The Mask Shatters
Chapter 13
Part I
"To walk this path, he must delve into skullduggery. Stalking, investigation. A watchful eye is needed, and his logic will solve the rest…"
Author's Note
Alrighty. Here we are. The chapter you all have been waiting for. No more beating around the bush.
Unfortunately, due to its sheer size and how far along the plot moves, we had to cut it into 3 parts - all three have been written and Part 2 has already been fully edited extensively (We won't release it until sometime next month, however, to keep with our current quota). Part 3 is in the latter half of editing now as of the writing of this note.
You're all gonna enjoy what's being brought to the table, and we enjoyed writing it. :3
This brings up another another issue I wish to resolve: Time between chapters.
A chapter a month really doesn't provide quick results, so bottom-line: I will be shortening chapters from here on out back to around 5k words instead of the increasingly usual 10k. This means more chapters a month, and a quicker run-through of this story - I will NOT sacrifice my attention to detail, however, so expect the same amount of effort but in shorter chapters.
Pivotal Chapters are exempt. If we have a boss fight or something that hits heavy, it will be a longer chapter. No argument about that. It's not fun reading about a boss fight that ends in a few paragraphs and it isn't fun to write one like that, either.
Well, without further adieu... Enjoy the continuation.
He sat there, watching.
But there was nothing to see.
He stood there, waiting.
But time felt absent.
He stood there, expectantly.
But nothing came.
Just a bitter darkness, of which the only certainty was nothing.
Eventually, as he waited in an unsure silence, the darkness receded.
Revealing a familiar sight.
His room, back in his quiet American neighborhood, inside a dirty trailer.
There was something wrong with it, however.
He remembered it to be cluttered.
But now, it was clean.
Not a speck of junk to be found.
His dresser was clear and neat, a stack of papers that regarded his fencing team application.
A caddy full of pens and paper clips.
A photo cube of family near and far.
And another atop it depicting his friends.
His bookshelf was well-put together, and not a speck of dust sat atop the shelving.
And in the corner was a hat rack with a few things he had ordered online.
He scrunched his eyes up, unsure of what this all meant.
But a voice called out to him, and suddenly his heart stopped.
"-r-h-r!" Someone called out.
Sound itself seemingly failing to convey the message they wished to impart.
But it wasn't the cheerful voice of someone close.
It was a terrifying, ear-piercing screech.
The kind of screech one would hear when a car came to a dizzying, deadly stop.
Deafening and frightening.
He fell forward, holding his ears as the voice called out once again, but much, much more deeper and angrily.
And soon the room decayed.
The spotless white walls turned black with dirt.
The tile floor became wood.
The bookshelf collapsed, but nothing was heard above the evil that assaulted Arthur's ears.
The photo cubes vanished, replaced with ash.
And as he staggered back to his feet, groaning in an awkward silent pain, he gasped.
"W-wha…"
The voice spoke to him once more…
And it sounded as if it were right behind him….
"You failed me…"
A few days had passed since that fateful encounter.
They were quiet.
Nary a bump in the night nor a disturbance in the steady, damp air bothered the young American.
Little had transpired since the attack.
Instead, just a silent young man staring at a television in a barren room, beneath wonderful, worthy-of-royalty sheets.
A mark on his head, once hidden behind a thick pad of gauze, was now open for all to see.
Arthur had been bedridden for a couple days, his cognitive functions endangered by a concussion that was delayed briefly by - what paramedics could call - a miracle of God. The contusion was visible, but over time had simmered into a dark bruise, one that would draw attention to the young man no matter where he went.
Himura did his best to take care of the young man while he remained at home. He had taken several days off from his job to see that Arthur wanted for nothing. He contacted the school to buy Arthur at least a week from going to class, he went out and bought the young man a smart TV and a stand that he had to assemble himself - an act that Arthur didn't immediately thank him for.
But that was forgivable. At the time of purchase, Arthur was barely cognizant that he was in Japan.
Himura did other things as well to ensure Arthur recovered peacefully. He turned away visitors, knowing well that Arthur wasn't a social butterfly. He would order food from a local Polish restaurant for dinner and make omelets for breakfast, all the while asking Arthur what he wanted and fulfilling his wishes as best he could.
He even managed to get himself a new phone in between his outings.
By the time Arthur's mind had recovered, and he was aware of all that had transpired, Himura had easily sank a good amount of yen in keeping Arthur as comfortable and happy as he possibly could. In fact, by Saturday, he was nearing an otherwise gratuitous state of general financial poverty - with the next payday being, unfortunately, another week away.
Himura wasn't completely pleased, but he didn't make this known to Arthur. In his mind, he did the right thing and that's all that mattered.
Even Kiwa would drop by occasionally, checking on Arthur's progress to recovery. She seemed rather pleased with Himura for taking such good care of him, and her praise turned him into a tomato.
When Arthur recovered in a cloudy afternoon - his cognitive senses returning to him the day prior and soon, along with that, his will to move about - Himura felt nothing but relief.
Arthur had sat in the bed for a good while, still amazed that he now had a television and something other than a bed and dresser decorating his room but equally dissatisfied with the recent status quo. However, come a little past noon he soon staggered to his feet. He tried checking his phone, but he quickly found that the phone was dead, and the ice-cold feel to it told him that it had been dead for some time now.
He shook his head, and then quickly regretted that decision.
"Ugh…" Arthur groaned, feeling a tinge of pain on his forehead. "Goddamn…" He lifted a hand up, feeling the pained area but retreating with a sharp wince as the touch only made things worse.
Looking around, he saw that his room was dark. A vision he had become accustomed to these past few weeks in Japan, with the only light being his TV at the opposite side of the room - the light emitted having dimmed through a period of inactivity.
With a groan of exasperation mixed with exhaustion, he staggered to his feet. This action he quickly cursed himself for as he stumbled and nearly fell face first into the wall, his balance having suffered considerably from his extended recess in bed.
From there, it was a slow, wobbly walk to his door, from which he had trouble opening due to his near-sightedness taking a heavy toll on him further as his depth perception mitigated with each passing day.
And his long sojourn in bed didn't do him any favors, that's for sure.
After fiddling and fidgeting with the door, trying to find the handle in the dark, he managed to grab hold and open the door - only to be greeted by the aurora of sunlight peering in from a window down the hall. He winced, covering his eyes and retreating a few steps back into his dark room.
"Fuck…."
Arthur, for a moment, gathered his bearings from the vicious assault. When he felt confident enough to enter the light, he did so - albeit slowly and cautiously. He could hear distant noises from the other tenants in the building and some street noise far below, but nothing more. As he stumbled and staggered down the small hallway, he tried calling out to Himura. But his voice, as he quickly found, was weak and unimposing. Almost raspy as well.
