Different sorta chapter today! As always, thanks to Mac for all his help with this! Really helped define the character's personalities and make the plot neater. Hope you all like what we did here! (It's also a rather long chapter. Hope no one's bothered by that :) )
"Okay," Akira reminded everyone, "disguises on." He, Ann, Ryuji, and Haru all put on their outfits and opened the doors to Sojiro's van, which was parked a good few blocks from Shujin in order to avoid drawing suspicion. School was out for winter break, after all, and there weren't many others who needed to catch up.
"You all remember what the rules are, right?" Makoto reminded them.
"Yeah," Akira assured her. "I think we'll be fine."
"Stay safe, kids," Sojiro said encouragingly, "and remember, if you go out at any point, let us know where you are and don't lollygag around in one place."
"And don't look at anyone," Sae commanded firmly. "Don't let anybody unfamiliar see your faces, got it?"
"That would be a truly unfortunate occurrence," Yusuke agreed.
"They'll be fine!" Futaba said confidently. "I've been watching the cameras since we got here. There's almost nobody else anywhere near here. Too early morning, winter break. It's gonna be good!"
"If you say so, Futaba," Morgana still seemed a bit concerned.
"I shall see you all later, then," Yusuke said pleasantly. "Boss, is there any possibility that we can stop by a shop so I can get new lobsters while we are waiting for them?"
"What?" Sojiro said, baffled. "What do you need lobsters for? We can't cook 'em in here."
"For aesthetic purposes," Yusuke explained, "I appreciate the way their tails in particular—"
"No, Yusuke," Makoto said firmly, "there's no time to get lobsters, and we have nowhere in the van to keep them."
"I see… very well. Goodbye, everyone!"
Akira made to get out of the car, but his companion cat yowled at him.
"Hey, wait! You're leaving without taking me along?!"
Akira stopped and turned to look at him. Morgana seemed incredulous at the idea of being left behind. "Er—"
"Come on! Don't you need me?"
"...No?" Akira really didn't need him. He liked Morgana, but found his constant overbearing presence in his everyday life to be a bit of a nag (though he acknowledged the occasional advantages that his cat's observations afforded him). He had been hopeful that today he'd be able to take a break from all that.
"Don't be silly!" Morgana laughed a little, as if Akira had made a joke. "Of course you need me!"
"Why do you even want to come? We're gonna be sitting in a boring classroom, doing every shred of schoolwork we've missed. Do you really want to sit through all that? In a cramped, tiny desk?"
"Of course, Akira," Morgana answered earnestly, "I want to help! I could tell you the answers to some of the difficult questions!"
"Kawakami knows you can talk," Akira told him, "she wouldn't let you help…"
"Can't he just take my place instead?" Ryuji whined. "Then he'd get to do the work, and my brain wouldn't turn to curdled cheese..."
"I think it's already kinda like that…" Ann pointed out teasingly.
Ryuji glared in response to this remark, though his small smile showed he didn't take offense. "Shaddup!"
"Not entirely sure what's going on back there," Sojiro said, "but you kids should make your decision about the cat and get going."
Akira sighed in defeat and stuffed Morgana into his bag. The cat yowled in protest at being manhandled, but Akira paid him no mind and said goodbye to Sojiro, Sae, Yusuke, Futaba and Makoto.
With that, he split up from Ann, Ryuji, and Haru. The four of them all took four different paths to Shujin, and entered through four different entrances, before they reconvened in the classroom where Kawakami and a pile of homework awaited them.
"Alright," Kawakami said, exhausted, "I think we can take a break… pencils down."
Akira, Ann, Ryuji, and Haru rose from their seats in classroom 2-D. They were all in the front row, close to the desk where Kawakami stood, watching. With her guidance and supervision, they had spent hours upon hours completing lesson packets and quizzes. Akira was soon fatigued, as were everyone else.
"One hour," Kawakami promised them. "We've been at this a long while…"
"Whew…" Ryuji stretched his arms above his head.
"I think I'm gonna go buy some sweets," Ann said, tiredly, getting up and turning to leave the classroom.
"I'll go with you, Lady Ann!" Morgana said eagerly, leaping onto her shoulder, "I can be your bodyguard!"
Ann laughed. "Thanks, Morgana." She placed the overexcited cat inside her purse.
"I'm gonna go for a run," Ryuji told them, "I'll be back later."
"Yeah…" Haru murmured as she rose, seeming to be half-asleep. "I'll go to the roof and see how my plants are doing."
"Just remember what Sae and Sojiro said, right?" Akira reminded them. They all nodded in agreement.
"Cool. I'll see you all later…" he groaned. Standing up, he exited the classroom and entered the hallway, where, instead of going anywhere, he simply walked about the hallway and stretched his legs. But before he could do too much of that, he heard another student behind him.
"Hey," said a voice, "Kurusu Akira, was it?"
"Oh yeah…" Akira said, turning to the other student, "you're that last newspaper club member. From the dying newspaper club."
"I'm glad you remember me." She smiled, seeming very pleased.
The newspaper club member had neat, long hair (dyed black in accordance with the Shujin dress code), deep brown eyes behind narrow glasses with red frames, and a tired look on her face. She was the same girl whom Akira frequently encountered in the hallways of Shujin after class, with whom he occasionally conversed about the Phantom Thieves, and current going ons at school.
"Let me tell you," the girl sighed, "I was working with the Student Council after Niijima-san died, and a lot of crazy stuff happened… I'm nearly at my wit's end. This council is utterly destroying itself. And with the Phantom Thieves all gone… and the news that our last Student Council president was one of them... Everything's gone totally cuckoo."
She parted her hair absentmindedly. "Weren't you Niijima-san's boyfriend?"
"I… am… her boyfriend," Akira said awkwardly.
The newspaper club member looked at him apologetically. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Uhhh -" Akira didn't know how to properly explain how it was that he hadn't lost Makoto. "It… happened so suddenly… and then other stuff… er… what are you doing here during winter break?"
The bespectacled girl looked at him with a strange, nervous expression on her face. "I'm… watching out for news, I guess. I don't know, I'm just bored. Why are you here?"
"Missed a month of school…" Akira yawned deeply. "Got a lot to catch up on."
"Oh. Anyway…" she said, "I heard that some unknown person or persons pretending to be the Phantom Thieves sent a message challenging Prime Minister Shido. How did that happen? I wonder what Dekishi-san will think of this. She probably won't like it…"
"Dekishi… ?"
"Dekishi Misako," the newspaper club member clarified, "the new student council president. I guess you did miss school for a while… you wouldn't know what's been happening. Shall I tell you the story, Kurusu-kun?"
Akira checked his phone's clock, to see that he had plenty of time to kill. "Sure…"
It was the 21st of November. I was standing outside the office, tiredly watching out for anything or anyone of interest. I was getting desperate for exciting subject matter to put in the school paper. Shujin had almost no news to speak of these days, and it had been so since the Kamoshida incident—which itself had broken a dry spell.
To be frank, Shujin was quite a boring school to attend, where hardly anything remarkable happened. It was hardly a wonder that no one except myself remained on the newspaper club; I was stuck either investigating incidents in the immediate surrounding area, or reporting on trivial matters such as the rising prices of the bread available to students. I am not an economically minded person, and have no interest in such things as the changing cost of food and similar commodity products.
I heard Niijima-san in the office, discussing matters with the new principal. I myself was waiting for her to come out, so that I might speak to her about a future interview.
Interviews with the Student Council were one of the only things keeping the principal from axing the Newspaper Club—which, by Shujin's guidelines for establishing and maintaining a school club, should have been disbanded long ago. The teacher responsible for managing it had long ago quit, citing an unacceptable level of abuse from another, unknown staff member. But Principal Kobayakawa was reluctant to let it go, given its legacy for producing such distinguished journalists, so he had allowed it to remain.
Now, his replacement saw it as a useless waste of resources, and the articles which I wrote as utter trash, and was determined to get rid of it. However, the school board would not allow it. But while it still existed, my freedom as a writer was kept on a tight leash. Told to write about very specific things relating to the school, and of a very specific, idealistic mindset which painted a pleasant picture, I was one deviant article away from losing my position as the lonely newspaper club leader.
Anyway… Niijima-san and the principal were talking about some sort of forgotten assignment.
"You never turned it in? That's quite the surprise…"
"I'm sorry."
