The walk is every bit as awkward as Akira imagined it would be. Despite the miniscule distance between LeBlanc and the Yongen-jaya station, the silence between the three stretches the trip into its own painful eternity.
His thoughts are chaos, shifting from anger to frustration to disgust - at whom, he cannot be sure - to resignation and back again to anger. He cannot hold a single strand still in his mind to tell what it is that frustrates him so much. There are, of course, too many.
One thing he does notice, however, is that his feet slow the more he walks. While they began the journey just short of brisk, now the bottom of his shoes scrape across the concrete. Whether or not Haru or Makoto realize it, they've adjusted their own pace to match his.
He stops. Morgana pops his head out of the bag. "Something up?"
He reasons that barely a handful of minutes has passed since they left the Cafe. "Listen," he murmurs. "About before-"
"Forget it," Makoto states, with a shake of her head.
"I need you guys to hear something." He doesn't want to draw this out. Doesn't want to make it into a whole thing. How else can he make them understand?
The first words of the story go like pulled teeth. His pace increases.
It is the story that began before he'd ever even heard of Shujin. It is his story, even if it has no magical cats, no dimension shifting smartphones, no Thieves. It is his story, the one of him walking home late one night, hearing a cry, and turning a corner to find a man trying to push a woman into a car.
"Even from across the street," Akira tells them. "I could smell the alcohol on him. And she was, well, you can probably imagine how she was taking it."
The man had drawled, "C'mon. C'mon. Just... just do it. It's an anniversary." A barking laugh then. Loping.
The woman had shaken her head, protested, backed away, shoved, told him, 'No.' All the things you are supposed to do.
The man didn't care.
"Help!" She'd screamed. "Help!" And it took Akira a moment to realize she was calling to him.
The man rotated towards him with the too careful movements of the drunk. Blurry eyes regarded him behind slightly askew glasses. "Him?" He asked. "What's he going to do?" He had shaken his head then. Slow. Sad. "He can't do anything. No one can."
Akira looks up at the girls. They stand very close to one another, eyes widened just a bit. "I don't remember thinking anything," he says. "I don't remember arguing with myself about what to do, or trying to analyze the best way to handle it. I just remember moving. Moving and reaching."
But then the man was falling and falling.
He hit the ground, and something came back into his eyes.
"After that," Akira says, and shrugs. "He called the police. The cops showed up, and he told them that I'd assaulted them."
Makoto frowns. "But what about the woman he was attacking? Had she run off by the time the police arrived?"
"Nope," Akira replies, and shrugs. "But she did confirm his story."
Haru's mouth drops open. "What? Why?"
Akira feels a smile on his face, but he can't say why. "I don't know. When the police came, the man just kept staring at her. He didn't even say anything. The next thing I knew, she was blabbering on and on about how the cops had shown up just in time, and how they'd saved the two of them from me." He feels Morgana set his two forepaws against his shoulder. "I was so shocked, I didn't even know what to say. They shoved me in the car. Drove off. Put me in a box. And that was that." He gestures towards the alleys of Yongen-jaya. "And here I am."
Neither Makoto nor Haru say anything for a few moments. Then, "So, you didn't assault anyone." This from Makoto, and it isn't a question.
"I didn't do anything wrong. That man did. That woman did when she blamed me. The police did when they arrested me, and they didn't care about my side of the story. The judge did when they sentenced me. No one cared and-"
"What about your parents?" Haru asks.
Akira's words dry in his throat. Then, he smiles and says, "That's a whole other story."
Haru storms forward and wraps Akira in a hug. Morgana yowls in protest from the bag. "That's horrible!" Haru declares.
Akira feels the blood rush to his face. "Haru, I think you're killing Morgana."
"Seriously," the cat hisses. "Let me go!"
"Oh," Haru says, and recoils.
Akira takes a deep breath, milking it a bit. He turns to face Makoto, who looks as if she's swallowed something bitter. "Not so long ago, you said you wanted to know what had happened to me. Now you do."
