Futaba might say she got out the wrong side of the bed. When she returned to reality, her limbs felt like lead, and she could barely raise her head because anything brighter than a dimly lit room stung her eyes. Her all-night binge of cheerful anime using a kaleidoscope of bright colours in complete darkness was probably a bad idea, in hindsight. Whatever positive chemicals her brain released had been crushed by the ruthless morning (her version of morning, which, to the aliens of the world, was closer to mid-afternoon) and now she was bed bound and limited to whatever was in arm's reach. Not her computer, and not even her laptop. She was reduced to hoping the irritation in her eyes was a sign she was about to awaken superpowers. Alas, the plaster and wood of the bedroom ceiling did not crumble, disintegrate or vanish. Maybe that's for the best, though?
The only thing within grabbing reach was her phone, which wasn't ideal, but she could at least adjust the brightness settings to a tolerable level. She went through all the usual sites, looking at everything but engaging with nothing, until landing on the Shujin Academy underground forums. She frowned when the page took longer than usual to load and prepared a nasty curse for their internet connection. When the page finally loaded, she checked the daily stats. Her eyebrows reversed course and flew up to her hairline when it turned out their internet wasn't the problem; it was a server overload problem instead. The culprit: a single thread about a certain Kamoshida, currently attracting new posters like a pile of dung attracting flies. And it took fewer than ten seconds to ascertain why.
There were images of a prostrated man with curly hair wearing a tracksuit, each one taken through a haze of black and white uniforms, and quivering videos piecing together his confession to rape and physical abuse of his own students. This was followed by an infinitely updating queue of messages laid out in a scrambled pattern of condemnation, humour, "I knew it!" and Phantom Thieves. Phantom what?
The sheer volume of new posts made putting the timeline together a challenge, but she eventually grasped what happened. She wished she hadn't when the nausea flooded her system and settled in her gut. Pushing past Kamoshida's sins and studying the photos of postcards took a great deal of focus.
Wait, those aren't post cards... She could hardly trust her eyes, but the rectangular pieces of red cardboard resembled calling cards more than anything. The students reported a message on the cards, announcing an intention to "steal Kamoshida's desires", complete with a group signature. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts; a name so generic she was sure it had to be a placeholder, otherwise the sender had zero creativity. They could have picked anything from any show, or manga, or- She paused that train of thought before she departed on a journey she'd struggle to return from. Back to sleuthing.
Theories on the Phantom Thieves' identities were already circulating, and wonder of wonders, Ren Amamiya was the prime culprit. Since he had an "extensive" criminal background, he'd be capable of scaring Kamoshida into confessing and, by some coincidence, he was frequently seen in conflict with the guy. A likely story, provided someone believed he was a crime lord in the first place. She didn't. Crime lords weren't sent to live in cafes for a year's worth of probation.
From what she could tell, the only thing giving weight to the theory was the timing of Ren's arrival. Kamoshida's fall from grace accelerated almost as soon as his transfer to Shujin, but that could have easily been coincidence. If what she was reading was true, Kamoshida would have collapsed under the weight of his sins eventually. How would he not, when even his own students wished he'd follow through on his threat to kill-
-her phone slipped from her fingers, bounced off her mattress and clattered on the floor. She scurried over to the edge and picked it back up, breathing in relief when she found no damage done.
She decided to stop visiting that place, just for the time being.
Ren was either unaware of his increasing notoriety or was playing it very cool, as his routine remained the same as ever.
"...and now, the latest on the arrest of Olympic gold medallist Suguru Kamoshida," recited the news reporter in the background.
"That's your school, isn't it?" said Sojiro, likely giving Ren his most searching look.
"Seems to be."
"'Seems to be'." Sojiro clicked his tongue. "It's got nothing to do with you, then?"
Ren replied without hesitation. "Nothing at all."
"Good. The whole thing reeks to high heaven. Who'd have thought the school would cover for a scumbag like that?
"Not just the school. The students and parents looked the other way, too. To keep on his good side."
"You sure seem to know a lot about it."
"I'm friends with some of his victims."
Sojiro cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. "I see. It's good you've made friends, at least."
"Yeah."
The news reporter continued droning on in the background.
The Phantom Thieves were becoming the hottest thing on the internet. When Futaba checked how they were performing on a popular search engine, their metrics screamed hot new trend that would soon appear on every front page if they kept this up.
At the centre of the imminent fad was the so-called "Phansite": a forum on a run-of-a-mill hosting site comprised of hastily thrown together graphics splashed atop a red and black background. The Phansite proclaimed, in bold white font, itself to be the ultimate destination for Phantom Thief fans to show their appreciation and put in requests for "Changes of Hearts", provided the cause was noble enough.
Futaba was unsure if the site sparked the rise in traffic or was riding the waves, but either way, its existence suggested the Phantom Thieves, whoever they were, struck a chord with people. As out there as the "change of heart" thing was, a story about an evil teacher's downfall was bound to pull in big numbers.
Maybe I should put in a request, too. Anonymously. Obviously. She saw the appeal. Bad people suddenly confessing their crimes and turning themselves in was like magic; the work of forces beyond basic human understanding. Drastic behavioural changes like the ones being described could be written off as duress, but by the sound of things, Kamoshida's confession and remorse were as genuine as they were out of character. As if his normal personality had been broken down and reassembled from the ground up. Which should be impossible. If it wasn't, we'd be able to do a crap-tonne more things than making scumbags turn themselves in.
