Crimson

by Dowdz

Akira Kurusu. Delinquent. Thief. Leader. Hero. Who is he? How many masks can one man wear?

60. Going Off the Rails

6/3

Crow watches the scenery go by out the window.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

He glances down at his gloved fingers, runs them over the armrest. Sae Niijima. The woman was, while still predictable, becoming more of a hassle to deal with as the days continued. Her bumbling little attempts at birthday talk, of all things, had caused his masks to slip.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

With the SID's resources, and the investigation into the Phantom Thieves official, Crow doesn't need to worry about oversight or keeping his nose exceedingly clean. With the other plans he's set in motion, he was sure to flush the Thieves out soon.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Still, as fun as it was, no job came without drawbacks.

"What're you thinking about?" Asks the thing next to him.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Crow sighs. "I'm thinking about how utterly annoying your chewing is."

"Fuh huh huh." It's a laugh. Or the approximation of one. It's a loud, booming, horrid thing. Animal noise.

And then.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Crow turns to face his companion. "I don't appreciate my time wasted."

The Shadow of Junya Kaneshiro smiles back at him. He appears very much like the real Junya Kaneshiro. Tall. Muscular. Clean shaven. Close cropped hair. He's absent much of the glitz and glamor of his fellow Yakuza, at least here, in his Palace.

His teeth, however.

They shine like glass. Like razors. Each tooth is the size of Crow's thumb, and they all slide together into a jack-o'-lantern grin.

"And I don't appreciate my meals being interrupted. Not my fault you showed up when you did." He reaches into the bucket that lays between his legs, pulls out a fistful of fractured bones. His jaw unhinges, and the teeth slide open to reveal a terrible, gaping maw. He tosses the bones in, and the teeth snap shut.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

In another row, two cognitive representations of Kaneshiro's underlings sit, chuckling amongst themselves. They appear very normal. Very human.

That the denizens of Kaneshiro's Palace closely resemble their real world selves is a bit alarming.

Crow quiets the thought.

"Shall we get to it? Then we can both go back to doing whatever it is we do."

"I want a meeting."

Crow blinks. "A... meeting?" Realization hits hard. He stands. "You know exactly what my services are for. You do not contact me unless you've a request to make for a shutdown. I am not some messenger that-"

Kaneshiro thrusts his hand back into his bucket of bones. "I did make a request, Crow," he says, with a sneer. "But you couldn't follow through with it. Had to make that other kid go schitzo and do the deed for you." He shakes his head. "Sloppy. Real sloppy."

Crow takes a few deep breaths. "I would remind you, that it was your organization's failure to keep your facility secure that led to the situation in the first place."

His grin, somehow, grows larger. "Don't misunderstand me. I hate being misunderstood. I'm glad things settled the way they did, but I figure that your poor handling should get me - real me, or whatever - some face time."

Crow glares down at the thing. "That is not how this works."

Kaneshiro lifts his hand over his head, tilts his face towards it, opens his mouth, and lets the bones drop into his gullet. He slams his mouth shut.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

He swallows, then shrugs. "I don't really care."

Silence, save for the Palace, moving along.

Crow lets his body relax. He lets his fingers hang loose. "This isn't a negotiation, Shadow. You do not dictate terms to me." He keeps his voice low, calm. "Don't tempt me. If I wanted to, I-"

Shadow Kaneshiro launches out of his seat to his full, hulking height. A hand lashes out and wraps itself around Crow's throat before he has time to react. The arm extends and slams Crow's head against the glass window so hard it cracks.

"Don't tempt me, boy," it roars. The windows shake with each syllable. "I see you. You act big. You talk big. You walk big. But inside, you're real small. If you wanted to, what? You could kill me? Execute a mental shutdown on me? Try it." Crow tries to push himself free, but the grip is firm. "So go back to your little hole, you self-important pissant, and tell the man upstairs what I've said. And tell him no more of this spooky science bullshit." He leans in, until Crow can smell his breath through his mask. The thing's eyes bore into his own. "I want face to face."

He lets him go. Crow pushes himself away from the window, and sets about straightening his outfit. "Do not-" He starts, but Kaneshiro interrupts him once more.

"Spare me. I'm not interested in your posturing. Make no mistake. The head honcho of this whole thing may want to run the country." He points out the window. Crow looks. "But this?" Kaneshiro says. "This is my town."

#

Makoto watches her sister as she eats. Hunched over her plate, Sae conveys the food to her mouth, bite by bite, via chopsticks. It's all so rote. She knows her sister's mind must be spinning someplace else.

What's more, she remembers the last time she tried talking with Sae. The bitter, awful rant her sister had spit at her.