"I knew it would be unpleasant," Makoto replies, voice low. "I never..." She trails off.
He swallows, and decides to say what's on his mind. "Your Dad was a cop?"
Makoto stiffens at this, but nods. "He was. He, um, died a few years ago."
"I'm sorry," Akira tells her. "I don't know what your Dad was like. Mine was shit, but yours' was probably better, right?" He doesn't wait for her to confirm or deny. "But the police didn't help me. They buried me." He turns now to Haru, and says, "Doing what we do isn't a job for us. We care because we know what it's like to be out of options. You're right when you say that changing your fiancé's heart would give the authorities another finger to point towards Shujin, but if you want our help, we'll find some way to work it."
"That's right," Morgana says, stretching himself free from the pack to poke his face over Akira's shoulder. "You can count on us."
"I..." Haru starts. "Thank you."
"No problem," Akira replies. He turns back down the alley. "I just wanted you guys to know that. Now you know everything about me."
He starts to walk.
Well, maybe not everything, he thinks. But enough.
#
Makoto trudges along behind Akira. Oh, please. There's no chance I know everything about you, Akira.
Still, she will not begrudge him this. She knows it must've taken courage for him to share his story and the details ricochet around inside her brain.
They turn out of the alley and approach Yongen-jaya's small station.
There has to be an explanation.
Akira had said he couldn't remember thinking anything. He had just reacted. Perhaps the police arrived and found him still agitated. That could've factored into his arrest.
But Akira would've calmed down by the time he arrived at the station. He would've been able to tell his side of the events.
Face it, a voice in her mind says.
What if the woman feared for her life? That was probably true. But she could've recanted at a later time, once she was out of danger. She was a principal witness, and according to the report, would've been one of the victims.
She never did change her story. She had ample time to do so, but she didn't.
She swings her pass-card and walks through the turnstile, followed by Haru.
Face it, the voice says.
If the man was so obviously drunk, the officers should've known his version of events needed to be taken with a grain of salt.
But there was nothing to indicate they had. But Akira's account, the officers had arrested him on the word of an intoxicated man and a woman with a torn blouse in a dark alley.
They descend the steps and stand behind the yellow line.
Face it, the voice says. They screwed him.
She looks over at Akira as the train pulls into the station. He rests his weight on one leg, and the headlights of the train highlight the circles beneath his eyes.
The doors opens. Haru steps through. Akira goes to follow her, but Makoto reaches out and grabs his sleeve. He glances back at her. She can't quite meet his gaze when she says, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
"Thanks," he replies. She lets go of his sleeve and follows him onto the train.
They are in the front car, right alongside the conductor's booth. Makoto chooses the seat next to Haru, and Akira slumps down across from them. The doors close, and the train moves forward.
"My father wouldn't have done that," Makoto tells him. The car is sparsely populated and most of the other riders are further down the car.
"I'm glad to hear that," he replies. "I wasn't trying to knock your Dad or anything. Losing him must've been tough."
She nods. "It was. It still is. You lost yours as well?"
He smirks at this. "That's one way of putting it."
The train shudders.
Sore topic then. He had called him, 'shit,' earlier.
"He was a detective," she tells him. "A good one. He died three years ago, in an accident. A truck driver hit him. He was on drugs."
Akira looks like he doesn't know what to say, and just nods, looking sorry.
"It's difficult sometimes," Haru puts in. "To see past our own experiences. I confess, I sometimes still don't know how to act around people who didn't grow up with the kind of wealth I did."
Makoto smiles and pats her hand. "I think you do a great job."
Akira's smirk grows warmer. "You did get so mad at me one time, you tried to steal Morgana." He blinks. "Then you actually went ahead and stole Morgana."
The cat pops his head out of the bag. "Mrrow."
Akira and Haru laugh.
"Yes," Haru says, blushing. "I suppose so."
This is untenable.
She glances down the length of the car, to ensure they are not being overheard. "I'm wondering," she says, when she's sure it's safe. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you bring me to that other place, so I could learn to understand Morgana?"