A stark contrast to his norm.
He paused for a moment, holding his throat as he sounded out Himura's name quietly. First in an attempt to discern the exact problem, and then in an attempt to fix it.
He coughed and wheezed, clearing his throat before trying again.
The outcome was still the same: A weak, pathetic voice that, despite all of Arthur's determined effort and willpower to see altered for the better, stubbornly refused to evolve from its otherwise lethargic state. The young American had tried enough times by now to personally come to terms with the reality that this newfound physical, but inevitably brief, impediment of his wasn't going to change anytime soon, much less through the constant and repeated strenuous actions which had thus far produced absolutely nothing in terms of positive results. Slumping his shoulders in self-admitted defeat, he simply gave up on the idea of improving his voice altogether.
"H-H...Himura…?" Arthur, understanding his voice wasn't going anywhere, called out. However, there was no response. The boy waited a moment before trying again. "Him-Himura? Himura? A-are you there?" He called out once more.
There remained no response.
Arthur, stammering into the living room, took a brief moment to glance around before shrugging when he failed to spy Himura.
The apartment was as quiet as a church during prayer, with the only noise being the outside world.
He huffed, and quickly sat down on the nearby couch, rubbing his temples as a slight headache began to set in from the sudden movement and sunlight.
The last few days had been an absolute haze in Arthur's mind. He remembered very little, with most memories being a swift blur hiding behind a curtain of uncertainty. The days had passed by so quickly, so abruptly for him, that he couldn't even tell what day it was.
And judging by the volume light protruding through the windows, it was midday.
Noon.
Arthur, feeling unsure, sat back in his seat and rubbed the pained spot on his forehead, eliciting winces in response to the pain.
From what little he could remember, there was a thug who had accosted him, and a brief lapse in judgement prior. Then, he woke up, had a mental breakdown in front of Himura and a woman he did not recognize, and then from there on a deep mist of heavy cerebral confusion developed in his mind.
It only lifted just recently, and it irked Arthur to no end to not remember what had occurred.
"Ugh… The pain…" Arthur grunted, lowering his hand as his stomach suddenly began to rumble.
He then glanced over towards the kitchen, and with his stomach demanding a meal, he sighed as he slowly stood up - the joints in his legs popping with the renewed usage they were finding.
"Another day in paradise, I suppose…"
Just then, as he shambled his way towards the kitchen, he heard the unmistakable clicking of lock tumblers. His eyes widened, and he turned about in time to witness Himura and an only slightly familiar woman entering the room.
Burlap bags in hand.
"...although personally, Eguchi-chan, I don't think she should have anything to worry about." Himura said, looking back at the young woman with a very distinctive buzz cut. He was carrying quite a few bags by their handles. "Sure, the rumors may surround her now too, but it's not his fault for being a good samaritan. I would've done the same thing."
Eguchi, setting her handful down by his feet, shook her head in denial of his apparent point. "This affects you too though, since you are so closely connected to him. Mr. Okumura has always been a little sensitive with her being around boys. You know this as well as I do." Hands on hips, and shifting to her side, she added, "Good samaritan or no, ill-talk conceives ill-action. Even if it's not directed at him."
Himura sighed, reaching down to add what she had to his already overflowing grasp. He didn't seem strained at all by the amount of bags he was carrying. "If he gets mad at such a kind act, then honestly I have no respect for him." He said, to which Eguchi clicked her tongue with a disappointed shake of her head. "Not like I had any to begin with… She's a nice girl. She doesn't deserve a father like that, quite frankly."
Eguchi, noticing the sudden hostility in his voice, remained silent for a good moment, bringing a hand up to her chin as she looked at Himura. Studying him, almost. Her eyes became narrowed and furrowed, and slightly she tilted her head. He, himself, as the seconds dragged on, looked to be slightly uneased by her. Arthur noticed well, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Eguchi silenced them both.
"You've gotten very vocal and critical of Mr. Okumura lately…" She said, her voice betraying an inflection of concern. "...Are you good?"
"I..I really don't think I've noticed Himura being critical of anyone, really." Arthur spoke up, limping his way forwards towards the both of them,giving the duo a slight shock. "Is something wrong?"
Himura, surprised by the sudden familiar intrusion into his conversation, quickly turned to meet the voice - as did Eguchi. Their eyes already wide, the two of them found themselves quickly speechless by the apparently alert Arthur.
"Oh, well!" Himura hummed aloud, his seemingly indifferent expression swiveling into a joyous smile. "Look who's up and about! How about that?" He said, turning to face the young American fully. "How's it going, kid?" He asked, setting his bags on the ground as Arthur approached.
"Ah, could be better, I suppose…" Arthur answered him, scratching his arm nervously as he looked between him and Eguchi. She seemed new to him, despite her slight familiarity. With the recent events plaguing the young man, it was understandable for him to be nervous. "But - and I apologize for this - but you are?"
Eguchi, smiling warmly, stepped forward and offered Arthur her hand. "I'm Kiwa. Kiwa Eguchi. We've… We've met before, but I'm not surprised you don't remember me."
"Yeah, neither am I." Himura added as Arthur warily shook her hand. "You were under a lot of stress, after all. With what you went through, I'm not surprised. Not surprised at all."
Arthur, shooting his eyes between the two of them, slowly nodded as he took in the information. It was at a snail's pace to be sure, given his current condition - but he understood it all nonetheless. "I'm sorry, Eguchi-san. I meant no disrespect. I just…" He apologized, letting her hand go as he sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck. "I… I don't recognize you."
Kiwa just giggled, crossing her arms in response as she downplayed Arthur's obvious embarrassment. "No, no! You're quite alright. You weren't in your right mind, anywho." She said, to which Arthur nodded but kept quiet. Kiwa, with a glance down at her watch, suddenly gave out a loud "Oh!" before turning to face Himura with an immediately bashful look.
"Well, I'm sorry to be dashing off like this, but as you know, my brother has an appointment and I'm his ride."
"No, no! Don't apologize! Get going! I'll see you at work tomorrow!" Himura shook his head with a warm smile that Kiwa reciprocated in turn. "Thanks for your help."
She bowed, almost giving away a curtsy gesture as she backed away from the two - providing the young American with a brief glance before leaving. "Glad to see you're alright, Williams-kun. I'll be seeing you."
Arthur gave an awkward wave as she departed. "Uh, sure…" He said.
And just like that, she was gone. The door closed behind her, leaving Himura and Arthur alone.
Himura chuckled, shaking his head briefly as he turned away towards the kitchen. His hands began to visibly struggle with the amount he was carrying, and a gracious smile was on his face. "Nice woman, she is. Always thinking of others over herself." He stepped past Arthur, nearly bumping into the already beleaguered young American.
