Every day on the train, it was some new incendiary rumor. Even when it wasn't going to school. Today, it took on a more sobering tone.

"So, what's up with Yoneno?"

"Isn't she with you all the time?"

"Not anymore. She's always busy after school now."

"I wonder what's gotten into her."

"What's with all those long sleeve shirts she's wearing? It's almost summer now."

"When she did even get them?"

"I know, right? I've never seen her in long sleeves, even in middle school."

"Do you think she's hiding something on her arms?"

"Like bruises? Someone beating her up?"

"Or needle-"

"Dude, don't even joke about that!"

And the bump was coming in three… two… one. Makoto braced himself on the rubber gripper.

Yoneno was new to him, but then again, most students at Shujin were. More importantly, it sounded like she was in the same spot as Iida, or even further down the line. So there was more to it than just the easy job. Of course, there was also a catch.

But, it was just the rumors on the train. He couldn't forget the elephant tusk trafficking thing about Ren. Or the rumors about himself and Kamoshida. So anything said about Yoneno could just as easily have been made up.

"What if it's something really bad? Shouldn't she talk to someone about this?"

"Like who?"

"Seriously, she doesn't even talk to me, she won't even look at me. Just straight off to whatever!"

"What can you do, anyway? What can anyone do?"

"Maybe try the Phantom Thieves, I guess…"

"You still believe that shit? Get a life!"

"Doesn't Makoto know?"

"Didn't she leave?"

"Wrong Makoto, dipshit! The one with the spiky hair." Yeah, thanks for that one.

The sentiment on the train wasn't exactly wrong. For once. This whole thing about the part time jobs, about students being busy out of the blue, and clamming up when questioned about it, it was hard to think it wasn't something shady. And if it was, then, what was anyone going to do about it?

First things first, Makoto had to look into it, to make sure there was really something there. The train ground to its stop, and he bumped around all his unrecognizable classmates pouring out of the cabin.

It'd been one week.

Just a week ago, Makoto told everyone, told himself, he was done with that, it was behind him, things would go back to normal. No more investigations.

But, he thought with newfound energy, that was last week.

Outside the train station, the sky was bright with the clash of sun and sensationalism. In Shibuya central, a giant screen flashed with breaking news. An old man sat before a vast array of microphones, in front of a drab, gray curtain. He sobbed and shook uncontrollably.

"I… I have committed crimes that are unbecoming of an artist. Plainly put… I, um… plagiarized work… I-I… tainted this… this country's art world… and… even 'Sayuri'…! … H-How could I… I possibly… apologize to- to everyone for… for what I've done… Aaaah…!"

There was that word again. Unbecoming. Could this be what Makoto thought it was?

The scene of the old man ran picture in picture, as a Newscaster took over the announcement. "…And that was from the urgent apology conference by Madarame that took place just a moment ago. After reporting to the association, Madarame has agreed to the police's request to turn himself in."

Madarame. Makoto knew that name from somewhere. A great sinner of vanity. He had seen this whole thing before. Playing out again, before his very eyes, it was an exact repeat of Kamoshida.

"On top of charges of abuse to his pupils, Madarame is also under suspicion of claiming their works as his own. Some doubt the validity that his maiden work 'Sayuri' was stolen, believing it was used for fraud. This large scale criminal act has caused a great shock to the art world."

That was, maybe, not so surprising as the rest. Underneath the same abuses, and grasping at the same fading glory, it was even a bigger shock in hindsight that Kamoshida didn't try to profit from his own crimes.

"After the conference, Madarame was taken to a police hospital for interrogation due to his age. However, initial psych evaluations state that he is mentally sound and likely responsible for his actions."

Of course the old artist was responsible for his actions. Who else would be? But Makoto thought of the artists, and the art enthusiasts, who might not have wanted to see their world change. He thought of the day the exhibit closed.

"Also, a group calling themselves the Phantom Thieves posted a dubious note at Madarame's exhibit. The police will investigate their relation to this case, but for now, did not identify them as suspects."

Suspects of doing… what? The fraud, the abuse, the crimes were Madarame's own. But it was all just as the calling card said. The Phantom Thieves of Shujin were back in the spotlight. And for Makoto, there wasn't a doubt to be had, and it wouldn't be very long.

The hunt was on again.

"Mr. Naegi." Ms. Chouno waved out to him at the end of classes for the day, while everyone else started filing out. Makoto left his things and saw his report card on top of his teacher's desk. "I know you've had some assignments from Principal Kobayakawa this past month, but this," Ms. Chouno turned the report card over to him, "is still quite worrying."

011% on the midterm, 037% for the semester so far.

Yikes, that looked pretty bad.

"I wanted to bring this up now, while it's still, strictly speaking, a choice," Ms. Chouno said. "If there were any circumstances that that may have affected your performance, you could retake the midterm."

If Makoto asked all ten people he knew here at Shujin if they ever wanted to take a test a second time, ten out of ten the answer would be no. And then there was another problem.

"Doesn't that have to go through the Principal, though?" Makoto said.

