10/23 – Sunday
Afternoon
Shibuya, Art Gallery
"Didn't know you were that into spray paint," Sojiro chuckled, nudging Ren in the shoulder.
Ren just shrugged. "There was that King guy a bit ago, so I guess that piqued my interest." He nodded to the sprayed painting – an ornate field of iridescent flowers in impossible shades, making the entire scene seem an unnaturally vibrant dream. "Never really knew that it was like...this pretty, I guess."
"I thought the calling card they made for Okumura was pretty," Morgana mumbled, his head poking out of Ren's bag to observe the painting as well. "The building people shouldn't have washed it off."
"I wonder if Daisuke has ever tried his hand at a traditional canvas," Yusuke muttered, rubbing at his chin.
"I've still got his phone number. You could always ask him." Ren instinctively reached into his pocket before remembering the strict 'no cellphones allowed' policy thrown up on something like twenty signs near the entrance to the gallery.
Sojiro glanced between the two. "Who's Daisuke?" he asked, his tone distinctly playful – which did help mitigate the spike of guilty anxiety that drove itself into Ren's spine.
"Spray paint guy," Ren said, choosing his words carefully. Fine line between lie and truth. "Back when the King was throwing up all that graffiti, we looked around for someone who might know who he was, and we found a kinda-expert in that stuff. That's Daisuke."
"I see," Sojiro chuckled. "And did you end up finding the King?"
Ren just shrugged. "Not sure. I've got a theory, but we sort of dropped it before we ever got a real confirmation." Technically true, but...fuck if it didn't feel like a flat-out lie. He turned towards Yusuke, desperate to change the subject. "Much as I like staring at canned flowers, I'm here to look at your art, remember." He gave a performative punch to the young man's shoulder. "So stop stalling and show us, already."
Yusuke laughed. "Very well, very well." He gestured with his head towards...a very familiar corner of the gallery. "Come, this way." And he began to weave his way through the mild crowd.
"Did you..." Ren trailed off as he navigated around an old couple in the midst of cooing over a watercolor kiss. "That's where View From a Foxhole was, right? Did they put your art off in the middle of nowhere again?"
"It doesn't really look like the middle of nowhere to me," Sojiro noted, tapping Ren's shoulder and then pointing to a practical mob of people that had clustered around that corner. Around Yusuke's painting. Holy shit. "Hell of a hot spot, right now."
"And it wasn't the gallery's decision," Yusuke added. He threw a smile over his shoulder. "It was mine." He turned back forward, flicking the silver key ring on his belt. "This is where I met you, if you recall. If it hadn't been for that corner spot, I would never have become friends with you, Ryuji and Ann. I would have never..." He trailed off with a chuckle. "Well, you know the rest."
"Do I ever," Ren mumbled.
A dozen images flicked across his mind. Fox emerging from his own blizzard. Madarame choking on frost. The ceiling of the attic as realization slowly flooded his veins. In a way, he could absolutely understand where Yusuke was coming from. If Ren hadn't had a panic attack in the middle of a crowded gallery, if he hadn't found that painting in the corner he'd taken for solace, if the artist himself wasn't nearby, wasn't desperately waiting for anyone who cared at all about something he'd created...maybe Yusuke wouldn't have joined the Thieves. Maybe the dominos would have caught there and frozen forever.
Serendipity was kind of a dangerous game at this point, wasn't it?
Ren stopped as Yusuke did, at a vantage point a couple dozen feet away from the swarmed corner itself, away from the hustle and bustle. "Gotta be honest," he said. "I've never really, like, stood in line to look at art before."
Yusuke burst out laughing. "Neither have I. Nor have I..." He shifted in place. "I can't say this sort of attention is entirely welcome. Not that I wished for my effort to be ignored, of course, but I simply...well, I simply hope it is admiration that draws their eye, and not amusement." He hesitated a moment further. "That it is my work that they see, and not my name." A spark of bitterness flowing across that eternal stoicism.
"They're not laughing," Sojiro noted. "So that's something." He shrugged, rubbing his chin. "Can't really speak to that last bit. None of us can, really. Keeping my fingers crossed, but..." Sojiro chuckled. "Attention like that is a gift, kid. Doesn't mean you always have to like it, though." His rough hand found Ren's shoulder. "What do we do with crappy gifts?"
"Say thanks and then toss them when they aren't looking," Ren replied. "Also, don't patronize me." He smacked ineffectually at the man's touch.
Sojiro gave a deep chuckle. "Right on the money." He nodded to Yusuke, squeezing Ren's shoulder. "So, if you don't like what they have to say, just throw it out later."
Yusuke smiled; a little awkward, a little strained. "Thank you, Boss. I'll try and keep that in mind."
"The crowd's parting!" Morgana said, his paws on Ren's shoulder, straining upwards to try and get a better view. Sure enough, a throng of people – tour group, or family, or something – peeled away from the corner, and the crowd parted to allow them to leave, and Ren's line of sight to the painting was unobscured for a long few seconds.
