A/N: Going with 'Ren Amamiya' for the protagonist's name, since that seems to be canon per the video games.
This fic is being commissioned by callowguru
[ "Good afternoon, Amamiya-San. Or evening. Hm. Or morning. Whenever you receive this. Hopefully you will receive this soon. I...admit I am slightly worried you might ignore this as you seem to with other messages as of late. It's been some time since you've responded, and it makes me wonder if perhaps my lack of familiarity with these kinds of things is causing me to miss something. Well. Regardless, I know you said you were supposed to be coming to visit us soon, but I haven't heard from you since. I hope you're doing OK." ]
As her driver slowed the car to a crawl, the heavy rain pressing against the roof above, Haru was distracted by a text message on her phone.
[ 6:00pm it is, then, Madame. ]
[ I look forward to it. ;) ]
O-Oh, my, such a...bold emoticon to employ! Surely it didn't...imply what Haru thought it implied, did it? Or...maybe it did? After all, the sender was always very concise and deliberate with the way things were phrased, presented, and expressed. Oh, my. Perhaps this truly was 'a date,' then?
Haru could feel her heart surge with embarrassed excitement.
"We've arrived," said her driver, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror.
"Mm," Haru hummed affirmatively, nodding. She scooped up her umbrella from the empty seat at her side, drew up her raincoat's hood, and tucked her phone safely away.
Her driver checked, "When shall I pick you up, Okumura-Sama?"
"An hour should suffice," she replied primly. "Please call me when you arrive, and I will meet you here."
"Understood, Ma'am."
"Thank you, um...-" She was tempted to employ the driver's first name, to be more informal, but-...Instead, she cleared her throat, nodded once more, and took her leave with, "I will see you soon."
Stepping out from her warm car and into the frigid, soaked, torrential downpour of Yongen-Jaya, Haru relished the gray, washed over sky – like paint spilled across a canvas, left to spread. Her commanding boots sharply contacted the rain-slick sidewalk of the alleyway she navigated. Her driver remained parked nearby – it was difficult to get privacy as of late, but Haru was her own woman now. It had been six years since her father had passed away, and she'd asserted herself in as much as seemed reasonable. She'd been left a fortune, and while this did, admittedly, cloud her perception of the world and the lives of most citizens, she was determined to use her resources for the good of those she cared for, all the while pursuing her own edification and self-enrichment.
Approaching the seemingly plain café nestled in a side street, across from a cramped laundromat, her mind massaged by the heavy rainfall, Haru savored the familiar sensations of this particular alleyway. She had spent many months, years, coming to this restaurant, nearly every day, studying under Sojiro Sakura. Le Blanc would always have a soft spot in her heart – not just due to Haru's extended period as a part-time employee, but of course because of the locale's importance in that crazy year when everything had happened. When fates had collided, when minds had been manipulated, when souls had been salvaged.
Haru's father had been a victim of all of that. But so had Futaba's mother.
Bad things did not inherently lead to good things.
But Haru liked to find solace in the power of empathy.
Her many days spent at this very café had started as a means to learn from Sakura-San, to prepare herself to create her own personal coffee shop. But, like Ren before her, Haru had been captivated by Le Blanc, and had found herself innately tied to its owner and his daughter.
[ "I know you've been keeping to yourself lately, but I thought that perhaps it might be useful to hear about what everyone has been up to recently. It could help you ease back into things when you arrive, don't you think? Hm. I suppose I'll wait and see if I get a call back from you. O-Oh, but, um...please don't feel obligated. It has been a while, and I know this kind of thing can be a bit challenging. So, how about this? I'll send you some text messages instead. There's still some time before your visit, so you can read through them at your own pace. I hope it helps. Please know that we're all looking forward to seeing you again, Amamiya-San." ]
The familiar, always-comforting jangling of the door's gentle bell sent a warm rush down Haru's spine. The café was quieter than Haru remembered. A bit colder, too. She'd been hoping for a bit of respite from the chilly winter rain. Perhaps some hot coffee would rectify this.
