5/22
When Yusuke wakes, the mud in his brain allows just two thoughts, each scrambling over the other to be the first to coherence.
'Where am I?' and 'How long was I out this time?' It takes only a moment for both to flutter through his mind, and Yusuke pushes up into a sitting position.
He is on some kind of table, lined in ruffled, coarse paper. The room he's in is a vile cerulean blue. An assortment of paraphernalia catches his eye. A glass cylinder of cotton balls. Charts he cannot decipher, strewn upon the wall. A stethoscope, tossed onto a desk, as if in haste. A doctor's office? The last he remembers, he'd been at the batting cages in Yongen-jaya. Ann was there. And Akira, with his questions. And the hooligan. Had they brought him here? He can remember the fight, and his outrage at their false motives. The hunger has sapped the anger from him.
All he wants now, is to go home.
He spies his school bag in the corner. Convenient. Regardless of their justifications, Yusuke did not consent to being brought here, and will walk out and never return.
He inches the door to the exam room open, and spies an empty hall. Shouldering his bag, he steps out and begins his escape. He's no idea which way is out, but the hall is small enough. He creaks open another door at the end, and finds what appears to be a lobby. Smiling at his deduction, he slides out, and hears a voice that halts him.
"...waiting for hours! I called yesterday. Why hasn't anyone shown up yet?" The voice is a woman's, smooth, but edged and frustrated. There is a break in the wall that leads to another office, and Yusuke pokes his head around the side, to find a dark-haired woman in a fetching white coat speaking into a phone. She holds it out before her face, as if her anger could be better transmitted through the signal by position of the phone. "I want someone from the police here, now. Do you not take abuse like this seriously?"
There is a muffled, garbled response that Yusuke cannot hear.
"It's being 'processed?' What the hell does that mean?" Another static reply. "No! Do not put me back on hold. Get up, and walk into your supervisor's office. Tell him to get his or her ass down here. This is a kid who is not being fed properly. I'm telling you, it's child abuse."
Child abuse? He blinks. Could she be referring to him? He almost wants to laugh at the thought, but the intensity of the woman's voice permits no such thing. He wonders, briefly, if he should make his presence known. He's sure he could clear this whole thing up. But she seems unable to comprehend reason at the moment, given her spitfire conversation. No. I need to get back to Sensei. He has to explain this to him. He'll know what to do.
Resolute, he ducks down, and sneaks his way past the window to the office. Then, he is out the door, and walking as quickly as he can down the street.
The fatigue grabs him, and spotting a convenience store on the corner, he pauses. He stares at the building for a long time, then walks inside. He buys a candy bar with the smattering of coins in his pocket, and devours it outside.
"Damn," he whispers, once done. He knows this is a stressful situation, but to do something so rash and foolish doesn't become him. No matter the pain of the hunger, to endure it would ensure his future as an artist.
He shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. There are two missed messages. He blinks. He hadn't been home for the whole night. He had expected more. It didn't matter. Both were from Madarame.
He dials his Sensei's number, and the ring lasts for only a millisecond before it's answered and he hears a voice say, "Where are you?" It is Madarame, but different somehow. Gruff and angry and on edge.
Yusuke sighs. "I'm sorry I worried you, Sensei. I was out in Yongen-jaya and I passed out. It appears some young people took me to a local clinic. I have to see you. There are making some horrid accusations and-"
"Listen to me," Madarame barks, and Yusuke shuts his mouth. "I need you to get to Kosei High. Now."
Yusuke blinks. "But... it's Sunday."
"Never mind that. I've set up a meeting with Principal Oryu. It is imperative that you be there."
"But, we need to talk about what this doctor is-"
"Are you telling me what to do now?" Madarame asks.
"No," Yusuke replies, and he feels and hears his voice crack a little. "But, is this meeting essential? Can it not wait until tomorrow?"
"No," Madarame snaps. "It can't. Get to Kosei."
The call ends.
Yusuke stands on the sidewalk, his stomach roiling at the injection of strange food, his mind - still exhausted- bouncing about, trying to make sense of everything. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and marches to the subway station.
