Chapter Thirty-Seven
"I'll be at your apartment at five o'clock," Sojiro tells her. Yume flashes a smile and focuses on not slurping breakfast. "You need to be there for five-thirty, correct?"
"And it begins at six-thirty."
"Understood," he sighs, folding the newspaper. "We'll be taking my car. Does Hitoshi have a ticket?"
"Iee," shake of her head. "You have the only two tickets."
"Alright. So we'll all fit. Are you… feeling prepared for this?"
"As I'll ever be!"
"Good, good." A long drink of his coffee. "I have the day off tomorrow. How about we celebrate?"
Her heart nervously flutters, will not let you down. "Yes, please!" Will give the best performance I can. She can walk, she can dance. Thank you for supporting me. "I'm so glad you can come!"
She hopes her parents are enjoying their excursions around Europe. Yume's fine where she is, living her boring new life.
;;;
Yume is four-and-a-half, but in reality she has only been alive for three-and-a-half years. For her, it is strange being born in the 2000's, and stranger still no one notices a year is missing from their lives. Everything in this unstable branch of time has shifted again and again, and people carry on with memories that shift too.
Ms. Ishii opens her email to read a notice from a lawyer. She smiles sweetly and comments to her husband how grateful she is that their daughter is now being looked after by someone in the neighborhood. "Wasn't it so nice of the previous guardian to have found a substitute for them?"
The words leave her mouth, and under normal circumstances she never would have uttered them. However, she remembers phone calls from an apologetic babysitter whose apartment burned down and needs to focus on herself for a length of time. Mr. and Ms. Ishii remember looking at a potential replacements list and picking a young boy they know the mother of. They remember hearing that their letters to their daughter either went up in smoke or went back to sender because of it.
There are proof of emails, memories of calls from their daughter claiming she likes Hitoshi, and their signatures on all the legal documents. Mr. and Ms. Ishii do not question any of it. They make note to send anything new to Maki so she can deliver them across the hall.
The things they don't know: Yume's dance lessons. Running to buy essentials, like groceries. The babysitter was in a car accident and only has snippets of her memory back. Their daughter hasn't truly spoken with them in over half a year.
Instead, Mr. and Ms. Ishii are preparing to meet with some colleagues in London, England next week. They'll send an email to Hitoshi to remind him they want updates on their daughter's progress, but they'll likely be too busy to call until December. They think they've talked with Yume only a few days ago, and that it's enough.
What they do is all for the betterment of the world. Yume will understand why they're away so often when she's older, or they'll leave her to live a sheep life.
;;;
There is a young boy with dark blue hair and grey eyes. He eyes the painting supplies of his guardian with yearning, small fingers sometimes brushing the colour he wants to add. Instead of strict lessons on etiquette or pressure to learn his numbers and letters, the four-year-old is being raised to be open and creative. There are already signs of a genius in him, hidden behind grey eyes that see too much and understand too little.
"Yusuke…" The boy looks up. One of his guardian's newest apprentices – a nice one who lets him hold the paint brush sometimes – looks weary as they help him up to a work bench. "You know you're not supposed to be in here."
There is something wrong with the apprentice. Dark circles under their eyes. Yusuke doesn't understand and doesn't know to ask. Instead, the boy points, "Blos'thoms."
"The blossoms are pretty," they smile, but it seems wrong. "Maybe it will end up in an art gallery next Spring."
Yusuke nods, hoping the world will see all the hard work of the apprentice. Just like the others.
;;;
"Are you excited for the trip?" Ms. Takamaki asks her daughter.
"Kyllä!" Ann cheers, digging into the picnic with gusto.
"I know I am," Mr. Takamaki sighs and looks around their backyard. "All this stress from work can't be healthy."
"Maybe we can beat up something powerful," Ms. Takamaki giggles around her wineglass. "It's been a while since anything was strong enough not to go down in one punch."
"Dear," Mr. Takamaki sighs again. "Not in front of Ann."
The girl looks up at her name, chocolate cake smashed all over her face.
"Oh, sweetheart," Ms. Takamaki coos, reaching forward with a wet napkin. "Let's get that off you. Cake is not to be attacked but enjoyed."
Ann whines and tries to lick it off herself. Her parents laugh, conversation dropped.
;;;
Ryuji scores the winning run for his team, out-pacing the ball by mere feet. He cheers and hollers with the team crowding around him. Nothing ruins this moment, not his father chatting amicably with the other parents or the coaches finally realizing the younger kids have potential too. When he meets his mother's proud gaze, he waves and shouts, "Look, ma, I did it!"
Her grin is something precious and not seen often in their household. "You did!"
He holds this moment close, treasuring it for days to come. For once, the concession food tastes alright. The boy smiles and thinks the world is on his side for now.