A frail branch atop a pale background, struggling with the effort of supporting a single cherry blossom at its end. A delicate hand, speckled with flecks of multicolored paint, descending from the sky. Another, rougher around the edges, with a distinctive tattoo across the inside of the arm, reaching down alongside it. And a third hand, reaching up.
All three taking hold of that branch, keeping it steady, keeping it from snapping. Almost touching, as if they were holding hands in the act. The blossom was blooming, opening up, showing off not that distinctive pink flower but petals like falling snow, at once a flower and a snowflake. A winter blossom, blooming.
Ren whirled towards Yusuke, feeling his own jaw start to go slack. The young man did not return his gaze, staring with an odd sheepishness towards his own art. And, perhaps, something deeper shining in his eyes. The echoes of pride. "It's untitled," Yusuke said. "Miss Masumi and I discussed many potential names for it, but...ultimately, I felt that a lack of a title did better to convey what I meant to say."
He took a long breath in, and let it out. "My mother never named her last painting. 'Sayuri' was meaningless, a falsity meant only to craft intrigue. 'Winter Blossom,' beautiful though it was, had not been decided on when she passed." A wry smile crossed his lips. "The painting had no proper name. I felt it only right to echo that here."
"Looks like a sequel," Sojiro noted, his arms crossed, nodding ever so slightly. "To that art you left in my cafe." He threw a tiny glance towards Yusuke, then back to the painting. "A companion piece, I think."
"In a way, I suppose it is," the artist admitted. "But I...more than a companion piece, I wanted a conversation." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Art is a cipher. It is a coded message we share with our audience, something both private and public. And no two codebooks will ever reach the same conclusion."
His fingernails tapped an empty rhythm against his key ring. "Winter Blossom was mother's last message, in a way. Her final words. And I wanted to send something back to her. To match her code, to find her cipher. So, if she's...if she saw it, she would know." Yusuke let go of an unsteady breath. "She would know it was me."
Ren found himself smiling, an odd sort of involuntary thing. Melancholy and joy, swirled into the same curious shade. "She would. I know she would. And she'd be proud of you, Yusuke." He reached out and patted his friend's shoulder. "I am too, by the way."
Yusuke simply laughed, which Ren supposed was better than crying, in a way. "Thank you. That means...more than I think I can express." And then the young man stiffened somewhat, his posture straightening. Ren followed his gaze towards a man in a sharp suit, heading right towards them.
"I must admit," the man said before he even reached them. "Your painting is even more impressive in person. Not to mention, a real conversation starter." He nodded to Ren and Sojiro. "Hello there. Friends of Kitagawa's, I assume?"
"Ren, Boss," Yusuke said, his voice even and clear. "This is Akiko Kawanabe, director for the Japanese Art Support Foundation. It was his kind recommendation that got my painting into this gallery in the first place." Every word was uncomfortably articulate, artificial, a plastic sort of statement. If Ren was reading his friend right, Yusuke did not like this guy.
"Boss, hm?" Kawanabe chuckled. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended a hand to the man, completely ignoring Ren. "Would you happen to be Kitagawa's employer, then?"
"Boss is just a nickname," Sojiro corrected, taking the hand, though he looked appropriately reticent. "I'm Sojiro Sakura, Ren's father; just here to support my son's friend." The statement sent Ren's pulse roughly into the stratosphere, and twisted his features into a giddy grin. He trusted Sojiro, it wasn't as if he had ever doubted him, but...fuck, something about the reminder that this wasn't some behind-closed-doors guardianship, that Sojiro wanted that bond, that he wasn't ashamed to be Ren's dad. It felt a little like breathing fresh air for the first time in his life.
"I see." And Kawanabe finally glanced towards Ren, who found his grin fading somewhat from that analytical stare. "Lovely to meet you both." He turned back to Yusuke, giving the young man a warm and plastic smile. "I hope the painting's placement is to your liking. And I'd like to thank you again for your donation to the gallery."
Kawanabe cleared his throat, fiddling with his suit, as if the garment did not fit him quite right. "Kitagawa. I recognize you made it clear you don't wish to be paid for your painting." Wait, what? Ren glanced towards Yusuke, whose face was a mask of static frost. "I can't say I understand your desire, but I can certainly respect it. But please, at least allow me to grant you some measure of compensation. Out of respect for your work, if nothing else."
"Thank you," Yusuke said, quick and precise. "That's quite a kind offer, Mister Kawanabe. But I feel I must once again decline."
"Uh," Ren said, catching his own protest in his throat. Was now the right time to talk about this? Yusuke didn't trust this guy, that much was clear, but...okay, yeah, no, fuck it. "Why? Like..." He gestured towards the painting. "You made that. Just cause it's your mom's style, it's still your art. There's no shame in taking money for something you made, right?"
"My thoughts exactly," Kawanabe said, smiling at Ren, who did not return the expression. "I recognize you may have some hesitance, due to my history with your...with Ichiryusai." Ah. The guy was on a first name basis with Madarame. No wonder Yusuke looked a second away from storming away from this conversation. "I promise you, I was as surprised as anyone else to find out his art had been stolen. I never had any part to play in that scheme."
