4/19
"Wait, for real?" Ryuji asks.
Akira nods. "I have to study." His tone is solemn and quiet. He stares at the courtyard's fresh-cut grass. It is lunchtime, and the thieves huddle alone on the crosswalk.
Ann giggles and smacks Akira's shoulder. "Oh, come on. Stop messing around."
Morgana pops his head out from Akira's bag. "It's not a joke." His voice quivers. "He has to study."
Ann glances at Ryuji, who shrugs. "But what about-"
"I'm sorry," Akira whispers. "There's no other way. Niijima-senpai was insistent."
She had cornered him in the hall shortly after his arrival that morning. He had known from the storm in her eyes, just how screwed he was. His bows had been deep. His apologies, desperate. He cannot even recall what he said. Some nonsense revolving around his probation, a Sojiro-enforced curfew, and plain old loss of time.
She had not been mollified.
She had not been convinced.
"Kurusu-kun," she had said, her voice dangerously pleasant.
He had kept his upper body rigid, parallel to the floor, held in a bow. His heart had raced. "Y-yes?" He'd asked, even as he felt the conflicting smile curl its way onto his face.
"We'll meet today, after school. In the library. We will meet every day this week, after school. In the library. This is your last chance. Do you know what will happen if you do not show up?"
He had lifted his head, so he could see her. "What?"
Her stare scorched him. "Use your imagination." She'd spun on her heel and calmly walked off.
Ryuji and Ann listen to this tale. The latter rolls her eyes. "Oh, give me a break. You're telling me you can't stand up to the Student Council President?"
Ryuji rests a hand on Akira's shoulder, bows his head and says, "I understand."
Ann's eyes widen. "You too, Ryuji?"
"Niijima-senpai can be intense," Akira says.
"But what about the Palace? You two are getting expelled soon, aren't you?"
Morgana shakes his head. "If Akira makes Makoto mad… well, madder,it might result in even more trouble. If she gets suspicious about us, it could draw attention. I know it stinks, but it'd best if we go along with this for now. We'll still have the weekend. We're getting close to the Treasure. It won't be much longer."
Ann crosses her arms and pouts. "Fine. I still don't like it."
"I don't either," Morgana says. "But we don't really have a choice."
Ryuji shakes his head. "Still, it's gonna suck for you, dude. Stuck in the library with Makoto Niijima? With her grillin' you on all that school stuff?"
Akira fights the smile from his face. "I'll manage."
#
Makoto stands outside the library. Her hands smooth her skirt, straighten her black halter vest, pat down her hair. She does not notice she does these things, because her mind is consumed with one overriding thought.
If he's not in here...
She opens the door.
Akira Kurusu sits at the table nearest the circulation desk. He looks up when she enters. There's a strange look on his face. His gaze is more intense than it should be, his lips are pursed, and his skin is a touch flushed. He looks expectant, like someone waiting for an inevitable word to be said. Or hammer to fall.
"I admit," Makoto says, as she deposits her bag on the table. She reaches inside and begins to withdraw the borrowed books. "I didn't expect you to be here."
"I have a vivid imagination."
Makoto can't help her smirk. Kurusu returns it. She sits. "Well then, we should begin."
His smile fades. He dips his head. His posture retreats. "Niijima-senpai?"
She blinks. "Yes?"
"I want to apologize. I never meant to waste your time. Honestly, the first time, I figured you wouldn't even show up."
What is this? She had walked in here expecting either a vacant chair or an aloof defiance. But, the look on his face seems earnest. It's kicked her feet out from under her. She shifts in her seat, and tries to keep her pose infused with power she no longer feels. What is with this guy? How can a few sentences throw her like this?
"Why would you think that?" She asks, to buy herself time.
He looks at her. His smile is small and sad. "Just a feeling, I guess."
She cannot meet his eyes, because when she does, she recalls how she felt when he'd taken his glasses off in the faculty office, but that was only because she had been tired because the rumor mill had churned the whole day before and its potentialities had kept her up at night and it didn't have anything to do with anything really except then she'd given him those stern admonishments and he had looked almost excited and she had felt excited but he's sitting across from her now and he's humble and apologetic so was it possible she had imagined the whole thing and Akira Kurusu is just a regular student with a regular personality but then where had the rumors come from and she'd heard he'd been in some kind of conflict with Kamoshida and he hung with Ryuji Sakamoto so there had to be some truth to what's been said about him and why did all of this stuff have to pop into her mind just because he looked at her and what is up with this guy?