;;;
Goro scores the winning goal for his team and smiles thinly at the satisfaction when the game ends ten minutes later. There are excited cheers from his teammates, polite clapping from the parents, and relief from the high school referees. The boy is proud of himself.
No one in the audience clasp for him. He packs his things and gathers with the other two orphans. They wait another thirty minutes before a frazzled matron pulls up and helps them load things into a van. The other two chat excitedly with her, but Goro merely smiles and responds when prompted.
The two other children don't seem to understand he won the game for them. It aches a bit, though he knows by now the world doesn't revolve around him. If it did, he wouldn't be here. Wouldn't be forced into sport after sport as they shuffle people around to fulfill requirements. Wouldn't go back to an orphanage where most stay away, thinking him cursed.
Goro Akechi yearns for a day he can escape this all and do what he wants.
;;;
"Sojiro, really," Ms. Isshiki states over the phone neither scolding nor amused. "This is not a difficult problem. When Yume in on the stage, you clap harder. Cheer if you feel so inclined. Now, if you'll excuse me, Futaba and I are about to have dinner." Click.
Ms. Isshiki finally gives into the smile, shaking her head. Futaba calls again for food, and the woman switches phone for tray. Her daughter cheers at the sight.
"What's on tonight?" Ms. Isshiki asks, stealing the remote when her daughter is distracted. Futaba puffs her cheek with a spoon. "Don't choke, dear." She's already cut the pieces into bite-size, but always good to remind the three years old.
The thought of Futaba one day performing in front of a crowd of people makes Wakaba feel like breaking into stress hives. Thank goodness her daughter has no interest for the stage.
;;;
"Well, Makoto," Mr. Niijima grins at his daughter. "This is it. The big performance."
"You'll do fine," Sae assures her younger sister. "I was in the front row too. It's probably the easiest place; everyone else has to watch out for you."
"You're right," but Makoto's hands still shake. She keeps them clasped together. "I'm ready for this."
"That's the spirit!" the girls' father traps them both in a hug. They protest it may ruin the youngest's outfit. "Sorry, sorry. Just, at least let me take a few photos before we go."
The sisters share a look and nod. "Alright, father."
If Sae holds her sister just a little closer, it's for the photo. Makoto takes comfort in it anyway.
;;;
"Good luck," Akira repeats one more time. When the call is dead, he fiddles with the phone instead of his cuffs.
"Akira!" his mother shouts from the main hall. "I know you're dressed! If you don't come soon, we will be late!"
The boy sighs and gets out of the chair. He looks to the mirror. The default face looks back. He tries for a wider smile, but the forced feeling halts that. Hopefully there will be a few kids to stick close to. One or two from his dance class might be there. He swallows hard, thinking about the performance he has in a week.
How his father won't be there.
"Akira!"
He slams the door to signal he's coming.
;;;
Yume gets lifted into a booster seat, and almost freezes at who's in the passenger seat. "Ms. Eguchi?"
"Hi, Yume," the older woman smiles, eyes crinkling as she turns in the seat. "Are you excited for tonight?"
"H-hai!" she almost doesn't to believe, "Are you coming to watch?!"
"I'm Sojiro's plus one," the woman agrees. "I've been looking forward to this for ages, seeing how hard you've practiced. Where will you be on the stage?"
Yume finds her hands shake, all the nervousness of a four-year-old coming on at once as she explains. Sojiro driving barely registers. Eventually, the girl asks, "Aren't you busy with your granddaughter?"
"Not too busy to see my daughter on the stage."
Yume's brain crashes. "M-me?"
"Of course," Ms. Eguchi reaches back and takes the girl's hand. "Just because Hitoshi's your guardian doesn't mean I'm not going to help raise you. You're my daughter now, sweetheart, no matter what."
The girl in the backseat bursts into tears.
;;;
Haru is carefully helped out of the vehicle by Vice President Takakura. She keeps gripping his hand, staring up at her father with wide starry eyes.
"Where do we go?" Mr. Okumura mutters, waving the driver away.
Haru jolts and looks around. She knows where she is supposed to go, but not the adults. Thankfully, she catches sight of Yume the same time the smaller girl sees them. They wave, with Yume practically bouncing as she pulls an adult towards them.
"Is that your friend?" Takakura asks, smiling.
Haru's father, though, does not seem pleased as he squints. "I don't recognize the family."
"Yume's parents are away on business," Haru quickly replies. "Those are likely her guardians."
"Well," Takakura grins and gently moves Haru forwards, "might as well introduce ourselves. Maybe they can help us."
"Indeed," Mr. Okumura agrees.
Haru struggles not to hold her breath. If her father doesn't like them, then she'll never see Yume again. The thought claws at her insides until she feels like a ghost fading away in plain sight.
