Shadow twitches, then bursts. “What?” He asks, regarding the others. “I’ve already got an Inugami mask.” No one replies, and Joker shrugs. “How’s everyone holding up?”

Skull grins and flashes a thumbs up. Rose nods along with Panther. Fox arches his back and rolls his shoulders. "I believe we're all fit to fight, Joker."

"Good. Let's keep moving."

Rose sticks between Joker and Mona during their scampering. Adrenaline and the sweat running into her eyes force every moment to vibrate within her. Each step takes an hour, and every time they hunker down behind cover to await the passing of a Shadow, she feels a decade run its course. Close calls follow; she never believed they’d infiltrate Sugimura’s Palace completely undetected, but the other Phantom Thieves make quick work of any Shadow that discovers them. No alarm raised, no army brought to bear.

Instead, Rose finds herself studying the surroundings as they creep along. A tank passes at one point, and from where she lurks in the shadow of a barracks, she studies the treads as they rumble. They don’t look like the wheels you’d expect a tank to possess, but glisten like plastic. The main body of the tank doesn’t appear much different. It doesn’t sit right with Rose, but she does not voice her concern for fear of speaking aloud and blowing their cover.

Bit by bit, the Phantom Thieves make their way toward the indicated building, a sort of helicopter pad that is thankfully unoccupied. A stairwell opens and descends on the far side, and a mad dash brings them within.

“Alright,” Mona says. “The Treasure’s below. Let’s keep going.”

Rose follows along, as she always does.

#

Fumihiro taps his finger on the steering wheel.

He's been going too long.

He drags out a long sigh.

This should've been a quick exchange.

But Rin Sugimura didn't know how to handle himself in difficult situations.

Fumihiro participated in kidnapping that girl but sat back when the gangster beat the shit out of his charge. He'd smiled slightly, but had Kaneshiro come close to killing Sugimura, Fumihiro would've intervened.

Fumihiro’s time with the SDF bore witness to a lot of shit, but Sugimura’s proclivities left the border of twisted. Without Sugimura, the world improved markedly, but Fumihiro would be unemployed.

"Okay, okay," Fumihiro mutters and opens the car door. He secures the keys within the zippered pocket of his pants. He stands and pats his left leg, ensuring the knife remains.

He creeps to the warehouse’s threshold and surveys the rapidly darkening interior. A wet sensation tickles the area beneath his nose, and Fumihiro dabs it with two fingers. They come away dark.

He hasn’t had a nosebleed since he was a kid. He squints at the gooey layer on his fingertips. It doesn't look like blood, but darker, almost black. The lack of light makes it difficult to tell.

One wipe of his handkerchief later, and Fumihiro enters the warehouse.

I need to find Rin Sugimura and get him in the car.

He nods.

I need to find Rin Sugimura and get him in the car.

Fumihiro stays along the wall, checking corners for dark shapes that seem out of place.

I need to find Rin Sugimura and get him in the car.

It never crosses Fumihiro’s mind to wonder about the single thought that pings through his head like an order.

#

"Okay..." Panther drawls. "This is weird, right?"

One floor down, the Phantom Thieves discovered a basketball court.

Several orange balls lay scattered across the blacktop. The nets, threadbare. "Why is this inside?" Skull asks.

Rose remembers hearing about Rin joining his school’s basketball team. They’d been much younger, then. First introduced. But in all their many meetings, the subject of the sports never arose.

"We should keep moving," Mona says. A hallway opens on the opposite side of the court.

They start to cross the court when Joker raises a hand and motions for them to press themselves back up against the wall. "Look," he says, gesturing towards a security camera in the corner. As it steadily rotates in their direction, Joker's gesture becomes frantic. The Thieves retreat and jog the length of the wall until they're beneath the camera and out of its gaze. Rose holds her breath as the low hum of the camera swivels overhead.

"It keeps going over and over the hallway," Mona whispers. "What should we do?"

Fox sets his bag down and unsheathes his sword. "It would appear that despite the décor, we are still in a fortress." He leaps up and swipes his sword. The camera clatters to the ground.

"What was that noise?" Comes a voice from deeper down the hall.

Joker snaps something under his breath and charges the hall’s entrance. The others follow.

A moment later, a Shadow, dressed as an infantryman, saunters out of the hall, peering at the court.

Joker slides up to him and presses his gun up against its helmet. "Hi," he says, smiling.

#

Iwai stiffens at a thin scuffle from downstairs.

Crouched, he approaches the balcony’s edge. He glances back at Sugimura, but the punk remains unconscious, his breathing steady.

Iwai peeks over and lets his eyes adjust to the dim below. He perceives a lone figure within the darkness, sliding along the wall from cover to cover.

"Shit," Iwai whispers.

Iwai can't see what the guy wears, but he guesses it's the driver. Only, the man's not moving like any driver Iwai knows. That first noise must've been a fluke. His head swings from side to side. He's nearly silent. As far as Iwai can hear, he doesn't call out or whisper Sugimura's name.

He knows something's wrong.

Iwai moves away from the edge. He knew he might have to deal with the driver. It would've been nice to know that said driver had some training. Iwai guesses the SDF and finds himself hoping he's right. If the driver's someone more dangerous, he'll be in real trouble. But they don't hire professionals to drive some shithead around. Then again, maybe this driver wasn't a driver at all.

Iwai considers the chloroform. He still has ample but doubts he'll have an opportunity to use it.

"Dammit," he whispers. You're dead when I find you, Akira.

#

They go deeper.

Down the hall from the basketball court: a series of batting cages.

Another level down, they snuck through a counting house filled with money.

On the third floor, Shadows seethed through a cocktail party filled with mannequins, smiles carved onto their porcelain faces.

Rose kept her eyes down on the fourth floor. The Thieves skirted past door after open door. Inside each was a lavish bedroom with barely clothed girls, moaning and writhing. A few looked like Rose.

For all this, they found no Safe Rooms. Joker speculated that since the Palace was the car and the car was so small, there wasn't a place outside Sugimura’s cognition. But then he pointed out his explanation might be total bullshit, and Mona offered no better example.

Instead, the Thieves huddle in a stairwell leading down, eating their energy bars and drinking their energy drinks.

Panther slides up to Rose after a few moments.

"You okay?" She asks.

"Yes, Rose says, and nods. Then, "No."

Panther rests a hand on her shoulder. The boys are a few steps down, examining the remaining supplies.

"Kamoshida was the same," Panther says. "Well, kind of. Mostly. It was gross."

Rose turns the drink around in her hands. "Our marriage was set up years ago," she says. "And our fathers decided it would be a good idea to introduce us." Rose swallows. "I remember being so nervous but also kind of excited. And I..." She trails off. "How did he get like this?"

"You almost sound sorry for him," Panther says.

"That's the thing," Rose replies. "I hate how he thinks of me. I hate what he tried to do to me. But part of me does feel bad for him. I remember him playing with these toy soldiers when we first met, and he was just a little boy, and..." Rose trails off, thinking of the strange fortress they'd first found themselves in.

"He's a predator, Rose," Panther says, not picking up on Rose's trail of thought.

"I know. I do. He deserves what's happening to him. He deserves prison. But all of this feels really sad, too."

#

Rose peers over Joker’s shoulder and around the corner. A steel vault door looms ahead, bookended on each side by a card reader and keypad.

No guards. No cameras.

Joker nods to Skull, who crouches across the hallway's entrance.

They dash out and dart up to the keypads. Skull whips a red card from his pocket, and Joker a blue. They'd taken them off defeated Shadows earlier. "One, two, three," Joker says, and they swipe their cards simultaneously. A screen appears above each reader, and Joker punches in the code. Skull does the same. A tremendous mechanical groan reverbs down the hall. The vault door spins, and the Thieves step back to allow it to open. Rose grips the handle of her axe with knuckles she’s sure are white beneath her gloves.

"Let's make this quick," Panther says as the door swings open. The others rush up to join Joker and Skull. "We're almost out of supplies."

Fox nods and pats his limp bag. "Yes, I'm afraid these last few floors have taken their toll."

In the center of the Treasure Room is a tall marble pillar. A large metal ball floats just off the top.

Shadow Sugimura – dressed in military fatigues - leans against the pillar. He stares at a small knife in his hand, swinging it lazily through the air, smiling.

"Good evening, Phantom Thieves," he says.

"Aw shit," Skull groans.

"I knew it," Panther mutters.

Sugimura pushes himself away from the pillar. "I figured you'd get here sooner or later."

Rose’s eyes run the length of the room. The whole place looks rather... odd. Figurines shoved into the corner: soldiers and sports figures frozen atop one another. Oversized gaming systems and mobile phones litter the floor like confetti. Things that look like yen bills are crumpled all over.

She steps forward. "Sugimura," she says, hands still tight on her axe. "Rin. We've come for your Treasure. Please hand it over. Then, we'll leave."

Shadow Sugimura blinks a few times, and his smile flickers. "I'm not giving you anything. You can't just come here and take something that isn't yours." He spreads his hands in a lazy gesture. "This is all mine. Everything here." He ends the gesture with a finger extended towards Rose. "Including you, Haru."

Her back stiffens. "No, I'm not."

Sugimura chuckles. "Sure you are. Do you want to know why? Because you don't know how to be anything else." He takes a step forward. "You don't know how to be anything but what your daddy tells you to be."

"That's not true," Rose says. Her mind rebels at the idea, but her body begins to tremble.

"Yes, it is. Your daddy points you in a direction, and you go towards it. But, of course, you have to go through your strong and independent phase, so I'll forgive these last few transgressions, but at the end of the day, you'll come right back to me because that's where you belong. And you know it."

Skull steps up alongside Rose. "You're full of shit, asshat. She doesn't belong to anyone. She's with us now. We would've just taken your Treasure without a fuss. But now I think we should kick your ass before doing it."

Sugimura's grin widens. "Is that so? Are you with them now, Haru? Really?" He takes another step forward. "I don't care what you think, or what lies you've been telling yourself. This Treasure is mine. You are mine. And you're not taking anything that belongs to me." Rose wants to turn and run. She wants to be anywhere but here.

Sugimura drops forward and shudders. His body grows exponentially, with his top half forming that of a wolf, while his lower becomes the treads of a tank. He tilts his snout up and howls, "YOU ALL BELONG TO ME!"

The Phantom Thieves run forward. Rose remains still. Joker stops alongside her. "You're not going to listen to him, are you?"

Rose - Haru - looks at him. Beneath her mask, her eyes feel wet, but she doesn’t think she’s crying. "I- I don't-" There's an explosion as a tremendous tidal wave of flame erupts from this new version of Sugimura.

Joker wraps his arms around Rose's waist and leaps back, carrying them out of harm's way.

They crash to the floor. Rose blinks and stares at the wood-lined ceiling.

Her breath ripped from her. One thought circles. It’s like a Toy Chest.

Rose sits up. Except, she isn't Rose. She's Haru. Haru, because she's never thought of herself as Rose. Never really thought of herself as a Phantom Thief. They gave that name to her.

Haru stares at Sugimura, a giant monster howling, snarling, and swiping at the Phantom Thieves as they dart around him.

"Ak-" she stars, then catches herself. "Joker." She takes ahold of his jacket's sleeve. He rolls over to regard her, still dazed from the crash. He blinks and focuses. "I'll distract him. You grab the Treasure."

They both look at the floating ball overhead.

"Looks like it's protected,” he says.

Haru stands and slaps her pantaloons a few times, clearing away the detritus. "You're Phantom Thieves, aren't you? Break through it."

Mona summons Zorro, and a gust of wind slams into Sugimura's side. It does nothing.

"Rose, I-" Joker starts.

"No," Haru says. "That's not my name."

She unslings her grenade launcher from across her back. I've been coasting along for too long. She aims at Sugimura's head. Time to take responsibility.

She squeezes the trigger.

Womp.

A mini-detonation pulses out from the side of Sugimura's head, and he roars in pain and swings around to face Haru. He snarls and charges across the floor, treads spinning.

Haru grips her axe and runs.

"Get back here, Haru," Sugimura screams. "GET BACK HERE!”

She dodges to the side over a pile of discarded electronics. Sugimura skids and swings out a claw. Haru ducks as it sails over her. He comes again, and she heaves her axe up and into the fleshy part of his paw. She places one foot against the heel of his paw and pushes off to tear her axe free.

Sugimura laps at his wound. "You bitch.”

Haru replies by hitting his face with another grenade. The explosion forces her backward, and she backpedals to avoid losing balance.

Behind Sugimura, the Phantom Thieves scale the pillar.

Sugimura rears up, one eye fixed on her. The other is puffed shut and raw-red from the attack.

"You can stop now," Haru says.

Sugimura lurches forward, mouth agape. She jumps away as the teeth close on air, his hot breath singeing her clothes.

"Sugimura, you don't have to do this."

"Stop talking and do what you're told," he roars. He inhales, and Haru runs. A gout of flame erupts from his maw, and Haru throws herself clear, crashing into a heap on the stone floor, scattering a collection of dark-screened mobile phones. She shoves herself up by her elbows and scrabbles her feet until they find purchase, and she's running again.

The heat licks her back, but she keeps going.

His treads scream against the ground. Come on, she thinks. Come on.

The heat abates, and she whips around and charges Sugimura anew. She ducks one of his clawed hands and flings herself at his midsection, punching her axe into his stomach. Sugimura howls and doubles forward.

The heel of his other hand cracks into her side, and she hits the floor. The friction tears her clothes and the skin of her back and shoulders. Sugimura raises his hand once more and brings it down as Haru gasps, "Milady!"

A puff of blue flame, and her mask burns, and her Persona appears. Sugimura's hand halts, held aloft by Milady's fan.

"Sugimura," Haru says, then groans as she picks herself up. "You don't have to do this anymore. You don't have to be this."

Sugimura tries to press down, but Milady holds firm. "You don't know anything, he screams. "You don't know how to do anything besides what your father tells you!"

"Then, I guess we're the same," Haru says. "Because I don't think you know how to be anything else either."

"Shut up!"

"That's what I'm saying, Sugimura," Haru says. "You don't have to be what your family wants you to be."

"It's not the same," Sugimura replies. "It's never been the same. Not for me!"

It's not a toy chest, even if that's his cognition. Just like it's not a fortress, not really. The toys above. The basketball court. The discarded money and things. There's no consistency, nothing coherent, no solid theme throughout. Almost like he constructed this whole place in confusion.

An awful crack echoes through the room.

Sugimura moans and turns towards the source. The metal ball has broken apart, and a shining light takes its place. The other Thieves hide their eyes.

"No," Sugimura yells. "No, no, no, no!" He begins to vibrate, shudder, and his Shadow bursts apart with a final scream.

Haru rolls clear of the black goo and collapses to the ground.

"You okay?"

Mona and Joker jog over to her. The others remain behind near the Treasure as the light begins to fade.

"How'd you break through?" Haru asks.

"We, uh, kind of just kept hitting it until it broke open," Mona replies. "Not our grandest moment."

"But it worked," Joker says, smirking. "Once that light goes out, we'll-"

"Uh, guys?" Comes Panthers shout. "I don't think this is the Treasure."

The light resolves into a gigantic golden ball, revolving where the metal one once sat.

"Seriously?" Mona asks. "All that for another-"

A roar rips through the Treasure room. The others turn as the black gunk shifts together once more and shoots up from the floor, growing larger and larger.

"Oh, dear," Haru says.

"It's never easy," Joker says with a sigh—the three dash away to join the other Thieves at the pillar’s base.

The black forms a humanoid shape and peels away, revealing an immense golden, smooth, featureless figure. It takes a single step toward them, and the room reverberates.

"Heh," Skull says. "Golden Boy." He looks at Haru. "Get it?"

"Seriously?" Mona asks.

The giant figure of Sugimura takes another devastating step towards them.

Joker fires a few rounds from his pistol into the thing's chest. The bullets ricochet off.

"We need to keep trying to get inside," Haru says, pointing at the ball. "We need to break into that one now."

"How many more layers are there?" Fox asks.

"I've no idea," Haru says. "But I don't think we'll be able to stop him unless we break inside." She spins and fires off a grenade. It strikes Sugimura in the upper arm, and he twitches, but continues to pursue. "We'll have to keep distracting him."

Panther leaps down from the pillar and cries, "Carmen!" Her Persona appears, and a great tornado of fire envelopes the Shadow. Sugimura shoulders his way out of the flames a moment later, only to be met by a thunderbolt from Captain Kidd.

"Keep going," Skull shouts. "Break that damn thing open!"

Haru summons Milady once more, who spits machinegun fire into the ball.

"Come on," Haru whispers. "We're so close."

#

Iwai hides in the shadow of the door. He's descended a flight of steps. He lost track of the driver from up on the balcony. If he needs to confront him, he wants to keep it as far from Sugimura as possible.

But he doesn't hear anything.

He starts to inch his way out of the stairwell.

A knife slashes towards him.

Iwai jumps back and avoids the cut. He trips on the bottom step and falls, and the stair’s edge jabs into his back. Iwai gets to his feet as the driver whips around the door’s edge, knife held out before him. He slashes, and Iwai backs up another step. The driver pursues, careful not to sacrifice his footing as he drives Iwai up the steps to the third floor. All Iwai can do is keep his arms up, keep himself guarded as he retreats.

"Hold it," Iwai shouts at one point, but the driver doesn't reply.

Finally, Iwai has no choice but to fall back onto the third-floor landing.

The driver follows, his eyes flicker off Iwai for a moment, taking in Sugimura's body.

"Is he dead?"

"No," Iwai replies.

"What'd you do to him?"

"Chloroform," Iwai answers. If he keeps talking, maybe the man will drop his guard. "Got him downstairs, gave him some more, dragged him up here."

"This blackmail?"

"Yeah."

"It's not going too well, is it?"

Iwai shakes his head. "Not anymore."

The driver runs his eyes over Iwai. "You yakuza? Kaneshiro's group?"

Iwai doesn't respond, and keeps his face neutral.

"Right," the driver says. "All I want is the boy. Back off, let me take him out of here, and there won't be any problems."

Iwai doesn't believe that for a second. "This kid is a real piece of shi-"

The driver rushes in and Iwai lifts his hands. A red slash of pain tears across Iwai’s left bicep. He screams.

Before the blade can do more damage, Iwai throws a palm strike. It misses the chin but hits the driver’s face. The driver replies with a hard kick to Iwai's solar plexus, and as the air vomits out of him, Iwai goes sprawling.

Fuck! Get up! Get up! His body doesn't respond, save to lift his head.

The driver crouches next to Sugimura's body, quickly slices through the zip ties, and yanks the gag from his mouth. Then, still threatening Iwai with the knife, hefts Sugimura into a fireman's carry across his shoulders.

Iwai brings his hand up to touch his wound. It comes away bloody. He looks back into the face of the driver. He missed the chin but must've gotten close to the nose because a thin trail of something dark leaks from one nostril.

"Want some advice?" The driver asks, but his eyes glaze over, and he rushes into the stairwell. Iwai hears the taptaptaptap of his feet down the steel steps.

Iwai groans and rolls onto his side. He winces in pain. His arm throbs.

I need to get this looked at, right now.

He drags himself up and looks out over the balcony. The driver rushes across the floor, Sugimura's limp body bouncing upon his back.

"Dammit," Iwai whispers. So much for that plan. Where the hell was Akira? Whatever his strategy was, Iwai hadn't thought it would take that long. Something must've gone wrong.

He barks out a laugh. Of course shit went wrong!

Even if Iwai could catch up with them, he could not stop that man. He needed to get out of here before that bastard called the cops. He needed to see to his wound.

Plenty of underground doctors asked questions. A regular hospital – unacceptable.

A face pops into his head and some information he'd gotten from Akira.

It's a trek, but he can make it.

#

Haru gulps air. Her lungs screech in protest. Her muscles burn. Sweat rolls down her face, but she forces herself to move. Sugimura's golden foot smashes the floorboards. Haru lands in a heap to the side.

The Shadow's head turns her way, only for Captain Kidd to sail into its side. It falters from the impact and takes a few quick steps to steady itself.

Skull sprints to her side, huffing, and reaches out a hand. "You okay?" He manages.

"H-how-" Haru struggles out, and glances at the golden orb. She grasps his hand. "How much longer?"

"Hell if I know," Skull replies, hauling her up.

Fox hunches in a corner, one knee on the ground, sword tip thrust into the floor for balance.

Joker and Panther bombard the ball with attack after attack, and Mona tosses them the last energy drinks, which they sip between Persona attacks.

There's no pattern to what they're doing. No one's communicating. Someone attacks the golden ball, and someone else tries to stop Sugimura. There's little that diverts him. Despite the near-constant barrage against his Treasure, his Shadow seems determined to catch Haru.

The Shadow straightens and continues its pursuit. Haru lifts her grenade launcher and squeezes the trigger. A hollow tuff sounds. "Oh, no."

"C'mon, Captain!" Skull shouts, and his Persona manifests once more to jolt Sugimura with a lightning bolt. It pauses for a split second, then continues.

"Crap," Skull yells. "Mona, we need some help over here!"

The cat groans and starts to run toward them. Haru can hear Joker screaming at the ball as he climbs atop it and starts stabbing it with his knife.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

Haru grits her teeth and charges. The Shadow pursues, but she ignores it. She leaps at the Treasure as her thighs burn, gripping her axe. Joker notices her at the last second and jumps away, as Haru screams and slams her axe into the ball's side.

CRACK

A fissure rips down the side of the ball, where Haru's axe stays embedded. Haru feels like she drifts onto the ground, but the impact hurts.

Shadow Sugimura halts.

From somewhere deep within its golden confines, the Shadow roars. It sprints, and the floor splinters and shatters where it steps.

The Phantom Thieves throw themselves out of its way.

Haru sucks in one final fist of air and screams, "MILADY!"

Her mask explodes, and her Persona materializes. No command. No direction. Milady is Haru and knows what must be done.

The Persona lifts its hand into the air, and a great red bolt smashes into her axe, travels through it, and splits the golden ball down the middle.

Shadow Sugimura reaches out one golden hand, for Haru or the Treasure, she does not know, and then he bursts into tar and rains down upon them.

Haru doesn't lose consciousness, but she's only dimly aware of Joker approaching her. He carries a slight limp to his left leg.

"Is everyone..."

"They're fine," Joker says, crouching next to her. "I think. And that's not all." He nods, and she follows his gaze.

In the center of the room, where the orb had been, a small... something, lowers itself towards the floor.

"Is that-?" Haru starts.

"The Treasure," Joker replies, and offers her a hand.

She takes it and throws an arm around his shoulder when he offers it. They stagger towards the Treasure.

It's a small chain. Haru peers closer. "I think that's a watch chain," she says.

Joker scoffs. "Hope it's worth something."

"Don't..." comes a voice.

They turn. From the pile of black gunk rises a small figure.

He steps forward, and the black sloughs off him.

Haru watches as Sugimura takes a tentative step forward. He is Sugimura, but not the one she knows. This one is smaller by a few inches. His clothes hang like they barely fit, and his hair sticks out in random places. He looks, she thinks, like a more unkempt version of the Sugimura she first met so many years ago.

Haru hears a soft huffing noise, and glances to the side to see Fox stagger his way over to them. "Is there to be another fight?" He asks. "Because I sincerely hope there is not."

"I don't think so," Haru says, turning back to the smaller Sugimura. "I think..." She pauses, trying to gather her exhausted thoughts together. "I think this is how he sees himself. How he really sees himself."

"You sure?" Joker asks. "Because five minutes ago he was a wolf-tank."

"And then a very large golden man," Fox says.

Haru shakes her head. "No," she says. "Those. That general. That's what he wanted people to see. It's what he wanted people to think. You saw everything upstairs. The toys. The dolls. The basketball court. I think he saw people as objects and playthings but saw himself as a child."

"No!" Sugimura shouts, stamping his foot. "I'm not! And you can't have that Treasure! It's mine. It's-"

"That's enough," Haru says. Sugimura's mouth snaps shut. Haru removes her arm from Joker's shoulder. "It's okay," she says, when Joker protests. "It's all going to be okay." She approaches Sugimura, who recoils. The rest of the Thieves surround him, penning him in. "You were scared all along, weren't you?" She asks.

"No," Sugimura counters. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Everyone's scared of something," Haru replies. "For the longest time, I've been scared of you."

Sugimura shakes his head. "You're supposed to be my wife. You're supposed to do what I say!"

"I'm sorry," she says.

Sugimura blinks. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry this happened to you," she continues. She stops next to him. "I don't know what happened, exactly. I don't know if it was your father or something else, but I guess you never had people to show you otherwise." She thinks of Makoto and smiles. "You never had any friends, did you?"

Sugimura glares up at her. "No one has friends. There are only people that you can use or will try and use you. You don't need friends if you've got wealth, if you've got-"

He stops when Haru pulls him into a hug. His hands hang limply at his sides.

"It's okay," Haru says. "You don't have to be this anymore."

Sugimura, his head pressed against her chest, says, "You're wrong. People only respect those who take what they want. They don't-"

"It's okay, Rin," Haru continues. She rests a hand on the back of his head. "It's okay. You don't have to do this anymore."

"People don't...I don't..." And then Sugimura chokes out a sob. And another, and another. And then he wraps his hands around Haru. Tears shunt from his eyes. Haru holds him close. "I don't know how to stop."

Haru steps away from him, both hands on his shoulders. "You have to make a choice, Rin. You have to choose to be better." She nods towards the Treasure. "We've helped. We'll remove your twisted desires, but you must choose to change." She cups his chin and lifts his head. "Go back to the real world. Break off your engagement with me. And start making amends. But," she says, and her voice grows firm. "Not to me. I don't want to see or hear from you again. Do you understand?"

He nods, and sniffs. "I'm sorry, Haru. I wanted you to love me."

"I know, Rin." She begins to say, 'I forgive you,' but the words only hover on her tongue. Instead, she says, "Time to go."

"Wait," says Joker. Sugimura flinches away from him. "You won't tell anyone the Phantom Thieves did this, understand? You'll never mention us."

"O-okay," Sugimura whispers. Something shifts in his face, then. The twisted features slacken. Then, Sugimura grows bright and vanishes.

Haru stares at the space he occupied.

"You okay?" Joker asks.

"I think so."

He holds out the chain. "Do you want this?"

"I don't think I do."

Mona hits her with a Dia, and Haru feels her muscles strengthen as the Palace begins to rumble. "Um, what's that?"

Joker grins. "Didn't we mention this part? We win, and then the whole place collapses."

"Oh," Haru says, and forces herself to run. "Lovely."

#

Fumihiro shoves Sugimura into the backseat of the car, not bothering with a seatbelt. This thing is built like a tank. He'll be fine. It wasn't as if the kid ever bothered with a seatbelt anyway.

Fumihiro shakes his head and gets into the driver's seat.

Sugimura is in the car.

He sticks the key into the ignition. His grip tightens. His vision gets hazy.

Sugimura is in the car.

A pounding echoes through his skull. It feels like  ████████████

 

opens his mouth ██

 

The engine ████start.

He turns the key.

Nothing.

He tries █

 

Something leaks from ███ eyes.

 

The car r████les to life.

His hand puts the car in drive. He presses   ████████   pedal

Job to do

 

 ███ ██ ███ █████ ███████ ███ ███ █████ █████

 █ ██ █████ ████████

 ██ ██████ ██ ██████ █ ████ ███████

 ████                 ████ ████ ████

 

 ████

 

 ████

 ██

 

 

#

The vibration stirs him awake. Sugimura groans and lifts a hand to his face. Disjointed images dance through his mind. He slides his eyes open and sees the interior of his car. All at once, things crash into place. The texts. The warehouse. Someone attacking him.

"The hell?"

Sugimura tries to force the fog from his head. He'd been heading to the warehouse to pay the ransom for Haru and-

"Haru," Sugimura whispers.

He lowers his face into his hands.

What have I done? Why did I do those things?

The phone on the chair. The message.

Phantom Thieves.

His lips remain still. Never mention them, his brain commands.

Sugimura stares out the window and frowns. There's little light outside, so it must be evening. Still, he detects no impressions of buildings. He witnesses what appears to be a blank, dark slate extending to the horizon.

The car vibrates as it moves.

Sugimura slides closer to the window.

That great blank surface is Tokyo Bay. The car bounces against the planks of the dock that extends into it. He presses his face against the glass. They're running out of space.

Sugimura scrambles to the driver's window and raps his knuckles against the glass. "Fumihiro," he screams. "What're you doing?"

The driver stares ahead, hands tight on the wheel.

"Fumihiro, stop! Stop the damn car, you psycho!"

His driver doesn't reply.

"Please-" Sugimura catches a reflection of Fumihiro's face in the mirror. His eyes are bone white shells and seep black liquid. A thin trail leaks from his nose and slides over his lips and into his mouth.

The car drives off the dock and plunges into the water. Sugimura jerks forward, and his head cracks against the driver's window. Then, nothing.

Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Dirty water rushes into Akira's mouth as air escapes. Limbs thrash; dark shapes spasm in the gloom. Twin red lights recede beneath him. Bubbles rise from his lips, and Akira kicks and pushes and pulls to follow them against this new prison—another box, but this one so much worse.

He breaks the surface, stretches his head back, and opens his mouth, but his limbs quit, and his head drops below the water. Adrenaline surges, and he shoves himself clear, spits a throatful of water, and gulps air. Through the globs of water on his glasses, lights resolve into the Tokyo skyline, reflected across the Bay.

The Bay.

The Bay.

The Bay.

The words repeat in his mind as if awaiting additional input.

Everyone.

Akira rolls around in the water and screams for his friends with a throat raw from the water and desperate breaths. "Guys!" His lungs feel ragged, scraped with sandpaper. "Ryuji! Morgana!"

A face blanketed with blonde hair erupts from the water. It tilts back and sucks in air. "What the fuck?" Ann screams. "What the fuck?" Her head whips from side to side, flinging water-logged hair strands and additional spray everywhere. "Akira," she sobs when she spots him.

He treads water to reach her. Her hand finds him, and they pull themselves closer. "What's-" She starts.

"Sssshhiiiitttt," comes a cry, and Ryuji emerges a few feet away. He takes in a large, hoarse breath and heaves himself back. He holds a gangly shape in his arms.

"Yusuke," Ann screams and separates from Akira to swim over. Akira follows.

"Saw him," Ryuji gasps, floating on his back. Water runs down his face. "Sinking. Would've missed him."

Akira and Ann relieve Ryuji of Yusuke. "He's breathing," Akira says, barely above a whisper. He pats Yusuke's face, each touch getting progressively firmer. "Yusuke, you okay?"

Yusuke's eyes flutter. "Wha-"

"Yusuke?" Ann asks.

"What happened?" Yusuke moans. His lids pull back. Akira sees the panic seize him as he begins to thrash. "What happened?"

"Relax, dude," Ryuji shouts. "Don't freak out!"

Ann's hand grabs Akira's shoulder. "Where's Haru?"

"Where's Morgana?" Akira asks and looks around.

Water. We were in the Palace. The car. He recalls the sinking red lights. They're still below. Akira takes a few deep breaths.

"What're you doing?" Ann asks.

"They're still down there," Akira replies.

"You can't-" Ann starts, but a hand breaks through the water.

It holds a small, shivering Morgana. A moment later, Haru's head pops up, eyes squeezed tight, lips sealed together. In the air, she takes a gasp before falling back under.

Akira swims toward them, reaching for Morgana. The cat trembles as Akira holds him with one arm but doesn't go back under.

Haru manages to fight and stay above the surface. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Akira replies, but a small part of him fears he does know.

Yusuke treads water on his own. Ryuji stays close to the boy and asks, "What do we do?"

"Swim to shore," Akira replies. He spots a dock extending into the bay, but the platform is too high for any of them to climb onto. "Everyone stay together."

The Phantom Thieves lurch through the water towards the shore, and though Akira's limbs and lungs burn with every stroke, he keeps going. Slowly, he continues, careful to keep Morgana's face above water.

They make their way to a slight concrete incline along the Bay in the shadow of a warehouse. Their feet find the bottom before they exit the water, and each drags themselves out of the Bay and collapses onto the cool surface. When Akira sets him down, Morgana rolls onto his side with a low groan.

The six Thieves lay there briefly, trembling, coughing, and moaning.

Finally, Ryuji asks, "What the hell happened?"

Akira squeezes his eyelids together and asks, "Did anyone see anything when we were leaving the Palace?"

"No," Ann says. "We were running, and then I pulled out my phone and-"

Akira's hand touches his pocket. The hard outline of his phone pushes through his waterlogged pants. He yanks it free, centimeter by centimeter, and to a sliver of joy and much surprise, finds it still works.

"How the hell did we wind up here? The car was at the warehouse."

Haru coughs. Ann pats her back and asks. "We couldn't have come out anywhere but the Palace, right?"

Haru's eyes widen. She looks out at the Bay. "Then, that would mean..."

"The car is in the water," Morgana manages.

"Dude," Ryuji cries, crawling towards the cat. "You okay?"

"I'm-" Morgana starts, then hunches his back and vomits out a thin trail of water. "Fine. Just wet."

"I-I," Yusuke begins, voice trembling. "Was under the impression th-the car was broken."

No one says anything. Morgana lifts his head and manages, "I did what I was supposed to! The car shouldn’t have been able to drive!"

Ann starts to say something, but Haru gasps. "Rin," she says. Her hands grip one another, tight. "If his car is in the Bay, then-"

"He should still be with Iwai," Akira counters.

"How do we know that?" Ann asks.

Akira frowns. "We don't." Suspicions race through his mind, but Akira clamps down on them. "We don't know anything. We don't know what happened, where Iwai is, or where Sugimura is. We need to regroup."

"I'm freaking freezing, dude," Ryuji complains. "We need to get dry."

Akira nods. "Alright. I'll call Ohya. Maybe she can meet us and bring some extra clothes. I don't want to wander around Tokyo soaked, especially with Sugimura's car in the water."

#

Iwai drags himself through Tokyo's backstreets. Step by step, he feels his blood pulse and soak the tourniquet he'd made from his ripped shirt. Getting out of the Bay took a while, but once he reached Chiyoda he mixed in with the crowd of sightseers and found a convenience store where he bought a small bottle of antiseptic and aspirin. In an alleyway a few blocks from the Imperial Palace, Iwai doused his wound with the clear liquid, bit back a yell, and swallowed four of the pills dry.

He focused, and though the trip limped for another hour, he entered Yongen-jaya and found his way to the Doc in the Box that wouldn't ask the wrong questions.

Iwai opens the door, and screeching guitars cauterize his eardrums. He scowls and tries to cover them with his hands, but the movement only makes the pain in his arm throb, and he growls out a loud, "Fuck," and doubles over in pain, chucks himself inside, and half-collapses into one of the beat up red leather chairs.

The music cuts, his ears ring, and Tae Takemi jumps from her chair to half-shout, "What the hell?" And then Iwai hears the clack of her heels as she leaves her office and enters the waiting area. It takes him just as long to roll onto his back.

"What the hell happened to you?" Takemi demands.

Iwai uses his good arm to yank his coat back a bit, revealing the deep maroon stain steeping his shirt. "I got cut."

"Come on," Takemi says, leaning down to help him up. She's surprisingly strong and manages to steer Iwai's bulk out of the waiting area and into one of the exam rooms. "Am I the only one here?" He asks as they stagger along.

"Think I'd listen to my music that loud if I had patients?"

"I dunno," Iwai mutters.

She doesn't drop him onto an exam table but isn't particularly gentle either. Iwai allows himself a fraction of a second to hope the semi-rough treatment arises from Takemi's attitude and not her feelings toward him.

"What did this?" Takemi asks, after putting on gloves and gingerly removing the sopping tourniquet.

"Knife," Iwai says.

Takemi's hands hesitate for a moment before they continue probing the wound, but her lips slowly suck in on themselves, and the skin beneath her eyes tighten. Her face continues to harden even when she says, "This has something to do with Akira, doesn't it?"

"You'd have to ask him," Iwai replies.

Takemi opens her mouth to say something but then closes it. Iwai watches her, and maybe the exhaustion he feels allows his defenses to slip, but he asks, "Do you know?"

One of Takemi's cheeks concaves, and Iwai watches her jaw flex and worry the inside of her mouth. "Know what?"

Iwai stays silent and lets her work.

#

Compulsion forces Makoto to recheck her phone.

Nothing.

All her texts, unanswered.

Makoto shoves the phone back into her jacket and turns the corner towards LeBlanc.

The sun set hours ago, and Akira stressed speed as integral to their plan's success. Haru, Akira, and the others should've been back by now.

As Makoto approaches LeBlanc, the light from the coffee shop's window elongates her shadow across the cement behind her, but said light flickers with the strobing telltale of movement from within. Makoto peeks inside, and a cocktail of relief and anxiety flushes through her skin.

She nearly barrels through the door in her rush to get it open.

Takamaki and Sakamoto sit, side by side, on two stools with their backs against the bar's edge. Neither regards her with anything more than a half-jump at the suddenness of her entrance before settling back down. Sakamoto's hands sit clasped in his lap, and his fingers beat an incoherent tune on the back of each hand. Takamaki, hair pulled back into a singular ponytail - a look Makoto cannot ever remember seeing her sport - grips the edge of the stool as though afraid she may fall off. Both wear a pair of oversized, raggedy gray sweatshirts with brand logos Makoto only half-recognizes.

The thin mass in the booth across from them is Yusuke Kitagawa, a dark blue blanket wrapped thoroughly around him and a steaming cup of dark liquid gripped in both hands. Kitagawa doesn't even react to Makoto's presence.

The man from Untouchable, Iwai, is hunched over in a booth farther back, his clothes wrinkled and stained with sweat and what may be blood. His skin is pale, but his breathing is steady. Doctor Takemi, face shadowed by her bangs, looms near him, but her hands are shoved into her jacket pocket, and when she spots Makoto, her face softens a fraction before tightening again.

Morgana and Haru huddle together in the furthest booth. Morgana's face pokes out of a blanket, and Haru is wrapped in one as well, though a different shade of blue than Yusuke's and Morgana's. The strangely dressed woman, Ohya, stands near the kitchen, arms crossed, foot tapping on the floorboards.

Makoto storms past everyone slides into the booth alongside Haru, and wraps her in a hug.

"I'm so glad you're-" Makoto starts, then stops.

Haru does look at her, but her skin is pale and clammy. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth moves silently, though whether she cannot bear to speak or is unsure of what to say, Makoto can't tell.

"What's wrong?" Makoto asks. At Haru's stillness and silence, she addresses the group. "What happened?" Then, a third question presents itself. "Where's Akira?"

Takamaki straightens. "Akira's upstairs in his room. Thinking."

"He's okay?" Makoto asks.

"Everyone will be fine," Takemi grumbles. "Physically, at least."

Morgana meows something, but no one translates for her.

Finally, Haru says, "Sugimura's dead."

Some door in Makoto's mind slams shut. A cold indifference settles over her skull, and she replies calmly, "I see." She glances at Iwai. The idea had been to keep Munehisa Iwai in the dark about the Phantom Thieves.

Sakamoto notices the direction of her stare and says, "He knows."

Ohya's laugh is mean. "Everyone knows."

"Did the change of heart not work?" Makoto asks.

"It would've," Sakamoto spits, suddenly jumping to his feet. "We changed the bastard's heart. The Palace collapsed and everything."

Sakamoto's glare meets Iwai's gaze, and the man asks, "I know you're not going to say this is my fault."

"Your job was-" Sakamoto starts.

Iwai's fist slams on the table. Takemi steps towards him, a hand outstretched, but he shakes his head and waves her off. "I'm fine," he snaps. "And you didn't tell me shit! Nothing about your Phantom Thief bullshit, and nothing about the damn driver! Don't put this on me!"

"That's enough," Takemi shouts.

"She's right." Makoto turns toward the new voice and spots Akira descending the stairs. He wears a black, featureless hoodie, which only highlights how drawn and pale his face looks. Still, he keeps his head up as he approaches the group. "Freaking out isn't going to help." He drifts into what approximates the center of everyone. When he sees Makoto, he offers her a short nod and says, "Sorry about not responding to your texts. Everyone else's phone broke, and I didn't get a chance to get back to you."

"Huh?" Makoto asks. "How did all the phones break? And is Sugimura really dead?"

"Technically," Akira says with a slight shrug. "We don't know, but it's not looking good."

Information trickles in from various sources, and it is a few minutes before Makoto can construct a solid picture of what happened. Takemi's reaction to Akira's plan is black, but she allows the remainder of the team to continue after extracting a promise from Akira they'd discuss the 'chloroform' situation later.

Iwai reveals the piece that Akira - from Makoto's perspective - waited for. "I think something might've been wrong with the driver. He had this shit trickling out of his nose after our fight. At first, I thought it might've been blood, but it didn't look like it. It looked black." Everyone sits up straighter at the color's description.

"Hang on," Sakamoto says. "A mental shutdown?"

"Huh?" Iwai asks.

Akira explains while Makoto shifts her attention to Haru. Yes, what Iwai discussed was important, but Haru had said little during this debrief and kept staring at the table before her.

"It'll be alright," Makoto says, wrapping her arm around Haru.

Haru shakes her head. "He's dead, Makoto. I know he is. And I can't help but think..." she trails off. "I can't help but think we caused it."

"But you didn't," Makoto replies. "If his driver drove them into the Bay, that's not your fault."

"But he was unconscious because of us," Haru says. "He might've been able to escape if it hadn't been for us."

To this, Makoto can say little.

The others have continued their conversation regarding the driver's potential mental shutdown.

"But it would explain why he suddenly drove the car into the water instead of going to the cops after his fight with Iwai," Takamaki says.

Ohya shrugs. "The timing seems fishy, but given what we suspect - big picture style - I think it might fit." The woman fidgets a bit more, stands up, and paces. "I don't see how anyone could've known you guys were in the kid's Palace."

"So someone else was trying to get rid of Sugimura?" Sakamoto asks. "Or was the driver the target?"

Morgana meows.

"Agreed. That's if the driver suffered a mental shutdown like we suspect Aoe might've," Kitagawa says. "And if that's true, then it might help us narrow down who else knows about the Metaverse."

"A link between Sugimura and Madarame, you mean?" Akira asks. Kitagawa nods. "Not sure. Aside from Haru, quite a few people probably had an issue with Sugimura. Hell, even Kaneshiro didn't like him."

The name cracks Makoto's head like a baseball bat.

Chapter 59: Chapter 59

6/12

 

Iwai slunk amongst the early Sunday morning dock workers and weekend shift managers,  dressed in faded brown overalls he'd tasked Tsuda with fetching the night before. Freshly shaved, a local baseball team's hat pulled low upon his head, he trudged with the tired eyes of a man dreading the punch in. That he'd slept little, and his arm still throbbed where Tae stitched aided the act.

Kaoru voiced a desire to spend the day together, and Iwai's guts churned at his need to turn the boy down.

Iwai tapped Tsuda for information on the police presence at the Bay, and the rumor of a car crashing into the water returned. Too much to hope for that no one noticed a limousine barreling down a dock and sailing into the Bay.

If the police had the car, they'd inevitably trace its movements.

Iwai breaks pace with a group of dock workers and turns the corner towards the abandoned warehouse. In the cerulean glint of daylight, the building appears less intimidating, but Iwai halts as an image of the walls painted with the crimson stains of his dried blood floods his mind. He propels himself forward by pretending to tie his shoes and scans for police presence.

Nothing.

One more look around, and satisfied, Iwai dons gloves and crosses to the front door. Each step bears with it the expected clang of a siren, but the only sounds are the day-to-day echoes of the industrial area. He enters and tastes the disturbed dust of the night before.

Before he'd descended the steps, after his fight with Sugimura's driver, Iwai tied off the wound on his arm and cradled that within his jacket. As such, no blood spilled onto the ground floor. He moves to the staircase, carefully scanning for any trail he might've left or been leaving. Once in the gloom of the stairwell, he removes the spray bottle of bleach and the hammer from inside his overalls.

Methodically, but with as much haste as feels safe, Iwai seeks out his blood stains on the stairs and on the third floor. He sprays them with bleach and utilizes the hammer to pulverize particularly porous surfaces, douses them with bleach, and bags as much of the powdered masonry as possible, doing his best to scatter the remaining particles.

He can endeavor to degrade his DNA as much as possible, but the tiniest bit of blood will give him away. At best, he can delay the process of his identification until the Phantom Thieves can change Kaneshiro's heart.

Iwai didn't grasp all the concepts explained to him the night before, but he believed he got the gist. Kaneshiro had a Palace, which meant Akira and his friends could do to him what they'd attempted with Sugimura. Kaneshiro had enough crimes to confess, but they could still have him take the fall even if he had nothing to do with Sugimura's demise. Iwai suggested that route, and some, including the two blondes, seemed uncomfortable with that prospect. Still, Akira seemed to alleviate concerns by citing that they could strive to see what Kaneshiro did know about the mental shutdowns.

All of it felt out of his league, and Iwai wasn't comfortable with the lack of concrete specifics, but at present, it was the best way of getting himself cleared of being involved with Sugimura's death.

That one girl, Makoto Niijima, had clammed up at the mention of Junya Kaneshiro and excused herself shortly after his discussion began. That had bothered Akira and the other one, the one who'd bought the grenade launcher, but the latter still seemed pretty messed up from hearing about her fiancé’s death.

Iwai figured there were stories within stories here, but he didn't care. These were the cards life dealt, so he had to play.

Iwai kneels next to another small splatter of his blood and sprays it with bleach.

#

Kagawa tries to keep himself from fidgeting.

"I just want to reiterate," he says. "This will be difficult, but we must get a clear answer. Otherwise, we may have to do it again, and-"

"Please," the man says. "Just do it."

The two linger in a cold hallway before a large glass window. A curtain has been pulled across the glass from inside, and at the man's insistence, Kagawa taps his knuckles against the glass.

A moment later, a man dressed in medical scrubs, gloves, and a thin cloth strapped around his nose and mouth, pulls back the curtain.

A bare room with a single steel table in the center. A shape atop the table, with a long black cloth draped over it. The medical examiner within glances at Kagawa, who nods, and pulls the fabric back.

There is a sharp intake of breath from the man next to Kagawa. Kagawa watches as he leans forward and rests one hand against the glass. He dips his head forward. "That's him," he says, his voice faint. Kagawa watches as his eyes squeeze shut. A grimace spreads across his mouth. A shudder escapes. "That's my son."

Kano Sugimura lets out a single, loud sob, then shakes his head clear and moves back from the glass.

Kagawa looks at the medical examiner and nods once more. The man inside moves to replace the blanket over Rin Sugimura's pale body.

"Wait," Kano Sugimura says. Something in his voice approaches hardness but doesn't quite reach. "Please, just wait." The medical examiner stares at Kagawa as if waiting for confirmation. Kagawa nods.

Kano Sugimura stares at his son's corpse for a long time and eventually leans his forehead against the glass. "This will kill her," he finally says.

"I'm sorry?" Kagawa asks.

"His mother. She was always... on top of him. Always overly affectionate. I tried to teach him. To show him how to be a man, but..." He shakes his head. "What was Fumihiro thinking?" He finally turns to Kagawa. "Why would he do something like this?"

"We are investigating, sir."

"The man was a soldier, for God's sake! This job, this job should've been a cakewalk for him. There's no way he would've lost his mind like that. Not a chance! Something happened." He points back at the glass. "My son was killed, do you hear me? He was murdered."

Kagawa doesn't nod because he doesn't want to give the impression he agrees. "We are investigating, sir. We will get to the bottom of what happened."

Kano Sugimura spits a few obscenities. He asks the questions everyone always does. He blames the police for failing to protect his family. Kagawa has seen it all before, or variations, anyway.

He can't give this man any information at this stage, no matter how much he rages.

Finally, Kano Sugimura breaks, sliding down to the ground until he sits with his back against the wall and sobs.

Kagawa knows that with his bulk, going that low will not make it easy to get back up again, so he pulls over a chair from across the hallway and sits next to the man. He doesn't say anything. He just sits there. Sometimes, that's enough.

While the father cries, Kagawa thinks about the son.

Rin Sugimura, dead.

His driver, Fumihiro Asoka, dead.

Why?

The call had come in late last night, and Kagawa had been just about to head out of the office. Someone had reported seeing a car going into the Bay. There hadn't been much corroboration from witnesses at first, but soon enough, more began to trickle in. Units had been dispatched, and then a dive team. Sure enough, they found a limousine.

They’d hauled the thing out of the water Sunday morning, then gingerly removed the two bodies.

The examiner determined Sugimura died from drowning but had been knocked unconscious by slamming his head onto the divider when the car went into the water. Fumihiro had drowned as well but been conscious as it occurred. Oddly enough, it appeared the man had sat there while he drowned. The examiner stated there seemed to be a few defensive wounds on his face, and in his pocket, they found a knife with faint traces of blood. Given how early they'd found the bodies, the blade likely held usable DNA. There were no knife wounds on the driver or Sugimura.

A comprehensive investigation of the driver's background was required, but Kano Sugimura had a point. The man was a soldier and used to the stresses associated with that. What made him lose it now? If Fumihiro wanted to kill himself, why involve Rin Sugimura?

Kagawa's phone vibrates. He removes it from his jacket and checks the message.

"I need to take this," he tells Sugimura. "If you need anything, please speak with the officer." The other policeman straightens and nods to Kagawa. Sugimura doesn't reply, save to sniffle.

Kagawa stands and exits the room. Sae stands in the hall, arms crossed. Kagawa holds up his phone and jiggles it. "You could've knocked."

"I didn't want to disturb Sugimura," she replies. "Besides, he's familiar with me, and I wouldn't want him to see a connection between what happened to his son and recent events."

"You mean what happened between Rin Sugimura and Makoto and her friend?" Kagawa asks.

Sae's face tightens into a blank mask. "I read the initial report. The driver drowned without trying to free himself."

"Evidently," Kagawa replies. "There was no head wound that would suggest his being unconscious."

Sae nods. "And what do you make of that?"

Kagawa shrugs. "It’s weird. If you want to die, driving your car into the Bay is as good a choice as any.”

“But?” Sae asks.

“But people don't just let themselves drown. Even if he intended to die, survival instincts would’ve kicked in, and he would’ve fought to free himself. But there's no evidence of that. I’m not sure I buy that he was conscious."

The tilt of Sae’s mouth is almost gleeful. "Or perhaps something was controlling him."

Kagawa sighs. “You think it was a mental shutdown?”

"I'd like the examiner to do a chemical analysis. Of both Sugimura and Asoka. I want to know if anything had changed with them in the last few hours. Also, I want that knife prioritized. If something was physically done to them, we need to know who they were last with. And I want the car's whereabouts determined."

Kagawa holds up his hands. “We’re already working on those last two, but the chemical analysis will take some time. You know that. Are you sure you want to go down this road?”

“Positive,” Sae says. “Something’s happening here, Detective. This may be our best break yet.”

#

Akira's mind whirled. He turns off the busy Central Street and enters the labyrinth of roads and alleys that lead to Kaneshiro's hideout.

On his back in the pack with Kaneshiro's money, provided by Haru. Akira had been grateful her wealth allowed the Phantom Thieves to focus on Sugimura before switching gears back to Kaneshiro. But now, the dread surrounding Sugimura continues to mount. Too many unanswered questions and potential pitfalls. Iwai's wounds at the site of the heist, the driver's possible mental shutdown, Iwai's suggestion they force Kaneshiro to take the blame for Sugimura's death, the genuine possibility Kaneshiro had some link to the Metaverse and Palaces, not to mention the strange reaction Makoto had to the mention of Kaneshiro. She'd left the meeting the night before, and Haru had been unable to reach her today.

To top it off, Morgana complained of a nauseous feeling whenever he approached Shibuya. According to him, it had something to do with the overlap of Palaces within the area. Something strange had happened in Shibuya, but Morgana couldn't put his finger on it. It didn't help that the Palaces were even cropping up in Yongen-jaya. Morgana cited one a few blocks from LeBlanc, but Akira had other things to worry about.

So distracted was Akira that he did not see the hit coming. His cheek feels a whipcrack of pressure, and his other cheek scrapes across the sidewalk. Someone stands over him, their hands on the straps of his backpack.

"Wh-?" Akira tries, hands gripping his head instinctively.

"Let's go," a voice growls. "Hand it over."

Akira focuses and sees Sakoda loom above. "What're you-?"

But Sakoda has already jostled the pack clear.

"Stop," Akira cries, but Sakoda gives him the finger and runs.

Akira stays on the ground, alone. In this area of Shibuya, there are a few bystanders, but no one moves to help or - it seems - to call the police. Akira touches his face. His cheek is cut, and trickles blood, and his pulse is quickened by the encounter, but as he brings himself to his feet, he remains steady.

Stupid.

The whole thing was just so stupid. That Akira had to do this, that Sakoda felt he had to do what he did, and that Akira had to find some way to make things right if he wanted to find his way into Kaneshiro's good graces.

Steadily, but slowly at first, Akira begins to jog towards Kaneshiro's building.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

A few Shujin students stand outside Kaneshiro's and point and laugh as Akira shoves past them. Once inside, he asks a few of the older gangsters where he can find Tsuda. It takes only a few minutes, and then he explains what happened and his plan.

"Seriously?" Tsuda asks.

"Absolutely," Akira says, not allowing himself time for debate.

"Follow me," Tsuda says, and leads Akira towards a familiar stairwell. They climb, and a line of student-aged juveniles leads to Kaneshiro's door. Most look nervous, but a few appear confident and clutch fat envelopes. Tsuda marches Akira down the line and towards the door, and Akira studies every face. Sakoda is not among them.

Tsuda asks the kid at the front of the line if he's seen Sakoda, and wordlessly, the kid jerks his thumb towards the closed door to Kaneshiro's office. Tsuda makes a face, but Akira takes a deep breath, grips the knob, and shoves the door open.

A hand grabs his collar almost instantly. Nanashi's jagged face glares at Akira, but just behind the scarred older man, Akira spots Sakoda standing before a bored-looking Kaneshiro. The boy holds the bag at an angle as if he's about to upend it on Kaneshiro's table.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" Nanashi asks.

Tsuda slides in behind Akira. "The kid wanted to talk to Sakoda," he says.

Sakoda pales, but Kaneshiro smirks. "Let him go, Nanashi."

As if an automatic response, Nanashi releases Akira's collar. He hadn't realized Nanashi lifted him off the ground, but when his feet touch the carpet, he whirls around the gangster and storms toward Sakoda.

"Kurusu, you-" Sakoda starts, but then Akira stomps down on the inside of the boy's knee. Sakoda yelps in pain and falls to the floor. The bag of money drops, and a few of the banded stacks of yen scatter.

Akira reaches down, grabs Sakoda's shirt by the collar, balls his other hand into a fist, and brings it down into the kid's face. His fist stings as he raises it once more, the noise of it against Sakoda's cheek still ringing in the air. He brings it down again.

And again. And again. The cries beneath him become weaker and weaker. When he stops, he drops Sakoda back onto the floor. The boy groans and covers his face with his hands. Akira's hand throbs, but he scoops the money off the floor and places it on the table in front of Kaneshiro. "Here's what I owe, Boss."

"Wanna explain yourself?" Kaneshiro asks and gestures to his cheek.

"Sakoda didn't make his cut," Akira replies. "So he tried to take mine."

Kaneshiro reaches out and takes the pack, opens the zipper wider, and examines the funds. "How'd you make this?"

"From my job."

Kaneshiro's face splits into a grin. "Your job?"

Akira nods. "I work at Shibuya Underground." If Kaneshiro wanted to find that out, he could. "I worked some extra shifts."

"So this money is clean?" Kaneshiro asks.

"Um," Akira replies, not quite sure what that means.

"I mean, you obtained this all legally?"

"Oh," Akira says. "Yes."

Kaneshiro laughs. "Incredible. I told you to do whatever you needed to bring me this money, and you just worked a bunch of extra shifts at your job?"

Akira nods and shrugs at the same time.

Kaneshiro glances at the still-prone form of Sakoda. "Speaking of, where's your money?"

"I..." the boy tries, finally moving his hands away to look at Kaneshiro, sitting on the couch like a throne. "He just took my money! He's lying and-"

Kaneshiro holds up a hand. "Say I believe you. Kurusu's the one who gave me the money, so why should I give a shit that it used to belong to you? But I don't believe you. I think you jumped Akira and took his money. What would you have done if he didn't have it all? Did you think that far ahead?"

"I-" Sakoda tries.

"Nanashi," Kaneshiro snaps. The man stands just a bit more rigid. "Get this moron out of here."

Nanashi obeys and drags Sakoda out of Kaneshiro's office. Akira wants to ask what will happen to him but keeps his mouth shut.

Kaneshiro stands, approaches Akira, and rests a hand on his shoulder. "There's a bathroom outside, to the right, down the hall. Go clean up."

Akira nods and exits Kaneshiro's grasp. He steps around the man and heads for the door. Tsuda gives him a faint nod as he leaves.

Akira keeps his mind as blank as possible, rubbing his hands as he walks. Somewhere deeper in the building, music blares. A wholly dazed-looking girl walks out of a room and comes to a halt before Akira. "Excuse me," he whispers and slides past her. He takes a few more steps down the hall and opens a door. Tiled floors, a sink, and a set of stalls greet him.

Akira heaves a sigh of relief, then charges into the nearest stall, drops to his knees, and vomits into the toilet.

He has the mind to reach out and slam the stall door shut. Then, his thoughts vanish entirely, and he heaves over the bowl again and again, his hands clutching the porcelain.

In the back of his mind, he can hear the bathroom door opening and someone coming in, but he can't bother to focus. Once his stomach is empty, his body keeps trying to force something up, and terrible noises fly from his lips. It takes some time for him to calm down, and he crosses the bowl with his forearm and rests his head against his skin.

He doesn't sob, or cry, or anything like that. He just breathes and tries to will himself awake from whatever horrible dream this is.

But this isn't a dream. An image of Sakoda's broken face flashes through his mind, and he remembers looking up into the face of Suguru Kamoshida as he hit him again and again.

Akira shakes his head clear. Get it together. Kaneshiro sent you in here. All you did was hit someone. You didn't kill anyone. No one died. Just get up, get clean, and go back out there.

He pushes himself to his feet, opens the stall door, and steps out.

Kaneshiro leans against the sink, massive arms folded across his chest. "Feeling better?" He asks.

Akira freezes. Part of him wants to charge the man, and another part wants to bolt for the bathroom exit and sprint out of the building, out of this entire city.

Kaneshiro looks him up and down. "That was quite the show you put on in there," he says. "I can see why some of those Shujin dipshits are afraid of you."

"Um," Akira says, unsure whether he's been complimented.

Kaneshiro steps to the side and gestures to the sink. "Wash your hands."

Akira moves up to it, turns the faucet, and sticks his hands under the cool water.

Kaneshiro stares at him. "Are you okay?"

Akira holds his hand under the soap dispenser. A tiny bit kicks out. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just-"

"You just never assaulted anyone before."

Akira looks at him. Kaneshiro's smile grows bigger, more predatory. "I-"

"It'd be better to keep your mouth shut for now." Akira hears his teeth click as he closes his mouth. Kaneshiro leans back on the wall and chuckles. "I figured as much. You don't have the look. The second you showed up, I could tell that you weren't the bad guy everyone was making you out to be." He sticks a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. "They all think you're some monster. A real motherfucker. But that's all bullshit, isn't it?"

Akira coughs once then turns back to his hands. "You've seen what my record says."

"Sure. You were arrested for assaulting someone. But you didn't, did you?"

Akira feels his heart hammering in his chest. Do I lie? He'll see through it! But if I admit to it, what will he do? Akira knows he can't deceive this man. "No, I didn't."

Kaneshiro nods. "I believe you."

Those three words ring through Akira’s ears. It's been so long since he heard them, and its source is so unexpected he isn't sure what to say.

Kaneshiro takes a step closer to him. "I believe you," he repeats.

Akira wants to run back into the stall and throw up all over again despite his stomach being empty. This isn't what he wants. This feels wrong, somehow. Tarnished.

Kaneshiro reaches behind his back and withdraws something from a pocket. Akira is surprised to find it's a soda. "Here," the big man says, holding it out to him. "It'll help."

Akira reaches out, afraid this is some trap, and takes it from him. He pops the lid, wincing at the sound for whatever reason, and takes a short sip. The sugar hits his tongue, and it helps him to focus on that for just a split second.

"So you got shafted," Kaneshiro mutters, running his eyes up and down Akira. "What happened?"

Akira takes another longer sip of his drink before he answers. "I was walking home one night. And I saw this drunk guy trying to push a woman into a car." He suddenly realizes that the story makes him out to be a good person, and he isn't sure that's the best thing for Kaneshiro to hear. "When I got closer," he says carefully, "I bumped into him. He fell and then told the police I assaulted him. The woman backed him up."

Kaneshiro throws back his head and laughs his deep, rumbling laugh. "She backed him up, huh? Must've been a scary guy. Or important. Sometimes they're the same thing, sometimes they're not."

Akira shrugs. "The judge didn't believe me. Here I am."

"Here you are," Kaneshiro says and gestures towards the toilet. "Puking your guts out. That seem fair to you?"

Fair? Akira thinks. "No, it doesn't."

"That's because it isn't," Kaneshiro says. "Life is never fair. People can be fair. But life never is. Everyone gets fucked. Every single one of us." Kaneshiro lets out a long sigh and sticks his hands in his pockets before rocking back and forth on his heels, almost as if he could barely contain his excitement. "So, the only thing you need to ask yourself, Akira Kurusu, is if you'll let that be your life story. Are you going to let the unfairness of life rule you? Are you going to let people control you? Or are you going to do something about it?"

Akira isn't sure what he's supposed to say to this. "I-"

But then, Kaneshiro takes his hands from his pockets and slaps them down on Akira's shoulders. Akira almost feels his legs give out under the pressure, but Kaneshiro just smiles.

"We're not too different," Kaneshiro tells him. "A long time ago, people used to screw me over. Now, it's a different story." His grin broadens. "Stick with me, kid." He nods as if having decided something. "I've got some places to be soon. I want you with me." He leans in and whispers, almost conspiratorially. "Soon enough, life will change.”

Chapter 60: Chapter 60

6/13

 

"Where's Akira?" Ann asks, stepping into the courtyard’s alcove. Ryuji shoves a piece of change into the vending machine and tries again when it rolls out of the rejected slot. "I dunno. He's in your class, ain't he?"

Ann shrugs. "Yeah, but he said he had to take care of something when the lunch bell rang. I figured he was trying to be secretive about going to the bathroom."

Ryuji grins and tries to force his change into the machine again. "That'd be hilarious. He tells you he's got some important group business to take care of, but he's really gotta take a dump."

"Gross," Ann says.

Ryuji frowns at her. "You said it!"

"Whatevs," Ann replies and sits on the bench. "Have you seen Haru at all?"

Ryuji shakes his head. "Nah. I thought she was taking the day?"

"I don't know," Ann replies. "She didn't stay with me last night. She moved home. I'm worried about her, though. She seems pretty shaken up."

Ryuji sighs and ultimately gives up on trying to get whatever is out of the vending machine, and backs up until he sits next to Ann on the bench. "We're all freaked out, Ann." He doesn't say what they're freaking out over, as it's obvious, but there's little else he can say. "I mean, there's not much we can do, right? Iwai cleaned up. Akira's working with the other guy." By ‘other guy,’ Ryuji meant Kaneshiro.

"I'm just trying hard to figure all this out," Ann replies, slumping a bit in her chair. "But it's too confusing."

"Well, yeah," Ryuji replies and pats her shoulder. "And you came to me to talk about it?"

Ann turns to face him, and seeing his wry grin brings a smile to her face. "Hey, I-"

"Sakamoto?" Comes a voice.

Ryuji and Ann look to spot Nakaoka standing at the alcove's entrance. Ryuji straightens a bit and stands up, moving in front of Ann.

"Whoa," Nakaoka says, raising his hands. "No, man. I'm not here for trouble or anything."

Ryuji visibly eases up, and his hands - which Ann hadn't realized had balled into fists - relax. "What's up, Nakaoka?" Ryuji asks.

At this, Nakaoka seems unsure of what to say. He opens his mouth and moves his lips, but no sound emerges, and suddenly his eyes dart everywhere but Ryuji's face. It's a solid amount of time before Nakaoka replies, but to his credit, Ryuji gives him that time. "I'm sorry," he finally says.

Ann knows enough about Ryuji to sense the shift in his posture, even if it doesn't look like much. There's a weight transference off his injured leg, and Ryuji stands all the straighter.

The two words act as some permission Nakaoka has given himself, and where initially, he couldn't bring himself to speak, now the words bubble up and out of him in a rush.

"I'm sorry, man. For all the crap we said about you. For all the crap I said about you. Calling you 'Track Traitor' and telling you you couldn't run at the school. That was bullshit, and it wasn't fair, and I'm sorry." Nakaoka taps the concrete of the alcove with his toe. "Kamoshida had it out for us right from the start and targeted you, but he might've done the same with any of us. We only gave you a hard time so that he wouldn't give us one. We should've stuck with you and helped you, but it was easier not to."

Ryuji rubs his head as Nakaoka takes a break from speaking. "Man, did the Phantom Thieves send you a Calling Card?" He asks. Ann feels her pulse quicken.

Nakaoka looks at Ryuji, confused. "Huh? No. I'm not... that's not why-"

Ryuji laughs. "Relax, man. I'm just messing with you. But what brought all this on?"

"Things were just starting with Coach Yamauchi, but it never felt right. Then, a little while ago, he just quit.”

Ryuji nods. “Yeah, I heard.”

Nakaoka spreads his hands. “And he did it with no explanation. Anyway, I guess the school panicked and hired a new guy. But then Ikeda-senpai showed up and said he'd help run things, too. So, the track team's back in action." Nakaoka frowns, and his cheeks color a bit. "And I wanted to say this stuff to you earlier, but I also wanted to wait a little to ensure the track team would stick around. And I think it's going to. We wanted to let you know that if you wanted to join the track team again, we'd like to have you."

