Persona 5: Daywatch

Friday, 27 May 2016
Evening
Yongen, Back Streets

No sooner did Akira pass a father and his grade-school son than the eerie string music of the Goa'uld sang from his pocket. The boy pulled away from his father and gave Akira a funny look. "What kind of weird song is that?"

The man took his son's hand and pulled him to the side. "It's not polite to insult other people's taste in music."

Akira slowed. His father never would have never defended someone else. The transfer student shook his head and kept walking. He pulled out his phone, Principal's Lapdog on the caller ID. Still tired from the fight against Leviathan, he remembered Morgana's combined-fire-attack didn't work out so well so he swallowed his irritation. "Budd Tugly's cosmetic and make-up services."

Niijima sighed from the other end of the line. "Really?"

The team leader stood up from the satchel, front paws on his shoulder. "Be nice, Joker."

He leaned against a concrete wall just a few paces from the narrow road in front of Leblanc. "What's up?"

"I forgot to mention earlier," she said. The sound of a heavy door swinging closed banged through the speakers. "I passed some of those names you gave me to Sae."

The tips of Morgana's claws sank through Akira's school jacket. "Why doesn't that sound like good news?"

A metallic clinking like keys jangling came from her side. "And I have good news and bad news. The good news is she read the list and I'm pretty sure she sent them to some investigators she trusts to check them out." Tense silence stretched on before she let out a heavy breath. "The bad news is she's investigating the Phantom Thieves."

"What?" Morgana blurted, hopping up to perch all fours on the transfer student's shoulder, as if that could give him a better vantage point to shout at the student's phone. "How could she find out about us? Did—?"

"Whoa," Akira said, standing up, the motion jarring the guide-trapped-in-cat-form into a jump to the road. "Calm down there for a second, O fearless leader." He looked to his phone. "Any risk of us being found out?"

Silence loomed for a moment. "I don't see how she could discover that world, but I overheard her talking to some investigator who sounded like an expert on Apathy Syndrome and mental shutdowns."

Morgana's ears pressed against his skull. "This could be bad."

"This could be nothing," Akira riposted. He raised his voice to talk back to the upperclassman. "It can't change our fundamental mission. The Phantom Thieves aren't about going for the safest option, it's about trying to make things safer for others. Just stay calm and don't blab and we should be fine. Just keep an ear out."

Niijima hemmed and hawed for a moment. "Okay." Silence stretched on for a few long seconds before she asked, "Do you think we could meet to talk in person tomorrow?"

"I'm upgrading gear at Untouchable, I don't think I'll be able to get to you 'til Sunday," Akira said. The conversation over, he went back into his contacts and looked at his nickname for Makoto for a few moments. Principal's lapdog wasn't appropriate when she fought alongside them, or helped smuggle names from changes in Mementos to the police. He deleted that and replaced it with President Niijima.

Saturday, 28 May 2016
Early Morning
Shibuya Underground

Akira trotted through the concourse linking together half a dozen train stations in the Shibuya underground. The mass of noise pressed down on him, the way every single person walked his own way making him feel just a little dizzy. Angling for some slightly more open space, someone still ran into him as he skirted around a temporary stand selling umbrellas.

Before he could get his fist up, a low, young man's voice said, "I'm sorry."

With the two being almost the only two still people in the underground, it was easy to take a moment to look over the tall boy. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt with some funny symbol in dark blue at both sides of his split collar. His dark gray eyes bored into Akira, and he held black bag big enough to hide a storefront-display flatscreen TV slung over his shoulder. Curious, Akira asked, "What's that?"

The dark-haired boy glanced down to it, then back up with a sense of smothering ennui. "Oh, just my paintings. I'd been caught up helping Master with a slump he's having. He's not been well since the police moved back his Shibuya exhibition. Alas, all I could manage for school was a trite landscape to demonstrate technique." His shoulders slumped even more, as if he'd just confessed to embezzling a whole bank's finances. "There is no beauty in it."

