Persona 5: Daywatch
Saturday, 9 July 2016
After School
Aoyama-Itchome Station
Alliance Force, Assemble! sang out of Akira's phone. It took him a beat to recognize the nickname, The King, on the caller ID. He swiped to open the call. "Beverage catering service, Sheri Cola."
"Oh," the young voice of Oda Shinya came back with bashful annoyance. A moment passed in the shuffling crowd as a handful of eager people leaned out to peer down the subway tunnel, most hanging back to stare at their phones. A sudden intake of breath preceded, "I'll take two larges."
Akira felt a smile bloom across his face. "Hah! You are only the third person in my life to riposte my joke greetings. So, what's the occasion?"
Shinya spoke with cool nonchalance. "Oh, I spotted that guy you and bleach-head wanted to know about."
It took Akira a moment to remember who the kid was referring to. The past week had been busy, with Kosei's finals finishing and Shujin's coming up soon, so he hadn't taken time to practice at the arcade. And never having heard that jerk player, he had no voice to put to the griefer. "You got his name?"
Shinya hummed in the manner of deep contemplation. "I may have, but I need to know if you're ready to take him on. If he curb-stomps you like the other pathetic noobs, that would just embarrass me. Show me what you've learned since last time."
"I'll be there," Akira answered. The line closed and he opened the Phantom Thief chat to say, [Got invited to a session at Gun About with The King. Will update later if it might be useful for the rest of us.]
After School
Akihabara, Electric Town
Akira slipped his hands in his pockets and trotted along. An ocean breeze brought the temperature today down a little, even if it felt as humid as Inaba. While the sea of dark heads looked much like any other place in Tokyo, something familiar incited him to slow down at the mass of gachapon machines by the corner. He double-checked the crowd before spotting a familiar navy-blue middle school uniform with a messy, parted-down-the-middle hair style. "Kaoru-kun."
The middle schooler stood up with his capsule and blinked twice. "Oh, Akira-san! I didn't know you liked gacha games."
Akira leaned against a machine, though it was to get away from the turbulent flow of people cramming the street. "Eh, just taking a breather. If no one else in Tokyo's gonna stop and smell the flowers, I might as well."
Kaoru gave a smile. "The only flowers growing on the streets are thistles." He straightened, his smile taking on a proud tinge. "I heard the Phantom Thief changed Madarame's heart yesterday. Why do you think they waited so long when they left all those calling cards in Shibuya on Sunday?"
Akira glanced down at the team leader hiding in the satchel. "Maybe they did and Madarame's just a slow old man." He mimed holding an invisible cane and walking with a stooped shuffle.
Kaoru laughed and waved. "Well, I better go study. Tests are coming up and Dad insists I have good enough grades to get into one of my top three high schools." His shoulders drooped a little. "I just wish I could think of where to go. There are so many, both public and private."
Akira shrugged. "I've been to two. In my opinion, they're more alike than they are different. As long as you don't go to one of the reform schools for abandoned children, you're probably fine whether you go right into a trade or on to college. Just don't let your old man stress you into an ulcer like mine did."
Kaoru laughed as if he just told a funny joke. "No way! Dad's totally supportive." He waved. "See you!"
Akira waved back and crowd-ran his way to the Gigolo. Striding inside, he breathed easier now that he didn't have a forest of elbows all around him.
Morgana thrust his head out the front of the satchel and heaved shaky breaths in and out. "Geez, Joker! Can't you just match stride and walk through a crowd like everyone else?"
Akira side-stepped around a clump of middle-school girls on their way out, then hissed back, "When it's crowded, I move with a purpose." He moved into the smaller arcade to the Gun About machines. Like the one at Shibuya, it was a mirrored setup with a huge screen split between two consoles, each bearing bright blue plastic controllers. The one on the left held the pistol/sub-machine gun controllers, the one on the right a shotgun/rifle and something even larger, with a heavy drum or canister of some kind on the bottom.
Shinya stood at the left, dual-wielding the pistol controllers with a bored expression on his face. When the transfer student came to a stop between the controller stations, the arcade master flicked his eyes up for only a heartbeat, then back to the screen. "You only use pistol-type weapons, don't you?"
"Yep," Akira said, watching as the kid demolished six players across the two accounts he played at the same time. "Everything else is too big and unwieldy." He looked over at the large controller on the right. "What even is that thing?"
