Tuesday, 4 October 20XX, Evening
Cafe Leblanc, Yongen-Jaya
Under Joker's savvy guidance, the Phantom Thieves were able to balance their intrusion into their latest Palace with Ann and Futaba's secret commitments. Making steady progress, they sent the Calling Card and fought for its Treasure with more than a week to spare. After returning from the Palace, feeling strained yet satisfied, the team held a short debriefing meeting at their hideout in Cafe Leblanc's attic, and then they went their separate ways. Ann and Futaba, however, chose to stay behind and discuss matters of their own. Ordering coffee and cake sets from Sojiro, they sat down together in one of the empty booths. Going straight for her slice of cake, Ann asked of her friend, "Wow, that was some fight. Say Futaba-chan, what do you think of Haru?"
"Oh… she's cute, refined, cultured, a little bit psycho, and… floofy."
"Yeah, I pretty much got that impression myself- wait, did you say psycho!?"
"Well, she's packin' an axe and a grenade launcher. Something tells me she enjoys beating up Shadows a little too much..."
"Let's not dwell on that, Futaba-chan," Ann nervously interjected, eager to change the uncomfortable subject. "Do you think she might like to try belly dancing with us?"
Futaba almost wished she hadn't changed the topic of conversation to that. "Maybe, but… I kinda don't want to tell anyone else for now."
"How come?" Ann asked innocently.
"It's just that…" Futaba struggled to find the right words. "We know there's more to belly dance than getting half-naked and strutting our stuff, but a lot of other people don't know that. If Haru, or even Makoto, found out we were doing this, they might think less of us. Like, that we're uncultured, or unfeminist, or un… something."
"Don't worry about all that, Futaba-chan. Makoto and Haru are our friends, and they'll be there for us no matter what we do. If you give them a chance to see us perform real belly dancing, I'm sure they'll appreciate the good things and not care about the bad."
"I guess… But what about Ryuji? Surely he'd get all pervy and stuff?"
"Ryuji-kun? Yeah, I understand your problem, but he's okay too. He can be a dumb meathead from time to time, but he's actually really kind and caring once you get to know him. It was his idea to form the Phantom Thieves, you know. He didn't want anybody else to suffer under cruel people like Kamoshida."
"Wow, I… didn't know that about him."
"And Yusuke? ...On second thought, I think I already know the problem with him." She then went on to tell the tale from their second Palace mission, where she had to model for Yusuke, only to show up wearing layers upon layers of clothes in order to stall for time, not to mention maintain as much of her dignity as possible.
Hearing this story for the first time, Futaba guffawed with laughter. "Man, that would make for one heck of a 'dance of seven veils'! Oh, that reminds me! Have you found a routine to perform at our recital?"
"No, I haven't," Ann sighed. "Six weeks just seems like long time away, you know?"
"Well, take it from me, a dance routine isn't just something you can whip up overnight. Here, maybe we can find something together." Both of them pulled out their smartphones in unison, and conducted separate searches for belly dance videos that Ann might be able to emulate.
A few minutes passed until Ann said, "Ooh! This looks like an interesting one!", and shared her phone with Futaba. The dancer in the video wore a glittering blue and silver costume as she gyrated her hips in all sorts of directions while gracefully waving her arms up and down. It was a long performance, too, lasting just about nine minutes.
"Aah… That looks wicked cool, Ann-chan! But, are you sure you're up for it?"
"You know it's just for inspiration, right? I'm sure Maiko and I can trim it down to something more manageable."
While they were engrossed in the video, the bell hanging from the door rang in announcement of someone entering the cafe. "Hey, Sojiro, I left my bag here and- oh hey, Ann! Futaba! What'cha up to?" Ryuji Sakamoto had just paid a visit, and was leaning down on the table beside the girls.
"Do you mind?" Futaba asked, annoyed at the intrusion into her personal space.
Ryuji acted like he hadn't heard her, and stole a glance at the video playing on Ann's phone before she had a chance to shut the screen off or escape to the home screen. "So, what'cha looking at, Ann-chan…?" He briefly fell silent as he witnessed the spectacle on-screen, a wide, lusty grin steadily spreading across his face. "Sooo… you like the ladies, eh? Niiiice…!" The prospect of Ann being into other girls filled his imagination with many exciting possibilities. And, Ryuji being Ryuji, the thought that this meant they wouldn't be interested in him failed to cross his mind.
"No, it's not like that at all! We were just… Ah…" Ann was playing up her innocent, ditzy charm in an unguided attempt to defuse the situation, but could not come up with a plausible excuse.
Boldly, Futaba interjected, "Just tell him, Ann. He'll only come up with worse assumptions if we let him."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ryuji.
