6/9

There are more cables than Akira thought there'd be. They crisscross the floor of the studio in a snowflake matrix, running from cameras to power supplies to lights to outlets, all beneath and around the bodies of the students, eyes bright and guzzling of the spring from which their televised fantasies dribble. Their mouths admit a collective buzz, even as the tour guide - or whoever she is - pontificates of the joys and genius of modern broadcasting. "...why alluring newswomen are put on at night..."

Akira stands away from this gaggle, back to the studio's warm wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes glazed and bored. His friends stand to either side of him. Ryuji taps his foot in mock irritation. Ann flicks her hair and checks her nails in a slow cycle.

Morgana whispers from Akira's bag. "Are we all set?"

Three of the students all together cast glances at Akira and his friends, but Ryuji scowls them into turning away. "Ann and I burned everything we could find last night."

"That's not all that got burned," Ann whispers, a smile tugging at her mouth.

Akira doesn't ask her to elaborate. "Once we're out of here, we'll head to LeBlanc," he tells them. "Ann and I will meet with them inside. Ryuji, Morgana, you guys take Yusuke and watch the neighborhood. If you see anything suspicious, call us."

"Sure I shouldn't be there?" Ryuji asks, crossing his arms.

"Sure I shouldn't be there?" Morgana whispers.

"Sure I should be there?" Ann asks.

Akira nods. "The fewer of us that are in one place, the better, and it's probable they've pieced together what Ann knows. Plus, I don't trust Yusuke to patrol all of Yongen-jaya by himself. He'll need your help."

"Roger," Morgana says.

Ryuji nods. "You got it."

Akira's gaze drifts over to the other group of students separated from the mass in the center. Makoto and Haru stand to the side, by themselves, bodies turned towards one another in what was likely scheming. As one, the two turn and stare towards the three of them.

The texts had come in the early AM.

MAKOTO: After the school trip. We meet. No debate.

Akira had deliberated setting LeBlanc as the meeting point for some time, but during breakfast Sojiro had announced an 'all afternoon' shopping trip, and so the cafe would be unattended. Besides, it put him in his home turf, and that was supposed to be an advantage, right? It's not as if they don't already know about it. He'd sent her the location, and time. Nothing else.

MAKOTO: Acceptable.

Kawakami-sensei steps between the two groups, and announces in a voice that echoes through the room. "Oh no." Conversations die and all eyes turn to her.

"I have left something on the bus," she declares. Her head rotates towards Akira. "Kurusu, won't you help me with it?"

All eyes shift to him. Are you freaking kidding me? He feels Morgana snuggle deeper in the bag. "Uh, sure," he mutters, straightening.

"What's this about?" Ann whispers through her teeth.

"Nothing," Akira tells her.

Kawakami's body swivels towards Makoto and Haru. "Niijima, would you mind taking over until I return with the thing I forgot on the bus?"

Akira hears her reply of, "Oh, of course," and then Kawakami is power-walking out of the studio, and Akira can do nothing but follow.

She leads him from the warren, excusing their way past dozens who bullet the corridors, all too busy to care who they are.

The outside air is bloated and about as cool as the inside air.

"Are we actually going to the bus?" Akira asks.

Kawakami whips around, hands white-knuckled on her hips. Thinking of her hips makes him think of her maid outfit which makes him swallow which makes Kawakami's eyes narrow.

"Because," he continues. "It's going to look pretty weird if we come back without something from the bus. Because, you know, you told everyone we were going to the bus. And-"

"Stop talking."

Akira obeys.

Kawakami heaves a sigh. Her shoulders slump forward, her head tilts to the side, her face slackens. "How can you be so flippant about all this?"

He doesn't have an answer so he doesn't give one. He can feel Morgana shift around in the bag, straining to hear through the muffling fabric.

We've got enough going on, he thinks. We shouldn't have to be dealing with this.

"Look," he says, and shrugs. "I don't see the big deal. Principal Toko wants you to tutor me on Friday nights. If anyone asks, I'll say you did."

"It's not that simple, Kurusu." She jabs a finger at his chest. "She's not wrong. I've noticed you slipping up too. I'm not sure what it is that has you distracted, but half the time in class, you look like you can barely keep your eyes open." Her face pouts. "Are you really working all those jobs?"

