6/12 – Sunday
Midnight
Velvet Room
Ren knew where he was before he opened his eyes. Even before the blue, he could smell the iron, hear the impatient shuffling of feet from his more energetic warden. And he felt the incredible weight chained to his chest–
Ren stared at the blue ceiling. It hadn't been his chest, had it? It had been his ankle. Sure enough, when he looked down at himself, the chain was shackled to his leg. Then why did it feel so intensely anchored inside him, like a vice around his heart?
"Please don't make us wait much longer, Inmate," came a monotone from outside his cell.
"Right," Ren responded, and dragged himself to his feet. It was a miserable trip to the bars, but a graciously short one.
The man behind the desk smiled with far too many teeth and stared with beady eyes that reminded Ren more of peepholes through a mask. The two wardens stood at attention, and the man spoke. "You've done very well," Igor said. "Beyond your two triumphs against humanity's distortion, you seem to have taken my words to heart." He raised one hand, a flicker of blue between his fingers. Then, a tarot card, glowing azure in the man's grasp. "I told you to surround yourself with those who share your aesthetics. You have done so, and forged bonds of blood to each of them."
Beyond the Thieves, Ren found himself thinking of Mishima, of Kasumi. "Didn't you say you'd answer my questions? That you'd tell me what this whole thing," he gestured to the prison, "is about; now that I've formed my bonds or whatever."
Caroline seemed to flinch at this, but she kept her mouth shut. Ren wasn't sure why, but the girl looked almost ashamed. Scolded? Had Igor told her to stop verbally abusing him, or something?
"Hm." A thoughtful hum, and Igor's fingers closed around the card, the ephemeral object vanishing into flame. "You should be aware Trickster, but your work is far from over. There is distortion that is left to be solved, and outcasts who remain unturned, unawakened." He chuckled. "But your pride is not misplaced. You have done well, and deserve an appropriate reward."
Ren couldn't be sure that the man would answer anything, but he had a chance to at least ask. To maybe get some sort of insight on one of the hundred different mysteries he'd been grappling with. Ren took a deep breath. Igor might know something about Oxymoron, but his lack of reference to her so far? It made Ren feel that the opposite was most likely true. Might as well ask about something related to the man directly... "The Wild Card. You said you gave it to me, this whole prison is about helping me use that power. What is it, exactly? Why did I get it?"
Igor was silent for a moment. Silent, motionless, utterly still in thought. "The Arcana," he said, finally, "is the means by which all is revealed. Humankind relies on these roles, these masks beneath their masks, to find their place in the world." As he spoke, a glimmer in the air above his head. Another card; no, not one, but something like a dozen little rectangles of blue, hovering in a lazy ring around the circular prison. "To form a powerful bond is an easy task, but to draw on that bond as strength requires something beyond empathy." Igor's little eyes seemed to gleam. "It requires ego-death. Surrendering one's entire world to a foreign current, to the eyes of another, and placing their mask in place of one's own. Accomplishing this once is a massive feat, one very few could claim to be capable of. But there are those..." Igor laughed. "Those who are foolish enough to turn even their own loss of identity into a tool, a blade against the dark. The Wild Card is a contract, a permission I have been allowed to grant to those with a natural talent for turning their bonds into power."
Ren tried very hard to wrap his brain around the complicated mix of philosophy and magic and found himself satisfied but perplexed. "So I'm naturally good at doing this stuff anyway, you just...unlocked my potential? Something like that."
"In a sense," Igor said, "perhaps it would help you to think of it that way."
The evasiveness continued to be frustrating to no end, but that explanation was probably the most he'd gotten from the man so far. Best to take it one step at a time. "May I ask another question?"
Before Igor could answer, Caroline cut in with a frustrated growl. "Don't push your luck, Inmate! Our master is giving you the time of day, you shouldn't get so cocky as to–"
"Caroline." Even as that booming command wasn't directed at him, Ren still shuddered. Caroline on the other hand, stiffened completely, her one eye wide and frightened.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked, in a voice that sent a furious pang through Ren's chest. "I'll be quiet, I'm sorry."
A little silence, tense, the girl breathing hard. "Very good," Igor said, finally. "Your temper is unbecoming of you. We will need to work extra hard in the future to ensure it is properly addressed."
