Persona 5: Daywatch

Sunday, 1 May 2016
Early Morning
Kanda Catholic Church

Father Sugiyama lectured on the daily message, his changing tone drawing Akira out of his melancholic musing. The middle-aged priest cleared his throat, then read, "Jesus told his disciples, 'Because a loveless world is a sightless world. If anyone loves me, he will carefully keep my word and my Father will love him…'"

Akira crossed his arms, toe tapping on the floor for a moment. Looking left and right for anybody else uncomfortable, orderly throngs of calm Japanese followed along without any sign of demons haunting them. Despite being surrounded by people, he felt alone and far away from every one of them as Mass went on. When at last it drew to a close, he straightened to bail on the church. He glanced at the pew at the fold-up chess board he brought. He hesitated. Togo-san did promise him another game.

Letting the hasty parishioners leave first, he sought her out and hid the board behind his back. "Hi."

The girl with the red knot in her hair startled, settling into a practiced for-the-public smile in record time. "Oh, hello, Akira-san."

"So…" He scratched the back of his neck, keeping the board out of sight. "I was about to ask for that game we couldn't get to last week."

Hifumi drew a closed hand to her chest, one eye narrow in a familiar pained expression. "Oh, I-I'm sorry. I have to do a photoshoot." Her discomfort remained steady when she looked to the exit.

Unsure if he should feel better that her discomfort didn't seem to be due to him, Akira tilted his head, keeping his chess board hidden behind his back. "Have to? You seem in quite a hurry for something you're almost cringing just at the thought of."

Hifumi forced herself to stand straight, impatience creasing the lines of her face. "It's… I'm just trying to support my family and draw attention to shogi." She gave him a shallow, swift bow, something about her looking like she just ate something bad. "Please excuse me." Without allowing him another word, she dashed out.

Feeling his shoulders sag, Akira watched her jog out the doors. A few moments passed before he threw the folding cardboard to the pew next to him. He ran his hands through his hair, took in a deep breath, then remembered the box of chess pieces. Feeling cheated and still itching to test his mental mettle, he ran through the list of people he knew who might be interested in a game.

Akira sighed and narrowed that list down to people who probably knew how to play as well, coming up with zero. After letting out a frustrated growl, he collected his board and box of cheap plastic pieces.

Familiar footfalls drew his attention to the priest coming down the aisle to him. Akira bowed his head. "Father."

The middle-aged man with greying hair inclined his head. "Son. What can I do for you?"

Something about asking the priest to set aside time to play chess felt wrong to him, so he dug around for anything else to talk about. "Uh… well… One of my classmates lost his girlfriend – Suzui-san."

Father Sugiyama bowed his head. "I remember you mentioning her. We've all been praying for her recovery."

Akira set the board and box on the pew nearby, then scratched his neck. "Well, Mishima-san was torn up when the ambulance took her away. I think he'd have rather died himself than let that happen to her."

Sugiyama pressed his eyes closed for a solemn moment. "He sounds like a caring boy in hard times. I'm glad to hear you could be there for him."

Akira cringed, then stretched out his shoulder as his insides quailed. "That's just the thing. I don't feel like I am. Whenever he talks about Suzui, I feel like I'm talking to a martian telling me about an alien planet."

Pasting a cheery but not totally real smile, Father Sugiyama's expression turned serious as he looked over the teenage boy. "At your age, you've never been in love?"

Akira glowered at the pews on the other side of the aisle. "No. There's tons of shit poetry—"

Father Sugiyama cleared his throat, casting a glance at the crucifix.

Akira gave a nervous bow at the altar, only feeling the sense of pressure inside continue to rise. "Sorry, Father. But… I've studied medicine, and it reminds me more of… it's like hearing about a disease I've never seen but I know the symptoms of. I just… he's all torn up and I feel like I can't get it so I can't do anything for him. It makes me feel extra stupid. The girl he liked doesn't like him anymore, why can't he just move on? What am I missing?"

Father Sugiyama chuckled. "Oh, son, love is not by any stretch a disease. But to focus on your concern for your friend… He was very close to somebody and that horrible event took her away. He was used to her being there. Now a part of his life that he cherished is gone. I felt like that when I lost my job and my girlfriend at the time broke it off to live with someone with a steadier job. Now for me, that was the period that directed me to the Church. Looking back on it, I feel like I can be calm and safe in where I am despite the fear and uncertainty back then. He's still lost in that unknown place."

Crossing his arms, Akira looked at the priest as if something in the lines of his face might give answers to questions he didn't know how to ask. "So is the problem Suzui-san or himself? All I could think of was to tell him to accomplish something instead of beating himself up over what Kamoshida did to Shi—Suzui."