Akira frowns. "You promised you wouldn't use the app again."
She waves her hand through the air. "I'm not talking about the app. I'm talking about you bringing me there, and having me hear Morgana speak. We can leave right after, and the distortion will be all cleared up, yes?"
The train lurches, and when Akira straightens himself, says, "I guess it wouldn't be such a bad thing. Understanding Morgana is pretty essential, but then again, why would you need to?"
Makoto can feel the blush in her cheeks. "I-I'm just curious is all. And it would be nice to not be the only person who can understand him."
He glances down at the cat. "What'd you think?"
"Prrrr," Morgana says. "Meow, mrrrow."
Akira nods, and pulls out his phone. "There's still some time left before our shift at Rafflesia. Do you want to do it when we get to Shibuya?"
Makoto hadn't expected it to be so sudden, but she finds herself nodding. "That would be agreeable."
The train jitters and rumbles along, and a murmur passes through the car.
"Um," Haru says, as she turns to peer out the train's window. "Don't you think we're going a little fast?"
#
Before Akira can think to answer, or wonder if they going too fast, the train shudders once more. A passenger, one who had been holding a handrail, falls to the ground with a cry of shock and fear. The sound of dismay spreads among the car's inhabitants.
"What's going on?" Morgana asks, as Akira steadies himself on the chair and looks outside. The train is rocketing down the tracks.
In an explosion of screeching metal, screams, dust and pulverized stone, a train barrels out of the subway tunnel, hops the rails, and smashes its way onto the platform.
He remembers this. It was only his second day in Tokyo. He looks over at Makoto, who doesn't wear the panic of the other passengers, but Haru has her eyes shut tight, hands clenched on the lip of her seat.
He doesn't know who puts a name to it first, but there's a shout from near the back of the car, loud and manic. "Mental shutdown!"
Makoto pales. She looks at Akira, and he looks at her. He tries to stand, but the rumble collapses his body back into his seat. "The train's going to crash," he manages.
"But I thought," Haru's voice is high pitched and fast, "those were all over?"
Akira hasn't given the mental shutdowns much thought since his close call two months earlier. So many things had happened to him since, the accident felt like it was part of another life. Only, there was no way out this time. This time, he was in the goddamn train.
"The conductor," Morgana hisses. "Get the conductor to slow down."
Akira and Makoto shoot from their seats, the latter apparently coming up with the same plan without a cat's assistance, and steady themselves with handrails. Akira staggers his way across the short gulf to the door, and presses himself up against the window of glass or plexi or whatever it is. Into the dark, he shouts, "Hey!"
Just a few feet before him, he can see the stone still mass of the conductor, hand resting on the accelerator - pushed all the way up- and the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders in breathing.
"Open the door," Akira shouts at the same time Makoto slides up next to him and screams, "Slow down!"
Their cries erupt a chorus from the other passengers.
"Slow down, dammit!"
"You're crazy!"
"You're gonna kill us!"
If the conductor hears, he gives no sign. I should've paid attention to those news stories, Akira thinks. Maybe there's something that can snap him out of it.
"This is no good," Makoto says, voice firm but eyes wide in fear. "We've got to get in there."
"How?" Akira asks, and takes a step back from the door. A sudden jolt strips his balance, but Makoto snakes out a hand and steadies him. He spies the lock on the conductor's door. "Morgana," he calls, and turns towards his bag. The cat jumps from the bag and into Akira's arms. "The lock, can you pick it?"
"Who'd you think you're talking to?" The cat boasts, and draws one claw. Akira smiles, if only to muffle the uncertainty he feels from the cat's terrified voice.
Akira brings him up to the lock, and presses him up against it. "No pressure, but make it fast." He looks back through the window, and sees the towering buildings of Shibuya fast approaching. Never mind. Lots of pressure! Lots of pressure!
Morgana sets to work, and Makoto leans her body against the door. "The second this is open," she tells Akira, "We've got to rush him." She glances back at Haru. "Haru, we're going to need your help too."
The girl grabs a handrail and hauls herself up. "What do you need?"