Shinya shot one crazed NPC in an orange prison jumpsuit between the eyes with the left controller, then the right. "It's for the heavy weapons. Just a light machine gun to start with, but you can upgrade it into a flamethrower, grenade launcher, or minigun."
Akira scratched his scalp. "Isn't a pistol a little gun?"
Shinya let out a disappointed breath and shook his head, his concentration breaking enough for players to lob a grenade at the account tied to the right controller. A count-down to respawn timer ticked on the right side of his screen. Straightening, his eyes went right back to the game and he tossed the controller at the transfer student. "No, a minigun. Like that big revolving gun the super beefy guy had at the beginning of Predator."
Akira swiped his credit card across the reader and started a new game. He had no idea what the kid was talking about, but figured it wouldn't be helpful to question further. Akira set his satchel down on the floor next to the controller cradle.
Once the transfer student settled in, Shinya started a warehouse interior map and flicked the difficulty to something called Hell Mode, "Get started on your regular progression. Show me what you've got!"
What Akira expected to be a jocular run through the game, like when he played with Ann or Makoto, ended up being an even more intense race than the most competitive contests between he and the gun nut Ryuji.
"Aim, stupid!" Shinya barked, his controller drifting to shoot some of the giant wasps overwhelming the transfer student's side.
They played on, but progression was hard with how often his avatar got killed. Thanks almost exclusively to Shinya, they made it through the open storage to the offices.
"No, idiot!" Shinya barked. "That just stops them from moving closer! Herding the monsters doesn't cause damage, you gotta shoot their weak points!"
"Oh, like this is so easy," Akira shot back. "It's not like the weak points are glowing or anything so I can tell it apart from any other part of beetle-man!"
Shinya groaned, though his eyes never left that intense fix on his part of the screen. "Pay a-fucking-tention! Everything broadcasts its weakness, just fucking look!"
The respawn timer started counting down again and Akira lay his controller on top of the cradle. The only thing which stopped him from throwing a punch at the little bastard, was he cussed so much more than the track star it was impossible not to notice. "You're being even more impossible than Ryuji." He jerked a hand at the screen as the count-down reached single digits. "Even its eyes were invulnerable."
"You gotta focus on your second shot!" He blasted down a beetle-man who jumped out of a portal less than a second after it teleported in. "Some weaknesses are intrinsic, most you gotta activate. It's your fucking follow-up that causes the damage!"
Akira paid and settled back into the fight, but with respawn setting him back to square one, he ground his teeth and depleted his first pistol's magazine against a beetle-man bursting through the wall where 'days since last workplace accident' hung. With it still moving it felt impossible even to hit such a small target as the beady little eyes, but the last bullet hit with a green splatter.
A pair of college men came to a stop against the crane game as they watched the slaughter unfold. "King could make a sailor blush."
The college kid with a solid black tie raised his voice over the surrounding arcade machines. "Always happens when he has to let another player join up. That's why us smart folks watch from a distance."
The game continued for over an hour and five thousand yen of restarts, but Akira started to see what the arcade master was talking about. The hell wasps still confounded him, but the beetle men turned with ponderous motions and their ankles were fleshy. The three times he survived long enough to buy armor-piercing rounds, he took them down by shooting through office furniture.
The crowd of observing fans shuffled out through two complete replacements before Shinya at last took pity and put his controller in the cradle, letting his character get hit. "Time for a drink break."
The residual crowd groaned now that the spectacle of either exploding giblets on the screen or swearing master of shooters was over, but they all left.
Sitting down at a bench near the refreshment kiosk, Shinya popped the lid of the fizzy berry drink the transfer student bought him. "You're slow on the uptake, but at least you never gave up. Even started spotting their weak points. Almost all the other losers call it sour grapes and run with their tail between their legs because the weak points don't have big glowing signs saying 'shoot here' like games for amateurs."
Morgana hopped up on the bench next to the transfer student. "Everybody could improve with enough time, I'm still shocked how much that little kid swore!"
Akira shrugged and tipped his canned jasmine tea. "Yeah." His eyes shifted to the kid. "You could've sent sailors running back for their ships."
Shinya stuffed one hand in his jacket pocket and looked away. "I have a bad habit of swearing when I get all worked up."
Laying one hand on his heart, Akira straightened. "No fucking way."
Morgana batted a paw against him. "Set a good example, Joker!"
Akira fixed his glasses. "Sorry. I guess that's something both of us should be working on, huh?"