The boy seemed a near age, but without recognizing the school uniform he couldn't be sure if he was a senior or college student. Shrugging, Akira gave a wave goodbye. "Well, Shibuya's going to be stirred up for a while. When it rains, it pours, you know?"

The boy in white nodded, "Every monsoon." He shifted his painting-bag strap and shuffled into the crowd.

Akira stared for a moment, wondering how he could miss such a common idiom, then shrugged and decided to get to Shujin.

Saturday, 28 May 2016
Afternoon
Shujin, Class 2-D

Akira tapped his pen against his notebook, making little effort to listen to Inui-sensei over the hushed conversations. Inui's jaws clenched whenever he stopped talking, and he spoke faster than before. His tie knot skewed to the left, making his whole body look off-center.

The tip of Morgana's tail twitched. "This teacher's been acting funny for weeks. What's up?"

Akira clicked his pen closed and answered in a low tone. "They couldn't hush up Kobayakawa facing ten years. They've only fired Chouno so far, but I bet he's in the line for the chopping block."

"Well," Morgana muttered from the desk, "he's not doing himself any favors by losing his grip on teaching."

Inui babbled through the remainder of his lecture, sounding plaintive when he tried to start a question and answer session with the last five minutes of class. He called the class representative to clean the chalk boards.

Mishima tapped out something on his phone, then called, "Yamamoto."

The girl in the back corner of the class let out an indignant huff, but got up and started erasing.

Morgana's tail stilled. "That's the first time your class rep has delegated a job to someone else."

"Perk of the job," Akira said, packing up his things. He paused and thought back. The class rep sounded terse, but focused on his own work. It wasn't the despondent droning he'd sounded like for weeks. The last bell of the day rang and the hushed conversations exploded into an assault on his ears. Using their lack of attention as cover, Akira asked, "You think we can get to that other control room?"

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "Not today. I'd have to see her to evaluate for sure, but I bet Nightrider is still tired and recovering. Reaper is still healing, and if a bunch of those oni-type Shadows show up then just you, me, and Lady Ann are not going to be enough. The Phantom Thieves are resting today, and that's an order."

Striding across the front of the class, Ann paused, her eyes meeting Mishima's for a long moment before her face flushed and she speed-walked out.

Akira slipped his last book in his satchel and watched her exit. "I wonder what's up with her and Mishima."

Morgana forgot his need to hide on campus and popped up to try to spy the blonde. "Why? What'd he do to Lady Ann?"

Akira pushed him into the satchel and hissed, "Keep it down. A few people have spotted you and don't care, but no pets on campus is still an official rule."

Taking to the halls, before he could head for the stairs up, a blond popped out of the crowd. Ryuji flashed a wide grin. "Yo, dude. How's progress goin' against that mafia asshole?"

Akira pulled the track star to the wall so others could go around and ignore them. "Quiet!" He glanced about, seeing only disinterested faces rushing their own way or already absorbed in their own conversations. "Makoto caught us because we were sloppy. No talking about business in public."

With a leering grin, Ryuji slipped his hands in his pockets and wiggled his eyebrows. "Already just Makoto?"

Groaning, Akira rolled his eyes. "C'mon, I like bein' polite if it's returned, but I isn't like I was all 'Sakamoto-san' after you started helping us."

Ryuji's smirk held steady. "Hey, ain't ya protestin' a bit much?" He flexed his shoulders. "Ya got some time? If Morgana's still makin' ya take a day off, we could do some trainin'."

His ears pressed against his black head. "I am, and you should be taking it easy today, too. Bruised ribs take a while to heal."

Akira straightened his glasses. "We could take a day to hit the books. Most of the midterms were easy, but I'm still worried about my score on math."

Ryuji turned to face him straight on for the first time in the conversation, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. "Did you just say the midterms were easy? You traitor."