Caroline nodded with terrified energy. "I'll do better," she said, almost a whimper. "I promise I'll do better." Ren bit down on nothing, stifling his urge to jump to the girl's defense. He wanted so desperately to stand between her and the man, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do from inside the cell.
"As for your next question, Trickster," Igor continued, turning back to Ren. "I will decline, for the time being. Continue your work, continue forming bonds and cutting humanity's distortion from its innards, and I will tell you more." The man spun his chair around, and Ren could vaguely see him standing up, though Igor was now wrapped in shadows. "Caroline, come. We shall discuss further methods of preventing your outbursts. Justine, I trust you to escort your Inmate back to his world?"
Justine bowed stiffly. "I will do so, my master."
Caroline, silent, trudged into the dark after Igor, and both vanished from sight.
Ren was about to turn back towards his cell's bed when he felt something tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Justine, her expression odd and strained, reaching through the bars to keep him there. "While my master is away," she said, and paused. She shifted in place. "I need your help. I have nothing to offer, but–"
"Happy to help," Ren replied, as softly as he could. He crouched down a little to get to the girl's eyeline. "What's up?"
She looked at him oddly, but...maybe gratefully, and let go of his sleeve. "Arsene," she said, and started flipping through her Compendium. "He was scoured from these pages, but you manage to continue to summon him despite that." One yellow eye, locking with Ren's. "How? How did you call on an executed Persona without the Compendium?"
Ren reached up and twisted a few locks between his fingers as he struggled for an answer. "I don't really know," he admitted. "I was scared I was going to die, and I called for him." After another few seconds of thought, he continued. "He doesn't feel like a normal Persona. Not since that, at least. He's got a major attitude problem, for one. And it feels like we're chained together, not anything like the bond I have with my other masks."
Justine nodded, one hand on her chin, mulling over Ren's words. "Are you quite sure your Arsene is a Persona?"
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Probably? What else would he be?"
"A Shadow," she said, plainly. And that sent a chill into Ren's gut. "To reject and be rejected by one's other self, to be a human limiter to a violent and unpredictable mirror of one's shameful heart. That sounds more like a Shadow than a Persona to me." Justine shrugged. "I don't know if Shadows can be chained to a person, or if the Wild Card can even be used while its wielder is inverted as such." She glanced at Ren. "If you find out anything else about him, could you tell me?"
"Sure," Ren said. "Out of curiosity though, why do you wanna know?"
"It's my job," she replied. Then she paused. "Beyond that, you are very interesting to me, Inmate. There is very much about you that seems impossible, or contradictory. I feel that each time I see you, I learn something new." Justine smiled sheepishly. "Is that odd to say? It feels odd."
Ren shrugged. "Makes sense to me." He smiled. "I'm happy to keep teaching you stuff, Justine."
She stared at him for a long few seconds "May I tell you something?" she asked. "You have to promise not to tell my master."
Ren mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key.
Justine giggled, then cleared her throat. "If you fail," she said, "my master says that humanity will sleep forever in its distortion. It will mean that we have failed as well, we will no doubt be held responsible..." She trailed off, her posture tense. "I do not want you to fail. I do not want to fail you. And yet I think I am sad when I see you fight." Justine stared at him. "You fight like someone with everything to lose but his life. You're afraid to die, but less than you are afraid to fail." She was quiet, for another moment. "That seems like a very lonely way to fight."
Ren tried to think how best to respond to the girl. "It is," he said, "sometimes. I'm not alone anymore though, I've got my friends to fight with me. They won't let me fail, or die. So you don't need to worry about me." He put on a big smile. "I've got this."
She didn't seem to perk up in the slightest, just looking right at his obviously-fake grin without an ounce of reaction. "You fight for other people," she said, slowly. "Strangers, even. Don't you?"
Ren nodded.
"If..." Justine cleared her throat. "If I asked you to fight for Caroline, or for me, would you?"
"I would," Ren replied. "Without a second thought." He reached his arm through the bars, one hand outstretched to her.
And that made her smile. Justine took Ren's hand, and shook it. "I'll remember that," she said.
