Sunday, November 20: Daytime

Police Headquarters

Sae Niijima closely studied Akira Kurusu's face, a lone beacon in the hazy darkness which cloaked the interrogation room. She had faced countless suspects throughout her career, but had never witnessed a man as broken as the teenager who sat across from her. Akira had courageously endured her questioning for hours but the once-bright light within him was nearly spent. His tired eyes burned into Sae's own—a vestige of his Ativan-induced stupor. His matted and greasy hair enveloped his form like a crown of thorns. Deep purple bruises marred his youthful face in a sickening constellation of purple and green. As nine hours of interrogation became ten, Sae prepared the final phase of her plan—to close the ring around the phantom thief whose changes of heart unsettled an entire nation for months.

"So, that's what led to your ending up here," she said. "What a disappointing end to the hero of justice. There's much more I'd like to ask, but my allotted time is nearly up."

She gently extended her hand towards Akira. "I do have a suggestion, though. Care to strike a deal? If you cooperate with me, I'll consider lightening your sentence."

"What do you want?" he asked, his words barely audible within the dimly-lit room.

"I have a responsibility to solve this case. I will win, even if it means brokering a deal with you." Sae leaned over the table, her eyes deadlocked at Akira. "There's no point in being obstinate now. Your operation was leaked, and you failed to change my heart. You'll most likely be given life imprisonment or the death penalty unless you accept my proposal."

Her expression remained firm as she grasped her notepad.

"Tell me honestly about everyone who's a member of the Phantom Thieves. It doesn't matter if they are still part of your group. I need to know their names."

Akira remained silent, his posture stiffening while he shook his head from side-to-side.

"So, you won't sell out your friends," she said. "Then let me change the question. There are reports that Goro Akechi was acting alongside the Phantom Thieves as well. Might he be a part of your team?"

"Not Akechi," he replied.

"Very well. I have another question for you." Sae clicked her pen in anticipation. "I find it hard to believe that high schoolers could have pulled off these crimes by themselves. Were there not others outside of your direct group who encouraged your crimes or lent their aid?"

"No."

A glint of frustration revealed itself in Sae's expression. "Not to repeat myself, but remember that your life will be forfeit if your sentence is not lightened. Do you still deny you had cooperation of people outside your group?"

Akira nodded in agreement.

"I see." She scrunched her face scathingly. "So, you won't speak a word about either your teammates or your collaborators?"

"Correct," he said.

A flash of anger thundered through Sae's mind. She envisioned her suspect's spirit chewing away at his insides, desperately yearning for peace after an eternity of brutal war. Countless others before him readily cracked when presented with identical circumstances. They'd much rather concede defeat than risk it all in a game that favored the house one hundred to one. Yet, Akira Kurusu persisted. No matter how futile his resistance became, his iron will refused to bend under the weight of Sae's demands. His sheer stubbornness revolted her.

"Do you even understand the position that you're in?" she retorted. "Your allies have sacrificed you in order to escape, yet you wish to defend their honor? Why won't you talk about them?"

"It goes against justice," Akira answered dryly.

Sae smashed her hand against the desk in front of her. "Ha! Don't be ridiculous! You're the one who goes against justice!"

"You call this justice, Niijima-san?" His finger hovered over a splotch of indigo that covered his left cheek.

Sae's eyes widened, her eyebrows furrowing as her mounting storm of frustration finally boiled over. "If you're so smart, then tell me! What is justice to you?"

"Saving others."

"Saving others?" Her voice overflowed with biting sarcasm. "What an awfully simple response!"

Sae returned her notepad to the desk and placed her pen next to it.

"You clearly have no intention of bargaining with me. Even now, you're still acting as though you're a hero of justice. Are you implying we have no evidence on you?"

A slight smirk emerged on Akira's battered face. "That's right."

"It's true… we have nothing." Sae folded her arms bitterly. "And it doesn't help that your story sounds like a fairy tale! Many people have fallen victim to this! We need to know the truth."

"You have my word," he said. "You still doubt me?"