Niijima-san sounded rather sad. I was uncertain of the reason, but it was none of my business, so I simply stood by and continued to await her exit. There was no way I could have predicted the events that transpired almost immediately thereafter. It was a truly unexpected twist of fate.
"Well, your grades are excellent, and you're Student Council president - so I'm sure you'll be admitted anywhere you apply. That one Phantom Thief should have followed your example—"
The principal was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of a phone.
"My apologies, Niijima-chan, I should answer this…"
The principal spoke in a low voice. I only caught bits and pieces of his side of the conversation. As he carried on talking, my curiosity was only exponentially amplified.
"Hello?
"Yes…
"I see…
"That is…
"My goodness… !
"Her?!
"Yes… she's here. You may come at once."
The principal hung up the phone. His voice took on a truly disheartened tone.
"Niijima, I'm afraid there's a problem."
"W-What would that be?"
"I apologize for the inconvenience, but you're not permitted to leave this office for the time being. The police are coming. I've been told that they have evidence proving you're one of the Phantom Thieves."
"What?! N-no! This must be—"
"I find this hard to believe, but we will have to look into it. If it is true, it cannot be excused. There will be grave consequences for you."
"Uh—"
Niijima-san sounded like she was about to cry.
A Phantom Thief? I myself could not believe it. It was true, however, that she had been acting somewhat odd these past few months, and had been, with steadily increasing frequency, dodging or deflecting many of my questions during interviews. Particularly about the company she kept. What had been up with her?
I knew I wouldn't be able to get any interviews with Niijima now, and by all logic I should have simply left. But for some reason, I found myself rooted in place in the hallway, watching the office door with a sick anticipation. It was as if I were inside one of my own news articles, and—I wasn't certain, but perhaps it was my natural instinct as a writer to see the whole story through to the end.
I didn't have to wait very long. Within about a half hour, several officers—a few wearing standard police attire, but a good number of them wore black suits and sunglasses—came up the stairs. I heard many nervous and excited whispers.
Whoa! Cops again?!
Did they find someone?
Maybe they're investigating!
Are they here to ask questions again?
The tallest of them, one of the ones in the suits, who wore his hair in a scruffy black mullet, approached the office door. He knocked rather loudly and aggressively. So loudly, in fact, that I wouldn't have been surprised if the entire school had heard it.
Even if the rest of school hadn't heard that, they almost certainly heard the yells of all the witnesses a few brief moments later, as Niijima Makoto emerged a downtrodden captive. Her face bruised and wet with tears, her colored headband removed, now in the hands of one of the officers. Her hands were cuffed, and, though she was clearly trying not to show it, she was obviously terrified.
One officer held her fast by the arms, while another patted her down. Throngs of students emerged from the floors both below and above, and the practice building, to see for themselves what was happening to Miss President. I could do nothing but watch… and write. My hand moved furiously through my notebook as I took notes on the scene.
"Hey, you."
In response to her surprisingly calm voice, I looked up from my notebook to see Niijima-san staring up at me, with a rather strange, expectant look on her face.
She seemed to be looking at my rather active left hand—my other writing hand, which I occasionally used subconsciously. Mostly I used my right hand in public, but I was perfectly capable of using either, and often preferred my left hand when I was alone, deep in thought, or had no particular goal in writing. Being aware of it now, and of being watched, I nervously ceased its motions…
"Excuse me?"
"What are you going to make of this? Newspaper girl?"
"I-I… What do you mean?" I approached Niijima as closely as I could without attracting the suspicion of the officers.
"I mean of me," Niijima said plainly. "This arrest. Isn't everyone going to want to know about this? Isn't that why they're all watching? It's going to be this big scandal all around the school. They're all going to forget the finer details once it's over, and their memory will be overwritten by whatever impressionable words you write about it. So, what are you going to make of this?"
"Should I be worried about that?"
"Why does the newspaper club exist? Should they be worried about it? Are you worried about it? About telling the truth?"
"Hey, shut it!" growled the officer holding Niijima-san, shaking her by the arms. She grimaced, expressing indignation. I'd never worn handcuffs before, but I'd read about them online, and they were supposedly rather painfully constraining. I couldn't imagine how difficult this was for her…
The officers looked at me rather rudely. "Hey, missy," one of them spat at me, their saliva gracing my cheek. That was some far-reaching spit… "what the hell are you lookin' at! Get lost!"
Why single me out among the many others who were also watching this play out? Simply because I was closest? Whatever… I had no intention of challenging a cop, so I slowly backed away from the scene. After a short moment, the police led Niijima out of the school hallways. She held her head high, staring imperiously ahead, while ignoring anyone who came close.
I considered her words carefully. She was right. No one ever remembered the truth. But, I felt that she had given me a bit too much credit. My words weren't that impressionable… were they?
Akira was scowling in anger at hearing the story. "Damn those guys…" he muttered, unconsciously rubbing his wrists as he recalled the way they had treated him in the interrogation room. He could only imagine what they might have done to Makoto, until Sae rescued her.
"It seems my recollection of it had quite an impact on you," the newspaper club member noted, taking a small note in her book, then passing the pen from her right hand to her left and back again. Her ambidexterity was somewhat mesmerizing…
"I guess, you are her boyfriend… but, you already knew she was arrested… so…"
"I-I just didn't imagine it quite like that."
"I see…" She wrote a tiny note on the palm of her hand.
"What are you doing that for? Don't you have a notebook?"
"Yes, but…" the girl sighed a bit. "I just like writing notes in other places sometimes. It helps me mentally compartmentalize certain things."
Akira supposed this made sense. "Alright. So… anyway. What next?"
The newspaper club member placed her pen behind her ear, and resumed the story…
Niijima-san was expelled from Shujin Academy within the week. The Student Council now had no president, and the school had expelled their top student - it was truly an outrageous scandal. Soon enough, everyone was soon talking about it. Rumors began spreading like wildfire. I heard all sorts of voices, flying to and fro daily:
Expelled? Our president?
I don't believe it! Why the hell…
That must be a mistake. Or a lie.
Niijima-san was a Phantom Thief?
Miss President? A criminal?! WHY?
Who's going to be our robot girl now… ?
Shujin's staff requested an article intended to "disquiet the rabble rousers," and I finally had something interesting to write about—though certainly not something I would have preferred. And so the front page of that week's paper bore the headline, STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT EXPELLED IN SCANDAL.
It was a truly decrying story, and I almost hated myself for writing it. Almost. It was certainly information that needed to be out there, to be talked about. But at the same time, having been commissioned by the school, it did not paint the incident in a light which I felt accurate. I was concerned that all it would really do was rile people up.
And rile people up it did. It was when Niijima Makoto, the fallen star student of Shujin, was reported to not only have been a Phantom Thief, a misguided teenager—but a truly disturbed criminal who killed her older sister in a living room gunfight, that I began to be harassed. Tons of other students approached me to ask about it. Most of them asked rather frivolous questions: If I had personally known Niijima-san, ever gotten close to her, done anything else, had any clue why she killed her sister.
Some of them were overzealous "aspiring journalists," to whom I could relate to a degree, but had no time for. They were too lazy or apathetic to join the newspaper club and pursue their "dreams," making lame excuses whenever I asked if they had any interest in actually doing some work themselves. Some of them were bullies, or posited obnoxious inquiries about Niijima-san, or threats, or denounced me for being a "friend" of a "total psycho," or accusing me of "favoritism" in covering her story while writing about little else of interest for the school's paper.
I was not Niijima-san's friend by any means. I barely knew her, and had no idea why she would have done whatever she did. I simply had asked her a few questions from time to time for some monthly Student Council updates. And by no means was I "favoring" her story. I simply had nothing else worth writing about. At least not that I was permitted to write about, anyway.
Some of these people "admired" my writing and wanted to ask me out. I was not interested. I have never been interested whatsoever in romance. I have nothing against it, but it is simply not within the realm of my desires to be dating or experiencing sexual relations of any sort. I've only kissed one boy in my entire life, and the experience didn't convey any feelings to me, besides a sense of gross wetness.
I dismissed and ignored all of these bothersome persons. It was a good thing that hardly anyone was aware that Okumura Haru—also reported to be a Phantom Thief and to have died—had gone to Shujin as well. She was much more famous than Niijima-san, and had any of the students made any sort of connection, she'd have been a much hotter topic, I was sure.
