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death i

October 30, 1:32pm
Shujin Academy

It was the hottest October in recent memory. The leaves hanging from the oaks by the school were brittled brown, and fields of yellowed grass curled away from the oppressive light. Even the pond by Ichigaya began to evaporate, a faint line in the dirt indicating where the water had once risen.

Yet despite even the horizon rippling from the heat, she remained in her car. Parked alone on the side of the street, a song played from her speakers. The sinuous tones of a lone saxophone trickled like water out her open windows. A breeze blew past her ears, and she drew in the cool, crisp taste of fall.

The volume of the saxophone rose as the song reached its dramatic climax. The trumpets blared, and the double bass, deep and measured, reverberated. The drums joined in, then the clarinet, then the lead singer. Like two bright dewdrops meeting in the center of a flower, they blended together in beautiful, impromptu harmony.

This was real, music, she thought. This was jazz.

If she had to use one word to describe jazz, it would be moving. The way it grasped her soul, captivated her in lyrical rapture – it held her like the sky held the moon at night. It could be soft as the beating of a hummingbird's wings or loud as a lion's roar, slow as a lily flowing downriver or fast as the pelting of streaming rain on a rooftop. What artists like Tiger Okoshi and Masahiko Satoh made her feel in their chord progressions and swing rhythms could not be replicated by the harsh scratching of an electric guitar or the drop of a dubstep remix.

She leaned back and blew a nostalgic whistle. "Music these days just isn't the same."

The song decrescendoed to a steady close. Reality zeroed back in, and the world became a shade greyer. She was so absorbed that she'd almost forgotten the reason she was waiting outside Shujin Academy in the sweltering heat. But hearing the static in her ear triggered her memory. She was on the phone with Akira Kurusu because she needed him for a special task. Backtracking to her purpose, she spoke into her phone.

"Now that you've put the pieces together, my precious Morumotto-kun," she soothed, her sultry voice laced with venomous intent. "Be a good little test subject and come outside. We're going to be very busy today, and I don't want to waste any more time."

"Why did you call the school?"

"I tried your cell phone several times, but it went straight to voicemail. Did something happen to your mobile?"

"Ah..." he replied, his voice lingering. "That makes sense. But I'm in the middle of school right now. I can't just leave."

Extending her hand to examine her painted black nails, she said, "I've already taken care of it."

Her words were met with a pause. It seemed like he was afraid of asking the question she knew he wanted to ask. "Taken care of what?" he finally remarked.

"School," she stated. "You've been given permission to leave early. Congratulations."

Though she could not see, she imagined his face wringing with surprise. "What does that mean?"

A self-absorbed grin graced her features. "It seems that your poor, sweet auntie had a terrible accident and fell down a flight of stairs. They need you at the hospital right away. Fortunately, a friend of yours has so generously offered to take you there."

She knew he didn't have an aunt. And he knew she knew. "Just what are you planning?" he asked.

"All you need to know is that it's for a very important reason. You could even call it an emergency." She placed both her hands on the wheel and released a back curling yawn. "Anyway, I'll be waiting right outside the main entrance. See you in a bit, my dear Morumotto-kun."

And with that she hung up, leaving Akira with the cold, monotonous drone of the dial tone.

October 30, 1:34pm
Shujin Academy

Akira clacked the handset phone onto its switch arms. He was stunned. No, shellshocked. A slew of questions circled his mind, like how did she convince the school with such a blatant lie, or why did she need him now of all times.

There was no use mulling over it here though, he concluded. The only way he'd get answers was directly from the horse's mouth. His hand gliding against the wall as he teetered to the exit of the main office, he spied the blue-haired desk attendant on the way out and glanced at her.

She, on the other hand, did not even lift her head to acknowledge him. With a disinterested, "Later," she returned to rubbernecking the front entrance with a cynical grimace.

He stared at the space in front of his feet and continued moving as if he were on autopilot. He walked through the main office door, down a flight of stairs, through the hallway, down a short set of steps, and before long, he was nearing the exit of the academy.

"Hey, wait," called Morgana, squeezing his head out of Akira's knapsack. Given that he listened in to his conversation from the confinement of the bag, he was just as, if not more, confused as Akira. "Is everything alright? I thought I heard you talking about some kind of an emergency. What's going on?"

"It's fine," Akira replied.

"Who was it that called you?"

"A friend."

"Hmm. That's weird. They called you down to the office just so you could talk to a friend?"

"Yeah."

"What did your friend want with you?"

"Nothing really."

Morgana mewled at his unresponsiveness. Noticing the direction he was heading, he pawed at the back of his head, "Hey Joker, you do know homeroom is that way, right? Where are you going?"

Akira didn't answer. He kept trudging along like a soldier to war, his thousand yard stare directed at the floor.

"Hey! Are you listening to me, Akira? Where are we going?"

"I have to go somewhere with a friend."

"Where?"