"Yes," he tells her, and straightens. "I am."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, fine. Whatever. The point is, if your grades keep going down, the Principal will zero in on me. Why did I let it happen? Didn't I do enough? So, here's what's going to happen. I'm tutoring you on Friday nights."

Akira can't meet her eyes when he asks, "But aren't you, uh, doing the thing?"

Kawakami frowns. "Yes, Kurusu, I'm doing the thing." She crosses her arms, replants her feet and states, "On Friday nights, you'll call and order Becky. She'll show up. She'll tutor you. You pay the rate. And this goes on until your grades begin to improve."

Akira tries to squeeze this through his mind. "You want me to order your maid service so you can tutor me?"

Kawakami jabs a thumb towards her face. "I get ordered and get to keep my job. You get tutored and keep your grades up. That's what they call a win-win."

"And wait, you want me to pay you?" He runs through the numbers in his head. Five thousand yen every Friday night totaled a – what Ryuji would call – shit-ton of yen.

"Of course you're going to have to pay me," she snaps. "That's how transactions work." She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. "Maybe this isn't the best outcome for you. Too bad. It's not perfect for me either. But this way, we both get some degree of what we want, and it keeps the Principal off our backs."

Akira purses his lips and shifts his weight. "She stops harping about my grades, and no one finds out you moonlight as a maid."

Red blossoms in Kawakami's cheeks, and she averts her eyes, but does say, "Exactly."

He lets his mind spin, wishing he could talk with Morgana without Kawakami noticing. Who knows if I'll even be at Shujin in the coming days? Hell, I could be in jail by this time tomorrow. In the end, he has enough on his plate for today, and needs this interaction to be over with.

"Okay," he tells her. "That's what we'll do."

Kawakami looks like she doesn't quite believe him, but nods and pulls out her phone. "Let's exchange numbers. I can text you when it's a good time to order me."

"This is so weird," he mumbles, as he draws out his own phone.

#

When they return, Akira and Kawakami find the classes have moved to a massive soundstage one level down. All are seated as audience members, and a man on stage gesticulates wildly, his words booming, but little more than whitenoise to Akira's ears. He spies the words, 'Boys and Girls in the City!' backlit in neon across the stage's wall.

"Find a seat," Kawakami whispers, and vanishes into the shadows.

Akira hunches over and makes his way to Ryuji and Ann, who sit near the back, as the man goes on about the rules of the game.

Whatever he says elicits a mostly feminine cackle from the audience.

"What's going on?" Akira asks, as he slides into a chair and takes his pack from his shoulder. Morgana's head pops out, and his ears flex.

Ryuji yawns and hands Akira a slip of paper. "I dunno. Here you go, man. We each got one. Dudes got even numbers, chicks got the odds."

Ann leans forward, and peers at him from over Ryuji's lap. "What did Kawakami-sensei want?"

Akira considers a lie, then realizes he doesn't have to. "She, um, wants to tutor me."

Ryuji's eyes widen, and a smirk threatens to break out across his face. "'Tutor' you, eh?"

Akira jabs him with his elbow, and Morgana hisses up at them. "Forget about all that! Did anything happen while we were outside? Did Makoto or Haru say anything to you guys?"

The man on stage calls out, "Will Miss Number Seventeen, please stand up!"

Ryuji shakes his head as a great cacophony of squeals shoot into the air. "Nah, no one said anything."

Again, from the stage. "Isn't she lovely folks! Come on up here, Miss!"

Ann nods. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she whispers. "They haven't reported us to the police yet, so maybe they won't?"

Ryuji casts a glance at her. "You sayin' you trust Niijima now?"

The announcer's voice booms. "And for the boys, Number Fourteen!"

Akira frowns at Ann and shakes his head. "I hope that's true too. But we can't be sure."

"Akira's right, Lady Ann," Morgana puts in. "Could be they want a straight confession out of us."

"Number Fourteen?"

"I know," Ann insists. "But if they can really get to Mementos, what more evidence could they need? Isn't her sister like a Public Prosecutor? Couldn't she have just gone straight to her?"

"Number Fourteeeeeen, where are you? Are you shy?"

Akira shrugs. "Maybe she's waiting. She's waiting to deliver us in one big, wrapped up package."

Ryuji clears his throat. "Uh, dude?"

"Hey look," Ann says, patting the air defensively. "You know I've got my issues with Niijima, but if we could-"

"Seriously, Number Fourteen, where are you?"