"I… Don't even know her…" Arthur added, turning about to watch as his guardian shambled effortlessly towards their pantry. "But, do you need any help?" He asked with a brief roll to his shoulders. Himura then responded with a swift chuckle.
"No, no, no!" Himura brushed him off, setting the bags down by his feet with a heavy grunt. He then cast an unworried eye towards Arthur as he rubbed the strained irritation out of his hands. "You need to be more concerned with resting up."
"I'm tired of being in bed…" Arthur hummed, shuffling towards Himura. "I'm fine, though. I can help. Just point me to what needs doing."
"Nah, kid. You just sit down, watch some TV. Relax." Himura directed him, his smile fading slightly as Arthur looked at him, frowning. "You just got out of bed after a weeklong stint in it. I'm no expert, but Kiwa herself told me that you're in no shape for any exercise. Go sit down now, alright?"
The sudden sternness in his voice took Arthur completely off guard. Himura was never one to lower his voice or even get demanding, and never before has Arthur ever been on the short end of the stick when it came to authority with Himura.
Granted, they've known one another for a good chunk of each other's lives. Arthur, a seventeen year old teenager and Himura being a thirty-nine year old man. Regardless, this was new to the young American. He took a moment to glance between Himura and his groceries before nodding solemnly and limping away towards the living room.
Himura watched, and clicked his tongue quietly as he began to put away all he had bought.
Arthur then collapsed on the sofa, groaning with extreme effort as the sudden movement made his head spin. Holding his head, he laid himself back and closed his eyes, his pained breathing only growing slightly in intensity.
"Ugh… What the hell…?"
As the seconds dragged on, his eyes regained their focus. While he couldn't blame this on his prolonged lack of glasses, he knew it didn't help and, quietly, he made a note to have Himura make an appointment with a local optometrist.
When his mind had slowed, and his eyes calmed, he flipped the TV on and quietly waited for Himura to finish what he was doing. Time seemingly dragged on as he did this. A consequence of his own fatigued delirium, no doubt. Still, the show that was playing - that raunchy American sitcom dubbed in Japanese about the bar-owning delinquents of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania - served well to occupy him as he waited. The Japanese wasn't too great, as the voices, for the most part, didn't match the characters all that well, but he forgave it. He knew American dubs weren't anything to write home about either, so he wasn't all that surprised to find out the same held true in reverse in other countries.
As the time passed, and the show entered its third commercial break, Himura slowly strode into the room as he dusted off his hands.
"Hoo boy, lemme tell you Arthur. It's hard carrying all that to impress a woman! These arms ain't built for heavy lifting!" He chuckled as reached for a jacket thrown over his shoulder. Smiling widely, he tossed it to Arthur. "Here, catch!"
"Huh?" Arthur didn't even get a second to identify it as it landed over his eyes - obscuring his vision and briefly stunning him as he tried to make sense of what just happened. Pulling the jacket off and onto his lap, he quickly identified it as a black hoodie.
It was just his size.
"Ah… Where'd you get this?" Arthur asked, to which Himura readily answered.
"You said something about that thing yesterday. I think you were coming outta your funk if you remembered that, but… I don't know. Not a doctor." Himura answered, taking a seat next to Arthur. "You said this was in the underground mall and you wanted it, so I went scouting and - lo'n'behold - it was there!"
"Ah…" Arthur smiled quietly, setting the jacket down on the sofa's arm. The jacket seemed slightly familiar after that being said. "Uh, thank you… Himura… I..I barely remember this thing." He added, unsure of what to say exactly.
Himura waved him off, finding everything to be a breath of fresh air when compared to the week thus far. As such, he found little reason to hold Arthur to a proper thank you and simply accepted the embarrassment at, not only face value, but also as a point of pleasant emotional bonding as well.
From there on, the two chatted away for the next few hours. It began slowly at first, with Himura doing his best to catch up with Arthur since they have had little time since his first day in the country to actually spend time with one another. Arthur was reluctant to speak to him at first, as a slight headache was still pounding upon his brain.
Over time, however, Arthur finally found enough comfort to speak. He talked about quite a number of things, in fact. His friends were, understandably, the first topic he decided to broach. Ichisake, Ann, Ren. The latter two, evidently, he hasn't had too much of a chance to personally speak to in quite some time. His studies naturally followed after that, as well as the rumors surrounding him. Himura, apparently, had become well aware of those in his mental absence.
The young American found that to be a surprise, but ultimately decided not press the matter when his guardian made mention that the daughter of his boss just so happens to also attend Shujin Academy alongside Arthur as his peer. Himura didn't sound completely pleased, nor incredibly unhappy, with the news either, but didn't elaborate. Whether he chose not to, or couldn't, was unclear to even Arthur.
He spoke of Kae's insight into dealing with the issues that were surrounding him, and even Makoto's odd and hostile stance with him - all of which surprised Himura to no end.
"Really? And here I thought you had a honey without telling me!" Himura said aloud, causing Arthur to facepalm. "Huh... " He scratched his chin, feeling slightly guilty for even entertaining such an idea now.
"Don't ever say that again, Himura. Please." Arthur had asked, rubbing his forehead and sighing as he spoke.
Himura chuckled, and their conversation continued into other topics. Such as, for example, like Madarame's confession; an act that even Himura had admitted to being witness to. Following that was his encounters with the thug that had accosted the young American days ago.
This was something Himura didn't speak much on. It was chilling, really. When Arthur brought it up, Himura's whole demeanor suddenly changed on the spot. His smile drooped and faded, transmuting into an unpleasant frown that even took Arthur aback. His eyes narrowed, and he almost looked suddenly distant as he listened to Arthur detail each of the two encounters more in depth than he had before.
When Arthur finished, he had looked up at Himura, who was simply leaning back in his seat, his head resting upon an open palm that was anchored to his sofa's arm. His eyes were closed, almost as if he were sleeping. Arthur blinked, unsure if Himura had in fact dozed off on him, but moments later when Himura shook his head and grunted something incomprehensible, he realized that Himura was, in actuality, in deep thought.
Something he had never truly seen in Himura before.
In fact, Himura was often tactful: Acting usually quickly and always having something to say on, well, anything.
This time, however? He had nothing.
Nothing but a quiet sigh as he processed, visualized, and mentally devoured the information obtained.
Arthur could feel a sudden shift in the air. The warm feeling of galvanizing words with a trusted friend felt cold further on, and the conversation soon went dead as Arthur slowly panned his gaze to the TV, and he realized now that they talked for so long that the old show had ended, and now something new and uninteresting had taken its place.
Himura sighed, and slowly slid his hand over his eyes, speaking low for Arthur to hear.
