6/6
Makoto knows there's nothing in the dark.
Slashes of pre-dawn light creep their way through the windows and snuff out the shadows, but they do not die easily. They press back, slither and slide into new corners, new edges, everywhere Makoto looks.
She knows there's nothing in the dark.
There are some things you should not do when exhausted. Breaking into your school is one of them, though - Makoto reminds herself - this is not technically breaking and entering. She has a key. Keys make all the difference. This school is a part of her and she is a part of it. Ergo, fear of Shujin's abandoned and silent hallways makes as much sense as fear of her own arm.
Those shapes she sees in the classrooms, those eyes that follow her as the heads that hold them swivel, they are the by-products of her sleep addled brain. Flotsam drifting up from her subconscious.
Too many nights awake in bed.
Too many nights listening to the house creep.
Too many nights wondering when Daddy was coming home, until the night he didn't.
The ghosts aren't real.
But then again, what if they are?
She'd left for Shujin a little after four in the morning. The trains weren't running, so she'd had to traverse the entire distance on foot. A few men had catcalled her, but she'd done her best to ignore them and they hadn't given chase.
Her shoes clickclack against the school's tile as she reaches the third floor. Makoto steels herself and dashes down the hall, teeth bared against whatever might leap out of the dark.
She reaches the Student Council room un-hounded and jiggles the handle. It's locked. After she heaves a relieved sigh, she draws a second key from her pocket, and slides it home.
Keys make all the difference.
The lock clicks open, and dread seizes her, fingers frozen on the handle. She imagines opening the room to something horrid, something with long, spindly legs and fingers, reaching and grasping and searching for her.
Her breath leaves her in a hiss, and she shoves the door open.
An empty room greets her.
On the board, right where she'd left it, is everything for 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic.'
A small, soft whimper escapes her throat, and she shuts the door behind her and marches up to the board. She slings her bag onto the table, and unclips it open. Reaching in, she shoves her notebook, textbook, and a slim manila folder she's had for quite some time, to the side.
Then, she proceeds to rip everything off the board. She doesn't bother to organize. Doesn't bother to pay attention to what's what. All she wants is to tear it all away. Picture after map after notecard is freed and shoved into her bag. The whole process takes a bare minute.
Cortisol forces her eyes over the board one last time.
No scrap has escaped her notice.
Makoto collapses into one of the chairs littering the room. She sets her bag at her feet, and breaths.
Her gaze falls to Morgana's cat carrier, abandoned in the center of the table. Absently, she reaches in, and prods the thin piece of plastic that had concealed the phone. "Clever," she mutters.
She feels her hands shake before she sees them. Not by much, but in the stillness of the room, it seems tremendous.
"It's okay," she whispers to herself, and rubs them together. "It's okay."
Time passes and her hands settle.
Then, she sits and stares at the empty board.
She sits there for a good, long while.
#
"Someday, Locke Lamora," he said, "someday, you're going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so overwhelmingly that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee. And I just hope I'm still around to see it."
"Oh please," said Locke. "It'll never happen."
Akira smiles.
"Yo."
He lifts his gaze. Morgana trots up to him, Akira's phone held aloft in his tail.
"Well?" Akira asks.
"See for yourself." His tail flicks, and the phone makes a lazy arch in the early morning air, before Akira's hand darts out and snatches it.
With his other, he shuts the book and slips it back into his bag.
He opens the phone's camera app, and swipes through the pictures.
His smile lifts higher, and he spreads his back against the now familiar alley's wall. Shujin looms large and silent to his right. "I knew it."
"I barely had time to get back out to the windowsill before Makoto showed up," Morgana says.
Akira had watched her stilted, nervous approach to Shujin not fifteen minutes earlier. He'd used his burner to send a text to his regular phone, warning Morgana to wrap things up.
"Good thing we got here early," he says, and yawns. Victory came with a cost.
And rewards. Morgana had captured every millimeter of that board.
"Nice work, Morgana." He scrolls to the end, and finds a video file. "What's this?"
Morgana glances away. "Well," he mutters, and rolls his shoulders like a shrug.
When it's clear the cat will say no more, Akira presses play. He watches silent footage as Makoto enters the room, opens her bag, and rips everything off the wall. Her abandon unsettles him. There's fury in her face, mixed with exhaustion and something else.
He watches her drop into a chair.
Watches her hands start to shake.
Watches as she rubs them together and whispers to herself.
His smile is gone. "You shouldn't have filmed this, Morgana."
The cat shoots him a look. "It's not like I knew what it was going to be ahead of time! What if she had something else in her bag? What if she added something to the board?"
The video ends, and Akira deletes it.
