Persona 5: Daywatch

Friday, 22 July 2016
After School
Shujin, Front Gates

Akira slipped out the door, holding it open for the class president following behind. The disjointed babble grated on his nerves, already frayed from trying to out-think a team who still refused to back him up on changing Togo Mitsuyo's heart. If they would just get to it, the job might have been done by now. For now, he had to make a trinket sale so the team was ready to restock and gear up for Medjed's hit job.

Pressing to get out, somebody stepped on a girl's heel behind him, sending her tripping down the steps. She let out a panicked gasp, and her arms went wide.

With peripheral senses sharpened from sneaking through Palaces, Akira whipped around, stepping into her fall and bracing his feet to absorb her momentum. The black-haired girl's arm knocked him in the face, sending his glasses tumbling to the street below.

One of the freshmen stared in awe. "Whoa! He caught her like it was nothin'!"

One of the girls in his class next to him rolled her eyes. "He's not all that. Ushimaru-sensei still nails him right in the face with chalk."

Akira recognized the girl as one of Makoto's classmates, her black single side-ponytailed hair held by a white cartoon bear clip distinct even without the eye-searing pink skirt and suspenders he first saw her in. Takao, if Makoto's snooping was right—which it usually was. "You okay? Twist your ankle or something?"

She looked into his eyes, the panic from falling down stairs melting into surprised relief.

He didn't remember his glasses until he heard the snap below.

Takao looked down at him from her step-higher vantage point for another moment before she cringed at where the culprit fled the scene of the glasses-breaking. "Sorry. I mean, I'm okay. Sorry about your glasses." She reached back up for her shoe and, using the transfer student to steady herself, replaced it. She looked down past his shoulder for a beat before standing up on her own. "Hi, Prez."

Makoto stood on the street below, waiting for him with his snapped-in-two glasses. "Sorry, I missed the person who broke them. Do you need help getting home?"

Takao made a stifled noise, but clammed up as soon as the two other students looked at her. "I, uh, should be going. Don't want to interrupt anything." She took a last glance at the transfer student before merging with the departing crowd.

Akira grabbed for his glasses and held them close to evaluate the damage. One of the lenses was scratched and the other popped out, but the break on the frame seemed clean, so it should only take some superglue. He looked up at the class president. "I have one set of spares, but they're at the loft." She nodded, and he followed her close to the train station.

As they waited for the train, Makoto leaned close. "You want a hand the rest of the way?"

Morgana poked his head out of the transfer student's satchel. "You could help Joker carry trinkets. We're selling junk from the Metaverse to fund preparations for our future excursion."

When she nodded, he couldn't think of a sensible reason to tell her to go do something on her own. 'You voted with Ryuji against changing Togo's heart' would just lose credit he needed to turn her around. Hifumi still depended on him, so he tolerated her presence as they got on the Yongen-Jaya line. Her eyes were distant with thought for a moment, before she rejoined him in the sleepy neighborhood, keeping her voice down so the scattering of pedestrians couldn't listen in. "Had any luck with the last keyword?"

Akira scowled. Getting to sleep was never easy for him, but getting a head start on summer vacation's homework and struggling through the dictionary to brute-force his way into Alibaba's target ate hours. Trying to keep Hifumi's spirits buoyed without having anything positive to report just added to his worries. Akira started to say, "No," when a yawn crawled out of his mouth.

Morgana glared up at the transfer student. "This is why I keep telling you to go to bed."

Akira flipped off his satchel and offered no further conversation as they headed to Leblanc, where Makoto sat down for a cup and he went upstairs to change and switch out his school satchel for the loaded leather one. He pulled the minimalist-frame glasses from the canister-style case on the workbench, then rejoined her. Makoto looked like she wanted to say something, but he wasn't feeling charitable today. Akira maintained a swift pace to the train, where the crowd kept the Thieves from talking, and resumed his swift pace and barging through the crowd to Untouchable.

Makoto jumped in front of him to block the way into the door. Despite the intensity in her glare, she kept her voice down, "Akira. Look, you've been short with us since the vote."

