Cw: implied/referenced sex trafficking.
Adrenaline coursed through Akira's veins as the Phantoms descended on Kaneshiro's nightclub. Night had well and truly fallen by now – the scent of alcohol permeated the air and a rhythmic thumping of bass pulsed from the yakuza patriarch's lair.
"Everyone, get into position." Akira ordered. Ann and Makoto ran around one side of the building, and Ryuji and Rukia the other. As his team got into formation, he tapped his ear. "Alibaba, ready to rock and roll?"
"I was born ready!" The hacker laughed.
Akira's lips curled up into a vicious, terrified grin. The time for doubt had passed - it was now time to do or die.
"On the count of three." He whispered breathlessly into his communication device. "One… two… three!" Widening his stance, Akira stretched out his palm as a ball of fire formed in his fist. "Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south! Hadō #31. Shakkahō!"
As the fireball in his palm swelled like a crescendo, Akira flicked his wrist, and the flames smashed into the side of Kaneshiro's club. The second his spell touched the graffiti-stained walls, they detonated into a blast of scarlet light so bright it made the neon strips lining the building look dull. As brick and mortar fell to the ground, a manic laugh escaped Akira's throat. Holy shit.
"I've breached the walls." The Shinigami informed his friends, though realistically speaking, the other Phantoms had probably noticed the massive explosion. "Panther, Queen, keep your eyes wide open – Kaneshiro should flee any second now. Skull, Snow – stay on standby until I know I've drawn out the guards."
Raised voices and screams echoed through the air as the lingering flames from Akira's spell lapped at the club's wall. After the initial pandemonium passed, figures quickly began to gather around the hole Akira had blown into the building. A man with thick earrings and a shitty dye job fumbled around a fire extinguisher, wide-eyed as he desperately tried to assuage the damage, as half a dozen thugs in dark suits charged passed him, armed with sharp knives and hefty metal pipes.
One of the suits snapped out his phone. "Doesn't look like there's anyone here. Just a-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Akira struck. Darting forward, he lashed out a palm, whacking the yakuza in the arm. Yelping, the man swore, dropping his mobile. Akira shoved him to the ground, careful not to put too much power into his blow – he had no intention of getting blood on his hands, and a two-bit thug was a hell of a lot squishier than a Hollow. As the man fell on his ass, Akira stepped forward and crunched the phone under his heel.
Sorry, Futaba.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that." Akira taunted, well aware his voice fell on deaf ears.
Of course, that was the moment when one of the yakuza whipped out a pistol, pointed it in Akira's rough direction, and pulled the trigger. As the gunshot echoed through the clearing, the world seemed to slow. The bullet inched towards the Shinigami as Akira's breath caught in his throat and his heart stilled to a stop.
MOVE! A distorted voice blasted into his mind.
Without a moment's hesitation, Akira obeyed. Reiatsu pulsing, the world blurred around him as thunder cracked in his ears. When the teen's vision cleared, he found himself standing halfway across the club's courtyard, and watched as the bullet crashed harmlessly into the dirt where he'd been standing not even a second ago. Akira blinked, jaw dropping wide open. He had no idea what the hell he'd just done, but truthfully, that didn't matter. The real question was whether he could do it again. Concentrating, he funnelled his Reiryoku to his legs and leapt. His body flickered, and Akira returned to the thugs' sides in a millisecond.
A feral grin crossed his face. Oh, he was going to have fun with this.
"Hadō #4. Byakurai!" Akira shouted, a bolt of white lightning shooting out of his fingertips and puncturing the club's interior walls.
A hail of bullets reigned down upon him, but Akira casually backflipped out of the way and they flew by him harmlessly.
"Skull, Snow – I think I've got all eyes on me. It's time for you to strike!"
…..
On the other side of the club, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Makoto fidgeted awkwardly, and to her side, a tense Takamaki twined her whip around her fingers. After Akira's explosion, the thumping bass had cut off, and was replaced with a series of frantic screams. The brunette's stomach churned, and each of Makoto's breaths sounded as loud as thunder as her heart pounded in her chest. The back door they were currently staking out swung open, and a burst of adrenaline ran through her - was it finally time for them to strike?
It turned out to be a false alarm, however. A random thug stumbled out, and cursing, fled into the night.
"Come on… where is he?!" Takamaki hissed, shuffling her feet impatiently.
"Calm down." Makoto chided. "He's probably making sure the route is safe before he leaves."
Still, the blonde had a point – Kaneshiro was taking an awfully long time to escape. Makoto had been certain he'd try to flee the second he heard the explosion. As gunshots began to pierce the air, and more and more lowlifes fled the club, Makoto's anxiety began to spike. Just where on earth was he?!
It was then that the screech of a car's brakes echoed through the air, followed by the sound of opening doors and a loud shout. "Get the boss out of here – go, go, go!"
The two girls exchanged a horrified glance. They'd gotten the wrong exit!
"Shit, hurry!" Takamaki sprinted around the side of the building, but as the car's engine roared into life, Makoto knew she'd never make it in time.
Switching gears, her eyes darted across the parking lot before landing on a motorbike, and triumph soared in Makoto's chest as she saw the keys were still in the ignition. Ignoring Takamaki's shout, she turned back and hopped on the bike, which rumbled to life beneath her. Slamming the acceleration, she sped past the blonde and veered sharply around the corner, focused on nothing but her goal. Pushing the motorbike to its limits, Makoto caught up to the black sedan Kaneshiro had fled in, and taking a hand off the handlebars, Makoto blindly shuffled in her bag.
This has to work. This has to work!
After what seemed like an age, but in reality, was probably only a few seconds, Makoto struck gold. Or to be more accurate, silver.
"Wolke!" She charted, tossing the Gintō at the car as she brought the motorbike to a screeching halt.
The car slowed for just a moment, almost as if it was driving through treacle. Makoto's spell only lasted for a scant handful of seconds, but the brunette had still managed to buy just enough time for Takamaki to strike.
