Chapter Four: Nibbling Away
They met that morning in Akira's room, vacant of his presence. The plan was coming together. As soon as the memory of Morgana dispelled their hopelessness, all shoulders were put to the wheel. So, the Phantom Thieves crafted the blueprint to their goal: the release of their friend Akira from Juvie Hall. The end goal was to exonerate Akira from the very crime that led to his initial arrest by bringing the infamous night under scrutiny. All shoulders were put to the wheel, and there would be no compromise on their part.
New Year's Eve was around the corner, and nobody could stomach the very notion of leaving Akira with silence on the day. Though he would not be counting down to the New Year at their side, they could at least reach out and remind him: they will never abandon him. Haru came up with the first iteration of the idea. A message from them all, and Boss, directly to him. Ryuji suggested a phone call, but Ann pointed out that it would surely be a mess and Akira would probably be given little time to take the call. Yusuke suggested a letter. While everyone agreed, Futaba remarked that somebody would need to write it. Everyone turned to look at Makoto, who had been somewhat quiet that morning.
"Yes. We ought to start right away if we want Akira to receive it before New Year." Her response was sound and swift enough to stave off any concern about her. Her emotions had been in constant flux since Christmas Eve. She was sad and angry, not only about her boyfriend being away, but by the sheer unjustness of it all. Her core instincts demanded a right to this wrong. And while it would come to be, she felt a pressing need to reassure the victim, to soothe and to protect. She would be failing herself if she did any less.
"Sojiro! We're gonna need coffee over here!" Futaba called out to her father downstairs.
"Come now. He has customers, one of us should go fetch the drinks." Ann said.
"I guess… Inari, GO!" Futaba made a throwing motion towards the stairs.
To her surprise, Yusuke stood up and walked downstairs without a word in protest or acknowledgement. Two minutes later, he returned empty-handed, declaring he just needed to use the restroom. Everybody's notebooks were out by then, a few notes here and there, scribbled and scratched out as they decided on what to tell Akira. Both Yusuke and Haru brought the coffee and the soft drinks upstairs a while later.
They took two hours to write it all down – several pages of varied handwriting styles, from the illegible to the intoxicatingly sophisticate. Makoto volunteered to put it all together, transcribe their messages into one neat document. This was certainly a tedious task, one nobody really wanted to do. But gracious as her gesture was, she had intentions of her own.
Though sometimes Ryuji or Ann would tease them, the relationship between Makoto and Akira was something they agreed to keep under wraps while they were engaged in stealing villainous hearts; it was a measure they found both sensible and thrilling. But this time, she could not add her words to the rest as just a friend and comrade. She wanted to send her love to him, as vigorously as a letter could afford.
She excused herself to work on putting their messages together. This took her most of the afternoon and the evening. She then stayed up long into the wee hours, writing something more intimate, pouring her heart out to him, minding grammar and coherence far less than she would otherwise. Come the morrow, she furtively slid her letter to Akira with their friends into the envelope and sent it herself. Afterwards, she headed to her room, and buried her face in a Buchimaru-kun cushion, falling asleep immediately.
[ ]
Something uncommon was occurring during breakfast. The mess hall vibrated with an uncharacteristic bustle that morning. The trio of Akira, Yasunori and Daigo noticed how much of it gravitated around Shogo and his people. The smirks and mocking glances cast their way were cause for concern.
"What the hell is going on?" Yasunori wondered out loud.
"Beats me." Akira replied, concealing an unpleasant instinct in his gut.
"Nothing important." Daigo added.
"Definitely doesn't look like nothing important. I haven't seen Shogo so happy in a while." Yasunori insisted.
"Rooster. Shogo knows what's at stake. Even he wouldn't risk upsetting a clan's instruction."
"I guess you're right. Maybe it's all mind games."
Akira remained silent. The sensation worsened. His pulse quickened.
"Regardless. Even if he tried anything. He would need to face me." Daigo spoke. Despite the boastful nature of his words, his tone hinted at no boisterous pride to his claim. Even when he was not around, the weight of his earlier presence was virtually a barrier that kept Akira and Yasunori safe. The latter chose not to go into detail, but even in vague words, Akira understood how dangerous Daigo was in spite of his young age.
"That's true." Yasunori chuckled nervously. "It must be nothing."
The noise was only getting louder, rowdier. Akira could closed his eyes for a moment, and focused his ears on Shogo's corner. He could hear wild cackling, mocking voices breaking into grating laughter, profanity. Among the thick marsh tone of sound, four words stood out, spoken by Shogo, tainted and defiled by Shogo's crude tone.