"Kinda sounds like you're just making excuses," Sojiro muttered, giving the man a sharp glare. "Dunno if it's bull or not, but stuff like that can't just have one point of failure, right?" He shrugged. "I'm not really educated in art, but if you recommended it and the gallery bought it, that's at least two people who should have been a little more rigorous. And you're one of them, bud."
"Yes," Yusuke said, calmly. "You're exactly correct, Boss." He took a long breath in, and out. "Mister Kawanabe. You may see my resistance as foolish humility, or youthful ignorance, or perhaps a misplaced anger towards you for your friendship with the man who stole my work." He gestured to the walls, to the art that surrounded them in all directions. "My paintings have been shown in your associate's gallery four times before today, each one under Madarame's name. You may well have been fooled by him, as I was. You may well have been nothing more than a tool for that man's profits. I don't care."
He fixed his gaze on Kawanabe. "I have every intention of being paid for my efforts. And if you truly wish to support me, I'll gladly extend you an invitation to sponsor me on whatever my next piece may be. But this painting?" He pointed at Untitled, at the crowd that still surrounded it. "This is not the first act of some artistic career, shilling out my blood and sweat to gallery after gallery. I have been here for years, doing exactly that."
The young man grinned, something wild and so unlike him, yet riddled with that familiar rime. "This is my finale. And as a finale must, it will carry its motifs to the end. My first painting in this gallery was a charitable donation of which I received not a single yen." His eyes narrowed. "And my last shall be the same."
Kawanabe said nothing, for a while. The bustle of the gallery may well have been silence, for all Ren could hear of it over the pounding of his heart in his ears, over the ambivalence caught in his throat. Yusuke was making a hard decision for what he believed to be right, and that was...beyond incredible, and Ren was beyond proud of him for that.
But at the same time, pride wouldn't put food on the table. Yusuke deserved more than a life choosing between a fresh canvas or paying the rent. He...there wasn't really a right option, was there? 'Play by our rules or don't play at all' wasn't a fair choice by any metric. Ren took a careful breath in. This world really was broken all the way down.
"Hm," Kawanabe finally said. "And I can't change your mind on that?" Yusuke shook his head. "Fine, fine." The man sighed and turned away. But he paused mid-step, glancing back at the artist. "Sponsoring your next piece. I like the sound of that." He gave an odd smile. Warm as the one before, but maybe...maybe genuine this time? It was hard to tell. "Do reach out when you have something, will you? I'd rather not find out about your next painting in the newspaper."
The cold had thawed, somewhat. Maybe just a little, but it was enough. Yusuke nodded, slowly. "I'll let you know." And he bowed his head. "Thank you, sir."
Kawanabe just waved a hand, and pivoted, and started to walk again. "It really is a hell of a piece, Kitagawa!" he called back. "That snowflake especially! I'd keep on that, if I were you! Winter seems to suit you!" And he let out a deep, resonant laugh that seemed to linger longer than the man himself.
Mitsuru
Ren,
Akechi has returned to Masayoshi Shido. He has allowed us to install a listening device in his cellular phone, under the condition that he chooses when that device is active, and he enabled us to listen in on his debriefing.
Through that, and a further listening device left in Shido's office, we have confirmed that Shido indeed believed Akechi's story and has assigned him to return to his previous duties with a focus on prying information from the Thieves.
Akechi is currently in his apartment, and we are walking him through the process of granting us remote access to the surveillance left by Shido in that apartment. When that is done, Fuuka will be able to feed those devices false information whenever Akechi wishes to be free of their observation.
Once we can confirm our blind spot is functional, he will likely be contacting you all to figure out the next stage of your plan.
Naoto and I will be working directly with him from here on out, but I would like to encourage you and your allies to reach out if there is anything further we can assist you with. Our resources are at your disposal.
Take care,
Mitsuru Kirijo
Ann
Does anyone else have like an insanely strong feeling of dread about this?
Ryuji
more like an extended anxiety attack lmao
my mom asked me if i failed a test or something over dinner today
Ren
Instincts say keep the course but I'm pretty anxious too
Ann
Color me unsurprised.
You're just an infinite spring of freaking-the-fuck-out soooooo lol.
Ren
Love you too Ann.
Ann
;p
Futaba
Looks like 'Akechi's agent' told all the talk shows that he's back.
Cause Twitter is flipping its collective shit.
#FindThePrince just went from top trending to ghost town in an hour. _
AND some unoriginal dipshit started #FoundThePrince which is catching like kindling.
Kasumi
I wonder how he'll explain being gone for so long... :|
Makoto
I don't think it matters much.
They'll probably eat it up no matter what he says.
Ryuji
police shit prolly
shido's got the cops in his pocket, right?
they'll just say "confidential yadda yadda yadda" and that'll be it
Yusuke
Should we begin to talk about the next step in our plan?
I'm still not sure how we convince Shido that we trust Akechi enough to let him meet with us.
