"I want to make another bet."
"The last one did not go well for you."
"Pesky, miserable humans, but they won't keep themselves from destruction forever. And that's what I want to wager. You talk so much about potential, but let's see how strong your champions really are."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Something small-scale this time. Just two human lives. Two your Igor and that cat-thing chose. I want to prove your precious Wild Cards can go mad."
"I would have thought the detective would have proved that."
"No, Philemon. I want to test one of yours. Let's see whether the Phantom Thief Of Hearts regrets his choice."
The Phantom's cape billowed dramatically in the wind as Catherine clung to him. Her blonde hair whipped behind her. Akira stifled a groan and backspaced as the train sped towards the station. Way too melodramatic. He'd struck gold with a book contract when the ink was barely dry on his degree—Ann and Yuuki's doing—but the American publisher insisted that young adult fantasies didn't sell without a love interest, no matter how cool the hero was supposed to be. It was giving him a headache. Make a sociopath feel remorse? Defeat a power-hungry god? No problem. Write a romance? That was apparently beyond even Joker.
His smartphone vibrated, and Akira glanced at the screen. Ryuji. He took the call. "How's the track team?"
"Better than ever!" Ryuji's voice was so loud that Akira had to hold the phone away from his ear. "The guys are so enthusiastic. No injuries worse than a sprained ankle. Nothing like the old days." He quieted slightly. "I think I like coaching."
"You're great at it." Most of them had transitioned from the days of the Phantom Thieves to normal life about as well as could be expected but Ryuji had blossomed, even if he would tell Akira to leave the flower metaphors to Yusuke. "Ann doing okay?"
"Yeah. She's got some kind of marketing thing in Kyoto but she'll be back on Friday. Speaking of which…" His voice turned sly and Akira winced. Ryuji using that tone was never a good thing. "Can I talk you into joining us for tofu on Sunday? You've been back in the city for forever but we really haven't had a chance to hang out. And…"
"And?" Akira braced himself for the inevitable.
"And Ann told me to tell you they hired a bunch of fresh level designers for the new Sonic game. And that she was hoping you'd come over and meet one of them. She just moved here from the States, so she doesn't know anybody." His voice dropped further, to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's really cute."
Akira raked his free hand through his hair. He loved his friends. He was happy Ryuji and Ann were together, really. But he would rather face down Caroline, Justine, and Yaldaboath all at once than endure another blind date. "I'll pass."
"Come on, a guy like you can't stay single forever. Have you been on a date at all lately? You can't mope over Hifumi forever."
"I'm not moping. It just didn't work out. And it's not like they give you a lot of free time at university. I was spending every free second analyzing haikus. And then I got this contract and, well, I'll start dating again when I've actually got space to breathe." That was the truth, mostly. He had liked Hifumi, maybe even loved her. But a couple of months in juvenile hall, regular long-distance, and the insanity that was surviving at university would put a strain on even the best relationships. They'd amicably decided to see other people. She even sent him clippings about her shogi career. If his chest clenched every time he saw Ann and Ryuji sneaking off to make out or pretending that they totally weren't scoping out possible wedding locations, well there were worse fates.
"You have got to get a girlfriend."
"When I'm ready." He powered down his laptop. "This is my stop. Tell Ann that I'll be happy to come over as long as there's no matchmaking." He hung up.
Someone had once told him that the Japanese rail system was the envy of the world; Akira had set his watch by the trains more than once. But every nearly perfect system had its problems, and some of them made him wish he could don a mask just one more time.
The woman was two spaces in line ahead of him, about his own age and dressed just like every other office worker who wanted to get home. Completely unremarkable. That didn't stop the guy behind her from grabbing her ass and squeezing. She made a sound like someone had punched her. The other passengers pretended not to see. It happened every day, after all. But the really bad thing about being a recovering hero was that you couldn't go back to not seeing. "Apologize," he said through gritted teeth. "Are you all right, miss?"
"Fine, fine." Her voice was all breath, and her gaze darted around for the nearest exit.
But her assailant rounded on him. He was balding, his suit a size too small for him. "I was just having a little harmless fun. I've had a rough day."
