5/11

Makoto taps the tip of her pencil against the page. Now that the volleyball team is all but disbanded, the budget for the club could be broken up and dispersed to some of the other ones.

The question was, which ones? No other clubs at Shujin had garnered as much prestige as Kamoshida's volleyball club, but there were a few promising candidates.

Maybe this time, we focus on a more academic or artistic one. The art club, perhaps? The drama club? Last year, the latter had been on a production of The Tempest, and it had been... acceptable.

"Umm... Niijima-senapi?" Comes a voice.

"Just a moment," Makoto replies, not looking up. A lot of numbers dance before her eyes, but this is just like any other problem. All it requires is time, and a steady application of willpower.

Perhaps a budget cut from all the sports clubs would be possible? None of them are really doing that well at the moment. Certainly, that wasn't their fault. Kamoshida had insisted on a heavy slice of the funds for his team, so the rest of Shujin's sports clubs had been grossly underfunded. Still, a steady slash across the board would ensure no one felt singled out. Of course, that decision wouldn't leave her the most popular girl at school. Not that I am, anyway.

She hears feet shifting near the door, and sighs. The boy has sweated enough, and she's not going to get any real, deep work done with him bugging out right next to her.

Makoto sets her pencil down and pushes the budget paperwork aside. Then, she glances up at the student she called into the Council room ten minutes ago.

"Thank you for waiting, Mishima-kun."

Yuuki Mishima flashes her a shaky smile, but his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and his eyes don't quite meet hers. "N-no problem, Niijima-senpai."

She cocks her head to one side. "Are you nervous? There's no reason to be."

"Sorry, it's just early," he manages without stammering. "And, uh, exams start today."

Makoto nods, and lets out a sigh. "That is true. I trust you're prepared. You always seem to do well, yes?"

"I guess so. I feel like I studied enough." He cracks a small smile. "I had a lot more time, now that the volleyball isn't practicing anymore."

"Right, of course. I actually wanted to ask about that," she says, and gestures to the seat across from her.

Mishima hesitates before making his way over to the chair, and slumping down into it before apparently remembering who he is sitting with, and straightening.

Makoto folds her hands together and asks, "How are you, Mishima-kun?"

"Um, fine?"

"You sound unsure."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine, really. Thanks for asking."

"I know this is a difficult topic, but I understand that you were abused at the hand of Kamoshida. I wanted to make sure that, with him gone, you're able to have a normal school life."

Mishima's eyes fall to the hardwood table. "It's not like I was the only one he hurt. You know what he did to Shiho."

Yes, Suzui. I may have to visit her soon. "I do, but I wanted to make sure that you were doing well."

"I'm fine," Mishima says, still not meeting her eyes.

"Alright then."

Mishima blinks. "That's it?" He asks.

Makoto does her best to look puzzled. "Did you think there would be something more?"

"I just... there's nothing you wanted to ask me?"

"About what?"

"Nothing!" Mishima blurts. He stands. "So, um, can I go now?"

"Of course," Makoto says, and gestures towards the door. "Good luck on your exams."

"Th-thanks," Mishima says, as he backs away. "You too. Not that you'll need it, you're so smart, everyone knows that." He bumps into the still shut door. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll go now. Bye, Niijima-senpai!" He opens the door, bolts out, and slams it shut again.

Makoto sits in the room, alone. Well. He knows something.

#

Ann spins around in her chair and groans, "Akirrrraaaaaaa," and slumps over onto his desk.

Akira blinks. "Yes, Ann?"

"Do me a favor. Open the window, and throw me out. I don't want to take these exams!"

Akira shrugs and stands. "If you insist."

He begins to fiddle with the window, and Ann grabs his arm and yanks him back down into his chair. "I wasn't serious!"

"Oh."

She laughs and shakes her head. "This isn't fair. You don't seem nervous at all."

"I'm pretty confident I'll do well, actually," he says.

Ann leans forward a bit, trying to sneak a glance into his desk. "You're just gonna have Morgana give you the answers."

