Persona 5: Daywatch

by Ganheim

Akira is banished to Tokyo by his own father. What begins as a near-suicidal quest for vengeance becomes a desperate attempt to turn the pieces of his life into an honest whole. Aided by clever strategists and opposed by supernatural puppeteers, one lost boy's quest for something greater clashes those who would think themselves gods over men, and demons within. AU elements.

49. June 8th, Curb Your Enthusiasm

Persona 5: Daywatch

Wednesday, 8 June 2016
Morning
Shibuya Station

Akira shifted from one foot to the other. Despite getting his back comfortably against a wall, the shuffle of the crowd of students waiting to transfer across Shibuya still reminded him of a roiling boil. The noise made his skin crawl, but with his earbuds forgotten at the loft he had no choice but to sit back and wait for the train.

Bright, uncombed blond hair slipped out of the crowd. Ryuji thrust out his chest covered with his favorite red ZOMG shirt on underneath his black winter jacket. The runner gave a smarmy grin. "Mornin'. You been listenin' to folks talkin' on the street? I thought Kamoshida was big, but peeps're talkin' about Kaneshiro all over the place. An' almost everyone knows about the callin' card." He crossed his arms and glanced left, then right, taking in the crowd. "Girls've been checkin' me out all mornin'. Maybe they can sense the sheer awesome of a phantom thief."

Akira slapped a palm onto his forehead.

Morgana popped his head out of the satchel. "Geez, Reaper. How unobservant are you?"

Ryuji scoffed at the small team leader, but looked over the transfer student. His eyebrows rose and he stood straighter. "Hey, why're you wearin' long sleeves? We're—" The track star boggled. "Shit!"

"What?" Akira asked, his tone droll.

Ryuji's feet slid apart, balance dropping in the subtle shift of an experienced runner about to set off. "We're s'posed to switch to summer uniforms." The track star looked the transfer student over again. "So why's yours a long-sleeve?"

"I asked for it." Akira said, looking back down to the shogi game on his phone. "I wear long sleeves, so when I got their uniform in the mail I asked for permission to wear long sleeves for medical reasons." He crossed his arms, slid his lance up on his online shogi, and hit end turn. "You want me to tell your teacher you're gonna be late?"

Ryuji spun around, but threw over his shoulder, "Not if I can get back soon enough!"

Wednesday, 8 June 2016
Morning
Shujin, Class 2-D

Usami-sensei attacked the chalkboard with a gusto the polar opposite of the topic of math she wrote on it. A few white chalk smudges marred her dark brown business-style suit, bending as she side-stepped to finish an array of numbers. Akira's phone vibrated in his desk and he snatched for it before anybody else could notice.

Ryuji was the first to send a message to the group chat. [They don't know it's us, but doesn't it rock to hear people talk about how great the Phantom Thieves are?]

Akira let out a soft sigh as the other students scribbled. [Phantom Thief. And we're in class. Focus on class.]

[But we're on a roll!] Ryuji sent back with surprising speed. [All we need to do is decide who we're going to go after next.]

Ann's ID blinked for a moment, three dots pulsing before she added, [You have someone already?]

[Well, no. But I'm psyched for the next one.]

Akira set down his pencil to rub his forehead for a moment, feeling a pulsing discomfort grow. [Curb your enthusiasm. We have class now. Next will be sweeping for another target.]

[Hell yeah!] Ryuji sent out.

Morgana looked up at Akira, one ear bent towards the teacher. "Do you think he gets it and just refuses to acknowledge a proper time and place?"

Akira muttered, "Maybe he just has too much caffeine."

The guide-trapped-in-cat-form smirked. "Better not serve him any of Leblanc's finest."

Makoto joined the chat. [Akira's already pointed out this is class time, Sakamoto. At least I'm on the way back from the bathroom.]

A beat passed before Ann sent, [We learned plenty while we were in Mementos working our way up Kaneshiro's mafia. Maybe another request there could point us to somebody big?]

Ryuji was ready with the speed of an Olympian. [Good thinking, Ann!]

[I wouldn't mind,] Akira sent, bringing down his other hand to type faster. [People needing help might or might not lead to a Palace, but it's still someone in trouble.]