"Oh, whoa, hey!" Futaba, dressed in a zipped up coat and cargo pants, perked right up from her laptop screen. The fact that Futaba tore her headphones off and even closed her laptop at the mere sight of her friend gave Haru a fuzzy feeling of pride. Haru had, after years of care, become more important than Futaba's computer, hmhm.
"Good afternoon," Haru greeted, hovering by the door as she gingerly closed it behind her. Futaba was scrambling to get out of her booth.
"Well, well," said Sojiro, turning the volume down on his television. As Futaba tackled into Haru with a vigorous hug, Sojiro mused, "And here I thought it was a dull and dreary day..."
"Onee-chan~" Futaba burst out, squeezing Haru tighter than expected.
"Imouto-chan," Haru chuckled back, reciprocating Futaba's 'big sister' honorific with a 'little sister' equivalent.
"I was starting to worry that you'd outgrown this place entirely," said Sojiro with his usual tone. It was like mixing a compliment into a bitter drink of self-deprecation, not unlike some cream being stirred into a dark roast.
With Futaba giggling as she rushed to clean up her messy booth, Haru replied to her old Boss, "Nonsense, Sakura-San." Walking up to the counter to greet him more personally, she insisted, "I've been a bit busy lately, but I don't think I will ever 'outgrow' your cuisine."
"Amfff shrrr wohmmt!" Futaba agreed, stuffing her face with the last dollop of curry from her plate.
[ Since I know it must be at the front of your mind, I'll confirm that our 'little sister' is doing well! Futaba-chan misses you dearly, you know. I don't mean to be intrusive, since I am quite aware of how difficult a time you are having, but...It would do you both some good if you were to reply to her with more regularity. You left a strong mark on her life in a very impressionable time. I'm doing what I can to be a positive influence in her life, and to be fair, that has been reciprocated in kind on her part. But I can't shake this notion that you both have drifted away from each other, and that it must be a painful gap. I fear she has perhaps given up on what she once shared with you, and that would be quite a tragic loss for you both, wouldn't you agree? ]
"Hey," said Sojiro with a scolding, disbelieving tone when Futaba placed her dirty plate and cup on the counter. "Aren't you going to clean that?"
Futaba had made it halfway over to Haru, but the glimmer in her eyes withered in an instant.
"W-well, yea, obvs, I just, um...-" Futaba was floundering, gesturing vaguely at Haru, as if her presence granted invulnerability to Sakura-san's house rules.
But Sojiro was not having any of this.
Glancing over her shoulder at her father's deadpan scowl with arms crossed, Futaba slowly whirled her entire body back around and scooped up the dirty dishes, hurriedly whisking herself to the washing sink.
With a slow shake of his head and a soft chuckle, Sojiro turned his gaze to Haru.
"Some things never change, huh?" he mused.
"I was tempted to offer to clean them myself," Haru confessed, setting her wet umbrella leaned up again the entryway wall.
"Oh, I'm sure," Sojiro acknowledged, "which is exactly why I spoke up. You're not my employee anymore."
"That doesn't mean I can't still help from time to time, does it?" posed Haru, peeling off her raincoat. She gently set it upon the coat rack by the phone – one she'd picked herself for Sojiro as a gift to the café a while back. She'd pressed that a proper to hang up one's coat made anywhere feel just a little more homely.
"Heh, I won't stop you if you're gonna insist," remarked Sojiro, shuffling himself over to his coffee kettle.