"-I don't know, be done with this whole thing, wouldn't that be for the best? We still have to figure out if someone else can get access to the Metaverse."

Akira rolls his eyes. "You mean, beside Makoto and Haru apparently?"

Ryuji smacks his shoulder. "Dude, Akira!"

"What?" Akira asks, rubbing the spot.

Ryuji doesn't reply, just points at the piece of paper in Akira's hand.

He looks down.

Number Fourteen.

"Number Fourteen, you sure are taking your sweet time," the annoucer calls out, trying to sound jovial through gritted teeth. "But if you could please stand up so we can get this game started, that'd be appreciated. We are on a schedule here."

Akira does not mean to stand up. It's just that the shock of what he holds in his hands is so great he can't help but recoil from it. His call of "Crap," is stifled as he trips over the back of his chair and sprawls out onto his back. A mixture of gasps and giggles rise from around him.

Ryuji and Ann start to rise. Morgana stuffs himself back into the bag.

The announcer beams. "There he is! Finally!" He motions. "Come on down!"

Akira pushes himself to his feet and holds out the paper towards Ryuji. "Switch with me."

Ryuji's head shakes so fast it looks set to snap. "Nuh-uh, bro."

"Switch with me," Akira demands, reaching for Ryuji's paper.

"No," Ryuji shouts, and scrunches up, protecting his number with his body.

"Please!"

"No!"

"Hey," the announcer spits. "Number Fourteen, let's go."

"Stop acting suspicious," Morgana hisses from the bag. "Just get it over with."

Akira sighs, swallows and steps out into the aisle.

The announcer's grin returns. "Let's give him a hand!" A smattering of applause answers. The man looks nonplussed. "Uh, alright. Well, come on up, Number Fourteen, and join the lovely Miss Number Seventeen on stage!"

Akira's eyes focus on the figure standing on the stage next to the announcer.

The blood red face of Makoto Niijima stares back at him, through wide eyes.

"Fuck my life," he sighs.

#

Don't panic.

Akira hauls himself to the stage, spares her hardly a glance, and collapses into one of the two chairs arranged for them.

Don't panic.

He's left his bag and phone with Sakamoto. She saw him relinquish them upon accepting his fate.

As calm as she can, Makoto arrays herself in the chair left to her. What feels like a million faces stare at her from the audience. Through the shadowed expressions, she finds Haru, who looks as if she can't decide how to look. Eventually the girl settles on mouthing, "Do your best," and finishes with a shrug.

She considers calculating the odds of this actually happening, but dismisses it as a waste of time. This is happening. Akira meets her eyes, a strange look hanging on his face. She tries to read it. Tries to discern what he wants her to know, but can't make sense of it.

Makoto tries to reply with her own telling look. Let's just downplay this. If they could get through whatever nonsense this was, they could get to their meeting, and Makoto would finally, finally have the truth. She hoped. She knew.

The announcer – who declares himself Goto-kun – parrots some stage antics. He hops around and shouts into the microphone, and it's not that Makoto tries to ignore him, it's only that she can't seem to organize her thoughts. What the hell even is this whole thing? Goto-kun had gone on at length about it, but she'd been so focused on the upcoming Phantom Thieves meeting she hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention.

Goto-kun shoves the microphone in her face. She stares up at him.

"I said, what's your name?"

"Makoto Niijima," she mumbles. The scramble the mic butchers of her voice makes her wince.

The man bounds over to Akira, flourishes his device, and asks the same question. "Akira Kurusu," he mutters.

Goto-kun throws his hands into the air and shouts, "Alright," then retreats across the stage. The cameras turn to follow him, and a few people dressed in black swarm the stage, handing Akira and Makoto pens and large sheets of white marker board, and outfitting each of them with a small mic snapped to their collars.

"First question!" Goto-kun declares once they've both been equipped.

Akira raises his hand. "What are we doing again?"

Goto's smile flickers to something nastier, and returns just as quickly. "As I said, we're going to ask you questions about one another. Think of them as compatibility measurement tools. Do your best to answer, even if you have to guess."

"But, sir?" Makoto puts in. "We don't know each other that well."