She grimaced, fighting to keep Akira from fanning the smoldering embers of her ire. "After all this, you're still—"

The shrill blare of Sae's wristwatch severed her train of thought in two. She recoiled backwards, her typically stoic appearance folding amidst the concentration-shattering dirge. Sae reached for her coat and forced her sleeve back. Her fingers worked diligently to hush the alarm, driving the room back into tense silence.

"Unfortunately, my time has run out. Although I find your story to be quite interesting, I only have time to ask one more question." Sae slid her coat back over her arm. "You were told someone sold you out, correct? If that's true, who could it have been? Don't you have any idea?"

Akira's eyes turned to the table, his cold and ragged fingers kneading themselves together. "Anyone's guess is as good as mine."

"I was hoping I'd get a more definitive answer," she said. "Anyhow, I should be going. The jailer will be here in a few minutes to return you to your cell. Goodbye."

Sae reached down beside her chair and set her black handbag on the table. She collected the rest of her belongings, meticulously sliding them into the various pockets which lined her purse. Satisfied she had regained face after her earlier lapses in judgement, Sae rose up from her chair and exited the room. She gently grasped the door on her way out, sliding it closed behind her.

An uneasy feeling settled in as she made her way down the empty hallway. Never before in her career had she experienced an interrogation that proved so extensive, yet so meaningless. Akira spun a story of incredible depth, featuring thrilling heists and changes of heart which surprised even a veteran prosecutor like herself. Yet, very few of his claims stood on their own merits. With no evidence to confirm his statements, convicting him in court would prove the greatest challenge of her whole career. Sae rebuffed her uncertainty and dug in her heels, determined to persevere among the challenging circumstances laid before her.

So be it. I won't let some high schooler break my will.

As she waited for the elevator at the end of the hall, her ears picked up the echo of footsteps within the cramped space around her. She briefly glanced right, catching a glimpse of the jailer on his way to the interrogation room. Goro Akechi, the student detective she'd taken under her wing, closely flanked him on his right. A dash of irritation surfaced as Sae headed into the narrow metal box which would take her to the ground floor. Although she enjoyed Akechi's enthusiasm for justice, one aspect of him annoyed her above any other—his tendency to "invite" himself to restricted areas of the department without authorization.

The instant the elevator doors squeezed together, an unfamiliar sound reached her ears: a dull thump.

What was that?

Sunday, November 20: Evening

Shibuya - Underground Mall

Ryuji Sakamoto faced the sullied floor as he passed through the congested underbelly of the city. He desperately searched for solace, hoping it would help him forget his terrible day at Shujin Academy. From the moment he arrived at school until the time he departed on the train, countless students hounded him. They asked him many sensitive things: if he was friends with that phantom thief, what he thought of his arrest, and why he looked so preoccupied that day. Ryuji repeatedly dodged their endless slew of questions, which felt more like an intruding interrogation than genuine curiosity.

Interrogation, huh?

He glared at the news broadcast through the windows of the nearby electronics store.

A familiar sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. Had Akira taken him up on his offer to escape with the Treasure, Ryuji would be the one trapped within the police's menacing stronghold. Instead of navigating harassment from his peers, he would've confronted the overbearing scorn of seasoned interrogators. The sting of forlorn hopes and abandoned dreams would've replaced his worries about running with the track team next spring. Ryuji sighed in shame, finally accepting the awful truth: he didn't stand a chance against the cops—but his best friend just might.

"We have breaking news," the man on the television announced.

Ryuji snapped back to reality in an instant. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest as he desperately awaited the coming news flash.

"The young man being held in custody has committed suicide. The police have confirmed his death, although details have not been released. To repeat, the suspect…"

A flood of raw emotions pulverized Ryuji's soul. His legs stiffened, the devastation of the moment striking him like an enormous thunderclap. Fear rattled his bones, sending a deep chill surging through his whole body. Never before had Ryuji felt so helpless—so lost—so alone.

You're shitting me…

His eyes remained fixed to the TV screens as he lifted a trembling hand to his face. His fingers quickly became damp.