[ Sakura-San and I have developed quite the rapport, you can imagine. When I asked to study under him, he was certainly hesitant, remember? I still appreciate your words of encouragement when he rejected my request. If not for your advice, I'm not sure I would have mustered the courage to ask him again. But I am quite glad I did, and to be honest, I think he is, too. I've never mentioned it before to you but he later confessed that part of why he denied me outright was that he didn't appreciate the idea of replacing you at Le Blanc. That hiring a new part-time pupil entailed accepting your absence. I'm sure you can imagine how Sakura-San's mind works when it comes to these kinds of matters. Maybe it was his changed state of mind after we'd resolved things as Phantom Thieves or – admittedly – maybe it was my identity as a young woman, but Sojiro actually was a lot warmer and kind-hearted than I recall you forewarning me he would be. It's a bit conflicting to me, the way gender can impact the way people treat one another, but I can't deny that it is indeed a factor, especially for the generation that's come before us. But in the same way Sojiro likely learned a thing or two from you (or even three, dare I say), I've been quite pleased with everything I've learned from him. Café Noire wouldn't be what it is without his guidance, I'm certain. ]
"OK-okay-ohhhhkayyyy," Futaba sighed out, flicking sink water from her fingers. "There, it's all clean, can I spend time with her now?"
Futaba and Sojiro exchanged an awkward moment of tension, and Sakura-San shifted his weight a little, a hand on his hip and a skeptical glint in his eye.
"Why is it that the second Okumura-San shows up I'm back to being the stifling old man?"
With a wry little smirk as she walked past him, the counter separating them, Futaba remarked, "You always are the stifling old man, Sojiro, you've just gotten good at making me forget it."
Puffing out a confused laugh through his nose, Sakura-San shrugged at Haru, sighing, "I can't tell if that's a compliment, or what."
"It is," Futaba said with a shrewd, saccharine tone. With her hands latched behind her back, she marched up to Haru again, kicking her feet out a bit with each step. "Now, then." She held up an index finger, grinning at Haru. "Time to show you what I've been working on!"
"Oh?" Haru placated, following Futaba's beckoning. She was led to the booth – the booth, the one the group had always used back in the day – and took a seat beside Futaba. She watched her 'little sister' excitedly open up her laptop. Haru veered her eyes away for a moment – she found it rude to stare at a person's screen, it just...felt inappropriate. Like peeking through a door into their bedroom, in a sense.
Her gaze wandered across the shoved-together items on the table. A '1-Up' energy drink can, a squashed, empty pocky box, a couple wrappers from some green tea Kit Kat candy...It seemed Futaba's excitement that afternoon was at least somewhat sugar-induced, hm?
Sojiro, having noted that Futaba had now 'taken' Haru for the time being, went back to his television viewing and coffee brewing. The midday news was playing, but it seemed to serve more as background noise than anything.
[ "-in the impending trial of Thomas Nook, who is currently being incarcerated under multiple charges of extortion and embezzlement. Mr. Nook has pleaded innocent, claiming that-" ]
"Gurrrghhh...-" Futaba was growling to herself, her fingers suddenly typing away at her keyboard like mad.
Rather than engage in small talk, which Haru knew Futaba had no use or interest in, Haru took a moment to meditate beneath the familiar blanket of senses surrounding her in Le Blanc.
[ Futaba-chan has been away at college after Sojiro and I convinced her to attend. She jokes that she is studying 'computer pscience.' I get the impression that her studies are quite easy for her, since it entails formal education focused on things she already excelled at. I'm not quite sure the experience is as edifying for her as university studies are meant to be, but living on a campus, on her own, without us there...I think it's been helping her grow in new ways. She insists that without our help she would never have collected the courage to function in such a setting. I'm not sure what she ultimately wants to do with the skills she is perfecting, but whatever she does, I'm certain she will be rather efficient at it. ]
"Ha-ha! Bam!" Futaba swiveled her laptop to the side, eager to show Haru what was on its screen.
Adjusting to the harsh, bright light being pushed against her eyes, Haru wasn't quite sure what she was looking at. Photos of-...Oh, Café Noire? Ah, yes.
"Oh," noted Haru, "Is this the new version of the website you'd mentioned?"
"Darn right it is! Go ahead, give it a whirl!"
Futaba gestured her wrist toward the mouse pad at the laptop's base, and Haru awkwardly finagled her delicate finger across its surface, accidentally swiping the entire page all up and down further than she'd intended. Laughing weakly in spite of her computer illiteracy, she managed to figure out how to navigate the site and was checking out photos of the venue – photos Yusuke had taken, she recalled – which were combined with eye-catching strokes of illustration.