"And you're surprised?" He snapped back, his volume a little higher. "I left Shinjou to walk away from a life revolving around hurting people at others' behest. We still know almost nothing about Sakura Futaba, and when I tried to question Boss about it, he wanted her left alone."

Makoto held up a hand, the wideness of her stance ready for a fight but her outward-facing palm a call to end it before one broke out. "I still think Alibaba is Sakura Futaba, but regardless, the group made its decision. By helping Japan, we give ourselves breathing room to engage other targets who aren't a threat to the entire economy. We may come across important information."

"Like what?" Akira snapped. He fished his phone out of his pocket, opening the image of Yusuke's charcoal drawing of the cityscape outside Togo's Palace. "Like this location?"

"What location?" a boy's voice broke through the chatter and bustle of Central Street. The two Shujin students spun around to see Kaoru, his thin book bag in one hand, a styrofoam take-out container in the other. He chuckled at their surprise and lifted his book bag hand in lieu of a wave. "Hi, Akira-san."

Makoto pushed the door open and stepped inside. The middle schooler followed, but turned almost as soon as he got inside to look at the transfer student.

Akira held out his phone, the picture of Yusuke's city-line sketch on it. "We're trying to figure out where this is."

Kaoru set the take-out container on the counter window, then turned back to the transfer student's phone and took it in hand. His gaze twitched a couple times as he scanned the image, then brightened. "Oh, this is the south parking lot for KFTV Studios. We were just there for a school field trip." He pointed at one of the high-rise buildings on the right. "This place has chocolate-chip waffles. Me and the guys got some before we went back home."

Judgement taking a back seat to the promise of resolution, Akira snapped up the Metaverse Navigator. The incomplete entry for Togo Mitsuyo waited in his search history. In the distortion rested 'Temple'. He selected the location field and typed 'KFTV Studios'.

"Target found."

He had just enough presence of mind to stop the Navigator before it could take him anywhere. His heart thudded in his chest, he felt weightless and dizzy at the same time. He slapped the phone against his chest as if to reassure himself it was real, tense laughter bubbling up out of him.

Kaoru arched an eyebrow. He glanced between the transfer student and student president. "Uh… is he okay?"

Akira sucked in a quick breath. Hold it together, Akira. You can save her. He sank down to one knee in front of the middle-schooler. "Kaoru-kun. If some day in the future you ever need a favor, anywhere or any time, you call me."

Makoto cleared her throat, her glare hooded and her crimson gaze on his leather travel satchel.

Iwai popped open his stir-fry takeout behind the welded grating. "Thanks for the grub, kiddo. See you at home." His plastic popsicle stick swung to the other side of his mouth, a faint upturn to one corner of his mouth. "You kids and your cell phone games."

Friday, 22 July 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

"Clearing," Akira tried in the dim of the loft.

The synthesized voice replied, the same as the last few hundred tries, "Condition has not been met."

"Cleaver," he said.

"Condition has not been met."

"Cleft," Morgana said from his spot next to the open dictionary.

"Condition has not been met."

"Clergy."

"Condition has not been met," the Nav replied with that infernal, steady sound. He'd have sworn it added more cheer each time just to mock him.

Akira tossed his phone to the table, where its rubberized case bounced it over the opposite side, falling at an odd angle to send it tumbling under the bed.

Morgana picked up the bookmark with his mouth and set it in the dictionary below clergy. "Joker? I appreciate the hard work you're putting into trying to get us into this Palace despite wanting to do another one, but you can't overwork yourself or you'll hurt the party's readiness by the time we make it."

"We're wasting our time! We already have a Palace we can get into!"

Morgana closed the dictionary and nudged it off the shogi board set up on the table in front of the couch. "You need a break. Why don't you set up a game? Practice for the next game you play with your tutor."

Akira took in a deep breath, then let it out. The team leader couldn't be this stupid. "Are you mocking me?"