Ann stiffens. She knew Ryuji missed the track team and the camaraderie it brought, but if he tried to mix that with the activities of the Phantom Thieves, it'd be-

"Thanks man, I appreciate it," Ryuji replies, grinning. "But I think I'm gonna pass."

"Really?" Both Ann and Nakaoka ask.

Ryuji nods. "I mean, yeah. The track team was great and all - when Kamoshida wasn't running it - but I've been all pissed about it for the last year, and I think I've got some other shit I've got to deal with before I think about joining any clubs or anything." Ryuji shrugs. "Maybe next year!"

Nakaoka nods. "Alright." He steps forward and sticks out a hand. "Good luck, Sakamoto."

Ryuji, with no hesitation, reaches out and grasps Nakaoka's hand. "You too, man. To all you guys."

Nakaoka stands there after the handshake for a few more moments as if waiting for something else to say or to be said, then he turns and quickly makes his way out of the alcove, leaving Ryuji and Ann alone.

"You okay?" Ann asks.

Ryuji turns and smiles at her. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, this was a big deal for you, yeah? The track team? Yamauchi? Kamoshida? Sounds like it's all working out now. And it's thanks to you."

Ryuji shrugs. "I had help, you know?" Ryuji sits down next to Ann and sighs. "Were you worried I was gonna join?"

Ann feigns a frown. "Only a little bit."

Ryuji chuckles and stretches out his legs. "Things are getting even crazier with us, Ann. I don't have the time to be joining the track team. And I meant what I said. I've got some stuff I want to work on, too. But, hearing that apology, it does feel good. In a way, I'm free of all that now."

Ann nods and smiles. "Hey, you want to come with me somewhere after school?" She asks.

Ryuji cocks his brow and stares at her. "Where?"

#

"And a lot of what I'm doing is stuff I didn't even realize I would need to," Shiho says.

Ryuji nods, a surprisingly thoughtful look on his face. "So like, head rolls, planks, and stuff?"

Shiho grins. "Yeah, exactly."

"Spine stuff is no joke, so they probably want to make sure you can use all of it," Ryuji nods. "But Ann said you're walking again?"

Shiho glances down at her hands. "A little. It's still hard."

Ryuji throws his hands wide but keeps his voice modulated. "But that's still great! That's, like, the hardest part!"

"Did you have to do that when you broke your leg?" Shiho asks.

"Well, I could still hop around on the other leg while my broken one was in the cast," Ryuji replies. "But I had awful balance, so I kept tripping up, and my Mom would have to pick me up in the hall whenever I'd try to get a snack from the kitchen, which was all the time."

Shiho giggles and Ryuji smiles in return.

Ann smiles and says, "I'll go get us something from the vending machines," and stands to leave. She hesitates, unsure if Shiho will be uncomfortable being alone with Ryuji. But Shiho smiles and nods, and Ryuji flashes her a thumbs up, so Ann steps out of the room and into the hall. She's pleased that the corridor is as lit as Shiho's room. Her friend has been doing much better mentally and physically lately, but she knows it could be temporary. Still, she's happy she brought Ryuji. When Ann had first concocted the plan to bring in her guy friends to assist with Shiho's rehabilitation, her gut had been to go with Akira. But Akira was always on edge and had been so since Sugimura's death. Ann knew there wasn't much she could do on either the Sugimura front or the Kaneshiro front, so she'd decided to use her free time to visit with Shiho. When Shiho had learned what the Phantom Thieves had done for Maki, it seemed to improve her condition somewhat, but Ann sensed she was ready for a bit more than just the same familiar face. Going with Ryuji had been a gamble, but as outrageous as the boy could be, he had surprised Ann with his maturity these last few weeks. Given his interest in exercise and physicality, she figured maybe Ryuji could talk about the injury in a non-clinical way. After all, they both had Kamoshida to thank for their trips to this hospital. She was happy that Shiho seemed open to the idea and that Ryuji seemed to put her at ease.

Ann quickly grabs a few drinks from the vending machine and returns to Shiho's room. She's surprised when she enters to find Maki in a chair alongside Shiho, grinning slyly at Ryuji. She glances up when Ann enters the room and says, "Oh, hey, Takamaki. Shiho was introducing me to Sakamoto here. You've mentioned him before, but never that he was this cute."

Ann can't see Ryuji's face from how he sits, but she does notice the extremely red neck he currently sports. You've got to be kidding me, she thinks. Ryuji only manages to stammer out a response with a few incoherent syllables.

Shiho smirks at Ann as she quickly hands out the drinks.

"Well," Ann says. "He's got a decent enough personality."

"I can tell," Maki says softly.

Ryuji's face is beet red.

"Okay," Ann says, clapping her hands. She hands the last drink to Maki and says, "We should do this again sometime." She wraps her fingers around Ryuji's shoulder and tries to yank him out of the chair. "We need to get some homework done, so we should get to that."

"We do?" Ryuji asks, but Ann glares at him in response.

"Thanks for coming by, Sakamoto," Shiho says, smiling warmly.

"Anytime," Ryuji replies as Ann hauls him out the door. "And good luck with everything!"

"See you around," Maki calls, and she and Shiho giggle as Ann closes the door.

She lets out a long groan as Ryuji asks, "What was that about?"

"N-nothing," Ann replies. "Let's go."

The two walk side by side toward the elevator. "Thanks for bringing me," Ryuji says. "It was good to see her and see how she's doing."

"Thanks for coming," Ann replies. "And for talking about her injury and your injury and everything. It helped her to know that someone else went through something similar, even if hers was way worse."

Ryuji nods. "You should bring Niijima by."

Ann frowns. “I’ve actually talked to her about it.”

Ryuji grins. “Really? That’s great. Wait, Niijima or Shiho?”

“Niijima,” Ann clarifies. “I haven’t brought it up to Shiho yet. I made a big show about doing it, but I haven’t been able to talk to Shiho about it.”

Ryuji shrugs. “We’ve had a lot to deal with the last few days, Ann.”

Ann nods, pushing the button on the elevator. “Yeah, I know. Still, I think I need to just ante up and do it.”

Ryuji nods, and the doors slide shut.

#

Sae sweeps into her apartment and finds Makoto waiting for her, sitting sentinel at the dining room table. Sae, at first, thinks nothing of her presence. It's late enough in the day that Makoto should be home, and the particulars of the Sugimura investigation occupy Sae’s mind. Only downstairs in her apartment's lobby had she given her marching orders to Kagawa to find and speak with Haru Okumura. Sugimura's phone records had come through and proved an interesting read.

But Makoto's stillness captures Sae's attention. Her flurry of steps slowly ends, and Sae meets her younger sister's eyes across the table. "What's wrong?" She finally asks. Somewhere buried deep within her, a stirring occurs that compels her to check in and ensure her sister is doing well. It's small, but there and at the stricken look on Makoto's face, Sae feels the flash of anger and understanding that accompanied the Kamoshida revelation rise again. She takes a step closer to her sister. "Makoto?"

"I wanted to ask you something," Makoto says. "I wanted to ask you yesterday, but you didn't come home and-" Makoto stops herself and clamps her eyes and mouth shut. Then she takes a deep breath and starts again. "I need to ask you something."

Sae nods, appreciating the effort Makoto took not to continue whining. "Alright. But I need to get back to the office. I only came by to collect a few things."

"I understand," Makoto says, and some rigidness leaves her once Sae pulls out a seat and sits across from her at the table. "Thank you." The air rushes out of her nose in a single push, sounding as though it might've been a laugh, and then Makoto says, "The man Dad was investigating when he died. Was his name Junya Kaneshiro?"

Sae's lips pull back, and wind whistles between her teeth as her intake of breath hisses. Her hands make their way onto the table, her fingers splayed out. Sae has not heard that name for some time, but it is ever-present. Its gravity captures her thoughts and intentions, setting a track for her life and mission's trajectory.

Junya Kaneshiro, Sae thinks, the words acid in her mind.

"Yes," Sae says. "Why do you ask?"

Makoto's shoulders hunch. Her usually practiced posture and poise are gone. "I've heard rumors around school," Makoto says. "They say there's a yakuza member recruiting students in Shibuya. I heard the name and remembered it from Dad's investigation."

Kaneshiro's back? The man vanished after Akihiko Niijima's death, banished to the countryside by the Dragon leader for some slight or other. But Sae never believed in that coincidence. A piece of the puzzle snaps into place, but from Sae's perspective, she puts them together in the dark. She can tell when she fits two together, but it's too dim to see what the actual picture represents.

One hand drifts into her bag and pulls out her phone. "They're talking about him at Shujin?" Sae asks. She hadn't seen his name on any of her subscribed RINE chats. Quickly, she texts Kagawa.

SAE : Junya Kaneshiro has possibly returned to Tokyo. Check with Vice and Organized Crime.

She drops her phone back into her bag. Even if Kagawa immediately looks into Kaneshiro, he may not hear from those groups for a few hours.

"There'd been some talk about gangs trying to recruit students, but I didn't think it was that serious. Now I'm not so sure," Makoto says.

Sae nods, eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling. "If it's Kaneshiro, you need to keep a distance from those he's looking to recruit. He's very dangerous."

"Right," Makoto says. "I wasn't planning on going near any of them. But I had to ask."

Sae sighs. She knows the weight of that name. "I understand."

"Sis?" Makoto asks, and Sae's heart pangs for the barest of instants.

"What?" Sae had been about to stand and retreat to her room. Hearing the name has ripped the scab off wounds.

"I, well, with Dad. When he died," she tries, and Sae does not want to dredge up those accompanying emotions.

She does not want to stand in that hallway again and stare at the men who told her the news. She does not want to remember her father charging into her school to find her; fear writ across his face because of the messages he'd received. She cannot face those anymore.

"Makoto, we can't-" Sae starts, but Makoto cuts her off.

"Wasn't it weird?" And Makoto stares at her now, her gaze drilling into Sae's own. For whatever reason, Makoto scrutinizes her, and Sae feels every twitch in her jaw, every jerk of her fingers under investigation. Calmly, she asks, "What do you mean?"

"Dad was investigating Kaneshiro," she says. "And they made all these threats, but then they stopped. And then he just randomly got hit by a truck? By a driver who swore he didn't do any drugs?"

Sae recalls Kagawa's reliance on Occam's Razor, and having the bones of her theory thrown back in her face makes her realize how nuts it all sounds. Yet, part of Sae Niijima thrums with pride at Makoto potentially making the connections herself. And her, without any help, alone at Shujin, while Sae had the backing of the SID.

Sae hears the dice roll within her head.

"Are you saying you think they're linked?" Sae asks.

Makoto shrugs. "I have no idea. But with everything happening in the city, it's hard not to be suspicious between the mental shutdowns, Kamoshida, and the Phantom Thieves, and everything. I don't know. It just freaks me out."

The dice stop. Sae's mind clears of the self-talk and the thoughts like kaleidoscopes. "Makoto," she whispers.

"Because no one knows how any of this is happening," Makoto says. "And three years ago is right around when the mental shutdowns started happening. And I just thought, why couldn't there be a reason? Maybe the man didn't do the drugs and-"

"Makoto," Sae says again, sharply.

Makoto stops talking.

Sae feels her lips quiver, but she ignores them. "Dad was murdered," she says.

Makoto watches her as though she doesn't understand. "By the driver. I know. But I'm saying that-"

"No," Sae snaps. For the first time in months, nothing is prefacing her communications. No decisions or scrutiny of what she intends to say. "I think Junya Kaneshiro murdered Dad by causing a mental shutdown in that driver."

Chapter 61: Chapter 61

6/14, and Akira bashes into LeBlanc. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him it's just after 1 AM. The need to sleep almost overpowers him, but instead, he shoves himself into the bathroom and begins to run his hands under the water. After a minute of staring at himself in the mirror, he yanks off his hoodie and drops it to the floor, followed by his shirt. Everything, even his pants, reeked of smoke. He begins to scrub himself down with the soap dispenser, grabbing hand towels and scratching at his skin.

He hears the soft patpatpat of Morgana descending from above and the cat's call from outside the door. "Akira?"

"Be right out," Akira calls almost automatically. His brain feeds responses based on input.

"What happened?" Morgana calls.

"Be right out," Akira repeats, sharper this time because can't Morgana ever give him some goddamn space?

Kaneshiro made good on his promise. When Akira had entered the hideout earlier that evening, Nanashi instructed him to change into some provided dark clothes and store whatever he wanted at the hideout. Akira knew better than to show up to Kaneshiro's with his Shujin uniform on, so it wasn't a big deal to leave his bag in a locker provided to him.

Akira waited with others in a room. He recognized no one from Shujin. Most were full-blown yakuza members Akira knew from brief introductions during the earlier days. There were a few kids, but they must not have attended Shujin because no one seemed to recognize or care about his presence. They waited there for hours, and though someone did ask why they were there, no one responded.

Nanashi arrived at one point and told everyone to get ready. One of the students asked, "Ready for what?" and Nanashi replied with a glare.

There must've been nine of them in total, and they were brought out into the parking garage and shuffled into two vans. In the one Akira entered sat Kaneshiro. He grinned at Akira but otherwise said nothing. They drove in silence, and Akira felt the pressure in the air. There were boxes in the backseat that jangled as the trucks drove, but no one said anything regarding their destination. Eventually, after driving a short while out of town to the point that the traffic died down, they came upon a construction site along the coast.

Akira caught a glimpse of one of the signs, promising a new hotel construction in the coming years.

Kaneshiro's grin broadened as they pulled to a stop outside the scaffolding and machinery. He got out, and everyone followed. The second van pulled up behind them a moment later, and the rest of the crew disembarked.

"This is pretty simple," Kaneshiro said and gestured to Muzaki, who pulled one of the cases from the truck and opened the lid. Inside were bottles stuffed with rags. Muzaki lifted one, took a lighter from his pocket, and set the rag on fire. Then, quickly, he tossed it into the scaffolding. A shatter and flame soon rose.

"Get to work," Kaneshiro said.

What followed next was five minutes of what felt like insanity. Yakuza members handed Akira and the others bottles, and those bottles were lit and thrown. Akira knew better than to protest, but when his first thrown bottle went deliberately wide of target, Nanashi slapped him on the back of the head and warned him not to let "the Boss see you do that." Akira quickly learned.

Everything was soon burning, and Akira expected that - any second - police and fire trucks would come racing down the road, but no one came. Instead, the fire grew, and Akira watched as Kaneshiro turned towards him, the inferno climbing behind him, and smiled. Even against those flames, Akira could see his teeth and met the cold gaze as Kaneshiro said, "Pretty great, huh?"

Akira finishes cleaning himself and relates the story to Morgana, who protests that things are getting too dangerous for Akira. Akira thought that a bit obvious, but exhaustion overcame him, and after throwing the stinking clothes in his hamper, he fell onto his bed and passed out.

He dreamed of his parents. They fought as they always did whenever his father returned.

"You left him," his father says.

Akira sprawls on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Even in the dream, he can hear the words come back to him.

"He was fine," his mother insists.

"He's six."

"And you're not here, so you don't get to judge!"

"You left him alone for a weekend, and he's six," his father shouts.

"I needed some time away, a break. You don't think I tried to find someone to watch him?"

"And so what? You couldn't find someone so you just shrugged your shoulders and said 'Fuck it' and went partying?"

"I work hard for him," Akira's mother snaps. "I deserve some time to myself. I'm not a robot who's just-"

There's a sound then, of flesh hitting flesh and a bang like something heavy landing on the floorboards—a long stretch of silence. Akira no longer lies on his bed but stands in the hall, staring at them.

Both stare at one another, and then both stare at him. Akira backs away, and words come from them, but in the dream, they no longer make any sense. A few questions seem to come, queries about Morgana, but Akira returns to his room.

Light punches through his eyelids, and Akira jerks awake in his bed. Only a faint tinge of smoke clings to him. Morgana peppers him with more questions as Akira rises to his feet. The memories of last night's firebombing return to him, but the dream sticks as well.

Akira wondered if things would be different with his mother if he'd said something at that moment. If he'd cursed his father for hitting his mother. But even at six, he'd begun to shrink from her, and just like in the dream, he'd backed away down the hall and left his mother and father to bicker and hit.

#

His back and shoulders ache. Morning class slithers along. Ann tries to talk to him, but his responses are grunts. A bell rings, and Akira stands, bows, and leaves. He washes his hands after using the bathroom and splashes water on his face.

"Well?"

Akira jumps at the voice. He turns to find Mishima standing next to him in the bathroom, sentinel above the other sink. "I don't," Akira says, then, "What?"

"A few more Mementos Requests have come in," Mishima says. "And I confirmed that Sakoda's Mom definitely left that Request."

"Why?"

"You asked me to," Mishima replies.

Akira looks around. They stand in the hall. He doesn't remember leaving the restroom. There are students everywhere, but none within earshot. "We shouldn't talk about this here."

Mishima's brows raise. "You told me to follow you and talk," he says.

"Uh-huh," Akira says. Then, "We shouldn't talk about this here."

Wind rips into his face. Akira stands on the roof. Ann and Ryuji flank him, both with arms crossed, worried looks scrawled on their faces.

Haru's hands grip one another. "They have the messages," she says. "The ones we sent Rin's phone."

"But we're fine because we used a burner," Ryuji replies. "Everything was sent from burners, which we broke."

Ann nods. "We figured they might find them."

"But he asked me about everything," Haru says.

"Who?" Akira asks.

All three focus on him. "Akira, are you alright?" Ann asks.

"That detective Mako-chan knows," Haru says. "Kagawa."

"He met with you?" Akira asks.

"He called me," Haru replies. "Said he wanted to talk to me about Sugimura and the messages he'd received. He remembered what Makoto said about Rin and me, and he saw that Sugimura took me to Kaneshiro."

"But he didn't," Akira says and shrugs. "Well, I guess he did, but you know..."

Haru's face twists into a frown. "'You know?' What're you talking about, Akira? This is serious."

"I'll talk with Iwai," Akira says. "About the burner phones. The one we sent the Calling Card. That was sent to another burner Sugimura saw. So they shouldn't be able to link that to Sugimura's phone and know we were involved. This is all expected, isn't it?"

"No," Makoto says. "It's not."

They stand in the alley outside Shujin, alone. A puddle has formed near a drain pipe, which Akira must've stepped in because the bottom of his pant leg is wet.

"Whoa, hold on," Akira says.

"I know you don't want to be talking about him when you aren't around him, but I need to tell you about Kaneshiro."

"I get it," Akira replies. "He's dangerous." A whiff of smoke shoots up his nostrils, and Akira rubs his nose.

"Sae and I spoke about this, Akira," Makoto says. Akira grips his head, and then he feels Makoto's hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" She asks. "You're swaying?"

"Fine," Akira grunts. "I just, can we talk about this some other time? I need to speak with Iwai right now." He raises his head until he's looking her in the eyes. "What you have to say to me is important to me, I promise. But I need to take care of something right now, alright?"

Makoto's mouth moves wordlessly, and then she sighs, shrugs, and says, "Okay then."

"Thank you," Akira replies, takes a step away from her, and turns and speeds down the alley towards Shibuya.

#

Morgana hops out of Ann's bag and shakes out his fur. The other Phantom Thieves, minus Akira, stand around the corner just outside Shibuya.

"Is Akira not coming?" Yusuke asks.

Haru shakes her head. "He said he had to go see Iwai about the phone. I think."

"Anyone else think Akira was acting weird today?" Ryuji asks.

Morgana sighs. "Absolutely. But it's not just today." He sums up the strange dreams Akira's been having of late and the odd, almost listlessness Akira possessed this morning prior to leaving. "He got involved with some firebombing last night with Kaneshiro. It's not exactly surprising that he's feeling pretty messed up right now."

Ann nods. "Yeah, but he was like a zombie today."

"Dude didn't get much sleep," Ryuji says, and nods at Morgana. "Right, Mona?"

Morgana nods. "That's true. And like I said, even when he does sleep, he gets terrible dreams. I don't know. I think we really need to take this Kaneshiro down soon. He's really messing with Akira, and Akira's got to go back tonight."

"The longer he stays, the more danger he's in," Yusuke points out. Everyone nods sagely, and Morgana reels at the fact that he basically said the same thing, and no one nodded. The group trots further into Shibuya, and Morgana stops.

He sits down on the concrete sidewalk.

"You okay?" Ann asks.

Morgana shakes his head. "That feeling. The one I get when there's a Palace nearby. I've been feeling it a lot in Shibuya lately, but it felt a little different."

Could it be?

"You guys wait here for a second," Morgana says, and before anyone can ask him anything, he shuts his eyes, focuses, and does the thing that allows him to enter the Metaverse.

Hard-packed dirt beneath his paws. The air smells dry and dusty. Morgana opens his eyes and finds himself upright in some vast, sun-baked desert. Not sandy but populated by sparse vegetation, laccoliths, and a smattering of what appears to be human habitation. Low-rise homes and shops spread out beneath his gaze, which reminded Morgana of some old western United States town from one of Akira's textbooks. What look like train tracks run through the desert, from horizon to horizon. When Morgana watches the figures moving within the limits of the town, it's apparent they are the blocky, black shapes of Shadows. "Oh boy," he mutters and forces himself out of the Metaverse.

The Phantom Thieves have formed a ring around the spot where Morgana disappeared, and he pops into the same place, hidden away from the eyes of the after-school pedestrians. "What was that all about?" Ann asks.

Morgana clears his throat and says, "There's a Palace here, and everywhere. It's all of Shibuya, I think. It's big enough."

"Seriously?" Ryuji asks.

Morgana nods. "I was confused because it felt like something else, but it's a Palace. There are dozens of other Palaces within Shibuya, but they're all centered in one location. This one doesn't have anything to do with those, but it stretches over a vast location, which I've never felt before."

"So, someone views Shibuya - as a whole - as their Palace?" Haru asks.

Morgana sees a large black shape move in the distance through the gap between Yusuke and Haru. He moves closer and squints. But when his eyes focus, he sees just ordinary people doing everyday things.

"Are you alright?" Yusuke asks.

"Yeah," Morgana mutters. "I'm fine. I just... thought I saw something. It was nothing."

#

Akira enters Untouchable and finds Iwai manning his post by the counter. "What're you doing here?" Iwai asks. Akira glances towards the back of the store and then back to Iwai, who shakes his head. "We're alone."

"Right," Akira says and leans against the counter. "Sorry," he says, unprompted. "Tired."

"I can tell," Iwai mutters. "Those circles under your eyes ain't doing you any favors. You were pale enough."

Akira wants to shout at Iwai that he's the one who got him involved with Kaneshiro, but he keeps his mouth shut. "Have you talked with Tsuda?" Akira asks. "About last night?"

"You present?" Iwai asks, after a quick nod. Akira responds in kind. At this, Iwai has the decency to look slightly ashamed. "Must've been tough. Sorry."

"Wanted to ask you about the messages to Sugimura," Akira says.

Iwai sits up straighter. "Oh?"

"A detective reached out to Haru and asked her about the messages we sent from the first burner."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Iwai says. "The burner phone is out of commission, and they didn't see the others from the additional phones, so I think you're fine."

"And the warehouse?"

"I cleaned up," Iwai says, and shrugs. "But yeah, it's almost impossible to do a thorough job at that. Plus, there's the knife the driver slashed me with. It might have my blood on it. If they run it for DNA, it'll come back with a hit."

Akira straightens. "And isn't that a problem?"

"Sure," Iwai replies. "But it may take a while to get that. It ain't like TV shows where folks get DNA back by the end of the episode. Plus, there'll be a little deterioration since it was in the Bay. I'm not saying it won't ever come back, but hopefully, by that point, you'll have Kaneshiro confess, and that'll wrap things up."

Akira nods. "You think the police will be satisfied with that?"

"Known gangster kills a politician’s son? Sure they will. It'll wrap things up nicely, never mind the method."

Akira wants to tell Iwai that he doesn't know how it can go that smoothly, but he knows from his own experience that people will believe anything if the process ends swiftly and the perception of justice is served. "But we don't even know what Kaneshiro's Palace is yet or where it is."

"That's not my department," Iwai says, and just then the door opens.

A portly man in a suit and tie steps inside and raises his hand to show a police badge. "Munehisa Iwai?" He asks.

Iwai nods and says to Akira, "When it's in stock, I'll shoot you an email." Akira nods and steps deeper into the store, keeping his eyes on the airsoft guns. The cop - who must be a detective - steps up to the counter, and Akira eyes the door to ensure no further police are present. He sees none.

"My name is Hidetoshi Kagawa. I'm a detective with the MET," the man says, and Akira stiffens. That's the name of the man Makoto spoke to—the same detective who called Haru and asked about the Sugimura messages. Akira prepares to bolt, though he doesn't know what good it'll do. If they're here, they must know something.

"Uh huh," Iwai says, crossing his arms. "What'd you want?"

"I was hoping you might answer some questions about a former colleague of yours. Junya Kaneshiro?"

Iwai nods. "Yeah, I know him."

"Rumors are he's back in town."

Iwai shrugs. "Wouldn't know anything about that. There's always rumors going around about him."

Kagawa sticks his hands in his pockets. "There are rumors about you too. Say you left to take care of some orphan kid. Some say you're the reason the kid's an orphan."

"If all the rumors say I'm out, what makes you think I'd know anything?" Iwai asks, apparently unfazed. Akira files those nuggets away for later.

"Because you were a heavy hitter for the Dragon back in the day. And if Kaneshiro really was trying to make a comeback, I figure he'd try to rope in some of the old-timers. Did you hear about the fire outside the city last night?"

Iwai shakes his head. "Don't watch much news."

"Owned by one of the sub-factions of the Dragon. Big investment project. Now it's months behind, if not canceled. A lot of money, up in smoke."

"Point being?"

"Word is Kaneshiro's behind it. Which means the Dragon civil war has already started."

Iwai allowed himself a faint smirk. "If the Dragon really were fighting amongst themselves, you wouldn't have to speculate. It'd be clear as fucking day."

Kagawa nods and is silent for a moment. "So, no one from the Dragon has spoken to you?"

Iwai shakes his head. "An old buddy of mine, Akimitsu Tsuda, swung by a few weeks ago. As far as I know, he's still working with the Dragon. But we just shot the shit. Beyond that, no one's come knocking. Save for the customers, and now, you. Oh, and a few of your compatriots who used to scope out the front of my store, hoping to catch me doing something illicit."

Kagawa chuckles. "You made those guys, huh?"

"Vice boys always got that wanna-be street look, even when they're plainclothes and wearing suits. It's not hard to figure it out."

"I'll be sure to pass that on," Kagawa says. "Maybe they'll update their wardrobe. Thank you for your service."

Iwai barks out a quick laugh. "Just doing my civic duty."

Kagawa's face turns serious. "You were in the Dragon, so you know Junya Kaneshiro. You know he's dangerous, even by yakuza standards. For the sake of this town, and your boy, and even your customers, if you hear anything, please let us know."

Iwai frowns, but nods. At this, Kagawa turns and heads to the door. When he spots Akira, he stops and asks, "Excuse me, young man. Is that a Shujin uniform?"

Akira nods. "Uh, yeah."

Kagawa stares at him for a moment, then says, "Okay, then." He walks out the door.

Akira waits a few moments before rejoining Iwai at the counter. "Why'd you tell him about Tsuda?"

"Because if they've been watching, then they know Tsuda's been here, and I don't want to get caught in any lie. If they go to Tsuda and mention this to him, he'll say the same thing. Sometimes, kid, it's worth it to give them something that costs you nothing, if only to get them off your back."

Akira peers out the shop's window and sees the bulky detective turn the corner.

#

Akira stands in the parking garage beneath Kaneshiro's hideout. A flurry of activity as men load vans and drive out into the neon Tokyo night. He stands, as instructed, alongside Nanashi and Muzaki and a few others of Kaneshiro's inner circle. The door to the hideout swings open, and Kaneshiro emerges, a big black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He motions for them to follow, and the group silently steers themselves towards an empty van. Akira has been given no further instruction aside from "Listen and obey."

Muzaki climbs into the driver's seat, and Nanashi hops into the passenger's. Kaneshiro gets into the back with Akira and slaps Akira on his shoulder but says nothing. A few of the other yakuza get into the van with them while the remainder gets into a car parked a few spaces away.

Muzaki turns the ignition, and over the speakers a voice screams, “ALL ABOARDDDDD AH HA HA HA,” in English, followed by a bassline even Akira knew. He glances at Kaneshiro, who grins broadly and starts to nod his head to the beat. Then, they are driving out of the garage.

#

Makoto finds Haru at Rafflesia.

Haru's smile is genuine, but worn. Makoto knows and feels a now familiar pang. She wants to support Haru, to help her through and to process Sugimura's demise, but her mind spins with Sae's admittance. "Are you alright?" Haru asks, and Makoto feels her stomach churn.

"I need to talk with you," Makoto says. "And I'm sorry to do it at work, but I know Akira's not here, and I don't know who else to talk to about this."

Haru nods, bless her, and tells her manager she'll be taking a quick break. Then, the two of them step away from the crowd of people deeper into the Shibuya Underground. "What's up?" Haru asks.

Makoto takes a deep breath. "I need to tell you about Kaneshiro." And she begins to speak about her father's suspected murderer.

#

They drive through the winding streets of Tokyo. No one says anything as they go, and Kaneshiro stares out the window, regarding the various people who move and cross the street. The second car follows them close behind, but they obey all the traffic laws as they head to their destination.

Akira's exhausted mind runs pointless scenarios. Another firebombing? What's Kaneshiro got in the bag? Do they know I'm a Phantom Thief? No answers present themselves.

Eventually, the cars turn into an alley and come to a stop a short distance away from the street. Kaneshiro looks at his two men in the front and nods. Nanashi gets out and motions towards the second car. Four men get out of that car, armed with bats and batons, and as one, they dash through a side door into a small building.

Akira's eyes widen, but Kaneshiro and Muzaki say nothing. The car is soundproofed, so he can't hear what's going on inside, but he can imagine so much.

#

"And your sister believes this?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods, and then shrugs. "I... I think? I brought it up because of what Ohya said about Daiki Aoe, and I couldn't help but remember how strange it seemed that the driver of the truck that hit my father said more or less the same thing. I said it to Sae just as a way to get it off my chest. I didn't think she'd agree with me and have an entire theory!"

Haru sighs. "This does seem to line up with what we suspect. That Kaneshiro knows, somehow, how to trigger a mental shutdown. Which would mean he's got some link to the Metaverse."

"And that this has all been going on for a long time. Three years, at least," Makoto says. She shakes her head and leans against the wall. "I don't know, Haru. I can't stop thinking about all this. And I can't even do anything. The Phantom Thieves can infiltrate his Palace. Sae can run an investigation. But I'm just... here. Doing nothing."

Haru frowns. "But you told us this, didn't you? You brought this information from Sae to us. And now we know it, too. That's not nothing, Mako-chan. We can use this."

"How?" Makoto asks.

"I-I'm not sure yet. But this is still huge, Makoto. That your sister thinks this too, it's... well, it's important."

Makoto nods but says nothing. She couldn't help but feel that Haru was trying to placate her, to make her feel that the information was valuable to the Phantom Thieves, but that's not what Makoto was looking for. Not really.

#

Time passes, and in the stillness, Akira feels himself flush. He can sense it, smell it, almost. The violence. The brutality. This is not something he wants to be a part of. This is not something he should be here for. His eyes drift towards the black duffle bag Kaneshiro holds in his lap.

The door to the building opens, and Nanashi steps out. He wears a grin and waves to Kaneshiro, who chuckles, throws open the door, and steps out. "Come on, Akira," he says. Akira opens his door and slides out. Muzaki doesn't shift and nods to Kaneshiro as he heads inside.

Akira follows, and finds himself in a kitchen. He sees no staff, but there's an oven and sinks and stainless steel everything, the things he usually associates with a busy restaurant. He walks through it and eventually emerges into a bar, not unlike Crossroads. The decor is different, with more wood and tablecloths and less red and dim light, but from his time working there, he recognizes it for what it is.

In the center of the room, members of Kaneshiro's gang surround a man tied to a chair. A horribly familiar sensation creeps into Akira's spine.

"What the fuck is this?" The man yells, looking from one person to another. His back is to them as they've emerged behind him. "You're all dead, you understand that? I'm with the Dragon. The Boss isn't going to let this stand. I'll-"

"Kai-san," Kaneshiro intones. "It's good to see you."

The man in the chair freezes. "K-Kaneshiro? Is that you?"

Kaneshiro walks around until he's facing the man. Akira slinks up towards the wall, trying to remain out of sight. He can see the profile now. The man tied down is older, his lip split. A goatee surrounds his mouth, and he's well-dressed in a tan suit and tie.

"What is this?" Kai asks. "Tell these goons to untie me."

"I'm not going to do that, Kai," Kaneshiro says. "And I think you know why."

Kai stares up at him for a time, then the edges of his mouth curve upward. "This is it then? All out in the open?"

Kaneshiro doesn’t reply.

"The Boss didn't want to believe you'd turn on him, but I always knew better. I always figured you for a massive little shit-heeled traitor. That was you last night, wasn't it?"

"I'm not the traitor," Kaneshiro replies. He takes a step towards Kai.

"Think about this, for God's sake. Do you really think this will work? The Dragon's strong, Kaneshiro. Your little group won't survive against it in the long run. Hell, you won't survive in the short run. Untie me, let me up, and I can help you smooth this out with the Boss."

Kaneshiro hunches over until he's eye level with Kai. "The Boss can't do shit against me, or he would have by now."

Kai rolls his eyes, but he doesn't look so sure anymore. "Bullshit. I know the rumors. That you can make people die. That you've got protections. Well, if that's true, why are you here? Why didn't you just use these special, secret powers of yours to finish me off?" Kai nods towards the other men in the room. "Why burst in here and bust me up in the first place? Why tie me down, if you're so powerful?"

Akira looks around. Nanashi's face never changes, but he catches a few glimpses from Kaneshiro's other followers. They glance at one another with worried expressions.

#

"But even so," Haru says. "This just makes Kaneshiro much more dangerous than an ordinary gangster."

Makoto nods. "And I find it hard to believe that a gangster would just know how to access the Metaverse, or that he stumbled upon it one day. Why would there be such a schism within the Dragon? Why couldn't Kaneshiro wipe them all out?"

Haru sticks her hands in her pockets. "Maybe he can't. Maybe someone else is doing it for him. Regardless, this means we need to infiltrate the Palace and change his heart fast. We need to get Akira out of that group."

#

"Where would the fun in that be?" Kaneshiro asks. "I can do many things, and one of those is get my hands dirty. You can't rely on other people in life. You have to rely on yourself." He chuckles. "Look at you now. You relied on the Boss. Thought he'd protect you forever. But that's not the case, is it?"

Kaneshiro drops the duffle bag to the ground and kneels. He unzips it, and Akira watches as he pulls free a power drill.

"All you following this bastard," Kai calls. "You know he's insane, right? He swore an oath. You all swore oaths! If you let him do this, you're all dead. The Dragon will find you all and burn you alive."

Kaneshiro flicks a switch and pulls the trigger on the drill. The noise slices through the air. "I am the Dragon," Kaneshiro tells him, and begins to walk around behind him.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Kai shouts. "Think about it. You want things to change. That's fine. Others want things to change too. You shouldn't think you're the only one who disapproves of the Boss's plan. I can take things to him for you. I can arrange a sit-down. We can talk things through and find a kind of middle ground. This doesn't have to end in violence."

Kaneshiro doesn't reply.

"I can be your messenger!" Kai screams.

Kaneshiro rests a hand on Kai's shoulder and angles the drill towards the man's skull. "You're not my messenger. You're my message."

Then, he drills into the man's head.

Chapter 62: Chapter 62

Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!

Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

 

Exit Interview – V.

Sae's bloodless face stares at Akira's bruised one. The tip of her pen hovers just above the paper, the nearly imperceptible tremor in her hand dashing shallow marks upon the page. "You saw that?" She asks, almost a whisper. "You saw Junya Kaneshiro kill someone?"

Akira nods, and the memory lurches through his mind, the procession a silent movie. The blood oozed from the hole, the thin streaks tattooing Kaneshiro's face, hands, and shirt. The heavy silence of those men present, who never believed Kaneshiro would go this far, who'd been sure this 'war' began and ended with the firebombing. A war? Who went to war anymore? Only the aged gangsters in retirement communities, detention centers, and graves recalled those bloody days.

The return to Kaneshiro's hideout. The evacuation. The late-night trek home to LeBlanc. Akira's vomit on the stones of Yongen-jaya, his bile seeping into the cracks, trapped.

Akira's father remains silent.

Arsene’s black wings beat their slow rhythm, but no voice stretches into Akira's mind.

Sae straightens by a fraction and sets the pen on the table. "Do you know what Kaneshiro did to me?"

"Makoto told me," Akira says. His throat feels constricted, glazed with something. "I'm sorry about your father."

Sae reaches up and, with two fingers, rubs a small spot in the crook of her neck in tiny circles. "Right before I graduated from Shujin, our soccer club played in the regional qualifier."

"What position did you play? Striker?"

"Defensive midfielder, actually," Sae replies. Akira almost scoffs. "In the middle of the game, my father sprints onto the field. The referees blow their whistles, and the other parents scream at him. Even the players and my coach yelled. My father grabbed my arm and physically dragged me off the field. At that moment, I hated him. He embarrassed me in front of my school, my teammates, even the other team, and parents. Shujin lost.

"It was only much later, after I became a prosecutor, that I learned the truth behind that story. Members of my father's old unit explained it. Someone had approached my father in the bleachers—someone who worked for the Dragon. My father naturally thought he was another parent. The man struck up a conversation, and my father pointed me out and said, 'That's my daughter.' My father asked the man who his daughter was. The man smiled and said, 'I don't have kids,' and so my father asked him what he was doing at a high school girl's soccer match. The man replied, 'I'm here to tell you that I'm going to break your daughter's legs if you don't stop investigating the Dragon.' That's when my father ran onto the field."

Sae's head lowers, and she stays silent. The dull, ambient hum of the building becomes their only company. "Makoto was sitting next to him in the stands," Sae whispers. "She never heard any of this, thank God." Sae straightens. "Members of the Dragon officially apologized to my father, if you can believe that. They said the man had acted on his own, and he and his entire branch had been reprimanded severely for threatening a cop's child."

"Was it Kaneshiro?" Akira asks.

Sae shakes her head. "No, it was one of his lieutenants."

"Nanashi," Akira mutters, and Sae's nods. It wasn't hard to imagine that man doing something of that magnitude on Kaneshiro's orders." She clears her throat and adjusts her chair. "If Kaneshiro possessed a Palace, that would explain the insanity necessary to start a bloody fight with his organization." Then, she asks, "Are you close with your parents?"

Akira's eyes flicker to his father, standing in the corner. He holds a fresh cigarette to his lips. "No," Akira says. "But sometimes I wish I were."

Sae nods as if the answer confirms some suspicion. "I see. So you were... foisted onto Kaneshiro. And fortunately for you, it turned out he had a Palace. And this Palace extended over all Shibuya?"

Akira nods. "Yes. We..." Akira's voice falters. "I'm sorry. It's just... I don't know." He glances at Sae, his vision hazy.

"What's wrong?" Sae asks.

"It's crazy," Akira whispers. "It's all completely crazy. But the worst part is that he liked me. He was a monster, but he liked me."

#

6/15

 

Makoto seizes Akira by his uniform's lapels and drags him into the Student Council room. She shuts the door behind them and knows Haru stands guard without.

"We need to talk," Makoto says.

Akira's nod inspires little confidence. "I know. But I can't right now. I need to-"

"Junya Kaneshiro killed my father," Makoto snaps.

Akira focuses, then. His eyes widen, pupils dilate. His mouth hangs open by a fraction, and softly, he backpedals until he collapses into one of the empty chairs jutting out from the central table.

"I tried to talk to you about this yesterday," Makoto says.

"I'm sorry," Akira replies and rubs his temples with one hand before frowning and straightening. "But when? How?"

Makoto tells Akira the story of Detective Akihiko Niijima and how he raised Makoto and Sae after their mother passed away years and years before. She tells Akira how he always made time for them despite the demands of his job. She explains he investigated the Dragon Syndicate and one up-and-comer within their ranks, Junya Kaneshiro. Makoto explains the truck, the suspicions she shared with Sae, and what her sister said.

Makoto's mind, having worked hard to suppress these thoughts and memories for the last three years, reels at their sudden flood. Her voice breaks more than once, but she retains her demeanor throughout. She does allow herself to flop into the chair alongside Akira, as the story saps the energy from her legs.

"Three years ago," Akira mutters, once finished. "That's roughly the time the mental shutdowns began." He crosses his arms and asks, "Why would they only get rid of your father, then?" He twists about in the chair and rests his elbows on the hardwood table. "There's something we don't understand about the process. Hell, we don't understand the process at all." He swivels his head to face Makoto and says, "I'm sorry to hear all of that, but you do know we can't say for sure that Kaneshiro killed your father."

"Normally, I'd agree," Makoto says. "But there's too many coincidences. And Sae's looking into him, too. If Kaneshiro's guilty..." She trails off, and Akira grunts in reply.

"Alright," Akira says, and pushes himself to his feet. "Thanks for telling me. I'll see what I can find out. If we infiltrate his Palace, we might be able to get the info out of his Shadow. Then, we can get him to confess in the real world."

Makoto waits for more, but when Akira says nothing and looks at her in expectation, she says, "That's it?"

Akira blinks and is silent for a moment before saying, "What else do you want?" Then he sighs and shuts his eyes. "Right, of course. I'm sorry about your Dad. We may not know for certain if Kaneshiro's responsible, but if he is, we'll get it out of him."

Makoto shakes her head. "No, that's not... Akira, let me help you with this. Sae's investigating this. If I could get her to tell me more about the investigation, I could pass that information on to you. It could help with your search for-"

"No," Akira says. "That's too dangerous. If Sae catches on to what you're doing, it'll compromise us."

"But she's already spoken with me about it," Makoto says, standing. "It was the closest we felt in weeks. Why not let me-"

"Don't do it," Akira snaps, the edges of his mouth twisting down.

Makoto takes a step back, and Akira's shoulders seem to deflate. He turns towards the door. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I've just been on edge. Lots of things are happening, you know?"

Akira starts to walk, but Makoto stalks past him and holds out a hand. He walks into it, but Makoto pressures his chest, and Akira halts. "What is going on with you?" Makoto asks, glaring. "I know things must be terrible, working with Kaneshiro, but surely you can-"

Akira raises a fist to his mouth and coughs then backs away from Makoto and takes a few deep breaths.

"Akira?" Makoto asks, walking up behind him and placing a hand on his back. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick? Should I get the nurse?"

"No," Akira replies, in what almost sounds like a laugh. "No, sorry. I just felt a little nauseous for a second." He clears his throat and looks at Makoto. "Keep this between us, yeah?" Makoto nods. "Last night, I saw Kaneshiro kill someone."

"What?" Makoto nearly screams.

Akira follows up with an annotated version of the previous night's events. Makoto feels frozen by the inaction his story stokes in her, while her mind desperately begs her to provide something for Akira, something to ease his burden.

When he finishes, all she can think to say is, "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Akira replies. He steps around her and moves for the door.

"Come forward," Makoto says, suddenly, without thinking. "Tell Sae what you saw."

Akira barks out a genuine laugh this time and turns his sudden and reddened face towards her. "Have you listened to anything I've said since I got to this school?"

Makoto has no response, and Akira leaves the room.

#

"Akira," Ann calls. Akira pretends to ignore her, but her voice carries, and now other students have relocated their attention.

Ann attempted to speak with Akira during class, but time afforded little space to communicate. Now, Akira sets himself towards his tasks. He'd spotted Makoto speaking with Ann and Ryuji during lunch. He knows what Ann wishes to discuss.

Mishima approaches Akira from ahead. Akira places a hand on Mishima's shoulder and whispers, "Could you give Ann a breakdown of those Requests for me?" Then, he hurries past Mishima and into the crowd of people.

He manages to exit Shujin before Ann catches him. "Stop," she snaps, and Akira feels the words remove all choice.

Ann jogs down the steps and gestures to the alley across the street. Once within its shadow, she whirls on him and says, "Sending Mishima to intercept me? Really?"

Akira shrugs. "What'd Makoto tell you?"

"She told us what you told her. And I'm generally in favor of being mad at Niijima, but you better not be. She thought you were going to tell her some personal secret. Not that you witnessed a murder!" Akira remains silent. He tracks the logic, though he wishes he didn't. "Did you really see that?" Ann asks.

"Yeah."

"Okay." She shakes her head. "Then stop going to Kaneshiro's group. Drop the Dragon Syndicate. We'll find his Palace another way and stop him. Quit."

Akira smiles. "I can't just do that, Ann."

"Why not?"

"Kaneshiro has his eyes on me. The Syndicate members know my face. The Shujin kids that work for them know who I am. They'd find me at LeBlanc. I'd have to leave Tokyo, and even if I did, I've got no place to go."

"Akira," Ann says, quickly. "You're acting just like before. Why didn't you tell us right away? Why'd I have to hear about this from Niijima, of all people? I don't want to go back to fighting with you, but you can't take down the Syndicate by yourself. You need our help, and we can't help if you don't tell us what's going on."

"There's no fallback plan here, Ann. There's nowhere for me to-"

"What? Hide?" Ann asks. "What are you even talking about? You've got me. Ryuji. Yusuke's dorm. Hell, even Haru is back home now. I'm sure she's got some vacation home you can hang at or something."

"And I'm sure your parents would appreciate me staying with you. The Shujin students know I'm friends with Ryuji. Yusuke might work, but how long could I crash in his dorm room without someone catching on?" Ann frowns at him. "Okay, I'll ask Haru about it."

Ann spreads her arms and sighs. "I feel like you always think there are no options, but there are. We're with you on this, Akira. We'll help protect you if that's what you need."

Akira bites back a retort and forces a smile to his face. "Thanks, Ann. I mean that. But I've got to get going. I need to ask Iwai something."

"Want some company?"

Akira shakes his head. "I'll be alright."

Ann sighs. "Alright. Text me later, so that I know you're okay."

"I will."

#

"Akihiko Niijima?" Iwai asks. Akira nods. "And he was a detective up to about three years ago?"

"That's right," Akira replies.

Iwai shrugs. "That was after my time. You might want to ask Tsuda about him, though. He's one of the old-timers. If this guy was investigating the Dragon, Tsuda would likely know him."

"Thanks," Akira mumbles and turns for the door.

"You alright, kid?" Iwai asks.

"Just fine," Akira manages.

#

"We've heard about what you did," Crow says. The wind whips and dust and dirt clog the pores of his exposed skin.

"Kaneshiro's Shadow turns from the horizon. "And?"

"This war was already reckless when it involved the destruction of property and street fights," Crow replies. His jaw tightens as he bites down on his distaste for the man. Cordial, was how he'd been instructed to speak. "But now you've escalated it into human casualties."

"That's how wars work, kid," Kaneshiro snaps. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants. His razor teeth gleam in the perpetual afternoon sun. "Since the very beginning."

"The full force of the Dragon will come at you now," Crow counters. "They have to. Things will get messier, and that will impact our plans. We need a resolution."

Kaneshiro crosses his arms. "Then resolve it."

"Excuse me?"

"Kill them," Kaneshiro replies. "Leak their brains out of their eyes, or whatever it is you people do. Take out the Dragon's leadership, and the war ends."

"That's," Crow starts, and recalls his position. "That's not a reasonable course of action."

Kaneshiro's grin splits his face. "I'm your link to the underworld. I lean on law enforcement in ways your power players can't. I take your money and clean it so you can buy what you need. People who you don't want to talk with your bosses can talk to me. It's better for all of us if this war ends, just like you said. So end it."

Crow stares at Kaneshiro. "You planned this from the start," he says, and even as his mind tells him to watch his tongue, he can't help but be impressed by the audacity. "Ever since we showed you what we could do."

"You give me too much credit," Kaneshiro replies, and shrugs. "It took a few weeks. After you handled that detective for me and made your offer."

Three years to plan.

Three years to become a linchpin for Crow's group.

Three years to bide time and then force the group's hand.

Crow thinks of a counter to Kaneshiro, but as he opens his mouth, the Shadow raises his arms. He taps his wrist, where a watch might sit, and says, "Tick tock."

Crow remains silent. Kaneshiro wasn't the only game in town. They could take him out and do business with the remainder of the Dragon or even one of the other groups. But it had taken three years to get to this point. They had no time to bring another player up to speed.

Kaneshiro timed his war perfectly.

"I'll relay your Request," Crow replies. "In the meantime, please do your best to keep collateral damage to a minimum."

"I'll see what I can do," Kaneshiro says, then turns back to the sun.

Crow bows, though Kaneshiro does not see it. Genuine respect mixed with hatred.

Crow waits for the train to stop.

#

Mona scurries through the desert. He's searched this expanse for some time now but cannot determine to whom this Shibuya-sized Palace belongs.

Akira's witnessing of a murder frayed the boy's nerves. It didn't do to have a massive Palace only a single train stop from where they lived. Mona wasn't convinced the size of the Palace correlated to the extent of the ruler's craziness, but he refused to leave anything to chance. He'd rather seek out Kaneshiro's Palace, but with no information to go on, that was a fool's task.

Mona continues toward another small collection of buildings. Two storied-dilapidated shacks, they're constructed haphazardly with no real layout save for their general proximity to one another. He hasn't explored this section yet. Maybe a clue to the Palace's owner could be found within.

As Mona approaches the train tracks, the ground begins to vibrate. Seconds pass, and the sensation expands until a faint melody begins to accompany the shaking. Before Mona can react, a massive train rockets from around a laccolith. A great steel construct, Mona counts some twenty-five cars, all fortified with small windows, turrets, and strange platforms lining the roofs. A song Mona somewhat recognized blared from speakers he couldn't see. It was something about trains and them being crazy, but the words were in English.

The monstrosity's wheels braked, and a screech heaved through the air, putting Mona in mind of the steel meeting stone explosion of the train crash from not too long ago.

"Okay," Mona mutters, crouched amongst a small outcropping of rocks. "This is definitely a major part of the Palace."

Sure, this whole landscape was a Palace, but this was where the Treasure sat. Where before it pinged in the back of Mona's mind with a kind of fluid vagueness, now it seemed to squeeze his brain like a migraine. One of those train cars housed the Treasure.

The door to one of the carriages opened, and metal steps expanded out and touched the ground. A slim black figure descends and steps onto the dirt.

A new type of Shadow, then. Covered in black, save for some space where its facemask resides. It doesn't resemble the typical Shadow mask. Once its passenger has disembarked, the train roars off. Mona waits in the silence that follows and watches the Shadow.

It begins to walk away from the train tracks, moves its arm in a startingly familiar way, and then disappears. Mona frowned, staring at the spot the figure had only just occupied.

Something about it bothers him, but Mona's seen enough strange types of Shadows not to question this one further.

So, some train-theme, Mona thinks. It didn't reveal the Palace's owner, but it was still a helpful bit of information. Mona decides to head back to the real world for the day.

#

Kaneshiro's instructions to remain low profile saw Akira drift through the backstreets of Shibuya, bathed in their neon glow. Nanashi provided additional locations to rendezvous, but a night away from the Kaneshiro's Dragon fell within the man's instructions and saw Akira stay away.

He trudges the streets, shoelaces dragging through the occasional puddle, the lights of Central coloring his clothes in kaleidoscopic hues.

Kaneshiro might've killed Makoto's Dad, Akira thinks. As someone uncomfortable discussing his own family, he rarely brings up the subject of someone else's. All he'd really known about Makoto involved her sister, a person Akira didn't wish to think about. That there'd been no mention of a mother or father hadn't suggested anything to him.

Akira drags his feet past an alley and hears sounds from within. A voice rushes from the dark, and though the words escape Akira, he recognizes Sakoda.

Fighting the urge not to give a shit, Akira turns and approaches the voices. A small collection of students, the bullying ring mentioned by Daisuke all those weeks ago, and under the sway of the Dragon, stand further in the shadows. All surround a young boy. Akira recognizes the boy's face and feels his breath quicken. The small child from Akihabara, from that trip with Mishima - the one who'd scammed him - cowers in the center of the ring of yakuza wannabes.

The boy holds his hands up in front of him, placatingly. "I didn't do nothing," he says.

"Bullshit," Sakoda snaps, grinning. "You thought you could rip us off? Matsuko saw you pickpocketing back there. Don't you know who you're messing with?"

"Look, I'm sorry," the boy says. "I didn't mean anything by it. Just let me go, okay?"

"We're with the Dragon," Sakoda barks, and Akira seizes the slip to clear his throat.

The group of teenagers turns to regard him. Sakoda frowns. "What is it, Kurusu?" He asks. His voice halts and forces the bravado. Evidently, he recalls the beatdown. A light bruise colors the top of his cheek beneath his right eye.

"What're you doing?" Akira asks.

Sakoda sticks his thumb toward the boy. "This kid was rip-"

"No," Akira says, and steps closer. Sakoda takes a step back. "You know what happened last night?" Sakoda's throat hitches, then swallows, and he nods. "Then you know we're supposed to be keeping a low profile. Why are you talking about who you're with?"

Sakoda curses beneath his breath and covers with, "Yeah, but-"

"Leave him to me," Akira says. He steps into the small circle and faces the young man. "Remember me? From the arcade in Akihabara?"

The boy's face pales. "Shit."

"Yeah," Akira says. "Shit." He reaches out and seizes the boy by the shoulder, making a display to jostle him a bit. To Sakoda, he asks, "Does he have any of your money?"

"No," Sakoda says.

"Does he have anyone else's money?" Akira asks. The rest of the young men shake their heads and offer monosyllable negative replies. "Good. I'll take care of him, then." And without another word, Akira drags the boy out of the circle and marches him down the alley.

The boy's eyes widen and his lip quivers as he stammers, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know who you guys were. I wouldn't have done it if-"

Akira releases the boy's shoulder and offers him a soft pat. "Relax, kid. It's okay. I won't hurt you or anything. I just had to say something to get you away from those guys."

"Huh?" The boy asks. "I thought you were their leader or something?"

"I'm not," Akira replies, then sighs. "It's a little complicated. But if you want to stay safe, I suggest you not scam people around Shibuya for a while."

"So, you're like, not mad or anything?"

Akira chuckles. "I'm not happy you scammed me, but it's not the end of the world. Honestly, I was impressed. What's your name?"

"Shinya Oda," the boy replies.

"Akira Kurusu," Akira replies. "It's nice to meet you." They walk for another block before stopping. "You should head home now. And like I said, don't bother with Shibuya. It's getting dangerous here. Stick to Akihabara."

"Are you really with the Dragon Syndicate?" Shinya asks.

Akira shrugs. "Let's not worry about that. Don't let idiots like Sakoda convince you of things." Akira shifts his weight to leave, but Shinya suddenly stands before him.

"Hey, uh, would it be cool if I hung with you for a bit?" Shinya asks. Akira opens his mouth to reply, but the boy continues before he says anything, "I don't really want to go home right now."

Akira stares at him for a moment, then says, "Sure. Why not? In exchange, I want you to walk me through your process for ripping people off at arcades."

Shinya's face brightens with a smile. "Sure," he says. "No problem!"

#

Morgana drags himself through the window and plots down on Akira's bed.

"You're home late," Akira says. Shinya accompanied Akira back to LeBlanc, having gone over his scamming plans, where they sat side by side on stools at the bar and talked about nothing. Shinya appreciated video games and manga series Akira felt he was too young to be reading, but the normalcy of the conversation helped chase away the images of that drill entering Kai's head.

Sojiro took a liking to the boy, though he made sure to grumble about Akira bringing home additional strays. Not willing to serve him coffee, he gave the young boy some orange juice instead. He'd left after an hour or so, and Akira felt glad he'd been there.

Morgana shakes out his hind legs. "I came from Shibuya. I investigated that weird Palace. The big one."

"Find anything?"

"The Palace has to be a train or something train-related. And since we know it's Shibuya, that means someone views that part of the city in the same way they see that landscape, like the Wild West, but in their head.

"No idea who it belongs to?" Akira asks.

Morgana shakes his head. "I noticed some weird Shadow getting off the train when it came to a stop. It didn't move like a regular Shadow. It also just vanished."

"Anything else?"

Morgana curls up alongside him. "I don't know. It was blasting some weird song in English. Something about trains being crazy. I've heard it before. I think it's one of those old rock and roll songs that gets played every so often. The popular ones."

Akira sits up straight and grabs his phone off the windowsill where it's charging. "Kaneshiro. Shibuya. Train."

"Match Found," the phone replies.

Chapter 63: Chapter 63

6/16

 

The smell of sunbaked concrete and sweat winks out, replaced by the irritation of dry, desert air. The Phantom Thieves enter Kaneshiro's Palace in the long shadow of a fire escape behind Iwai's Untouchable. Nori's Thief outfit materializes around her, and the black mask massages over and clings to her face. A wind sends particles scattering across her exposed skin, and she reaches up to tilt the brim of her hat a fraction lower. The others gather.

Joker speaks with Mona and Panther, heads turned from the wind. Fox and Skull turn in slow circles, eyes wide despite the detritus.

"This is way bigger than actual Shibuya," Skull says. "Mona, I thought you said the Palace corresponded with the city somehow? Like how Madarame's factories all linked to those individual homes, but the rest of the city stayed the same?"

Mona halts whatever explanation he provides Joker and Panther and frowns, placing his paws on his hips defensively. "I don't know. Madarame and Kamoshida, sure. But Sugimura didn't even seem to have anything going on outside his Fortress." The cat spreads his paws wide. "This is how Kaneshiro sees Shibuya, sort of. Because, remember, the train is really the main aspect of the Palace, and-"

Skull waves away the rest of the explanation. "Forget I asked. Shit's too confusing."

Mona rolls his eyes. "I'll try to contain my astonishment," and then whispers, "Bonehead." If Skull hears this, he says nothing.

"Breathtaking," Fox exclaims, pirouetting himself around to capture the rolling plains, hills, laccoliths, and cliffs that extend to the horizon. "I've never seen such a place as this in the flesh before."

"Technically," Panther replies. "You're not seeing it 'in the flesh' now either."

Noir lets her attention and thoughts wander. Mona's offhanded mention of Sugimura stung. The rest of the Phantom Thieves assembled themselves, ready to deal justice to Junya Kaneshiro, but Rin Sugimura was still dead. He drowned, and it felt like no one cared. Noir understands the conceptual explanations and excuses. Yes, Joker's position within Kaneshiro's circle required the latter's infiltration to take priority. Yes, Kaneshiro potentially killed Sugimura and the Phantom Thieves’ success would allow Kaneshiro to take responsibility and unveil new information on how the mental shutdowns worked. Yes, Sugimura treated Noir poorly - very poorly - while alive. Yes, Kaneshiro might've murdered Makoto's father in the same manner as Sugimura.

But Rin Sugimura existed as a genuine person for Noir, albeit a horrible one. Now, his presence is merely contextual. Noir cannot help recalling the sniveling little boy that emerged from the defeated Shadow. A truly pitiable soul. The potential within Sugimura to turn things around and make them right drowned at the bottom of Tokyo Bay, and it felt as though only Noir cared.

And Noir couldn't forget Makoto. Noir understood her friend enough to spot the cracks in the facade no one else bothered acknowledging. Kaneshiro possibly killed her father, but Joker and the others insisted on keeping her at arm's length. Noir gets this, too. Noir's participation in the infiltration of Sugimura's Palace resulted from the imminent danger she'd faced.

But insisting Makoto sit on the sidelines felt disrespectful. Makoto pieced together much of the Phantom Thieves’ operation and did so without knowledge of the Metaverse.

Noir doesn't know how to convey that Makoto teeters on an edge. The Phantom Thieves feel inevitable to her now, but she maintains a fierce loyalty to Makoto. No one seems to care how Makoto feels, and in this, Noir recognizes her as a kindred spirit once again. Sure, Joker's safety took priority. But though a laudable goal, it leaves Noir feeling rudderless. At the most, the only thing Noir has been able to say for herself is she got to re-pick her codename.

The group reaches some decision without her, and Mona transforms into the MonaMobile—Fox motions for Noir to join them as they begin to pile into the vehicle. Noir acknowledges and follows along.

#

Joker spins the wheel, and the MonaMobile runs an intercept towards Kaneshiro's train. Mona told the truth. It took five minutes of driving within Kaneshiro's extensive Palace before they found train tracks and another ten before they spotted the lumbering bone of metal in the distance. Small collections of buildings dotted the Palace, populated by cognitive townspeople, all dressed in rags and perpetually lowered heads. Shadows abounded in these spaces, but thanks to the wide open area, the Phantom Thieves easily kept their distance.

The train hurls down the tracks, and Joker slams down Mona's pedal to accelerate.

"Damn," Skull mutters, staring out the windshield.

"Seriously," Panther replies. "Even if we catch up with it, how are we supposed to get on board? It's not like it's gonna stop for us."

"It stopped yesterday," Joker points out. "You saw it, right, Mona?"

"That's right," Mona says, voice bubbling out of the speakers. "But it looked like it was letting a Shadow off or something."

Joker doesn't reply but continues pushing Mona towards the thing.

"What're those?" Fox asks, pointing from the backseat. Joker squints and notices a few metallic-looking pustules rising from the top of the individual train cars.

"I don't know," Joker says. "They almost-"

The gun-metal gray pustules fully extended and halted, then flashed, and a fraction of a moment later, the ground around the MonaMobile erupted with dirt and rock and the sound of ricocheting bullets.

Everyone yells and curses, and Joker throws the wheel in the opposite direction. Mona flies from the train, but the shots continue for a few seconds more before fading into the solitary ringing in everyone's ears.

"Mona, are you okay?" Noir asks, her gloved hands fumbling at the walls as if searching for a wound.

"Yeah, I'm not hit or anything."

"That was nuts!" Panther shouts. "That thing's more fortified than Sugimura's, uh, fortress!"

Noir squirms in the back, and Joker pumps Mona's brakes. Once at rest, he turns to the others and says, "This might rule out a frontal assault."

A few chuckles, but Joker can tell their hearts still beat furiously.

He turns back to the front and leans back in the chair, waiting for his body to calm down. The train rolls away into the distance, a thin, shrinking line segment. Joker wants the Kaneshiro Nightmare over with, and that requires stealing the man's Treasure. But unless they could figure a way to stop the train and sneak on, or board it without it stopping, he didn't know how to proceed. The train didn't hold the same advantage that Kamoshida and Madarame's Palaces maintained, that of being stationary. In fact, Kaneshiro's Palace inversed the Sugimura Palace problem. The Thieves can enter from Shibuya any time they want, but they need to find a way onto the train within the Palace. Joker didn't want another same-day infiltration situation.

#

Makoto pulls her phone from her bag and, once again, checks the time. A clock hangs above the bar, but the action itself fulfills some hierarchical need for control, so she pulls out her phone, checks the time, verifies it's two minutes later than the last time she checked, and continues waiting for Akira.

The clock above LeBlanc's bar ticks along.

Sojiro Sakura, whom the others refer to as 'Boss,' eyes her from a few stools' lengths away. "You waiting on someone?"

Makoto nods. "Yes, sorry. I've been hoping to run into Akira."

"Akira?" Sojiro asks, then chuckles. "Thought that uniform looked familiar. Say, are you the one he asked out a few weeks ago? Your sister is Sae Niijima?"

Makoto straightens a bit and replies, "Um, yes. He did. How do you know my sister?"

"I've had dealings with her," Sojiro replies, which kicks up another series of questions in Makoto's head, but he follows with, "She gave Akira all kinds of grief when she learned he knew you."

Makoto shifts about in her seat. "So I've heard." A sudden urge to defend Sae rises within her, and with a voice sterner than she's used to talking with adults, she says, "But I understand her position. She's been in a tough spot since our father died. She's had to step up and take care of both of us. I've done my best to handle what I need to handle, but it can't have been easy for her." Makoto stops for a moment, expecting some reply from Sakura, but he remains silent. "But now, I'm not sure where I stand. Akira's been a friend to me, but lately, he's left me feeling confused and lost. I'm hoping to rectify that by speaking with him. But, regarding Sis, it's starting to feel that the only way I can get close to her is via some... terrible memories and thoughts, which isn't how I want to structure our relationship." She stops speaking, then quickly adds, "Sorry, I didn't mean to rant."

Sakura shakes his head. "It's okay. I understand. You have someone important to you, and you want to connect with them. But, sometimes it feels like the only true connection you have is something that's not really healthy for either of you. Still, you keep going that route and fostering that connection because you've got no idea what you're doing, and you're afraid if you change directions you’ll lose the connection and have nothing."

Makoto blinks. "Um, yes. That's fairly accurate. Are you talking about Akira, by chance?"

"God, no."

The bell above the door sounds, and Akira enters, Morgana slung across his shoulder. He looks from Makoto to Sakura, then back, and says, "Hi. I can't stay long. I came by for some food before work."

Sakura sets out a little dish filled with meat and says, "Prince, come here," to which Morgana responds by hopping onto the counter and darting forward. "Your food's in the fridge," Sakura says to Akira.

"Thanks," Akira replies.

Makoto looks at Morgana, who meets her gaze. She mouths, "Prince?" The cat arches his back in what looks like it might be a shrug, then dips his head and starts to graze.

Akira stops alongside her. "What's up?" He asks.

Makoto rotates on the stool to face him. "Could we talk?"

A faint flicker across his face, as though he meant to sigh or frown but stopped himself, and Akira replies, "Sure." He extends his hand toward a booth, and Makoto slides from the stool and into the seat. Akira sits across from her a moment later, having recovered his food from the fridge. "Mind if I eat?" He asks, picking up the fork and looking at her expectantly.

Makoto shakes her head. "Not at all." She glances towards the stooped figure of Boss. "Is it safe to speak here?"