The blonde darted out of the club's perimeter as she traced a glowing red sigil into the air. "Bakudō #9. Geki!"
A red glow enveloped the sedan, freezing it in its tracks. Several men stumbled out of the car, including a portly man Makoto immediately recognised as Kaneshiro from Futaba's raid of the club's CCTV. A bodyguard flanked him, reaching into his jacket, and a flash of fear ran through Makoto when she realised he was likely reaching for a gun. Dashing forward, she lashed out and smashed her palm into his nose. Cursing, the guard staggered backwards, touching the blood that trickled down his face on instinct.
A brutal snarl crossed Kaneshiro's face as he whipped a knife out of his pocket, looking around wildly for a foe he could not see. "Don't you know who I am? I'm the master of this goddamn fucking city! You're going to regret this, you punks!"
"Somehow, I doubt that." Takamaki's voice burned with a quiet rage as she swapped into another stance. "Bakudō #61. Rikujōkōrō!"
Kaneshiro froze, eyes bulging in an expression of horror, as six beams of light slammed into his midsection, immobilising him completely. The guard took one look between the unnaturally still Kaneshiro, and the spot of invisible air where Makoto was standing. Clearly realising he was in way over his head, he did the sensible thing and fled.
As silence filled the backstreet, the adrenaline coursing through Makoto's veins finally abated, and shock began to sink in instead. Wheezing, she plonked herself down on the ground. Half a second later Takamaki landed at her side, and the two girls sat in silence as they processed what they'd just pulled off.
"You – the bike!" Takamaki wheezed incredulously. Except, no – they'd just taken down a yakuza patriarch together. Makoto was rather certain they were on a first-name basis by now. Hell, there was a good chance she was going to be on a first-name basis with all the Phantoms by the time this night ended.
"I-I know!" Makoto gaped, something almost akin to a smile forming on her face. If anyone had ever told her she'd ever pull off a stunt like that, she never would have believed them.
A half-excited, half-hysterical laugh escaped Ann's throat as she embraced Makoto in a jubilant hug. "That was amazing!"
Something warm sparked in Makoto's chest, and she returned to the gesture. "You were brilliant too. Come on – let's inform the others, and meet at the rendezvous point."
…..
Ryuji pressed himself flat against the wall as yet more patrons rushed by, panic shining in their eyes as they evacuated the club. The purple underlighting gave the building's interior an almost hazy appearance, which was only enhanced by the motes of dust and mortar floating through the air. The blond wrinkled his nose, the chalky scent accompanied by the unpleasant tang of alcohol, sex, and sweat. A shudder ran down Ryuji's spine. The sooner they finished this shit, the better.
By the time they reached the heart of the club, it was all but empty, except for a woman lolling on a couch, her bra torn half-off and a vacant look in her eyes. Ryuji stilled, frozen in horror as he put two-and-two together, until a gentle tug of his sleeve snapped him out of it.
"There's nothing you can do to help her." Rukia's voice was soft. "What we can do is make sure Kaneshiro pays for this."
Ryuji swallowed, looking away from the sight. "Right. Let's take this fucker down!"
They didn't loiter long. Scanning the room Ryuji grabbed a bag full of dried leaves and a few wallets, before shoving them into the sack he'd brought and heading deeper into the club. That was where all the really illegal things would be, anyway.
He ignored the distant sound of gunfire and kicked down a door. The blond gave a nervous whistle – he was right about the dodgy stuff being further inside. Technicoloured bottles of alcohol lined the walls, but Ryuji's attention was focused purely on the bags of white power covering the table and the collection of heavy briefcases accompanying it. Most of them were closed tight, with one exception, and Ryuji's eyes boggled at the amount of yen crammed into it. For half a second, he was tempted to grab it – that much cash would be life-changing – but he managed to resist the impulse in the end. The police would probably try to track it down, anyway. Instead, Ryuji grabbed a bag of cocaine and turned to his partner.
"Get all the contraband shit you can find – especially stuff like this." He wiggled it in Rukia's face. If Kaneshiro was caught with hard drugs on him, he'd be going down for a looooooong time.
As chaos reigned outside, the two thieves systematically crawled through the club, snaffling up all the contraband they could find. Marching through the halls, Ryuji swung open the door to a locker, expecting to find more drugs, but wheezed as he was greeted with an assault rifle instead.
"Skull? Is something the matter?" Rukia approached, and her violet eyes widened - she'd probably seen enough action films to understand what a gun could do. The Shinigami furrowed her brow in consternation. "What should we do with them?"
Ryuji bit his lip. Leaving a bunch of very scary guns in the yakuza's hands seemed like a really bad idea, especially since they were still actively trying to turn Akira into Swiss cheese. At the same time, Ryuji didn't exactly want to march around downtown Tokyo with a freaking assault rifle.
"Uh… let's just take the ammo!" He blustered. "That way we don't have to carry any guns, but they can't use them to screw over Joker either!"
Rukia gave him a salute. "Your wish is my command, Skull."
He ran a hand through his hair, sincerely hoping he hadn't just fucked up big time. Stealing a boatload of drugs was one thing – weapons dealing was another.
A few rounds of ammo and a satchel of weed later, Makoto's voice crackled over the com line. "The target has been secured – I repeat, the target has been secured! Panther and I are escorting him to the rendezvous point."
"Got it." Akira's voice echoed in return. "Skull, Snow, get out of there. I'll distract the thugs for a couple more minutes, then circle back to the hideout."
Rukia tapped her ear, an excited gleam entering her eyes – this situation was clearly very novel to her. "We hear you loud and clear, Joker!"
…..