Shibuya - Central Street

"Hey, Ann-chan! Can I get you to look over here?"

Ann Takamaki shuddered, shoving a pair of oversized sunglasses over her tired face. Yet another attempt to escape the deadlocked grip of the Teen Rogue camera crew fell apart before her very eyes. They would never understand the challenge of playing the spry blonde role on two hours of sleep—let alone after watching her leader fall into the police's hands.

"Oh… I'm sorry!" she said, shifting backwards onto the seat of a crimson bicycle.

"No sweat," Kenji Tanaka, her photographer, said. "Take your time."

Ann moved her sunglasses down a bit, revealing a determined expression. "How's this?"

"Looking good!"

Kenji raised his hand to signal a countdown. His assistants immediately clamored into position, moving their reflectors to illuminate Ann's pose in the dwindling light of the evening. Her eyes focused on the camera as a quick burst of white filled the crowded set. Kenji studied the new image in painstaking detail before giving a thumbs-up.

"How about we take a quick break? We'll start up again in a few minutes."

Most of the time, Ann and the camera crew made small talk in between the photo sessions. However, none of the staff appeared interested in chatting today. They stood in scattered clumps about the set, transfixed on the massive video board across the street. Kenji soon took notice and copied their move. Intrigue quickly filled his eyes.

"So, he took his own life…" he muttered. "That phantom thief sure was something."

Ann's blood ran cold as she whipped the bike around to read the terrifying news ticker on the screen in front of her. She shoved a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. The other forcefully clenched the handlebar of her bike, bracing against the waves of cruel anguish which rapidly washed up on the shores of her mind. Ann trembled uncontrollably as streams of tears cascaded down her face.

Kosei High School

My word…

Yusuke Kitagawa blankly stared at the messy paint smear on the canvas in front of him. A confusing blend of shock and uncertainty settled in as he lowered his brush onto the easel below. Moments before, the radio in the back corner of the studio delivered a grim pronouncement: Akira Kurusu, leader of the Phantom Thieves, was dead. Yusuke struggled to believe he'd lost such a close friend—one who accepted him in spite of his eccentric ways and flowery language. No words existed that could properly express the unwelcome feelings which tormented his soul.

"You seem stumped for once," his new sensei said. "Not feeling it today?"

Yusuke shrugged his shoulders as he turned away from the easel. "Oh… yes."

Sensei smiled slightly. "I'm not chiding you. Just do as normal at your own pace. With your skills, there's no need to worry about your future."

Becoming a phantom thief gave Yusuke a special gift few others could dream of—the chance to save others from a disastrous future. He had launched into battle against Sae Niijima's shadow with high hopes that the Phantom Thieves would triumph. But now, they faced a daunting challenge unlike any they'd faced before. An uncertain future awaited the team on the heels of their failure.

Normal… right.

Café Leblanc

Sojiro Sakura kept a silent vigil within the esteemed coffee shop his "son" called home. Yongen-Jaya's residents normally filled Leblanc, eager to indulge themselves following a long day's work. Today, however, an uncanny silence replaced the gentle rumble of the stovetop within the café's kitchen. Not one batch of famous curry would impart smiles on the faces of Leblanc's customers. Not one blend of exotic beans would be fashioned into coffee. Until Akira returned home safely from prison, Sojiro vowed that was the way it would be. In the meantime, he would continue trying his hand at crossword puzzles, letting the time sluggishly trickle by within the empty building.

A type of outdoor allergy? How am I supposed to know that? I make curry for a living, for god's—

A heartbreaking cry suddenly shattered the tense quiet of the early evening. Sojiro fell backwards against the booth, his ears picking up high-pitched sobs from the attic above. Fear harshly intruded into his mind.

Futaba!

Sojiro jolted to his feet. A heart-wAkiraching scene greeted him as he thundered up the wooden steps into the attic. Futaba was cast in shadow, with only a single lightbulb illuminating her within the dismal gloom. She rocked back and forth over her computer, sobs wracking her whole body. Morgana laid down next to Futaba's side with his thick black fur raised in fright. Sojiro hesitated for a moment before gingerly closing the distance between himself and his daughter. She faced him, clenching his arm in a tight squeeze.