"I don't know." Upon arriving at the school's exit, he pushed past the heavy gates. Immediately he was buffeted by the humidity of the outdoors. Like diving into a sauna, he felt as if a suit of moisture had fastened itself directly to his skin.

"Well, if that's the case..." began Morgana, leaping out of Akira's bag. He landed gracefully on all fours and shook himself off from head to tail. "I'll be parting ways with you here. It's really hot out, and I don't want to be stuffed in your backpack all day. I'll meet you back at Leblanc?"

Akira nodded.

"Alright then. Take care of yourself, okay? Don't start any trouble! And remember, hydrate often!" With a swish of his tail Morgana stole away into the mid-fall afternoon.

Akira's gaze followed Morgana until he vanished from view. And then he was left alone to bake beneath the sun. He shielded his eyes from the light with a canopying hand over his brow and surveyed his surroundings. His friend was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't by the entrance, nor was she on the sidewalk. He didn't even see her over on the next block.

If this was someone's idea of a prank, it was working spectacularly.

Just as Akira was about to head back inside, he spotted a parked red car on the other side of the street, partially covered by the shade of a leafless birch. Its sheen was bright and lustrous and if he didn't know any better he'd think it was a new model.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he began to approach it. He heard the gentle thrumming of its engine as he drew closer, the buzz of a static suffused radio. And when he peered across the dashboard, he spied the silhouette of a woman with short black hair in the driver's seat.

He knew now that this car could only belong to one person.

The dulcet whispers of a jazz piano tickled him to the core. The woman in the car drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in a mimicked motion of playing keys. As she turned her head to regard him, his breath caught in his throat. The sides of her lips dragged into a shrewd smirk, and a tingling despair ran up his spine.

"Ah, there you are," she hushed. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it."

Rugged black leather draped her pointed shoulders. A peacock teal dress sewn from dupioni silk and patterned with white spider webs cloaked her sylphlike frame. The neckline of the thigh high dress dipped to the precipice of her cleavage, sculpting her lower chest and flaunting her alabaster decolletage. Encircling her lithe neck was a studded black choker, and set upon her upper chest was a cross necklace. She had a wavy bob cut which hid her eyebrows and distressed jeans with holes in the knees. Her mascara was natural and grey, yet had a hint of punk rock styling. Fashionable, to say the least.

But even garbed and made up like this, her most prominent features were her drawn lips, beset by tastefully applied lipstick. Those lips had the power to captivate and terrorize. They were beautifully curved, like the Arc De Triomphe, yet they brought about a great unease whenever they bent into a smile.

And yet he still couldn't take his eyes off those bowed lips. Like a sailor drawn to the song of a siren, an irresistible compulsion within him compelled him to her. He took one step closer, then two, then three.

"I hope your day has gone well, Morumotto-kun."

To some, she was called The Plague. To others, the Doctress of Death. He'd even heard a man once spitefully refer to her as the Butcher of Yongen-Jaya.

But to Akira Kurusu, she had one name and one alone.

"You too, Tae."

October 30, 1:50pm
Shujin Academy

"And remember, study chapters seven through twelve in particular. The topics covered in these sections will cover the majority of your midterm exam, so unless you want to stay behind for a fourth year, read carefully."

Just as Makoto's professor finished speaking, the bell brought about the unceremonious end of class. She remained in her seat as her peers scuttled for the exit. Then, when no one was around to peep, she checked her phone. Throughout the entire lecture all she could think about was whether new messages had been sent to the Phantom Thief group chat. But when she brought it up on her messenger app, she saw it had stayed exactly as she left it. A tiny seed of doubt planted itself in the recesses of her mind. Would Akira be alright, she wondered.

"No, of course he'll be okay," she reassured herself. If anyone could get himself out of a tough spot, it was Akira.

She just wished she could have some sort of confirmation of his well-being.

"So Niiji," she heard Eiko titter, the girl's face full of excitement. She sat with her chin propped up in her palms, elbows rooted on the table. "I'll meet you at the school entrance after classes today?"

Makoto extended her a prolonged stare. "Sorry?"

"To go shopping! Remember, we talked about it before class? Gosh, you're like, so air-headed sometimes."

"Oh, right." Her brows tightened. "Look, Eiko, I really appreciate what you're doing for me, but-"

"But what!" Eiko squealed. "You don't like want to impress Akira and make him fall madly in love with you?"

"That's not what I'm-"

"Then it's settled! I know a great place in the Shibuya Underground that sells like super risque clothes at a bargain price! You're gonna love it, I guarantee it!"

"Eiko, I-"

"No need to thank me! That's what friends are for, right?" She clasped her hands together. "Ooo, my little Niiji-san is all grown up now, going on a dinner date with roguish guys! I'm like so excited to give you a total makeover!"

The disquiet over her complexion and within her breast compounded. "But I don't need a makeover, Eiko. I just-"

"Alright, see you soon! When I'm done with you, he like won't even recognize you! Heck, you probably won't even recognize yourself!"

With a wiggle of her fingers Eiko barreled out of the classroom, the plates of her skirt swishing behind her.

