Behind a red and black pant leg, a small plastic clip swung from side to side at the end of a braided nylon strap. Every few swings, the loop of plastic brushed against the ends of Makoto's fingers, as he walked up the stairs of Shibuya Central station.

Soft orange light up above. He stepped up to the top of the staircase, to the glass panes of the overpass, seeing the hundreds of cars and thousands of people out there on the street below.

As he played with the plastic clip, twisted it around on the backpack strap, Makoto caught on some spot on the street, and he thought about the conversations the people down there were having. What he'd hear, if he could listen in on them, talking about their kids, or their parents. Plans for dinner, plans for the weekend.

Not much different from the fragments he was catching now in the train station from everyone passing by behind him. If nothing else, it made it clear why a wiretap went all the way up to the SIU director for approval. There was no sense eavesdropping on all of that.

"We're gonna get reported if we don't do this? What the hell…" "Futaba Sakura?" "Wasn't Sakura…" "It's Boss's last name!" "Does he have any family?" "Does he?"

Makoto looked over to his left. They were still here, alright. Holding lightly on the rail, he walked over to the Phantom Thieves, pointed and counted, four voices, Ryuji, Ann, Hifumi, Yusuke, and besides Ren, shrugging and shaking his head, there was a fifth one, too.

His eyes turned down to the bag at Ren's feet. Right. Morgana could talk.

"For reals? How laid-back are you!?" Ryuji pressed his elbow on the glass panel behind him, and caught a glimpse of Makoto coming up the overpass. "Oh, hey, look who it is."

Whatever they were talking about quickly broke off, and they all looked at him. No hiding that he came here with intent. "Hey, Makoto," Ann said with a tiny wave. "What's up?"

"Hey guys." He stood at the end, by Hifumi, turning back to lean on the rail. The plastic clip clinked on the rail handle. "I, uh, made some progress on the Kaneshiro case. Nothing definite, yet, just, before I do something else I can't take back, I wanted to get your thoughts about this."

Hifumi shifted her head. "Something you can't take back?" There were already so many lines Makoto had crossed, it was hard to imagine what could be next. Though, for the Phantom Thieves and their system, nearly every act was irreversible.

Should he say it? Yeah, Makoto figured he better just say it. "I wiretapped Principal Kobayakawa. There's something he said, way back when this was just about Kamoshida. You said something similar, after that, about a weird guy." He stopped and looked around. "Involved with Madarame?"

Immediately, Ryuji and Ann started pointing fingers at each other, and Ren visibly bit his tongue. He remembered who it was, even if Makoto himself didn't. And it definitely wasn't Yusuke or Hifumi.

"You're the one in homeroom with him!" "Oh hell no! No effin' way I'd tell him this in class!"

Reaching her hand out, Hifumi tried to ease the tension. "This is actually the first I've heard of this strange third party. Is it someone who you've faced off with before?"

"Faced off with, no," Yusuke said. "The only trace we have of this interloper's existence is the word of Madarame's shadow, recalling a person with a black mask in its final moments."

Ann broke off her argument with Ryuji. "There wasn't any time to press him for details, cause the palace was collapsing, but would he really just make that up? After everything else he said?"

"Coulda just been trying to spook us," Ryuji said. "Then again, if the Principal said something about it…"

"So there is someone out there, who's involved in the shadow world in the same…" Hifumi trailed off as she felt Makoto tugging on her sleeve, beckoning her to take a look around, at the hundreds of people walking by. She reconsidered her words. "The same way as the Phantom Thieves."

Ren turned toward him. "Are you saying Kobayakawa knows about this?"

"Wait, go back a second," Ryuji said. "You wiretapped the Principal?!"

"Yeah, it's this little plastic box that plugs into the telephone cord." Makoto drew his finger down his chin. "Miss Niijima planted the bug on his office phone last night. Any calls going in or out-"

Ryuji shook his head wildly. "That's not what I mean, dude. You WIRETAPPED the Principal?!"

Despite the emphatically different tone, that the rest of the gang clearly understood, Makoto wasn't quite sure he got what that difference was supposed to mean. "I mean, yeah? Thinking about what he said, it's like he's known about this other guy since before the school year even started."

"He really had it out for us for a reason," Ren said. If he knew, and did nothing, and just looked for someone else to blame, how much of Kobayakawa's behavior would that explain all on its own? "Bet he regrets putting you up to this."

