Chapter Eleven: Testing Troubled Waters

Haru Okumura took pride in one particular thing: her skills in gardening. Although she would never bring herself to show it, she did experience some irritation when somebody chalked it up to 'having a green thumb'. She knew healthy, bountiful growth was not a matter of luck, or some innate talent to adequately handle plants; it was all about dedication and patience – something anybody could accomplish as long as they were willing to learn. Even Ryuji had proved capable with the little tomato plant Haru gave him on his birthday.

Then, there was her skill wielding an axe. But that was not quite something she could find any use for other than occasionally amusing herself when chopping fruit and vegetables. She received instruction on classical dance when she was ten years old, at the behest of her father; even if she barely did anything with that knowledge, muscle memory would prove her adept. She was fairly inept at team sports, though she had a way with darts. Calligraphy was every bit as easy as artistic drawing was not. Haru could count herself a competent student, but not necessarily a stellar one.

Still, as she dug up information on White Pheasant, beyond advertising already available to the public, she felt as if she was discovering a new skill – something she did better than team sports, but not quite as good as dancing, not yet. The first thought at heeding Yusuke's suggestion several days ago was to ask Futaba to look into the company. However, she immediately shooed the thought away, knowing the girl was to stay focused on school. Besides, all of this effort was devoted only to ease her mind on the prospect of a possible business relation with White Pheasant. This was something she was to do on her own – by dedication and patience.

Her daily schedule did not leave much room for it, however. So, when she did find the time, she made sure to squeeze it for all it was worth, even if that meant losing a night's worth of sleep. From her findings, she could gather that the company had been untouched by scandal since its inception. Its growth, while less impressive than the Okumura conglomerate, mirrored that of other companies with higher prestige, and promised to go beyond. Every bit of information she found, she ran by what she was learning at school. Still, she would have her advisor look at her work to be on the safe side.

The chairman, Susumu Kamiyama, seemed to mirror his company's profile. He had, likewise, stayed well away from scandal and controversy. In fact, his public image was decorated with consistent charity work, even before White Pheasant launched as an ambitious enterprise. A picture search revealed him as a man in his forties with sober demeanour and completely free from the lavishness of other people in his line of work. Something about his close-cropped hair, the bags under his eyes, how some regions of his face looked older, how others looked younger made him appear approachable, humble even. At the end of it, Susumu Kamiyama could be described as a hard-working philanthropist who earned his station without trampling or undermining others.

He was the exemplary of a successful businessman – the kind of man her father might have been had the story been different. Haru did not allow herself to dwell on the thought, especially not this late, or early, as she found out when looking at the time on her phone. She knew how likely it was for her to sleep in, and miss a day of classes, if she were indulge on even a nap. Thus, she decided to start her day early. Before beating the cook to it and make her own breakfast, she felt the urge to contact Yusuke and tell him about her findings. Not sure whether or not to be surprised by it, she found him online.

Haru: I looked into White Pheasant's chairman.

The young woman felt slightly uneasy at the prolonged dance of the dots signalling Yusuke was typing. She remembered something Ann told Haru and Makoto once, a few weeks after she and Ryuji started dating. A delay in typing like this meant they were either doubting what to say, or doing something they were not supposed to. Haru and Makoto could only guess what Ann meant, but neither pressed her to specify.

Yusuke: what did you find?

Haru: His name is Susumu Kamiyama. He looks like an honest man. Maybe it won't be such a bad idea to consider the proposal.

The three dots again, this time for longer.

Haru: Yusuke-kun?

Another delay.

Yusuke: I'm pleased to hear. This could propel your projects to your desire heights far sooner.

Yet another delay. Haru stood nervously in the middle of her kitchen, wondering whether to set her phone down and just focus on breakfast, or wait on her friend. She was well aware Yusuke and Ryuji were very different people, but she still felt like she could hear a mini-Ann, propped on her shoulder, dispensing foreboding advice.

Yusuke: I apologise for the delay, I am typing with one hand only.

Haru let out a hybrid sound, of a gasp and a squeak, joined in mutual shock.

The three dots again. By this point, Haru was holding her phone with the tips of her fingers. Instinctively, her eyes looked around for something, anything that could work as pliers.