Once Eiko had departed, Makoto freed her held breath, her typically lofty poise collapsing. "I just want to be myself," she whispered to the emptiness of the room. How heavy her shoulders began to feel. With a weary heart, she stood up and left without another word.

Makoto's chin never lifted as she straggled down the hallway. Why had she allowed Eiko to talk her into this, she thought. She could have protested more than she did, but she chose to remain silent. Was it because, deep down, she wanted to impress Akira? Would he even be impressed? He didn't seem to care about such petty things as revealing clothes and dolled up complexions. It was obviously nothing more than a lurid attempt to elicit a reaction from him. It felt fake, disingenuous.

But perhaps it was for the best. Without anyone's help, she might have been even worse off. She had been on exactly zero dates and had never talked to a boy before Akira about anything that wasn't related to school or grades. A hopeless romantic, Makoto pictured the perfect date with her significant other as a candlelit dinner, followed by a dance along the beach, ending with them staying up all night, gazing at stars until dawn's rosy fingers filled the sky with shades of pink and gold.

Eiko had very clearly expressed that this was a bad idea. And in spite of her penchant for causing trouble, Makoto valued her opinion. When it came to courting a crush, Eiko knew all the tricks in the book. The puppy dog eyes, the twirl and smile, the bend and snap – in most cases, boys were like putty in her hands. She would be lying if she didn't admit that a part of her wished she could make Akira feel the same way about her. Not like putty, no, but she wished he would see her in the same light that she saw him.

She hoped that wasn't too much to ask for.

Her seemingly inattentive ambling had brought her to the main office of Shujin Academy. She stared up at the black and white insignia of her school, which hung proudly above the door, and scowled. It had once stood in her mind as a beacon for discipline, learning, and justice. Thanks to Akira, such delusions were banished. She knew now that it was nothing more than a symbol for corruption, greed, and intolerance.

And if there was one thing she could do for Akira to show her gratitude, it was ensure his safety.

Clearing the restlessness that built within her, she put on a stern face. Her posture straightened, her shoulders locked staid, and her eyes once again burned with that fiery passion she was so noted for. Without an inkling of hesitation, she stepped through the door of the main office and spoke.

"I would like to know about the whereabouts of Akira Kurusu."

October 30, 1:52pm
Shibuya

Tae Takemi was not a great driver. Or a good driver. It would be a stretch to even say she was a competent driver.

She was, however, a fast driver.

A red streak flew across the highway. The pungent smell of rubber burning asphalt polluted the air. His ears rang from the screaming of the Datsun's powerful 2.4-liter engine. At 151 horsepower and 5600 rotations per minute, it shouldn't have moved as quickly as it did. Of course, no one could have accounted for Tae.

She darted in and out of traffic like a bee weaving through a posy of flowers, fast and unhinged, but commendable in its single-mindedness. There was no hesitation in her eyes as she floored the pedal. In fact, there was a faint glimmer of excitement in those auburn hues, a light pull of her lips, as she pushed the vehicle to its limits. The faster she drove, the more her charcoal hair whipped in the wind, the more that liveliness etched upon her countenance.

She felt utterly alive.

Akira, on the other hand, would have been content arriving at their destination actually alive. Clinging to the back of his seat like a child would his mother, he never removed his eyes from the road. He dug himself so deeply into his chair that the black leather spilled between the spaces of his blanched digits. Thoughts of a man facing death raced through his mind. Did he part on good terms with his friends? Did he live his life to the fullest? Were there any lingering regrets he had? He prayed to whatever god would listen that Tae would bring him back in one piece.

"So, how's school going?" she hummed, resting her arm on the rim of the window. "Are you learning anything interesting?"

"I suppose," Akira replied. If he seemed distracted, it was because his primary focus in that moment was not becoming a statistic.

"That's good." She pulled a hard right and swerved through four lanes of traffic. Ignoring the furious horns of the drivers honking behind her, she continued, "Do you have a favorite subject?"

"History," he said.

"Any reason?"

"I like learning about other cultures."

"Oh? Have you done much traveling outside of Japan?"

"Besides our school's trip to Hawaii, no," he admitted. "I would like to, though."

The sides of Tae's lips twitched. She sped past a car on her left before zipping back over to the right. "I hear it's wonderful over there. Palm trees, white sand beaches, crystal clear waters, and of course, beautiful women." Her eyes caught Akira's. "You must have had a good time."

He felt as if she had looked straight into his soul. "I did."

Leaning into her headrest, she lamented, "I never traveled. In university, I was too busy applying to medical school. And once I'd gotten into one, I was busy tearing my hair out to become a doctor. Then I was bogged down by shadowing, and residencies, and fellowships." A short pause. "It was always one goal post after the other."

Akira remained silent. Then he remarked, "You sound remorseful."

She suddenly cut across three more lanes, making him hug his seatbelt for dear life. "If I come across like that, then I've done a poor job of expressing myself," she began. "Being a doctor couldn't make me happier. Treating patients is the passion of my life." There was another short pause. "I only wish I had more time to see the world."