"First of all," Akira says, sliding away from his desk and gesturing to the empty space beneath it. "Mona's not even here. Second, he's a cat, not an encyclopedia."

"Where is he?"

"He said he'd be bored sitting in my desk all week, so I sent him to keep an eye on the Principal."

Ann nods. "Oh. That was smart. Still, I literally wish we were about to do anything else right now."

The door to their classroom opens, and Mishima darts inside. His eyes snap to them, and he shoves his way across the floor and over to them. "Guys, we've got a problem!" Mishima whispers, loudly.

A number of gazes drift over to the three of them.

Through his smile, Akira mutters, "Chill out, man. I told you, not here."

Mishima's eyes widen and he stiffens. "Oh, right. But, like, this is seriously a bad thing."

"Keep it down," Ann whispers, looking around. "What happened?"

"Niijima-senpai called me into the Student Council Room," he says. "She asked me if I was doing okay, since the whole Kamoshida thing."

"And what did you say?" Akira asks.

"I told her I was fine."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"So, what's the problem?"

Mishima looks from Akira to Ann and back again. "Well, it's like you said, she's investigating us."

"Mishima," Akira growls. "We know that already."

"Right, but she's actually doing it!"

Akira shuts his eyes and tries to keep the smile fixed on his face. "So, your big important news is that the girl we know is investigating us, is investigating us?" She probably just brought him into the room to freak him out and see if he'd spill anything. She probably doesn't believe that we'd ever confide in this kid. His smile shifts into a real one. She thinks I'm too smart for that. God, I wish I was.

"W-well," Mishima says. "Don't you think it's weird that she called me in?"

Ann frowns. "Yuuki-kun, we told you that that might happen."

"I know," Mishima replies. "But I heard she did the same thing to Daisuke Takanashi yesterday."

This shakes Akira up a bit. Could he have given her some information that would hurt us? He racked his brain. I don't think so... The card had been delivered by Morgana, and Ryuji had worn gloves when he'd handled it beforehand. The Phantom Thieves hadn't gone anywhere near the boy during the days of his operation. Ryuji and Ann had run into him last Friday, but that was it. I think we're good there.

The door to the classroom opens one more time, and Kawakami-sensei steps inside. "Alright, everyone stop praying, it's exam time." She looks over at Akira and the others. "Mishima-kun, I trust you won't be taking your tests standing there, yes?"

"R-right," Mishima replies. "Sorry, Kawakami-sensei." He dashes off to his seat.

Akira watches him retreat. I really need to learn what I can from that kid, then cut him loose.

#

"Pencils down."

Makoto complies, and leans back in her chair. Exactly as planned. There were no topics she hadn't studied for. The questions had been familiar and easy to answer. She allows herself a solitary moment to feel relief, then snaps her mind back to attention. There are still several more days of exams, and she has another mission today.

She slides out of her seat as her classmates begin to converse amongst themselves. Nodding at each as she passes them, she approaches the back of the class and stops alongside one particular student's desk.

Haru Okumura looks up at Makoto and smiles. "Afternoon, Niijima-chan. How do you think you did?"

Makoto returns the smile and says, "Well, thank you, Okumura-chan. I was actually wondering if you were free this afternoon."

Haru blinks. "Oh. Um, yes, I am."

"I see. Would you like to study for tomorrow's tests together?"

Haru's face brightens, and Makoto feels her stomach twist. "I would love to!" The girl declares, and stands. "Should we go to the library?"

No. Not here. Not where Akira might see me. "Actually, there's a cafe in Shibuya, and-"

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Haru spins around and snatches up her bag. When she turns back, and Makoto sees the look in her eyes, she feels her own smile flicker. "Shall we?"

"Yes," Makoto says. "Let's."

They leave Shujin unimpeded, take a short ride to Shibuya, and find their way to the cafe. As they traveled, Haru had chatted incessantly about today's exam.

Where she thinks she did well.

Where she thinks she didn't do too well.

Where she thinks she could've improved.