"Lookin' pretty spiffy, huh?" bragged Futaba. "There's something to be said about slick U.I., amirite?"
It certainly did appear to have more personality than the original website design.
"Wait, is-...Is this already online?" Haru mumbled, suddenly stricken with alarm.
"Huh? Ohhh, no-no-no," Futaba assured, emitting her own weak laugh. "Uhhh, think of this like a simulation of what it would look like if we did set it up. Your current version is still its same old self, but with your approval, I can replace it with this newer, upgraded version whenever you want – of course, I mean, you probably have some requests, some tweaks, weeee-" Futaba dismissively flicked her wrists. "-can always sort that stuff out later, I just-...Ya know, I wanted you to see what we've come up with. This is so cool, getting to put this together for you!"
"Y-Yes, it's...exciting to see what you and Yusuke-san have been creating together."
Haru was alarmed when the screen popped up some...strange thing she didn't recognize, some kind of conversation? O-Oh, my, it looked like a private chat, she didn't want to intrude, and so...she looked away, nudging the computer back to Futaba.
Scratching at an itch beneath the rim of her glasses, Futaba mumbled, "Eh, well, turns out that doofus isn't that bad when we're actually on the same page about something...Speaking of which...-" She typed at her keyboard for a moment, then pushed the laptop back to Haru again. "He's been pestering me all afternoon about the designs he cooked up. Getting all self-conscious and junk. I mean, jeez, I dunno what he's so worked up about. Maybe if you talk with him you can get him to calm down."
"O-Oh, I, um...-" Haru felt her cheeks burn up a bit. She was being put on the spot, here, and it wasn't like her and Yusuke were the most compatible of human beings.
Trying to avoid the earlier portion of the conversation, Haru read the latest comment.
[ Truly? She's right at your side, this very moment? ]
Haru's fingers lingered over the keyboard as she fretted over a reply. Futaba guzzled the last of her energy drink with a pleasant sigh and a small blech.
-rrrrrrmmmm!-
Haru squeaked with alarm, only to realize her own phone had vibrated. Warily pulling it out of her pocket in case it was important, she...was confused.
It was a text message from Yusuke.
[ Futaba has informed me that you are currently in her vicinity, and that she has revealed to you our prototype. ]
[ Is this correct? ]
Haru needed a second to process.
"He just texted you, didn't he?" Futaba dryly figured out.
"He did," Haru warily confirmed.
"Maybe just text him back, then," sighed Futaba, pulling her computer back over. "I noticed an issue just now when you were browsing, gonna try and patch that hole up, here..."
As Futaba got to work, Haru tried to chat with Yusuke.
-[ Hello! Yes, I am at Le Blanc right now, and I did get to see the new website! ]
He responded,
[ I see. ]-
[ Well, what do you make of it? ]-
[ Please, do not hold back your criticisms. ]-
Haru typed back as quickly as her thumbs could,
-[ I like the new style. It's quite bold. ]
-[ It's not exactly my personal taste, but that was the whole idea. ]
-[ I want this café to grow beyond my individual style. ]
-[ It's refreshing to see a fusion of your and Futaba's sensibilities. ]
-[ I never thought I'd see the day you both collaborated on something! ]
Haru briefly considered adding something like, 'I'm proud of you two,' but opted against it. Her good intentions would probably be misread as patronizing. But she was proud of them, all the same.