Morgana rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying you should obsess over it like Joker does, but you wouldn't have to worry about it if you studied regularly."

Ryuji sneered at the team leader. "Like a cat would know."

Taking off his glasses, Akira pressed his palm over one eye. "Why don't you go sneak around and see if you can pick up a Mementos target or any useful rumors?"

Morgana thrust out his chest. "Fine. Lady Ann would know how to appreciate a gentleman's presence. And somebody needs to make sure your class representative isn't taking advantage of her." He hopped out and slipped unnoticed through the crowd of people all distracted with their own problems.

"Whatever. I'll see him at Leblanc." With him out of the picture, Akira returned his glasses to their place and looked the track star in his brown eyes. "I heard the track team was getting back together, at least unofficially. You in on that?"

Ryuji gestured his head at the stairs and Akira followed him out to the courtyard. Instead of stopping at the nook with vending machines, Ryuji led him past the practice building to the athletics field.

Akira slipped his hands in his pockets and looked out at a pair of students in PE uniforms running a circuit around the field perimeter. "What was it like?"

Ryuji came to a stop next to the transfer student, shadowing his posture. "Whaddya mean?"

Eyes following the pair of runners, Akira shifted on his feet. "Being in a team. A place where people'd still be there with you even after the class bell rang."

Ryuji watched the runners for a moment. "Track wasn't exactly a team sport. Not like volleyball or baseball. When you're runnin', it's kinda like it's just you, the track, an' the wind. When it fin'ly comes up for your hundred meter, it's all up to you to crush that distance as fast as ya can."

Akira took in a long, deep breath, then let it out. Despite his own desire, the list of names they took down while closing on Kaneshiro scrolled before his mind's eye. All of them with dozens of victims, people who waited for the Phantom Thieves because they had no-one to turn to, nowhere to go. "Kinda like life? When it comes down to it, nobody ever sticks next to you."

Ryuji elbowed the transfer student. "C'mon, dude. The competition's where the crowd's're at, but that's just one part of the sport." He scratched his bleached scalp. "I never met a dude who wasn't in some kinda sport club. You seriously never have a team?"

Akira pursed his lips. "I tried for basketball a couple of times, it was big in Inaba but Tanizaki's team prioritized senior players, so I never got onto the court."

"That sucks," Ryuji commiserated. He pondered for a moment. "You remember when we ran at Inokashira?"

Akira raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"You sure picked up the pace after you saw me pass you."

Akira motioned to give a friendly jab, then thought the better of it. "Heh. You were slacking, you needed a push."

Ryuji gave a wide, toothy grin and jabbed back with both of his hands. "Yeah, exactly. That's what was so great about practice. There'd be thirty of us on the boy's track team, runnin' the streets here. Sometimes you start feelin' tired an' if there's no one there to measure up to, you let yourself fall back. But when there's another guy right at your elbows, somethin' about it lights a fire inside ya and ya run faster an' longer than ya thought."

The two runners, closing their circuit of the practice field, slowed as they came up to the pair of juniors still in academic uniforms. The one with a dark sweatband over his dark hair put his hands on his head and paced away from them, but the brown-haired one glared. "I thought you were a runner all the way to your bones, Sakamoto. Can't even get changed anymore?"

Ryuji's fists clenched and he took a step at him, but flinched and held one hand to his ribs. "Even I gotta take a day off once in a while. Or you still not doin' nothin' outside school?"

The runner with the sweatband bubbled out with laughter. "You give up the team, you give up our trainin' spot, and now you're even giving up running?"

Ryuji growled. "It ain't like that at all, Takeishi!"

The brown-haired one growled. "We don't even have a locker room, thanks to you!"

Akira found himself between Ryuji and the other student, feet apart and fists low but still ready. "You idiots think Kamoshida would've let you keep your precious team as long as you had a shot at outdoing his volleyball teams?"

Brown Hair looked over the transfer student, though his confident stance flagged. "What's your problem?"