They sit down, and Makoto pulls a few books from her bag and sets them on the table. Haru does the same and says, "So, I was thinking we could start with calculus. I'm afraid it's my weakest subject and..."

Makoto hardly hears her. I got her here. Now what? How to broach this topic?

"Are you alright?" Haru asks. The question brings Makoto back to reality.

"I'm sorry?"

Haru frowns. "It's just, you haven't really said anything for a while. Not since we left school. Are you okay?" She leans forward and whispers, "Are you worried about the exams?"

"No," Makoto replies, shaking her head. "That's not it."

"Then what's wrong, Mako-chan?" Haru asks.

Mako-chan? Screw it. What else can she do? "Okumura-chan, I-"

"Please, call me Haru," Haru insists.

Makoto trips over the breach, but complies. "Well, um, Haru, the truth is, I was at Shibuya Underground last night."

Haru looks at her, frowning, and Makoto watches as the girl's eyes widen. "Oh. I see." She glances down at the tabletop. "Is that why you asked me here? Because you saw me working at Raffelsia?"

"I guess," Makoto stammers, fumbling over her words. "I guess I was just wondering why the daughter of Okumura Foods' CEO is working at a flower shop in the mall."

Haru doesn't say anything for a long time.

"Forgive me, Niijima-chan," Haru finally replies. "But I fail to see how that is any of your business." She does not meet Makoto's eyes, but there is an undercurrent of defiance in her voice, something Makoto is shocked to hear from the typically reserved girl.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Perhaps," Haru says, and begins to slide her books off the table. "It would be best if we studied separately. Good luck on your exams."

"Wait," Makoto says, reaching out and grabbing Haru's forearm. The girl halts. She doesn't move. She doesn't breathe. She simply sits and looks at Makoto's hand on her arm. Makoto lets go and stutters out an, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." What was that? "I wasn't snooping, I swear. I was..." How to salvage this? What would be a believable excuse for Makoto Niijima to be at the Raffelsia flower shop, but not approach? Makoto hardly ever went to Shibuya Underground anyway. What would bring here there?

It hits her. The truth. Or, a version of it. "I was following someone." Crap! That makes me sound like a serial killer!

"Following someone?" Haru asks. Her voice still holds that edge, but she relaxes a bit in her chair.

Makoto nods. "I saw him go down into Shibuya Underground and I thought I might see what he was doing, and then-"

Haru gasps. Makoto jumps a bit at the noise. The former's eyes are even wider, and her hands are gripped beneath her chin. "Are you talking about Akira-kun?"

Makoto stares at her. Well, I suppose I was leading to that question, but she was quick on the uptake. "Yes."

Haru's mouth spreads into a smile. "I see. You were following him, is that right?"

What's with that tone? "W-well, I noticed him and-"

"You noticed him, huh?"

"That's... what are you doing?"

"You know, I never asked. How did you like your gift?"

Makoto stares at her. "What gift?"

"The one Akira put in your desk."

Makoto's jaw has never dropped before. It does now. "Wha-? How do you know about that?"

Haru giggles. "Who do you think told him which one was yours?"

"Y-you?"

"Me!" Haru's voice drops a few octaves. "It was so cute. He came in, all nervous, and didn't notice me until I spoke up. Then he asked me which desk was yours."

"B-but wait, what about the flower shop?"

Haru frowns. "Listen, promise not to tell anyone I work there. I don't want people to spread rumors about me or my family."

Makoto is a bit taken aback. "Yes, of course. I would never do something like that."

Haru stares at her, and after a few moments, nods, satisfied. "To be honest, it was a complete coincidence. I had only started to work at the flower shop a week before Akira-kun began there. It was after I saw him put the gift in your desk. By the way, what was it?"

"A pencil case," Makoto says, and gestures to the Buchimaru case that's been sitting alongside her book this entire time. "This one, actually."

"Oh, it's so cute!"

"Th-thanks. So, you just happen to work with him?"

Haru nods. "That's right. We've worked together for a few weeks now. We're friends."

"Oh."