"He won't eavesdrop," Akira replies, taking a spoonful of what Makoto guesses is curry, and shoveling it into his mouth. "Let's just keep it vague and our voices low."

"Right," Makoto says and steels herself. "I'd like you to let me enter the Metaverse so that I may awaken my own Persona for the purpose of assisting in Kaneshiro's takedown."

Akira stares at her, fork in the bowl, food forgotten. "That's a bad idea," he says.

"Why?" Makoto asks. "You all have a Persona. It stands to reason I might have one, too."

"Regardless," Akira says. "Those of us with Personae awakened them in near-death experiences. I tried to do something similar to what you're asking with Yusuke, and it blew up in my face. I don't think seeking out dangerous situations in the hope that you'll awaken one is a good idea, Makoto."

Makoto tries to keep her voice neutral, rational. "Doing so would allow me to help with Kaneshiro's infiltration. I'd be able to understand Morgana and-"

"But do you need to understand Morgana?" Akira asks. He takes another bite and chews for a moment, before covering his mouth with his hand and muttering, "We translate for you." He swallows. "And if we did give you the Navigation App, it might do something crazy. The first time Ryuji and I used it, we didn't even realize what it was, and it sucked us into Kamoshida's Palace without us noticing."

Makoto shuts her eyes and wills herself to calm down. "Akira, this is important to me. You say this backfired with Kitigawa. Well, fine. I'll be prepared. If we all ensure that we do this together, we can-"

"No," Akira says, voice hard. "I'm not going to throw you in there and hope for the best, Makoto. I'm not even sure how we'd get you in a situation where we could trigger an awakening. We're still trying to figure out how to get onto Kaneshiro's train. Adding you as a complication won't work."

"This is dumb," Makoto replies, regretting the words but refusing to take them back. "I can help. I want to help. This isn't some mystery to me. It's this thing I'm only halfway involved in because you can't see your way to bringing me the whole way. If you just helped me with this, I could be a real asset and-"

Through gritted teeth, Akira says, "You want revenge, right? I get that, but it's not a good enough reason to endanger your life!"

"It's my decision," Makoto snaps.

"Not if you don't have the Navigation app," Akira says quickly, and Makoto realizes they're just plain arguing now. Visibly straining to keep his voice low, Akira says, "And so long as you don't, it's our decision. My decision. And I say, 'no.'"

"I can't sit on my hands like this. You won't even let me help in the real world. I'm not useless. I can contribute."

"Do you want to join us?" Akira whispers.

Makoto stares at him, the question like a slap in the face. "I-I'm not sure."

Akira sits back and sinks a bit in his seat. Wrong answer, Makoto thinks. "I get that you want to bring down Kaneshiro," Akira says. "But this is bigger than you, and I'm not willing to get you involved or endanger you just to satisfy your..." He trails off.

"My what?" Makoto akss.

Akira shakes his head and shovels another bite into his mouth. "Forget it. We're not having this conversation again. I'm not taking you into the Metaverse."

Makoto glares at him, but this time, he meets her gaze and doesn't flinch. She recalls the things he's seen in the past few days, and realizes that her glaring at him must seem trite by comparison. Makoto tears her eyes away and stands. She heads for the door and forces herself not to look back or say anything else. She shoves the door open and steps out into the quickly approaching Tokyo night.

#

Haru sips her tea, and watches Makoto from over the rim. Her friend leans back in her chair, the bags under her eyes still darker than earlier. "I don't know," Makoto whispers and shrugs. But it feels more than a shrug. An abandonment?

"I'm sorry about what happened," Haru says. "But I do think he has a point. The Metaverse is a dangerous place."

This breathes some life back into Makoto. "If you'd known about Sugimura's Palace and hadn't discovered it by accident, wouldn't you have wanted to go in and destroy it?"

Haru meets Makoto's intense stare with her blank one. "I honestly don't know," she replies. "The hardest part of that entire situation, for me, is that I keep thinking about how Rin died, and maybe I could've done something to prevent that."

Makoto's gaze softens, and she lets out a long breath. "I'm sorry, Haru." She straightens and reaches out to grasp her friend's hand. "I've been so focused on-"

"It's alright," Haru replies, squeezing Makoto's hand back. "I understand. I really do. It's been a whirlwind few days, and after everything you've learned, it's not surprising." Her mouth moves without sound because although Haru can force the movement, she can't quite bring out the words yet. "But this has been very difficult for me."

"I'm sorry," Makoto repeats. "It was stupid of me not to notice, even with everything happening."

"I don't know if the part of me that would've wanted to rely on Akira and the others to handle Sugimura is based on the desire not to get involved since I didn't know what I was doing or simple fear. It's likely a mix of both," Haru says. "But even with the Palace, things had been deteriorating with Sugimura for some time. I would've wanted the situation resolved, one way or the other. I have no idea if I would've wanted to participate."

Makoto bites her lower lip white. "For me, it's clear as anything. I have to do something." She meets Haru's gaze once more, almost pleadingly. "I feel like I'll go crazy if I don't."

#

In reply to Iwai's question, Tsuda takes a swig of his drink, makes a show of swallowing, and scrunches up his face for a moment. Then, finally, he says, "Akihiko Niijima?" Iwai nods. "Yeah, I remember that name. Why?"

"No particular reason," Iwai replies. "I'd heard he'd been killed."

Tsuda twirls the dark brown liquid in his glass with the slow movement of his wrist. "Bus hit him. No, hold it. Truck." He glances at Iwai. "Guy was investigating Kaneshiro. Did you know that?" Iwai shakes his head but tries not to look too innocent. "Yeah. He heard about the shit Kaneshiro was into and figured he'd try and take him down. Kaneshiro tried to scare him a few times. Things got so bad that he actually got a talking-to from the Boss. Told he was going too far. Making too many threats against civilians and cops that the Dragon couldn't stand behind."

"Must've been a relief when the poor bastard got pancaked," Iwai says.

Tsuda nods. "That, I remember. Kaneshiro got the news around the same time as everyone else. Munehisa, when I tell you, his face lit up in a way I'd never seen... it was almost religious-like. Born again or some shit."

"Did he know it was going to happen?" Iwai asks slowly.

Tsuda smirks. "So you do know something." He rotates his upper body until he's fully facing his old friend. "Why are you bringing this shit up now? You know what's going on. I gotta keep a low profile, not be out and about answering questions about ancient history."

Ain't so ancient to some, Iwai thinks, but he gestures to the bar and says, "This isn't a Dragon hangout. No one knows you're here. You're not gonna get clipped, don't worry. I'm just asking, that's all."

Tsuda frowns. "I don't know why you're asking, but keep your shit together, Munehisa. You've been lucky to avoid the heavy shit, but don't let Kaneshiro turn his gaze on you. He can do things, man." He leans forward, whispering, and it's almost reverential, mixed with terror. "I don't know how. And he can't do them all the time, but he's got ways of taking people out. People go missing, or their hearts stop. Or they get hit by a truck... or their driver goes nuts and takes them both on a plunge."

"That kid, then, Sugimura," Iwai mutters. Tsuda nods. "You think Kaneshiro got to him too? And Niijima?"

"I'm not saying anything else," Tsuda replies. "I'm not going to insult you by insinuating that you're wearing a wire, and I'm not about to cop a feel, but I'm not fucking saying another word, brother." The man turns back to his drink and stares up at the television, broadcasting a local baseball game. "How about those Giants?"

Iwai nods, understanding Tsuda's position.

The time passes, and they both finish their drinks and make to leave.

They step out into the cool night air. Tsuda throws the hood of his jacket up, and Iwai pulls his cap low across his face.

It doesn't help.

Iwai hears the footsteps first. They slap the pavement from behind, and he turns but is too late to stop the body that flies past him and slams into Tsuda from behind, knocking the man to the pavement. Four more shapes emerge from the bar's alleyway and surround them. Tsuda's face smacks the concrete with a thud, followed by a groan. A man moves into Iwai's field of vision, and something hard slams into Iwai's solar plexus. The wind rushes from his body, and he doubles over. Hands grip his arms and coat, and he's dragged into the alley and thrown against a dumpster. He feels the stitches in his arm pop, and the bruises from his fight with Sugimura's driver are burning needles sliding beneath his skin.

Someone grips Tsuda by his legs and yanks him into the alley, and the fresh cut and bruise on his face rubs against the uneven sidewalk.

The men surround Tsuda and stomp on his head and back. Iwai props himself against the dumpster and tries to rise, but a hand - a great expanse of unmoving meat - emerges from nowhere and slaps his chest. Iwai collapses. A mountain of a man moves into his field of vision and looks down at Iwai. "Stay still," he says, his voice the sticky deepness of a heavy smoker. "You're here by circumstance. This will be over quickly."

"D-don't," Iwai manages.

The four men attacking Tsuda stop after a few more hits, and back away. Tsuda managed to roll himself into the fetal position, hands around his dashed head. The big man approaches and, with his dark and shiny shoe, rolls Tsuda onto his back. Iwai grimaces when he sees the thumb-sized chunk of skin that flaps uselessly off Tsuda's cheek. But his friend's chest rises and falls. His breath sounds like a rattlesnake's hiss, but it maintains.

The big man crouches next to Tsuda and says, "Can you hear me, brother?"

"Machii-san," Tsuda manages.

"Good," the man replies. "You are bloodied but alive. You will stay that way. We know many under Kaneshiro's influence are in no position to rebel against him. The Boss understands this and bears the majority of your faction no ill will. He wants to bring you back into the fold but will not forgive further infractions." The man grips Tsuda's collar, and raises him off the ground. "Punishment has been meted out. The war has no reason to continue. Tell your brothers. Tell Kaneshiro. This ends now." He lowers Tsuda, not unkindly, back to the pavement. He stands and motions for the others to follow him. The men take their leave, blending back into the shadows. Machii gives Iwai a slight nod before he leaves him - still gasping - against the dumpster.

Iwai crawls towards Tsuda.

"'No one knows,' huh?" Tsuda grunts. Iwai sets about picking his friend up, running through the list of places he knows will patch him up without asking too many questions.

#

The dark room swallows Akira, and he stares at the body on the table.

Taoka Yoshinori, one of Kaneshiro's lieutenants, lies with a broken neck and several stab wounds in his belly. The smell leeches into the air, forcing Akira to cover his nose and mouth.

Kaneshiro stands at the head of the table, looking down at his fallen lieutenant, his face blank. Nanashi and Muzaki stand just behind his shoulders.

Other of Kaneshiro's yakuza soldiers line the table. Some of their faces are bloody and bruising, but they're all alive. Akira received a message only an hour ago to report to this location. The Dragon struck back but did so lightly, taking the life of only one of Kaneshiro's circle.

Iwai reached out privately to Akira, informing him of the situation with Tsuda. From what Akira sees, Tsuda received the worst of it - aside from Taoka - and his absence permeates the room.

Per Iwai, the Dragon clearly wanted peace. Otherwise, they'd have come at Kaneshiro much harder.

A small faction of hope bubbles within Akira. Perhaps Kaneshiro will rediscover reason. Maybe the war really will end with just the loss of two lives and some property damage.

Kaneshiro takes a deep breath and says, "Pathetic." Everyone turns to him, but no one speaks. "I kill Kai, and the Boss responds by killing someone no one ever heard of or cared about? Pathetic."

Tension spreads through the room like aerosol. Akira knows enough to understand that a few men here liked Yoshinori. Had the Dragon taken out Nanashi or Muzaki, they'd have a different opinion. A sudden through seizes Akira. Maybe that's what the Dragon intended?

"The Boss must really be getting soft," Kaneshiro continues. "Too bad." He points to the door and names a few names. "The rest of you, leave." Akira turns. "Not you, Kurusu."

The people not selected file out, most looking either glad or angry.

"What's the kid here for?" One of the bloodied yakuza asks, once the doors shut.

"The students we've been pinching," Kaneshiro says. "They'll report to him, and he reports to me." He gestures to the body without looking at it. "Obviously, this is a tragedy, but the war's going to end soon on our terms, not theirs. But in the meantime, we need to take extra precautions and act preemptively." He takes a step towards Akira, around the table. "I want all those students, all those grinning, shit-eating, wannabe tough guys to scope out certain areas. I want them to keep an eye out for certain people. And when they see certain people, I want them to tell you, and I want you to tell me. Understand?"

Akira nods. "I do. And thank you, but why me?"

Kaneshiro chuckles. "They respect you," Kaneshiro replies, and holds up a hand when Akira opens his mouth. "They may not like you, but they'll listen. And I don't trust any of them to handle this job. Only you." He nods towards the yakuza. "We're known out there. We can't be seen. But a bunch of teenagers? Nothing unusual about that on these streets." He closes the distance between the two and places his meaty hands on Akira's shoulders. Akira can see the muscles beneath his forearms twitch. "I need to know that you understand what I'm asking you to do."

Akira swallows but nods. He understands all too well. Akira is being asked to identify the location of, and call in hits on, members of the Dragon leadership.

Chapter 64: Chapter 64

The cell's dampness seeps into his joints as he fades into what passes for consciousness here. The black and white pinstriped jumpsuit scratches his chest and lower back. His hands grip the edge of the cot, white-knuckled, as the familiar swirl of panic clogs the back of his throat.

The chains, like wind chimes.

The voice.

"Trickster, it has been some time."

Akira opens his eyes to the dull blue cell, the walls caked with blackened discs of mold. He straightens, the shackles rubbing the cloth of his pants against the skin of his ankles like sandpaper.

"Igor," he says and stands. His eyes drift to the faint ray of light sneaking in from the unseen source above. The silence passes in a beat. "Where are they?"

Igor's arm extends, and a claw gestures haphazardly to the empty air. The rest of his misshapen body remains fixed. "Away."

"They can leave?"

"Anyone can," Igor replies. Before Akira replies, Igor whispers, "I hope you trust me, Trickster."

Akira grunts and says, "I need to merge Personae."

Igor's chuckle punctures like a spider bite. "Ah, yes. This new Palace you have discovered..." He trails off, but the guillotine appears nevertheless. "Do not let me keep you."

Akira wills the masks to swirl around him and begins his grim experimentation. Death and dismemberment to forge a new, hopefully stronger part of himself. Ice creeps through his veins one moment while a headache seizes him another. A punch to his gut followed by a warmth on his cheek. Akira flays the emotions, personalities, and pieces of himself, his muscles, tendons, and veins exposed to the putrid air of Igor's Velvet Room.

"I sense," Igor says, as the blade falls upon a Persona taken from Sugimura's Palace, "some new bond forming within you. Though, this is different than the others you've nurtured. You resist this one. Interesting."

A face appears in Akira's mind, and Akira turns from entertaining the idea. "There's nothing there," he replies, but he knows how hollow the words sound. Igor's smile twists and Akira, not looking at the man, quickly asks, "The Phantom Thieves are the only ones who can enter the Metaverse, right?"

Igor stares at Akira with his bulging, dead eyes. "The Navigation App belongs to you and the four you've taken into the Metaverse. So yes, only the six of you may enter."

Akira nods. The last of his Personae erupt in blue light and snap to his face as masks. Assuming he's not lying, then that's that. Myself, Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Haru, and-

Six.

Akira feels his adrenaline spike, and the itching sensation on his hands spread.
Igor didn't know about Morgana.

Six.

"If that concludes our business," Igor whispers, his smile almost twisted into a snarl. "Then we shall part ways."

"Wait-" Akira attempts, but the alarm sounds pull him away from his place.

#

The Trickster leaves, and the Velvet Room reverts to its non-observable state.

A silence that lasts eons and nanoseconds slips away, and then He brings the Twins back from their exile.

They hover before Him, abstract shapes in the void of this nonsensical indigo expanse.

"Six," He says.

The Twins cower, silent in their guilt.

"Was that truly so hard?" He speaks, and distant worlds shatter.

 

6/17

"Shit," Akira shouts as he wakes and swats his phone off its stand in his haste.

Morgana stirs from the foot of his bed. "What? What's wrong?"

Akira lifts the phone to his face in simple habit when the text indicator pops up.

?????: hey.

Akira stares at the message—no associated number next to the Caller ID. No username.

Spam, Akira thinks.

?????: dont ignore this dumbass. its important.

Akira shakes his head. He wants to toss the phone away. None of the other Phantom Thieves would text him like this on his regular phone. But what if it was someone from Kaneshiro's group?

AKIRA: Who is this?

?????: 1st, dont panic. No 1s gonna see these.

?????: think of me as an ally. I want to help you (ie the Dragon)

Akira stares at the message. "What the fuck?" He whispers.

"What is it?" Morgana asks, trotting up next to him and peering at the phone. "Huh? Who the heck is this?"

Akira considers different scenarios and types his response.

AKIRA: Wrong number.

?????: Um no its not. Btw I know ur a Phantom Thief.

?????: but srsly dont panic man.

Akira says several things he does not recall later.

"What the hell?" Morgana asks. "Just ignore him."

"Ignore him how?" Akira demands.

AKIRA: Huh?

?????: ugh really? you, ann takamaki, ryuji sakamoto, yusuke what's his name, and rich lady. Makoto 2 but not really, plus ur doctor friend & drunk reporter

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Akira whispers. The skin of his face prickles. Every breath feels like ice, slicing his lungs to ribbons.

?????: Really relax. im not saying anything to any1. i wanna help but then i want u 2 help me

Akira takes several slow, painful breaths and types his reply.

AKIRA: You're nuts. I'm not a Phantom Thief, and I don't think those guys you listed are either.

?????: Dude im already running your PhanSite, ok? U should talk to the idiot who set everything up for u because its a damn miracle ur not in jail yet oh and also u suck ass at exploring the dark web i had to cover u there 2

Akira remembers Akechi speaking about the PhanSite's security, and Mishima's pale face in reaction. He recalls his research on the mental shutdowns.

Feeling faint, he types out a name.

AKIRA: Robert Cunningham.

?????: Yea, Robert Cunningham. we can talk abt him later

?????: speak to ur fellow PTs and well talk again soon

AKIRA : How do I know you won't send these messages to anyone?

?????: when we finish here ill wipe them and make sure no1 can recover them

AKIRA : What do I call you?

?????: since i know everything, maybe Oracle?

?????: nah f that, u may as well know. im Ali Baba

And the moment Akira reads the last line, his phone screen blanks. A few moments later, he's rebooted the phone and searches for the messages.

All are gone.

"Akira, this is not good," Morgana mutters.

Gritting his teeth, Akira replies, "We need to speak with Mishima."

#

The sun beats down upon them.

They arranged the discarded desks from whichever classroom below in a semicircle. Mishima stands before them, and Akira feels the vertigo of a reversal of the Velvet Room.
No one says anything for a time. The lunch hour stretches on and on.

"Okay," Mishima whispers, voice cracking. "It's true."

Ann throws her arms in the air. Ryuji sighs and buries his head in his hands. Akira never takes his eyes off the young man. "How long?"

Mishima stammers before adding, "I... don't know exactly. I sort of set things on autopilot when we first started. But then Akechi said what he said at the TV studio, and I went home to check."

"You didn't check?" Ann demands. "With everything happening, you didn't think to check the damn security measures you said you installed?"

Mishima winces at her onslaught but appears to summon a sliver of courage and says, "Yes. And when I did go in and check everything, I realized the admin access had been stolen from me. I could still get in and see Requests, but I couldn't make significant changes like before. And when I actually looked up how the site was protected, I saw that everything Akechi said was true. But... I don't even know how to do half that stuff." He lowers his head and bows. "Your site is still secure. It's just not being protected by me anymore."

Akira shakes his head. "No, the site isn't secure. If it was secure, you would still have admin access, or one of us, and not this Ali Baba person."

Mishima looks back up at him. "Did you say 'Ali Baba?'"

"Dude," Ryuji warns.

"No, but seriously," Mishima says. "The person you spoke to? They said they were Ali Baba?"

"Yes," Akira says. "Why?"

Mishima, his crime apparently forgotten, beams and spreads his arms wide in excitement. "He's, like, a legend! Ali Baba is one of those once-in-a-generation hackers. They're the ones that formed that group, Medjed!"

"Medjed?" Ryuji asks.

"Isn't that the group Akechi mentioned during the interview?" Ann asks.

"Yes, but so what?" Akira asks. "Even if they are, they managed to steal access to our site away from you. They've got our names, and they know we're going up against the Dragon. How the hell could they know that? I don't care if they're some wonderboy hacker, they shouldn't know that because we never put it online!"

Mishima stammers out an, "I-I don't know. Maybe they got into your phones, too? But you guys were using burners, so that shouldn't be possible."

Akira jumps up out of his chair. "They know about Takemi. They know about Ohya. They know we're looking into Kaneshiro. Hell, they seem to know everything. And if you knew we were compromised over a week ago, why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm sorry," Mishima says, raising his hands. "I'm sorry, it's just... I wanted to-"

"Okay," Ryuji says, matching Akira by standing. "I think we may be strayin' from the point a bit. Mishima knows he screwed up, but there's nothing we can do about that now, right?"
Akira stares at Ryuji and sees the shift in his face, the pleading eyes. Calm down and think, Akira says to himself.

Mishima fucked up. But Mishima also knew all there was to know about the Phantom Thieves. Even if he no longer had admin access to the PhanSite, he could still expose them. He just no longer had a useful function. Which means I'll have to give him one. Kicking Mishima out of the group now might cause him to go running to the authorities. As frustrating as it was, it was necessary to keep Mishima around for now.

"So what do you think we should do?" Ann asks Ryuji. She keeps her glare on Mishima, who shrinks beneath it.

"Well, we gotta figure out if this Ali Baba guy is legit, and what he wants with us. I mean, I don't know what help he can be against the Dragon at this point. He may be a super hacker or something, but unless he can slow Kaneshiro's train down for us, I don't see how they're gonna help."

"Robert Cunningham," Akira says. The others look at him but say nothing. "Ali Baba, whoever they are, knows something about the shutdowns. If they really were watching me try and scroll through the dark web, then they might be the one who tipped me off to that article."

"That's great," Ryuji replies. "But top priority is still handlin' Kaneshiro and getting you out from that Dragon group."

"Ryuji's right," Ann says. "Let's take out Kaneshiro first, now that we've got access to his Palace, and then go back to worrying about how the Metaverse and mental shutdowns work."
Akira nods and turns to look at Mishima once more. "You may not have admin access anymore, but you can still access the site, right?" Mishima nods. "So you still have the incoming list of Requests, correct?"

Mishima brightens. "Uh, yeah." At Akira's insistence, Mishima proceeds to list out a number of new Requests, some of which sound promising.

"Thanks," Akira says, and turns to Ann. "Would you mind taking a look into some of those? Just cursory stuff. If we do manage to change Kaneshiro's heart, we'll need to keep up our momentum."

Ann nods. "Sure thing."

Ryuji rolls his neck. "And Yusuke and I got a stakeout at Kaneshiro's Palace today. We'll head in with Mona and see if we can't figure out a way to get the train to stop, or see if it follows any schedule."

Morgana, Akira thinks. Igor.

Well, they couldn't deal with all that right now. And Akira couldn't talk to Ali Baba again until they reached out. "Mishima," Akira says, and the boy twitches. "I'm sorry I yelled. But please, you have to keep us up to date on that kind of thing." He smiles. "Okay?"

Mishima nods. "I'll do better, I promise."

You fucking better, Akira thinks.

#

Machii dismisses the lieutenants. They bow and take their leave.

No response from Kaneshiro. That did not bode well.

The Boss hoped the eye-for-an-eye take would end the war, but evidently not.

Machii assumes it's possible Kaneshiro still weighs his options down in whatever hole he's crawled into. He never liked Kaneshiro. Too twisted on the inside. No head for business, not really. He knew how to make money, but seemed unable to understand the importance of doing so without hurting people. One could take their pride in being part of the Dragon too far.

Machii exits through the kitchen into the back alley for a cigarette. They are all to keep low profiles until the next operation is greenlit, but one quick puff shouldn't be too much.

He places the cigarette between his lips and removes the lighter from his pocket.

Machii pauses.

The cigarette falls from his lips.

He takes one staggering step forward, and then another. Then, his pace normalizes until he bears the appearance of a man taking a light stroll.

A thin tendril of black escapes from his nose as Machii exits the alley and approaches the street. A few pedestrians steer themselves around him, due to his size. A few more stare at him as he walks, and then enters the street.

A car horn blares.

A smash of glass and metal.

Machii lies crumpled against the hood of the car, the evidence of black now washed away by all the red that leaks from him.

#

Makoto shuts the book and leans back in her chair. "Never thought I'd say this," she mutters, "But I don't think I can study right now."

Haru sighs and lowers her head, resting it upon the open pages. "I say that all the time," she says. "But this time, I really mean it."

Makoto straightens and rests her hand on the book. It feels unnatural, the habit of studying is so ingrained within her that the decision to refuse it sends tremors of anxiety through her circulatory system, and she finds herself squirming in her chair.

The chatter of the cafe they sit in is low but constant. Typically, Makoto finds such white noise pleasing, but now she wishes everyone would shut up and piss off.

Akira's brief explanation of his conversations with Ali Baba and Mishima added another complication to everything. Someone out there knew everything, even about the Metaverse, it seemed. Makoto and Haru, for all their sleuthing, hadn't discovered aspects this hacker had apparently uncovered with possible relative ease. It frustrated Makoto to the point where she no longer wished to study. Here was another person who could provide information to the Phantom Thieves, someone else they could count as an ally. Who wouldn't want to have one of the world's greatest hackers on their side, provided they were legitimate?

Her thoughts twist and twirl within her head until she hears a voice say, "They changed my heart!"

Innocent words enough on their own, but strung together, the statement stabs into Makoto's ears. She straightens, and from the sudden look of rigid shock on Haru's face, Makoto can tell she heard it, too.

They both turn to stare and spot - a few tables down - a group of girls in Shujin uniforms, all jabbering over the comparative din of the cafe.

"I got it last night," one of the girls says, and she shifts in a way that Makoto can tell she's showing the other girls something, but can't spot what it is. "I didn't say anything because I thought it was a prank, but when I woke up this morning, I felt it. All that anger and everything I was holding onto just vanished! I don't know how they did it, but the Phantom Thieves changed my heart!" Now that she's uttered the phrase, 'Phantom Thieves, ' others in the cafe turn their attention towards her.

"That's Ahmya Shota," Haru whispers. "She's a second-year like Akira and the others."

"Right," Makoto replies, and turns back to Haru. "But what's she talking about? Was that one of the Requests?"

Haru shakes her head. "We're not supposed to do Mementos' Requests unless the whole team agrees."

Makoto stands, and Haru follows as they make their way over to the table.

"Excuse me," Makoto says, stepping into the circle of Shujin students. All their eyes snap to her. Makoto may not be able to contribute much to the current Phantom Thieves, but she still wields power as Shujin Student Council President. "What are you talking about?"

Shota grins. "The Phantom Thieves, of course. They changed my heart last night. I guess someone must've put in a Request on their site. I don't know."

Makoto feels her eyes narrow. "They changed your heart? So, I assume you got a Calling Card?"

Shota nods. "Yep. It's right here." And she places it back on the table. Red. Black lettering. The familiar sigil.

Dear Ahmya Shota, You've been causing trouble for your parents and your friends. We've heard all about the things you've been up to. We're going to steal the bad parts of you right out of your heart. Signed, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts

"See?" Shota asks. "Pretty crazy, right? I, like, didn't even think I was on their radar."

Makoto glances at Haru, who finishes reading the text. "Interesting," Makoto says.

"Hmm?" Shota replies.

"It's just..." Makoto tries to think of what to say. "Vague. All the other Calling Cards tend toward specifics. This one is just..."

"Vague," Haru agrees.

Shota frowns for a moment. "Well, it's not like I'm a bad person. Maybe they didn't want to embarrass me."

"That's right," one of Shota's friends says. "I think it's great. I can tell you're totally changed."

"Right, well," Makoto says, and nods. "Thanks for showing us. Excuse us."

Makoto and Haru retreat to the table. "What do you think?" Makoto asks.

"Fake," Haru replies. "It has to be."

Makoto nods. "I would think so." She pulls out her phone and pulls up RINE. A few glances at the texts, and she bites her lip. "People are talking about it, though. Sharing photos of the Card."

"This is really bad," Haru whispers. "It's, well..."

Makoto nods. "I wonder if Shota made it herself or if someone else gave it to her, and she really thinks the Phantom Thieves visited her?"

"We should let the others know," Haru replies. Makoto nods, and they stand, take their bill to the front, and leave.

#

Skull pumps Mona's brakes, and the MonaMobile slows to a halt. Kaneshiro's train speeds off into the distance. "Dammit," he mutters, resting his head on the steering wheel. "Three hours and not one damn pause."

Fox nods from the passenger seat. "Indeed. We may need to secure another method of ingress." He raises his arms above his head and pops his shoulders. "And I fear I have been sedentary far too long. I have yet to take my daily constitutional, per your recommendation."

"How's that going, by the way?" Skull asks.

"Well," Fox replies. "I am able to maintain my brisk walking pace for approximately two hours before I feel fatigued now."

"Bro, seriously," Skull says, chuckling. "Do you ever go to school?"

"You guys mind if we take this conversation back to the real world?" Mona asks. "I'm pretty tired myself, driving around for this long."

"You get tired from doing this?" Skull asks.

"Duh," Mona replies.

"Weird."

The three slowly make their way back to the point of insertion and exit out into the real world in the shadow of Iwai's shop.

"There you are," comes a voice, and the three boys jump.

Ann, her brow set and lips pulled into a thin line, marches towards them.

"Damn, Ann," Ryuji complains. "Don't scare us like that."

"We've got a problem," Ann says, pulling out her phone.

Ryuji groans. "What is it now?"

"Niijima and Haru just told me about this." Ann lifts the phone and displays what Ryuji initially interprets as a Calling Card.

"What's that?" He asks. "One of ours?"

"You tell me," Ann says, turning to Yusuke. "Did you do this?" 

Yusuke's gasp is the definition of offended. "How dare you? To attribute such garish imitation to my own hand? Outrageous."

"That's a no," Morgana mutters. "What's the problem here, Ann?"

Ann informs them of the fake Calling Card the girl named Ahmya Shota claims to have received. Everyone is quiet for a moment.

Then Ryuji says, "Ah, shit."

"Exactly," Ann replies. "I've been trying to reach Akira, but I think he's either with some Dragon goons or Iwai or something." She gestures to the store. "Only Kaoru's home, and he's no help." She glances at Yusuke. "Don't freak out, but you're sure you didn't make this?"

"I'm an artist, not an amnesiac," Yusuke says, pouting. "That's clear stencil work. And what's this girl to have even done? It's not clear."

"Haru said the same," Ann replies. She sighs and returns her phone to her pocket. "Some day. A hacker knows all about us, and now we've got fake Calling Cards getting thrown around."
"We'll figure it out," Ryuji says, smiling. "Maybe we can offer a... what's the word? When you want to take something back?"

"Retraction?" Morgana offers.

"Yeah, that."

"Isn't that only when we sent it by mistake in the first place?" Morgana asks. "We didn't actually send this."

"Maybe we should talk to Ohya?" Yusuke inquires. "She may know about these things, given her field."

Ryuji slaps him on the shoulder. "Good idea."

"I'd feel better if we talked to Akira first," Ann mutters, shaking her head. "God knows what he's up to today."

#

"Tsuda's alright," Iwai says. Takemi examines the new stitches. She'd had to replace the ones she'd put in initially, as they'd popped during Iwai's ambush by the Dragon. "Well, he'll be alright. He's gonna have to take it easy for a while. Not a simple thing to do during a war, but it's better than being on the front lines."

Akira nods. He stands in the door of the exam room. Takemi glares from Iwai to Akira and back. She did not appreciate this new open-door policy, but Iwai convinced her.

"As for that other thing," Iwai says. "Tsuda didn't say much, but I think it's safe to assume you're right. Kaneshiro likely had Detective Akihiko Niijima killed. Must've been one of the first mental shutdown cases, too."

Akira sighs and lowers his gaze.

Takemi clears her throat. "Robert Cunningham."

This redirects Akira's attention. "Huh?"

"Who?" Iwai asks.

"I did some more digging," Takemi says, ignoring Iwai. "I managed to find some papers he published way back in the day, during his time in Med School. They were all in English, so I had to get them translated. But to be honest, they're all over my head. Brain aspects aren't my forte. If this stuff involves the Metaverse or mental shutdowns, I can't see how. From what I could tell, most of his research involved the wiring of the brain, and shortcuts or shortenings. I don't know what the word is. I can send them your way if you'd like to take a look."

Akira nods. "Thanks. I doubt I'd be able to understand them much better. But, I may know a guy who could help."

Both Iwai and Takemi's brows rise at that. "You've got a guy for that?"

Akira smirks. "I got a guy for everything," he replies. He laughs, but no one else does, so he stops and asks, "Could you help me locate some of the Dragon members?"

Iwai straightens. Takemi finishes her exam, and he begins to replace his shirt, pulling it down over his lean body. "What'd you want to... Oh."

"Yeah," Akira says. "I need to give Kaneshiro something at some point. Kaneshiro gave me a list of places to check out, but no one I sent there gave me much back. Anything you could do would help me out."

"Insane," Takemi snaps. "This whole damn thing."

Akira wants to roll his eyes but stops himself. "Yeah, we know. I know, he knows, everyone knows. But it's the situation we're in, Plague. We're committed, and I can't just back out."

Takemi doesn't reply, and Iwai clears his throat. "I can send out feelers from some of the guys I used to run with. Don't expect much, though. They may be yakuza, but they're not dumb. They're likely gonna figure out why I'm asking, so I'll have to be diplomatic, and even then, they may not give me anyone significant."

Akira raises his hands and says, "I understand." He checks the time. "I should get going. Thanks." He looks at Takemi. "Could you send me that info on Robert Cunningham? I'll forward it to my contact."

"Sure," Takemi says, frowning. "But..." she glances at Iwai. "Never mind. Come back soon, Akira. I want to talk to you."

Akira nods, turns, and leaves.

#

"So," Iwai says, after Akira leaves.

"What?" Takemi replies, glaring at him.

"Wanna get a drink?"

"No," Takemi spits, then sighs. "But since I don't want to drink alone, I suppose you're the next best option."

Iwai smiles. "Thanks."

#

Ohya tilts the glass back and swallows the last of the whiskey.

"Another?" Lala asks.

Ohya nods. "Yeah. Thanks."

Lala pulls the bottle off the barback and tops Ohya off. "Been busy, eh?" She asks.

"You've got no idea," Ohya mutters.

"Tell me about it," Lala starts, but then there's another voice.

"This is a bad idea."

Ohya turns and regards the newcomer. A young guy, maybe a few years older than Ohya, but not more than thirty. He wears a dark hoodie, but even Ohya can see the tattoos poking out from the cuffs on his wrist.

"Then why'd you agree to meet me?" Ohya asks.

The man glances around the bar and then slides onto the stool. He glances at Ohya's drink, then looks at Ohya. "I'll take one too. But put it on her tab or whatever the fuck she's got at this place."

Lala's eyes dart to Ohya for confirmation, and Ohya nods. Lala produces another glass, and pours out the whiskey for the newcomer.

"I'm here because I owed you, and you asked me to come. That's it. I'm not staying long." He takes a drink, and Ohya sees half the liquid is now gone.

Gotta be fast, then.

"I heard about Machii."

The man scowls. "Walked into traffic. Just like that."

"Were you close?"

"I don't want to be talking about that shit here."

Ohya frowns. "Why do you think I asked you out here? For your opinion on the upcoming elections?"

"Shinjuku is too close to Kaneshiro's operation," the man whispers. "I shouldn't be here."

"You think anyone's going to recognize you in here?" Ohya asks, gesturing to the decor. "And, no offense, you're not exactly high-level. Not like Machii. You think it was Kaneshiro that did him in?"

"Machii walked into traffic, like I said."

"Uh-huh," Ohya replies. "And do you think Kaneshiro made him do that?"

The man's eyes narrow. "A couple think that," he finally says. "There's been talk about Kaneshiro for years now. How he can do things. I don't know if I buy it, but Machii was a solid guy. Someone we all respected. Losing him is a big problem for the Boss."

"What'd you think he can do, exactly?" Ohya asks.

The man shakes his head. "I don't know. No one does. It changes, you know? But Kaneshiro's enemies always seem to have a way of vanishing or dying off. When they were our enemies too, we didn't have a problem. But now?"

"Are you scared?"

"It's a war," the man replies. "You're supposed to be scared. But of solid things. Knives. Fists. Bullets. Not fucking... I don't know, psychosis or whatever." He grabs his drink and finishes it. "I need to get back. I'm not supposed to be here, and I don't want to get caught here. We're square now. Don't call me again." He hops off the stool and marches for the door, hands shoved into his hoodie, hood pulled over his head.

"Great," Ohya mutters and glances down at her notebook.

Not much to go on, really.

Even if Kaneshiro knew how to trigger a mental shutdown, and that involved the Metaverse, it didn't explain why he didn't just eliminate the Dragon's leadership altogether. As a matter of fact, the more Ohya looked broadly into the mental shutdowns, the stranger they seemed.

If the mental shutdowns were targeted, it almost seemed like different groups were getting sectioned off, and eliminated one by one. There was some evidence of a group of doctors dropping dead a few years ago, and now with the transportation personnel and - if Akira could be believed - Yukio Kan, a politician. But now, yakuza members were dying, and it only started after the war Kaneshiro kicked off.

It felt so... manual, to Ohya.

Given what she knows about the Metaverse from Akira, Takemi, and the others, was there some difference in complexity, such as a Shadow with a Palace or a Shadow within Mementos, that caused difficulties for the mental shutdown? And if so, did that mean people were going in and triggering them, similar to how the Phantom Thieves stole Treasure and changed hearts?

If so, how many people could actually do that?

Ohya stares at her paper and jots down, 'Just 1?'

She returns to her drink, and her thoughts.

#

Hidetoshi sets the paperwork on the desk. "Evidence of a struggle within the warehouse. Forensics determined that Sugimura's car sat at the warehouse for at least thirty minutes, but there's no clear indication as to why."

Sae nods. "Did you hear about what happened today? With that Dragon lieutenant?"

"Yeah," Hidetoshi says, sliding into a chair. "You think that's another example of a mental shutdown?"

"By all accounts, the man was a reliable member of the Dragon Syndicate," Sae replies. "Not someone prone to suicide."

"You never can tell, though, can you?" Akechi asks.

Hidetoshi turns to regard the tired-looking young man. "Up late studying?" He asks. "Or is this too much for you?"

Akechi shakes his head but then begins to yawn. "I apologize, Detective Kagawa. I've been up the last few nights mulling over this case."

"Anything to contribute?" Hidetoshi asks.

"Alas," Akechi replies. "I do not think there's going to be any clear answers until this war gets resolved, which hopefully will happen sooner rather than later."

Hidetoshi doesn't say what he's thinking but turns his head away. Fantastic contribution. Akechi had been teetering on some edge the last few days. Whether he was studying for exams or really trying to solve this case through mental willpower alone, Hidetoshi didn't know but didn't really care, either.

"Wakaba Isshiki," Sae says.

"That scientist you mentioned?" Hidetoshi asks.

Akechi straightens. "Ah," he says. "Another person who walked into traffic. You think there's a connection?"

Sae stares at Hidetoshi. “She worked in a field many considered fringe. She believed that a kind of subterranean mental reality could impact our physical reality and that each could be interacted with."

Hidetoshi sighs and leans back in his seat. "If all this stuff really is connected, Sae, then it's a bit of a tall order for one prosecutor, one detective, and one prince to handle. If you really want to pursue this, maybe we should consider bringing on more manpower."

Sae grins, but her face is strained. "I don't believe that will happen. And I don't believe you think it will happen either. No, for now, the three of us work together to piece as much of this together as we can." She tips her head forward towards the two men. "Though I appreciate you working with me. For now, let us grin and bear it."

#

Akira steps into the dimly lit room and Kaneshiro beams. "There he is," Kaneshiro calls and motions for Akira to approach.

Akira reaches into his pack and pulls out an envelope. Nanashi steps forward, holds out his hand, and Akira hands over the cash. Nanashi peeks inside, runs his hand over the bills, and nods at Kaneshiro before allowing Akira to continue.

"Thanks," Akira mutters.

"Take a seat," Kaneshiro tells him.

The room is empty save for Kaneshiro, Akira, Nanashi, and Muzaki, who stands wordlessly by the door.

Akira settles down on the couch opposite Kaneshiro. He is very aware of the massive presence of Nanashi standing directly behind him.

"Big day," Kaneshiro says.

"I heard," Akira replies. The death of the Dragon lieutenant, Machii, had been all anyone in the hideout was talking about. Akira was impressed at this gang's ability to set up operations like this in an out-of-the-way spot, even with a war going on, and still collect up-to-date information. "But I heard he killed himself."

Kaneshiro laughs. "Well, one way or another, he's out of the picture." Kaneshiro leans back and asks, "How's the hunt going?"

"I sent some of the other students to some of the places you listed, but so far, there's no sign of the Boss or anyone close to him."

Kaneshiro shrugs. "That's fine. I suspect more of our enemies will be dropping soon enough."

Then, Kaneshiro places an empty whiskey glass on the table, uncorks a bottle, and pours a small drink. Then, with practiced hands, he slides it over toward Akira. Akira jerks forward to catch it, but the drink slides to a stop just before it topples off. "Go ahead," Kaneshiro says. "I won't tell your parents."

Akira picks up the drink, gingerly. Then, swallowing first, he brings the glass to his lips and takes a small sip. It tastes like acid, and Akira wants to spit it out, but he holds it, swallows, and pauses for a second while his organs rearrange themselves. Kaneshiro chuckles when Akira places the drink back on the table.

"Can I ask you something?" Akira asks. Kaneshiro nods. "Did you make Machii kill himself?"

Akira doesn't see the blow coming but certainly feels it. One minute, he's staring at Kaneshiro; the next, he's flat on the couch, his head ringing. He turns and looks up, and sees Nanashi's meaty, open-palmed hand where his head used to be. The man scowls down at Akira.

"Little shit, you think-"

"Knock it off," Kaneshiro says, though there's some amusement in his voice. "Sit up, Akira."

Trembling a bit, Akira rights himself. Nanashi says no more but takes another few steps back. "Sorry, I-"

"It's a smart question," Kaneshiro says. "And one everyone's afraid to ask me."

"I was pretty scared to ask it," Akira replies, honestly.

Kaneshiro laughs. "This is why I like you, kid. Let's say, for the sake of argument, I did make Machii kill himself. What would you ask next?"

Akira clears his throat. "I'd ask why you didn't just make all of the Dragon's leadership walk into traffic?"

Kaneshiro nods. "Yeah. Good point." He leans forward. "Why wouldn't I?"

Akira frowns. "You want to win with minimal losses?"

"Bingo," Kaneshiro replies. "Once we seize control of the Dragon, I'd rather have operations running smoothly. Decapitating the entire head of their side and then putting my own people in will take too long. I'll pick them off, one by one, until they eventually fold. We'll only get rid of who we need to get rid of and then do business with the remainder."

Akira stares back at him but keeps his mouth shut. That doesn't make any sense, he thinks. "Well," Akira says, finally. "If you really can do that, then there are some teachers I wouldn't mind using that on."

"Bah," Kaneshiro says, waving his hand at Akira. "Don't give me that shit, kid. Pretty soon, you'll be able to drop out. Once we've won, you'll be making more money with me than you ever would with some bullshit salaryman position. I'll be head of the Dragon, and you'll be right there with us." He nods towards Nanashi and Muzaki, "Just like these two."

Akira nods. "Thanks."

Kaneshiro smiles. "Muzaki," he calls and snaps his fingers.

Muzaki nods and disappears out the door. The silence stretches for a few moments until the big man returns. He has his hand wrapped around the upper arm of a frail-looking girl dressed in high heels, knee socks, a short skirt, and a tied-off blouse. Her eyes appear a million miles away.

"My gift to you," Kaneshiro says. "For all the good work you've been doing."

Muzaki steers the girl towards the couch, and she takes a seat next to Akira. Without looking at him, she tries to wrap her arms around his shoulder and cuddle up next to him. Akira scurries away. The girl blinks as though surprised and then glances at Kaneshiro, scared, and then tries to follow Akira the length of the couch.

"I appreciate it," Akira says. "But no thanks."

"You don't want her?" Kaneshiro asks, brows cocked. "Why? Don't tell me you're a fag?"

Akira shakes his head. "No, no that's not it. It's just... she's not my type, I guess."

Kaneshiro's voice drops in volume. "I'm trying to do you a favor here, kid. You're not spitting in my face now, are you?"

"No," Akira says, still trying to lean away from the pursuing girl. "I'm not, honestly. It's just there's this girl I like, and I think I'm serious about her and-"

"Oh," Kaneshiro snaps his fingers. The girl halts, as if frozen. "Get her outta here," he says to Muzaki, who leans forward and all but drags the girl off the couch and out the door.

"What's her name?" Kaneshiro asks.

"Uh, Makoto," Akira quickly says. He didn't want to tell it but at least skipped the last name.

"Common enough name," Kaneshiro says, then shrugs. "But she must be something if you like her."

Akira nods.

"Alright kid, you should be getting home, I guess. Keep me up to date with what your little soldiers find. And don't forget to ride them. They might start slacking off, and you'll need to crack the whip."

"Okay," Akira says, trying very hard not to shoot up and rush out of the room. "Thank you again, Boss."

#

When Akira is gone, Kaneshiro stares at the door. "Nanashi."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Get that idiot, Sakoda, in here. I want to know more about this Makoto girl Kurusu's got a thing for."

Chapter 65: Chapter 65

6/18

 

Ali Baba wasted no time. Akira woke with the sun, his bedclothes and sheets soaked with sweat, and saw new, inquiring messages on his phone. This time, they'd decided to attach an ID.

ALIBABA : well???????????????????

ALIBABA : helllllllooooooooooooooo

ALIBABA : u in or out helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllloooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"This won't get old fast," Akira mutters, then types out his response.

AKIRA : OK. I'm in.

Fifteen seconds later, their reply arrives.

ALIBABA : good. i mean i realize im not giving u a choice but good

Akira sighs.

AKIRA : You handle the PhanSite for now. And help us against the Dragon. But I'd like you to look into a few other things, too.

ALIBABA : mental shutdowns?

AKIRA : Yes. Also, anything you can find on something called 'The Velvet Room,' specifically its connection to an 'Igor.'

ALIBABA : is this some kinky shit?

AKIRA : No.

ALIBABA : i need deets

AKIRA : It all links to the mental shutdowns.

ALIBABA : how?

Akira smiles.

AKIRA : If I knew that, I wouldn't be asking for your help, right?

ALIBABA : smartass

Akira rises and removes his damp shirt, tossing it into the hamper near the foot of his bed. It's too early for this espionage crap.

He glances at his phone. Silence from Ali Baba. Was that it? Their conversation over?

Frowning, he picks up his phone and sends another message.

AKIRA : How do you know all that you know?

ALIBABA : like, in general?

AKIRA : No, I mean about us.

ALIBABA : dont worry abt it

AKIRA : How can I not? And, FYI, if you want us to help you down the line, we're going to need to know about you. You'll need to give us something.

ALIBABA : i dont need to do anything and btw im the reason ur not in jail

AKIRA : Alright, forget I asked. For now. Are we secure? Can I talk to you like this?

ALIBABA : yea

AKIRA : Good.

He replaces his phone on the bed and considers. No additional response from Ali Baba arrives. Their conversations betrayed an immaturity on the hacker's part. Akira saw it clearly, now that he wasn't having half a panic attack.

Then again, what the hell do I know? Akira wonders. Maybe that was how all hackers were?

Still, Akira suspects there's a way to find out more. But for now, he sets those thoughts aside and prepares for school.

#

"I'm tellin' you man," Ryuji groans, discordantly jabbing his fists against the alley's wall. "The stupid train doesn't stick to any kind of schedule."

"We don't know that," Morgana says from where he sits, perched on Akira's shoulder. "We haven't been tailing it long enough to be sure."

"Well, how long is long enough?" Ryuji asks, shrugging. "Another day? Another week? Hell, it could be stopping right now, and it's not like we'd know. We're all out here."

Ann who remained silent in her thoughts, with arms crossed, asks, "It's not a real train though, right? It's not as though it absolutely needs to stop or let people on or off or restock on supplies or fuel." Her face reddens. "Trains use fuel, right?"

Ryuji opens his mouth, then shuts it and shrugs. "Actually, I don't know. I thought they ran on electricity, but I don't see any powerlines out there."

"It's coal," Morgana says, sounding sure of himself. Then, sounding less sure of himself, he mutters, "I think."

"Alright," Akira says, finally speaking up. "Regardless of how it moves itself, this train doesn't seem to make a lot of stops outside the one Morgana witnessed." They couldn't be sure the train didn't stop or have some schedule, but they didn't have the time to determine that.

Kaneshiro's war continued, and after the man's proclamation last night, Akira wanted to wrap up this case.

"Change of plans," he says. "The landmass of the Palace is varied. Maybe we could find some way to infiltrate the train without it having to stop."

"What?" Morgana asks. "Like, jump?"

Akira nods.

"That sounds dangerous," Ann replies. "Couldn't we just put something on the tracks that would force the train to stop?"

"We don't know that it actually would," Akira replies, then thinks about it. "Though, I wonder what would happen if we actually derailed the entire thing?"

"That might let us keep it in one spot," Ryuji replies. "But who knows how long it would stay there? Long enough for us to come back to it multiple times, like Madarame's or Kamoshida's Palaces?"

"So, for now, jumping onto the train," Ann says. "Fine. I'm pretty sure there are a few spots where the train runs beneath some cliffs. Maybe we could use those?"

Akira nods.

Ryuji claps his hands and sighs. "Alright then. Now, what about that other thing?"

Akira frowns. "Right." The girl who claimed the Phantom Thieves changed her heart. He shrugs. "What can we do?"

"We should find some way of telling people we didn't do it," Ann says. "The retraction. The thing we talked about yesterday."

Akira shakes his head. "How would the Phantom Thieves have heard about this, though? This is some random girl from Shujin. If we immediately post a retraction about it, then it'll help the police narrow us down as Shujin students."

"What about the RINE messages?" Ryuji asks.

"There are plenty of those," Morgana says.

"But only people who go to Shujin are on those messages," Akira points out. "It's the same problem."

"Do we actually change her heart and get her to confess that the first change was a lie?" Ryuji asks.

Morgana groans. "That's way too confusing. Who's going to keep track of all that?"

"I think the best thing to do now is sit on this," Akira says. Everyone stares at him with varied looks of disbelief. "If it's the start of a trend, then once it gains more momentum, we can address it directly. If it goes nowhere, there's no harm done in letting this die."

Haru and Makoto turn into the alley, and Akira raises a hand in greeting.

"Hey," Ann says, as the two join them in the shadows.

"Are you discussing Kaneshiro?" Haru asks.

"We were," Ryuji says. "Now we're talking about the Calling Card girl from yesterday."

"Actually," Akira says, clearing his throat. "I'd like to speak to you in private, Makoto."

She blinks. "Oh?" He notices the distinct lack of blush as she says, "Alright, then."

Akira jerks his head further down the alley, and the two shuffle off away from the others, careful to avoid the many shallow puddles that collected the recent rainfall. "We'll see you at school," Ann calls, as the rest of the group turns towards Shujin.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" Makoto asks once they're alone.

Akira sighs. If circumstances were different, he could appreciate how this might lead to something. But that's not why he's speaking with her now. "I think you're right," he says, then rolls his shoulders and starts again. "I mean, I'm confident you're right. About Kaneshiro and your father." He winces as Makoto's eyes widen. "I'm sorry, I'm not doing a good job of broaching this topic." He pauses, then says, "Look, I asked around. I even spoke to Kaneshiro about it-"

"Not about my father," Makoto gasps.

"No, no. About something else. But we danced around the topic of mental shutdowns," Akira says quickly. "And you're right. I think he knows how to trigger them or, at least, set them in motion. What happened to the driver that hit your father with his truck? I think he did the same thing to Sugimura's driver. Who knows what else he's done?"

Makoto remains silent, which Akira didn't anticipate. She stands there, eyes on him, but not quite looking at him. Finally, she asks, "What's he like?"

"Who?"

"Kaneshiro."

"What's Kaneshiro like?" Akira asks. He recoils a bit, and his mouth moves silently for a moment before he says, "He's crazy. He's got a Palace. He started a civil war with his own yakuza faction. He's killed a lot of people. He does terrible things to people, to kids, and even seems to hate a lot of the people under his command. He's a nightmare, Makoto. A monster." Then he throws up his arms in a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe, in his own warped way, he used to be a leader. Someone others could respect and follow? I'm not justifying anything he's done, but I can sometimes see hints beneath the surface of someone who might've been good if..." Then he sighs and shakes his head. "But no. I don't know. Most of the time, I think he's always been like this, before Palaces or any of it. He wanted to kill Haru. He killed your Dad. He's horrible. And I think he's always been horrible. He's just more unhinged now."

"Horrible," Makoto repeats. "Unhinged." Akira nods. "Then I'm going to ask once more, Akira. Let me enter the Metaverse and help you take down this horrible, unhinged person."

Akira watches her, before finally saying, "No."

Makoto nods. "Thank you for following up on what we discussed," she says. Slowly, she turns and starts heading back down the alley towards Shujin. "I'll see you at school."

Akira stares at her as she leaves. Protect her, he thinks, recalling suddenly the fire alarm and Kamoshida. Need to protect her. Need to protect them all.

Things inched together, but they moved. Akira visualized stealing Kaneshiro's Treasure and having him confess his crimes.

And what's more, Akira thinks, we may finally learn how these mental shutdowns work.

#

Kawakami dismisses the class but calls out, "Akira Kurusu, please stay a moment."

A few other students cast glances at each other, but no one says a thing. Takamaki nods at Kurusu before she departs.

Kurusu stands before his desk, hands at his side, bookbag slung over his shoulder. "Yes, sensei?" He asks.

"I've heard some rumors about you," Kawakami says, and wants to kick herself. She'd determined to start with something a little less accusatory, a little less conflict-oriented.

He shrugs. "There have been rumors about me since before my first day," he says, and nods his head. "Respectfully, they're not true."

"You're not even going to ask which ones I'm referring to?"

"I'm talking about all of them," Akira replies. "About how I'm with the yakuza, an assassin, a former gang member, and on and on."

"Okay, but these new rumors began around the time I noticed your attention slipping in class. Not to mention, your grades have been deteriorating a bit." She hates how she sounds. She doesn't want to be confrontational, not with Akira Kurusu. He knows her secret and still hasn't told anyone. She wants to help if she can.

"I've had a lot on my mind," Akira says. "But I'll bring my grades back up." The way he speaks, it feels as if he's pushing the words out of him, frustrated.

Is he mad about his grades? Kawakami wonders. "Are you still attending the tutoring sessions with Niijima?" She asks.

Kurusu balks a bit. "Actually, we haven't had one of those in a while."

"I hope you haven't been disrespectful to her," Kawakami says.

"No," Akira says, shaking his head. "Just some differences of opinion."

Kawakami stares at this student, opens her mouth, and closes it. What can she do? This one knows more than most how little time she has. She doesn't want Kurusu to go down some dark path, but can she really be expected to stop him?

Besides, where were all the other teachers? Kawakami wasn't the only one at Shujin. Minus Kamoshida, Shujin still boasted plenty of faculty.

"Will there be anything else, Sensei?" Kurusu asks.

Kawakami sighs. "Just take care of yourself," she says. "You're dismissed."

Akira Kurusu bows and leaves Kawakami in the classroom.

#

"I need your help with something," Akira says, entering Untouchable.

Iwai rubs his skull, and Akira notes the dark circles beneath his eyes. "What'd you want now?"

"You know that wand thing you use?"

"What wand thing?"

"The thing that checks if I'm wearing a wire."

Iwai sits up a bit straighter. "What about it?" Akira spreads his arms wide. "You serious?" Iwai asks.

Akira nods. "I need you to check if I'm bugged. My bag, too."

"What the hell for? Who do you think is bugging you?"

"One of the best hackers on the planet, apparently," Akira replies. Iwai stares at him, then drops below his desk, fumbling a bit, before retrieving the wand.

A few moments later, Akira, confirmed as bug-free, asks, "Mind if I borrow that? Just for today."

"Worried about your friends?" Iwai asks.

Akira shakes his head. "No, I'm going to check out my place. I've got a funny feeling." He explains the Ali Baba situation to Iwai.

"No shortage of bullshit with you, is there?" Iwai asks. Akira shrugs. "Well, I don't know much about computers, though I'm not a dinosaur. But it does sound like this person has a pretty good grasp on your shit." He frowns. "If there's a bug in your building, does that mean they've been recording me too?"

"I'll be sure to ask them if I find one," Akira says, sliding the wand into his backpack.

#

"Akira?"

As he rounds the corner towards LeBlanc, he hears Haru call to him. He stops, smiles, and waves. "Hey. What're you doing here?"

She hands him an envelope. "I figured I'd drop off the next batch of money you owe Kaneshiro. Hopefully, you won't need it, but it's probably better to get it to you ahead of time rather than right at the deadline."

Akira nods. "Thanks, Haru. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, really." He slides the envelope into his bag, next to the wand.

"It's not a problem," she says. "What're you up to now?"

Akira smirks and says, "I was going to see if I could find out how Ali Baba knows so much about the Phantom Thieves." He explains his plan and suspicions to Haru.

"Count me in," she says, and they enter LeBlanc together.

"Sojiro's out," Akira says, dumping his backpack on the ground and pulling out the wand. "So no one will bother us."

"Are you sure that can detect what you're looking for?" Haru asks.

"I'm not even sure what I'm looking for," Akira says. He hefts the wand. "Even if this doesn't find anything, that's no guarantee there's nothing here."

The door chimes, and they both turn in surprise.

"Hey," Shinya Oda says, pulling his baseball cap lower on his head.

"Oh," Akira says, blinking, wand in hand. "Uh, hi. What're you doing here?"

"Bored," Shinya says. He looks at Haru. "Hey."

"Um, hello," she replies.

"Yeah, this is Shinya," Akira says. "He robbed me once, but he's okay."

"Oh, alright then," Haru replies. "You're not going to rob me, are you?" She asks.

"Not unless you leave money out," Shinya says.

Haru leans over towards Akira and whispers. "You may want to store that envelope in your room."

"Good idea."

When Akira returns, Shinya and Haru sit together at the counter. From what Akira can gather, Shinya is waxing on about his school life, which apparently isn't great.

"So, what are you guys up to?" Shinya asks. "This wasn't a date or anything, was it?"

"No," both Akira and Haru answer. Akira beams. "Actually, we were just about to play a game."

"What game?"

Akira lifts the wand and holds it out towards Shinya. "You turn this thing on, and you run it over every surface you can find this place until it beeps. Sounds fun, right?"

"No," Shinya says.

Akira pats him on the shoulder. "C'mon man, help us out. After all, you owe me twice."

Shinya groans but hops off his stool. "Fine, fine." He snatches the wand out of Akira's hand. Akira gives him a quick demonstration of how the thing works, and then Shinya is off to the corners.

"That's a bit mean," Haru says, frowning.

"I mean, he did rob me," Akira says, and then calls to Shinya, "Let me know if you can't reach anywhere."

"Jackass," Shinya mutters.

Akira settles down next to Haru at the counter. "So, did Makoto tell you what I told her?"

Haru nods. "She did. She also told me you're almost certain Kaneshiro is the one who killed Sugimura."

"Yeah," Akira replies. "I'd say it's ninety-nine percent at this point, though I've got no idea how he's actually triggering shutdowns. I don't think he has access to the Metaverse directly. If he had a Persona and could do what we do, then he wouldn't have a Palace."

"That's assuming everything works based on Morgana's belief."

"Yeah," Akira says. He crosses his arms. "You know," he whispers, as Shinya steps out of the kitchen with the wand and runs it along the walls. "Ali Baba didn't mention Morgana. I didn't think about it at the time because I'm pretty sure Igor figured it out, but Ali Baba only mentioned the humans."

"Isn't that to be expected?" Haru asks. "Even if they can hear us, they'd only hear Morgana meowing. Even if they could understand, didn't you prove that Morgana's voice comes through as meowing when we tried to kidnap him?"

Akira nods. "Sure, it's just strange, is all. Morgana always feels like this extra piece of the puzzle."

"I can understand that," Haru mutters.

Akira glances at her. "I'm sorry about everything you're going through," he says. Haru looks at him, and Akira glances away, sheepishly. "I know it's been difficult since Sugimura died. I know everyone's been focused on Kaneshiro and getting me out of the Dragon. But I know that we just switched tasks immediately and went right to Kaneshiro from Sugimura without processing any of it. Are you okay?"

"Thank you for saying that," Haru says. "I appreciate it, and I-"

BEEPBEEPBEEP

They stop and look at Shinya, who stands frozen on one of the booth tables. He holds the device up to a little nook, furnishing just above where someone's head would be if they were sitting. Gingerly, he stands on his tiptoes, reaches, and comes back down with something in his hand.

"Is this what you guys were looking for?" Shinya asks, holding it out towards Akira and Haru.

"Yeah, that-" Akira starts, but his phone vibrates.

ALIBABA : LEAVE IT

ALIBABA : i can help u better if u leave it

"It's them," Akira says, and shows Haru the message.

"Who?" Shinya asks.

"One second," Akira says, and types a response.

AKIRA : Yeah, I figured this is how you knew so much about us. Why the hell would we trust you now?

AKIRA : This is a huge breach of privacy!

ALIBABA : says the guy who steals hearts from bad guys

AKIRA : If you really know how that works you know it's different. This is my home!

ALIBABA : i know i know just leave it tho ok?

AKIRA : NO

ALIBABA : please. Please.

Akira stares at the phone.

ALIBABA : i kno there is not much i can say

ALIBABA : but please. im sorry but u gotta leave it

Akira looks at Haru. "It's your house," she says. "Sort of."

"No," Akira replies, now talking to Haru and the bug and, by extension, Ali Baba. "No. We're going to bring this to the group and let them decide."

"What're you guys talking about?" Shinya asks.

ALIBABA : decide what?

"Decide if we're going to keep working with you," Akira says. "If they agree to it, we'll let you keep the bug here, or we can set something up that's more convenient. But I'm not gonna lie. Most of them aren't going to like the fact that our identities are exposed to you. Can't you tell us who you are?"

ALIBABA : cant u figure it out?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haru asks, upon reading the text.

"It's someone close," Akira says. "The world's greatest hacker, but they were able to come in here and place a bug in this coffee shop."

Some thoughts bubble up within Akira's mind. Memories from earlier conversations and implications, but he keeps them quiet. Better to not give away too much.

Suddenly, Akira's phone beeps. It's another message, but not from Ali Baba.

#

The door opens, and Kaneshiro bids him enter. "Hey kid," he says, as Akira approaches the desk. He's not been to this hideout before. From the outside, it appears a typical mishmash of businesses all stacked upon each other. But downstairs, empty offices abound.

Men with tattoos stand guard outside, but only this office, marked by the sign, ‘Tokyo Enterprises,' holds anything. A desk. A filing cabinet. Nanashi, Muzaki. Kaneshiro, seated behind the desk.

"Evening, Boss," Akira says, and bows.

Kaneshiro nods, smiling. Then, he says, "So tell me about this girl. Makoto, wasn't it?" Akira feels his nerves flare, but then Kaneshiro says, "Makoto Niijima, right?"

Akira swallows before he can stop himself. Kaneshiro's smile never flickers, but it does freeze in place, a death's mask. "H-how'd you find out?" Akira asks.

Kaneshiro waves his hand in the air. "A few of those Shujin kids ratted you out. I asked them about you. I wanted to know what you weren't telling me." He stops waving his hand and holds it out towards Akira as Akira opens his mouth. "I'm not mad, kid. If that's what you think. I just want to educate you a bit on who you're thinking about getting involved with."

"Um," Akira says.

"Akira," Kaneshiro says. "That's your cue to shut the fuck up and listen." Akira's mouth slams shut. "This kid, Niijima. She's from a family of people that won't get on well with folks like you and me." Akira reels at the statement.

"Her father was a piece of shit cop who stuck his nose in my business for years. Her older sister is some broom-up-her-ass public prosecutor who has a hard-on for putting people like us behind bars."

Akira grunts out a reply, but in the silence that stretches, he says, "Yeah, I-I know all that."

"Then why would you possibly get involved with someone like that?" Kaneshiro asks.

"It just sort of happened," Akira mumbles, feeling like a complete idiot.

Kaneshiro stares at him, as if confused. "It just sort of happened?" He asks. "Okay, well, maybe you should just sort of end it, Akira. I know she's just some piece of ass at your school, but I don't want her around our operation, even in the peripheral. Got it?"

Akira nods.

"Good, because if you don't, I may insist that you invite her along one of these nights. And then she can see what you're really all about? Understand?"

Again, Akira nods.

"What about Sakamoto?" Kaneshiro asks, leaning back in his chair.

Akira wants to vomit. "Ryuji? How do-" He starts, but Kaneshiro fixes him with a bored look. "Right. Uh, what about him?"

Kaneshiro sighs heavily and straightens. "Do you think he would be useful to us? The kids at Shujin seem to think you two are thick as thieves, along with that blonde hafu."

Akira clears his throat. "He's my friend," he admits. "But he's also an idiot. I don't think he'd be much use." He shrugs and adds, "Half of the folks from Shujin aren't much use, anyway. Why make things worse?"

Kaneshiro chuckles. "Fair enough. I'm-"

But then the door to the office bursts open, and one of Kaneshiro's other lieutenants rushes inside. "Boss," he calls. "They found us."

Behind him come the shouts and screams of fighting and the stench of smoke.

Akira looks at Kaneshiro. The man grins and pushes himself to his feet. "Let's meet them, then."