Takeishi came stepped closer. "He's that transfer student." He glanced between the two still in academic uniforms.

"Tch," Brown Hair sneered.

Ryuji tugged at the transfer student's jacket sleeve to keep him back. "Don't mind Nakaoka."

After a brief breath to calm himself, Nakaoka took a deep step back. "What are you doing, hanging around this loser? You got all of Tokyo and you hang out with this club-destroying delinquent?"

Akira surged out of Ryuji's fingertip-grip, coming nose-to-nose with the brown-haired goon. "What'd you do to help your team? Stand back and say nothing as he abused you? Look away like a coward when he broke your best runner's leg?"

Nakaoka shuffled back a little further, his eyes dropping. "You don't know nothing, Transfer. But if you're really any better, you'd better find other people to hang out with. He may fake it, but he'll hit you the minute you piss him off. Just how it is. Bad father, bad son."

The track star growled, but Akira's vision hazed red and Nakaoka was on his back before anyone realized what happened.

Ryuji grabbed and held Akira back.

Takeishi helped his fellow runner up and they both took some distance. "Looks like they're two of a kind after all. Makes sense thugs would hang out with thugs."

Standing straight, Nakaoka seemed emboldened by his fellow runner, jerking his arm out of the other's hand when Takeshi tried to pull him back. "No, I'm gonna make him understand." He turned his burning gaze on Akira. "You think any of that was easy? Nobody stood up for us. All the rest of us took it for the sake of the team." He turned to Ryuji. "You were the one who fucked that up!" That out, the runner deflated and took a step away. "I was stupid for ever thinking you'd have my back through it all."

They took off, back along the perimeter, and Ryuji came up to Akira. "Sorry, man. I was right there to try an' help you keep your cool, but when he said that 'bout my dad the only thing that stopped me from sockin' him was you throwin' him down first." He let out a beleaguered breath. "I thought I was gettin' better after all these months, but it looks like I'm still on square one."

Akira shrugged to settle his school jacket on his shoulders. "Hey, fuck him and fuck that. I may not have met your old bastard, but you actually give a shit about other people. Whatever your old bastard was, you're a good person." He looked down and kicked at the dirt. "You just have as much problem as me holdin' back when someone's being a dumbass."

Ryuji let a wan smile slip across his face. "You're right, dude. We're who we are here an' now. C'mon, let's blow off some steam at Gun About."

Saturday, 28 May 2016
Evening
Shibuya, Scarlet Media Rental

The transfer student trotted up to the clerk's counter and set down a couple CDs. The bubbly girl behind the counter gave a smile. He tried not to notice how her bot haircut made her head look like a sphere. "Thank you, valued customer. Did you notice we have a new foreign series in?" She pointed to a stand with MacGuyver.

Akira squinted. "Hey, I know that guy." He picked up the DVD case and read the back, then set it on the stand again. "Nah. There's no way Anderson could be anything but a colonel." After paying for the documentaries on the history he'd need to write a report on, Alliance Force Assemble sang out of his phone.

Stepping outside and then to the side so people could ignore him and pass, he saw Big Man on the ID. "Neil Efare's funhouse. Come for the mirrors, stay because you can't find the way out."

A snort of amusement confirmed Iwai's identity before the surplus store owner spoke. "I got a job. You got some time to run an errand in Shibuya?"

Akira looked around at the churning mass of people and the air coming into his lungs felt thinner. He didn't want to say no to somebody helping him with modifications to a replica so realistic it was nigh illegal, but also didn't fancy sticking around. "W-where?"

"I've got a meet with a guy at a diner. I need someone 'round. As a security measure," he added, nonchalant as pointing out a shaped cloud in the sky. "All you gotta do is keep an ear out and call my phone when I cough."

Indoors was good. "I'll be waiting. You already got a table reserved?"

Iwai grunted. "That diner doesn't reserve tables. It's just public enough that most people won't pay attention to you, and private enough to have a convo on the down-low. There's usually a small table open by the corner next to the server entrance to the kitchens."