Haru's eyes widen once more, which seems to be a habit for the girl. "Wait a minute. You were following Akira-kun last night. You saw him at the flower shop, but you didn't approach him, and you saw me working there. I know why you asked me to study with you today!"

Makoto wants to swallow, but her throat is dry. "You do?"

Haru nods enthusiastically. "Yes! You want to ask me about him."

Am I that transparent? "Well, that is true, but-"

"You want to ask me about him so you can ask him out!"

Makoto's jaw drops open again, for the second time in her life. "Huh?"

#

"Excuse me?" The waitress asks.

Ann and Akira look up at her. "Yes?" Ann asks.

"Is your friend alright?"

She is referring to Ryuji, who has his head plopped down on the diner's table, eyes shut, and mouth hanging open, with a small trail of drool beginning to form.

"Oh, yeah," Ann says. "He's fine. It's just that today was the first day of exams, and he's kind of a moron."

Ryuji sits up, knife straight, eyes ablaze. "Am not!"

"See?" Ann asks. The waitress smiles and walks away.

"Were you even listening?" Morgana growls from his spot in Akira's bag.

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuji replies, shifting lower in his seat. His eyes fall to his books. "How're you guys even still studying? We took tests all day!"

"Yeah," Akira says. "And we've got a few more days of them."

Ryuji throws his head into his hands. "I know. Man, I'm so screwed."

"We weren't talking about that!" Morgana hisses. "I was saying that I hung outside the Principal's window all morning, but he didn't do anything suspicious. Well, I guess he did look kind of nervous, but he didn't mention anything about us."

Ann nods. "Good job, Morgana."

"Yeah, but so what?" Ryuji asks. "We know the Principal suspects us, and that Niijima's looking at us." He nods towards Akira. "Did you see her today?"

Akira shakes his head. "No. I don't know where she is. I didn't text her either. Hopefully she's just using the time to focus on exams." He looks over at Ann. "So, are you ready to tell us about your mysterious 'in' with Madarame yet?"

Ann blushes a bit. "Well, no. Not yet. But I should know soon, I promise!" Akira's phone vibrates and he takes it from his pocket. Ann rolls her eyes. "That's probably Makoto now. 'Oh, Akira, we haven't sent passive aggressive texts to one another in so long that I'm going through withdraw!'"

Ryuji snickers and holds out a fist for Ann to bump. She does.

Akira pales when he sees the message. "Damn."

"Who is it?" Morgana asks.

I was hoping I could just ignore this away, but looks like I can't. He turns the phone around so Morgana can see, then shows it to the others.

TAKEMI: It's been a while. Drop by for a checkup. I've got some new medicine I'd like you to try.

Ryuji frowns. "The Doc? Haven't heard from her in the while."

"Aren't you going to see that reporter tonight?" Ann asks.

Akira nods, and types out a response.

AKIRA: I can't today. I've got exams, so I've got to study.

Barely ten seconds pass before he gets another response.

TAKEMI: You seem to be under the impression that I was asking.

"I really need to do something about the women in my life," Akira mutters.

"What was that?" Ann asks, eyes narrow.

"Nothing!"

#

Akira takes a sniff of the vial. An aroma not unlike overripe fruit shoves its way up his nostrils. "Like I said, I've got exams. This isn't going to make me pass out, is it?"

Takemi sits in her swivel chair, and smiles. "It shouldn't. I've switched up the formula since you last took some. No promises, though."

"Any chance we could push this to the weekend?"

"I need results, and you need to uphold our deal. Two way street, remember? You don't get to skimp out on your end because it's inconvenient for you."

Akira frowns, opens his mouth, and tosses back the medicine. It doesn't so much burn, but tickles his throat as it goes down. He smacks his lips a few times and runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth. "Not bad, I guess."

"This isn't a soda tasting contest," Takemi replies. "How do you feel?"

Akira sits still for a few moments. "Fine."

"No adverse reactions?" He shakes his head. She glances down at her clipboard. "That's not good."

"Wait, what?"