Uryū was thankful that the summer night was warm instead of rainy – while his Quincy attire was regal, it wasn't particularly weatherproof. The teenager's white trench coat swayed in the breeze as he perched on the Shibuya rooftop, the mantle over his shoulders fluttering more intensely. While he had lost track of this Kurusu person in the mess that was Shibuya station when he'd followed the other teen out of Karakura, there was enough of his Reiatsu in the air for Uryū to feel confident in his assessment that the city was the boy's hunting grounds. He'd spent the last few weeks hoping to catch Kurusu and his Shinigami friend, but whenever he sensed a blip of Hollow Reiatsu to the north, it was always gone by the time he arrived. As much as he loathed the other boy, Uryū would be lying if he said Kurusu wasn't effective at his job.
If most Shinigami even showed a fraction of the punctuality he did-
The Quincy shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. What mattered was that if he wanted to get a good assessment of Kurusu, he would need to try something else. So, that was why he found himself in the strange city, a speck of white amongst the neon glow. Thankfully, he hadn't been waiting too long when a flicker of strange Reiatsu entered his senses, and Uryū's brows furrowed. It felt human, but it was stronger than most of the second-rate Shinigami sent to defend his hometown. Gathering motes of Reishi under his feet to increase his speed, he approached the blip of energy. When he saw what it was though, he skidded to a halt, blinking.
Two girls darted across the city backstreets far faster than any normal mortal could. The one in the lead – the source of the Reiatsu – wore an outrageous red catsuit and had long blonde pigtails that waved in the air behind her. The other one was dressed mildly more practically but equally as weirdly, with an iron mask, dark scarf, and leather jacket on top of her tracksuit. Between them, the two girls carried a pudgy man, who was pinned in place with several beams of glowing light.
As they darted into the distance, Uryū rubbed his eyes. What the actual fuck was that?
All thoughts of Kurusu forgotten, he quickly re-applied his cloaking spell and slipped behind them. Eventually, the girls reached an abandoned parking lot and vanished as they walked through what looked like a solid chain-link fence. Bracing himself, Uryū followed, and while logically, he knew it was an illusion, he still flinched as his skin passed through what should have been metal. The lot wasn't too different on the other side except for the addition of two extra people, and Uryū felt like he'd been punched in the face as he saw it was Kurusu and the girl with dyed hair he'd been accompanied by before. No, scratch that – his Reiatsu isn't right. It's probably just a Soul Candy animating his body. Still, the brief squirt of logic did little to ease his shock.
The girl strode over to the newcomers and whistled. "Oh shit, is this him?"
"Definitely." The brunette nodded, placing the man she'd kidnapped down in the lot's corner. "Stay out of his sight – I'm not sure how much he can see and hear at the moment, and I don't want to take any risks."
The shorter girl saluted. "Got it, Queen!"
'Queen' blushed, looking away. Now that Uryū focused on her, there was something off with her Reiatsu as well. It was eerily sterile, like a poor recreation of what someone thought Reiatsu was theoretically meant to feel like.
A loud cheer suddenly echoed through the lot, and Uryū jumped out of his skin as two more figures sauntered in. One of them was male, with bleached hair and a thuggish demeanour, and while it took a second to place her under the white cloak and mask, the other girl was Kurusu's Shinigami friend.
"Guess who's back!" The delinquent chortled, holding a hefty sack in the air. Uryū didn't think he wanted to know what was in it.
A huge grin crossed the bleached-haired girl's face and she wriggled her fingers. "Skull! Ohohoho, is that loot I see?"
Skull stepped back, making sure the bag was well out of her reach. "Hell no! Boss would kill me if I let you get your hands on any of this shit!"
"No fair…" She whinged, before trudging back to her laptop.
Finally, one last figure strode into the clearing, clad in the familiar dark clothes of a Shinigami. At Kurusu's entrance, a series of cheers filled the air
"Joker!" Pigtails squealed before enveloping him in a hug. "You're alright!"
Queen approached him at a more sedate pace. "Panther and I were worried when we heard the gunshots. You didn't get hit, did you?"
Wait, gunshots?! Uryū's jaw dropped to the floor, and his heart started racing. What the hell was this maniac getting up to?! Beyond kidnapping and larceny, he supposed.
Kurusu gave them a sheepish grin. "I don't think I'd have quite this much swagger with a bullet hole or two." The humour in his eyes then died down. "More importantly, how did your mission go?"
Queen nodded. "There was a bit of a hiccup, but Kaneshiro has been secured." She pointed towards the man they'd kidnapped, lip curling in disgust.
"Queen stole a motorbike!" Panther's eyes lit up. "It was fantastic!"
A wicked grin crossed Skull's face. "Dude, for real? That slaps!"
The blush on Queen's face deepened. "I-it wasn't anything that special… my sister used to own a bike, and taught me some of the basics. Admittedly, I don't think she was planning for me to use those skills to raid the yakuza, but…"
Raid the WHAT now?!
Kurusu laughed, a lackadaisical noise that filled Uryū with disgust. "Sounding like a proper Phantom, Queen."
Her expression turned chuffed. "It was – well, I suppose I can't say it was nothing. Besides, we haven't finished yet – we still need to perform our coup de grâce."
Phantom. Uryū froze, as a switch flicked in his mind. Kurusu and his friends were the Phantoms. Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Except no, it didn't – the fucking yakuza was on a whole different level than an art teacher. Uryū hands clenched tightly. He'd expected to maybe find a Shinigami or two, not stumble across a group of what were apparently spiritually-powerful vigilantes.
"Coop the grah?" Skull wrinkled his nose.
"Finishing move." The orange-haired girl explained, and Skull's eyes widened in understanding.
"Speaking of that, do you two have the goods?" Kurusu glanced over at Skull and his Shinigami friend.
The Shinigami nodded, looking far too smug. "Don't worry – Skull and I have plenty of drugs!"
A collective wince filled the clearing. Queen furrowed her brow, expression troubled. "You didn't, um… you didn't steal any firearms, did you?"
Skull scowled. "'Course not, I'm not an idiot!"
"Debatable." Panther quipped.
He ignored her and continued. "Uh, we took some ammo though, as we didn't want Joker to get shot with it."