Goto sweeps his hand in a very clear, 'Cut it,' gesture. The cameras darken, and he turns to them. "That's the point. It's a game, get it? Just a game. None of us want to be here, yeah? But the studio thought it would be fun to let you kids see a live taping. So, answer the questions and we can keep things moving. And for God's sake, pretend like you're having a good time." He leans back in his chair, and brings his index and middle finger to his neck, as if to check his pulse. "I should've listened to my father and gone to work at the bank," he mutters. He spares them one more glare. "Act like you've got a crush on one another, or something." He returns his eyes to the cameras, re-adorns his smile, and gestures.

The lights come back on. "Sorry about that folks! First question. Makoto-chan! Akira-kun! Have you ever met one another before?"

Makoto hears a pen click, and turns to find Akira scrawling his answer on the marker board.

What's he putting? What should I put? She considers, 'No,' but enough students have seen them studying together to recognize her lie. She writes her answer.

"And, reveal," Goto calls.

Akira and Makoto turn their boards around to face the cameras. Both read, 'Yes.' There's a collective murmuring among the students, and Goto-kun claps his hands. "Fantastic," he cries. "That makes this all so much better!" He rubs his hands together. "Let's get into the nitty gritty then, shall we?" A few appreciative whoops rise from the audience. "Tell us, you two, what do you both think of one another?"

Makoto feels her throat dry. She steals a glance at Akira, who meets it and gives a slight shake of his head.

"Hey now," Goto shouts, with a laugh. "No cheating!"

Makoto frowns. Now what? She rubs out her first answer with her hand, and lowers the tip of the pen to the board. What do I think of Akira? That was something of a tricky question. Something innocuous would be best. She hears the squeak of the pen. Akira, looking bored, writes something. Dammit, what the hell is he putting?

Grimacing, she writes something down quick as she can.

"Okay," Goto states, once they've finished. "We'll have Makoto-chan reveal first. Go ahead!"

Makoto swallows and turns her board around.

Goto's smile falters. "'Wears glasses?' Well, uh," he takes a look at Akira, "I suppose that's true. We were kind of looking for something a bit more personal, Makoto-chan."

Akira looks to be stifling a grin. "Alright then," Goto continues. "Why don't you show us what you think of Makoto-chan, Akira-kun?"

Akira spins his board around. It reads 'Very Diligent.' He deadpans a look over at Makoto, who - before she can help herself - chokes out a laugh.

Goto lets out a, "Hmmm," before shaking his head and saying, "No good. No good at all!" He grins at the audience. "I guess we'll have to take things up a notch."

Makoto lifts her eyes to the lights hanging above the stage and wills one to fall on her.

No luck.

"Question Number Three," Goto shouts. "Akira-kun, Makoto-chan! Do you find the other cute?"

Makoto feels red explode in her cheeks. Akira looks equally uncomfortable. Both look everywhere but at one another.

I should put, 'No, right? But if I do that, won't it come off as mean? And would that put a damper on the meeting later? But what happens if I put, 'Yes?' Wouldn't that be even worse? She stares at the announcer and his plastic grin. I'd like to kick those teeth in. She searches the crowd for Haru, and when she finds her, gives her friend the most beseeching look she can muster.

Haru's response is a shrug and a giggle.

Thanks a lot.

She hears Akira sigh and start to write something.

Oh, God. What's he writing? She hadn't considered what he could put. Screw it! She writes an answer.

Goto chuckles. "I suspect we've finally gotten to the good stuff. Akira-kun, reveal!"

Akira's eyes widen. "Wait, me first?"

"That's right," Goto nods.

Akira turns his over. Murmurs erupt from the audience.

He's written, 'Very.' Makoto fights the urge to cover her face with the marker board, and losses.

"Oh ho!" Goto exclaims. "Looks like Makoto-chan is embarrassed! Good on you to be honest, Akira-kun. She is quite cute, yeah?" He throws back his head and laughs. "It's your turn now, Makoto-chan."

She lets out a groan and turns hers' around.

"'Partially?'" She hears Akira mumble. She lets out a larger grown.

More excited whispers from the students.

"I have a suspicion," Goto says. "Makoto-chan is being a bit dishonest." Laughter. He pats the air. "Alright, alright. Let's switch over to some guesswork, yes?" He makes a point of looking like he's thinking. Then, he brightens. "This should be an easy one. Why don't you both write down what you think the other's favorite TV show is?"

Akira doesn't hesitate, but Makoto feels stuck. I don't know the first thing about his watching habits. Not to mention she's still mortified from the last question. She glances at him. He seems more the bookish type. She shakes her head and takes a guess.