#
It doesn't take him long to get to the school. Yongen-jaya is only one station from Shibuya, after all, and though the train is particularly sweltering, he manages the journey with little physical discomfort. It is the mental anguish that plagues him. Given the seriousness of the doctor's accusations, Yusuke cannot understand why Sensei would set up a meeting at his school on a Sunday.
Kosei is an immaculate building, shining in the sun and modern by architectural standards. Though not as well-known as schools like Shujin, it is no less prestigious.
Yusuke makes his way up to the front entrance, opens the door, and bathes in the A/C for a few moments, before continuing on to the second floor, where Principal Oryu keeps his office.
When he knocks, he hears a short, "Come in," and enters. He finds Principal Oryu, slight and bespectacled, seated at his desk, his fingers in a steeple before his face.
Madarame sits alongside him, his chair just a bit askew from the desk itself.
There is a look on his face. It makes Yusuke very uncomfortable.
"Kitagawa," Principal Oryu says, and collapses the steeple to gesture towards the sole empty chair, across the desk from both of them. "Have a seat."
"Of course," Yusuke says, and slides into it. Neither say anything, and Yusuke can't stop his hands from fidgeting. He folds them, then unfolds them, then tries to stick them in his pockets, and then refolds them once more. All in the span of seconds. "May I-"
"Let's get to the point," Oryu says, his voice heavy. He leans back in his chair, shakes his head, and states, "We know about the plagiarism."
The word is like a hammer to his stomach, but he remains upright, staring. Madarame's face has cracked, and he raises a hand to his eyes as if to spare the others from his tears, and glances away.
"Plagiarism?" Yusuke finally manages. "What're you talking about?" It wasn't plagiarism. I created those works at Sensei's direction. He created them as much as I. They're trying to ruin him! He wouldn't let them. "There is no such thing," Yusuke spits. "Sensei is-"
"Yusuke," Madarame moans. Yusuke's mouth shuts when he sees the look Sensei gives him. Horror, and sadness. "Yusuke," his master, the man who has raised him for thirteen years says, "How could you?"
Whatever thoughts Yusuke held in his mind, wink out. His mouth blurts nonsense. "Huh?"
"Madarame-san discovered the discrepancies," Principal Oryu states. "The pieces you've submitted to your classes. They are lifted directly from Madarame's personal studio. Some, from the very exhibit he's presently running."
Yusuke looks back and forth between the two men. "I don't understand." Then, he says it again. "I don't understand."
Madarame extends a single hand, and pats the air, as if trying to calm him down. "Yusuke, my boy, it's over. We know everything."
"I do not know what you hoped to accomplish," Oryu continues. "By passing Madarame-san's art off as your own. It is, disappointing." He shrugs. "But, we have no other choice. For such a gross violation of the academic policy, Yusuke Kitagawa, you are to be expelled from Kosei High School."
The words are like an electric shock. His brain kicks back online and he starts to shout, his voice high and weak. "No, wait! Please, there must be some mistake. I would never pass someone else's work off as my own, especially not Sensei's!" He looks to Madarame. "Please, you know me, Sensei. You know I wouldn't do this. I couldn't. This is wrong. Tell him, please."
"Yusuke," Madarame says. "Please, just stop."
"Stop what?" Yusuke demands. "I haven't done anything wrong. Please!"
Principal Oryu raises a hand, palm out. "That's enough, Kitagawa. This is a shameful display. Try to control yourself."
Yusuke looks back at him, and stands. "But you're accusing me of something I haven't done!" He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "This is clearly a mistake." He nods and forces a calm smile onto his face. "Sensei, they must've seen what I assisted you with for the exhibit. Tell them, I was involved with the creation of those pieces, and that I did so at your whim. That must be what this is all about. You know I'd never do something as reprehensible as cheat or pass another's work off as my own. It has to be that. Tell them how I helped you paint those pieces for the show."