"Akira? You okay?" Yasunori noticed the shadow on his expression. He saw the devil blinking in his eye – the sign of a heart skipping a beat.
There was no mistaking what he heard from Shogo's mouth.
All my love, Makoto.
It took all of his inner fortitude to resist the temptation to walk into the den of the hyenas. And it was all but one second before he silently stood up and walked towards Shogo and the dozen inmates around him. His strides were long and swift, and his incredulous companions delayed to catch up, knowing of the danger he was putting himself in.
Akira cared none. Protection of those he cared for was the reason he was inside. He would not stand idly by and let any offence or misfortune befall them, by action or word. Tenfold so when it came to Makoto Niijima. By merely saying her name, Shogo had committed a grave offence in Akira's eyes.
Was this the sensible course of action, however? Was this an expression of love, or his own pride? Akira gave no room to think on the matter. The only future and the only reflection he cared about was the few seconds between one step and the next. He felt Yasunori's hand on his right shoulder – he shrugged it off. He then felt Daigo's heavy hand on the left shoulder, and he could go no further. By now, he was standing in the threshold of Shogo's dominions.
"Give it to me." Akira said with a dull tone, seemingly devoid of emotion.
"What was that?" Shogo asked with a spiteful smile.
"Give that letter to me." Akira repeated more slowly. His anger subtly showed through.
Shogo looked at the white sheet of paper, turned it around and gazed at the two pages in his other hand. He barely seemed able or willing to contain his laughter.
"I imagined you'd have a couple of loser friends outside… but a girlfriend? You? Wow…" He sniffed Makoto's half of the letter. "You could swear this chick sprayed something on this thing. Hey, you…" He handed the sheet to one of his lackeys. "Do you smell it too?"
The inmate took the letter and sniffed with exaggerated demeanour, and then passed his tongue over it. "Yeah, she did."
"Classy." Shogo took the letter back. "So, Kurusu… is she hot?"
Akira said nothing.
"You know, for all I know she could be some ugly, fat slut. But reading this… no, I think she must be pretty. A real head turner, I bet. Go you!" Shogo smiled widely. "I bet she has a nice body with curves on all the right places. You know, and a tight little pink cunt." He mimicked a slow and vulgar fingering motion with his hands.
No response from Akira. In truth, both Yasunori and Daigo showed each a more visible response.
"Damn. I was sure that'd get you riled up. Maybe you just don't care that much about her, man. That's a fucking shame. Tell you what, though. As soon as I get out of here, I'm paying her a visit. I'll show her there are still gentlemen in the world." Shogo hissed. "I'll show her real good."
"Akira, let's go." Yasunori spoke firm and serious. "Now."
Daigo and Yasunori walked behind Akira as they headed towards the gym. But even as they retired from the mess hall, they could hear Shogo reading Makoto's letter out loud, yelling almost, for Akira to hear.
"Rooster, you know the drill. Akira, you too." Daigo said as he joined them for this occasion, taking the one vacant punching bag, delivering steady, swift strikes. If only for a moment, it seemed as if he also needed to unwind.
They kept on for little over half an hour. Every now and then, Akira felt the glances of his companions like searchlights over his shoulder. His anger was not showing through his punches or kicks, but by how they failed to lift the shadow over his brow. Two times already Daigo told them to pick up the pace. Only the day before he started to get Akira and Yasunori to spar between them upon reaching the thirty minute mark. Today, such decision would prove ruinous if he let it.
Yasunori stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
"Akira, you okay?"
"Hmm-hmm."
"Rooster, get back to it."
"No! Man, we have to talk about this!" Yasunori turned to the wild haired youth. "Look, I can imagine how you must be feeling, man. You're fucking pissed, and rightly so. But it's not worth picking a fight over. Look: your girl, Makoto, was she? She cares so much that she wrote you a letter. And don't take this the wrong way, but if Shogo went through the trouble to yoink your mail and tease you with it, it must mean she wrote you real stuff."
Akira stopped with the punching bag. The momentum as it swung back almost hit Akira dead on his face.
"Dude… Something that special… it's above any bullshit Shogo says or does. And you know what? He's not getting released sooner than you. Not him. Am I lying, Daigo?"
"No." He conceded, still punching the bag.
"See? Weigh what I just said, man. And hold on to it."
Akira turned to look at Yasunori, instantly seeing Ryuji in him. He wept the night before he turned himself in. Makoto had just left, worried and disillusioned. His friends, still unaware. Morgana no longer at his side. He was truly and utterly alone. But his sadness then, much as his pride now, had blinded him to the truth. He was not alone then; he was not alone now.