Ignoring him, Ann sighed. "I guess you're right. Ryuji…" She puffed out a short breath to steel her nerves. "Futaba and I are both into belly dance."
"So, ya like watching it, or…?"
"Nope," affirmed Futaba. "We've been practising it separately for a while now, and just started taking classes together."
Ryuji paused, then laughed uproariously. "For real?" The girls meekly nodded in unison. "Like, I could imagine Ann, but you too, Futaba?"
His teasing and overbearing attitude, regardless of his benign intentions, made Futaba feel uncomfortable. "Y… yeah," she stammered, "You heard me."
"No way! I mean, no offence, but you're way too clumsy for that sorta thing!"
"That's why I'm practising," she retorted, barely keeping her mounting frustration in check.
"So…? Who's the lucky dude?"
Her eyebrow twitched as she responded, "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, you gotta be stripping to get some guy's attention! Let me guess… is it Yusuke?"
Her voice steadily rose in intensity. "I'm not doing this to be sexy, Ryuji."
"Nah, you two got a love-hate rivalry thing going on… Oh! Wait, I got it… You like Ren-ren, don't ya?"
It's true that Futaba had some feelings for the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but they were mostly platonic. He had shown her unconditional kindness and compassion during a time when she needed it the most. And for Ryuji to insinuate that there was something more to it all was the final straw. Suddenly, she shot up from her seat and slammed her palms on the table. "For your information, Ryuji", she shouted, "I only started dancing to keep me happy and sane after my frickin' mom died!"
"Hey, man!" Ryuji said in a panic. "I was just askin' a friendly question, is all!"
"Futaba," Ann urged, "keep your voice down-"
Futaba paid her no heed. "It was either that, or frickin' kill myself!"
Her words slammed into Ryuji like a brick wall. He stood in stunned silence for moments, unable to formulate a response. Then, he flashed back upon what they discovered about Futaba in her own palace, upon the trials she had to endure after her mother's passing. "Geez…" he said weakly. "I'm sorry, Futaba. I guess you're not effing around, huh."
Futaba said nothing; she just stared up at him in an intense glare. Ann, however, was desperate to defuse the tension between the two. "Look, I'm sure we're all just tired from running around the Metaverse all day. Let's all go home, have a good rest, and we can tell you more about it later."
"Whatever…" Ryuji said with a sigh.
Ann volunteered to lead him out the door. On their way out, she whispered to him, "And by the way, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention our little secret to the other Thieves, or anyone at all really."
"Yeah… Wouldn't want the little tyke-bomb to go off again."
Ann was not amused. She dismissed him with a firm "Good night, Ryuji", before closing the door behind him and returning to her other friend.
"Ugh…" groaned Futaba. "You see what I mean?"
"Yeah, you do have a point…" Ann agreed. "But just give him a little more time. He'll appreciate what we're doing sooner or later."
Futaba sat in silence, pondering to herself if that was true after all. After a moment's pause, she gasped in sudden realisation. "Wait a minute! Ryuji never picked up the stuff he left here!"
"It's okay," answered Ann, "I'll just give it to him when I see him at school tomorrow. It's not like he was gonna finish his homework anyway!"
"Oh, that Ryuji…" Futaba chuckled at the shade she just threw, and that made her feel a little better. "See ya tomorrow, Ann-chan! Let me know if you find any more routines to practise!"
"Can do!" Ann affirmed as she gave Futaba a good-bye wave.
Red-Light District, Shinjuku
Later that night, in an underground cabaret club across town, another of Maiko's students had just wrapped up a performance of her own. Only a couple of hours ago, she was the mild-mannered Atsuko Saito. But for the moment, she had adopted a completely different persona: that of Atsu-Atsu, the Scorching Beauty. Her particular form of belly dance was considerably more salacious in nature than what her classmates were practising. To be blunt, most men who paid to watch her on stage would see her as nothing more than an exotic stripper.
Atsuko had not intended for her career in belly dance to go like this. She wanted to become a respectable performer, like Maiko. But, it seemed, her craft just wasn't as widely understood and appreciated in Japan. Shortly after her first lessons with Maiko wrapped up, she received a mysterious e-mail offering her work as a dancer. Fresh out of college and unable to find other work, she accepted the offer. That offer took her to an underground cabaret club off of Kabuki-cho, the red-light district of Shinjuku, where every night she performed a burlesque version of her belly dance routines.