Ann stamped her foot and pumped her fist in the air. "If he doesn't already, he's sure gonna! Way to stick it to that blobby bastard, Makoto!"

"Well, it's that other guy, the black mask guy, that's going down, not Kobayakawa," Makoto said. "But, who knows? If, somehow, he ends up forced to resign, that can only be a good thing. Right?" The whole circle nodded back to him. "That does it for me, then. What are you guys up to?"

Pressure to answer mounted as Ren swiped around his phone, then showed Makoto a series of text messages from an eyeless cat picture profile by the name Alibaba. Threatening to expose the Phantom Thieves if they didn't so… something.

"I swear that's not me."

Ren tilted his phone back up, shaking his head to try to hide the corners of his mouth pulling into a wry smile. "Damn. I'm out of ide-" He wasn't even close to making it through with a straight face. "Okay, no, we didn't think it was."

"That is, unless the name Futaba Sakura means anything to you," Hifumi said. "Our mystery contact seems to think this name is enough to go on, and didn't provide anything more. Besides the calling card."

A calling card. So it was likely that Futaba Sakura, whoever that was, was some kind of criminal. But, Makoto shook his head, it wasn't ringing any bells. "I got nothing," he said, tapping his foot. "Actually, isn't that the cafe owner's name?"

"Yeah. Boss," Ann said. "If Futaba's related to him, I wonder how Alibaba knows about them."

The contact on Ren's phone had no identification that Makoto saw, but Alibaba was most likely it. "Is that someone from Medjed?" They kept putting out statements about the Phantom Thieves the past few days.

"Someone who claims he can deal with Medjed," Hifumi said. "Seeing as he somehow got a hold of Ren's smartphone information, I'm inclined to believe it. At least, enough to give us a lead. The forces around us are shaping up to be most formidable."

"Yeah, no kidding." Ryuji kicked on his back foot. "This Alibaba guy even tracked us down and sent us a calling card. Same day he said he would, too."

"What mail service works that fast?" Not that Makoto could ever remember sending a letter in the mail, but he did have experience with online shopping and same day delivery always looked too good to be true.

Ann's pigtails swayed as she rocked her head. "Now that I think about it, did that envelope even have a stamp? I know it didn't have any kind of return address."

"I don't think so," Morgana said from down below.

"Then, perhaps we're thinking about this all wrong." Hifumi waved her finger in front of her face, as though she was writing on an imaginary board. She slowly nodded. "Alibaba is close. Much closer than all these texts would lead us to think. Close enough to deliver that calling card directly."

"That does narrow our search, if only a little," Yusuke said. "It still leaves the entire Yongen-Jaya neighborhood."

Not necessarily, Makoto thought. "You haven't been exposed, though," he said. "So it's not like it's a bunch of people all contributing to a discovery. I mean, I'm just hearing all this from you now, but it sounds like Alibaba's alone in knowing your secret." Aside from Makoto himself, of course.

"True," Ren said. "This would be an awful lot of secrecy if the word had already gotten out. I think we'll have to find out more about Futaba to pin down Alibaba's interest in her. But we have to tread lightly. There's two people we might get blowback from."

"Indeed. At a critical juncture like this, we must act with tact and finesse." Hifumi's finger was still stuck on a stray thought.

Makoto stuffed his hands into his pocket. "Sounds like we both have our hands full," he said. "Hopefully we don't crash into each other like last time."

"Hey, it turned out fine once." Ren pushed his glasses up. They parted ways for the day, while Makoto lingered behind in the overpass a little while longer, his mind locked into his mission with the Principal.

Things weren't exactly fine. Not with Kobayakawa. Not with Miss Niijima. Not with Kaneshiro. But it could have been a lot worse, and it wasn't. The Phantom Thieves were busy, and they were doing something else, that Makoto wouldn't be interfering with.

Good. He could give his all to his own case.

He started playing with the plastic clip that dangled from the end of his backpack strap, brushing it with his fingertips as it swung back and forth. He stood up away from the railing, grabbed the clip, and pulled it taut.

The light of two smartphone screens weaved through a quiet backstreet alley. One light lit up Makoto's face, a constant guiding hue from a GPS app. The other kept changing color, dazzling as it shined off a deep red press on fingernail that swiped across the glass.

"This the place?" Big, puffy pigtails swung from side to side as the other girl looked up from her phone, through the door to the man in an apron pacing behind the counter to various machines, and an elderly couple sitting in the middle of three padded booth seats. Her lips smacked and her words slipped through a stick of gum in her mouth. "Looks cozy."