"Alright, Makoto-chan, show us," Goto shouts.

Makoto turns over her board, revealing the 'One Piece' that she wrote.

A few people, "Oooh," in the audience.

Goto nods. "Good choice. Good choice. What'd you think, Akira-kun? Was she right?"

Akira shrugs and mutters something.

"Speak up so we all can hear," Goto reminds him.

Akira clears his throat and says, "I've only watched the first few episodes of that."

Goto sighs. "Looks like your guess was a bit off the mark, Makoto-chan. Akira-kun, what did you write?"

Akira holds his aloft. 'Buchimaru-kun,' is scribbled across it.

"Wow," Goto says. "I haven't heard that name in a while." He looks at Makoto. "Is he correct?"

Makoto forces herself to nod.

Goto laughs. "Wow, you really do have a cute side," he states. Makoto hears a few chuckles from the audience and slides down in her seat.

"Terrace House," Akira coughs out.

Makoto's eyes snap to him, as do Goto's. She feels the weight of the audience's attention shift to him as well.

"What's that, Akira-kun?"

"My favorite show is Terrace House," he repeats.

A voice from the audience - a voice that sounds very much like Sakamoto's - shouts out, "Lame," and the audience begins to laugh.

Akira reddens, but doesn't cow beneath it. Instead, he glances her way, and gives her a small smile. She mouths back, "Thank you," then curses herself for it. She hadn't asked for any help! God, he is impossible! She narrows her eyes. She'll get him in the next round.

"Next question," Goto continues. "What is the other's favorite activity?"

Makoto smiles and jots down her answer. Akira does the same.

When the announcer calls for them to flip their boards, Makoto shows first, and keeps her smile to a minimum, even as the crowd gapes at the 'Trouble,' she wrote.

Akira blanches from where he sits, but then she reads his, 'Investigating,' and she fears her eyes may fall from her head.

"Investigating?" Goto asks. "What'd you mean by that?"

"It's nothing," Akira replies, and wipes the board clean. "Just an inside joke."

"Oh, an inside joke, folks," he says. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the 'Trouble,' she suggests Akira-kun is into."

The crowd continues to talk amongst themselves, and Makoto begins to fear she may have done Akira a disservice.

But there's nothing for it now.

The game continues for a time, and Makoto feels as if she'll drown in her sweat. A few more questions are asked, and thankfully, they seem to have both agreed to downplay the rest and get it over as quickly as possible.

"Well now," Goto states. "Quite an exhilarating Round One, wasn't it folks?"

Akira and Makoto glance at one another. He mouths, "Round One?" and pales.

"But," Goto continues. "We've got another activity in store for these two today! But, before we get to that, Akira-kun sure seemed a little off, yes? A little dry?"

No one replies. Then, someone - again, Sakamoto - shouts, "He sure does!"

Goto beams. "Then let's fix that!" He points up, and Makoto follows his finger to the rafters above, where a number of black-clad stage hands are overturning a bucket over Akira's head.

A green slime-like fluid falls from the ceiling and douses Akira in his chair, muffling his, "What the fu-" before it can fully escape him.

The green sloshes over him and drips to the floor. A great silence stretches over the room, until it is broken by uproarious laughter and applause. Akira pulls his glasses from his face, and two eyes stare out from beneath the muck.

Makoto keeps her mouth shut. She tells herself that it was a horrible trick. A mean thing to do. But she can't restrain herself for long. As Akira wipes away some of the viscous whatever from his face, Makoto bursts into giggles that turn to gales of laughter.

He glares up at her, but she cannot help it. Akira makes an attempt to stand, slips in the muck on the ground, and collapses onto his butt. Makoto claps her hands over her mouth, and squeezes her eyes shut.

Goto looks at the camera and calls, "We'll be right back!" The lights dim a bit. He turns to the two. "Here's the deal. You two will be set up with everything you need and directed to the obstacle course downstairs. Don't keep us waiting, got it?" He stomps off, and ignores Makoto as she cries out, "Set up with what?" and Akira shouts, "Did you say 'obstacle course?'"

The students chatter amongst themselves, and a din rises over her. Makoto stares out and finds Haru's smiling face. She offers a thumbs up and mouths, "You did great!" Even silent, it doesn't sound convincing.