Yusuke answered,
[ Yes, Futaba is indeed rather competent with her skill set. ]-
[ It's an agreeable transaction of cooperation, all for the sake of Café Noire. ]-
[ I hope our collective vision enables you to find the audience your hard work deserves. ]-
[ Yusuke and I admittedly don't share much in common and I have some difficulty connecting with him, but I think there is a mutual respect in our pursuits. He visits Café Noire on occasion and I even commissioned a painting from him to hang near the entrance. Though it's been some time since he's laid sight on my Persona, he was able to capture it via abstraction quite elegantly. I think in a way his work has benefited from our group going separate ways. He says he has few distractions as of late, which has enabled him to pursue opportunities to apply what he's learned from his relationships with us. He's been busy doing book illustrations, I understand. Futaba-chan has been directly collaborating with him for graphic design work. You must remember how frequently those two butted heads, yes? I don't think they've resolved those differences, but I can tell that Futaba enjoys his work being implemented into her websites. And while he makes a fuss, I think Yusuke actually enjoys coordinating with her. It seems like such a challenge to me – adapting skills honed via physical media and applying them to a digital space? But the website that he and Futaba produced for Café Noire is elegantly designed and functional. I'm glad I could entrust them with the task. ]
As Haru typed out a quick
-[ Thank you for your work! ]
Futaba finished up what she'd been tinkering with, and slapped her laptop shut.
A bit surprised, Haru followed suit, tucking her phone away.
"All right, enough shop-talk," Futaba insisted. With a twinkle in her eye and a toothy grin, she decided quietly, "Let's hang out."
"O-Oh, well, I, um...-" Haru was a bit startled. She'd advised Futaba that they'd have the weekend together, but it wasn't...quite the weekend yet, now was it? It was Friday afternoon. "I can spare a little time, but I do have to visit the shop before it gets too late. I have some inventory to manage, and, um...-" She could feel her face get a bit warm as her mind popped alive with the rush of imaginative excitement at who was supposed to be waiting for her.
"Oh," Futaba said slyly, softly, and with her eyelids lowered with smug suspicion. "'And, um,' huh?" She elbowed Haru gently, hissing out a sneaky laugh between her smiling teeth. "I gotcha. I'm pickin' up what yer puttin' down..."
"I-...Um, excuse me?" Haru wavered, her chest hot with embarrassment. Futaba knew about Haru's...recent social escapades, but she'd picked up rather immediately on Haru's impending date that evening, which she had told no one about, specifically. Was it really that obvious, then? Well, to Futaba-chan, at least.
"We should squeeze in some girl time," Futaba announced, getting up from the table and wedging her laptop in her armpit. She added quietly enough so that Sojiro couldn't hear, "Ya know. Before your 'and, um' time..."
Cheeks boiling, Haru kept her demeanor calm as she scooted out of the booth behind Futaba, scrounging up the girl's scraps of garbage and binning them with care while Futaba explained to her dad, "We're gonna go hang out upstairs for a bit!"
"Don't go making a mess of things," Sojiro advised to his daughter's back as she bounded along.
"We won't," Haru placated pleasantly, rinsing her hands at the dish sink.
"I know you won't," Sojiro sighed with a smile. "I just worry that she might make herself too much at home up there, just because that knucklehead's not been around for a while. It's still his room, even if he hasn't been using it lately..."
As she pulled out a tiny bottle of hand moisturizer from her pocket to apply to her delicate palms, Haru caught wind of the glazed over look into Sojiro's eyes.
"I'm certain that Amamiya-San will greatly appreciate the condition you've kept his room in."
"Puhyeah," Sojiro puffed out with a wistful shrug. "Guy hasn't shown up in how long, now?"
"But this place is still a home for him when he does show up," Haru reminded. "Which will be soon enough."
With a deep inhalation, Sojiro paused, scratched at his nose, nodded, and sighed out his held in breath.
"Yep," he grunted, clearly containing some conflicted emotion.
"Is...something the matter, Sakura-San?" Haru wiped her palms together, applying her lotion.
Sojiro's distant expression flashed with self-awareness as he made himself busy with some coffee-brewing.
"Not really," he cited. "Just feels like the wait for that crazy fool to show his face around here gets longer and longer every time. It baffles me a little, is all."
"What does?" Haru pondered, her hands now adequately moisturized.
"Agh, just-..." Rubbing the back of his head with some doubt, he mumbled, "Didn't he finish university some while ago? I would've thought...-" The poor man trailed off. Haru understood.
