NOTES: Send help. These two drive me to write. They are the ideal. The OTP to end all OTPs.
...Man, this attitude is really undignified coming from a grown-ass man, ain't it...
The clock was ticking down.
Soon, he'd have to leave Tokyo and head back to his hometown. He was reluctant to head back; despite all the struggles and the pain that came hand in hand with them, these had truly been the best days of his life. Yes - even accounting for his experiences on the receiving end of police brutality and as a juvenile detainee.
Plus, there was the whole thing in which the Phantom Thieves saved the world. Even if just a handful of people remembered, that was a nice ego booster.
He was not looking forward to going back to uncaring, distant parents or a town where everybody's a stranger. The best memories he'd made in his life had been here in Tokyo.
Memories...
"Let's make one more...for the road," Futaba's voice echoes in his head.
He closed his eyes and a contented grin slowly crawled across his countenance. The fragrance of the coffee he brewed helped led him to reminisce. The same aroma had permeated Leblanc on Valentine´s Day.
The memory they'd decided to make back then, their first kiss...it had been soft. Gentle. Her hands rested against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders...
He cradled her dainty form delicately, and allowed himself to melt into the tenderness.
That fleeting moment, an eternity of bliss, transpired swiftly, and both basked in that afterglow, resting against each other.
Futaba was right. Such recollections would get them through until the next time they met.
Still, he wanted more. Why settle for just one?
The clock was ticking down, but it had not struck yet.
He spun the ballpoint pen in his hand before tapping his chin with the writing implement. Usually, whenever he took her out on dates, he'd be spontaneous when selecting their destination. She rarely had any places she'd want to go in mind, having been a homebody for so long, so she gladly let him take the lead when it came to that.
This time, however, the concept of time weighed on him, so he wasn't entirely comfortable with impromptu selections. No, this time he wanted to plan ahead. The list in front of him, which consisted entirely of scratched-off possibilities attested to that.
He sighed in frustration as he rubbed his temple with his free hand. He wanted to make it unforgettable...but for starters, any moment he spent with her was that to him by default. That made it hard to narrow down the selection.
As for her, hey, eidetic memory.
Morgana, sitting atop the nearby chair, let out a yawn. He considered bouncing ideas off the not-cat before dismissing the thought. From the looks the most-certainly-not-a-feline was giving him, the second he opened his mouth would be the second the critter would tell him to go to sleep.
The other Thieves? He could text them, sure, but his relationship with Futaba was still a secret they hadn't decided to let the others know as of yet (mainly because it'd be awkward for his girlfriend).
Ask Ryuji? Capital idea, if he wanted tomorrow's newspaper headline to be "Local Convict and Loveable Nerd Pursue Romantic Relationship!". He loved the guy like his own brother, but he was hardly the best at keeping a secret. Granted, he could always hope he wouldn't be perceptive enough to realize he was asking for a ~date~ spot, but the leader of the Phantom Thieves knew Ryuji's cleverness and perception did not often receive the credit they deserved.
Ask Yusuke, maybe? Sure, he wouldn't tell anyone, even if he knew, but his idea would probably involve lots and lots of painting. He could't shake the mental image of Yusuke waiting hours if not days in the spot he suggested, sketchbook in hand, expression severe to the point of frightening, waiting for him and Futaba and trailing them the whole date, drawing every single thing they did. Then Futaba and 'Inari' would have a verbal spat...
What about Makoto? She's undisputably reliable, yes, but if he learned anything during his time as her pretend-boyfriend, it's that she has absolutely no idea what a relationship entails, so her counsel might not cut it. Hell, even if it did, maybe she'd be just like Yusuke and tail them, trying to further 'study' the topic of 'romance'. At least she'd have the decency to hide behind a manga when spying on them, he thought.
So, Ann: the best choice so far, relatively speaking, but that didn't make her a good one. For one, her suggestions would invariably involve sweets. Also, while she'd be more tactful than Ryuji, she'd be so giddy about it she'd eventually slip.
That just left Haru. The notion alone made him cringe. That'd just be plain cruel, considering...