Calm down, she thinks. Maybe he's playing you. What do I know about him for sure? He's got a record. He's friends with Sakamoto. He's ditched me in the past. Maybe this is a way for him to get under my skin. She wills herself to settle. She returns a polite smile. Not gonna happen.
"We'll begin with calculus, Kurusu-kun."
He blanches.
#
Makoto is not gentle. "Well?" She asks.
How? How has she maintained this level of intensity for this long? His brain feels like someone took to it with a lawn mower. His eyes ache from the beady text of his books. His hand is cramped from writing equations.
"It would be," he mumbles, "a preposition?"
"You sound unsure."
"A preposition," Akira blurts. "It's definitely a preposition."
Makoto leans back in her chair, a self-satisfied smile on her face. "Very good."
Akira resists the urge to collapse onto his books. "Thank you."
Makoto glances away and frowns. "That's enough for today. I think we may have stayed a little longer than necessary."
Akira turns in his chair. They are the only two in the library. The sky outside bleeds into sunset. "Oh wow, I didn't even notice," he says.
Makoto slides her chair back and stands, her movements pristine, almost rehearsed. "You did well today," she says, and stares down at him, her gaze unyielding.
This is my punishment for ditching her. "Thanks." He packs his books and pulls out his phone. Ann had offered to take Morgana today, much to the cat's delight, so he sends her a message that the session is over.
"Shall we?" Makoto asks, once they're ready.
Akira follows her out the door.
The hall is empty. They walk. Their twin sets of footsteps echo off the floorboards. They are side by side, Akira with his hands in his pockets, Makoto with hers tight around the straps of her bag.
They walk.
Akira, grateful for the quiet, lets fatigue seep into him. Were his wits intact, he might have noticed the nervous look on Makoto's face as they descended the steps to the second floor.
"It's kind of unnerving," Makoto says, her words quick and tumbling. "The school, I mean. What with everyone gone and all."
Akira shrugs. "I like it," he slurs. "No one's talking about me."
Makoto's footsteps stop. Akira's continue. A few moments pass before she catches up to him. She says nothing else until they reach the front gate. "Tomorrow, then?"
"Sure." His smile is heavy. "Goodnight, Niijima-senpai. And thanks."
4/20
Akira sits in the library. His books are arranged. His pen is held steady in his hand. He is hydrated, well-fed, and ready to go.
Makoto is late.
I could probably give her a hard time about this. Given how big of a deal she'd made about him wasting her time, it would be poetic in a way. Actually, that's probably a bad idea.
Her absence gave him the opportunity to return 'The Biology of Shrimp.' He had never even opened it. Morgana, who thankfully had gone for a walk around the neighborhood today, had given him grief unending on account of that book.
The door slides open and Makoto steps inside. Her manner is still precise, but she looks harried. Her steps to the table are quick, and when she slings her bag onto the wood, it plops with a dull thump.
"I'm sorry," she says, nodding to him. Akira takes her in. She looks disheveled, but he'll be damned if he can figure out why. She doesn't look like an ice queen today. Too bad. He frowns. Wait, why 'too bad?'
"You okay?" He asks her.
"Student Council duties, I'm afraid. I-" but then her bag spills and the contents scatter onto the floor. Makoto releases a single, tired groan and kneels down to retrieve her items.
"Let me help," Akira says, and slides from his chair. He notices two things among the books and paperwork. A weathered, white pencil case covered in black spots and tipped by a cute animal's face, and a colorful looking novel. He reaches for the book first.
The cover depicts a man with sandy brown hair, his back to the reader, standing astride a gondola. His craft looks to be gently traversing the sea-green canals of a grand medieval city, filled with towering ivory citadels of red steeples draped in purple banners. When he looks closer, he sees the man's head is turned toward the reader, and he gifts them a small, knowing smirk. He reads the title aloud, "'The Lies of Locke Lamora?'"
Makoto squeaks, which is impossible because Akira cannot believe this girl capable of such a sound, and snatches the book from his hands. He looks up at her. Her face is bright red, and her eyes are averted into a corner. She clutches the book to her chest like a lost heirloom. She appears to have shrunken in on herself.
Akira's eyes go wide. A single word crosses his mind in a dim, watery wave.
