Persona 5: Daywatch
Sunday, 17 April 2016
Early Morning
Yongen, Leblanc
Shrugging on his dress shirt, Akira gave a wave to his companion locked in cat form. "I'll see you when I get back, Morgana." Buttoning down the front, he trotted down the stairs.
Sojiro looked up from a large pot of curry on the stove, smelling like a project just beginning. "I'm surprised to see you up and about so early on your day off. What's with the dressing up?"
Akira tugged at the shirt, well aware how obvious his nervousness was. "It's my first time attending Mass at Kanda Catholic Church. I want to try to make a decent first impression when I first meet Father Sugiyama." He slipped his hands in his pockets, muttering in a bitter tone, "Since I haven't made a good first impression anywhere else."
Kanda Catholic Church
Akira filed into the church with the rest of the mass of humanity. The press and numbers caused his heart rate to increase, but everybody kept in neat groups and headed the same direction. The sense of order and calm about each individual member helped settle Akira's nerves, though the uniformity of everybody's clothes reminded him a little too much of robot drones. At least the girl in the pew ahead of him had a red omamori-style knot in her hair. The one spot of color in the day.
Mass proceeded, music and liturgy of the resurrection failing to chase away his feeling of being trapped and alone in Tokyo.
When the service ended, Akira stood to introduce himself to Father Sugiyama. Going the opposite direction of the people ahead, he bumped into the girl with the red knot in her hair. "Oops."
She backed up and stuttered, "O-oh, no. I'm sorry."
Mentally kicking himself for already screwing things up with people he didn't know, he stood back against the side of his pew. "No, excuse me. You're trying to get out. Go ahead."
She brushed a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear and gave a nervous smile. "T-thank you." She gave a shallow bow, said, "Good day," and left.
Akira walked up to a man wearing the white vestments of the Easter season. He bore wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and had a head of thinning dark hair losing the battle to white. "Father Sugiyama?"
The priest turned to him with a polite, wooden smile. "Good day, Son. Did you have any questions about the daily lesson?"
Akira drew an envelope from a pocket inside his dress shirt. "I'm Akira. Father Motoori said I should talk to you."
Sugiyama took the yellow envelope. "Ah, yes, he emailed me about you. I was expecting you last week."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Akira couldn't maintain eye contact. "Yeah, sorry about that. There was some paperwork and my transit pass at the school."
"Motoori told me a little about you over the phone when you had to leave." He gestured to one of the side doors at the front of the sanctuary, then led him through it. "Terrible business. Worse, I'm sure, to have to suffer during a season of celebration." Sugiyama opened the door and led him down staff halls. "Even with your checkered past, nobody so young deserves to have so heavy a chain cast upon him. Japan is a particularly unkind place for anybody once judged."
Akira noted a lack of mention that the charges against him were false. He rubbed his arm, but decided worrying that Father Sugiyama might not believe him wouldn't do any good.
The priest unlocked the door to a cramped office crammed with books. He gestured to an armless padded chair, then sat in a larger chair on the far side of the desk and opened the envelope. "So tell me, Akira-kun, how has the move been? What do you think of Tokyo?"
"I can't believe that people choose to live here. I mean, population density is high in almost every city in Japan, but every train I get on I feel like I'm running out of air. The crowds are more like an avalanche of people, always moving and pushing and nobody going in the same fucking—"
Father Sugiyama cleared his throat.
"—direction," Akira finished, shrinking back into the seat a little.
The priest nodded in understanding. "I may have graduated to here from Sapporo, but I was born in a humble town in Kyushu, so I understand some of the crowd shock. If it helps, perhaps you could think of it like rain. We get sprinkles throughout the year, much like the people in smaller towns moving about. And when the monsoons come we have the press so heavy you can't even feel the individual drops anymore, like the crowds outside Shibuya Station."
Akira leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, but I can use an umbrella against either of those rains. I can't very well hold people away with an umbrella."
Chuckling, Father Sugiyama opened the letter, allowing a nondescript memory stick to fall to the desk. "No, I suppose not, my son." Setting the stick to the side, Father Sugiyama began reading the letter. "What about your new school? Motoori said your previous school was not… particularly understanding and you are attending somewhere new, now."