"You okay?" Morgana asks.
Akira slides his phone back into his pocket. "Yeah. You know what you're doing today?"
Morgana's head bobs in a nod. "Yep. Keep my distance, and make sure nothing Metaverse-y happens."
#
Haru stifles a yawn with the back of her hand, and blinks away as much of the sleep as she can.
It had been troubled by uncomfortable dreams. She can't recall the details, but it hardly matters. She'd tossed and turned all night, and now she pays for it.
Apropos, she readjusts the bag digging into her shoulder, and turns towards Shujin.
"Hey," cuts a voice. "Haru." It comes, not from the direction of the school, but from the alleyway across from it. Behind her.
She turns to find the warm, smiling face of Akira Kurusu poking just far enough out of the alley that a sliver of sunlight refracts off his glasses. His hand is half-raised in greeting. He motions for her to come closer, and ducks back into the shadows.
If Haru's mind were properly bolstered by a good night's rest, she may have found the whole thing somewhat symbolic and more than a bit dangerous.
Instead, she finds herself wishing she had a scorpion she could throw at his face.
She stops just shy of following him into the alley, and thinks, I should really have Makoto here for this.
Akira stoops a few feet away. "I didn't want to come up to you at school," he tells her, and shrugs. "What with all the rumors flying around about me. I figure you've got enough going on."
"Oh," she manages. What kind of inevitable showdown is this?
"So?" He asks, prompting.
Her eyes narrow. "So?"
Brows raised, he asks, "How's Mona-chan doing?"
Haru feels the flush spread across her chest. "What?"
"Morgana," Akira says, as if everything were right with the world. "He can get fidgety when he's in a new place. Having you around should've helped keep him calm, though. Did you take any photos?" He takes a step closer. "Can I see?"
Haru takes two rapid steps back. "Oh, um, well, you see..."
What's going on? Didn't they get Morgana out of Shibuya Station? Didn't Mona-chan text them?
A bead of sweat runs down the side of her head. Her throat is coated with dust. "Mona-chan's doing well. No pictures yet."
I need to talk to Makoto. We need to figure out what's going on! A horrid thought snakes into her mind. What if this was all a huge misunderstanding? What if we lost his cat?
"Oh. Okay." Akira's smile never wavers. Never shakes. "That's cool. I'm sure he's having a good time. Let me know if you need any help with him, yeah? I'll see you at work tomorrow."
And with that, Akira Kurusu shoves his hands into his pockets and trudges off towards Shujin.
Haru watches him go, and only after he's halfway up the steps and far, far out of earshot, does she mutter a barely audible, "Uh-huh. Sounds good."
#
"Haru." Makoto's smile is worn, and as she stares at it, it seems to Haru her friend would rather be left alone. "Haru, he's messing with you."
She squirms. Homeroom hasn't begun, and the two have their heads dipped together. "I know that's a possibility, but-"
"Think about it," Makoto replies, her voice confident with tired assurance. "Given how vital Morgana must be to their operations, there's no way they didn't recover him from Shibuya Station. Besides, we saw him texting. It's very likely he was messaging Akira, to let him know about the situation."
"I know that." Haru hears the annoyance in her voice, the edge to it, and it frustrates her that she's speaking this way with Mako-chan. "But what if we're wrong? What if Morgana really isn't a magical cat? I mean, it's crazy that we think he's magical in the first place, right?"
Makoto clears her throat. "Well, technically, you're the one subscribing to the magic cat theory. I'm still unclear how-" Whatever look Haru gives her, when Makoto sees it, she shuts up. "Right, well. It's not so much about Morgana, is it? It's about Akira. I'm sure Takamaki reported all that transpired. This is his way of throwing us off his trail. He knows what he's doing, and Morgana is safe. Trust me."
"What if he isn't?" Haru protests. "What if he's really lost and it's our fault? What if he's hurt, somewhere in Shibuya? I was supposed to take care of him."
Makoto lets out an irritated sigh. "Haru, the cat can read and use a phone. I'm sure he made it back to their headquarters, even if they didn't recover him from Shibuya Station. They want us to panic. This is another false flag. They want us off their trail, so they're trying to make us think we're responsible for losing him."
Haru shakes her head. "I don't know. I just don't know."
Makoto reaches out and sets a hand on Haru's shoulder. "I know you're afraid for Morgana, but there's no reason to be. He's fine. I'm sure of it."
#
Another day, another goddamn assembly, Akira thinks and does his best to keep his mouth closed despite his body's want to yawn.
Oh, yes. Worth it, to reach Shujin so early and find out just what Makoto and Haru knew.
