5/14

Makoto stands outside the door. She stares at it, hands clenched around the straps of her bag.

This isn't a good idea. This is pushing it. She shakes her head clear. This is something she has to do. She has to know.

Exams were over. Haru had asked if Makoto wanted to celebrate, but Makoto had made an excuse and left.

I should just go find Akira. I can text him right now. I'm sure he'd reply.

She bites her lower lip. Just do it! If she was going to learn the truth, she had to do things that made her uncomfortable.

Makoto steels herself, knocks, and opens the door.

The lack of light stuns her. The curtains hang over the window, and muffle the sun.

A figure stirs across the room and Makoto sees the head of a shadow turn towards her. "Ann?" Comes a soft voice.

"Um," Makoto says, and steps closer.

Shiho Suzui blinks up at her. Her skin is pale, and she looks much thinner than Makoto remembers her. It is her hair that upsets her the most. Suzui's is matted and sticky, and absent the personality of her sideways ponytail.

For a moment, Makoto is paralyzed by the memory of her broken body in the middle of the courtyard, and Akira's harsh words from a few weeks ago.

I saw you, the day Shiho jumped. I saw you on the edge of the crowd, standing there, doing nothing.

"Hi, Suzui," Makoto manages in a weak voice.

The girl continues to stare up at her, and then she tilts her face down towards the blankets on her lap. "Hello, Niijima-senpai." The voice is distant, cold.

"May I sit?" Makoto asks, gesturing to one of the chairs alongside the bed.

Suzui shrugs. "If you'd like."

Makoto nods, and grateful for the activity, takes her time in bringing the chair closer to the bed, and settles her skirt before sitting.

"It's good to see you," Makoto says, when she can't justify anymore fidgeting.

"Thank you," Suzui replies. "May I ask why you're here?"

"Yes, of course," Makoto says, and reaches into her bag. She withdraws a few notebooks filled with handouts and assignments. "I wanted to bring you this. It's the schoolwork you've missed."

Suzui stares at the binder as though it's a foreign object. "Oh. Did my teachers give that to you?"

"Well, I actually went around and collected it myself. I know you won't be coming back to school for a while, but I figured you wouldn't want to be left behind."

"R-right," Suzui says. "Thanks." She nods to the nightstand. "You can leave it there."

Makoto nods, and sets it down, alongside two picture frames. One holds a photo of Suzui with her mother and father. The other contains a picture of Suzui and Takamaki, out of their school clothes, in what looks like a karaoke booth. "Has Takamaki been to see you?"

Suzui's eyes flicker towards Makoto's. "You know she has been."

Makoto's throat goes dry. "I'm sorry?"

"She was texting Akira Kurusu the other day, when she came to visit. She told me you were tutoring him. We took a photo."

"Oh, of course. I just meant-"

"Why are you here, Niijima-senpai?" Suzui's words are harsher now.

"I just wanted to check up on you, and-"

"Liar,"Suzui snarls.

Makoto doesn't realize she's gasped until the sound seems to hang in the room for a moment longer than it's possible.

Shiho Suzui glares at her. Her head is tilted forward, and strands of black hair obscure her face, but Makoto can see her lower jaw working at a furious pace, chittering and chapped and scabbed. Her eyes stare out from beneath that cowl, white with anger, pupils dilated.

Makoto begins to slide back in her chair. "I'm the Student Council President," Makoto manages. "It's my responsibility to-"

"You don't care," Suzui whispers. "You never cared. You're a liar, and I hate liars. Liars keep pretending nothing's wrong." Her words are coming faster now, her breath more ragged. "Liars don't tell the truth when they're asked to. Liars keep telling you that everything will be fine. Liars act like they care but don't. Liars won't do anything until it's safe."

Makoto knows nothing can happen here. She knows Shiho Suzui is weak, and frail, and can't move much due to her injuries. She knows this, but beneath the girl's glare, Makoto doesn't feel safe.

Before she knows what she is doing, Makoto asks, "When was the last time Ann Takamaki came to visit you? Really?"