Morgana held steady. "Joker, your tenacity can be a virtue sometimes, but if you get tunnel-vision, it becomes a problem just as much as Ryuji's fixation on glory. Take the night off and do something which has nothing to do with Medjed." His eyes gazed out at the bookshelf. "Teach someone else—that way, you'll have a better chance at teaching and playing against Togo."

Following the not-cat's gaze to Stratego, he went through the short list of people who'd come. Ryuji might have in the past, but if he saw the runner's face now, he'd be more likely to deck the girl-crazy boy. Makoto never took long to pick up on things, but he didn't even know if she could play chess and she felt like the mercenary-robot core of everything wrong with what the Phantom Thieves were becoming. At least Ryuji was obvious he didn't like the prospect of being led around by the nose. Akira couldn't quell the wonder if Makoto seemed okay with it because she used the very same tactics against them not two months ago.

Akira looked out across the room, the bookshelf tidy and the floor as clean as he could get it without involving waxing. He didn't need a maid, but Kawakami was more likely to be able to follow along than anyone else he could think of.

The call to Victoria went quick, but his listlessness grew as the thirty minutes waiting for her dragged on. He ran out of homework ten minutes in, then materials to make lock picks after another five. Prince Caspian mocked him with the moral simplicity of the main character and casual ease with which he stumbled over well-meaning allies. Being a recommendation from Hifumi just made him think of her.

The unlocked door to Leblanc swung open, and his teacher's voice drawled as she ascended the stairs, "Hiii, this is Becky!"

"You know," Akira said, setting the lockpicks in a small plastic box and covering it, "You don't have to fake the whole faux-chipper maid thing."

Kawakami slumped on her feet. "Ugh, thank god. Shujin doesn't pay overtime on weekdays for probationary teachers." She plopped onto the couch. "So I have to run to this stupid job after class. I had to clean bathtubs and walk six dogs at once before coming here. And on my off days, it's an endless stack of preparing quizzes and grading homework assignments."

The team leader hopped up on the work bench and pushed off the books positioned against the left side.

The worst possible thing happened: she caught one. The most incriminating one. Kawakami paused to read the spine of the new paperback. "You and Me: A Guide to Dating."

Morgana chuckled from the sheltered corner of the workbench and hopped down, slipping into the shadows.

Akira's growl rumbled at the team leader's maneuver. "You little piece of—!"

Smiling through her own tiredness, Kawakami offered his book back to him. "Congratulations, Kurusu-kun! I told you there was someone out there for you. How many times have you gone out?"

With the team leader hiding, Akira glanced up at his teacher in a ridiculous work costume. He wanted to tell her to butt out, but he paid five thousand to get her here, and yelling at the team leader would only make him seem crazy. He blew out a long breath and took the book. It felt heavier than yesterday. "We haven't. Her mother's…" He tried to decide how to either allude to or avoid discussing the fact his team wouldn't help him change the heart of the mother to the most important person on Earth.

"Doesn't approve of the relationship, huh?" Kawakami sat on the couch. "My mother was like that to the first boy I went out with in high school. She was pretty over-protective." She looked over him, her lips pursing at something. "What's wrong? Did you try to ask her out and things didn't work?"

"This was supposed to be about Stratego," he grumped, sitting down on the chair. He took the Stratego box he set on the shogi board. "Things aren't… very good for her right now. You know my record, some of the problems I've got. I don't even know if I should start. She's on a level way above anything I'll ever reach. I don't see how it could ever work long-term." He pulled the box closer, but couldn't stop his mouth, "But… I've never wanted anything so much."

A beat passed and he knew he shouldn't have said it. Akira's jaw clenched and he pulled up on the outer Stratego box to open it. The inner box squeaked, suction holding it in.

Kawakami's gaze bored into him for a moment.

Akira lifted and shook the outer box.

"Kurusu-kun," she said, her brows pinching.

Akira shook the Stratego box again. It squeaked, and the inner box dropped just a centimeter.