Cute.
Makoto Niijima is really cute.
"Uh, sorry," he says, and spreads his hands in surrender.
Makoto gathers up the remainder of her items and shoves them, in a very non-Makoto way, back into her bag. "It's fine," she says. "I didn't mean to... it's fine."
"What's it about?" Akira asks, and returns to his seat.
She finally meets his eyes. "Huh?"
"The book, it looks interesting. What's it about?"
She swallows. She actually swallows. I can't take much more of this!
"Um, we should start," she says, and points to his books. "History. We'll start with history today."
"Okay," Akira replies. He looks back at his material. "We're covering the rule of Nobunaga."
Makoto pulls out a history text and sets it on the table. Then, she sits and flips the book open. She uses her index finger to scan the page until she finds an appropriate starting point. She does this while avoiding Akira's eyes.
"Thieves," she whispers.
Akira looks up. "Sorry?"
"The book," she says. "It's about thieves."
"Seriously?"
She fixes him with her gaze, eyes aflame. She opens her mouth, but Akira shakes his head and throws up his hands. "No, no. You've got it wrong. I just meant that it sounds cool."
Makoto frowns, then looks down at the text. She fidgets in her seat. "It is. I borrowed it from here, actually."
"Oh, okay. Maybe I'll check it out once you're done with it."
She nods. "So, tell me what you know about Oda Nobunaga."
#
Despite herself, Makoto's hands clench tighter and tighter.
"You don't really think he's studying, do you?"
"The Prez is wasting her time."
"I heard someone tried to mug him the other day, and he stabbed him."
The library has always been something of a noisy place. Whispers can be just as distracting as explosions in the right context. Still, she typically manages to shut them out.
Kurusu is having a visibly harder time doing this. She can only control his attention so much. The gossip leaches into him. His work gets sloppy.
"I heard one of the teachers asked him a simple question - one any first year should get - and he totally bombed it."
"He's in a big fight with Kamoshida. He was hitting on Takamaki, and everyone knows she's Kamoshida's."
"There's no way he's going to get a good grade on his exams, so why's he even trying?"
Makoto stands. Kurusu looks up, a bit of life returning to his eyes, and tracks her. She marches over to the nearest table, where three second-years sit with their heads dipped together. She puts as much authority as she can behind her words. "If you refuse to use the library for its intended purpose, I'll have to ask you to leave." She cuts her gaze across the faces of all the students. "That goes for everyone."
Some stand and shuffle out, red-faced and crestfallen. Some shut their mouths and return to studying. Some pretend they weren't participants, and nod their heads with feigned superiority. The rumors do not start up again.
Makoto returns to her seat. Kurusu does not look any better. If anything, he looks more tattered. Was that a mistake? Should I have left it alone? She frowns. This whole study session has been a disaster. First, she had entered the room all flustered. Then, she'd completely lost her cool when he'd spied her book. Now, she had just embarrassed him further.
If those others had just kept their mouths shut, this wouldn't have happened. Akira Kurusu may have a criminal record. But he was still a student. She wasn't Student Council President for nothing. He deserved help. And I'm going to help you.
"Are you alright?" She asks.
Kurusu says nothing for a time, and then he points to a problem in the textbook. "How would I do this one?"
#
Kurusu doesn't improve. Makoto has never seen anything like it. He hears the instructions, mouths the answers, writes the formulas, but it's all rote. Robotic.
At a loss, Makoto ends the session earlier than yesterday, and walks him to the front gate once more. How can I help him? She's stricken by the need to do something for Kurusu, to let him know he's... what?
It is only when they are outside that life returns to him.
"Yo!"
Makoto looks down the front steps and sees Ryuji Sakamoto leaning against the gate's pillar. He throws up his fingers in a mock-salute and saunters his way up to them.
"What're you doing here, Sakamoto-kun?" Makoto asks. She adds an edge to her voice.
Sakamoto frowns. "What'cha mean? I'm waiting for this guy." He throws an arm around Kurusu's shoulder and continues, "Dude, I'm starving. Bet you are too, after all that studying. Let's grab some ramen. Also, I kinda need to talk to you about something."
Makoto does not like this last bit. She is about to say something when she sees Kurusu's face. He is beaming. "Let's do it," he says. He looks at Makoto and asks, "Want to come with?"