Usami-sensei snapped, "Kurusu-kun! If you're too bored with matrices to keep your eyes up front, you must have already solved this one. Enlighten the class."

Wednesday, 8 June 2016
Lunchtime
Shujin, Class 2-D

Akira pressed a few clumps of sticky rice together with his chopsticks so he had just one chunk to manage. The instant he closed his mouth around it, his phone buzzed, and he heard the same from the class representative sitting behind him with his own home-made lunch.

At the top of a new thread in the Phantom Thief group chat winked Makoto's ID. [Good day, everyone. Have you have gone to see the school counselor yet?]

[Nope,] Ryuji sent back. Akira sent the same.

Ann texted, [I went after finishing midterms for the day. It sounded like Shujin was forcing us to, so I thought I would go see what it was like. If it was bad, I'd get it out of the way. But he wasn't.]

Three dots bounced as Mishima tapped away behind him. [He tried to tell me that what happened wasn't my fault. Even though it was.]

Ann texted, [I think it was very cleansing. Go and you'll see.]

Akira sent, [He's either somebody's stooge or a goon on his own.]

Makoto replied, [You haven't even gone, Akira. That kind of blind cynicism isn't constructive.] A beat later, she sent, [I got one of those mandatory session emails from Shujin. I might as well go see what it's like for myself.]

Wednesday, 8 June 2016
After School
Shibuya, Untouchable

Cold air blasted Akira, a welcome change from air hotter and more humid than any mountain village he grew up in. Even having changed out of his school uniform didn't provide much relief. The dark walls and dark camouflage pants near the front added an extra sense of relief from the bright bustle outside. Having to brave it twice to get to Leblanc for the junk from the bank only wore that much more at his stamina. Akira gave himself a moment to savor the sound of nothing but the fan in the ventilation.

"So he is alive after all," Iwai said from his seat behind the grating. He plopped his sport shooting magazine on the counter and sat up on his stool. "I thought you'd decided to ghost me after you got the dumb idea to follow Masa."

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry I didn't respond to your text, I was still trying to help… another friend." He shook his head and set down his bag, laden down with Morgana and over a quarter kilogram of gold nameplates. The leader hopped out and sat down against the counter where the shop owner wouldn't see him, letting Akira pull a paper-wrapped parcel of the gold plates. They hit the counter with a thud, one corner tearing through the brown paper.

Iwai pulled the wrapped stack closer and untied the twine binding it all together. He picked up one plate and held it up to the light. A golden glint reflected back on the realistic model guns covering the wall behind him. "You got any idea if they're gold-plated or solid?"

"Scratching didn't make a difference," Akira said, clasping his gloved hands together. "I don't have a saw to cut and check the cross section."

"Some genuine gold could really help get me into the black," Iwai said, still turning the plate around. He took his magazine and plopped it on top of the untethered bundle of gold name plates, then stood and strode into the back. Plastic and metal shuffled for a minute, then the stubble-chinned man trotted back out to the front. "Seems real according to my scale. It'll take me a few days to line up buyers for all of it. Don't wanna dump all in one basket. How's four thousand?"

"You're lowballing me," Akira said, slipping his hands into his pockets and letting himself slouch. "And what do you mean get into the black?"

Iwai's phone buzzed and he scanned the screen, then typed a reply. He adjusted the brim of his cap and looked back up to the transfer student. "Shibuya mafia charged insurance. Some months it would be more than my income. The military surplus and most'a that crap out there," he pointed at the racks, "has almost no margin. Collectors an'… buyers were where most of my money came from. And most of the former ain't comin' around since that asshole online claimed my stuff's cheap knockoffs." He took the magazine and dropped the plate onto the stack. "Prolly Tsuda."

Akira scratched his neck. "I had no idea you were under Kaneshiro's boot, too."

Iwai stiffened, then switched his lollipop to the other side of his teeth and relaxed back on his stool. "That was pretty weird news. Asshole had an empire here for years an' then one day just turns 'imself in? Must'a been runnin' from something." He straightened his cap. "The local collector just got nabbed yesterday. Cops just came 'round to get a statement. Would be nice if that would bring my customers back."

Akira scanned the shop owner. His long, baggy coat didn't hide the slump of his shoulders. Or the weak goatee on his chin the tightness of the muscles in his neck. "You've got to deal with an unfair rep too, huh?"