Chapter 66: Chapter 66

From the door, they burst, and Akira trips on some imperfection in the concrete and lands hard on his side. One of Kaneshiro’s men stumbles over him, his shoe connecting painfully with Akira's abdomen, and goes sprawling while seized by a coughing fit. Akira's nostrils burn. Grime coats the skin of his face. In a pulp of shadows, Nanashi stands over him. A lowered hand and Akira reacts automatically, reaching up. Hauled to his feet.

Kaneshiro stalks out of the smoke. A cut above his eye spills three separate trails of blood down his face. His eyes and jaw remain set. He doesn't even breathe heavily.

A shout.

Four men charge from deep within the alley. Two hold baseball bats, one a hammer, and one clutches a fireman's axe.

Nanashi curses and Akira realizes he recognizes none of the newcomers.

"Get that fucker with the ax-" Nanashi starts, but then the Dragons reach them. The two forces slap into one another with a mix of grunts, shouts, and bodies hitting the pavement, the result.

Nanashi, the cougher, two others, and Kaneshiro act as a buffer between Akira and the attackers. One of the Other-Dragons brings the hammer down on the cougher's shoulder, and the man screams in pain and recoils. An ally seizes the hammer wielder around the legs and drags him down.

Run.

The word beats through him like an arrhythmic pulse.

Run.

Get away.

Run.

Kamoshida in the hallway.

The police that night.

The dark pit of Tokyo Bay.

This is not the Metaverse.

No vial of medicine will fix what happens here.

Kaneshiro grapples with one of the attackers. Between them, they attempt to wrest a baseball bat free. His focus on his opponent, Kaneshiro fails to see the man with the axe. He swings the hilt at Kaneshiro's head and connects with the side of his skull. Kaneshiro staggers and drops to the ground. The man with the axe straddles Kaneshiro, says something Akira cannot hear, and raises the axe above his head, preparing to angle down with the blade.

Akira never recalls what prompted him to charge forward and slam into the axe man's side. All he remembers is the weight he tries to shift. The axe man's foot drags back, trips over Kaneshiro's prone form, and destroys his balance.

Kaneshiro rises.

Blood runs from his ear. Red streaks down his now wild face. A monster out of some old tale.

He grins, and there's even blood in his gums, staining the base of his teeth. An impression of fangs and an unhinged jaw strike Akira, and Kaneshiro slaps him on the shoulder and says, "Thanks, kid," before he turns to the fallen man.

And the chaos continues.

#

"That's all I know," Haru says.

Makoto nods. "That's... alarming."

They hold council in the lobby of Makoto's apartment building. Though Sae's infrequent returns probably meant their freedom to use Makoto's apartment, she didn't want to risk discovery.

Haru swung by only a short while ago to discuss the newly revealed situation with Ali Baba. Makoto appreciates this more than she tells Haru. Without Haru acting as a live line of communication, who knew what the Phantom Thieves would tell Makoto?

The bug's discovery and subsequent conversation with the world-renowned hacker led Akira to believe the former must operate within proximity to LeBlanc.

But wouldn't that mean the bug's placement held a more personal meaning?

After all, Makoto thinks, how would they know to bug LeBlanc in the first place? Makoto supposes if you made enough connections regarding Shujin, the Phantom Thieves, Kamoshida, and Akira, LeBlanc might seem a viable option to bug. But to physically place one? That seemed a long shot. Makoto couldn't shake the idea that the bug fulfilled some entirely different purpose than what Ali Baba utilized it for now. But what could it be? To spy on Sojiro Sakura? Why?

Haru takes out her phone, and queus up RINE. "I agree. I thought that maybe Ali Baba might be a Shujin student, but I don't think so. That there would be the Phantom Thieves and a world-famous hacker all at one school seems too implausible. But there was something strange about the way they spoke with Akira. Almost juvenile, and-" She stops, and her face freezes and pales.

"What's wrong?" Makoto asks.

"Open RINE," Haru replies.

Makoto does, and the messages fly. Someone witnessed something in Shibuya. First-hand reports were sketchy, but it appeared some major incident between yakuza factions exploded just a few minutes ago. Already, police swarm the area. Makoto has difficulty swallowing.

"We should contact the others," Makoto says. "And try to find Akira as soon as possible."

#

They shamble inside and collapse upon various pieces of strewn furniture. Akira lays against the armrest of a couch and watches Kaneshiro march to a bathroom with no door, yank open the medicine cabinet over the sink, and withdraw a brown bottle and some bandages.

No one says much over the next five minutes. The members of Kaneshiro's Dragons lick their wounds.

During their retreat, additional allies made their locations known. Everyone remains alive and dispersed amongst various hideouts that the Other-Dragons don't know about. Yet.

Kaneshiro drops into the chair next to Akira, dumps some of the contents of the brown bottle on a cotton ball, and dabs at his head. "That was stupid," he mutters.

"Boss?" Akira asks, fear spiking.

"The attack," Kaneshiro replies. "It was stupid. Pointless. It didn't take me out or anyone with us." He shakes his head. "The Boss didn't sanction it. He's more cautious than this."

"Seemed like a lot of them, though."

Kaneshiro shrugs. "One of the lieutenants then. One of them that's still alive. Must've hoped they'd get rid of me and be done with all this. Big gamble, but they lost. And now the police will be in everyone's business."

"Yeah," Akira says. "I heard sirens as we were pulling out."

"Our thing is a part of life in this city," Kaneshiro says. "The different Syndicates. Our Groups. Factions. All that shit. The police exist as a third party to help maintain order. We do what we want from the shadows, and the police ensure that nothing gets too intense from the perspective of the regular jerk offs. But no one can ignore that. Everyone's gonna talk about it, which means the cops will need to get involved now." He spits some blood from his mouth onto the floor. "Damn. What a stupid play."

The door opens. Muzaki enters with another member of Kaneshiro's crew. Between them, they drag a bloody-faced man. Akira recognizes him as one of the men with a baseball bat. "We picked him up on the way," Muzaki's partner says. "Figured you'd want to talk to him."

Kaneshiro stands, tosses the cotton ball away, and walks over to the three men. Muzaki and the other drop the Dragon to the ground. With great effort, the man rises to his knees and glares up at Kaneshiro. Kaneshiro stares back and says nothing, then with great heaping strides, walks over to where a baseball bat lays propped against the wall. He takes it, returns, and brings it down on the man's head with a CRACK and no words. The man collapses and lies still.

Kaneshiro drops the bat and turns to Nanashi. "Get rid of this."

Akira feels bile rise in his throat, but he keeps it down.

"Send out feelers to our operations," Kaneshiro tells Muzaki. "I want to know who else and what else was hit. You get to Natsuki Storage specifically. Make sure it's still standing.”

The words drift into Akira's consciousness, and at the same time, his phone vibrates. He pulls it out and checks.

ALIBABA : i dnt know if u involved but get out of Shibuya if u there

ALIBABA : lotta chatter on the yakuza darkweb

Akira deletes the message.

"Kurusu," Kaneshiro calls. Akira straightens and turns to his Boss. Kaneshiro beckons him over, to where he still stands over the corpse. Once within reach, Kaneshiro reaches out and wraps an arm around Akira's shoulder. "Keep watch on those Shujin brats. This is going to freak some of them out. Keep them in line. Some of them may want to quit or run, or worse, talk to the police. Make sure they don't. Got it?"

"Got it," Akira replies.

Kaneshiro squeezes him a bit. "You did good tonight, kid. Go get some rest."

#

Akira, at a table at some cafe. His friends surround him.

Ryuji speaks, but Akira hears nothing.

"Natsuki Storage," Akira says.

Yusuke straightens. "What?"

"Kaneshiro runs that operation."

"You think-?" Yusuke starts, but Akira nods.

"Daiki Aoe. It fits."

Everyone continues to speak, to strategize, to further indicate that Akira's presence within the yakuza group remains unacceptable.

He tells the story of what happened.

"It's fine," he says once finished. "Kaneshiro trusts me more."

"Akira," Haru says, lips quivering. "You saw him... with a bat?"

Akira shrugs. "Yes. I think. Looked bad." He stands. "I'm going to go home and sleep. I'm tired." The others look at him and accompany him to the door.

Akira, on the street. What happened to the door of the cafe? Ryuji, with his hand on Akira's shoulder, pointing.

Fires rise overhead—one of Kaneshiro's hideouts burns.

"That's not good," Akira mutters.

Fires in a tightly packed place like Tokyo stir panic.

A figure moves before the flames. Something tall and muscular shuffles its way along despite its proximity to the fire. No one moves from it. No one seems to notice it.

A face turns towards Akira, and he sees the shiny, deep blue mask.

The Shadow turns again and walks off.

Chapter 67: Chapter 67

6/19

 

Akechi enters Sae's office. She notes the deep circles under his eyes, the battered state of his school uniform, and the frayed ends of his typically well-kept hair. He shuffles the few steps from door to desk, and collapses into one of her chairs, without so much as asking.

"Up late?" Sae asks. Despite her reputation, Sae knows when and when not to antagonize. The responsibilities of most students paled compared to Akechi's, and Sae understands his physical state resembles his interior.

Akechi nods, then waves a gloved hand through the air. "Another Dragon Lieutenant, dead. Slit his wrists."

"Yes," Sae says. Absently, her hand finds its way to her desktop mouse. She scrolls and queues up the report emailed earlier. The photos of the dead man greet her. His head, back against his bath's tile. Red rivers slide down to pool at the bottom. "Possibly in retaliation for yesterday's attack on Kaneshiro."

Akechi's face remains neutral, either due to his expecting the point or his exhaustion. "Another mental shutdown?"

"Hard to say," Sae replies. "It's not unheard of to stage a murder as a suicide. Chatter implies the Dragon's attack on Kaneshiro's splinter group was unsanctioned. Maybe the Dragon's core took matters into their own hands."

"So, in the end, you've only got your gut."

"It's something," Sae snaps back. Then, "But yes, I can't pin this one. Too many factors." She sighs, closes the tab holding the pictures, and leans back in her chair. "What we need to do is bring down Kaneshiro's faction. If we can arrest them, we may gain more valuable insights into the mental shutdowns." She lifts a pile of paperwork off her desk and sets it down elsewhere, then takes the file it hid and hands it over to Akechi.

He opens the manilla file and frowns. "Forensic accountants? You're investigating business fronts?"

"It's their main source of revenue. Kagawa is coordinating with organized crime. There's nothing definite, but there are some promising leads in there. The trick will be to catch them with their pants down before they're aware of our investigation, burn their boats, and move on."

Akechi's mouth tigthens, then he nods. "You know, I read an interesting article today." He takes out his phone, spends five seconds typing, and then turns the screen so Sae can read.

"Yes," she says, leaning over the desk. "I've heard."

The sudden, almost overnight rise in Calling Cards. Per the report, one Calling Card sent to another Shujin student suddenly became a cascade. Three more Shujin students reported receiving Calling Cards from the Phantom Thieves, but so did other students - mostly females - from neighboring school districts. A few locals in Shibuya and other neighborhoods also reported receiving the Cards, though few could actually produce them.

"They must be fake, no?" Akechi asks.

"I'd assume so," Sae replies. "From what I read, the Cards are very vague. And those that did specify, the targets mostly committed personal misdeeds, not felonies. The Phantom Thieves, as dangerous as they may be, are a fad right now."

"It is possible the Phantom Thieves made these," Akechi points out.

"An uptick in volume makes no sense. One or two may be legitimate, but the sudden tide distributed over the last two days is hard to believe. And if the Phantom Thieves have some end goal in mind or are after a certain caliber of criminal, it makes no sense for them to waste time with people's personal squabbles."

"Alright," Akechi replies. "But we could use this to our advantage. If these Cards are fake, then the Phantom Thieves will have to address them sooner or later. Maybe we could, as you put it regarding Kaneshiro's group, catch them with their pants down."

Sae nods, and smiles.

#

"I don't love this plan," Mona says.

Joker pats his friend on the head. "It'll be fine."

Kaneshiro's train rockets towards them.

"Not much time left," Joker says, keeping his voice calm.

"Okay, okay," Mona snaps. "Let's do it."

They both crouch and when Joker shouts, "Go," they leap off the rocky outcropping. For one brief yet eternal moment, they sail through the air. Joker's guts churn in terror, and then the stampeding steel of Kaneshiro's train races up to meet them. The two slam onto the roof and roll painfully for a few feet, the wind slicing past them, and the world a blaring blur in their ears.

Mona spotted the outcropping during his surveillance the previous day. Upon approaching, he figured it would make a lousy entry point to the train, but Joker wasn't convinced. The tracks, after all, remained fixed, so the train passed this portion periodically.

Joker feels the bruises on his body start to swell, and he reaches into his coat to pull a vial of Takemi's medicine. He takes a sip and keeps his center of gravity low.

"That sucked," Mona groans, standing.

Joker smirks. They're on the train! "Okay," he says. "Here's the plan. We get the others and bring them back here. Now that we know we can get aboard, we should be able to repeat that."

"We've got to jump off again?" Mona asks, peering over the edge.

"We've got Takemi's medicine," Joker says. "Even if we get hurt, we'll be fine."

"Fine," Mona grumbles.

They jump. The landing this time isn't much better, but the dry soil is - at least - slightly softer than the metal roof. Thank God we're more powerful here, Joker thinks. If we jumped off without these powers, we'd likely break every bone in our body.

The two retreat as the train speeds away into the distance. Joker drives Mona in silence, trying to calculate how much time will be needed to infiltrate successfully, find the Treasure, and send the Calling Card.

These thoughts still on his mind, they exit the Metaverse into the alley behind 'Untouchable.'

There, Akira finds Makoto waiting for him.

#

The conversation repeats.

What more is there to say?

Makoto sees Morgana staring up at her as she argues her point once more and can almost read the bored expression on the feline's face.

Their cached accusations and responses fling themselves at each other, and Akira asks, "Do you even believe in what we're doing?"

Makoto opens her mouth and feels the words cycle back down to her stomach.

"That's what I thought," Akira says. "You can say whatever you want. That you really believe in what we're doing. That you want to help me get out of a bad situation. But I think what you really want is revenge for your Dad. And I'm not willing to put you in harm's way for your chance at that."

Akira explains their recent discovery. Makoto only half listens. "Do you?" She asks.

"Do I what?" Akira asks.

"Do you believe in what the Phantom Thieves are doing?" She asks. "Or are you just on auto-pilot?"

"I'm the leader," he says.

"That's not an answer," Makoto replies. She turns away. Akira says something, but Makoto ignores him. She's done with this. As he spoke, a single thought pulsed through her mind in a voice her own but not entirely her own. Why do you need his permission?

Makoto leaves Akira and Morgana alone in the alley with a new destination in mind.

When she reaches the clinic, she makes her way inside and finds Takemi saying goodbye to a pair of parents and their little girl.

"Thank you for the check-up, Doctor Takemi," the little girl says.

Takemi nods. "Um, sure. You're welcome."

The two parents bow, and the father says, "Thank you, once more, for saving her."

"No problem," Takemi says and then notices Makoto. She almost appears to blush, then ushers the family away before listening to Makoto's request.

"No way," she says once she's heard.

"I need it for the Metaverse," Makoto replies.

"I'm assuming Akira hasn't cleared any of this."

"I don't need Akira to clear anything that I do," Makoto replies. "Have you been to the Metaverse?"

"No," Takemi replies, shaking her head.

"But you're still useful. You still provide the Phantom Thieves with medical care and what they need. As it stands, I can't do anything."

"And so you're going to force your way into Kaneshiro's Palace and potentially get yourself killed?"

"Everyone else found their way into the Metaverse by accident. Haru. Kitagawa. Takamaki. Even Sakamoto and Akira. Not one of them went there purposefully the first time. Why is it suddenly a problem that I actually want to go there? I want to fight. And so what if it's for revenge? I'm not going to sit here anymore and worry about what other people tell me. Or what others want from me. It's my decision, even if I don't have the stupid app."

Takemi shakes her head. "There's more than one way to be useful. And this is far from a healthy choice to handle your feelings, whatever they may be. You're deliberately putting yourself in danger."

"I'm already in danger," Makoto snaps.

She sees Kamoshida advancing across the room towards her. She feels Sae's angry, almost hateful gaze upon her. She remembers the police officers who came to tell her about the accident that turned out to be murder.

"I'm not safe out here," Makoto says, and swings her hand through the air, indicating the world as a whole. "But in there, I'd have a chance. And I can stop someone from hurting others." She stops and thinks. "Maybe I do believe in the Phantom Thieves, then." At this point, it felt somewhat hard not to.

"You've heard Akira's story," Makoto says. "You've heard Takamaki's, and Sakamoto's, and Kitagawa's, and Haru's. Well, here's mine. Junya Kaneshiro killed my father. He orphaned my sister and me. No one gets to tell me what to do about that or how to feel about that. Not Akira, not my sister. Not you." Makoto holds out her hand. "So either give me the medicine, or I'll go find some elsewhere. Or, I'll head to the Metaverse without any."

Takemi meets her gaze and sighs.

#

Makoto races through Shibuya's streets. She'd texted Haru from Takemi's, and based on the deliberately vague response, had a solid idea of what the Phantom Thieves planned. Akira, for all his bravado, wanted closure to this chapter of his life, this yakuza war. He'd insist everyone report to Kaneshiro's Palace as soon as possible.

The reconciliation of her feelings finalized, Makoto storms forward with nothing more to give or explain. Action, now. She rounds the corner off Central and sees Sakamoto and Kitagawa disappear around the side of 'Untouchable.' She jogs to the edge of the corner and peers around.

The Phantom Thieves group up, and Akira takes his phone from his pocket. He presses a button, and Makoto dashes forward.

The world shifts.

#

Kaneshiro raises his head as Nanashi steps into the dark storeroom.

"It's true," Nanashi says. Muzaki frowned from where he stood guard by the door. The three men are the sole occupants of this room. "Niijima. She's looking into us."

Kaneshiro sighs, sticks his hands in his pockets, and leans up against the wall. Underground, the place is cool despite the summer heat up above. "Dog with a fuckin' bone. Did anyone spot the younger one?"

Nanashi nods. "One of the Shujin kids saw her earlier in Shibuya. He tailed her but lost her on a side street."

"Was she with Akira?" Kaneshiro asks.

"No."

Kaneshiro stares up at the ceiling. "I hate to break the kid's heart. But it is what it is."

"Boss," Nanashi asks, and approaches Kaneshiro. "I gotta ask, and feel free to tell me to go fuck myself. But if you're this concerned about Sae Niijima, why don't you Request a shutdown?"

Muzaki perks up at this. Kaneshiro smiles.

"Never did tell you how all this works, huh?" He asks.

Nanashi shakes his head. "No. Forget it. Forget I said-"

Kaneshiro holds up his hand. "It's fine. Requests are typically free-for-all, but certain industries or people require significant... let's call it, approval." He chuckles. "They used Detective Niijima as an example, to show me how their service could benefit us. But Sae Niijima is a prosecutor with the SID, which has serious political backing. Taking her out or putting a Request on her isn't the same as asking for some Dragon Lieutenants to die."

"Or Madarame?" Asks Nanashi.

Kaneshiro shrugs. "Madarame would've been off limits if he'd still been useful. But once he was compromised, that was that." Kaneshiro shakes his head. "No. If we want to handle Sae Niijima, it'll have to be by our hands. And we'll do it through her sister."

#

"Wow."

Joker turns at the voice, pulse quickening.

Makoto stands alongside the Phantom Thieves, staring with wide eyes at the expanse around them.

Chapter 68: Chapter 68

A vacant railway track of silence, buffeted only by a dry, hot breeze. The Phantom Thieves react in the muted shift of their faces, obscured by degrees by their masks. Sakamoto's jaw hangs open beneath the gunmetal of his skull mask. Takamaki's eyes dart from Makoto to the others, to the area surrounding Makoto, as if she suspected Makoto brought along additional guests.

Haru brings her hands to her lips, a quiet gasp, but Makoto notices the slight upward twitch of her mouth's corners.

Kitagawa's face remains hidden by the porcelain fox. Makoto presumes the bulbous feline shape is Morgana's Metaverse form, and she has no prior information to gauge his bulging eye reaction.

Akira's mask barely contains his wide eyes, but his mouth twists into a scowl. His spin to fully face her whips his black coat through the dust, and a cloud rises around him. His feet stagger, and then he moves toward her, apprehension, resolve, and frustration all vying for a place beneath his mask. Makoto's heart revs like an engine and she raises her hand, palm out. This action, a wonder worker on the troublemakers at Shujin, halts Akira, seizing his approach midstep.

"Don't bother," Makoto says. She taps the side pocket of her uniform, indicating the outline of her smartphone. "By your own explanation, the app is now on my phone." She risks breaking gaze with Akira to lock eyes with the other Thieves, one by one, daring them to counter her. "Even if you force me out of here, I'll be able to come back."

No one replies, and Makoto watches them collectively mull over her statement's truth.

Refocusing on Akira, she says, "You wouldn't take me along, wouldn't help me. I took matters into my own hands." Sure he won't approach, Makoto lowers her outstretched hand and reaches into the waistband of her uniform's skirt. She withdraws the airsoft revolver. "Same as yours. I'm not defenseless here."

Joker's jaw rotates as he searches for some counterargument or tries to pick one.

"You don't have a Persona." Makoto turns to the speaker, Takamaki. She unclips a red whip, which blends in against her outrageous costume, and holds it up. "Our weapons manifest in the Metaverse once we unlock our Persona. It's great you have a gun, but beyond that, you've got no protection."

"Neither did you," Makoto points out. "When you went to the Metaverse the first time, back in Kamoshida's Palace, you didn't have any protection either. You still came back, didn't you?" Makoto nods at Kitagawa, then at Haru. "Did any of you? Did any of you have a full arsenal or purpose when you first entered the Metaverse? Did any of you choose it?" Makoto shakes her head. "No. But I am. I know what Kaneshiro is, and I comprehend the Metaverse. I want to fight, Persona or no Persona. I'll have you all for protection, but I'm not helpless."

"I say she stays." As one, the group turns to Kitagawa, who raises the fox mask off his face. He takes a moment to regard his friends, then shrugs. "If she wishes to confront the man who damaged her, who are we to stop her? She is not incorrect. We are all here. We can keep her safe. I have experience wandering a Palace alone. If Niijima insists upon returning to the Palace, even if we force her from it, she will be alone and defenseless save for the gun."

Makoto nods. "Thank you, Kitagawa."

He yanks the mask down. "In the Metaverse, I assume the name 'Fox.'"

"Of course," Makoto says. "My apologies."

Fox does some weird curtsy thing Makoto assumes means he took no offense.

Sakamoto frowns. "Uh, maybe I'm not thinking this through, but wouldn't a quick fix be one of us staying back in the real world with the Prez, and making sure she didn't get back into the Palace?"

The others seem taken aback by this suggestion, and Takamaki begins to nod, but Makoto clears her throat. "That is a good idea Saka- sorry, I mean, Skull. However, my impression of your current situation suggested that you needed every available member of the Phantom Thieves to assist in Kaneshiro's infiltration, as you've no idea what defenses or resistance you'll find. Beyond that, there's one glaring flaw with your plan."

"What's that?" Skull asks, not angrily but sounding genuinely curious to know what he missed.

"Do you really think any of you could stop me in the real world?"

Eyes drift to Akira, who rubs his jaw. Makoto notices Haru roll her shoulder in her socket.

Akira, Sakamoto, and Morgana all glance at Takamaki, who balks at their sudden scrutiny. "Hey, don't look at me!"

"This is crazy," Akira says. "And not something we're voting on. We may confront Kaneshiro's Shadow while we're here. The only reason we've survived Palace ruler encounters before is our Personae. We won't-"

Haru raises her hand into the air. "Actually," she says, once Akira stops speaking upon noticing her. "That's not really, well, true. Didn't we all encounter Palace rulers prior to our summoning our Personae? Joker, you, and Skull with Kamoshida. Same with Panther. Fox was dragged before Madarame. I was stuck in Sugimura's Palace for a while before I called Milady. So..." She shrugs. "We actually have all survived."

"It's not the same," Akira counters.

"Isn't it?" Fox asks. "If such things follow a pattern, Niijima seems to adhere."

Haru approaches Makoto, and stands alongside her. "Someone needs to watch her. I agree. I'll stay with her the entire time." She smiles at Makoto beneath the dark felt mask.

Makoto feels a surge of giddiness and affection. "Thank you," she says, and then whispers, "I love your outfit, by the way."

Haru beams. "Thank you so much!"

"I also," Fox declares, approaching the two women, "will stay by their side. Between Noir and myself, Niijima should be adequately protected. Should things become too dangerous, we will collectively make our escape or retreat to any Safe Room we encounter onboard the train."

"Anything can happen," Akira says. "Every second we're in here is a second she could be in danger and-"

A sudden intensity erupts into Fox's voice. "That did not seem to stop you where I was concerned."

Makoto notices both Skull and Panther's eyes drift down and away from Akira.

Makoto can almost hear Akira's prepared retort, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut for a few moments. Finally, unable to meet anyone's eyes, he shallowly nods his head. Then, as if noticing Morgana for the first time, asks, "You have anything you want to add?"

The cat-thing shrugs. "Only that we should hurry up. I don't want Makoto in any unnecessary danger, but like she said, she's got the app. She could come back any time, and even if we do manage to stop her, we can't be with her all the time, and this Palace, in particular, has about a million entry points."

"You sound indifferent," Panther says.

"I'm not indifferent," Morgana clarifies. "I just don't think Kaneshiro's Palace is going to infiltrate itself." He bobs his thick head towards Makoto. "Maybe she gets a Persona, maybe she doesn't. But I'm not excited at the prospect of another logistical nightmare of trying to keep her from here."

Akira glances over at the train tracks, then back at Makoto. "Alright, fine. You stay with Noir and Fox the whole time. If you see Kaneshiro, let us handle it."

Makoto slides the revolver back into her waistband. "Fair enough. I'm ready."

But then Morgana turned into a bus, and it turned out she wasn't.

#

The train, for all its size, materializes on the horizon as a thin line segment.

Their drive to the outcropping that hangs over the tracks lasted a few short minutes, and Makoto read the mood enough to remain silent. The train grows steadily larger. Thin pebbles, then larger clumps of rocks, dust, and dry vegetation begin to vibrate as the behemoth approaches.

Unable to remain silent given the obvious, Makoto turns and asks, "How will we do this? Get aboard?"

The others turn to Akira, who first replies with a sigh and then, "I'll carry you."

"Excuse me?" Makoto says, feeling her brows rise and cheeks redden.

"We can survive a jump from this height. But I doubt you can. So I'll carry you in my arms, and we'll jump aboard."

Makoto peers over the edge at the empty space between her feet and the tracks, and then weighs that terror against the idea of sitting in Akira's arms while sailing through it. "Are you sure I can't make that on my own?"

"Makoto," Akira snaps. "It's the only way you're getting down there. If it's not a yes, then this is where we leave you."

That settled that.

The minutes pass, and the train expands. Makoto feels her nerves sharpen as the whirling, twisting, metallic monstrosity approaches. From the Thieves' descriptions, Makoto figured the train resembled a simple train. But this thing maintained numerous platforms of various whirring gears and beams that seemed to extend and shrink with no steady schedule or intermittency. Turrets bubble up from within and shrink back down. Doors on the roofs opened and Shadows popped their heads out and disappeared once more. It felt almost circus-like, a strange combination of trapeze stages and speeding steel.

"Let's go," Akira says, and the train nearly reaches them. Makoto bites the inside of her mouth and then, blushing furiously, allows Akira to scoop her up in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and does her very best not to look in his direction. Fox and Noir stand alongside them, already insistent upon their promise to watch her back. Akira outlines a general schedule for their jump (as six people and a cat creature all jumping together would be asking for trouble), but Makoto barely hears this.

I'm here, she thinks. I gambled and won.

Up to a point, a voice in her head says, and Makoto feels something shift gears in her stomach.

"Alright, go!" Akira shouts.

Skull and Panther leap over the edge of the outcropping and plummet towards the train. A few moments pass, and then Morgana jumps. Then, Akira rushes the edge and, arms tightening around Makoto, hurls them both into the air. Makoto, despite herself, squeezes her eyes shut as the wind whips through her air and slams into her ears with a roar. She tightens as much as she can against Akira as they fall, fall, fall.

And then they hit the train. There's a massive, metallic boom, and Makoto feels the sensation of falling die. She opens her eyes. Akira kneels atop the train. They stand on an ordinary-looking train car, just behind one of the cars that boasts a couple of turret batteries that haven't poked themselves out yet. Skull, Panther, and Morgana are retreating from further up, approaching them, and Makoto hears two more booms behind her as Noir and Fox slam onto the roof.

"You okay?" Akia asks.

She gazes up at his masked face and tries, with as much dignity as possible, to dislodge herself from his arms. "Oh yes, yes. Fine. How are you?"

Just kill me now.

Akira, to his credit, smirks and releases her. "Fine." Makoto smiles back.

Makoto stands. Oddly, despite their presence on a rocketing train through an expanse of arid land, there's hardly any wind. Or rather, there's wind, but the noise is muted, almost background.

As such, Makoto has no problem hearing Morgana approach and say, "Okay guys, I've got an idea of where the Treasure is."

"Excellent," Fox replies, coming up alongside Makoto. "Where?"

Morgana turns towards the front of the train and points. "Up there."

Skull groans. "Wanna bet it's in the first car?"

Panther swats his arm. "Don't jinx us!"

"What?" He asks, stepping away from her. "It's not like it's gonna be there just 'cause I said it!"

"Guys?" Noir asks.

Makoto follows her gaze.

The turrets, before immobile, now rise themselves from below the roof. Four turrets of twin barrels lift into the air and swivel around. Makoto gasps, suddenly at a loss. There's no cover up here! Akira dashes forward, and she hears him shout, "Arsene," there's a blue flash, and a red and black monster appears, cackling, and ink-black lightning bolts lance from its dark wings and puncture each of the turrets. The whirring of gears stops, and the turrets disappear back into the train car.

"Okay," Akira says, turning to the group. "We've got no idea if that alerted more Shadows, so let's get moving. We want to see if we can reach the Treasure Room and make sure we know what the defenses look like."

As he speaks, his Persona disappears, and the mask fits itself back across his face. This is the part of Akira I've never seen, Makoto thinks. The leader of the Phantom Thieves, in their element, charging enemies, summoning monsters to fight on his behalf. Yes, she's witnessed him shine in the real world, but never with the agility and strength he possesses here.

I like it, she thinks, but before she can dwell on this further, the group surges forward, and though neither Noir nor Fox seize her and drag her on, they both stare at her with exceedingly encouraging faces to get her ass in gear. She joins them as they run.

#

They cut across the top of the train, negotiating platforms and slaying Shadows as they arise. Always, as Morgana says, the Treasure remains ahead. Car after car after car. Makoto fires her weapon only a handful of times, mostly content to let the Phantom Thieves leverage their Personae.

Their descriptions did little justice. The beasts they summon fire a sense of awe within Makoto. They spit fire, shoot ice, deliver lightning. The Shadows they encounter fall quickly, but not quickly enough to fail to draw the attention of others.

Their method of entry, evidently, was not as stealthy as they'd hoped. More Shadows rose from beneath, flying out of windows from the cars, exiting from rooftop doors, or climbing up in the spaces between cars.

Still, the Phantom Thieves - plus Makoto - fight and push onward.

"I think we're halfway there," Morgana says, to the group's collective groan. This, as they reach another train car that sports a massive, spinning platform they'll have to cross. One by one, they hop aboard and begin to negotiate their way across the platform, but suddenly, the spinning platform stops. All of them fall to their knees. And then, within the center of the platform, a hole irises open, and a figure rises on a small podium.

Short hair. Too large jaw. Golden eyes. Muscled arms in a plain t-shirt. Slacks and dress shoes. Makoto knows his name before Akira ever whispers it.

"Kaneshiro."

#

The man who killed her father stands before her. Maybe not this specific creature with its gold eyes and razor-sharp teeth, but it exists as an extension of the man. Was just as responsible.

"I could take a guess," Kaneshiro intones, his solid but quiet voice carrying on the windless roof of the train. "But why don't you tell me who you are?"

No one says anything until Skull steps forward. "We're the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, asshole!"

Kaneshiro nods. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Crow warned me about you, but I don't think you'll be a problem. Not like you were for Madarame."

His eyes snap to Makoto, and she feels them twist over her, exploring her. He frowns. The others stare at one another and mouth the word, 'Crow?' as if one of them would understand of whom Kaneshiro speaks. "You're not in costume," Kaneshiro says to her. "What's your deal? You just a fan who tagged along?" He begins to chuckle, but stops. He narrows his gaze and steps off his raised platform. "No. I know who you are. It's those eyes. They're the same as his." To the group's left and right, Shadows begin to rise, in much higher numbers than before. They dress like yakuza enforcers, coal-black eyes staring out beyond their blue, green, and purple masks.

The Phantom Thieves take the initiative and start to beat back the Shadows that draw too close. "Mako-chan," Noir shouts. "Get behind me!" But Makoto isn't listening.

Kaneshiro says, "Akihiko Niijima," and Makoto feels strength leave her legs, but a split-second later, it returns with a blaze. She levels her firearm at Kaneshiro and can feel her eyes bulging.

The Shadows surrounding them spring. The platform above the train car becomes a cocktail of conflicting temperatures, the sound of gunfire, bursting black bubbles, and the burnt and neon smell of electricity and smoke. Makoto remains still, gun pointed at Kaneshiro. Her friends call her name, but she ignores them. Something stirs within her, something she's ignored for too long.

"Junya Kaneshiro," she says and takes a step closer to him. "Did you kill my father?"

Kaneshiro smiles. "I heard it was a truck."

"Answer me," Makoto demands.

"I just did."

"You killed him," she says and inches her feet forward, keeping her stance steady. "You killed him with a mental shutdown, right? That driver. He wasn't on drugs."

Kaneshiro shrugs. "If you want to get specific, I didn't. But it was a favor for me." Makoto opens her mouth to remonstrate, but Kaneshiro interrupts, "And if you don't stop this, I'll take care of your sister the same way."

This silences Makoto.

"She's making the same mistakes your father did," Kaneshiro says.

"If you were really going after her," Makoto demands. "Why hasn't a mental shutdown killed her yet?"

Kaneshiro smirks. "You know, this works out. I was planning on finding you in the real world, but you brought yourself right over to me. I can get rid of you and, by extension, your sister and the Phantom Thieves all in one afternoon."

Makoto shakes her head. "You won't be getting rid of anyone, anymore. I'm going to stop you. Your fight is with me, Kaneshiro."

Kaneshiro rolls his eyes. "How do you see that going? It doesn't look like you have the same powers as your friends."

Makoto pulls the trigger.

Kaneshiro twitches from the impact. "Uh-huh," he says and wipes at a spot on his chest with his hand as if buzzing off a fly. "Except, I know that's not a real gun. This place can get confusing, but I know enough to know toys can't hurt me in here."

Makoto pulls the trigger. The bullet bounces off Kaneshiro's shoulder. Kaneshiro starts walking towards her. "Useless, kid. Sorry to say, since Akira's so fond of you."

"Useless?" Makoto asks, and hurls the gun at him. He catches it and tosses it over the side of the train.

"Makoto, get back!" Akira screams from somewhere deep in the fight behind her. "Fox, take her away!"

"He's swarmed!" Skull shouts, and there is more back and forth, but Makoto doesn't hear it anymore.

Something blue burns behind Kaneshiro. A figure forms out of dancing flames.

A tingle of pressure rises behind her eyes. She winces in pain.

"Useless?" Makoto demands.

Kaneshiro reaches her.

Makoto screams in his face, "I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S USELESS YOU ASSHO-" But her words die because Kaneshiro wraps a hand around her throat and, with a flick of his arm, hurls Makoto off the side of the train.

#

Joker beholds Makoto's body sail through the air, and disappear over the side of the train. As she falls, he screams wordlessly, brain desperate in its attempt to move him faster than he's capable of even in this place. The Shadow bites at his heels, but he ignores it and runs. Before his feet can slam into the platform twice, Makoto is gone.

Noir screams somewhere in the back of his mind.

Joker hurls himself at the edge and sees a cloud of dirt and dust on the ground, receding into a pinprick as the train continues, indifferent.

Kaneshiro is laughing.

Dizziness seizes him, and bile rises in his throat, and Kaneshiro is laughing.

Joker tears his eyes away from the point he can no longer see and witnesses Kaneshiro's head thrown back, jaw unhinged, great gullet expanding, tongue lashing the air, and Kaneshiro is laughing.

Gun up. Trigger pulled. Bullets bounce off.

"She really did save me the trouble."

Standing. ARSENE Black tendrils. He slides, and the attack flies past.

KING FROST

OBERON

TRUMPETER

Instinct, rage, mindless.

Nothing connects.

Kaneshiro is laughing.

Shadows converge.

Joker hears the shouts of the Phantom Thieves, their pleas for him to stop his attacks. To retreat.

"We've got to get her," Noir cries.

Her body slamming into the ground like that? No chance she survived.

Makoto was dead.

Makoto was dead.

And it's your fault, his father whispers.

My fault, Akira thinks, feeling himself slipping. My fault, and his.

Elements swirl around him as he screams and bashes himself forward at Kaneshiro, but wave after wave of Shadows intercept him. Behind the roiling mess of black and masks, Akira sees Kaneshiro's face and hears his laughter.

#

Breath comes in painful gasps. A grunt of a scream into the dirt. Her legs, twisted. She cannot feel her feet, but the shattered bones lance into muscles throughout her calves and thighs. Something in her chest shifts and slices, and a rush of fluids in places they have no business being.

One arm flopped uselessly to the side. Tears rain from her eyes. Her jaw feels uneven, dislocated.

The Palace's midday sun beats down on her broken form. The train's mighty rumble reduced to a nothing background noise.

A wind kicks up dirt and sprays her eyes.

Words and thoughts all flee.

Nothing remains but the pain and the sense of shame, of failure, of uselessness.

And still.

A mirage of herself stands over her, outline licked by a blue flame. Yellow eyes, not unlike Kaneshiro's, glare down at her—a smug shift of her lips.

"If you want," this other Makoto says, "you could just stay here. Stay here and die. I know part of you wants it."

Makoto's bruised and cracked face tries to turn away, but nothing moves correctly, and the effort exhausts her.

"It would be easier, wouldn't it? You wouldn't have to worry about your future. You wouldn't be a burden to Sae any longer. The Phantom Thieves wouldn't need to find ways to include you in their activities. You could just stop being and, therefore, cease to be useless. Just give up."

Globs of blood and chipped enamel bubble from her mouth.

"What's that?" Makoto's Shadow asks, raising a hand to her ear and tilting her head. "I didn't catch that."

Makoto can't speak, so she jerks her good arm toward her vest pocket. The pain is blinding, but she holds herself together and looks up at those golden eyes which seem to despise and encourage her. Her hand flops on the breast pocket, and panic seizes her at the wetness from within, but then, she feels one vial. One solid, whole vial. She screams and grabs with her fingers, a flailing body in the desert.

Takemi's medicine droops from her pocket, rolls over her chest, and drops to the earth. Makoto forces herself to shift her body weight and move her arm towards it. Something else breaks within her.

"Even if you do manage to get back, what good would you be? What good are you?" Her Shadow demands. "Beep Boop."

Another spurt of strength and Makoto hurls her hand forward, and wraps her working fingers around the vial. Gingerly, she brings it to her mouth and, with her unbroken teeth, grabs the stopper and tries to pull.

It pops out, and Makoto stares up at her Shadow. "You know this is going to hurt a lot more, right?" Her Shadow asks.

"I know," Makoto gurgles out. She tilts the vial back and pours Takemi's medicine into her mouth.

Pain explodes.

The fragments of bones knit themselves together, rampaging through her muscles back into their place, even as the tendons and blood vessels fill the void and stitch their pathways whole. Her mouth fills with blood as fresh enamel seems to rip from her gums and coat her broken teeth, and her jaw snaps into place with a deafening crack.

Her arm jerks and traumatizes her tendons as it rights itself, and the bones of her ribcage shift apart from one another and then clang together like a bell from deep within some subterranean cathedral. Fluids spill through her, rushing to and from her organs. A coughing fit seizes her as her body rejects all the blood and mucus and pus from her esophagus and decimated organs. It explodes from her mouth and stains the dirt in red and green. The many slices and lacerations along her body scab over in a blood rush that leaves her on the verge of passing out, and Makoto collapses into the dirt, her uniform sliced to ribbons, but her body healing. She sobs.

The pain eventually fades, but the tears don't. The memory of that excruciation stains her whole self, and she wraps her arms around her body, and rests her head in the dirt.

Her Shadow remains, standing over her.

"I want to go home," Makoto sobs. "I want to go home."

"But will you?" The Shadow demands.

Makoto feels something else stir inside. The grin on Kaneshiro's face. That night the police came to tell her what had happened.

"You can't go home," Makoto's Shadow says. "He took that from you."

Kaneshiro killed her father. Kaneshiro's action propelled Sis on some zero-sum trajectory.

Makoto raises her head.

"Are you going to run away?" Makoto's Shadow asks. "Or are you finally going to tread the path of strife?"

She forces her knees to bend, forces her foot forward, and shoves herself upwards. "Enough of this shit," she demands of her Shadow. "I know what's going on here. Let's wrap it up so I can get back to the fight."

Her Shadow laughs. "Very good. I AM THOU. THOU ART I." Makoto's vision blurs, and not just from the still-hot tears. One raised hand tells her a bar of some metal has pooled around her face.

Through the slits of her mask, Makoto watches her Shadow vanish. "Like you said, enough of this shit. Let's get back to the fight."

Makoto grips the mask in both hands. "Let's ride, JOHANNA." She screams and tears the mask from her skin. One more spray of Makoto's blood decorates the desert floor, but then it burns away in a vast eruption of blue fire.

#

Akira breaks through the congestion of Shadows and throws himself at Kaneshiro. The big man seizes him in midair by the lapels of his coat and slams him onto his back. The breath leaves Akira's body, and he gasps out a scream.

Kaneshiro's Shadow smirks down at him and delivers a fist to his stomach. Akira feels something pulp within him, and he retches in pain. In the din of fighting, he hears his friends calling. But the fight leaves him.

She's gone. Dead. His fault. Kaneshiro's fault. Didn't matter.

Kaneshiro's hand grabs his mask and yanks it off his face. Akira stares up into Kaneshiro's face. "Akira?" The big man asks, then sighs. "Damn. It's too bad you-" Kaneshiro stops speaking. He raises his head and stares off into the distance. Akira feels the pressure loosening on him, and he squirms backward out of the man's grasp. "What the hell is that?" Kaneshiro asks.

Joker rolls onto his chest, following Kaneshiro's gaze.

A blue blaze sweeps out of the desert, pursuing the train, and gaining on the car. Beneath a crop of dark brown hair, a black scarf whips in the wind. The rev of an engine vibrates even through the steel of the train as it rampages onward.

The figure aboard the motorcycle, dressed in their two-tone dark, skintight suit, yanks on the handlebars. The bike heaves into the air, climbs, and plummets towards them. Kaneshiro takes a step back, but only one, before the vehicle slams into his chest, sending him flying. The rider twists the cycle, and it skids to a stop on top of the train, separating Akira from Kaneshiro. A wave of energy emanates out, and Akira feels his insides heal.

Akira stares at Makoto as she glares down Kaneshiro's prone form and says, "Like I said, your fight is with me."

Kaneshiro snarls, and his mouth begins to expand even wider. More Shadows rise and thicken from the car below. Makoto takes this in, turns the motorcycle around, and drives it up to Akira. She holds out her hand and says, "I'd say it's time to get the hell out of here."

"I-" Akira starts. "How?"

"Get on," she demands.

Akira grabs her hand. She hefts him up and slings him onto the back of her silver motorcycle. She revs the engine and speeds through the multitude of Shadows, still attacking the remaining Phantom Thieves. "Fall back!" She shouts, and all anyone can do is stare at her, dumbfounded, for a moment. "Mona, transform and retreat to the access point. We need a better plan for this!"

It does not take long for the Phantom Thieves to heed her wisdom, and they leap off the train and retreat as Kaneshiro stares after them.

#

They return to Yongen-jaya, to LeBlanc.

"Hey there," Sojiro says, as the Phantom Thieves file inside. "Big group today, huh?"

Sakamoto and Takamaki thankfully take the lead and engage Boss in conversation about the recent happenings in the neighborhood.

This allows Makoto, Haru, Morgana, and Akira to slide into a booth, the furthest one from Sojiro and Ali Baba's bug. Haru hugs Makoto once more. She'd been doing that since exiting the Palace, and Makoto appreciates it but wishes she'd give it a rest now. Her wounds may be healed, but she's still a bit sore. Not to mention exhausted.

"I was so scared," Haru whispers, sounding perilously close to sobbing. "I thought you were dead."

"I almost was," Makoto replies. "Until Johanna spoke to me."

"Do you want any coffee?" Akira asks. "Summoning your Persona for the first time is tiring. We've all been there."

"I'm alright, thank you."

"Make sure you get some rest," Morgana says. "I think we're going to be using your Persona's ability a lot in the coming days."

Makoto blinks at the cat, who sits in the booth, staring at her like he was just a part of the conversation. He is. Of all the things that happened to her, it almost felt strangest to finally be able to speak to the cat and understand him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, your Persona is a vehicle," Morgana says. "And it can catch Kaneshiro's train! We can-"

"Can't we let her rest before we start planning our strategy?" Haru chides. "She got thrown off that train today, Mona. She needs to rest. To recuperate. Heal."

"Takemi's medicine-" Makoto starts.

Haru shakes her head. "You know what I mean. And, to that point, you'll be staying with me from now on."

Makoto blinks. "I will?"

Akira nods. "I think that's for the best, too. You heard Kaneshiro. He's put a target on your back. He knows you in the Metaverse, and he's mentioned you in the real world too. You need to stay somewhere safe, like with Haru. I don't..." Akira trails off. "I don't want to... well, it doesn't matter."

Makoto feels herself blush. When they'd left the Metaverse, her school clothes had remained a ragged mess. Kitagawa and Haru immediately rushed into a nearby clothing store and bought her an oversized hoodie and sweatpants while Makoto waited in a nearby alley. Thankfully, Takamaki had stood guard over her, ensuring no one bothered her and that the boys - Akira, Sakamoto, and Morgana - kept their eyes to themselves. But now, in this coffee shop, the hoodie, which bore the logo of some band she'd never heard of, made her feel overheated.

Still.

Makoto would never forget the absolute pain she'd experienced, as well as the temporary certainty that she was about to die gruesomely. She shudders.

Haru wraps an arm around her again.

"I'm alright," Makoto assures her. "I'm okay. I'm going to see this through. If my Persona helps us take down Kaneshiro, then we'll-"

"I think you should take a minute to think about that," Akira says.

"Why?" Makoto asks.

"You saw what the Metaverse is like. You saw what happens there. You almost died. Kaneshiro-"

"There's nothing to think about," Makoto says. "I'm going to fight Kaneshiro. We're going to steal his Treasure and make him confess his crimes. He'll admit to and pay for killing my father. And we'll understand how these mental shutdowns work, once and for all." Makoto crosses her arms and stares at the tabletop, then nods. "Nothing to think about."

Akira opens his mouth, then closes it. "Are you hungry?" He asks, without looking at her.

Makoto frowns. "Um, well, yes, actually."

"I'll see if Sojiro has anything in the fridge." Akira worms his way out of the booth and walks off.

"When he saw you fall," Haru whispers. "He went crazy. He kept charging Kaneshiro, trying to beat him." Haru bites her lip. "It was scary. I think you need to talk to him, Makoto. Just the two of you."

Makoto nods and leans forward, putting her head in her hands. For some reason, things feel more complicated. "I know, just, not today, Haru. I'm so tired. I want to sleep."

Haru rubs her shoulder. "Eat something. Then we'll get out of here."

Makoto agrees.

Chapter 69: Chapter 69

6/20

 

"And now," Igor says, his voice a slither in the dim and damp light, "There are seven." His smirk radiates.

Akira keeps his mouth shut. He made a request and is waiting for fulfillment.

"Of course, of course." Igor's talon of a hand haphazardly sways.

The guillotines materialize, a shatter of blue wood and metal. Akira's thoughts turn to his Personae, their voices of vying cacophony of remonstrations, begging, whispered grievances, and general buzzing. They swarm over one another, and Akira wrestles them under control.

"I am impressed with your capacity to keep secrets," Igor says, as two lanky figures, former Shadows claimed from Kaneshiro's Palace, present their necks for the blade. "I should hope this lesson not lost upon you, but be wary of accepting things as they may seem. Blackholes may exist within the mind, into which you cannot see."

Akira nods and keeps his face neutral.

"The details at the edge may inform the whole," Igor continues. "But some things cannot be thought. Have you ever wondered about the situation you've found? I wonder if you already understand that Morgana may not be what he seems."

The blades fall. The Personae burn into a new form that snaps into place deep within Akira's mind.

Igor hums at Akira's silence, though whether in humor or frustration, Akira cannot tell. "Does it not seem strange that all these oddities surround only Morgana?"

"I find it strange you didn't know about him."

"And I find it strange you kept his existence from me." Igor spreads his hands, a caricature of innocence. "Have I not been your ally? Does the Velvet Room not meet your needs? Assist in your rehabilitation? You enter the Metaverse using the Navigation Application I provided. I did not send Morgana to you, nor provide him access to the Metaverse." The inflection of his voice dances around another suggestion. Maybe someone else, did.

Someone else can enter the Metaverse. Kaneshiro referenced a 'Crow,' during their exchange yesterday. If someone else played this game and utilized powers similar to those Igor provided, who's to say Morgana didn't arise from that camp?

Akira beheads parts of himself, and feels his mind twist with each new Personae.

Each new question.

How is Morgana so sure his memories lie at the deepest level of Mementos? What if it's something else?

#

"Check it," Ryuji says, holding up his phone.

Morgana scans the screen.

The RINE messages fly faster than Morgana can process. The gist is simple.

"There's too many of these new Calling Cards," he says.

Morgana, Ryuji, Makoto, and Akira huddle within Shujin's courtyard alcove, hidden by half thanks to the vending machine. Morgana perches upon Ryuji's shoulder, while Makoto leans in next to them, arms crossed and frowning.

"How is this spreading so much?" Makoto asks. "They're clearly fake."

Ryuji shrugs, and Morgana adjusts his weight to compensate. "Not to them," he replies. "The people, I mean. They probably think it's all real. Or they want it to be real. Or they don't care if it's real or not, but it's like Kaneshiro's train. Just keeps going."

Makoto shakes her head, face twisting in uncomfortable understanding. "Maybe it's time the Phantom Thieves sent out a message?"

"Not yet," Akira mutters. He sits at a table by himself, hunched over, fingers steepled, staring into space. Now familiar dark bags droop beneath his eyes. Morgana questioned his time with Igor the previous night, but Akira remained reticent. "It's too early. Once it expands more, we can issue a statement via the PhanSite."

"I don't like it, dude," Ryuji replies. "When it was a few people at Shujin, sure. But now it's not just our school or neighborhood. Calling Cards are getting reported in Roppongi, Ikebukuro, and Akihabara. I mean, no one even seems to think this could be fake."

"Or to your point," Makoto says, nodding at Ryuji, "they may just not want to break the illusion by bringing it up."

"Like a mass psychosis," Morgana says.

"Another few days," Akira intones, still not looking at them. "Just another few days."

"It's only a matter of time before the context of these Calling Cards escalates," Makoto says, giving Akira a stern frown. "What happens when someone fakes a Calling Card that says, 'the Phantom Thieves told me to kill myself,' or something along those lines?"

Akira says nothing.

Makoto huffs out a response and stalks towards him. "Are you just waiting until we’ve stolen Kaneshiro's Treasure? I don't think-"

The group stiffens as the door to the courtyard swings open. Morgana prepares to leap onto the top of the vending machine and hide in its shadow. Makoto backs away from Akira, who remains still and silent. A moment later, Mishima's head pokes around the corner. "There you are." He enters the alcove, spots Makoto, and freezes. "Oh, um, sorry, Miss President, I didn't-"

"It's cool," Ryuji says, jerking a thumb in Makoto's direction. "She's one of us now."

Morgana notes Makoto fighting down a smile, even as some of Mishima's energy appears to sap from him. "Oh," he replies. "Okay. Well, um, I wanted to talk to you guys. About the Requests."

"We haven't gotten a chance to follow up on them," Akira replies, resting his chin on his fist. "Once we wrap with-"

Mishima clears his throat. "Actually..." He says, and Akira's brows rise sharply. "It's about you, Akira."

"What about me?"

"There's one for you."

"One what for me?"

"A Request," Mishima says.

Akira blinks, and even Morgana takes a silent moment to ensure he understands.

"The heck are you talkin' about, man?" Ryuji demands.

Mishima takes a quick, deep breath and says, "There's a new Request on the PhanSite. It's asking for the Phantom Thieves to change Akira's heart."

Ryuji glances at Akira, who looks back at him. Both boys soon break into a grin. "Oh yeah?" Ryuji asks. "What's it say?"

"Sakamoto," Makoto says warningly.

"It's fine," Akira says. "I want to know, too."

Mishima glances back towards the courtyard entrance, but they appear alone. "It's mostly the rumor stuff. About how Akira's with some gang, and they're scaring everyone at school. Whoever sent it wants Akira to have a change of heart and apologize to Shujin and everyone in it."

Makoto scoffs, then says, "Ridiculous."

"Technically," Akira says, and Morgana hears a tremor of a giggle escape his throat. "They're not wrong."

"Yeah," Ryuji replies, still grinning. "They've got it right this time."

Makoto rounds on the two of them. "How can you both be so cavalier about this?"

Akira shrugs. "It's not a big deal. I'm just surprised it took so long for my name to pop up on the site."

"It ain't like he's in any danger," Ryuji says, and saunters over and slaps Akira on the shoulder. "Pretty sure the Phantom Thieves can't take this Request."

A sudden spark, and Morgana jumps off Ryuji's shoulder onto the table. "Hold on, maybe we could use this to our advantage."

"How so?" Makoto asks.

"If the Phantom Thieves did change Akira's heart, wouldn't that clear him as a suspect? Like you said, Bonehead, why would the Phantom Thieves change the heart of one of their own?"

Ryuji reaches out a hand and flicks one of Morgana's ears, but remains smiling. "I get what you're saying. Like, reverse psychiatry, or some shit."

"Not really, but yes," Morgana replies, backing away.

"That won't work," Akira says, no longer smiling.

"Why not?" Morgana asks.

"Um," Mishima says. Belatedly, Morgana remembers the boy can't understand a word he says, but chooses to remain focused on Akira.

Akira's eyes flicker towards him, then away. "What happens when we release the statement about the fake Calling Cards? Are we just supposed to say, 'Oh yeah, they're all fake except for the one we sent to Akira Kurusu?'"

"I happen to agree," Makoto says. "There's no guarantee Akira's Calling Card wouldn't be viewed as a bluff. Further, if I were an investigator, I would make it a point to speak to all the previous victims of the Phantom Thieves, to see if I could draw some connection between them."

Ryuji arches a brow at her. "If?"

Makoto's face reddens a bit. "Fair. But don't forget, I spoke with Daisuke after he received his Calling Card. If Madarame were alive, you can bet the police would be speaking with him regarding the Phantom Thieves. I don't think it's a good idea to call attention to Akira that way. Too high a risk for too little a possible reward."

Akira stands. "Lunch is about to end. I should get back to class. Let's not concern ourselves about this too much. People want to use the Phantom Thieves to one-up each other and fix their stupid problems. It's a fad that will blow over soon. For now, we stay focused on Kaneshiro. That's the real danger, not some dumb teenagers playing stupid games."

#

"Cognitive science?" Doctor Maruki asks, frowning. "Well, yes. I've heard of the concept." He chuckles. "But not since my late nights at Med School, going down obscure rabbit holes to alleviate the boredom and monotony."

Ohya nods and smiles, but doesn't share in the laughter. Her head pounds, and her eyes insist on closing. But she'd sworn to investigate cognitive science in conjunction with Takemi. Akira mentioned getting MRIs done and examined by this doctor, so he's as fine a place to start as any.

Further, her brand of journalism tended towards the political and current events, not medicinal, and certainly not fringe medicinal. New territory, and nothing in her system to alleviate the stress.

"I came across the phrase while doing some research," Ohya pushes out, trying to sound nonchalant, "into the mental shutdowns. I was hoping I could pick someone's brain on the possible link."

Maruki nods, and though he seems affable and eager enough to discuss the topic, he slinks back into his chair with a sigh. "I'll admit I find the concept of the mental shutdowns fascinating." Reddening, he sits up straight and waves his hands through the air. "Not that I'm minimizing their tragedy or impact. It's just, well, interesting, is all."

Ohya nods. She can appreciate that. "And do you think there's anything to the idea it could be linked to cognitive science?"

Maruki shrugs. "Well, that's not really how science works, you know? Cognitive science, as a concept, never really went anywhere or developed enough to posit any solid theories on how the mind actually works. Which, you know, was the whole point. There're some adherents out there, I'm sure, but it's all a kind of quantum woo."

"I'm sorry, what?" Ohya asks. "Quantum what?"

Maruki smiles. "Right, sorry. You've heard of quantum physics, yes?"

Ohya nods. "Of course."

"What is it?"

"What is what?"

"Quantum physics."

"Um," Ohya says. Her mind is not prepped for this level of discussion.

"It's okay," Maruki says, after a brief pause. "Most people don't understand it or comprehend it. I don't. And it doesn't make us dumb or foolish or ignorant or anything. It's just, the people who actually work in quantum physics are highly specialized, and their work is mostly in the realm of theory. There isn't a ton of practical application for it yet. But, some people use a barebones and often completely inaccurate comprehension of quantum physics to justify their irrational belief in mysticism or other nonsense theories. Some believe quantum physics provides evidence for multiple dimensions, and so you get the many worlds interpretation. Now, to be fair, it might, but the point is that other people use this to hand-wave through the idea that they can communicate with other selves in parallel realities and whatnot. Which is definitely not what the many worlds interpretation says."

"Geez," Ohya says.

"There's a ton of science fiction, manga, anime, and movies dealing with concepts like those. They're very entertaining but often completely bunk. However, people latch onto those things because they seem like they might be legitimate, and thus, we get quantum woo. A terrible and nonsense understanding of something genuine but hard to understand."

"You think the potential link between cognitive science and mental shutdowns is the same sort of thing?" Ohya asks.

Maruki shakes his head. "I don't know what to think about the mental shutdowns. No one does, and that's something of a problem. There's no clear pathology - to use the term slightly incorrectly, forgive me - to trace."

"So, isn't it possible that cog-"

Maruki's grin splits his face. "No. See, that's the big problem right there. Just because we don't have an explanation of how something happens doesn't mean we should snatch up any old explanation that we can't possibly verify. Cognitive science isn't anything, so we can't test to see if it pertains to mental shutdowns. If cognitive science insists upon some alternate physical world existing within the mental landscape of the brain that can be directly influenced to have a physiological reaction in our reality, we'd have to be able to prove that, but we can't. And frankly, it sounds like lunacy."

Ohya considers. Then, she says, "Alright. Fair enough. But then tell me, what do you think is the cause of mental shutdowns?"

"I've got no idea," Maruki says, shaking his head.

#

"Kurusu," Kawakami calls, after class. She watches the boy sigh and almost chastises him over it, but keeps silent. Am I really doing this? She wonders, then decides she must proceed.

Kurusu slinks up to her desk and waits patiently for the rest of the class to depart, then shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at her, waiting.

"I've heard some more rumors about you," Kawakami says.

Kurusu doesn't bother disguising his sigh this time. "Even more, huh?"

"There's talk that a Request to the Phantom Thieves has gone out. For you to have a change of heart."

Kurusu smiles. "Oh, that. Yeah, I heard that one too."

"Well, what are you going to do?" Kawakami asks.

"About what?" Akira asks. "The Request? Who cares? I haven't gotten a Calling Card."

Kawakami groans, leans over her desk towards him and says, "Kurusu, the Phantom Thieves are changing hearts left and right at Shujin. Didn't you notice that? They might very well come for you next." Hell, she thinks. If anyone besides Kurusu knew about me, maybe I'd get a Calling Card.

Kurusu shakes his head. "Not gonna happen."

"Oh?" Kawakami asks. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because they're not changing anyone's heart at Shujin," he says, confidently. At her look, she continues. "I have been paying attention, Sensei. Have you read any of the Calling Cards my classmates got? They're all vague bulls-"

"Language."

"Sorry. They're all vague. Not one goes into any detail. Besides, why would the Phantom Thieves bother? They took down Madarame, a big-time artist and all-around abuser, and then what? They decided they'd go back to Shujin to punish someone for cheating on their homework?"

Kawakami must admit that Kurusu has a point.

"Plus," he says, and then stifles a yawn. "Sorry. Plus, it paints too big a sign at Shujin. If they keep going after Shujin students, it would help law enforcement narrow down their area of operations."

Kawakami frowns, a flaw in Kurusu's explanation sticking out to her. "Why would they care about that if they're not related to Shujin anyway?"

Kurusu blinks, then his eyes widen a fraction before he shrugs. "Oh, I don't know. I'm just spitballing. The police probably figured out all this stuff, too. If I can come up with it, they sure can. That's why I'm convinced I'm safe from the Phantom Thieves."

Kawakami stares at him. "There's not any truth to those rumors, is there?" She asks. "I heard about some confrontation with Sakoda a short while ago. And I do know the local police have issued warnings about local gangs and yakuza feelers in the areas around Shibuya."

Kurusu shakes his head. "No."

Kawakami sighs. "Alright. But be careful. I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."

Kurusu stares back at her, looking a bit confounded. Then he says, "Uh, thanks."

"But regardless of all this Calling Card stuff, how are things at home?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, your grades are slipping. You look like you're about to fall asleep. So if you're not part of some secret gang, then I have to wonder if there's anything else going on at home that you'd like to talk about."

"There's nothing," Kurusu replies. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Kawakami gently pushes her chair away from the desk, crosses her arms, and then glances away from him. "Okay, look. I appreciate you not saying anything about my other profession. I know, I know, you weren't going to say anything, period. But still, thank you. If you wanted, and so long as your guardian wasn't around, I could help you out around your home. If it's messy or you need something cooked, or whatever. But it's not free," she quickly points out. "I'd need you to pay my rate."

Kurusu's face remains blank for a moment, and then he smiles and laughs. Kawakami feels a flush rush through her body. As she's about to retaliate for this slight, he holds his hands up. "No, no, it's not that. I'm sorry. I'm just surprised, that's all. My nerves are a bit frayed, I'll admit." He calms down and says, "Let me think about it." Then, he bows. "Thank you for the offer, Sensei. May I go now?"

Kawakami nods. "Yes, yes, you're dismissed."

Kurusu leaves, and Kawakami stares at the door after he's gone. Then she leans back in her chair and raises her eyes to the ceiling. He seemed pretty confident he wouldn't get a Calling Card, and that all those new Calling Cards are fake. Which, I suppose, makes sense.

Still.

It was almost as if-

Kawakami shakes her head and laughs. "Yeah, right," she says to the empty room.

#

They seep into Shibuya along different routes. Akira and Ryuji link up with Yusuke, and together they weave down Central towards Iwai's. Morgana, paired off with Ann, plans to meet with Makoto and Haru, who intend to take a slightly longer journey with the occasional doubling back—an effort to throw off any followers.

Though Ryuji does his best to ease any tension, a bit of friction electrifies the air between Akira and Yusuke. Akira recalls Yusuke's backing of Makoto's presence in the Metaverse and the insinuation leveled at Akira. The young man doesn't bring it up, but Akira understands he feels the same.

Ryuji offers a semi-witty remark, but stops halfway through the punchline. A stabbing pain shoves its way through Akira's skull. Akira feels his eyes water and vision cloud, and he motions for the others to slow down some, and rests one hand against the stone of a nearby clothing shop. He expects the others to ask after him, but at their silence, he raises his head. Both Ryuji and Yusuke's ashen faces grimace in discomfort.

"Dude," Ryuji says. "My freakin' head."

"Yeah," Yusuke manages, absent his usual affectations. He shoves his palms against his eyes and presses. "It really hurts."

Akira opens his mouth, but over the rolling din of the nearby crowd surrounding them, he hears the sudden low rumble of a train.

Eyes searching and frantic, they settle on a large black shape making its way around a nearby corner. The Shadow, its mask a deep blue, seems unaware of their presence or anyone else’s. It stalks out of sight. Akira moves to follow but feels a hand on his shoulder.

He turns to see Ryuji staring at the corner, eyes wide. "You saw that, right?" His friend asks.

Yusuke steps up alongside them. "A Shadow."

Akira follows their gaze. "You both saw it, too?"

They nod.

"This ain't the first time either," Ryuji says.

The other night's blaze, and the figure stood in silhouette. The stomping footsteps Ryuji heard in Shujin. The figure that confronted Akira at school. This isn't a 'me' thing.

"What'd we do?" Ryuji asks.

Akira shakes his head. "I don't think we have much choice beyond continuing." He turns his back to the corner, facing his friends. "Whatever Shadows were in Shujin seem to have disappeared once Kamoshida's Palace fell. Maybe the same thing will happen here?"

"Why's this happening at all?" Yusuke asks, the tension from earlier forgotten. "We're not in the Palace. Has Morgana ever mentioned something like this as possible?"

"No," Akira says. "He never has."

The pain subsides to a dull thrum behind his eyes, and Akira suggests they rendevous with the rest of the group.

The girls and Morgana await them in the alley behind 'Untouchable,' and as they remove their phones, Akira holds up his hand and asks his question.

"We all just saw a Shadow," he says. Ryuji and Yusuke back him up by nodding. "And this isn't the first time. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

Morgana, perched on Ann's shoulder, stares back, then sighs. "Honestly, I thought I saw one the other day too. After I'd left Kaneshiro's Palace."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Ryuji demands.