Before long, I stopped writing about Niijima-san altogether. Not only was my work was not having the desired effect, but the students whose conversation I had rejected were now taking their inquiries to the teachers. The principal himself came and complained to me. The nerve… The school had asked me to write this article, and now they were blaming me, because I had written it, and people had reacted? I was appalled, but there was nothing I could do.
And so Niijima-san's arrest, and subsequent departure from the Student Council, incited the first of three strikes against the Shujin Academy Newspaper Club's continued officialization. There was once again no reason to continue the club, other than to write about the Student Council and other miscellaneous activities. I would soon be graduating, and with the passing of my graduation, the newspaper club would be no more.
That is, if it even lasted until the end of my year. Principal Kobayakawa was by no means a good man, for letting what Kamoshida did go unpunished. But he had seen fit to let the Newspaper club go on, in no small part because I still provided a somewhat valuable resource to the student body. If schedule changes were to be announced, it could be done in the paper. If a teacher was retiring, you'd hear about it in the paper. Writing was the one and only thing I was really good at, and, in spite of the menial subject matter I was often handed, I had been grateful of being offered a purpose.
But now, Shujin's staff was threatening to deny me my purpose, for simply doing my job. I was, for the first time in a long while, truly vexed.
"But I don't think you would understand…"
"Actually I do," Akira said matter-of-factly, with a hint of quiet fury expressed in his voice, "I know exactly how that feels. To be fucked over by shitty adults…"
The newspaper club member looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"I said I know what you mean."
"Really?" She seemed quite intrigued. "What happened to you?"
"Long story," Akira replied, brushing it off for the moment and regaining his composure. "I'll tell you if we have time once you're finished."
"Hm, I'm quite curious about it. But anyway. I thought I'd just go back to regular updates on boring old school stuff, but I was approached by this other girl…"
"Excuse me!"
"I'm sorry," I spat curtly at the one speaking, not even turning to see their face. "I'm not interested."
"I don't want to threaten you or ask you out like all those other jerks!" the girl said, "I just want to talk about Makoto-senpai—she was my friend—"
I stopped in my tracks. As I've said, "friend" was one thing to Niijima-san that I most certainly was not. But perhaps discussing the former, deceased student council president with someone who had known them properly would benefit my perspective on the issue. With this in mind, I turned around. "What do you want to talk about?"
"I knew Makoto," the girl, who was pale, wore her black hair in a ponytail and was of a small build, said. "She saved me… from… someone bad. There's no way she would have…"
The girl began to cry. I felt rather sympathetic towards her plight. Assuming she was telling the truth, I could understand how terrible it might feel to have the entire student body spreading lies about your friend.
"What's your name?" I asked, "Let's go somewhere more private. The Student Council room, perhaps - I have a key. We can discuss this there."
The girl's name was Eiko. She told me the whole story: Niijima-san and her boyfriend, Kurusu Akira had saved her from an unscrupulous show host in Shinjuku. This man had attempted to hoodwink her into spending money on replacing a broken sake bottle so she would give into selling herself into prostitution. A rather disgusting ploy, I thought. I rather admired Niijima-san for standing against it.
If it were true, that is…
"So," Eiko concluded, "I don't think she would do something like kill her sister… or anything terrible…"
"So you think she may have been falsely accused in regards to being a Phantom Thief?"
"I… I don't know…" Eiko cried, "If she were a Phantom Thief… she must have had a good reason…"
"The Phantom Thieves supposedly killed that CEO," I reminded her, "do you think they had a 'good reason' to do that?"
"I don't think they killed that Okumura man." Eiko told me. "I don't think they were evil… there must be more to it. Will you please look into this?"
I carefully considered Eiko-chan's words. Certainly, I could agree with her on one thing - it seemed rather odd that the Phantom Thieves would kill. It was almost certainly as Akechi Goro had said at the Culture Festival—they simply weren't murderers.
"All right. I believe you." I stood up and collected my belongings. "I'll do what I can. If I can find someone to corroborate your story, I'll publish it in the next school paper. In the meantime…" I checked my watch. "Dekishi-san will be here any minute… you should go."
Eiko stood up and made for the door. Without warning, it burst open in her face and knocked her down.
"Hey! News girl!" the new Student Council President, Dekishi Misako shrieked. It bothered me quite a bit that the new Student Council president did not know my name, but then again, neither did anyone else. My name was quite a disgrace; one so ridiculous and foolish, yet so bland and generic, that everyone always laughed at it, then forgot it moments after I told it to them. So I had given up trying. There was no way I could tell anyone my name. There wasn't even a way I could tell you my name, seeing as you might forget it too.
"Why would I forget your name?" Akira asked, looking puzzled.
"I told it to you once or twice. Don't you remember it?"
Akira thought for a few moments. That was true… for some reason, he simply didn't recall…
"There's my point."
"I'm sure it's not that bad a name," he said optimistically. "It's probably just -"
"Trust me," the newspaper club girl replied, "it's a very forgettable name. May I continue telling what happened?"
Conceding that it didn't matter, Akira nodded and the newspaper club girl went on with her story.
I said nothing. Eiko was now on the floor, rubbing her injuries.
"News girl!" Dekishi-san said again. "I need you to knuckle down and get cracking on that fabulous article about wonderful little ol' me!"
"Er…" Dekishi-san had been asking me to write so many such articles, I could never keep track. I personally believed this to be rather arrogant of her. "What ought I to be writing about this time?"
Dekishi-san's eccentric bright green hair was almost like a disco ball at a karaoke bar. Light seemed to bounce off of it, and her lipstick - red on the upper lip, black on the lower lip - was equally spellbinding. Her pale skin was almost immaculate, and her blue eyes shone like sapphires.
Overtop her Shujin uniform, she wore a ridiculously long scarf. It was orange, a ridiculously orangish orange which—sheesh, I don't know how else to describe it. It was an indescribable eyesore of orange. It was just so… orange. She always wore that thing, regardless of the weather, as if determined to daily assault my senses with it, but I ignored it.
"You were supposed to be writing about the upcoming implementation of my plan to lower the price of bread!" Dekishi shouted furiously. "And take a lovely picture of me while you're at it!"
"I don't have a camera…" I spat, annoyed by the new president's unreasonable requests. The Newspaper Club's photographer had quit, and I was a pretty shitty photographer myself. I could take photos with my phone I supposed, but they would probably look so terrible that it wouldn't be worth it.
"I refuse to accept that! I must have a picture! If you don't have a camera, I'll buy you one!"
Dekishi-san was especially irate today. She was usually irate anyway, naturally, given her long history with Niijima-san.
Before the scandal which was now bringing me so much attention and trouble, Niijima Makoto and Dekishi Misako had been Shujin Academy's top two students. Niijima studied diligently in the library every single day, while Dekishi would frequently talk up the other students and try to convince everyone how great she was. And always, somehow, by some absurd turn of fate, would wind up in the same class. And every single exam, two names would top the class results—Niijima Makoto and Dekishi Misako.
Occasionally, Dekishi would come in first. Sometimes Niijima would get the better of her. But those score differences never amounted to more than a few miniscule points. More often than not, the two would find themselves tied exactly. I wrote numerous filler articles about it for the paper—back when the newspaper club was three people instead of one. The student body was, on a whole, neutral on the matter, but every time Dekishi and Niijima passed each other in the halls, their competitive spirit was so tangible, it was almost like a frozen bullet hovering between them in midair.
In the previous year's election for student council president, they had been especially fierce with one another. I could still remember their heated debate clearly, when I had been interviewing them for the paper…
It was in early February of 2015. The previous Student Council president was soon to graduate from Shujin, and now the new one was being chosen…
"Roughly thirty percent of our students cannot afford to buy bread here. And those who can, often are unable to get it due to supply not meeting demand. There's a lot of talk about—"
"Oh, that's easy!" Dekishi-san interrupted, "I'll just buy more bread! Problem solved!"
"You… you can't just buy everyone bread," Niijima-san countered. "It's not—"
"Yes I can! I have lots of money! I don't mind sharing…" Dekishi moved her face closer to Niijima, and looked at her rather deviously. Niijima nervously put some distance between them. It was clear to me that she was trying to ignore her competitor's outrageous temperament.