Daigo stopped as well.
"Akira. You're a good one. Don't stoop down to one like Shogo. That girl of yours, she wouldn't want that." He spoke the truth. Akira could just picture her, angry that he would put himself at risk for a petty reason. His anger was instantly pacified by a bitter medicine: by shame.
"You two are right." Akira spoke. "I was about to do something foolish, for all the wrong reasons. Who knows what could have happened if you two weren't there. Thank you." He bowed.
"Again with the formalities, guy. Give it a rest."
All three took a break. They decided it was due time for a snack and some much needed normalness to their day. Yasunori eagerly volunteered to fetch the goods while Akira and Daigo waited outside the gym. Five minutes seemed a reasonable time to wait for him to get back. Even ten minutes was understandable. Things started to feel bleak when twenty minutes went by, and no sign of Yasunori still. Akira and Daigo exchanged a look of suspicion upon seeing a slender young man approach this part of the building. The way of his walk indicated purpose; he was not there by accident.
He stopped a few meters away from them. Akira recognised him as one of the guys who sat around Shogo that morning. The mocking expression was erased from his factions, but Akira could still see it plain.
"I got a message for you two from the Dog. He says he doesn't appreciate your friend going behind his back to steal from him. He's very disappointed, especially in you." He pointed at Akira. "He was okay with just leaving you alone, but now he's forced to do something. But hear this. He says that he'd be willing to let this slide under one condition."
Neither Akira nor Daigo said anything in acknowledgement. It was clear what Yasunori truly meant by getting snacks. He was trying to brick Akira the letter his friends had written for him.
"He won't touch you as long as he gets to keep Yasunori as his newest bitch."
Daigo stood up at the sound of this. The swift, almost violent response startled the youth, making him take several steps back.
"Whoa! Hey! I'm just the messenger. It's not even my fault." He started backing away. "It's yours." He pointed at Akira before running away. For several seconds afterwards, the only sound was the imaginary echo of his footfalls and his words. The seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes turned to certainty.
"I'm going." Akira declared stoically.
"No."
"What?"
"You're not going."
"I'm stating a fact. I'm going to go help Yasunori."
"That would put you at risk." Daigo's counterargument was trigger-quick. "This is what Shogo wants. He wants you to attack so he'll be justified to defend himself."
"I don't care. Yasunori's at risk" Akira responded just as quickly.
"You wouldn't be having a problem with just Shogo. You'd have a problem with all of his friends, and all the guys who choose to be at his side." The stout colossus walked towards Akira. "I was given an instruction by somebody important. What he says, must be so. I was told to make sure nothing happened to you. If you go, I may not be able to defend you from them all."
"You won't get into trouble. I'll vouch that this was my decision, because it is. You can come along and help me, or stand aside."
"You're not thinking straight." Daigo sighed, frustrated. "You must know by now Shogo is not very different from me. He can get away with some things because of who he is acquainted with. He's had the sense to back off so far. But my influence here can only do so much. It won't do anybody any favours if you rush into this."
"What about Yasunori? He's our friend!"
"He got himself mixed in this. He compromised it all."
"He meant well!"
"He compromised it all." Daigo emphasised. "It's lamentable, but if I am to keep you unharmed despite his well-being, then so be it."
Akira knew his words would not get through to Daigo. The latter would rather take him down himself to prevent him from confronting Shogo than risk something worse. It mattered none to the former Phantom Thief. He would fight Daigo if he had to. But first, he would opt to reason.
"Why does everyone call him 'Rooster'?" Akira's question fell like an anvil.
Daigo did not reply.
"Why does everyone call him 'Rooster'?" A grave, commanding tone filled Akira's voice, a memento of the infamous Joker.
"He… he always was very diligent, reliable, punctual."
"About what?" Akira pressed.
"Every job he's done for the clan."
"Every day, everybody confronts him with his own virtues, painting his loyalty on his face when you see him… but you won't lift a finger to aid him in his time of need." Akira's gaze made Daigo lower his. "He'll keep doing those jobs for your people when he gets out, and he'll be back here in no time. And he'll take it in the chest, without complaining. Does he not get some loyalty?"
Daigo had nothing to say. He did not stand in Akira's way as he made for the mess hall, where Shogo would most likely be.
At that moment, Akira was something more than every facet to the young man anyone has seen in the correctional facility. He was the courageous, the devious, and the relentless. He was Joker - he who would put himself in the fire to protect his friends. Once more that day, he walked forward with the clear intention to fight – this time, for the only right reason he knew.