"I can't keep you from school any longer, kid. Shujin actually called yesterday demanding your return or you would face expulsion for "delinquency". Wasn't gonna tell you, but now it's never been more relevant…" Himura murmured, to which Arthur just listened and did nothing more. "You're going back Monday. When school is over, you come straight home. Don't stop anymore. Don't talk to anyone you don't know. Not even the cops. Understood?" Himura said, betraying his stern side further as he hid his view from the young man.
Arthur didn't understand.
"But, Himura… Wha-"
"It's not up for debate." Himura lowered his hand, turning to face the boy directly. With their eyes meeting, he spoke further with a very austere tone. "I may be your friend, Arthur. But I'm also your guardian. That comes before friendship. I owe it to your parents - your father especially - to keep you safe. Those folks…" Himura then pointed towards the door to compound his point further… "...are bad people."
Arthur raised a finger to protest, but before he could even open his mouth, Himura stopped him.
"I'm not answering questions." Himura countered him quickly, curtailing anything Arthur could've said. "You don't need them breathing down your neck and life's gonna be a helluva lot harder now to live after what went down. You go to school, you come home. Don't go anywhere without my knowledge either, understand?"
Arthur was just surprised, taken aback completely by the sudden lockdown Himura was imposing. Furthermore, his guardian was taking charge of a situation that didn't make any sense to Arthur, and it only caused him to be as speechless as a person born mute.
"I know it won't be too hard for you, anyways… You never leave the apartment to begin with." Himura said, looking at his watch as he spoke. "Probably my fault more than anyone's." He added quietly, standing up as he realized the time. For a second he didn't say anything further, nor did it seem that he had any reason to. He just instead held his head with an open palm, brooding on what just went down.
Arthur didn't say anything. The sudden shock, the rapid change in Himura's personality. It was too much for him to comprehend at the moment. Adding it in with a splitting headache that he felt and a throbbing, stabbing feeling on the side of his forehead only complicated matters further.
"I'll figure everything out, kid… I promise… I always have, up to this point…"
Eventually, Himura relented and lowered his arms to his side. Turning back towards the silent young American, he clicked his tongue and walked by him.
"Erugh…" Himura groaned. "I gotta get some sleep. Now that you're back on your feet I gotta go back to earning a living…" He sighed, deciding to step back. "Don't stay up too late, kid."
Arthur nodded, even though Himura didn't see it. He simply sauntered into his room and closed the door silently behind him.
Leaving Arthur alone in a darkening room, and a TV blaring foreign voices into a silent evening.
Arthur gulped, and slowly panned his gaze to his knees. Eyes wide as he tried his best to comprehend what just went down. That wasn't at all like him. He liked joking around and having fun, and never before had he ever witnessed Himura get so dour, so upset. It felt like anger mixed with sadness and diluted further by a feeling that Arthur couldn't put a finger on.
It all surprised and jolted his mind, and momentarily he even forgot about his own splitting headache.
"It's like his personality just did a complete one-eighty…" Arthur said. "All with the mention of that thug…"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tried collecting his thoughts. Racing, as they were, he eventually slowly managed and corralled his thoughts into something prim and proper. But that didn't help him very much as his mind began to race with hypotheses. Thoughts on the thugs, thoughts on Himura's reactions and words.
Even thoughts about a phone call Arthur had bore witness to. One where Himura had smashed his phone to bits and pieces in a fit of rage that was very unlike him.
Arthur frowned, daring one glance up at Himura's door.
A question rang in his mind like a distant bell, finding it fit to crease his lips in pure thought.
"Himura…. Just what are you getting into in your spare time…?"
Monday was always a sort of negative thing in the world.
Coming off from a weekend of no school, or just one day in Japan, or even just a day off from work for purposes such as religion or otherwise important reasons was never an easy jolt to the mind.
Some academics, those few who decided to spend their years of knowledge pondering on such things, believed it was the human mind's internal clock resetting, and that it was the reason why most people generally had such a negative, primordial reaction to the very concept of Mondays.
Others who were and are far more often measured within the constant tribulations of everyday life simply said that no one liked returning to society's demands. To the common responsibilities of being a member, native or otherwise, to a cultured and ever-growing civilization. A reasonable deduction to have, if anything else.
But for Arthur, Mondays did not represent a return to societal normalcy. Nor to individual peace. To him, they represented dread manifested.
Not a regular reaction, to be sure, but rather a recently-developed subconscious instinct that was, understandably, born from his recent gallop with the now-thoroughly-dead criminal.
He forewent the newest addition to his wardrobe - the solid black hoodie Himura had gifted him - due to the trauma of summer's heat. So, as a result, he bared the dark bruise he wore for all to see.
His facial hair, by Himura's insistence, was mercifully shaved away into oblivion. It had grown enough that it looked very unkempt and, according to his guardian, even Kiwa had commented on its unbecoming nature. Arthur was happy to shave it off, if for nothing more than to give himself a new appearance to his peers and lowerclassmen.
However, Arthur doubted it would take the eyes off of his new - albeit temporary - feature.
His walk to the station was astoundingly quiet. Almost eerily so. It felt weird to be back in society after having been sheltered for nearly a week since his unfortunate encounter with the dim-witted yakuza. His senses hadn't fully returned to him just yet - a natural byproduct of both the concussion he had grievously suffered and the literal days his mind had spent in a quasi-unconscious state prior to his eventual 'resurrection'.
However, theoretically, the physical dibilitations from which he personally suffered shouldn't last for far too much longer. His sense of direction, thankfully, hadn't been disfigured. That, in of itself, was a gift which Arthur would never dare take for granted ever again. However, his overall motor skills such as walking properly and actively maintaining a relatively straight-line-of-constant-motion had suffered to some degree, but he had luckily retained enough to move without garnering too much attention.
His eyesight was only getting worse, with the blur of what was near encroaching further outwards. The strain he felt took its toll too, and occasionally he would stop to get his bearings back on track.
In his hand he held his smartphone, a device that had been dead for quite some time now. Some cracks existed on the side, undoubtedly from where he had fallen after his unfortunate encounter with the yakuza. The damage though did little to hinder his operation of the device and, thankfully, even less to substantially hamper the device's various functions.
He had noticed he had received several text messages. Texts originating from several different people.
He had quite a number from Himura, no doubt during his time taking care of Arthur and having been unaware of the device's death. He had a couple from Ann, all of them expressing her worry for him.
"Are you OK?" Was one such text. "I heard what happened. Tell me you are OK." Was yet another which followed not long after the first. Then, a final one that was seemingly sent this morning, at around seven.
You coming to school today? Even Ren is worried for you. Let us know, please?