Dekishi's parents were very wealthy individuals, whose immense fortune had been passed down from generation to generation. They worked in real estate, if I recall correctly, selling rather lavish properties to distinguished customers. As a result, she had a lot of pocket money and a high-standing social status, both of which she frequently exploited to get her way. She frequently disobeyed the dress code, ran in the hallways, and violated others' personal space. And yet the teachers constantly turned a blind eye.
"Anyway," Niijima picked up, "Our previous leader was very pleasant to speak to, reasonable, and well-collected. But he was very clearly unfit for the task in front of him and rather overwhelmed with responsibilities. Under his guidance, school clubs were consistently neglected and as a result most of them have disbanded due to lack of resources or members. It is my intention to—"
"Clubs?!" Dekishi-san yelled derisively, standing up, "Clubs are easy! The only reason why there aren't any clubs around is because the school hasn't got any money to support them!"
"So, you're saying," Niijima-san said skeptically, still sitting down and ignoring Dekishi's misconduct, "that you'll be able to buy more stuff for all the clubs, and that will solve everything?"
"Precisely!" Dekishi-san declared. "Track team can't afford new outfits, music club can't afford instruments, computer club can't afford computers, art club can't afford art stuff, photography club can't afford cameras—the list goes on and on and on." She sat on the desk and looked at me expectantly, leaving not much room to breathe between us. "Newspaper club can't afford to print more than three pages a week, I guess?"
"Uhh, no actually, we're doing just fine in that regard," I told Dekishi. "I don't have any more than three pages worth of stuff to write about. What's the real problem is we need a new teacher to head the club since the last one just quit—"
"I'll just hire a new teacher!" Dekishi-san said happily. "It'll be wonderful!"
"The Student Council President can't make hiring decisions," Niijima pointed out. "You're not the school board, or the principal, or—"
"Indeed," Dekishi-san said cheerfully, "I'm not any of those things. But I am wonderful, and everyone loves me!"
"Fine," Niijima spat, evidently quite annoyed but trying not to show it. "So you'll just give everyone money and 'love' and that will solve all the school's problems, you think?"
"That's exactly right! I'll fix everything!" She kicked off her shoes, sending them flying at Niijima-san, who caught them in surprise and then lined them up against the wall before continuing.
"Well, what about all the students constantly fighting with each other? They're ruining their academic future, but it can't be denied that—although we may not be quite certain of the reason—they're upset and need moral support. They don't care about money. You really think handing everyone a big fat paycheck is going to fix that? You can't run this entire school with your wallet!"
"Um," I said, nervously. The conversation was getting way off track. "This isn't really supposed to—"
"Ha, of course not!" Dekishi-san giggled, ignoring my attempt to realign the interview with the rails. She hung her bare legs off the desk, energetically swinging them to and fro. "They won't need money! They'll all be so happy to have little ol' me as Student Council President that they'll just all stop fighting!"
"Really," Niijima-san said sardonically. "I've got a tip for you, Dekishi-san. Get over yourself and act like a proper role model if you want to assume this position. Not everyone loves you. Get used to it."
Dekishi-san's face fell, and she dropped her cheery facade. Getting off the desk and standing up over her opponent, she stared Niijima in the face. The look in her eyes was absolute poison.
"You're wrong," she hissed. "You're the one no one loves!"
"Excuse me?"
"You're a little bitch, Niijima. What do you know about the students here? All you do is just sit and study in the library and be a little tattletale anytime you see anyone going against order. You get all the best grades, all the top spots on all the exam results from our class. You're just the teachers' puppet. And everyone absolutely detests you."
Niijima-san stood up to meet Dekishi-san's eyes with a furious grimace.
"But as for me," the other went on, "everyone's totally into me! I'm popular! I'm hot! I'm filthy rich!" Dekishi accentuated those last two words with pride, as if they were a terrible sin to be proud of. She sounded like a femme fatale from one of those cheesy old American films I used to watch all the time. "Three things which you don't have, Niijima… all you have is a loser sister and a dead father!"
I wondered how on Earth Dekishi-san was aware of Niijima-san's family history, but I was now being completely ignored. Asking questions would only upset both parties in the conflict transpiring before me. Meanwhile, Niijima stared at Dekishi, clenching her fists…
"Are you going to hit me, Niijima-san?" Dekishi looked delighted by the thought. "By all means… I do so love a good fight with a girl. It's such an excellent turn-on…"
Niijima was shaking with an absolute anger. It almost, almost seemed like she would oblige Dekishi's offer…
But instead she just turned towards me, gave a small, stiff bow, and left the room.
"As I thought," Dekishi-san laughed. "News girl! Make sure you got all this down in great detail."
"No," I said calmly, "I won't publish meaningless, haughty, holier-than-thou drivel, nor can I post what Niijima-san said in retort. This was a waste of my time." I hadn't gotten much good information about either of the potential presidents' intentions. All they'd done was insult each other, and it wouldn't make for a constructive article; it would only get everyone picking sides and tearing each other's throats out.
"Hmph!" Dekishi turned and left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
From that point on, I always interviewed the two of them separately.
"This 'Dekishi Misako' sounds like a tremendous headache," Akira commented.
The newspaper club member nodded in agreement. "She's absolutely insane. I wish the Phantom Thieves had been made aware of her. Perhaps they could have changed her heart."
"Yeah, maybe that could be goo—" something suddenly occurred to Akira, and he thought things through a moment. Didn't she say…
"Time out for a second. Weren't you still suspicious of the Phantom Thieves? If you considered it a possibility that they may have killed Okumura, and that they were Shujin students as was often speculated, wouldn't you be concerned if they targeted Misako? Couldn't they harm her as well? Why would you wish the Phantom Thieves to target her if you believed that might be the case?"
"Well," the girl considered, "that may be true, that they are responsible for the mental shutdowns. But one thing I have noticed is consistent with most if not all victims of those incidents was that they were either high-profile individuals, or held some position in public services or government. Whereas smaller targets—unknown individuals, which included high school students such as Dekishi-san—did not experience any such accidents."
She clicked the top of her pen up and down, retracting the tip in and out for no apparent reason. Perhaps she liked the sound, or found the action to be cathartic. Perhaps both. She was a rather odd girl…
"As such," she concluded, "I don't think she would have experienced a mental shutdown, had she been targeted. I'm confident she would have been okay, and the change of heart would have much resembled the others reported. But besides that, it doesn't seem to make sense that they would kill such targets, and then waste their time on altering random persons throughout Tokyo. So it's not likely that they're the mental shutdown culprits anyhow."
"Well, alright then…" Akira was relieved that this girl had a level head and an open mind. "So, did you publish Eiko's story?"
"Hang on, now." The newspaper club member gave him a shrewd smile. "I'm getting to that…"
"Hey!" Dekishi-san shouted at Eiko, forgetting the article for a moment, "What are you doing in the Student Council room?! You're not supposed to be here!"
Eiko looked frightened. "Mi-Misako-senpai…"
"She's with me," I told Dekishi, firmly standing between her and Eiko. "Eiko-chan here was acquainted with Niijima-san, and wanted to talk to me about her after the… incident. She had a very interesting story. I'm considering writing an article in the school paper about it."
"Wha—" Dekishi was incredulous. She turned her nose up into the air snobbily. "You can't do that! I'm what's worthy of the front page right now! Niijima's dead , and she's old news! She was a fucking insane lunatic idiot who somehow stole a bunch of innocent people's hearts and killed her sister! I won't allow you to write such nonsense!"
Dekishi Misako ranted on and on for a long while about how great and lovely she was, and how terrible of a person Niijima Makoto had been. I rolled my eyes at this tirade and hardly paid it any mind. But Eiko gradually became more and more upset, and soon began crying…
"What's the matter?!" Dekishi screeched at Eiko. "Can't handle the truth about your precious Makoto-senpai?"
A fountain of tears streamed from Eiko's eyes. She was utterly bawling. She slowly and deliberately approached Dekishi-san, glaring at her furiously. Then, much to Dekishi's surprise as well as my own, Eiko slapped her in the face.
"YOU DIDN'T KNOW MAKOTO!" she screamed at Dekishi. "DON'T ACT LIKE YOU'RE SO SPECIAL! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A BITCH AND AN ATTENTION WHORE!" With that, Eiko turned and fled the Student Council room. Dekishi-san was stunned—it was clear that no one had ever acted that way towards here.