Shinya swallowed another gulp. "You may never reach my level, but you still have potential. Keep it up and you may even be able to beat that cheater."
One of the arcade's maintenance workers paced past them to the refreshment kiosk, pausing to pull out his phone for the worker. "Hey, you hear about the Phantom Thief?"
The pimply girl in the kiosk clapped her hands. "Totally! My BFF said they promised to change his heart last week." She pouted. "I guess that means I owe her a candy bar."
The technician nodded. "I hope they change my boss's heart. He's such a jerk just 'cause I'm late a couple minutes."
Akira let out a breath. "Everyone wants to be part of something when it looks like it's on the rise."
Shinya sipped, then puffed out his chest. "I was a fan before they were popular." He opened his mouth, then closed it and drew back into his own frame just a little.
Akira tilted his head. "You were just about to say something. What is it?"
"N-nothing." He took a gulp of fizzy berry soda, then stood up and trotted off at an obvious 'I want to escape from the conversation' pace, but popped his head back around the corner. "Practice for next time!" Then he disappeared.
Morgana stood and shook. "That little kid sure is a tyrant. I didn't think anybody could be even more foul-mouthed than Reaper." He sat and looked up at the transfer student. "I'm surprised you never started a fight."
Akira shrugged and sipped his tea. "He sure pissed me off a bunch of times, but he would show what he was asking me to do. His world is a very precise, detail-oriented one, but it's hard to hate someone who's walking through it right next to you."
Saturday, 9 July 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Station Square
Gusting winds swirled dry leaves and small debris through the square seething with humanity. Despite Akira's hopes to share a relaxing game with Hifumi, her mother had them attending some big fancy dinner in northern Tokyo. With that pipsqueak arcade freak still leaving him feeling raw from hours of 'instruction', Akira needed to do something physical. Since Yusuke was still busy meeting a lawyer from the Madarame Foundation, Akira tried to think of who else would be up for a change of pace.
He hadn't gone with Shujin's track star in a while.
[Hey, Ryuji. You up for running today?]
Moments later he replied, [I'm actually running right now, if you want to join me at Atago-cho. The team used to train there before meets. Maybe you'll even be able to keep up today! You can't stop the step master.]
A beat passed.
[That sounded cooler in my head. Don't send that to anyone else.]
[Sure. I'll be taking the train,] Akira sent.
Morgana rolled his eyes. "You muscle heads enjoy your muscling. I'll investigate things in Shibuya, just let me off at the train platform."
Akira got off the train to let the team leader off, then back on to finish the trip to Atago-cho in Minato-ku passed without incident. Just when Akira was concerned he wouldn't be able to find the track star in a park as big as Atago-cho, he heard his familiar voice shout in an argument.
Coming closer, an unfamiliar, scratchy voice exploded, "…want us all to suffer like you are. You fucked it up for all'a us!"
Ryuji retorted, anger trembling in his voice, "That ain't it at all! Yamauchi don't care about track!"
The transfer student leaped over the hedge separating one grassy, rolling hill from another where the Ryuji hollered at Takeishi and a greasy black-haired student lacking a headband. The latter shouted with the same scratchy voice of someone who hadn't grown into his adult voice yet, "We can't even apply to competitions without a sponsoring teacher, much less get a room to store our shit 'stead'a hidin' it under a tarp behind the gym. All we'd need is one guy, anyone."
Akira stepped next to the track star and faced the runners in track suits head-on. "Is he any good a coach?"
Takeishi shot a heated glare at the transfer student. "This isn't your business, Transfer! Not like it would matter either way, Yamauchi would be at least something. Once we can get a few wins, Shujin'll take us more seriously than the losers in the kendo club."
Ryuji jabbed a hand out like he couldn't figure if he wanted to swing a punch or reach out a hand in offering. "How's that gonna happen with that good-for-nothin' two-face? He don't even know the stretchin' routines. At least Wada-san—"
Takeishi stormed closer, stopping less than an arm's length from the track star. "He ain't comin' back. After all the trouble Shujin's in with Kamoshida, you really think they'd bring back a guy who stole club money?"
Ryuji took one stomping step closer, his hands curling into fists. "That's bull, an' you know it! Wada cared 'bout us, he never would'a risked his job over eight thousand yen! Yeah, if we could get a fair shot we could go far, but we need a guy who knows his stuff to get us there. If we hold out, Shujin'll ask Wada-san—"
Takeishi stepped closer, his own fists raising and lips curling in a snarl. "He isn't comin' back! Shujin kicked him out and he left with his tail between his legs…"
The track star stomped forward and Akira shot in between them. "Whoa, guys."