Yusuke: I'm being harassed by a cat. It's extremely demanding of affection.

The young woman let out a sigh of relief. She continued the conversation.

Haru: Is it Mona-chan?

Three dots. Yusuke: Thankfully not. That would be off-putting. Another typing delay: This is, in fact, a gorgeous, elegant cat.

Haru: Can you take a picture?

After a short delay, the picture showed up on the conversation under Yusuke's side of the messaging interface. Quite like he said, it was a beautiful, white cat with long, fluffy fur and large blue eyes. Without realising it, Haru squeaked at the thought of petting it, especially if it was as demanding for affection as Yusuke said.

Haru: It's so cute! Is it a boy or a girl?

Three dots again, by which time, she no longer minded. This one was the longest.

Yusuke: I tried looking but I can't see through that much fur. I'm thinking of painting this cat for the first commission. Not like this, however. I need the proper lighting. Late sun, perhaps. The light should colour the fur appropriately. I can see it already! In fact, I believe the setting sun against it will look like your hair. Glorious!

Haru stayed quiet. She did not know whether to see his message as a compliment or not. Yusuke lacked the malice to deliver a backhanded compliment, this much she could draw comfort from. After looking at the selection of adjectives he used throughout the conversation - gorgeous, elegant, glorious – she considered safe to accept it as a positive comment. Alas, now it was time for Haru to doubt as she typed. Three dancing dots on her end.

Haru: I look forward to it!

Then a quick, strange thought.

Haru: Where are you, Yusuke?

Yusuke: I'm outside LeBlanc. I'm waiting for them to open for breakfast.

The girl went pale. It was much too early to be out in the streets. The questions to ask all funnelled into Haru's mind at once, and before she could think of which to ask first, she already heard Yusuke's voice responding with a smooth, unperturbed flavour.

Haru: Why are you outside LeBlanc at this hour?

Yusuke: I felt hungry after I woke up. I reckon I overslept after yesterday. I was exhausted.

Even more questions bubbled up.

Haru: What were you doing yesterday?

Three dots again. Haru braced herself for a reply she was not sure she actually wanted.

Yusuke went into detail about the genesis of the idea, its pursuit and even the fateful way the light shone that precise day at Inokashira Pond. A bittersweet feeling rose inside of Haru as she read the message, on how he painted Makoto and Akira together in a boat. Every now and then, a lonely 'what if' poked at her thoughts. It was nothing that caused resentment towards Akira, Makoto, or now Yusuke. But it was there, nonetheless. In the end, Haru asked if she could see the painting.

He replied that he decided to give it to them as a present, but since they were unsure of whether to house it at Akira or Makoto's, they asked him to keep it for them in the meantime. Regardless, he still took a picture on the day. Although it was an imperfect image, Haru felt more touched than envious when looking at it. The love between Akira and Makoto was more than clear, but something even clearer to Haru was the love Yusuke showed for his friends when painting it. She did not need to ask: Yusuke would accept money from nobody when it came to painting something like this. This unabashed devotion to his ideals and his own way to convey them was something Haru deeply admired of Yusuke.

Perhaps, Yusuke's remark about the cat under the setting sun and Haru's hair was more heartful than initially apparent.

Haru felt the time to let the conversation rest was nearing. After setting her phone down, Haru turned back to the kitchen, only to find out the cook had already beaten her to making breakfast.

"Now, now. Haru-chan." The plump woman in impeccable white said with a smile. "You leave that to me. That hair of yours needs its time and care."

[ ]

Futaba Sakura was a curious creature by nature. Having learnt to read at the tender age of three, and become a voracious reader at five, it seemed as if the girl was aching to see everything the world had to offer. Her mother, endearingly, called it 'hungry eyes'. Wakaba imagined little Futaba would eventually develop the truest of wanderlusts, and that her life would be rich with wonders that would still fail to quench her appetite for words and images. Thus, it was a tragic irony that, after her mother's death, Futaba's life would turn a far cry from Wakaba's hopes. Surrounded on all sides by scheming adults, and a neglectful uncle, her eyes were in peril of losing their hunger.