"We don't know how strong this man is," Makoto replies. "Or how out of it he is. It may take both myself and Akira to wrestle him away from the controls. Once we do, you need to grab them and bring the train to a halt."
"Should I just pull the accelerator back?" Haru asks.
"Yes," Akira says.
"No!" Makoto shouts. "You have to do it slowly. Decelerating too fast could derail the train anyway. Do it firmly, but gradually."
Haru swallows but steels herself. "God it. You can count on me."
Makoto glances at Akira. "Are you ready?"
Akira doesn't know if it's his adrenaline or the fact that he may be dead in something like fifty-five seconds, but he says, "Do you want-"
But then Morgana interrupts with, "Got it," and the door unlocks.
Akira drops the cat, and throws the door open. The two teens storm in and seize the conductor by the shoulders. Akira yanks, and finds the man as sedentary as a boulder. He tries a few more times, then moves around to push as Makoto continues to pull.
"C'mon man, move it!" He shouts as he comes around him. "You're going to-"
He freezes.
The man's eyes are milk white. From his sockets, nostrils and mouth leaks a black, vile fluid.
Akira's limbs want to move, but they don't.
"Akira!" Makoto shouts, arms hooked around the man's shoulders.
Akira remembers.
The old man in the bathroom at the hotel. The one who helped me up. The one who was nice to me.
He's seen this before. He knows this. Recognizes it.
This is a mental shutdown?
If that's true, then...
"Akira!" Makoto shrieks and brings Akira back to reality.
He throws himself at the man's hands, grabs the fingers, and begins to pry them back, one by one. At this, the man conductor exhibits some kind of sensibility, and begins to moan and convulse.
Akira doesn't realize he's shouting until he manages to pull the last finger free from the control, and all three go topping backwards. The man throws open his mouth and screeches out a fountain of black bile. Makoto screams, but doesn't run. Instead, Akira realizes she's shouting in exertion, trying to keep the big man on the ground. Akira rolls over and throws himself over the man's gut.
"Haru," he shouts. "Now!"
Haru dashes into the room, grabs the accelerator, and starts to pull it back. Downwards, downwards. Akira can see the lights of the skyscrapers whipping by, he hears a distressed voice coming from the conductor's walkie talkie.
White as a ghost, Haru brings the accelerator home, just as they slide into the station. The train groans for what feels like forever, then jolts with a single, final movement, and stops.
Akira lays there, panting. Makoto keeps the conductor's wrists pinned. His compulsion unfulfilled, the energy seems to go out of the man, and he slumps still.
Haru peers down at them. "Um, now what?"
Akira's mind races. We can't be seen here. I can't be seen here. If someone recognizes me or if they realize who I am, I'll get in bigger trouble. How could he get out of the situation? The car was filled with people watching their every move. Akira's eyes drift up to the control board. He sees a button marked 'Doors.' "Haru," he says. "Please wipe that controller down with your shirt."
"Why?" She asks.
"Fingerprints," Makoto answers. He nods.
Haru does it, quickly.
"Morgana?" Akira asks.
"Here," the cat replies.
"Get in the bag. We're about to run."
"Gotcha."
"What's your plan?" Makoto asks.
Akira smiles, even though he doesn't feel like it. "Follow my lead." He leaps up, presses the button marked 'Doors,' and screams, "Gun! He's got a gun!"
Perhaps most would not be taken in by the absurdity of a gun in Tokyo. But as the people in the car had just defied death, rationality is not at the front of their minds. Someone screams, and Akira bolts from the compartment, grabbing Makoto's arm and dragging her with him. He snatches his bag from the seat and finds that Haru joins them in the crush of people desperate to exit the train. Outside, the people who stare in wonder soon hear the call of, "Gun, gun," and run for it themselves. The platform becomes a panicked ant farm of humans scurrying around, ducking for cover, shoving the pressing and sliding their ways towards wherever they think freedom and safety exist.