"I don't think it's harmless to her. "
"She could probably use the attention. Not like people like her have guys lining up around the block."
"Not men like you." Her voice was stronger now. "I have standards."
The crowd around them had stilled. Groping might be an unfortunate fact of life on the trains, but this was a scandal, something that would be told and retold in the cafés and karaoke bars for the rest of the week. The man's face turned red. "I, well I, how dare you!" But he balled his hands into fists, and they stayed there.
Akira and the woman looked at each other. She was pale and breathing hard. "Thank you for your help. Most people wouldn't have."
Heat spread across his cheeks. "No problem."
As if to prove her point, the crowd surged around them and Akira caught broken bits of whispers. "It was only a man being a man." "She must've done something." "They ought to have the decency to keep it private." She flushed again and bowed her head.
Akira ground his teeth. He had defeated a conspiracy that threatened to bring Japan back to the nightmare of totalitarianism, brought justice to those who believed they were above it, and defeated a god who would have enslaved or destroyed the world, but the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. A man felt entitled to grope a woman because she existed. A boy who stole a candy bar was put on probation, but a CEO who stole millions from the investors walked away with slight embarrassment. People pretended not to know that the men who bought the pleasure of a teenage girl's time got far more than that. Every once in a while, like today, he could shame one person. But it was like trying to hold back a flood with a dam the size of a toothpick.
And whose fault is that? asked a voice that Akira had never heard before. You could have taken the demiurge up on its offer. You could have ruled the city or the world. Made them behave.
Akira looked around wildly. There were fewer than thirty people who knew the identity of the Phantom Thieves; maybe half of them knew about Yaldaboath. None of them were on this train. His breath came hard and fast. "Our job was to stop humans from being enslaved; not to do it ourselves."
"Who are you talking to?" the woman asked.
"No one," he muttered. "Long day."
Some freedom. See what they do with it.
He shook his head and made his way onto the sidewalk with the rest of humanity. It was never a good thing to hear voices no one else could. He took out his phone again and told himself that he just wanted to be sure. There was no sign of the MetaVerse app. And without that, there could be no more forays into the collective unconscious or forcing the wicked to face the justice they had perverted. He couldn't bring back the Phantom Thieves even if he wanted to. Which he didn't.
He belonged solely to the world of flesh and blood now, and his flesh-and-blood friends needed his help.
Sae had called him yesterday for the first time since he had returned to Tokyo, saying only that she had taken on a client who could benefit from his "unique perspective" and could he please come by her office as quickly as possible so they could discuss it in person? He took out the business card, worn and crinkled from the years, and double-checked the address. The building itself was a newer high-rise, all glass and steel that pointed upward like a sword. The interior was similar: marble floors and a sculpture that was supposed to represent something but mostly just looked like a child had been playing with a hammer and chisel and men and women in the latest fashions worrying about their business. On the rare occasions a case went all the way to trial, the prosecution almost always won. A defense attorney mostly tried to convince the opposition that they didn't have enough evidence and might risk the shame of losing. Any lawyer who could get and keep an office in a place like this was very good at her job. Sae had occupied this space for five years.
"Ms. Niijima has been expecting you," said the secretary with gold-rimmed glasses and what seemed like a permanent scowl as he ushered Akira into the back office on the twenty-first floor. It was more old-fashioned than the rest of the building. Dark wood paneling, an equally dark and imposing desk, and chairs with upholstery in various neutral colors. A massive window dominated one wall, and Akira sucked in a breath. The sun was almost down, bathing Tokyo in red and gold and softening the harsh edges of concrete and steel. This, this had been worth fighting for, no matter what the voices in his head said.
"It is quite the view," Sae said as she turned to face him.
Some part of his brain registered that she had changed very little in the intervening years. There were fresh lines around her eyes, but she wore the same stylish, severe blazer and silver necklace and lapel pin that glittered like stars in darkness. His mouth turned dry. She watched him with the half-smile and arched eyebrow of a woman who knew more than she was letting on, who like him had tried to hold onto her honor while keeping her head above water. A woman who had fought her demons—literally—and had come out victorious. A woman who was, in short, beautiful.