6/12 – Sunday
Afternoon
Shibuya General Hospital
Ann
Hey Ren.
Is today a good day?
I think I want to see Shiho again.
Neither Ren nor Ann were allowed in the room with Shiho and her physical therapist. But they were allowed to watch, allowed to stand in the hallway on the other side of the wide glass window. She kept glancing at them – well, glancing at Ann – and smiling. Ren could see the sweat on her brow through the glass, the way her jaw hadn't relaxed in maybe months, the bags under her eyes even across the distance. He could hear her therapist, faintly, a soft and firm voice. But he could not hear Shiho, her voice did not travel that far, could not make it through the barrier between them. And that was maybe the most painful of all.
Ren hadn't had any expectation of what Shiho would look like, but just the sight of her pain turned his stomach, sent some mixture of horror, fury and grief through him in waves. She was tired, itching to move and yet exhausted even when just trying to stand up. Pain, over and over. She would lean against her trainer, against a standing bar, against a wall. Her legs would shake, those black braces clattering against each other. And she would crumple. Not cry out, never cry out, simply let gravity drag her back down as gracefully as a building in a planned detonation. She would get pulled back up, scooted into a chair, deep breaths forced into her lungs.
He didn't have any words to describe what it felt like. She deserved better; but even that statement was an infuriating, laughable under-exaggeration. It never should have gotten this bad.
It wasn't his pain. That was the strangest part, though he felt it would be inappropriate to dwell on it. Each fall was agony, a disappointment not in the girl but the circumstances. Shiho's tired gasps were curses against god. And Ren felt each one as if it were his own agony. Maybe that was selfish, but all he could do was sit in that pain with her, through the wall. Well, not just that. Ren glanced towards Ann. He could be here for her, and that would probably be for the best.
Ann was...odd. Quiet. Smiling each time Shiho looked her way, but otherwise, she was steady and stiff. Emotionless. No, not emotionless, overwhelmed to the point of numbness, that was beyond clear to Ren. She cared. She cared so much it hurt and hurt so much she couldn't handle it.
There was nothing he could do but be there. An anchor, should she need it. But right now, she was putting on her bravest mask. She couldn't let herself grieve, not yet.
Thirty minutes passed in the span of ten years, and Shiho's trainer took her by the arm, gently escorting her back into her wheelchair. Down and settled, wheeled towards the glass, and then towards the door. As she passed them, Shiho looked at Ann and put her hand against the glass. Pulled along, a handprint smear, and Ren heard her trainer's scolding voice. And Shiho laughed, and Ren heard it. He heard it clear and unmuffled. And he smiled.
They watched her go, wheeled back down the hallway to her room. And the second Shiho was out of sight, Ann slammed into Ren, less an embrace than a full-body tackle. She grabbed onto his shirt, not crying so much as gasping, breathing hard and furious and mournful and so very in love. And Ren held her there, in the hospital hallway. That anchor he'd promised he'd be. Probably no more or less than she needed. Morgana purred quietly inside his bag, and the trio were quiet together.
Shiho's room probably might have had a nice view, if there hadn't been a tree growing in the dead center of her window. She was staring at it when they entered. Her legs, and their braces, slightly elevated, a pillow tucked underneath. Her hands in her lap. She looked far better than she should. There was a single vase of red roses next to her bed, more than a little wilted.
"Heya Shiho," Ann said. Steady, and happy. She probably still hurt, but she was clearly happy just to see her friend. She probably didn't need to fake it here, not with her.
Hey Ann," Shiho said. She glanced at the two, and smiled. "You too, Ren. Don't think I've forgotten about you."
Ren smiled back. "I didn't know I was so memorable."
Shiho giggled, smiling with her eyes – just a little thing, but Ren felt his entire heart tighten and unwind all at once. "I wouldn't say memorable. But quiet-looking scrawny guys like you aren't exactly a dime a dozen." She chuckled. "Ann's words, not mine."
"Oh my god, shut up, I did not describe him like that." Ann grabbed a chair from the wall and dragged it to Shiho's bedside, plopping down in it. She let out a huff of air through her nose and crossed her arms.