"Because I wasn't sure," Morgana counters, glaring at the boy. "And before you get on my case, I don't know. I have no clue why we're seeing Shadows in the real world. That shouldn't be possible."

Makoto frowns and says, "The same could be said about a lot of things that have happened."

"Speculate, then," Akira says, still staring at Morgana. "Guess if you have to."

"I don't know," Morgana replies, and leaps off Ann's shoulder to stand before Akira. "You mentioned something like this happening in Shujin. Maybe it happens around Palaces. Shibuya's Kaneshiro's Palace, so maybe we're seeing Shadows because of that."

"But why?" Yusuke asks. "We're in the real world."

"I. Don't. Know," Morgana says.

"Guys," Ann says, stepping up next to Morgana. "I don't think this is getting us anywhere. If Morgana doesn't know, he doesn't know."

If, Akira thinks, and feels a mix of shame and frustration at the thought. Am I really going to believe Igor over someone who's saved my life? My friend?

"Alright," he says, instead of voicing his concerns. "Let's focus on what we know and what we can do." He glances at Makoto. "We'll try a different approach to boarding the train today. Let's hope we meet less resistance."

#

Makoto revs the engine and slams Johanna into the nearest Shadow. It flies backward, smashes through two rows of seats, and finally evaporates while still falling to the ground. Makoto transitions to standing, her Persona vanishing from beneath her, and her mask reappearing on her face. It felt odd, reverting back and forth. Her comfort level squinting out from the blocky metal thing increased, but she couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious about the form-fitting post-apocalyptic biker outfit she sported. Not to mention the brass knuckles and...

Well, no. Those made sense.

The previous night, Morgana explained something about how the outfit she wore represented her inner Phantom Thief and was an extension of her subconscious, much like Johanna. Makoto didn't know about all that. She certainly didn't feel like a daredevil biker chick, but oddly, the other Phantom Thieves all took this in stride.

"Watch out, Prez!" A black and blonde streak leaps past her and brings a pipe down on the head of a Shadow just beginning to seep out of the room to her left. Its mask cracks, and it sinks back into the rug.

"Thanks Ryu, uh, I mean, Skull." That was another thing—no code name. After Haru's eventual rejection of Rose in favor of Noir, Akira and the others seemed content to let Makoto choose her own, but she had no idea what to pick. 'Biker' felt too on the nose, and though Ryuji seemed to think 'Prez' was the leading contender, Makoto didn't want to call herself that.

She was the Student Council President in the real world, at Shujin. But here, she was something more. Here she was working to avenge her father, to put the ghosts that haunted her and her sister to rest. Johanna, faster than Mona's alternate bus form, managed to ferry the Phantom Thieves further up the train without being detected, though it took longer. The others appreciated it and even deferred to her when taking suggestions on their next move. She needed a name that commanded respect, the respect she felt rising within herself.

More Shadows burst from the next car ahead, filing into this claustrophobic space. Both Makoto and Ak-Joker, felt it necessary to take a different approach than yesterday's aborted infiltration. Rather than run along the roof, they'd sneak and assassinate their way through the train cars, one by one. They'd discovered a few Safe Rooms this way, but the Shadows were thick, and though they apparently avoided alarms, the fighting felt fierce. Makoto recognized the fatigue on everyone's faces and noted the dwindling supplies.

"Back to the Safe Room," Joker commands. They'd left one not three minutes ago. Makoto retreats, walking backward, drawing her revolver - a new one since Kaneshiro'd tossed her previous one from the train yesterday - and firing at any Shadow drawing close.

She's the last to enter the Safe Room, and Panther slams the door shut once she's inside. Panther, obviously not perturbed at all by her outrageous outfit, asks, "You okay?"

Makoto nods. "Um, yes. Thanks."

Surprisingly, Panther reaches out a hand, and pauses just before patting Makoto on her spiked shoulders, opting instead to squeeze her upper arm and say, "You're doing great."

Makoto blinks. "Thank you.

"I was glad," Panther says, looking away. "Yesterday. You know. That you didn't die. Or anything."

Makoto nods, not sure how to reply. Then she says, "Thanks. Me too."

Panther quickly backs away, and Makoto joins the others at the table in the center of the Safe Room. She glances back at the door as she approaches and asks, "You're sure they can't get through?"

"Positive," Mona says, and Makoto notes Joker shoots him a frustrated look.

Seeing the Shadow in Shibuya must've really unsettled him.

The room they stood in, which resembled a serving car that you might find on a regular train, suddenly shifted in perception, briefly becoming the interior of a cafe located in Shibuya that Makoto recognized but never visited. Per the group's explanation, though Kaneshiro viewed all of Shibuya as his Palace, he must not have satisfactory control over this local business.

"We've run low on supplies," Fox says, hefting a duffle bag that clinked with a few vials of Takemi's medicine.

Joker nods. "Yeah, I think it might be a good time to leave." He glances back to Mona. "Are we getting closer?"

"I'd say we're over two-thirds of the way there," Mona says.

"But won't we have to repeat this next time we come?" Makoto asks.

"Nah," Skull replies. "We can use these Safe Rooms as shortcuts. So long as we keep pressing towards the Treasure and find Safe Rooms, we should be good."

"Don't ask for an explanation," Joker says, as Makoto opens her mouth. "We don't have one."

Makoto sighs and sets her hands on her hips. "Alright. Does that mean we can avoid the crowd that's directly outside this room?"

Noir nods. "We can retreat to one of the cars we cleared out earlier, get to the roof, and safely exit. We can be back in the real world in five minutes."

"Let's get going," Panther says. "I'm running on fumes."

Makoto feels she could go longer, but knows it's foolish to go it alone, without the team. If the only exercise they get is in the Metaverse, perhaps they'd benefit from some conditioning training. She turns to regard Skull, who doesn't notice her gaze. That sounds like something Sakamoto might be interested in assisting with.

The Thieves spend another minute or two conversing and then begin the short trek back to the real world.

#

Akira steps into LeBlanc, alone. Morgana, seemingly unsure about Akira's sudden standoffishness, decided to spend some time with Yusuke, which suits Akira fine. All day, he's tried to push the Igor's whispers from his mind, but couldn't. Morgana was his friend, but what did he know about him, really? What did he know about any of them? He'd only known most of his friends for two months.

Two months. Kamoshida. The Metaverse. The Phantom Thieves. Makoto. Madarame. Takemi. Ohya. Kaneshiro. It all rumbled through his mind like an earthquake.

"Hello."

Akira, lost in thought, didn't notice the figure sitting at the bar. Goro Akechi holds a steaming mug of coffee, and smiles. Akira fixes a tired mask onto his face. "Oh, hey. Sorry."

"Long day?"

"Very. Rough sleep last night, too."

Akechi raises the mug in salute. "You have my sympathies. I felt in the mood to play some Go, but given your exhaustion, I imagine you wouldn't be a worthy opponent."

Akira slides onto the stool next to Akechi. "That supposed to bait me?"

"Is it working?"

Akira shakes his head.

"Alas," Akechi replies, with a shrug. "How's life at Shujin?"

"The same," Akira says, and Sojiro steps out from the kitchen.

He notices Akira and offers a half-smile. "Hey kid. You got work tonight?"

Akira nods. "Yeah, I just came by for some dinner before my shift."

"Comin' up," Sojiro says, and aboutfaces into the kitchen.

"Part-timer?" Akechi asks.

Akira nods. "Flower shop at Shibuya Underground."

Akechi makes a 'hmm' noise, and sips his coffee. "Better be careful. Shibuya's becoming quite the battleground."

"I stick to the main roads when I walk around there," Akira says, leaning back on his stool. "Because you're right." He glances at Akechi. "Any info you could share? You know, in the interest of my safety."

Akechi chuckles. "Afraid not. Even if I were working the case involving these yakuza factions, I couldn't readily share any information with you. Just be careful. And don't get involved. From what I understand, they specifically target wayward youth for recruitment."

"Do I look wayward?"

"You're in Tokyo for some undisclosed reason and living above a coffee shop," Akechi points out.

"Fair enough," Akira replies, shrugging.

Akechi takes another sip, and then, "What did bring you to Tokyo, if I may ask?"

Akira turns his attention to the bartop. "You know Sae Niijima. Why don't you ask her? She's read my file."

"I wouldn't do that," Akechi says, sounding only a little affronted. "I'm asking you."

"It's not a topic I like to discuss," Akira replies. "I did something back in my hometown. I got in trouble, and now I'm here."

"Here and trying to woo Makoto Niijima."

Akira rolls his eyes. "I'm not trying to 'woo' her. I just liked her, that's all. I asked her out. There was a sort of date, end of story."

Akechi's brows rise. "I see. Well, better make sure Sae never learns about this 'sort of date' you had with her sister. Lest I read a news article about your sudden and tragic disappearance."

"Don't worry, it didn't go anywhere. I should be safe."

Akechi nods, satisfied. Sojiro steps from the kitchen a moment later with some curry slathered onto a plate. He walks down the bar, sets it in front of Akira and asks, "Anything to drink?"

"Just water's fine," Akira replies. The older man nods, and a few seconds later, presents him with some tap.

"I'm gonna close up soon," Sojiro says. "You got your key, right? Can you lock up before you head to work?"

"Sure," Akira replies. Sojiro leaves the two boys and disappears into one of the back rooms.

"The thing that happened back in your hometown," Akechi says. "Did it have anything to do with your parents?" Akira picks up his spoon and halts as he scoops up some curry. "I only ask," Akechi says quickly, "Because I know Sojiro Sakura has no relatives."

"My parents aren't in the picture," Akira mutters, and takes a bite of his food.

"I can relate to that," Akechi says. "Growing up, my mother and I had very little. Cheap food, used clothes. Even the mat I slept on. She'd found it in a pile of trash a few blocks from our apartment. One less thing we needed to purchase with her already stretched pay.

"One thing we did have though, was an antique bell. Well, I say antique, but it was likely worth less than five hundred yen. It was this small white thing, with red flourishes running across it that made me think of the wind. When you held it, you could feel the little imperfections through the paint, but they were so small you couldn't see them with the naked eye. We hung it just above the door to our apartment."

Akechi takes a sip as Akira chews his food, sure the boy is about to continue.

"I was a frightful child," Akechi says. "Our neighborhood wasn't very safe, and my mother's job forced her to leave me alone for long hours of the night. I hated the dark, but I would endure it because sooner or later, I would hear the bell chime as our door opened, and I knew my mother was home. She would come and check on me then, and I would drift off to sleep.

"It got to the point where the single jingle of the bell was enough to send me to sleep. I didn't even need her to check on me. If the bell rang, that meant my mother was home, and that meant I was safe.

"Then one night, the bell didn't ring. My mother didn't come home. I stayed awake that whole night, staring at the ceiling, afraid to shut my eyes. The sun came up, and the sun went down, and I didn't move. The bell didn't ring. I stayed in that room, under those covers, for three days, waiting for that bell to ring. It didn't. On the third night, the police finally came and collected me. They told me what had happened to my mother. Told me what would happen to me.

"But some part of me, and some part of me still, cannot understand why the bell never rang. Part of me is still wide awake in that room, in that rotting apartment, waiting for the soft jingle that would mean safe. Sometimes, I'll lie awake at night and wait for it, even though I know it's never coming."

Akechi lapses into silence. Akira swallows his food and takes a sip of water. "I'm sorry," he says. Akechi shrugs. "What did happen?"

Akechi smiles. "That's not a topic I like to discuss." He blinks as if recovering from some state. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I apologize for burdening you with that."

"It's alright," Akira replies. "Like I said, I'm sorry you had to go through that. I guess your Dad isn't in the picture?"

"He wasn't then, no. He wasn't around for me in my early life. It wasn't until much later that he showed up."

Akira can only grin at that. "Now, that, I can relate to."

The two boys sit side by side, eating and drinking and saying nothing. Once Akira finishes his meal, he straightens and says, "You're a smart guy."

"Thanks," Akechi replies. "I like to think so."

Akira gives him a smile and nod. "How would you stop someone from going after something you don't want them to have? You have a method, and you're working on it, but you don't know when your method will kick in or work, and you want some insurance that they don't go after the thing you don't want them to have."

"Okay," Akechi says, dragging out the word. "That's... vague. Is the thing you don't want them to have, something you want to have?"

"Sure," Akira says. "But let's just say that I want it less than I want them not to have it."

Akechi rubs the cup of no longer steaming coffee with his fingertips. "Well, I'd say the best method would be to give them something else. Something they want more. Something you can give them that will ensure they stay away from the thing you don't want them to have. Or, something you can leverage. 'I'll give you this if you don't go after that.' Something like that. It would help if I knew the specifics." Akechi's eyes widen. "Is this about a girl?"

Akira grimaces. "Sort of."

"Is it about Makoto Niijima?"

"Sort of."

Akechi almost looks giddy. "Oh, dear. Is there a love triangle?"

"No, nothing like that."

"A love rhombus?"

"A what?" Akira asks.

"A love pentagon, then?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Akechi mock gasps. "Don't tell me, a love hexagon?"

"Alright," Akira says, standing and picking up his stained but empty plate. "I've got to get ready for work. Can you see yourself out?"

"Of course, forgive me," Akechi says, and stands, then downs the remainder of his coffee. "Have a good shift. And best of luck with whatever it is you're trying to keep from others."

Akira nods and pats the young man on the shoulder with his free hand. "Right. Goodnight, Akechi."

Akira enters the kitchen to wash the plate and glass when he hears the door jingle as Akechi exits. Then, Akechi's voice calls, "A love heptagon?"

"Get the hell out of here," Akira yells back at the entrance.

The door closes.

Chapter 70: Chapter 70

6/21

 

Rintaro Ebisawa spits out a curse and hurls the phone onto the car's floor. It thumps, bounces, and lays still.

One of his lieutenants glances his way, licks his lips, and asks, "Boss?"

Rintaro shoves a hand into his jacket pocket and yanks out a packet of cigarettes. "Fuckin' cops," he grumbles. He taps out a stick and slides it between his lips.

The lieutenant leans over and holds up a lighter. The car already reeks of smoke, but the others maintain their respectfulness enough to keep their coughing to a minimum. Rintaro once got in trouble with the Boss for beating some youngster to a pulp, all because the little shit couldn't keep his wheezing in check. "This was supposed to be over in hours, not days." He holds his cigarette to the flame and inhales, then leans back in his seat. His lieutenant clicks the lighter closed and places it back in his jacket. "They're thinking about launching a task force. One to 'quell public sentiments' and put an end to the violence in the streets."

Their car rumbles along a street in Ikebukuro. Rintaro's destination, another safe house, lay closer to the action in Shibuya.

"Even the tourists are starting to notice something is wrong. Someone in one of the crews got into a scuffle with some foreigners the other day. Somebody called an embassy."

"Our side, or Kaneshiro's?" The lieutenant asks.

"Who fuckin' cares?" Rintaro snaps. "Wouldn't have happened if we'd put that dog down ages ago." He jabs a finger at his lieutenant. "I always said it, didn't I? Junya Kaneshiro's a rabid animal. When the Boss took him to Mongolia, he should've left him there. Buried."

The lieutenant nods. "You did."

"Whole thing could've been avoided if the Boss just listened to me," Rintaro growls. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, stuffs down a quick spasm of coughs, and says, "Ah, well."

"Sir," the lieutenant says, hands clasped together. He always did that shit when he was afraid to ask Rintaro something.

"Go ahead," Rintaro says, gesturing with the cigarette. "I'm pissed enough. Nothin' you say is gonna make it worse."

"Some of the men, see, they're getting nervous. The deaths of some of the other captains and lieutenants." His voice lowers as if it weren't just them in the car. "The suicides, everything. They're worried you may be next."

Rintaro laughs. The car pauses at a traffic light. "You mean, they're worried they might be next, yeah?" A motorcycle pulls up and stops alongside the car. The helmeted driver rests one foot on the concrete road. "Kaneshiro's not going to use his bullshit magic powers on them." He sits up straighter. "And it's all nonsense, besides. If that prick could really do some mystical shit, don't you think he would've done me in by now?"

The first bullet smashes through the window and into Rintaro's eye cavity. The second enters his head a bit higher, blasting through the gray matter of his brain. As he starts to heave to his side, a third bullet shatters him at an angle, shaving off a section of his skull.

The motorcyclist shoves the gun back in his duffle and speeds off.

Rintaro lays in a blood heap on the backseat, his lieutenant screaming, torn between ordering a pursuit and trying to help his Boss. But the car's driver has shoved himself down in the driver's seat, hands clutched over his head.

Thus, dawn finds Tokyo.

#

"Did you hear what happened?"

"Can you believe it?"

"Some yakuza head honcho. They shot him in the street."

"You don't think...?"

"Who else?"

Kawakami weaves her way down Shujin's halls towards her class. The students barely register her, so lost in their small conversations.

The news popped up on her phone during her morning commute. A yakuza Dragon captain was shot dead in his car. Whatever this dispute was, it'd just gotten worse. The fire and the uncovered bodies were one thing. But actual murder in the street? With pedestrians and other cars on the road?

"I can't believe he'd do something like this."

Kawakami stops and strains her ears. Can't be, she thinks.

"You can't?" Another student asks. "Everyone knows he's part of that group."

"You don't think he's got it in his bag, do you?"

"Nah, he'd have to ditch it."

They're serious. Part of Kawakami knows they can't be serious. They can't honestly think Akira Kurusu had anything to do with Rintaro Ebisawa's murder. But Shujin's rumor mill had a mind of its own. Once the gossip started, the only override was fresh gossip.

"Why don't the Phantom Thieves hurry up and change Kurusu's heart?"

"Don't say his name! What if he's listening?"

The hall goes silent. Kawakami turns her head and follows some of their gazes. Akira Kurusu, eyes ahead, hands in his pockets, trudges down the hall. Everyone watches him move, and the tension in the air tugs at her skin.

He walks, head pitched forward, gaze tilted down. Kawakami walks up to his side. "Kurusu, I-" But she stops. The words seem to drift around Kurusu and vanish into nothing. He doesn't even react to her presence but continues to move. He rounds the corner towards the bathroom and is out of sight.

The whispers start again.

"God, he's so scary!"

"For real, if the Phantom Thieves don't change his heart soon, then I hope he dies in that yakuza war. It would serve him right."

Kawakami spins around, eyes searching for the student who spoke, but they're all beginning to scatter, and no one meets her eyes. She sighs, and soon the bell rings, and she slips on the proper mask.

#

Ann knocks on the door to Shiho's room, and at the resulting, "Yes?" opens it and sticks her head inside.

"Hey, Shiho."

Shiho smiles back. "Ann, hi. Glad you could make it."

Ann nods, looking relieved. She ducks her head out a second and says to Ryuji, "Looks like she's in a good mood today." Then she steps into Shiho's room. "Of course, I knew you were going through another bout of physical therapy today, and I wanted to swing by and see how you were doing." She shuts the door behind her, leaving Ryuji and Yusuke alone in the hallway.

"Do you think she'll let us in?" Yusuke asks.

Ryuji shrugs. "Don't see why not. Last time I was here, Shiho was cool about it. I know she goes through mood changes though. If she doesn't want us around, we'll just head to Iwai's early."

Ann opens the door a moment later, smiling. She beckons both boys forward, and they step into the hospital room.

"Hi," Shiho says, smiling from the bed. "Good to see you, Sakamoto."

"You too, Suzui," Ryuji replies, grinning. He throws an arm around Yusuke's frail shoulders and says, "This here is Yusuke Kitagawa. Another one of our team."

Shiho straightens in bed and nods at Yusuke. "It's nice to meet you."

Yusuke proceeds to double over in some strange movement that approximates a bow. "And you, Suzui. Ann and Ryuji have spoken very highly of you. It is an honor, truly." He straightens and smiles calmly. Shiho looks bemused at this.

"Sure."

"I told you," Ann whispers.

"Told her what?" Yusuke asks.

"Nothing," Ann mutters, rolling her eyes.

"Is it alright for you all to be here?" Shiho asks, looking at them one by one. Her voice drops to a whisper, "Don't you have to take down that Palace? The gangster's?"

"We will," Ann says, leaning against the wall by Shiho's bed.

"Everyone's running around, and Akira's got a meeting with another contact," Ryuji says. "So we're gonna go a little later today. We figured we'd stop by to see how you're doing."

"Though we must stop Kaneshiro sooner rather than later," Yusuke says. "I find myself glad we may postpone attending his Palace, even if a little." The others stare at him. "The decor is quite tacky."

"Is Akira alright?" Shiho asks. "It must be scary for him."

Everyone's face freezes a bit at this. Ryuji notices Ann open her mouth several times, then close it. Yusuke's face tightens, and he grunts in response. "Yeah, it's not great," Ryuji finally says. "But we're getting closer to the Treasure. Once we steal it, we can get him out."

Their conversation lingers on the topic of Phantom Thievery for a bit, and Ryuji lets himself revel in the good feeling talking to Shiho brings. Secrecy requires he keep his mouth shut around everyone. And most people he could talk to about all this were directly involved. It felt good to talk to someone about the problems and rewards of being a Phantom Thief, who wasn't involved in any capacity other than knowing the secret.

Eventually, a nurse came to take Shiho to physical therapy, and everyone shut up. Collectively, they made their way down to the trainer space, but only Ann went in with Shiho to offer moral support as Shiho struggled. Ryuji knew better than to ask if he could come inside, too. He still recalled the frustrations he felt when trying to walk and run again, and all he'd broken was his leg. Shiho had fallen off a roof.

Well, not exactly, he thought, but he saw no reason to dwell on it.

Yusuke and Ryuji resolved to wait outside until Ann wrapped up, and then they'd head to the rendezvous point together.

The two head to the hospital's cafeteria, grab some snacks and sit down at a small table.

"Ryuji," Yusuke says, after a few minutes.

"Yeah?" Ryuji replies, his speech a grumble around the chips he chews.

"The other day, when Makoto found her way into the Metaverse, Akira said some things, and then I said some things."

Ryuji swallows his food and studies the now half-empty chip bag. "Yeah. I mean, it wasn't really my place to say anything, so I didn't."

"I confess," Yusuke says. "My emotions and feelings are mixed on the topic. On the one hand, I feel that my outburst was unbecoming and should have been handled better. On the other hand, I don't think I said anything particularly wrong."

Ryuji nods. "I get that. Or both. Or whatever. Makes sense."

"Do not misunderstand me," Yusuke says, fear creeping into his voice. "I am grateful that I was able to awaken Goemon and help take down Madarame. It's only..."

"His method," Ryuji says. "Plus that bit about how he was hoping you'd awaken your Persona so that he could oust Ann because they were having a big fight at the time."

"Exactly."

Ryuji sighs and leans back in his chair. "Sometimes you guys treat me like I'm the Akira-expert. You guys seem to forget I've known him just a bit longer than you guys. But, I do think I understand him a bit. It's a guy thing, you know?"

"Are we not both men?" Yusuke asks.

"Well, yeah," Ryuji replies. "But you know. I'm around him at school."

"I was his roommate for a while."

"Okay, yes. That's true. But I don't know. I saw Akira awaken his Persona, you know? We made the decision together to take down Kamoshida. I've seen him, and I've seen how his face twists around when he struggles with shit." Ryuji stares at the ceiling. "He complicates things and does dumb shit sometimes, and a lot of it has to do with stuff that happened in his past, and what brought him to the big city. But. Akira does the right thing, even when he thinks he isn't."

"I'm not sure I follow," Yusuke replies.

"Take your situation," Ryuji says, gesturing at Yusuke. "I think, even if Akira wasn't fighting with Ann, he would've brought you to the Metaverse to awaken your Persona. And I think that's the real reason he did it."

"But why?" Yusuke asks.

"Because he likes you, man. He liked you then, too. He saw what Madarame was doing to you and wanted to give you a chance to fight back. If you hadn't run off right after getting there, we probably could've done something more controlled. Helped you along."

Yusuke frowns, pondering. "Then, why did he not want Makoto to enter the Metaverse? Doesn't she deserve as much?"

Ryuji nods. "Yeah, but I think he was against it because he saw how badly things went when he brought you in there. Not to mention Haru. I get that Makoto chose to enter, and all, but Kaneshiro's Palace is pretty crazy. Plus, well, y'know."

"What?" Yusuke asks.

"You know," Ryuji replies, grinning.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"He's into her, dude," Ryuji says.

"Oh, of course," Yusuke says. "Well yes, that's a given." He sighs. "I take your point. And I agree that Akira often does the right thing. I suppose I'm confused as to why he chooses to act and behave in a way that seems to run counter to how he really thinks."

Ryuji shrugs. "That's the thing, I don't know that it... uh, runs counter, or whatever to the way he thinks. I think he thinks this shit is legit, and that's why he's acting that way when really it's not legit, and he acts that way because he wants it to appear legit, but actually, he's doing the right thing, but like, indirectly-like. In his head. See?"

Yusuke blinks. "I thought I understood, but now I am perplexed."

Ryuji sighs and tries to explain again. It goes about as well the second time.

#

Hidetoshi swipes through his phone, doing his best not to look up at the other occupant in Sae's office. Akechi lounges alongside him, looking tired, as was his wont these days.

Sae had called them in earlier that day, but had been gone by the time both arrived. Apparently, according to the office manager, she'd been in an all-day meeting with the higher-ups at the SID. Hidetoshi wondered about that but could imagine it had something to do with the morning's news regarding Rintaro Ebisawa's murder on the street.

He hears Sae's rapid footfalls before she steps through her open office door. Mentally, he preps himself for some onslaught but finds a very rare smile on her face. Sae positively beams.

"Gentlemen," she says, stepping around them and to her office desk. "We have the full backing of the SID. Taking down Kaneshiro is our new top priority. When they learned our investigation involved the Dragon civil war, they looped us in." She taps the file in her hand. "The investigation by the forensic accounting team to identify the dirty money businesses and fronts was all the leverage we needed to bring them over. Kaneshiro will be behind bars in a week."

Hidetoshi glances at Akechi, who frowns but then forces a smile onto his face. "That's great news," he says.

"Yeah," Hidetoshi replies. Stupidly, he raises his hand as if he were still a student. "But, uh, what'd they say when you brought up the mental shutdowns."

Sae's smile freezes in place. "I didn't."

Hidetoshi blinks. "Wait. How'd you explain our case's connection to Kaneshiro, then?"

Sae looks down at her desk, and to Hidetoshi's shock, reaches out and fiddles with her pencil case. Is she stalling? "I explained the connection between the Phantom Thieves and Kaneshiro."

"What connection?" Hidetoshi asks.

"The Calling Cards, the similarities between the Phantom Thief's results and the deaths of several yakuza members."

"The Calling Cards?" Akechi asks, at the same time Hidetoshi says, "You said you didn't mention the mental shutdowns."

Sae frowns. "The Director of the SID sees the value of arresting Kaneshiro and stopping the Dragon civil war before any more people get gunned down in the street, yakuza-affiliated or not. That the-"

"Holy shit," Hidetoshi says. "You lied, didn't you? You said something about how the Phantom Thieves and Kaneshiro might've been in cahoots. That's the only way to explain how you'd be able to link the two together unless you explained your hunch, which you didn't."

Sae clears her throat. "I drew connections and-"

"You lied," Hidetoshi says. "Sae, when they find out, they'll-"

"Oh please," Sae snaps, the familiar fury back on her face. "Once Kaneshiro's arrested, he'll confirm everything anyway. There won't be-"

"Confirm what? That he's working with the Phantom Thieves? We've seen no evidence of that. You think he knows about the mental shutdowns, can trigger them, or something. That's not what you told the Director. Good God, Sae. This is bad. Really bad. You need to go and-"

"I'll do no such thing," Sae says. "Once Kaneshiro is in custody, we'll blow this case open. It's not a lie. They may not be working together, but Kaneshiro's ability is similar to that of the Phantom Thieves in that they both involve mental shutdowns of a kind. Once we know how Kaneshiro does what he does, we'll have a much clearer understanding of how the Phantom Thieves can do what they do."

"In a way," Akechi says, almost absentmindedly. "Ebisawa's murder was a blessing."

Hidetoshi scowls and looks away. "Sae," he says, after a beat. "This is delusional. You'll get fired for this."

"Not if I win," Sae replies, and smirks at him.

Akihiko, Hidetoshi thinks. Please help me figure out what to do about your daughter.

#

Akira slides onto the stool next to Ohya's and greets Lala. For her part, Ohya steadies herself and takes out her notepad, flipping through the relevant pages. "So what'd you got, cuz?" She asks, slurring.

"Nanashi Storage," Akira mutters. "Definitely run by Kaneshiro, which would link him to Madarame."

Ohya nods. "Yeah. Yeah. That's good. But what about Ebisawa?"

Akira shrugs. "Don't know. At least, I haven't heard anything, but I haven't checked in with Kaneshiro in a bit. It's likely it was him, though. Who else would it be?"

"You gotta understand the problem," Ohya says, and then thinks about what she said. "It's like. Killing someone in the street like that? Bad news."

"How many have you had?" Akira asks, his voice touched with frustration.

"Same as usual."

"A lot then, great."

"Don't get snippy," Ohya retorts. "And look, you need to stay away from Kaneshiro. Aren't you guys in the Palace at this point? Can't you just wrap that up? If he's killing people in the street, then he's off the deep end."

"Good idea," Akira says flatly. "We'll just wrap it up. I have no idea why we didn't think to do that. I'll go tell the others we need to 'wrap it up.'"

"Alright, alright," Ohya groans. "Just be careful."

"Sure," Akira grunts. "Got it. Anything on the Metaverse? Cognitive Science?"

"I spoke to that Maruki guy," Ohya says. "The one who gave you those MRIs." She proceeds to give him a rundown of their conversation.

"Okay," Akira replies once she's finished. "Not exactly helpful. There's something else, too. We've started to see Shadows in real life."

"What'dya mean?" Ohya asks.

"I mean, myself and two others saw a Shadow in Shibuya. It was walking down the street. And both Ryuji and I have seen, or at least heard, them before in Shujin. It might have something to do with the Palaces. We're not sure."

"Holy shit," Ohya says. "Were you the only ones who saw them?"

Akira nods. "Yeah, no one else could. So, I don't think the Shadows are coming into the real world. It's," and he pauses. "Shit. I don't know what it means." He takes out his phone and checks the time. "I need to run. I'll message you soon, and we'll talk more. Keep digging, I guess. I'll do the same."

"Where are you going?" Ohya asks.

Akira slides off the stool. "I'm gonna try and 'wrap up' Kaneshiro's Palace."

Ohya frowns at him, but Akira ignores this and marches off.

Once he's gone, Ohya turns and faces Lala, who glowers at her. "What?" She asks.

"I don't know what you've got going on with that boy, Ohya. But he looks like he needs help, not encouragement of the kind you're giving him."

Ohya rolls her eyes. "He's fine. He's... he'll be fine. Besides, I'm not his mother."

"No, you're not," Lala mutters and turns to attend to a customer further down the bar.

Ohya stares down at her drink. "You don't know what you're talking about," she says to no one, and then wishes she'd kept her mouth shut.

#

Takemi opens the door to LeBlanc and steps inside.

Sojiro raises his head, looking tired, then happy once he recognizes her.

"Hey there," he says. "Been a while."

"Sorry about that," Takemi replies. "Been busy."

"I bet. It looks like your clinic is getting more patrons. That's good."

Takemi nods a bit and sits down at the bar. "It is. It is. How's everything with you?"

Sojiro begins to reply, then stifles a yawn with his fist. "Sorry about that." Takemi waves the response off. "It's been... okay. You want your usual?"

"Please," Takemi says. Sojiro busies himself behind the counter, and Takemi glances down towards the stairwell she knows leads to Akira's room. She wonders if that Ali Baba person is listening in on this conversation. Why Akira allowed the bug to remain in place, she couldn't really understand. "Is Akira home?"

"No," Sojiro says. "He's out with some of his friends. Work, or studying, or something. The kid keeps busy."

"He does," Takemi says. Sojiro sets a cup of coffee before her and she thanks him. "He's been helpful at my office."

Sojiro pauses and glances at her. "He works for you, too?"

Takemi shakes her head. "More like volunteer work. He helps me take notes on a medicine I'm developing."

Sojiro makes a strange face but then shrugs and gets back to preparing Takemi's food. "Kid should take a break once in a while. Between school, his job, his friends, that reporter Ohya, and apparently volunteering with you, it's a miracle he gets any sleep."

Takemi feels a pang at that. "Yeah. I think he could use a break too." Maybe once he's out from that gang, he'll take a vacation or something. "How is it, living with him?"

"I don't exactly live with him," Sojiro says, bending over a plate and spooning some curry onto it.

"That's true," Takemi says. She clears her throat. "And your other... ward?"

Sojiro pauses, staring at the food. Then, with a sigh, he finishes, sets down the spoon, and brings the plate over to Takemi. "Unchanged, I suppose. She still spends most of her time in her room. Only really comes out to go to the bathroom."

"You know that's not healthy for her," Takemi whispers.

"I know," Sojiro groans. "I do. It's just, I don't know how to approach it. What do I say? What do I do? Part of me wants to bust in there, grab all her computer junk, and throw it out the window, but I'm afraid it'll cause some issue."

"Yeah," Takemi replies, frowning. "I think you might cause more than just an 'issue' by doing that."

"But that's what I'm talking about," Sojiro says. "I know I'm not supposed to do that, but it's the first damn thing that pops into my head. It's like with Akira. I'm old, not stupid. I know I could've been nicer to him, but my kneejerk reaction is... for god's sake, I kicked the kid out of my car, and he almost died in that train crash!"

Takemi takes a bite before asking, "Have you said that to Akira?"

"No," Sojiro says, shaking his head. "I mean, how would I? He probably doesn't like me, and I can't blame him." His face hardens. "I got enough to worry about with Futaba. I don't need-"

"Bullshit," Takemi says, without meeting his gaze. Sojiro stares at her, so she lifts her face and says, "Bullshit," again. She refuses to elaborate.

Sojiro narrows his eyes and then lets out a long breath in one defeated burst. "You're right. But I don't know what to do for them."

"You're giving them a roof. A place to stay. That's not nothing."

Sojiro scoffs. "What they need is a proper family. And what they've got is me. Talk about a raw deal."

#

"Ebisawa's gone, which means there are only three Captains left the Boss can call on," Kaneshiro continues. "Tsuda and a few others, including the kids from Shujin are going to report their positions soon. We'll move on them, or they'll be removed for us, and we'll be done." Muzaki nods. A few of his lieutenants exchanged glances. Two even looked relieved. Yes, the murder was out in the open, and yes, there would likely be repercussions, but with only so many pieces left on the board, the game would end soon.

The door to the office opens, and everyone turns. Nanashi steps inside. "Bike's gone. Gun's gone," he says. "No one will find it, Boss." Kaneshiro smirks, but it fades when Nanashi continues. "But we may have another problem. My contact at the MET got ahold of me. Said there's been chatter. The SID, Organized Crime, they're all gunning for us now. It doesn't matter that they've no proof we did it or that the hit relates to the war. They want it stopped. They're planning a raid on a few of our businesses."

Kaneshiro shoves himself away from the desk. "That'll just prolong the war. If they were smart, they'd let us wrap it up and contend with only one of us. Fuck it." He turns back to Nanashi. "You said the SID are involved. Sae Niijima, then?"

"Apparently she argued pretty heavily into being involved. Safe to say she'll play a major role in their actions against us."

Kaneshiro sighed. That's that, then, he thinks. I can't go after Sae Niijima. But I get to her through her sister. Sorry, Akira. "Get on the phone to our people. Tell them to stall in any way they can. I'm done being nice about this," he says. "Get Akira in here."

No one moves. Kaneshiro stares at a few faces, but no one meets his gaze.

"What?" He demands.

"No one's seen Akira in a bit," Nanashi says. Then, he pauses before continuing. "Well, the Shujin kids have. Sakoda and them. They've seen him at school. Apparently, there's been some development there."

"What?" Kaneshiro asks. "We're in the middle of a fucking war here. Don't tell me he's in detention or some bullshit."

One of the other lieutenants cleared his throat and inclined his head. "Boss, I spoke with Sakoda and asked a few others to confirm. There’s been a Request put out on Akira Kurusu. For the Phantom Thieves of Hearts to, uh, change his heart."

"The fuck?" Kaneshiro asks, then chuckles, staring at his lieutenants. "Are you joking?"

"No, Boss," Nanashi continues. "I heard the same. It's all over the school and-"

"I don't care if the Emperor Himself personally 'Requested' Akira to lick his balls. You find him, and you get him here!"

#

The Phantom Thieves exit the Palace, each of them taking a moment in the alley behind 'Untouchable' to collect themselves.

"I'm telling you," Morgana says. "We're nearly there. One or two more pushes and we'll have the Treasure. We're three-quarters of the way there, of that, I'm sure."

The others all voice agreement, but it feels haphazard. Makoto glances over at Akira. In the Metaverse, he'd been focused and precise, but the last two days had seen a pall fall over him, and Makoto didn't like it.

The group begins to split up for the day as the sun starts to set. Makoto tells Haru to wait a moment, then slides up alongside Akira. "Could I talk to you a second?" She asks.

Akira grunts in response.

"Are you alright?" Makoto asks.

Akira stops walking and turns to face her. The others are out of earshot. "I'll be better once Kaneshiro's done for," he says, honestly.

"You know we're going to succeed, right?"

"Sure," Akira replies, but there's no feeling in his voice—just abject, sterile certainty.

"We haven't spoken. Not really. Not since the day I summoned Johanna."

"Did you know she was a Pope?" Akira asks, and shrugs. "Apparently. Allegedly."

"I... yes, I did. But Akira, I want us to talk again. About what happened when Kaneshiro threw me off the train. About my role in this." Tentatively, she reaches out a hand and takes - not Akira's hand - his forearm. "And everything going on with us."

Akira nods. "Yeah. Okay. Once this is all over. We can talk." He smirks. "Maybe your code name could be Pope?"

Makoto frowns. "I don't think so."

"Well, something like that," Akira says. "You're gonna have to pick something eventually." And he turns and begins to walk away.

Makoto stares after him, then turns and goes to meet Haru.

#

The sun starts to set, and dusk begins to inch over the Tokyo skyline. Tsuda slinks further into the building's shadow. It is an old warehouse, once repurposed from a textile factory during an earlier economic boom. When he peels himself off the ancient stone, his jacket comes with a faint dusting of residue he beats clean in frustration.

Tsuda hurries back down the side street, turns a corner, backtracks to ensure he isn't followed, and heads down an alley - playing the vagabond with too much time on his hands.

Across the street, behind a gated wall, low among these factories and tombstones of Japan's industry, squats one of the lesser-known safehouses for the Dragon Syndicate. Light reflects off polished windows, and Tsuda once more curses himself for getting stuck with this bullshit duty. It was bad enough that Kaneshiro escalated the war to outright murder in the streets, but Tsuda was a known entity to the regular Dragon members. The kid, Kurusu, had been tasked with leading some of the Shujin students on scouting out locations, but no one had heard from him in a short while.

I need to get the fuck out of here, he thinks. Keeping his eyes on the front gate, he fantasizes about taking a bus or train somewhere. Fuck Japan. Why stay? Australia, maybe. Or even the United States. Disgust churns in his gut. It's all idle nonsense. Kaneshiro punished that kind of behavior.

The gate rumbles open. Tsuda hesitates, then crouches. He pulls out his phone and dials as cars emerge from the Lair.

Nanashi answers immediately. "Yeah?"

"It's me," Tsuda snaps. "There's activity." He bites back a curse. Six cars are queued up to leave, each an identical black limousine. "Six cars leaving. They all look the same."

"Can you see which car has the Boss in it?"

"How the hell should I know?" Tsuda asks. The first turns right. The second, left. Each car turns in its predecessor's opposite direction. Do they know we're watching them? Even if they didn't know, it was standard procedure when at war. Disguise your movements. Obfuscate. "Shit, I've got no clue who's who."

"License plates?"

Tsuda squints and manages to read two before they're out of sight.

The gate to the warehouse clatters shut, and the fortress goes quiet. "Now what?" He asks.

"Your relief will be by in a few hours," Nanashi replies. "Stay put."

There's nothing to see, Tsuda wants to scream. "Fine," he grumbles. There's a pause on the other end of the line, but then the phone disconnects and Tsuda is alone with the bleak night sounds of industrialized Tokyo.

His thoughts return to escape. He's not one for abandoning duty, but you could only push someone so much. Hell, what was to stop Tsuda from taking out Kaneshiro? His ‘special powers?’ Enough of the others wanted him gone.

All it takes is one big mouth, he thinks. If he were to solicit support, and one chickenshit got cold feet, that would be the end. Kaneshiro wouldn’t waste time.

Even if we could pull it off, Tsuda reasons, there's still the rest of the Dragon.

Tsuda hears the sharp skritskrit of footsteps behind him. As he turns, the bag is brought down over his face, and the darkness swallows him up.

Chapter 71: Chapter 71

6/22

 

Hidetoshi thanks the caller, hangs up, and returns the phone to his pocket. Sae stares at him from across her desk, eyes rooted to him. A slight contraction of the muscles above her brows ripples. "They're set," he says. "Once the warrants come through. Last chance, Sae."

Her face loosens with the heave of air she exhales, collapsing back into her chair. Hidetoshi recognizes the wrinkles in her dark navy suit, the uneven application of makeup along her neckline, and the hastily constructed bun designed to hide her unkempt hair. Four empty cups of coffee form a rhombus on her desk. Hidetoshi spots two more in her waste basket. A few tear lines of dried liquid stain the clear plastic of the bag.

"Go home, Sae," he tells her, unafraid to let the cadence of his voice beg. "Get some sleep. Spend time with your sister."

"It's not done yet," Sae replies. She reaches a palm towards her eye, pauses, and sets the hand back down. She shakes her head, knocking a few strands of her silvery hair loose. "Once it's done."

"There's a lot of ground to cover," Hidetoshi counters, sitting across from her and leaning across the desk. "They may hit his businesses, but there's no guarantee Kaneshiro will be there. It might be a while before they're able to bring him in. If you really insist on being part of this, then wait for that. There's nothing for you to do in the meantime."

Sae whispers something, and Hidetoshi leans closer.

"Huh?" He asks.

Sae meets his gaze, and her eyes hold a dilated and wretched fear. Her voice quick and quiet, she says, "I can't stop."

Hidetoshi searches for a response, but the office phone rings. Sae's face contracts, and steel replaces the terror. Without looking, she snatches the phone and brings it to her ear. "Yes?"

Hidetoshi settles back in the chair, formulating and discarding various insistences for once Sae hangs up. His attention diverted, he only dimly notices Sae's face pale, her mouth creak open in disbelief, and her eyes expand in shock and fury.

"What?" She demands, and Hidetoshi jerks in his seat. "That-" An electronic jumble from the other end Hidetoshi barely makes out. "Sir, that doesn't make sense. Why would we-" More chatter. More noise. More and more, and Sae's face twists into a snarling mess.

She slams the receiver home and shoves her face into her palms. The room holds a silence for a second before a guttural and muffled moan roars from Sae's body.

The noise shakes Hidetoshi back to his bedroom when he was five and used to call his mother into his room to sit in the dark until he fell back asleep.

It returns him to that first case when the suspect pulled a knife, and he forgot all his training.

Hidden in the shout are his wife's words, "This isn't working out."

And the snapping shame and hatred and fear when he got the call and heard the words, "Akihiko's dead."

Rooted to the chair, all he can do is move his hands. His fingers flex and reach for Sae, aware his mouth hangs open, brain not even trying to affix whatever news to reality. "Wha-"

"That was the Director," Sae mutters, voice squeezing out between her hands. "We're to hold off."

"On what?" Hidetoshi asks.

"Kaneshiro," Sae spits the name. She lowers her hands. The pressure of her palms leaves red splotches across her face, mixed with the dark circles beneath her eyes. "Everyone's been instructed to wait." She erupts from her seat, sending it sliding back and clattering against the filing cabinets. "It can't be the Dragon. The main Dragon force. They want Kaneshiro gone. They'd want us to go after him. Even if we didn't get him, it would weaken him and give him fewer options. They wouldn't interfere." She speaks and paces, fingers dancing on some unseen instrument held at her side. She doesn't look at him. "So internal. Has to be. He found out. Kaneshiro found out. Exerting pressure. But on a task force?" She spins and finally faces Hidetoshi, eyes ablaze.

He wants to stand and go to her. He wants to hold her, to tell her everything will be okay. He wants to tell her how sorry he is for not keeping in contact. That she doesn't have to do this, doesn't have to rage against this world and insist on empty victor after empty victory.

I can't stop, she'd said.

Sae Niijima towers before him, and Hidetoshi shrinks from her.

#

A dry breeze skates down the alley behind 'Untouchable,' and the Phantom Thieves phase into reality.

"One more push," Morgana says.

Ryuji pumps his fist into the air. "Alright!"

"You said that last time," Akira mutters.

"I think he said one or two," Ann says, staring at Morgana. "So it tracks." Akira shrugs.

"Once we have the route secure, we send the Calling Card, correct?" Makoto asks.

Haru nods. "Yes. Yusuke usually draws them up."

"Ryuji has already supplied me with verbiage," Yusuke says, and inclines his head towards Makoto. "But I thought, given the nature of things, you would like to dictate the terms of the Calling Card. So long as certain phrases are included, it should pose no problem."

Makoto smiles, but it falters, and she stares at the ground. "Oh, I don't know." Her gaze flickers to Akira. "What about you?"

"Hmm?" Akira asks, stirring into attention.

"Do you have anything you want to say to Kaneshiro?"

Akira's laugh is short and ugly. "Sure. Dear Kaneshiro, you're a fucking monster." He shakes his head. "Whatever Yusuke comes up with is fine by me."

"Then we reconcoct-" Ryuji starts.

"You mean 'reconnect?'" Ann asks.

"Reconnect tomorrow," Ryuji finishes. "Everyone good?"

The team nods in various fashions, and into their little groups they separate to prepare for the final push.

#

With the cash Haru provided in hand, Akira descends the steps to Kaneshiro's latest safe house. Days and messages ignored, Akira hopes the money staves off the man's rage. He debated, in the past few hours and while in Kaneshiro's Palace, showing up at all. But to deny Kaneshiro invited disaster, and until they secured the Treasure, Akira didn't wish to risk his life.

Eyes pinned to the steps, Akira still recognizes the mix of surprise, frustration, and even pity dressed across the faces of Kaneshiro's yakuza. Some watch him, while others return to the shadows.

The last time, Akira thinks, reaching the landing. This has to be the last time.

#

Makoto and Haru turn off Central, intending to stop at a cafe before returning to the latter's home.

#

"Kurusu's here," Nanashi says, through the crack in the door.

Whatever Kaneshiro's reply, Akira can't hear.

Nanashi nods. When he faces Akira once more, his face bears a smothered fury that freezes Akira's feet. The yakuza lieutenant shoves the door wider and snaps, "Move," at Akira. The words billow him forward, and clutching the bag of money to his chest like a life preserver, Akira stumbles into Kaneshiro's latest office.

A desk light and neon sign of some long-discontinued alcohol line serve as the only illumination. The neon drowns the room in a deep red haze, swallowing the paltry light from the desk. Kaneshiro sits behind the desk, half his face awash in red, while the other sinks into shadow.

"Been a while, kid."

"I know. I'm sorry," Akira stammers. "But there's nothing to report. None of the guys from Shujin saw anyt-"

"I know," Kaneshiro says. A slight inclination of his head. "That this week's money?"

Akira nods.

A hand rises and gestures to the open area of the desk. Akira keeps his gait steady, but the otherwise silent room casts his footfalls as so much noise. He sets the bag down, backs up, and bows.

Kaneshiro's fingers run over the bag's exterior, and then slide it towards his lap, over the edge of the table, and out of sight.

"I suppose you heard."

Akira straightens and nods. "About Ebisawa, right?" Kaneshiro doesn't reply. "I heard."

"Been some trouble because of that," Kaneshiro says. His face remains so still despite his lips moving. "Our people managed to suppress it for now, but it won't go away."

"Trouble?" Akira asks. "With the police?"

"The police, the SID. Hell, even the foreigners have started to complain."

Akira doesn't know what to say, so he nods and shrugs together.

"Seems like everyone but the Phantom Thieves have taken an interest in our little war."

Akira feels his throat constrict.

"But I guess they're too busy these days." Kaneshiro's teeth catch the red as he grins. "You've even got a Request on you."

Akira ventures to play it off. "So I've been told. But I doubt they'll bother with me. I'm thinking all these Calling Cards that have been going out recently are fake."

"Oh?" Kaneshiro asks. "Well, I wouldn't know about that." Without breaking his gaze from Akira's face, he asks, "How does Makoto feel about your Request?"

#

Makoto and Haru continue down the street and do not notice the van that follows them.

#

"I-I don't," Akira tries, and fails.

Kaneshiro chuckles. "It's fine. I don't mind. Are you two together or something?"

"No, we're not," Akira says, a terrible nausea bunching in his stomach.

"Would you like to be?" Kaneshiro asks.

"I, it's not, we aren't-"

"Simple question, Akira," Kaneshiro's voice rumbles.

"We're not together. We're not going to be together."

The flash of red of Kaneshiro's teeth. "Never say never, Akira."

#

The van begins to accelerate.

#

Kaneshiro's hands softly rise from beneath the desk and rest upon the wood. "You a virgin?"

Akira's hand trembles. "Please."

"There's no shame in it," Kaneshiro says, almost gently. "We all were at one point. And then we weren't. Are you?"

Akira feels his head nod.

"I'm going to help with that," Kaneshiro says. He points to Akira's left. Akira turns his head. A ratty-looking couch sits shoved up against the far wall. "Why don't you take a seat? I'll have a treat for you in a few minutes."

"What are you doing?" Akira asks, voice shaking.

"Killing two birds with one stone."

#

The van speeds the remainder of the distance and the brakes skid. Makoto and Haru jump. The side door opens, and men emerge. The girls begin to back up, but in their shock, they fail to move fast enough.

#

"She'll be here soon," Kaneshiro says, rising out of his seat. "Since it seemed like you weren't going to take the initiative, I've decided to help you out."

Sounds die in Akira's throat as he tries to force something out. Finally, he manages, "You can't."

Kaneshiro's hands dart out and seize Akira by the collar. A pull, and Akira's face slams into the desk. He feels the weight of Kaneshiro's hand pressing down on his skull. "You don't exist in a reality where you tell me what I can and can't do," Kaneshiro growls. "You should be thanking me, but all I get is some limp-dick protest?" He leans in and whispers in Akira's ear. "You don't join this world half-assed, Akira. You're either all in, or you're dead. Maybe you thought you had options. You don't. Not after today. Not after what I'm going to make you do to her."

#

The men reach and seize, and then the van door shuts. It speeds off, and Haru runs after it, screaming her friend's name.

#

A beep.

Kaneshiro releases Akira, who backpedals furiously from the desk, trips, and lands on the floor.

The gangster moves behind the desk, opens a drawer, and withdraws a phone. His eyes scan the screen, reading whatever text he's received. Kaneshiro smiles. "That's that. They've picked her up."

Akira feels himself beginning to hyperventilate. His mind shatters like a jigsaw puzzle. Nothing fits. Nothing coherent. No words from his father, from Arsene. Everything he's seen and experienced, and his mind is silent.

"Don't feel too bad," Kaneshiro says. "I had business with her, regardless of you."

The words seep in, and ideas start to scrape together. "The SID. You said the SID earlier," Akira says. He meets Kaneshiro's gaze. "The sister. Sae."

Kaneshiro nods. "Like I said, I can suppress it but can't make it go away. Unless, of course, I've got something they want."

Something they want.

A voice flickers into his mind.

Didn't you think about this? It's new. Not his father. Not a Persona. He recognizes it.

Akira tries to think as he forces himself to stand. A plan forms, but a panicked one. He doesn't have time to think it through. Doesn't have time to run it by the others.

"Let Makoto go," Akira says.

"No," Kaneshiro replies.

Akira forces his voice louder. "Let her go, and I'll give you something that can stop Sae, the SID, the police. I'll give you something that can end this war tonight."

Kaneshiro chuckles. "What could that possibly be?"

Akira reaches into his pocket and begins to walk towards Kaneshiro.

Kaneshiro crosses his arms as Akira approaches, and Akira pulls out his phone.

Chapter 72: Chapter 72

Hands hold her. Push her into the cold metal of the van's floor. She screams. She squirms. Bucks.

The interior holds a single bench, upon which sits a big man who watches her writhe with a still face.

A hand reaches for her mouth. She snaps at it and twists away.

"Hold her, for fuck's sake," someone says.

An older man in a sweatshirt holds her ankles in place. Two young men kneel alongside her. The chemicals pumping through her system twist her perception, but she recognizes them even outside their school uniforms.

Sakoda.

Kenji Arata.

"If she's not gonna calm down, just shoot her up already." Whoever drives the van shouts back at them.

The big man snaps his fingers. Sakoda, keeping one hand firm on her wrist, leans over towards a small satchel taped to the floor by the wheelhouse.

OhgodOhgodOhgod

"Don't," she says, wrenching herself about, staring up at Sakoda and Arata. "Don't. Please."

"Shut up bitch," the man holding her ankles yells.

Sakoda winces, and doesn't look at her. "Sorry," he mutters.

"Do it already," the older yakuza demands.

Sakoda's free hand starts to unzip the satchel. The big man watches her. The van continues.

She can't get out. She can't get away. They've got her pinned, and there are too many of them.

Someone save me! Save me, Sis!

"Calm down and think," Sae says. Makoto imagines her sister looming over Sakoda, glaring down at her. "If you can't physically overpower them, then you have to use your mind."

A voice from deep within her rumbles. "Aside from Haru, no one knows you're here. Help won't come in time." Johanna.

"These are Kaneshiro's goons and Shujin students." Makoto turns and finds Akira sitting next to the big man on the bench. "I've given you plenty on Kaneshiro's men, and you already know how to boss around Shujin students." Makoto wants to shake her head and say that she cannot do this, but the voice in her head won't listen. "You can," Akira says.

"You have to," Sae insists.

"Come on, sweetheart," her father whispers. "Show them what you can do."

Makoto takes a deep breath and then releases it in quick, rapid bursts, bringing her heart rate under control. Sakoda and Arata still hold her arms, and the other yakuza holds her feet. No time to be subtle, she thinks, as Sakoda pulls a syringe out of the satchel.

"Sakoda," she says, forcing as much steel into her voice as she can. The boy pauses and finally looks down at her. Makoto meets his gaze. "Do this, and you'll be dead by tonight."

"Stick her!" The yakuza shouts. He looks over at the big man. "Muzaki, a little help?"

Makoto sees the big man stir. Muzaki. That's one of Kaneshiro's Lieutenants.

"You work for Junya Kaneshiro, who knows how to trigger mental shutdowns. That's how you're fighting your war." The words tumble from her, but she sees them sink into each of the men. Muzaki pauses. "My name is Makoto Niijima. Kaneshiro killed my father, Akihiko Niijima, with a mental shutdown." She focuses this bit of info on Muzaki. "The truck driver. The drugs. I know all about it."

"Wh-what the fuck?" Sakoda asks, head whipping about as he glances between the two yakuza. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"And if I know," Makoto continues. "You can bet the Special Investigations Department Public Prosecutor, Sae Niijima, my sister, knows about it too." She thinks about adding a smile but keeps it back. She wants to shock and confuse, not antagonize. "Kaneshiro isn't the only one who knows how to trigger a mental shutdown."

"Shut her up," the man in the sweatshirt yells.

Makoto looks up at Sakoda. "You grabbed me because I'm Sae Niijima's little sister, and she's investigating Kaneshiro. He's using mental shutdowns against his opponents in the Dragon. He makes it look like they're killing themselves, but that's just a disguise. If you do this, my sister will trigger a mental shutdown in each of you. And she won't be subtle. She'll melt your brains from the inside. All your gray matter will leak out of your eyes. Maybe it'll happen on your way to school. Maybe on your way home." She narrows her eyes. "You have a little sister, don't you, Sakoda? One that plans on attending Shujin next year? Maybe yours will trigger while you're eating dinner with her."

"Th-this is bullshit," this from Arata. "She's lying."

Makoto looks over at him. "Your grandmother is sick, Arata. Your parents have enough trouble paying your tuition to the school. Is that why you started working for Kaneshiro? To earn more money for her?" Before allowing the boy to reply, she looks at Muzaki. "You know I'm not lying. How could I know about the mental shutdowns?"

"This doesn't make sense," the older yakuza, the one holding her legs, yells. "There's no way she can know this. She's Kurusu's bitch, ain't she? Maybe he told her this shit. If Niijima knows how to trigger a shutdown, why not target Kaneshiro herself?"

"Because she wants to arrest him and put him in jail, not kill him," Makoto says. "She wants to prosecute him for what he did to our father."

"I don't buy it," the man says.

"Kaneshiro's got a Palace, did you know that? Do you know what it means?"

"A what?" The yakuza asks.

Muzaki sighs.

Makoto nods. "Did Kurusu's bitch tell her that?" The strength of the people holding her begins to fade, as distracted as each of them is. She presses on. "I'll put in a good word for anyone who lets me up and lets me out. I promise my sister won't touch you. Anyone who doesn't help me, she'll kill."

Sakoda and Arata raise their hands, freeing her arms.

"What're you doing?" Sweatshirt yells.

"Fuck Kaneshiro!" Sakoda screams, dropping the syringe. It clatters on the floor. "I just wanted to make some extra cash, not fucking kill people! Fuck him, and fuck your war!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please," Arata repeats.

Makoto points at the man holding her legs. "Get him."

Sakoda and Arata hurl themselves at the older man, freeing her legs. She starts to rise as Muzaki moves, but Makoto snatches the syringe off the ground. Muzaki reaches for her, but Makoto screams and brings the syringe up and into his chest. She slams the stopper home, and the drug rips into him. Muzaki blinks, seizes her in a vice grip, but then blinks. Makoto feels his grip loosen, and he slinks back, dropping onto the ground. Makoto hurls her fist into his nose and feels a satisfying crunch. She rips the needle out of his chest and scuttles past the three men fighting.

"The fuck is going-" the driver starts, but Makoto grabs his shoulder and brings the needle to bear against his throat.

"Pull over!" She screams.

"What the-"

"Pull over!"

"Alright, alright, fuck!"

The van swerves out of its lane and slows to the side of the road. Makoto grabs the handle of the door and shoves it open. She leaps out of the vehicle, the sound of cursing and fighting sounding behind her, and starts to run. She screams at the top of her lungs, and pedestrians turn towards her as she bolts.

Rage and terror collide, and her hands move to her pockets. She still has her phone. They hadn't the chance to take it from her. The tears start to fall from her eyes as she begins to call Haru.

#

Kaneshiro stares at Akira, who has taken a phone from his pocket and holds it up towards him.

"Okay. And?"

Akira points at the app he's queued up. "I can access the Metaverse with this Navigation App." Kaneshiro keeps his face impassive, but Akira must see something because he nods and says, "You weren't expecting me to use that word, were you?"

Kaneshiro opens his mouth, but then his burner phone rings. He glances down at it, then over at Akira. Wordlessly, he picks up the phone and brings it to his ear. "Speak."

"Boss, she got away." Not Muzaki. His backup. "The brats from Shujin, they fought-"

"Stop," Kaneshiro says. The man shuts up. Kaneshiro watches Akira, who watches him right back. "Anything else I should know?"

"Muzaki's hurt. The girl stuck him with the thing meant for her. And she, well, she said her sister could do mental shutdowns or something. Said you had a Palace, whatever that means."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Get him taken care of," Kaneshiro says, meaning Muzaki. "Then come back here." He hangs up. Akira's face remains tense, but it doesn't seem as though he heard anything.

"How do you know about the Metaverse, Akira?"

Akira licks his lips. "That's not important. You have a Palace. All of Shibuya is your Palace. That thing you've been doing to the other Dragon Captains, you're triggering mental shutdowns. I can, too. I can help you. But you've got to let Makoto go, now."

Junya Kaneshiro stares at Akira Kurusu and remains silent. To his credit, though he squirms a bit, Akira says nothing. Kaneshiro takes everything he knows about Akira and thinks. A small smile plays across his lips. "You're a Phantom Thief."

"No, I'm not," Akira says too quickly. "And you're wasting time. Do you want my help or-"

"Yes, you are," Kaneshiro replies. "I'm your target, aren't I? Guess I should expect a Calling Card soon." He laughs. The whole thing, all of it, his whole damn life, it was all just too funny. "Fuck it," Kaneshiro says. "Show me."

"You need to let Makoto go," Akira replies. "If you don't, I'll-"

Kaneshiro swipes out a hand and seizes Akira's wrist. He raises the boy's hand into the air, and the phone hangs above them like a guillotine. "Too late, Akira. Show me."

Akira, eyes wide, presses the button on the app.

The world shifts.

#

Makoto sobs into Haru's shoulder.

"It's okay," Haru repeats, her voice breaking. "It's okay. You're safe now."

They sit on the couch in Makoto's living room. Ann leans towards them, parked on the coffee table, face pale and hands clenched together. Ryuji paces across the carpet, twitching. Yusuke and Morgana reside on an armchair, staring at Makoto, both of their eyes wide.

Part of Makoto feels vulnerable and uncomfortable crying like this in front of them, but the majority of her doesn't give a shit.

Ryuji pulls out his phone. His fingers fly across the screen, and then he pauses and stares at it, before shaking his head. "Still can't reach Akira."

"He's probably with Kaneshiro," Morgana says. "That's where he was headed last."

Makoto's voice hitches. "I told them about the mental shutdowns. I'm sorry but-"

"Don't say you're sorry," Ann snaps, sounding affronted. "Holy shit, Niijima. Don't apologize for anything you did to get out of there."

"Ann's right," Haru says. "Protecting our secret was secondary to getting you out of there. Period. We all agree on that, right?"

Everyone nods. "Besides," Yusuke says, "It sounds as if you said nothing about the Phantom Thieves, which, given your predicament, I find very impressive. Anything you did say, I believe we could chalk up to spur-of-the-moment thinking."

Morgana straightens and hops off the chair. "Maybe. If Sae is ever confronted with what Makoto said, then she's going to ask a ton of questions."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Morgana," Haru hisses. "Could we, perhaps, please give Makoto a moment?"

Makoto straightens and wipes her eyes. "We need to be realistic. What happened likely got reported to Kaneshiro. If Kaneshiro knows about what I said, it's likely he may confront Akira about it. If that's the case, Akira's in danger—immediate danger." She sighs. The others all look at her expectantly, even Ann.

"And?" Ryuji asks.

"And what?" Makoto asks.

"What'd we do?"

Makoto blinks. "Right. Well." She thinks. "If Kaneshiro is posing a real, physical danger to Akira, then we have no more time to waste." She looks at Morgana. "Mona, we can manifest the Treasure prior to our having completed the infiltration route, correct?"

Morgana bobs his head. "Yes. All Kaneshiro has to do is read a Calling Card. Then, the Treasure manifests. But it only stays that way for twenty-four hours. After that, it's out of our reach."

Makoto groans. "That makes no sense."

Ryuji scoffs. "Yeah, that's what Akira said."

Makoto tightens her hands into fists. "Then we need to move up our schedule. We keep trying to reach Akira, but if we can't, we have to assume he's not safe and proceed with sending Kaneshiro the Calling Card. Then, we steal his Treasure as fast as possible and change his heart, forcing him to release Akira if he's being held. And to turn himself in, of course." Makoto clears her throat. Everyone is nodding, but they don't seem to realize what she's asking. "I realize this is a dangerous proposal, and I'm also asking you to skip school potentially, but-"

"School?" Ann asks, eyes widening. "Who freaking cares?"

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "We're with you a hundred percent, Prez. We rescue Akira and stop this bastard once and for all."

#

Kaneshiro turns in a circle, witnessing the plains expanding before him. "Wow." As Joker comes into his view, he chuckles and says, "Nice outfit."

Train tracks slice through the desert, and Kaneshiro walks up to them and taps them with his foot. "I knew I had a Palace. But it's a train, huh? Guess that makes sense." He kicks some dust into the air. "Reminds me of Mongolia a bit." He nods towards one of the laccoliths in the distance. "And that looks like something I saw in those old American Westerns they used to show on TV."

Kaneshiro turns back to Joker and finds him holding a knife. Kaneshiro regards the weapon, then shrugs. "At least that ain't a toy."

Joker swallows, hand shaking. "Let Makoto go," he says. "Or I'll kill you and leave you here."

Kaneshiro stares into Joker's eyes, past his mask. Then he shakes his head and says, "Nah. You won't. You're not a murderer. Besides, if you kill me, wouldn't the Palace collapse? I'd just be back in my office. There would be no place for you to run then."

Joker's hand clenches harder on the knife. "Maybe we should find out."

"Makoto's safe," Kaneshiro says. Joker feels his heart pounding in his chest. "That call I got? That was from the men I sent to pick her up, Muzaki among them. Plus, Sakoda and some other idiot from Shujin. Your girl got away." Joker opens his mouth, but Kaneshiro holds up his hand. "I don't have the specifics. All I know is that Muzaki got drugged, and apparently, Sae Niijima knows how to trigger mental shutdowns."

Joker's voice cracks as he asks, "She got away? She's really okay?"

Kaneshiro crosses his arms. "I would absolutely lie to you. But in this case, I'm not. What's her deal? She a Phantom Thief, too?"

Joker sighs. "It's complicated."

Kaneshiro scoffs. "Yeah, I'll bet. Does Iwai know? Is that why he sent you to me?"

Joker shakes his head. "No. He really was trying to save his son."

Kaneshiro spits on the ground. "His 'son.' Right. Make sure you ask him about that if you ever get the chance." Kaneshiro sighs. "So, you know about the Metaverse. Sae Niijima knows how to trigger shutdowns. This is not what I was promised."