It made Arthur smile brightly in such a gloomy morning at the notion that someone in the school, a fellow student of Shujin Academy, cared for his being so deeply.
He thumbed up a quick reply.
Yeah, on my way to the station now. I'll see you guys at school! :)
He even added a little smile emoji at the end to convey his apparent wellbeing, but Arthur knew it to be a farce even deep down. He knew nothing about his situation was OK, and there was nothing about it that would make it fine, either.
"Fact of the matter is: I was attacked by the yakuza over something Himura did, and he won't talk. Furthermore, the thug who attacked me got himself killed as well by some private investigator…" Arthur told himself, closing his eyes a brief second as the sudden heat from those thoughts bubbled within him. "I'm not an idiot… I haven't heard the last from them, I know it…"
He huffed, scrolling down to the final text.
Lo and behold, it was Ichisake.
Arthur counted at least eighteen different texts from the young man, and Arthur couldn't help but snicker briefly at the various things sent to him. Pictures of Inaba, well wishes, recipes he found, and more. All obvious attempts to start a conversation. Every now and again, Ichisake would ask Arthur if something was up, and would seemingly be disappointed when Arthur didn't respond as he would later always give a sad emoji face.
"Seems he doesn't know what happened…" Arthur thought, stopping himself for a moment as he glanced over the texts. After that brief respite from his walk, he shook his head and continued on his way. "Best I tell him later… Ichisake can be a wild card with his mood. Don't need to be causing trouble elsewhere. Tokyo's fine enough."
He clicked off the messaging app, deciding it best that he respond later. He wasn't in the mood for a conversation, especially not over text.
He glanced up briefly, finding himself standing at Station Square.
Arthur glanced around, beholding the passengers coming to and from the population center; watching the businessmen, police, teachers, students, and more entering and leaving the underground as they trotted off towards their workplaces and schools. Despite the attack that occurred nearly a week ago, Arthur couldn't help but be surprised at how normal everything seemed.
"Life continues on… With, or without you."
He huffed, lowering his phone from view as he took a small step forward - deciding it best that he no longer loiter around and head downwards into the bowels of Tokyo for his commute.
He paused, his eyes going wide with intrigue as his phone lit up. In his peripheral, he noticed a sudden red square appearing on his phone. Stopping himself, he brought the phone to view.
And he let out a surprised exhale as he witnessed a red and black square appear on the screen.
Dominated completely by a weird, sharp eye with a star as its pupil.
At first, the red box was small - miniscule - when compared to the rest of the app icons on his screen. It sat lonely at the bottom corner, pulsating and giving off an unmistakable creepy feeling.
"Huh…?" Arthur hummed, tapping at the phone to enlarge the sudden anomaly. "When… did I install this…?"
The icon grew in size and width, pulsating a dark crimson at its edges. As it enlarged, the pulsating sped up in turn, until the app had taken almost a full half of the screen.
A sudden, definite feeling of fear began to settle into the young American's mind and, distinctly, he thought he could hear a steady hum suddenly and unremittingly buzz from his phone, further unsettling the boy from another land.
"Did I install this… while I was…" Arthur asked himself with a sharp squint, tapping away at the creepy eye as he wondered aloud. He quickly shut that thought down, however, when he remembered that his phone had been dead for days. "No, no… I couldn't have…"
The phone then suddenly went black, as if he had turned it off.
Staring back at Arthur was nothing more than the unsettled reflection of himself.
Worry was dominant on his face, wide eyes glaring back into his own soul, and his breathing ceasing as he tried to make sense of what just occurred.
"Huh?!" Arthur gasped. "I..I didn't turn it off..! What…?!" He asked himself as he held down the power button, loud enough to where he could hear himself but quiet enough to where no one else could listen in. "H-how did it…?! The battery was full...!"
He waited for a moment, his mind filled with anxiety and utter confusion, unsure of what was going to happen. But nothing did. Nothing occurred further.
The only constant was the abyssal glare of his now-suddenly dead phone greeting him.
"What the…?" Arthur asked himself, his mind racing to make heads or tails of the occurrence, but he could find nothing that would make even reasonable sense.
"Low battery?"
Yet he had fully charged it overnight…
"Virus…?"
His virus protection was state of the art.
"Was the memory being overloaded or something…?"
That didn't even make a remote amount of sense to him, as he wasn't that tech savvy.
Nothing he thought of, nothing he asked himself, could have been answered by simple logic - by deductive reasoning. His phone wasn't even overheating. It just suddenly blacked out.
He tried once more to turn it back on, the screen then suddenly burst back to life, shocking a concerned Arthur with its sudden flash of light.
"Wha!" Arthur yelped, startling some of the people around him in turn with his sudden outburst.
But it wasn't the act of survival his phone had displayed that had caught him off guard…
Instead, it was the royal blue background that showed itself, displaying in a rich yellow text and an even fancier font:
"Salvation is a lie."
Arthur blinked, lowering his composure as he read the ominous message to himself.
"This again…?" He commented, narrowing his eyes. "What is this?" He asked aloud, quietly reminding himself that this isn't the first time such an outlandish occurrence has taken a hold of his phone.
He tapped the screen, trying to regain control over the device. When that didn't work, he tried clicking the home button to see if he could somehow exit out of whatever he was looking at - to escape this digital mirage constantly plaguing his psyche. Alas, that too was to no avail. With some keen sense of desperation, he even tried to hold down the power button once more in order to force a reboot upon the phone.
But no matter what he tried, no matter what he did, the phone would not respond - it would not react. The object was as still as a brick, and twice as silent. The white startup screen was vacant, replaced by an eerie, yet pleasant, blue background.
Haunting words etched abroad…
The words then faded into nothing, and instead were replaced by another ominous, and equally disturbing message.
"But, your path is yours to take…"
"No way… He's back!"
"What?! He is?!"
"Woah… Didn't someone say he was shot or something?"
"He's got that big bruise on his head… I guess the rumors aren't totally wrong…"
"He looks troubled."
"You would be that way, too, after getting beat up by the yakuza, man."
"Fair."
"Edamura's been quiet. Especially since that happened. I wonder what's up?"
"I don't know… But he's always talking shit about that guy. I guess he has nothing to say now."
As quiet as his day had been prior, nothing could mask the articulate silence that had befallen the school since his arrival.
At first, it was very odd. Arthur didn't know how to react when no one seemed outwardly concerned by his presence, as for the first time since his arrival at Shujin Academy, no one dared to pay him any real mind.
There were no whispers on his passing, no wary or visibly hostile glances. People simply walked by him, laughing and giggling amongst themselves as if the social pariah of yesterday was not physically within their presence.
Even the teachers were busy with their own duties, as they often were, and not a single one looked at Arthur wrong. It all caught the young American off guard.