Ren
Morgana says that we could use the school festival as some sort of soapbox
Makoto
I see.
Shujin invites a celebrity guest each year, so it's incredibly likely they'll ask for Akechi.
He can use that to make a statement that "gets our attention."
Public proof for Shido that he's following through.
Haru
A very wise kitty plan.
ᓚᘏᗢ
Kasumi
Kitty plan! :D
Ren
That means we've just gotta wait
I'll let you know if he gets in contact with me
Otherwise let's just keep laying low and try and act normal
Ryuji
way ahead of you dude
im rocking overtime at untouchable
speaking of uhhhh
my coworkers been acting real fuckin weird
maybe its just me but the guy keeps asking for like advice?
and he was kind of a prick when i met him
dunno im rambling but im gonna keep an eye on him might be a mementos mission in the works
Ren
This coworker wouldn't happen to be Iwai's kid, would he?
Kaoro something or other
Ryuji
wtf yeah thats him
do you know him?
Ren
Met him once
Told him we're dating
So uh
Yeah
Ann
LMAO
Ryuji
OH
oh that explains a whole fuckin lot
Futaba
Congratulations on your new functional gaydar.
Ryuji
thats bidar to you you little gremlin
10/24 – Monday
After School
Around Kanda
It started raining roughly ten seconds after Ren had walked out of the underground subway station, and he made for a nearby awning as quick as he could manage. It had been clear and crisp and sunny all day, and now it had gone from drizzle to downpour in the span of ten seconds. The clouds overhead were impossibly thick, a sheet of dark grey in every direction.
"I thought the weather today was supposed to be clear," Ren grumbled, shaking some lingering raindrops out of his hair.
"I heard that too!" Morgana said, shifting anxiously inside his bag. "So much for the forecast."
"It's a warm front." An unfamiliar voice, nearly making Ren jump. He glanced over to see a young woman a couple feet away sharing the same storefront awning, glancing out at the rain as it permeated the concrete walkway with petrichor. Her outfit was a strange and even mix of formal and informal styles: a button-up black top and matching slacks, red-striped fingerless gloves, a choker necklace with a golden lock and a little golden pin in her short black hair. She also had an azure satchel bag draped over her shoulder.
"Traveling in from Inaba. I don't think anyone expected it to pop by here, though." She threw a smile towards Ren. "Weather's sort of weird like that." Her eyes were...odd. Sort of a dull turquoise, grey and green and blue all at once behind her glasses.
"No kidding," Ren replied. Inaba. The name rang a bell, he just couldn't remember where. "So you're like...a weather expert?"
"A bit," the young woman chuckled. "Meteorology's kind of a hobby? Well, no, not really, it's just...incidental. Part of my job description." Before Ren could ask, she continued. "I'm kind of an administrator. I keep things moving along, handle the big picture stuff." The young woman adjusted her bag. "Gotta make sure my town doesn't get too foggy, for example. Otherwise, it gets out of order pretty quick."
Foggy. Like, literal fog? Maybe some kinda metaphor he wasn't in on. "Is stopping fog like...something people can actually do?" he asked.
She met his gaze. "If you know the right people," she said, with a solemnity that itched at the flat of Ren's back. Then she glanced towards the rain again. "It won't be raining here long, by the way. Clouds should clear up pretty quick." The young woman reached into her satchel bag and produced a portable umbrella, handing it to Ren. "After this, it's off to Shibuya to meet an old friend, and then back to Inaba."
This woman was making...like, negative sense. Ren took the umbrella from her anyway, with a little nod. "Is the rain off to Shibuya, or you?"
"Yep," the woman chuckled. Okay, yeah, negative sense. "I mean, it probably will. I don't really know what that demon guy's hold on Shibuya actually does, so it might go back to clear skies once I get there." She shrugged. "But Margaret's been out of the mortal world for the last four years, so like hell I'd let a chance like this slip." Margaret. Lavenza's sister, Margaret? The fucking Velvet Room Attendant!? "Plus, getting a chance to say hi to the newest Wild Card is a nice little bonus." She sent a smirk his way. "Hi."
"Hi?" he said, struggling to articulate any other response. Inaba. Inaba. Narukami's team was from Inaba, that's where their whole world-saving happened. Margaret was Narukami's Attendant. And this woman knew her, so–
"I mean, it's not much of a precedent, but I'm kinda surprised you got assigned two of them. I mean, there was this gal named Marie who hung out in mine sometimes, but she was not an Attendant."
"Marie," he said. "That's...you're Marie, right? Yu Narukami's friend?"
The young woman double-took at him, barking out a surprised laugh. "Shit you're fucking sharp!" All in a single breath, like she was trying to chain together the words into some extra-long phrase. She shook her head, still laughing. "And here I thought I could be some mysterious stranger, giving cryptic advice and then vanishing into the night." She adjusted her glasses, grinning out at the downpour. "Guess you can't force poetry like that. Has to come naturally." And the young woman extended her hand to him. "Kusumi-no-Okami, patron of Inaba. I usually go by Mariko though, Marie for short."