Somehow, she doubted this new group of thieves had stumbled upon the means to alter people's personalities when real-life science hadn't. In fact, she expected the entire thing to blow over in just a few days.
Except, it didn't blow over. It blew right into her face instead.
As the rainy days dried up and the Spring heat invaded her room and prompted the swift activation of the air conditioner, more Changes of Heart cropped up on the Phansite. Futaba, her legs sweating in a pair of heavy cargos and not the comfy pair of shorts that had apparently been consumed by the garbage black hole that was her bedroom floor, scrutinised the new but small sample of posts. A student with a bully problem no longer had a bully problem. The same bully said he was no longer being coerced into bullying. A male student claimed his girlfriend had returned to being a sweetheart after a harrowing spell as a dominatrix. And so on. It was all good news, but none of it resounded as much as a school teaching confessing physical and sexual abuse of his students.
Nonetheless, these small successes encouraged more people to post, though not everyone grasped what "noble cause" meant. Requests for better grades, higher allowances and petty vengeance were flagged and binned by the forum's administrator. They were more active than anyone else on the site, always keen to extol the virtues of the Phantom Thieves while reminding members he knew how to contact them. So this is what piggybacking success looks like. Kinda cringe, not gonna lie.
The site was a curiosity, but she put it out of her mind and swivelled her chair around so she was facing the stack of books by the corner of her bed. All this Phantom Thief business had left her craving for something supernatural, and reminded her of the reading she'd postponed for far too long. She took a book off the top of the pile and brushed a thin layer of dust off the cover with her hand. She opened it to a bookmarked page, skimmed through the first paragraph dense with technical terms she didn't understand, and remembered why she stopped reading in the first place. The paragraph, which took most of an entire page, looked like it could leap off the page and hammer her in the face. Just looking at it gives me a headache. But I shall persevere!
Once she learned of their existence and bugged Sojiro to bring them over, she felt compelled to read through each and every one. Academic interest was a part of it, but she also had a sense of obligation; a feeling the books had been left for her, and that it was important she read them and understood their contents. There was something significant deep within their pages that, upon comprehending, would put everything into place.
She took extra care in reading each sentence, repeating them over and over if she had to. The next time she raised her head, her neck refused to move. With a groan, she straightened it, and then arched her back as she stretched her arms up into the air. The sun had long set, and the book pages were being lit up by her computer screen. It wasn't the most optimal way to read, so she put her bookmark in and returned the book to the top of the pile, still hundreds of pages from being finished. I'll get there. One day.
As soon as she finished that thought, her head exploded, and from within came shrill screams warning her such a day might never come.
Scientists continue to be baffled by the recent wave of mental shutdown incidents Police remain uncertain if the incidents are connected after the latest victim was unresponsive to questioning Shujin Academy continues to come under fire following the arrest of their former teacher Have you heard about the Phantom Thieves? They're going to be really popular soon, mark my words! You'll see! Hey, Futaba? Futaba? Futaba! FUTABA!
The morning radio drifted as the headphones slipped off her head and landed on her lap. She faced the bedroom door with wide eyes, grasping the arms of her chair until her nails were digging into the leather. Her heart pounded louder with every knock.
"Are you all right, Futaba?!"
Sojiro's panicked voice came through. Futaba released a quivering breath, begging her heart to settle, and reached for her phone.
"Fine," she responded via text. A ding from behind the door confirmed Sojiro had received it.
"Don't scare me like that," he said, deflating with every word. "I was calling you, but you weren't responding at all. I thought something had happened."
"Nothing happened. Don't worry about it."
"You didn't eat your dinner last night," Sojiro said after a pause.
A growl from her stomach confirmed this. Sometimes, she'd be so focused on something she'd forget to eat, but she couldn't remember if she was working on anything in particular. Actually, she was having some trouble remembering what day it even was, what time it was currently, or what she had been doing for the past several hours. It was like she had escaped this plain of existence for the briefest of moments.
"Was it a... you know?"
Her hands shook as she typed a response. "I'm fine."
"Futaba," he started, but nothing followed. She typed out a sentence and deleted it, repeating the process until he spoke again. "You know I'm here for you, right? If you need anything, you can tell me."
Anything. The carrot dangled in front of her faced. She wanted to take it. If I can ask for anything, then...
She could get what she wanted. New computer hardware, or the story about the unwitting celebrity serving his probation in Leblanc. She could even ask for the impossible, like making everything just stop. Maybe not that one. He can't do it. Won't do it.
"Could you get me a new printer?" she responded. "A small one. Make it cute."
She heard him scratch his beard through the door. "Cute? As in, small and compact? Or should there be some sort of design on it...?"
"You'll work it out. No rush."
He sighed. "All right, but don't be too disappointed when I get you the wrong one or something. You know I'm out of my depth here."
His slippers brushing against the floor signalled his departure. When he was gone, Futaba clapped her hands together, declared it a new day, and dove back into her book, determined to make something productive of her time. The clock display on her computer ticked forward, minutes turning into hours in what seemed like an instant.