Sugiyama's next smile looked genuine. "You're a rather perceptive lad. Right now, I suspect he needs to come to terms with himself. That idea of yours of taking action was brilliant, but I suspect he still needs support to either rediscover himself or discover who he needs to become."

Akira kicked at the wood floor. "Why are people so complicated?"

Sunday, 1 May 2016
Early Evening
Takemi Medical Clinic

The sounds of the city screeching all around him and a trace smell of garbage on the wind, Akira strode into the clinic lobby. Relative silence took place of the noise of the city, not a sign of another living person except the doctor sitting behind her plastic-shielded desk. Her fingers clacked away at an old keyboard, one of the keys sticking.

It took a moment for her to look up at him. A wistful spark in her eyes, she said, "In spring, one 'sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn', huh?" Tiredness overcoming her, Takemi yawned into her fist. "God, I need a nap. Or some good old-fashioned caffeine in my system."

Akira shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll bring some coffee from Leblanc next time. I came to ask about a few things, like what's going on in Shibuya."

While her shoulders remained relaxed, her eyes narrowed and scanned him up and down. "I agreed to treat you with as few questions asked as possible, but I don't run a loose dispensary."

Akira waved a hand as if casting off something dirty. "I'm not looking for drugs today, I'm here for information."

Glancing up at the front door, a moment passed before she clacked away at the computer, then put a 'the doctor is seeing a patient' sign up at the desk window. "In the back."

Nodding, Akira set the bag with Morgana underneath a chair and headed into the exam room.

Locking the door, she crossed her arms at him. "I knew you were involved in something when you brought that girl in the other day, but I changed my mind. I don't want you getting involved in my situation."

Akira pulled out the little stool and plopped down on it. "I might already be involved in it. You're just doing what you are because of Miwa-chan. Well, I've got people to look out for too. I've never been able to close my eyes and ears when something's going on all around me." He slipped his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath before he looked up at her. "So who was that dork in the leopard-print shirt?"

A small smile made its way over her face and she clamped her lips closed to strangle a laugh. "Well, you're a fair judge of character so far." Her look of amusement melted away. "But you've got no instinct of self-preservation if you're trying to get involved in a yakuza drug ring."

"Who's saying I'm trying?" He leaned back a little before the stool wobbled and he centered himself on it. Considering a few possibilities, he decided to gamble on a guess he had no way of proving. "They've already got people at my school. Shujin's not exactly close, but it's got people that are already hooked. Don't ask me to turn away from my friends."

Takemi sighed and turned away to her computer with an organic molecule drifting in the screensaver.

After giving her a few more moments to think, he asked again. "Who was that dweeb in the leopard-print shirt?"

She turned and her eyes narrowed on him. "Anybody ever tell you you're a busybody?"

"I seem to remember Kung-fu Cop telling me that back at Inuri." Akira flexed his arms, stretching up, then clasped his hands behind his head in as relaxed a pose as he could get on the tiny stool.

Takemi let out a heavy breath and look like she just lost a custody battle. "Knowing my luck, you're already involved and you just don't know his name. He goes by Masa." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't underestimate him. He looks like a big-mouthed thug, but he's more clever than he lets on. He's either a lieutenant or he's gunning for a lieutenant spot in one of the yakuza in Shibuya."

"Just Masa?"

Crossing her arms, Takemi ran a finger along the edge of her clipboard. "We meet at night in an alley of Shibuya. You really think he goes by his full legal name whether or not he's got cronies around?"

The hair on the back of his neck rose. "He has dupes with him while you're making some of these exchanges?"

She nodded. "Once in a while." She looked him in the eye, the corners of her lips turning up. "Don't tell me you're worried about me."

"If he's the type I'm thinking of…" He tapped his knuckle against his lip, thinking of strategies and counter-strategies. "They don't keep their word for long."

Takemi scoffed, but the grip she held her clipboard with betrayed the underlying tension. "He needs me more than I need him. He wouldn't be asking for that quantity of amphetamines if he had other reliable sources. My life is only in danger if I try to cut him off." She looked away, letting out a long breath. "I just have to keep working on real medicine and hope I can do more good than the damage I'm causing."

Akira looked at her for a long moment before deciding she had a good grip of where she stood. He nodded in thanks. "I'll see if I can get anything else without raising suspicions."

She pointed her clipboard at him, all trace of humor gone from her eyes. "Don't catch the ire of the yakuza. They don't play around."

Standing, Akira straightened his school jacket and smirked. "Neither do I. Don't underestimate my connections. Or how much I can do without ever being seen."