Once his heart had stopped trying to leap out his chest, Akira asked, "Where would you want to go?"

Like a child in a candy store, Tae's expression brightened. "Europe first. Visiting Paris has always been a dream of mine. To spend a day in the Louvre, to walk over the marbled floors of the Palace of Versailles — even in my dreams, it's a treat to visit."

"And what then?"

"Then I would go south to Spain. I would walk the days through the markets of Barcelona and dance away the nights in Ibiza. I'd have to learn some Spanish first, though. I wouldn't want to be a complete tourist in a foreign country."

"What about Pamplona?" asked Akira.

Tae lifted a brow. "What about it?"

"I imagine you'd want to attend the San Fermin."

She shrugged. "From what I hear, it's overrated."

"You won't know until you go."

His forwardness brought out another subtle smirk. "Very true, very true." Looking at him in earnest, she questioned, "Where did you hear about San Fermin from? I wouldn't imagine they taught about it in school."

"They didn't. I read it in a novel," he answered.

"Which one?"

"The Sun Also Rises."

Tae clicked her tongue in realization. "Mmm, I see. I didn't take you for a reader of Hemingway, Morumotto-kun."

"I wouldn't call myself a reader. I haven't read anything else of his," he explained.

"Well I was never a fan. I could never get into that tone of his."

"Too dry?"

"Too boring."

Akira smiled. "Then who are you a fan of?"

She shrugged. "No one really."

"That can't be true."

"Dale Carnegie, if that counts. I never really followed the advice in his books, though."

"What did he write?"

"How to Win Friends and Influence People." She corrected her rearview mirror. "Like I said, I never really followed the advice in his books."

His face shrunk with thoughtful contemplation. "What about fiction? Do you have any favorite stories?"

Tae shook her head. "I didn't read fiction as a child, only nonfiction. It felt more applicable, something that I could actually use on a day-to-day basis. Anything that involved fantasy, or space, or alternate timelines was completely lost on me." Her lips spread slyly. "I'm sure you can tell that I was very fun to play make believe with on the playground."

Akira ruminated over her answer, the alluring cadence of jazz on the radio catching his attention. "Then how about music? Do you like jazz?"

There was a twinkle in her rounded eyes as she inhaled audibly through her nostrils. "In fact I do, Morumotto-kun."

"Why?"

"Because I want to explore the world."

He said nothing, instead opting to hear her out.

"You said you enjoy history because you like learning about other cultures? It's similar to that. Music can transport you across the world, to completely different times. It can take you through the cobbled streets of Italy, or across the wide deserts of Morocco." A childlike glow attached to her every word.

Observing the passion in her tone, Akira prompted, "How about jazz? Where does jazz take you?"

Tae closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and envisioned it. "Down to Louisiana. It takes me to the vibrant boardwalks of New Orleans, where the bright fluorescent lights mingle with the scent of brine on the shoreline wind. Everything burns orange and gold and beautiful. I can taste the smoky aroma of vanilla bourbon on my lips. It takes me past the liquor covered counter of a dive bar, all the way to the back with the cherry red booths and mahogany wood tables. It is humid and muggy and pungent with promise."

Akira too closed his eyes and pictured the scene she described. He could hear the rhythm of the snare drum, feel the pulse of the bass, smell the cloying scent of Shirley Temple grenadine. When he opened them, a shiver coursed through him. But it wasn't a shiver of fear. For the first time on this wild, crazy ride, he wasn't scared. He was excited. "You never told me you were such an explorer," he said, hanging his arm out the window, his fingers gliding against the billowing wind.

"You never asked," she cooed.

"Maybe if you didn't drug me unconscious and run tests on me every time we met, I could."

Tae genuinely laughed. It was the first time he'd heard it. It was soft and composed, and for a moment, he almost thought it sounded cute. "Who do you read, if not Hemingway?" she asked to switch the subject.

"Faulkner, Joyce, Chekhov," Akira listed. "Theirs were the only books I had."

"You're a fan of western writers," she noted.

He nodded. "My mother loved reading western literature, it was all she read. I wanted to connect with her, so I started reading it too."

"What did she read?"

"Mainly Charles Dickens, that was her favorite author."

"My sincere condolences," she teased.

He chuckled, his tussled hair whipping in the wind. "Not a fan?"

"I can't bring myself to read a writer whose primary motivation for dragging stories on and on is because he gets paid by the word."

"But he was still a great writer."

Tae chuckled. "We'll have to agree to disagree there."

Akira tapped his fingers individually against the exterior of the car door. "I remembered my mother reading a chapter of Oliver Twist to me before I went to bed every night."

"Sounds like torture."

"I'd like to think I'm better for suffering through it."

"Whatever you tell yourself to fall sleep at night."

"I slept wonderfully whenever she read it to me, if you must know."

Tae's cheeks rose. "So you're telling me the best compliment you have for the man is that he puts you to bed?"