"Too?" Iwai swung his lollipop to the other side, but whatever he was about to say fled when his phone buzzed again. He read for a couple seconds, then typed in another response and looked up. "Don't tell me, I don' wanna know. Five thousand for the bundle."

Akira let his weight roll to his heels and crossed his arms. "The price of gold goes for thirty yen a gram. This is a quarter kilo."

He let out a breath. "I'm not exactly an authorized commodity dealer. Five thousand."

"Seven thousand five hundred."

Morgana swayed on his feet as if preparing to pounce. "You get 'em, Joker."

Iwai straightened from his faux-relaxed slouch, a curl to the corner of his lip but a hard glint to his eyes. "You wouldn't be bringin' this stuff to a dude like me if you thought you could get market price anywhere. I'm not just offerin' five thousand, I'm not askin' where you got it."

Akira pursed his lips. "And you tell me all about Tsuda."

Despite the transfer student's expectations, Iwai leaned forward, elbow braced on the counter and steely gaze hard as the real metal. "You seem so… ordinary at first glance. Hard to imagin' a kid like you pullin' a switcheroo on the cops. Or tailin' Masa. You got balls, kid."

Akira took off his glasses to wipe a lens. "Or I could just be stupid."

Iwai burst out laughing. "Well, at least I know bein' full'a yourself ain't one of your vices." He pulled his stool a little closer and opened the register, setting down a five thousand yen note. "Me an' Tsuda go way back. Longer'n I've been fencing. Back when we were sworn brothers in the Hashiba clan."

The name leaped from his memory. Well, from the memories of Kaneshiro he had to see so he could open up a set of impromptu stairs for the other Phantom Thieves down in the vaults of Kaneshiro's bank. "One of the yakuza clans? I heard they scared the piss out of the Kaneshiros. Back in the day, anyway." Akira leaned against the wielded grating separating the customers from the realistic gun models on the other side of the counter, folding his forearms together as he smirked. "I always knew you were a muscle head."

Iwai chuckled. "The nerve of kids these days." He re-settled his cap on his head. "Well, he's still in, but I—"

The door swung open and a middle school student in a bland, navy-blue uniform walked in. "Hello," he said, his voice cracking.

Iwai's casual demeanor vanished. His back hunched and his fingers tapped on the counter as he shot a cool stare at the boy. "What the hell you doin' all the way down here? This ain't a study hall."

Akira blinked. "Didn't you just say customers were scarce?"

Iwai stood, leveling his index finger at the transfer student. "Shut your trap." The finger pointed to the squeaky-voiced boy. "You should be studying for your entrance exams."

Akira centered his glasses. "In June? Studying's important, but not at the cost of the entire year. Pick up a new sport, learn a hobby, build connections so you have an outlet besides high school."

The earnest kid's shoulders squared and he looked to the shop owner with renewed enthusiasm. "Exactly. I just wondered if you could use some hel—"

"Go home and study," Iwai barked, his expression stony.

A look of disappointment spread over Kaoru's face, every line slack. Avoiding eye contact, he tugged his left coat sleeve straight and trudged out the door.

Akira glanced from the door to the shop owner, swiped the yen note, and reached for his leather travel satchel. The diminutive team leader leaped inside just in time to make the opening before the Akira shouldered the bag. The shop owner shouted after him, but Akira ignored it and jogged out. "Hey, kid!"

The boy stopped just a little too close to the streaming crowd of central street for comfort, but turned and looked back into the dank alley. He tilted his head a little, suspicion in the narrowness of his eyes but curiosity perking his ears. "Oh, you're that guy who gave me back my wallet. How'd you hear my name?"

"I heard someone else say it. Probably one of your classmates, you two were talking as you got off the train," Akira answered. The humid air pressed down, but the real feeling of pressure intensified as he neared the crowds streaming by on central street's main thoroughfare. He wanted to approach and talk like a normal person, but the relentless cacophony of the crowd battered him and his heart thundered before he even got halfway.

Morgana popped out of the bag, paws wide on his shoulder. "What are you doing, Joker?"

Ignoring the team leader, Akira pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the door to Untouchable. "That your uncle?"