In the end, she was adopted by Sojiro Sakura, whose undying love for Wakaba Isshiki was a debt that turned into fatherly love. For all his efforts, all he could give Futaba was a room of her own, inside of which she made her tomb. Still, within the walls that kept her from a cruel world, she found a way to feast her eyes and her mind. In her own way, through video games, films, anime and illegally obtained music, Futaba stepped into a world of wonders. Then along came the Phantom Thieves, and with her regained freedom from her ghosts, she braved into another world that dwarfed the musings of both mother and daughter.

Yet, for all the amazing things Futaba has seen in her budding lifetime, sometimes cat videos captivated her about as much a wide starlit night sky. One afternoon, as she arrived home after school, the girl with orange-red dyed hair caught a glimpse of white and black chaos unfurling across a little patch of green in Yongen-jaya. Realising what it was, she went down on a squat to behold what looked like a lovers quarrel between cats. And much to her amusement, it featured Morgana.

The furious dance of growls and tails went on for about twelve seconds more before her feline friend caught wind of her presence, after which he promptly stopped. His companion, with ears pinned back, promised another pounce to follow.

"What the HELL are you doing!?" Morgana stared, protesting more than asking.

"Really? You are asking me that?" Futaba returned his stare with smug eyes. "Who's your friend?"

"She…" Mona hesitated at seeing the girl's face on the mention of a 'she'. "She's my friend, I guess."

"Well, yeah. I can see that. But what's her name?"

"Um… Snow."

"Ooooh! Wait, she told you her name? DO YOU ACTUALLY SPEAK CAT?"

"No! I mean…" Mona titled his head. "I overheard her human call her Snow, and I went with that. I can't really talk with her. All I hear from her is meowing."

"Oh. That's not good. How are you going to level up your relationship with snowy here?" Futaba raised her arms in exaggerated fashion.

"Uh… relationship?" The word came out as strange as it felt in Morgana's mind.

"Duh. Social links, whatever." Futaba's gaze shifted towards Snow, who now regarded her with curiosity. The cat took kindly as the girl extended her finger for her to sniff. After that, Snow felt at ease to purr under Futaba's affections. Distracted, Futaba only halfway noticed how Morgana stared off into the distance, set off by the word and the mental floodgate it opened anew. "Don't blue-screen on me, Mona."

"You ruined my day, Futaba." Morgana said quietly.

"Come now. It'll be o-"

"Snow! There you are!" Another girl's voice snatched everybody's attention. Futaba squinted up at her, vaguely recognising her wild, black hair and the frenzy-prone look in her eyes. Morgana, on the other hand, knew her as Yumeko, Snow's human. It was a surprise to find her here, of all places, so far away from Shibuya

It was then that realisation smacked Morgana cold. He had never seen Snow go back to Shibuya, to Yumeko. Every day, it took only a few minutes for him to run into Snow. Had the white cat run away from home… to be with him? The notion made him dizzy.

"Naughty girl!" Yumeko said as she crouched next to Futaba to pet the cat. "Oh, hi." She said finally, looking at Futaba and Morgana. "Sorry. Snow's been a handful. We recently moved into the neighbourhood. She's still getting used to the new place."

"It's okay. It's a cool cat you got there." Futaba squinted harder, trying to dig her face out from a heap of memories. "I'm Futaba Sakura."

"Yumeko Mogami. Nice to meet you." She replied carefree.

"Mogami, Mogami…" Futaba felt like she was about to come up with something. "Hey! Your family has a little restaurant in Shibuya, right?"

"Um, had… No, I mean, it's still a restaurant. We just… um… moved it here." Yumeko sounded somewhat uncomfortable.

"Why? This neighbourhood is a dump. Don't get me wrong, I love this dump, but it's a dump."

"The rent was a bit high." The wild eyed girl admitted with quiet embarrassment.

"Oooooh. Well, I'm sure you'll end up loving this dump too."

"Yeah… Hey, you got a cat too! What's his name?"

"He's Morgana. Mona for short. He likes it when you pull on his cheeks like THIS."

Somehow, Morgana was so submerged in his own thoughts that he failed to catch a word of the entire conversation. It was only as Futaba pulled on his cheeks that he returned to the present, with considerable annoyance.

"Hey! What the hell!?"

"Don't at me, Mona!"