"Maybe if you'd be more open to him if you had a better night's rest."

Another laugh. "Touché."

"You don't need to practice your French around me, Tae," Akira smiled. "I already know want to go to France."

She shot him a sidelong glance. "Sometimes you're too clever for your own good, Morumotto-kun."

He decided to take that as a compliment. "Besides the length of his stories, what else didn't you like about Dickens?"

"Oh you know, how bone-dry his plots are, how unimaginably goody-two-shoes his main characters are," Tae listed in a sing-songy tone.

"You're being too hard on him."

"So you enjoyed being read Oliver Twist every night?"

He let out a swift exhale. "No, definitely no. It was beyond boring."

"I thought so."

"But I remember that my mom was busy with work one weekend. She didn't come home until late in the night. And as much as I hated listening to Dickens, I couldn't fall asleep until she came home and read a chapter to me."

"Like I said," Tae taunted, "The best thing you have to say about him is that he puts you to sleep."

Akira's lips bowed into a grin. "I know you're joking."

She responded with one of her own. "Only partially."

He paused and stared into the thicket of bare trees obscuring the skyline. "I think it's the memories I associate with Dickens that make me so fond of him. I remember falling asleep to my mother's voice as she read to me." He thought back to his childhood, his mother's hand running through his hair, the kisses she placed on his forehead, the blankets being tucked in beneath him. His complexion lightened. "Even today, when I read Oliver Twist, I feel safe. I'm taken back to the days when she brought hot cocoa up to my room on cold winter nights. It makes me feel like I'm home."

It was only after he'd spoken the words that he noticed Tae's gaze was no longer on the road. Rather, it was solely fixated upon him. That wide, bright smile of hers had returned. But unlike before, it didn't instill fear in Akira. It made him feel hopeful.

And then, she said something he never imagined he'd hear from those lips.

"Thank you."

Akira's face suddenly grew red hot with embarrassment. Realizing the sincerity of what he'd shared with her, he shrunk away and dragged his hand back into the car. "Sorry, I got carried away," he said, readjusting his glasses up on his face.

"Don't be," Tae assuaged. "You were being honest with me." After a few more moments of examining him like she would a patient, she returned her sights to the road. "It's a beautiful thing, to feel so comfortable around someone that you abandon your defenses and lower your mask."

Her words caused Akira to rise in his seat, though he was reticent to say more than needed. "How do you mean?" he asked.

Tae drew idle circles on her car door, the wind flurrying against her hand. "We always wear masks, Akira," she said. "We act differently around different people, that's human nature. But so long as these masks are true representations of ourselves, there's nothing wrong with that. It's when we put on masks that betray our true natures that we begin to lose who we are." She passed him a look full of compassion. "I would never have expected you to remove your mask for anyone but yourself. But you did for me today, Akira, even if it was only for a split second. So thank you. Thank you for letting me truly see you."

He allowed the gravity of her statement to hit him before mustering a response. "Of course Tae. And thank you for letting me see a part of you today, too."

Tae loudly blew a puff air out her nose. "Don't get used to it," she remarked. "You just happened to catch me in a good mood today."

Akira thought of protesting her claim, but elected not to. Just as she allowed him to wear his mask, so too did he oblige her. "What's the reason?" he asked instead.

"You."

He blinked. "Come again?"

"These past few months, I've made major breakthroughs in developing Miwa-chan's medicine. It's all thanks to you, Muromoto-kun, that I've come this far. Using you as my guinea pig has been instrumental to my success. Your unremarkably average body has worked splendidly for testing my drug."

Akira remained silent. He wasn't sure if he should say you're welcome.

"Today," she continued. "I discovered that I had nearly perfected my work. I just need to test my latest batch and make the final calibrations. Once I'm finished, not only will Miwa-chan be cured, but so will thousands of other children. So many lives will be saved."

And then a devilish glint appeared in her eyes. The warmth of her visage vanished, replaced in its stead by cold, Machiavellian ambition.

"And you're not going anywhere until it's complete."

Akira's brows grooved at the sudden, dark shift in her tone. What appeared to be an innocuous car ride had suddenly gone terribly awry. "What do you mean? I can't-"

The doors locked shut.

"Like I said," Tae breathed, "You're not going anywhere until my work is complete. Now, be a good little guinea pig and relax. There's much testing to be done, and I can't have my test subject be tense beforehand. It might mess up the results."

His throat plunged into his stomach as they barreled at a breakneck pace of ninety-five miles per hour down the highway. The wind blew the sweet scent of autumn susurrations upon his lips. There were no speed limits, no turn signals, and no bathroom breaks.

And most importantly, there was no getting off this wild ride.

October 30, 3:04pm
Shujin Academy

The final bell of the day rang. Within the sea of identically clad students, who poured like ants out of Shujin Academy's main entrance, were Ryuji and Ann. The former's face was creased in anger, the latter's in worry.

"Man, it's friggin' hot out today," Ryuji groused. "It feels like it's still summer."