She can't help it. The slithering in her mind won't stop. "Sis?" She begins. "Could I ask you something?"

Sae blinks, glances at her, and mutters over her rice, "Mmmhn?"

That's probably as good as it's going to get. Makoto steels herself and forges ahead. "It's about Principal Kobayakawa's suicide."

Sae swallows, takes a sip of water, and nods. "What about it?" Her eyes narrow. "You haven't disclosed that to anyone, have you?"

Makoto shakes her head. She'd been told by the faculty what had happened, but until her talk with Toko-sensei, hadn't thought much beyond the official story, even if it was kept hidden from the rest of the student body. An official report was to be released later in the week, releasing the details of his death as they were understood. "No, of course not. But, well, has it come across your desk at work?"

"Why would it?" Sae asks, an edge to her voice.

Makoto shrugs. "I thought, maybe since you were related to someone attending Shujin, someone might show you the file. If there's a file, I mean."

Sae tucks her head and gazes down at her food. "There's no file," she says, and picks up another bite. She chews, then frowns and swallows. "Why would you think there'd be one?"

Makoto's throat feels like parchment, so she takes up her own glass and sips the water. "Do you..." She pauses, tries to piece together what she should say. "Are they sure it was suicide?"

Sae says nothing for a time. She just stares at her, with that blank look on her face. Then, "What makes you ask that?"

Makoto was prepared for the question. "It just seems odd. He didn't come off as suicidal."

"Many don't," Sae snaps, then the edges around her face soften. "They wear masks, showing the world what it wants to see. They smile, laugh. And inside... inside, it's like they've got knots tied up in their chest and head. They feel constricted and trapped and genuinely believe that things will not get better. They even convince themselves that once they're gone, things for everyone else will improve."

Makoto blinks. She hadn't expected that response. All she'd been trying to do was feel out her sister's thoughts on the matter. If the police had told Toko-sensei about the note, then there was no way Sae didn't know about it. And it meant that officials believed in the possibility that Kobayakawa's death wasn't of his own design. This was very different from what she'd expected. What she'd wanted.

She thinks of Shiho Suzui, and her broken body in Shujin's courtyard.

When she regains her composure, she notices the wilted look on her sister's face. "Are you okay?" Makoto asks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you think of things like that."

Sae shakes her head. "It's nothing. Just bad memories."

"Bad memories?"

Sae glances up at her, then shrugs. "I knew a girl. Back when I first got to high school. We weren't close. We weren't friends. But everyone liked being around her. She was friendly to everyone. She smiled. She laughed. And then one day, she took too many pills and she didn't wake up again."

The shock buckles her mind, so she distances herself from it with basic computation. Sae was twenty-four. She'd been fifteen when she began high school. So it would've been nine years ago that this happened. Makoto would've been nine herself. She casts her mind back, trying to remember. "I..." She starts. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember that."

Sae nods. "Dad didn't want me to tell you. He thought it would be too much for you. You were still... reeling from Mom's death. Introducing you to the concept of suicide with a real world example, wasn't something he was prepared to do."

Makoto's mind snaps to something. She remembers. Remembers being that age. Hearing some noise coming from Sae's room. Remembers walking in and seeing her sister, hunched over her desk, sobbing. Remembers asking her if she was okay. Remembers Sae turning to her, rage on her face, and screaming, "GET OUT," but it's not Sae's voice she hears in her mind. It's Suzui's.

GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!

Makoto shakes her head clear. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm so sorry, Sae."

Sae waves her concern away. "It's ancient history, Makoto. Not worth mentioning." Her sister's face grows cold. "But back to your question, why are you asking about your Principal's death? Have you heard something?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, I just thought it was strange. I spoke to him not too long ago, and-"

"You mean, when he blackmailed you?"

"Uh, right. I guess."

Sae straightens. "That reminds me. He told you to look into that Akira Kurusu boy." Makoto feels her heart race at the mention of his name, but she cannot tell why, and that terrifies her. "You said it was because the Principal thought he had something to do with Suguru Kamoshida's confession." Sae's lips purse. "Did he suspect that boy of being one of the Phantom Thieves?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, I don't know what he thought." She stands. "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling very well. Please, excuse me." She turns and marches off towards her room.

She can feel Sae's eyes on her back as she leaves, like a caterpillar scuttling across her skin. First she thinks, Turn around. Then she thinks, Don't turn around.

She retreats to her room and plops down on her bed. She sits in silence for a moment, then lowers herself to her side, and brings her knees to her chest. Her eyes drift to her desk. Illuminated by the lamp, sits the Buchimaru pencil case. Her favorite cartoon character's face stares back at her, blank and plastic.