Ren shrugged. "Eh, guilty as charged." He sat down too, scooting his chair a little bit closer, not quite next to Ann's, his bag in his lap. "It's nice to see you again though, been a while."
Shiho nodded. "Letting any of the rumors get to you, new kid?" She winked.
"Nope," Ren replied. "And if anyone gives me shit, Ann will probably sprint across campus to dropkick them into the sun."
"Try me," Ann said, patting her bicep with a half-sneer half-grin.
Shiho snickered, covering her mouth. She winced, but she still laughed. "That's good to hear, at least. Sounds like you're still just as much of a spitfire without me around, Ann."
Ann shrugged, but something about her posture seemed a little stiffer than before. "Hey, hopefully you'll be back soon, so I can get back to beating up your haters too."
Hands back in her lap, fingers fiddling against each other. "I don't really think Shujin has any wheelchair entrances," she said, slowly. "Or elevators, for that matter."
"Then I'll kick Kobayakawa's ass till he installs them," Ann shot back, a messy attempt at playful.
Shiho smiled, a little pained, but didn't say anything. A silence, for a little bit.
Ann, probably just needing to fill the space with something, gestured towards the vase of roses. "Those are looking pretty worse for wear. Have the nurses been clipping the stems like I said?"
"I mean," Shiho replied, "I've been asleep too much to know or remind them, but probably not."
Ann stood up, grumbling under her breath, digging in her purse as she crossed around Shiho's bed. "Gotta do everything," was all Ren could catch before she pulled out a pair of scissors – he wasn't gonna ask why she had those – and carefully extracted one of the roses from the vase, snipping off the bottom of its stem.
"You can't keep 'em alive forever, you know," Shiho teased.
"I can fucking try," Ann replied. Snip. Rose down, next one up. Snip.
"Hey Ren," Morgana whispered, adjusting himself in his bag. "Can I say hello too?"
"So Shiho," Ren said. "How do you feel about cats?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I love cats. Why?"
"Well," Ren said, "I brought a friend." He scooted closer, leaning over and opening up his bag so Mona could exit with ease.
Shiho gasped, both hands on her mouth, as Morgana hopped out onto the bed next to her stomach. "Hi there little buddy," she whispered.
"His name's Morgana," Ren said. "He's my, uh, therapy cat, but he's real friendly."
Morgana scrunched up his nose at Ren, probably silently protesting the moniker, but nevertheless put one paw up on Shiho's abdomen. Almost testing the waters, making sure it wouldn't case her pain, and when it didn't, he climbed up all the way onto her. "Hi there," he said, plopping down on her stomach.
Shiho let out a little oomph as the feline settled on her, but didn't protest in the slightest, just reaching down to gently pet Morgana. "Oh my god he's so fluffy," she mumbled. "He's so fluffy. How are you so fluffy, Morgana?" Her voice almost immediately changed into a coo, scritching Mona under his chin.
"I groom myself every day!" he replied, probably forgetting that she couldn't understand him, rubbing his head into Shiho's hand. "My coat is pristine."
Shiho grinned with her eyes. "You're a talkative little friend, aren't you? Such a freaking cutie, holy shit." She glanced towards Ren, mouthing "thank you."
He nodded, smiling back. "My pleasure," he said.
6/13 – Monday
After School
Shujin Academy
Makoto was waiting in the hallway. Judging from her crossed arms, firm stance and the way she locked eyes with Ren as soon as he rounded the corner, she was probably waiting for him.
"Miss President," he said. His voice was calm; he didn't need an affectation, the young woman really didn't intimidate him in the slightest. There was just something sort of forced about her, wound too tightly, too careful to cause harm.
"Mister Amamiya," she replied, just as calm. Maybe she was stifling herself, but maybe she really was just confident. "I'd like to speak with you in the student council room, about your extracurricular activities." She turned, but glanced over her shoulder at him. Some glint in her eyes, some odd and incomprehensible emotion. "Please."
It was that final word that caught him a little off-guard, it sounded almost earnest. Morgana probably caught that too, he stirred in his bag. "Maybe we should," he mumbled. "She might just go tell the Principal if we don't."
That, and he had the feeling it was going to be far more complicated than their last conversation. "Okay," he said.