Akira rocked back on his heels. Beautiful. Not a word he had associated with her five years ago. She had been the enemy then, a woman with the power to condemn him to juvenile hall if he made one wrong step. Who had interrogated him after he had been beaten and drugged. Who he had fought and then helped save. Who had then saved his life. Not a woman he should be attracted to, but the sparks danced along his skin all the same. Now it was Ryuji's voice in his head. It had been so long since he had had a girlfriend. He needed to start dating again. Somehow he doubted that this was who Ryuji had in mind.
"I heard about the book deal," she continued. Her voice was different than he remembered. Nervous, almost tentative. "Young adult fantasy, was it? Good for you." Her gaze flickered downward for a fraction of a second. "I was worried for a while about what those months in confinement would do to you."
"Had to be done. Shido is rotting where he belongs." Which had made the months staring at the white walls and being treated as if he were one breath away from becoming a monster any easier.
You could have avoided all that. But no, you had to be a hero.
"You needed my help?" he asked.
She relaxed, breathed a sigh of relief, and gestured for him to sit. A thick file folder sat on the desk. Inside was a mug shot of a man in his thirties: slightly overweight, shabbily dressed—and with an expression of utter confusion and terror. "Hachiro Sato. Married for ten years, three children between the ages of two and six. He stabbed them to death and was found kneeling over their bodies, sobbing and with the knife still in his hand. No known motive, but the prosecutor expects to seek the death penalty. Open and shut case."
After everything he'd seen with Goro and Shido, he shouldn't be shocked in the depths of depravity that parents could inflict on their children, but his mind recoiled at the thought of a two-year-old begging her father not to kill him. "I hope he ha—" Reason overtook rage. "Wait. You wouldn't call me for an open and shut case. You wouldn't take an open and shut case." His eyes widened. "You wanted my 'special expertise.' You think Shadows are involved."
"I do." She flipped to another page of the dossier. "Mr. Sato was known to be an exemplary family man and philanthropist. Extensive investigation hasn't produced any evidence of antisocial behavior before this. Ordinarily, I would say he's just another sociopath whose good at hiding it, but he's been almost catatonic since then. Insofar as I've been able to talk to him, he speaks of darkness and voices and appears to have no memory of the murderers themselves. Exactly like those Goro drove insane."
Akira exhaled. The idea that someone else had the power to ruin as many lives as Goro had made him sick. "He only had that power because Yaldaboath gave it to him, and the demon seemed pretty clear that it was a game with two sides. You're telling me there some other cosmic sadist out there?" Sweat formed on his hands. There was another possibility. Goro had broken so many people without thought or care, but Shido had broken him, too. He had been Akira's friend. "Do you think Goro could be alive?"
"You have a talking cat. Anything is possible. But I don't think it's likely." Her voice softened, the same tone she had used with him so long ago when she had told him that he would have to turn himself in. "You're a kinder person than me to pity him. But then, I never was very good at being kind. But you know that too."
He swallowed. None of them liked to talk about it, but there had always been an intimacy between the Phantom Thieves and their targets; seeing someone's deepest desires, fears, and sins and forcing them to feel remorse. Most of them had been such monsters that he had tried to put his time in the Palaces out of his mind and moved on. But Sae wasn't a monster; she had believed him and saved his life. So seeing the Leviathan—that tarted up reject from a fetish nightclub, seething and pulsing with envy and bitterness—stirred something within him, just like Yuuki and Futaba's shadows had stirred something within him. His hand snaked out to cover hers. "Everybody's got a dark side. You, me. Everybody. It's choosing to do the right thing that matters."
They both looked down. Her thumb peeked out from under his palm. Violet. The only part of her that was anything other than staid and respectable. Her skin was pale and smooth and warm like a Café le Blanc special. You could curl up to warmth like that. How long had it been since he had even held hands with anyone other than one of his friends? Three or four years since he and Hifumi had snuck off during breaks in her tournaments? To make out, sure, but sometimes just to take a walk. Something private, just for the two of them?
To remember that he had someone.