She reaches into her pocket, and pulls out her phone.

Part of her wants to end all this. To just send him a message. She pulls up the app, and types it.

MAKOTO: I want to talk to you.

She stops. Deletes it.

MAKOTO: I have to talk to you.

She stops. Deletes it.

"Dammit," she whispers.

MAKOTO: ARE YOU A PHANTOM THIEF? Y/N?

"Stupid," she says, as she deletes it.

She stares at the screen, and types the first message again.

MAKOTO: I want to talk to you.

She does too. She wants to talk to him so badly. The last thing he'd said to her had been, "I'm sorry." She turns her head until her face is buried in her blankets and lets out a long groan. She can't put her mind in order. One minute she's thinking of him like some vapid, love-struck star of a poorly written drama. the other she wonders if everything he told her was a lie. Because what if it was? What if Akira Kurusu was dangerous? The police had warned Toko-sensei of the possibility that the Phantom Thieves had killed Kobayakawa. If they'd killed Madarame as well, that'd be two homicides.

She remembers his little smirk. The way he would look at her. How diligently he worked under her tutelage. She remembers that day in the library, when Kamoshida had come for her, and how he'd said, "Makoto. Don't." She remembers how they'd been pressed up against each other on the school's roof, and how he'd begun to lean towards her. She remembers ;)

But she also remembers the look on his face, when she'd left Kamoshida's office, and found him in the hallway. He was standing there, breath coming in shuddering, ragged gasps, as the fire alarm blared in the background. She remembers the look in his eyes.

And she remembers the look he'd given her, that day when she'd crossed the line. The mad tirade he'd gone on, until she'd shut him up with her fist.

She looks at her phone again. The message remains.

MAKOTO: I want to talk to you.

She deletes it.

I've lost all control, she thinks. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

She tosses her phone to the floor and shuts her eyes, despite still wearing her uniform. She doesn't care anymore.

Exhausted, she begins to fade, and she thinks, I wonder what he's doing right now.

#

"... it was then, by some great manner of fortune, I discovered a new marketplace for my needs."

Akira nods. "Cool."

"To think, a place of such marvels existed this entire time, under my very nose!" Yusuke allows himself a self-deprecating chuckle. "I tell you, friends, I would surely have been lost without it. The discounts."

Akira checks his phone. Ryuji's running late. The two of them stand on the corner, exactly where Ryuji had told them to meet up. Morgana lounges across Akira's shoulder, and mumbles something about Boneheads and punctuality.

"Where was it?" Akira asks, as he returns his phone to his pocket.

"Pardon?"

"This new market you found. Where was it?"

Yusuke's eyes sparkle. "Ah. Prepare yourself. It was... online."

Akira blinks. "Wait, are you talking about the Internet?"

"Quite so."

Morgana stiffens. "The super awesome, hidden marketplace you found for art supplies was just, the Internet?"

A frown solidifies Yusuke's face. "You sound shocked at my shock."

"That's because everyone already knew about the Internet, Yusuke," Akira says.

"Everyone? Who is this everyone?"

"Literally, everyone." Akira makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. "The world."

Yusuke looks ready to say more, but a cry of, "Hey, dudes!" arrives from further down the block, and as one, they turn towards it.

Akira feels his face fall. Ryuji struts towards them, hand raised in the air. Behind him, shuffles Yuuki Mishima. "You've got to be kidding me."

Yusuke cocks his head to side. "Who is that depressing looking young man?"

"It's Yuuki Mishima," Morgana says, breaking in before Akira can answer. "He's the guy who operates the PhanSite for us. Sort of."

"Ah, he is an ally then."

Akira mutters, "Of convenience," and Morgana pats him on the head and whispers, "Be nice."

"No promises." The two step up to them, and Akira plasters a smile across his face. "What's up, guys?"

Yusuke steps up to Mishima. "Greetings."

"Uh, hi," Misihma replies. "I'm Yuuki Mishima. I go to school with Ryuji and Akira."

"And I am Yusuke Kitagawa, of Kosei High. I infiltrate the Metaverse and steal the hearts of criminals with Ryuji and Akira."

Akira bites the inside of his cheek to stop the groan. Should've seen that coming.

Mishima's eyes look as if they're about to pop and hit the concrete. "You're a Phantom Thief too?"

"I prefer the term, artist."

Akira slides up to Yusuke and claps him on the shoulder. "Okay, so now we're all acquainted. Let's see what Ryuji's got planned."

Mishima is undeterred. "I didn't know there were more of you guys."