I couldn't help but crack a small grin, but after a moment Dekishi-san regained her composure. "What's wrong, news girl?!" she said, turning to me with an even more incensed expression than when she had originally entered the room. "You got something to say to me?" Dekishi stepped towards me in a challenging manner. I dispensed with the smile and backed away. But she kept advancing, grabbed my left arm tightly, and soon enough she had me right up against the wall.
"Uh—" I started. I wanted to say something clever, but I couldn't think of anything. Plus, I thought, what was the point? Dekishi-san wasn't going to listen to me.
So I said nothing and firmly closed my mouth.
"Ha, thought not," Dekishi spat scathingly. "Whatever." She switched over to her other, happier self, rubbing the bruise Eiko had left across her cheeks. "Let's start today's meeting!"
She prepared for everyone's arrival eagerly, and, within a few short moments, the rest of the Student Council filed in. They were all saying different things on the way inside, seemingly split on the matter of their new Miss President.
Miss President is so pretty…
She hugged me the other day!
She hugged everyone. I wonder why.
I hear her parents are super rich and stuff.
Whoa, really? Crazy shit, man! What do they do?
I don't know that I like the idea of her running the school…
She tried to kiss me… I pushed her away and she screamed at me.
I preferred Niijima-senpai. She was so much calmer…
Niijima was a criminal! She deserved to be expelled!
But did she deserve to die? It's kinda sad...
I don't know. I think I'm fine with either.
You just like it when girls tell you what to do.
Misako-senpai just needs all our love!
The Student Council meeting wasn't much of a meeting at all. Dekishi-san simply spat nonsense about how she was going to bring back all the clubs before the beginning of the next school year. High and mighty bullshit. She never let anyone get a word in, and the members of the Student Council were either aggravated, awed, or asleep.
After it had ended, I left the room and decided that I would need to verify Eiko's story. Despite the warnings from the principal, and what Dekishi-san had said, I had every intention of publishing it. Again, assuming it was indeed true.
I discreetly asked a few students what they knew about Niijima Makoto. None of them had any clue about her, though I learned that she had once been seen about a day before her expulsion speaking to a homeroom teacher named Kawakami. The teacher in question was responsible for the students in one of the second-year classrooms, classroom 2-D to be specific. I wondered why Niijima-san would be conversing with someone who didn't teach her class, so I decided to go talk to her first. So off I went to classroom 2-D.
As I went there, I carefully considered what my cover story would be…
"Your cover story?" Akira was baffled. "Why would that be necessary?"
"First rule of investigative journalism:" the newspaper club member said matter-of-factly, "Don't tell anyone who you are, and especially not why you're talking to them. Hardly anyone trusts a reporter who just comes along out of the blue investigating their business. When conducting interviews, it is of utmost importance that the interview doesn't feel like an interview. It should feel like a regular conversation." She winked at Akira. "I could be interviewing you right now…"
"But you aren't," Akira told her confidently. "A good journalist would never warn someone of the possibility that they're being investigated…"
"Well, maybe I'm not a good journalist," the good journalist suggested merrily.
"But you are one, aren't you?" Akira grinned understandingly. "Bad journalists ignore the important facts, and sensationalize everything to get readers. But you tell the public the truth. If you were a bad journalist, people would be reading your writing, and the school wouldn't have threatened the newspaper club with disbandment."
"Ha!" the newspaper girl chuckled amiably. "You do have a point there. Anyway…"
You might wonder, what if I were to be recognized? I was the only newspaper club member at Shujin. Wouldn't I stand out? Wouldn't that status make people wary of me, were I to go about asking strange questions about Niijima Makoto?
Well, not exactly. In fact, I would say being the only member of the club made me stand out less. Since I was the only newspaper club member, and hardly anyone ever read the school paper, most students and faculty barely knew that the newspaper club existed. They were reminded, when something big came up and I wrote about it, and then I would be recognized and bothered over it.
But it would be forgotten just as quickly as my bland name. My face was average, my plain red-framed glasses visually representative of society's general stereotype of a socially awkward nerd. Ha! I was anything but socially awkward.
No one would remember me as anything other than some girl with a pen and a notebook standing in the hallway. It wasn't a glamorous status, to be sure, but it was one that afforded me a great many opportunities. Since I appeared to be a blank slate, it meant I could write whatever I wanted on myself, as many times as I desired. And hardly anyone would think twice of it.
"Kawakami-sensei!" I called out from the classroom entrance, eager to get some answers about Niijima. Kawakami turned around.
"Oh, um, excuse me, er—I'm sorry, are you in my class?"
"Nope!" I replied quickly. "I just wanted to know, do you know anything about Niijima Makoto?"
"Niijima Makoto?" Kawakami looked baffled as to why I would ask that. "She… wasn't in my class. Is there a particular reason why—"
"I'm very concerned about her family and friends," I told Kawakami, trying to look a little worried. "A… another student expressed similar sentiments to me. We'd like to contact them if possible."
Kawakami seemed to accept my story. "Niijima-san had no known living family, other than her sister, who has also… passed…" She thought it through a moment. "It's tragic…" Kawakami was quiet and pensieve.
"Wait, what did you want to know? I'm sorry, my mind was wandering a bit there."
"Her friends, I suppose, if she has no family."
"I… Well, I did know a few of Niijima's friends… mostly those who were in my class…"
I approached the teacher's desk, then said in a hushed voice, "Could you tell me about them? Perhaps their names?"
"Hmm. In June, she started associating with some of my students," Kawakami recalled. "Specifically Kurusu Akira and Takamaki Ann. They were also known to have been meeting with Sakamoto Ryuji."
"The former track team ace turned troublemaker?" I was honestly a little surprised. "I never imagined Niijima-san would keep such company. I wonder, what on Earth were they doing… ?"
"Well, a lot of things, but I saw some of them quite frequently speaking with Mishima Yuuki about the Phan—"
Kawakami suddenly looked shocked, as if she had said something wrong. She uttered a soft meep and covered her mouth.
"What? What fan?" I prompted. "Fan… Phan—oh, do you mean, the Phantom Thieves?"
"What—uh—no. Ah!" Kawakami appeared very flustered. "Uh, I must be going now. Good luck finding Niijima-san's friends." She turned and fled the room in a hurry.
I thought over what Kawakami had told me. Kurusu Akira… Takamaki Ann… Sakamoto Ryuji… Yeah, I remembered those three. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen the three of them at school for quite awhile. Where were they?
"So… what did you do next?" Akira asked nervously.
"I asked more questions," the newspaper club member said plainly. "Just went around, listening to everyone… talking to a couple more people…"
Akira was nervous. This girl was smart. Too smart for a school journalist, one might think. If she put two and two together, she might have gotten the truth out of someone…
He wasn't too worried though. There was one important thing that set her apart from almost everyone who spoke against the Phantom Thieves:
The newspaper girl asked questions first and shot later.
"Mishima Yuuki." I finished murmuring to myself.
With that, I exited the classroom. Mishima… I'd heard of that person before. He was one of Kamoshida's victims. Didn't he have something to do with that Phantom Thieves website? He was the spiky-haired boy… yes, him. I'd never actually seen him talking to anyone…
Oh wait, no. I'd seen him speaking to Kurusu Akira. In fact, that was the only person I'd ever seem him speaking to around here… so how do I approach him…
I turned down the hallway, and saw him feverishly tapping away at his phone. He seemed pretty busy. Would he even bother to reciprocate if I spoke to him? Hmm, well, no time to think that through, I would just have to try.
"Excuse me… are you Mishima-kun?"
"Oh, uh—you're in charge of the newspaper club, right?" Mishima replied calmly, barely looking up from the screen. "I'm sorry, but I have no interest in joining."
"Uh—!"
Okay, so some people knew who I was.
I was wondering if I had the right idea in mind. Mishima was a fan of the Phantom Thieves, right? Even though they weren't supposed to be the subject of this article, perhaps I could work my way towards Niijima Makoto by asking about them, especially if she was truly one of them. Though, perhaps they would make a more interesting story anyhow…
And besides, in a way, I had been investigating them already, ever since the Kamoshida incident. But the publication of any article conveying the information I had gathered had not been permitted, not by Principal Kobayakawa, nor his replacement. I had always been curious of my own accord, but I supposed the need to tell Niijima's story now made it official.