It wasn't a long walk, but still required a trek up the nearby stairs. Makoto unlocked the door for them and then stepped inside, Ren right behind her. It was a little more cramped than he had expected, barely enough space for a table and cheap-looking chairs, with other chairs stacked against the far wall, and various cabinets holding all manner of barely-organized objects. It was more like an oversized broom closet than a council room.
"Sit," Makoto said, and took a seat herself at the far end of the table.
Ren sat, placing his bag on the chair next to him.
"I'm not a detective," Makoto began, "nor am I an officer. I do have some light experience in investigation; you saw how sloppy I was when tailing you, though." She reached up to fiddle with her headband. "That being said, you four are even worse at keeping a low profile than I am at investigating."
You four. Ren kept his breath steady. "I'm not sure what you mean."
She smiled wryly. "I figured you'd say as much. You're not the best liars, but you've got conviction." Makoto sighed, maybe hesitant, but continued. "Almost as soon as you transferred here, you started associating yourself with one Ryuji Sakamoto." He wasn't a fan of that phrasing, but chose not to press the issue. "He is well-known to have troubled history with our former volleyball coach."
"Kamoshida abused him," Ren said, directly. He wouldn't stand for mincing words, not about Ryuji, not about the hell he had to go through.
Makoto was quiet for a moment. Maybe, mournful. "I am aware," she said, each word sounding like lead from her lips, like it was difficult just to speak them. Makoto cleared her throat. "Sakamoto had it out for Kamoshida; for good reason, but that doesn't change the fact that he had motive to act against him." She stared right at Ren, as if trying to see through him. "And then less than a week later, both you and he..." She paused. Closed her eyes, took a breath. "Less than a week later, Shiho Suzui attempted an escape from her abuse at Kamoshida's hands. Immediately after that, Suzui's best friend and another target of abuse – Ann Takamaki – becomes close friends with you and Sakamoto."
"They've been friends since middle school–" Ren started.
"And," Makoto continued, putting up a finger to cut Ren off. "That same day, Kamoshida begins to submit the necessary paperwork for your expulsion, as well as Sakamoto's. But less than a week after that, Kamoshida takes a leave of absence from Shujin without warning. Then, he stumbles into an all-school assembly, confesses his abuse, and there is a very public outburst from who else but Miss Takamaki." She leaned over, putting her chin in one hand and her elbow on the table. "After which, Takamaki went right to you and Sakamoto, and many students thought you seemed to be celebrating Kamoshida's confession. Almost as if you had known it would happen."
Ren didn't know what to say to that. He could have tried an excuse, but he couldn't think of anything that didn't sound weak or deflective. So he just sat there, waiting for her conclusion, even as he knew exactly what it was.
"Beyond that," she said, "there is your association with one Yusuke Kitagawa, apprentice to the famous artist Madarame, a few weeks before his master confesses his own crimes. Crimes which include direct slights against his apprentice, including theft and mutilation of his mother's final painting." Makoto smiled, tight-lipped, tense. "I recognize this evidence is circumstantial, but it is still more than enough to tie you four directly to the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. At the very least, you're direct accomplices to their heists, if not simply Thieves yourselves."
"And?" Ren prompted, trying not to let his irritation get the better of him. "I assume you have a reason to call me here, beyond just holding an accusation over my head. If I really was a Phantom Thief, I could just–" He cut himself off. 'I could just change your heart?' Was he really about to threaten someone like that, to stoop that low? Akechi's mocking smirk flashed in his mind, and Ren grit his teeth. "You've got a reason. So, spit it out."
Makoto was silent for a moment. She leaned back, arms crossed, breathing steady. Thinking, probably. "The Phantom Thieves have changed more than two hearts, haven't they?" she asked. "I took a look at that Aficionado Site, and there's a lot of people requesting a heart they want changed. And, many requests have follow-ups that the heart did indeed change. So," she looked directly at Ren, "are they helping people beyond themselves?"
Beyond themselves...it did make sense she'd be worried about that. Ryuji and Ann had both been abused by Kamoshida, and Yusuke by Madarame. Their most public actions had been, in some degree, self-serving. Ren didn't regret that in the slightest, but he did understand it painted a certain picture. "They do. Anyone who needs it, who they can help, they'll do it."