She smirks and looks up at him. "Kidding." Akira sighs. "So, how are your exams going?"

Akira leans back on his elbows. "Today wasn't too bad. Ask me again in a few days."

"Not stressing about them? I suppose that's a good sign. Young people these days always seem like they're one bad grade away from a heart attack."

Akira rolls his eyes. "I wish I had that problem."

Takemi doesn't reply, save to stare at him for a few moments, lips pursed, brow furrowed. "Kurusu," she finally says. "Have you found a therapist yet?"

Akira blinks. "Huh?"

She lets out a frustrated huff and tosses her clipboard onto the table. "I knew it," she says, standing. "You haven't even looked, have you?"

"I-" Akira starts, then stops. Had it really been almost two weeks since he'd watched that man die in the hotel's bathroom? "I've been busy. I've had to prepare for exams, and-"

"Don't," Takemi says, shaking her head. "Don't treat me like an idiot."

"What're you-"

"I've seen the website, Kurusu."

Akira knows he hesitates for too long before he asks, "What website?"

Takemi enunciates each syllable when she replies, "The PhanSite." Akira doesn't say anything. Takemi nods. "So it's not just going to stop with that teacher then? You're taking requests now? Are you insane? After everything that happened to you with that Kamoshida bastard, I would've thought you'd hang up your... your... well, your whatever, and call it quits." She spreads her hands, placating. "What are you thinking?"

Akira listens to her tirade, and when she finishes, he sits back up and focuses his gaze on the linoleum floor. "I don't want to lie to you," he finally says. "So, can I just say nothing?"

Takemi scowls. "Are you serious?"

Akira's mouth opens a fraction, then closes again. He repeats this action, each time looking to be on the verge of saying something, but unable to locate the words.

Then his phone beeps. His other appointment is fast approaching. "I have to go," he says, and pushes himself off the exam table. He holds up his hands, the backs of them to her. "My skin feels a bit tingly."

Takemi takes his hands in hers and examines them. "That's just a flush. Nothing to worry about." She holds his hands longer than she needs to. "Kurusu, just stop. I don't know what you did, or how you did it, but that sick son of a bitch is going to jail. You beat him. So just stop, and take care of yourself."

Akira slides his hands out of hers. "When I've got the time, I'll look for a therapist."

"You promised me that before."

"I know. Just-"

"Trust you?"

Akira nods.

"Like our deal, trust is a two way street. So. Akira Kurusu, are you a Phantom Thief?"

Akira looks at her for a long time before he responds.

#

Ohya sits at the bar of Crossroads, more sober than she would like. Where the hell is this guy?

Sure, more times than not, these shady folk with 'insider information' never showed, but that didn't mean she appreciated being stood up.

"You look more concerned than usual," Lala Escargot says, sliding up alongside her.

Ohya nods, frowning. "I've got a hunch, Lala-chan."

Lala rolls her eyes. "You always say that."

"Yeah," Ohya replies. "But I've only had one drink tonight. The less I've had to drink, the more accurate the hunch is."

"Is that the science of journalism?"

She grins. "Nope. Just my own personal formula."

"Well, be careful," Lala tells her, and slips her a glass of water. "Just in case."

"Always am," Ohya says, as Lala begins to walk away.

"No you're not," Lala shouts back.

The door to the bar opens and a young, slim figure slides his way inside. Ohya runs her eyes over him. Sweatshirt in May. Baseball cap on under a hood. This was her guy. She stares at him until he notices her doing so, and she nods towards the empty barstool alongside her.

With his hands deep in his pockets, he starts to move through the gloomy bar towards her.

Ohya's eyes widen as he gets closer. He's young. Very young. Wait, is he a teenager?

"Ichiko Ohya?" He asks. His voice is deep, but not that of an adult.

"How old are you?" She asks. This is not her typical first question, but it's the only one she can think of.

"Does that-" He starts, but then she reaches out, and shoves back his hood. He jumps back in surprise, but she's too fast, and swats the hat off his head.