Patron. Like, patron god!? Cronos, Oxymoron and the Attendants were one fucking thing, but now he...assuming this woman wasn't pulling a fast one, Ren was being offered a handshake by a goddess. "Nice to meet you," he managed, shaking Marie's hand. It was cold, and the touch immediately sent a vicious storm of pins up his arm, like the entire limb had fallen asleep spontaneously. "Cryptic advice, huh?" Ren forced a breath and slipped out of her gasp, holding onto the umbrella's handle with both hands like some kind of haphazard shield. "What did you have in mind?" He made a mental note to murder Narukami later for playing coy and not mentioning the girl he'd been hanging out with was fucking immortal.
"More of a parable than advice, I guess." She adjusted her satchel bag, then reached inside and extracted a small blue notebook. "Have you ever heard about Princess Kaguya?"
Ren felt an odd acrid ache settle in his gut. "Yeah," he replied. "My mom used to tell me that story, sometimes. Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, right?"
Marie just nodded, and gestured to him to continue as she flipped open her notebook.
Storytime with a goddess while hiding from the rain under an awning. Not exactly how he expected to spend his afternoon. "Kaguya's parents found her in a bamboo shoot, and call her a princess even though they're poor. When she..." He trailed off at the sound of scratching, and glanced over to see Marie writing something down in her notebook.
Marie met his gaze and made the same gesture again. "Go ahead. I want to hear how you tell the story." She clicked her pen four times, and then tapped it against the page.
Ren bit back a frustrated sigh, and continued. "When Kaguya grows up, she's really beautiful, so a bunch of men ask her hand in marriage, and she gives them all impossible tasks because she doesn't want to marry them. The Emperor falls in love with her, but she won't marry him either. Then it..." Warmth radiating out from the fireplace, crackling flames that reflect off the shards of blue glass in that jar on top of the mantlepiece.
"They're friends. And Kaguya is trying to protect him, because she's actually a lost child from another world. And her old family comes to take her back." Distant arguments blending into the rhythmic melody of rain clattering against their gutter.
"The Emperor sends his guards to protect her, and she's grateful for that, but she still decides to go back to her original home. She says goodbye to the bamboo cutters who took care of her, and gives the Emperor a special potion that will let him live forever." Cold food congealing on a plate on the floor in front of him, a once-warm dinner left to gather dust.
"Then, Kaguya leaves, and the Emperor decides to burn the potion on the top of Mount Fuji, since he doesn't want to live forever without her. But the potion keeps on burning inside the mountain, turning it into a volcano. The end."
Marie snapped her notebook closed and clapped politely – still holding the notebook, so the gesture came off far more muted than she might have meant it. "Not bad, not bad. Still, could use a little more 'oomph.' But you've got the basics." She slipped the notebook back into her satchel, patting the bag four times before straightening back up. "There's a part missing though. Always is; I don't blame you for that, it didn't make it into the written version. Not many people used to tell it." She gave a little smile. "But the ending isn't exactly correct."
"Huh," Ren said, trying to act more impressed than he felt. "No kidding. What, like, a happy ending?"
"Not really," Marie said. She turned towards the rain-soaked walkway, her eyes odd and distant. "The Emperor plans on giving the elixir of immortality to the woodcutters, since they were dying from sadness after losing their daughter." Her voice was low, melodic, perfectly in time with the sound of raindrops striking the awning above their head.
"Izanami, the goddess of death, is unhappy at this. She made an oath long before to her once-husband, Izanagi, that she would kill a thousand people every day until he returned to her. Back then, she took that oath very seriously. If the Emperor saves the woodcutters, it would mean two fewer deaths for her when their time came. So she travels to the Emperor, and makes a deal with him."
"Kaguya could not remember the people of the Earth after having left it, and therefore could not remember the Emperor; these are the rules of her people. But if the Emperor destroys that elixir, Izanami will ensure that Kaguya will forever remember the man. She assures him that his love will no doubt return for him one day, and he gladly agrees."
Izanami. The name felt...Ren didn't know, exactly. He knew about the goddess, of course, but there was...it reminded him of something, almost. Something familiar, just out of reach.
"Izanami instructs him to climb the tallest mountain in Japan, and throw the potion into a fire," Marie continued. "He does this, and the flame melts down into the earth, a rumbling magma that bursts forth a plume of eternal smoke that floats up to the moon. But, of course, Izanami is a bitter woman, and her deal is twisted. Kaguya investigates the smoke, returning to Earth only to find her parents dead and her gift to her trusted friend squandered against her wishes."
"She leaves the Earth again, vowing to never return, and the Emperor dies alone." Marie paused. Hesitating, maybe. "It took a while for her to let go of that pain. And even longer for her to forgive Izanami for what she did." She closed her eyes. "Izanami didn't understand that, at the time. Why would Kaguya come to forgive the man who had betrayed her, but continue to carry a grudge towards the woman who tricked him?"