She nodded slowly. Then, she closed her eyes. "If I were to ask the Phantom Thieves for help, would they answer?"
Ren raised an eyebrow. He had expected blackmail or ego-stroking, not any sort of request. "You should probably just ask them," he replied.
She smirked and opened her eyes. "Yes. That's why I'm asking you."
Ah, right. "Then it depends on what help you're asking for. No promises, but I don't know any reason they wouldn't help you change someone's heart."
Makoto was quiet, seeming to think that over. "To be clear," she said, "I don't want you to think I'm holding you at gunpoint. Regardless of your decision...of what the Phantom Thieves decide, I won't pass on this information to Kobayakawa, or the police for that matter."
Ren blinked. He couldn't help but ask "why?" The word just tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"I don't know that I could explain it," she said with a shrug. "I guess, I'm the president of the student council. It's my job to look out for the student body, and you all are students. I don't think you're causing any harm to your peers, so I'll trust you." There was probably more there, Ren got the feeling she was holding the truth back somewhat, but no point pressuring her to divulge at this point.
"Thank you," he said.
"Just don't be the kind of people that boy detective prick says you are," she mumbled.
Ren could have laughed, but he only smiled. "I'm sure they won't." He reached up and spun a lock of hair around his finger. "You wanted someone's heart changed. Who?"
Makoto bit her lip, looking hesitant. Like she wanted to say something, to change the subject or divulge some awful truth. Instead, she took a deep breath, returning to a calm self-control. Whatever it was, she'd probably swallowed that urge. "I don't know his real name. In fact, I know very little about him besides for a moniker: Zebul."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "What kind of person uses a name like that?"
"A crime boss," she replied, simply. Ren felt, all at once, very cold. "He's the head of a gang in Shibuya whose members are currently targeting Shujin students, among others. There's more than a dozen students right now who are currently being financially exploited. I've been able to get a few to open up to me about this, but they're all far too scared to tell much more than that they're being blackmailed to pay off some sort of bullshit debt." She paused, starting to get a little more tense, a little legitimately angrier. But she took a deep breath, back to calm and controlled once more. "I don't know why Shibuya PD hasn't acted against Zebul's gang sooner, but their inaction is irrelevant at this point." And Makoto smiled. "For criminals who the police are unable or unwilling to prosecute, the Phantom Thieves should take them to task – isn't that right?"
Her words sounded oddly familiar, and then Ren realized they were his words, nearly verbatim the opinion he'd given to Akechi in that television broadcast. "They should," he said. Then he took a deep breath himself. Makoto was probably being earnest with him, he didn't have any reason to assume otherwise, but...he was still hesitant to put that much trust in her. To believe in the sentiment of someone like her, someone with her history of inaction. "Before I agree to anything, I want to make sure I can trust you."
Makoto nodded, adjusting herself on her chair. "Yes, that makes sense."
"You said you're doing this because it's your job," he began, "because you're the council president. Sure, I buy that, but I don't buy that's your real reason for wanting the Phantom Thieves' help."
"I admit I'm somewhat desperate," she replied, still calm, still choosing each word with articulate care. "It's hard watching people you're supposed to protect be hurt while you can do nothing to help them. You understand that, don't you?"
"What I don't understand is why you'd turn to..." Ren sighed. No point keeping up the whole plausible deniability charade at this point. "You know we're students. You know I've got a criminal record, you probably know that none of our group is particularly a fan of authority. In case that wasn't clear: we're outcasts. I'm guessing Kobayakawa wanted you to investigate me just cause he was looking for some excuse to kick me out of Shujin, right? Cause I'm an 'undesirable' or whatever."
She didn't say a word, but her surprised expression was answer enough.
"So," Ren continued, "you come to us. Despite the fact that you not only have reason but ability to get us all arrested, or at the very least expelled, as soon as we're done doing your dirty work. Even ignoring that, it wouldn't exactly be difficult for you to leak this information to the school newspaper. Fuck, you could probably leak to any news station in Shibuya, I bet they'd eat up another story about Shujin students getting exploited. But that'd be putting your authority on the line, you'd have to rock the boat for that. Asking a bunch of outcast nobodies to do it for you? That's safe."