She pasted a smile, but her stance betrayed tension. "It can be good to have someone to impress, that can be a great drive. But you shouldn't worry yourself sick over—"

"How can't I?" He spat, dropping the box. A squeak of air emanated as the top dropped lower. "I have a criminal record. Shujin took me as a pity project to make themselves look better when Inuri expelled me. Hifumi earned a full math scholarship at Kosei and she comes from a good family. When I finally worked up the courage to tell her about my record, she didn't get it. She should have high-tailed it away. I don't understand what's wrong with her."

Kawakami tapped her fingertips on the shogi board always unfolded over the table before the couch. "Maybe she does understand. Maybe she's special because she can see beyond first impressions." She looked over him in the dim light of the loft. Her dark eyes probed his, though without a predatory sharpness. "Isn't this the reason you requested me? I'm in no position to say no to the money, but students shouldn't be spending money on something as questionable as a maid service." Now her gaze took a sharper edge. "Where do you even get the money? And are they hiring?"

Akira shot her a suspicious glance before giving a droll answer, "I sneak into a magical world and steal odds and ends, which I then sell on the black market in the real world."

"Joker!" Morgana's voice came from under the storage shelves past the stairs.

"Fine, don't tell me." Kawakami sighed. "You might be the only boy in Tokyo who is averse to maid outfits, and you're obviously sweet on this Hifumi girl. Why did you request me?" She crossed her arms. "Really."

"Maybe I wanted to slack off in class," he delivered with an insincere smirk.

Kawakami sat back in the couch. "You don't know how to slack off, Kurusu-kun. Your brain would explode if you tried."

Akira grumped. "Fine. I… wanted to find someone to play Stratego with. I wanted to be sure I knew how to teach someone else how to play, so when I show Hifumi I can bring my A game."

His homeroom teacher in the silliest costume gave a twisted smile. "I hope this Hifumi girl realizes how lucky she is. Make sure you actually tell her, okay?" She gave him a few moments to sputter before she reached out to grip the lower box shell. "Here, you pull up on the top. Let's do this!"

Saturday, 23 July 2016
Early Evening
Yongen-Jaya

Ann stepped off the train and reconsidered the weak air conditioning behind her. A pall of hot, humid air pressed down on her. She texted an arrival note to Akira, then fanned herself with her phone. "Ugh, this is my least favorite time of year."

"Hey," a sleazy man's voice came from further down the station. "If the heat's gettin' to a pretty thing like you, I got cold drinks an' a balcony pool."

She turned to the salaryman with his necktie dangling down both sides of his neck. Same old problem as usual. Ann rolled her eyes. "No thanks, I'm too old for kiddie pools."

He jogged a step closer and grabbed for her wrist, but she backpedaled away. "You ungrateful bitch!"

Jogging at the station from the neighborhood alley, Akira yanked the middle-aged guy away. "Beat it!"

The old guy glared at the transfer student as he came side-by-side with her, before scoffing and turning away.

Morgana popped his head out of the transfer student's leather satchel. "Yeah, you better walk away!"

Ann shook her head with a sad smile. "I can definitely see the guy who pulled a drunk off an innocent woman. How's the guessing going with Makoto?"

Akira couldn't have been out in the sun long, but his shirt was soaked below the arms and sweat beaded all over his face. "We're both going through the dictionary, but no luck so far."

Crossing her arms, Ann nodded. "That sounds like you two. Tenacious." She started fanning herself with her phone again. "Hey, Leblanc still open for iced coffees?"

He shook his head. "I can get you something, but we ran out of ice and milk. Boss closed up early to go out and pick up more stock." He pushed open the door to Leblanc, the sign reading Closed. "Want something?"

"Cold cherry soda?" Ann leaned against the bar. "So, no hits at all? Yusuke mentioned in the chat he and Morgana were joining you guys going through the dictionary, even if he's working on it from the dorms."

Akira shoved things back in place in the fridge, closed it, then stood and handed her the can. "And Ryuji said reading the dictionary sounded like a fate worse than death."

Ann smiled. "Yeah. That's why his mom locked his phone's spell checker on." She laughed, then popped the can open. She took just a sip and followed him up, where Makoto sat on the couch in front of a table with a shogi board, several books, and an open dictionary.

"Condition has not been met."