Both Makoto and Sakamoto say, "Huh?" Her thoughts plow ahead at the implication of his question, but her mouth acts on its own and she says, "Thank you, but I can't. I live with my older sister, and she'll be expecting me later."
Kurusu shrugs. He does not look disappointed, and this disappoints Makoto. "Oh, okay. See you later then." He jabs Sakamoto gently in the gut and says, "Lead the way."
Sakamoto smirks. "Right on." They descend the steps toward the road.
Why did I say that? Makoto pulls out her phone and rereads the text she'd received earlier from Sae.
SAE: Won't be home tonight.
Why had she lied?
A single rebellious impulse grips her. She looks up and opens her mouth, but the two boys are already out the gate and gone.
Makoto stands in Shujin's entrance, alone. She is suddenly very tired. She steps aside and leans against the doorframe. Focus. She will not let her emotions cloud her. She needs to be strong. Akira Kurusu. She ignores every conflicting feeling that name conjures up, and instead zeroes in on one hard truth. He needs a better influence than Ryuji Sakamoto. Kawakami-sensei had asked her to help him adjust to life at Shujin. He never will if he continues to pal around with Sakamoto.
A thin trickle of guilt bleeds through her like lead in her veins, but she ignores it. She has work to do.
#
"Training?" Akira asks, once he's slurped up his ramen.
Ryuji does not wait and says, over the noodles in his mouth, "Mmmhmm." He scarfs more down, pats his stomach with a satisfied sigh and says, "You know how we can, like, jump high and stuff and beat the shit out of shadows over there?"
Akira thinks of effortlessly negotiating the chandeliers. "Yeah."
"Well, it got me thinking. If we get stronger over here, maybe we'd be even stronger over there." He looks down into his empty bowl, and his voice drops a few degrees. "Ever since my leg healed, I haven't been training. I wasn't on the track team anymore, so I didn't have a reason to."
Akira smiles. "But now you do."
Ryuji looks up, grins and says, "Hell yeah, I do. So listen, I want to put together a training plan for us. Running, weights, all that shit. Ann's lazy as hell, but we can probably trick her into participating somehow. Maybe we can tell her it's for her modeling career or something."
Akira chuckles. "Ann wants to be a model?"
"Uh, no dude. Ann is a model."
"Seriously?"
"Did you not know that?"
"I didn't." Akira thinks about this. "Well, she's beautiful, so I guess it makes sense. I just don't picture her as a model."
"Well shit, dude. There's probably some fashion magazines we could pick up at the subway station. I think she has a new spread out in one of them."
Akira arches a brow. "How do you know so much about it?"
"No reason," Ryuji says, a hitch in his voice.
"Uh-huh."
Ryuji groans. "Don't get on my case, man. And Ann's modeling isn't the point! Are you in on this training thing or not?"
"Are you going to make Morgana participate?"
Ryuji frowns. "I don't know how to make a workout plan for a cat, but I guess I can try."
Akira nods. "I think it makes sense. If our strength in the Metaverse is amplified, then the more endurance and strength we have in the real world, the more we'll have over there."
"That's the idea." Ryuji pulls out his cell. "So, tonight, be sure to text me your details."
"What details?"
Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Come on, dude! If I'm gonna put this together, I need your information. Height and weight for starters, but I'll also need your body-mass index, daily caloric intake, rep sets you've done in the past-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Akira says, patting the air with his hands. "I don't know those things."
"You don't?"
"No, and I'm pretty sure Ann's not going to appreciate you asking her for her weight either."
"Yeah..." Ryuji says, his voice trailing off. "That's true. Alright, well for now, just find those things out and send them to me. I'll put together something for just the two of us. Then we can rope Ann and the cat in together."
Akira shakes his head, says, "Okay," and finishes his meal.
4/21
"Like this, right?" He turns the page around and pushes it towards Makoto.
She scans it and smiles. "Yes. Very good." She brings her pencil to the page and begins to scribble. "But, there's a shortcut you could've taken." With a dim snap the lead breaks, and she frowns. "Hold on."
She reaches into her bag and pulls out the battered pencil case. Its childlike and animal design seems somewhat familiar to Akira. The plastic is weathered, but when Makoto opens it, there's a batch of fresh writing utensils inside.
"What's the deal with that?" He asks.
"Hmm?" Makoto withdraws a new pencil and shuts it. "What do you mean?"