The boy tugged his navy blue school jacket straight, took one step closer, and squared his shoulders, looking the transfer student straight in the eye. "He's my father," the boy proclaimed.

Akira blinked. He'd seen kids puff up at family reputation or the things parents gave them, but few occasions of such simple, earnest association. The transfer student shifted his weight to his left foot. "Listen, uh… I may have sounded a little weird back then just deciding to talk to you same as your classmates. How would you prefer I call you?"

"Normally it would be Iwai, but you gave me back my wallet after somebody picked my pocket," the kid said, thought shining behind his dark eyes. "I mean, you even bought me lunch just for pointing out that grocer's. That's more than most of my classmates have ever done, so Kaoru seems fine."

Akira held his right hand below his belly and held out his satchel with his left to keep from throwing the small team leader around as he gave a bow. "Well you may call me Levy Tate, furniture mover."

Kaoru spat, devolving into full-body-shaking laughter in record time. "That is so dumb!"

Morgana looked up at him from the dangling satchel. "He's right about that."

Akira stood up, the corners of his own mouth quirking up. "And yet you're standing a little easier now, aren'tcha? You looked a little bummed back there." He gave a mild shrug and slipped his satchel back over his left shoulder. "In my experience, nobody turns down a groaner."

Kaoru straightened, chuckles subsiding. "I think you're right. But what's your name, really?" He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't… really remember from last time."

The transfer student fidgeted, knowing some people made things awkward when he introduced himself without his family name. Then again, that curly-haired upperclassman at Shujin took it, so why not try again? If the kid was Iwai's son, it would be easy enough for him to ask later and giving a stage name after already being dumb and giving his real name before would just make things awkward later. "Akira. You might as well go on and study, but don't knock yourself out."

Adjusting his bland, navy blue jacket, the middle schooler's smile dimmed a little. "I kinda wish there were more jokers like you around. Social types. It seems like all the kids in my class are all withdrawn. There's this one really lonely kid in my school who spends all his time playing video games." He tugged his left sleeve. "He just seems… kinda quiet and sad, but never talks to anyone."

Akira shrugged. He avoided video games because hours could fly by when he sat down for them. "Everyone's got their way of getting through the day. Maybe for him he can figure out video games but not people." He straightened the satchel strap over his shoulder. "Any likeness to your father?"

Kaoru straightened again as if challenged. "My dad is a great guy. He… may not be the most social, but he's always there when you need him." His phone buzzed and he pulled it out to check a text app. "Sorry, I got a group project. See you, Akira-san."

Akira's phone buzzed in his pocket, so he checked the incoming message as the middle schooler melded into the churning crowd.

Makoto opened a new thread in the Phantom Thief group chat. [I just finished a session with Doctor Maruki. It was much more calming than I expected.]

Ann popped up next. [I know, right? With everything going on, and Shujin making it mandatory, I thought it was going to be like a police interrogation. But he was really laid-back and good at listening.]

Akira texted, [That wasn't what Mishima said.]

[That might have just been nerd expectations,] Ryuji sent. [I know you're not buddy with counselors, and hearing about how hot he is from girls is SO annoying, but he sounds like a chill guy.]

Makoto replied, [Have you been, yet?]

Three dots bounced next to Ryuji's ID for several seconds. [No.]

[You should go,] Makoto sent. [You don't even have to talk about Kamoshida. I spent most of my time talking about how much you all have helped me.] A beat passed before she added, [He said I have a very robust support system.]

[I don't get it,] Ryuji texted.

Ann sent, [She means that we talk to each other and that's good.]

[That doesn't sound so bad. The last thing I want to do is rehash that piece of shirt Kamoshida,] Ryuji replied.

Akira's lips pressed into a thin line. At least Mishima understood that talking through problems didn't mend burnt bridges. [Be careful who you trust.]

Ann's ID popped up, three dots dancing next to her ID for a few moments before sending, [You should consider going, Akira. It would be good for you. Talking to a counselor doesn't make all the rocky parts go away, but it makes your next steps easier.]