"I'll be nearby," Akira said. "But I don't exactly have the stuff to bug the table."

Iwai snorted. "You're my bug, kid. Just listen and call my cell when I give the signal."

Akira dashed to the other side of the street, straining to hear the airsoft store owner over the crowd as he went. "You want me to record, in case he's the type who's not so good at remembering what he promised?"

"No!" Iwai snapped. "I mean… he and I share some unsavory connections. I'm tryin' to get out of the spider's web, not deeper in."

"Got it," Akira said, ending the call and charting a course to the diner through the unruly mass of humanity rushing this way and that. He looked down to the satchel hanging from his shoulder and the team leader hiding within. "You wanna come along?"

One of Morgana's ears folded back and his blue eyes narrowed for a moment. "I'd rather focus on trying to tie up the Shibuya yakuza. I know we've got the Palace for its leader, but if we can add any important members of its leadership to the targets we take care of in Mementos, we can ensure they don't just reorganize."

Akira shrugged. "Good luck. Meet you at Leblanc at eight?"

Morgana stood, nodded, and hopped out into the crowd.

Akira pushed his way through the crowd and up to the diner. He spotted the table for two in question at the far side of the dining area, just past the soda fountain. The closest seat nearby was a booth, so he sat down and spread out some books to look like he had business being there. After a few minutes, a cute waitress with her ponytail in a red bow came to take his order.

A few minutes later, Iwai slipped through the crowd, his pace steady but his eyes sweeping over everything with a subtlety the transfer student forgot adults were capable of. Without even making eye contact, the surplus store owner sat down at the far chair.

A lanky man with slicked-back hair and a leopard-print shirt sat down in the seat next to him, his back facing the transfer student. Akira felt his hair stand up when Masa spoke. "I wouldn'a thought a tough guy like you would go for a dumpy joint full of kids and old farts. Long way from Mune the Stomper." Masa shook his head.

Iwai let out a chuff, pulling the brim of his cap lower and glancing at the servers ducking into the nearby kitchen entrance. "Hey, sometimes reputations get a little longer in the retelling. I just wanted ta check on some of the old boys. How's Tsuda-san?"

Masa leaned back in his chair. "Same old." He tilted his head and from the shift in Iwai's posture, must've given a hell of a scrutinizing look. "You ain't been around for years, an' you know they never really left a spot for me. 'Thought you left the family. Why the sudden interest?"

Iwai tapped the brim of his cap, slouching back in his chair to try to hide the stiffness in his shoulders. Akira could still see the tension in his neck. "Just saw him around the other day. Made me think about old times." The shop owner straightened. "And I figured it was past time to bury the hatchet. But I haven't been in the family in years, I can't just walk up to him."

Masa snorted, then broke out into a nasally laugh. "You still on about the ol' code? I guess some things don't change."

"So you an' he still in the same circles or not?"

A plate broke in the kitchen and the two adults froze before the hubbub returned.

"I'd hafta do some reconnectin'. New boss, and all." Masa twirled a toothpick between his fingertips. "Want me to set up a meet?"

Iwai sat up straight in his seat. "No, idiot. I just need to talk. We only need to end up in the same place at the same time. This has gotta go down like a coincidence."

Masa nodded. "Shibaura's gettin' a lot of attention lately."

Iwai quirked an eyebrow. "That run-down dumping ground?"

"First rule of real estate is everything is for sale at the right price," Masa said, slouching against the wall. The transfer student could just catch a smirk. "Talk is there's gonna be redevelopment. Tsuda's been down there on the regular."

Iwai hacked into his fist. He strained, like listening for something in the crowd, but instead of reaching for his glass he coughed again.

Akira slid his recording app out of the way and brought up the surplus store owner's number.

Masa scooted back a little and took his coffee from the table. "You sick or somethin'?"