"It looks kind of old. Shouldn't you get a new one?"
"You should talk. You don't even have one." She smiles as she says this.
Akira can't help himself. "That's because I use pockets. Like a normal person."
Her eyes narrow a fraction. "Are you making fun of me? Because if you are..."
His pulse quickens. He feels his face flush. Keeping the smile off his lips proves difficult. "I just thought you could use a new one. That's all."
"I happen to like it. It's from a show I watched as a child. Buchimaru-kun."
"Okay."
She looks down at it. "Though, I suppose it's a bit worn."
"So why not get a new one?"
"Unfortunately, according my research, they no longer produce Buchi merchandise." She looks genuinely sad as she says this.
"You actually researched that?"
Her head shoots up. "You are making fun of me."
"I am not. It's just interesting."
"Interesting?"
He nods.
Makoto sets her pencil down and folds her hands across her textbook. "Would you like to learn something else, interesting, about me?"
Akira leans in. "I would."
"I'm well trained in aikido, boxing, and karate."
"Are you saying you'll hurt me if I continue down this path?"
Her eyes widen. "Of course not, Kurusu-kun. If anything were to happen to you, it would look like an accident."
Akira's heart hammers in his chest. He can't help himself, and laughs.
Makoto's lip slide into a small smile, and she begins to giggle.
Then they notice that every student in the library is watching them.
Akira's laughter deteriorates into choked coughs. Makoto sucks in her lips, shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I suppose we should get back to it."
"R-right," he says.
His phone buzzes.
Akira checks it.
TAKEMI: Are you busy today? I've got another trial I'd like to run.
Akira swallows. Uh-oh. He keeps himself calm. This is for the good of the team, after all.
AKIRA: I'm studying right now. Can I come by later?
TAKEMI: Yes.
Akira frowns, and sends an additional message.
AKIRA: Will I pass out again?
TAKEMI: Probably.
#
Makoto wraps up the session early. Kurusu displayed a good deal of retention, and she's confident he'll score well on his next exams. He's come a long way in just three days. When they step out of the library, Kurusu pauses near the door, and Makoto realizes he's actually waiting for her.
"Oh," she says. "I actually have additional business in the Student Council room." Business relating directly to Akira Kurusu, as a matter of fact.
"Where's that?" He asks.
Makoto inclines her head towards the door next to them. "Right here."
"Convenient."
"Very."
They stand together, silent.
"So," she blurts out. "Will you be going somewhere with Sakamoto-kun today?"
When he shakes his head, she feels a weight lift off her chest. "No. He had to help his mom with something. Besides, I've kind of got a doctor's appointment."
"You're not sick, I hope."
"I'm not, but ask me again in a few hours."
"I'm sorry?"
He chuckles. "Nothing. Never mind. I'll see you later, Niijima-senapi."
"Goodnight." He heads off down the hall, and Makoto turns towards the Student Council room.
#
Takemi stares at Akira. The boy's hands return to his face, grasping at some phantom object. Then, he rips whatever he thinks it is away and shouts, "Persona!" He does it again, and cries, "Arsene!" Once more, and, "Ravage them!"
This is interesting. Akira's litany is now in its tenth minute. After ingesting her latest medicinal iteration, he had passed out for a quarter of an hour. Then he'd sat up, groped for his imaginary something and proceeded to pull it off, again and again.
Amusing as it is, something about Akira bothers her. She slides out of her chair, approaches him, and leans in, careful to stay outside the persistent range of his hands. His eyes are glazed and see nothing. She smiles. I wonder how badly he'd blush if he knew I was this close to him. Then she sees it. A slight discoloration around his brows, cheeks, and jawline. Gingerly, she snakes her own fingers between his hands and prods. The skin is tender. "How's that possible?" She asks aloud. When had he been in last? The sixteenth, wasn't it? It's only the twenty-first.
Five days. Six, if she counts the night of the sixteenth. So, five days and a night then. In that time, Akira Kurusu had suffered some serious bruising to his face. And in that time, they had healed. Almost completely. No doubt most would never notice it, but she's a professional. Identifying the evidence of past trauma is child's play for her.
Still.
For a bruise, or rather, series of bruises to heal in that short a period of time? It's possible, sure, but unlikely. Akira's words are beginning to garble together. His movements are becoming lackadaisical, his posture is slumping.