Makoto double checked her map. It really was this small place. Her phone, the standing chalkboard menu, the striped awning over the door, they all said as much. She tucked her phone away in her bag and took a step for the door, and heard humming but not boot steps behind her. "Junko?" Makoto turned around. "You ready?"

Her head swayed and she rustled the foil gum wrapper over her phone's mic. Makoto waved her hand in front of her face. Junko shook her head and smiled wide. "Sorry, just had something on my mind," she said. Lyrics crawled across a karaoke app, a new and trending J-pop original.

Rubbing her head, Makoto glanced into cafe again. No one spotted them loitering yet, but that could change at any moment. "Junko? Are you ready?" she said again. "There's not a whole lot else in this alley. We're going to look suspicious if we don't move it."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah." She spit her gum into the wrapper and folded it shut. "Good to go. Wouldn't want to go starting any fires, now. Which means we're not just barging in to ask him about his dead girlfriend?" Junko jabbed her thumb out toward the man in the apron.

"R-right. We're not doing that." That could be left to Sae. Or, better yet, not at all. Although, Makoto's head sank mulling over possibilities, it was Isshiki's files they were looking for. "We might not be able to entirely avoid talking about her, but there should be a better context to bring it up." She glanced up, and pointed at the awning.

Coffee

Leblanc

Junko followed the length of her arm up to the writing there, nodding and still only half paying attention. "Uh huh." Her eyes floated around, making one last check on her phone before she put that away. "That's a weird pair. What's up with that?"

"I wondered that, too. Coffee and curry, it didn't really make sense to me with she showed me the photos. However, Sakura quit his old job and opened this store just around the time Isshiki died. If I look at it that way…" To be sure, it was a stretch. Perhaps he was trying to distance himself from it, and this was the farthest thing he could think of.

No. Makoto saw the photo of them together. The coffee and curry were part of their relationship, whatever that relationship was. And the restaurant wasn't an escape, it was just the opposite, a monument to Isshiki's memory.

"Hmm… Aha!" Junko snapped her fingers at the sign standing beneath the awning. It had a menu on it, written in chalk. She was pointing to the house special curry. "That's our in? Yeah, I think I'm seeing how it'd work. We stick to the good memories. Good one, Makoto!"

The elderly customers got up from their seat and opened the front door with a quick greeting. Junko caught the door, and beckoned Makoto to follow her inside. She flicked the gum wrapper around her fingers as Makoto walked past, and prodded her on by the shoulder as the door closed behind them and struck the bell.

"Welcome," Mr. Sakura said. Junko waved with the back of her other hand and slid into the same booth the just leaving couple got out of. He circled around the counter to grab the cups and saucers. "Let me get that out of your way." He also pocketed a small pile of cash as he wiped down the table.

Makoto squeezed behind him, "Excuse me," and sat down on the other bench from Junko. With a quiet rustle of foil, Makoto watched her shoulder wiggling around, and a grin settling in on her face.

"Something got you in high spirits?" the man in the apron said. That was all they were supposed to know him as for now. The store manager, at most.

"Just everything I've heard about the place," Junko said. "Dinner for two, please. The house special?" Her eyes flickered to Makoto just to confirm, and she had no objections.

"Coming right up." The manager left to place the dishes in the sink behind the bar.

While he was looking the other way, Makoto ducked below the table, where she saw Junko's finger circling around a small, round-

"My eyes are up here, Makoto." She turned one eye over the edge of the table. "And everything else."

"Th-That's not-!" The wrapper! The wad of gum! Makoto's face flushed with embarrassment. What did Junko think she was looking at?!

She slumped down with her arms over the tabletop. As Junko shushed her with a finger to her lips, the coffee machine gushed steam and dripped into a pot, and a knife blade clonked on a chopping board from the kitchen in the back.

Makoto wiggled her own shoulder and pointed down below the table. "… What are you even doing?" She tried to clear her head and think about what she actually saw.

"What do you mean?" Junko turned her head and gave her an inquisitive, sidelong glare. "What does it look like I'm doing? People do it all the time. What, you never check under your desk or the benches back at Shujin?"

Under the benches? Did people really… Makoto shook her head. This was ridiculous, and Junko's doubletalk wasn't helping. Better to just not think about this, and focus on the task at hand.