"What're you talking about?" Joker asks.

"The people who approached me," Kaneshiro says. "They told me they were the only ones in the world with access to the Metaverse. The only ones who could effect changes. Guess that was a lie." His face turns thoughtful. "Then again, maybe not a lie. Maybe they didn't really know."

Joker briefly recalls Igor's words.

"At least I know you know about the Metaverse. But Sae Niijima?" Kaneshiro frowns. "No, I doubt that. Makoto lied, didn't she? If Sae Niijima knew how to trigger a shutdown, why hasn't she done it yet? It's bullshit." Kaneshiro marches towards Joker. "Gonna stab me now, Akira?"

Joker lowers the knife as Kaneshiro reaches him. "No," Joker says. "I'm not."

"Weak," Kaneshiro replies, snarling and taking a swing at Joker's head.

Joker ducks the punch. He plants his feet and swings up with a fist and connects his knuckles with Kaneshiro's chin. The bigger man lifts off the ground and goes sprawling into the dust.

"Not so weak," Joker says. "At least not here."

Joker walks over to the man and seizes his ankles. Then, with a heave, he begins to drag Kaneshiro's limp body into the desert, away from the train tracks.

His strength, speed, and stamina are all increased in the Metaverse, so the task is fairly simple, and he makes good time. He wants to ensure that Kaneshiro's body is out of sight of the train if it were to pass. As Joker pulls him along, he thinks.

Kaneshiro knows about the Metaverse, but he doesn't know much about the Metaverse.

Joker recognized Kaneshiro's attempts at revealing as little as possible. The only thing he really admitted was Makoto's escape. But beyond that, a few of his statements and questions revealed his ignorance.

Kaneshiro knew he had a Palace but didn't know the shape it took.

Kaneshiro didn't seem to realize that Joker could enter and exit the Palace from multiple locations.

Kaneshiro didn't know what would happen if the Palace collapsed via his death.

Kaneshiro wondered why Sae Niijima didn't just trigger a mental shutdown, which told Joker Kaneshiro didn't know the method by which one could trigger a shutdown.

And what's more, Kaneshiro admitted that someone else had told him about the Metaverse.

Yes, Kaneshiro was involved in some kind of conspiracy, but he wasn't the leader, or perhaps even that high up in its structure. Kaneshiro didn't know how to trigger a mental shutdown, which meant someone else was doing it for him. That's why Kaneshiro couldn't just wipe out everyone in the Dragon. He couldn't, and Joker was willing to bet that whomever the other agent was, they couldn't just trigger a shutdown at will, either.

Crow, Joker thinks. That's the name Shadow Kaneshiro gave us.

It is strange to think that Joker received different bits of information from what was - essentially - the same mind.

Once they're far enough from the tracks, Joker releases Kaneshiro's ankles and kneels next to him. He reaches into the man's breast pocket and pulls out his phone. He holds the screen up to Kaneshiro's unconscious face, and the device unlocks. He scrolls through and curses when he finds the Navigation App.

Well, you knew that was likely to happen, his father mutters.

A guarantee, Arsene counters.

Joker twists the phone in his hands, and it snaps in half. He puts the remains into his pocket, knowing this is only a minor delay. The moment Kaneshiro gets a new phone, he'll have access to the Nav app.

For all the strength Joker put into his strike, Kaneshiro's formidability assured him the man wouldn't be out long.

Joker backs away from Junya Kaneshiro's unconscious body and begins to jog a fair distance away. He'll exit the Palace into Shibuya, away from Kaneshiro's hideout, and reconvene with the Phantom Thieves. They had only a short window now, given that Kaneshiro knew the secret and had made physical attacks on Makoto. They needed to steal his Treasure and change his heart.

#

"Dude! You're alive!" Ryuji cries, wrapping Akira in a hug. "Where the eff have you been?

Akira dislodges himself. Akira had exited the Metaverse into the alley behind Iwai's, only to walk around the corner and bump into Ryuji and Morgana. “I was in the Palace," Akira says. "What're you doing here?"

"We were coming to look for you," Morgana says. "It was Haru's idea. She thought that if you were in trouble, you'd escape into the Palace like she did with Sugimura. It was our best option since we couldn't very well barge into one of Kaneshiro's hideouts looking for you."

"Some crazy shit has happened, man," Ryuji says. "Makoto was-"

"Taken, I know," Akira says. "I was with Kaneshiro when it happened." A sudden terrible thought occurs to Akira, and he seizes Ryuji's shoulders. "Did she get away? Is she safe?"

Ryuji smiles and nods. "Yeah, man. She's home. Haru's with her. She called us all right afterward. She sorta took over when we couldn't find you."

Akira sighs. "Good. Good, that's great."

"But what the hell happened, man?" Ryuji demands.

"Let's get back to LeBlanc. I'll tell you on the way," he says. "And let everyone know to meet us there." The three being their march through Shibuya towards the train station when Akira stops.

In the center of Central, surrounded by pedestrians who bear him no mind, is the now-stirring body of Junya Kaneshiro. He looks much like how Akira left him, though with an arm splayed at a slightly different angle.

"Guys," Akira says and points, "Do you see that?"

"The guy in the street?" Ryuji asks. "Sure, but what-"

"That's Kaneshiro," Akira whispers. "I left him in the Metaverse. What's he-" But as he says this, the image of Kaneshiro appears to ripple and disappear.

"Uh oh," Morgana says.

Akira glances at him. "Anything you want to tell us?"

Morgana appears at a loss for words.

"This is just like the Shadow we saw, right?" Ryuji asks.

"Yeah," Akira says. "Only this isn't a Shadow. Come on." They continue, Akira's mind buzzing with possibilities.

#

They reach LeBlanc before anyone else, and Akira opens the door, ensuring the 'Closed' sign remains in place.

"Ali Baba," he calls out as he enters. "I need your help."

His phone vibrates.

ALI BABA: bout time

"I don't know what you can do," Akira starts to say to his phone, then realizes how dumb he must look, so he just addresses the room as a whole. "But can you monitor and block communications for Kaneshiro's faction of the Dragon? It's vital. He knows we're Phantom Thieves, and we have to stop that from getting out."

ALI BABA: gotcha

ALI BABA: on it

The door to LeBlanc opens, and the others step inside. Makoto spots Akira and starts marching towards him. Akira beelines for her, and when they reach one another, they wrap themselves in a hug.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry."

Makoto says nothing, grips him tighter, and shakes her head, her face buried in his shoulder.

He wants to stand there forever because he knows that’s what Makoto needs and deserves. But they don't have time.

We never do, Akira thinks.

The Phantom Thieves convene and bring one another up to speed. Everyone's piece of information, from Makoto's abduction to Kaneshiro's admission of a conspiracy to the three boys spotting his unconscious form in Shibuya - somehow - tramples through the group, but no one suggests fitting all the pieces together.

"Yusuke, we need those Calling Cards, fast," Akira says.

"I already intended to begin," Yusuke replies. "Per Makoto's instruction."

"Good," Akira says, nodding at Makoto. "Then that plan stays. We're going for the Treasure as soon as possible."

"But how are we supposed to deliver the Calling Cards to Kaneshiro if he's trapped in the Metaverse?" Haru asks.

Akira smirks. "He just needs to read one. He's got no phone, so he shouldn't be able to leave at will. He'll have to find an exit, like the one we've made, and his Palace is vast. We can go back tomorrow and hand deliver him one, then go directly to the Palace and steal the Treasure."

Everyone nods, looking resolved.

"Get whatever rest you can," Akira suggests. "Tomorrow, we stop Kaneshiro for good."

One way or the other.

Chapter 73: Chapter 73

6/23

 

Joker stares at the empty patch of sand where he left Kaneshiro.

It was expected but not welcome. The sound of Mona's engine grows behind him until he turns and finds the cat skidding to a stop. Skull hops out of the driver’s seat, and the bus reverts to Mona.

"He gone?" Skull asks.

Joker nods. "I don't think he's made it out yet." He spreads his hand over the expanse. "He's out there, somewhere."

"Don't we need him to read the Calling Card?"

"We do," Joker replies. "We'll find him."

"I distributed the Callings Cards," Mona says. "Spread them out all over Shibuya. Everyone knows who we're targeting now."

"Good job," Joker says, breathing in the dry air. "Alright. Let's get the others and find him."

#

Mishima twists in his chair and checks the back of the class. Takamaki and Akira's seats remain empty. When he returns his gaze to the class's front, he notices Kawakami-sensei staring at their desks, a frustrated look on her face.

Mishima removes his phone and queues up the RINE app.

DID U HEAR? PTS BACK IN THE MIX

(wut they do?)

Calling Cards all over Shibuya for Kaneshiro.

who?

(That whole Dragon yakuza war thing? hes the guy who started it)

Isn't kurusu with that group? IS HE TARGETTED?

Mishima's lip curls into a snarl. Idiots. Stupid losers who couldn't think for themselves.

A voice in his mind nags him, but he ignores it.

How could the Phantom Thieves do this without him? Wasn't he trusted enough? Wasn't he a part of their organization by now?

Why did they let Makoto Niijima into the group? The Student Council President had been investigating them up until a few weeks ago, no? And now they were all in cahoots?

Ryuji said something about Akira having a thing for her. Was that why?

One thing was clear: the Phantom Thieves didn't value Mishima's contribution.

Maybe he needed to do something about that.

#

Ann opens the door to Shiho's room, and her friend yawns before snapping her mouth closed in surprise.

"Ann? What're you doing here?" Shiho checks the time on her phone. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"We're cutting today," Ann says, walking over to Shiho's bed. "It's a long story, but we need to move against Kaneshiro today. The Calling Cards are sent."

"Did something happen?"

"A lot of things happened, but I can't get into them right now," Ann replies. "I just came by to let you know. I think it's going to be a tough fight."

Shiho smiles. "But you'll win. You'll be fine. You know that, right?"

Ann's face strains as she smiles. "I know. It's just-" She approaches Shiho and wraps her in a quick hug. "I just wanted to let you know to keep going, in case anything happens." She gestures to the room. "I know it's hard, but just keep going, Shiho. You're going to win, too." Ann forces out a laugh. "But beyond that, I didn't want you to think I dropped off the face of the Earth. In case something does happen."

Shiho's smile fades, and her gaze remains fixed. "Be careful, Ann. And tell everyone else to be careful, too. Even... even Niijima."

"Right," Ann says, backing away. "I will. I promise. We will."

#

"Dad! Dad!" Kaoru shouts, throwing 'Untouchable's door open and rushing inside.

Iwai removes his feet from the counter and stands. "The hell? I thought you were on your way to school?"

"I was, Dad, I was," Kaoru shouts, running up to the counter. "But look!" He throws some red slip of paper onto the glass. The boy practically hops with energy as Iwai picks it up and reads.

"Holy shit," Iwai mutters. He pulls out his phone and starts to text Akira, then stops. He glances at Kaoru. "Get to school, kid."

Kaoru's face falls. "Are you sure you don't need me to stick around for-"

"Nice try. Go. Now."

"Fine," Kaoru replies, sighing.

His son leaves, and Iwai looks at his phone. Does he even need to say anything to Akira? He lowers his phone, and the door to his shop bursts up once more. "I told you to —" Iwai starts, then stops.

Tsuda stands before him, eyes wide. "Did you hear?"

Iwai nods. "Yeah, just now." He shows Tsuda the Calling Card. Kaoru brought it in. Where've you been?"

"Around," Tsuda says. "Listen, that kid. Akira. Have you seen him? Apparently, he was at Kaneshiro's headquarters last night, but no one's seen him since."

"No, I haven't. Why?"

"If you see him, tell him to get out of town. Fast," Tsuda says. He turns to go, then pauses. "You haven't seen Kaneshiro, have you?"

"No, why the hell would I?"

Tsuda laughs. "Apparently, Kaneshiro's disappeared."

#

Sae hangs up her phone. Akechi stares at her from across her desk. "Do we have permission to go after Kaneshiro?" He asks, eyes wide and with a slight smile on his face.

Sae shakes her head. "No," she grunts. "Apparently, the Phantom Thieves have sent a Calling Card for Kaneshiro."

Akechi's face freezes. "What?"

Sae nods. "A number of them have been discovered scattered throughout Shibuya." She sighs and sits down.

"What if this is another one of those fake ones?" Akechi asks.

"The Calling Card is far more specific and much more consistent with the language used in previous Calling Cards. This appears to be legitimate. Then there's the amount within Shibuya."

"Is there any evidence on how the Cards were distributed?"

Sae shakes her head. "No. No one's sure." She brings her hand down on her desk. "Dammit. If they kill him, then-"

"I doubt that will happen. Daiki Aoe aside, we've no evidence the Phantom Thieves caused that," Akechi points out. He stands, glancing at the door. Sae frowns. She's never seen Akechi looking so distressed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," Akechi says. "I just need to make a call. I'll be back soon. Please, text me if we get permission to move against Kaneshiro."

#

Muzaki pukes into the toilet.

Nanashi scowls. "It all up now?"

Muzaki manages a half-shrug before he keels over the toilet.

Nanashi pulls out his phone and checks his messages.

Nothing. Where the fuck is he?

Ever since Akira stepped into Kaneshiro's office yesterday, both have been missing. Muzaki botched the capture of Makoto Niijima and got himself a drug injection for his trouble. The rest of Kaneshiro's faction was buckling. As terrified as most of them were of Kaneshiro, they were even more scared about what would happen if their leader disappeared and they were left to the mercy of the main Dragon force.

A knock on the bathroom door. "Fuck off," Nanashi shouts.

The door opens anyway, and one of the younger Dragons sticks their head in. "I'm sorry, Nanashi, but I thought you'd want to see this?" He waves his arm, and Nanashi sees a small red piece of paper in the man's hand.

"What now?" Nanashi growls, reaching for the paper.

#

Ali Baba stares at the tab and then clicks on another one. Akira's task was easy. She didn't even need to disrupt anything.

The Dragon's communication network was in chaos. Kaneshiro's Dragons were freaking out because they couldn't locate Kaneshiro and thought he might be dead.

The Main Dragons were freaking out because they also couldn't locate Kaneshiro and thought he was preparing some massive attack or might be dead. And if he was dead, the Main Dragons wanted very much to know who had killed him.

Overall, her assistance on the Kaneshiro front had been pretty limited, even though she managed to convince Akira to keep the bug located at LeBlanc.

She hoped that didn't influence his decision to help her because once the Phantom Thieves did whatever they did with Kaneshiro, she intended to introduce them to their next target.

Her.

#

Kaneshiro trudges through his Palace.

Akira said something about a train, but Kaneshiro hadn't noticed one yet.

Fuckin' hot, he thinks, and that's becoming more and more all he thinks. Akira may not intend to kill him, but thanks to this heat and lack of fluids, Kaneshiro may as well be dead.

Dying in my own head, Kaneshiro thinks, and regards the landscape. In a land that reminds me of Mongolia.

They'd hunted that traitor across the grasslands, and then the Gobi. The Boss, relentless in his hunt, and Kaneshiro, eager to please.

"Do it,” the Boss had said when they finally found their target. "Do it, kid."

The shot rang out across the vast landscape, interrupted only by the faint echo of a train, not entirely out of earshot but not visible over the rolling plains.

Kaneshiro drags his foot forward another step. All that for nothing? He'd taken a life that day. The first of many, but it began there. Began with that body sprawled on the sand, a hole in its face. The Boss wanted to legitimize everything, to modernize their Syndicate. But how could they? How could they betray what they built themselves upon? Kaneshiro tore out the throats of everyone who crossed the Dragon. Was he to be expected to sit in a board room? Suit and tie? Drinking tea? Talking about IPOs and options?

"Kaneshiro."

Kaneshiro looks up. Akira stands there in his goofy outfit. Behind him sits a strange-looking black-and-white bus.

"Read this," Akira says and throws a balled-up piece of paper at his feet. A moment passes, and then Akira tosses down a water bottle.

Kaneshiro drops to his knees, snatches up the bottle, and unscrews the cap as he brings it to his mouth. He guzzles the water down, choking a bit and sputtering into the dirt, not caring how unrefined he must look.

When he's managed to regain his breath and his mind, he looks over at Akira. "What do you want, Akira?"

"Read it," Akira says, nodding at the piece of paper.

Kaneshiro bends at the waist, scoops up the paper, unfolds it, and starts to read.

Dear Junya Kaneshiro, the Beast of Gluttony,

You sell drugs, hurt kids, murder people, start wars, kidnap girls and shoot them full of drugs. You terrorize Shibuya and the surrounding neighborhoods for your own insatiable need to consume. You've killed innocent people. You've killed police officers. You're a monster. You don't deserve our mercy, but we'll give it to you anyway. Today, we're going to steal your twisted desires out of your heart. You will then confess to your crimes and stop your war.

Signed,

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts

Kaneshiro feels something shift within himself and the Palace. They've done something to me. I'm vulnerable now. He didn't understand how he knew that, but he knew it.

"Akira," He growls, bunching up the Card and hurling it at the boy. "I'll kill you."

Akira points into the distance behind him. "The exit's over there. If you keep walking, you might be able to reach it by the time we cause his place to collapse." Akira frowns and then sighs. "I don't know that we'll have time to look for you. Goodbye, Boss."

"Akira!" Kaneshiro screams and forces his legs to run.

Akira effortlessly returns to the van, and it spins around and drives off, kicking up sand in Kaneshiro's face, leaving him coughing and alone in the desert.

#

The voice comes through the phone after several minutes of silence.

"Monitor only."

"Are you sure?" Akechi asks. "If this is really happening, then-" He stops himself. The voice says nothing. Akechi spends a moment thinking, then asks, "Are we cutting the Gangster loose?"

"He's proven to be too volatile to contain—the cost of doing business with someone with a Palace. If the Phantom Thieves succeed, regardless of the result, he'll be useless to us. If they fail, his volatility will remain unfixable. At that stage, other measures may be taken."

"And you want to see how the Phantom Thieves work. To see if they can actually pull this off and what it entails."

"Correct. Understanding their capacities is vital if we intend to take action against them. You are familiar with the interior of the Gangster's Palace. You may be able to observe the actions of the Phantom Thieves without being detected. Your instructions are just so. We want to know as much as possible.

Akechi sighs and rubs his eyes. "Understood."

Chapter 74: Chapter 74

Makoto slides out of the door and onto the small vestibule between train cars. Above, Noir leans down and offers a gloved hand. Makoto reaches up, grabs on, and leaves the ground as Noir hauls her onto the train's roof. Together, they hop across the short gap onto the next car.

The train rumbles alone. The Phantom Thieves crouch together, taking in the latest car. A series of ramps and stairs leading nowhere dot the roof, all set upon a platform that rises slightly above the titanium surface. To Makoto's eyes, the place resembles a skate part more than anything else. A few of Kaneshiro's train cars held similar ornaments, but the Thieves spent little time appreciating them.

"Two more to go," Noir says, and points.

Counting the one they stand on, only one additional car separates them from the engine. The Phantom Thieves tried sneaking through the Palace utilizing the shortcuts between Safe Rooms, but in the last five cars, they'd found none. The Shadows put up significant resistance, and the tight quarters of the cars themselves decreased the Thieves's mobility and, thus, their combat efficiency. After their latest fight, Joker decided the remainder of their infiltration should take place on the roofs, and his proposal met no counterarguments.

Mona insists the engine holds Kaneshiro's Treasure, and Makoto must agree. They've searched the rest of the train; there's nowhere to go but forward. She wants this done. Sleep came easily the night before, but she'd woken a few times in a cold sweat, clutching at her sheets, her sister's name on her lips. Haru comforted her in those moments, and Makoto knows enough about her psyche to understand she needs time to get right with what happened. She knows the danger doesn't pertain to her assisting the Phantom Thieves, as Kaneshiro wanted her as a bargaining chip against her sister. Once Kaneshiro confesses his crimes and is behind bars, Makoto must decide her next steps.

The Thieves rush forward and climb atop the ramp-filled platform. They cover approximately half the distance to the next car when a sharp metallic CLANK vibrates through the air, and the train starts to rise.

Off the tracks. Into the air.

"The hell?" Skull screams, crouching down.

"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap," Panther repeats, laying flat on the roof.

"Hold on," Joker calls, but the train's trajectory, fortunately, never becomes too steep. Rather, it rises at a gradual angle, though the tracks do shrink beneath them.

A mechanical grinding noise, and a hole opens in the platform. Makoto hears the sound of feet ascending a ladder, and Shadow Kaneshiro rises from within the train. He steps off the ladder and stares at the Phantom Thieves, his yellow eyes cold and almost bored.

"I've come too far, kid," Kaneshiro says, his voice loud enough to sound over the wind. "You're not stopping me."

Makoto glances at Joker long enough to see the revulsion flicker across his face, before he darts forward. "Ak-Joker, stop!" She calls, but he either doesn't hear or ignores her. He dashes the remaining distance to Kaneshiro and swings his knife towards the wide-jawed abomination. Kaneshiro ducks the swipe, and brings a fist across and into Joker's midsection.

Makoto almost feels the punch herself. Joker's eyes bulge, and as he coughs, flecks of blood splatter across Kaneshiro's shoes.

Kaneshiro seizes Joker by the hair and hurls him back towards the Phantom Thieves.

"I'm not as malleable as the real me, Akira," Shadow Kaneshiro roars. "I've told you before, haven't I?" His jaw unhinges and begins to expand. A great ripping sound reaches Makoto as Kaneshiro's body begins to lengthen.

"I AM THE DRAGON."

Kaneshiro's face splits open, and a great roar erupts into the sky. His clothes shred themselves as claws tear them away, revealing green scales on a rapidly elongating body.

"Of course," Skull grumbles from where he crouches next to Makoto. "Of freakin' course."

The Dragon spirals into the air. No wings carry it, but it's easily twice the length of the train car. Joker summons Arsene, but the black tendrils the Persona sends toward Kaneshiro reflect almost harmlessly off the green scales.

"Alright," Joker says, sighing. He marches over to them and seizes Skull by the shoulder. "Get to the engine and see if you can get control of the train. Maybe we can land it. I really don't want to fight this thing in the air."

"Get control?" Skull demands. "It's a damn train that flies! How're-"

"Just try," Joker says. "And take Panther with you. Find the controls, if there are any, and land this stupid thing." He spins towards the others.

"Fine, fine," Skull says, turning to Panther. "Let's move." The two dart towards the ladder Kaneshiro ascended.

Joker turns to the others. "Mona, Fox, Noir, Makoto, back me up."

"Back you up?" Noir asks.

"We're fighting it together, are we not?" Fox asks.

"Joker, I think-" Mona asks.

"Kaneshiro's mine," Joker replies, turning back towards the Dragon.

"Don't be an idiot," Mona says quickly. "We need to-"

But Joker charges. "Akira, stop!" Makoto calls, forgetting the codename entirely. He's going to-

Joker leaps towards Kaneshiro's head. For a moment, it looks like he might make it, and bring his knife right into the monster's eye. But then Kaneshiro swats him out of the air like a fly.

Makoto watches Joker's limp form careen in a slow arc, then tumble away from the train and through the air.

"Akira!" Noir screams.

Makoto watches and waits for him to move, to do something. But he doesn't, and then he falls out of sight, towards the earth.

Her thoughts freeze. The panic she expects never comes.

"Unacceptable," she says, marching towards the train's edge.

"Makoto, what're you-" Noir starts, but then Makoto leaps off the train and falls through the air.

#

Joker awakens, falling. The wind twists him as he plunges. A seizure of panic and terror overpowers him, and he convulses in the air, Personae forgotten, abilities forgotten. He holds only the certainty he will die.

His body rotates in the air, his back facing the ground, and he sees the train shrink from him as he plummets. But against the blue backdrop of the sky, he spies something else.

A dark figure hurtles towards him. His eyes take a moment to focus, and he sees it's Makoto. He opens his mouth, but no words come.

Makoto, holding her body tight and straight, dives towards him. Joker spreads his limbs out, the better to slow his descent. Makoto gains and extends a hand, brass knuckles and all. Joker reaches out, grasps it, and she pulls him against her. They twist and pirouette through the air, and Joker hears Makoto scream, "JOHANNA!" against the wind. Her motorcycle materializes beneath them, and a cascade of energy rips from the vehicle, directed at the ground. The movement momentarily halts their fall, just a bit, and then they continue. Makoto unleashes another attack, and another, and another. The ground still rises to meet them, but their speed seems less.

His mind returns to him, and realizing what she's doing, Joker summons his own Personae. He spits Garu attacks at the dirt beneath them, trying to maintain the attack. He sweats with the exertion and still has cold fear.

With a shout, the two hit the ground at an angle and roll into a heap. Joker feels something snap and bleed, but when he finishes moving, he finds he can shift his arm enough to recover the vial of medicine from within his jacket. He downs the contents and sits up as his body heals. He sees Makoto doing the same, gasping from the exertion.

Joker approaches her. "Makoto, I-"

She punches him in the face. "What the hell, Akira?" She demands. He falls on his ass in the dirt, and stares up at her. She's wearing those knuckles, and had his body not been in the process of healing itself, his jaw would have been shattered.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Makoto demands, standing over him now, her eyes a fury. "Why would you attack him alone? Are you seriously that stupid?"

"I-" Joker starts, and manages to - somewhat gracefully - stand up. "Look, I just didn't want anyone to-"

"To get hurt?" Makoto demands. "Then why the hell is everyone here? Huh?"

"It's my responsibility," Joker yells. "I got us locked into this whole thing. You got kidnapped because-"

"I got kidnapped because of Sis, Akira! Not everything is about you!" Makoto screams. "They also almost shot me full of drugs and did terrible things to me, but I got away. I know it must suck being trapped under Kaneshiro's influence, but it hasn't exactly been a breeze for any of us, either!" She seizes his lapel in one hand. "So stop with this stupid bullshit and let everyone help! That's why we're here! It's not all your responsibility! Kaneshiro isn't the way he is because of you! It's not your fault. Stop getting in our way and trying to do everything yourself because you don't have to!"

Joker opens his mouth, and then closes it. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "I thought I could... minimize everything for you guys."

"Well, you didn't. And now our friends are up there, fighting without us."

"You're right. I didn't. I'm sorry, Makoto. So, so sorry for what happened to you."

Makoto shakes her head and releases his coat. "It's not just that, Akira. He killed my Dad." Her voice cracks at this. "He killed my Dad, and no one did anything. Well, I'm going to do something. But I need your help. Just like you need mine. And we both need everyone else's help, too." Makoto shuts her eyes and exhales, loudly. She closes the distance between them and wraps Joker in a hug. "Listen to me and understand me, dumbass. I'm on your side. Okay? From now on. Always. No more maybes. I'm on your side. One hundred percent."

Joker feels himself bend, just a little, against her, resting some of his weight on her body.

"Yeah," he says. "Okay. I got you."

Makoto leans back, and places her hands on his cheeks. "I've got you, too." Then, she leans in and kisses him.

It lasts for only half a second, but it takes much longer for Joker's mind to catch up with him.

Makoto breaks off the kiss and smirks at him, then she turns and stares up at the train. "Okay, we need to get back up there."

"Um," Joker says.

"Johanna can't fly, but maybe there's another way."

"Makoto, I think-" Joker starts.

"No," Makoto says, sharply. "That's not my name here."

Joker feels a smile creep onto his face. "Oh? What should I call you, then?"

Makoto, with a sly lilt to her voice, says, "I'm thinking, Queen."

Joker can't contain his grin. "Interesting. Not sure Panther's going to way to call you that, though."

"Well, that's just too damn bad," Queen says, crossing her arms.

Joker stands alongside her, staring up at the train. He can see flashes from the fight and the twisting green form of Kaneshiro's Dragon form spiraling around the train. "So, Queen. How are we getting up there?"

Queen's gaze drifts over to the laccoliths that ascend skyward. Her smirk grows. "I've got an idea."

#

Kaneshiro drags his foot one more step and collapses onto the concrete of Shibuya's Central Street. Pedestrians jump away from him, clearly perturbed by his sudden appearance, but it's a passing thing. Within moments, everyone ignores him.

The shade of the skyscrapers blocks the sun, providing him shade for the first time in what feels like days. He reaches into his pocket and recalls that his phone is missing. Akira probably took it. Instead, he forces himself to stand and shuffles into the nearby convenience store. He shoves his way through to the refrigeration aisle, grabs a bottle of water, twists off the cap, and downs as much as he can. Tucking the empty bottle into the crook of his arm, he takes another and drinks it. Kaneshiro returns to the front of the store with the two empty bottles and grabs some chips off a spinning rack. The clerk stares at him, wide-eyed. Kaneshiro dumps the two empty bottles and the chips on the counter, reaches into his pocket, and withdraws a wad of yen. He tosses a few bills onto the counter, grabs the chips, and leaves.

He hears the clerk's inhale of breath, but the boy ultimately says nothing.

I can't be out in public like this, he thinks. If any of the main Dragon forces spotted him, they'd call it in, and his enemies would surround him in minutes. Turning his face down and away from the flow of pedestrians, he walks as fast as his exhausted legs will carry him towards the hideout Akira abducted him from. He hopes someone he trusts is there, but at least there should be a phone he can use.

Kaneshiro remains unmolested on his journey, though he almost collapses down the steps. One of his lookouts notices him and sprints over to help him inside, all the while spitting inquiries into his ear, which Kaneshiro ignores.

More of his men wait inside. Some greet him enthusiastically. Others seem frustrated. Tsuda turns around a corner ahead, spots him, and stops dead. "B-Boss!"

"Thought I was dead?" Kaneshiro asks.

"I didn't know what to think," Tsuda replies, earning points for honesty in Kaneshiro's book. He approaches to help the staggering Kaneshiro forward.

"Nanashi and Muzaki?"

Tsuda gestures towards one of the back rooms. "Muzaki seems through the worst of it. Nanashi's been keeping an eye on him."

"Right," Kaneshiro replies and disentangles himself from the hands of the men trying to help him. He manages to make the rest of the way to the backroom on his own.

When he opens the door, Nanashi calls from the dimly lit room, "How many fuckin' times do I-" His voice catches, and he stands from the little wooden chair next to the bunk where Muzaki lies, shuddering. "Boss!" Nanashi charges him, and wraps him in a hug. "What the fuck happened?"

"Long story," Kaneshiro replies, chuckling. He pats Nanashi's shoulders, and the man lets him go. Walking over to the cot holding Muzaki, he sits down next to the big man and says, "Feels like shit, doesn't it, brother?"

Muzaki offers him a shaky grin and grunts.

Kaneshiro turns to Nanashi and holds out a hand, palm up. "Lost my phone."

Nanashi reaches into his own pocket before Kaneshiro even finishes his question and places a burner in his hand. Kaneshiro punches in the number from memory. He either needs to end the war now or use the Group's services to stave off the Phantom Thieves.

Click. Click. Beeeeeeeeeeepp, replies the phone. Kaneshiro stares at the phone and then tries the number again.

Same response.

The line is dead.

Despite the desperation and hunger, his mind races. He turns to Nanashi. "Did I get a Calling Card from the Phantom Thieves?"

Nanashi blinks. "Yeah, Boss. They placed dozens all over Shibuya this morning. Everyone's heard about it by now."

Everyone. Including Crow and the Group.

Kaneshiro sighs. They'd cut him off.

I've lost.

#

"Hurry up, Skull," Panther shouts, and sends another wave of fire towards the encroaching Shadows. They stand almost back to back in a small compartment, one car up from where the others fight Kaneshiro. Annoyingly, there isn't a front window, so Skull has to peer out the side to make sure he knows his altitude, and he's always been bad at guessing heights at a glance.

"I'm working on it!" Skull screams, hunched over what he perceives to be the train's control panel, if that Shadow wearing the conductor hat had been any indication. He'd fried it using Captain Kidd, so he couldn't exactly ask.

Three buttons stare up at him. Okay, okay, he thinks. Shouldn't be too hard. He presses the left button, and the train starts to veer towards the left. Okay, rad. He presses the right button, and the train begins to veer towards the right.

Now for the middle.

He presses it, and the train begins to rise further.

Crap, crap! He presses the button a few times, trying to stop the ascent, but nothing happens until he holds the button for a moment. The train begins to descend.

"I think I got it," Skull says.

Panther hurls her whip at a Shadow with fire resistance. It shatters into pieces. "Great! Now land this freaking thing!"

"Uh, okay," Skull says. He presses, and just holds the button, and the train begins to descend.

"Little help?" Panther asks.

"I've got to hold the button!" Skull yells.

Panther rolls her eyes and levels her submachine gun at the incoming Shadows. "We need to get up there and help them fight Kaneshiro."

"I know, I know, but-" Skull pauses, spying something out the window. "The hell?" This trip was weird enough, but the landscape of the Palace itself remains consistent, so the strange light-blue streak flying up the side of one of those rock tower things stood out to him.

He squints and starts to steer the train towards whatever the thing is.

More details reveal themselves, and his eyes widen. "Uh, Panther, are you sure Joker and the others are still up there?"

"Where the hell else would they be?" Panther asks. Apparently, there's a break in the waves of Shadows because she turns to stand shoulder to shoulder to him. He puts his arm around her and draws her closer to the window. "What're you doing, you-" But she stops when he points.

Makoto, hunched over Johanna's handlebars, drives her Persona directly up the side of the laccolith at an angle that's practically fully vertical. Joker sits behind her, knees gripped to the side of Johanna, and his arms wrapped around Makoto's waist.

"Holy-" Panther starts.

"Shit," Skull finishes.

Panther glares at him. "What're you waiting for? Bring us closer!"

#

The train approaches. Dragon Kaneshiro darts in the air around it, firing blasts down upon the Thieves that man the top of the train.

Queen turns her head, regarding Joker. "Hold on," she shouts.

Joker tightens his grip, and then Queen pulls on the handlebars, and Johanna detaches from the rock and flies through the air, a light-blue streak. Joker's heart rises to his teeth, but they begin to plummet towards the train.

"Thanks for the ride," he whispers as they're just about to land. Dragon Kaneshiro notices them and starts to turn, but Joker leaps off Johanna's back, aiming for the train. "Rakshasa," he calls, and the red swordsman appears in a bout of blue flame and brings its blade down across the neck of Kaneshiro.

Joker and Queen land at approximately the same time. Johanna vanishes as Queen's mask rematerializes on her face. The Phantom Thieves rush up to them, all beaming.

"Joker!" Fox cries, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Makoto!" Haru says, wrapping Queen in a hug.

"Are you guys okay?" Mona asks.

Joker reaches out and rubs the cat's head. "We'll be better once we finish this bastard off."

"Have Skull and Panther gotten control over the train?" Queen asks.

"We've been careening through the air," Fox replies. "So... maybe?"

"Mona," Joker says. "Do you think you could get down there and check? The rest of us will hold off Kaneshiro."

"Will-do," Mona says, and darts off.

Kaneshiro loops around himself and charges for them.

"Alright guys," Joker calls. "Let's do this!"

#

The combined attacks of the Personae push Kaneshiro further back, and soon enough, he decides to retreat higher, and out of reach of more of the harder-hitting assaults.

Mona returns to assure them that, yes, Skull and Panther could steer the train, but the controls were lethargic, and they wouldn't be darting through the air any time soon.

"We need to hit him, hard," Queen says, crouched down behind a ramp. Mona sends out Garu attacks toward Kaneshiro, blowing away some of the fire blasts while Fox heals with some of Takemi's medicine. He'd taken a nasty slash during one of Kaneshiro's earlier charges. "Any ideas?"

Noir frowns. "Maybe if we kept him still enough or distracted? Milady's gun could help with that, but it's still a matter of distance and," she brings one gloved fist into her open palm, "oomph-ness."

"Right, we need 'oomph-ness,'" Joker says. "Something heavy to slam into him and finish him off. He taps his foot against the roof of the train, then looks down at it. He smiles and looks at Queen. She smirks and nods.

"Noir, fire up Milady," he says. "Queen, can you get us close?"

"Sure can," Queen says, summoning Johanna beneath her.

Joker darts over to Fox. "Get to Skull and Panther," he tells him, and then explains his plan. Fox nods and sets off. Joker returns to Queen and hops on the motorcycle behind her, once more.

Milady appears as Noir's mask vanishes, and the minigun starts to spin and spit bullets. Kaneshiro growls from further away as the bullets pelt his scales, and he rolls himself into a kind of ball to protect his face.

Queen revs her engine and speeds off towards Kaneshiro. They close the distance rapidly, and the moment she swings her motorcycle to unleash the wave of nuclear energy, Joker summons Arsene and sends a mass of black tendrils along with the attack. They tear into Kaneshiro's side, and the Dragon roars and uncurls itself.

Just in time for Skull and Panther to drive the train directly into his face.

There is a great groan of iron and shattering gears, and everything starts to fall.

"Brace!" Queen shouts, grabbing onto Joker.

Everything hits the earth in a heap of flesh, metal, and scales. They roll free as the train crunches upon itself.

Joker leaps and hits the sand, and Queen lands alongside him. A moment later, Noir, Fox, and Mona join them in safety. A few panicked seconds pass before Skull and Panther climb over the wrecked remains of the train, having jumped loose on the other side.

Dragon Kaneshiro heaves one last breath upon the sand and disintegrates into ash.

A wind whips across the plains and blows the ash away, revealing the single, prone form of Kaneshiro's Shadow.

No one says anything for a moment, and then Queen and Joker approach.

Kaneshiro stirs at their approach. "That's it then. I'm done."

"Yeah, you're done," Joker replies.

Kaneshiro smiles. "Good job, kid." He regards Queen. "You too, Niijima. Never gave in. Just like your old man."

"Is that why you had to kill him?" Queen demands, hands balling into fists. "Because he wouldn't stop investigating you?"

Kaneshiro nods. "I needed him to stop, and they wanted to show me what they could do."

"The mental shutdowns," Joker says. Kaneshiro nods. "Who's they?"

"It says something about your father, doesn't it?" Kaneshiro asks Queen. "They couldn't target him in the Metaverse directly. They had to use a truck driver."

Queen begins to blink rapidly.

A shining orb descends towards them.

"What's that?" Queen asks.

"His Treasure," Joker says. "Kaneshiro, who are they?"

Kaneshiro says nothing, watching the orb. The light fades, and a small pistol materializes. It drops into Queen's hands.

"One of the Boss's old Captains embezzled money from him. When the Boss found out, we hunted him." Kaneshiro raises a hand and twists it through the air. "Hunted him to a land that looked a lot like this. I put a bullet in his head, and that was that.

"I don't expect you to understand. But there I had a home. I belonged to something. And that man, the same one who told me to pull the trigger, he tried to take it away. So I fought back. What else was I supposed to do?"

Queen lowers the gun until the barrel points at Kaneshiro.

Second pass.

Then, she lowers the gun to her side.

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Kaneshiro. You didn't have to do a single thing you chose."

"That's always been an easy thing for people to say, isn't it?" Kaneshiro asks. "But is it true? Can you say that about your own life? We judge everyone by standards we excuse in ourselves."

"I have my faults," Queen retorts. "Getting young girls hooked on drugs and pimping them out isn't one of them."

Kaneshiro chuckles. "Let's wrap it up, then."

"We've got your Treasure, Kaneshiro," Queen says. "You're going to go back, and you're going to confess your crimes."

"And stop your war," Joker adds. "Don’t say anything about our identities. Admit to the killing of Rin Sugimura." Kaneshiro starts to fade. "And we need to know about who's ordering the mental shutdowns."

Kaneshiro stares at them, smirking. "Is that all?"

"What else would there be?" Queen demands. She tosses the gun onto the ground.

Kaneshiro continues to fade, and he shakes his head. "Okay then. Good luck, kids." He fades, but a small trace of his laughter remains. The Palace begins to rumble.

#

Thankfully, being in Shibuya meant that the Phantom Thieves had plenty of options regarding Palace exits. They spawned back out a few blocks from Untouchable in a side street devoid of any pedestrians.

Akira stares at his friends, all of them looking exhausted but wearing relieved looks on their faces. "Thank you," he says, and bows to them all. "Thank you."

"What're you doing?" Ann asks.

"I'm sorry for how I've been these last few weeks. I promise I won't go off the deep end like that again."

Ryuji pats him on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it. I'm just glad you're out of that mess."

"Technically," Morgana says. "The war is still on. Hopefully, Kaneshiro comes through and ends it all before turning himself in."

Something about what Morgana says bothers Akira, but he shoves the idea aside.

"What do you think he meant at the end?" Makoto asks.

Akira shakes his head. "I don't know. But I do know we can expect some update from him regarding the mental shutdowns and who's triggering them. Plus, we made sure to specify that he not say anything about our identities.” He sighs. "Though, we should also expect some shit due to us all skipping school for a day." He smiles at Makoto. "Could you handle that for us, Queen?"

"Queen?" Yusuke asks.

"Oooh," Haru says. "I like it."

Makoto sighs. "I'm not sure what you think I can do. But I have something to say." She turns to the Phantom Thieves and does her own little bow. "I would like to request formal entry into the Phantom Thieves. I apologize for taking an antagonistic stance towards you all earlier this semester. I want to help you in your missions moving forward."

Ryuji clears his throat. "I thought you were in already."

"Indeed," Yusuke says. "I see no issue."

"Me neither!" Haru cheers.

"What say you, Morgana?" Yusuke asks.

"I'm good with it," the cat replies. "I know Akira's good with it."

Akira takes his place at Makoto's side and looks over at Ann. "Well, Ann?"

Ann rolls her eyes. "You guys love making me out to be the bad guy in all your little situations, huh? Why don't you two kiss already and get it over with?"

"Technically," Akira starts, and Makoto elbows him in the gut. He doubles over, coughing. Worth it.

"Yes, fine. Yes, that's fine with me," Ann says. "Niijima's strong over there, anyway. She really helped against Kaneshiro." She gives Makoto a faint bow. "And maybe we can work on making things right with Shiho."

"I would like that very much," Makoto says.

Ryuji grins. "Alright! Another official member! Queen! That's awesome!" He raises his hand in the air, looking for a high-five. "Guys! We did it! We took down Kaneshiro!"

#

Junya Kaneshiro feels the shift. Feels the weight of what he's done.

Understands what he has to do now.

"Nanashi," he says.

"What's up, Boss?"

"Time for the 'Exit Plan,'" he says.

Nanashi's eyes widen. "You can't be serious. We-"

"It's done," he says, and looks at him. "They got me."

"The Phantom Thieves?" Nanashi asks. Kaneshiro nods. "How? We've been-"

"Not how it works, brother," Kaneshiro says.

"Shit," Nanashi says. "War's over?"

"It will be once I make the call. I got a few things to handle first."

Nanashi's face contorts. "Boss, you're not going to turn yourself in, are you?"

Kaneshiro laughs. "Fuck no."

Chapter 75: Chapter 75

Nanashi throws more cash into the duffle bag while Kaneshiro double-checks the pre-packed suitcases.

Lowering his hand to his side, it brushes against the boxy burner Nanashi gave him, shoved into his pocket.

Kaneshiro sighs and says, "Might as well get this over with." Nanashi looks up, and Kaneshiro jerks his head towards Muzaki. "Take him out to the cars and make sure the others are getting ready." Nanashi nods and starts to move, but Kaneshiro calls him back. "And if any kids from Shujin are still around, cut em' loose. Hand out some cash, but tell them to get lost."

Nanashi pauses. "Including Kurusu?"

Kaneshiro chuckles. "Kurusu ain't here, believe me."

Nanashi helps Muzaki off the bunk, and the two men exit the room. Kaneshiro collapses into the ratty swivel chair. Some of the interior stuffing pops out from the seams. He smiles, runs his hand over the armrest, then takes out the phone and dials.

They pick up on the second ring.

"It's me," Kaneshiro says. His face feels heavy, and he has difficulty sounding out the words. "I surrender, Boss."

There's a long exhale on the other end of the line. Then, a tired voice says, "It's too late for that, Junya."

"Yeah," Kaneshiro replies. "I know."

"The property damage I could forgive. But the bodies? Kai? Ebisawa?"

Kaneshiro keeps his eyes on the desk. "I'm sorry."

"Where are you, Junya?"

Kaneshiro smirks. "I'm not that sorry."

The voice on the other end laughs. "No, I suppose not. The Phantom Thieves succeeded then? You've had a change of heart?"

"I guess. That's what it feels like. War's over. I give up."

"I appreciate you coming to your senses, but this is not over," the Boss replies.

"I'm leaving," Kaneshiro says. "You won't hear from me again. Go easy on my men. They were following my orders, and I threatened to kill them and their families if they disobeyed."

"Kaneshiro," the man growls. "Don't think you can just-"

"Goodbye, Boss. Thanks for everything. Sorry it ended up like this." Kaneshiro hangs up the phone. Spinning in a slow circle, he stops before the computer and opens the dummy email account used for non-sensitive communications. It takes a quick Internet search to find Sae Niijima's email address. He types out a quick message and hits 'Send.'

"Almost done," he mutters, standing and switching off the computer. He'll have one of the men left behind wipe it.

Kaneshiro exits the room and ascends towards the street. The cars should be ready to take him to the plane.

Nanashi and Muzaki stand at the top, their own duffle bags slung over their shoulders.

Kaneshiro shakes his head. "No. I'm not asking you to do that."

Nanashi shrugs. "Ain't much left for us here, Boss." He makes a gun with his fingers and mimics pulling the trigger. "Lest you forgot."

Kaneshiro grunts. "Still. Your lives are-"

Muzaki opens his mouth and speaks, his voice still shaking from the withdrawal. "Remember when it all went down in Osaka with the Heron clan?" Kaneshiro nods. "I took that hit in that warehouse. Blood in my eyes. Couldn't stand. 'Leave him,' someone said, and everyone agreed. I wasn't Dragon yet, so who cared? I heard them leave. All save one. Someone picked me up and carried me back out to the van. Got me to the doctor. You never said anything. You think I don’t know it was you?"

Kaneshiro smiles. "Is that why you stuck around with me all these years?"

Muzaki smirks. "Sure wasn't your shit personality."

Nanashi laughs. "Where you go, we go. Fuck the Dragon. Fuck Japan, even. We've got your back."

Kaneshiro approaches his two friends and rests a hand on their shoulders. "You two are as stupid as the day I met you. Thanks. Now let's get the fuck out of here. You two take the lead car. I'll be in the second." He peers through the windshield of his chosen vehicle. Tsuda and another Dragon sit in the front seats, waiting. "I've got one last person to see."

#

Akira approaches Shibuya train station, when a hand wraps around his upper arm. "Relax," comes the voice. Akira turns, and his eyes widen when he sees Tsuda.

"What're you-"

"Hands off," Morgana hisses, popping out from Akira's bag. Tsuda flinches and backs off as Morgana swipes at him.

"You need to come with me," Tsuda says. "Kaneshiro wants to speak with you."

Akira's eyes narrow. "Did he say why?"

"No," Tsuda says, then glances around. There are plenty of people about, but no one seems interested in their conversation. "Listen, I don't know what he wants to say to you. He gave the other kids from Shujin cash and sent them on their way, so he probably wants to do the same with you. But whatever you do, whatever he wants, you need to get out of the car when you're through with him. Do you understand?"

Akira says nothing for a minute, then says. "Morgana, go find the others?"

"You sure?" Morgana asks.

"Positive," Akira replies.

"The fuck are you talking to the cat for?" Tsuda asks.

"Alright. Where do you want to meet up?" Morgana asks, hopping down to the pavement.

"Back here, if possible." He pulls out his phone and sends a text to Ryuji.

AKIRA: FIND MONA AT SHIBUYA TRAIN STATION. WILL EXPLAIN WHY LATER

"Let's go already," Tsuda snaps.

"Alright," Akira says, and nods at Morgana. "Lead the way." They walk a short distance, away from the crowds pouring into and out of the train station. "How'd you find me?" Akira asks.

"Kaneshiro figured you'd be heading home. He didn't say from where," Tsuda replies. "I don't know what happened. Something with the Phantom Thieves, but he's called off the war. It's-" Tsuda stops, and shakes his head. "Just remember, get out of the car when you're done. If we start to drive out of the city, tell Kaneshiro you want out."

Akira wants to ask more, but then they're standing in front of a black car. The back window rolls down, revealing Kaneshiro. "Hey kid," he says. "Get in."

They'd stated Kaneshiro couldn't tell anyone about their identities, but then what the hell was all this? Why wasn't Kaneshiro turning himself in? Why hadn't Kaneshiro confessed yet? Was this the update Akira expected?

Tsuda climbs into the front of the car.

"Why are you doing this?" Akira asks Kaneshiro.

Kaneshiro opens the door. "You tell me."

"Are you going to kill me?" Akira asks, staring at the open door.

Kaneshiro rolls his eyes. "If I were going to, I wouldn't admit it, now would I? If you want to hear what I have to say, get in."

Akira takes a deep breath and climbs inside.

Once inside, Kaneshiro knocks on the glass separating them from the driver and Tsuda, and the car pulls away from the curb and starts to drive.

"Where are you taking me?" Akira asks.

"Nowhere," Kaneshiro replies and nods at the glass. "It's soundproof. Don't worry. No one can hear us." Kaneshiro leans back in his seat and begins to speak. "I don't know who's in charge of the whole thing. Based on my investigation, it's someone in the political sphere. Someone high up who's got access to resources. All the shit they can do, they tested before they brought it to me.

"Everyone gets codenames." He points at himself. "'The Gangster.' Madarame was 'The Painter.'  I only know two others, 'The Director' and 'The Computer.' Now, what the fuck those titles mean, I have no idea. I think 'The Director' is involved in law enforcement, somehow. Wouldn't surprise me. I've got contacts on the police force, but they had contacts independent of mine."

Akira stares at Kaneshiro, trying to process everything. "So, Madarame was a part of all this?"

Kaneshiro nods. "He brought in funds via his 'Sayuri' scam. We laundered the funds and funneled them back to the Group. Offshore accounts that were used once and then liquidated. Madarame wasn't the only one, but he was the only one reporting directly to me. We cut him off after you sent him the Calling Card. Requested a shutdown."

Akira sits up straighter. "You requested the mental shutdown on Madarame?" Kaneshiro nods. "How? How'd you do it?" Kaneshiro hands him a piece of paper with a number written on it. "That's the number, though I don't recommend you call it with your phone. The line's dead, and like I said, they've got resources. I doubt you'll find much, but who knows? When requesting a shutdown, I'd call the number and give a name. If possible, I'd hear back that it was 'Approved.' I never got a 'Rejected,' but I imagine it can happen." Akira thinks on this point. They must've been checking to see if the intended target had a Palace, or maybe were seeing if they had a Shadow in Mementos? If they didn't, there'd be no way of taking them down. Unless...

"But Madarame didn't suffer a mental shutdown," Akira says. "Because we got to him first."

Kaneshiro nods. "So Daiki Aoe became the target. You've seen what I did to those members of the Dragon, Akira. A mental shutdown isn't just black shit coming out of your face. You can make someone do whatever you want. Walk into traffic. Jump off a building. Stab someone to death."

"They couldn't trigger a mental shutdown in Madarame directly, so they had a former student of his do it," Akira repeats. "Okay, that's what we suspected." He sighs and asks another question. "Is that what happened to Makoto's father?"

"Yeah," Kaneshiro says. "But that wasn't a request. They contacted me through an intermediary. Some smug fuck in sunglasses who showed up at my office one day. They said they knew what Akihiko Niijima was doing and that they could make him stop. They laid out the terms of the deal. Considering my long-term plans, I didn't see a reason not to take them up on it. I didn't expect it to work, though. Niijima was dead, and I was in the clear."

"Not quite," Akira says.

Kaneshiro chuckles. "Yeah, I guess not. Well, either way. I got what I wanted, and the Group had a man who could launder their funds."

Akira nods. "Rin Sugimura?"

Kaneshiro frowns. "I was wondering about that. I admitted to it in an email, but I’m not sure why."

"Did you do the same thing to him?"

"His driver, I guess," Kaneshiro replies. "I don't know why they didn't just get rid of the kid himself."

"He had a Palace," Akira says.

Kaneshiro smirks. "Did he now? Was he a target?” Akira nods. “I guess they couldn't figure out how to shut down the Palace fast enough."

"What about Yukio Kan?"

"Who?" Kaneshiro asks.

"A politician. News reports said he died of a heart attack a few months ago, but I know for a fact that it was a mental shutdown."

Kaneshiro shakes his head and holds his hands up. "You've got me, Akira. I never even heard of the guy."

"Alright then," Akira says. "Who's Crow?"

Kaneshiro's brow arches. "How'd you hear that name?"

"Your Shadow said it."

Kaneshiro barks out a laugh. "I should've kept my mouth shut. Yeah. Crow's the contact. He's the one who carries out the Requests. From what I understand, he can enter the Metaverse, just like you. He'll travel to the Palaces belonging to Group members and converse with their Shadows. I don't know how it works exactly. I don't know if Crow's one person or a group.”

Akira rubs his hands together, trying to piece everything together. "Any other names or information you could give me?"

Kaneshiro frowns. "Come to think of it, I heard another code name thrown around a few years ago. 'The American.' But I haven't heard the name in about two years. I've got no idea if 'The American' is alive or dead or even if he was real. Maybe he's 'The Computer,' but I couldn't tell you. Beyond that, I couldn't say. This thing was very compartmentalized."

"But what was the point?" Akira asks. "Why are you all doing this?"

"Initially, they tried to sell me on the idea that we were 'creating a new world,' but when they quickly found out that I didn't give a shit about that, they started talking about power and money," Kaneshiro says. "I don't know if they truly believe that, but you've all got magic powers. I wouldn't be hard-pressed to believe that some bad guys got a kind of divine rights idea in their head."

Akira nods and glances out the window. They've pulled onto a highway that Akira knows will lead out of the city. "Why are you telling me all this?" He asks. "Are you planning on turning yourself into the police?"

Kaneshiro smiles. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, Akira. I guess I don't want to see anything bad happen to you. You're not going up against a bunch of lightweights, after all. I'm just a gangster. They're institutional. You better be careful." He holds up a finger. "And don't think you and your team won't be under scrutiny. You just blew up a major operation for them. They didn't give a shit about that gym teacher, but fucking with Madarame put you on their radar. Now, though? They'll be gunning for you. Keep your head. Keep a low profile." He spreads his arms wide. "As for why I'm not turning myself into the cops, why the hell would I?"

"That's what happens," Akira says. "When we change a heart. We-"

"Oh, I've had a change of heart. I called my Boss and called off the war. Apologized. But I see no reason to spend the rest of my life behind bars."

Akira thinks back to their last talk with Kaneshiro's Shadow—the expectation he'd had. We never specified, he realizes. We never specified that he needed to turn himself in. We only told him to stop the war and admit to his crimes.

"Did you-"

"I sent Sae Niijima an email, confessing," Kaneshiro says. "And here I am, coming clean to you. I can tell you're surprised and disappointed by your face, but to be frank, kid, I feel right as rain."

Akira sits in stunned silence momentarily as Kaneshiro leans forward and taps his knuckles on the glass. The car pulls over.

"End of the line, Akira," he says, and opens the door. He smiles at him. "This may not be the ending you wanted, but let me say, 'Thanks.' I'm glad you managed to keep away from the bad shit, and I hope I didn't fuck you up too bad."

Akira starts to slide towards the exit. "I'll probably only need a few years of therapy."

Kaneshiro laughs. "That's the spirit, Akira." As Akira's about to exit, Kaneshiro places a hand on his chest. "These guys. Crow. 'The Director,' all of them. They're mean fucks, Akira. Serious. If they figure out who you are, run. Get away. As far and as fast as you can. They’ll break you if they find you.”

Akira shakes his head. “I wouldn’t break.”

Kaneshiro grips Akira’s shoulder. “Everyone breaks, kid. Just don't get yourself killed, alright?"

"Yeah," Akira says. "I'll try."

"That's all we can do," Kaneshiro says, removing his hand. "Good luck, Akira."

"Right," Akira replies, and steps out of the car. "See you around, Boss."

Kaneshiro shakes his head. "No, you won't." Then he shuts the door, and the car drives off, leaving Akira on the side of the road.

After a moment, he turns and starts walking back towards Shibuya.

#

Kaneshiro stares out the window. That's everything, he thinks. Good luck, Akira. You'll need it. It wasn't exactly fair, leaving Akira in the mix like that, but what else was he supposed to do? He had a target on his back and needed to get out of Japan.

The glass separating him from the front seats rolls down. "Problem?" Kaneshiro asks.

"You might want to see this, Boss," Tsuda says.

Kaneshiro inches closer to the window and peers ahead. "I don't-" he starts.

Tsuda sprays him in the face with something.

White hot pain spreads through his eyes and skin. He screams and reels backward, hands coming up defensively. Absently, he feels the car veer off to the side and stop. He hears voices and the sound of feet from outside. The door opens.

Kaneshiro kicks and lashes out, blind, but there are hands all over him, grabbing and punching him. He feels something pulled over his face, not that his eyes do him much good now, and then something hits him and knocks him out.

#

Kaneshiro comes to in the hot, sticky bag. The inside reeks, and something smells like blood. His eyes sting, but the pain has lessened to a dull throbbing. A hand grabs the bag and yanks it off his head.

A few moments pass before he's able to focus.

He kneels in some gravel pit. Around him are a half dozen forklifts, tarps covering wood panels, and beams waiting for assembly—a construction site, and judging by the smell of the air, outside of Tokyo.

A few dozen men surround him, glaring at him. Kaneshiro recognizes members of his own faction and the Dragon themselves.

So then, this is it.

Onto the gravel rolls a limousine. The men make room as it pulls up before Kaneshiro, and the back door opens. A tall man in a finely-tailored suit, and shoes that shined like black holes exits the vehicle. He stands up to his full height, his gray hair pulled into a tight ponytail, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The cuffs of his sleeves almost hide the tattoos that Kaneshiro knows extend up his arms, chest, and back.

"Did you know," the old man asks, "that my daughter is finally getting married?"

Kaneshiro stares at the man as he slowly approaches him.

"To a stockbroker, no less. I've met him. Bit of a bitch if you ask me, but he makes her happy, so who am I to judge? His job is to make market predictions and invest accordingly." He sighs and stands over Kaneshiro, looking down at him. "You should have predicted this is where your betrayal would lead you."

Kaneshiro smiles. "I already said I was sorry, Boss."

The Boss of the Dragon cracks him across the face with a fist. For an old man, he still packs a punch. "You piece of shit," the man growls. "Your father always said you were a waste of space, but I never believed him! I saw the potential in you, I saw-"

"You told me to shoot," Kaneshiro mutters.

"What?"

"Don't you remember?" Kaneshiro asks. "In Mongolia? You told me to shoot, Boss. And I did. I didn't want to. I don't think I did. But you told me to shoot. Why didn't you? Why'd you make me?"

"You had a choice," the man replies.

Kaneshiro chuckles. "Yeah. I guess so. We all do, don't we?"

"Indeed."

"Like I said on the phone, leave my men alone. They-"

"Who do you think arranged this?" The Boss asks. He takes a step back and makes a sweeping gesture. "We found Tsuda sneaking around one of our compounds. He told us how your men felt about you. I think it's a fair exchange. Everything is forgiven, so long as they put you down like the rabid dog you are."

There's some scuffling in the rear, and a few of the men part, looking backward. Kaneshiro spots Nanashi and Muzaki, their faces bloody and twisted, held down by more of the Dragon. He starts to shift, but the Boss kicks him in the stomach.

"Too late for those two, of course," The Boss continues. "Everyone knows they're loyal to you for some reason." He sighs. "This whole police investigation and Phantom Thieves business was an incredible distraction. I suppose I'll have to thank those Phantom Thieves. Mind telling me anything about them?"

"Sorry Boss," Kaneshiro replies, shaking his head, as Nanashi and Muzaki's bodies are dragged away. "I've got nothing left to say."

"We could've had a legitimate empire, Junya," the man replies, crouching down and cupping Kaneshiro's chin. "Why the hell did you do all this?"

Kaneshiro sighs. "I don't know. Like you said, I'm a rabid dog. Maybe I just did it because it was something to do."

The man spits on the ground, stands, nods, and straightens his suit. "Very well, then." He turns and walks away, stopping to stare at Tsuda. "Get it over with."

Kaneshiro begins to chuckle.

The members of his faction are each handed a variety of weapons. Baseball bats, wrenches, pipes. It'll hurt like hell, that's for sure.

Kaneshiro's chuckle becomes laughter.

The old members of his faction inch their way forward.

"Oh, come on," Kaneshiro shouts. The men freeze. Kaneshiro laughs some more. "If this is how you felt about me, you should've said something."

Tsuda scowls, his hands clutching the baseball bat tighter. "You've got no one to blame but yourself, Kaneshiro."

Kaneshiro fixes him with a glare, and the man steps back. Kaneshiro spits on the gravel. "Look at you now! All standing there! Shaking. C'mon! I'm fucking concussed, and my hands are tied! Are you still so fucking scared?"

Tsuda takes a step closer. "We'll-"

"You always were a weak little nothing, Tsuda," Kaneshiro yells. "They grabbed you, and the only reason you're here now is because you must've begged for your life! Well, you can forget about that from me! I know what I did, and you know something? I'd fucking do it all over again!" Still, none of the men move. "C'mon boys! Someone has to take the first swing! Who wants it?" A few step forward. "Oh, look! Did you all finally decide to grow a spine? You all think you're gangsters! You ain't shit! Only brave enough once I'm fuckin' tied down!" Tsuda appears to steel himself and marches forward, raising the bat above his head.

"Come on!" Kaneshiro screams at him. "Come on, then! Try it! See if you can! You fucking shits! Don't you know who I am? I'M THE FUCKING DRAGON!"

Then Tsuda brings the bat down on Kaneshiro's head, and then the others rush in, swinging and battering with their own weapons, and Kaneshiro says no more.

#

He waits in the back of the limo, staring at nothing. Eventually, there's a knock on the window. He rolls down the window, and his second sticks his head in. "It's done, Boss."

"Have them get rid of the bodies," he says. "And then spread the word. We need everyone to know that the war's done, and it’s business as usual."

"Yes, sir," his second says.

The Boss sits in the car but doesn't order the driver to move. His cell phone rings. He takes it out and brings it to his ear.

"Dad?" Comes the voice.

"Sweetheart," he replies. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," she replies. "It's just that I didn't hear back from you regarding the wedding invites, and I wanted to know how many you expected from your Group?"

"Ah, yes," he says. "I'm sorry, honey. I've been busy. I'll have Yoishi get those numbers and names and send them to you."

"It's alright," she says. "Dad? Are you okay? You sound-"

"Yes," he replies. "I'm alright. I had to do a hard thing today."

"It's Junya, isn't it?"

"You know I can't discuss that with you, sweetheart."

"I know. And I know he's in trouble for what he's done. But maybe this whole Phantom Thieves thing is good? Maybe they can get him back to what he was. Then, maybe you guys can put it all behind you."

The Boss of the Dragon takes off his sunglasses and wipes his eyes. "Yes, dear. Maybe. Those Phantom Thieves certainly are incredible, aren't they?"

"Just remember, Dad. You promised, okay? You promised."

"I remember," he says. He finally looks out the window at the men performing their grisly work. He remembers all of it. "I need to go now, honey. I'll get those names and numbers to you."

"Junya won't be among them, will he?"

He remains silent for a moment, then says, "No. He won't." He hangs up, and stares at the limo’s floor.

Junya Kaneshiro kneels in the sand, his breakfast splattered on the ground.

The traitor lies, crumbled face first, a hole through his head.

The gun Kaneshiro used sits next to him, and the Boss can still smell the gunpowder in the air, despite the wind.

“Here,” the Boss said, pulling something out of his jacket. Kaneshiro looks up at him, and seems surprised to find that it’s a soda. “It’ll help.”

Kaneshiro reaches out one tentative hand, takes the bottle, unscrews the cap, and sips.

#

Makoto opens the door to her apartment. Sae sits at their living room table. Her laptop is open, and whatever she's reading makes her ignore Makoto's entrance.

"Sis," Makoto says, beaming. She wants to run over and hug her, to tell her what's happened, but she knows she must remain silent. Still, there was no reason not to hug her.

Makoto crosses the distance towards Sae and freezes.

Sae's face twitches in fury. "Sis?" Makoto asks, taking a step closer. "Sae, what's wrong?"

Saying nothing, Sae Niijima turns the laptop around so Makoto can read the screen.

Sae Niijima,

I killed your father, and I am responsible for Rin Sugimura’s death.

- Junya Kaneshiro

Makoto stares at the screen, then looks back at Sae. "Did... did he send this from jail?"

"From jail?" Sae asks, shooting up off the couch. "No, Makoto. He didn't send this from jail. This email came in about an hour ago. No one knows where Kaneshiro is, and-" She stops and looks at Makoto. "How do you know all this?"

"I-I saw the Calling Cards," Makoto says. She nods. "Maybe the Phantom Thieves got him. They said they were going to make him confess his crimes." She points at the email. "This is, um, him confessing."

"Confessing?" Sae asks, nearly shouting the word. "Who cares if he confessed? I don’t give a shit about Rin Sugiumura, and I already know Kaneshiro is the one who killed Dad! I want him behind bars! I want him to pay for his crimes! I want to beat him!"

"He's," Makoto starts. "He's going to go to jail. That's how it works, you know?" Makoto feels her phone vibrate. She pulls it out and checks.

AKIRA: CALL ME NOW

"How it works?" Sae asks. "How do you know, how it works? The only one of the Phantom Thieves’ victims who went to jail was Kamoshida, and that's because I put him there!"

"Sae, calm down," Makoto says, stepping closer to her sister. "I'm sure it's-"

"Just get out of my way," Sae says, pushing past Makoto and sitting at the computer. "I need to find a way to salvage this. We had a task force ready to go, and they just... dammit!" She starts typing furiously at her computer.