He didn't want to think about Haru, so his mind immediately wandered - to Goro Akechi, of all people. Sure, he couldn't ask the traitorous so-called Detective Prince for advice. One, he was presumed dead. Two, would you ask a guy who tried to splatter your brains against the wall for advice? Still, wanting to flee his own guilty ruminations concerning a particular heiress, he pictured him in his mind.
Only there wasn't one Goro Akechi, but rather two.
One of them was clad in his perfectly pressed school blazer, held on to a silver suitcase in gloved hands, and wore the million-yen smile that made so many girls around the nation swoon.
The other one wore the black armor from their final Metaverse encounter - the one that looked like a Featherman reject.
School Akechi, making himself useful like the real deal loved to pretend to, immediately started listing locations like fancy restaurants and high-end hotels. Places most girls would be ecstatic to be taken to, but Futaba - and the boy groaned at his own use of the old cliché - was not like other girls. School Akechi droned on and on, and it soon became clear that this Akechi's input would not help him.
Sketchy Akechi, silent so far but staring at his double behind deranged eyes, finally chipped in, somewhat unintelligible thanks to School Akechi's incessant prattling.
"...ck her right in the p...!"
Was it possible to glare at a figment of your own imagination? The second-year student wasn´t sure, but let it be known that it wouldn't be for a lack of trying.
Sketchy Akechi just gave him a murderous, unpleasant grin in return.
At this rate, the leader of the Phantom Thieves thought as he escaped the make-believe, I might as well ask Sojiro. That'll go over well.
The only result he expected for asking the man who might as well be more a father to him than his own kin was his face making immediate acquaintance with a scalding, masterfully-concocted brew.
He could make due without third-degree burns, he decided.
The leader of the Phantom Thieves collapsed against the backrest and moaned.
Stealing Treasures? Walk through the park.
Shooting a god through its stupid face? Piece of cake!
Planning a date with the girlfriend he might not be able to see for months? Now that was a merciless challenge.
If only it could be as easy as when they all agreed to go to the beach...
...
...Wait a moment. Beach!
Sure, going to the beach during winter wasn't something he'd do, but it made the dusty cogs in his brain start turning again.
He recalled that Futaba mentioned she couldn't swim during their infiltration of Shido's Palace.
There it was. Perhaps not the most romantic of schemes, but both practical and undeniably fun.
It totally had nothing to do with seeing Futaba in a swimsuit again, although it'd be a nice bonus.
(Okay, maybe it had a little do with it. He was still boy, after all).
(No, he was NOT imagining Sketchy Akechi making finger guns at him).
He shook his head and retrieved his cell phone from his pocket. It was time to get to work. Searching through his messaging contacts, he tapped on Yuki Mishima's information.
Yuki, I need some information. Phantom Thief business.
Mishi-MAN: What?! I thought you guys could no longer be Phantom Thieves after those freaky happenings back during Christmas.
Yeah, we lost our powers, but that doesn't mean I'm going to slack off.
I want to find a public swimming pool. The less visitors it gets, the better.
Mishi-MAN: Ooh, gotcha.
Mishi-MAN: Yeah, I know a place.
Mishi-MAN: There's a rooftop public pool on a building over Shibuya that opened recently. Since it's all the way up top, not many people know about it yet.
That sounds good.
Mishi-MAN: I'm sending you the location, hold on.
Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you.
Mishi-MAN: Don't mention it! I'm glad I could help.
Well, that takes care of that. Next up, he'd have to give the player character her new quest...dang, his girlfriend's mannerisms were rubbing on him. Not that he minded.
Hey.
You free tomorrow?
Alibaba: Hey~ Let me check my extremely busy schedule and I'll get back to you.
Alibaba: Oh, would you look at that.
Alibaba: It's aaaaaaaaaaaall booked.
Alibaba: BUT...since it's my key item who's asking, I'll cancel all my appointments for tomorrow.
Alibaba: 3333.
Seems he was rubbing off on her, too. Not that he mided.
Great! We're off on a game-changing quest tomorrow.
It's going to yield lots of experience points as well as a new special skill.
Alibaba: Ohhh, color me interested.
Yeah, pack your swimsuit. We're going to a pool tomorrow.
Alibaba: Wait. Joker.
Alibaba: I don't know how to swim...
Exactly.
I'm going to teach you. That's the special skill you'll earn by clearing this quest.
Alibaba: I suppose it could be fun...