Greasy Hair stepped closer, raising his fists. "You wanna start somethin'?"
Akira shot him a frosty glare. "No, but if one of you do… I will finish it." Greasy Hair raised his fist a little, and the transfer student stepped closer. "There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand. How many do you want to walk away with?"
Greasy Hair swallowed and backed off.
With his backup flagging, Takeishi grimaced and turned to jog away.
Akira let out a breath, then turned to the track star. "So… this Wada-san guy. He any good?"
Ryuji grinned. "Totally! He may not have been a gold medal-winner, but he was real good at sizin' peeps up. Put me at the front'a most practice runs 'cause he knew I'd never let anyone else get past." He kicked at the tended turf. "Effin' Yamauchi didn't know the first thing 'bout coachin'. He just wan'ed to leech off Kamoshida's rep. No way's he changed since then. If he's offerin' to sponsor a new track team, he's gonna be the one to benefit." He tapped Akira in the chest. "But that's all bad news. Let's see how your endurance is, slowpoke."
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Morning
Kanda Catholic Church
Service concluded, the other parishioners filed out of the church, none looking weighed down by the day's message centering on the parable of the good Samaritan. Akira lingered, thinking back through the week. Chatting with Ryuji, or helping Yusuke prepare for tests seemed like meeting a bare minimum. A minimum everyone else navigated as easy as breathing.
A finger thumping his shoulder sent him jumping. He spun around with his hands up, heart hammering before he spotted that red omamori-style knot, all the brighter in contrast to today's black dress, and the prettiest green eyes on Earth.
Akira held a hand to his chest. "Geez, Hifumi-san. I thought the Lothlorien Rangers were supposed to be the ones silent as the trees."
She giggled, those cute lips curling and making his heart flutter. "Is the general of the Steel Legion ready for another battle?"
Despite the gloss on her lips reminding him of long dreams and the ache of waking up with empty arms, her sprightly side-to-side sway banished the feeling of aching emptiness. Akira bared his most confident smirk. "For Queen Togo? Anywhere, any time."
She clapped her hands together, her smile widening until it showed just a hint of teeth. "It has been far too long since we've been able to do something." She dashed down the pews to the one with her purse and drew her travel shogi board.
He followed and helped set up, but her sheer level of energy left him feeling like a spun top. "Somebody clearly has recovered from exam fatigue."
Hifumi gave a dainty giggle any queen would be proud of. "Mother and Father have always done their best to leave things as quiet and open as possible on exam week. They took their toll, to be sure, but my schedule was open enough to allow me quiet personal time for the first time in a long while."
Akira looked over her in his peripheral vision while keeping his eyes on the board. She didn't seem to be lying, but she did seem stressed in weeks past. "Are you sure she isn't being a little hard on you?"
Hifumi handed him a pawn to make the toss to see who went first. "Mother is strict, all parents who want strong, hard-working children have to be. She loves me and takes care of me." She pointed to his hand holding a pawn, then clapped with an anticipatory smile. "Now, come on, let's get started."
They dove into the games, her cheerful enthusiasm pouring doubt over whether her mother really needed a change of heart.
Late in their third game, Hifumi promoted a lance, putting his king in check again. As usual, despite her earlier passion, she settled for a sedate tone to inform him, "Check."
Akira scoured the board for escapes, but she had contingencies for all three possibilities. Maybe it was practice losing, maybe it was the merciless cleverness she deployed each and every time, but instead of frowning at his latest loss, he found the corners of his lips turning up. She gave him a good run and beat him fair and square. He just couldn't find any place to be angry in it, and even annoyance felt like a reach. He let out a quiet sigh. "I must be a glutton for punishment."
She let out a pleased chuckle, a regal smile on her face. "Well, shogi is all well and good, but it's been a while since I've read a new book. Would you like to go book hunting—?"
His phone rumbled. This seemed a little early for the Phantom Thieves to be up and abuzz, at least for a Sunday. "Excuse me a moment."
Conversation on the Phantom Thief chat bounced around about celebrating Madarame's change of heart, with Makoto and Yuuki taking turns shooting down the expensive suggestions.
Ryuji was the first to notice the addition of the transfer student. [Akira, where do you think we should go? Madarame's making national headlines. We better have a party to suit! You ready?]