Akira runs them through the station, past the people in the corridors, as the mania sweeps over them like a gust. Morgana jostles in his bag as he pushes his way outside and into the sweltering air of the Shibuya night. They retreat to an overpass, and stop, gasping, sweat soaked, and - in Akira's case - shaking from adrenaline.
"Why'd you..." Haru starts, but doubles over, rests her hands on her knees, and gulps more air.
"Security cameras," Akira says. "Everywhere, right? Plus, I didn't want to explain how my cat could pick a lock."
Morgana groans from inside the bag, pulls himself out and drops to the concrete on unsteady legs. He wobbles a bit, then plops down on his haunches.
Makoto lets out a long sigh, and looks between them. "Is everyone okay?"
"I'm alright," Haru says. "Just a little shaken."
Akira nods back towards the station. "Work will probably get cancelled. Even though the train didn't crash, people are still freaking out in there."
"I can't believe we did that," Haru replies. "I can't believe we saved the train from that man. What was wrong with him?"
"It must've been a mental shutdown," Makoto continues. "I haven't heard of one happening in a while. Perhaps-"
"I've seen that before," Akira says. He slides down the wall he leans against until he sits. "With the black liquid and eyes."
"You did?" Makoto asks. "Where?"
Akira tells them. "Wait a moment," Haru says. "I've heard about that."
Akira looks up at her. "You have?"
She nods. "Yukio Kan. I heard my father talking about it shortly after it happened. But I thought he had a heart attack?"
Something does a flip in his stomach. "A heart attack?" He pulls out his phone. Searches the name. Yukio Kan. Heart attack. Simple and quick.
The first result is just that. Yukio Kan's cause of death hadn't been disclosed for two days until the autopsy could be completed. But, according to the internet, it was a heart attack that killed him.
Akira remembers the black seeping from the eyes, and how he had vomited in the sink. That wasn't a heart attack.
He looks up at the two girls, and then down at Morgana. What the hell is going on?
#
Juni exits the bathroom and finds Dunk at the bar, eyes stapled to the television that hangs next to the whiskey rack.
Aki lounges in one of the corner booths - the one where the computer equipment radiates - phone to his ear, and speaks in whispers.
Kaneko sets a drink on the counter, and gestures to it with a slight nod. Juni plops down alongside Dunk, and grins at the bartender. "Thanks." Dunk laughs at whatever he's watching.
"Should I set out drinks for the others?" Kaneko asks, as he runs a finger over the lacquered countertop. "Or will this be one of those evenings where everyone just pops up willy nilly?"
Juni shrugs, takes up the glass and sips. The drink is strong and forces his face to shudder, but he appreciates the burn. "Shouldn't be much longer. But hell, if it makes you feel better, pour the drinks now. If no one shows, I'll make sure they don't go to waste."
Kaneko whips a rag free from a drying rack and begins to wipe down some freshly washed glasses. "You know, I got a call from a buyer. He wanted to ask if there was any chance we could follow through with the Madarame theft."
Juni frowns. "What for? The Sayuri's are all copies, and everything else is plagiarized from teenagers or kids even younger."
Kaneko holds a glass up to the dim, warm light of the bar. "Apparently, the whole situation has hit the Art World like a box of dynamite. The volatility has had a rather interesting effect. There are those willing to pay hefty prices for the plagiarized works."
Juni whistles. "Wow. How low can you go?"
Kaneko eyes him. "Says the thief."
"The honest thief," Juni corrects. "It's not my fault the world works the way it does." Kaneko looks ready to say more, but Juni cuts him off. "Did you make those other calls?"
Kaneko doesn't bother to answer in the affirmative. He just delves right into it. "There's interest, but no firm offers yet."
Dunk cackles again. Juni finishes his drink, and with half his attention elsewhere, swivels the stool towards the beefy man and asks, "What exactly are you laughing at?"
Dunk shoots him a look, and Juni sighs. Still pouting about this meeting? Then he crosses his arms and jerks his chin towards the television. "Some dating show. Funny shit."