Her phone vibrates. Sae grabs it, sets it on the table next to her, hits the 'Speaker' button, and says, "What? Hidetoshi, that you?"

An elderly voice comes over the line. "Is this Sae Niijima?"

The two Niijima sisters stare at one another and then look back at the phone. "Who is this?" Sae Niijima asks.

"Someone who is in a position to tell you the truth," the voice replies. "The Phantom Thieves succeeded. Junya Kaneshiro had a change of heart. The Dragon War is over."

Sae's eyes widen. "You're with the Dragon."

"A smart deduction. For what it's worth, you have my word that there will be no further violence concerning these events. Kaneshiro acted without our authority. We apologize for any grief as it pertains to your family. Retribution will not be sought."

"Retribution?" Sae asks. "He sent me an email confessing to the murder of my father."

A second of silence. Then, "To that, I have no information. Rest assured, Kaneshiro has paid for his crimes."

"I want him delivered to the SID offices at the Tokyo Met-"

"That is impossible. He's gone. And he won't be coming back. Please, if you ever find them, give our regards to the Phantom Thieves." The line disconnects.

Sae stares at the phone, picks it up, and hurls it across the room. "Goddammit!" She screams.

"Sae, I-" Makoto starts.

"Don't," Sae snaps. "Just don't, Makoto. Do you know what this means? He's dead, Makoto! They killed him! They killed him, and that-" She stops, abruptly. Without a word, she bends down, picks up her laptop, and walks down the hall.

"Sae?" Makoto asks. "Sis?"

Sae says nothing, just walks into her room and slams the door.

 

Exit Interview - VI

 

Akira watches as Sae wipes her eyes. "I apologize," she says.

"That's alright," Akira replies.

"Makoto told you, then?" Sae asks.

"Yeah, we talked right after." He clears his throat. "I'm very sorry, Sae. I messed up. We should've told him to turn himself in."

Sae makes a small "Oh," noise and leans back in the chair, crossing her arms. "When I think of everything that man did to my family. My father. My sister." She shakes her head. "But I knew it." She leans forward, whispering almost conspiratorially with Akira. "I told them it was all connected." She slaps her hand on the table, causing Akira to jump. "Dammit. We could've gotten so much more information if we'd brought him in!"

Akira sighs. "It's likely Crow, or someone would've found some way to kill him. Another Daiki Aoe situation."

Sae nods. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Still." She meets his gaze. "I wanted him, Akira. I wanted to look him in the eyes and take everything away from him. I wanted to beat him."

"I know," Akira says. "But Sae, you know. You may not have gotten that chance, but Makoto did." He sits up straighter. "This may not be the ending you wanted, but your sister beat Junya Kaneshiro. Twice."

Sae's lips twitch upwards at that. "She did, didn't she?"

Akira nods. "And that's not all she's done." He does his best to draw her into his eyes.

"Careful now," his father whispers, and the smoke from his cigarette tickles his nose. Sae's face wrinkles.

"Your sister is part of the Phantom Thieves, Sae. Do you really think your sister is a murderer? Part of some crazy conspiracy? I know how you feel about me, but you can't think that of your sister. And she's too smart to get outsmarted or conned by me. She's proved that a hundred times at this point. We want you to believe us, Sae. That's why I'm here."

Sae's eyes narrow. "Are you saying you let yourself get captured?"

"I'm saying," Akira continues, "that we're getting close. Do you want to hear what happened next?"

Sae frowns. "Continue."

Chapter 76: Chapter 76

A great wind tears through the valley, and Akira crosses the train tracks.

The blood-streaked form of Nanashi appears at his side. "Boss wants to see you."

Akira drags on his cigarette until he reaches the filter and tosses the remains into the sand.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Nanashi whispers, then vanishes.

A rumbling rush of a train flutters his jacket, but Akira never turns around. He keeps walking.

Kaneshiro stands with his back to him but turns as Akira draws near. "Bout time, kid."

"Stopped being a kid years ago, Boss," Akira replies.

Kaneshiro shrugs. Gray in his temples. Unlike many of his Captains, he's not vain enough to dye it. "Not to me." He grins teeth filed to points.

A man sobs at their feet. A shapeless, hunched-back, suited-up salaryman. He weeps, but he has no face. He's pissed himself. The acrid smell cuts through the desert air.

"Here," Kaneshiro says, and hands Akira a gun. The gun.

"Not sure I can do this," Akira says.

"That's what everyone says," Kaneshiro replies. "But I promise you, everyone can. You're human, after all. What's that thing you always say? ALL SACRILIGEOUS ACTS."

Akira aims at the man. There's a moment when his shapeless features coalesce into something solid and familiar. Akira recognizes the man. He lowers the weapon and hears a scream from behind him.

Akira turns. Kaneshiro burns. He collapses to the dirt, eyes bursting into liquid, skin crisping off. His hand reaches for Akira, and Akira screams Kaneshiro's name and rushes toward him, but then Kaneshiro turns to ash, and the desert wind catches him and carries him away.

"Inmate."

AKIRA

A shift and the train tracks vanish, but the desert remains. Two entities, invisible but present, hover in the air around Akira.

"I don't-" Akira looks at his hands. The gun is gone. "Is this a dream? Is that it? Again? Fucking again?"

YOUKNOWUS

"Yes, yes, I know you," Akira shouts. "Caroline! Justine! The jailers, the attendants, whatever. I know you, alright?"

"You know us?" Justine's voice. Slithering movement, and refracted light in the desert.

TELLUS

"Tell you what?" Akira demands.

TELLUSWHOWEARE

Something approaches him. Justine whispers, "What can't your eyes see?"

 

6/27

 

Akira wakes with a shout, and Morgana tumbles off the windowsill.

"You know," Morgana says, climbing onto the bed. "This is getting old."

"Sorry, sorry," Akira says, catching his breath. "Bad dream."

"No kidding," Morgana replies, settling next to him. "What happened?"

Akira stares at Morgana, and Igor's words dance across his mind. "A dream about Kaneshiro," he says. "He was still alive. He wanted me to kill someone with that gun."

"The gun Queen left in the Palace?" Morgana asks.

Akira nods. "But before I could do anything, something happened. I can't remember what, but then Kaneshiro was on fire, and he died." He considers, then says, " Caroline and Justine were there."

"Were they probing you for info on me again?"

"No," Akira says, shifting around to plant his feet on the floor. "No, they sounded almost scared. They asked me if I knew them. They wanted me to tell them who they were."

"That doesn't sound like them," Morgana says.

Akira leans forward and rubs his eyes. "I know. It was weird, like they were being sneaky. As though they had to wait for my first dream to end before they could show up." He frowns. "When I first went to the Velvet Room, I figured Igor and the Twins were connected. But maybe they're different, somehow? Separate from Igor, with their own agenda?"

Morgana makes a soft 'Hmm,' noise, then says, "You're not thinking of pitting them against Igor, are you? Sounds like playing with fire to me."

The vision of an immolated Kaneshiro flashes before his eyes, and Akira shuts them tight. "I'm saying, maybe we've been thinking about them wrong. Maybe they could give us more information on the Velvet Room and the Metaverse. We're getting nowhere fast researching these topics in the real world."

"Maybe," Morgana replies.

Akira heaves out a sigh. "Whatever. I'm getting up. We've got a lot of work to do today. Might as well get started."

"Sure you're okay?" Morgana asks.

Akira shoves himself off his bed, his hand pushing against his sheets. It comes away wet, and he glances at his bed. Sweat soaks his sheets. "I hope so."

#

Sakoda's Shadow backs away as the two attackers approach.

The one in the leather jacket and steel skull mask slams a booted foot into his chest, and Sakoda sprawls on the ground. The masked man looms over him and places that foot on his stomach.

"Alright!" Sakoda screams. "Alright, I surrender!"

"Yeah, we got that," the Phantom Thief says.

The other Thief approaches, the one in the skin-tight catsuit. It'd be incredibly hot if she hadn't been launching fucking fireballs at him for the last five minutes. "Did you tell anyone about the Calling Card?"

Sakoda shakes his head. "No," he says. "It was in my bag. It said if I told anyone, my brain would melt, just like-"

"Quiet," the first Thief snaps. "That's what we want to talk to you about. First off, quit bullying kids at Shujin. Make that anywhere, got it? Your Mom is worried about you."

"Okay," Sakoda says. "It all went to shit with Kaneshiro anyway. I don't want to have anything to-"

"Second," the female Thief interjects and leans into his face. "And this is very important. You won't tell another person what Makoto Niijima said in that van. You won't talk about it. You won't text anyone about it. You won't email or communicate about it in any way."

"Even freakin' sign language," the skull-one says.

The girl nods. "Forget about it. Did you talk with anyone about it yet?"

"Just Arata," Sakoda says, shaking his head. "But only because he was there. We didn't think it'd be a good idea, especially after what she said and what you guys did to Kaneshiro!"

"Good," the first Phantom Thief says, removing his boot from Sakoda's chest. "So, you're clear? Quit being a dick, respect your Mom, and never mention anything about what Makoto Niijima said in the van." Sakoda nods. "Okay. Last thing. The Calling Card you got? Burn it. No one should ever know about it."

"You wouldn't want people to know you helped kidnap the Student Council President, right?" The cat-suit girl asks.

"I know, I won't! I won't say anything, I swear!" His vision begins to glow white, and a strange calmness fills him. "I should... I should go see my Mom. She's been wanting to go out to dinner with me, but I keep blowing her off. That's... I should go see her."

"Good idea," the first Thief says. And then Sakoda's Shadow is no more.

#

Skull rotates his leg around and rubs his shin.

"You okay?" Panther asks.

Skull smirks. "Yeah, just not used to kicking people here. I think I put a little too much force behind it."

"Understandable," Panther says, as Sakoda's Treasure materializes. "Queen must've scared the hell out of them, for none of them to say anything."

"We both know how scary she can be," Skull says, reaching for the Treasure. It takes the shape of a photo of a man, smiling at the photographer. A hint of a tattoo can be seen poking out of the sleeve of his shirt. "Who'd you think this is?" Skull asks.

Panther shrugs. "I don't know. His Dad, maybe? I doubt it's worth anything. Let's just leave it."

Skull lets the photo drift down to the dust of Sakoda's branch of Mementos, then turns and follows Panther towards the exit.

They emerge into the winding tunnels of Mementos proper, and find Fox and Noir waiting for them.

Skull flashes them a thumbs up. "Sakoda's dealt with."

"Excellent," Fox replies. "Noir and I convinced Arata to remain silent."

"Did he tell anyone about anything Queen said?" Panther asks.

"No," Noir replies. "He said he only spoke with Sakoda about it. He didn't know about the other two, though."

"Speaking of," Skull says, as the MonaMobile rolls into view from deeper within Mementos. It pulls up alongside the group, and Joker and Queen disembark. "You guys good?" Joker asks as the Mobile reverts into Mona's usual shape.

"Our respective missions have succeeded," Fox says.

"We're good," Skull says.

Queen beams from beneath her steel slab of a mask. "Excellent. We've handled the two additional yakuza members." The Shadows of the man who'd held Makoto's legs and the van's driver had been deeper within Mementos. No one commented how lucky they were that none of the four who heard Makoto's proclamation possessed Palaces. "That just leaves, well..." She trails off.

That just left Muzaki, but Iwai confirmed - after speaking with Tsuda - that Kaneshiro and his two top Lieutenants were dead. Muzaki wouldn't be talking to anyone.

The silence stretches until Joker clears his throat and says, "Let's take a breather and then head back. It's almost time for the meeting."

Skull nods, turns to Panther, and yawns.

"Nice," Panther says.

"What?" Skull asks, then glancing over his shoulder. "By the way, I wanted to talk to you real quick."

"What about?" Panther asks.

"Queen," Skull whispers, and draws Panther a bit away from the group. "I know Shiho's getting ready to leave the hospital. I wanted to check and see if you'd asked her about meeting with Queen and-"

Panther sighs. "Relax, Skull. I already brought it up to Shiho. When the meeting's done, I'm gonna talk to Queen. Shiho's open to it, so it'll be on Queen to decide whether she goes."

Skull nods. "Okay. Good."

Panther swats his shoulder. "Look at you, managing the interpersonal relationships of our group."

He flashes her a scowl. "Don't make me lock you in a closet again."

#

Akira leans against the bar, watching everyone settle into their seats. Sojiro had another errand, so LeBlanc sat closed again, despite the hour. Only in such circumstances could Akira imagine bringing in so many different people.

"Okay," he says as Iwai slides into the booth across from Takemi. "That's everyone."

Ryuji raises his hand.

"Yes, Ryuji?" Akira asks.

"Do Ohya and Iwai need codenames, like Plague?"

Iwai grumbles something under his breath.

"Why would I need a codename?" Ohya asks. "You already know who I am."

"What about Ali Baba, then?" Ryuji asks.

"Isn't Ali Baba already a codename?" Yusuke inquires.

Akira's phone vibrates.

ALI BABA: weird guy is rite

"Ali Baba says they don't need a codename either," Akira says. "And honestly, we've got more important things to discuss."

"Alright," Ryuji says, lowering his hand. "I'm just trying to keep it consistent, that's all."

"Little late for that," Ann mutters. She sits next to Ryuji in their booth. Yusuke sits across from them. Makoto, Haru, and Morgana line the bar to Akira's right, while Ohya sits at his left. Takemi and Iwai sit in the booth next to the three Phantom Thieves, and Ali Baba remains ever-present, thanks to the bug.

"I'm not sure I like talking with someone I can’t see," Iwai says.

Akira feels his phone vibrate but doesn't bother looking at it. "Ali Baba's protecting the PhanSite. They want us to help with something down the line, so they're helping us now. I'm guessing they want a Request fulfilled, am I right?"

This time, he does check his phone when it vibrates.

ALI BABA: yea

"Okay," Akira says. "We're all here because we all know each other, or at least of each other. We all know the secret of the Phantom Thieves and generally have the same information. What I want to talk about is our next steps. But first, let's get this confirmed.

"Kaneshiro's dead."

Akira feels his hands tremble, but shoves them in his pocket. He glances at Makoto, who stares at the floor. She clears her throat. "Someone from the yakuza called Sis last night, and said that Kaneshiro had been taken care of. They didn't specify what that meant, but she thought Kaneshiro was dead."

Iwai nods. "Yeah. I spoke with Tsuda after you told me what happened. Kaneshiro, Nanashi, and Muzaki are all gone. The Dragon reabsorbed the rest of Kaneshiro’s men. It's back to business. Tsuda's safe. Kaoru's safe. No further retaliation against your family," he says, nodding at Makoto.

Ohya chuckles. "And that's nice and all, but the yakuza are going on about how you guys changed Kaneshiro's heart and allowed them to end the war. No major news organization is covering it, save for treating it as a rumor. But the word's out. The Phantom Thieves helped the yakuza."

"RINE's saying as much," Ann comments, tapping her phone, which is out on the table. "It's great that we stopped Kaneshiro, but this didn't exactly do wonders for our reputation."

"People are glad the war's over though," Ryuji says. "There's that."

"Sure, but it almost makes us sound like we're in league with the yakuza."

"Couple that with the multitudes of fake Calling Cards," Yusuke says, "and we're achieving a poor public image."

Akira sighs. "Ohya, do you think you could use the Devil's Dispatch to create some distance between us and the yakuza?"

Ohya shrugs. "I could try. I've got a draft of an article going into more detail regarding how you targeted Kaneshiro and why. Hint hint, it won't be about how you're so fond of the main Dragon branch."

"Thanks. As for the fake Calling Cards, let's prepare that statement we discussed. We can confirm, via the PhanSite, that we were too busy with Kaneshiro to bother with any of the petty nonsense those Cards dealt with."

Makoto nods. "Which will also help cover our tracks regarding the four Calling Cards sent today against those in the... well, you know." No one says anything for a moment. Haru reaches out and rubs Makoto's shoulder. Makoto bows to the rest of the Phantom Thieves. "Thank you for that, by the way. I feel much better knowing those four won't repeat what I said."

"Of course," Akira says. "And you shouldn't feel guilty over that. Hell, I showed Kaneshiro how to get access to the Metaverse. I revealed us as Phantom Thieves."

"And you did that to save me," Makoto replies. "You wouldn't have-"

"They targeted you because of your sister," Ann says. "And because Kaneshiro wanted something to use against Akira. It's not your fault, Niijima."

Makoto blinks. "Th-thank you, Takamaki." Ann nods in response.

"That's all well and good for the short term," Morgana says, pacing back and forth on the bar. "But we need to talk about the biggest thing. Namely, Kaneshiro revealed there is a Conspiracy, and it involves the Metaverse."

Akira nods. "Morgana's right. He gave us what he could on the Metaverse."

"Sorry," Ryuji says, raising his hand again.

"Ryuji, you don't have to keep raising your hand," Akira says. "We've been over this."

"Right, right," Ryuji says, lowering his hand. "And I know the big bad conspiracy is a problem, but I'm still not clear on this; why didn't Kaneshiro turn himself in to the police?"

"Because we didn't ask him to," Akira says. "All we instructed his Shadow was to stop the war, confess to his crimes regarding Sugimura and Makoto's father, and tell us about the Conspiracy."

"Yeah, but when we changed Madarame's and Kamoshida's hearts, they went to the cops."

"No," Ann says. "Kamoshida didn't. Don't you remember, Ryuji? He showed up at the assembly and told everyone he was going to kill himself. Instead, we convinced him to turn himself in."

"Sensei turned himself in, but we only said he had to confess to his crimes, give the names of the apprentices he'd wronged, and come clean about the 'Sayuri.'" Yusuke says. "He did not get the chance to go to jail, as he was murdered, but it seems some will turn themselves into the authorities without us having to prompt them."

"It's like they're reverting," Haru says. "To who they originally were. Kamoshida thought the best way to make amends was to kill himself, Madarame, to turn himself in. But Kaneshiro-"

Akira feels his lips twitch, and he shakes his head. "Junya Kaneshiro, being a gangster through and through, used a loophole. He fulfilled all our requests in the most barebones way possible."

"So we gotta specify," Ryuji says. "Even if we think we've said enough, we gotta make sure we tell the Shadow to turn itself in once we've stolen the Treasure."

"It's strange though," Takemi says, absently. "Why does it work that way? You remove the Treasure, break down the desires, and then the person seems to do whatever they think they should, unless you tell them otherwise?" She shrugs. "Maybe this pertains to Cognitive Science."

"Ryuji's right," Akira says. "From now on, we need to be very clear on what outcome we want before we change the heart of our target. It's similar to how we shut up those four today. We need to be specific with what we want them to do. If we want them to turn themselves into the police, we need to tell them that. And hopefully, we'll have more targets soon."

The Phantom Thieves straighten.

"I want to go after this Conspiracy," Akira says. "Whoever they are, they're directly responsible for the mental shutdown cases. They killed Madarame via Daiki Aoe, they killed Makoto's father via the truck driver, and they killed Sugimura via his driver. They murdered Yukio Kan and then announced he had a 'heart attack,' so they're powerful. They can access the Metaverse, and do something similar to us, though we're unsure what. Kaneshiro identified members of the Conspiracy through codenames. He was 'The Gangster,' and Madarame was 'The Painter.' Kaneshiro identified two others as 'The Director' and 'The Computer' and a potential third as 'The American.' If we can identify these people, change their hearts, and get them to confess, we could expose the Conspiracy and bring it down. No more murders. No more mental shutdowns. Ali Baba, did you get anything from that phone number?"

Akira's phone vibrates, and he reads her message to the group.

ALI BABA: i tried tracing it but nothing

ALI BABA: kaneshiro suspected theyd cut him off no?

"Yeah," Akira says. "I didn't think we'd get much from the phone number, and I'm not about to call it. Kaneshiro figured that once we sent the Calling Card, the Conspiracy decided to cut him loose and see what happened."

"We happened," Ryuji says, smirking.

"Yeah," Akira replies. "But unfortunately, this appears to mean that Kaneshiro was rather low-ranking in the Conspiracy. Yes, he was laundering money for them, but these are all pretty powerful people in their own way. So, I think we should actively look for them and continue up the chain."

"And let's not forget Crow," Makoto says.

"Right," Akira says. "According to Kaneshiro, Crow's their assassin. Crow's the one taking people out. Kaneshiro didn't know if Crow was one person or many. He didn't know whether it was a man or a woman. But he did know that Crow could enter the Palaces of Conspiracy members and communicate with them there."

Takemi stiffens. "Wait, hold on. The Conspiracy members all have Palaces?"

Akira shrugs. "That's what Kaneshiro seemed to think. Crow would communicate with Kaneshiro's Shadow and report on their discussion. It stands to reason the same could be said for the other Conspiracy members."

"But wouldn't that mean that every Conspiracy member is crazy?" Takemi asks. She looks at Morgana. "Ask the cat. Isn't the qualification for having a Palace that you've gone insane?"

“Not a cat,” Morgana mutters. "But she's right, more or less."

"Oh great," Ann says. "Not only are they evil, but they're completely nuts."

Haru shrugs. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Kaneshiro say they were trying to 'remake the world?' I'm fairly certain sane people don't attempt that."

"Fair point," Yusuke says.

"So we're looking for Crow and anyone we can determine to be part of the Conspiracy," Akira continues. "With Crow, we can assume they've got powers similar to ours."

"You gonna ask Igor about that?" Ryuji asks.

"Maybe," Akira counters. "We'll see. Regardless, Crow seems to be the one who can directly impact the Metaverse on behalf of the Conspiracy, so if we can identify them and take them down, we may be able to cripple the entire thing. Outside of Crow, we need to determine the identity of 'The Director' and 'The Computer.'" Akira turns to Makoto. "Kaneshiro seemed to think that 'The Director' was involved in law enforcement. It's a stretch, but do you think you could leverage your sister's connection to compile a list of people in high-ranking positions amongst the police that could fit this criteria?"

Makoto shrugs. "We'd hardly have to go that far. If 'The Director' is a police official and a high-ranking one, we should be able to search for them online and come up with a list of names."

"At that point," Haru says. "It shouldn't be too hard to determine who has a Palace among them."

"Okay, we can get working on that," Makoto says.

"Ali Baba, could you help us determine who 'The Computer' is?"

ALI BABA: not sure how2 do that

ALI BABA: could be 1 person could be many

ALI BABA: u have anything else?

Akira shakes his head, then remembers they can't see him. "No, sorry."

"Could it be someone like a hacker working for the Conspiracy?" Ryuji asks.

"Even if they are," Ann says, "I don't know how we'd find them."

"Maybe 'The Director' could provide more information?" Yusuke asks.

"Maybe," Akira says. He glances at his phone. "Alright, then, Ali Baba, do you know who 'The American' could be?"

This time, the phone doesn't immediately vibrate. When it does, Akira pauses before reading it out.

ALI BABA: u think u kno 2

"Robert Cunningham?" Akira asks.

ALI BABA: yea

"The Cognitive Scientist?" Takemi asks. "The one who disappeared?"

Ohya frowns. "That wasn't too long before the mental shutdowns started happening."

Akira pulls out his phone. "I already tried this, but I might as well repeat it for everyone present." He queues up the Navigation App and says, "Robert Cunningham."

The phone replies, "No Match Found."

"So he doesn't have a Palace," Ryuji says.

"Nor is he in Mementos," Yusuke says.

"That doesn't mean he's not involved," Makoto replies.

"Ali Baba," Akira says, "How do you know about Robert Cunningham?"

ALI BABA: i used 2 kno someone who worked wit him

ALI BABA: kno he worked in cognitive pcience

ALI BABA: he speculated on the Mverse but never proved it

Takemi looks up at where the bug is located. "Do the names Anatoly Shakarov or Wakaba Isshiki mean anything to you?"

There is silence from the phone.

"That's a yes," Ann whispers. Akira frowns at her.

"Ali Baba?" He asks, surprised to find that he's talking to this world-famous hacker as if he were talking to a small child. "Could you tell us?"

ALI BABA: sharkarovs a dead end. loser

ALI BABA: knew nothing just knew how to take credit

"And Wakaba Isshiki?" Akira asks.

Takemi leans towards Akira and whispers, "Wakaba Isshiki killed herself."

ALI BABA: i gotta go

"Please wait," Akira calls. There's no response from the phone. "Damn."

"Okay," Ryuji says. "I know I'm not the sharpest guy out there, but Ali Baba definitely knew Wakaba Isshiki, right?"

Everyone nods.

"They know a cognitive scientist who killed themselves?" Makoto asks, turning to Takemi.

Takemi shakes her head. "Technically, we don't know if it's the same Wakaba Isshiki. I only found a small article on cognitive science that mentioned her. And then, I found an article mentioning how a Wakaba Isshiki walked into traffic one day. It's not clear that they're the same person, but-"

"Oh, come on," Akira says, rolling his eyes.

"What?" Takemi asks, frowning.

Akira looks at the group. "A cognitive scientist that killed themselves by walking into traffic?"

"Mental shutdown," Haru says.

"I'd put money on it," Akira says.

Iwai frowns. "I don't recall Tsuda ever mentioning Kaneshiro having an issue with some fringe scientist."

Takemi glares at him. "Weren't you listening? It's not just Kaneshiro. There's a whole group out there. And if they wanted to shut up Wakaba Isshiki, why not make it look like a suicide?"

Akira sighs. "Okay. I'll keep talking with Ali Baba on that topic. Hopefully, we can get something out of them."

Makoto nods. "I'll start compiling a list of people that fit the description of 'The Director.'"

"There's one last thing guys," Akira says. "Has anyone noticed any Shadows in Shibuya since we collapsed Kaneshiro's Palace?" Every Phantom Thieves shakes their head. He frowns. "Okay. So it's the same thing as Kamoshida. The Shadow at Natsuki Storage when Madarame's Palace extended there. Now, Shibuya."

"What're you thinking, Akira?" Morgana asks.

"I don't know," Akira replies. "Something Caroline and Justine said to me. About what my eyes can't see." He sighs. "Alright, I think that covers it." Everyone starts to stir, but Akira lifts a finger to halt them. "Sorry, one last thing. For real, this time. We've been through a lot these last few weeks with Sugimura and Kaneshiro. And I know we just finished talking about our next steps, but I think we should take a few days to relax, too."

"This, coming from you?" Ann asks, smiling.

Akira shrugs and steals a glance at Makoto. "I think we've earned it."

#

The Phantom Thieves and their accomplices start to head their separate ways. Makoto, for her part, is unsure of where she should go. She supposed she could go and start compiling that list, but then again, Akira's final orders had been to relax.

And I know I need that.

"Niijima, hold up," Takamaki calls, as Makoto approaches LeBlanc's front door. Makoto turns and regards the blonde girl. For all her uncertainty about her, Ann Takamaki has been relatively fine, behavior-wise, regarding her. She knows it makes sense for them to be on amicable terms, but part of Makoto knows the girl still harbors resentment, given what happened with Suzui.

"Yes?" Makoto asks. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Takamaki nods. "Yeah, actually," she says. She pauses a few steps from Makoto and crosses her arms. "Okay, look. I've already spoken about this with Shiho. She's open to talking to you, clearing the air, and all that. Depending on what you say, of course. I will be there, regardless, but I wanted to know if you could come to the hospital with me. Tomorrow. She's getting ready to leave soon."

"Oh," Makoto says. "That's good to hear."

Takamaki nods. "Yeah. So, what do you say? Will you come and talk to her, apologize, and all that stuff?"

Makoto recalls Shiho's twisted face as she screamed at her, but she knows now, just as she knew then, that what she'd done was inappropriate. "Yes," Makoto says. "I'd be happy to. Thank you," and Makoto pauses a moment before saying, "Ann."

Ann stares at her a moment, then nods. "Okay then, Makoto. I'll text you tomorrow morning, and we'll meet up beforehand. Sound good?"

"Yes," Makoto repeats.

Ann nods and walks past her, out the door.

Makoto tries to organize her thoughts regarding this development, when another person speaks up. "Yo, Prez."

She turns to see Ryuji walking up to her. "You don't have to call me that, Sakamoto."

"Right, right. Sorry. Bad habit," Ryuji says.

"It's not," Makoto says and smiles. "But it's fine if you call me by my name."

"Cool. Listen, I'm sure I can guess what you were talking about with Ann, but do you have the time to go over that training regimen we talked about? Not today or anything. My brain's fried from everything we just discussed."

"Yes," Makoto says. "I'm also feeling a bit fatigued." She notices, from behind Ryuji, that Akira has also approached them, leaning against the bar and trying to look casual. "But I'd be happy to talk about this with you." When Makoto had suggested as much yesterday, Ryuji had been ecstatic. She didn't want to diminish his enthusiasm. "Shall we chat about it to find a time to organize something for everyone?"

Ryuji nods and pulls out his phone. "Yeah, give me your number. I've already got a few times picked out. We can work around your schedule. I know you're probably busy with all that Student Council stuff."

Makoto lets out a light groan. "Don't remind me."

Ryuji chuckles, and they exchange numbers. "Alright, I'll see you later, Pre- Makoto!" And with that, Ryuji is out the door as well.

"Did you need something?" Makoto asks, turning to face Akira.

Akira smiles over at her. "I was wondering if you'd like to come somewhere with me. It's a bit of a trek."

Makoto blinks. "Oh. Um, sure. Anyone else?"

Akira shakes his head. "No. Just us."

"Yes," Makoto says, quickly. Too quickly. She mentally berates herself and then calms herself down. "Alright. That sounds nice."

Akira gestures to the door, and the two leave LeBlanc, together.

#

Futaba lets the screen's blue light wash over her. Her knees are pulled up, and her arms are wrapped tight around them.

You need to tell them, she thinks. You need to tell them! Futaba knows how the Phantom Thieves operate. If she's going to make her Request, she'll need to give them information.

"It's alright," her mother whispers from somewhere deep in her mind. Futaba imagines the woman placing her hands on her back and rubbing it softly, as she used to when Futaba was a little girl. "I understand. You don't want them to know."

Futaba shakes her head. "But I need help," she whispers. "I need someone to-"

"But you're afraid they won't help you," her mother whispers. Her mouth is just next to her ear. "They already know so much. It's only a matter of time before they realize what Sojiro knows. And then it's a quick deduction of Ali Baba's identity. They'll know you. They'll see you." Futaba shakes her head.

"No, maybe I can do it through here," she reaches out a hand and taps her phone, then her keyboard, all haphazardly. "I am Ali Baba. Maybe they-"

"You know what they need by now. They need to know. And why would they want to help a girl who drove her own mother to suicide?"

"That's not-" She stops. So long in this room, in this house. So long buried in the screens and the internet. So long injecting herself with the vitriol of online denizens, who's to say? Once, a very long time ago, she believed differently, but now?

"It wasn't your fault you were difficult," Wakaba Isshiki whispers to Futaba. "You were young. I just couldn't take it."

"I didn't know," Futaba moans. "I didn't know or understand. I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Wakaba says, rubbing her back. She doesn't say she forgives her.

She never does.

#

"I worry, that's all," Takemi says, sipping her drink.

"Yeah, I got that," Iwai mutters, smirking at her.

She flashes him a quick glare. "For an adult, you seem rather laid back with putting these kids in danger."

Iwai shrugs. "I'm not putting them in danger. They're doing that themselves. When I was their age, I raised all kinds of hell. At least they're doing it for a good cause."

"Isn't the whole reason Akira got roped into Kaneshiro's group because you basically sold him in exchange for saving your son?" Takemi asks.

Iwai chokes a bit on his beer and sets it down. "Well, that all worked out in the end."

Takemi turns on her stool to face him. The bar is relatively new in Yongen-jaya, but there's not much clientele at this time, so she's not worried about their conversation being overheard. "Akira witnessed a murder. He was almost killed during that attack. And Kaneshiro kidnapped Makoto!"

"But they took down Kaneshiro, and they're both alive and healthy." He sighs. "As much as I find that look attractive, I'd appreciate it if you didn't give it to me right now. I get it, okay? Psychologically, or whatever, they're in a bad place. They'll get over it. They'll have to."

"And if they don't?"

"Then I stand by what I did," Iwai snaps. "I needed a way out for Kaoru. You don't understand the kid. Akira's tough. He may not have been built for it from birth, but Tsuda tells me Kaneshiro liked him. Kaoru would've been eaten alive by that monster. And now, he can't prey on any more kids." Iwai turns his gaze away, then mutters, "But you? Don't you think you're being a bit hypocritical?"

"This is a fun date," Takemi mutters. "How so?"

Iwai beams. "So, you admit it's a date?"

"Don't change the subject."

Iwai rolls his eyes. "That was you, not me. And weren't you all about keeping Akria safe and away from all this bullshit? But back at that coffee shop, you contributed more than me or that drunk reporter."

Takemi sighs. "When Akira first started coming to me, they were focused on that bastard teacher, Kamoshida. When they brought Kitagawa into the mix, I encouraged them to take it up with law enforcement. I even tried to bring them in myself. But it didn't do anything. I tried to get them to stop, because they're kids, and it shouldn't be their responsibility to fix society's problems.

"But now? We know there's a Conspiracy at work. We know people are being targeted with mental shutdowns. Members of the government, the police, who knows who else, are involved. As much as I fucking hate it, Akira and his friends may be the only ones who can stop it."

Iwai lifts his glass and holds it out towards her. "To the Phantom Thieves then, and stopping whatever the hell is happening in this city."

Takemi sighs, but responds with her glass. "Hear, hear."

"So," Iwai says, a moment later. "On a happier note, where do you wanna go after this?"

Now it's Takemi's turn to roll her eyes. "Take it easy, Munehisa. You haven't exactly won me over."

"Yet," Iwai replies, smiling.

#

"This is... unique," Makoto says.

Akira lets the door to Crossroads close behind them, enveloping them in the dim of Lala's bar. "This is where I meet Ohya," Akira replies, stepping around her and leading her towards the bar. "But Lala lets me come in here sometimes and relax. I haven't been here in a while but thought it'd be a good place for us to talk."

Lala spots them as they approach, and she raises a hand in greeting. "Akira! Hello and welcome, and who is this lovely young lady?"

"This is Makoto," Akira says, settling on one of the bar stools. "She's a very good friend of mine."

Makoto smiles at the words, and bows gingerly towards Lala. "Thank you for having us," she says.

"Now, now dear," Lala replies. "Don't worry about all that. Friends of Akira are always welcome. Shall I get you some drinks?"

"Yes, please," Akira says.

Lala shuffles off as Makoto sits beside Akira and whispers, "She's not going to give us alcohol, is she?"

Akira laughs. "No, don't worry. Strictly sodas or lemonades, or whatever you want. So long as there's no booze in it."

"Ah," Makoto says. "You certainly know a lot of interesting places."

"Now, you do, too," Akira replies. "Since you're one of us, and all."

Makoto smiles, then looks away from him. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Right," Akira says. They hadn't said much on their journey here, just a light conversation regarding Ryuji's enthusiasm for his upcoming exercise regimen. "There's something I wanted to bring up and-"

"Oh god," Makoto says, her face falling. "You're talking about the kiss, aren't you? I'm sorry. I was just caught up in the moment, and everything was crazy, and-"

"Whoa, whoa," Akira says, his face reddening. "Uh, okay. Yeah, I guess we should talk about that. But that's not what I meant. "

Lala returns a moment later and sets two sodas out before them. After she leaves them to their solitude, Akira continues. "I wanted to know if you were okay. After everything."

"Oh," Makoto says. Her mind returns to that van, and reels from the memory. "I don't know. I don't think so."

Akira nods. "I'm sorry."

"I've been trying to stick close to people, to Haru, Morgana, you." She shakes her head. "I didn't even notice I was doing it, but I'm afraid to be alone. The other day, after we changed Kaneshiro's heart and before Sae told me about his email, I was alone in my building, taking the elevator up to our apartment. I was so terrified that when the doors opened, these men would grab me and..." She takes a sip of her drink. "And when they opened, I tried to pretend everything was fine, because we changed Kaneshiro’s heart." She leans in a fraction closer to Akira. "But it's still hanging over me. When the yakuza called us, they told Sis there'd be no further retaliation. She didn't know what they were talking about, but I did. They said nothing else would happen to me, but I'm still terrified about it. It doesn't make sense, but-"

"I think it makes sense," Akira says, and leans in a bit closer to her, as well. "I mean, God, Makoto. That must've been the most horrible thing. Of course, it makes sense that it sticks with you."

"Akira," Makoto says flatly. "You watched Kaneshiro drill into some guy's head. You almost died that night the yakuza attacked Kaneshiro's hideout."

Akira winces. "Yeah. That was pretty bad, but at least that wasn't happening to me. I might've witnessed it, but it wasn't directed at me. But when they grabbed you? That's different."

Makoto sighs. "In a way, it's made me appreciate Suzui's situation, and how in the wrong I was to press her for information. I hope I'm able to convey that to her tomorrow." Her eyes widen. "Not that I'm trying to draw similarities between us! What happened to her was way worse and-"

Akira places a hand on hers. "It's alright. I know what you're saying," he says.

Makoto stares at his hand, looks him in the eyes, and then looks away. "I'm sorry. Talking about this stuff when it's just the two of us."

"I brought it up," Akira points out. "You don't have to apologize for that stuff with me. I'm not happy it happened, but I'm happy to talk to you about it."

Makoto's smile is small but enormous in its way. "You do seem different. Relaxed, almost."

Akira shrugs. "Well, not being involved in a yakuza civil war does wonders for one's mental condition."

Makoto laughs, and the sound is warm and fills them both. "I'm glad to hear that."

"I think something did change," Akira says. "I'm still shaken by everything. I had an awful nightmare this morning. But all those things you said to me after I fell from Kaneshiro's train really meant a lot to me. If it's not too much trouble, do you think I could lean on you?"

Makoto's face reddens. "Like, right now?"

Akira blinks. "Uh, I meant more in the psychological sense. You know, like 'lean on me?' That kind of thing. As a pillar of support."

"Oh my god," Makoto says, and buries her face in her hands. "Of course that's what you meant."

Akira looks away from her. "If you want me to lean on you, though, all you've got to do is ask."

"Do you want to get smacked?" Makoto demands.

Akira beams. Makoto smiles. "You can rely on me as support, Akira. On the condition that I can rely on you."

"Done," Akira says, and makes to shake her hand, but thinks that'll be laying it on too thick. "Want to talk about that kiss now?"

Makoto looks at him, and her face doesn't redden this time. Instead, she smiles and asks, "How about we just do it again?"

Once more, she makes the first move.

#

Hidetoshi watches as Sae scribbles a note on a small square of yellow paper, sticks in some file, and slams it shut before opening another. He glances over at Goro Akechi, who sits in the chair next to him, eyes fixed ahead.

No help there.

"Alright," Sae snaps. "Junya Kaneshiro is dead."

Hidetoshi feels his eyes widen and sits up straighter in the chair. "We don't-"

"An individual from the Dragon Syndicate contacted me last night," Sae says, talking over Hidetoshi. "He all but confirmed it. The Phantom Thieves changed Kaneshiro's heart."

"They contacted you?" Hidetoshi asks. "And you didn't report it?"

"It was a personal call. They confirmed he's dead."

"I realize that most channels stating the Phantom Thieves as successful are yakuza-oriented," Akechi points out. "But that doesn't mean Kaneshiro is dead."

"We likely won't find his body," Sae continues, as if the boy hadn't spoken. "But we can consider him compost at this point. The Phantom Thieves targeted Kaneshiro, changed his heart, and the Dragon Syndicate leveraged his state to take him out. It's business as usual with the yakuza. The war is over."

"It's not like you to just buy what they sell," Hidetoshi says.

"Kaneshiro sent me an email before his death," Sae says, looking the detective in the eyes. "He confirmed that he's the one who killed my father, and he also claimed to be responsible for the death of Rin Sugimura."

Akechi straightens in his chair. "Do you have this email?"

Sae tosses a printed-out piece of paper at him. Akechi reads it and then almost absently hands it to Hidetoshi. "Good God," Hidetoshi says. "Akihiko. Why's he saying this? Is-" He looks up. "The mental shutdown?"

Sae nods. "It has to be. This confirms it, don't you see? My father was a problem for Kaneshiro. And then, out of the blue, he gets killed by some truck driver? And all those Dragon Lieutenants and Captains against Kaneshiro, all those suicides? No chance! Kaneshiro knew how all this worked, or he knew something, but now he's fucking dead!" She slams her open hand down on the table, and Hidetoshi notices that even Akechi flinches.

"But if the Phantom Thieves are responsible for this confession," Akechi starts. "Why didn't he turn himself in, like Kamoshida or Madarame?"

"There's something else going on," Sae says, shaking her head. "Something I can't see yet. Madarame never got the chance to turn himself in. He was murdered. His 'Sayuris' were housed in Natsuki Storage, which," and Sae slaps another random file on the desk, "was a front for Kaneshiro. Madarame might've known something about this process, as well. This whole web. He's gone, and now Kaneshiro's gone. It's possible someone's cleaning house and using the Phantom Thieves to do it, or the Phantom Thieves are direct participants."

"I don't know, Sae," Hidetoshi says.

Sae snarls at him. "Just like you didn't know if my father's death was murder? Would you like to read the email again?"

Hidetoshi holds up his hands. "Alright. Look, I admit, there's a lot of things here that don't make sense. And they begin to make more sense if your theory is correct. But the Phantom Thieves working with or being a part of this potential Conspiracy? If they were, why would they be eliminating their own members? You said it yourself: the yakuza killed Kaneshiro, right? Why not have the Phantom Thieves do it? Why have Madarame confess and then get him stabbed to death by Daiki Aoe?"

"I have to agree with Detective Kagawa," Akechi says.

"I don't know, yet," Sae says. "But we're refocusing on the Phantom Thieves. That, and Rin Sugimura. His presence in this email makes no sense. Of all the things Kaneshiro did, being responsible for Rin Sugimura's death seems odd." She looks at Hidetoshi. "Akechi and I will begin following other leads regarding the mental shutdowns and their connection to these individuals. I want you to follow up on that knife we found in the car. I want to know what Rin Sugimura was doing in that part of the city, that night. And I want to know who his driver got into a knife fight with."

Hidetoshi straightens in his chair. "Alright. I'll chase down that report. The kid's father did say he thought his son was murdered, but that was only because the driver was supposed to be stone solid. I'll follow up, Sae. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Sae's face softens. "Thank you, Detective Kagawa. I apologize for my abrupt manner. It's just-"

"I understand," Hidetoshi says, and stands. "And while I may not agree with every theory you've thrown out here, Sae, I want you to understand that I believe you. Something's going on. And that something got your father - my friend - killed. Whatever's going on, we're going to figure it out."

For the first time Hidetoshi can remember, Sae Niijima smiles. "Thank you."

#

Sojiro steps into the bar and removes his hat.

The place is a dumpster, and any health inspector would likely find it wanting. A few patrons sit amidst smoke and cough idly into their drinks. A man at the far end of the bar raises his hand and calls, "Sojiro," cheerfully.

Sojiro grimaces and walks over to him. "Youji."

"Have a seat!"

"I can't stay," Sojiro says. "I've got your money and-"

"You're not insulting me, are you?" Youji asks, frowning up at him. Sojiro wants to take the nearest bar stool and smash it across the man's face. Even as he stares into the eyes of this decrepit man, he can see Wakaba's features staring back at him. Why couldn't they have been fraternal?

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sojiro says, and slides in beside him.

"Want a drink?"

"I'm good."

"Suit yourself."

Sojiro reaches inside his jacket and withdraws the cash envelope. Then he slides it over to Youji and returns his hands to his lap. The man picks up the envelope and slides it into his pocket. "Thank you so much," he says.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Sojiro grumbles.

"So, how's business?" Youji asks.

"Fine."

"Heard you took in another kid?" Youji asks.

Sojiro scoffs. "Teenager. I knew a family member. It's a totally different thing."

"Still, I do wonder how you have the time to parent two completely different youngsters," Youji says.

"I manage."

Youji nods, as if understanding, and takes another drink. "Are you getting any kind of stipend for taking him in?"

"None," Sojiro repeats. "So don't even think about it."

"I really don't like this attitude you're showing me," Youji snaps. "I'm trying very hard to be nice to you. Especially since you're standing between me and my fami-"

Sojiro whips around and seizes Youji by the collar. "She's not your family, you little parasite. I'll never understand how your parents could produce such a remarkable person as your sister, while also churning out a loser like you."

"Hey!" Shouts the bartender. "Take that shit outside!"

Youji smiles. "You just upped the cost, Sojiro. You need to learn to control that temper. If this is the kind of environment my niece is growing up in, then I'll have to worry about her future."

Sojiro releases Youji. "I'll keep paying you," he snaps. "You just stay the hell away from Futaba."

"We'll see," Youji calls, as Sojiro beelines for the exit. "We'll see."

Chapter 77: Chapter 77

6/26

 

"A job well done," Igor murmurs.

Akira drags his gaze from the guillotines to the creature at the rotted and peeling desk. "Right. Thanks."

"Though successful, I'm afraid that particular bond has severed."

Akira nods. "I'll live," he says, then considers. "By severed, do you mean Kaneshiro's dead?"

Igor's too-wide smile answers Akira's question.

Akira finalizes his business with the Personae and sits on the cell's cot. The chittering and buzzing of the merged masks pinball through his skull, and when they finally subside, Akira leans his back against the cold stone wall. "Did you hear what he told me?" Akira asks. "About someone else having access to the Metaverse?" Igor's clawed hands rise in the approximation of a shrug. Akira drags himself back to his feet and grips the bars of his cell. "If you could give me anything regarding that, I'd be grateful."

"Do the services of my Velvet Room not fulfill your needs?" Igor asks.

Akira's kneejerk reaction is to bark that they do not. Igor's reticence on this topic far outweighs the benefits of the Wild Card at this point, but Akira remains silent. Who knew what the thing might do if Akira stepped over some line? Caroline and Justine's continued absence hangs like a black hole that neither Akira nor Igor seem willing to acknowledge.

His thoughts quiet. Akira thanks Igor for his assistance and returns to the cot and, thereby, the waking world.

In his bed, Akira opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. Igor mentioned nothing from yesterday's consolidation meeting. What did that mean? Igor grasped events that transpired in the real world; how else would he know of Kaneshiro's downfall? Past interaction implied Igor possessed some knowledge or insight into Akira's thoughts and actions. Yet, Akira kept Morgana secret from Igor for some time. Igor didn't, couldn't, know as much as he implied.

Akira considered the Twins. Whatever they were, they must exist separately from Igor despite sharing the Velvet Room. Akira needed more information on Igor, and the Twins might be the resource. He could keep digging in the real world, but really. What were the chances someone else had ever come across Igor?

#

Makoto takes a deep breath, grateful for Ann's company. The elevator rumbles upward, and both girls stand quietly in different corners of the car. Makoto feels Ann's eyes on her once or twice, and finally the blonde girl asks, "You okay?"

With a smile stapled to her face, Makoto turns to Ann and says, "Yes, fine." The talk with Akira and everything after helped calm her nerves, but the anxiety hadn't just left. These sudden and enclosed spaces offered no way out. Makoto didn't know if she could leverage her skills to escape if something happened.

Escape from what? She wonders as the elevator completes its climb.

A ding.

The door opens.

Makoto holds her breath until Ann steps out. She turns and regards Makoto with a quizzical look, one brow higher than the other. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Makoto nods and steps out into the well-lit hallway. Plenty of people scurry about, but no one's focused on them. "Do you still want to do this?" Ann asks, and Makoto feels a stab of annoyance at all the questions, even if they are for her benefit.

"Positive," Makoto replies. "Shall we?"

Ann nods and motions for Makoto to follow her. "I'll go in first and make sure Shiho's still good," Ann says.

"Alright, that's fine," Makoto replies, wishing she sounded more profound or at least intelligent. This moment requires proper import. This moment revolves around Suzui and their relationship with Ann. Makoto demands her mind stop venturing into dark corners, but she can't help glancing over her shoulder as they make their way down the corridor. She can't shake the feeling that eyes cling to her back, and whomever they belong to is just waiting for her to be alone.

Ann turns a corner, and they approach a familiar door. Makoto suppresses a shudder, an entirely different unpleasant set of feelings cropping up within her. Come on, she thinks. You can do this! You got out of that van! You took down Kaneshiro! You can apologize to Suzui.

"Wait here," Ann says, and she knocks on the door.

"Come in," replies the pleasant voice from within. Makoto reels from the voice a bit. The last she'd heard Shiho Suzui, the girl had screamed at her. Ann slides the door open and ducks inside, shutting it behind her. Makoto leans her back against the wall, eyes flickering to the procession of nurses, doctors, and patients making their way around the corridor.

The door opens once more, and Ann sticks her head out. "Okay, you can come in."

Makoto steels herself and follows Ann into the room.

The blinds are drawn, and sunlight streams in. The bedsheets are made and immaculate. Shiho Suzui sits, not in bed but in a chair, dressed in a loose-fitting sweatshirt and sweatpants.

Crutches lean against the chair. Her hair is pulled back in the ponytail Makoto remembers. She wears no makeup, but it's clear she's cleaned herself up this morning. Nothing looks out of place on her. Compared to the image Makoto conjures of the broken and defeated girl from last month, it's a shock.

No, Makoto thinks. I got that wrong. Suzui might've been damaged, but she was never broken or defeated. She's here. Kamoshida isn't.

"President Niijima," Suzui says, her face calm and her hands folded in her lap.

Makoto clears her throat and bows. "Suzui. If I may, I want to start by saying that I'm very sorry about what happened during our last meeting."

Makoto notices Ann's frown, but the girl - who stands beside Shiho's chair, arms crossed - stays quiet.

Suzui nods. "Alright. I realize I wasn't the most gracious of hosts."

Makoto straightens. "What? No. You-" Makoto stares at her and feels her throat constrict and chest tighten.

Suzui frowns, and Ann takes a step forward. "Are you alright?" Suzui asks.

"Makoto?" Ann asks.

"You-" Makoto tries, and feels her voice crack. "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't do anything. And I, I didn't do anything either. He was in our school for a year, and I said nothing. Did nothing. Saw nothing. I should've done something, but I didn't. You were right. I'm sorry." Makoto feels her face scrunch up, twisting in ways she wished it wouldn't, and her vision blurs. She tilts her face towards the ground, unable to look at this girl. "I'm so sorry. You went through all that, and I should've tried to stop it. I should've noticed, or maybe I didn't want to, and none of it is your fault but-"

Makoto feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks up. Suzui stood and, with her crutches, closed the brief distance between them. One hand rests on Makoto's shoulder and the other grips one of her crutches. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Suzui's face.

"Ann told me what happened," Suzui whispers, her voice slightly shaky but resolved.

The words snap Makoto out of whatever state she's placed herself within. "Oh my God, Suzui. You should sit. You don't need to-"

"It's fine," Suzui says. She glances at Ann, who beams at her friend proudly. "I can handle this much."

She's standing, Makoto thinks. Yes, with help, but this girl jumped off a building two months ago!

"Ann told me what happened about what those gangsters tried to do," Suzui continues. "I'm sorry. That must've been horrible."

Makoto feels her lips move to form complex words, but all she can say is, "It was."

Suzui nods and straightens. She takes her hand from Makoto's shoulder, fumbles a moment before grabbing the second crutch, and shifts back towards the chair. "To be honest," Suzui says, lowering herself back into the chair. "I'm a bit jealous. You were able to get out."

"I-" Makoto starts but doesn't know how to finish.

"I couldn't," Suzui says. "My memory is still all hazy, but I think a big part of me just... went with it, hoping it would be quick. But you, you-"

"I only managed to get away because I knew," Makoto says quickly. "I knew about the Phantom Thieves, Kaneshiro's secret, and the mental shutdowns! That's the only reason I managed to scare those two idiots into letting me go. If I hadn't, if I didn't know, I... I would've-"

"Niijma," Suzui says, and she takes a deep breath. "You're the Student Council President. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you don't actually have a ton of authority." She shakes her head. "You certainly don't have the authority to get a teacher fired. People knew about Kamoshida. Even some parents. It didn't change anything. What happened to me isn't your fault, Niijima. It was... well, it wasn't random, but I think it could've happened to anyone. I was in a bad place when we last spoke. I still am, a lot of days. I hate Kamoshida for what he did to me. But I don't want to let Kamoshida define everything about me going forward. I'm going to move on. It'll take a long time, but I will do it. And after what Ann told me, I realized the same thing could've happened to you. And I'm sorry about that. I hope you don't let it define you, either."

Makoto stares at Shiho.

"For crying out loud, Makoto," Ann says, smiling a bit. "Take a seat. You look like you're about to pass out."

Makoto finds her way to the room's other armchair and collapses.

Shiho offers her a small smile. "I forgive you for what happened between us last time. But I think you'll understand if I don't invite you back here for additional visits."

Makoto nods. "Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you. And I'll do my best to help you in whatever capacity you let me. Oh, homework! I can help you with homework. And I can help with your return to Shujin. I can talk to the teachers and get you on some plan that-"

"I'm not sure I'm going back to Shujin," Shiho says and shrugs. "Too many bad memories, you know?"

"Right," Makoto says and nods. "Of course."

Makoto notices Ann's crestfallen look as she rests a hand on Shiho's shoulder. "How are you doing?" She asks.

Shiho sighs. "I'm getting a bit tired. I've still got a lot of things to do before I leave." She looks at Makoto. "Do you mind if we wrap this meeting up? Whatever's going on between you and Ann, please put it to rest, okay? I don't want to be the reason there's tension within the ranks of the Phantom Thieves."

Makoto stands. "Of course. I'll leave. Um, thank you, Suzui. I'm sorry, but thank you for everything you said."

Shiho nods. "You too, Niijima," she says.

#

Makoto leaves the hospital and heaves a sigh. The sun sits high in the sky, but she remains unsure how to feel. A weight is gone, but it feels like another has assumed its place.

"Yo!" Comes a voice.

She allows a small smile. "Hello... Ryuji," she says, trying out the name.

"What's up?" Ryuji asks, walking up to her. He'd wanted to meet to discuss the Phantom Thieves's physical training program, which he hoped she'd develop with him.

Yusuke Kitagawa trails Ryuji a step or two and smiles at Makoto.

"Good to see you, Kitagawa," Makoto says.

Yusuke presses his hand to his heart. "I daresay you should call me, Yusuke! We are confederates in our Phantom Thievery, after all."

Makoto and Ryuji glance around to ensure no one's heard him, and then Makoto laughs. "Alright. Thank you for meeting with me."

"No sweat," Ryuji says and nods at the hospital. "Everything good with you and Shiho now?"

Makoto nods. "I think so. Well, it's much better. I don't know if things will ever be good, so to speak."

"I hear you," Ryuji replies.

"At least you've taken the step to speak with her," Yusuke says. "If anything, I know Ann must appreciate that."

Makoto inclines her head towards both boys. "Thank you for saying so. Shall we head somewhere and discuss our expectations regarding this exercise program?"

Ryuji rubs his hands together. "Hell yeah."

#

Haru continues down the path and spots Morgana sitting on the park bench. "Hi, Mona-chan," she calls, which draws the attention of a few pedestrians passing by.

Morgana raises a paw in response and smiles as Haru approaches. She sits beside him, and the cat says, "Thanks for meeting with me."

"Of course. It sounded important when we spoke yesterday," Haru says, looking around. I take it Akira won't be joining us?"

Morgana sighs. "No, he's, uh, not coming."

"Oh," Haru replies. "Is everything alright?"

Morgana glances at her, looks away, and then slowly rotates his body until he's facing her fully and says, "I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?" Haru asks. "Whatever for?"

"Sugimura," Morgana says.

Haru blinks. "Oh. I don't-"

"When he grabbed you that time," Morgana continues, the words quickly falling from him. "I couldn't protect you. I couldn't do anything besides swipe his face! They carted you off, and we only managed to find you because Makoto found me."

"It was two full-grown humans against someone trapped in a cat's body, Mona-chan," Haru says. "I'd hardly call that fair-"

"It's not just that," Morgana says. "There's the car too." Haru stares at him, not comprehending. "I was supposed to damage the car so it couldn't move, remember? I snuck under the engine and used my claws to do some damage. I sliced cables and wires, but it didn't do anything! If I'd been more thorough and done my job, the car would've never moved. We wouldn't have exited the Palace in the Bay, and Sugimura wouldn't have drowned."

Haru considers reaching out a hand and petting Morgana's head but thinks better of it.

"I'm supposed to be the expert," Morgana says, looking down at the park's walkway. "I was the original Phantom Thief, even if I didn't call myself that. I knew how the Metaverse worked, how Palaces worked. But, as it turns out, I don't know much about anything. And that thing Akira sees in his dreams, Igor? Do you know what it calls me? A black hole. It can see everyone but me, Haru. What the hell does that mean? I thought I knew what I needed to do. I thought I understood what I am, but now I'm not sure."

"Oh, Mona," Haru says. This time, she does reach out and gently rubs the cat's back. "I'm sorry you're going through this. Have you talked about this with Akira?"

Morgana shakes his head. "Akira talks to me, but... I think he's seriously considering some of the things Igor's said about me."

"No way," Haru replies. "He wouldn't do that."

"That's what I'd like to believe," Morgana says. "But after Igor mentioned it the first time, sometimes I catch Akira looking at me funny. Like he doesn't quite trust what I'm saying, and I can't even blame him! Who knows if my memories are housed in Mementos? What if it's something else? What if I'm not human at all?" By this point, Morgana is yowling.

"Morgana, you can't blame yourself for all these things."

"I don't blame myself for what Igor's said, but it still freaks me out. And as for Sugimura, I can absolutely blame myself."

"Well, I don't," Haru counters. "The whole reason you were with me the day Sugimura and his driver grabbed me was because you were trying to protect me in case I got sucked into the Metaverse. Your explanation of how the Metaverse and Palaces work is how I figured out Rin's keywords before Kaneshiro managed to get his hands on me.

"I don't know about the car, but don't forget, Rin's driver had a mental shutdown. He was going to kill Rin. One way or the other. He used the car, but he could've just as well stabbed him with the knife he fought Iwai with. We don't know."

"Exactly," Morgana says. "We don't know. I don't know. I'm supposed to be the expert, but I'm not."

"None of us are," Haru replies. She sighs and leans forward, resting her arms on her legs. "Honestly, Morgana, I've been having a hard time, too."

Morgana settles down on the bench. "You? What about?"

"Well... Sugimura. He's dead, and it's because of me."

"What?" Morgana asks. "How can you say that? Sugimura tried to take you to Kaneshiro, and they decided to kill him via a mental shutdown. That's not your fault!"

"The whole situation spun out of control because of me, though. I was the catalyst, Mona. He went crazy because of what I put him through, and that's what set him off on the path to his death."

Morgana shakes his head. "Are you freaking kidding me? You can't blame yourself for all that! He treated you like dirt! He was a scumbag! His choices are what led him to..." Morgana stops and stares at Haru's soft smile. "Okay, I get what you're doing."

"Is it working?" Haru asks.

Morgana's lips pull back at the edges into his feline smile. "A little. But are you really having a hard time with Sugimura's death?"

Haru shrugs. "I was. I couldn't reconcile it. He was horrible to me, but he also had a Palace. We changed his heart, but he never got to make things right. Rin didn't deserve to die. I wish he hadn't. In a way, he's another victim of the Conspiracy that killed Makoto's father. I want to take them down because of that. You could say I'm taking revenge for Rin, which feels very weird. I'm not all that comfortable with it, but I've decided, so I'm sticking with it."

Morgana extends a paw and rests it on Haru's hand. "I'm proud of you, Haru. I'm glad you tried to kidnap me that one time."

"Me too," Haru says and pats his head. "And I'm sorry you're having a hard time. You should talk to Akira. But if you're not ready for that, you can talk to me as much as you'd like. I don't know what's at the center of Mementos. Whether it's your memories or something else, you are our friend. You're my friend, and I will help you get there. Whatever your issues are, we will help you figure them out."

Morgana sighs. "Thanks Haru."

#

Sojiro stares at Akira. "So, you just gonna sit there?"

Akira nods, yawns, and flips to another page of The Lies of Locke Lamora. "That's my plan. I've been meaning to read this."

"You don't have any appointments? No study sessions? Rendezvous?" Sojiro asks.

"Nope."

Sojiro shrugs. "Hmm. Well, more power to you, I guess."

Akira smirks. "Thanks." He puts his finger in the book and meets the older man's gaze. "How have you been? You've been out and about lately."

"I get a lot of dates," Sojiro replies, but Akira notes that the man's voice lacks the usual quippy quality.

"Uh-huh," Akira replies. "Are you okay? Anything I can help with?"

Sojiro frowns. "You?"

"I'm resourceful," Akira counters.

"Nah," Sojiro replies. He sighs and leans against the bar. "It's just family stuff. You know how that is."

"Yeah," Akira says, struck by a sudden thought. "Anything my aunt is helping you with?"

Sojiro narrows his eyes. "How do you know about that?"

"You told me," Akira insists. "You said Aunt Tomiko helped you with something involving the Child Guidance Center."

"Oh, right," Sojiro says, his face softening. "Sorry I snapped. I forgot I told you about that."

"It's fine. Happens to the best of us," Akira replies.

"But no, your aunt is great, but this isn't something she can help with. I, uh, don't know. Starting to wonder how I'm going to manage."

"This sounds serious," Akira replies, straightening in his chair. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"You don't make much money at your flower job, do you?"

"Not really."

"Then there's not much you can do."

Akira's eyes sweep over LeBlanc. "It's not this place, is it? You're not in trouble, or-"

"No, no," Sojiro says, quickly. "No, this place is fine. Paid for and everything. I... don't worry about it. Read your book. Enjoy your Sunday. My problems aren't your problems."

Akira frowns and shrugs. "If you say so." Sojiro wanders off towards the kitchen, leaving Akira staring after him.

Maybe I should look into this more. If there is an issue with Sojiro, it might impact my ability to stay here. He didn't want to have to find another place to live. Sure, one of the Phantom Thieves might let him crash for a bit, but that really only meant Ryuji. Yusuke's dorm was too small, and Akira was pretty sure neither Ann nor Haru's parents would be comfortable with him staying there. That left Makoto and Sae, and Akira knew Sae would rather have him murdered than allow him to spend any length of time sleeping on their couch.

But.

That was a topic for another day. Akira wanted to relax while he had the option and intended to do so.

“Someday, Locke Lamora, you’re going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so overwhelmingly that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee. And I just hope I’m still around to see it.”

“Oh please,” said Locke. “It’ll never happen.”

LeBlanc's door opens, and a voice calls, "Good afternoon."

Akira closes the book, notating his page number, and slides it into his bag as Goro Akechi approaches. "Hey," Akira replies. How's it going?"

"Well, thank you," Akechi says, sliding onto the stool alongside Akira. "How are you?"

"Doing good," Akira replies. "Taking it easy."

"A perfect spot for that," Akechi says, gesturing to the bar.

Sojiro pops his head around the corner from the kitchen. "Oh, hey, kid. You want some coffee?"

"Please," Akechi says. He looks at Akira and says, "So, I'm sure you've heard."

"You're talking about the Phantom Thieves and Kaneshiro, right?" Akira asks, then shrugs. "Sure, I heard. Who hasn't?"

"Well, I'm sure your classmates are happy the issue's resolved," Akechi says. Sojiro sets a steaming cup down in front of Akechi, who nods his thanks. "Several students from Shujin had been roped into Kaneshiro's group."

"Yeah, I remember hearing about that," Akira replies nonchalantly. "It was mostly punks looking for trouble."

Akechi smirks and takes a sip. "Don't you fit that description?"

"Oh, haha," Akira replies, shaking his head. "Has Makoto's sister been telling you things about me?"

"Sae talks about you as little as possible," Akechi states. "And by that, I mean she never talks about you. At all."

"Perfect," Akira replies. "I'd hate to be on her radar again."

"Any reason you'd be on her radar?" Akechi asks, then gasps. "Oh, no. Don't tell me the love rhombus backfired and-"

"Please don't start that crap again," Akira says.

Akechi laughs. "Did that extraordinarily vague thing you told me about ever resolve?"

Akira nods. "Yeah. I'm good. Makoto's good."

Akechi playfully and lightly smacks Akira on the arm. "I knew it was about Sae's sister."

"Just, please don't tell her, okay?" Akira asks.

"My lips are sealed," Akechi promises. "But seriously, what are your classmates saying about the Phantom Thieves and Kaneshiro?"

Akira shrugs and pulls out his phone. "You can read our school's RINE chats if you'd like. It's nothing but crazy rumors and speculation."

"Though it's interesting, isn't it? Another connection between Shujin Academy and the Phantom Thieves."

"Sure," Akira says. "But didn't Kaneshiro start a civil war within his yakuza group? And he was a gangster. Plenty of people wanted to stop him, I'm sure."

"Stop him, sure," Akechi says. "But that might not be all there is to it."

"Oh?" Akira asks.

"Do any of those RINE chats mention the Phantom Thieves working with the yakuza?"

"Yeah, but like I said, it's all just speculation and bullshit rumors."

"Well, here's some truth. Junya Kaneshiro is dead."

Akira widens his eyes. "I knew the yakuza were saying the Phantom Thieves succeeded in changing Kaneshiro's heart. I didn't know he was dead, too. Are you sure? Did the yakuza kill him?"

Akechi nods. "There was some communication on that front."

"Should you be telling me all this?" Akira asks.

"Well, I'll make you a deal. I won't mention anything to Sae about a potential 'Akira and Makoto' thing, and you won't mention how I just shared confidential details with you."

Akira chuckles. "Okay. Deal."

The door opens once more, and both boys turn to see the newcomer. Shinya steps inside, hands in his pockets, hat sitting askew on his head. "Yo," he says, raising his hand.

Sojiro reappears once more. "Welcome... uh, young man."

"I'm here to see Akira," Shinya says, pointing at Akira as if to correctly identify him. "He said I've got an open invitation."

"Right," Sojiro says, staring at Akira. Then he mutters, "I knew you'd have a rendevous at some point." Sojiro shrugs. "You've brought around weirder folks."