For some reason, the time stamp on his text stood out to him.
Then Akira shot to his feet. "Oh, shit!"
Hifumi cleared her throat and directed her eyes at the altar.
Akira almost dropped his phone, caught it, then rubbed the back of his neck. "S-sorry, Hifumi-san. I've got a shift at 777."
Her beatific smile evaporated. "Oh." She took out her own phone to check the time. "I suppose we have been playing for a while."
He bowed low. "Sorry. It's just that I can't reschedule, with Shujin's finals next week."
She breathed out, much of her energy leaving with her before she feigned a smile lacking the sparkle of her eyes before. "Oh, well… don't neglect your responsibilities, Akira-san." Her lips pressed together and she began packing her shogi set.
His rival might be masking her feelings, but he knew a miffed woman when he saw one. With her already refusing to meet his eye contact, Akira scratched the back of his head. "Maybe Tuesday?"
Her movements became even more mechanical and she refused to meet his gaze. "Mother has me booked until nine at night."
Akira straightened his glasses. "Oh. Well… finals start on Wednesday, so…" He searched through his phone's contacts. "I can cancel. I think they'll understand…"
"No," she said, her voice firm. When she looked up, those gorgeous green orbs held a hardness to rival steel. "I can't even get a job for myself, I don't want you to lose yours on my account."
He opened his mouth, but under the regal firmness in her poise, he couldn't muster up an argument. "Well… later," he said, his voice struggling to carry across the pew. At her shallow nod of acknowledgment, he to rushed to the train to Shibuya.
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Station Square
Akira stood in front of the train car mockup in Station Square, his feet planted shoulder-width apart and back straight, with several centimeters between him and the mockup. It felt too casual to lean against it while holding the politician's sign, but with the crowd around him he couldn't relax from his rigid posture. Only about a dozen of the people stopped to listen to the pudgy politician's speech, the remaining too many streaming back and forth.
Toranosuke carried on, standing on his literal soap box jutting out into the crowd. "…make decisions based on our selfish wants and desires. This only exacerbates the self-centeredness within everyone in society, reducing our own humanity by delighting in taking advantage of the weak. Yes, we live in a modern day and age where not only invention, but international trade allows us unprecedented productivity, but by exploiting instead of acting in the interests of our fellow man, we do not only take away from him… from the young struggling to enter the marketplace, supporting an average of three elderly family members. It sickens society itself and takes away from our own futures!"
One of the elderly women pacing through the speech area came to a stop and shot the politician a dirty look. "Easy for a fat man with two children waiting for him at home. Some of us don't have anyone left, and it's hard enough just taking care of ourselves. The young are young, they should be working hard for our sakes!"
Toranosuke took in a steady breath, betraying no sign of anger or agitation besides a twitch in his neck. "Yes, as the body grows older and frailer it is hard. But life has taught us, chiseled at us like the carpenter shaping us into just the beam to fit among everyone else. The entire burden of our lives should not fall on the young. A world where the young exist only to be exploited will be a world where our young are driven sick, driven poor, or worst of all, driven away. We must change such a world or it will change itself and leave us behind!"
One of the men to the side crossed his arms, crinkling the dark business suit he wore. "Ugh. Night after night you prattle on with your sanctimonious bullshit! Who are you to tell us to give up anything for others, No-Good Tora? You just wanna get your hands on our money again!"
For the first time the transfer student had seen, Yoshida flinched back as if punched. His jaw clenched and a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. His feet shifted, the heel of his right slipping off the box. His voice weak, he bumbled, "T-that was… a Toranosuke I left behind."
"Look at him," the man in a flashy suit barked. "Once a no-good, always a no-good!" He power-walked off, almost half of the lingering dozen breaking up as well.
Akira's hands clenched on the sign and his teeth ground.
"Easy," Morgana warned from the satchel at his feet. "Even if that guy's wrong, public is not the place to start a fight. Especially if you wanna help that politician guy."
Toranosuke mumbled, but with his volume as distant as his flagging energy, he gave it up after just a minute of fruitless if plaintive entreaties.
Akira remembered campaign barkers planting themselves on the road medians just a short way outside Inuri. Despite student petitions and even complaints of sexual assault from the girls who didn't like getting leered at or followed as they crossed the road on the way home, nobody dared chase them off. "I know you try to handle hecklers with a light touch, but wasn't that guy committing campaign obstruction?"