"Hey, come here, Mona-chan… kun?" Yumeko reached out docile. The gesture seemed somewhat unfitting for the girl, but Morgana still played the part, if for nothing else, to avoid being rude. "What a handsome cat you are!"

"Yeah." Futaba decided to join in on the affection. "He is. Don't tell him that too much, though. Head big enough as it is."

A third hand joined in, which nobody noticed until several seconds later. Startled, Futaba and Yumeko looked up to see Yusuke sitting cross-legged on the grass.

"Inari!" Futaba called out to him with her usual mischievous tone. His response was invariably some degree of irritation. But she found no response this time. "Inari?" She probed, finding only shaded pale skin peeking out of the parting of his hair.

"Is he your friend?" Yumeko asked. "Is he okay?"

"Hey, Inari! Smellyhead! Nerd! Crustacean Supreme!" The humour in her epithets for him diminished gradually as she met no response. She noticed the mechanical, uncharacteristic way he petted Morgana.

Morgana then stepped up on his legs and pawed at his face, seemingly breaking his stupor.

"Yusuke?" Futaba looked closer as the young man raised his head to meet her eyes.

She found nothing of his usual eccentric self in his face. Only a strange, confounded, almost defeated expression.

"I…" He finally, hesitantly, broke his silence. "I think I saw the most perturbing thing back at LeBlanc…"

[ ]

Makoto Niijima was known to be strict when it came to time management. Each activity in her daily life had its time apportioned, whether for work or leisure, yet she could still afford herself some small indulgences – for the right reasons, which almost always meant family and friends. She could not actually count Yuuki Mishima among her friends, even if he had proven a valuably ally to the Phantom Thieves in the past. Actually, she felt slightly ashamed about remembering mostly as his Shadow-self in Mementos. The fact that he had leaked Akira's record helped matters little; yet again, she could not ignore Suguru Kamoshida's role in that situation either.

All things considered, Makoto found no actual reason to deny his request, come from a text message the night before. It would not be much, but she could give him a small window in between after-class and her ensuing studying sessions at the University's library. As she waited, seated on a bench by the shade of a tree, she felt some irritation about the weather that day. Waiting outside on a hot day quickly started to feel like the most fruitless activity imaginable. She hoped the tone in her text reply was clear enough – she expected him to be punctual.

Fortunately, Mishima did not have her waiting long. But within the five minutes it took him to meet up with her, Makoto felt rather bothered. Things on his side were not very different to hers. Whatever his reasons, they were probably of importance to need a talk with Makoto, herself almost a stranger to him. She went through several possibilities. Perhaps he was in need of a favour; maybe he knew of a task she was well suited for; could be that he wished to make a friend out of a mere acquaintance. Inside her thoughts, Eiko's voice suggested he wished to declare his undying love for Makoto. As she caught sight of the young man waving at her from the entrance to the courtyard, Makoto prayed to all forces of faith and chance for the latter to not be the case.

Regardless, she did not feel enthusiastic.

"Good afternoon, Niijima-senpai!" He smiled as he approached, ending in a solemn bow. He looked as if he barely aged a day since the last time she saw him.

"Hello there, Mishima-kun." Makoto greeted politely. "What can I for you?"

"Uh, well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, momentarily avoiding her eyes. "I just want to talk, really, about something."

Makoto's lips formed a straight line. Still, she maintained her demeanour.

"Could we walk for a moment?" A break of unease in his voice.

"Sure."

Yuuki still would not look at her in the eye as they strolled about campus. His hands were deep in the pockets on his pants, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. Makoto was quite sure it was not the heat what caused this.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Niijima-senpai. I hope I'm not taking too much of your time." He looked up at her apologetically.

"Not at all. But to be honest, I don't have too much time today, Mishima-kun."

"Right! Yeah, I better cut to the chase. Actually I'd been meaning to talk to you for a while. I'm sort of writing this script for a documentary on the Phantom Thieves and, well... No, sorry. That's not the reason I wish to talk."

"Take your time." She said despite her tight schedule.

"I heard that you and Akira are dating. Is that true?" He no longer looked away.

"Yes, it is true, Mishima-kun." The young woman replied cautiously. She started to feel the expected possibilities were all far off the mark.