On the other side of the studio, she can make out the two blonde heads of Takamaki and Sakamoto, whispering together. Behind them, Kawakami-sensei's grin appears to split her face.

"Don't mind me," Akira says, and drags himself to his feet. "I'll be fine."

She glances over at him. "I think you should know-"

"Save it," he tells her. "This isn't the time or place for all that."

She narrows her eyes. "Yes, Akira. I know that. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say that 'I think you should know that that green stuff smells terrible."

Akira flicks some of it off his hands. "Sometimes I think I must've been a homicidal maniac in a past life to get this much shit, this constantly."

Makoto smiles. "You should stow the self-pity. Our ordeal isn't over yet." A stagehand motions for them to follow her, and Makoto obeys.

She hears the squish squish of Akira's feet behind her. "It never is," he mutters.

#

Makoto stares at herself in the makeup room's mirror. "This is not appropriate."

"I think you look fine," Haru tells her, in a tone that says she does not think Makoto looks fine.

The outfit is some sort of roller derby get-up, but her midriff is exposed - which she does not appreciate - and the skirt is not anything approaching regulation length. There are, at least, leggings and the helmet seemed sturdy, though it made Makoto worry over why she needed a helmet in the first place.

They'd let her bring one friend to help her prepare.

"That was quite funny when they dumped the slime on Akira," Haru says, eager to change the topic.

Makoto grins. "That's true. I can only imagine what he's thinking of all this."

The door opens and the stagehand enters. "All set? We need to get going."

Makoto sighs, ensures the helmet is secure, and nods. Haru gives her a quick, warm hug, and bids her good luck and farewell.

Makoto follows the stagehand out of the room and down the corridor.

They turn the hall, and find Akira leaning against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. The outfit matches hers', sans skirt and too much skin, but still seems to small for him.

In the short time since she's last seen him, it appears he's been allowed a quick shower, as he's free - mostly - of the green slime. Some of his hair hangs loose out of his helmet, and over his face.

Ryuji Sakamoto stands alongside him, smirking about something. They both see Makoto together, and while Sakamoto lets out of a small guffaw, Akira's cheeks redden and he turns away.

Makoto does not allow herself to consider what any of that could mean.

"Time for you to go," the stagehand says to Sakamoto, and the boy nods.

"Right, got it. Good luck, bro. You too, Prez." He turns and lifts a hand in farewell. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Like set your pants on fire?" Akira asks.

Ryuji winces as if struck, and turns back. "Ann told you?"

Akira's smile is bright and happy and mischievous. "This morning. Before we left."

"What's going on?" Makoto asks.

"Nothing," both boys says.

"Oh."

Sakamoto shakes his head, and continues his march back to wherever the students were supposed to go.

"Right, let's keep it moving," the stagehand continues.

Makoto and Akira fall in line and follow her. "You know," Makoto whispers up at him. "Part of me can't help but wonder if this is all some elaborate trick to get out of our meeting later."

Akira glances in her direction and scoffs. "You think I'm capable of putting something like this together?"

Makoto smirks. "I think if you were to put something like this together, it would be going about as well for you as it is right now." Without realizing she's doing it, she reaches a hand towards his face. "Hold still."

He halts, face frozen, eyes wide. She takes a bit of green goop that hangs from a strand of his loose hair between her fingers and pulls it free. "There."

"Uh, thanks," he says.

Makoto feels her face flush when she realizes what she's done. "It's nothing. I just don't think your view should be obstructed during this... thing."

"Right," Akira replies. "Okay."

They are led down another series of hallways, and are finally instructed to stop outside a large set of double doors.

"Good luck," the stagehand mutters, and rushes off for some other task. Akira and Makoto look at one another.

"Should we go in?" She asks.

"I guess so," he tells her, and reaches out a hand to the door. When he pushes it open, sound explodes from everything.

At first, Makoto can't see anything and the only sensation is the blaring music and screams from the audience. The lights are too bright for any kind of recognition, but she begins to hear the voice of Goto-kun calling, "Welcome, Makoto-chan! Welcome, Akira-kun! To the God's Lament!"

God's Lament? Makoto wonders. What kind of name is that?

The light rectifies into the obstacle course. They are in what someone might mistake for an arena, if they missed the warehouse-like walls and ceiling and the smoothed over concrete floor the whole thing sits on. Rows and rows of bleachers sit on either side of the massive thing, occupied by the students who don't even begin to fill them all up. Makoto cannot see Haru. She cannot see Sakamoto or Takamaki either.