"Get out of here," Suzui says, her voice barely above a whisper. Makoto doesn't move. "Get out of here." This, a bit louder.

"Okay," Makoto says, standing. What did I just do? Why did I do this?

"Get out of here," Suzui says. "Get out of here! Get out of here!"

"I'm sorry," Makoto replies, stepping away from the bed. "I'm so sorry, Suzui."

"Get out of here!" Suzui screams. "Get out of here! GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

She doesn't writhe in the bed, she doesn't shake or point or do anything. She sits perfectly still as she screams at Makoto, and this terrifies her more than anything else.

When she reaches the door, it opens from the outside and a nurse rushes in. "What's going on?" She asks Makoto, and turns to Suzui as the girl continues her terrible chant.

"GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

The nurse looks back at Makoto. "What did you do?"

Makoto runs out the door and down the hall. She dashes onto the elevator, blessedly alone, wraps her arms around herself and begins to shake. She thinks she is about to cry, but no tears come, she just stands there, trembling, as the elevator slowly makes its way down to the ground floor.

Then, the door opens, and Makoto steps out into the lobby, and leaves the hospital.

#

"Are you sure about this, Ann-chan?" Her manager asks. She casts a worried glance back towards the far end of the room. "This guy seems kind of… weird."

Ann does another spin before the mirror. I really do look great. "I'm sure he's just eccentric. That's what artists are like, right?"

Her manager frowns and rolls her eyes. "I dated an artist back in college. I wouldn't call him eccentric."

"What would you call him?"

"Annoying."

In the corner of the room, before an easel, sits a reed-thin Yusuke Kitagawa. His dark hair slides elegantly to the side of his face, framing soft, gray eyes. One hand rests gently against his cheek, the other cups his elbow. His uniform is simple and form fitting, and when Ann stares at him for too long, her mind begins to drift towards the image of a scarecrow hanging in a field.

"Well," she says, glancing over at her manager. "I'm sure it'll be-"

Yusuke suddenly launches off his stool, and snatches up a brush from where it sat on a table alongside him. "It is upon me," he cries. "The muse!" He tilts his head forward and gestures with his free hand to the center of the room, where a white and simple tatami mat sits. "Let us begin… the channeling."

"Uh," Ann's manager says. "I think that's your cue."

"R-right," Ann replies. What have I gotten myself into?

Ann's kimono is red, ornamented with white lilies. Yusuke Kitagawa had brought it, though Ann has no idea where he'd gotten it. She walks to the center of the mat and looks over at Yusuke. "So, um, where do you want me to go?"

Yusuke does not take his eyes of the blank easel. "Assume whichever position you believes accents the contours of your beauty to their utmost."

Okay, so that was lewd. But Ann has heard much worse in the world of modeling. She sighs and kneels down on the mat, righting herself into a traditional pose, head tilted forward demurely, and hands resting calmly in her lap. "Is this good?"

"Indeed," Yusuke says, finally glancing her way. "Now, we shall begin." His hand holding the brush whips out to a small blot of paint upon a wad of paper, twirls, and returns to the canvas.

"So," Ann says. "It sure must be something to apprentice under the great Madarame."

"It is quite the honor," Yusuke replies. "But, apologies, I must ask for complete silence. True art can only be crafted in a vacuum, devoid of the imperfections of the everyday world. You may, of course, ask me whatever you'd like once I've finished."

"Oh, okay," Ann says, frowning. "Sure."

Great, just great. How long is this supposed to take anyway?

From where she kneels, she watches as Yusuke shifts his hand with the barest of motions, before frowning. "No. No! That's not right," he grumbles. "Must begin again."

Crap…

Time ticks on, and Ann finds herself alone with her thoughts. Alone, because although she shares the room with Yusuke Kitagawa, it's clear he's gone off into his own world. She returns, in her own mind, to the fight from the previous night. Dumb jerk Akira. She thinks this, but it no longer has the bite and bitterness.