Frowning, Makoto looked up with weariness like she'd just run a marathon. "Oh, hi."

Ann forced a cheerful smile and pulled a box wrapped in shiny, faux-gold foil from her purse. "I thought you guys might need some pick-me-up, so I brought some chocolates. It's an assortment with berries and nuts and everything!"

Morgana hopped out of the transfer student's street satchel, onto the table. "You are such a considerate beauty, Lady Ann."

Makoto sat back with a sigh, her eyes coming to rest on the transfer student fanning himself with The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. "Ryuji and Mishima are right. We need just the smallest clue, either from Alibaba or Sakura Futaba – assuming they aren't the same person. We're at a standstill."

Akira's jaw tensed. "We have a Palace we know the name, location, and distortion for."

Makoto's palm slammed down on the table next to the dictionary. "We all voted! We've been at this for hours for a reason!"

The team leader's tail stood up, but his ears curled down as if this was an annoyance rather than new threat. "Stop fighting, guys!"

Akira's hands curled into fists. "I am the first one on the chopping block if we don't placate Alibaba, but we have jack shit to go on! When we have a Palace we can get into right now! We can save—"

Ann jumped in front of the transfer student glaring over the table. "Whoa, whoa, guys! Tempers are running hot…" She swallowed and took another sip to try to counter the humid attic air. "Hell, it's just plain hot. If we can't get help from Alibaba, why don't we try asking the target?"

Makoto, drinking water, almost spat a mouthful over the dictionary. After a minute of coughing, she managed, "What?"

Ann shrugged. "Kamoshida was a pervert with the whole school behind him… I mean, a lot of it," she amended when she saw the president's aggravated expression. "And Kaneshiro was a yakuza boss, but Sakura Futaba is just a girl. She might even need our help, if she's an abuse victim or something…"

Makoto gulped another mouthful of water to replace what she coughed earlier. "The target would have to be consciously aware of the distortion. And willing to help us."

Ann looked down to the box of fancy assorted chocolates in her hand. "We… could say we wanted to offer a gift. For taking you in and everything."

Makoto set her glass down. "But this is Boss's house."

Akira crossed his arms, his gaze boring holes in the wall. "Let's do it. The sooner we get this started, the sooner we change Sakura's heart and can get on to the next one."

Morgana looked at the assembled Shujin students. "Well, so long as there's no nay from Joker, I think we should try it. I'm worried what Alibaba meant by our mission failing if we waited any longer."

Yongen, Sakura House

Akira poked the buzzer again as Ann called up at the window, neither action getting a response. He frowned. "Maybe there isn't a Sakura living here. If we get any louder, we're liable to raise the dead."

Makoto squinted. "There are lights on." She pressed against the gate… and it swung open with a faint creak. She glanced at the others, then squinted into the dark of the thickening clouds in the fading evening. "The front door's open, too. Akira, does Sakura-san have any health problems?"

"Other than being old?" Akira reached down to his boot and slipped out a knife.

Ann slapped him in the arm and hissed, "Akira!"

He locked the blade open. "A burglar killed Hifumi's aunt and uncle. I'm not going in unprepared." A clap of thunder rolled over the sleepy Tokyo neighborhood. The class president jumped against his shoulder, any disapproval disappeared from her face, so Akira led the way in. When no sign of life greeted them, he called out, "Boss? Everything okay?"

Morgana hopped up on a set of shallow cabinets just past the entry and squinted into the gloom.

Soft light flickered from the open door at the end of the hall. Visions of bodies and blood sprang into his mind. "Oh, shit," Akira muttered. "Boss!" He raced down the hall. A small but cozy den lay beyond, a CRT television playing a commercial in the corner. A single recliner positioned in front of the TV, and a couch against the side wall, piled with boxes of computer components. While untidy enough to make his hands twitch, it didn't look like anybody had broken in or searched the place.

Makoto came to a stop behind him. "What is it?"