Juni runs his eyes up to the television as a bucket of green slime topples onto the bespectacled head of a high-schooler. He sniffs, and regards his empty glass. His eyes snap back to the show, where they remain until the commercial break. Shoving himself to his feet he demands that Dunk, "Turn that shit off," and - hands buried deep in his pockets - stomps his way towards the exit.
"Where're you going?" Kaneko calls after him.
"I need a cigarette," Juni mutters, but doesn't stop to see if the man has heard him.
He enters and scales the stairwell to street level, throws open the door of 'Quercus,' and steps into a night so thick it clings to his skin like wet paper.
The neon oak tree above the door vibrates in the heat with the familiar, dull hum. One hand into his vest to pull out the carton, the other out of his pocket, with his lighter.
He keeps his thoughts quiet, even from himself, lights up, and enjoys the searing and ashen taste on his tongue.
Breathe it in. Breathe it in.
The Quercus sits slumped down a side alley in Shinjuku, far enough from the sparkle and glamor and scantily-clad girls to keep it safe from frequent foot traffic and eyes, prying or not.
There are, of course, others who spend their time down dark, ceiling-less halls of concrete and brick.
A homeless woman shuffles her way down the street, muttering what she must think are witticisms beneath her breath. She spies him and Juni feels her eyes drift to the tip of the glowing cigarette. Here we go.
She wobbles towards him, and Juni looks. Grime coats the exposed skin of her face and arms and hands. Her rags - a too large gray blouse and torn jeans - are faded from dirty water. Her black hair sticks out in a dozen places, and her eyes have the dimmed, near-crazed look of the desperate.
"Hey there, Cap'n," she drawls, her voice a rasp from too many drugs or other vices. "Mind if I borrow a ciggy?"
"No."
"Thanks." She holds out her hand.
Juni lances her with a look. "No. I meant, 'No, you can't have one.'"
"C'mon," she groans. "Just one? I'm gasping for one." She slides herself a bit closer to him. Too smooth, Juni thinks. "I can make it worth your while."
"I'll pass."
"I used to be pretty," she whispers, "and in the dark I'm still-" She moves then. A hand whips towards him, and Juni catches the neon light glint off something in her hand.
His fingers wrap around her wrist, and he twists. The blade emits a dull clang on the concrete. He shoves and the woman backs away a few steps, arms pin-wheeling through the air, then settles.
She stares across the blacktop at him, rage writ across her face, but Juni just smiles, and she sighs and relaxes her posture. "What gave it away?"
"The hair." He bends over, snatches up the small knife, and holds it out to her, grip first.
"What about it?" She twists one of the clumpy strands between her fingers. "I thought I did a hell of a job."
"You did," he replies, nodding. "That's the problem. It's obvious you did that to yourself. The real homeless don't have the luxury of styling themselves up to look the part."
With a roll of her eyes, she reaches out and snatches the knife back. "What would you suggest?"
Juni shrugs. "Do what they do. Don't wash it, don't comb it. Live in squallor for a few days. It'll take care of itself."
"Sounds like fun," Mori-chan says.
"It's not supposed to be fun," Juni scolds. "It's supposed to be convincing."
Mori flips the knife back into her pocket. "Hear about Shibuya?"
"No. Why?"
"A near train crash," she says, and steps closer. "Another one of those mental shutdowns. The conductor went nuts and tried to drive the thing right off the tracks. A couple of people managed to stop him, but apparently there was a gun involved."
"A gun?" Juni asks. "Who had it?"
Mori closes the distance further. "Don't know. No one does. The police are making an absolute mess out of it, like usual. The internet's losing their collective mind." Her fist lashes out and strikes Juni across the chin. His cigarette drops from his mouth, and he throws his arm up against the door to the Quercus to steady himself.
"What the fuck, Mori?" He thunders.
"You asshole," she snarls. "Do you have any idea how much work I put into the Madarame job? How many pretentious assholes I had to smile and bat my eyes at to get a job at that gallery? How many nights I spent going over inch of that place? Making friends with that stupid, lush girlfriend of his?"
