Persona 5: Daywatch
Wednesday, 13 April 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc
"You're late," Sojiro snapped before he even looked up at Akira. Once he did, the middle-aged man's face snapped taught and eyes wide. "What the hell happened to you?"
Walking through the feeling of being absolutely drained, Akira paced down the lane towards the stairs. The image of that gold knight cutting Ann's shirt and her helpless thrashing still replayed through his mind. "I had to help someone out."
Sojiro stood from the bar stool and into the transfer student's path, crossing his arms, his tone rising. "What kind of lame excuse is that? You can't be getting into fights!"
"Excuse," Akira spat, then looked up at Sojiro, too tired to dredge up his comforting, familiar anger. At least the train trip gave him time to think up a cover story. "Right. Because if I called the police to say someone jumped me, they'd leap at the chance to help a reformed convict."
Sojiro sighed, but his frame loosened. "Child services were here this afternoon. I tried to call you." His gaze turned heated. "I am not going to stick my neck out for you again." Sojiro set his hands on his hips. "Have you been hanging around any bad influences?"
Akira's lip twisted in a snarl. "I'm surprised you'd consider someone to be a bad influence on me." When Sojiro tensed, exhaustion swept over him and the boy let his shoulders slump. "Sorry, it's just been a long day." A smile curled on his lips, then he flinched in pain. "In truth… I think I made a friend."
Sojiro scanned Akira. "It'd have to be some really weird person to want to spend time with you."
Akira's hands curled into fists and he bit his lip, then cringed in pain from the swelling. Heart crumpling at yet another person reminding him what bad company he was, he angled to rush around Sojiro.
The older man sighed and stepped in the way to prevent a quick retreat. "I'm just saying if you're not careful who you let close to you, you're going to get hurt." He reached to set the newspaper on the bar counter. "Think of how I feel, having to stay up and worry about you. Then you walk in with a bruise the size of Hokkaido, a split lip, and a thousand-meter-stare."
"You weren't worried about me. You made that plenty clear." Akira slipped around, trotted upstairs. Despite the feeling of shards where his heart should be from Sojiro's cruel assumptions, he forced himself to his bed and got halfway through changing for bed when his phone buzzed.
Ann's ID stared up at him, so he opened the instant messenger and read. [I just wanted to say thanks before I passed out.]
Akira's fingers moved almost before his brain caught up. [It's no big deal.]
[Yes, it is. I wasn't very nice to you before and you still saved me. Also, sorry about slapping you near the end.]
Akira typed in, [It was a nice view,] then considered the day as context and deleted it. Instead, he sent, [You were still freaked about everything. As long as you're okay, it's all good.]
[I don't understand you.] She sent back. A few moments passed before she added, [I mean, thanks.]
Thursday, 14 April 2016
Early Morning
Yongen, Leblanc
Akira pulled the door closed behind him and took a good look at the cafe's washroom. Almost wide enough for him to stretch out his arms in either direction, it felt much more roomy than any other one he'd been in. The sink bolted to the wall lacked any counter, so he had to leave his bag on the ground, but at least it had a mirror big enough to view his entire face in.
The half of his face the knight's gauntlet struck yesterday still smarted. The swelling was on its way down, but a huge bruise extending from his cheek to his temple stood out like a blighted field. Reaching down to his bag, he pulled out the makeup kit and opened the pale, skin-tone container. "Good thing I've had to do this before."
Swabbing a cotton ball over the top, he touched it to the bruise and hissed in pain, jerking his hand away. Taking in a deep breath, he swept it over the bruise and painted over the injury.
Thursday, 14 April 2016
Afternoon
Shujin, Class 2-D
Ushimaru drew a stick-figure representation of a judge and turned back to the class, still droning about the separation of powers in the Japanese government. Akira ignored him, speed-reading through the book until one of the students on the right wall of the class jerked to his feet and peered out through the window. "Hey, who's that?"
Ushimaru cleared his throat. When the class didn't all turn their focus back to him, his grip on the chalk tensed and he snapped, "Class is still in session. Sit back down right now."
"She's outside the fence!" somebody from beyond the classroom shouted.