He pulls whatever he thinks is on his face away one more time, and mumbles, "Arseee-" and drops onto his side.
His breathing is steady and quiet. He could be taking an afternoon nap. She takes one of his hands in both of hers. Yep. It's here too. The too-pale, yellowish tint. The barely detectable watery squish of his skin when she pokes it.
She sets his hand down, and runs her fingers into his hair. There's so damn much of it that she cannot see the skin, but she can feel it. "God," she whispers.
Akira Kurusu is a walking bruise.
"How the hell did you get all of these?" She asks. He does not reply.
There's a phone in the main office. She'll call the police. She has to call the police. Akira Kurusu is being abused. By whom, she does not know. She cannot imagine Sojiro Sakura doing something like this. Takemi moves to the door. Her hand pauses on the knob.
She can hear the questions. What was he doing here? Why is there no record of his appointment? Did he consent to an examination? Is he taking any medicine or drugs?
Her hand falls to her side. The only sound is Akira's soft, slow breathing. Her mouth is dry paper and all she can see is a small girl, coughing her lungs out in a hospital bed. "I'll be okay. Right, Doctor Takemi?"
"Fuck," she says.
When Akira wakes, she cannot meet his eyes. He smacks his lips a few times and says, "Tastes like sand."
"Well," she mumbles, unable to keep her mouth shut. "The worse it tastes, the better it works."
"I doubt that."
"No," she says, her gaze solely focused on the empty white space of the clipboard's paper. "It's true. It was the topic of my thesis back in med school." Stop it, she thinks. Stop trying to be funny. This isn't.
"I honestly can't tell if you're lying," Akira says with a smile. "Did I say anything this time?"
A little too much. "No," she replies. "Just nonsense."
"You okay?"
"Hmm?" She asks, and plasters one of her more seductive smiles across her face. "I'm fine. Worried about me, are you?"
Akira fidgets and his cheeks turn red. "Just, uh, just asking." He hops off the table, steadies himself and asks, "Are we all done for today?"
She nods. "We are."
"Okay," he replies. He leans over and picks his bag up off the floor. "I guess I'll see you next time." He walks to the exam room's door and grips the knob in his hand.
"Be careful," she says.
He looks back at her. "What'd you mean?"
"Nothing," she replies, nauseous. "Just, you know, be careful. World's a dangerous place and all."
"Don't I know it," he says, and then he's out the door and gone.
#
He finds Morgana outside a second-hand store down the block, tail swishing side to side. "What're you doing?" Akira asks.
The cat prods the air with his paw, in an approximation of a point. "There's an old television in there. Only two hundred yen!"
Akira kneels down and holds out his arm. Morgana scuttles up to his shoulder, and drops down into his bag. "So?"
"So? You've got no TV in your room. We should spring for it."
"Why do we need a TV?" He looks into the store. It's filled with dozens of odds and ends, all cluttered together like someone's overstuffed storage unit.
A dusty knickknack catches his eye, shoved as it is behind a litter of children's merchandise.
"Are you listening to me?" Morgana asks.
"Nope," Akira says and steps inside. The cat yowls in annoyance and Akira smiles. "Relax, I'm kidding. Money's kind of tight now though."
The owner of the shop is nowhere to be seen. Akira weaves his way past the junk and approaches what he saw. "No way."
It's a Buchimaru pencil case. He lifts it off the shelf and turns it over in his hands. A thin film of dust coats it, but little else is wrong. I'll have to tell Niijima-senpai. She'd be thrilled. The thought brings a smile to his face, even as Morgana nudges the back of his head.
"What're you looking at that thing for?"
"No reason," Akira says, and checks the price. Naturally, it's dirt cheap. He regards it for another moment, and then sets it back on the shelf. They're only study buddies. No reason to complicate things with gifts. He straightens his uniform and leaves the store as quick as decorum allows, red faced.
##
A/N: Just a reminder, I'll be going on a brief hiatus next week. That means after Friday's chapter, you won't see me until August 7th. Barring some disaster the story will pick right back up then. I want to thank everyone for reading, commenting, and apparently telling others about Crimson. It makes my day again and again. Also, an aside, 'The Lies of Locke Lamora' is a real book by Scott Lynch. It's very good, and if you're a fan of Persona 5 (and why wouldn't you be, if you're reading this?) then you should do yourself a favor and check it out. See you all on Friday!