Queen sighed. "Well, I suppose that's fair enough."
Kurusu nodded, before glancing at the orange-haired girl. "Alibaba, have you taken down the CCTV yet?"
"Alllllmost." She nodded, eyes glued on her laptop as she started typing away. "You should get closer to the site, though – the police are gonna notice my tampering pretty quickly. At least, I kinda hope they do - it'd be pretty sad if they didn't."
"Speaking of Kaneshiro, what're we gonna do about him?" Skull disdainfully kicked the frozen man's rear.
Panther frowned, fiddling with her hair. "I guess I can reapply the Rikujōkōrō once we're there?"
"Here, I've got some duct tape." Kurusu's Gigai raised his voice and tossed something to Skull. "Not that I doubt Panther's work, but the cops aren't going to be able to undo your spells."
Queen cleared her throat. "Actually, can I handle him instead? There's a spell I've been reading about that would be perfect for this – a seal that can be deactivated remotely. That way, we can make sure Kaneshiro only appears to the public once the police have arrived at the scene."
A murmur of accord spread around the Phantoms, and Skull, who'd just finished binding Kaneshiro's arms and legs, stepped back. Queen reached into her bag, and if Uryū had thought that the night was finished with surprises, he couldn't have been more wrong. An involuntary gasp escaped his throat, and his eyes turned as wide as saucers as she withdrew several vials of Gintō.
No, that's not possible. Uryū's blood turned to ice in his veins. I'm the last Quincy. The Shinigami reduced us to a scant handful of bloodlines, and time did the rest.
The girl was oblivious to the sheer impossibility of her actions, however, and tossed the Gintō into the air. "Gritz!"
A film of Reishi solidified over Kaneshiro, sealing him in a cocoon. Grey colour. Pentagonal cross pattern. Uryū stepped back, numb. She'd executed it perfectly. As the teenagers bantered amongst themselves for a bit before running off, Kaneshiro carried between them, Uryū sunk to the floor, his every breath coming out as a choke as his vision blurred.
In a heartbeat, everything he thought he knew about the world had just been flipped on its head.
…..
While his Shinigami powers boosted his physical strength exponentially, Akira still felt a wave of relief as the Phantoms dumped Kaneshiro onto the ground. Ryuji and Makoto had helped, but the police station was still far enough away from the parking lot for him to feel a strain in his muscles. Thankfully, the street was quiet – Futaba had messed around with the traffic and streetlights, directing both pedestrians and cars away.
Makoto checked over her sealing spell one more time before stepping away, content. Ann got her paint ready and Ryuji and Rukia dumped their contraband content on the ground by the yakuza's feet. If the police didn't have enough evidence on the bastard already, Akira was more than happy to provide them with some.
As Ryuji emptied his sack, a briefcase he'd grabbed hit the ground at an odd angle and sprung open. The blond glanced its way, before returning to his work, but then Ryuji suddenly did a double-take. "A-Akira…?!" He whimpered, voice rising an octave.
He stood over the briefcase, eyes wide in horror. As Akira glanced at its contents, panic slowly began to bubble in his chest as he realised what had set Ryuji off. "Oh. That's not cocaine."
It was guns. The briefcase was full of pistols.
The street fell silent as the five teenagers stood around the case, varying expressions of panic on their faces.
"You said you didn't steal any firearms!" Makoto hissed.
"I thought it was just some blood money or more drugs!" Ryuji threw his hands into the air. "That's what was in the rest of them!"
"Calm down, everyone." Akira interjected. By everyone, he was most definitely including himself on that list. Currently, he was shitting bricks. "It's happened, and we just have to deal with it. There's no point playing the blame game."
"… Well, on the bright side, I suppose that's definitely going to get Kaneshiro arrested…" Ann chuckled nervously.
"We are not leaving a pile of guns right next to a yakuza patriarch." Makoto shot her an incredulous look.
The blonde narrowed her eyes. "What else are we going to do with them?!"
Ryuji gulp. "M-maybe they're fake? I heard a story about some gang using models to freak people out…"
Makoto shrugged, before picking up one of the pistols and flicking a switch. Bracing herself, she pointed the gun upright and clicked. A loud, piercing bang shattered the midnight calm, and shrieking, the brunette jumped into the air.
The Phantoms all stared at her in horror.
"Makoto, what the fuck." Akira wheezed. It was not a question.
Wide-eyed, she stared at the offending pistol in her hand. "I-I didn't think it was loaded! Why would you put a bunch of loaded guns in a briefcase!?"
Ryuji staggered backwards. "Dude, I can't believe I'm saying this again, but I thought you were meant to be smart!"
"Uh, if I were you lot, I'd scarper." Futaba chimed in over the line. "You're DEFINITELY going to get the cop's attention now that you've done THAT."
Ann swore, quickly grabbing her brush and getting to work. Makoto, meanwhile, hurriedly attempted to wipe down the gun, growing paler and paler until Rukia rolled her eyes and stopped her in her tracks.
"Just take them with us. We can figure out how to dispose of them when we're not in danger of getting caught."
"Alright team, go, go, go!" Akira roared the second Ann finished her message.
The Phantoms dashed off into the night and almost ran halfway back to Shibuya before they started to slow. Rukia stilled to a halt, bent over and heaving for breath, as Ann staggered, before plonking herself down on the ground. Ryuji and Makoto had a bit more energy, but even they sagged against a wall as the group came to a half.
Panting, Akira rested for a moment, before a laugh burst out of his throat. "Well then. There were some hiccups along the way, but all-in-all, I think our third strike was a success."
"Is everything usually so… chaotic?" Makoto stammered, sinking to the ground.
"Oh, god no." Ann giggled. "Honestly, I don't think I'd want to do it again, but… wasn't that kinda fun?"
While a few frowns greeted her question, nobody had it in them to disagree. It was terrifying, adrenaline-boosting, and heart-pounding, but yes, it had been kinda fun.