Alibaba: ...You sure you didn't come up with this just because you wanted to see me in swimwear, though?
You saw right through me.
Alibaba: Mwehehehe! I'm flattered.
Alibaba: Well, you're going to be in your trunks, so I suppose it's an equivalent exchange.
Alibaba: All right! Quest, accepted!
He smirked. All that was left now was to wait for the next day.
He'd have to thank Mishima again later. The establishment was practically deserted - outside the staff scattered here and there, it was just him and Futaba. The pool itself sat under a massive skylight roof, and the sunlight filtering through the tinted glass danced on the surface of the chlorinated water.
She lagged behind a little as they approached the pool, and she ended up staring down at him from the edge as he strode into the shallow side of the natatorium.
"Come on," he said. "Water's nice and warm".
She, however, kept studying the manmade reservoir, seemingly hesistant.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, but she shook her head.
"N-no. Well, not really..." her foot broke through the liquid and she began to descend the ladder. "J-just don't be mean about it, okay?"
His mind didn't register her request until she was standing in front of him.
While his body was submerged from the middle of his torso downwards, Futaba's short stature meant that, proportionally speaking, a lot more of her was underwater.
Namely, the water reached just above her chin.
He pressed his palms together and smooshed his fingers against his mouth as his face flushed. "You're so precious, I think I might die..."
Within the liquid, Futaba fidgeted. "H-hey, don't go saying things like that...if you do," she fidgeted some more, "It'll make it hard to focus on anything other than you..."
Shot through the heart! And Futaba's to blame!
It took him a moment, but he managed to get his head back on the game. "Here," he started as he pushed up a pair of glasses that weren't there in an attempt to hide his flustered façade. So much for the ever-cool Joker. "Let's start with some kicking exercises".
Futaba was not the most physically adept of people, but being a genius did mean that she caught on to the concepts quickly, albeit somewhat clumsily. Soon enough, he was leading her by the hand around the shallow end as she splashed up a storm from her prone position. Muttering some words of encouragement, he let go of her hands, intending for her to practice her breaststrokes.
Sure enough, she did. Perhaps awkward, perhaps graceless, but serviceable enough so she wouldn't drown.
"All right," he snapped his fingers. "Let's do something".
Before she could have any say on the matter, the boy had elegantly glided to the other end of the pool - the deep end, and deep it was: easily three to four times as deep as he was tall. Floating, he cockily leaned against the edge before gesturing at his student.
"Try and reach me!"
Rather than speak up in protest, Futaba's eyes flared up with defiance. Challenge accepted.
What followed was a series of undignified, heavy splashes as a mess of flailing limbs somehow managed to propel itself through water.
Hey, whatever works.
Finally, she had almost reached him. He drifted away from the wall and stretched out his arms while using his legs to stay afloat.
With a final stroke, she lunged at him. "Oof!"
Their combined weight took some adjusting to, but the young man was proficient enough to account for both of them and not sink.
Of course, Futaba did not make it any easier for him, breaking into a series of hysterical giggles. Her laughter infectuous, he, too, began to chuckle, adding to the difficulty of his current dilemma.
Somehow, by the time their mirth subsided, they had managed to avoid submerging.
Futaba clung tighter to him. "I think that's quest complete! So do I get any other rewards?"
"Hmmm...Sure, that can be arranged," her boyfriend uttered huskily. He started to lean in closer, and she responded in kind...
"W-Whoah!" A youthful male voice coming from behind them interrupted the two young lovers. Their moment ruined, they turned their heads to the source of the untimely interference.
"...Mishima?"
"H-hey there, man..." Yuki muttered nervously.
"...What are you doing here?" he was sure the homicidal edge in his voice was apparent, being that Yuki Mishima visibly shrank at his question. Good, he thought.
"W-well, I wanted to see what sort of super-special Phantom Thief training you would be doing, maybe learn a thing or two..." the Phan-Site admin nervously tried to hide the cell phone he had on hand, but it was too late. There was no doubt in his friend's mind that Yuki Mishima had come here with the intent of recording him in action - and action he found".
"Mishima, ol' buddy, ol' pal...I'll give you fifteen seconds so you can clear the pool edge and start running".
"Eep!"
So begun the greatest chase of our time.