Akira crossed his arms and sat back against the old, cushioned chair. "Well, I was kind of acting out, so they were probably glad to get rid of a troubled little miscreant. I was hoping Shujin would be different. A fresh start."
Eyes still tracing down the letter, Father Sugiyama nodded. "The act of forgiveness is all about that release of a fresh start, even if the people cannot always themselves move. It allows the soul to move beyond the prison of past mistakes."
After getting a sense of what Motoori told him, Akira explained the basic gist of his life under his biological father's mistreatment and the events leading up to his expulsion to Tokyo, but he focused on the events surrounding Kamoshida, minus the castle in the Metaverse.
"I can scarce believe that a father would put his son through such experiments," Father Sugiyama said, his brows drawn together. "I'm so sorry, my son. I'll certainly pray for not only for you but Suzui's recovery, and have the secretary put her on our prayer list. How have you been?"
Akira clenched his hands, then opened his fingers, hands still feeling tense. "I… I feel worse than invisible, Father. Back at Inuri High I just wanted to be anything but the 'lab freak's kid'. Now everybody treats me like I'm contagious when I haven't even done anything yet." He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he should bring up Kamoshida.
Father Sugiyama returned to reading the letter. "You're in a hard place, but God will not abandon you."
Muttering under his breath, Akira said, "Maybe he should. I'm about to kill one of his creations and piss on his grave."
"Sorry?" Father Sugiyama set the letter down on his desk.
Akira shook his head. "I should go, Father Sugiyama. Shujin may be socially unfriendly, but it's too demanding for me to take time off." He stood up and marched out before the priest could say anything, pulling the door shut behind. Only after he stepped outside and came to the perimeter fence did Akira let his weary despair show. Heart pounding, he leaned against the stone pillar. A scattered stream of people passed him, not one looking him in the eye.
After the stupid way he stormed away from Father Sugiyama, he couldn't blame them.
Glancing at his hands, he saw them tremble. Clenching them into fists, he stuffed them into his pockets and pushed off the wall. "I'll avenge Shiho. Everything will work out after that."
Sunday, 17 April 2016
Afternoon
Yongen, Leblanc
Akira strode in, bell jingling. An elderly couple nursed their coffees at a booth table halfway into the small cafe. Unsure what to do next, he glanced to Sojiro.
The middle-aged man flicked his eyes to the hallway with stairs up to his room.
Speed-walking up, Akira spotted Morgana fiddling with something at the workbench. Hearing his approach, the guide-in-cat-body sat on the corner of the desk, tail curling around his feet. "You're back. How was Mass?"
Unbuttoning his shirt, Akira changed into street garb and hung up his dress clothes in a zip-up garment bag. The act of taking off the dress shirt sent painful twinges through his strained shoulder muscles. "Father Sugiyama had some things to go over from Father Motoori." He froze, then cursed under his breath. "I didn't go to Confession."
The tip of Morgana's tail twitched. "Are they like those fathers you talked about the other day?"
"No." Moving to the table set up in front of the couch, he pulled a couple school books out. "Well, actually yes. It's different, though. A Father in the Catholic Church is more like a rank, he's someone who watches over the parish like God watches over the Church. The title is supposed to evoke those responsibilities I talked about."
Morgana hopped up on the table, stepping on one of the books. "I think we should go out. You'll need a job if we're going to buy more supplies or scope out the lay of the land."
"I've been picking up a thing or two about general treatment." Akira pulled out his mechanical pencil and opened his geography textbook. "Musculoskeletal structure isn't all I'm studying."
Morgana shot Akira a hooded gaze. "An ice pack and hot compress isn't a treatment for everything. You're no doctor."
Akira returned the glare, his own gaze narrow. "I'd prefer to keep things in-house. All the boys who got caught at Inuri mouthed off to the wrong people and either someone overheard or someone blabbed."
Morgana trotted right on top of the map of Japan in the open book. "You can't do everything yourself. From what you described about Ryuji's awakening, you'd have died if you didn't have Lady Ann and Ryuji awakening right there. And when we fought that angel in Kamoshida's gym, you were still favoring the leg you hurt back on the day Ryuji awakened."