Sunday, 1 May 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc

Akira pushed the cafe's door open, feeling worn out but still cheated an opportunity to flex his mental muscle even after an extra session at the arcade and making a deal with Doctor Takemi.

The little bell rang and Sojiro glanced up from the register. Further in, some salaryman in casual clothes and a ratty-edged green sweater stood from a booth further in. He dropped a few yen notes on the table and walked out, but stopped next to the younger man sitting near the manga by the register. "Hey, enjoy your sit-down, Defective Detective. You belong in little cafes like this." Laughing, he walked out and Akira stared at the man's rude gall.

The younger customer, probably some college student judging from the papers spread out in front of him, picked up his mug. It was almost enough to hide the sharp twist of his lip and narrowing of his eyes before he took a gulp and set down his coffee, all smiles again.

There was something familiar about burying feelings under a false front for the public that called to him, so Akira sat down at the bar stool next to the brown-haired college kid. Just before Sojiro could move from glaring to snapping at him to get away from the customers, Akira settled into today's role. "One cup of the decaf blend." He glanced at the empty mug in the other customer's hand. "And another of whatever he's having."

For an infinitesimal moment, those red eyes narrowed at him, flicking over the transfer student's face so fast he couldn't tell if it bore more resemblance to a rabbit scanning the treeline for a hawk or a hawk scanning a field for rabbits. Then Red Eye was all proper posture and the smile of corporate spokesmen. "Oh, you don't have to feel sorry for me."

Akira pulled out the yen notes to pay for his and the other kid's drinks, tossing them on the counter close to Sojiro and enjoying the feigned moment of no connection. "Even if misery doesn't love company, good drinks do."

Sojiro returned, setting down cups on saucers in front of each. "Enjoy." His mouth pursed together, but with Akira refusing to act like anything but a new customer he must not have had any excuse to complain. The older man retreated to the sink to wash dishes.

The other customer ran a hand through his brown hair. "Well," he took the cup and lifted it in a toast. "I suppose I can't argue with that."

Akira returned the gesture. "Amamiya Ren."

Red Eye nodded. "Akechi Goro."

Akira glanced over Akechi's paperwork. "Looks like complicated legalese."

"Oh, it's not so difficult as it is much more verbose than it needs to be." Tiredness ringed his eyes, but Akechi forced his face to hold a smile. "I suppose that's the inevitable result of hundreds of years of legal traditions. This is just a motion for discovery."

Akira snorted in amusement. "I just had the mental image of a lawyer jamming a flag into the tile floor and declaring 'I have discovered the east courthouse bathrooms.' Then some clerk walking past him going," he waved his hand under his nose, "Yeah, I discovered it too."

Akechi laughed, though his shoulders slumped just a little and when the laugh finished the smile was thinner. "No, no, it's a court-mandated obligation for another party to turn over documents and evidence. It's a favor for an investigative journalist who helped me numerous times in the past two years. When used in conjunction with a lawsuit or criminal investigation, it makes disposal of evidence a serious crime and opens more avenues for investigation and arrest."

Akira took a sip of his coffee, twitching at his first sip and reaching for some creamer. "Yeah, they seem to be better at digging up dirt than the fuzz. They only ever seem to go after the helpless."

Setting down his cup, Akechi turned a page and signed a series of blanks. "It's not that the police seek the helpless, they just have certain pressures to be much more cautious around connected targets. I've worked both with and outside the police as a private investigator. They have regulations and, being connected to the state, have both funding and politics to worry about." He turned another page and read. "It's been that way since the dawn of the samurai. The extolling of loyalty obligated them to prefer their sworn lord over the people of his fiefdom."

"Ah," Akira said, drawing himself up to the battle of wits. He held up a hand with his index finger extended. "But as Corvino said, loyalty is only a virtue when the object of loyalty is good."

Akechi blinked, then gave a smile that touched his whole face. "You are very well-read, Amamiya-san."

Sojiro's cell phone rang and he headed to the kitchen to answer it.

Akira shrugged. "I've had to argue against blind obedience before. I find that Confucius is not the best source for such arguments." He paused to sip his coffee, wondering why it tasted so different than it smelled and adding a little more creamer. "Investigative journalists don't get enough credit for the amount of work they have to dig through. I wonder if Murakami worked on stuff like the ring in Shibuya."

Akechi sat up straight, casting a wary glance at the transfer student. "How do you know that name?"

Akira raised one eyebrow. "One of those homeless artists in the backstreets of Shibuya told me about her. Something about Madarame. Why?"

Akechi picked his phone out from underneath a pile of receipts and tapped out a quick text message. "One of my contacts in the media keeps asking about a Murakami. Did this artist say when?"

