A crumpled, bright yellow streamer laid on the tile floor, over a tangle of scuff marks that tracked in every direction to and from the door. A sign on top of the door frame, above a half braid of colored streamers that dangled on the last strength of tape, read Class 77.
Makoto approached the door slowly, adding her footprints to the rest, and she looked in the sliver of open doorway at the two people inside the room, Hajime and Chiaki, sitting back against the radiator beneath the windows. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, waving hello.
"Ah, Niijima!" Hajime said. He set a light blue game system on the floor and got up in a brisk walk over to the teacher's desk on the other side of the classroom. Over to her bag and her cell phone left on top of the desk. "Someone called you earlier. It sounded important." He handed her things to her.
She nodded acceptance. "Thank you, Hinata," Makoto said. She looked between her phone and Hajime, and Chiaki, and the sun, so low now in the sky. "Were you two waiting for me this whole time?"
Chiaki looked up, halfway. "I didn't know it was yours," she said. "Fuyuhiko just kinda left it there without saying anything. But, it felt wrong to leave it alone." Even after everyone else left. "Then Hajime came in, and we've just been playing Sea of Souls since then."
A look on Hajime's face said as much was true. Makoto read over her recent call log to a too familiar number, and bowed to her peers before stepping out to the hall. "I'll just be a minute," she said.
Makoto pulled on the doorknob behind her, still not closing it all the way, and she dialed back on one call missed, and one call answered. "Sis, it's me," she said. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"
A breath of tension let out on the other end. "Yes," Sae said. "I'm going to be at work late today. Possibly all night. Something came up on one of my cases, and I think it's enough to push it forwards."
Makoto pressed the phone tighter against her ear, she took another step away from the door. "Which case?" she said.
"You know which one." The only one Sae would bother to talk to her about. The Kaneshiro case. "I'm just about ready to proceed," Sae said. "Does Naegi have his part?"
She held up her empty left hand, her bare wrist, creased by the tracker's strap that wasn't there anymore. "He does," Makoto said.
"Good," Sae said. "Good. You can leave the rest to us, then."
"Can I say one more thing?" Makoto said. She waited, and without objection, went on, "Can you keep this action to just…" She looked around the empty hallway. "Just Kaneshiro? I actually spoke to him today, and it looked like he was in a pretty bad spot."
"Your point?" Sae said. "I hope you're not telling me to go easy on him."
"No! Of course not," Makoto said. "Make him pay for everything. If anyone ever deserved it, it's him. I'm just saying, he's been cut off enough that you can get him for the things he's actually done. Wouldn't it be better to do this for the right reasons?"
"I'll decide what those reasons are," Sae said. "Thank you, Makoto, but you've done enough. I'll see you at home tomorrow."
The call cut off, and the battery indicator on her phone screen turned to red. Makoto felt her stomach rumbling too, and only spared one more look at Chiaki and Hajime through the open sliver of the doorway, before she wrenched her head back to the hallway toward the nearest stairwell.
It'd been hours by now. Makoto couldn't understand why all his muscles were still sore. He sat slumped over on the couch, with Komaru just now settling down on the other side, as the television screen flickered onto the ominous bright red copyright warning.
"Do they ever actually arrest anyone for that?" Komaru said, still shifting in her seat.
Makoto's arm twitched. Looked like that was as much of a shrug as he was getting out tonight. "Beats me," he said. "So, which one's this?"
"Virtual Space Manipulator," Komaru said. "I was digging around the back of the DVD store all afternoon for this."
That didn't bode well. "But why?" As far as Makoto was concerned, the bargain bin DVDs were there in the back of the store for a reason.
"Oh, come on, bro, this niche stuff isn't that bad!" Komaru crossed her arms and pouted at him, her fingers still wrapped around a remote control. "Don't you ever get bored of mainstream shows?"
"Not really." Makoto shook his head, or really, nudged it back and forth. He couldn't even move his neck like this. But to Komaru's point, he tried to remember the last series he watched from beginning to end, and drew a blank. Maybe she was right, and it was time for him to branch out and find something he enjoyed for himself.
Or maybe that was just the fatigue from the cognitive world dulling his memory.
The show started, off in distant space, on a scale that, in all honesty, he most likely had seen in some other show before. It didn't look like anything new, and right away, Makoto wasn't surprised that this sci-fi show had a hard time standing out from others.
His mind drifted off as far as the show was unfolding, and landed back onto that other world that seemed to be causing him all this pain.
What could he explain? What was he even supposed to explain? What was he supposed to conceal? Makoto didn't have long to figure it out. Tomorrow, things were going to happen, whether he was ready or not.