But I couldn't open like that… he'd be suspicious of me right away. So instead, I said, after a moment's hesitation—
"I'm not here to recruit you, Mishima-kun. I wanted to ask you about something. I'm a little worried about Kurusu-kun."
That got his attention. The black-blue haired boy almost dropped his phone in surprise. "Y-y-y-y-you know Kurusu Akira… ?"
I nodded earnestly. "Well, we aren't exactly close. He and I are friendly acquaintances. We chat occasionally about current events. But he hasn't been coming to school lately… do you know where I could find him?"
"Well," Mishima seemed to be thinking a moment. After a couple seconds, he said, "Akira lives in a coffee shop called Leblanc. However, he's gone missing, and the place was closed down for some reason. The owner's vanished too. I'm not sure why…"
A disappearing coffee shop owner. I had doubts that this would lead me to Niijima, as I had never heard of her drinking coffee before. But since she knew Kurusu Akira, the odds were strong that someone may have seen her there. It was a lead worth pursuing.
"Is there anyone else who works at this coffee shop," I asked Mishima, "or who knows him and lives nearby?"
"Oh, well," Mishima seemed nervous. "Well, yeah, but I've already been talking to them. Actually, I got all of his friends together, and we're looking for him. Except you, I guess." He held out his phone. "Do you want my number?"
"No thanks," I replied politely, "I'm bad at answering calls and texts." In truth, I didn't want anyone's number, if I could avoid it. I was perfectly adequate at responding to communications if necessary, but I much preferred to only do so if necessary. I was quite good at talking to people in person, but less so when only voice and text were involved.
"Ah, alright." He shrugged, not seeming to mind. "Well, anyway, he knows a doctor there named Takemi Tae. But I've already talked to her about him… she doesn't have a clue where he's gotten off to, or why the coffee shop was actually closed."
"That's a shame," I lamented sadly. It truly was. "Oh well, I'll be off now. Thanks a lot for your help."
With two solid leads—Takemi Tae and Leblanc coffee—perfectly in hand, I turned to leave the school. "Wait!" Mishima called, "Before you go. Are you a Phan?"
"A fan?" I turned around to acknowledge the odd inquiry. "I'm a fan of a lot of things, but, what in particular?"
"The Phantom…" he mouthed "Thieves" rather inconspicuously.
"Er…" I didn't know what to say. I wasn't quite a fan of the Phantom Thieves, but nor was I quite against them. Had they caused the mental shutdowns? Had they not? I remembered talking to that boy, Kurusu Akira, a good few weeks, ago…
I wonder what the truth really is, I had said. Discerning what's true from what's not is a real challenge…
That was as true now as it was then. Perhaps they were, perhaps they were not…
Get ahold of yourself, I thought somewhat sensibly, you're supposed to write an article about Niijima Makoto, not the Phantom Thieves…
But for the sake of getting on Mishima Yuuki's good side…
I smiled halfheartedly. "I am a Phan," I told Mishima. "I think they're still out there somewhere. They've gotta be. They must be planning something."
His face lit up like a Christmas tree. "I knew I couldn't be the only one!" Mishima was absolutely ecstatic. Beyond ecstatic—he was euphoric. It was as if the boy was high on rainbows. I wondered what that might feel like…
"Have you seen my Phansite?!" he asked excitedly. "I've been updating it all the time since they disappeared… but…" Mishima's tone dropped to a slow crawl, sounding sad and disappointed. "I haven't really gotten any good attention."
At hearing this, I perked up. No good attention… It sounded quite a bit like what was I going through with the newspaper. Something I was passionate about, and updating as often as I could manage, pouring my heart and soul into, and hardly anyone cared about it. Come to think of it, if no one was reading, what was the point?
"So then… why do you keep updating it?" I wondered.
"Because I love it." Mishima looked very happy to have held my interest. "Because I really love it, and I'm passionate about it. I like running a website. Even if no one reads it, or leaves me obnoxious comments. They might be wrong, they might be right, and I feel it's my job to either prove them wrong or get better!"
"Hmm. I never thought of it like that…"
Though, to tell you the honest truth, I actually had. When I had first started writing, I had only wanted to do it for pleasure, because I loved it and wanted to keep doing it to improve, as Mishima was saying. But since I had joined the newspaper club here at Shujin, I had been beholden to expectations. Expectations which had begun to drown my passion…
"You do write the school paper, right?" Mishima asked excitedly, "I love your writing! Do you have a blog?"
"A blog…" I thought this through for a moment.
I personally wasn't much of a social media user, because I had heard all sorts of stories of young girls falling into inescapable states of depression due to addiction to the internet. I did have a small blog on a rather unpopular web service, but it hadn't been updated in many months, and I only had about four or five followers. My writing was mostly done in my notebooks, and on a small old typewriter in the student council room. Perhaps I ought to conquer my fears of modern technology, I thought, and branch out onto the internet.
It would certainly be an effective way to escape my confines as a writer in the school paper. "I might start one," I decided. "Would you have any tips for me, being the admin of the Phansite and all?"
"Err, the Phansite is the first and only website I've ever seriously worked on, and it isn't exactly a blog, so I wouldn't really have any great tips on that. All I really do is just post a bunch of poll questions and reply to comments…" he scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. "But… I can tell you three basic general things, I guess. Update often, cultivate your community, and make it something you can stay passionate about!" He grinned at me encouragingly. "I'm sure you could do it!"
"Update often, community, passion…" I muttered, "interesting…"
Those were three things I didn't have at the moment. The school paper was supposed to update once a week, but I frequently missed deadlines due to lack of motivation. I had barely any readers, and I wasn't often passionate about what I was writing. Until now…
Yes, until now. With the threat of the newspaper club's disbandment hanging over my head, I felt a strong motivation… determination. And I realized… it could be, perhaps, because of Niijima Makoto. Because of the Phantom Thieves.
Were they bad? Good? I couldn't know, but one thing was for sure. I would like them to be good. I wanted to imagine the Phantom Thieves as heroes. And that image of them, I supposed, was all I would ever have, since they were all dead. Wasn't that all we ever had, of the unknown heroes of legend? Images. The actual people could have been truly rotten, but writers like me would inscribe them as heroes. It was up to the writers to tell the world what they thought, and up to the world to decide which of it was true.
Perhaps Eiko-san's story about Niijima-san was only a small, bright and happy portion of a larger, much uglier picture. But it needed to be written anyway, because it needed to be known that in the eyes of some, Niijima Makoto had been a hero. And it would have to be my job to tell that story.
"I might do it," I said cooly to Mishima, filled with even more enthusiasm than before. "It seems like fun."
"Cool!" Mishima said, still invigorated with positivity. "Well, if you do it, let me know, all right? I'll read it!"
I nodded and left. On the way out, I took out my smartphone and inputted "Leblanc coffee closed" and "Takemi Tae clinic" into a search engine. The results that showed pointed me to one particular neighborhood…
"You went to Leblanc?!" Akira said in surprise. "Where I live?"
"You still live there?" the newspaper club girl narrowed her eyes. "When I got there, it had a sign posted saying it was closed indefinitely due to a health violation. The lights were all off, and it looked totally empty. I find that hard to believe, that you were hiding in there."
She seemed very suspicious.
"You don't think…" Akira wondered, "that I… uh—"
"Think what?" She seemed a little confused. "Kurusu… er, Akira-kun. Are you alright?"
Akira thought it through a moment. Yeah… he was alright. She didn't seem to suspect his true identity. And even if she did, this girl wasn't Akechi. She wasn't anything like Akechi. There was no need for him to be apprehensive or concerned. After all, unlike in the case of Akechi, he had a choice of whether or not he wanted to speak and associate with her. But there was one thing…
"I'm fine," he assured her, "but you should know something. I prefer that my friends not use honorifics when they address me. You can just call me Akira." He smiled at her pleasantly.
"Oh. In that case, Akira. May I tell you the rest of my story?" She gave him a pleasant, trusting smile.
He nodded. "Sure."
The newspaper club member seems to trust me with her story…
I am thou , thou art I… Thou has acquired a new vow.
It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.
With the birth of the Art Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…
You've unlocked the Art Confidant!
When I arrived in Yongen-Jaya, I was impressed by how quiet it was. It was the sort of place I might prefer to live, as opposed to the cramped apartment in the tall, noisy commercial Shibuya complex where my mother and I lodged. There were several small shops and a few back alleys. The area was small, so it did not take long to locate Leblanc. Sitting nearby was a quietly rambling man who appeared to be quite drunk. I paid him no mind whatsoever.