Wednesday, 8 June 2016
Early Evening
Shibuya, Gigolo Arcade

Akira walked a burst of shots up from the chest to the face of another player in a face-covering mask. He ran out of bullets on the next player, making a sloppier dash at cover closer to the burned-out car his character crouched behind. He slapped the magazine well and stood, pulling the trigger before his character even rose. It didn't do any good as the obnoxious cheater, 0wner, dodged half the bullets and somehow ignored the rest long enough to blast Akira's character with a shotgun. When Game Over floated out of the darkening screen, he debated whether he wanted to keep practicing. Games were expensive.

Alliance Force Assembled sang out of his phone and he slipped his phone out of his pocket, Queen Togo on the caller ID. He swiped the call open and headed for the front where it was quieter. "Ian Fleecem of the Dewie, Screwum, and Howe law firm."

Silence stretched on, though after a couple seconds he could just hear her breathing as she ticked through something on her side. The sound effects of video games sounded all around him and he opened his mouth to explain when Hifumi jumped in first, "Oh! I get it!" He worried he annoyed her before a quiet chuckle just made it through the boisterous arcade around him. "You're as creative as ever, Akira-kun."

Without being able to see her, he couldn't tell if she was just being polite or genuine. Still, no reason to argue the point over the phone. Once he reached the at-the-moment quiet pachinko machines at the front, he replied, "What can I do for you?"

"I finished an… errand for my mother. There's a cozy second-hand bookstore in Jinbocho with a surprising variety of fiction, philosophy, and strategy books," she said, sounding humdrum about whatever she was about to propose. "Even if they don't have a good book on math for your studies, I'm sure the one across the street will."

Leaning against a machine, despite the fact that she couldn't see him he gave a smile. "For Queen Togo? Anywhere, any time."

She shared a chuckle and gave him the directions to Nagiuri.

He had to push and crowd-run his way to the train station in Shibuya, but the crowds thinned on the train up to the used bookstore in question. Akira expected the obvious professors and bespectacled nerds, but the number of women and children browsing the neighborhood suffused with bookstores surprised him.

A pair of girls in the dark, unfamiliar uniform of some other school walked past, their eyes glued to their phones. The one with long, curly hair shot a skeptical glance at her friend. "…but the head of a yakuza?"

The girl next to her pushed whatever article was on her screen at the other. "Not just the head. It's like the whole clan disintegrated. Peeps selling drugs for years had a change of heart and turned themselves in. The Phantom Thief is real!"

His footsteps came lighter and he proceeded to the used shop Nagiuri. Hifumi leaned against the register counter, browsing a heavy, leather-bound tome with age-yellowed pages. She still wore what he assumed was her school uniform, a short-sleeved blue shirt with a laurel wreath-wrapped star on the left breast, a loose black-and-white victorian-style bow tie, and a pleated black skirt that drew his eye to her shapely legs despite today's black leggings.

As soon as his eyes made a twice-over, he lingered back. Sure, his black long sleeves and khaki slacks helped him blend in elsewhere, but next to her perfect everything he felt slovenly.

The team leader betrayed his position by popping out, paws on his shoulder as he scoped out the front of the used book store. "What's the hold up, Akira? That looks like your math tutor right there."

Hifumi's deep green eyes snapped up and swiveled for only a moment before locking onto the guide-trapped-in-cat-guise. "Oh, you brought your cat." Her lips turned up and she closed the tome, setting it aside with one hand while her other reached out for the team leader's chin. "May I?"

Morgana let out a frustrated huff, but lingered long enough for her fingers to scratch his chin. When she retracted her hand, he glanced at Akira and explained, "I'm just going along with it to help you, Joker."

"He's very vocal." A hesitant chuckle slipped out of her. "You know, for some reason I pictured you as a dog person when we first met."

Akira shrugged, with the added benefit of getting the small team leader to return to the satchel. He took a moment to tear his eyes away from her and take in the humble bookstore. Bare bulbs hung down from wires dangling from the ceiling, and the stained tile floor had seen better days. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls. A dark wood table in the middle, books cramming the top and the boxes beneath. Pens and a display of common stationary sat next to the register at the front, but the entire rest of the humble space was crammed with books, in many cases stacks from the floor rising almost as high as his chest. Nicked paperbacks and worn hardbacks, leather-bound and a scattered range of fabric bindings. Not a single one following alphabetical order, year of publication, or any other order he could discern.