"Hi, Ms. Okumura!" Yume chirps and- when was the last time she used Haru's last name? Haru doesn't even remember Yume's last name. "Ms. Eguchi, Mr. Sakura, this is my good friend, Okumura Haru."
"It's nice to meet you," the woman smiles and introduces herself to everyone. While Mr. Okumura and Mr. Sakura eye each other, Ms. Eguchi and Takakura get on like a house on fire. "We're heading inside if you would like to join us?"
"That sounds lovely," Takakura agrees. Haru's released his hand to stick close to Yume.
The shortest person in the small huddle smoothly takes Haru and breaks off once inside. She holds the taller girl's hand and says, "Haru, remember to breathe."
Haru takes a deep breath, coughing a bit. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for." Under the light of the hallway, Yume's eyes look red and puffy. "We've got this."
They're split up to get ready for their sections. Haru's class will go first, and the girl gulps as a haggard Ms. Himura stalks the room. Miwa stops by at one point to wish good luck before hurrying over to Makoto's group.
"It's going to be okay," Haru mutters to herself, steadying breathes in and out. At least she isn't crying like half her class.
;;;
Kotori leaves the absolute mess of her usual friend group to stick with Yume in the corner. She takes one look at the shorter girl's face and tells her, "I thought you wouldn't have been crying over this."
"Oh, no, it's not the dancing," Yume blows her nose, voice thick. "Got some really good news before coming here. Emotions are hard."
"They are," Kotori agrees, settling down and grabbing a tissue of her own. She begins ripping it into smaller and smaller pieces. "So, what's the news?"
"Eh, I'll tell you later. You still have my phone number, right?"
Hanging on her fridge with a note to make a playdate with her, but Yume doesn't need to know that. "Yes."
"Then call me and I'll tell you."
"Okay." Kotori pokes at her pile of scraps.
"How are you feeling."
"I just want it over."
Yume laughs a bit, clearer than before. "I know the feeling."
Kotori settles back and enjoys the silence between them as the chaos behind the curtain unfolds.
;;;
It goes as well as expected for a bunch of 'organized' pre-school children. No one trips or takes a dive off the edge of the stage, so Yume counts it a success. She also comes to realize she enjoys the art of dancing, but not everyone's eyes on her. It was worse than being a plus one at a mafia cocktail party, but that could be the underdeveloped child-body's feelings talking.
There is a shift at the end of the night. Every class has performed, some even twice, and the owner of the dance school is supposed to come up to the stage and make a nice closing speech. Madam Himura takes the microphone and stands front and center before anyone realizes it. Yume isn't the only kid peeking through the curtains when the microphone turns on, just as she isn't the only one surprised when Takara Himura confesses everything.
All of it, because the woman was envious. After her injury, Takara was told she could never dance again. She took out her envy and anger on her students in the worst possible ways.
Yume's grip on the curtain falls. She stumbles back. On stage, Himura drops to her knees and cries.
It worked.
Without her dungeon, Madam Himura crumbled. Yume sinks against the wall and lets the panic and shouting wash over her. It's done.
She'll worry about whether the Phantom Thieves killed the cognition or not later.
What – Has Happened, Will Happen, Or Won't Happen – Again:
June 5th, 20XX
Haru Okumura wakes up just before midnight with a gasp. Her heart races, eyes staring unseeing at the bed covers she fists. A hand reaches up to touch her forehead. The images play in her mind, insistent that the nightmare was real. She tries to think it through but cannot remember another possibility. It doesn't make sense, she had public dance lessons for years.
Her mind is convinced otherwise, determining that she was pulled out before she was to start school.
Haru painfully staggers to her computer, flicking on a light to chase away the dark. It takes too long to pull up the articles she wants, and even then it doesn't make sense. Takara Himura was arrested several years ago during a raid in a bar, but Haru remembers police taking her away the night of the recital. Haru remembers a list of crimes, not the handful she sees here. It is hard, determining what is real and what is nightmare.
And why dream about it now?
Maybe it's the fiancé, reminding her too much of the time under Himura's sneering expression. Maybe a reminder her father once did care. Haru isn't sure why it's bothering her so much.
She does remember a few of the children are now her schoolmates. Maybe they remember what really happened to Himura, and to the little girl called Yume.
A/N: Compendium:
Librarians:
Sofia – Codename: Angel
Tristan – Codename: Chemist
Phantom Thieves:
Core Member(s):
Tetsuya – Codename: Ace
Tae – Codename: Bones
Mary – Codename: Navi
Sadayo – Codename: Poppy
Kayo – Codename: River
Hiroki – Codename: Saber
Hitoshi – Codename: Spike
Daichi – Codename: Wolf
Conditional Member(s):
Yume – Codename: Cheater