"I know," Ann said, "I was dying in class today."

"Hey, at least you got a window seat. I'm stuck in the middle of the room where things get the stuffiest." With a resounding groan, he muttered, "Ugh, I feel so gross right now. I need a shower..."

Ann offered a slight smile, though it dissipated into a frown as she pondered the whereabouts of their leader. "Do you think Akira will be okay?" she asked. "I hope nothing bad happened to him."

Ryuji's expression hardened, but he played it off with a recalcitrant snort. "Meh, I'm sure he's fine. I mean, think of everything that's happened to us these past few months. Do you really think Akira would be that careless and get himself expelled?"

"But he was called down to the main office and never came back." Ann sighed. "I'm worried Ryuji, I think he might really be in big trouble."

"Hey, when has Akira ever been in situation he couldn't get out of? He's fine. Trust me, he's gotten out of way worse."

His words did little to console her. "If you say so."

Noticing that he wasn't reaching her, Ryuji punched his fist into his palm and continued, "But if he's not okay, I'm going to beat the shit out of the bastards who screwed with him! They'll be sorry they ever messed with the Phantom Thieves!"

That seemed to do the trick. Bringing her fists to her chest, Ann huffed, "Yeah! No one messes with Akira on our watch!"

Just as they began to rile themselves up, they heard a voice from behind them remark, "Before you start a commotion you should probably know that Akira is fine."

They swung around in unison to see who had spoken. To their surprise it was Makoto, who was sitting comfortably at the top of the stairs they had just descended. "I just went to the main office and had a talk with the interim president. It seems he was let out of school early because of an emergency, but otherwise, he's perfectly alright."

"Ah, Makoto! That's amazing news!" Ann took a seat next to Makoto and rested her arms over her bent knees. "Seriously, I don't know what I would've done if something happened to him. I was so worried all day thinking about it."

Makoto agreed. "I was worried too, Ann. But we can rest knowing that at the least he hasn't found himself in any trouble with the school."

"Damn, that's a huge relief," Ryuji said. "Thanks for lettin' us know, Niijima-san. You're incredible." He leaned against a wall and smiled down at her.

"Yeah, thanks Makoto!" Ann cheered, ringing her arms around her friend. "I can't believe you were able to get that kind of information out of the substitute president, you're amazing!"

Makoto felt the onset of a blush mantling her cheeks. "Well, I do have some perks as student council president."

"I'll say! Is there anything you can't do, Niijima-san?" Ann beamed.

Win Akira's heart – was what she thought, but didn't say.

Throwing two fists into the air, Ryuji cheered, "Well, now that Akira's safe, let's go celebrate!"

"But he wasn't in any danger in the first place," Makoto corrected. "We only thought he was."

"Er, uh, well yeah, but..."

"Don't mind him," Ann snickered. "He just wants an excuse to stuff his face with ramen. Isn't that right, Sakamoto?"

"Hey! Totally not cool!" he yelled, wiping the sweat forming on his brow.

Ann hid her laughter in her palm. "It's the truth though, right?"

"Yeah, but I mean, still…" Ryuji grumbled. Shaking off the insult, he turned to Makoto with a bright grin. "So, what do you say? Wanna come grab some ramen with me, Niijima-san?"

Before Makoto could answer, Ann spoke up for her.

"She's busy, Ryuji. Unlike you, she has her grades to look out for."

Ryuji frowned. "Man Takamaki. You are being relentless today, you know that?"

"Sorry," she giggled. "You just make yourself such an easy target."

He let out a deep harrumph and rumbled at Ann, "Well, do you at least wanna get some ramen with me?"

She shook her head. "No can do. I'm going to the mall with Haru today."

"What?! Again?! Didn't you just go out shopping yesterday?"

"For your information, it was only window shopping. We didn't actually get to pick out that much."

"Fine, whatever." With a boisterous pout, Ryuji conceded, "Alright, guess I'll just go by myself then."

"I'm sorry, Ryuji," Makoto apologized. "I'll go with you another day, I promise."

He rubbed the underside of his nose. "Ah, it's no problem Niijima-san. I understand that you're busy. Your work is way more important than grabbing some noodles." Passing over Ann, he muttered, "But you have no excuse, you money-spending shrew."

"Hey!" Ann yelled. "Where the hell did that come from, Ryuji?"

He didn't answer her. Throwing up two fingers, he parted, "Later Ann, Niijima-san," and headed for the subway.

Once he was out of sight, Ann thinned her gaze on the area he occupied. "I can't believe he called me a shrew..." she murmured. "He's such a jerk sometimes."

Makoto's lips pulled upwards. "He can be a bit much sometimes. But you did push his buttons, Ann."

"Yeah… you're right," she said. "But it's totally different when I make fun of him!"

"Oh really?"

"Definitely!"

Before Makoto could reply, she felt something latch onto her arm. Or, in this case, someone.