When she was younger, her mother had taught her a method to deal with anger. She told Ann that whenever she was angry with someone, like a friend or family member, she should write down all the reasons she was angry. Then, she should take a few minutes, and write down all the good qualities about the person. Ann hadn't done this since middle school, but she did it last night, for Akira.

Akira Kurusu. Points against:

Lies

Makes stupid, elaborate plans that don't work

Gets mad about dumb things

Likes Makoto

Then, she had taken a few minutes, and continued.

Akira Kurusu. Points for:

Had my back against Kamoshida/ Wrecked Kamoshida's gross ass

Doesn't think bad things about me

Doesn't think bad things about Ryuji

Has a talking cat (Point Against: Talking cat has crush on me)

Listens to me

Cares about me

Is my friend

"Dammit," she had said. She had hoped to stay mad longer.

Now, stuck as she is as Yusuke's subject, she can't help but acknowledge she isn't really mad anymore. She'd just been embarrassed. Yes, she should've told them about her lead with Yusuke. No, he didn't need to be such a jerk about it. No, she certainly shouldn't have brought up his dad, and her suspicions about the story he had told them. It hadn't been the right time.

Ann lets out a sigh, and shifts the barest of a fraction on the mat. She's used to holding poses for stretches of time, but for photographs, not paintings. Her legs are beginning to cramp. God, did women really sit like this for hours at a time in the old days?

As this thought runs its way through her mind, Yusuke Kitagawa drops from the stool and into a heap upon the floor. Ann gasps and straightens up, cringing at the stab of pain in her legs. "Are you alright?" She calls.

"Failure," Yusuke mumbles, from the floor.

"Huh?" Ann asks, approaching.

Yusuke extends a single, empty hand to the sky, grasping at something, and moans, "The muse has fled, and my work is a failure. I apologize, Takamaki. Your beauty remains unpreserved upon the canvas!"

"Um," Ann says, standing over him. Is this guy for real? "That's fine, I guess."

"Fine?" Yusuke growls, and extends upwards, like a dancer unfolding himself. "It is most certainly not 'fine.' My task was to capture the ascetics of your beauty, but all I managed to achieve was, that." He gestures to the canvas, and Ann takes a peek.

She sees a beautiful, half-complete painting of herself, a small smile on her lips, eyes gazing as if looking at something far away. "Wow, this is really good," she says, with no exaggeration.

Yusuke shakes his head. "Someone would your sensibilities would say that."

Ann frowns. "Okay, ouch. I think it looks great. Just because you don't doesn't mean you get to be a jerk about it."

Yusuke sighs, and his shoulder slump. "I apologize. My temperament has been abysmal as of late. If Sensei were here, he would've known how to complete this work to its fullest potential."

Ann glances back at him. "Sensei? You mean, Madarame?"

"Indeed," he says, with a nod, and then looks up at her. "Ah, that's right. You cited interest in Sensei's work, did you not?"

"Totally," Ann says, smiling. "That's the whole reason I took this gig. Would it be okay if I asked you some questions?"

A small grin spreads across Yusuke's face. "Of course. It is always a delight to discuss the Master's genius with others."

Ann blinks. "Uh, right. So, what's it like apprenticing for him?"

Yusuke frowns. "An interesting question, but one I do not believe I can answer adequately. You see, I have been Madarame's apprentice since I was a child. He raised me as a father would, taught me everything I know about the world of artistic expression, and continues to push me to achieve my dreams of becoming an artist."

"Oh. So, he's a good guy?"

Yusuke chuckles. "I wouldn't use such a colloquial term, but yes. Sensei is indeed, a 'good guy.'"

Ann rolls this information around in her mind. Was Nakanohara just blowing smoke? But we checked Madarame on the app. He definitely has a Palace.

"You said Madarame raised you from when you were a kid," Ann says, trying a new line of inquiry. "Were you that good of an artist as a child?"

Yusuke's smile becomes a sad one. "I don't believe so. Actually, Madarame was an acquaintance of my mother's. She was an artist as well, under his tutelage. She, unfortunately, was prone to seizures, and died of one when I was three. Sensei took me in and has cared for me ever since."

"Wow," Ann says. "Not many people would do that."