"Okay, good." He stopped on his tracks. He spoke slowly. "I think I need to give some context. These days I've been working with Akira in LeBlanc, making coffee and food, sometimes doing errands."

Makoto stared at him in confusion.

"Boss let you work at the café?" Of all the questions that began sprouting in her head, she surprised herself asking this first.

"Y-yeah."

"And you're doing this because…?"

"It's for my documentary. I hope to see how life looks from his perspective, to understand what led him to become a Phantom Thief."

"Okay?"

"But, this is not about the Phantom Thieves..." He said it more to himself than to Makoto. "This is about Akira… Maybe it's all just my imagination, but two are very close, aren't you?"

"We are." The young woman angled her face in quizzical fashion. Suspicion started yielding to concern.

"H-have… have you noticed anything off about Akira?"

"Such as?" An anxious, but slight pause in her words.

"I'm not very sure… like I said, it may be just my imagination. I really don't want to cause trouble if it's nothing at all. It's just that he's my friend, and I'm worried…"

"Mishima-kun." Makoto urged him to get to the point.

"These days, I think I've seen him… spacing out?" Yuuki looked unsure if he was using the right word. "While he works, he never really messes up, but I get this feeling when I look at him, that he's… well, not there."

Makoto looked at him in silence. Within, she searched through her memories of the past few weeks.

"Like, he's just staring ahead. Sometimes it's like he doesn't hear what Boss or I say to him. But, yeah, he doesn't mess up or anything. I mean, it really may be nothing. Or, I don't know, just stress?"

Deja entendu, or was it? A strange sensation took hold of the young woman's frame like a sudden draft creeping up her spine, the uncomfortable feeling that she was overlooking something of vital importance. Unpleasant could not begin to describe it.

"I see." Makoto felt Mishima's concerned eyes on her. "Thank you, for bringing this to my attention, Mishima-kun."

"It's no problem, Niijima-senpai. I thought it'd be best to let you know."

"By the way." Makoto tried to speak a little levity into the tension. "I'm not really your upperclassman anymore. You can just call me Makoto."

"Oh!" The young man appeared slightly flustered. "Then you can call me Yuuki."

"It's nice to make your acquaintance proper, Yuuki" She smiled as warmly as she could at the moment. "I'll keep an eye on Akira. I'll let you know if I see anything unusual."

The two said their farewells shortly after. There was still a considerable stretch of the day ahead for both. Yuuki needed to work on the script for his film, even if he doubted he would get much work done. As for Makoto, her head grew heavy with concern. Before heading to the library, she returned to her seat on the bench and pulled out her phone. Her first instinct was to get in touch with everybody, but she reasoned she may be approaching the same trap Mishima avoided. It could indeed very well be stress. Then again…

Makoto bit her lower lip, dwelling in deep thought for a few minutes. School and work were nothing new to her boyfriend – no new hurdle to any of them, in fact. The stakes they once faced were exponentially greater, and yet they all carried themselves with relative constancy. It was truly a wonder that nobody's health took a steep decline. But if Yuuki was on to something, it would be unforgivable to let it pass unchecked.

A sigh.

It may not be a great idea to create a chat group for all sans Akira as she briefly considered. If there was a consensus to be had, it should be discreet. Messaging Ann, and picking her words carefully to avoid panic seemed the best option. But before that, she needed to approach him, give him a chance to talk to her if there was a problem.

"Hi. Just got out of class. About to go to the library. Thought about you. How are you? Would you like to meet for dinner?"

She stared at the screen for a moment, her finger hovering over the 'send' button. She hoped he would not be able to discern the full intent behind the message. If Yuuki approached on his own to speak to her on the matter, it was safe to assume he did so without Akira's knowledge. She needed to be careful so as not to cause tension between them. Finally, she sent the message, and hoped that he would not delay to reply.

A heavy sensation contained in her chest. Makoto thought about every moment Akira and she shared together since his return. Every word, sigh, touch and kiss – slowly dissected in search of a sign, an answer to a question that preyed on her thoughts.

Had she simply been looking at Akira, but not seeing him?

The sensation went from her chest to the pit of her stomach. Without thinking it, she typed further and sent without hesitation.

"I love you."