"Oh, goddammit," Ohya groans, rolling her eyes. "You are just a kid." He pales by such a degree that Ohya can even see it in the dim light of Crossroads. He bends over and snatches up his hat. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"N-no," he says, and sits down on the stool alongside her. "It's not."

Ohya sighs and spins back to the bar. "Hey, Lala-chan! I'll take another drink after all."

"What about your hunch?" Lala calls from the other side.

Ohya sticks out her thumb towards the kid. "Looks like I need a new formula."

Lala nods and ducks down below the bar.

"Um," the kid says, but Ohya turns a glare towards him and cuts him off.

"So, what's your hot tip? Is there a cheating problem in your school? Are the teachers mean?"

"Actually," the young man says. "I was told to contact you."

"By who?" Ohya asks. Lala returns and sets another drink down in front of her.

The boy stares at Lala as she heads back down the bar.

"You have a problem?" Ohya asks, an edge to her voice.

"No," he replies, quickly.

"Well, don't stare. It's rude. Now, hurry up and tell me who told you to call me."

"Nakanohara Natsuhiko."

Ohya spins through her mental rolodex. Nakanohara. Definitely sounds familiar. Wasn't he some creepy clerk I talked to a couple of months ago? Why was that again? Oh, yeah! The artist! She looks over at the kid in a new light. "He told you to talk to me? Why?"

"He said you might have some information on a person I'm looking into."

"And that would be?" Ohya asks.

"Ichiryusai Madarame."

Ohya stalls to think, by slowly picking up her drink and bringing it to her lips. As the whiskey pours down her throat, she recalls everything she had learned about that creep. So, who is this kid? Another apprentice? "What's your relation with Madarame?"

The kid wets his lips with his tongue before answering. "I'm concerned about him."

"Concerned?"

"Concerned."

"About what?"

"Well... I don't think he's such a great, um, guy."

Ohya sets her drink down. "Do you have anything to tell me or not?" When the kid stares at her, she shakes her head. "Wow. You didn't think any of this through, did you? What'd you expect? That you could just sit down here and I would spill whatever I know to you? Look kid, if you don't have any information on Madarame, you can beat it. I'm not in the habit of giving something for nothing."

"Nakanohara Natsuhiko said you were the person to talk to if I wanted to learn more about Madarame," the kid protests.

Ohya takes another sip. "Yeah? Well, I'll be sure to thank him for giving out my number to a know nothing juvenile. If you can't give me any information, and you can't help, then I've got nothing to say."

The kid turns his gaze away from her, and sinks in on himself. "I can help, actually," he says, so low she can barely hear him over the smooth music drifting from the jukebox in the corner.

"Oh yeah? How so?" She peers down into the kid's face. His eyes are flicking back and forth, rapidly.

"What if I give you something else? Something you can use for another story? Would you give me information on Madarame then?"

She shrugs. "Depends on what you know. I try not to cross the streams, so to speak."

"Suguru Kamoshida," the kid says.

Ohya blinks, and thinks. Former Olympian. Rapist. Gym Teacher. What was the school? Shujin Academy. "What about him?"

"I can give you information about him. What he was like. Maybe," and here he pauses, and a pained look crosses his face, "maybe I could even get you interviews with his victims."

Ohya mulls this over. Kamoshida's victims, being minors, were kept out of the papers, but that didn't mean other journalists hadn't tried to pry their names and faces out of the dirt and into the limelight.

She shakes her head. "No thanks. Kamoshida is old news. He confessed, what? Two, three weeks ago? This is 2016, kid. The world spins on. They should teach you that at Shujin."

His eyes go wide. "How'd you know where I go to school?"

Ohya groans and rubs her temples. "Kid, come on. Who else would have dirt on Kamoshida? And don't ever just confirm something someone says about you, by asking how they know about it!"

The kid turns red. "Right." Then he nods. "Okay, then. What if I give you information on something else? Something new? Something that hasn't been picked up on, yet?"

Ohya cracks a grin and slaps his arm. "Ooooh, look at you. You've actually managed to pique my interest. Don't disappoint me now. What is this 'something new?'"