Akira let a long breath out and closed his knife. "Looks like a false alarm." Another peal of thunder rolled through the house, and the class president jumped again. "Sakura-san! It's me, Akira. If you're okay, just give a shout out." Just to make sure, he glanced in what might have been a guest room turned into storage for sacks of coffee beans and defunct restaurant equipment while the team leader dashed into the kitchen to check the rest of the ground floor.

Lightning flashed in the windows, and the power went out. The television went dark and silent behind them, but a feminine cry of distress sounded from the entryway.

Akira jogged out of a sitting room, double-took and pointed in the direction of the yelp when the blonde followed behind him. "Ann! You weren't just over there?"

Makoto's eyes were wide and her movements twitchy as she joined the others in the hall. "What's wrong, Ann?"

Ann growled. "Nothing's…" She froze. Her eyes widened in the dark. "T-there's someone there…"

Makoto turned in stiff, jerky motions to follow the model's wide-eyed gaze past her shoulder.

Lightning flashed, the light reflecting off the glasses of the short, straight-haired figure standing just behind the class president. The thunder almost covered up two shrieks. Makoto dove at the nearest person and clamped her arms around Akira. Her breathing sped up and she started chanting, "Savemesis!"

Ann turned the light on her phone on, shedding just enough ambient white to also light her smirk. "You two move fast."

"Savemesavemesaveme," Makoto mumbled faster and faster, her grip starting to hurt.

Akira shoved back to try to protect his ribs. "She's hyperventilating." He grabbed her shoulder with his one free arm but couldn't push her off. "Makoto, breathe deep!"

The gate banged open, then Sojiro hauled the front door open at the same time as the model dodged into the sitting room. "Futaba! You…" The restaurateur fumbled through a drawer near the front for a heavy flashlight. "Who the hell are you?" The light shone on the transfer student and trembling class president clinging to him. Sojiro swept the cone of light up, then down, and stared for long seconds. Then his stiff posture went slack. "I encouraged you to make friends, not to take friends to make out in my house."

The two students squawked, the embarrassment enough to make Makoto release the transfer student. "W-we're n-not… W-we didn't intend to intrude… S-sorry…"

Akira took in a deep breath to make sure his ribs weren't injured. "We were coming to say thanks for… everything." He pointed at the box of chocolates.

Sojiro glanced at the box, then back at the two students, dubious. "So how long've you two been dating?"

Akira side-stepped away. "What? We're not!"

She looked disappointed for a moment, but that might have been after-effects of her episode. "W-we're just friends!"

Sojiro brandished a Yeah, sure smirk.

Akira sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ann, back me up here. We just came to give the box to say thanks for giving me a place to go."

The model trudged out of the reading room and nodded with the box of fancy chocolates held up.

Sojiro's flashlight jerked from the class president to model, then back again. "You… and the Takamaki girl? And here I was worried you were totally helpless, kiddo."

Ann blushed, and she raised a hand as if to ward off the accusation. "What! That's not at all… Nobody answered the bell, the gate was unlatched, and the door was open. We were afraid you had a stroke or something."

Sojiro clicked the flashlight off, then flipped the light switch. The lights stayed dark. "The gate and front door?" When the model nodded, he sighed and set the flashlight on the hallway cabinet. "I guess I have been getting a little more forgetful lately." The lights flickered back on. He crossed his arms and shot a searching gaze at the transfer student. "You kids didn't try to go upstairs, did you?"

"No, sir," Ann shook her head.

Makoto held her hand against her chest and took in a deep breath. "Someone else lives up there, doesn't she?"

Sojiro took off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. He took a simple breath, but in that moment, under the hall light, he looked older than the transfer student had seen. "Futaba. She's my daughter."

Makoto took a step forward, took the box of chocolates, then held them out and bowed. "We're very sorry, Sakura-san. Could we meet with Futaba-san? I want to apologize for frightening her earlier. We were just concerned."

Instead of answering, the middle-aged man settled his glasses on and leaned against the wall.

Ann glanced at the others. "Is she sick?"

When the restaurateur kept looking down, Akira looked over the drooped shoulders and wrinkled forehead. "That's a 'yes' according to the ISM, isn't it?"