That he can barely keep his eyes open is an acceptable sacrifice, but it annoys him still. Especially standing upright, surrounded by this sea of students - all of whom look bored, tired, and frustrated - waiting for whatever news Shujin's administration needs to pass down to them, this time.
Ryuji leans over and jabs him with his elbow. "Who'd you think died this time?" He asks, smirking.
Ann, standing on the other side of Akira, shoots him a glare. "That's not funny, Ryuji."
Akira smiles a bit and shrugs. "It's a little funny." Ann swats him on the shoulder.
"I'm hopin' it's Ushimaru-sensei," Ryuji continues. "He's, like, old and stuff anyway. Plus, he's a dick."
The murmuring dies down as the faculty climb to the stage. Akira notices Makoto is nowhere to be seen. He runs his eyes over the heads of the students, trying to spot her, to no avail.
Ushimaru clears his throat - and Ryuji mutters, "Damn" - and steps up to the podium. He proceeds to chatter away about responsibility and honor and prestige and a number of other buzzwords that make it harder for Akira to stifle his yawns.
Then, he says something that wakes him back up. "...introduce you all, to our new Principal, Shiori Toko."
The faculty begin to applaud, and like a stone tossed into a still pond, the students - haltingly - start to do the same.
An older woman ascends to the stage. She wears a dark brown suit over a white blouse, and smiles out at everyone from behind petite, adorable glasses. She waves at the assembled students before she even gets to the podium, and gives Ushimaru a short bow as he steps away.
"Good morning."
The students mutter out a collective response.
"I would like to thank Ushimaru-sensei for his gracious introduction, as well as all of you for your warm welcome. It is truly an honor to be appointed Principal of this fine institution."
Ryuji turns his head towards Akira, and mutters out one corner of his mouth, "Didn't Kobayakawa die, like, last week? Ain't this shit happening kinda fast?"
Akira nods in lieu of a response.
Principal Toko says all the things Akira supposes new Principals are supposed to say. In all, it takes about five minutes.
She ends with, "The reputation of our institution has been assailed very recently, due to a number of scandals. Spearheaded, I am sure you know, by those who should've sought to bring honor to the school and do right by themselves. As Principal, it is my responsibility to mitigate these situations, but I would like all of your help to do so. I'd ask that you conduct yourself in a manner which befits Shujin Academy, and, more importantly, yourselves. Thank you."
She nods, and steps away from the podium.
Someone starts to clap, and it spreads. Akira joins in.
What the hell did that last part mean? He wonders this, and knows that if his mind were in a proper state, he could figure it out. As it stands now, he contents himself to slink out of the gymnasium, and head back to class, Ryuji and Ann in tow.
Principal Toko. Can't be any worse than Kobayakawa.
#
Yusuke likes to think he puts considerable effort into maintaining his stoic demeanor. An artist - he believes - should not allow one's self to be swept away by every emotion that dances through his mind.
However, this ramen place Ryuji had shown him is just too good. He hunches over his bowl, and shovels the food into his mouth.
"Wow," his companion says, watching him. "You never eat like that in the cafeteria."
His sprint comes to an end, and he leans back on his stool with a content sigh. "Yes, well, that is due to Kosei's unfortunate choice in meal plans."
Naoya Makigami's smile is a genuine one. "The food is pretty bad, isn't it?"
Yusuke nods. "I once believed that its texture-less blandness was meant to elevate our minds away from the material, into a higher plane of artistic enlightenment. However, now I believe our school has simply employed sub-par chefs."
Naoya regards his untouched bowl of ramen. He lifts the set of chopsticks and brings a morsel to his mouth. "Oh, cool. It is good."
Yusuke crosses his arms and smiles sagely. "My friend knows very little, but he has quite the nose for delicious, and affordable, eateries."
Their meal continues in a long silence.
Then, Naoya asks, "Yusuke? Why'd you invite me to eat with you?"
"Hmm?" He replies, sipping from his bowl.
"Don't get me wrong," Naoya continues. "I appreciate it. It's just... well, I wouldn't exactly call us friends. I mean, we are friends! It's just, I don't know. Sorry."
Yusuke shakes his head and waves his right hand through the air. "No, no. That's quite alright. It must've seemed somewhat strange, my asking you to a meal like this. You're right. While we maintain a pleasant attitude towards one another, we don't tend to actively engage in friendship-like recreations."
Yusuke has a very un-Yusuke thought. Here goes nothing.
"The truth, Naoya, is that I've taken an interest in you." He keeps his voice low, conspiratorial.
Naoya blinks. His eyes widen behind his glasses. He lifts a hand to his hair and brushes a stray lock behind his ear. "Geez. Um, look, Yusuke, I'm flattered and all, and it's not like I have a problem with that kind of thing or anything, but-"
"Wait, what?" Yusuke bumbles out. "What are you talking about?"