"Sojiro, it's bad..." she blubbered, her pale face puffy and stained with tears. "Akira, h-he's… he's…"

Futaba spun her computer around to show Sojiro the home page of the Phan-Site. What he saw rocked him to his core.

thot_for_teacher: he ded lol

n00b_slayer: offed himself in jail, what a coward

Anonymous: totally deserved it after what he did to okumura

Sojiro opened his arms and gently held Futaba against his shoulder. She nestled her face into her father's sturdy presence, bawling hysterically as he kept her close. Only now did Sojiro's paternal demeanor finally break down. He reached behind his glasses to wipe away the tears which slowly trickled from his eyes.

Shibuya - Financial District

The news of Akira's death slammed into Haru Okumura with the force of a sledgehammer.

Intense pangs of shock immediately stole her breath away. A terrifying cloud of doom filled the back seat of the limousine, steadily overtaking everything inside. Haru's mouth remained wide open, a testament to the tortuous feelings ravaging her mind.

"I believe your father can rest in peace now," her fiancé said, extending his arm towards her wavy hair.

Haru swatted his hand away, her face forming into a frown. "I can stand up for myself, Sugimura! You don't need to hover over me anymore."

A smug grin emerged on his face. "A little worked up, are we? I think you need some polo to cool off. I make a good playmate, you know."

"I'm notgoing anywhere, you creep!" she shouted. "I never even liked you to begin with!"

He flashed a mischievous glare. "Oh, shush. Looks like we've arrived."

The limousine gently rolled to a stop, prompting Sugimura to unlatch his seatbelt and snake around behind the car. Haru watched him intently out of the corner of her eye, searching for the opportunity to make her next move.

One of my friends is dead, and all he cares about is taking me on a date? I can't let him treat me like this. I need to show I'm strong.

"Come on, darling." Sugimura opened Haru's door and extended his hand towards her. "It's time we—"

Haru whipped her arms around, firmly shoving her nails deep into the padded shoulders of her fiancé's business suit. Sugimura's earlier veneer of confidence instantly folded as he faced her determined glare. She wAkirached her weight backwards, smashing his punchable face against the body of the limousine. He instantly keeled over. Haru released her grip, watching while Sugimura's limp form tumbled onto the sidewalk behind him.

"Our engagement is through!"

Shujin Academy

"Your portfolio is excellent, Niijima-san," Makoto's academic advisor said. "It's rare to come across such a strong applicant these days. I'm sure you'll be admitted anywhere you apply."

She gracefully bowed in respect. "Thank you very much."

He flipped through her file as he set it down on his desk. "You know what kind of school you're looking for?"

"One of the prestigious research universities, if possible." A small smile reached across Makoto's face. "I want to be on the cutting edge of justice someday."

"You and your sister really are two peas in a pod," her advisor replied.

She laughed slightly. "People tend to say that about us."

"That one phantom thief should have followed your example." He ran his hands alongside his tie. "Turns out he committed suicide while in prison. I wonder why he turned to a life of crime."

Makoto froze in place, a massive wave of disbelief surging through her whole body. Her shoulders became heavy as she desperately fought back the explosion of terror which flowed through her veins.

"Niijima-san? Is something wrong?"

She shakily brushed her hand through her hair. "I should get going. I'm sorry."

The uncontrollable whirlwind of fear bearing down on Makoto snowballed as she shuffled into the hallway. Her surroundings smeared together into a blended mess of colors. Her racing heart fluttered erratically within her chest. Her skin became flushed with a searing heat. Makoto hobbled forwards, her overwhelming emotions shattering every last ounce of composure left in her body.

No… it can't be!

A labored gasp escaped Makoto's lips. In an instant, everything around her went black. Her legs shook, then folded beneath her. She tumbled head-first, landing onto the floor below with an enormous thud. The subtle dregs of chatter throughout the building immediately gave way to eerie silence.