Akira smiles and motions for Shinya to sit next to him. "This is Goro Akechi," Akira says, gesturing. "The Detective Prince. Akechi, this is my friend, Shinya Oda."

"Nice to meet you, young man," Akechi says.

"Sup?" Shinya says, nodding. "I was bored. Wanna hit the arcades?"

Akira makes a face. "Eh. Honestly, I'm good here. I've been bouncing from place to place so much, and I want to sit and relax."

"Cool with me," Shinya says. "What're you guys talking about? Girls?"

"No, we wrapped that topic before you arrived," Akira says.

"We were discussing the Phantom Thieves of Hearts," Akechi says.

Shinya's eyes widen. "Sick! I love those guys!"

"Really?" Both boys ask at the same time.

Shinya nods. "Oh yeah. Huge fan. Huge. Who isn't? Did you guys hear about how they took down that psycho yakuza boss?"

Akechi clears his throat. "Technically, Junya Kaneshiro wasn't a yakuza Boss. He was a high-ranking Captain with the Dragon Syndicate who went rogue and-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," Shinya cuts in. Akira pats Akechi on the shoulder sympathetically. "Point is, the Phantom Thieves took on the frekain' yakuza and won!"

"According to the other yakuza," Akechi points out.

"So?" Shinya asks. "Who cares? Everyone knows, once the Calling Card gets sent, the change of heart is bound to happen." Shinya makes a gun with his finger and thumb and pretends to aim. "The Phantom Thieves always got 'em dead to rights!"

"Well, we were just discussing the possibility that the Phantom Thieves were always helping the yakuza to wrap up their civil war."

"What?" Shinya asks. "No way! Akira, don't tell me you believe that crap?"

Akira pats the air. "Relax, Shinya. Akechi only suggested the theory." He looks back at Akechi. "Didn't you say something like that back at the TV studio? About Medjed, I think it was? About how they pretended to be on the side of justice or whatever?"

Akechi nods. "Yes, I did say that. Though, I'm fairly certain I entertained the possibility of it being true of the Phantom Thieves as well. Which caused what's his name to leap to their defense."

"Mishima," Akira corrects. "That was Mishima." He blinks. He hadn't thought about Mishima for a while.

"Not a chance!" Shinya nearly shouts. Akira and Akechi both flinch at the sudden noise. Akira remains surprised. In no previous interaction with Shinya had the boy ever indicated his fandom for the Thieves. "The Phantom Thieves and the yakuza working together? Not in this universe! If that were true, why did they take down that evil painter and that scumbag gym teacher? They stop evil dudes from doing evil things. They don't help gangsters!"

"You think those men were evil?" Akechi asks. "That's a rather black-and-white view of things, don't you think?"

"Kamoshida was a piece of shit," Akira points out, shrugging.

"I'll concede that," Akechi replies. "But what about all those Calling Cards sent recently?"

Shinya snorts. "Please, those are obviously fake. They won't send out twenty Calling Cards a day to fix people's dumb problems. Any true PhanHead could tell you that!"

Akira feels his mouth twitch. "I'm sorry, what was that word?"

"PhanHead," Shinya says, crossing his arms. "It means you're a fan of the Phantom Thieves."

"Uh huh," Akira says. "I've never heard of that."

"Nor have I," Akechi adds.

"Yeah, well," Shinya says, cheeks reddening. "That's because it hasn't caught on yet."

"Shinya," Akira asks. "Did you come up with that term?"

"So?" Shinya demands.

Akira holds up his hands defensively. "No, I like it. I was just curious."

Akechi nods. "It's unique. But tell me, as a PhanHead—" Akira has to bite his tongue to stop laughing—"are you really alright with the Phantom Thieves operating outside the law?"

Akira leans closer to Akechi. "Bear in mind this kid is, like, nine."

"I think," Shinya says. "That the Phantom Thieves are good guys. And I know I'm just a kid, and everyone says it's way more complicated than that, but I don't really care. Even if what they're doing is technically illegal, those bad guys would still be doing bad things if they didn't step in."

"The police are-" Akechi starts.

Shinya slaps the bar with his bare hand, which makes a surprisingly loud noise. "If the police are so good, why didn't they stop Kaneshiro? Or arrest Madarame? Or stop that teacher at Akira's school from hurting people? Duh! It's because they're not! If they were, the Phantom Thieves wouldn't need to exist!"

"Okay, okay," Akira says. "Let's all take it down a notch. This is messing with my relaxation vibes, guys. Anyone want to play Go?"

#

Ohya hits the 'Publish' button. The latest article for the Devil's Dispatch is posted. She leans back in her chair and takes a sip of her beer. It's some golden wheat thing she's never tried. It goes down smoothly, but it roils in her stomach fiercely.

She rubs her eyes and considers just shutting everything down and going to sleep, but it's too early, even for her.

Another ding and her unread messages list climbs one message higher. She opens her email more out of habit than desire and starts scrolling through. There are a few promising leads. A minor politician formerly charged with corruption is making another run at election. A follow-up on the Dragon War.

The latest email has a subject line that reads 'Kayo.'

Ohya freezes. She stares at the name, the beer in her hand forgotten.

"Okay," she says, then shoves herself away from the desk. "Okay." She moves into her bedroom and lies down. She needs a nap and to clear her head. Whatever that email says, she's not ready for it right now.

Chapter 78: Chapter 78

6/27

 

Takemi wakes to a slight headache clutching her skull and rays of sunshine sliding through the shades of her bedroom window. Memories of the previous night flood her mind, and she whips around.

Munehisa Iwai lays sprawled across half her bed, the pattern of light and shadow playing across his naked chest like horizontal prison bars. "Shit," Takemi whispers and glances at the clock on her nightstand. It's early, but not too early to start the day. "Hey," she snaps, yanking some sheets to cover herself. She jabs Iwai's thigh with the heel of her foot, and the man snorts and rolls towards her. His eyes ease open.

A smirk follows. "Mornin'," he says, in what Takemi believes he must think is his sly voice.

"You shouldn't be here," she says.

"That's not what you said last night," Iwai replies, chuckling.

Takemi groans. "That's not what I mean. What about your son?"

"Kid's thirteen. He's not a baby. He can get himself to school." Iwai props himself up on his elbow, and Takemi keeps her eyes fixed on his face. "If you're trying to get rid of me, Tae, just say so. I'm a big boy. I can take it."

A filthy joke pops into Takemi's mind, but she immediately clamps down on her lips. She takes a breath and says, "No. Sorry. I'm just not used to company."

"Lucky me, then," Iwai says. Takemi rolls her eyes, and Iwai's face softens.

"I'm not used to it either," he says. "Been a while. Last night was nice."

Takemi feels the corners of her lips twitch. "Could've fooled me with-"

"I'm serious," Iwai says and sits up. His smile is calm and seems out of place on his face. "I had a good time. Wanna get some coffee?"

Takemi drops her head back onto her pillow. "Maybe in a bit. I should get to my clinic, though."

"And I should get to my store," Iwai replies. "But I think I'd rather spend time with you."

Takemi stares at him. "I think I preferred it when you were being a smartass. Romance doesn't suit you."

Iwai laughs. "Alright, then. Wanna have another go?" He places his hand on her thigh, through the covers.

She swings her arm at him, playfully. "There. That's better." She feels the smile fall off her face. "Listen, I'm not sure this is the best idea. You and me. Especially given our involvement with Akira and his friends."

Iwai shrugs. "I don't think I have much to contribute there. Kaneshiro's done and-"

"I'm talking about Sugimura," Takemi cuts in. "I know you're the one who got Akira the chloroform. He went to you because I refused. I'm not sure how comfortable I am with how comfortable you are doing something like that."

Iwai frowns. "Weren't you just talking about how Akira and the others are best equipped to handle this conspiracy? You know what that punk was doing to Okumura, right?"

"I just think there's a right way and a wrong way to do things."

"Ain't that the whole problem?" Iwai asks. "Because in the case of the Phantom Thieves, the right way doesn't work. What happened when you called the cops on behalf of Kitagawa? Nothing. What happened when Makoto went to her cop friend to talk to him about Sugimura? Nothing. I've been on the opposite side of the law long enough to know that the good guys ain't as good as they proclaim.

"If Kaneshiro hadn't called in a mental shutdown on Sugimura, the kid would still be alive. Making amends."

Takemi sighs. There's no use in having this argument this early. "I see what you're saying, but to immediately resort to-" She shakes her head. "Never mind. Forget it." She shimmies her way until her back rests against the headboard. "But aren't you worried about your involvement? Your blood was at the scene."

Iwai nods. "Sure, but Kaneshiro took the heat for that by claiming responsibility. Even with the Sugimuras's political power, I doubt the police will investigate further. Not when there's something of a confession."

"But there're still too many unanswered questions," Takemi says. "If Kaneshiro was responsible, how did the car end up in the Bay? What connection was there between Kaneshiro and the driver? Why did Kaneshiro take responsibility for Sugimura, specifically? And what was their connection in the first place?"

"See, you're a doctor. You want to diagnose. You don't understand how this world works. Kaneshiro took responsibility for Sugimura's death. The yakuza killed Kaneshiro in retaliation for the Dragon War. The cops know this and will say that the person responsible for Sugimura's death is, in turn, dead. End of story."

Takemi stares at him. Eventually, Iwai turns away. "Do you actually believe that?" She asks.

He smiles but still doesn't look at her. "I want to."

#

Futaba reads the words once more. Then, she posts them.

CLARIFICATION:

It has come to our attention that many Calling Cards have been sent in our name. We are the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, and to clarify, all of these Cards are fake. We have not sent any Calling Cards over the past few weeks, except for Junya Kaneshiro's.

He was our sole target.

That is all we have to say on this.

Hardly eloquent, but it did the job. The weird one, Yusuke, had written an entire page. Akira cut it down to the key points. Everyone wanted additional clarifications, but Akira thought it best to keep things simple. Futaba agreed. This statement gave away nothing. Only that the Phantom Thieves had solely targeted Junya Kaneshiro (which wasn't true), and nothing about how Requests were handled or if any were being reviewed presently.

That journalist - Ohya - will post about this on her website later.

After all, the public didn't know how the Phantom Thieves operated. The police might have followed up on any additional information Akira and the others provided.

And the police were still suspicious, given the recent attempts they'd made to crack into the PhanSite. Luckily, they were absolute garbage at their jobs, and Futaba deflected them easily.

A notification pops up on her screen. One of the firewalls detected something. That wasn't odd, but the attempt lasted little longer than a microsecond. Futaba frowned. She'd designed her notification system for something like this, something out of the ordinary. A tiny attack like that could've signified anything, but it could indicate someone testing the firewall to see what would happen if attacked. Futaba keyed up a few additional resources, just in case.

She'd keep an eye on this. It was likely nothing, but in the world of information security, being overzealous paid off.

"You know you're not one of them, right?" Whispers her mother's voice.

Futabas hands slow across the keyboard, then stop. "That's not why I'm doing this."

She can almost hear the sigh in her head. "All this protection you provide, it's like you think you're also a Phantom Thief. Isn't that silly? Like you could ever be one."

Futaba tries to laugh this off. "Uh, have you seen who they let in their group?”

"Yes. Capable young people. Doctors. Journalists. Gangsters. You work a computer, child, but you can't look another human in the eye. And we both know why that is."

Futaba tilts her head forward. "Not today, okay?" She whispers. "Just, not today."

Her mother chuckles. "Who are you talking to, sweetie? You know what this is, don't you? You're a smart girl. You know what I am. I'm not some revenant haunting you. You know your own worth. You find yourself wanting." A figure stands behind her, but Futaba refuses to turn around. "By all means, keep an eye on that attempted intrusion. But don't think for one second that you'll ever be one of them. Even if they did change your heart, do you really think you'd never hear my voice again?"

Futaba puts her finger in her mouth and snaps off a sliver of a nail between her teeth.

#

"Hey, Takamaki," Mishima calls. "Could I talk to you?"

Takamaki looks up from her phone and stares at Yuuki as he approaches. They stand in the hall outside their classroom, and Mishima notices that she blinks at him a few times as though trying to remember his identity. Something churns in his stomach, but he keeps his cool.

"Oh, hey," she replies. "What's up?"

Yuuki stops alongside her, leans in close, and whispers, "I was hoping we could meet about 'you know what?' You know, the Requests and whatnot?"

Takamaki nods. "Oh. Okay. Well, we did have a big meeting the other day. We're definitely going to look into those Requests, but for the time, I think everyone's taking a little break." Takamaki's phone vibrates, and she glances down at it. "Sorry, Yuuki. That's Shiho. I gotta take this." She backs away and waves at him.

Yuuki stares after her. They had a meeting without me? He chuckles. Of course, they did. Why wouldn't they? Why would they have bothered inviting him? It wasn't like he was monitoring the stupid Requests for them. Sure, he dropped the ball with the Ali Baba thing, but it wasn't as if they were going through the Requests daily and sending the relevant ones to the Phantom Thieves. And they'd posted that 'Clarification' without consulting him. The RINE chats were blowing up about that. A little heads-up would've been nice!

Makoto Niijima turns the corner ahead of him, and he darts up to her. "Niijima, hi!" He nearly shouts.

Niijima practically jumps out of her skin. "Dammit," she snaps, when she sees it's only him. "Don't do that!"

Yuuki nods. "Right, right. Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Niijima shakes her head. "It's fine. I apologize. Just... don't come running up to me like that. It's... never mind. What can I do for you?"

Yuuki clears his throat. "I heard that you all had a meeting about-"

Niijima cuts him off. "I'd ask that you not talk about that while we're on school grounds."

"Oh," Yuuki replies. "It's just, I don't ever see you guys outside of school, so-"

Niijima reaches out a hand and pats him on the shoulder. "I understand. We all appreciate what you’re doing. We'll rendezvous in the future. But for now, the team is taking a well-deserved rest. And that's all I should be saying on the matter. We'll talk soon." And then she's walking away, too.

Yuuki glances down at the floor. They let her in. But he'd been helping them from the beginning. When they confronted Kamoshida, it hadn't been Akira, Ryuji, and Ann. No. It'd been Akira, Ryuji, and him. He'd built them the fucking PhanSite in the first place! He'd brought them Nakanohara, the only reason they went after Madarame. All these plots and schemes. Sugimura, Kaneshiro, and the other Shujin students. And not once had they thought to ask him to help.

Yuuki feels his hands ball into fists. "Okay," he whispers. "Okay, that's fine. That's just fine." He turns and heads back to class.

#

The school day ends. Akira prepares to leave.

Ann stands from her desk and holds out her hand for a fist bump. "I'm heading to the hospital."

"Good luck," Akira replies, bumping it. "And tell Shiho we're all rooting for her." Ann heads off and waves over her shoulder. As she departs, Akira notices Mishima glaring at him from the doorway, but the boy ducks out behind Ann.

That better not be a whole thing, Akira thinks.

He shoves his notebook in his bag and prepares to leave when Kawakami stands and motions for him to join her at her desk.

"So," Kawakami says, not looking Akira in the eye. "I've heard some things in recent days."

Akira shrugs. "Well, as you can see, I didn't receive a Calling Card."

"And apparently, the gang you were part of fell to pieces," Kawakami says quickly.

"I wasn't in a gang."

"Obviously," Kawakami says. She sighs. "But you were involved with something. I'm not an idiot." Akira opens his mouth to reply, but Kawakami holds up her hand. "Let me finish. We spoke about this before, but I think it's relevant now. Your grades have been slipping, but it does seem that whatever was going on with you has finished. So, I reiterate my offer. I can swing by your place to help you study."

Akira stares at her. "In your capacity as a-"

"Yes, yes, yes," Kawakami says, glancing at the door. "We both know what I'm talking about."

"So, I pay your rate, and you come to my place and tutor me. Meanwhile, your job thinks you're out with a client. And you view this as a win-win."

"Don't be a smartass," Kawakami snaps. "Your grades are important, and yes, okay? It would be nice to get out of cleaning some lecherous old guy's apartment for a night. I'd bring a change of clothes."

"Wait, you'd come in your uniform?"

"I have to," Kawakami whispers. "I get dropped off by the company. But like I said, I'd change immediately. Is that understood?"

Akira sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm grateful for the offer." He bows slightly. "I accept. Would you like my number so we can organize the details?"

That takes forty seconds, and then Akira is out the door.

Ryuji quickly slides into his path. "Hey man, I've been thinkin', now that we're taking a short break, this is the perfect time to train."

Akira claps him on the shoulder. "You're a hundred percent right. But I gotta raincheck today, man. Tomorrow, definitely. I've got some place to be today."

Ryuji smirks. "You're going to hang out with Queen, right?"

Akira laughs. "You know me so well."

#

"I don't see how this will work," Akira says. He walks side by side with Makoto down the alley. "If I already know you're going to take my wallet out of my bag, then-"

"Just keep walking," Shinya replies. He walks a few paces behind them. "God, you talk all the time. When you reach the alley's end, I promise you won't have your wallet."

"As amusing as this is-" Makoto starts, but Shinya interrupts her.

"C'mon, just keep going." They take a few more steps, and suddenly Shinya says, "Okay, now Akira, take out your phone and start recording. You're going to want to see how I do this."

Akira sighs. He reaches into his pocket for his phone. It's missing. "What the-" He turns around, and sees Shinya standing there, smirking and holding Akira's phone in his hand.

"Pretty good, right?"

Akira chuckles and holds out his hand. "Pretty good." The boy returns Akira's phone, and they continue along.

"You really shouldn't be doing things like that, Shinya," Makoto says, but her voice lacks any natural trace of scolding.

Shinya rolls his eyes. "I only do it to the people that deserve it."

"How can you tell who deserves it?" Makoto asks.

Shinya nods his head sagely. "I can tell."

The boy had somewhat shoehorned his way into Akira and Makoto's date, but Akira was happy to see Makoto didn't seem to mind. Akira enjoyed spending time with Shinya, especially after learning he was a Phantom Thieves fan.

Despite her insistence that Shinya straighten up, Makoto also seemed charmed by him.

The three headed towards a local cafe to grab something to eat. Nothing fancy, but spending this kind of time together was nice. Akira knew they needed to get back to Phantom Thief business soon, but for now, he insisted on remaining in the relaxed mode he'd found himself in the last two days - nightmares excluded.

"So," Shinya starts. "Are you guys dating or something?"

Akira's foot makes awkward contact with the cement, and he stumbles for two paces before regaining his composure. Makoto, for her part, has turned bright scarlet.

"Dating?" They both ask at the same time.

"Yeah," Shinya replies. "I kinda figured you were, but I'm not sure. Are you guys boyfriend or girlfriend or what?"

"Well, that's-" Akira starts, all internal peace shattered.

"Our relationship status remains ambiguous," Makoto states flatly. Her eyes widen in response to her words, and her shoulders slump.

Ambiguous is one way to put it, Akira thinks. They'd admitted their feelings for one another plenty of times now. Hell, they'd kissed twice.

They'd saved each other, too. Were this a story, surely they would've been a couple by now.

"We, um," Makoto says, trying again. "We're not, at present, dating." Then, she quickly turns to face Akira. "Unless I'm mistaken?"

"No, no," Akira replies, holding up his hands. "You're not mistaken. We are... not... uh, attached."

Shinya rolls his eyes. "Man, I can't wait to finish being a teenager. This shit seems complicated."

"Language," Makoto snaps; at the same time, Akira mutters, "This shit is complicated." She flashes him a glare, and he tries to play it off with a smile.

Despite having torched the moment, Shinya proves himself yet again by saying, "Well, whatever. Hey, Akira. That Akechi guy from last night. Why do you hang out with him?"

Makoto blinks. "Akechi?" She asks, then looks at Akira. "Goro Akechi?"

Akira nods. "Yeah. He started swinging by LeBlanc a few weeks ago. We talk about books and play Go and stuff."

"And talk about the Phantom Thieves," Shinya says.

Akira sighs. "Yeah. That too."

Makoto shakes her head. "You hang out with and talk about the Phantom Thieves with the Detective Prince?" She steps closer and whispers, "You know he works with my sister, right?"

Akira nods. "I know. He promises he doesn't tell her about me."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Makoto asks.

Akira nods. "Trust me, I'm not worried about Akechi." He jerks his head towards Shinya. "I'll explain later."

#

"Well, this is it," Shiho says. She heaves a heavy sigh and steadies herself on her crutches. "Time to leave."

Ann hefts the last of Shiho's boxes and nods. "Are you ready?"

"To get out of this room?" Shiho asks. "Absolutely. To face the rest of the world?" She smirks. "Hardly."

"You'll be alright, Shiho," Ann replies, and smiles. "It's not like I'm going anywhere. I'll swing by your house instead of your hospital room!"

Shiho laughs. "Yeah, that'll be nice. It'll be good to get back to my room." She takes one last look at the hospital room. "I don't know how I feel about this, honestly. I spent so long here that it began to feel like home."

Ann nods. "It almost feels the same to me."

"Well, let's get out of here."

Ann leads the way. She shoves the door open and steps out into the hall, holding the door for Shiho to navigate. Shiho's mother had moved a few boxes downstairs to the car.

The two girls halt when they spot the person standing in the hall.

"Mika?" Shiho asks.

"Hey," the girl replies, flicking some hair behind her ear. "You didn't think you'd get to escape without saying goodbye, did you?"

Shiho smiles and shakes her head. "No, I didn't."

Mika steps up to Shiho and gently wraps her in a hug. "I know you were here under bad circumstances, but I'm glad I got to meet you."

"You too," Shiho replies. "We need to stay in touch, okay?"

Mika nods. "We will." She glances at Ann. "Take care of her, yeah?"

"Will do," Ann replies.

"And tell that Ryuji guy to call me," Mika says and winks.

Ann frowns. "That, I will not do."

Mika slaps her shoulder. "Oh, come on. I'm just messing with you. Shiho and I both know how you feel about him." Ann's eyes widen, but she says nothing. Mika sighs. "It's gonna be a little lonely here." She smiles. "Maybe I'll get lucky and some other girl will try and kill herself."

Shiho and Ann say nothing.

Mika looks down at the ground. "Sorry. Bad joke."

Shiho hands Ann one crutch, reaches out to Mika once more, and brings her in for another hug. "If you need anything, just call, okay?"

Mika sniffles a bit. "Okay."

Ann takes a few steps back while the two friends say goodbye. It feels strange to witness this. Shiho might be making a recovery, but whatever happened to Mika still reverberates within her. Yes, Ann and the Phantom Thieves had taken down the sleazy manager, but how many others were out there? How many other women were being taken advantage of in the fashion industry? It made her skin crawl to think about it.

Chapter 79

6/28

 

Yusuke pirouettes the corner and spies his target loitering outside a Men's Fashion boutique. The sun drones in a cloudless sky, and Yusuke maintains himself in the shade the chromatic array of awnings lining the sidewalk provides. The man, catching Yusuke's slender reflection in the window, turns and nods as the younger boy approaches. The man turns and begins to walk, and Yusuke increases his gait until they walk side by side, maintaining a sliver of distance between themselves.

"I appreciate you meeting with me, Kitagawa," the man says.

"And thank you for your time, Nakanohara-san," Yusuke replies.

Natsuhiko Nakanohara gently waves his hand through the air around his waist. "I requested this. You have nothing to thank me for."

"Given that you are the sole contributor to our project, at this point, I disagree," Yusuke says, navigating his way around a young woman pushing a baby in a stroller.

Nakanohara's laugh begins with bitterness but slowly calms to good-natured. "Believe me, young man, the amount I set aside is not substantial. But, I suppose it is consistent."

Yusuke nods. "No matter what you provide, it far outstrips my contribution. To that end, I'm diligently working to improve my craft. If able, I'll sell some work and-"

Nakanohara's hand cuts through the air in a stiff chop. "You're a student, Kitagawa. As an adult, the burden of funding our endeavor falls upon me. Please, don't drive yourself crazy trying to make money to the point that your art becomes solely an avenue. Isn't that what drove our former Sensei so mad?"

"A valid point," Yusuke replies. They pass a few more paces in silence, and the younger man continues, "Have you considered painting something yourself? You were tutored by Madarame, after all. You possess the talent."

"Ah," Nakanohara says, and the two briefly separate to allow a group of giggling girls to pass between them. "I've been thinking along those lines. My treatment at Madarame's hands turned me off to art, or so I thought. After our talk at his funeral, I felt the familiar pangs." He smirks at Yusuke. "I know you know what I'm talking about." Yusuke nods, but Nakanohara's smile fades. "Though, I'm sure whatever talent I possessed withered in the last few years. Still, the fundamentals stick with you. Perhaps as a side project, I could paint landscapes or small pieces. Office environments are always looking to color up their monotonous hellscapes. It wouldn't bring in much, but it'd be something."

"No matter what you end up creating," Yusuke says. "I'd like to see it."

Nakanohara's face tilts upward, and a wistful look dances through his eyes. "Alright." He clears his throat. "And though this talk is pleasant, it's not why I wished to speak with you."

"Yes," Yusuke says as they turn a corner. "I thought this too clandestine a method of speaking for the topic of our project."

"Forgive me," Nakanohara says. "As I have no experience in this field. I am going to say a few things, and I'd like you to react as little as possible. Is that alright?"

Yusuke provides a faint nod.

"Very well. A few weeks ago, a police detective and Detective Prince Goro Akechi visited my office. They asked me questions regarding the Phantom Thieves." Yusuke keeps his face neutral. "Since I knew nothing, I said nothing. However, they seemed to think that the Phantom Thieves were young. I do not know if that piece of information was something they earnestly believed or if they thought to bait me. I do not know what shape my face took, but I said nothing then. I'm only bringing this up now based on recent news, and it's been so long. I don't think the police care much for me anymore."

Yusuke says nothing for a moment. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why?" Nakanohara asks. "Why wouldn't I? After all, we're only speaking of our project. Nothing else, yes?"

This man, Yusuke thinks, may be the most careful of us all.

"Besides," Nakanohara says. "It's only an interesting thing that happened to me. It isn't as if I believe you have any connection to the Phantom Thieves."

"Naturally," Yusuke replies. "Thank you for sharing that interesting detail from your life. I'll be sure never to bring it up to anyone."

Nakanohara chuckles. "Very good. Now, I should get back to my office. I have a deadline, and our project won't fund itself. Goodbye, for now, Kitagawa." And with that, Nakanohara turns another corner by himself while Yusuke remains at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn.

#

"Sneakers?" Ryuji asks as they descend the escalator.

"Sneakers?" Ann replies, frowning.

Ryuji shrugs. "I know she's still got a ways to go. But once she's better, she's gonna want to move around, right? Exercise and shit. Hell, she almost got a volleyball scholarship. We should get her a pair of sweet kicks that she'll look forward to so she can get started right away when she's ready!"

Ann crosses her arms, eyes searching Ryuji's own. He glances away, mentally prepping himself for whatever verbal tirade Ann is undoubtedly forming. For whatever reason, in recent days, he's had a bit of trouble holding her gaze. Weird.

"That's actually a pretty good idea," Ann replies.

Ryuji decides to mask his happiness. "What'd ya mean, 'actually?' Did you think I was gonna come up with a crappy gift?"

"Well, duh," Ann replies. They both step off the escalator and enter Shibuya Underground proper. "I brought you along to ensure I didn't get anything you suggested."

Ryuji scoffs. "You suck, Ann."

Ann giggles and wraps his arm up in hers. "I know."

Ann approached Ryuji that morning, clearly flummoxed at not having gotten Shiho a housewarming present despite having helped her leave the hospital the day before. She'd asked Ryuji to help, which further flummoxed him, but she'd seemed happy when he accepted. Ryuji didn't know what you were supposed to get girls, but since Shiho was more of a friend than anything, it was easier when he thought about it like that.

"Get off," Ryuji mutters, trying to withdraw his arm from her without accidentally encountering any sensitive areas.

"Oh, don't be like that," Ann says. "I'm just messing with you."

Ryuji shakes his head, smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Look, you wanna go with the sneakers or not?"

Ann takes a step back, raising her hands in surrender. "You know way more about that stuff than me. Lead the way."

Ryuji beams. "Right."

Truthfully, while he believed the sneakers an ideal present, he'd been wanting to visit his old running store stomping grounds. Reading about all the latest shoes online didn't have the same impact as getting a feel for them on your feet and-

"You know, I ran into Mika while helping Shiho move out of the hospital yesterday," Ann says. "She asked about you."

Ryuji's brain suffers a cascade failure. "Oh. Uh. Oh. Her. Mika. Oh. How's she?"

Ann blinks at his strange, blurted syllables.

Oh crap, Ryuji thinks. Despite what most think, he's no idiot. Ann's inflection during her oh-so-casual bringing up of Mika tells him there's more going on and more expected of his responses.

"She's okay, I guess," Ann replies. "Maybe not so okay." For some reason, she flings a finger through her hair and studies the ceiling. "I think she likes you."

Think, think, think! What would Akira do? Ryuji pictures Akira repeatedly getting punched in the face by Makoto. Okay, bad example. But he had no other examples! He could never pull off Yusuke's eloquence, and Morgana was a cat! Iwai was a former gangster, and that about exhausted his reserves of examples of manhood!

Ryuji desperately wishes his face would pale, and he wills the sweat not to leave his scalp. He replies, "Oh yeah. She seemed nice."

"Oh?" Ann asks, suddenly sliding closer to him, making a study of his face.

"Well, yeah. But, you know. It's not, kinda, appropriate."

"What'd you mean?" Ann asks.

Ryuji tries to discern what he means. "It's just, she was flirty, and that's cool. But I don't think it'd be right for me to try and take her out. Especially given, you know, all the stuff. What's she in the hospital for."

Ann frowns. "I see," she replies. "So, you're saying that you'd ask her out if she wasn't in the hospital?"

"No, that's not what-" Ryuji starts, taking a few rapid steps away from her and nearly colliding with a man exiting a shop. "Go out? No. I think-"

"She's pretty," Ann points out, following Ryuji over. "Really pretty. You'd be lucky to go out with someone like that."

Ryuji shakes his head. "I don't... looks aren't everything!"

"Wow," Ann says, looking shocked. "You think Mika has a crummy personality? That's pretty low, Ryuji."

"That's not what I said!"

A smile breaks across Ann's face. "Oh my God, relax, Ryuji! I'm seriously just messing with you!"

Ryuji leans forward and places his hands on his knees. "Would you knock that crap off?" He demands. "I'm too young to have a heart attack!"

Ann throws back her head and cackles. "Honestly, watching you squirm is one of my favorite things."

"Glad to be of service," Ryuji grumbles. He watches Ann laugh, and finds himself smiling. Looking at her, seeing her happy, and seeing how it's him making her happy, brings sudden thoughts to his mind. And suddenly, things don't seem that weird. Suddenly, a few things start to make a lot of sense.

 

#

Blue light and a haze from his headphones.

A stain on his uniform from spilled tea at lunch.

Fingers slap the keyboard.

PTS R HEROES DUMBASS

Digital footprints across various trajectories. Boards. Chats. Servers.

SOMEONE SEND A CALLING CARD TO THIS MF

A blitz long in the making. Mishima swarms across the internet, and any corner or patch of code, even mentioning the Phantom Thieves, is exposed.

DUMB BITCH PTS COMING AT UR ASS

The voice in his head directs his hands. Ask him later, and Mishima won't remember most of his declarations. But, so what?

Most parrot Akechi. Let them get their balloons popped. Fuck them.

Hateful responses claw their way across his screen. Yuuki smiles, drinks, and swallows.

Who's to say?

Maybe he's compelled to behave this way?

Maybe the Phantom Thieves are making him do this?

Let them have their meetings.

Let them have their plots and strategies.

Mishima will lurk in the dark places and defend them.

Isn't this all he can do? Isn't this all he's good for?

Mishima feels something final shift within him, but his detractors continue in their bullshit. He ignores the feeling and continues his attack.

#

A small contingent of students and locals populate the cafe. Makoto and Haru slide into a booth across from one another. Haru sets her bag next to her, close to the window. Morgana shimmies out, tail first, and rights himself on the bench. "No cats allowed, my ass," the cat mutters, but when the waitress swings by to take their order, he ducks his head down.

With their drink orders placed, Haru turns to Makoto and, in a tone of practiced nonchalance, says, "So, you and Akira?"

Makoto knew the question was incoming, but sighs nevertheless. "Oh, yes. Lots to tell. But, well, I wanted to check in with you first. Things went crazy during Kaneshiro's infiltration, and we didn't get much chance to talk. How are you doing with everything?"

Haru's smile looks tired, but she nods and strokes Morgana's head. "I'm getting there. Mona-chan and I had a conversation about this topic just the other day. I think everyone's taking stock of where their head is at."

Makoto frowns and turns to Morgana. "Is there something bothering you?"

The cat's ears flatten. "It's nothing. Just, some of the things that Igor guy's been saying about me. I'm not sure I'm up for talking about it. It's a bit heavy for me."

Makoto nods. "Of course. I didn't mean to pry. But I suppose I understand what you mean, Haru. The last few days have been nice, but everything prior was so jarring. Yesterday, Yuuki Mishima approached me in the hallway. He came up to me so fast, I panicked."

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it," Morgana says.

"I know," Makoto replies. "But it still shocked me. I hate that I feel this way. Going places alone feels so scary." She feels a smile lift onto her face. "Though, being with Akira does make me feel good."

"I'm glad things are working well with Akira," Haru says. "I think I'm beginning to come to terms with what happened to Sugimura. I hated him, but I didn't want him to die. So, I want to take down this Conspiracy. I want to give justice and peace to their victims. All of their victims."

"We're in the same battle," Makoto replies, her voice hardening. "Whoever killed Sugimura also killed my father. Let's make sure we take them down."

Haru smirks, then folds her hands one over the other, upon the table. "Indeed. Now then, shall we shift the topic to what you wanted to speak about?" And she whispers for no reason at all, "Akira?"

The flush rushes up her neck before she can reply. "Ah, yes. There is something I wanted to talk to you about. And Morgana, I'm grateful for your presence, as you know Akira better than anyone."

The cat frowns. "I'm not so sure of that anymore. But, continue."

"Akira and I were walking with that young ward Akira pals around with, Shinya. And Shinya asked if we were dating. We both said some things, but the answer was clear." Makoto clears her throat a bit and glances at the tabletop. "We are not dating, despite having... kissed, and-"

Haru's posture straightens fast as lightning, and her hands snap apart, slapping the table. A few people in the other booths jump and briefly turn their way. "Hold. The. Phone," Haru says. "Explain yourself."

"Yes, well," Makoto says, having trouble articulating the act. "I suppose I should've disclosed this. Akira and I kissed."

"Where?" Haru demands.

"Kaneshiro's Palace."

"When?" Haru demands, once more.

"After we both fell from the train."

Morgana's eyes widen. "You kissed during that?"

"Well, we were on the ground at the time," Makoto says. "And then we kissed again the other day, on a date."

Haru's eyes blink rapidly, and she shakes her head. "So, you've kissed twice, gone on dates, and you're not sure if you're actually dating?"

"Well, we never really made our intentions clear."

"Oh, come on," Haru snaps. "The whole world knows your intentions regarding Akira."

"Yeah, I mean-" Morgana starts, but Makoto silences them by removing her phone.

"I understand! I do!" She hastily queues up her Message app. "I've taken steps to remedy this. I intend to ask Akira out officially."

Morgana groans. "You're gonna ask him."

Makoto's eyes narrow. "Well, for God's sake, Morgana. It's been something like two months!"

Haru frowns. "Didn't he ask you out last month?"

"Yeah," Morgana says. "But then you guys decided to kidnap me."

"Oh, right."

"Anyway," Makoto declares, turning her phone around. "I've compiled this message. I think it makes my intentions-"

"You're going to ask him out via text?" Haru demands.

"Would you just read the message?" Makoto begs. "I want your opinion on it!"

She holds the phone so the other two can see her screen and read her prepared text.

MAKOTO : DATE ME Y/N?

"Okay..." Haru says. "This is..."

"Ter-," Morgana starts.

"A start!" Haru quickly interjects.

"I spent a lot of time considering this last night," Makoto says.

"And you landed on this?" Morgana asks. Haru flicks one of his ears.

Makoto slumps in her seat. "Oh, I know. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic when it comes to things like this."

Haru crosses her arms. "Forgive me, but why don't you just go to his place and ask him out? We've all got an open invitation at LeBlanc."

"You mean, physically?" Makoto asks. "In his presence?"

"Yes," Haru nearly shouts.

"I'm with Haru on this one," Morgana says. "He did the same for you. And a text isn't personal—especially this CAPS lock nightmare you've concocted here. Akira's got a thick head. You need to make your intentions known!"

Makoto nods and shifts up in her seat. "Alright. You're right. I can go over there tomorrow and-"

"No," Haru says, standing. She shoves her bag towards Morgana. "Mona, hop in. We're going to LeBlanc."

"Uh, now?" Makoto asks.

"Indeed."

"I'm not sure your presence is required for this," Makoto says.

"I disagree," Haru states. "We'll be there for moral support!"

"Besides," Morgana says, crawling into the bag. "It's my house."

A giddiness rises within Makoto. "Fine then," she syas, standing as well. "Let's go!"

The arrival of their drinks delays their departure.

#

The fragments of Makoto's heart pound in her chest.

How? She wonders.

How could something like this happen?

Like tinnitus, a ringing in her ears diminishes her world to the terrible scene before her.

Makoto feels Haru's hand on her shoulder, but her best friend's words barely reach her. Makoto guesses them anyway.

An explanation.

There must be an explanation.

But what other explanation could there be?

Makoto, Haru, and Morgana huddle together just around the corner from LeBlanc. Someone stands before the cafe's door—someone who has shaken Makoto's world to its core.

A maid.

A sexy maid.

"Perhaps she's here to see Boss?" Haru wonders.

Makoto knows, somehow - intuitively - that the woman is here to see Akira.

Is this who Akira Kurusu prefers? But no, it can't be! It makes no sense!

The maid exited from the backseat of a still-rumbling car and knocked on the door.

Whoever this woman is, she glances around and even turns in their direction. The angle makes it impossible for her to see them, but Makoto sees the woman's face clearly. She sears it into her memory. She wants to know just who is-

"Holy shit," Makoto blurts. "That's Kawakami-sensei."

"What?" Haru demands.

"Uh oh," Morgana whispers.

"What the hell is going on?" Makoto demands. A need to confront this teacher seizes her, but then LeBlanc's front door opens, and Akira appears. He beckons Kawakami-sensei inside, and the teacher turns back to the car and nods at the driver. As Kawakami enters the cafe, the car drives off, and the door closes behind her.

"He let her in?" Makoto nearly screams. "I don't believe it!"

"But why is she here?" Haru asks. "And why is she dressed like that?"

"Um," Morgana says, backing away from the two girls, "maybe we should come back at another time?"

Makoto glares at the cat, and the feline freezes in his tracks. Makoto kneels and leans her face very close to Morgana's. "You know something," she states.

Morgana's head nearly flickers, he shakes it so fast. "No! I don't, I-"

"You were surprised she was here, not that she was dressed as a maid," Makoto says.

"What's going on?" Haru asks, turning to Morgana. "Tell us, Mona-chan!"

Morgana twitches as though he's about to vomit, then takes another step back. "You guys should ask Ryuji. Honestly, the whole thing was his idea and-"

Makoto jerks upright. "I'm calling Ann. She's with Ryuji now, if I'm not mistaken. I will have answers!"

#

Kawakami settles back in her seat, having finished reviewing the worksheet. "Not bad."

"Is that... like a ninety percent or something?" Akira asks.

"Ninety-five," Kawakami replies, smirking. "So, not bad."

Akira lets some of the tension out of his shoulders. "You could've led with the score, sensei."

"You don't want to get a big head," Kawakami says, crossing her arms. "I've seen it enough times. Students begin to do well, and their discipline fractures because they think they can coast. That can work in the short term, but rarely in the long." She reaches out and taps the worksheet with a pencil. "But, you seem to understand the material, so I'm satisfied you'll catch up. So long as you continue studying."

Akira nods. "I will. I promise."

Kawakami stands and stretches, lifting her hands over her head and yawning. She'd changed out of her maid clothes almost immediately after entering LeBlanc. "Not that math is something I prefer doing, but taking a break from my other job is nice." She gazes around Akira's room. "This is not what I pictured. When you gave me your address, I looked it up. I half-expected some trap or prank."

"Why didn't you think I lived here?" Akira asks. "You've met Sojiro."

"Yeah, but I didn't know he owned a coffee shop. I thought he was just some old guy. He didn't seem to know you that well. I assumed you lived in his house, not above his business."

Akira shrugs. "I prefer it this way. I can do my own thing once he's gone for the day. I can partake in all that illegal activity the students think I get up to." Kawakami frowns at him. "That was a joke," he says.

"I got that. Stick with math." To this, Akira can only smile. Kawakami takes a few paces away from the desk. "What brought you to Tokyo, anyway?"

Akira frowns. "Kamoshida leaked my record. Didn't you read it?"

"I only know what the Principal told me. That's to say, I don't know much. I never looked at your record."

"It's a simple enough story," Akira says. "One night, things went bad for me. I got in trouble, resulting in my being sent here."

"Hmm, nice and vague," Kawakami replies.

Akira stares at her. He'd thought of Kawakami when he'd first awakened Arsene in Kamoshida's Palace. Felt that she didn't give a shit and only saw him as a nuisance. Now, though? I'm pretty sure she does think of me as a nuisance, but not in the worst possible way. She was here, helping him with his schoolwork. Yes, it was to get out of her other job, but something told Akira Kawakami appreciated him not telling her secret to the school.

To hell with it, Akira thinks. I know her secret. Maybe it's only fair she know mine.

"This is what happened," Akira starts. "One night, I was walking home..."

The story takes only a few quick minutes to tell. Kawakami doesn't interrupt or ask any questions. She frowns when he finishes his tale and says, "That's horrible."

Akira blinks. "You believe me?"

"Of course," Kawakami replies. "Why wouldn't I? I saw what Kamoshida got away with. I can believe whoever that man was could get away with framing you, especially if the woman agreed with him. And you don't quite seem like the person to assault people randomly. I don't know you that well, but I watch you in class."

Akira chuckles and takes off his glasses. "Want to know another secret? These are fake."

"Seriously?" Kawakami asks, eyes widening. "Why do you wear them, then?"

"So I don't look intimidating," Akira says.

Kawakami frowns. "I think you have a high opinion of yourself. You don't look intimidating without the glasses on."

Akira laughs.

His phone vibrates. He takes a look and frowns.

ALI BABA : EMERGENCY

#

"You're better off just letting go," her mother whispers. Futaba's fingers dart across her keyboard. The monitors are awash in the warning red of her firewall's alerts. Multiple attacks from multiple vectors. She can keep them contained, but this is the real deal—a concentrated, actual effort to hack into the PhanSite.

Futaba knows there's no personal information about the Phantom Thieves on the website, but gaining access would allow them to see every bit of information that's flowed into it. She'd been thorough, but it was also possible they'd trace it back to that idiot Shujin student who created it for them.

While dealing with the breaches, she sends another message to Akira.

ALI BABA: not bad now but itll get worse

ALI BABA: calling in favor now

AKIRA: I don't understand what's happening. We're being hacked? But we're not?

ALI BABA: Phansite under attack can stop it but need to know more but u need to help me now

"What's this?" her mother asks. "Your help is only contingent on them helping you? So much for your potential friends. They won't want anything to do with you if you make demands of them."

"Just shut up," Futaba whispers. "Please."

AKIRA: What do you need?

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Tell them."

ALI BABA: requesting change of heart

AKIRA: Who's?

Futaba stares at the phone. Her fingers hover over the keys. Slowly, she lowers them, and then lets her head drift forward until it rests on the keyboard. Her mother’s ghost hums soft lullabies behind her.

Chapter 80: Chapter 80

6/29

 

Akira's fingers hover over his phone's keys. The hallway swarms with students on their lunch break. Akira bites the inside of his mouth, mutters a silent curse, and slides the phone back into his pocket. Texting during school hours was a bad idea, even if the recipient was Ali Baba. She'd stopped texting the night before after declaring the PhanSite under some attack. Akira visited the site itself, but everything looked fine. Was it all a ruse? Something to mess with Akira, and get him to help with the change of heart? Only Ali Baba never specified the target. And despite knowing nothing about the hacker, Akira didn't think they were the type.

Ali Baba knew how the changes of heart worked. The Phantom Thieves needed a name. Akira slinks through the hall, his mind occupied, the old worries rising. He wills Ali Baba to send a message, but his phone remains silent in his pocket. Akira bumps into someone, and his bag nearly slides from his shoulder, but he manages to retain it. "Sorry," he mutters, not wanting to engage with another student and hoping word of this lapse in concentration won't spread around the school. But then, Akira glances up and realizes he's bumped into Mishima.

"Oh," Akira says, straightening. "Hey, Mishima. Sorry about that."

Mishima stares at him, dark sacks hanging from his eyes. His skin's washed-out pallor looks out of place in the well-lit hallway. "You okay?" Akira asks.

"Oh yeah," Mishima replies. An uncomfortable smile spreads across his face. "I'm great." He leans in and whispers, "I'm thinking about putting up a poll on the PhanSite. What'd you think?"

"A poll about what?" Akira asks. "And I think we may have an issue with the site. Seriously, man. You look... not great."

"Didn't sleep well last night," Mishima replies. "I was up. Defending your honor."

"Uh, what?"

Mishima waves his hand through the air. "Lots of people keep dragging you guys online. I was making sure they shut up."

"What exactly are you doing?" Akira asks.

Mishima shakes his head, and his shoulders slump. "Nothing important according to you. Don't worry. You're too busy, right?" Then, to Akira's surprise, Mishima reaches out a hand and pats Akira on the shoulder. "Just let me do my thing, yeah? Let me have that and get off my ass?" Mishima turns and slumps away.

Akira watches him go and sighs. Dammit. I knew that was going to be a whole thing. Akira takes out his phone, queues the Navigation App, and whispers, "Yuuki Mishima."

"Match Found."

"Ah, fuck," Akira nearly spits. A few students glance his way but then look away quickly.

Mishima going off the deep end was terrible news. Luckily, per the App, Mishima's Shadow resided within Mementos. It hadn't broken off its own Palace yet. However, someone who knew about the Phantom Thieves and had a Shadow required immediate intervention. Who knew what he'd say or do?

Akira had hoped to stretch out his little micro-vacation a day or so longer, but between Ali Baba's radio silence and Mishima's Shadowed-Up state, it looked like it was time to return to business.

#

Once school ends, the Shujin-based Phantom Thieves meet outside the main gate. Akira is the last to approach but notices the girls giving Ryuji a strange, almost aggressive look. "Listen guys," Akira starts, but at the sound of his voice, Makoto whips around and holds up her hand. Then, she beckons him to follow her.

Akira glances at Ryuji, who shrugs. The two boys follow Makoto and Haru into the alley across the street. Ann brings up the rear. Once all five of them are within the alley's shade, Morgana emerges, having leaped down from some wires overhead. The cat looks cowed, refusing to meet Akira's eyes.

Ignoring this, Akira starts to speak once more. "Mishima is-" But then Makoto gets in his face and glares at him. The words fall from his lips before he can think. "I'm sorry," followed by, "But wait. What did I do?"

"Last night," Makoto nearly growls. "We saw you."

Akira blinks. "Saw me? Where? I didn't go anywhere last night."

"We know," Haru says, lurking behind Makoto like a shadow. "We came by LeBlanc. We saw."

"Saw what?" Akira demands, and then he feels his eyes widen. Oh no.

"We saw her," Makoto says. "Kawakami-sensei. We saw her outfit."

"Oh crap." Akira looks down at Morgana.

"Sorry, Akira," Morgana mumbles. "I was with them too. They saw everything."

"Hold up," Ryuji says, stepping up alongside Akira. "Ann, was this why you asked me those weird questions about Kawakami yesterday?" Then he turns to Akira. "Dude, you had her come to your house?"

"It wasn't like that!" Akira nearly shouts.

"A typical male response," Ann blurts out. She marches up behind them, and the two boys find themselves surrounded. "They called me yesterday but kept it vague. I didn't know the full story until after you went home, Ryuji. What the hell is going on?"

Akira turns from Ann but finds himself face-to-face with Makoto and Haru. The tremendous pressure the three women exude makes his knees buckle. His mouth works soundlessly, but then he holds up his hands defensively and says, "Okay, look. I can explain." He pauses, but the fury remains on their faces. Akira sighs. "But you're still not going to like it."

#

Sae leans back in her office chair. Hidetoshi sits across from her and slides the report back across the desk.

"It's a match," he says. "Complete."

"And we know this individual?" Sae asks.

Hidetoshi nods. "I spoke to him not too long ago about Kaneshiro. He claimed to know nothing, that he was out. But Munehisa Iwai was a Dragon Syndicate member about a decade ago."

Sae smiles. "It seems he's not as out as he claims."

#

"Wow," Makoto says, once Akira finishes the tale.

"Yeah," Akira replies, leaning back in the booth. He'd taken them to LeBlanc to hear the whole story. Makoto's tone told him nothing, as she'd kept her voice very neutral and had been tightlipped throughout the story. "So, it wasn't any... uh, service thing. She was helping me with my schoolwork. Plus, she gets a break from the job."

Haru shakes her head. "I had no idea. Why would she need a second job?"

Everyone turns to look at Haru. "How much do you think teachers make, Haru?" Akira asks.

Haru's face reddens, and she tries to play it off with an embarrassed laugh. "Not much, I'm assuming?"

"Still," Makoto replies, coming to Haru's defense. "For Kawakami-sensei to be working that kind of job? She must be in some horrible situation."

"I don't know anything about that," Akira replies. "I've never asked. I suppose you're right, but it's not really my business." He clears his throat and leans forward. "Just to be clear, no one's going to talk about this, right?"

Makoto and Haru shake their heads. "Of course not," Haru says. "I've always liked Kawakami-sensei. I'd hate to see her get fired or in trouble over something like this."

Akira glances at Ann, who hasn't taken her eyes off Ryuji since the story began. For his part, Ryuji keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table.

"Ann?" Akira asks. "Could you maybe say something?" He recalls the time they'd discovered Kawakami crying in the Teacher's Room. Ann hadn't seemed particularly sympathetic to Kawakami's plight then. But that was right after Shiho jumped. Ann had good reason to be upset.

Ann takes a deep breath and blurts, "This was your idea?"

Akira swoops in to save his friend. "Hold on, it wasn't Ryuji's idea. Kawakami approached me about becoming my tutor. I-"

"Not that," Ann snaps. "Ordering a maid in the first place!"

Akira backs off. "Oh yeah, that was all Ryuji."

Ryuji turns to face Akira, eyes watering. "Dude..."

"I told you that was a bad idea, man," Akira counters.

Ryuji fixes his fists on the table and lowers his head until it slams against the wood. "I offer no excuse! I am a fool! A dumbass! Forgive me, Takamaki!"

Ann crosses her arms. "I don't think I will."

"I'll do anything," Ryuji begs. "I'll treat you. Take you out somewhere nice to eat, though I don't have much money!"

"Wow," Haru mutters. "He's really selling it."

Ann frowns. "What? Like a date?"

"If you want to call it a date, fine! I'll be your butler if you want; I'll do anything! I'm a foolish teenage boy, and my dumbass hormones got the better of me! Plus, I was encouraged by-"

"Don't even think about it, man," Akira snaps.

"Yusuke and Mishima!" Ryuji finishes.

Makoto blinks. "Kitagawa was in on this too?"

"Yes, he was, and he was real weird about it!" Ryuji nearly screams.

"Could you elaborate?" Haru asks, glancing at the ceiling.

"Haru," Makoto gasps.

"What?" Haru replies.

"Speaking of Mishima," Akira cuts in. "He's got a Shadow in Mementos."

No one says anything for a moment. Then, Ryuji lifts his head. "Hold up. Seriously? Since when?"

"I don't know," Akira says. "But I ran into him today, and he seemed... really fucked up, honestly. I checked him out in the App, and sure enough, 'Match Found.'"

Ann sighs. "You know, he seemed a little weird when he spoke to me the other day."

Makoto nods. "Yes, he behaved similarly with me. Though I did jump when he approached me so suddenly, perhaps I didn't set the proper tone for the conversation."

"I doubt it was that," Akira replies, nearly reaching out and patting Makoto's hand. Well, at least the Mishima thing is letting me steer the conversation away from Kawakami. "But he knows a lot about us, so we can't let that fester. We need to deal with him before his Shadow breaks off into its own Palace. Plus," and he jabs his thumb up towards the ceiling. "There's Ali Baba's whole situation. Are you listening, by the way?" He calls. His phone doesn't vibrate.

"Maybe he's taking a piss?" Ryuji asks. Ann reaches across the table and swats his arm.

"Regardless, as much as I liked taking it easy, especially after the whole Kaneshiro thing," Akira says. "I think we need to get back to business." There are nods all around the table.

"Alright," Ryuji says. "Impromptu meeting adjourned then. Let's get-"

"Hold on," Ann snaps. "Don't think I've forgotten or forgiven you!"

Ryuji groans. Akira laughs but slides his way out of the booth.

"Um, Akira," Makoto says as he heads behind the bar.

"What's up?" Akira asks, turning to her. Then he shakes his head. "Oh man, I'm an idiot. Look, Makoto. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about Kawakami-sensei. But she did ask for me to keep it all a secret. I hope I didn't upset you or anything and-"

"You did," Makoto says, face red and not meeting his eyes. "And you may make it up to me. Right now, in fact."

Akira's eyes widen. "O-oh?"

"I'd like you to come with me. I want to go somewhere private. Please."

"Um, alright," Akira asks. "Any place specific?"

"If you know anywhere we might have some modicum of privacy, I'd appreciate it."

Akira nods. "Okay, I think I know the spot."

#

They sit together at Crossroads. Lala-chan busies herself at the other end of the bar and directs any customers who enter to sit far from Akira and Makoto. From Makoto's perspective, it's as though the woman can tell what she wants. For this, Makoto appreciates her. "So," Makoto says, after a short while of them sitting there, sipping their sodas in silence.

During their tremendously quiet trek here, Makoto had nearly felt the thoughts radiating from Akira's head. She knew what he must be thinking because it was the same thing she was thinking. Just do it! Makoto pushes herself forward. "I like you, Akira."

Akira stares at her, and she can only see the suggestion of red in his cheeks, due to the tint of the bar's ambiance, but he nods. "Yeah," he says. "I like you too."

"And so," Makoto starts, once more. "I think... it would be best... what I'm trying to say is-"

"Makoto," Akira says, and Makoto thinks that he may take the burden away from her and that he'll make it so she doesn't have to say the words. "Makoto, you know what it'll do to your reputation if you go out with me." He sighs and straightens. "The school already thinks I'm... me, but if they think I'm corrupting you, who knows how much more scrutiny they'll turn our way?"

"Akira, I don't care about that," Makoto counters because she can't deny the fact.

"I do, though," Akira replies. "I don't want to see your life get screwed up just because you wanted to go out with me."

Makoto begins to protest, but then Akira holds up his hands. "But I still want to go out with you. So let's date in secret."

Makoto blinks. "Wait. So, you want to date me?"

"Shit yeah," Akira replies. "But in secret. No one but our friends at Shujin need to know."

"You..." Makoto starts. "Just so I'm clear, you are-"

"I am the guy," Akira replies, with a smirk. "Makoto, would you like to go out with me, officially, but also not?"

Makoto beams. "Yes. Yes, I would!" She waves her hand through the air. "Secretly, of course. Screw everyone at Shujin. Oh, except for Haru, Ryuji, and Ann, of course."

"Naturally," Akira replies. He leans forward, and Makoto almost shies away from sheer embarrassment, but then Johanna revs her engine, and she leans in too. They kiss and break apart. Akira's hand finds hers.

"This is real, then?" Makoto asks. Akira nods. "We're actually, really dating?"

"I think we're totally dating," Akira replies, in a girly voice.

Makoto heaves out a sigh. "Finally." She leans over and rests her head against Akira's shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she notices Akira flash a thumbs up. Makoto turns to look and sees Lala-chan matching his gesture. Makoto rolls her eyes and gives her own thumbs up to both of them.

"So," Akira says, after a short time. "How are you doing with everything?"

"Are you asking as my boyfriend?" Makoto asks, and can't help but feel a bit giddy about the word.

"Yes," Akira replies. "And as your friend and your comrade in Phantom Thievery."

"It's hard," Makoto says. She expands upon her reaction to Mishima's approach the other day. "It just freaked me out so suddenly. I think it will be a while before I'm okay again."

"I'll help you through it as best I can," Akira says.

"Thank you," Makoto replies. "But I'm also worried about Sae. I've hardly seen her since she got that phone call."

"If she found out about us, I think she'd have a heart attack," Akira says.

Makoto frowns. "I'm serious. I know you don't like her, and I know you have legitimate reasons. But she's my sister, and I'm worried about her. She's just seemed so... out of it lately."

Akira sighs. "I'm sorry. Hopefully, when this Kaneshiro thing blows over, she can relax a little. I don't know. I'm more worried about this Conspiracy." He sits up a bit straighter. "I keep thinking about what Kaneshiro said, about what they told him when they first approached him. They wanted to change the world, to make a new one. I don't know what that means, but if they're talking about the Metaverse and mental shutdowns, it freaks me out."

Makoto nods and sets her hands together. "Alright, first we deal with this Mishima situation. Then, we figure out what's going on with Ali Baba. Afterwards, we utilize all our allies to chase down the Conspiracy." Makoto keeps her mouth shut about one item she's considered.

Bringing Sae into the fold.

Makoto realizes it's a crazy idea, but she can't help but think Sae would be an invaluable resource and ally, so long as she stops this terrible descent.

#

The Declaration first hit the typical underground hacker sites, trickled, and then flooded to the primary media sources.

By the late afternoon, as Makoto and Akira sat at Crossroads, major news networks were reporting and broadcasting the message.

To the Phantom Thieves causing an uproar in Japan:

You speak of justice, yet your actions benefit criminals. You tear down one man but leave a hundred more still standing. A million predators stalk your streets, yet you target students. Your justice is false. You have drawn the ire of the True Executors of Justice. We will burn away the shadows surrounding you and expose you to the daylight. We will burn you. Terminate your activities. Declare yourselves finished. Only then will we leave you in peace. Oppose us, oppose the people, and our fires will find you. We are Medjed. We are unseen. But we see you.

The internet explodes, of course. Ryuji and Ann, still together despite the latter's frustration with the former, are the first to see the message. Yusuke is the next, during a routine check of his phone as he practices painting. Haru, treating Morgana to some tuna, gets the alert. Finally, Akira and Makoto, just beginning to leave Crossroads, hands clasped together. A mass text from Ryuji, with instructions to 'Check RINE.'

In the glow of her room, Futaba witnesses the attack. She sees the angles, the shape of the assault. She knows what this is. She knows it is not Medjed, not truly.

Hands she knows aren't truly there rub her shoulders.

#

They put you in a Box.

They-

No.

Akira shoves the images away. Makoto's hand tightens on his own. They take the subway back to Shibuya after having called an emergency meeting.

I don't have time to freak out. They need me. Akira could swear he sees a blue butterfly from the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look, there's nothing.

Messages flood the group chat, but thankfully, everyone keeps things vague and un-incriminating.

How can we fight back? Akira wonders. Medjed isn't some person we can locate. They're a group of-

His phone vibrates.

ALIBABA: u see?

AKIRA: I saw. Can you help?

Akira shows Makoto his phone. His girlfriend frowns.

ALIBABA: yes

ALIBABA: but need ur help 1st

AKIRA: The change of heart?

ALIBABA: yes

AKIRA: You know how this works. We need a name. Who's the target?

ALIBABA: me

Chapter 81: Mini-Arc 3.5 Post Update

Happy July, everyone!

I hope you enjoyed this brief little Mini-Arc, which I took to calling the 'Consolidation Arc' in my head.

As I'm sure you can tell, the next arc will be the Futaba arc.

It's been a pretty wild summer for me so far, and I'm posting these chapters a little later than I wanted, but I'm glad I got through them.

That said, I'm going to slow down my production on Crimson chapters for a bit. I've been writing a number of short stories, and managed to get two of them picked up. One of my stories, 'Pedipalps' will be featured on the Nocturnal Transmissions podcast, though I don't have a specific date for the episode's release yet. The other, 'Epier' a horror story set during World War I, will be featured in Lovecraftiana's Candlemas 2025 magazine, which will release in February 2025.

Beyond my personal fiction, production of 'Super Earth's Finest' is ramping up. I never knew being a voice actor could be so fun, and the rest of the crew/cast are a blast. Again, if you like Helldivers 2, I hope you'll check us out. We're wrapping up filming on the first episode, and will be having a meeting soon regarding the rest of the season and the scripts for the next set of episodes. I'll be sure to post an update when they release.

That isn't to say I'll stop writing Crimson, but I'm just going to slow down a bit. I was writing a chapter a week for a significant chunk of time, including during my work on all these other projects. I'll likely slow it down to one chapter every two weeks. But first, I've got some prep work to do on the actual Futaba arc.

Said arc will be a full arc, most likely of 20 chapters. Hard to believe this rewrite will reach 100 chapters soon. Thank you everyone for reading this, whether you're new to Crimson or you've been reading for years. It means a lot to me. I'll talk to you all soon!

Chapter 82: October 2024 UPDATE

Good afternoon, all!

Dowdz here, and I'm writing to you on this fine October in New Jersey. It's been one helluva year and it's been my joy and privilege to get to write so much and see so many cool things come to pass. Thirty chapters of Crimson went live this year, including the long-awaited Kaneshiro arc. So, without ado, let me provide you with some updates.

The Futaba arc is underway. I've got most of the chapters planned out, though I took some time off to focus on a few other projects (more on those later), but I'll be getting back to Crimson soon. This arc will be 20 chapters long, and bring us up to Chapter 100. I'm excited, not the least because at this point in the story, it allows for consolidation, so there's a lot less random plot threads to string together. The characters, the story, it's all going to start threading together in a way that brings Crimson towards its natural conclusion. But, that's still a ways away! Once I have a better grasp on when I'll be able to post the whole arc, I'll let you all know. Stay tuned!

Now, for my other projects:

- My short story, 'Pedipalps' was released on the Nocturnal Transmissions Podcast back in August. It's narrated by the extremely talented Kristin Holland. I hope you'll all give it a listen and let me know what you think. Warning: if you have arachnophobia, this may not be for you! 

NOCTRANS Ep. 188 - 'Pedipalps'

- My short story 'Epier' will appear in the Lovecraftiana Candlemas 2025 volume. There's no link to the magazine yet, but if you want to familiarize yourself with what to expect, you can check out past issues here:

Lovecraftiana: The Magazine of Eldritch Horror: Press, Rogue Planet, Rubas, Joseph, Esparza, Seamus, Fox, Carl, Welton, Benjamin, Fossemo, Sandro D, Searight, Franklyn, Adams, John C, Budgen, Gary, Tyrer, DJ: 9798646914782: Amazon.com: Books


- I'm shopping around a few additional stories, but nothing concrete yet. Once I get an update or a sale, I'll let you all know, in case anyone here wants to read them!

- Super Earth's Finest (SEF): Perhaps what I'm most proud of from these last few months. This project was started with the idea of doing a 'Red vs Blue' set in the Helldivers 2 universe. (If you don't have Helldivers 2 yet, what are you waiting for? We need your help defending Matar Bay! Keep the Pocket closed Helldivers!) Initially, I signed up to be one of the writers, but it evolved into voice acting, editing, etc. It's be a wild experience, and I've done a number of things I never thought I'd do, but it's been an incredible experience. After a few months, the trailer for the series is live, and the first episode will be released on October 26, which is called 'Liberty Day' in-game. Please check out the trailer (below) and the full episode when it launches. If you're a fan of the kind of humor I've used in Crimson over the years, you may just enjoy this too.

Official Trailer | Super Earth's Finest - YouTube

That does it for updates! I want to thank everyone for reading Crimson these past few years, and for anyone who's new to the fic. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I hope you continue to do so!

 

 

Chapter 83: April 2025 UPDATE

Hello, everyone! Happy mid-April.

I hope you're all doing well. It's been a while since I gave an update on Crimson, and I wanted to provide one.

I've been busy these last couple of months. Two episodes of Super Earth's Finest have premiered, and I've written scripts for Episodes 3, 4, and 7. Episode 3 will hopefully premier sometime in May.

My short story 'Kenopsia' will debut in 'Ghostlight, The Magazine of Terror's' Spring 2025 issue. Further, my story, 'The Circulation of Blood' will feature in the historical horror anthology, 'The World of Vile Wonder: Horror Tales of the Scientific Revolution.' That'll be out in 2025, at some point.

I have five other short stories out in submission to various magazines and anthologies. I've been a bit busy, I'll admit.

I wrote several chapters of the Futaba arc before realizing I didn't like the direction it was heading in. Despite the 'Consolidation' mini-arc that just wrapped, I found myself with too many plot threads. I went back, made the whole thing leaner, and have started over. My hope is to finish the arc and put it online by the end of August. This accounts for various drafts of chapters, editing, etc.

I'm sorry. I wanted these chapter out earlier, but I didn't want to rush them either. Plus, if you're not confident in what you're writing, the entire process becomes a slog.

Thankfully, I'm back on track now. I'll do my best to write furiously this summer, and get these out by the end of August. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 84: September 2025 Update

Hey everyone!

I wanted to give an update on Crimson, since my last was back in April.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to upload the Futaba arc in August, which should be obvious by now.

I've written 16 of the 20 chapters. My new goal is to have everything written and uploaded either by the end of the September, or halfway through October.

Some of the SEF scripts and short stories I wrote required some significant revisions, and those took priority. 

But, as ever, I'm very grateful to everyone who's been reading Crimson. I hope you get the chance to check out some of my other projects as well!

I hope you all had a great summer! See you soon!