"Are you okay?" She leaned closer, then looked around. "Do you not like the smell?"

He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the disorganized mess, his hands twitching. "No, I love the smell of paper books. There's something safe and yet inviting about it." He reached out his hands as if ready to pick up a pair of tomes to get started. "But I am having a really hard time keeping from trying to organize everything."

Hifumi twitched and a laugh spilled out of her. "It's not that kind of book store, Akira-kun."

At the ease of her casual joy, he couldn't help a smile from working its way across his own face. He glanced down to the book she set on a stack rising all the way from the floor to the level of the register counter. "Was that what you came here to find?"

"Oh, no. I was just passing the time until you arrived." She flashed a toothy smile. "I had to wait for my porter to carry my books for me."

He chuckled along with her, telling his heart to stop racing. This wasn't a date, not that a nice girl like her would be interested in a guy like him. He shook his head and they paced inside the tiny store to browse.

He made it almost ten minutes before the master of shogi came around the table and put her hands on her hips. She cleared her throat, but something about her posture looked too theatrical for real annoyance. "Couldn't wait to sort the place?"

Akira set down The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. His face burned. "Force of habit. I made it until seeing two books of a series by Sergei Lukyanenko in different places." He stood and looked around. "I see a bunch of history, poetry, and something on planetary physics but no shogi strategy or math books."

Hifumi flashed him a pleased smile that had his face heating up before his embarrassed blush even had a chance to fade. She handed him a pair of leather-bound books. "I didn't see any math books either, but these are both on strategy so it's not a total loss. Shall we try the next establishment?"

The next hour passed as they trawled through used book stores for hidden treasures. Much to Morgana's amusement, Hifumi found Akira sorting books at three more of them, and listening in over more gossip about the Phantom Thief and Shibuya yakuza. Crossing the street to the next stretch of stores, the shogi queen came to a sudden stop when a sharp-eyed woman in a tan jacket stopped in front of her. She spoke with a frosty tone, "Hifumi."

The girl drew her arm back as if ready to shield herself, but caught it and stood straight. "Oh, hello. Taking some time to walk after your match?"

The woman stepped even closer, her dark eyes narrowing more. "There aren't any matches this week." Her eyes flicked up to Akira when he came to a stop beside her, giving him a glare before reforming a frosty gaze at Kanda's shogi queen. "I see you've got a new toy for the day. I suppose you've got your pick of them."

Hifumi blinked, her mouth drifting open just a little as she struggled to put her composure back together. "M-my apologies. I forgot the others don't have as complicated a schedule."

The woman tugged her jacket closer and power-walked off.

His fingers tightened over the short stack of books in his hand, but before he could say anything, Hifumi reached up to straighten the victorian bow tie at her collar. She turned part-way to him, but her eyes avoided his. "I-I'm sorry about that. She's my senior in the Shogi Federation. I-I defeated her in a title match two weeks ago."

Taking in a deep breath, Akira just held in a snap back at the bitch fading into the crowd. "You have nothing to apologize for, Togo-san. Human beings judge as part of our fundamental nature. It's a necessary thing for us to do things like use the right politeness to someone our senior. It only becomes a wrong thing when people like that get stuck on past events and dismiss others based on a problem with a different person." He let his glare after the woman.

Hifumi shook her head, her long, dark hair catching the red evening light. Her once sparkling green eyes remained dimmed as they fastened on the sidewalk. "But s-she's very friendly to everyone else. She was only unkind to you because you were with me." Her shoulders hunched, she turned and grabbed the books with sudden motion. "I-I'm sorry for today. I should be going to check on father."

She dashed into the crowd in the opposite direction from the rude woman. The transfer student took chase, his bag swinging on his shoulder.

Morgana popped his head out of the satchel and cried, "Stop rocking me like a pendulum, I'm gonna hurl!"

Akira slid to a stop and barked at him, "No throwing up in my bag!" By the time he looked up, Hifumi was gone. With the light fading and crowd heavy, he couldn't spot any sign of the swift girl. All at once, his crowd jitters came back. The shortness of breath. The dizziness from so many people moving so many ways. His hands tightened on his travel satchel and he turned for the trains to try to make what little day he had left for studying.