She does not look too hard.

They are at the entrance of two ramps. One drops down into an open space of relatively smooth blacktop, peppered with small plastic stalagmites that offer no direct route to the other side of the room. Two beefy men on rollerblades, decked in tank tops and shorts that accentuate their over large muscles, weave in and out of the obstacles, hands high in the air to the amplified chants of the audience.

The second ramp climbs a short distance and splits into five individual, zigzagging paths that cross and crisscross over one another. Each has its own distinct obstacle. Steam sprays from the ground on one. On another, large foam pendulums swing back and forth. A third has small plastic protrusions popping up and out of the floor, before shooting back down. The paths are made of some thick material held aloft by a series of four pillars, and beneath a few of the shallow-walled ones, are fishnets. Makoto gulps. It's rather obvious what those are for.

It's rather obvious what the ball on the small podium just before them is for as well.

Goto-kun stands at the far wall, beneath a painted black and white checkered splotch over which reads, 'Finish.' The separate courses both end in the same spot. "Your objective," he cries, and points across the expanse at the two of them. "Is to bring that ball to this side of the room. But you'll have to work together to avoid our traps and pitfalls, and you'll have to avoid our two guardians!" The two men pump their fists.

Next to the podium are two pairs of rollerblades. "I can't believe this," Makoto groans.

"Me neither," Akira puts in, and surveys the room. His eyes narrow and she follows his gaze. Two climbing ropes hang from the upper path, down to the area where the guardians circle.

"You've got two minutes to come up with your strategy and get your skates on," Goto continues. "Once time's up, our guardians will undertake their holy duty to stop you!" He laughs. "Which path will you take? The more treacherous higher path? The guardians will find it as difficult to catch you as you will to cross it! Or the lower, which will expose you to their danger?" He spreads his arms wide. "The choice is entirely up to you! Tick-tock!"

Makoto hears a buzzer and the sound of seconds-hand moving across a clock, but she can't see the device anywhere. She reaches for one of the smaller skates, and turns to Akira. "I suppose we should get this over with."

"Yeah," Akira replies, and takes up his own pair. "Any ideas?"

#

"You can't skate?" Akira shouts, in his most incredulous voice. "What'd you mean you can't skate? We've only got thirty seconds left!"

Makoto crosses her arms and glares over at him. "I mean what I mean, Akira. I can't skate. That doesn't mean I can't throw or catch." She wobbles a bit on the blades, and Akira resists the urge to reach out and steady her.

"It means you can't move," he responds. "How are you supposed to help get the ball over there?"

"Just go down the lower path," Makoto replies, voice rising. "I'll throw it to you when you're close to the end."

Akira points at the two guardians who stand smirking at them, arms crossed, ears open. "And what about them, Miss Student Council President? How am I supposed to get past them?"

Makoto nods towards the higher path. "Well you can't go that way, you're not coordinated enough to make it through."

Akira snatches the ball off the podium. "I'm coordinated enough, thank you very much."

Makoto rolls her eyes. "Oh please, I've heard you can't even dodge the chalk Ushimaru-sensei chucks at you."

Ouch.

Makoto holds out her hand. "Give me the ball, I'll throw it when you get close."

Akira shakes his head. "No. I'll do it all myself. You'd probably hurl it off somewhere and miss me completely, and I'll just end up getting creamed by those washed up athletes and failed actors down there."

The faces of the 'guardians' darken. Akira frowns. Wrong thing to say, apparently.

"Trouble in paradise, folks!" Goto-kun announces. People in the audience snicker. Akira's sure they'll raise the volume of that in the final cut.

A buzzer blares and the two guardians start towards them.

Makoto holds out her hand. "Akira, I can help."

Akira rolls back, out of her reach. "No, you can't."

He turns and shoots up the ramp towards the higher course, ball in hand.

"Looks like Akira-kun has chosen the high path!" Goto cries. "As for Makoto-chan... well, she doesn't look too pleased."

Akira spares a glance over his shoulder and sees her throwing shuriken at him with her eyes.

The two guardians spin around, and dash towards the ropes. Akira rolls into one of the easier looking paths, the one with steam, and tries to speed through it as quick as he can. Sadly, the men are like spider monkeys and ascend their ropes in a mere seconds, appearing far ahead of him, arms wide, grimacing.