"Thank you," she whispered. She inhaled and Akira could almost see her withdrawing into herself. She pulled her hand back and sat perfectly still. The brilliant attorney with heart and nerves of steel. "But Mr. Sato needs someone who can prove that there are supernatural forces at work. That's where you come in."
"Prove it?" His eyes widened. "How can I prove it? I mean, I could tell the court everything I told you and the others would back me, but it would probably get me sent to a mental asylum. And Mr. Sato would still be facing the noose."
"Yes. They would see what they want to see unless confronted with irrefutable evidence." Her voice was crisp, but she scowled as she turned to another page. The ink had begun to fade. These reports were dated from five years ago. "During the incident, I looked for anything comparable to what I saw around me. I thought I was looking at some strange new mental disorder, but my search wasn't for nothing. There were those odd murders in Inaba. And before that, the so-called 'Apathy Syndrome' in Port Island. And, incidentally, there were a cluster of teenagers associated with these incidents."
"Just like the Phantom Thieves." A remarkable guest, the real Igor had called him. Which implied that maybe there had been others. Someone else knew what he was going through, that feeling of "what now?"
"Precisely. And I'm hopeful that we can find something at one of these places that I can bring before the judges." She looked at him, and there was a hint of the old bitterness in her voice. "Palace or no Palace, that was never my world. Even if you can't go into Mementos, they might respect you as a Persona-user. And if we do find anything strange, you would be better at corroborating it."
"I'll do it." The words tumbled out of him, but what else could he say? It was a long shot, but a man would hang if he said no. And...and Sae needed him. "When do we leave?"
"The day after tomorrow. Give me your email and I'll send over the travel information." She leaned in and Akira smelled the scent of jasmine. "Thank you."
He made it all the way to the sidewalk before his knees gave way and he leaned against the wall. What had just happened in there? Well, aside from agreeing to crisscross Japan, which would probably be fun and fodder for a short story or three once he got the book done. He was going to be bringing the existence of Shadows and Personas and gods and demons into the light. Was that even possible? Wouldn't some tabloid journalist have done it by now if it were that easy?
And when has Joker ever cared about what is easy? This voice sounded like Arséne. You will do it because it's right and because she asked you.
And perhaps it was that simple. He buried his face in his hands. The scent of jasmine and the warmth of Sae's hand still lingered in the air. Beautiful. The word thrummed through his head like a metronome. Sae Niijima was beautiful. He wanted to take her hand again, to push the errant strands from her hair. No, he wanted to pull clips from her hair and shake it loose as he kissed her slowly. His skin turned feverish. He wanted her. And he had no idea what to do about that. It was one thing to joke with Ryuuji about their teacher, but pursuing someone for real was different. And she was severe, harsh, even after Leviathan's defeat. Surely, there was someone else in the wide world that could make him feel the way he had in that office.
But again, when had he cared about what was easy? Severity wasn't cruelty. She had worked hard to get where she was; he had respected that even as a teenager. She was smart and as fiercely devoted to justice as he was. If… if he didn't have a criminal record and she wasn't a criminal attorney who had one strike against her because she was a girl, he would've been racing to Café Le Blanc right now to ask Sojiro for advice and to book the whole café so they could have some privacy.
Morgana hopped down from the sofa as soon as he opened the door. "What's wrong with you?" He cocked his head to one side and licked his lips. "You look like that time Ann cooked and you were trying not to be sick."
"Nothing's wrong." He hung up his coat and dodged a concerned cat who was trying to wrap his legs around him. "Stood up to a guy who didn't know how to keep his hands to himself. I am hearing a weird voice in my head. I met with Sae. She thinks Shadows might be going berserk again. I'm supposed to help her prove that there are such a thing as Shadows. We're leaving the day after tomorrow."
"That's not nothing." Morgana listened as Akira recounted the events of the day. His tail swished back-and-forth. "If there's someone out there with power to berserk Shadows, that's seriously bad news. 'Hope you see the Velvet Room door again' level of bad news. Because it means there are more dark things out there than Yaldabaoth."