Akira pats Yusuke's shoulder, but doesn't reply. Guess I'll just have to have a conversation with them about what we tell and don't tell others. Again. "So," he says, turning to Ryuji. "We're all here, yeah? Unless Maehara and Daisuke are about to turn the corner?" He nods towards a streetlight. "Nakanohara isn't hiding in the shadows, is he?" He knows the irritation is leaking into his voice, but Ryuji just keeps smiling.

"Why would they be coming?" He asks.

Akira shakes his head. "So, what's on the agenda?"

Ryuji nods towards the apartment building they stand alongside. "Let's head inside."

The group turns towards the building, but Akira speeds up to Ryuji and whispers, "I didn't know Mishima was coming."

Ryuji shrugs. "So? The guy needs a break too."

Akira wants to say more, but Ryuji steps past him and leads the pack towards the steps. Akira sighs and joins them, bringing up the rear. Morgana leans in and says, "I forget, does Mishima know I can talk?"

Akira runs through their previous interactions. "Crap. I don't remember. Just, try not to do anything blatantly human. Or something."

"Wow. Cool. Great. This is shaping up to be a real fun night for me."

"I'll make it up to you with fatty tuna, sound good?"

This mollifies the cat, and he stays silent as Ryuji leads them up to the second floor, and stops at a door overlooking the parking area. He takes a key from his pocket and fumbles with the lock for a moment, before it clicks, and he steps inside.

The others follow. The apartment is small but standard by Tokyo standards. A microscopic kitchen. A decently sized living room with a couch and television. A washroom down the hall. A door leads to a balcony overlooking a few houses.

They stop in the center of the living room. Ryuji turns to face them, a wide smile on his face. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper.

"What's that?" Mishima asks.

"Tonight's entertainment," Ryuji replies, with a chuckle. "Check it out."

He smooths out the page and thrusts it out towards the group.

The image is of a scantily clad woman, dressed in a maid's outfit, a vacuum in one hand, a duster in another. She smiles, daintily at the reader. It is otherwise covered in loud exclamations of, 'Service!' and 'Dream come True!' written in bold colors.

Akira runs his eyes over the page a few times. "Ryuji, what exactly is this?"

"I ordered us a maid!"

Akira, Mishima, and Yusuke glance at one another. It is Mishima who breaks the silence. "A maid? Like, a cleaning lady?"

"Dude," Ryuji says, and shoves the paper towards him. "Are you dense or something? Read between the lines, bro. A maid to service us. Get it?"

Silence.

Then, Akira asks, "Ryuji, did you order us a prostitute?"

Mishima's face pales. "What? Are you serious?"

"Fascinating," Yusuke whispers.

"You idiot!" Morgana hisses.

"Guys, guys, chill." Ryuji pats the air with his hands. "She'll like, massage us and stuff. And she's gonna be totally hot."

"Oh my god, oh my god," Mishima whimpers. He lowers himself to the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I'm not ready for something like this!"

Ryuji rolls up the paper and swats him on the head. "Get your shit together, Yuuki! This is what growing up is all about. Experiencing this kind of thing. Becoming men!"

"I'm not a man!" Mishima cries. "I'm too young to be soliciting!"

Ryuji turns to Akira. "Dude, I know you're in on this. C'mon."

Akira stares at him. "In what context did you imagine I'd be down for this?"

Ryuji pales. "Yusuke?"

The boy nods. "I believe this experience will ultimately benefit me as an artist. My relationship with the carnal is somewhat lacking, and to capture true beauty, I would need to study the act of copulation as it unfolds."

Ryuji blinks. "Okay. Yusuke doesn't count. Akira, bro. You're a cool guy. You've got to have had experience with this, yeah?"

"Experience in ordering prostitutes? No, I don't."

"But you've like, you know..."

"What?" Akira demands.

Ryuji gyrates his hips. "You know..."

Akira mimics the movement. "What's this supposed to mean?"

Morgana swats him on the ear. "He's talking about sex, genius!"

"Sex?" Akira asks, eyes widening, face flushing. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Ryuji replies. "You've done that, right? I mean, you're into all that weird shit with Makoto."

"Makoto?" Mishima asks, stiffening. "The President?" He gasps. "Are you having sex with the Student Council President?"

"No," Akira screams. "No, I am not. And no one repeats that!"

Mishima's face scrunches up. "But, Ryuji said-"

Ryuji shakes his head. "I only meant that it seemed like he had specific preferences. Like, physical pain and shit, and-"

"Really?" Mishima asks.

Akira throws his hands against his head. "Ryuji, stop talking!"

Yusuke frowns. "I have heard that various types of pain can be a gateway to particular pleasures."

"No one asked you!" Morgana spits.

Mishima's hands shake. "Hey, we can just leave, right? Like, why don't we all just split? Right out the door?"