Quiet settled over the clearing, until it was broken by the crackle of Futaba's voice.
"… Can I keep the guns?"
…..
Goro marched out of the train station. Sae was already waiting for him, and he gave her a terse nod in lieu of a greeting as she approached. Her expression was all business, which was a pity – it looked like there'd be no free sushi for him today.
"Good. You're here. Come on – the crime scene isn't far away."
Given it wasn't even seven in the morning, Goro would normally expect the streets to be empty - by Tokyo standards, anyway. Instead, as they approached the site of the attack, they had to weave through a throng of pedestrians. Cameras flashed and whispers ran through the crowd at his appearance, and Goro quickly faked a smile and waved, before the beat cop guarding the thankfully cordoned-off scene ushered them through. Protected from the masses by a solid line of police tape, a wave of relief ran over him. Straitening his tie, Goro approached the crime scene before halting in his tracks.
He'd never seen anything quite like it. A metric pile of drugs and stacks of ammo had been dumped haphazardly on the street, forming a loose circle around the squirming, duct-taped form of Kaneshiro Junya. Bags of cocaine had burst against the tarmac, and white powder drifted into the breeze like snow. Ultimately, it looked like some incredibly bizarre satanic summoning ritual that had gone horrifically pear-shaped.
Reaching into the breeze, some of the cocaine landed on his fingertips, and Goro idly wondered how many millions of yen had just been flushed down the toilet.
Sae marched over to the detective in charge, lips curled in disgust. "Why is he still here?" She jabbed a finger at Kaneshiro, who quailed under her fierce glare. "He should be in custody!"
"I-I was ordered to leave the scene entirely as-is until Akechi arrived." The detective squirmed. "He is, after all, the forefront expert on the Phantoms…"
Sae scowled, crossing her arms, but Goro didn't have the time to pay any attention to her tantrum. The secondary meaning of the detective's words was clear. Shido was the one truly in charge of this investigation – not Sae, or even the SIU. When he drank in the Reiatsu lingering over the scene, however, his stomach flipped. There were more traces of spiritual energy than normal, but it wasn't Kurusu's crimson furnace or Takamaki's scarlet blaze. Instead, it was featureless, clinical. If it wasn't for the MO, Goro probably wouldn't have even realised it was Kurusu and his ilk.
Head still reeling, he approached the red scrawl by Kaneshiro's body. The message was short, and not particularly inspired.
;)
- THE PHANTOMS
It was… a fucking emoji. It wasn't even a particularly well-drawn emoji, Goro noted hysterically. What the fuck? How the fuck? WHY the fuck?
This was… this was bad. Very bad. The Phantoms had been a fun indulgence beforehand, but now, they'd taken down one of Shido's chief financial backers while completely blindsiding him in the process. His father was not going to be very happy with him at all.
It seemed Sae had finished harassing the police, as the tall woman strode to his side. "Any ideas?" She asked, brows furrowed.
Goro felt the faintest stirring of curiosity. "I thought you weren't interested in the Phantoms case?"
"That was before they targeted Kaneshiro." She pointed out. "This incident… it's made a mockery of the entire department."
Because a group of children did in one day what the SIU has been struggling to do for months. Judging by Sae's deep frown, she was as aware of that fact as Goro was.
"They're escalating." Goro murmured, rubbing his chin. "The prior incidents seemed personal. This, however, feels more like a statement. I assume there's no forensic evidence whatsoever – at least, none related to the Phantoms themselves." He glanced up at the security cameras staring down at him. "Any luck with the CCTV?"
Of course, nothing on it would ever be useable in a court of law, but Goro didn't need that. All he wanted to know was how the hell Kurusu had even pulled this stunt off.
Sae's frown turned into a scowl. "Apparently, there just so happened to be a blackout in the area last night during the exact period of time the Phantoms dumped him here."
Goro's princely façade finally broke, and he let out a groan. "You've got to be joking."
The prosecutor nodded in commiseration, clearly feeling almost as miserable about this as he was. As the cops dragged a wide-eyed, trembling Kaneshiro away, a lightbulb flashed in Goro's mind. A brief glimmer of hope – the slightest chance that this disaster could be salvaged.
"Say, will we actually be able to charge him? Even the most mediocre of defence attorneys would clearly be able to argue this was obviously a set-up."
If Kaneshiro managed to walk, Shido would probably want to dispose of him anyway, but they'd at least be able to regain some control over the situation.
Sae smirked, if only for a moment, and Goro felt his spirits drop. "Don't worry. A firefight broke out in one of his lairs yesterday – the police raided it early this morning. There's enough actual evidence there to lock him away for life, and we've got several witnesses willing to collaborate for a reduced sentence."
Fuck. Goro smiled, pretty and poised and perfectly fake. "… Well, at least one good thing came out of this mess?"
Sae snorted. "Oh, please – spare me the sanctimonious nonsense. You know this is an absolute nightmare." She began to stride away, casting one last glance over her shoulder. "I'm going to interview Kaneshiro. Let me know if you find anything useful."
Goro nodded, before turning back to the crime scene. A nightmare, indeed. The second Sae left his field of vision, he turned to one of the officers guarding the crime scene.
"Excuse me. I need to make a phone call. Is there a private location in the station I can use?"
"Of course." Her eyes glistened indulgently as she led him away.
…..
As Shido Masayoshi watched the news, he scowled, slamming down his half-drunken glass of scotch as fury bubbled in his stomach. As partial as he was a bit of liquor, even he wouldn't normally touch the stuff until the sun had started its descent towards the horizon. Now though he was too incensed to care, public image be damned. His phone rang yet again, and in a burst of rage, Masayoshi almost threw his glass at the wall. The SIU Director had tried to contact him half a dozen times by now, no doubt to offer a grovelling apology. Masayoshi had no interest in pithy excuses, however – he wanted this debacle fixed. When he saw the caller ID, however, he hesitated as he saw it wasn't the Director at all, but Akechi Goro
Ah. Perhaps the one person he did actually want to talk to right now.
Masayoshi sneered and accepted the call. "Akechi." His voice started out deadly smooth, before escalating to a roar. "I distinctly remember you saying the Phantoms were not a threat to our operation!"
He heard the detective's breath catch in his throat, and savoured the arrogant boy's fear as he collected his thoughts. "… My apologies, sir. While I do not think this was a deliberate attack against us, I underestimated the collateral damage the Phantoms could potentially cause. I will rectify this oversight immediately."
"Good." Masayoshi settled back into his chair. Unlike many of his minions, Akechi had the decency to be reliable - most of the time, anyway. He decided to throw the mutt a bone. "I've been impressed with your performance so far – I'm sure you won't let me down."
… And if he did, Masayoshi had ways of dealing with the brat, god-like powers or not.
"I think we should move to the next stage of our plan." Akechi suggested. "This Kaneshiro situation will certainly cause their popularity to bloom, and the Medjed ploy will only increase that. Afterwards, we can bring their empire crashing down, and steal the public's heart along with it."
"Good." Masayoshi nodded. "I'll get in contact with my connections in IT, and we'll launch the Medjed attack by the end of the week. Keep me updated if anything else occurs."
He hung up, the inferno of his fury ebbing down to mere kindling. As much as the loss of Kaneshiro galled him, Akechi was right - it was a situation they could use to their advantage. While the Phantoms were a thorn in his side, they were one he knew how to extract. With his temper placated, Masayoshi felt comfortable enough to make another call. Dialling the number of his primary Psientific Research Lab, he settled back in his office chair until his call was answered.
"S-Sir?!" His chief Cognitive Pscientist squeaked as he picked up the line. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you today!"
Masayoshi rolled his eyes. Why the hell should that matter? He managed to keep the vitriol out of his voice, however. "I want an update on the Psionic Sublimation devices. Certain... events have unfolded lately, and we need to speed our timelines up."
"Ah!" The scientist chirped, and Masayoshi felt a wave of satisfaction. Finally, it seemed like he was going to get some good news for once. "Thanks to the data Test Subject 064 retrieved, we've finally got the correct resonance for primal spiritual life. It shouldn't take us too long to fine-tune them for use against humans with no spiritual resistance..."
As the scientist continued rambling, Masayoshi smirked. Soon enough, Japan would be his, and his alone.
…..
Returning to school after the Kaneshiro raid was a surreal experience. While Shujin's rumour mill had always been an indomitable force, no matter where he went, Akira couldn't escape the gossip. Everywhere he went, people were exchanging frenzied whispers about the Phantoms. While this wasn't the first time the vigilantes had been a hot topic in the school, unlike with Kamoshida, there was no hesitation - only praise.
"… No way, a yazuka boss?! That's so metal!"
"I knew they were heroes all along! Take that, Kamoshida stans!"
"Haha! Ha! I'm free! I'm finally free! They deleted everything, everything!"
As he entered class, Akira was pretty sure his cheeks were bright red. Ann waved at him from her usual spot, and he returned the gesture, but there was something he wanted to do first before he joined his friends.
Mishima was idly scrolling through his phone, finishing off a piece of toast – he must have been running late that morning. As he saw Akira approach, he brightened up. "Hey, Kurusu! Did you hear the news about the Phantoms? Crazy, right?!"
"Yeah, I heard." He leant against the boy's desk.
Mishima's eyes grew misty. "They're amazing… first they took down Kamoshida, and now this?"
Oh, boy – if Akira hadn't been blushing before, he certainly was now. "Yeah, uh, I guess they're pretty cool." Clearing his throat, he began to drum his fingers on the table. "So… how's the money situation going? All cleared up, I take it?"
Mishima arched a brow. "Uh, why would you think that?" A spark of realisation flickered into his eyes, and he gave Akira a flat stare. "I'm not being blackmailed by mobsters, Kurusu. I just spent all my money on video games."
Akira cringed as a wave of embarrassment struck him. "… Oh. I'm sorry. You just. Uh. Looked a bit peaky that day."
Mishima whinged, throwing his hands up into the air. "Of course I did! I spent ten thousand yen and didn't even get the character I wanted to pull!"
…..
"What do you mean, Mishima wasn't even being blackmailed?!" Ryuji hissed.
The Phantoms had gathered in their usual corner once the day had ended – while they had no actual plans, after all the uproar that day, it felt odd not doing a bit of post-mission reconnaissance.
Makoto pursed her lips. "Really? I was so certain…"
Akira groaned, cradling his face in his palms. "He just blew his cash on gatcha games."
Silence descended over the clearing.
Over the phone, Futaba whistled. "Wow, what a scrub."
"Yeah, uh, moving along…" Ann winced, before shooting a look at Makoto. "How did your sister take it? You said she was working on Kaneshiro's case, right?"
Makoto gave a deep sigh and sunk down onto the bench. "She seems more annoyed that she wasn't the one to take him down rather than happy he was caught in the first place…"
Ann frowned, but Akira merely shrugged. "I can't say I'm surprised – we did just make the police look like a bunch of idiots."
Makoto shuffled uncomfortably. "That... wasn't exactly my intention."
Ryuji crossed his arms. "If the cops wanted the glory, they should have stepped up their game. Besides, who cares who took him down – the point is, people aren't being blackmailed anymore!"
That seemed to alleviate some of Makoto's worries, and the budding tension disappeared.
"Truthfully… I'm more concerned about the principal's reaction." Rukia glanced at Makoto. "With all this talk about the Phantoms…"
This time, the student council president didn't even bother hiding her groan. "He's texted me a dozen times since class started, demanding a meeting. I'm pretending I'm currently at cram school."
Akira frowned, rubbing his chin. That didn't seem like a sustainable solution at all.