"What'd you want me to say?" Juni asks as he straightens himself. "If we had dropped the Calling Card after these Phantom Thieves, and stolen a bunch of plagiarized art, we would've lost all our clout."
"Kaneko says there are buyers for that kind of thing."
"You've bee talking with Kaneko?"
"I talk to everyone, Juni," she snaps. "They're my friend. They're your friends too, if you'd bother to remember that once in a while."
"Yeah, yeah." He makes a show of dusting himself off. "Look, I've got a new prospect lined up, and it'll more than the Madarame thing anyway. So, what's the problem?"
"The problem," Mori continues. "Is that if you've got this big job lined up, what's the point of this meeting?" She swats his arm. He doesn't bother to dodge. "And how could you do this to Dunk? You know how sensitive he is."
"He'll get over it. Besides, I didn't want any of our people looking where they shouldn't. Some mysteries are better to be solved by the expendables."
"Nice," Mori says. She slides past him and through the door.
Juni glances up at the Tokyo sky, as solid and static as a dirty rag. "Fuck," he mutters, and reenters the bar.
Once he returns to the subterranean bar, he finds Mori stepping up behind Dunk, who still watches the television. Her hand darts out and snatches the hat off his head. He makes a face and turns, but Mori stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on the top of his head. "How's your mother?"
Dunk allows her a smile, and shrugs. "Same. The doctors say so, anyway, but we've got our fingers crossed." Mori places the cat back on his head, slightly askew. He sniffs the air. "Wow, you stink."
"Asshole," she grumbles. "Apologize and buy me a drink."
Kaneko is already there. "The usual, Mori-chan?"
Before Juni can hear her answer, a hand taps him on his shoulder. He turns and finds the twins standing behind him. "When did you two get here?"
Ai, her hair a fresh-dyed blonde says, "We've always..."
To which her sister, Niko, apparently a redhead now, says, "...been here, Juni-kun."
"Could you guys not do that tonight? It's going to get real old, real quick."
Ai pouts. "Jack-"
"-Ass," Niko finishes.
"Right," he replies, and turns to make himself scarce.
Two sets of hands reach out and grab his shoulders. "Hey," Ai says. "Seriously. Why'd you set this meeting up?"
Niko wears a frown more intense than her sister's. "You know how much Dunk hates this guy," she whispers.
Juni casts a look back over his shoulder, and finds Dunk chuckling with Mori and Kaneko. "I don't need Dunk to like him. I need him to focus on the job. Outsourcing this item is our best move."
Niko releases him first, then Ai, who says, "We still don't like it."
"Deal with it," Juni says, as he swivels away from them. His voice booms through the bar. "Everyone's here. Are we ready?"
Akio, still in the booth near the computer equipment, hangs up his phone and nods. "They'll be on in about three minutes. Got the pads, Kaneko?"
The bartender switches off the television and turns to Juni. "I assume the proper arrangements have been made?"
Juni can't stop himself from sighing. "Yes, Kaneko. The 'Closed' sign is prominently displayed."
"Very good." The man reaches beneath the bar and pulls out several pads of paper and a dusty glass mug filled with a variety of pens. He sets them on the bar, and one by one, the members of Tatterdemalion take them.
Once he has his, Juni steps up next to Dunk and whispers, "You okay with this?"
The bigger man glowers. "I don't like it. I know how to multitask."
"I know you do," Juni replies. "But if something goes wrong, I'd rather you not have a target painted on your back."
"Bro," Dunk replies, and sweeps his hand - palm up and open - around the room, taking in the other thieves. "Seriously?"
"I'll make it up to you. So just do me a favor, and grin and bear it for now, yeah?"
"It's all audio," Dunk counters. "So I'm sure as shit not grinning, but fine. Whatever."
Juni pats him on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it." He walks towards the center of the room and looks to Akio. The man nods, punches a few keys on the computer, stands up, and walks to the bar, where a drink sits waiting for him.
The computer screen is dark for a few moments, then the white outline of a new window pops up.