Toranosuke, shoulders still slumped, let out a breath and unscrewed a fresh water bottle until its seal cracked and top popped off. "Technically yes, but pursuing the common citizenry for not being cooperative to me in a campaign year would be counter-productive at best." He took a deep breath in and out, those shoulders reminding him of the old Ryuji. Like a beaten dog just wanting to avoid notice and exist through the day.
Setting the sign against the narrow side of the mockup next to their things, Akira planted his hands on his hips. "C'mon, show 'em who's boss. Get angry!"
Morgana sighed and shook his head. "Just showing off isn't the right way to go about things, Joker."
Toranosuke finished swallowing water and capped his bottle. "I need to win their favor, young one, not drive them with fear." He looked over the transfer student. "I note you haven't said anything about the accusation of embezzling money."
Akira pondered which answer he wanted to give. Part wanted to brush it off, since he couldn't think of a politician who didn't embezzle funds. However, Toranosuke-san backed up Makoto while they were on that topic weeks ago, said they should care how powerful people use their power. Akira's old bastard never did that, disengaged people were non-threatening people. "That was the last time you were in the national assembly, and if you hadn't won for six elections, that's a minimum of eighteen years." He raised his hands in bafflement. "That's longer than I've been alive. If a man can't change in nearly twenty years, we might as well give up on the whole human race."
He struggled for a few moments before a smile spread over the politician's face. "That's very mature of you. Still, I feel like I owe you an explanation. I was one of the 'Kuramoto Children'. We were terribly wet-behind-the-ears, as representatives and human beings. We got in over our heads and blundered into a series of political scandals." He gestured his water bottle out at the passing crowds rushing this way and that. "Are you sure you want to stick around? Political scandals are messier than domestic ones. I wouldn't blame a young man full of life like you from going on."
Akira straightened, one foot sliding back to brace his posture as his hands rose. Realizing his fighting posture, he settled himself. "I said I'd help, didn't I?" He crossed his arms. "I don't scare easy."
Toranosuke gave a wry grin, uncapped his water bottle, then took another gulp. "Well, if you'll be staying, you'll hear more. People call them 'No-Good Tora's Three Strikes'." He took another sip. "The first was the result of being young and conceited. I missed a legislative meeting due to a personal vacation." He left a pause, but when the transfer student neglected to fill it, he took in a breath. "Then, I was accused of embezzling a large sum of money from the party. Finally, I called a voter an idiot in open forum." He rubbed the back of his balding head. "Three strikes, and I was branded of one of the youngest politicians to flush his life down the tubes." He took another sip, then capped his water. "Are you still certain you want to learn from someone like me?"
Facing the politician straight on, Akira scanned the pudgy man. He tightened his crossed arms. "Before I converted to Catholicism, I thought there was no such thing as goodness and mercy in the real world. That was never part of my family. The priest who baptized me was called to faith in prison and became a model citizen. He still visits children in hospitals." No need to go into those hospital visits being how he met Father Motoori. Akira shrugged and forced his arms to loosen. "The point is, you can come from a really low valley and still climb to the top of the hill. The only difference is the view on the way there. I can't say I don't care about your past—I care about everyone's. But if you're not the same Tora as the one who stole that money or did those other things, you're not No-Good Tora anymore. That one died. A different one is here now."
A gentle smile spread over the middle-aged man's face. "You are a full of surprises. If the country has more young people like you, maybe I don't have that much to worry about the future." He pushed up at his sleeves as if to get them above his elbows without rolling them up at all. "I hear the hecklers doubt my odds of election, and there are plenty of silver-tongued gentlemen you could learn from. Are you sure you want to risk time with a washed-out has-been?"
Akira poked him in the belly. "You've got good technique and a fearlessness of the crowd. If there's anything I'm sure of, it's that no matter how long I'm around, I won't hear you call a voter an idiot."
Toranosuke gave a nod, his smile warm and wise. "Well, you may have some crowd anxiety, but your ability to come this far is a testament to your will as well, Kurusu-kun. If you're really set on learning from an over-the-hill man like me, I'll be glad to continue teaching you how to hold your ground. Why, should you find your footing, I'm sure you could even become a good public speaker yourself some day." He checked his watch. "Oh, it's gotten that late? I don't want to make you late or over-tired for school in the morning. You'd better get on home."
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Late Evening
Yongen, Leblanc
Akira stepped into Leblanc and locked the door behind him. At least it blocked much of the noise out. Making it through a night with Yoshida without getting in a fight left him a tiny sense of accomplishment, but feeling more drained than marathon sprints in PE. Even a quick bath didn't wash the tension away.