He would look around, glancing wide eyed at everyone's sudden oblivious nature towards him. To the student who, previously, had become the primary focal point for their otherwise juvenile gossip and hostility. Some would look at him, as people were naturally inclined to do, proving to himself that he was still around, but no one frowned. No one shied away. No one even appeared to be scared.
In fact, quite a few looked at him with a sense of pity in their eyes.
And, at one point, Arthur was sure he saw one student nod towards him.
What could be the reason for such a respectful gesture?
Arthur wasn't able to answer. He just stood there, dumbfounded as the student passed by him, ignoring him further as the nameless peer went on to attend to his own studies.
A good few days had passed since his last attendance in class. Arthur couldn't help but wonder why everything seemed so different.
Even the air felt less heavy and impactful, almost like he could freely move amongst the students of Shujin Academy without personally suffocating from their sheer social weight with each passing step.
And, for some reason, for the first time since he arrived in Japan, there was a sense of peace in his fragile mind.
A tight, strangling sensation dynamically evaporated with this newfound serenity and eventually gave way to a weightless buoyancy - and he could even shrug his shoulders back when he turned to continue towards his classroom. Almost as if a rucksack full of bricks and stones had been mercifully taken from his already-beleaguered character, and tossed away like common rubbish.
Arthur huffed, unsure of what to make of everything. It was not a normal feeling to him, and while it felt nice, he also found that he couldn't trust it.
Not to any real degree, at least.
He stopped himself at the door to his classroom. Class wasn't in session yet, and he couldn't even spot Mr. Sakutaro inside, but Arthur was never one to tarry when he was to be somewhere. Hand on the handle, he prepared to slide the door open when someone stopped him.
"Good morning, Williams-kun." He had heard to his left. A familiar voice that only sparked feelings of angst and gave him a taste of the venom that was common in the presence of a declared adversary.
Turning to look at her, he suppressed a brusque glare as he witnessed Makoto approaching him: A textbook held close to her chest, and donning a Shujin approved hoodie over her normal uniform.
Arthur raised a curious if-not-equally-suspicious brow towards her sudden appearance, stopping himself from entering the room entirely, if just to not seem rude to his peer. "Ah. Good morning, Niijima-san." He nodded.
Niijima stopped just in front of him, looking him over briefly before saying "You seem well." She said, noting his sudden clean appearance. His ironed clothes, his shaved face, his alert eyes. They were a stark contrast to how she had last seen him.
Her voice was as condescending and spiteful as always, however. And that grated Arthur to no end.
"Hmmm…" She hummed, her eyes slowly landing upon the mark on his forehead. She lowered her textbook to her side, putting a finger to her chin in quiet thought. Satisfied with whatever she was picturing, she gave a wry smirk directed towards the young man."So it seems the rumors are true."
Arthur furrowed his brows, unsure of what she meant. "Excuse me?"
"That mark on your forehead… Everyone is saying that you were jumped by a member of the mafia. Personally, I didn't believe it since I never really saw you outside of school - after all, you do seem like a recluse - but I suppose that blemish is proof enough." She explained further. It seemed like she was genuinely surprised. "It looks like it hurt."
Arthur nodded, scratching the nape of his neck as he explained "Apparently I had a concussion that lasted a good bit since the incident. Was bedridden as a result." When Makoto's eyes widened at the mention of a concussion, Arthur was quick to remedy her growing concern. "I'm alright now, obviously…. But every now and again I do feel lightheaded."
Makoto nodded, shifting her weight and placing a hand on her hips as she processed everything he told her. "Well. Maybe you should stop in and see the nurse, regardless. I don't think you or your guardian are doctors, last time I checked. A concussion can leave permanent damage, I'll remind you."
Arthur scoffed, surprised that she was even taking a slight interest in his welfare, but did nothing more to antagonize her. He simply smirked, turning back to open the classroom doors as he responded. "Right. I'll think on it."
As the door slid open, Makoto shook her head.
"It's no big secret that you don't like me, Williams-san. But for what it's worth..." Makoto suddenly spoke up, causing the young American to stop and glance at her over his shoulder in a new spark of curiosity. "...Well, I'm glad you're OK."
She then flashed him a warm smile, if only a small one.
Arthur didn't respond, his eyes going wide at the sudden friendly gesture. During every encounter he's had with her, she had always been somewhat hostile, determined, condescending, and sometimes even deceitful. She had stalked his friends, interrogated him, and even accused him of being associated with what he could only assume to be the Phantom Thieves. She, without a doubt, had earned his ire over the nascent few weeks he's spent at the school.
And it came to no surprise of his own that his dislike of her was shared by many, even Ichisake would talk down about her - but never to her face, ironically.
But this gesture, this display of worry that seemed to have been absent from such a robotic young woman, took Arthur by complete surprise. He blinked, turning to face her with wide eyes that told her all she needed to know about what he was thinking.
She seemed slightly amused in turn, and while it still felt condescending, it was definitely a nice change of pace from the Makoto that Arthur knew and disliked.
The Makoto that everyone disliked.
The Makoto that played detective, and muddied her nose into everyone's business.
The Makoto that was known as the teacher's pet, and the left-hand of the Principal.
The Makoto that Igor had declared as an enemy.
Now, for once in his life, Arthur wasn't sure how to react.
Normally, he would smile or thank them or, as etiquette dictated on this foreign island nation, even bow. But nothing felt right.
After all, what she had said didn't right their already tenuous relationship.
So, instead, Arthur simply took the only course of action he felt right and appropriate.
He looked to his left, and then took a single, quiet step aside to allow her to enter first.
She smiled, giving a slight nod of her head to show her appreciation before entering.
Arthur, watching as she strode by him, smirked with a slight feeling of incredulity when she could no longer see him.
Quietly, he murmured. "The people here are all full of surprises."
Class had proceeded almost as if nothing was different.
Makoto and Arthur had shared the room quietly for a chunk of the morning, with students eventually, and slowly, streaming in and replacing their solitude with murmurs and gossip. Yet, no one paid them any mind, especially not Arthur.
A continued surprise, to be sure, but something that really didn't weigh heavily on his mind. The students would talk amongst themselves, and Arthur, having nothing better to do, would listen. Eager to determine - without directly involving himself - the recent ongoings that he missed out on.
These students, while he didn't really come to know them by their names due to his pariah status, he recognized by voice alone. A logical thinker, he was able to determine what they were like and how they fit into the hierarchical structure of Shujin Academy. The loud-talkers, the troublemakers, the gossipers, the romantics. The nerds, the jocks, the what-have-yous.
An ear to the ground, he listened in while pretending to glance at his phone.
"Dr. Maruki has been getting an increase in traffic since that whole Madarame nonsense."