"This is a very interesting position," a commentator said about a Shogi board displayed on a screen. "It's a much more aggressive series of opening moves than we usually see, but pieces, and even pawns, have not come off the board yet."
At the center of the venue, Hifumi sat across a tranquil young man with a board between them, set up the same as the commentator's display. She took her time, deep in thought over her next move.
"Indeed, both players have to be very careful about their positioning here in a game like this one. Togo appears to be in a difficult spot. I have not seen her play from very many positions like this during her time in the women's league, but Tajima looks to be right in his element."
When, at least, Hifumi played a move, her opponent countered almost immediately, and the pressure to think was right back on her. She looked for a weakness, a flaw somewhere in his advance, as any of her previous opponents left when they played so quickly. But Tajima wasn't so careless as the rest, and Hifumi couldn't find such a crushing move as she used to be able to.
"The tension in the center is mounting," the first commentator said. "In a few more moves, we might see the entire board transform. Or, things could lock up, and it may take much more maneuvering for either player to make a breakthrough."
As more pressure mounted on Hifumi's pawn line, Tajima's play suddenly ground to a halt, and he began to seriously think about his next move. Yet after his intense focus, the move he did play, he made with utmost nonchalance.
"I'm not sure what that move does," the second commentator said. "Is this actually a mistake? Tajima has to move the bishop back now. This gives Togo just enough time to survive the attack… wait, what?"
Hifumi played a backstep, undoing her last move. She met eyes with Tajima, full of intent that only the two of them could understand, and he took back his move as well.
"Did he just get a take back? In a professional match?" "It certainly looks that way. Will he go the right way with the bishop this time?"
Their silent conversation continued on the board, where a devastating attack ensued. Hifumi's position was shattered, and she could see it was only a matter of time before she was defeated. So before the inevitable ending, she extended her hand and conceded the match.
"Well then, that finishes Hifumi Togo's run in the nationals. What an unbelievable ending! I'm sure, well, actually, I don't think I can be sure of anything anymore. I have never seen anything like this happen."
Covered by chaos, Hifumi slipped away from the tournament hall, and when things started to settle down again, and the room was being prepared for the final match just a few days away, one of the crew members at the venue noticed a distinct, black and red card tucked underneath the shogi board.
Sir Junya Kaneshiro, the money-devouring sinner of gluttony. Your voracious fingers lay waste everywhere to those with a future you never had. We will turn this feast to poison, and make you confess your crimes with your own mouth. We will take your distorted desires without fail. From, the Phantom Thieves.
"Okay, but isn't the Fireworks Festival the very next day? Why are we doing this again?"
"Cause it's right after finals. Why not celebrate?"
"What are we even celebrating?"
On the edge of the floor in the gymnasium, rattled every minute or so by the impact of a volleyball on the floorboards, Makoto spread out a set of cardboard cutout characters that summed up the Principal's idea of a cause for celebration.
CONGRATULATIONS ON A PROSPEROUS SCHOOL SEMESTER
Because between Shiho's jump off the roof, Kamoshida's announcement that he was a sexual predator, and now going into the school's third month hunting the Phantom Thieves, prosperous was definitely the word Makoto had in mind for this semester. Prosperous. And not, for example, calamitous.
"I bet Kobayakawa just wants this because Kosei's doing it too, except they actually have something worth celebrating."
"I bet their festival's gonna be great."
The double doors at the back of the gym opened to Haru, wheeling in two speakers stacked on top of each other on a dolly cart. She pushed the cart close to the stage and lowered the cargo to the floor, slow, with her foot on the axle.
Haru hunched over the stage for a second, stretching her arms, and she turned around to look on the sidelines. Still heaving her breath, she walked up to a boy and a girl watching Makoto. "Excuse me, Terao, Hatsuyo," she said. "I hate to interrupt, but could you please move the speakers onto the stage?"
The two of them snapped to attention. "Right away, Haru!" Terao said quickly, and he and Hatsuyo ran off to the base of the stage.
Makoto spun around on the floor. "Thanks, Haru."
Haru sat down next to him, looking over her shoulder to the two others figuring out the speakers. "It's no problem," she said. "Thank you for taking the time to do this. I know it's not as thrilling as what you've been doing."
Thrilling. That sure was one way to put it. "Well, it's almost over," Makoto said. "If things are going back to normal after this, I might as well get used to it."
"That's what you said last time," Haru said. "Do you still want that?"
"I used to think I did, didn't I?" Makoto said. Normal already felt like a long time ago. By now, it was just a memory. Here, cutting out the words for the school festival banner, he finally had another taste of a normal student life. "I don't know anymore," he said. "What about you, Haru?"