Yusuke nods. "Not many people are as kind as Sensei."

Ann's mind races. Wait a minute. "Have you ever heard of someone named Natsuhiko Nakanohara?" She asks.

Yusuke purses his lips and is silent for a moment. "No, I don't believe I have. Who is this person?"

"No one, forget I said anything." What the hell? He's never heard of Nakanohara, and he's head over heels for Madarame. I can't just straight up ask him if he's getting plagiarized, can I?

"If I may ask," Yusuke says, suddenly. "As a follower of Madarame, what piece of his enchants you the most?"

Ann breaks out into a big smile. "Oh, gee. There's just so many…" Okay, okay. Think! I researched this. What was that famous one? Right! "But, I'd have to say, 'Sayuri,' is my favorite."

Yusuke closes the distance between the two of them and grabs her hands in his own, then stares into her eyes.

"Hey!" She shouts. "What're you-"

"That's my favorite as well," Yusuke declares, energy dripping from his voice. "It inspired me, as a child, to pursue the life of an artist. To create my own, 'Sayuri,' is my dream! Tell me, what about 'Sayuri' resonates with you the most?"

"Um," Ann says. "The colors?"

"Yes, yes," Yusuke says, nodding. "The colors Sensei used do indeed elicit an emotional response. Well put!" He releases her hands and takes a few steps away, and stares off into space. "He told me the inspiration came to him in a dream one night. He saw a woman looking at something, and the look on her face was so intriguing, so inscrutable, that he had to try and capture it." Yusuke smiles and shakes his head. "If you believe Sensei, he claims that what he created does not, in actuality, live up to his dream. Privately, he calls it his, 'most popular failure.'"

"It's too bad it was stolen," Ann says.

Yusuke nods. "Tragic indeed. A loss not just for Sensei, but the world at large. To be deprived of original beauty like that, it is truly a crime like no other."

We're getting sidetracked here. Got to get back to what's important. "So," Ann asks, trailing a finger through her hair. "Have you ever worked on a piece with Madarame?"

"Of course. Sensei's tutelage is instrumental in my work. He oversees everything I undertake."

"Oh, cool," Ann says. "Has any of it ever been shown to the public? I'd love to see something you've completed."

Something passes over Yusuke's face. Or rather, his smile, his eyes, every part of him, freezes in place. It only lasts a second, but it's long enough. "N-no," Yusuke replies. "I'm afraid my work has yet to see the light of day. One day, when Madarame deems me ready, I shall unveil it upon the world."

What was that? Ann doesn't say anything for a moment. It's like when Akira lies. His face does that little twitchy-thing. Yusuke was fine up until I asked him that last question.

If Yusuke Kitagawa's work was being plagiarized by Madarame, it stood to reason that he would know about it. Madarame was a prominent artist, and any exhibit he held drew widespread notice. So, if he had used a painting of Yusuke's, the kid would've found out almost immediately. But to hear Yusuke tell it, Madarame was a wonderful and kind teacher. What the hell is going on?

A buzz reverberates through the room. "Oh," Yusuke says, and glides over to where Ann had placed her book bag. "It would appear someone wishes to contact you. Your phone is ringing." He peers down at it, as Ann begins to shuffle her way over. "Someone named… Shiho?"

Ann's eyes widen. "What?" She struggles against the kimono's restrictions and hustles the rest of the way to him, snatches the phone from his hand, and answers it. "Hello? Shiho?"

#

"Ready, dude?" Ryuji asks.

"No," Akira replies.

"Too bad!" Ryuji shouts. "Increasing speed!" His finger darts out and starts to push the appropriate button on his treadmill. Akira lets out a groan and does the same. The kick in speed is gradual for all of a few moments, and then the belt beneath him starts to really spin. His knees lift higher as he turns his light jog into a full on sprint.

"Hold it!" Ryuji calls, the words coming in puffs of air. "Just a bit longer!"