He ran his hand through his damp hair. Despite just getting out of the bath, the city's heat and humidity joined in the relentless noise and even getting inside didn't lift the choking thickness of the atmosphere. He trotted upstairs, where Yusuke stood in front of an easel, filling in a painting of Ann in a mid-leap like they'd do in the Metaverse, but dressed in summer street clothes and holding a cell phone instead of her pistol. "Ah, Akira-san. This has been a most fascinating day. I had an interview with my court-appointed guardian. It went on for quite some time, but he said he was happy to act as a sounding board. You should meet him. He has this patient way of bringing out such insightful realizations."
Akira changed into his sleep clothes. "Meh. I bet he's busy with his job. He wouldn't be interested in me." He knelt down in front of the picture of the Virgin Mary for his nightly prayers.
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Night
Velvet Room
Even before Akira opened his eyes to blue, the feel of a flat steel slab underneath him told him he wasn't in the loft anymore. The shackles bit around his wrists, heavy chains connecting them. In some ways, he preferred the straightforward bindings to the lies in society that his parole was only one year and that he could still go out and live a full life. In Japan, once a criminal, always a criminal. Once the son of a lab freak, always a freak.
A baton struck the bars of his cell and sparks zipped at the contact. "On your feet, Inmate! Our master has deigned to speak with you."
"There it is," Akira said with false cheer as he pushed himself up. "The voice of the justice system. Just obey and one day we'll stop hurting you. Who cares about right living? Just don't get caught." He trudged to the bars and gripped them. "So, what's little old me done to be worth such an audience?"
Deep laughter rumbled out of Igor's gut. "False or not, humility can open many doors, young one." He paused, his bloodshot eyes falling to that glass cylinder contraption topped by an orb. Just under two dozen thin iron spikes stabbed through the cylinder portion, holding up mounds of marbles within. "You have expanded your circle of thieves, and expelled a sinner of great vanity." A chuckle rumbled out. "A delightful journey of rehabilitation."
Akira leaned a little more on the bars he gripped. "Is this supposed to be my rehabilitation? Because I don't see how beating up scumbags is doing me any good."
Justine held her clipboard in both hands, her voice adding an eerie calm which wove with the gentle blue of the environs. "You should be honored by our master's words, Inmate. Have you forgotten his warning about the coming ruin?"
"Yeah," Akira snarked, his hands tightening on the iron bars. "People've been saying the end is nigh since the beginning of time. What I could use is something concrete, something actionable. Like a name or address for mister Black Mask."
For the first time the transfer student had seen him, the wide grin on Igor faded. "I am afraid there are some things beyond even my knowledge."
Letting out a long breath, then breathing back in, Akira stood straighter. "Then how does he get into the Metaverse?"
That unsettling smile returned, though not as wide as before. "Who knows?"
"C'mon!" Akira banged his fist on the bars, only to regret it the instant his limb bounced off, pulsing with pain. "Do we have the same powers? Is he the one responsible for mental shutdowns?"
Caroline slammed her baton against the bars, sparks flying from the impact. "Heed our master's words, Inmate!"
Igor's smile stretched wide again. "You are not the only intruder in the realm of the heart. It is a place fraught with unspeakable peril, and not only due to the frenzied fragments of men's hearts. If you and the Black Mask have the same powers, devotion to your rehabilitation may see your paths cross." A deep chuckle rumbled out. "And these bonds of those unfairly labeled by society grow, as your heart inspires theirs. How intriguing, this picaresque tale of yours. Train them in the ways of the thief as I guide you."
Caroline took her clipboard in both hands. "It is time for you to return to your rest for the real world."
AN: When I first started playing Persona 5, I was sure that Gun About was going to be a team-building thing like they ended up doing with darts in Royal. A pity, but they hinted at the opportunity so I'm taking advantage of it.
I actually only got Persona 5 Royal recently and just beat it. Maruki and Yoshizawa were very well written and integrated, so I'm planning on going back and rewriting Daywatch to integrate Royal. They changed Akechi's character a little to help explain where he is, but I still find it rooted in a very motivated person sticking to an unfathomably stupid decision, so he'll be going a different route even if some of the details given in Royal are brought in. Hopefully I can get a responsive Beta soon, and get back to posting weekly like I originally planned on. If you're interested, send me a PM.