"Just a cold." Iwai snatched his ringing phone from his coat pocket. "What? Polystyrene instead of canvas?"

Akira quirked an eyebrow.

Iwai feigned listening. "No, no, sir. I'll have it fixed right away." He covered the microphone and looked at the gangster in a leopard-print shirt. "Work. Later."

Masa gave a lazy wave. "Seeya." He lifted his mug and sipped his hot coffee.

Iwai dropped a yen note on the table and dashed, but from the sound stopped at the stairs. "Stay on the line. If I know Masa, he's an opportunist. I need to know what he says when he calls out."

Akira filled in Hashiba Hideyoshi on his history homework and gave an "Mm-hm."

Sure enough, just seconds later, Masa lost patience and pulled out his smart phone. "Tsuda-san. It's Masa."

A moment passed, but Akira couldn't hear the other side over the clinking and work in the kitchen.

Masa set his coffee on the table. "Iwai was just askin' 'bout you. I gave him the runaround like you said." He paused and Akira wished he could hear over the sizzle and clatter of cooking staff. "My guess is he heard about your big score and wants a cut."

Iwai's voice faded in over the sound of background noise on Akira's phone. "Big score? I wonder what's up."

Masa nodded. "Yeah, don't worry." He hung up, took another sip of coffee, then brought up his phone's contacts. "I don't got time to screw around with those pissants. I got real prospects." He tapped on one of his contacts. "Hey, Senda. You ready to put a little fear of god in the doc?"

Akira clicked his pen closed, hoping he wasn't hearing a reference to what he thought. It was too early. He slipped his homework into his school satchel.

Masa nodded. "Right. Same place as usual." He took another sip of his coffee, head tilted against his phone. "Don't worry about that, I'll get you a piece. A guy I know just made a sale and still has a whole case of spare guns." He ended the call, gulped the rest of his coffee, then stood up and headed for the entrance.

Iwai asked, "What's he talkin' about?"

Shoving the rest of his school materials into his school bag, Akira cut the call, hopped to his feet, dropped a yen note to pay for his kale kobachi, and dashed for the front before Masa could disappear. Concerned Iwai would try to call back, Akira put his phone on In Meeting mode, then stopped the recorder. He got to the stairs just in time to see Masa close some app and slip his phone into his pocket.

Before they got down to the street, Akira's phone buzzed. Takemi's ID blinked up at him, call waiting to connect. He canceled the call, then brought her up on his chat app.

She wasted no time to send, [He's called early. I don't have nearly enough to placate him!]

A notification about an incoming call from Iwai appeared, and he swiped it out of the way, then sent to Takemi, [I'm on him, just stay calm and do what you can for now.]

[I've barely got enough to rattle in a case!]

Akira clenched his teeth. [Then bring that, just get moving!]

Looking up, he dashed through the crowd to keep track of Masa until he turned to the less used side streets. The roads seemed longer than when he wandered through them to stumble across Takemi's drug drop point the first time. At least the majority of the lights were burned out, leaving him plenty of darkness to creep through. It reminded him of following Morgana across storage shelves in the castle's larder to evade the knights.

Masa took position in the dark just outside a cone of light at the back entrance of an appliance repair store. He lit a cigarette and smoked halfway down before another young man in a dirty yellow shirt with torn sleeves approached. Masa nodded to him and continued smoking, finishing the first and starting on a second cigarette before a clinking of small, hard objects shifting in a plastic container echoed in the alley.

Masa flicked the cigarette away and pulled a pistol tucked against his waistband, then handed it to the flunky.

The new guy turned it over in his hands for a second. "Is this fake, or empty?"

"Shh!" Masa gestured both hands down and leaned closer. "It'll look and sound just like the real thing."

"You said you'd get me a piece for this! Or ain't that Tsuda as hot as you say?"