The sprint lasts a good thirty seconds, which is thirty seconds longer than Akira is comfortable with, and Ryuji says, "Decrease speed!" Akira dials back on the correct button, and the hum from the treadmill lowers in volume, until he's back at a light jog. He does this for a few moments, then sputters out, "I need a break."

"Same."

Both boys switch off their treadmills and climb down.

Akira doubles over and rests his hands on his knees. Ryuji pats him on the back. "C'mon, man. Now's the perfect time to stretch."

Akira groans again and follows Ryuji over to the mats in the corner. As they walk, he takes in the gym once more. It's a nice place. He was surprised Ryuji had found an affordable one in the heart of Shibuya. The place wasn't very crowded, and the machines looked well-maintained and clean.

"Not bad, right?" Ryuji asks, smirking, as he lowers himself onto the mad and kicks out one of his legs.

"Not bad at all," Akira replies, assuming the same position as his friend.

"Sorry about dragging you here right after exams," Ryuji says. "You'd probably rather celebrate, but I needed to blow off some steam."

"It's cool," Akira says, shrugging. "I think I needed to do the same."

"You okay?" Ryuji asks. "About everything from last night, I mean."

Akira shakes his head. "I shouldn't have lost my temper at Ann."

"Yeah, but she shouldn't have brought up that stuff. Besides, you weren't really wrong. She should've told us about Kitagawa. Wonder how that's going."

"Still," Akira replies. "I could've handled it better." Then, a few beats pass, and Akira says, "Do you think what I told you guys about my father was a lie?"

Ryuji takes a deep breath and blows it out in a big huff. "I don't think you are. And even if you are, I'm sure you've got a good reason. It's not like I advertise that my old man used to hit my mom and me."

Akira doesn't say anything for a time. When Ryuji switches legs, his eyes widen and he turns to look at Akira. "Oh, dude! I forgot because of exams, but did you see that thing last night?"

"You mean that special with Akechi?" Akira asks, with a frown.

"Yeah, that dickhead!" When Akira nods, Ryuji barrels onwards. "Can you believe what that tool was saying about us? First he called us a 'juvenile Tatterdemalion rip-off,' or something, and then makes us out to be this evil group who's going to brain-screw everyone!"

"Brain-screw?" Akira asks.

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean. He basically said we were the bad guys."

Akira leans a little more on the leg he's stretching. "I actually thought he was going to side with us, at first. Then he did a total one-eighty and said we were 'holding society hostage."

"Yeah! What's up with that?" Ryuji growls. "He's supposed to be this big-shot Detective Prince, whatever the hell that is, but I didn't see him anywhere when we were taking down Kamoshida! All that shit he was talking about how 'we're a just society' and crap sounds great, but I bet he'd shut his mouth around Shiho. Or Mishima. Or anyone else Kamoshida hurt. He can blab about how change is slow or whatever all he wants, but how's that help the people hurting now?"

"I hear you," Akira says, and glances around the gym. It's not very crowded. "Well, whatever. Let him talk about helping people. We're actually doing it."

Ryuji grins, and holds out a fist. "Hell yeah!"

Akira smiles and bumps it.

His phone vibrates, and he pulls it out.

"Dude, did you run with that thing in your pocket?" Ryuji asks, wide-eyed.

"Uh, yeah?"

Ryuji shakes his head. "Bad idea, dude. That's a good way to end up with a broken phone."

"It's Ann," Akira says, when he looks at the screen. "Do you think she's done with the painting thing already?"

Ryuji shrugs. "How should I know?"

Akira answers. "Hello?"

Ann's voice is shaky. "Hey, so I know you're mad at me, but I can't reach Ryuji, so I'm sorry but-"

"Ryuji's here with me," Akira says. "We're at the gym in Shibuya."

"Oh. Okay. Good. That's good. Listen, I need you guys. So, just don't be mad anymore, okay? I need you guys to come to the hospital."

"The hospital?" Akira asks. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Ryuji's eyes widen even more.

"It's not me," Ann says. "It's Shiho. Just, please, come here!"

Akira looks over at Ryuji. "We're on our way."

#

They stand in a huddle outside Room 345.