Silence follows. Juni narrows his eyes and waits. He doesn't want to be the first to speak, it undercuts his position in the conver-
"Heeeelllllllooooooooooooooooo?" Comes a voice, electronically garbled but distinctly annoyed. Everyone in the bar winces. It sounds shouted into the other's microphone. The screen bounces with the interpretation of the soundwave, but no image of the speaker appears.
Juni doesn't know this individual's identity, and part of him prefers it that way.
"You never cease to make an entrance," Juni says. "Well, in a manner of speaking."
"Uh-huh," comes the response, bored, and punctuated by some sort of rhythmic rrrck, rrrck, rrrck noise.
Juni glances back at the group. Mori has written on her pad, What's that noise?
Dunk lifts his response high in the air. They're eating a FUCKING snack.
That was one of the many things Dunk hated about this person. They never seemed to take things seriously, and Dunk only knew how to take things seriously.
"Look," says the voice. "Let's make this quick. You're interrupting my favorite anime."
"Alright, fine," Juni says. "I've a proposition for you."
"Yeah, no shit."
Juni keeps the edge out of his voice. Dunk scribbles something on a fresh sheet of paper and holds it up. Screw this! Juni waves him off. "We need you to hack into the police department's database. We're looking for information."
"Which police department?" Rrrck, rrrck, rrrck.
"All of them," Juni replies.
A digitized whistle echoes through the speakers. "Wow, you guys are serious."
"Can you do it?"
"Does Divine Gate suck?"
The members of Tatterdemalion glance at one another. No one says anything. Mori-chan shrugs. Even the twins look perplexed.
A sigh from the speakers. "Yes. The answer is obviously yes."
"Good. Then-"
"Question!" Shouts the voice.
"What?" Juni asks.
A hint of mischief sneaks into the voice. "Why can't Dunk do it?"
Juni spins around. The veins in the big man's neck are bulging. "He's busy. Working on something else."
"Understood. Loud and clear. He totally can't do it."
"You fucking shithead," Dunk shouts, and stands. "I'm so sick of your crap. If I ever find you, I'm going to twist your pencil neck until it snaps!"
The voice cackles. "Mua-ha-ha-ha! Hiya Dunk! Why so sensitive? Overcompenstating, much?"
Dunk ignores the voice and turns to Juni. "We don't need this. I can get in and get out, untouched and unnoticed."
"Sounds like your last date," the voice blurts.
Mori's lips break into a smirk, and she muffles a laugh.
"Motherfucker," Dunk spits.
The twins walk over and wrap arms around his barrel-sized waist. Red-faced, Dunk takes a few deep breaths and says, "We don't need this." He settles back into his seat.
"Are you done baiting my friend?" Juni asks.
"Yeah, but I'm starting to get bored again, so why don't you give me some details. What am I looking for?"
"All the information the authorities have obtained on the Phantom Thieves."
Nothing. Ten seconds of nothing.
Juni looks at the others. They stare back. Kaneko begins to write something, when the voice comes back. "Did you say, 'Phantom Thieves?'"
"I did," Juni replies. Kaneko raises his pad. They know something already, it says. Juni nods, but keeps talking. "Do you think you can handle that?"
"Um," the voice replies. "Yeah. No, yeah. I can definitely get it done."
"The faster it's completed, the better the pay."
"Uh-huh, right. Okay. Something you want specifically?"
"Well," Juni continues. "Any suspects they might have. Key witnesses. Physical evidence, if any. Also, try and see if anyone's made a connection between the Phantom Thieves and these mental shutdown cases." A few of his friends shoot him funny looks, but Juni flashes them his best, 'Trust me,' face.
"Anything else?"
"No, that'll be all. We'll reach you through the usual channels. Any questions for us?"
"Nope."
"Okay then, I guess that concludes this meeting."
"Guess so," the voice says.
"As always," Juni cuts in, before the voice can sign off. "It's been a pleasure talking with you, Ali Baba."
##
A/N: Ya'll didn't think I FORGOT about Akira's close call in one of the first chapters, did you?