And Madarame stares up at Yusuke, his eyes wide, and, replies, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
And Yusuke's heart breaks. "What do you mean?" He asks, his voice quiet and small. "I've helped you for years. Not just for this show. You've... you've..." He can't continue. The words will not come. The accusation is one he cannot make, even as it is leveled against him.
This isn't real. This isn't happening.
Oryu sighs. "I was hoping we could keep this civil, and not have you hurl such vile charges at the man who raised you. I suppose I should've expected as much, from a plagiarizer." The word is spoken with such malice, that Yusuke has to sit back down. Oryu folds his hands over each other. "The official process of expulsion will begin on Monday. I will file the paperwork for processing. By this time, next week, you will be expelled from Kosei High."
This isn't real. This isn't happening. Yusuke's mind drifts towards his options, but there's nothing. Without his scholarship, he has no money. Without Madarame, he has no place to live. Without his reputation, he will never be allowed to be an artist. The panic he feels triples. Am I homeless? Did I just become homeless? Then, another thought cuts through the others.
I'm going to die.
He will, too. There's no place left for him to go. He has no money. It's all over.
The others continue to speak, but he cannot hear them. He is falling somewhere. Somewhere deep and very far away.
#
Akira stares at his phone.
"What about...'circus?'" Ann asks.
He shrugs. "Put it on there."
Ryuji scribbles 'circus' across the page of the notebook. This was their last idea. A list of potential keywords for the Palace. Once they were done, their plan was to take it to the atelier, and repeat all of them until one hit.
It wasn't an elegant plan, but without any other leads, it was all they had.
"I still say we should investigate the storage unit," Morgana says.
Akira nods. "Yeah, I agree. But unless we've got Madarame's keycard, we can't get inside."
Ryuji looks up from the page. "Why do you think he's keeping a storage unit in Yusuke's mom's name?"
Ann frowns from where she sits on the couch. "Because he doesn't want anyone to know it's his, duh."
Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah, no shit. I know that. I'm asking, why name it after Yusuke's mom, and not... I dunno, some random dead person? Or someone who never existed?"
"Tribute?" Akira asks. "Who knows?" But the question does irk him. Why would he do something like that?
"If he treated her the same he's treated his other apprentices, that's some pretty effed up tribute," Ryuji grumbles.
Ann's phone vibrates. Akira watches as she glances at it, and her eyes widen. "Whoa, you guys! I just got a text from Yusuke."
The two boys and cat straighten. After Takemi's decision to call the police, the Thieves had split. The whole situation, with Yusuke's fainting, had put a damper on the rest of the day, but they had agreed to meet up at LeBlanc and discuss potential Palace keywords the next day. Akira had gone home and helped Sojiro out around the cafe, his eyes frequently traveling to the door, wondering if Takemi would go back on her word, and the police wouldn't march inside at any moment.
Nothing had happened, but that hadn't stopped the worrying. He hadn't heard from her. Part of him had wondered if he shouldn't head down there, and see what was happening. But if the police were there, he needed to be as far from them as he could be.
"What's he want?" Akira asks. "Is he okay?"
She frowns. "He wants to meet up."
#
Sojiro turns and holds out the plate, but when Akira reaches out to take it, he pulls it back, just a bit. "What's the deal with him?" He asks, and stabs his eyes upward. "The new one?"
"Yusuke?" Akira asks.
"If that's his name."
"He's a friend," he says. "And he's really hungry. I don't think he eats a lot."
Sojiro rolls his eyes. "I could see that. Kid looks like the offspring of a twig and an even thinner twig. He okay?"
A lot runs through his mind, so when he says, "He will once he's got some food in him," it comes out a lot harsher than he'd intended.
Sojiro's eyes narrow, but he hands the plate over, and says no more.
Akira takes the steps two at a time, careful not to spill anything, and finds the group arrayed about his room.
Yusuke, eyes dim and wandering, sits slumped on the couch. "This is quite spacious," he mumbles. Ann sits alongside him, a worried look on her face.
Ryuji leans against the railing, his arms crossed and foot tapping away. Morgana is perched on the bed, watching them all.