Akira turns around and retraces his steps. He sees Makoto wobbling down the lower ramp towards the easier course, her face the look of someone who desperately wants all this to end.

Akira spins around into one of the other paths, the one with pendulums. They swing and swing and swing and it's all he can do to time it correctly that he doesn't get knocked off into the fishnets below. The longer he waits, however, the closer those goons get to him, so after he's only passed two of the swinging behemoths, he turns back and retreats once again. The guardians avoid the pendulum path as well, but if Akira tries it again they'll just wait at the end for him. That leaves him with only five paths, all of which they can cover easily.

Another look down below, and he sees Makoto inching her way across the floor, arms spread wide to keep her balance. It almost makes him smile.

"You're gonna regret insulting us," one of the guardians growl. Akira returns his attention to them, and sees one of them slowly approaching him down one of the easier paths, the one with the small little plastic protrusions popping out. Akira skates past this one and rolls into one of the paths with the higher walls. Even if they hit him or tackle him in this one, he won't fall off the side, which is good because there's no fishnet beneath this one, and there's nothing to obstruct his path.

Until, of course, the second guardian rolls into the exit of the path to block him, and when Akira turns back, finds the first has somehow sped up and now blocks his entrance.

He is now completely trapped.

"What'd you think of this?" The second guardian asks, advancing. "You little smart ass?"

Akira looks at him.

He grins.

"I think it's perfect."

He moves. Not towards either gladiator. Not towards either exit. Towards the edge of the path. The high wall. He leaps as he nears it, grabs the edge with one hand and hoists himself up just enough to lift the ball and drop it over the side.

Into the waiting arms of Makoto, who drops the act and sprints dead on across the stalagmite-peppered but guardian-less blacktop. Both guardians race towards the lip of the wall, jump, and look over themselves.

"Shit," one cries, as he watches Makoto skate.

Neither try anything. It's already too late. Akira pulls himself up once more, and watches as Makoto skates with the grace of not quite an expert up the little ramp, up next to Goto, touches the wall marked 'Finish,' and sets the ball on the ground.

There is a huge grin on her face, and it makes everything inside him sing.

Another buzzer sounds.

"Uh," Goto-kun says. "Wow. Okay." His grin returns. "Okay!" The crowd begins to applaud, and even if it is faint and fleeting, Akira doesn't care. The guardians glide off, more dejected than Akira figured they would be. Now I feel bad about the comment. It hadn't been part of the plan, just an extra little bit he'd thrown in to ensure they came directly for him.

Apologizing to them in his mind, he skates the rest of the way down towards the finish.

When he reaches it, and finds Makoto still grinning, he holds up his hand, palm out. Without a word, Makoto high-fives him.

"Not bad," Akira tells her.

"Agreed," Makoto replies. "Though I think you could've done without insulting the guardians."

He shrugs. "I wanted to make sure they left you alone."

Goto-kun sighs, and Akira notices the cameras no longer point in their direction. "Well, that's the end of that. They'll add some voice over during the credits. You two are done." He stares back out over the course. "So, that argument you two had at the beginning was just a part of your strategy?"

Akira beams. "That was my idea."

Makoto rolls her eyes. For real this time. "The only one of his ideas that made it into the final plan." Makoto bends down to unlace her skates. "We came up with it as we were putting on the skates, you see. Whispering. I figured that-"

"Yeah," Goto-kun cuts her off. "I was just looking for a yes or no, not a whole explanation." He turns and stomps off towards one of the exit signs.

Akira and Makoto watch him leave.

"Jerk," Makoto says.

"Asshole," Akira whispers.

They look at each other. Akira clears his throat. Makoto says nothing.

They remove their skates in silence. Two stagehands appear and explain they take each of them back to their separate rooms where they can change. A few loose fitting clothes will provided to him, as his uniform was still covered in slime. The studio would be happy to reimburse him, of course, one of the stagehands explained.

Akira looks back at Makoto. "So," he starts, then can't figure out how to finish.

"Yeah," Makoto replies.

And that was that.

"I guess I'll see you in a little bit," Akira tells her.

Makoto nods. "I guess you will."

They turn, and walk away from each other.

##
A/N:

Hey gang! Thanks for reading!

I hope you enjoyed this rather absurd chapter.

See you next Friday!