Her costume, such as it was, was so scanty it would barely be considered suitable beachwear. Her minuscule bikini was bedecked with gaudy beads which jiggled with each movement she made. The silicone implants within her bosoms only served to accentuate those two facts. Hanging from her thong panties were a pair of narrow, semi-transparent silks, which could only be considered a skirt in the most forgiving definition of the term. Its fiery orange hue matched the dye in her recoloured ponytail. This ensemble was complemented by a pair of open-toed, five-inch-heeled stilettos, various golden bracelets hanging on her wrists and ankles, and a veil draped below her eyes. She was at least thankful for this last addition, since she hoped it would obscure her identity from anybody who knew her outside the club, as well as hide the sad facial expressions she sometimes fell into when giving these demeaning performances.
The reason for her malaise came from her manager, who created her new sexed-up image, skimmed off a sizeable portion of the money she made, and controlled her personal life to the best of his ability. With Atsu-Atsu's performance wrapped up for the night, he had her summoned to his office. She met him lounging out on a sofa, taking a drag from a shisha water pipe standing on a coffee table in front of him.
"You called for me, boss?", Atsu-Atsu meekly asked.
Her manager blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils. "Man, this hookah stuff is good! You want some?"
"No, thank you." She knew that shishas had all the same health problems as smoking cigarettes, and didn't want any of them to hinder her ability to dance.
"Eh, you do you," he dismissed. "Sounds like ya drew quite a crowd out there, Atsu-Atsu."
"It sure looked like it…" she said, nervously squeezing her ponytail. Even now, she could feel the cold stares of all those men on her body, undressing her with their eyes.
"Ya got any good tips tonight?"
Atsu-Atsu nodded and pulled out the wads of cash she had collected during her show. Her manager counted them after she had placed the last one on the table. The total came out to just over twenty thousand yen. "Not bad, sweet cheeks…" he said with a smile, "but I seen better." His smile suddenly faded as he sternly asked, "You ain't holdin' out on me, are ya?"
"No, sir! I would never-"
"Turn around", he interrupted. "Slowly." Atsu-Atsu did as he commanded. He wanted to make sure she wasn't smuggling a few bills behind her back, but he couldn't resist the temptation of stealing a glance at her shapely bum, either. After all, Atsu-Atsu was certainly one of the most beautiful girls employed in his club's roster. Once satisfied on both fronts, he added, "There's a good girl. Here's your cut." He counted out five thousand yen and gave that to her, stowing the rest in his pockets.
Atsu-Atsu had seen this happen so many times before, and each time she was disappointed that she got deprived of so much of the money she should have made. But, she knew better than to complain. What she did make every night allowed her to live comfortably, and was not worth jeopardising.
"Not so fast, sweet-cheeks." Atsu-Atsu paused in her tracks and turned around to face her manager. An uneasy feeling bloomed in the pit of her heart. "First of all", he went on, "I was thinkin' of ways to increase audience engagement, you know what I'm sayin'?"
She nervously nodded.
"For starters… I was thinkin' you could go topless."
"Reeeh!?" gasped Atsu-Atsu.
"Ah, don't worry. I'll give ya pasties. Real nice ones, with the tassels and everything."
Atsu-Atsu said nothing to argue. The power he held over her aside, the way he said that made it sound less like a demand and more like a compromise. Or, at least, that was how she rationalised it to herself.
"And another thing," her boss continued, "I hear you been taking a few extra belly dance lessons. What's that for?"
Atsu-Atsu was, in fact, taking lessons with Maiko mainly because she wanted to experience a form of belly dance which didn't involve shedding her dignity for male gratification. Of course, this is not something her manager would appreciate hearing, so she gave him an excuse which was also technically true. "I… just wanted to learn some new moves. You know… to spice up my routine."
"Good thinking," he chuckled. "But let me remind ya… You don't perform for nobody… but me." He flicked his shisha pipe toward his own chest for emphasis. "I put in a lotta work on you, gave you a place to work, paid for those fake jugs o' yours," he listed, jabbing his pipe towards her implant-enhanced chest.
"Th… thank you, sir."
"Right. But I expect more than just thanks. I expect a return on investment. If people found out they could pay to see you from someone else, that would be bad for business. Wouldn't ya say?"
"...Of course."
"Keep this in mind: I know people. I got connections. If I find you dancing, or stripping, or whatever for someone else, I can make it so you're never gonna work for anyone in this town ever again."
Atsu-Atsu had no reason not to take his threats seriously. He certainly did give off a dominating sense of power. "I understand, sir."
"Good. Now get outta my sight. Go home, or give 'em an encore, I don't care."
"Th… thank you. Good night, sir." Atsu-Atsu gave him a demure bow before turning for the door. As she went back to the dressing room and changed into her regular clothes, heavy emotions began to well up in her mind. What am I doing with my life?, she thought. Am I really willing to go that far for that man? Is this all that will become of me if I want to be a belly dancer? Eventually the mental dam holding back her emotions burst, and she collapsed forward into her seat, sobbing over what she had become.