Sojiro patted his pocket for his keys. "Let's not have this conversation here in the genkan. This is the kind of talk where people need to sit. I don't much want her to overhear it, either," he finished with a glance up at the ceiling.

Yongen, Leblanc

Sojiro opened the door and trudged to his position behind the cash register out of rote habit. His glasses were clean, but for some reason, it felt harder to look out than before.

He forgot where that little brat was until he heard the transfer student ask from the sink, "You want me to make coffee for everyone? I'm getting 'this is serious' vibes. I'll pay."

Sojiro let a heavy breath out. "Stop trying to be a hero, kid. Siddown." He waited until the boy set the apron back up on the hook before the restaurateur braced both hands against the inner counter. "Hoo, boy. Where do I even start?"

Akira sat down next to the blonde, and tugged at the back of a glove in uncharacteristic silence. "With Futaba's mother?"

Sojiro took off his glasses and pressed the pad of his fingers against one eye. His headache still thudded, but felt more tolerable. "I knew Isshiki a while before I met Futaba. Wakaba was always a woman of her own sort. A razor-sharp mind, stern and a little flighty in a socially-awkward way." He wiped his glasses with a polishing rag and set them back on. "But she had this… sense of herself. She always knew she wanted to make an impact, but wasn't desperate for random people's approval." The image of her looking over a cup of coffee at him with a teasing smirk surfaced in his mind, and he let out a wistful breath. "She was an incredible woman. When she fixated on something, nothing could get in the way of her figuring it out."

The Niijima girl clasped her hands on the counter. "Big Sis has to work and take care of me, and I was already fourteen when Father died. It must have been so hard for her."

The boy went quiet, his eyes deep in thought. He hadn't made a pun, not even a wisecrack about only trusting oneself. This was serious. Sojiro cleared his throat. "Some people change when they hit certain life stages. Getting married, having the first kid. Not Wakaba."

Akira tugged at a glove. "The fact that lawyer could threaten to revoke your parental authority tells me you're not Futaba's biological father. Who was? Is he why Futaba's hiding out now?"

Sojiro shrugged, frowning when the question brought to mind his own attempts to get an answer out of Wakaba. The way she withdrew, her shoulders hunched and chin wrinkled up. He never really had the heart to press for why she seemed as disgusted with Futaba's father as Shido. "There was no father. I did ask, but she pushed the conversation on to another topic with an insistence which told me it would be better for our relationship to leave it in the past." He paced over to the mugs to grab one and start polishing it, just to give himself something to do with his hands. "Didn't make her any less a mother. She loved that spunky, awkward kid."

Akira tugged at his other glove. "Up until the day she jumped into traffic."

The two girls both squawked. "You knew her mother?"

The boy held up his hands. "I knew Director Isshiki had a kid, I didn't know she was Futaba!"

Sojiro felt his hands clench the mug. He tried not to glare at the boy – it shouldn't be a surprise he'd only hear the suspicious version from his no-good father. "First, let me set the record straight. I don't care what the sycophants said. Wakaba loved her daughter. They didn't need a dad to be a family who loved each other. No way would she ever commit suicide, especially not like they said. I saw the security camera footage myself. Wakaba was walking her out to Duck Burger. She looked… funny. Like she was drunk, but she always slept in the day after drinking instead of going out. And she didn't run out into traffic, she… I'd swear she died on her feet and her husk shambled in front of that Sonoda truck."

Akira's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "Wait… Futaba was there when Director Isshiki died?"

The blonde covered her mouth with her hands, her face pale.

Sojiro frowned. This happened too long in the past for these kids to be getting sick over it. It wasn't even their problem. "Futaba's extended family kept booting her from one house to the next. Nobody wanted to take responsibility for her, so I took custody. At first, she wouldn't talk louder than a mumble. It took a while just for her to converse normally over the phone. I just wish that meant things were getting better, but I'll still hear her in her room, crying and saying, 'I'm sorry, Mom…'. At first, I tried to help her talk through it, but she'll go to pieces when something reminds her of Wakaba. So now, I just let her spend all day on the computer, or watching that show."

