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.

105. August 16th, Guard Dog

Persona 5: Daywatch

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Noon
Shibuya, Protein Lovers' Gym

Weights clacked and men grunted around Akira. The sound of rhythmic focus helped him focus on his own breathing as he hauled a weighted bench press, inhaling on the down stroke and exhaling on pushing away. Down. Up. Inhale. Exhale. He would have started at the cable machine to work on the muscles used in knife swipes and thrusts, especially after upgrading to a faux-black steel machete at Untouchable, but it was occupied by the time he got through the downpour. The day's plan was to study in Yongen, but Morgana pointed out he was pacing and ordered him to go do something to occupy himself. Study just led to pacing, so exercise it was. Yoshizawa was already at a scheduled training day with her coach, and Ryuji was selling his portion of the Shadow trinkets.

Alliance Force, Assemble! sang out of his phone and Akira pushed up the Olympic-regulation barbel to set it on the bench's catch. He sat up and allowed a couple moments to breathe before answering, "Speech trainer, Elle O'Quent."

"Okay, Elle," Shinya drawled. "Let's have an exchange. And since a responsible teacher feeds his students, I'll even pay back by teaching you how to shoot like you mean it."

On the one hand, the kid was responding to his joke opening. On the other, he was being pushy in a weird way. Most people Akira knew would just ask to hang out over lunch. If he asked for a greasy back-alley vendor, it would be back to exercising. "Where were you thinking?"

"There's a diner in Akihabara that serves the only crispy waffles in Tokyo. You can get 'em topped with anything." A hungry stomach growl sounded loud enough to carry over the line, and the transfer student thought he heard a hint of a pained whimper. "You're paying, of course."

Akira would have made a joke about having good taste because of the waffles, but that pained noise reminded him of Inaba. "I'm in. Send me the address and I'll meet you there.

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Noon
Chiyoda-ku, Fontyn's Diner

The scent of butter and seared batter suffused the air of the faux-European eatery. Black leather seats around gold tables with stark red walls gave a hint of some nation's colors, but besides a lot of names in katakana on the menu the rest of the restaurant catered to the Tokyo crowd. Hot waffle irons in the back churned out circular waffles that held up to the kid's promise of the crispiest waffles he'd ever had, with options ranging from traditional fruits and nuts on Akira's to cheese and shaved squid on Shinya's.

Akira cut into his with the same care and curiosity as any relatively new food, a meager topping of syrup compensated a little by too much butter. Still, the chunks of peach and walnuts gave the dish a pleasant fruity component to go with the crisp waffle. "So what's going on?"

Shinya looked up, already polishing off his first plate before the transfer student had gotten through a quarter of his. He hesitated a moment, a guilty expression directing at his plate before he let out a breath. His shoulders sagged. "There just… wasn't anything in the fridge today."

Akira swallowed a bite of waffle, then speared another peach wedge. "Every convenience store seems to have onigiri, omelette of some variety, and ramen. Triple-seven even has porrige."

Shinya picked at a few shreds of squid. "School's not in session and lots left for vacation. Money's been tight without people to squeeze."

Laughter from Shadow Kaneshiro shot through his mid-brain at the reminder of 'squeezing' people for money. Akira's fingers tightened on his fork. "You don't have enough from your mom?"

The kid swallowed another few shreds of squid. "Mom's been… busy. When she has to stay late at work, she forgets."

Akira swallowed a well-chewed bite of waffle. "Even to feed you?" He tisked. "Sounds like when I lived with my mother."

Shinya straightened. "Your parents are separated? What kinda food did you eat with her?"

A bitter smile wormed its way across Akira's face and he failed to keep in an amused huff. Still, it was embarrassing enough that Makoto knew about his mother to a detailed level. He still wasn't sure if she knew about the day Mother told him, "I never wanted you," but no need to bring that up to yet another person. Especially if the kid needed some stability. Akira bit down on the peach on his fork and swallowed before giving a half-truth in the things he ate in Inaba. "The eggplant dumplings always stood out. Depending on the season, sometimes they'd be filled with radish, nozawana pickles, or mashed pumpkin. Then there's steamed hostas, though you had to make sure to keep it away from cats and dogs."

The gamer made a face. "Steamed vegetables sound boring! Even if they're in a dumpling."

Akira scratched his head. "Well, there was so much miso everything, even if you loved it you'd get sick of it after a while. And if you think veggies are yucky you probably wouldn't be impressed by blanched kogomi. Which is a pity, the stuff's good if it's in season." He looked up at the ceiling of water-stained tiles. "Maybe horse sashimi?"

Shinya sat up. "I had horse once. It tasted funny."

"No, those are clowns."

Shinya slapped his free hand over his face. "Just finish so I can get to whipping you into shape."

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Afternoon
Akihabara, Gigolo Arcade

A crowd of eight or nine people around them buzzed, but Akira found himself so busy trying to keep up with the little combat monster that the flashes and background music of crane games just added a grating sense to his desperate struggle to keep up at what turned out to be a difficulty above Hell Mode. He stomped on a pedal to dive into cover before reloading his revolver – his choice of a sub-machine gun being out due to dying and having to re-start weapon upgrades again. Despite being in a well-air-conditioned space, sweat rolled down his face as he hopped back to try to shoot down flying demons in the construction yard.

Shinya didn't even have a sheen of sweat as he downed three in quick succession as he barked, "Fuckin' follow through! You gotta shoot their weak point as soon as you interrupt their movement!"

Ryuji, taking a breather, leaned to another watcher and said, "The King's pretty awesome, but you gotta feel sorry for anyone tryin' to keep up. I know he ain't bad when he's playin' with me, but next to The King he's all over the place."

The woman next to him said back, her voice raised to cut through the ambient arcade noise, "The high schooler, or The King? That grade schooler's gotta be bipolar."

That just seemed to make the tyke even angrier.

Late Afternoon
Akihabara, Gigolo Arcade

After knocking down another swooping demon and shooting it into dust, Akira stomped on a pedal to dive his avatar into cover and slapped the bottom magazine of his machine pistol. It made him miss his P90, but it took him a while to get a scope and laser dot projector on it. Gun About's faster pace and more disposable handling of lives and equipment meant he had to invest more in magazines and exotic ammunitions to keep up with the younger boy.

Standing next to him, Makoto put her longarm-controller through a bit of a twirl to pump the lever-action even faster and downed another demon hopping up from a portal in the floor.

Ryuji downed two flying in from the gap where a ceiling in a completed building would be. His heavy machine gun controller swung back and forth, his grenade launcher in the game burping explosives.

Before any of the Phantom Thieves could pat themselves on the back, Shinya tossed a grenade and finished off the two demons injured by it, then let out a rapid set of pops with his upgraded starter pistol and disintegrated another two demons ambushing them out of windows on the left and middle of the screen.

For the first time in almost an hour, no enemies assailed them, allowing the four a moment to breathe. Ryuji stepped back to throw a fist in the air at Yusuke, who'd rejoined the crowd when Makoto arrived for gun training. "Fuck yeah!"

Makoto jabbed him in the side. "Children!" She took another quick breath, lowering the controller in hand just like she would her shotgun in the Metaverse. "I feel like that was a very productive session, Oda-san. All of us were able to take down those ghost and armored enemies as well. Do you think we're ready to take down that cheater yet?"

Shinya scrutinized them like the sensei of a martial arts flick. He pointed at Akira, "He's ready."

Ryuji gawked. "He keeps on dyin'!"

"You're prolly the worst. You may have better accuracy than all the others, but you still play like you're on normal mode. Headshots look fancy, but damage multipliers don't make for status effects or special chains. You won't adapt." Shinya bulled on. "The rest of you are still too dependent on your equipment. Upgrades help, especially against general enemies, but the exploit Owner is using ignores equipment bonuses because it interferes with hit box detection. You need to have a seamless prediction of your enemy's movement patterns. Success is as much about psyching out your enemy so you can control where you want him to be as dealing damage to the eyes or other vulnerable spots. Notice I used the starter pistol the whole time."

"Oh!" Akira exclaimed, feeling excitement for the first time in a while. "Like how you dissuade attacks in shogi by lining up multiple pieces to counter each vulnerable advance."

Shinya rolled his eyes. "Ugh, no wonder it's taking you so long to get any good. Your hobbies are boring."

Makoto bristled. "There's nothing wrong with intellectual pursuits!"

They played for another few minutes, but Shinya let his avatar get killed. As the glass-spiderwebbed effect spread over the screen, he set his pistol controller back on the cradle. "I'm done. It's exhausting carrying you noobs."

"Hey!" Ryuji snapped, "We're plenty good!"

Shinya glared back, "God, you're a simpleton."

Having heard the kid's verbal abuse for the past couple hours, Akira settled his controller down as well. "You know, it's almost as poor form to judge us by your bar as it would be for us to judge you for not being us." He pointed at the screen as it cycled back to previews. "You put in the work for weeks and became the master of this game. The work we put in so far in our lives has been mastering other things. We're still new at this."

Shinya gave a partial eye roll, but tugged at the hem of his jeans and avoided eye contact. "Guess you've got a point there."

The artist gave an acknowledging nod to the transfer student, then had to step out of the way when an arcade employee stepped in. "Hey, kid. Hours for elementary school students are over." He gave a patronizing smile. "Time to go home. Understand, little boy?"

As the kid bristled, Akira turned on the twenty-something employee. "He has a case of the grade school, not severe down syndrome. Try using full sentences like an adult and not a demeaning tone like a prick."

"Akira!" Makoto barked.

Yusuke stepped into the conversation, his calm as unflappable as ever. "There is no need to either escalate or demean. I believe that things have drawn to a close for all of us. Gentlemen," he turned to Makoto, "And lady, let us away!"

Shinya gave a frustrated grunt, but followed them outside. While dark clouds still choked the skies and water rushed through the gutters, the torrent abated for the moment. Ryuji pulled Yusuke off to a nearby cafe and Makoto followed to help keep them from causing a scene. The kid noticed Akira linger and pulled his cap brim down before muttering, "So, uh… thanks. Even when it's hard with other people, I just… wanted to keep playing. Keep getting stronger."

Akira paused, the brick wall still too wet to lean against. "Practice makes habit, not necessarily stronger. Besides, won't your mom be getting home soon?"

Shinya studied a rivulet on the wet sidewalk.

A few pieces were lining up in a way that did not sit right to the transfer student. "Your mom doesn't treat you well?"

"I don't wanna go." Shinya blew out a puff of air. "There's nothin' to do there. Ma's always at work, so there's never anyone there." He looked up at the transfer student. "You may be a high-schooler, but you're basically an adult. You're lucky. You can stay out almost as long as you want, work anywhere, and any time you get hungry you can buy anything." He huffed. "I wish I could just play all day instead of having to back to school soon. I'd practice and practice and never lose."

Akira poked the brim of the get smoked cap. "Just the game of academics and life politics."

A trio of girls stepped out of the tool store across the street, the lead one so loud her voice carried crystal clear, "…hasn't done anything for weeks. Medjed's definitely crushed the Phantom Thief. You remember what Akechi-san said? The thief is just an attention-whore child, if the Phantom Thief won, he'd have made a huge to-do about it and shoved it in all our faces."

Shinya kicked water in her general direction. "She just doesn't understand. No way could the Phantom Thief lose. He's too strong. And some day I'm gonna be as strong as him, and nobody's gonna be able to bring me down."

Akira weighed his options and kept his expression neutral. "You think the Phantom Thief is really hot stuff?"

"Fuck yeah!" His eyes flicked down the road after Ryuji. "I mean, definitely! He took down that nasty teacher, a yakuza boss, then Madarame even when everyone thought that no-talent artist was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Everyone's on about Medjed 'cause those hackers are faceless people on the other side of a computer, but that's no different than the losers on Gun About. Just people who go down because they're arrogant." He looked up at the transfer student. "You're a fan, aren't you? Don't you believe they can take down Medjed?"

Akira opened his mouth, then closed it. After a beat, he answered, "Yeah. I pray for th—her, but I know the Phantom Thief can come out on top."

Shinya let out a scoff. "Her? The Phantom Thief is definitely a guy." He stood up and straightened his cap. "Well, I guess I hafta go, but you practice for next time, okay? If you play the cheater and don't win, you'll embarrass your teacher."

Akira switched his umbrella to his left and snapped to attention and gave a picture-perfect British salute.

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Early Evening
Shibuya, Taiheidou Books

Thunder rumbled outside and the scent of rain drifted in. Still anxious, Akira browsed Central Street's bookstore to find something to occupy his time. Shelves full of insipid romances and sci-fi manga with inconsistent physics just made him groan. Maybe he should have ignored the weather's eighty-seven percent chance of rain and gone to Jinbocho. That's where Hifumi said she found most of her thought-provoking treasures.

His phone buzzed and he drew it to see Hifumi on the Phantom Thief group chat. His heart leaped in his throat as he read, [It's time, everyone. I just fed Antalas and he was comfortable with each one of your scents. Mother should be back before too late today.] She added her address and directions from Shibuya Station, just in case.

Makoto texted, [Morgana is still with Futaba-chan. Will that be enough to get you over to Hifumi's home? We may want to have everybody there to ensure the cognition can't attack anybody left behind.]

Akira crossed himself and gave a prayer of thanks that they were at last able to take a step closer to changing Hifumi's mother's heart. His breath came short but he felt light despite the downpour outside.

Three dots danced next to Futaba's ID for almost a minute.

Ryuji sent, [The shoe store I'm at is only a little away from Leblanc. You good if I get you?]

Almost a minute passed before Futaba texted, [Morgana: Joker, meet us at Shibuya Station.]

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Early Evening
Chiyoda, Togo Home

The white-and-ashen husky shook out his dampened fur as Hifumi and the Phantom Thieves doffed their shoes and hung their wet umbrellas in the two-story house's entry hall. "Antalas!" Hifumi shouted in dismay. She gestured to the cabinet the dazzling blonde beauty sat on. "Could you hand me a towel from in there?" She took the bright yellow towel and knelt to give the dog a thorough drying before it could get another droplet in its ear and decide to throw more fur or moisture around. Despite her concerns, and the rain picking up outside, milk bones served as a perfect bribe to help him accept the strange people smelling like shirts he had been eating and sleeping over for days. After making one aggressive lunge at Morgana, the team leader who insisted he was a human swiped at the dog's sensitive nose with his claws and Antalas respected her tugs on his leash. "I'm so sorry, Ann-san. Do you want me to get you a change? I can put your clothes in the dryer." She called into the house, "Rei-san!"

At least the Phantom Thieves came prepared with umbrellas, so besides herself and Ann, nobody else wound up damp enough to need a towel or change. The model rubbed another towel over herself, her umbrella knocked away when Antalas tried to surge through her to get at Morgana. "It's not your fault."

As the Thieves stepped out of the entry hall, a small woman in her late forties rounded the corner from the kitchen. Despite her traditional black clothes, she wore a bright blue headscarf. "Togo-san, are these the guests you were going through all that trouble with Antalas about?"

Hifumi nodded and wiped her hands on clean corners of Antalas' towel. "Everyone? This is our gardener and housekeeper, Ueda Rei. This is Makoto, Futaba-chan, my shogi friend Akira, and…" Her hand drifted from the hacker to the brash blond when she realized she never learned all of their real names. It would lead to more questions when Rei-san reported to Mother if she called him Reaper.

The runner waved and flashed a smile too perfect and white to be real. "Yo. Sakamoto."

The middle-aged woman nodded, then turned to the tall, blue-haired boy. "Kitagawa, from your school's painting program. I read about your master's confession. Terrible blow."

Yusuke bowed. "That is correct, Ueda-san."

Hifumi smiled, reaching down to pat the Phantom Thief leader who looked so much like an adorable tuxedo cat. "This handsome gentleman is Morgana." She withdrew her hand. "And this is Ann. Would you mind getting her a change of clothes and putting hers through the drier?"

Rei nodded to her, then to the damp blonde. "The downstairs bath is this way, miss."

"Downstairs?" The runner blurted. "This place's got more'n one?"

Makoto elbowed him and the model followed after the housekeeper.

Hifumi drew another towel from the cabinet in the entryway and pressed against her soaked blouse. "The den is on the right, you can't miss it. I was planning on getting you all situated before bringing out snacks or drinks, but if you'll excuse me…" She squeezed her towel at her dripping skirt a few times to keep from tracking water through the house.

Makoto smiled, "It's fine. I'll watch them until you're ready."

Hifumi gave the mature girl a thankful smile, then an apologetic bow to the others before heading to the main bath. The sound of air blowing reached her ears at the same instant that she slid the pocket door aside. Stepping into the washroom, she almost walked into her housekeeper taking a brush and blow-drier to Ann-san's hair. The model wore one of her dressier shirts, a tight-fitting black under-layer straining against the blonde's bust, draped over by a sheer red layer that gave an ethereal look. One of Hifumi's shorter black skirts adorned the model's toned legs.

Before she could push those envious thoughts aside, Rei-san stood back. "You're dripping! Dear thing, get in the bathroom and I'll get you some dry clothes." She reached out a hand to check the shogi player's hair. "At least that's dry. Now go on before you catch something."

When the blonde also stood and pressed against the counter to give a clear path to the bathroom, Hifumi decided to be gracious about it and gave a nod of thanks, then stepped in. Her socks squished, so she sat on the edge of the tub and peeled them off, tossing them at a convenient corner before unfastening the catch on the side of her skirt and pulling it off. The bottom of her blouse was wet, so she tugged that off by the time Rei-san returned with a loose-sleeved white blouse and beige slacks, plus a set of plain white undergarments. "Thank you, Rei-san. You're a saint."

The middle-aged woman smiled. "You're too kind, Dear." She set the clothes against one corner of the raised perimeter of the tub, then clicked her tongue and collected the wet articles as the shogi player dried, returning to the washroom and Ann.

Once done changing, Hifumi stepped into the washroom where Rei-san stroked a brush through the other girl's mid-back-length, luxuriant golden hair. "Is everything all right, Ann-san?"

The girl flashed an embarrassed smile. "Oh, it's fine, Hifumi-san. No harm done, and it's not like your dog meant any trouble."

The runner's voice reached from around all the corners to the den, "'Cause who has surround-sound speakers that big?"

Ann pressed a palm over her face. "Geez, Ryuji."

Rei-san finished a brush-stroke. "There we go, young lady. Nice and dry. Did you want a hand fixing it up into those lovely pigtails you had them in before?"

Ann gave a shy smile. "This is fine. I do all my own styling unless the agency wants something specific before a shoot."

"Oh, you're a model?" Rei cast a patient smile the shogi player's way. "Hifumi-chan knows a thing or two about that." She picked up the wicker basket with wet clothes. "Do you mind if I get right to these?"

Hifumi gave a bow of the head. "Of course, you've done more than enough today. I'm sure I can pull them out of the dry cycle if you want to go home." The housekeeper opened the washroom's side door to the laundry and slid the door shut behind her. Her absence left an awkward pall over the two high-schoolers. "So… you do your own hair?"

Ann flashed a chipper smile. "Yup! I used to love experimenting, ever since I was a little girl. It's a lot easier styling others' hair, but Shiho's the only one who let me get hers since Mom and Dad moved to Tokyo."

Hifumi brushed some hair behind her ear and led Ann back towards the den. "That sounds quite individually empowering. Mother's decided what styling my hair and clothing had to be since middle school. I was always a bit envious of the other girls who got to play with buns or pigtails or butterfly clips. She's been especially strict since I started at Kosei. Said it was especially important to maintain a consistent persona or the tabloids would pounce."

Ann stood up. "That's why you've gotta have fun, girl! The more rules they want to place on you in front of the camera, the more leeway they better give you off set!" She pumped a fist. "Of course, if you have a commanding presence, you can set rules on and off the set. It all starts with showing that camera who's boss!"

Hifumi swallowed and looked at the tile floor, the blonde's force of energy like a tidal wave. "Oh, I… I don't know about that. It always seemed an exhausting tribulation to me. The best I can manage is trying to sneak studying into the hours they spend on makeup and wardrobe. Mom and Papa are very insistent that I maintain my grades for our futures. Some days I wish I could just leave it all behind, but where would that leave my family?"

Ann nodded. "But you're so good at it. I looked up some of your work while we were yukata shopping with Akira. You look amazing in the traditional kimono shoots, but getting to do Sally Po must have been so fun."

The blonde's enthusiasm bolstered Hifumi's resolve. She stopped and snagged the dazzling model's wrist. "Ann-san, I need to ask… were you and Akira-kun ever…?"

An awkward laugh crawled out of Ann's throat before she looked into the shogi player's desperate eyes. Her cheer dimmed for a beat. "No. Akira and I were never an item."

Hifumi pressed a hand against her chest, at last feeling her heart slow down. "Thank God."

Ann let out a giggle that left the shogi player uncertain if it was the amused or nervous variety. "I suspect he only had eyes for…" She shook her head. "You should ask him." She shifted her weight to her far leg. "Why?"

Hifumi scrabbled for that sense of energy she drew from the model earlier. "Why? You're kind and beautiful and strong. You're more of everything than me."

Ann let out a spluttered laugh. "You're not giving yourself any credit, Hifumi-san. Even before you first came in with us, I could tell he was drawing strength from you. He loves those brainy contests that you're so into but just don't do anything for me. He's strong, but frightening sometimes. You never even flinched in there. You can't call down winter's fury like Carmen, but there's so much more you can do that I can't."

Hifumi let out a breath that took a great deal of her anxiety with it. "Thank you, Ann-san. You really are the heart of the Phantom Thieves."

"Any time." Smiling, Ann clapped her hands. "In exchange, could I braid your hair? You have such long, pretty hair, I would love to do something with it."

Hifumi blushed, and felt her mouth turn into a smile. "Certainly."

The two finished the walk to the den, where Akira and Ryuji argued over the original facing of a glass globe award. Ann groaned. "Ryuji! What did you break now?"

A vein pulsed on his forehead. "I ain't broke nothin'! I just… kinda knocked it over while I was lookin' at the huge speakers this place's got. Watchin' movies here must be effin' awesome!"

Hifumi strode forward, trying to look more authoritative than resigned at childish antics. She reached out and took the award. "It was Papa's token for raising a hundred million yen for international food independence. Mother had it facing south-east to catch the morning sun."

Makoto bowed. "Sorry for not keeping them under control."

Hands on her hips, Ann muttered, "Would've been a miracle if you could."

Looking around, Hifumi noticed the orange-haired girl perched on a reading chair in the corner, a laptop nestled between her knees. The shogi player stepped closer, but left a few paces to help assure the young girl of her boundaries. "Oh, I'm sorry if we haven't been accommodating, Futaba-chan. Is there anything we can get for you?"

Futaba tilted her head to one side until pops sounded. "What's your wifi? I'm not getting any good signals anywhere in the room. And Makoto gave the Niijima glare when I tried to sneak off to scout for better reception."

"Oh." Hifumi clasped her hands. "We don't have wi-fi. Mother says it's bad for security and internet speeds, but if you brought cables there's ethernet ports above the power outlets over there," she said, pointing to the couch her cousins sat at last time the Togos gathered in Tokyo.

"Su-weet!" Futaba snatched up a bag nestled beside the reading chair and relocated.

Hifumi checked the time on her phone. "Mother won't be home for at least an hour. Is anyone a fan of murder mysteries?"

Futaba gave no response. Akira, Ann and Makoto gave a shrug. Ryuji made a face like he'd taken a bite of expired nattou.

"No Endeavour, then." Hifumi headed for the drawer of remotes under the glass-topped coffee table. "Maybe something simple and universal. Has anybody seen Blue Planet?"

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Evening
Chiyoda, Togo Home

Togo Mitsuyo pulled into the driveway, the streaming of droplets on her windshield left wet trails, indicating the torrential downpour ended. Two differences from normal stood out to the woman. First was darkness in the bay window to Hifumi's room where she should be studying. The second was blue light interrupting the steady white light in the den, which should be dark. She stopped the car low in the driveway instead of pulling all the way to the garage in the back.

Mitsuyo's heels clicked on the wet paving stone path to the front porch, but as she passed the den window, she heard an unfamiliar, loud boy's voice shout, "Whoa!"

The click of her heels sped as she ascended to the porch, then stabbed her keys into the lock.

The same unfamiliar boy's voice shouted, "Fish are insane!" as the door swung open.

Normal procedure was to call for Ueda to receive a report on the goings-on of the house and neighborhood, as well as estimate of Hifumi's studying. But the middle-aged woman stormed in to catch the problem personally. If somebody brought a house party, there would be hell to—

Mitsuyo came to a sudden stop at the two-meter-wide doorway opening into the den. A whole gaggle of children gathered at the couches around the coffee table as Blue Planet played on the projector. Bowls with traces of celery and carrot sticks scattered across the table. No alarm, no call from the police or Ueda. Even the invidious mutt Hifumi doted on sat between the knees of the frizzy-haired delinquent and girl with a braided headband. Besides the frizzy-haired stalker who dared talk back to her at church, the only other one she recognized was the air-headed artist from Kosei.

The lanky boy in a fashionably asymmetric shirt stared up at her from the north couch. That head-in-the-clouds artist lifted a hand, "Greetings, Togo-san."

Mitsuyo bellowed, "What is the meaning of this?"

That irritating mutt Rumi gave Hifumi darted out from between the knees of two children with a celerity the runt saved for getting into trouble. "Wu! Wu!"

Contrary to the mother's expectations, Hifumi remained seated at an armless stuffed chair, the blond girl braiding her hair frozen and staring like a deer into headlights. The tramp responded with calm, "Mother, welcome home. These are my friends. It's summer break, so I invited them to watch some Blue Planet."

The grating boy with dyed blond hair blurted, "Yeah! Who'd'a known fish were so cool?"

The girl with a braided hairband pressed a hand against her forehead.

Mitsuyo's eyes swept over the offensive group of children, calculating how to divide and deal with them. Her eyes stopped on the green gaze of her daughter, so like her father. This whole mess had to be her fault. "You just thought you'd bring strangers? Into my home? I was perfectly clear about the rules when you started at Kosei. You have an image to maintain, and are not to cavort about!" She thrust a finger at the frizzy-haired boy parishioners identified as Kurusu Akira. "Shogi friend," she spat as she recalled what her private investigators dug up on him. "Do you even know them? I should call the police immediately and have them haul the thug away. That boy has an assault conviction."

Hifumi's gaze hardened. "I know, Mother. He told me."

The short-haired girl with a braided hairband stood, making it easier to recognize her. "Togo-san, his conviction on false testimony—"

Mitsuyo snapped her fingers. "Don't think I didn't have private investigators look you up as well when my daughter told me about her newest 'shogi friend', Niijima Makoto. Playing the snow-white dame while your family sits on a mountain of laundered money squirreled away thanks to police connections. And a sister with no experience, but a perfect conviction record? I'm sure she 'found' convenient evidence and well-timed confessions just like your old man."

The gape from being so blindsided was as sweet as fine wine. That ought to teach the little fish not to hop out of their little pond.

Mitsuyo rounded on the obnoxious loudmouth next. That awful dye job and unnaturally perfect teeth told her all she needed. "I don't even need to know anything about a dandy playing delinquent. Get out." Continuing the sweep across the room, her gaze fell on her daughter and the girl with her dark hair still in hands. The blonde was familiar, but from where? Probably some foreigner here to wet her feet in a distant land before scurrying back home where she belonged. She locked her glare on her daughter, an unsettling defiance in her eyes and her back still straight. "After all the days and nights I have slaved for you, for you to sneak out behind my back to dally with would-be boyfriends!"

Pink bloomed on her daughter's cheeks, but the orange-haired little gremlin sitting off to the side cackled. "So her girlfriend, wearing her clothes and braiding her hair, is okay?"

The blonde's bright blue eyes snapped wide and a blush colored her cheeks. "Futaba-chan!"

The now-identified Futaba opened her mouth.

Mitsuyo snapped her fingers and cut her off with a glare. She learned long ago at NHK one had to maintain strict control or it could all be ripped away in an instant. "You will speak when spoken to."

Mitsuyo strode forward, circling the blonde. If she dyed, she did her eyebrows as well. That meant either diligent attention to detail or a natural, exotic hair color. And while the blue would stand out of a crowd, those eyes were Japanese. The girl with the bad dye-job covering up proper black hair was right, the sheer red over black was one of Hifumi's less popular weekend shirts. It strained over the buxom girl's trim figure. And her daughter had never let another girl handle her hair before, outside of the juvenile fawning over her progeny's superior locks. This one was halfway through an intricate crown-braid. And she might even stand a few centimeters taller than her above-average daughter. Yes, this could work. "Very well. Let it not be said that I am not a progressive mother. You others are trespassing, my lawyers will see to it you are punished in court." She drew her phone. That frizzy-haired one had the gall to step closer. "You on the other hand came close to my daughter when I warned you once. It should be simple to have you thrown away on stalking charges."

Hifumi rose to her feet. "Mother! These are my friends, not trespassers."

"This is not your house," she riposted, feeling an unpleasant tingle along her spine. Her daughter had never held fast this long before. Time to bring out the big guns. "Think of your father's health if he were to hear of this. It's already a strain enough on the household budget to keep up with his treatments."

Kurusu took a step closer, his glasses failing to hide the fire in his grey eyes. "How dare you use her father's incurable illness like a stick to beat your daughter into submission. She's a person, not a trick ani—"

She hit the dial. "Back up, you thug. I'll not have you lay a hand on my daughter like you did on that man in Shinjou."

The blonde stood, hands on her hips. "Akira would never!"

Mitsuyo held her ground even as her mind reeled. Then the administrator picked up and the mother straightened. Never give a centimeter, the precedent would cascade into the future. "Send a car. I have trespassers. One's a convict with a violent record."

"Mother!" Hifumi exclaimed, horror in her eyes but her back still straight. "They're not trespassers, they're my friends!"

"Two officers are on the way, but if this is contested, Judge Shirou won't be back in Tokyo until the twenty-second," the man's voice at the other end of the line said. "I'm afraid with the backlog created by the Shibuya Sweep that none of our other judges will have cases open for non-violent offenses."

A tuxedo cat jumped from a leather satchel to the back of a couch and meowed at the group.

The Niijima girl sighed. "Right." She reached a hand for the frizzy-haired boy wearing long sleeves as if unaware of the current hot season. "Come on, Akira. Everyone. We've spent some quality time with Antalas. There's nothing else for us to do here."

The teens filed out, the blonde sparing a pitying look to her daughter and most of the others looking like beaten dogs. The frizzy-haired boy held a lost-puppy look at her daughter for long enough to raise warning flags in the mother's mind, and she stepped between them.

Before the children had even all gotten their shoes on, Hifumi came up behind. "Mother, please don't be unreasonable."

The door opened and the roar of a torrential downpour drowned out their muttering. That rain was a bad sign, it would reduce visibility and give them opportunities to evade the police. Mitsuyo rounded on her daughter as the children's umbrellas went up, and didn't care if they heard her as they fled into the rain.

Tuesday, 16 August 2016
Late Evening
Yongen, Back Streets

Akira managed to hold it together long enough to deliver Futaba home before his battling anxiety and rage made the shaking too strong to hide. He fumbled the gate once and slammed it open, though the wrought-iron was too light to give a satisfying sound against the perimeter wall, much less hear over the downpour. He let out a frustrated roar and punched the brick wall, cracking the concrete facade and splitting the skin on one knuckle. "Fuck!"

Of course his handkerchief would be on the same side as the bleeding hand. He fumbled it out and pressed it down to stop the bleeding.

Futaba texted the group chat, [What happened, Akira? You okay?]

Ryuji sent, [Something happen?]

[Akira used Primal Roar. It caused Confusion.]

Ann texted, [Sorry guys, my brain is starting to mis-fire. Yusuke stayed with Akira for a couple weeks. He might know something to help.]

[He's painting,] Futaba texted.

[How do you know that?] Ryuji sent.

Futaba logged out of chat.

Ann texted, [Listen, Akira. Today wasn't great, but it wasn't a failure. Morgana said it himself, we definitely changed her mother's cognition. Take care of yourself or we won't be able to do anything tomorrow. We're gonna have to make progress if we're going to change her heart before she takes you to court.]

"She's right, you know," Morgana said as he slipped out to Akira's shoulder. "Hifumi isn't in ideal circumstances, but she's safe for the moment and we've opened up a few paths in her mother's palace." His gaze fell to the handkerchief, the blood patch getting wetter. "My paws aren't suitable for the detail work you need. Better have someone look at that right away, Joker."

He already knew that, but wasn't in the mood to argue with mister know-it-all. However, the lights were off and Takemi's clinic was closed. After hours. Last time he busted his knuckles from being stupid and not pulling his punch, the bleeding had stopped by now. He focused on that wound to try to edge out the sound of Hifumi's mother lambasting the kindest girl he ever knew.

After getting into Leblanc, he proceeded to the bathroom to wash his bruised knuckles, which refreshed the bleeding and added burning to the sharp, stinging sensation. Calling one of the other Phantom Thieves was out of the question – they deserved to get what rest they could. Akira navigated to his contacts for Victoria.

Late Evening
Yongen, Leblanc Loft

Kawakami taped the last corner of the bandage down over his middle knuckle. For most people just super-gluing his skin back together would be enough, but this kid didn't know when to quit so she added a layer of petroleum jelly to keep him from pulling the injury apart. For a beat he sat back, his eyes closed behind those magnifying lenses, and she wondered if he was thinking or just taking in the white noise of the downpour outside. "There you go. It'll take a week to heal, but you'll be able to use it tomorrow."

"You're pretty street-smart, Sensei," he said as he examined his hand.

"A girl has to learn a thing or two about cleaning up after roughhousing when she's got two brothers. Thankfully, my mother kept me from getting involved in most of their shenanigans. Had to protect the femininity of the girl of the house." She slipped glue and bandages back in the tin serving as a first aid container and rested it on the shogi board. That sparked her curiosity. And the perfect holiday just passed. "So, you have a good time with your sweetheart on Tanabata?"

His posture curled in on himself and he made a quarter turn away from her, his closed eyes squeezing. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out through his nose, but the pain in his posture didn't leave. At last those grey eyes opened, but he looked out at the rain. "We didn't get to do anything. Her mother was over-working her." His spine straightened a little, that fire in his grey eyes burning. "You hear about idol agencies that starve their models?"

She nodded. A model? He must have landed himself a stunner. "I remember hearing Risette talk about that. Some companies are so busy chasing after 'perfect' numbers they forget their idols are human beings." She flashed a sly smile. "But that's just another opportunity for you to slip her a cute homemade bento."

He looked at her through the corner of his eye.

"I've seen you bring in stuff in generic tupperware. It's a great opportunity. Selling homemade lunches was how I made some spending money in high school." She gave a sly smile. "And if it's for a special someone, maybe get a little kiss in gratitude."

He buried his face in his hands. "Sensei!" The poor kid overworked himself to project a prickly aura, but after seeing him a few times at the end of a long day, she decided it was more like a deer tensing to run away from the sound of a breaking branch. "We haven't even had a real hug. Just that one time when she almost fell asleep on her feet and I caught her." His face reddened as those hands came down. "I'd never really touched a girl before, and all I could think about as she stood back up was how much I wanted to feel more." His blush deepened and those hands came back up. "What's wrong with me?"

Kawakami glanced over the bookshelf and spotted a Bible, with a picture of Mary on the wall next to the bed. That explained a little of why he seemed so sexually repressed. "It's a thing boyfriends and girlfriends do, Kurusu-kun. It's like practice for being husband and wife."

He choked on air.

She grinned. "C'mon, Kurusu-kun. What'd she make you feel like? Warm? Light, like you could float away?"

He stared up into that Stratego box on his bookshelf. "Like I could drown in those green eyes."

Kawakami felt a thrill pass through her. Youth, so naive yet so full of exuberance.

Then he stood up and swatted the first-aid tin tumbling from the shogi board with a clatter loud enough to ring above the downpour outside. He slammed a fist against the table. "It was bearable when being alone was all I knew! Why did anyone have to change it?"

She lifted a hand, but hesitated to touch the kid. "Because people shouldn't have to be alone."

He got up to retrieve the first aid kit. "Life was fine before people threw it in my face. I never knew I wanted to grow old with someone until…"

Kawakami stood. This wasn't the first time she'd seen one of her kids meltdown over the explosion of possibilities in life. "Growing pains aren't permanent, Kurusu-kun. Think of the growth spurt you boys are only now finishing. Change can be good."

"Good?" He stormed closer, a shakiness in his steps. "I feel like my muscles have been replaced by springs that are too tight. I'm always hungry, but my stomach is churning and I'm afraid anything I eat will come straight back up." He came to a stop and a weariness pulled down at his frame. "I'm so tired, but the hamster upstairs just downed a shot of espresso and won't get off overdrive. My joints hurt and some days I can't make my hands stop shaking and I don't know why." Akira tossed his glasses to the table, then dug his fingers into his unkempt hair. "If it's this bad now, I don't want to know how much worse it can get."

"It can also get a lot better, Kurusu-kun." She lifted a hand, then thought the better of patting her skittish student. "That heavy feeling of emptiness sucks, but there's an alternative. That feeling of warmth and wholeness. It's what a lot of people live for."

"Yusuke," mumbled out of his mouth before he shook his head. "He's an acknowledged victim. Society will let him live his life. My record was leaked before I even started at Shujin. Anybody that I get close to will suffer because of other people. It doesn't matter how much I want…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, it's because I care about her I can't dump that kind of fate on her."

Kawakami pursed her lips. When she was first saddled with the transfer student with a record, she never suspected how empathetic he'd be. These kinds of kids were always hurt the most by the callous world, and they weren't always wrong. "You remember what you said to me last time?"

He looked up at her, hesitation wavering in his grey eyes.

"'I never wanted anything so much'," she recited, her brown eyes holding his as if by that alone she could keep him from retreating. "I think it was the bravest thing you ever said. You want to help her, and you want her to help you. That doesn't mean you're selfish, it means you're smart and already understand you don't have to go through life doing it all alone. Don't underestimate how much you can do for her. Or how much she might be able to do for you."

Kurusu plopped onto the stool. His eyes fell to the floor, but the hunch in his shoulders lessened.

Kawakami did a victorious fist-pump in the privacy of her own mind. Sorting these kids out was a feeling like nothing else. "Good news! Your current condition is called puppy love. My consultation fee is a hundred thousand yen."

Instead of arguing or making a wisecrack, the exhausted boy retrieved a box of paper trash out from underneath the work bench. He searched through it for a while, then pulled out a beat-up paper envelope, extracting a stack of yen notes from it as he stood.

Kawakami's eyes went wide has he paced at her, counting out thirty thousand, forty thousand. She stood, holding up both of her hands. "O-oh, I couldn't actually…" Fifty thousand. That kind of money could pull her out of the hole for weeks, maybe months. "R-really. Owing one of my students…" Sixty thousand. Despite her words, her hands betrayed her and reached for that ticket out of the scramble to placate the Takases. What would it be like to just breathe again? Even a few days of getting her head above water would be—

"Wait," he said, that wary tone re-entering his voice as his conscious mind re-engaged. "What do you actually need a hundred thousand for?"

Her train of thought derailed with the screams of a thousand moments of just wanting out. Despite herself, her fingers closed on those yen notes and her mouth ran ahead of her brain. "Oh, i-it's for my little sister. Sh-she's sick, so I need to pay for lots of medical bills."

Kurusu ripped the notes away, sending them fluttering through the room with trembling hands. With terrifying speed, tears welled up and flowed over. "You'd lie to me?" He drew in breath. "I told you about my old bastard, about my mother… I told you about Hifumi! How I can't help her, be with her!" An ugly urp crawled out of his throat.

Uh-oh. She knew that sound from over-invested athletes. Kawakami scrambled for the lined trash bin next to his bed. He half missed, but by then his hands were on his knees and he couldn't stop heaving. It felt like minutes passed as he sank to one knee and vomited rice, carrots, and celery over and over.

Apparently she learned nothing from the Takases, because despite driving him to puking, instead of leaving, her hand pressed circles on his back as he returned half-digested food. "I'm sorry, Kurusu-kun. But promise me you won't hold things here. You're killing yourself."

AN: The judge mentioned is a reference to Shirou Masamune, pen name of Outa Masanori, writer behind Appleseed and Ghost in the Shell.