Now half a dozen students next to the window abandoned the pretense of paying attention and rushed to see what was going on through the courtyard. The first student to stand said, "We've got a jumper!"
Mishima shot out of his seat, knocking his chair into the aisle. "Shiho!" He bolted out of the class.
Ann turned pale as death and stood. "Shiho?" She followed the class representative out at a slower run.
With two people repeating the name of the only kind student in school, Akira felt a chill trickle down his back. "Suzui-san?" He chased Ann out to the window, just in time to see the black-haired girl tip over the edge and plummet into the courtyard.
Ann clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
Akira felt the blood drain from his face, a sensation of ice pounding him. He hardly felt Ann slam through him, even though the motion knocked him spinning around. Once he finished almost falling into the window to the courtyard, his eyes picked the blonde out of the crowd building in the hall and he took off at a panicked dash, praying he didn't see what he knew he saw.
He slammed into Ryuji, pausing only enough for eye contact before resuming the sprint outside.
A crowd gathered, numerous vultures in student guise holding up their phones to record videos as the jewel of Shujin Academy bled in front of them. One of the third-year teachers called for the students to return to class, but the buzz of horrified conversation and gossip only grew.
Snarling as he shoved aside one student recording the debacle, Akira finally came close enough to see the poor girl herself. "Suzui!" He bulled through other students until coming to Ann, kneeling on the ground and crying as medics locked a brace around the black-haired girl's neck. Akira kneeled behind Ann. "Is she gonna be all right?"
Ann crawled closer. "Shiho, what happened?"
"Can't…" Shiho whimpered in pain. "Sorry."
Ann pushed closer and a paramedic shoved her aside to shift Shiho onto a stretcher.
"Ka… Kamo…" Shiho's eyes slid closed and her body went slack on the mat.
Feeling wetness at his eyes, Akira prayed like he never had before.
The medic pushed the stretcher in and jumped in after. Another came out from the direction of the passenger door. "We need someone to go with her. Who is her teacher?"
The third-year teacher muttered some lame excuse, and Ann jumped to the fore, her makeup streaked with tears. "I'll go!"
The medic pursed his lips, then glanced to the ambulance. "Fine. Hurry."
Akira struggled to breathe. Air came in thin wisps, and it felt like the whole world pressed on every square inch of him in its best attempts to crush him into paste. Numb and feeling his knees giving out on him, Akira stumbled in a turn and grabbed Ryuji's shoulder to stay on his feet before he consciously realized the runner was there.
During the turn, he spotted Mishima slipping into the Practice Building.
Akira's wheezing vanished, his gaze hardened, and he strode through the crowd like a Terminator as Ryuji followed, trying to talk to him. Akira cornered Mishima by lockers in the practice building, crying his eyes out. Feeling detached from his voice, from the school, from his own thoughts and body, Akira asked with unnerving calm, "What happened?"
"I…" Mishima wiped at the snot dribbling down his nose, but the tears came too fast to hide. He looked away. "…don't know."
Surging out with strength he didn't know he had, Akira threw Mishima against a locker. "The hell you don't!"
"Whoa, man!" Ryuji grabbed Akira and pulled him back before looking at Mishima. "Talk to us, dude. We won't blab, but we gotta know what's goin' on."
"Shiho…" Mishima took his head in his hands and leaned against the locker, sobbing. "Kamoshida… called her out."
Akira's eyebrows arched. "What the hell's that mean? I thought he only got rough with guys getting close to girls on the team."
Ryuji snorted. "Like he'd have that much restraint."
Mishima shook his head, hands lowering. "Not just guys. He calls out anybody on the volleyball teams. Anybody who's done anything wrong, and…" He looked away, tears still streaming down his face. "Oh, god, Shiho…"
Akira flexed his free hand, grinding his teeth, but reached out to Mishima's shirt, pressing the class leader against the locker. The patient smile Shiho gave him in the cafeteria rose to the fore of his mind. "What exactly happens?"
Mishima struggled for a few moments before his breathing evened. "He'd nominate someone when he was in a bad mood, for the smallest mistakes… and hit m-us." He clenched his eyes and flinched. "Again. And again." He reached up to cradle a bandage on his cheek. "But Shi-chan never made any mistakes or anything."