She leaned back, propped up on her arms. "My circumstances have always been somewhat different," Haru said. "Between my family's business and the obligations it imposes, I find it hard sometimes to relate to my peers, but now, I suppose that is just what normal means for me."
Obligations. Family business. Makoto put down the scraps of construction paper he was holding. An idea played on the top of his mind, something he remembered being warned to forget. But Makoto didn't forget a thing. "Is Sugimura a part of that?" he said.
Haru closed her eyes and nodded. "My father said he talked to you in the hospital."
"His dad did," Makoto said. "But I ran into him again later, about a week ago." It wasn't like Sugimura hadn't hit on anyone else before, beyond Sumire. Probably. And Haru probably knew it. "Do you really want to be with someone like that?"
"You never know." Haru sat forwards with a shrug. "I get your point, though. To be honest, I'm not looking forward to spending the rest of my life with him, but it isn't my choice."
"Shouldn't it be?"
"Different circumstances." A loud bash of hard plastic rang over the gym. Haru stood up and rushed over to help Terao pick up the other speaker from the dolly and lift it up to Hatsuyo, waiting on the stage.
Maybe it was normal for Haru to have some choices made for her, but it didn't have to be. She could make a new normal for herself.
Makoto's phone started ringing. He picked up as soon as he felt it. "Hello?"
"Naegi." Sae's voice on the other end. She sounded like she was fighting exhaustion. "Are you still at school?"
"Yes, Miss Niijima," Makoto said. "Why?"
"Outside," Sae said. So, it was happening. He sat there, paralyzed, even with no time to think. "It's now or never, Naegi."
Well, he hardly needed to be told twice. Makoto got up the moment his legs allowed, and slipped out of the gymnasium, out to the front gates of Shujin, where the beginning of the end was waiting.
The last time he was in this car, Makoto wanted to know why. Why Shiho had jumped off the roof. Why such a horrible crime was buried, why such a horrible criminal was idolized for so long. Why students were held to blame. Why he was dragged into this storm. Last time, Makoto was full of questions.
Now, he was supposed to have all the answers.
A toll gate barrier lifted up, and the car entered a parking lot just beneath the imposing shadow of the Tokyo courthouse.
"Do you have the address?" Sae said.
"I have coordinates," Makoto said.
"Just as good. Any GPS can convert that." The car pulled to a stop, flush against a barrier that ran the perimeter of the lot. Sae let the car idle in place. "This isn't exactly a trial, but we can still handle it like one. I'll give an opening, then lead you through your testimony. If that's still what you want."
Yelling at Kobayakawa was one thing. Sitting across the table, questioning Kamoshida was one thing. Taking the stand before a judge was another.
But there was no sense backing out now. Makoto opened that door already. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"So you are." Sae switched off the engine. "We start by establishing the charges. Then we tie them to Kaneshiro, and finally, we bring up his location. You've done all this already, so it's mostly up to your answers. He'll be behind bars by the end of the day."
"Just him, though. Right?" Just Kaneshiro. And not Ryuji, or Ann, or Yusuke or Hifumi, or Ren. Not if Makoto could help it.
"I can't speak for the police," Sae said. "You know how they can get. I can correct their mistakes, but only after the fact."
Makoto's gaze on her flaked. "Okay," he said. "What are the charges?"
"Drug trafficking, kidnapping, assault, extortion, match fixing, and racketeering. You were there for most of it," Sae said. "It's your incident that's driving this."
It was, Makoto supposed now, pretty much what he intended to prove. But that was another person, just the sketchy looking guy in the alley. It wasn't Kaneshiro who handed him the drugs. It wasn't Kaneshiro who held a knife to his throat. But, it didn't mean Kaneshiro wasn't to blame.
He just had to prove it. Somehow. And there was one more thing, besides.
"… Match fixing?" The one guess that started them all down into this bog. Makoto could hardly believe it came back to that.
"Something came up just an hour ago. It's enough to start digging for more." She got out of the car, and Makoto followed her up the short set of stairs to the front door of the courthouse. There, Sae stopped, and took a look at him before she pulled on his school shirt collar.
"H-hey!" He stumbled a step closer to her.
Just slow enough that he could follow, Sae undid and adjusted his tie, a slightly more impressive knot, even looking from his own eyes. "Oh. Thanks," Makoto said. "Uh, where did you learn the do that?"
Maybe from her dead father? What a stupid question.
"My coworkers care way too much about this superficial stuff," Sae said. "I figured it out watching them, and, now I'm starting the see the point. Every little bit counts." She turned toward the door. "Let's go."
They passed into the halls, down the turns Sae knew by heart, into the courtroom, where everything hinged on Makoto's next words.