"I think there are. Sae already thinks there were others before me, so I'm probably not the last." It scared him—of course it scared him, only a fool wouldn't be scared of cosmic monsters—but he wasn't as afraid as he should have been. Because if there were still cosmic monsters, there was still something he could fight against. Some hope that this wasn't the best things would ever be. And then maybe you could silence the voice in his head. "You'll come, won't you? I need all the help with this stuff that I can get."
"Of course I'll come. Things have been boring lately. Maybe I can finally make some progress on becoming human." Another pitiful meow. "It'll be good for you to get out. You weren't meant for a place like this."
Akira glanced around his sardine can of an apartment and found it hard to disagree. "I'm going to get some work done."
He sat down at his desk and turned on the laptop. He'd turned to creative writing during his time in juvenile hall in an effort to make sense of the world, and no one was more surprised than him that he had turned out to be good at it. There was power in the creative act, creating a just world where everyone got what they deserved and courage and honor were celebrated. But right now, he needed a love interest for the Phantom. Someone who could be a foil but also a partner, who would challenge him when he needed to be challenged but who was devoted to the side of good.
And then it came to him.
The empress loomed over him. There were those that whispered that she was a faerie and with her silver hair that seem to have been woven from moonlight he could almost believe it. Her gown was black and the deep violet reserved for nobility. "We believe in the law, but more than that, we believe in justice. You have one chance to make this right." She seized the Phantom by his hands, her grip like hot iron and raised him to his feet. "Let us see what you do with the remains of your life."
He reread the paragraph. Not completely horrible. The empress…the empress could work. Akira smiled sadly. Even now, it seemed that his alter ego would have to say and do what he could not. It was going to be a long couple of weeks.
Sae waited until dinner was almost over until she asked Makoto the question that had been gnawing at her all day. "Do you trust Akira?"
Makoto froze with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. "What?"
"I know he's good and honorable when it comes to the fate of the world, but do you trust him for the day-to-day? We're going to be traveling together for the next few weeks, and I want to know right now if he's the kind to skip out on paying for the hotel or pick up…inappropriate company." And if he were lazy or a lech, it would be so much easier to suppress the thought she was having.
But Makoto put down her chopsticks and stared at her. "You're going on vacation? You're going on vacation." She grinned, and Sae had the uneasy feeling that if her sister had been a different sort of woman, she might have squealed. "I am so proud of you."
"It's not a vacation. I'm doing legwork for the Sato case."
Makoto didn't seem to hear her. "Oh, we have got to pull out all the stops on this! Where are you going?"
"Inaba and Port Island, mostly. Anywhere there's been possible Shadow activity."
"Oh it actually is for work. I had hoped—never mind." Her face crumpled and all Sae could see was the teenager who had faced down a crime lord because of her cruelty.
"Hachiro Sato's life is at stake. There's work to be done. I'll take time off. We'll go shopping, just the two of us." She tried to make her voice gentle, even if the tone still felt false to her ears. She could be more than that being inside her. She would be more. "And you never answered my question about Akira."
"Subject changed, I get it. Akira..." She thought. "Ryuji told me about this one time they called a maid service. You know, the kind that give 'massages' in addition to housework. Well, whatever happened there, it was the only time I've ever seen Akira honestly pissed at Ryuji. Screaming about how those kinds of things should be against the law and dragging us all into Mementos to hunt down some blackmailer. I don't think you have to worry about getting your name in the paper. And he always paid his share of the meal. So yeah, I trust him."
"I see." A gentleman thief after all. "I should make those travel arrangements."
"Can I ask you something?" She wore the soft, nervous expression that always brought a lump to Sae's throat. "Why didn't you ask me? I have a Persona too."
"I thought maybe our subjects would respond better to the actual leader." Sae shook her head. Her sister deserved the real reason. "You're doing so much good as Takagi's secretary. I'd hate to take you away from that." Brilliant, hard-working, and with a burning desire to make the world a better place; politics had been Makoto's natural calling. "And I worry a long absence so soon would hurt you."
Makoto flinched. "I thought you learned there are more important things than work," she whispered, almost too quietly for Sae to hear. Then, more loudly. "We are going shopping the minute you get back. And you are going to make this as much of a real vacation as you possibly can. Promise me."