Masa growled. "Listen, shit-stain. He keeps real tight grip of his product. This is the best I could get without forking over a fuckload of cash the boss is constantly swipin' from my pockets." He jerked his head at a shadowed loading dock. The other thug clambered up and took position in the darkest corner on the concrete platform. Akira took to a dark doorway a few meters down.

Doctor Takemi paced into the alley. The dark green of her dress and black on her leather jacket and ragged leggings made her look like she belonged in here more than the dork in the leopard print shirt. She kept her back straight, but her fist held her plastic medicine case with white knuckles.

Masa ground his cigarette beneath his shoe before looking her in the eyes. A smirk slipped over his face and she retreated a shallow step. "I give you a chance for a sale, and that's all you bring?"

Takemi swallowed, her brows furrowing. "You called early. I'm not a miracle worker, a lot of the medication you… want only comes at the beginning of the month."

Masa's smirk widened. "Wrong answer, doc."

The ganger's flunky jumped down from the darkness of the loading dock, landing less than a pace from the doctor.

Dropping the case, she scrambled back.

Masa approached, his smirk expanding into a shit-eating grin before his flunky spotted the red dot come to a stop on Masa's chest. "Shit!" The new guy fell to his ass in his haste to scramble away, his gun replica falling to the ground. "She hired a merc!" He scrambled on all fours before sprinting away.

Masa snarled at him, but looked across the dark alley until his eyes zeroed in on Akira, little but the fake silencer protruding out of deep shadows. The gangster froze, his eyes going wide and his breath halting when he locked onto the red dot projector.

Takemi straightened and took a beat to steady her breathing. "Now unless you want my guy to pay you a midnight visit, here's how it's going to go from now on. If I want to hear you again, I'll call you." She jerked her chin away.

Face contorting in rage, Masa clenched both fists but trembled where he stood. "Don't think the boss is gonna let this go for long." He turned and fled the same direction his lackey did.

It seemed a full minute passed in as close to silence as a back alley of Shibuya could get before Takemi collapsed to her knees, hands catching the broken asphalt. She sucked in ragged breaths and tears drew trails down her face.

Akira turned off his laser dot projector and folded his sub-machine gun, retrieving his satchel so he could stow his weapon. His phone vibrated, but when he saw Big Man on the ID he denied the call and slipped it back in his pocket. After slipping his gloves on, Akira snagged the very real-looking pistol, tossed it in his schoolbag, and retrieved her medicine case. That out of the way, he knelt down next to the doctor. "Hey, it's over. They're gone."

"It's not over!" she snapped at him over the traffic helicopter passing overhead.

Ignoring her shout, he reached out a hand to help her to her feet. "Let's get back to Yongen-Jaya for now. We'll worry about the rest later."

She glared at him, so he straightened his satchel, grabbed her arm, and walked her to the main streets. She pulled a tissue to wipe at her face, but stayed just a pace behind as they proceeded to the train station and to the back streets of Yongen. When she kept going straight at the road heading down to her clinic, he cleared his throat. Takemi's glare fell on him again, but by this point she looked confused and tired instead of angry.

He waved her closer. "You need a break. I'll make you a cup." Despite the sign still saying Open, the lights were off and the door locked. Akira pulled out his keys and unlocked it, turned the sign, then flipped the lights and started heating up some water.

Takemi slid onto a seat next to the books near the yellow phone, slumping to the polished wood countertop. "We may have made it out of that one this time, but he's going to try again."

Akira finished her mug and set it on the counter in front of her. "Maybe, but he'll need his boss's backing and he won't have that for long."

Takemi stared into him, and for a moment he feared she was going to snap before her head dipped. She caught herself and reached for the mug, but grimaced after only a quick sip. "You made me decaf? Philistine." She took another sip anyway.

Author's Note: A big thanks to all the reviewers, I try to reply to reviews as soon as I can get back to the internet. Feedback of almost all forms helps, even if mainly giving a gauge of interest, but constructive criticism helps hone the craft and is always especially helpful. Stay safe and enjoy!