"Niiji-sannnn! I found you!" It was the one and only queen of gossip, Eiko Takao. Squeezing against Makoto so hard that she pancaked her between herself and Ann, she squealed, "Come on, let's get going! We've like got a lot of work to do if we're wanna be ready for tonight."

"Ready for tonight?" Ann echoed, passing a confused glance to Makoto.

Makoto's heart felt like it skipped a beat. She had told Ann after English that she wouldn't be able to spend time with her because she was going to be busy studying. If she knew the truth, she would be devastated. "I promised Eiko that we would study together tonight," she swiftly lied. "That's why I couldn't accept your invitation to go out."

"Huh? Wait, Niiji-san, I thought we we-" Eiko began. She stopped when she felt a rough nudge of Makoto's shoulder against her own.

"Eiko doesn't like to study alone, so I told her I would help her out. The more the merrier, right?" As Makoto finished her explanation, she sent a vehement glare to Eiko, one that said 'not another word.'

Falling in line, Eiko quickly feigned, "Ah, r-right! We were gonna study math and stuff! You know, like triggernomics!"

A long pause.

"Ah, well I guess that makes sense," Ann finally said. She stood up and swayed her pointer finger at the two before departing, "Well, don't let me keep you waiting! Have fun tonight, you two. And good luck on your test!"

"Wait, Takamaki," Makoto said, standing up after her friend. "Do you want us to walk with you to the subway?"

Ann shook her head. "I'm going to be meeting Haru in Shinjuku. Thanks for the offer though, I appreciate it!" Her eyes shrunk as she smiled.

"I see." With an expression of joy that betrayed her inner regret, she sang, "Take care, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Likewise!" Ann gleamed. And just like that, she and her platinum blonde locks disappeared from view.

As Ann departed, Makoto sensed the turmoil within her growing. She had just lied to her friend, and worse than that, it was straight to her face. "It's to protect her," she reasoned, biting down on her inner cheek. "She wouldn't understand if I tried to explain it. It's better this way."

While she was still deep in thought, Eiko leaned toward her and asked, "Hey Niiji-san, were you like being serious back there about studying? I thought we were gonna go shopping at Shibuya."

Makoto turned to face Eiko. "We are. I just... I couldn't tell Ann that we were."

"Ooo, is that juicy gossip I sense? What's going on between you and Takamaki!"

"It's nothing. Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this anymore." Without saying another word, Makoto stormed off, her hands balled tightly by her sides.

Blinking like an owl, Eiko shouted, "Wait!" as she trailed after her friend. "Come on, Niiji-san, don't be like that! You can tell me, I promise I won't say anything!"

As they left Shujin, the sun, which had so faithfully shone in the middle of the sky, began to dim behind the cover of the clouds. A looming darkness followed Makoto's shadow, and the convocation of dusk began to creep over the yellowed horizon.

October 30, 4:12pm
Cafe Leblanc

Ryuji stormed into the cafe with the subtlety of a bulldozer. Despite being the one who organized the meeting to help Akira with his lady problem, he was the last to arrive. Panting wildly as he swung open the front door, he yelled, "Yo! I'm here!" and scanned the room for his friends.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Late as usual, Sakamoto-kun," he heard a haughty voice twitter at him from the booth by the door. His head whipped sideways. Sitting in the booth were Yusuke and Akechi, each with a cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand. Akechi, who had mocked him earlier, leaned forward in his seat and remarked, "You've made a habit of never showing up on time, as well as making a ruckus whenever it is that you show up. You're quite lucky that Sakura-san is not currently present, he certainly would not have appreciated the way you handled the front door."

Ryuji would have replied with a snappy comment if he could think of one. But in that moment, there was only one concern on his mind. "Where's Akira?"

"We were hoping you could tell us more about that," Akechi said, bringing the brew to his lips in one clean, elegant motion. "I believe you said in the group chat that he was picked up from school for an emergency, correct?"

Ryuji nodded. "Yeah, that's what Makoto told me and Ann. She heard about it from the substitute president at Shujin." Sliding into the booth beside Yusuke, he murmured, "I guess he hasn't made it back yet, huh."

Akechi hummed into his gloved hand. "Well, if he is preoccupied with an emergency, there is little else that can be done."

"What are you talkin' about? This is an emergency right here!"

"I wonder if my drawings would look sweeter if I mixed coffee into my palette..." Yusuke mused, oblivious of the conversation occurring around him.

"I agree that the situation is rather dire," started Akechi. "I even took a day off my detective duties so that I could be here with you all today. But we shouldn't get ourselves too worked up over all of this. After all, it is still just a text."

"Yeah, but it's a text that says I love you," Ryuji stressed. "Do you know how bad that'd be if that message got sent to someone like Ann, or Haru? That'd make the whole going around being Phantom Thieves thing, like, mega awkward!"

Akechi rubbed his chin as if checking for beard stubble. "Hm. I hadn't considered that."

"That's because you don't get girls!"

"And you do, Sakamoto-kun?"

"Y-yeah! Or at least, I get them better than you!"