"How do you want to handle it?" He asked. Ultimately, no matter his opinion, it was Makoto receiving the bulk of the principal's ire.
"… I'll see him tomorrow." She decided. "Hopefully, he'll realise that the Phantoms are well beyond either of our reaches. If not…" Her frown deepened. "We can decide where to go from there."
Nobody looked particularly pleased, but none of the Phantoms objected either.
Ann's eyes then lit up. "Hey, how about we do something to celebrate? One last hurrah before we reach exam season?"
"Aw man, don't remind me of that…" Ryuji groaned, earning a tut from Makoto.
"Being a part of a supernatural vigilante group doesn't mean that you can slack off from your studies." She chided.
As Makoto began to lecture Shujin's least-motivated second years, twin pings echoed through the alcove, and both Akira and Rukia simultaneously reached for their phones.
Akechi: Hello.
Akechi: I was wondering if we could perhaps meet up sometime to discuss the latest Phantoms strike?
Akechi: I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter.
The duo exchanged a look, and clearly sensing something was wrong, Makoto frowned. "… Is something wrong?"
"Akechi." Rukia's eyes narrowed.
"Some asshole detective dude we met during the social studies trip." Ryuji explained, kicking the ground with a scowl.
"Akira and Rukia noticed something weird about his Reiatsu." Ann continued. "We think he might suspect us of being the Phantoms, but he doesn't have any evidence on us for obvious reasons. He's been engaged in some weird stand-off with Akira and Rukia ever since."
Makoto's eyes widened. "Wait – Akechi Goro is spiritually sensitive?" Her expression turned conflicted as they nodded. "He works with my sister at times. We're… casual acquaintances, I suppose."
Ryuji winced and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, sorry for calling him an asshole."
"… You shouldn't be calling people that, but there's no need to apologise. Truthfully, I find him somewhat insufferable myself." Makoto shook her head. "Still, while he might seem a bit air-headed, there's a reason Sae collaborates with him. If you're going to meet up with him, be careful, okay?"
Akira frowned solemnly, eyes still glued to his phone. "… Duly noted."
…..
Akira unfolded his umbrella, glancing around Kichijoji as Rukia walked by his side. The commercial neighbourhood was quieter than Akira was expecting, but then again, a rainy Wednesday evening wasn't exactly the prime time for a fun night out. As they reached their destination, Rukia eyed the club sceptically.
"Is this the right address?" She wrinkled her nose. "I thought Akechi-san would favour places a bit more… sophisticated."
Akira had to admit the Jazz Jin didn't really look like much from the outside. The only entrance was a narrow brick path and the sign hanging overheard had clearly seen better days. Still, he knew better than to judge a book by its cover – if anyone had told him Leblanc would serve him the best curry he'd ever tasted, he would have been somewhat sceptical.
"Maybe there's more to him than what meets the eye." Akira mused idly, before the accidental irony of his words brought him back to reality.
It was just in time, too. Akechi's lightbulb Reiatsu was approaching them rapidly. This wasn't just some fun hang out – this was a game of cat and mouse, and it was time to be a cat.
The detective had abandoned his peacoat for a light sweater vest, and while he carried his usual suitcase in one hand, the other was taken up by an umbrella. "An interesting observation." He smiled, something sparkling in his vivid crimson eyes. "You're right, though. I often find that appearances tend to be… deceiving."
Was that bait, or simply an off-handed comment?
Akira smirked, closing his umbrella as he stepped under the club's awnings. Either way, he wasn't going to fall for it. "Well, good. Life wouldn't be very exciting if everyone was just what they seemed."
"I couldn't agree more." Akechi smirked, joining him as Rukia rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, boys." She groaned, before giving the Jazz Jin another examination. "What exactly is this establishment? I didn't think an underage detective would choose to meet at a bar."
As they descended the stairs, Akechi gave her a light smile. "It's just a jazz club – nothing sinister. I'm something of a regular, so I find people don't bother me. A rare luxury, of late…"
Akira raised a brow. "Oh?"
The interior of the club was rather simple – the furniture was simple hardwood, and there was little in the way of decorations. Still, there was a warmth to the air, and while it was too early for the live music, a simple yet pleasant tune hummed over the speakers.
Akechi pulled out a chair. "That interview about the Phantoms brought me far more attention than anticipated." His expression turned a bit stiff. "Admittedly, after their latest escapade, that's going to be more of a curse than a blessing…"
"Really? Why?" Akira blinked, sitting down.
Rukia was the one to answer. "Don't be ridiculous, Akira. You just mentioned it the other day – the Phantoms made a total fool of law enforcement."
Akechi nodded. "That is part of the reason, yes, but my explicit anti-Phantoms stance is also drawing their fans' ire. Truthfully, I've already received some hate mail."
Akira winced, as his thoughts slid back to Shujin. Most of the students there would probably happily crucify Akechi right now. "I'm sorry."
The boy waved his hands idly. "Why? It's hardly your fault, is it?" Again, neither Akira nor Rukia rose to the bait, and Akechi's smile deepened. "It's not like online trolls need much prompting to spew their garbage, anyway. Tolerating people like that is an unfortunate side effect of having even the slightest modicum of fame."
Rukia rubbed her chin, nodding. "Yes – there truly is no pleasing some people."
Akira leant back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. "Still, what did you think of the Kaneshiro attack? Has it changed your opinions on the Phantoms at all?"
Akechi's smile thinned. "Not particularly – if anything, it's reinforced some of my views."
"How come?" Akira felt himself frowning.
Akechi steepled his fingers. "The whole incident felt… remarkably immature."
"Taking down a yakuza patriarch is immature?" The shaggy-haired teen raised a brow.
"As with their previous attacks, my dislike of them isn't because of their chosen target as much as it is their motives and methods." The detective explained. "Do you really think the police can arrest a man for being kidnapped and then having illicit substances clearly forced onto him? No – I don't even think they would bother prosecuting."