The stream of coffee slowed to a trickle, to a single final drop, and the manager poured it out fresh into two cups, beside plates of curry that oozed with flavor. Before he even got a word out, Junko was waving the aromas of both onto her face, savoring the smell. "Mhmm, I think I'm starting to believe."

"Another skeptic, huh?" The manager wiped the lip of the coffee pot on his apron. "You'll be even more convinced once you taste it. Enjoy, ladies."

In fairness, Makoto was a touch skeptical. She'd never made curry with the broth quite as rich and thick before. She'd never made her own coffee before either. From her first sip of a small time, more personal cup, rather than a big name store, maybe she could take a crack at it.

Junko's first bite looked just as enchanting. "Mmm." Makoto lowered her fork to the rim of her plate. "This is really good."

"I know, right?" Head tossed up, Junko licked her lips of the curry. "I don't know what I expected, but this sure beats it." But even as she talked, her expression dropped in a moment, only for a moment, and she pointed to the manager behind the counter, then waved her hand. "Sir! Can I have a word?"

The manager glanced up, and stepped closer to the counter. "By all means," he said. "And, Boss, is fine."

She snapped her fingers. "Boss. Gotcha. I gotta say, this? This is something else, I mean…" Junko shifted away. "Everything just works so well together. Makoto, you know what I mean, right?"

Makoto shook her head slowly. Not really. In fact, she was curious just what Junko did mean, and focused on it with her next bite, a perfect blend of spice and crunch. "Yeah. I think so," she said. "It really goes beyond the flavors, it's the way they blend. There's a precision to it-"

"Precision!" Junko pointed at her with a glowing smile. "That's the word! Like, scientific precision." Her eyes lingered on the manager, the Boss. "That must have taken you, forever," Junko emphasized with a wave of her hand. "To get it just right."

Boss thumped his hand on the counter top. "It took a lot of effort," he said. "And I had some help along the way. But it looks to me like it paid off."

"Yeah, I'll say." With her arm laid on the backrest of the booth, Junko looked left and right, between the front door and the stairs in the back. Her smile stuck like glue, even under Boss's slight grimace.

He'd definitely seen that one before.

Makoto looked up from her food, rushing to swallow half the rice in her mouth, but the rest still muffled her words. "I'll second that," she said gulping down her hastily chewed curry. "Perfecting a recipe this good must have been quite the process."

Eyes trailing back to Junko's arms spread out on the booth seat, Boss scoffed, and nodded. "I think I see what you two are up to," he said. "But don't think sweet talking that perfect recipe out of me is gonna be so easy. If you want to eat this good, you can find it right here."

Junko snapped her fingers. "Drat!" She grinned at Makoto. "He figured us out. But I bet his partner isn't as tight lipped."

Boss flung back. His eyes tightened.

Was this still a part of the plan? Makoto felt too awkward to eat, or do or say anything to break the silence.

"Of course, we'd never dream of stealing your recipe from you," Junko said. "It's not even so much about that as the process behind it. The curry's good. No, that's wrong. It's great. But I couldn't eat it every day. Maybe some people could. Not me. I do wish everything could be this good. So please, with no pretenses, just a little chat with the team. That's all I'm asking. We can do the rest."

With a tap of his shoe, Boss turned around and took one of the bar stools. "Just a friendly little chat about, what, perfectionism? Hmph." His eyes shined for a moment, perhaps thinking simpler thoughts. And then he closed them and shook his head. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

Her eyes drifted away from the distress written on his face, and onto Junko who looked much more unfazed. No doubt her gears were turning, but Makoto couldn't think of anything to say. They weren't supposed to know they couldn't meet her, much less why. But it just seemed too cruel to keep talking like she was still alive.

After a quick glance in her direction, Junko darted back to Boss. "That's a shame," she said. She twiddled her fingers through her pigtails, grumbling and staring down at her plate. "Of course, it doesn't have to be right this second. Perfect is forever."

Makoto reached out with a firm grip on Junko's other hand. "Maybe it doesn't even have to be in person." There was no turning back the clock on Isshiki, and it was starting to feel like she was pressing too hard, that something was about to break. "If she has any notes she could pass onto us, that'd be plenty to start with."

Junko was looking at her funny. Did she jump the gun? Did she say…

She.

Boss had the same look on his face. "Mhm. Figures." He sat up and crossed his arms. "So, what, then? You're after her cognitive research too, I take it. You and everyone else coming in here these days. Well I don't have anything for you there."