"Thanks," Akira says, as he sets the food on his table and drags it over for Yusuke. "Here. LeBlanc's special curry. Eat up."
Yusuke regards the food, and his face twists up. "Well, perhaps a bite or two would-"
"Screw that," Ryuji suddenly blurts. He marches over and slams both hands, splayed open on the table. "You'll eat all of it, dude. Because you freakin' need it. Malnutrition is not a damn joke!"
No one says anything. They just stare at him, eyes wide. Eventually, Ann manages a, "Ryuji..." and Akira shakes his head and pulls up his desk chair to the table.
Yusuke picks up the fork and leans over the food. Life quakes back into his eyes as he inhales the curry's smell, and to say he dives into it would be an understatement.
After devouring about half the food, he leans back, and mutters, "I apologize for my inexplicable presence."
Akira chuckles and shrugs. "Don't know if I'd call it 'inexplicable,' but don't worry about that. What's going on?"
His lips part, but he doesn't say anything for a few moments. "It would appear I've been expelled."
Everyone has their mixed reactions of outrage. Ryuji asks, "Expelled? Like, expelled, expelled?"
"Yes, that one," Yusuke says.
"Why?" Akira asks.
"How?" Ann asks.
Yusuke sighs. "I have been accused of plagiarism. Of stealing Sensei's work and passing it off as my own."
"For real?" Ryuji asks, shaking his head. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about? I thought Madarame was the piece of shit stealing from you!"
Yusuke slams a fist onto the table. "How many times must I say this? It is not plagiarism! Sensei requested my help on several pieces, and I did so because I was his apprentice. That is what an apprentice does!"
"Bullshit," Ryuji spits back. "An apprentice helps his Sensei with his work. He doesn't do all the work for the Sensei so that the Sensei can say it's his own!"
"Ryuji's right," Ann says. "I'm pretty sure that's the actual definition of plagiarism."
"Look," Akira says, when he sees Yusuke's mouth open in further protest. "Just tell us what happened, okay? We dropped you off at the clinic yesterday. What's next?"
Yusuke walks them through his day, in between forkfuls of food. It is a long, rambling story, with Akira requesting a course correction several times throughout. When he reaches the end, the others sit in silence.
Then, Akira stands. "I'll be right back."
The others watch him go, but no one moves to follow him. He descends the stairs, crosses through the empty cafe - beneath Sojiro's eye - and steps outside.
He pulls the burner from his pocket and dials Ohya.
"'ello?" She yawns into the phone.
"Were you sleeping or something?" Akira asks.
"Power napping. It's a thing. What'd you want?"
Akira sighs and says, "Yusuke Kitagawa got expelled from Kosei High today."
When Ohya speaks next, her voice is awake, calm, and authoritative. "Tell me everything."
Akira relates Yusuke's story, and at the end, asks, "Could you come over and explain things to him?"
There's a brief silence. Then, "So, he got tipped off, huh? Must've been the police. Damn. The Yakuza and the police? How many people does this creep know?"
"Hello?" Akira asks.
"Hm? Oh, no, sorry. I can't come over now. I'm busy."
"I thought you said you were napping."
"The nap was a prelude to work. Madarame isn't my only story."
"But you can use this, right? Madarame clearly got Yusuke expelled because he thought his little scam was in a danger."
"Honestly? It's a he-said, he-said, Akira. And Madarame has a lot more oomph behind his he-said. If Yusuke goes public with accusations against Madarame, everyone will see him as just another pissed off teenager raging against the kind-hearted man who took him in and cared for him."
Akira opens his mouth to protest, but then realizes he doesn't have one in him. "Yeah. You're right. Shit."
"Sorry, Akira. That's how the world works. We're going to need another angle to get to Madarame."
"I know," Akira says.
He returns upstairs and tells everyone about his conversation.
"For real?" Ryuji asks, eyes wide. "She's not going to do anything? I thought she was gonna blow this whole story wide open!"
"But she's got a point," Akira says. "No one will believe Yusuke."
"But it's the truth!" Ryuji shouts.