Marie tilted her head somewhat, like she was gazing up at the clouds through her own eyelids. "I think I get it now, though. People can do really stupid things out of grief, Kaguya recognized that. She forgave her old friend because she knew he was in pain, and just wanted that pain to end. And she was angry at Izanami for taking advantage of that pain."
Izanami before, and Marie now. Her phrasing was all kinds of weird. Maybe specific, like she was alluding to something he couldn't possibly know.
Ren found himself nodding. "I guess I'm...there's stuff there I don't really get, but I don't think I'm meant to." He shrugged. "When it comes to doing stupid things out of grief though? I know what that's like. Pretty well, actually." Anachronism's name flicked across his tongue. He had a lifetime-worth of that grief, all stuck behind his eyes.
"Thought you might," Marie said. She opened her eyes, still gazing up at the awning. "Kaguya did end up forgiving Izanami, by the way. It took a couple thousand years, but they made up." And she smiled towards Ren. "It's about time for me to head out too. Not leaving the world just yet, but...you never know." Marie chuckled, and reached out a hand, palm down. "Here. It's not immortality, but it might help." Ren cupped his hands beneath hers before his mind could formulate a response, and she dropped a small blue rectangle into his grasp. "See you around, Ren. I'll be rooting for you."
He blinked. And she was gone. Just Ren, alone under an awning as the rain slowed to a drizzle.
Morgana poked his head out of his bag. "That was weird," he grumbled. Then he craned forward, trying to peak over Ren's shoulder. "What did she give you?"
He glanced down, staring at the rectangle. A tarot card, but not one he recognized, depicting a man with the face of a bird standing underneath an archway and above a winged sun. Number XX. The Aeon. "A gift," he replied. He...for some strange reason, for an instant, he wanted to say 'a mask.' Hm. He slipped the card carefully into his pocket. "Rain's stopping. I guess...divinity or not, we probably shouldn't keep Hifumi waiting, right?"
"Who's 'we?'" Morgana grumbled. "You're the one who wanted to meet with her." And he slipped back inside his bag.
"Fair point," Ren said. And he slipped out into the afternoon sun, and started to walk again.
"You're usually more punctual," Hifumi said, the moment Ren sat down.
"Sorry." He offered a little smile, before pivoting around to place his bag down behind him. "Started raining out of nowhere, I had to find an umbrella. Uh...freak warm front, I guess?" Ren shrugged. "Anyway, you still up for a game?"
Hifumi gestured to the shogi board between them on the pew. "We can skip the piece toss if you wish. I'll simply let you go first." A tiny smirk. "Consider it a handicap."
Ren reached up to spin a lock of hair between two fingers. "Considering my losing streak so far, I guess I shouldn't complain," he said, offering a smile in return. "Speaking of handicaps, though, it's been a while; how did that whole thing with the tournament go? You never told me."
Hifumi's expression did not change, but he could see a newfound tension in her posture. "I lost during the preliminaries. Unless I win every single match from now until the end of the year, I will not be promoted to 1-dan."
"Did you lose on purpose?" Ren asked.
Hifumi simply gestured to the board. "It's your turn. Please take it."
Okay, he could take a hint. Ren moved the pawn in front of his rook forward, opening up space for the more dangerous piece to begin advancing.
Hifumi studied the board for a few silent seconds. "My mother thinks it was on purpose," she said. "I don't know. I tried to win." She moved her third-to-leftmost pawn forward, right next to Ren's. "Perhaps my heart simply wasn't in it."
"Best laid plans something something," he mumbled. "However the rest of that goes."
"Of mice and men," Hifumi finished. "Of which only one of us is either." Another tiny smirk, this one seeming far more forced. "Unless you have something to tell me, that is."
"Ha ha," Ren replied dryly, moving his rook forward.
Hifumi shifted her own rook over, all the way next to her bishop.
Ren rolled a hum into his throat. "Was your mom getting on your case a lot about losing before the tournament? I mean, even if you tried, you still could have, like...second-guessed yourself, if she was stressing you out about it." He advanced another pawn, opening up space for his own bishop. "You're not some shogi-playing robot. You know that, right? You're a person, and sometimes people get stressed out and don't do their best."
"Or my best wasn't good enough." The words left her as a near-whisper.
Ren winced. "That's not what I meant." He pursed his lips. Ren might not have known much at all about shogi, beyond the basic rules. But he knew a whole fucking lot about overbearing parents. "Hifumi, why do you play shogi?"
She smiled. Wry, yet honest. "I can't possibly be expected to answer that question. Why do you breathe air, Ren?"
He laughed. "Okay, okay. Then, why do you wanna be 1-dan?"
"Hm." She hesitated a moment, then advanced her rook to rest behind her foremost pawn. "Men's professional shogi does not have kyu rankings. They start at 4-dan, and work their way up from there. Women must begin at 3-kyu, then down to 1-kyu, before they can even reach 1-dan." Her lips were tense, her expression bitter. "It is a system rooted in outdated tradition. Beyond that, not a single woman has ever qualified as a 'regular' professional." Hifumi's gaze met Ren's, for a moment. "I aim to be the first."