"The Phantom Thieves."

Ohya's smile drops. "The Phantom Thieves," she repeats. He nods. "You're joking, right?"

His brows rise. "No. I'm not."

"Kid, the Phantom Thieves are nothing but an urban legend. They don't exist. Maybe there was a group that blackmailed or forced that Kamoshida jackass to confess, and tried to be all picaresque about it with that calling card, but even if that were true, they were nothing but a couple of teenagers with a grudge."

"Haven't you seen the website?"

"You mean the 'PhanSite?'" Ohya asks. "No. I haven't. Because I actually have a job. And my job doesn't let me waste time on the Internet."

Lala walks by. "No. You just waste time here, instead."

Ohya sticks out her tongue. "Is this how you talk to your best customer?"

"You're not my best customer," Lala replies, beaming. "You're just the loudest."

"You're so mean, Lala-chan!"

"The Phantom Thieves are real."

She turns back to the kid. He has his phone out, and is holding it up so she can see the screen.

Ohya's eyes dance across it. What the hell is this? A 'Request?' And that's... Nakanohara's name. "What is this?"

"It's the PhanSite. Nakanohara was stalking his ex-girlfriend. She requested that the Phantom Thieves change his heart. They did."

Ohya looks at the kid one more time. He seems different than just a few moments ago. She can't put her finger on it, but he no longer appears to be the bumbling neophyte. When did we stumble into his territory? "So, what exactly are you telling me?"

"You're a journalist, yeah?"

She nods. Now, I'm answering his questions?

"And you protect your sources?"

"Of course," she barks. "That's journalism one-oh-one, along with, tell the truth."

"Then, you won't repeat what I'm about to tell you, to anyone?"

"So long as you're not pulling my leg."

"Nakanohara put a request out on Madarame. For the Phantom Thieves to change his heart."

"How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

"Why would he tell you that?"

"Because he thought I was one of them."

Ohya stares. "Are you?"

The kid smiles and shakes his head. "I know the admin of the website. But even he doesn't know who the Phantom Thieves really are. Nakanohara was going to put it on the website, but because Madarame is such a huge name, he thought it best to keep it off the site. The Phantom Thieves were intrigued, so, the admin asked me to meet with Nakanohara, pretend I was a Phantom Thief, and get information on Madarame. Nakanohara gave me your name."

"That sounds suspiciously complicated."

The kid's mask falters a bit, but then he shakes his head. "It's the truth. So, there's your information. The Phantom Thieves are real. They're going to target Madarame. Want to help?"

"Why not put Madarame's name on the website? It's not like he'd believe it."

The kid smiles. "The website will be set to private soon. As a way to protect identities. Soon, no one will be able to see the names. But, like I said, I know the admin. I could get you information off the site that no one else has."

Ohya is stuck. Something tells her that while this kid isn't telling the whole truth, he's not exactly lying either. "What's your name?" She asks.

Then he smiles. It is something to behold. "Is that important?"

Ohya's phone buzzes. She snatches it out of her pocket and reads the text message. "Sssshhhhiiiiitttt," she moans.

"Something wrong?" The boy asks.

"I've got to go, the boss needs me." She glares over at him. "So, let's say, hypothetically, I believe you. How would I contact you?"

"Tell me a good time, and I'll call you."

She narrows her eyes. "You're not as inept as you look. This weekend. Anytime is fine."

Ohya stands, but the boy turns towards her. "Hey, I gave you some information. How about you give me something?"

She turns back to look at him, frowning. "Hey, Lala-chan!" She calls. Lala turns and stares. Ohya points to her drink. "Put that on my tab." Lala rolls her eyes, but nods. Then, Ohya leans in towards the boy. "I'll give you a name. You connect the dots." He stares at her, expectantly. "Yusuke Kitagawa." Then, she turns and jogs out of the bar. Don't think I'm going to sit on this, kid. Next time we meet, I'll know exactly who you are.

#

She walks out the door and Akira lets his posture slip. Oh my god, that was insane! The woman had been indefatigable. Battering him and hitting him from all sides, he had almost given up and just split. Giving her information about the Phantom Thieves? He had no idea how he was going to do that without giving away vital secrets. He had completely winged the whole 'I know the admin' thing.

Akira shakes his head. And I've got exams tomorrow.

Faint music drifts through his ears, and a few hushed conversations catch his notice. He lets himself sit back and look around the interior of Crossroads bar. Velvet. Red. Very odd decor. Where the hell am I?

A glass is set before him. He looks up into the face of the bartender. She smiles.

"What's this?" He asks, looking down at the brown liquid.

"A drink. You look like you need one," she replies.

"Um," Akira replies. "Sorry, but I'm actually seventeen."

"Yes, darling, I figured you were. That's why this is a special drink."

Akira lifts it up and looks closer. "What is it?"

"A Jack and Coke, minus the Jack," she says. Akira remembers that Ohya had called her, Lala-chan.

"Wouldn't that just make it a Coke?"

"Oh, you're so smart!" She chuckles and leans her elbows against the counter. "Word to the wise, young man. Whatever scheme you're concocting with that young lady, keep your head. She's a good girl, a great girl, but she skews towards drama and trouble."

"Great, another one," Akira says, and takes a sip of the soda.

"Another one?" Lala asks.

He shakes his head and waves his hand. "Oh, sorry. You wouldn't want to hear about it."

"Sweetie, I stand behind a bar all day and serve drinks, I hear everyone's problems." She glances down the length of the bar. "And it's rather slow right now, sad to say. So, come on, tell Lala Escargot your troubles."

He starts to smile. Then he stops. "I guess I just wish I knew what I was doing," he says. Why not? Where the hell am I, after all? What's going to happen? "Every day, I just react. I keep trying to put things together but it never seems to work. Something out of left field happens, and then I have to react to that. All my friends keep relying on me, and I don't know if I can meet their expectations. And there's this girl…" He trails off.

"Ah, I see," Lala Escargot says.

"Huh?" Akira asks.

"Well, obviously, you're worried about all the things you just said, but what you're really concerned about is this girl. So, is she pretty?"

Akira looks at her for a long, hard moment. "I think she's the most amazing girl I've ever met."

"Wow," Lala says, and throws back her head in a hearty laugh. "You've got it bad."

Akira snickers and shakes his head. "No, it's not like that."

She slaps a drying rag down on the wooden bar. Akira jumps at the little SNAP it makes. "Listen here, young man. I know a thing or two. And anyone who describes a woman as 'the most amazing' obviously has a thing for her. So, man up, and do something about it."

"But I can't!"

"And why not?"

Akira drops his head forward. "I don't know if she's on my side."

"On your side?"

"It's… complicated."

She frowns. "Uh-huh. Well, look. Too many relationships either die before they can really start, or crash and burn, because the people aren't honest with each other. If you don't know if she's on your side or not, ask her. And tell her what you just told me."

Akira takes one last swig of his soda. "You make is sound simple."

"Honey, most things are simple. It's just that most people don't think they should be simple, and make them more complicated."

Akira laughs and then lets out a sigh. "You know, I actually feel better."

Lala bows. "Then I've done my job as a bartender. Now, get going. It's late. And if I'm not mistaken, it's still exam season, is it not?"

Akira pales. "It is."

Lala waves him away from the bar. "Well, scoot! Get moving! Don't worry about the drink, I'll make you a tab. What's your name?"

"Akira Kurusu," he says.

Lala grins. "And you can call me Lala Escargot, Akira Kurusu. Feel free to come back anytime and pay your tab. Now, get going. And be careful! Shinjuku is dangerous at night. If anyone gives you any trouble, you tell them that you're a friend of mine, and they'll back right the hell off!"

Akira agrees to do so, and leaves Crossroads, feeling a lot better than he had when he walked in.

##

A/N: Thank you for reading and have a great weekend! I'll see you on Monday!