"Pussies. It's just art. Who gives a shit?"
Arthur snickered. He could think of a few people who would care quite rather deeply about such a subject matter back in the home country.
"Track's coming around, now with Kamoshida outta the picture… Even Sakamoto-kun has been making waves with Nakaoka."
"No way! Have they forgiven him?"
Arthur shook his head, such news being so irrelevant to himself.
"The Phantom Thieves have been quiet lately… Even their website hasn't had many updates lately..."
"Yeah, but the admin of the site has been responding to comments like it's some crusade of his. Whatever the case is, it's entertaining to watch."
Arthur raised a brow at the mention of the Phantom Thieves. It's been quite some time since he's heard their name in active use, but his objective - as he currently understood it - had yet to change or deiviate in the slightest.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he soon found himself tuning everyone out to browse the Phantom Aficionado Website.
And, to his surprise, the website did indeed seem rather quiet when regarding Phantom Thieves overall activity.
Scrolling through the website, he noticed the threads had peaked in popularity and participation around Madarame's change of heart, and around some other minor people - some of whom attended Shujin themselves. But given a few days, the number of comments and participation would steadily decline.
The posts would drop from double digits to single digits, and the admin - a person calling themselves "Moon-and-Star", would occasionally change the questionnaire which remained unquestioningly in the negative - all according to a changelog.
The layout hadn't changed at all though, which was interesting considering how lackluster it seemed weeks ago. Even Arthur could boast that he maintained an anonymous account on the website, but rarely said anything to leave as little a footprint in his investigations as possible.
As he perused thread after thread, he found nothing that could point to the identity or identities - or at the very least give a slight hint of such - of these Phantom Thieves. There were discussions, or debates more appropriately, about the identities of the bandits. Such topics ranging from the fantastical to secret government conspiracies - which was nothing new given that this was the internet. Other hypothetical threads gave rise to the idea that they were foreigners, influencers, or that it was all just a PR stunt by some entertainment company.
But nothing concrete enough to even give Arthur a smidgeon of an idea.
However, he did remember one thing.
Makoto's interest in Ren and Ann.
It was no secret to Arthur that Makoto distrusted the two of them, even more so that she was trying to gather dirt on the both of them. Igor had even declared her true intentions towards this diabolically calculating behavior.
Glancing over his shoulder to the young woman, he saw that she was paying him no mind - for once.
Instead, she was scribbling inside a journal.
What it pertained to, Arthur didn't have a clue. However, that was of no consequence to him.
She sought the Phantom Thieves.
It didn't take a quantum physicist to deduce that she believed Ren and Ann to be, if anything else, associated with such phantasmal renegades.
Why she would think such a thing, he had no clue.
However, Makoto was intelligent. She was student council president; the daughter of a detective according to some students; she always had good grades; and would never fail a test according to Sakutaro.
Even Igor acknowledged her high level of intelligence, which was a damning factor to Arthur if anything else.
She may be reckless, but she certainly knew to trust her own intuition.
And that led Arthur to one conclusion.
If he was to begin a physical search for such a fantastical group…
He would have to start where Makoto is at.
He would have to conduct his own investigation into the duo.
Class had ended.
The day really felt like it had drifted by without so much as a bump in the norm.
Yet, it also felt out of the ordinary that Ichisake wasn't there to keep the young American company in a class full of those who had ostracized him. Both of them, really.
Mr. Sakutaro gave his lecture, this time discussing the skill and aptitude of a well-known bank robber of Japan's history. While Arthur listened dutifully where he could, he was caught once before not paying attention, and he didn't wish to risk being called out for it again.
When the class had ended with the bell ringing loudly for any and all to hear, it was time for the students of the school to enjoy their lunches. Most students were quick to vacate the room, with Mr. Sakutaro not even stopping anyone with an announcement of the next lecture's contents.
Instead, he simply called out to Arthur in particular.
"Williams. See me before you leave, please."
Arthur, knowing full well at this point how unpleasant the teacher was, went wide-eyed as he stood up. He then glanced around, meeting the eyes of several students who had looked at him upon the mention of his name. However, their shrugs told him all he needed to know that no one had any clue what was to occur.
But whatever was about to happen, Arthur had concluded it was nothing pleasant.
Even Makoto had stayed behind, watching from her desk like an owl to observe what this interaction was to ultimately entail.
Arthur hadn't noticed, however. Instead, he was more focused on what he had done wrong this time to warrant the ire of his irritable teacher. The answer refused to reveal itself to him.
Still, Mr. Sakutaro felt obliged to highlight an issue the young American had seemingly caused whilst in class. Whatever that issue may have been.
His first day back in nearly a week , and already he was causing problems for himself..
When he reached the desk, Mr. Sakutaro - who was busy writing down something on a sheet of notebook paper - turned his feeble yet arrogant and angry eyes up at the young American, glaring into his soul as the boy bowed respectfully.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Sakutaro?" Arthur asked, trying his best to avoid letting slip the sudden nervousness he was now feeling. He hadn't ever felt this way towards Mr. Sakutaro before, but the current circumstances really bit at his nerves.
Mr. Sakutaro leaned back in his seat, the chair creaking as he did so. For a few seconds he sat there quietly, looking at the young man with what looked like gnawed disdain.
Eventually, Arthur raised his head up slightly in order to see what his teacher was doing. His brows furrowed in pure confusion when he finally realized that Mr. Sakutaro was just eerily staring at him.
Eventually, the elderly teacher huffed, leaning forward as he reached for something under the desk.
"Do you drink diet soda, Williams?" He asked, almost completely out of the blue.
Arthur rose up, confused. "Huh?"
"Do you drink diet soda, or not?" He asked again, his voice dripping with a slight agitation. "It's not a hard question. I could ask you to recite today's lecture, but I won't. Yes or no?"
"Uh…" Arthur hummed, unsure of how to answer. But Mr. Sakutaro, noticing Arthur's hesitation, decided to quickly answer for him.
"Take the damn soda." He ordered him, roughly handing him a room temperature can of diet soda. Arthur didn't say anything, and quickly accepted the can of soda upon mentally recognizing and understanding the command. However, he didn't open it, and instead just glanced at it briefly, noting the name "Dr. Salt." with a swiftly scrunched, disgusted face.
"Dr. Salt…. Who the hell names these things?!" Arthur thought, briefly shaking his head at the idiotic name. "I know this is an American soda, good lord!"