Leblanc - coffee & curry. It was a quaint little place, smaller than I had imagined. Considering the secluded location, I didn't imagine it got many customers, but also considering the size of it I figured it wouldn't be able to seat that many people anyway. And they served curry, huh? I wasn't allowed coffee, but I had never had curry. Perhaps I ought to come along and try it out sometime, if the place ever reopened.
The door was shut tight and a laminated notice read:
CLOSED BY THE JAPANESE MINISTRY OF HEALTH
FOR MULTIPLE SANITATION VIOLATIONS AND UNSUITABLE WORKING CONDITIONS
"Oh," a woman's calm voice said from behind me as I read it. "It seems they came and put that stupid sign back up again. How persistent of them. And petty… I'm getting tired of throwing it out."
I turned around to see a medium-height young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties from the looks of things. Post-college, I would imagine. She wore a black jacket over a blue dress featuring a spiderweb, wore a necklace with a choker and possessed short deep blue hair in a rather sloppily done haircut. I found her appearance interesting. Her odd choice of dress made her stand out among the rest of the locals.
The woman approached the door to the cafe, tore the sign away from the glass onto which it was affixed, and tossed it into a nearby trash can in earnest.
"Who are 'they' exactly?" I inquired.
"Leblanc wasn't closed for any 'violations,'" she told me sadly. It seemed she hadn't heard my question. "I would know. I'm a doctor, and that cafe was healthier than my own office." She turned to me curiously. "Why are you taking such an interest in it?"
"Do you know Kurusu Akira?" I asked. "I'm looking for one of his friends."
The woman looked me over with a suspicious, analytical eye. "Huh, that uniform… You look like a Shujin student. Is there any chance that…"
"You said you were a doctor," I suddenly remembered, breaking her train of thought. "Are you Takemi Tae?"
"Oh! My, you've done your homework." The doctor looked impressed. "Why, yes I am, sweetie. But how do you—"
"A mutual friend of ours told me," I informed her.
"Oh?" Takemi seemed rather amused. "I wonder who let that cat out of the bag."
"Mishima-kun."
"I see…" Takemi shrugged. "Oh well, you're here now. Which of Akira's friends are you looking for?"
"Well, any of them, but specifically someone who knew Niijima Makoto. She was Shujin's Student Council president."
"I see… wait, what's this for?"
"I'm looking for something she left to me." Bit of a stretch, I supposed, but you could say Niijima left Eiko's story behind, to me, and I was looking for it… so far, so good.
Takemi thought it over for a moment. "Okay… that sounds personal. I guess I won't ask any more questions. What specifically do you want to know about her?"
Hmm… what might I ask about? Well, seeing as I'm here of all places…
"Did she ever come around here? Around this coffee shop, specifically."
"She did, actually," Takemi recalled. "She came to see my guinea pig."
"Oh, you have pets?"
"Er, no… I mean, my assistant. Kurusu Akira. He's been missing for awhile… They were in love." Takemi stopped a moment. "Maybe that wasn't a necessary detail…"
"Oh, no, it was fine," I assured the doctor. Takemi's words made it highly likely that, unless Niijima had broken up with a past boyfriend (which seemed improbable to me, considering that Eiko's story hadn't been very long ago), Kurusu Akira was the boy with whom Niijima had come to Shinjuku on the day of the confrontation with that host. So far, things seemed to match up.
"Do you know if they had any other friends," I asked, "who might have any clue where I could find what Niijima left to me?"
Takemi thought a moment. "Yes, actually… there were a few people. Takamaki Ann and Sakamoto Ryuji, you already probably know, since they're students at your school." I nodded to confirm this, and she continued, "right… there would also be Okumura Haru, if only she weren't… gone… and there was a boy named Kitagawa Yusuke as well. He went to a different school. Kosei, I believe."
"Kosei…" I'd heard of it before. Wasn't it some kind of fancy prep school or something? I think my mother had considered sending me there, but considered it much too expensive.
"There was also a fellow student of Kitagawa's at Kosei, Togo Hifumi," Takemi added. "The Venus of Shogi, you might have heard of her. Akira was taking lessons on the game from her."
"Yes, there was a magazine article about her," I recalled. "Though it seemed focused on many unimportant details that had little to do with shogi."
I hadn't much liked that article, as it had appeared quite sensationalized. Togo Hifumi, from my impression of her, seemed simply like a girl who played shogi, and not some sort of teenage sex symbol. I had wanted to write my own article for the school paper which told more of her actual skills, but as Togo didn't go to our school, it hadn't been permitted.
"I didn't read that article myself," Takemi mused, "but it did sound quite frivolous from what I'd heard of it. Anyway, she might know something about Makoto as well, so you could try talking to her if you run into her."
"Thank you very much," I said gracefully.
But as I turned to take my leave, Takemi said thoughtfully, "Hm, talking about Akira reminded me, a real guinea pig might be pretty nice to have."
"What for?" I asked curiously, "some sort of medical experiment?"
"No, I already know almost everything about guinea pig physiology," Takemi clarified. "I mean as a pet. It would be… interesting. And remind me of him…"
"Anything else that you know?"
"Well," Takemi murmured… "there was that one time…"
"Oh?"
Takemi deliberated for a moment, but said nothing. "I'll just go now. Got a clinic to run." She turned and left, smiling. "You know, you remind me quite a bit of someone."
"Oh? Who might that be?"
"A reporter," Takemi answered, as she disappeared into the evening. A reporter like me? I wondered, could it be…
"She has rather bad habits. Can't take care of herself very well." Takemi sounded rather disappointed. "It's a shame. She has such brilliant potential as a writer, but she has to waste it all in that bar… anyway, kid." Takemi stopped and craned her neck to face me. "I hope you get home safe."
With that, the doctor vanished into the alleys of Yongen. But I was a bit more surprised by what she had just said… Takemi knew her? She was wrapped up in this too? No way…
When I arrived home, it was very late. The lights were turned off. When I turned them on, I saw my mother in our apartment's kitchenette, drinking a large glass of "healthy fruit juice." It was supposed to supplement her diet. I personally found it extremely disgusting.
She was wearing a rather large, messy bathrobe. "Pumpkin!" she yelled at me, furiously. "Where were you? Have you been seeing your aunt again?!"
"No, Mother," I told her, calmly taking off my winter jacket and hanging it up. I looked at her apologetically. "I was doing research for an article." Her hazel eyes were full of skepticism.
My mother was average and fair, almost the spitting image of myself, minus the glasses, and her hair a clean shade of autumn yellow. She and I looked quite alike, but could almost certainly not be any more different. She called me "Pumpkin" because when I was younger, I used to dye my hair a bright orange. (My natural hair color was blonde, which I utterly hated.) We had plenty of photos of it, and they all looked very silly. But the nickname stuck with me, and soon enough almost everyone in my family called me Pumpkin. So frequently, that I had begun to fear that my family had forgotten my name too.
(Not that it would matter. Everyone in the world could forget my name, and it would never matter to me. Should I ever need it for legal purposes, it was certainly still inscribed on my birth certificate and ID.)
"Really?" she wondered. "Well, in that case, maybe you should stop writing newspaper articles if they keep you up so late."
"We both know full well I won't do such a thing," I replied simply, not looking at her as I got an egg out of the fridge, cracked the shell between my fingernails, then tilted my head upwards as I swallowed the raw yolk.
She was not the most sensible woman. In fact, most of my family was not sensible. I held a strong personal belief that the only truly sensible people in my family were myself, and my aunt, whom my mother forbade me to see. The two of them never quite saw eye to eye, primarily due to their disagreement in the matter of her lifestyle. And so I was never permitted to visit her. I still did anyway from time to time, but were Mother to find out, I would be…
Well, usually nothing. My mother wasn't good at discipline. She had little self-discipline herself, and frequently procrastinated. She also wasn't very imaginative, and nearly every potential punishment she ever came up with either went against her values, or would inconvenience the both of us in some manner which she wasn't willing to deal with. The most I ever got from her was a stern lecture.
Like right now…
"That's a waste of egg," she told me reproachfully. "You know I could just make dinner for you."