"What if perhaps I used curry?" continued Yusuke to himself. "Could the properties of cumin and turmeric elevate my work to its next level?"

"In that case, we should make a plan to handle the worst case scenario," Akechi said.

"Worst case scenario?" Ryuji asked. "What's the worst case scenario in this situation?"

Akechi's complexion turned severe. Resting his chin on the apex of his steepled fingers, he surmised, "We know that Akira is not the most verbose when it comes to speaking with women, especially when the topic of discussion is romance. We also know, given our experiences with him, that women tend to be drawn toward him. Given that he will likely broach the topic of the contents of the message with all of the women he is close to, it is possible that he will accidentally incite their hidden desire for him. From this, we can predict the worst case scenario."

"Uh…" droned Ryuji, still lost on the point Akechi was trying to make. "So what are you gettin' at?"

"What I'm getting at," Akechi said, "Is that the worst case scenario is Akira stealing the hearts of all his female companions."

There was a short pause.

It was crudely interrupted by Ryuji bursting into laughter.

"Hahahaha! What are you talkin' about dude? Are you seriously sayin' that Akira's some kinda playboy?!" Ryuji howled. "He's an idiot when it comes to girls! I mean, the last time he tried talking to a waitress at the Shibuya Diner, he started choking on an ice cube mid order. Totally scared her away. She was so traumatized, we had to get a new one."

"I'm not saying it's the most likely scenario," Akechi corrected, "Just the worst possible one."

"Yeah, yeah," he said flippantly. "The day Akira shows up with a girl wrapped around his arm is the day I kiss one!"

The right side of Akechi's mouth curved unnaturally up his face. "You've never kissed a girl, Sakamoto-kun?"

Flabbergasted by his statement, Ryuji spluttered, "Er, uh, well, no but… T-That's besides the point!"

"Oh, did I broach a sensitive topic?"

"Shaddup!"

"I thought you 'got girls' better than me, Sakamoto."

"I said shaddup!"

"I wonder if crushed paprika can be used as a substitute for red paint..." Yusuke pondered.

"Dammit Yusuke!" Ryuji roared, surging from his seat. "Could you stop thinkin' about your doodles for one second and help us out here?!"

It wasn't a second after Ryuji's tantrum that the door to Leblanc burst open. All their gazes turned to the entrance, and an expression of impossible shock spread across their countenances.

"Akira-san."

"Akira, is that…?"

"Woah! W-w-what the hell are you doing with…!"

With a throaty groan, Akira Kurusu stumbled into Leblanc. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were a mess, and his eyes, normally calm and analytic, were half-lidded and as bloodshot as an alcoholic sailor's. Taking a groggy step forward, he fell straight onto his stomach, his legs incapable of supporting his body. As he laid motionless on the ground, he extended a wobbling arm toward his friends and, with the last of his strength, mumbled a single word:

"Help."

Before they could assist their friend to his feet, a seemingly innocuous voice rung in their ears. "Oh my," it soothed, "You seem to have fallen. Let me help you up." A deadly premonition crossed each of the boys' instincts. Stepping over his body, a woman in a white lab coat reached down and, with a hard tug, pulled Akira back to his feet. She wrapped her arm around Akira's and introduced herself with a mischievous wink.

"Good afternoon boys, my name is Tae Takemi. Could I have a word with you?"

A/N: Hello friends! I hope you are all doing well. Once again, thank you all for your tremendous support, it is very much appreciated! It is because of readers like you that I continue to write with such fervor.

About two weeks ago, I had the idea to update three words to die for twice a week instead of once. The goal in mind was to progress the story at a faster rate and generate more content for you, the readers. I wanted to do this because I wasn't satisfied by how slowly I was pushing out content. It felt like I was slogging along, rewriting parts of my chapters more than I was progressing with the plot.

However, after some long consideration, I decided against this idea. My writing process involves spattering all my words and thoughts and ideas onto a page, and then going back and heavily editing that scribbled mess over a period of three or four days. However, I am not currently at a literary level where I can write both quantity and quality. Thus, I chose the latter because I felt that you all deserved a carefully written story updated once a week much more than a jumbled mess of ideas twice a week. In conclusion, I just want to say thank you all for being so patient with me as I slowly pump out these chapters. It will be a long journey to the finish, but I hope you will all embark on it with me!

Until next week, friends.

EDIT: I've realized that this chapter as well as my earlier ones are rather slow-paced and stringent in tone for a fanfiction. This is good for me to know. As a writer, it is important to write for one's audience, and if I'm not properly doing so, I need to make adaptations to my writing style. While there are certainly times when a writer has to stick to his or her own style of writing, I believe in this case, writing an enjoyable and more interesting story for my audience is more important. Thank you, Rimuru, for pointing this out to me in the reviews. I will try my best to work on this!

Furthermore, if there are any individuals out there who would be interested in helping me edit or look over my work before I publish it (I know, it sounds super fun...), I would be immensely appreciative.

Thanks again, friends!

NEXT TIME: death ii