Akira stilled, a flicker of panic sparking within him. "But… Kaneshiro has been arrested for his crimes, right?"
"Yes, but only because the police raided one of his hideouts and Kaneshiro was spooked enough to confess. If he'd refused to cooperate, it could have been a very different story." Akechi's eyes were deadly serious. "If he walked, he would have gone deep underground, and the chances of him ever being held accountable for his crimes would have become non-existent."
Something then occurred to Akira, and he couldn't resist. "… Unless the Phantoms targeted him again, that is."
The detective's expression turned somewhat pained. "That's… certainly an intriguing take on the situation, I suppose." He then sighed. "Ignoring that, taking down Kaneshiro of all targets… it feels like retaliation. I question their methods on live TV, and then they target someone who the police force has been trying to arrest for months?"
Akira tilted his head, musing over Akechi's words. He'd been lying if he said one-upping the police hadn't brought him any satisfaction, but still, it was hardly the reason they'd done it. Quite frankly, if it wasn't for Akira and Makoto misinterpreting Mishima's circumstances, they probably wouldn't have mustered the courage to take on Kaneshiro in the first place.
"Isn't that assumption somewhat arrogant?" Rukia commented, and at Akechi's intrigued expression, continued. "For one, it would require the Phantoms to have in-depth knowledge of the police's investigations. While that would be possible if they were a divine entity like some speculate, let's be real – none of us believe that."
"I… suppose I cannot deny that there's truth in that statement." Akechi muttered, brows furrowing. "You believe that the Phantoms had a personal reason for taking down Kaneshiro?"
… Shit. They needed to backpedal, now.
"Not necessarily." Akira pushed up his glasses. "Plenty of students at Shujin were scammed, and I doubt they were the only targets – Kaneshiro wasn't exactly picky with who he blackmailed. I think anyone would take down a man like that if they had the power to, personal motives or not."
Akechi folded his arms, nodding. "I won't disagree with you there – while I do wish Kaneshiro could have been brought to justice the proper way, there is no denying that he's the lowest of the low."
The conversation lulled, and on cue, a white-shirted waiter stopped by their table. After a quick discussion, Akechi ordered them all a purple mocktail with a fruity, floral taste. By the time the drinks arrived, the band was finally ready to perform, and the trio simply sat back and listened to the music. It was… surprisingly pleasant, honestly. While being in Akechi's presence made Akira feel somewhat like he was balancing on a tightrope, he couldn't deny the other boy had taste. The mocktail was light – not too sweet or too bitter, but a refreshing mix of the two – and the music was smooth and relaxing, chasing all thoughts of exams and other more serious worries from his mind.
"I can see now why you brought us here. It's surprisingly pleasant." Rukia put down her glass, eyes lingering on the stage. "It's been a long while since I've been to a live performance."
"I'm happy you're enjoying yourself." Akechi beamed - it looked like the music had chased his tension away as well. "Are you much of a musician, Kuchiki-san?"
She flushed, shaking her head. "Oh, heavens no. I've had a few koto lessons before, but I had no talent for it."
An idea flashed in Akira's mind, and he leant forward, smirking mischievously. "Rukia's more of an artist."
She looked mildly surprised at his comment, and Akechi took the bait, hook, line, and sinker. "Really? Do have any of your work on you? I enjoy a bit of photography, but I've never been much good at drawing."
Rukia rubbed her chin, cogs whirling in her mind. "Hmm… I don't have any of my masterpieces with me right now, but it won't take me too long to draw one. Akira – distract him while I get to work!"
As Rukia whipped out a notepad and some felt-tipped pens, the two boys slipped into light conversation. Akira was giving the detective a highly redacted account of why he moved to Tokyo, keeping his expression schooled into careful neutrality, when Rukia finally finished.
"Ta-dah! Here, feast your eyes!"
It was, as expected, one of the most utterly hideous things Akira had ever seen. Three lopsided animal people with Akechi, Akira, and Rukia's hair respectively held hands in the middle of the page. While the cartoon Akira and Rukia both had bunny ears, Akechi had bear ones, which was definitely a snub in Rukia-land. The background was a patchy blot of orange, with crude, flower-like shapes drawn onto it.
"What do you think?" Rukia asked Akechi with utmost sincerity.
Akira didn't even realise Akechi could physically look so utterly poleaxed. It took all of Akira's self-restraint not to burst out laughing.
"Rukia, it's beautiful. It's amazing, it's wonderful." Akira grinned wildly, equally as sincere if not for the reasons the Shinigami expected.
"My, thank you!" Rukia puffed out her chest, smugness mode going into maximum overdrive. "I knew you'd learn to appreciate my talent eventually!"
Akechi opened his mouth, before closing it again, and shot Akira a pleading glance. He clearly had no idea what to do. The answer was 'suffer', and he was pulling it off to aplomb.
Eventually, Akechi pulled the largest fake-smile imaginable, while something in his eyes screamed. "It's… you certainly have a unique artistic vision, Kuchiki-san."
"My, thank you, Akechi-san! Here." She tore out the page and passed it to the detective. "Why don't you keep it as a memento of our lovely night out?"
At this stage, Akira was beginning to suspect Rukia was also taking the absolute mickey out of the poor detective.
"… Thank you very much, Kuchiki-san." Stiffly, Akechi opened his briefcase slightly and slipped the page in before Akira could peer inside. "I'll be certain to treasure it."
… Yeah, that was going straaaaaight in the trash the second Akechi got the opportunity.
Eventually, the trio said their farewells and separated for the night. Akira couldn't help but whistle contentedly on his way back to the train station. It was a pity they hadn't succeeded in abating Akechi's suspicions of them, or even convincing the detective of their justice, but he'd also been entirely off the mark with his analysis of the Phantoms' actions.
All in all, the evening was a wash, but with catchy tunes playing in his mind and a floral taste still on the tips of his lips, Akira found he didn't mind that at all.