"I'm confused," Ryuji says, hands shoved in his pockets. "Why is he here, again?"

Yusuke Kitagawa blinks. "I could ask the same of you, you uncouth youth."

"What'd you say?" Ryuji growls. He takes a threatening step forward.

Ann smacks him on the shoulder. "Knock it off, Ryuji. I was with Yusuke when Shiho called. I was so freaked out that he offered to come with me."

Ryuji crosses his arms. "Yeah, well he should watch what he says."

"You don't even know what 'uncouth' means," Ann blurts.

"Well, it doesn't sound good!"

"Indeed, it is not," Yusuke replies.

"See?"

"Hey!" Akira states. "Enough, already." Morgana squirms in his bag. The cat had been stationed outside the gym, and had been shocked when Akira and Ryuji had burst out and collected him up, citing some emergency at the hospital. "How's Shiho?"

Ann glares at him. "Not good. That bitch really rattled her up."

Yusuke frowns. "I fail to see how a visit from the Student Council President could elicit such an extreme reaction. Is Suzui perhaps, a problem student?"

"Hell no!" Ryuji replies, and turns to Ann. "How much did you tell him?"

"Not much," Ann says. "Look, Yusuke. Shiho's my best friend. She had... an accident a few weeks ago and has been here ever since. Apparently, Niijima thought she was involved in something she wasn't, and came here to harass her."

Yusuke nods. "How reprehensible."

"You got that right," Ann says. She steps out from their little huddle and grabs Akira's sleeve. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

The look she gives him makes him want to refuse, but he nods and follows her.

"We'll wait here," Ryuji calls after them. "And text you if something happens."

"Thanks," Ann says, over her shoulder.

Ann leads Akira to a stairwell, and steps inside. She leans over the landing, and peeks down the dizzying throat of the hospital. Then, she glances upward and calls out, "Hello? Anyone there?" When no reply comes, she whirls around on Akira and crosses her arms. "It's time to cut the bullshit, Akira."

Morgana pokes his head free of the bag. "This isn't the time for division, Lady Ann. We need to-"

"I'm not talking about last night," Ann replies, a scowl across her face. "I'm talking about today. I'm talking about right now. I'm talking about the issue the Phantom Thieves have had since day one, that our leader refuses to put a stop to once and for all. I'm talking about-"

"Makoto," Akira finishes.

Ann's mouth shuts, slowly. Then she nods. "That's right. Makoto Niijima."

Akira sighs. "Ann, I'm sorry about what happened with Shiho. I really am. But we need to-"

"Stop it!" Ann shouts, and the words echo through the stairwell. "Just, stop it." She unfolds her arms and points one, long finger into Akira's face. "The only reason you haven't ditched her completely is because you like her. Even though she's investigating us. Even though she's against us. You want to keep seeing her. You like her."

"Ann, I-"

"Admit it!"

"C'mon, Ann, don't be-"

"Admit it!"

"Fine!" Akira yells, and throws his hands into the air. "Okay? I fucking like her. Are you happy now?"

"Guys, calm down," Morgana hisses.

"No, I'm not happy, Akira! Because your would-be girlfriend just came into a hospital and harassed my best friend! My best friend, who has been raped and traumatized! Are you so freaking love-struck that you don't see how bad that is? Do you seriously not get it?"

"Of course I do. It's horrible! But-"

"It's beyond horrible, Akira. She crossed a line." Ann's voice rises as she speaks, and begins to crack. "Shiho's been through enough, understand? She doesn't deserve to be roped back into all this crap!"

"I know, Ann. And I'm sorr-"

"No. No more." Ann shakes her head, and presses her knuckles into her eyes as the tears begin to fall. "I listened to you, because you're our leader. But I'm putting my foot down." Ann takes a long, deep breath. "I'm a Phantom Thief, Akira. I care about what we're doing. But if you don't cut Makoto Niijima out of your life, then I'm done."

Akira's mouth hangs partly open. For whatever reason, he begins to rub his fingers together.

"Lady Ann," Morgana says. "You can't really mean that."

"I do, Morgana. I really do."