"That…" Akira stopped, thinking back to how the coach looked at Ann days ago, how the king Kamoshida touched Ann in the castle of horrors. The topless Shiho in that pleasure room. Akira stepped away from Mishima, fingers curling into tight fists.
The memory of Ann's words echoed in his mind, "Then something happened. Overnight, Kiriko-senpai became a recluse…"
Akira's teeth ground. "So that wasn't just his desire, he acted on it." He turned around and stalked towards the PE faculty office. Mishima and Ryuji followed close. Akira heard them call at first, but soon everything was drowned out by the roar of blood in his ears. "Ka-" The door came in sight, "-Mo-" he reached out for the lever handle, "-Shi-" he slammed the door open, "-Da!"
Kamoshida looked over his shoulder from his desk, nonplussed.
Akira roared, "You rapist pig!" Ryuji clamped on one arm before Akira could start swinging.
Kamoshida threw his pen on the desk, turned around, and stood with a deep frown. "You're expelled."
Akira clenched his fists, and Mishima took his other arm.
Kamoshida stared down through narrowed eyes. "Don't think you could throw such serious accusations without repercussions." A bitter sneer twisted his face. "What did you even come here for? Even if I did what you claim, there's nothing you could do." Straightening, with a little more of his nonchalance back, he threw a meaningful glance at the class representative. "Even… certain people couldn't do anything to stop it."
Mishima froze.
Kamoshida straightened, looking as calm as a man in control of everything in the world. "The hospital just called. Suzui slipped into a coma."
Mishima broke into a sob, his grip on Akira changing from one of holding the hot-head back to clamping on him for strength he couldn't find in himself.
Kamoshida took a shallow step closer, his eyes on Mishima but his body angled at Akira. "I hear there's no chance of recovery."
"No," Mishima's voice cracked, fresh tears falling.
Akira's arms vibrated with the urge to lash out despite the two students holding him back.
Kamoshida smirked, locking eyes with the transfer student. "Am I going to have another case of self-defense?"
Akira jerked at the coach, held back by Ryuji. "Pig!"
Ryuji pulled back harder. "Don't let him do it to you, man! This is just what he did to me. No matter what happens here, he'll win if you let go now!"
"You?" Kamoshida chuckled and crossed his arms. "You're stopping the criminal?" He threw back his head and let out deep, belly-full laughter. "That's rich." He leaned just into Akira's reach. "What's stopping you? Don't hold back."
Akira curled his fists, nails biting into his palms, but he felt Mishima clamped on his arm, crying into his sleeve and stopped straining.
Kamoshida closed his fists and stood back. "You're all expelled."
"What?" Mishima and Ryuji both shouted, aghast.
Kamoshida's lip twitched, the only sign of a smothered snarl as he turned to Mishima. "Didn't you ever wonder why I let someone as talentless as you stay on the team?" He leaned closer. "Even though you were distracting the real talent?"
A tremor passed through Mishima before he dashed out.
Akira ran after him, Ryuji hot on his heels. "Mishima!"
Ryuji grabbed Akira's school coat and brought them to a halt. "Dude, let him have some space for a while."
Akira pulled once against Ryuji's grip, but the track star held on until Mishima disappeared around the corner. With both targets out of sight, Akira had nowhere to bury his fists and he ground his teeth.
Shouting muffled by the heavy doors came from the courtyard, but the transfer student gave it no mind until one burst open and a first-year teacher strode in, her drab grey suit-style vest disheveled. She took one look at the pair of second-years and shouted, "Back to your classes! The principal hasn't released school, so get back to your rooms!" Getting nothing but a glare that could've set forests on fire from the transfer student, she looked to the blond-haired student. "Have any other students come this way?"
"Nah," Ryuji said, furrowing his brow at her before he grabbed Akira's arm. "C'mon, Kurusu-sa-"
"Don't call me Kurusu!" Akira snapped, his vision clearing a little as he rounded on the runner.
Taking the shout in stride, Ryuji gestured his chin at the door the teacher just walked through. "The courtyard's gonna be packed, let's take the walkway."
Akira growled, but let himself be led back to Class 2-D. The only thing that filled his mind was the image of his hands choking the life out of Kamoshida.
AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing!