Persona 5: Daywatch

Tuesday, 2 August 2016
Early Morning
Yongen, Leblanc

Spoons and cups clinked down below. Akira stretched, noting the strange angle of the light in the window. He left his alarm off just for today to try to get a full night's sleep, due to Morgana's plans to bring the Phantom Thieves right back into Futaba's Palace. From the eyedrop-resistant dry crust on his eyes and creaky sensation in his joints, it didn't work.

Down in the cafe proper, a handful of locals and salarymen, about to head to their summer jobs, drank their morning coffee. In the middle booth sat a familiar dyed-blond head in a familiar red shirt, sitting across from a familiar plump woman already in her clinic outfit. He gave her a nod. "Sakamoto-san." He gave a neutral look at the track star and pulled out his phone. "Yo." [What the hell are you thinking, bringing your mother to an operation area?]

Ryuji gave a casual grin, then checked LINE and looked up at the transfer student in street clothes. "Well, it ain't like I was gonna bring her in—"

Akira plopped down on the bench, close enough to Ryuji the elbow jabbed in his side wouldn't be obvious to the woman across from them.

Ryuji's mother noticed the conspiratorial closeness of the two boys. "Oh, you're here early, Kurusu-kun. Though considering how good the coffee is, I can understand." She reached for her cup and took a sip, then went back to her curry and rice plate.

Ryuji's reply text came in. [She asked where we were hanging out. I didn't expect her to come with, today!]

Cup still in hand, Sakamoto-san's eyes flicked over the two teens. "You boys aren't having a disagreement, are you? You're too young and it's too hot."

Akira gave a cheeky grin. "Don't you worry about us runners, Sakamoto-san." [The entire point of having a hideout is to meet and do business WITHOUT being observed.]

Ryuji shot him a narrow gaze. "C'mon, it ain't like I'm—" He coughed when the transfer student elbowed him. At last, he took to his phone to send a silent answer. [What are you acting like I'm handing out free membership cards for? You just let in Yusuke and Makoto, and they basically walked in on us!]

Akira's smile turned a little wooden. [The Metaverse is dangerous, and the police would manufacture evidence to put you guys away for years. I don't want you guys to get caught.]

A chiming came from Sakamoto-san's phone and she slammed back the remainder of her coffee, then took her purse and stood. "Time to wash up and go, but you boys really should spend more time talking to the people sitting right next to you and less on social media." She stood and rushed to the washroom.

Only then did the group chat buzz, Ann at the top to report arriving at the Yongen-Jaya station. Yusuke and Makoto followed once they boarded their trains to Shibuya, but waiting for them still left a while.

Ryuji swallowed a final bite of curry. "This is good shit. How come you never bring some into the Metav—oof!"

Akira retracted his elbow. "I… never really thought about bringing food in. That TAP soda was just something I had in my school jacket at the time."

The front door bell jingled as Ann trotted inside. The open-shoulder blouse she wore showed off her slim figure, the royal blue color complementing her softer blue eyes. And it was hard not to notice how she filled it out. She gave a confident smile. "Hey, guys. Am I too early?"

Akira found himself tongue-tied.

Ryuji gave her a nod, though his eyes also stopped on her chest. "Yo, Ann. Everyone else is still on the way. You good to go?"

She sat down across the table from them at the same moment as Sakamoto-san came out of the washroom. The middle-aged woman gave them a smile and nod, paid at the register, then hurried out.

Ann shot a hooded gaze at the track star.

Ryuji threw his hands in the air. "I didn't invite her, 'xactly. She wan'ed to find out where I was goin' an' already knew 'bout Akira 'cause he stayed over."

"Uh-huh," Akira threw out, dubious.

Ann just shrugged and waved to the proprietor. "Could I get a house blend?"

Ryuji brought up a phone game and lounged back in his spot. "I already bought us a thermos."

She slid into the booth. "I'd still like some." She smirked at his disgusted grimace and the group settled into idle banter until the last members showed.

Tuesday, 2 August 2016
Morning
Futaba's Palace, Stargate Camp

The sun beat down on them, and despite being a desert the air felt heavy with moisture. Not for the first time, Akira wiped at his forehead as the cognition of O'Neil led them to the command tent. They paused at the south entrance until the tall, dark form of Teal'c stepped out, staff weapon in hand, and gave them a nod. Inside, Daniel and Carter stood behind and flanking General Isshiki, their tan field uniforms contrasting her dark blue dress uniform.

It unnerved him a little how the formation was identical to First Prime Sojiro and his Shadow Jaffa. The woman he remembered as director of the Blue Cove research center looked at them. The real one always had a sorting and filing behind her eyes, as if she juggled something out of anybody else's view, but this one's eyes glared at him with a heat he'd never seen her turn on any human being in the real world. "I have important business for Stargate Command. I told you to stay out of my teams' way."

Ryuji's grip on his shotgun tensed. "We have, bitc—"

"Reaper!" Morgana cut in. He hopped up on the conference table to look at the others eye-to-eye. "We have not even seen any of your teams in or around Futaba's pyramid." He crossed his arms. "We've infiltrated all the way to the hangars. How exactly were you planning on fighting without moving anybody in?"

General Isshiki sneered at them, a harshness which would have fit his father, but not the practical real-world woman. "Children. You don't destroy a mothership with sidearms. The Daedalus will be here in days to obliterate that abomination. Her crimes go against nature itself."

Akira pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. "Fu—Isis isn't an evil System Lord, she's a Tok'ra trapped by fanatic Jaffa!"

"You gullible fool." General Isshiki's teeth bared. "She killed her mother!"

The computers spaced around her side of the tent whirred, and dozens of voices streamed out of them: "She's dead because of you!" "You killed her! Your own mother!" "It's your fault!"

Plasma zipped outside, and both SG-1 cognitions flanking Isshiki held a hand to their earpieces. Carter looked to the general, "Prime Youji's attacking early, General."

Another zip, this time punctuated by a burst of a water tank in another tent. Gunfire roared back from several angles along the perimeter of the camp.

Akira lifted his P90 and glanced to the leader, who drew his folded crossbow. "Come on, guys!" They dashed outside and raced to the camp perimeter. A legion of Shadow Jaffa encircled the camp, dozens rushing down as a handful provided cover-fire with their staff weapons. The zipping plasma came faster as more settled into positions.

Then enormous plasma blasts lanced down in wild, paired bursts into the mess tent, and a Death Glider screeched over the camp.

General O'Neil, tube launcher already in hand, lined up and fired. The missile lanced out and curved up into the space fighter, detonating it in a brilliant fireball before the wreckage sailed out of view over the dunes.

A yellow bolt of plasma flitted just past his head, and he dropped to the ground.

Akira looked out, trying to remember what Hifumi taught him about trajectory to trace the shot back to a Jaffa with the full silver hawk helm. He lifted his P90 and squeezed a quick burst into its chestplate.

Morgana put together the situation at the same time and shouted to the Phantom Thieves, "Protect the rocketeers! We'll use their cognitions to help turn the fight around!" He unfolded his crossbow, then summoned Zorro as he set to loading it. The over-muscled Persona psychokinetically picked up a Shadow Jaffa and slammed it into another Horus Guard.

Ryuji grinned beneath his skull mask. "This is even better than Gun About! Captain Kidd!"

Another roar preceded a Death Glider lining up on the Phantom Thieves, but the skeletal privateer rocketed at it, wind billowing his tattered sails before he swung his oversized cutlass through the crescent-shaped fighter. Fire blossomed out, and the bisected fighter plunged into the camouflaged camp's perimeter, throwing up clouds of sand.

Bolts of flame and ice joined the outgoing fire. Instead of wondering why none of the Stargate cognitions were panicking at the Personas, Morgana dove into cover of a tent behind the longcoated boy. "Joker! This is your scene – what should we focus on?"

Akira blasted another Shadow Jaffa with a short burst, then paused to examine the battlefield. "The regular masked goons seem like conscripts – stupid, with terrible accuracy." He spotted his quarry and peered down the prongs on the top of his gun at another hawk-helmed Jaffa, a quick burst knocking it into dissolving smoke. "Those Horus Guard – the bird-head guys – are the only ones stopping and aiming for the rocketeers."

As soon as he pointed it out, more screaming crescent-fighters descended on them from the sky, and a rocket lanced into one. Goemon, floating just over the tents, blew into his oversized pipe, and a bolt of lightning blazed into another Death Glider.

Morgana nodded and zipped back to talk to the others as the Thieves' gunfire blended into the cognitive defenders. Shadow Jaffas collapsed into dissolving smoke, but a few swelled and transformed into Shadows from the pyramid.

Afternoon
Futaba's Palace, Stargate Camp

Akira ducked a Shadow Jaffa's swinging staff weapon, springing forward to plunge his oversized survival knife into the chainmailed belly where the symbiote pouch would be. Another Shadow collapsed into smoke, and he sent his Anubis against another clump of Shadows charging around the burning remains of the mess tent. As if to complicate things, the wind picked up again, pelting everyone with sand.

Another snake-woman surged, clawed hands swiping at him before a baseball bat smacked into her face and dissipated the transformed Shadow. Spent machine gun hanging from his shoulders, Ryuji bashed another annoying Shadow thief with a bag of sleep powder, then lifted a P90 he stole from an injured Stargate cognition and shot down another Shadow Jaffa. "Fox's got the last of our coffee. Dude's gonna hafta piss like a racehorse if we get outta this."

Another three Shadow Jaffa charged through the smoke of the burning mess tent, but this time a pudgy Jaffa in gold followed them, red light glistening from the hawk helm's ruby eyepieces.

Akira turned his P90 on it, shooting through one Shadow to get a long burst into Second Prime Youji.

The cognitive reflection of Isshiki's cruel brother flinched, but straightened when the gun clicked empty. "Pathetic vermin." He stopped less than a pace from the longcoated boy. "I'll enjoy pulling you out of the sarcophagus and torturing you after I kill you today."

Akira blinked some sweat out of his eye and tossed his P90 to the side, then surged at the fat man in gold armor. He might have been faster before, but after hours of fighting legions of Jaffa and Death Gliders, his limbs felt leaden.

Prime Youji slapped his knife-hand away and followed up with a palm strike right into Akira's face. A few feet away, his Anubis dissolved into motes of light. The cognition flicked his fingers wide and claws extended from his slender metal-plated gloves, then swiped as the mask re-formed over the longcoated boy's face.

Akira dodged back, his movements still sluggish. One of those claws scraped over the mask instead of through his eye. The rest tore gashes in his cheek, and his momentum took him to the ground.

Youji tensed to tear into the downed Thief, before a baseball bat plinked against his armored hawk-headed helm. The helm's beak head perched high above his real skull snapped towards Ryuji, eyes glowing red.

Ryuji swung another blow, putting all his body into it, but the Second Prime parried it with his plated arm, then swung back with a 'thump', sending the Thief tumbling and blood splattering.

Youji flicked open the claws on his other hand and stomped on Akira's leg to keep him from dragging himself back to his fallen knife. The longcoated boy let out a cry of pain.

A spark flew as a bullet struck his ornate chest plate, and Youji looked up through the blowing sand to see the cognition of Daniel Jackson step out of the blowing sand, with both hands bracing his pistol. He fired again and again, each bullet drawing a grunt of pain.

Then the pistol clicked empty.

Youji flicked his head and shoulders, his golden helm splitting and folding back, retracting into the ornate collar. Teeth bared in a snarl as he spat, "That. Hurt. Now, die."

He only made it one step before Daniel backpedaled. "Carter!"

The short-haired blonde stepped out of the swirling storm, her eyes squinting against the pelting sand and her P90 steady. She fired long burst after long burst into him, clustered holes opening up in his golden armor.

He snapped his staff weapon at her, the discharge pod opening with an ominous crackle.

Akira leaped in, stabbing his oversized survival knife up into the Second Prime's armpit and drawing a cry of pain. He yanked his knife out and threw himself back.

Zorro dove down from the blowing sandstorm, his rapier skewering the armored cognition with the sound of tearing metal.

"Raksha!" Akira called out, struggling through his pounding headache to push a Persona back out. The red-clad fighter coalesced, standing just as tall as the cognition, before lifting its curved, twin swords.

Youji twirled his long staff weapon like a bo, shuddering under the Persona but blocking or parrying every slash.

His focus left him unprepared for Ryuji's two-handed power swing, the aluminum baseball bat cracking across the golden chain-mail coif. The blow sent the cognition stumbling, and both of Raksha's swords bit deep into his arm and side.

Carter's P90 roared, the long burst walking up his chest plate until a few rounds slammed into the Second Prime's face.

Youji stumbled back, hand clapping over the wounds leaking smoke and falling to his knees. "You… fools. I am… the strength of Isis. I only return hate… to the world that hates."

"No," Morgana spat back, pacing out of the smoke billowing at a steep angle from the mess tent. "You're just unrestrained hate who doesn't even know if it should be directed at Futaba herself or the world hurting her. She needs to breathe easy, not to be choked to death by you!" He held out his crossbow, bayonet gleaming in the fire, "Phantom Thieves, all together!"

Despite their exhaustion, Ryuji, Akira, and Morgana threw everything they had left at the cognition, and at last it collapsed into dissolving smoke.

The Thieves fell to their knees, but the sounds of plasma and gun fire both came to a halt. After catching their breaths, they reconvened at the south entrance to the collapsed command tent.

General O'Neil handed the longcoated boy his P90 back. "This is a trusty weapon. Don't forget it next time." He looked to the short team leader. "SG Six, Seven and Eight are pursuing the Jaffa, but they've scattered to the desert. I think your plan's crazy, but if you wanted to sabotage the System Lord's Ha'tak, now's your best chance."

Makoto nodded, sweat dripping down her face. "I think we should take it. We had to have gotten almost to the bridge last time, this might be enough to secure our infiltration route."

Ryuji chuffed, though kept his focus on applying a bandage to the bleeding gashes left from Prime Youji's clawed gauntlet.

Ann pushed up her mask to wipe underneath. "I second the motion."

Morgana looked around, beaming with pride. "You guys have come so far so fast. All right, let's do it!"

Afternoon
Futaba's Ha'tak, Top Level

The Phantom Thieves trotted down the empty hallway to the command center. After the ambush their first time, everybody kept tense hands on their weapons despite the total absence of Jaffa within the pyramid ship. Akira led them through the familiar corridors to the Pel'tak, but this time Do Not Enter tape barred them in the same slipshod manner as her door in the real world. He tapped the open sequence, but instead of a soft electronic click to confirm the sequence as the stone door slid open, the buttons went dark.

He tried again. No response. Akira stepped back. "Rider, could you try it? I don't want to take the chance that I'm entering the open sequence incorrectly."

Makoto grunted in affirmation and they switched. Her finger tapped hard against the buttons, and nothing happened. She grunted, then looked down. "Where's the crystal circuitry access panel?"

Akira swallowed and looked all over the wall. "I don't think there is one." He drew his oversized combat survival knife, then jabbed and scraped at the wall beneath the buttons, but just left a thin scratch.

A shimmer in the air preceded Shadow Futaba decloaking, her royal Egyptian armor glinting from the wall sconces. She held her arm against a golden bracer, her eyes glowing gold and voice reverberating as she stared down at them with tired disappointment, "So now thieves come to plunder a System Lord's tomb."

Akira just stopped himself from pulling the trigger. Apophis had one of those cylindrical personal shields, and he was certain she would have the same thing. Bullet ricochet would just lead to one of the team getting hurt. "So, what's left? We beat up your two lieutenants. If you want us to save Futaba, show us the Treasure so we can steal it and be done with this!"

Shadow Futaba brushed back her long, copper-red hair. With a disappointed roll of her eyes, she spread her arm out to the Pel'tak door. "This is my Treasure."

Ryuji's eyes widened under his unsettling mask and he looked around. "How the fuck 'we gonna steal a whole room?"

Yusuke, seeing the longcoated boy's stance, lowered his own rifle and came to a stop next to him. "It is the existence of a Treasure which locks her life around a particular distortion. Could we buy some mock explosives from Untouchable and destroy this place?"

Morgana folded up his crossbow. "As long as we make sure not to kill her Shadow in the process, that could work. A pyramid lost in the desert could also represent part of the state of her cognition, but this is technically a space ship. If we could fly it away from this desert, that might also do. I guess a big command center like that could represent the will to fight, flee, or stand as the Palace Ruler wanted."

Shadow Futaba gave an abashed hum. "I cannot give to you what you seek."

Ann let go of a green-and-maroon wall curtain she was peering behind. "Why can't you just let us in? You are Futaba, don't you want her to change? To live?"

Morgana shook his head. "She's a part of Sakura Futaba. People are of divided mind all the time – that's why cognitive dissonance exists. Even the way that angry cognitive Prime disappeared just like a Shadow means he can come back."

Shadow Futaba nodded. "You have damaged him and all he represents, but the way shall be open to you only for a few days." She waved a hand and a holographic projection sprang into existence between them, showing a star-field with a tiny brown marble in the center. A red arrow ticked a centimeter closer from the edge towards the tiny orb in the center. "The threat is not yet quelled. Giving Futaba a purpose has allowed her to distract herself, but her wish to die has only been staved off. If Nyx will not come for her, she will… make for her own departure." She waved her hand and the holograph disappeared. Those gold eyes settled on Akira. "Futaba is the one who keeps everyone out. Only she can let you in."

Morgana nodded. "Then we'll need to change Futaba's cognition in the real world. We need to rest and restock, but we'll be back. We'll change Futaba's heart." He looked up at the other Thieves. "We have our infiltration route. Let's head out."

Tuesday, 2 August 2016
Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

Alliance Force, Assemble! interrupted the oppressive heat, fought by the cold currents from his AC unit and brought Akira out of his nap. He felt like his lips were glued together for a moment before he pulled them apart with a ripping feel, then yawned. He reached up for his phone, wondering why it said 'Crossroads Bar' for a moment before he remembered having applied there, then being too busy to show up for weeks.

Sudden panic shot through him and he jerked upright and answered, praying inside he hadn't just pissed her off and lost a job. "Accounting Department, Ed Amame."

A snort, then a voice which reminded him of tumbling gravel came through the phone as Lala said, "Is Kurusu there?"

He kicked himself mentally for not reigning himself in. "Yes, speaking."

"Kaho-chan called in sick and I've got stock coming in today," she said, sounding just a bit out of breath. "I know I said come by when you've got time, but I need hands on deck."

Akira cleared his throat to try to keep from sounding like he'd just gone to sleep. "On the way."

"Great, kid," she said, before holding her phone away and calling to somebody on her side, then hanging up.

Morgana shook his head as he peered up from his cushion on the bottom of the bookshelf, while the transfer student ripped off his wrinkled shirt and yanked another from the rolling closet. "What's up, Joker?"

"I have a job," he said almost without breath, cinching a belt. "But not if I can't get up to Crossroads yesterday."

The team leader stepped out and hopped up to his day satchel on the table next to the stairs. Akira decided not to argue and scooped him up in the bag as he dashed downstairs, exclaimed to Sojiro, "Gottagotowork!" and caught the train.

Tuesday, 2 August 2016
Evening
Shinjuku, Crossroads Bar

To Akira's relief, the crowd at the bar seemed smaller than the last time he visited. A handful of people soaked themselves in booze, with about a dozen people scattered around the ground floor nursing drinks. The dim lights and sedate internet radio music did give a calm quality absent from the rat race outside, and all of the patrons seemed beaten down by a callous world outside.

The kitchen door swung open and Lala shuffled out and pulled Akira close to whisper in his ear, "Left store room, left stack. It's got the clipboard on it." She stepped away and smiled out at the miserable salarymen and women here to drown their sorrows. "So sorry to make you wait. Truck broke down yesterday, so I'm back and forth."

Akira slipped out the back and moved a stack of boxed-up liquor from the loading docks to a refrigerated storage room just past the kitchen. A man in a reflective vest hauled another set of boxed wine to the right of the door, but from the gaps in the checks on the inventory receiving sheet, he assumed Lala would check those later. After a few minutes of carrying and sorting boxes into the flimsy shelves, Lala trotted into the back and picked up the clipboard.

Akira finished the first stack and headed back to the bar to make sure somebody had an eye on the customers.

It looked almost the same as when he ducked back to move inventory, but a woman in a pink evening dress slouched on one of the bar stools, one elbow braced on the counter as if sitting up on her own was too much effort, the other tracing the rim of her tall drink glass. Once her dark eyes met his grey ones, she gave a coy smile and leaned onto her hand. "I'm impressed Mama Lala hired such a cutie."

Akira's face warmed, but he felt his body tense. Alcohol loosened tongues, but nobody gave a complement expecting to get nothing in return. He pasted on a smile he didn't feel and got started washing glasses. "You're not so bad yourself."

Her coy smile widened, something about her stance and visage lightening. "Well, now. This one has potential."

Akira set the glass upside-down on a plastic tray next to the rinse sink. "You sound like you've made comparisons before. Meet a lot of people at work?"

"Almost everybody in and out of KFTV goes through Information and Scheduling." She looked surprised for a moment, glanced at her white wine, then shot him a sly look. "You're not bad, Cutie. Even if I've got a handicap."

He gave a small shrug, flicked another rinsed glass, then took a threadbare towel from a nook under the counter and started wiping off the spots of water.

The woman brushed back a lock of hair slipping out of her high hair bun. "You like listening. That's already an improvement on most men." She ran one finger around the rim of her glass. "Some people love talking, but so few are really good at listening."

There was something searching in her gaze which made it hard to hold eye contact, so he set down the dry glass and started washing a goblet.

She took another deep sip from her wine glass, then gave a show frown. "Now that's no good. Women like confidence in a man."

Akira flicked water into the rinse sink and started drying the goblet. He couldn't help but think of all three Palace Rulers they'd trounced so far, and how every single one was an egotistical jackass. It reminded him too much of his father whenever he wasn't butting heads with Isshiki or simpering for that chairman who inspected Blue Cove twice a year. "I've seen a lot of guys who walk over everybody around them. Kinda hard to respect that."

The woman gave a sad smile and took another gulp of wine. "I think you just explained the limit. A good man has respect. When he gives that up, he's no longer a good man."

The transfer student nodded and cleaned another two goblets before Lala approached and handed him a tomato. "Party of six reserved a booth. You still make tomato swans?"

Akira examined the curled-fist-look of beefsteak tomato. "Yes, but those work with elliptical-shaped tomatoes. This one's too irregular and spherical. I'll have to do something geometric."

"Lala!" one of the customers called from a table on what was the dance floor in Crossroad's past life. He held an empty beer glass up in the air. "We miss you so much our glasses are as empty as our hearts!"

She somehow managed to wave with a wide smile and still give an annoyed huff. "No rest for the weary." She scrambled off.

The woman in the evening dress looked to the lumpy tomato in his hand with wide eyes and a smile. "You can make tomato swans? You're a man of many talents. Can I see?"

He nodded and retrieved a cutting board from the kitchen, then set it down, sharpened a knife, and examined his task. Amagi Inn was somewhat selective in the produce they took, but it seemed standards in the city were always lower. This bulgy tomato wasn't even on any side. Deciding on a pattern, he slid the fruit knife straight in and spent the next few minutes twisting and cutting the tomato.

"'ey," a man three beers in said after staring for a while. "That ain't no pumpkin. Don' ya know how to cut a damn veg'able?"

Akira kept going, then lifted the central portion to make the last few cuts and flipped the pieces over to make the inter-weaving diamond design obvious.

The woman clapped her hands. "Oh, that took a while, but it's marvelous! Where did you learn that?"

Rubbing his neck, Akira stared down at his handiwork. "Head chef at Amagi Inn." He shrugged. "Not a whole ton to do in Inaba."

She waggled her finger at him. "You're only allowed to be humble about things you haven't proven to a girl. Remember, us girls like confidence."

Lala saved him from having to speak through the tight feeling in his throat and internal backpedaling by returning from the tables. "Maria-chan, you're looking chipper tonight!"

The woman in the pink dress took a sip and held her glass up at the transfer student. "How can I not enjoy such a pretty boy?" She turned a sly look to the bartender handing a tray of spent drinks across the counter. "Where'd you dredge Tall, Brooding, and Dexterous from?"

Cheeks warm, Akira set the dirty glasses into the rinse sink. "I'm just average. I only look tall because you're sitting."

Lala snorted and took the carved tomato, pausing to give it a closer look. "This is pretty good. Did I poach a gourmet cook?"

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. "Amagi-san called my cooking incompetent. She's infamous – or was, anyway – for being a bad chef. And I mean poisoned-a-school-camp-out bad. No way was I going to let somebody with that kind of reputation talk down to me. And I showed her!"

Maria giggled. "A man's heart beats in there after all!"

Lala motioned Akira to a plate, then set the carved tomato on it. "You keep Maria-chan company, Akira-chan. I'll be up and down."

AN: While Akira's lack of support means he had to have cooked for himself before, I find the idea of him going French Chef "Oh, those potato slices are too thick? I'll show you" to Yukiko was too funny not to exploit. Although that incident likely would have happened during Golden Week when she'd be home from university to help out the Inn. Thanks to everybody for the reviews.