Sojiro had likely expected Ren to move back to Yongen-Jaya at some point. Some point earlier than the present, at least. It had been six years, after all. The decision baffled Haru, as well. Surely, she could understand a lack of desire to move back into a dusty attic, but...Amamiya-San hadn't seemed to express any interest in returning to the region, in general. At all. And yet he'd seemed quite conflicted and remorseful about leaving in the first place. It was...disheartening, to say the least. It probably didn't help matters for Sakura-San to know that Futaba would be 'all grown up' soon enough, as well. There was no telling where Futaba would end up. And where would that leave Sojiro?
Alone.
Haru wasn't entirely sure what all she could do about this possible inevitability. But she was determined to make an honest effort at ensuring the man was not left alone. Futaba and Ren were family to him. And she knew that was reciprocated. She couldn't make the three of them stay connected, but she felt so strongly that it was in their best interests to do so. It was in this precise moment of seeing that glimmer of vulnerable fear in Sojiro's sunken eyes that Haru decided she would deliberately confront – er, discuss? – the matter with Amamiya-San when he visited.
"EYYY, ONEE-CHAN!" Futaba was calling from upstairs. "WHAT GIVES? WHERE YOU AT?!"
Sojiro rubbed at some dust under her eye and chuckled softly.
"Better heed the call before it gets even louder," he mused. "I'll make you two something to drink and bring it up shortly."
In fact, Haru had been meaning to make exactly such a request since she'd entered the place, but had been sidetracked.
"I'd be very grateful for that, Sakura-San," she said with a courteous bow – not too low, but low enough.
Making her way upstairs, Haru was greeted by the strangely nostalgic and comforting scent of...a musty, dusty attic. Her nose wrinkled as her heart fluttered. She couldn't even recall the last time she'd been up here...
A small heater was set up in the middle of the room, burning its neon orange glow as it radiated waves through the chilled room.
Futaba was hunched over in an old wooden chair, a second one pulled up beside her. Futaba had draped her coat over the back of the chair she occupied, revealing a long-sleeved sweatshirt with some kind of cartoony yellow dog on it, dressed up like a secretary. She was focused on the old, cube-shaped television before her, its glow reflecting in her eyeglasses as she bit her lip, mashing at her old-fashioned video game controller. Ah, well, technically, it was Ren's old-fashioned video game device, wasn't it?
"Mm," Futaba hummed, only partly giving Haru her attention. "Gimme a sec. Gotta finish this level..."
With a soft chuckle through her nose, Haru smiled a bit, recalling a time when she'd seen Ren and Futaba side by side at that television with that same look about them.
"It's fine," Haru assured, taking a moment to wander across Amamiya-San's old living quarters. A poster of some...musician? It didn't really look like his thing, though. A dusty t-shirt hanging from his work bench. She'd never seen him wear it, nor had she ever seen him actually use that tool bench, but she recalled signs of its use now and again. Currently, however, the bench had...all manner of boards, wires, circuit...things? Haru wasn't familiar with the proper words for specific items, but she knew it was some computer project Futaba was tinkering with. It made her glad to see her making use of what Ren had left behind.
Speaking of which, that tall shelf...It was full of all manner of trinkets Ren had accumulated during his year with them. Still there, still sitting, waiting. On the one hand, Haru was confused as to why Ren wouldn't want to take these many artifacts with him. On the other hand, the room would be quite barren without them, wouldn't it?
Ah, the good-luck charm she'd given him still sat at the top center of the shelf. It looked a bit in need of cleaning, unfortunately...Oh, and that spatula she'd given him! Hm. And what was this? A wooden shogi piece...Haru didn't remember it being there before, but then again, she had no association with shogi in the past to connect to it. And now she did, being well acquainted with the person she knew had given the item to Ren.
Maybe for Amamiya-San, all of these objects would be reminders of a life he once but could not recapture? In that regard, she could perhaps understand why he'd leave it all here. In any case, it made the room feel welcoming. An appropriate hang-out spot for the increasingly rare circumstances when the group might reconvene.
"Boom! Haha, take that, ya bastard..." Futaba was flicking her wrists as a computerized tune jingled from the television.