Akira threw his pencil to the table. "Fine, I'll look for work."
Morgana hopped into the satchel and Akira took it, heading past the elderly couple nursing their cups and to the train station.
Sunday, 17 April 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Underground Walkway
Leaning against the tiled walls in Shibuya's labyrinthine underground, Akira read through the job advertisement magazine. Little feet pressed into his shoulder as Morgana read the other side of the page. Squeaks of shoes and shouts of voices filled the space, weeping around the magazine and thrumming through Akira, but he held up the publication like a shield and forced himself to see the words instead of the untidy masses. Steadier in his focus, Morgana pointed out, "Sounds like Ore no Beko pays pretty well, but you'd have to know how to cook."
Akira shot him a glare. "I part-timed at a yaki place back before the old bastard shipped me to Inuri." He pulled out his phone and dialed, going silent for a while, a frown growing as he listened. "I don't believe I can do that yet."
He paused, listening.
"Yes, I'll call back if my availability changes." Akira hung up and slipped his phone back into his jacket.
Morgana tapped a paw on Akira's shoulder. "What happened?"
Grousing, he went back to the magazine. "They only need people late in the evenings. With all the grief Sakura's been giving me, I don't think he'd okay a job at night, even if it is only one short train ride out."
Morgana waved his paw at another ad. "There's a flower shop."
"Do I look like a florist friar? No." He went back to reading through local listings for several pages, fingers digging into the cheap publication as the masses streamed around him. "Oh, hey, that convenience store up on street level is hiring."
He called and Morgana listened through the droning introductions.
"I'm a high school student," Akira said, heading into a conversation about availability. "Great, as soon as my current cram school finishes I'll look forward to coming in."
Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Cram school?"
Akira shrugs, then ducks his head back when the motion destabilizes Morgana. "I can't very well tell them about Kamoshida, can I? I should have plenty of time soon as he's taken care of. Might as well check out the place."
Sunday, 17 April 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft
Akira set the finished sheet of trigonometry aside, then yawned into his fist. His phone buzzed and Morgana sat up from his curl on the corner of the bed. Reaching for it, Akira opened the chat app.
Ann wrote, [Shiho's finally stable!]
Akira's breath caught in his throat and he stood, then paced the room, homework forgotten. [She's out of intensive care? How is she?]
[Her mother texted me and I went to see her at the hospital today. Shiho's under observation and the doctors don't know if she'll regain consciousness.]
[When. When she'll regain consciousness.] Akira paused, looking to the small picture of Mary on her knees, looking down at Jesus. [I'll make sure to pray for her.]
Several seconds passed and he wondered if he said the wrong thing before three dots appeared. [Thank you. She's… strong. She's got to get better. As long as we believe in her, she can do it.]
Akira's stomach flipped like a gymnast on a coffee high. His throat tensed and for a moment he was glad Ann contacted him through a text messenger instead of phone call where his voice would have cracked. [Do you think I would be able to visit sometime this week? I feel like I need to apologize.]
[You? What for?]
Akira sat down on the corner of the bed and Morgana wasted no time in sitting down next to him to pry on the conversation. [I don't have the excuse of being caught up in whirlwind Kamoshida. I saw everything that was going on and didn't push because I was too concerned with my own probation.]
[Akira, there's no way you could have known what was going on. You were new. All of us were burying our heads. But no more. Kamoshida will pay for what he did.]
Feeling a kinship with her passion and anger, somehow his stomach settled down and Akira put away the phone. Then he knelt in front of the image of Mary, made the sign of the cross, and folded his hands together.
Morgana watched from the bed. "She is such a kind girl. Caring about her friends, the innocence to charge into the jaws of death to achieve her goal, and beautiful."
Akira snorted, unable to hide the smirk on his face. "Somebody's smitten."
Smirking, Morgana took a few steps closer. "Women make the most amazing phantom thieves." With a relaxed smile, he flopped to his side on the bed. "They can steal a heart like no other."
A bitter taste rose in his throat, his jaw clenching and lips twisting down. "Yeah. Whatever."
Morgana curled up into a seated posture. "Just you wait. One day you'll meet a girl who only has to smile and you'll feel like you're basking in a warm summer day."
Akira rolled his eyes.