Ryuji grimaces. "Thing is, I kinda already paid for it."

"Huh?" Mishima asks. "How much?"

"How?" Akira asks.

"Over the phone," Ryuji replies. "And it was five thousand yen."

"Five thousand yen?" Mishima's jaw drops.

"That's quite expensive," Yusuke puts in. "Do ladies of the night typically warrant such a price?"

"I don't know!" Ryuji replies.

"What was your ultimate plan here, Ryuji?" Akira asks. "Was she going to service all of us? Was it five thousand yen for four dudes, and a cat?"

He frowns. "Well, uh, no. I think it was only five thousand yen for one person, so-"

"So, in that case, she'll probably be pretty pissed if she shows up and finds a bunch of people expecting to be 'serviced.'"

Ryuji doesn't reply, eyes shut, face scrunching. "Okay, yeah," he says, a few moments later. "That's a good point."

The doorbell rings.

"Oh, shit," Ryuji whispers.

Akira spins towards the door. "The hell? What time did you tell her to show up?"

"Like, around now."

"I can't do this!" Mishima screeches. "I'm not ready to become a man!" He scrambles towards the balcony.

"Crap, crap, crap," Ryuji cries. "Akira, stall her!"

"What? Me? Why?"

"You're experienced in these things, that's why!"

"We already established I'm not!"

Ryuji isn't listening. Mishima, having furiously worked the door open, has vanished out onto the balcony. Ryuji follows him, and slams it shut behind them. They are quickly out of sight.

Akira hears the closet door shudder open, and he turns to find Yusuke stepping inside. "What're you doing?"

"As I said," Yusuke replies. "I believe that this observation will further improve my talents as an artist." He smiles. "Try not to disappoint me." Inside, he shuts the closet door.

Morgana hops down and lands on the carpet. Akira stares at him. "How have we not been caught by the police yet?"

"Don't know, but good luck." Morgana darts away, and under the couch.

Akira is about to protest, when he hears, muffled, "Master? May I come in?"

The voice is high, and obviously not the woman's every day one. All at once, the only thing Akira can think of is the excruciating torment Makoto will visit upon him were she ever to learn of this.

"Uh, no thanks," he calls. "We, I, changed my mind. I'm good."

Silence. Then, "I should remind you, Master. Services have already been paid for." He hears the doorknob jiggle. "Oh, looks like it's unlocked. I'll be coming inside, Master."

Oh, come on! Who forgot to lock the fucking door?

Akira turns as the door opens, facing the balcony. There's no sign of Ryuji or Mishima. Yusuke is eerily quiet in the closet, and he's willing to bet Morgana has relocated his hiding place to a more secure location.

He hears the clack clack clack of heels on wood, then, "Greetings, Master!" Her voice is singsong and cutesy. "My name is Becky!"

Akira is positive this woman's name is not Becky.

How do I get out of here? If I had Morgana, I could throw him at her, and use the distraction to make a run for it.

"Gosh, Master, you sure look young. You wouldn't happen to be a high school student, would you?"

Akira winces. "Uh, no," he replies, doing his best to make his voice as gruff as he can. "I just look young for my age."

"Oh, wow. That's so interesting, Master! Would you mind turning around, so I could see your face?"

Nothing to it but to do it. Here we go.

Akira turns around.

Focus. I can do this. Explain this was all a misunderst-

He stares at her.

Holy shit, that's Kawakami.

His homeroom teacher stares back at him. Her hair is pulled back in twin pigtails. The maid outfit clings to her curves, and accentuates her - apparently considerable - cleavage. Her skirt is frilly and reveals just enough of her legs to draw the eye, before they're hidden again within a pair of sable boots.

The silence stretches. Then, Kawakami-sensei says, "Ah, fuck." Her high, dainty voice is gone. In its stead is the worn, tired drawl Akira has come to associate with his homeroom teacher.

Because he cannot think of anything to say, he blurts out, "Uh, hi."

Kawakami does not blush. She does not move to cover herself. Instead, she glares daggers. "And just what do you think you're doing, Kurusu?"

His mouth moves faster than his brain. "This is a big misunderstanding. I didn't think it'd be you. I mean, why would it be you, right? I didn't mean to be here at all, and this isn't anything it's not supposed to be. And have you seen a cat, by chance? I've lost mine, and-"

"Kurusu. Stop talking."

He shuts up.

Kawakami huffs and crosses her arms. "God, this is embarrassing," she mutters. "Of all the people to call, it had to be one of my students."

A thump sounds from the closet.

Kawakami's eyes widen and turn towards the noise. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Akira shouts.

Kawakami marches over, and yanks the door open.

"Hello," Yusuke says.

"Who the hell is this?" She hisses, whipping her head to face Akira.

"That's my friend. He likes to watch." His eyes widen. "That came out wrong! He likes to watch people doing stuff. Not that kind of stuff, but-"

Kawakami turns to Yusuke. "You. Leave. Now."

Yusuke nods. "Yes, that would probably be for the best. It does not seem as if you two will join as lovers anytime soon."

"Get out!" Both Akira and Kawakami scream.

Yusuke speeds his way out of the apartment, and shuts the door behind him.

Kawakami shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Then, she asks, "What is going on, Kurusu?"

"I can explain," Akira replies. "My friend set this whole thing up." No need to name drop Ryuji. "But he didn't tell us what was going on until we got here. I wanted to call the whole thing off, but then you rang the doorbell, so that one guy hid in the closet and my other friend ran off."

"So, Sakamoto set this up." It is not a question.

Akira blinks. "How'd you know?"

"You've only got, like, two friends. Three if you count the perv in the closet. Besides, he's dumb enough to have thought this was a good idea."

Akira doesn't point out that she's the one in the apartment dressed as a maid. Instead, he frowns, and says, "That doesn't sound like something a teacher should say."

Kawakami gestures to her outfit. "Maybe you didn't notice, Master, but I'm not in my role as a teacher right now." She glances towards the kitchen. "Got anything to drink?"

Akira shrugs. "I dunno."

She clomps her way over to the fridge, opens the door, and peers inside. Despite himself, Akira finds his eyes traveling down the length of her body. Damn.

"Stop staring," Kawakami says, face still in the fridge.

"I-"

"You're a teenager."

Akira decides his best move is to stay quiet.

"Here we go," Kawakami says, and pulls out a can of beer. Akira is somewhat shocked to see it. Given Ryuji's aversion to alcohol, perhaps he didn't know his cousin had left them. She cracks the can and takes a sip. "So, Sakamoto's going to jump out any second, right? With a camera?"

Akira shakes his head. "No, I told you, he ran off. Besides, he wouldn't do something like that." He's no idea if Ryuji and Mishima are still on the balcony. Perhaps they jumped.

"Uh-huh," she replies. "No need to beat around the bush. Might as well get your kicks in. It's not like I'm going to have a job at Shujin come tomorrow."

Akira frowns. "Why?"

Kawakami takes another sip. "Don't get smart with me, Kurusu. You're gonna post this, right? Hop on the internet and spread the word?"

Akira blinks. "I'm not going to do that." He rewinds the last few minutes in his head. At no point has he considered exposing his teacher's secret.

Kawakami snorts. "Right."

He shakes his head. "I'm not."

"Okay, sure." She laughs, but the sound has no humor in it. "You expect me to believe someone like you wouldn't tell the whole school their teacher moonlights as... well, this?" She gestures to her outfit once more.

There's a dull ringing in Akira's ears. "Someone like me?"

"It'd get you in good. No doubt about it. Take their attention off you for a few minutes."

He feels the heat rise to his face. "I don't care about any of that. I'm not going to tell anyone."

She rolls her eyes. "The school will love that. Especially after all that Kamoshida crap, not to mention Kobayakawa's suicide. Shujin can't take much more. Toko-sensei will have me out on my ass, thanks to you." Again, that awful, tired, hateful laugh.

Akira's hands tighten into fists. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Sensei."

"Don't rub it in with the 'Sensei' crap, Kurusu. Just get on with it, and -"

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he spits out. "How many times do I have to fucking say it?"

"Hey," she shouts. "Don't you curse at me, Kurusu!"

"Then stop blaming me for something I haven't even done!" His legs wobble. His hands shake. A few dots of light swim in his vision. Akira takes a few staggered steps over to the couch, and sits down.

"Kurusu?" Kawakami asks. She sets the beer down on the kitchen counter, and comes over to him. "Are you alright?" Akira nods, but his mouth tastes dry. She crouches down next to him. "Crap. Okay. Breathe. Just breathe Kurusu."

He does. His words find him quickly. "I'm fine. I'm fine." He glances over at her. Absurdly, the only concrete thought that manages to worm itself into his brain is, Man, Sensei's hot. "Could I have some water?" He asks, not because he needs it, but because he's suddenly desperate for his homeroom teacher-slash-maid to be further away from him.

"Yeah, sure." She stands, and beelines back into the kitchen. She fumbles around in the cupboard until she finds a glass, then holds it under the sink until it's practically filled to the brim. She brings it over to him and holds it out.

A bit of water spills as he takes it from her, but he doesn't make a comment, choosing instead to drown whatever he was going to say in large gulps.

He downs half the glass, and she asks, "Are you alright?"

He nods. "Yeah, I think the weirdness of the situation just got to me."

She laughs then, and it's not humorless one from earlier. This is genuine. "You and me both." She frowns. "You're really not going to tell anyone about this?"

Akira sighs and takes another sip. "I mean, hell, if you want me to I can go ahead and-"

"Alright, alright," she cuts in. Her eyes run over the apartment. "I suppose that wasn't really fair. Sorry. And in a way this beats what I thought the assignment was going to be."

Akira clears his throat. He's not ready to think yet, and so blurts into the silence, "Uh, why exactly, are you doing this?"

"Keep your pants on, Kurusu," Kawakami says, and shakes her head. "We're not besties, so let's not start reading one another's diaries, okay?"

Akira lifts his free hand up in surrender. "Fine, fine."

Kawakami crosses her arms once more, and frowns. "How about this? You pretend you never saw me like this, and I pretend you didn't use a fake name to order a maid."

Akira mulls this over. "That's... fair, I guess?"

Kawakami nods. "This was actually my last gig of the night, so I guess I can just head home. Not a bad outcome, all things considered." She eyes him up and down. "Aside from the obvious."

"I'm not exactly thrilled either, Sensei."

"Isn't this a standard teenage fantasy? I'm not that old, you know." Her smirk is teasing.

Akira rolls his eyes. "I mean, yeah, but I'm not one to indulge in fantasies."

She laughs. The good one. "Oooh, look at you. 'I don't indulge in fantasies.'" She sways her head as she says it, melodramatic. "I suppose your ideal woman is of a more political nature, yeah?"

"Huh?" Akira asks. "Political? I don't-" And then he remembers the conversation from earlier. He feels the crimson enter his cheeks, and can't do a thing about it. "Whoa, wait a second, what do you-"

Kawakami laughs again. "I knew it." She turns and marches back into the kitchen, snatches up the beer, and downs it in a series of deep gulps. She wipes her lips with her forearm once done, and sets the can back on the counter. "Alright, I'm out of here. Be careful getting home. See you in class, Kurusu."

And then she picks up her bag, which Akira is sure is filled with things he cannot begin to imagine, and walks out the door.

The bathroom door opens from the inside. Morgana pokes his head out.

"Was that-"

"Yes," Akira replies.

"And she was-"

"Yes," Akira replies.

Morgana turns to glance at the apartment's shut door. "Whoa."

"Yeah." Akira sighs, and stands. He steps into the kitchen, takes the empty can, and drops it into the recycling bin. "I guess we should go find the others."

#

Iwai stands by the door, tapping his foot. "Would you hurry up?" He calls, back into the gloom of the shop.

Kaoru's voice rebounds from deeper inside. "Coming! I'm- ah!" And then the sound of dozens of boxes falling over.

Iwai lets out a long sigh, shoves his hands in his pockets, and marches towards the sound.

He finds Kaoru flat on his back, a dazed look on his face, encircled by numerous boxes of model guns. The kid shakes his head, and looks up at him, a sheepish look on his face. "S-sorry, Dad."

"Uh-huh," Iwai says, and holds out a hand.

Red tint in his face, Kaoru reaches up and takes his father's hand, and Iwai pulls him to his feet. "I'll clean it up right away," he says, and turns towards the mess.

Iwai reaches up a hand and gently smacks the boy on the back of the head. It's barely a tap, but Kaoru lets out an, "Ow," just the same. "Forget it," Iwai tells him. "Just pile them up right there, I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't be sayin' it if I wasn't," Iwai replies. Kaoru sets off to the task, and Iwai frowns. "So," he says. "Wanna get some imagawayaki on the way home?"

Kaoru turns to him, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Seriously? Can we?"

"Why the hell not?" Iwai asks him. The boy flinches and Iwai decides to soften his approach. "Yeah, course we can." He shrugs. "We had a pretty good day today."

"Okay, cool!" Kaoru returns to his task with enthusiasm, and Iwai leaves him to it. He takes a sucker from his pocket, unwraps it and slides it into his mouth. Recently, whenever he's done so, a voice in the back of his head mumbles something about cavities and dentists, and he chuckles at this. Guess it has been a while. He doesn't want to think about what the X-rays would no doubt reveal.

The door to the shop rings. "We're closed," Iwai growls out, without even taking a look.

"Even for me?" Comes a voice.

Akimitsu Tsuda stands in the entryway of the store, a small smile on his face.

Iwai stares at the man, openmouthed. Tsuda's brows rise in expectation, and Iwai cuts across the floor to him and spreads his arms wide.

The two men embrace and clap each other on the back. "Been a long time, brother," Tsuda says.

Iwai scoffs. "That's on you, you son of a bitch. You knew where to find me."

They step away from each other. Tsuda looks him up and down. "Fuck, you got old."

Iwai punches him in the shoulder. "No shit. You look like garbage yourself."

Tsuda throws back his head and laughs. It's the same one Iwai remembers. "True. One too many nights at the hostess clubs finally caught up with me. Used to be, I could drink all night and run circles around Shibuya. Nowadays, I down a shot can barely open my front door."

Iwai lets out a feigned sigh. "Where'd all the damn time go?"

"Where it always goes, to the fuckin' kids."

"Dad?" Kaoru's voice comes from the aisle, and Iwai stiffens.

"Oh, speaking of!" Tsuda exclaims, as the boy steps into view. He leans over and whispers, "This him?"

Iwai nods, and replies, in an equally low voice. "Yeah, go easy on him, okay?" Then, he motions for Kaoru to come approach. "This is an old friend of mine, Kaoru. His name's Akimitsu Tsuda."

Kaoru bows. "Nice to meet you, Tsuda-san."

Tsuda laughs. "Wow, you got one hell of a proper kid here, Muneisha. How old are you?"

Kaoru swallows before he replies. 'Um, thirteen, sir."

"Thirteen," Tsuda says, and shakes his head. "Man, the shit I got up to when I was your age." He jabs Iwai in the stomach with his elbow. "Say, Kaoru. How's your lady situation? Your old man teaching you all his tricks?"

Kaoru tilts his head to the side. "Huh? Tricks?"

Iwai lets out a long laugh and wraps an arm around Tsuda's shoulders. "Say, why don't we step outside, eh?" He turns to his son. "Make sure that mess is all cleaned up, yeah? I'll be right back."

He turns and leads the middle-aged man towards the front door. Kaoru says something in response, but Iwai ignores him. Tsuda may be an old friend, but his storytelling always tended to skew towards the more inappropriate bits.

He pushes the door open and leads his sworn brother outside. When the door clangs shut, he lets go of his friend and says, "So, what's up?"

Tsuda frowns. "I can't visit?"

Iwai shakes his head. "I'm happy to see you, brother. But you wouldn't be here if it wasn't important." Tsuda opens his mouth, but Iwai holds up his hand. "And listen, there's something else. Kaoru doesn't know shit about the past."

Tsuda's eyes widen. "Wait. He doesn't know? About you?" He rolls up the sleeve of his dress shirt, revealing an aging tattoo of a scaled dragon. "About this?"

Iwai shakes his head. "No. I mean, the kid suspects, sure. But-"

"Munehisa," Tsuda says. "Holy shit, bro. You can't just hope for the best here, man. Kid's got glasses, right? That means he's smart. He's gonna figure it out."

Iwai lets out a long growl. "I know, alright? Just, let me deal with it. Now what'd you need?"

Tsuda clams up, shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I know you're out, but you've heard about what's been happenin', right?"

Iwai scowls, looks back towards the entrance of his shop to make sure Kaoru isn't sneaking a peek. He turns back to his friend. "Kaneshiro, right?"

Tsuda sucks his teeth, turns away, and spits. "Yeah. Guy's a fuckin'... well, I'm sure you've heard. I don't like it. Thought his little disappearing act three years ago would be permanent, but there're whispers, ya know? Talk of connections. Outside the Group. Outside all the Groups."

Iwai shakes his head, stares at the concrete beneath his feet. "I can't get involved. I'm sorry. I am. I've got the kid."

"Not too many bastards like us left, Munehisa," Tsuda says. "Shit you'd say would go a long way."

Iwai shakes his head. "I doubt it. What is it, anyway? The thing Kaneshiro's pushing for so much?"

Tsuda stares at the sign for 'Untouchable' for a while. Then, he says, "Manpower."

##
A/N: Ya'll didn't think I forgot, did you?

KANESHIRO!

I've been waiting for this. Oh, and yeah, I've taken some liberties with him. Like, a lot of liberties.

It's hard to imagine we're finally here! You know, now that I think about it, I started posting Crimson in late June of last year. But when I started, I already had three weeks worth of chapters ready to go. If I'm not mistaken, that means I probably started writing Crimson right around this time last year.

Wow! What a year!

I got to write this! I got to talk to all of you wonderful people! I got a new coffee table.

And there was all that bullshit about getting married, finishing grad school, and getting a new job.

Thank you very much for sticking with me this last year. I know some of you didn't start reading Crimson right away, and I'm sure some of you have only just read it recently, but very grateful for every one of you.

See you guys on Monday!