"Uh, what're you talking about?"
"I only meant that I noticed you when we were changing after our latest PE class and-"
Naoya flushes red. "Oh man. Look, Yusuke, I'm not sure how comfortable I am with-"
Yusuke coughs and speaks clearly. "I noticed the bruising."
Naoya's mouth shuts. The crimson in his face drains away. "Oh. That. That's nothing." The grin he flashes isn't remotely convincing. "Man, you had me a little worried there, Yusuke!" He laughs.
"Naoya, I'm quite serious," Yusuke says. "Are you alright?"
Naoya's laughter dies. He stares at the counter for a few moments, then says, "It's really nice of you to take me out and worry about me, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way. But, whatever's going on with me is none of your business."
Yusuke nods, and looks away. "You are, of course, correct." He spreads his hands in a shrug. "But as I'm sure you're aware - because the entire school is aware - I'm sadly not unacquainted with abuse."
Naoya swallows, but doesn't say anything.
Yusuke pats his stomach. "I was never physically assaulted, of course. But for years I was subjected to a different kind of brutality. To tell it truly, that tasteless, awful food in Kosei's cafeteria was often my only meal of the day. And even then, I limited myself to small helpings."
"Madarame." Naoya whispers the name as if it were a curse he feared to be caught using.
"Sensei," Yusuke replies. "So, I hope you'll forgive my prying. I saw those marks as we were changing. It pained me to think of another going through something similar to what I experienced, and I wanted to reach out." He dips his head. "You have my apologies."
Naoya does not meet his eyes. The silence stretches to a point where Yusuke begins to wonder if the whole plan has been for naught.
Then, Naoya mumbles, "It's Kazuya. My brother. He's the one doing it."
Yusuke feigns surprise. The PhanSite Request had said as much. "Your own brother? Don't your parents have something to say about it?"
Naoya shrugs. "They don't know. They're too busy. Or maybe they do. Know, that is. I'm not sure." Naoya sucks in his lips, and glances around at the other patrons. "Can I ask you something, Yusuke?"
"By all means."
"Did you..." Naoya starts, stops, swallows, and continues. "Did you ask the Phantom Thieves to help you?"
Akira had told him to expect the question. "Actually, I didn't. Whomever sent the Phantom Thieves against Sensei, it wasn't me."
"Oh," Naoya whispers. "Well, do you know about that PhanSite they have? The one where people can send in requests?"
"I do. I believe it's all private, yes?"
"I made a request," Naoya continues. "Not too long ago. I went on there, and I told the Phantom Thieves that my brother was hurting me and I asked them to change his heart." The words rain from his mouth. "But I don't know. What does that even mean, you know? What if they do something bad to him?"
Yusuke isn't sure how to field this question. Akira hadn't foreseen it. "I don't know, Naoya. But you cannot continue like this, am I correct?"
Naoya shakes his head. "No way. I can't. It's getting worse. Kaz... well, don't tell anyone about this, okay? No one at school especially."
"My lips are sealed, as they say," Yusuke replies.
"Well, Kaz runs this gang. Not like a real gang, like these amateur robbers. He's a locksmith, so he knows about how to get into places. I don't know how their whole thing works, but they hit restaurants and places like that. All over Shibuya. It'd probably be a little bit bigger in the news, if the Phantom Thieves weren't a thing."
Yusuke's eyes widen. "So, your brother uses his job to actively improve his thieving skills?"
"Yeah," Naoya says. "If I were you, I wouldn't call anyone from Rokku Locksmiths, if you ever get shut outside the dorms."
Yusuke keeps the smile from his face.
"But I think the stress is getting to him, so he's..."
"Say no more," Yusuke says, and sets a hand on the young man's back. "I believe I can paint an adequate picture." He sighs. "I'm afraid I don't know what to say, Naoya." He ponders it a bit. "If you'd like, I could see about arranging for you to stay in the Kosei Dorms for a time."
Naoya's brows furrow. "You'd do that?"
Yusuke shrugs. "The Principal owes me something of a favor, seeing as how he had me expelled for no reason."
Naoya chuckles. "I couldn't believe that, when I heard. No one could."
"That's probably because it was based on a lie."
Naoya blinks at Yusuke's tone. "Oh, right."
"What do you say?" Yusuke asks.
"I mean, I won't say no. But I don't think that's going to really fix the problem long term."
"Well," Yusuke says. "Who knows? Perhaps the Phantom Thieves will take up your request to change your brother's heart."