"You tell her!" Morgana mewled from his bag.
"I tried," Makoto said, quietly. Her eyes locked on the table, hands clenched in her lap. "I tried, believe me I tried. I've reached out before, I've talked to Kobayakawa, I've called every police department in the goddamn prefecture. No one's done anything." She laughed, and there was no humor in the sound. "You're kind of my last shot here. The Phantom Thieves are the only people who might listen to me, who might help. I can't just do nothing."
He wanted to cave, to agree right then and there, but he kept his heart cold, kept his will steady. "Why not? It wouldn't be the first time." Makoto winced, and Ren knew he'd hit far more than just a sore spot. She didn't say anything, so he continued. "Kamoshida had been abusing his students for almost a year, and you said nothing. Maybe in this case you can't get the school to act, but I refuse to believe that you couldn't have done anything then."
"I know!" she said, and all of Ren's thoughts left his mind. "I know. I know I could have...I was scared. Terrified of speaking up. I could have said something, but I'd have to be the first person to say something was wrong, I'd have to shoulder that risk if it went wrong. And I couldn't. I just...I couldn't." She took a long, steady breath, and then raised her gaze to Ren. Not quite tears, but a deep grief in her eyes. "I told myself I'd never let this happen again. That I'd speak up, that I'd do something if there was ever another Kamoshida. But you're right. You're right, I still can't do that on my own, I don't know how to." Quiet, for a moment, and she lowered her head again. "I'm a coward. I get that, I don't want to pretend I'm some sort of hero. But at this point, I really don't care what happens to me. You can change my heart if you need to, I don't care. But I can't do nothing anymore, not ever again. I don't have the guts to say anything publicly, but I'll do whatever I can to make sure Zebul never touches a single fucking student again."
Ren took all that in. Silent, just thinking her words over, and over. He was still hesitant to trust someone in her position, but he wanted to.
"I think we should find out more about this Zebul guy before we agree to anything," Morgana whisper-mewled. "But if someone is blackmailing students, he's almost definitely got a Palace. It sounds like a good job for the Phantom Thieves."
Ren couldn't respond without looking like a crazy person, but he agreed completely. "Makoto," he said, and she started. "I can't agree to very much right now. The Phantom Thieves only operate in unanimity, and both Ryuji and Ann have been personally harmed by your inaction. If they decide not to work with you, I will not attempt to change their mind."
Makoto nodded, slowly. "I accept that."
"That being said," he continued, "I can promise that we'll carry out an investigation into your request. A gang might be outside our normal wheelhouse, but I agree with your sentiment: I also can't just sit back and do nothing while people are hurting." Ren scooted his chair back and stood, picking up his bag. "Let's exchange numbers; I'll keep in touch. Again, I need to confirm with my teammates, but at the very least we'll ask for any information you've gathered on Zebul."
Makoto was silent for a few moments. "Thank you, Ren," she said, finally. "I know you don't trust me completely, and I don't blame you for that. You don't owe me anything. So, thank you for helping me."
He wasn't sure what to say, for a while. "I'm a Phantom Thief," he said with a shrug. "Helping people is sorta what I do."
6/13 – Monday
Evening
Ren
Good news and bad news
Good news: I believe I found a target
He's a crime boss that goes by Zebul
Ryuji
oh hells the fuck YES
about damn time the thieves took another case
and a crime boss? that's pretty badass
Ren
Apparently he's been blackmailing students
I'll know more tomorrow
Ann
Well you've got my attention lol.
What's with that name though? Kinda weird.
Yusuke
In all likelihood it's a reference to Beelzebub; either a demon or the devil himself depending on interpretation.
Baal Zebub is his Philistinian name and literally translates to "Lord of the Flies."
Perhaps he thinks himself as ruler of many petty underlings?
Ann
Or he thinks he's a piece of shit lmao.
Yusuke
Oh Ren didn't you say you had bad news as well?
Ren
Yep
Bad news: makoto niijima knows we're the phantom thieves
She promised not to tell anyone, but she knows
Ann
That absolute motherf
Sorry I just dropped my phone. Aggressively. Into my bedroom wall.
Ryuji
r i p us i guess