"Oh, did you win?" Haru checked, taking her seat at Futaba's side.
"Hell yea," Futaba boasted. "Been tryin' to beat that fucker for days now, n'-...O-oh, erh...-" Futaba grinned nervously, scratching a finger behind her ear. Haru felt her eyes practically pop open at the sound of such a word escaping her dear Imouto-Chan's mouth. "S-Sorry, I, um-...The crowd I roll with, lately, guess that I, erh...-" She shrugged, her face running pink with embarrassment as she trailed off.
Haru giggled with some surprise.
"They say we become who we spend time with," she mused. "I don't judge you, but...I do appreciate the censorship. That sort of language still...bothers me to hear."
"Augh, sorry," Futaba repeated with some self-defeat. Making a zipper-like gesture near her mouth across tight lips, she nodded, then explained, "Gotta remember to keep the swears to a minimum when Onee-Chan's around."
Haru smirked, facetiously noting, "Please do. You wouldn't want to cause damage to my innocent ears with your impurities, would you?"
She could tell Futaba wasn't sure if she was joking or not, and couldn't help but laugh at the blank, uncertain stare she received. Her laughter smoothed Futaba over, eliciting a small, nervous chuckle.
"So, then," said Haru, "Did you invite me here to...play a game? Or...-?"
"Oh!" Futaba fumbled with her controller, sliding it back into its designated spot at the gaming device's side. "Actually, I, uh, found a movie I thought we might like...-" She began sifting through the pile of...assorted items spread out across the old couch. She'd been treating this place like a second room, hadn't she?
Futaba pulled out a generic looking case with a flourish and a "Da-da-da-dahhhh~"
Haru squinted to read the title, scribbled in plain text with a marker.
She read aloud, "Evil Bear 2: Bearly Alive." That sounded familiar... "Wait. Futaba-Chan, didn't we already see this movie?"
Pushing her glasses up over the bridge of her nose with a sadistic smirk, Futaba bragged, "That was the remake. I managed to find a copy of the original. No fake-looking CGI! In this cut, you actually see Evil Bear eat the hermit's leg!"
"O-Oh, my," Haru said, her chest fluttering. She wouldn't be able to watch that part...probably. Then again, all of her time watching horror movies with Futaba, and having Futaba explain the effects, it was oddly fascinating, on top of Haru's already intrinsic appreciation of the genre.
"Had to, uh, go through a couple hoops to, erh, convert it to DVD, here, but...-" Futaba started up the player and place the disc inside – said disc looked incredibly...not official...
"Before we begin, I must ask: do you...actually own a copy of this film, Imouto-Chan?"
"Whaaaaat of course I do whaddya mean I just um it's VHS 'cause they never released it on DVD and I mean who even has a working VCR these days rite haha so I got my buddy to copy it over for me and-"
Futaba sucked in a breath, finally slamming the brakes on her overly hasty ramble.
"So...-" Haru sought clarification with a glint in her eye, and a pleasant smile on her face. "You did acquire a legal copy of this film?"
"I-I did, yea, I promise," Futaba hastily insisted, nodding emphatically.
"All right, then," said Haru, content enough with this reply. It was the principle of the matter. Someone had to steer Futaba away from stealing things, even if they were digital. Stealing hearts was one thing, but stealing products was another. Haru couldn't help suspecting that her Imouto-Chan did still steal some things over the Internet...but if she was stealing less things, than at least Haru was doing her job.
[ Futaba-Chan seems to have kept your old room lived in while you've been away. Amazingly, she managed to fix the old television and disc player. I believe she even repaired your gaming device, since it broke at some point. She's made so many friends in Akihabara, you know, so they've helped her with repairing or replacing parts. Weren't you the one who got her to feel comfortable going there in the first place? Regardless, all of your old items are still here, though they could do with some cleaning. The devices still work. Futaba-Chan says she even spends the night at Le Blanc sometimes. I get the feeling she feels more connected to you when she is here. I feel I am, too. It will quite nice, however, when all of us can sit in that place once again, together. ]