"You always burn dinner," I reminded her. To be honest, I hated raw eggs. I couldn't understand their common appeal in Japan. But they certainly tasted much better than my mother's atrocious cooking. "And since you still won't let me touch the stove, even though I'm very nearly of age—"
"You could burn this whole apartment complex down!"
"Could, yes," I snapped, as I washed out the taste of the egg yolk with some cold water. "But I wouldn't. I'm not a baby, Mother."
I moved to throw away the eggshells, but my mother's grip stayed my hand.
"I can use those. We don't throw away food here." She guided my arm to the plastic tub marked leftovers. "I shouldn't have to remind you, Pumpkin."
"Right…" I reluctantly opened my palm, dropping the eggshells into the plastic bin, along with pieces of cake, soggy ramen noodles, two-week old bits of half-chewed onigiri, the gutted eye of a fish which I had picked out of my lunch several days ago—as well as many other disgusting, old and/or inedible items. Such things being reheated and served to me as meals was not uncommon. My mother was a strange, eccentric woman, and a truly terrible cook. But even so, I much preferred living with her as opposed to my father…
"Thanks, honey," Mother said, pleased by my obedience. "What's this 'article' about?"
"It's… it's a story from about the…" I slowed my voice to a crawl as I hypothesized my mother's reaction.
She did not much like the Phantom Thieves at all. To be fair, hardly anyone did. But, if I were to tell her about my investigation of Niijima Makoto…
When Niijima-san had been expelled, my mother had been extremely alarmed. She had met Niijima before, though not formally, and had formed a good opinion of her based on those encounters. But after the revelation that the Student Council president was a Phantom Thief, she had made several urgent phone calls to the school board at Shujin asking how they could have allowed her daughter to associate with such a person.
She was evidently not the only one who had done such a thing. The board had ultimately called a parent-teacher meeting, to which she had been invited, in order to discuss the issue. The media also got involved, especially following the beginning of Niijima's case and having continued for a short time after her death. It all built up to quite a truly troublesome PR disaster for Shujin Academy.
If I told the truth, my mother would probably scold me, then fear for my safety, make more phone calls, and perhaps pull me out of Shujin altogether. That was something I had absolutely no interest in causing, and even less interest in experiencing. It was true that I wasn't too fond of Shujin and its monotonous routine, but it was still my school. I knew the place well. I knew the people there. I couldn't just leave it behind.
"It's about the Student Council President," I finally said. Not technically a lie. "But don't worry; the school doesn't want me to write about Niijima anymore," also the truth, "and our new President wants me to write an article to..." well, one small lie was probably fine... "help ease the student body's minds after Niijima's expulsion and... death. To that effect she's been asking me to look into the prices of bread, musical instruments, and other such items that need to be replaced or restocked for the students of Shujin." And one last truth to round it all out.
"I see." My mother seemed satisfied with this explanation. "But that still doesn't explain why you were out so late."
"I went to a coffee shop on the way home," I told my mother.
"A coffee shop? You know you're not allowed caffeine…"
"I… I only ordered a plate of curry."
"They serve curry at coffee shops? My, my, Tokyo continues to surprise me even after living here for so long. I must try it sometime."
"It was lovely," I assured her, though I had never had curry in my life, and had no clue how it would taste. Though certainly still better than my mother's cooking…
"Anyway, Pumpkin, you should be off to bed now." Though she said so in a kind tone, she aimed a rather imposing expression at me, which very clearly conveyed that this was a non-negotiable situation. I didn't like going to bed. Hmm.
"Very well, Mother." I bowed politely and entered my bedroom. There, I sat down on my bed, kicked off my shoes and socks, and gently massaged my tired bare feet. Reporting took a lot of walking, talking, lying… or, well, half-lying. It was rather draining. I didn't much like walking, and would have preferred to ride a bike, but my mother wouldn't let me have one.
I wondered why there were so many things I didn't like. I didn't like walking, eggs, my mother, my school, people, kissing boys, or any number of other things I've not yet named. Yet I'm almost certainly not what you would call a pessimistic person. In fact, I'm a rather optimistic human. It's just that I happen to dislike quite a few things. The only thing I truly liked… my one true love… was journalism. It was, as I've said, the only thing I was good at.
I was both exhausted and rather reinvigorated by the day's events, and for the first time in several months, I was seriously looking forward to writing. Tomorrow, my love and I had a date, and it was going to be a very exciting date indeed.
[links not here b/c duh. Go to AO3 if you wanna find em.]
First off, I now have a Ko-fi page you can throw "coffee" at if you think my writing is worth paying for... for some reason. (Can't imagine why :P) But anyway, anything donated will go towards me, Mac, food and things, keeping me alive, doing cool stuff, and making it easier to spend more time creating stuff like this and improving my writing. So if you'd like to help me out and have a little extra cash, I hope you'll consider throwing a few cents my way. If you don't, no hard feelings. I like writing this, and the fact that you're reading it is making me happy enough ;) I'm also planning to post more original stuff to Tumblr. Going to try to get at least one short story/essay thing up there maybe every other day. So there's also that. Dunno if there's actually any interest in any of this, but I'm gonna try it out.
Sooo I see a lot of people talking about the newspaper club member. Saying she should have been a confidant, or done this, that, or the other, etc etc. Somehow have been relevant. At one point in the game she talks about the newspaper club being close to disbandment, and a lot of people wondered what the story was there. Myself obviously being no exception. And I looked around... but... there are no fics about her! So I decided to make my own interpretation of her and work her into the story.
The plan here is to have two or three chapters about her investigation of Makoto. She'll make another small appearance once or twice here, before I'll end this fic, and spin her off into her own full fic, which will be separate from this one. I've got the story of the remaining chapters outlined, though I have not too much clue how many chapters it will take to tell the story I've got in mind. Trust me, though, it will be a wonderful story. Or at least as wonderful as Mac and I can make it.
A particularly big but exciting challenge here was defining her personality and history, cause, in the game, you see, she doesn't have one. She's an informational NPC who evidently simply exists to help catch people up if they put down the game for a bit and come back wondering what the hell's goin' on again? I realized that I would need to create her from scratch, pretty much, since there are no real clues to go by. So, because I create odd characters, I created an odd character. Bits of me, bits of other people, bits of other cool characters I've seen in other films. Her deliberate namelessness, and the way she talks about it, was inspired by the protagonist "XXXX" (played by Daniel Craig) in the movie Layer Cake. I also borrowed personality traits from real people I used to know, in particular one of my past teen crushes who was also a writer, and also left-handed like myself. Except Newspaper Girl is clearly shown writing with her right hand in the game, so I made her ambidextrous because that's just fucking cool.
Our replacement president was also a little challenging to figure out. Misako's personality is basically, obnoxious rich bitch, Genki girl. Empathy problems, no respect for anyone but herself etc. Y'know. That kinda character archetype. Her temperament was heavily inspired by that of Haruhi Suzumiya, and I generally tried to make her Makoto's total opposite apart from intellect. (Intellect which, btw, she is totally wasting.) And yeah, Makoto, Misako, that's not unintentional. Dekishi means "drowned," and, depending on the kanji used Misako could mean "truth, sea, sand, beauty, child," or a number of other things. So her name is meaningful as well. I also thought of Victoria Chase from the game Life is Strange and all the Heathers in Heathers, though, especially Heather Chandler since she's the leader of the clique in that movie.
dunno if all these editor's notes are actually interesting or these characters are actually good, but I'm tryin' my best here so. Thanks as always!
SBM: It's always fun creating an OC. What's not as much fun is trying to cram them into a pre-existing story. Dekishi wouldn't have been created if a new SCP wasn't needed, and while we started with an archetype, I think she's pulled away from that well enough for her introduction here. A few of the nuances she has makes her seem a bit unhinged, like she's trying her damnedest to get Makoto to love her, while also hating Makoto's guts for being the "dependable honor student" compared to her rich, "love me please and let me hate you" personality. A friend of mine had a girlfriend like that in High School. When they broke up, she clung to him, while also shouting abuse and obscenities at him. Dekishi is... likely the better person compared to that girl. And thanks, Josiah, for letting me help on what her personality is like!
ff specific formatting notes: On AO3, I was able to make the letters in the new Confidant thing red. Can't do that here. So it's not done. Furthermore, in the chapter title there is actually a star in between the Japanese kanji (which fyi translates to "Newspaper Girl") and the subtitle. FF does not like stars. Duly noted.