"Gotta reach 4-dan, then," Ren concluded. "Okay, that makes sense." He worked his bishop out between the gaps in his pawns. "So, why does your mom want you to play shogi?"
"I..." Hifumi hesitated. Her eyes were on the board, but Ren could tell her attention had been jarred from the game. "I don't know. Her priorities are...mercurial. She wants me to do everything in and beyond my power to win, except when she doesn't care, or she wants me to lose." She let out a sharp breath. "It's as if she's punishing me for following her instructions, it's absurd."
That was all Ren needed to hear. "And she doesn't listen to you. She cares more about her own opinion on you than what you have to say about it."
Hifumi nodded slowly. "Yes," she said, her tone careful.
"I know the type," Ren said. "My mom was like that too." He shifted on the pew. "So, uh, don't think I've said this before, but I'm buddies with the admin for the Phantom Aficionado Site."
"Good for you," Hifumi replied, dryly.
"So," Ren continued, a little more insistent, "if you ever wanted to make a private request for the Thieves to change her heart, something only they'd see, then...yeah." He forced a smile. "I mean, we're just shogi buddies, but still. Like I said, my mom was like that. It's kind of a personal thing for me."
Hifumi didn't say a word. She merely kept her eyes on the board, observing the state of the game, pondering her next move. But there was something odd swimming in her eyes, like a brand new echo.
"Mitsuyo," Hifumi said, as she slipped the shogi board into her bag.
Ren blinked at her. "Sorry, come again?"
"The Thieves need a name to change a person's heart, correct?" Hifumi stood, not making eye contact. "It's Mitsuyo Togo." And she shot a glance towards him. "And if I find that name on the forum, I will not hesitate to obliterate you."
"No problem," Ren replied, feeling just a little intimidated despite the unthreatening choice of language. "It won't end up there, I promise. Like I said, I know a girl."
Hifumi nodded sharply, then glanced towards the other side of the church. "I don't suppose I need to use the confessional now?" she mumbled. Maybe she was serious, but it seemed like a joke.
"Father forgive me for I have asked some random guy to tell his friend to tell the Phantom Thieves to make my mom stop being an asshole to me?" Ren offered.
Hifumi burst out laughing, her posture seeming to relax somewhat. "Well, when you put it that way, I'm fairly sure you're the one who needs to use it."
Ren offered a grin. "Honestly, I'd probably confess a whole lot less than you'd expect me to, being a felon and all." And more than he would prefer to, considering he now had two lives' worth of sin lingering in him.
"A felon?" Hifumi raised an eyebrow.
"Oh." Ren started in the pew. "Uh, right, yeah. Keep forgetting you go to Kosei, everyone in Shujin already knows. Rumors probably didn't make it out that far." He reached up, spinning a lock of hair around one finger. "I spent last year in juvie. Got out on parole earlier this year." And, assuming her next question was the same as everyone else's had been: "I got in an argument with some drunk idiot and he accused me of attacking him – which I hadn't – and called the cops on me."
Hifumi simply waited for him to finish without a single change to her expression. "That explains a lot about you, I think," she said.
Ren blinked. "Does it?"
"To me, it does," Hifumi said. She gazed off towards one of the church's stained glass windows. "You play as though you do not want to win as much as you need to. You make desperate, risky decisions when you are pushed, but otherwise mimic proven strategies, both yours and your opponent's. You are scared to lose, yet accept defeat with grace." A twitch of a smile. "You play like someone who knows loss a little too well, I think."
Ren let those words sink in, let them swirl around his head like laundry left in a washing machine, as the glow of the evening sun began to fade from the windows of the church. "Guilty as charged, I guess."
█████
Evening
Shujin Academy, Roof
The Trickster barely finished opening the door before something soft and plastic smacked him in the face. He scrambled to catch it, and glanced down to see an individual wrapped sweet bread, filled with strawberry jam.
The young woman not currently in the cat mask snorted. "Nice reflexes, 'leader.'" She was seated in a cheap metal chair on the other side of a table. A pair of drinks, some wrapped snacks, all arranged to echo each other on either side.
"Fuck you, I'm sleep deprived," he replied, crossing the distance to the table. The Trickster shook the snack she'd thrown him. "Don't they only have this stuff on Fridays? And, like, six months ago?" Not really much point in high school when the world was on the verge of ending.
The young woman chuckled. "Yeah. Found where Shujin got them from though." She popped the cap off her drink, the little plastic lid clattering onto the table as she took a swig. "Can you believe they used to say they were made in-house? It's just some off-brand pastry."
"You mean Shujin lied to its students?" he replied, faking surprise behind a layer of dryness. "What a fucking shocker." He flicked his own drink's cap, but it stayed put. The Trickster sighed, and peeled off the lid, before taking a sip himself.
"Yeah," she said. The young woman not currently in the cat mask was smiling, but it didn't look quite right on her. Like a mask that hadn't been put on right. "█████ found the jar you and me were looking for, right?"
The Trickster nodded. "She passed it to me, and I passed it to Oxymoron." A little twitch of a bitter smile. "She was pretty mad at me."