Naoya turns back to his ramen. Steam no longer rises from it. "Right. That'd be the day."
#
"Mona-chan?" Haru calls out. The name bounces down the alley.
No response. Not a yowl. Not a skittering of paws on pavement. Not the shift of garbage. Nothing.
She'd seen a cat earlier, darting between two storefronts, but upon her approach, realized it was all black. No white tufts.
It wasn't that she didn't believe Makoto. Given what they knew about Akira and the Phantom Thieves, she wouldn't put it past them to feign Morgana's loss, just to throw them off balance.
She just can't be sure. And she couldn't live with herself if Morgana was truly gone, or hurt, or scared. It would be all her fault.
As soon as school ended, Haru made a beeline for Shibuya Station. She didn't have a proper plan in mind, but she'd settled on spreading out, bit by bit, away from the station and people, into all the little nooks and crannies she heard cats preferred to hide in.
Her phone has rang a few times. Whenever she checked the ID, she recognized Sugimura's number, and stuffed it back into her pocket with a disgusted grunt.
She didn't need to deal with him right now.
Another alley, and the faint sound of rapid movement startles her. "Mona-chan? Is that you?" She takes a step into the alley, then a few more. She can see that it opens up about half a block away, onto a bigger street. Not a bad place for a cat to hide.
Then, she hears the sound of a car engine approaching from behind, and the squeal of tires on blacktop, and nearly leaps out of her skin. As Haru turns, she hears the sound of a door opening and slamming shut a moment later. At the mouth of the alley, is a very large, very familiar, black limousine. And marching down the alley towards her, is a very angry Rin Sugimura.
"Do you have any idea," he growls, "how long I've been looking for you?"
Haru takes a step back. "What're you-"
"Shut up," he spits. "Where the hell were you, Haru? I called you today, yesterday, the day before yesterday, I don't know how many times. Do you think you can ignore my calls? Do you think that's okay?"
Haru holds up a hand, palm outwards. "Please, just calm down. I think-"
"Calm down?" He shouts. "You want me to calm down?" A cruel smile spreads over his face. "Let me ask you something. Do you think it was smart, to embarrass me in front of my father? Did you think that'd be something I'd be fine with?" He raps his forehead with his knuckles. "Are you really that empty-fucking-headed? Of course I was going to have to teach you a lesson!"
Haru feels her heart beat in her throat. She takes another step back. She wants to turn and sprint down the alley, but his eyes - wide, white, and insane - keep her locked in place.
"Stop," she mutters.
He reaches for her. "No."
She tries to turn, but it's too late. He grabs her cardigan and wraps his arm around her, pulling her to him. He reaches up with his other hand and runs it through a lock of her hair. "If you just did what you were told, this wouldn't be happening to you. This is your fault."
And a voice in Haru's mind asks a question.
Do you believe him? Is this really your fault?
Something settles in her. The panic still pumps through her, but it's muted. She shuts her eyes. Feels his hands travel across her. Ignores it.
Haru breathes. Slow. Rhythmic.
Sugimura's arms tighten.
Her adrenaline - already racing - skyrockets and she moves. Reaches up. Grabs. Holds. Pivots.
She feels his body collapse across and over her back as she pitches forward, as she pulls. Then she is light again, and Sugimura crashes to the concrete with a painful grunt and a smack.
She blinks. Takes a step back.
Did I... did I really do that?
Sugimura rolls onto his side. Looks up at her.
"You stupid bitch," he whispers. "You dumb, stupid bitch." He begins to climb to his feet.
Haru pats the air with her hands. "Look, just calm down. We can talk and-"
"Oh," he says, rising. "We're past talking."
He comes at her.
There's no voice this time. Nothing but the fear.
And then, a black shape shoots down from above and crosses her field of vision.
Sugimura halts, doubles over, and brings his hands to his face. A scream escapes him.
Haru's eyes search and settle on the figure crouching before her.
It's a black cat, with a white tuft on its tail. "Mona-chan!" Haru cries, bewildered.
The cat spares her a glance, then returns his glare to Sugimura.
The boy straightens. Lowers his hands. Three bright red marks slash their way across his face. They miss his eyes by what looks like millimeters.
"You little fucker!" Sugimura screams. "I'll break your back!"
And then, to Haru's great surprise, Morgana arches his back, flexes out his claws, and says in a perfectly clear voice, "Bring it, bitch."
##
A/N: Okay, see you in two weeks!
Haha, but in all seriousness, thank you all very much for reading. It was great to come back from my extended hiatus to find you all eager for more Crimson. I hope you're all enjoying it, and I hope you're all having a great summer. Happy June, ladies and gentlemen, I'll see you on the 18th!