Akira shook his head and sipped coffee to try to break the conversation.

Akechi bit his lip in thought for a few moments, then opened his metal briefcase, dug around in it, and handed a business card. "This is her card. She'll want to know about this Murakami sighting."

Akira swallowed and set his coffee down, reading the card. "Ohya Ichiko of the Maiasa Newspaper. I've never heard of it."

"Really?" Akechi looked as surprised as he sounded. "It's no small publication."

"Okay, okay," Sojiro said as he paced closer, his phone still at his ear. "I'll just take care of these last two customers and come fix dinner." Slipping the device into a pocket, he looked at both. "Sorry, boys, but I've got to close up now."

Akechi took a deep draught from his cup, then packed up his paperwork. "Thanks for the shot of caffeine. Tonight's going to be a long one." Slipping his binder into the metal briefcase, he clicked it shut and left.

Before the bell stopped jingling behind him, Sojiro looked to Akira. "What was all that about?"

Akira took another sip from his cup. "You never seem to want me to be associated with this place, so I played the customer so I could lend an ear. It's always interesting the things people will tell an unconnected stranger." Turning the card over expecting a blank back, he read the katakana scratched by hand in blank ink. "Crossroads, huh?"

Sojiro's eyes narrowed. "Well, I'd lose that card. Whatever that young man there was involved in is nothing you want to get involved in. A lot of lawyers and papers by the look of it."

Akira pocketed the card and took the dishes to the sink. "Whatever. You go take care of your personal business."

Monday, 2 May 2016
Morning
Shujin, Class 2-D

Akira's pen scritch-scratched down the page as he jotted down the mass of math problems Usami-sensei listed on the back chalkboard for this week's homework. Conversation bubbled around him, only a few of them muttering his name. The rear door threw open and all talk stopped. Tomoya, the student council disciplinary head, rushed down the rows of desks to Mishima. He bent down and exchanged rapid whispers for a few seconds, pointing up at the ceiling in the direction of administrative offices.

After Tomoya departed, Akira returned to his desk. Scooting his chair around, he asked the class representative, "What was that about?"

"Tomoya-san was just talking to the vice principal. Again." Mishima shrugged. "I guess he's been setting up shop in the principal's office and people are getting worried Kobayakawa's going to jail. A lot of teachers are getting repeat interviews. That's got to mean prosecutors are pressing charges."

Akira snorted. "He should be behind bars. Burying who knows how many rape cases makes him culpable in all of them. And anybody else who helped the cover-up."

The front door slid open and Inui-sensei stormed in, his tie and the button-down under his suit jacket looking just a little rumpled. "Everybody in your seats. Time to study history, not be history."

Monday, 2 May 2016
Lunchtime
Shujin, Class 2-D

Ryuji trotted in through the rear door, giving it a kick with his ankle to send the door sliding shut again to block some of the hubub of conversation in the halls. The few students still lounging in 2-D ignored him, either eating or continuing their own animated conversations. Ryuji plopped down at Mishima's desk right behind Akira. "Hey. I've been followin' those rumors about peeps doin' stuff in Shibuya, an' I think I finally got somethin'."

Akira swallowed his bite of radish and turned in his seat. "Well?"

Ryuji opened his lunch sack, glanced up at the four continuing conversations about sports, video games, and girls, then leaned closer. "Nishiyama came in today with new shoes. Real nice ones. Good enough for this girl who told me to notice and remember. But get this – he's been complainin' about not havin' any money."

Akira slumped in his seat and popped another radish in his mouth. "Ryuji, don't waste my time with who's got the latest fashion."

Ryuji pulled out rolls wrapped in plastic. "You're pissy today. Think about it, how often do you look at someone's shoes? If she noticed 'em, that's gotta mean they're worth noticin'." He tore the wrapping off and stuffed the first roll in his mouth.

"So what?" Akira said, feeling his blood run a little hot for reasons he couldn't even understand and only feeling more on edge because of it. The weekend tended to make him feel cooler and more even-keeled, but this week felt like it dragged straight on from the last one without a moment's respite. "Doctors all over say the most important thing you wear is on your feet."

"Really?" Ryuji shook his head. "Well, apparently Nishiyama doesn't have a job. I guess he's always hangin' around school."

Akira nodded, impressed with how on-focus Ryuji was. "You know what class he's in?"

Ryuji shrugged and swallowed his second roll. "Not in mine."

Akira growled despite the start offered. "Great lead, Ryuji." He shoved another radish in his mouth and took out his phone, navigating to the messenger. "But Mishima's better with names than I am, maybe he knows."