Akira grinds his teeth together before he snaps, "And you should know by now that that doesn't matter. The truth is all about perception. Even if we gave facts, even if we had proof, people are just going to see Madarame as a beloved saint, and Yusuke as a bitter former apprentice."
Yusuke stares at the ground, his hands clasped together. "I... don't know what to do."
Ann lays a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to figure this out, Yusuke. We're going to help you."
Ryuji throws his hands in the air. "Great, so it's back to the drawing board. And Madarame gets to keep churning out paintings and kids like they're on some kind of damn conveyor belt!"
Akira's eyes widen. The wheels in his head begin to spin. "Dude," he says, and looks up at Ryuji. "That's it."
"Huh?" Ryuji asks.
"What'd you mean?" Morgana meows, from where he sits on the bed.
"C'mon," Akira says, and stands. "We've got to go."
"Where?" Ann asks, looking nonplussed.
"The atelier," he replies.
Yusuke stiffens. "Why? I do not think a confrontation with Madarame is something I can handle right now, and-"
"Actually," Akira says. "You should stay here. It's fine. Just… don't make a lot of noise, and rest." The shadow of another plan forms in his mind. He stands still, and stares straight ahead.
Think. Think it through.
He fights to keep a smile from his face. "Yeah, you should definitely stay here. It's too dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Yusuke asks, and stands. "Just what is it you intend to do?"
Akira ignores this and looks over at Ryuji. "I think I just figured it out."
The boy's eyes widen. "The keyword?"
"Seriously?" Morgana asks, hopping down from the bed.
"Wait, wait," Ann says, patting the air with her hands. "You want to go right now?"
"Why not?" Akira asks, turning to her. "It's not too late."
"I demand to know what you're all talking about," Yusuke states. "It very clearly concerns me and Madarame-sensei. If you are going to the atelier, I will accompany you."
Akira shakes his head. "Yusuke, it's fine. Just relax and-"
"I will accompany you!" Yusuke shouts, and stamps his foot on the floorboards.
Akira runs his hand through his hair and makes a show of thinking about it. "Well, okay."
Ryuji breaks into a grin.
Ann's eyes narrow.
#
They arrive at the atelier with the moon high in the sky. It is a dark night, but hot. Everyone chatters as they approach, but Akira has kept quiet for most of the trip, running through his plan in his head. He's sure he hasn't made a mistake.
When they stop outside the building, he turns to them. "Ready?"
Yusuke stares at the atelier, and says, "What is about to happen, Akira?"
Akira puts a hand on his shoulder. "Something really, really weird. You don't have to be here, Yusuke. You can go back to LeBlanc."
He shakes his head. "No. I will stay."
"Alright," Akira says. "But if you do, you have to promise that you won't say anything about this to anyone. We're trusting you, yeah?"
Yusuke frowns, and Ann takes a step forward. "Hey, Akira, wait a second. Let's-"
"Very well," Yusuke says. "Provided we are not about to murder Madarame-sensei, my lips are sealed. I choose to trust you."
Akira smiles. A smile he hasn't worn for some time. "Great. Thank you." He turns to the others, and pulls out his phone. "We were thinking about it all wrong. We thought of Madarame as an artist. And we figured the Palace would reflect that. But, Madarame isn't an artist." He nods to Ryuji. "It's like you said, man. He churns out kids like they're on a conveyor belt. Mass production. Inventory." The others just stare. Akira opens the Nav, and dials into Madarame's Palace.
His grin grows. "Factory."
"Match Found."
The world shifts.
##
A/N: That Madarame sure is a swell guy, isn't he?
A few of you guessed the Palace's keyword, and a few of you were 99.5% of the way there. But, we'll just have to wait until Monday to see the inside. ;)
Sorry about the late post, I was feeling a bit under the weather thanks to the bad weather I weathered yesterday in Jersey. Snow, man. That shit's no joke.
Thank you very much for reading, and have a great weekend!
UPDATE: For whatever reason, wasn't working on Friday, when I initially tried to post this chapter. Seems fine now, though.