Sae reached toward Makoto, helpless. She had tried to let go of her bitterness and had left the prosecutor's office so she could fight for justice, but the world was still what it was. A woman who didn't want to be a submissive, docile babymaking machine had to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously. There could be no divided loyalties. She had chosen the law. "I'll try," she said, because it was all she could say.
It seemed to satisfy Makoto. "Inaba and Port Island, you said? The Seiya Express runs through there." Her eyes glittered dangerously. "I should book you a couple of seats. I bet Akira would love it. He loves those mystery novels, the one with the French detective."
"That's not really necessary." The sleeper trains had been driven to the point of extinction, but a billionaire with more nostalgia then sense seemed determined to bring them back. The Seiya Express crisscrossed Japan and promised luxury as well as speed. Bedroom suites, dining car with uniformed waiters, decent legroom, everything that the normal trains weren't. Tourists supposedly loved them, and so did people on their honeymoons. Sae flushed. That was not a direction she wanted her mind to be wandering. "Really."
"It'll be fun."
Her little sister was going to be very formidable when she made it to the Diet herself. "Fine. But you have to promise that you'll make the most of your opportunities."
Later, she stood in the empty apartment listening to the silence stretch before her and cursing herself. She was going insane. That was the only possible explanation for her current behavior. It was one thing to take on impossible cases in hopes of seeing justice done. Her…her father would have been proud of that. It was another to let herself be talked into acting like a tourist. It was another thing to look at Akira Kurusu the way she had.
He had grown taller and broader in the last five years. Lean muscle obvious beneath his shirt, but with the same messy hair. It had made him look disreputable as a teenager, but it suited him now: the charming, handsome, slightly roguish author. Who had still taken her hand and told her she was a good person. His grip had been strong and hard. She had wanted to seize his hand and run her fingers over every line and callus. She had wanted him to run those strong fingers through her hair. She had wanted him.
She growled. There, she had admitted it. She was attracted to a man younger than Makoto. A good man, a man who respected women and who wanted to do good so badly that he had let himself go to prison. If there was anyone who could awaken the things she had been forced to bury to succeed as an attorney, it should be a man like him. Except that he was not only younger than her, but the leader of the notorious Phantom Thieves. At best, she would be a joke in a profession where a woman had to be perfect. At worst, she would be considered suspect as whispers that she was corrupt and unfit to practice law swirled around her. And perhaps if there were only a matter of making money, she might have endured it, but Sae held her clients' lives in her hands. They needed someone with a spotless reputation and credibility if they were going to survive a system already predisposed to convict them.
Acid coursed through her. The world was as it ever was: brutally unfair.
Doesn't it just make your blood boil? The voice inside her head was her own, but harder and more spiteful. She caught her reflection in a hallway mirror. Her eyes flashed gold. Did you imagine I would go away so easily? That a little lightning and guilt-tripping would turn us into a good girl? The Leviathan bared its teeth in the mirror.
"Be quiet." She didn't like to think of the Palace. She had come so close to becoming like the indifferent, corrupt colleagues she had hated just to get a promotion. She had come close to killing Makoto.
Oh please, it's not like the Phantom Thieves are still running around. And you said it yourself: the world is just as unfair to women like you as it always has been. I saw the way the boy looked that you. He would have ripped your clothes off and had you right there on the desk if you'd let him. Nothing wrong with that. He's a grown man. But the world won't let you have him.
"It doesn't matter. There's work to be done. The only thing that matters is that Hachiro Sato will die unless I prove that things like you exist."
That must rankle, too. Knowing that demons and gods and whatever else exist but not having the power to stop it. Having to depend on someone else to verify all your information. To always know that he has been chosen and that you are weak.
"Shut up!" She was not weak. She had been strong enough to change on her own. She had deduced that Shido had been a criminal mastermind. She had saved Akira's life.
Yes, you did. And your only reward is this emptiness. Her reflection smirked. I'll go for now, but there will come a day when you will beg to be an up-and-coming lawyer with the world at her feet. It's all someone like you can hope for.