Makoto cleared her throat and tried to center her pose. "I assume you've already taken her to doctors? What did they say?"

Sojiro turned the mug over in his hands. "She won't set foot outside the house. I even tried bringing doctors to her, and she shut herself up in her room. Wouldn't talk to me for a week and didn't eat for days. Scared me so bad I just stopped trying to force the issue."

"Oof," the blonde said, with all the appropriate gravity of the conversation.

Sojiro set the mug down. "I hope you can understand now why I'm rooming you in the loft instead of my house."

Akira gave a cool shake of his head. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't have let me in."

The boy may be dumb as a post about other things, but he's honest. "She had to go through too much with her mother and family before. All I want is to give her a safe place."

The Niijima girl brushed a hand through her hair. "I think that comes from the best place of your heart it could. But it is concerning she's been retreating rather than venturing out of her comfort zone."

Before the proprietor could say anything to the little whelp, Akira clasped his hands and braced his elbows on the counter. "You've talked about family before. What do you want?"

Sojiro let the breath flow in and out of his nose. Between the restaurant and trying to shelter Futaba, it was a struggle to piece together the words. "Not to sound like a Ghibli ripoff, but… I want Futaba to be happy. I want her to laugh and do normal people things." He picked up the polished mug. "But I don't see how she can have any of that if she isn't safe."

Niijima stood from her seat on the bar stool, then bowed deep. "We're really sorry for prying into your personal affairs." She looked to her left at Akira and Ann. "It's clear by now Boss didn't have a heart attack, and his home is the safest place Futaba can be. Come on, Akira. You can walk us to the station."

Yongen, Back Streets

Makoto strode out of the coffee shop, the restaurateur turning one way as the students turned toward the train station. That the web involved Akira, as well as the impossibly tragic story of Sakura Futaba, wrapped around her even more than the summer's evening heat. Was it all true? Did Akira know about it?

Cyclic plastic clicking sounded behind her, and Akira grabbed her shoulder to pull her to one side. An older woman on a bike with playing cards in the spokes raced past them.

Makoto shook her head. Akira might have been many things, but a deliberate part of a conspiracy? Even with his temper, his greatest problem was impulsive, not calculated evil. Instead of resuming the walk to the train, she looked over the transfer student who helped pull her out of her self-pitying helplessness. He looked just as shocked as the model at the day's revelations. "Is Boss leaving anything out?"

Akira glanced up at her, then crossed his arms and leaned back against the concrete wall. "He's probably not remembering everything, but best as I can tell, he's been honest about everything."

Ann stepped into view from behind. "I'm sure of one thing. He treasures Futaba. No way is he abusing her. Her mother's death has to be the root of her Palace, there's no way it's Boss."

Akira pulled out his phone, but stopped short of bringing up the app. "Even if we could figure out her distortion… I question whether changing her heart would fix the problem. Hell, look at me. If you guys could magic into my brain and zap my memory of my old bastard, I'd still have my criminal record, truancy record, and all the reflexes built up from growing up underneath the old bastard's boot."

Makoto let out a heavy breath. As despondent as it was, he had a point. "Even so, I can't imagine the trauma Futaba must have gone through, seeing her own mother die."

Akira's voice was low, a dangerous thrum to it as he said, "Not just die. Didn't any of you read Akechi's reports on suspicious deaths, like the CFO of Duck Burger? Hear what Boss-san just said? Director Isshiki didn't just die. It sounded like a mental shutdown." He clenched his gloved hands. "You guys available tomorrow?"

Ann brushed a voluminous pigtail off her shoulder. "I'm on a shoot."

Akira gave a clipped, dismissive nod. "Fine." He spun on the class president. "Makoto, be here as soon as you can tomorrow. We're going to crack that distortion and save Futaba."

AN: While I tend to keep Daywatch strictly to Akira's perspective, there are some advantages from being able to probe the uninhibited perspective of others sometimes. That made Sojiro and Makoto even better narrators for a few scenes in this chapter. What did you think?