Akira finds his voice. "I know this looks bad, Ann. But she didn't mean to hurt Shiho. I think she's just confused and frustrated and-"

"She didn't mean to? Just like she didn't mean to punch you in the face, right? Oh, but I forgot, that kind of turns you on. And just like she didn't mean to agree to investigate us for the Principal? I'm sure there's a great story behind that too. Maybe she didn't mean to do any of that. Any of this. But she did."

Akira's tongue feels too large for his mouth. His throat hurts. There's a pressure behind his eyes that he can't blink away. "I-"

"It's time to make a choice, Leader. Akira. Joker. Whatever. Decide. Right now, no more waiting. No more of your crap." Ann's eyes never blink. "Me? Or her?"

#

Yusuke returns to the atelier, slinks his way through its dilapidated halls, and drops into the sole chair in his room. What an utterly depressing day.

There's a knock on his door.

Yusuke pushes himself to his feet. "Come in, Sensei."

The door slides open and Madarame steps inside, brows furrowed in concern. "Ah, Yusuke. Thank goodness you're alright. The school called and told me you had dashed off campus in a rush. Is everything alright?"

Yusuke shakes his head at his own foolishness. "Oh, I'm very sorry I didn't call, Sensei. I got so caught up in events, that it never crossed my mind."

Madrame smiles and waves the comment away. "Please, it's perfectly fine. I'm just glad you're okay. But what happened?"

Yusuke sits back down and recounts the events of the day. "Ann was so upset, that I offered to help her get to the hospital."

Madarame beams. "That was a very considerate thing to do, Yusuke. I hope the poor girl is alright?"

Yusuke shrugs. "I can't say with certainty. Ann was reluctant to specify how her friend got to the hospital, but I gathered it was an unpleasant topic."

"These things often are," Madarame replies. "Might I ask how the painting is coming along?"

The air feels like it seeps from Yusuke's body. "I'm sorry, Sensei. It was a failure. Ann is beautiful, but I was unable to convey it to the canvas."

Madarame chuckles. "How often must I tell you this, my boy? Failure is a far more valuable teacher than success. Do you recall every stroke you made upon the parchment?" Yusuke nods. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

"I believe so."

"Then, you simply must commit this lesson to memory, and take it upon yourself to do better next time."

Yusuke takes a deep breath, and a bit of the tension leaves him. "You are right, of course." Then, he remembers. "I hope you don't mind, Sensei, but I invited Ann and her friends to your gallery this coming week. She seemed quite taken with your work. She mentioned the 'Sayuri.'"

"Well, of course it's alright," Madarame says, and pats Yusuke on the shoulder. "It is always refreshing to find young people actually interested in art. Too often, it feels like the realm of old men like me. When they arrive, please, introduce them to me."

Yusuke smiles. "I will, Sensei. Thank you."

Madarame nods and moves to leave. "Well, I'll leave you to it, Yusuke. I'm sure you've some work you still wish to do."

"Indeed," Yusuke says, and glances at the assortment of brushes and paint tubes shoved into the corner. "Um, Sensei?"

"Yes?" Madarame asks.

"Well, I did not foresee my trip to the hospital today. Ann was in such a panic, that we rushed the whole way there. It was... taxing. I know I did not succeed in my task of completing the portrait today, but I wonder if I still might have some dinner?"

Madarame's smile doesn't shift. "Yusuke, my boy. We've talked about this. Hunger. Pain. Absence. It is through these avenues that the muse enters and possesses us. To surrender to ease is to abandon our hope of understanding what truly makes art, art. You may have your allotted meal tomorrow morning, and not before."

Yusuke sighs and stands, smiling. "Of course, Sensei. Forgive me for such a foolish question."

Madarame shakes his head. "There's nothing to forgive. That is why I am here, to guide you on the path of the artist."

Yusuke nods. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. Goodnight, my boy."

Madarame slides the door shut.

##
A/N: Happy Monday! Hope everyone enjoyed their weekends. I'll be getting to the comments/reviews I didn't get to soon, and as always, thanks for reading!