"Ah, right. I heard a little bit about your," the teacher tapped her finger against a wire frame tray, "altercation. I still think it's worth a try."

It would be hard to do any worse. It would take off the pressure to do perfect on the finals. It was worth a shot, at least. "Thank you, Ms. Chouno." Makoto gathered his books from his chair and heaved them downstairs to cram away in his locker.

He shook his head on his way out the door. Dealing with Kobayakawa again. Was it really possible? Makoto thought that bridge was burned, but if he was right, that there really was someone else pulling the Principal's strings, it was possible that third party could still be bargained with. It was Makoto's leverage now, if that was how he wanted to use it.

With a fidgety press to her headband, Makoto looked around the courtyard, at the four buildings of the Hope's Peak campus that stood over the world like pillars that held up the sky. She scoured that sky, from one building to the next, and against that imposing backdrop, the rest of the world felt like it was shrinking down to nothing.

There was a water fountain at a crossing in the center of the courtyard. Makoto looked into the water. The sight of her scattered reflection, the ripples breaking back and forth, set her mind on her own aimlessness.

And next to her, there was a boy in a black suit standing near the fountain, looking the opposite way. Makoto turned towards his view, of the afternoon shadows that stretched far away, towards her class's building.

She turned towards the boy by the fountain. Her eyes only came up to his neck, but it was perfect to see his suit didn't fit just right. Trailing up, she saw a glint of longing in his eye. "Something on your mind?" Makoto said.

The boy's head stuttered about. He found her voice off to his side. "It's… not really anything important."

Makoto had heard that one before. How many times she said it herself, how many times she'd been scolded over it, she couldn't tell anymore. But the words stuck, and the thought stuck, and all her life, for as long as Makoto could remember, unimportant was who she was.

If the boy at the fountain felt the same way, then she wasn't alone. They could overcome that despair together. "I think I understand," Makoto said. She raised her head. "In fact, I feel the same way."

"You do?"

Makoto nodded. Silence crept back over them, and she followed his gaze back to the east building. "Are you a student here?" she said. "I don't think I've seen you before."

"That's no surprise." The boy at the fountain pointed the other way across the courtyard. "I'm just a reserve course student," he said. "We're not allowed to enter the main campus, and main course students don't really interact with us." When he turned back to the east building, a look of disdain set in, a conflicted mix. "Not that I can blame them. It is the way it is, just tradition, I guess."

"Well, I'm here now," Makoto said. "And if it goes against tradition, then, so what? Traditions can change." She settled next to him, looking up at the top of that sky pillar. "That's what Hope's Peak is all about, isn't it? The potential to change the world."

"Yeah, you're right about that," the boy at the fountain said. "It just seems like some of us have that potential more than others."

She could hear herself again. She could see herself saying every word, like the boy was her reflection in the basin. Makoto squeezed her eyes shut. And when she opened her eyes again, though she still couldn't discern the whole path, she saw the first step forward.

"That may be," Makoto said. "But it's no reason for us to do nothing. We all have the potential to change things for the better. We all get opportunities to make things better. It's up to us to take those opportunities when we see them. No matter what pressure, or lies, or threats, or distractions get in our way, I'm done running from myself."

They stood side by side at the fountain a little while longer, without a sound but the gentle pouring water behind them, as an orange tinge filled the sky.

Makoto's head shot up. "It just occurred to me, I didn't catch your name. And, now that I brought it up, I don't think I introduced myself, either. I'm Makoto Niijima."

The boy at the fountain looked down. "Hajime-"

"Ah, Hinata!" A young man wearing a lab coat unbuttoned came up to the two of them in the middle of the courtyard. "Niijima, you too. Good afternoon, both of you."

"Good afternoon to you too, Dr. Maruki," Makoto said.

"Did you need me for something?" Hajime said.

Maruki waved him off. "No, not today." It almost certainly wasn't any of her business, but Makoto wondered what that meant they did normally. Maruki went on, "I just had to get out of the lab for a little bit. It's good to see you spending time with your peers like this, Hinata."

Hajime took a step back and glanced at Makoto. "We were just getting to know each other," he said.

"That's a good start," Maruki said. "I'd like you to keep it up." He shifted under Makoto's gaze, and turned to regard her. "Maybe I should explain? I actually do some work with the reserve course, mostly guidance counseling. This academy can be pretty overwhelming, so I try to help them feel at ease." Off Makoto's static expression, he added, "Oh, but don't worry. This doesn't affect our regular classes."

"It's not that." Makoto said. "I think it's really nice that you do that. And, I wanted to know if I could talk some things through with you as well."

Maruki let out a light laugh. "I'm not quite qualified for that, I'm afraid." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But I suppose if that doesn't dissuade you, I can make time for you as well, Niijima. Maybe even the rest of the class. I'll think about it."

He vanished as fast as he had appeared. Left to each other's company, Makoto and Hajime settled to watch the shadows converge on the east building, the halls of the Ultimates of Hope's Peak, but as the sun set and night fell, Makoto, at least, couldn't help but look away.