"So…" Mr. Sakutaro said, leaning forward on his desk towards the young American, hands clasped together under his chin as he spoke. Arthur lowered the soda from his view, meeting Mr. Sakutaro's bespectacled eyes. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Huh…?" Arthur hummed, unsure immediately of what he meant. He was still stunned at the sudden forced generosity Mr. Sakutaro had just displayed, and it took him a good moment to understand what he meant. "O-oh! Uh… I mean… Yeah. My guardian wouldn't let me come back until I was at least on my feet and could move around…. I… Well.. Yeah…" He explained slowly, all while Mr. Sakutaro listened dutifully.
"Mmmhm…" The teacher hummed, nodding as Arthur spoke. "You have a smart guardian." Mr. Sakutaro said, giving Arthur pause as he realized the elderly educator had given Himura a compliment.
"Uh… Yeah…"
"I'm not going to waste your lunch period, Williams. Let me give you this and be on your way." Mr. Sakutaro continued, sighing as he folded the paper underneath his arms. "On this piece of paper is my phone number. Put it into your contacts and text me so I have your number as well."
Arthur was beyond confused at this point. Mr. Sakutaro held the paper up to him, askewing his head to the side as he waited almost impatiently for Arthur to take it and, with a slight amount of hesitation mixed with a dumbfounded stare, took the folded parchment and pocketed it quietly. Part of him wanted to ask what the reason behind this was, and another part told him to hold his tongue. Mr. Sakutaro wasn't a man to irritate, and it would only make his somewhat decent day spiral into a cesspit.
The former nagging feeling won.
"Uh… W-wh...what's this for?" Arthur stuttered, unsure if he even wanted to know. But curiosity was edging too far into his mind. Mr. Sakutaro shook his head, evidently surprised at the question.
"It's no secret what happened to you, Williams. The whole school is talking about it." Mr. Sakutaro said, reaching under his desk for a can of the oddly named diet soda. "Of course, it was rumors at first. But your unannounced appearance with that bruise on your forehead." He pointed at Arthur, setting the can before him before fiddling with the pull-tab. "...Shut some of them down..." With one hand free, the carbonation of the soda bursted to its emancipation, and a loud sizzling crack deafened the silent classroom. "...And confirmed others."
Arthur slowly reached up and touched his bruise, before wincing in pain at the sudden irritation. He heard a pop, and glanced at Mr. Sakutaro as he took a small swig of his soda. The man swallowed, driblets of soda remaining behind on his chapped lips as he lowered his arm and took in a satisfied breath of air. Looking back up at Arthur, said "I think I might be able to help make sure that never happens again."
Arthur frowned, unsure of what he meant. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Mr. Sakutaro then wiped off his lips, setting the drink down and sitting back in his chair as he sighed. "I saw-"
The door then opened, and the two turned to witness Makoto silently leaving the room.
Her hand on the doors, and her eyes seemingly focused elsewhere, she slid it shut, leaving the two slightly confused before Mr. Sakutaro shrugged it off, having even been unaware that she had remained behind.
"Uh, anyways… I saw the reports of what went down. The news never mentioned you by name, but gave a rundown of what happened based on an eye witness's account and testimony. Suffice to say," Mr. Sakutaro said with a brief roll of his shoulders, looking the young American up and down and from head to toe like a veteran coach does unto an untrained and ill-experienced student - and provided the dimly-lit hint of cynical disappointment in his eyes, the man was obviously unsatisfied with what he saw.
Deeply unsatisfied.
"It's clear you don't understand even the basics of unarmed self defense."
Arthur was speechless, his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he processed exactly what the teacher was offering him.
"Unarmed self defense…?" Arthur asked, unsure if he had heard him correctly.
"I know you're not deaf." Mr. Sakutaro scoffed. "I can teach you how to defend yourself, if you're interested."
Arthur cocked his head, arching surprised eyebrows in Mr. Sakutaro's direction. The teacher, understanding that Arthur was still confused, wanted to call the boy out on his indecisiveness. It had become something of a habit of his as the decades progressed ever onwards. However, the more logical side of his mind had understood Arthur's bewilderment - for it was indeed justified, given the otherwise awkward circumstances of their current conversation. Taking another sip of soda, and with a quiet smack of his lips, he continued.
"Tokyo's more dangerous a city than you blasted foreigners realize, especially you complacent Americans." He explained "Talks of the yakuza operating out of Shibuya have been growing numerous, and there are rumors that even some of our students are under criminal influence." The teacher added, before suddenly pointing at Arthur with a disappointed look dominating his glare. "You are one of my star-students. I don't say it much, but you and Niijima are neck and neck on that margin. Niijima has the law on her side, but I'm not gonna sit idle while my other ace is dogged by those mongrels."
Arthur kept quiet, unsure of what to do or even say. For the first time in, well, ever, his teacher was offering him praise. Even going so far as to declare that Arthur was an ace in his eyes, which was saying something when you considered Mr. Sakutaro's mindset and behavior.
But such praise didn't feel warranted to the young man, either. For answering questions and acing tests? There were better things, in Arthur's mind, to praise than a student following their societal duties. With that in mind, he wanted to say something to remain humble, but as he opened his mouth to protest politely, he stopped himself with a reminder that this was Mr. Sakutaro.
"Take what you can get and don't argue with him. That never ends well…"
"Not to mention those blasted bandits, the Phantom Thieves…" Mr. Sakutaro added, taking another deep swig of his beverage. A sigh of contentment followed. "It's only gonna get more dangerous from here on, as I see it." He added, shaking his head as he brought his gaze back up to meet Arthur.
The young American opened his mouth to respond, but the teacher swiftly stopped him with a single finger pointed skywards.
"Don't give me an answer now. You have a schedule to keep. Go to lunch. I'll see you during sixth period. If I don't have an answer then, call me when you decide you want an old man's advice, understood?"
Arthur hesitated for a moment, blinking at the idea that his teacher was offering to teach him how to fight with his fists. It was odd, to say the least. Compounding that with the fact that everyone no longer seemed to be afraid of Arthur, he wasn't sure what to make of it all. However, as he stood there, realizing he was just staring at his teacher with his jaw hanging open, he promptly shut it and nodded with a curt smile.
Mr. Sakutaro waved him off, pulling himself close to his desk as Arthur then offered him a bow. "Get out." The teacher demanded, to which Arthur rose and thanked him for his concern before swiftly and quietly departing the same way Makoto had done.
All the while the teacher watched from the corner of his eye, pen in hand and assignments to grade under his view. When the door slid shut, Mr. Sakutaro brought his eyes up briefly, grumbling as he observed, through the class windows, the young American depart for the cafeteria. "I wonder if he'll take up my offer…" The teacher asked himself, sighing as he tapped his pen against his desk in a rhythmic fashion.
"He probably thinks me to be an old bastard."
Post-Chapter Author's Note
Edited by Frozen Foe and Kabuto S. Inferno.
Don't forget to check out the audio reading on Soundcloud!