"█████, or Oxymoron?"
"█████."
The young woman not currently in the cat mask barked out a laugh. "Sounds about right." She reached out, playing with the discarded drink cap, fingernails flicking it upright and letting it clatter back down onto the table. "She's your rival. She idolizes you." Those blue eyes flicked towards him. "You know that, right?"
"I know she feels that way," he said. As committed as he could manage. His gaze wandered. Across the way, on the other rooftop, was the planter his Moon still tended to. He, his cat, his Sun, they'd all planned out that first infiltration up here. And the young woman not currently in the cat mask had too. Once. "We're rivals, yeah. Stupid to idolize me, but she's about as stubborn as you are."
"I'd say more stubborn," the young woman corrected. "Like, if only that she doesn't question her own perspective of reality every other day." She took another swig of her drink, and Ren almost felt his own throat filling up at the motion. "But she does change her mind, sometimes. She changed it with you, remember?"
"Yep," the Trickster replied. "Just took me getting beaten within an inch of my life by cops and then trying to martyr myself off the side of a Palace."
The plastic cap struck him in the temple. "███," the young woman not currently in the cat mask said, her voice dark. "Shut the fuck up."
He rubbed his head where the cap had hit him, more for the effect of it than the need. It didn't hurt, not really. "Yeah. Sorry." He might not have actually been, but it was hard to tell. It all felt the same way, that same pervasive fog, guilt in every breath, a death sentence around his neck. He wasn't sure if it mattered.
The young woman let out a sharp breath, and he could almost hear a dozen unspoken words in the sound. She glanced off towards the other rooftop, like looking at the Trickster was unbearable. "Few weeks left, now," she said. "You gonna make up with her?"
He nodded. "Gonna try." He raised his drink, but there was some aftertaste lingering on his tongue, so he lowered it again. "She invited me to train with her later. Sparring, I guess."
The young woman not in the cat mask seemed to mull that over. "Good," she decided. And they were both quiet for a long few seconds. The city was quiet, even; that smothering silence that so often predicated inevitability. A deterministic societal rot. "Do you remember when we talked last year? Before we faced █████, before the whole...dooming the planet thing."
The Trickster just nodded.
"I said I wasn't there because of you," she said. "And I wasn't. But I keep thinking back, and...maybe I should have been." She shrugged, and there were years of exhaustion resisting the motion. "Hindsight's 20/20. Pretty sure we've all run through the mistakes we made, found some...something that we could have done differently. Something that could have let us pass █████'s stupid test, something that could have saved the world."
She pursed her lips, tense in an odd way, like she was trying to hold back a smile. "I thought about going to you back in October, when █████ reached out to me. When she told me you'd come clean. I wanted to, really. I wanted to be a Thief so fucking badly, ███." This time, the smile did come, with a tiny laugh. Something equally mirthful and strained. "I wanted to be your friend."
"Why'd you stay away, then?" the Trickster asked, and it sounded pathetic in his own ears. He knew the answer. He knew what it had to be.
"Dunno," she said. Huh. That caught him off guard. Not what he expected. "I mean, yeah. I was mad at you. I was mad at myself. I was scared of getting hurt again." And the young woman not in the cat mask was quiet. "I was right to be angry at you, when you lied to me. I was right to call you out. But I don't think I was right to leave."
He blinked at her. "You...you had every right to leave."
"I know," the young woman said. "Doesn't mean it was the right decision though. It was the easy way out." She shifted in her seat. "I left because I didn't want to be left. 'You can't fire me, I quit' kinda deal." A wry little smile. "You never asked me to leave, though. You wouldn't drop the lie, but you didn't...I mean, if you really wanted to keep it secret, I was a liability. No one else knew you were hiding something. But you didn't want me to leave." And she glanced at him. "Why?"
"Because I loved you," he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could catch them. The Trickster stifled a wince. "Because as scared as I was about telling you, telling anyone, I just didn't...want to lose you. I didn't want to lose anyone. Or...be lost."
She nodded, slow, firm. Sort of knowing. "We both thought we'd be kicked out," the young woman not currently in the cat mask said. "Or, that we might be. Right?"
The Trickster just nodded.
The young woman smiled. Something full, almost honest. "They really need to stop rounding up kids to try and save the world," she said, a chuckle beneath her words. "Just cause a broken horse wins twice a day doesn't mean you should bet on it."
A year ago, he would have died to hear that. To hear any of it. And now that the words really were there, hanging in the air between them...it didn't make it better, to be clear. It didn't take away that he was dying, that he was losing, that he was on the verge of watching everyone he loved be taken away from him. But maybe, just maybe, one of the dozen broken things in his chest ached a little less now. He raised his drink, knocking it gently against hers. "Cheers."
And they drank. And it was good.
I'd like to give a hundred thousand thank yous to Jane, and also happy birthday! I love you bunches, and your patience with me this past month has been nothing short of divine. You're the most important person in my life bar none, and I couldn't ask for a better co-author.