"Busted!" Junko rolled her eyes, slowly, giving Makoto an acutely deliberate side eye. "I bet you do, though," she said. "Even if you don't realize it. Now, you don't have to tell us anything, but that lawyer that was here a few days ago, she's a fighter. We have ways of making you talk!" She raised her voice, mighty and haughty, and waved her free hand around like a police baton. "And just leave it to the government to back that up, right?"

He worked for the government, used to. From the way he nodded, he remembered very well. "Look, you're right. She did write it down. Not just the cognitive stuff, either. She kept her whole life on that flash drive. If that's what you're looking for, I don't have it." Boss turned to Makoto. "And your sister coming back with more threats isn't going to change that."

"Speaking of, why is she going through all this trouble?" Junko scooped up another bite of the curry, chewed long enough for Makoto to remember that there were secrets Sae wasn't privy to.

"Because it's not in her office," Makoto said. It would have been the first place Sae looked for evidence. "It's not in records." That was where Kyoko got all the files in the first place. "It's not in the lab." Dr. Maruki would have known about it. She looked to Boss. "The bureau you worked for was Research Promotion, right? It's not there either?"

Boss shut his eyes and shook his head, resigned to the idea that two high school girls had dug up his whole life story. "I stuck around just long enough to look for it. Came up empty handed."

"What does that leave?" Junko twirled her chopsticks together. "Just the police, right? Old evidence in a closed case by now. It'll be a wonder if they haven't already destroyed it."

Just what Makoto needed to hear. More uncertainty. But they were so close now, they couldn't get hung up on that. Nor on the thought of going straight to the police to interfere in the investigation of a century. No, she shook her head. No room for doubts. "We have to try," she said.

Head down and sighing, Boss pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just what are you two involved in… And why am I even asking?"

Junko flicked her eyes around the room. "You don't understand, Boss." She pushed up the edge of her dinner plate, took an exaggerated bite. "It's really good curry." There was no way she was being sincere about it. They'd already dropped the act.

"Uh-huh." Boss stood up and circled back behind the counter. His shoulders shoulders slouched and he clenched his hand closed. A surefire sign of a dying thought. "Well, eat up, then. I expect to see those plates spotless. You hear me?"

"Of course. Thank you, Boss," Makoto said, trying her best to sound chipper and casual. Even to herself, it sounded forced. The rest of dinner passed in a blur, lulled as she savored the tastes that melted together in her mouth.

She even found herself picking at the last smears of curry on the plate, when the front door rang with another visitor. "Oh, you're back," Boss said across the counter. Apparently a regular here, it was Amamiya.

Junko turned, following Makoto's gaze to Mr. Tall, Dark, and while Makoto wouldn't say archetypically handsome, maybe he was Junko's type. Or maybe her over the top swooning as she dived onto him was meant as an obvious act. "Hello, there! Look at you…" She circled around him, hands spread over his arms and shoulders. "You come here often?"

"I'll be here the next time you are," Amamiya said, mustering a tone of total calm and suave, despite shooting a quick look of suppressed panic at Makoto.

Junko tiptoed up to his ear. "I'll hold you to that." She drew her nails down the length of his arm, just barely brushing the palms of his hands. "Sorry. Can't stay tonight, but I definitely can't let you go."

Boss's whistle cut their meeting short. "Why don't you two save it for next time?" Amamiya glanced into his bag before giving Junko a cordial nod and heading… upstairs? Junko stepped outside and waved for Makoto to follow, and she did, slowly, stuck staring at the staircase in the back of the restaurant.

"Hoo, boy…" She heard as the bell jingled behind her.

So many questions. Most of them about Junko. What was that, with Amamiya? How much did she really care about the food? About the cognitive world? And what the hell was going on underneath the table? Could Makoto even get a serious answer out of her on any of these? She sighed, she was done being the interrogator for the night.

But there was still something constructive to ask. "Thinking about the police station," Makoto said. "The flash drive is bound under lock and key. What are we supposed to do, break in and steal it?"

Junko huffed and crossed her arm. "No, Makoto. That's illegal. And you don't even know where it is." True, somewhere in the police station was far different from which exact cabinet. "Besides, there's an easier way. You're just gonna ask for it."

As they stepped out of the alleyway, on the path back to the train station, Makoto was about to protest. But maybe, for all her enigmatic quirks, maybe Junko was onto something. And if anything was ever going to help Makoto see things her way, maybe this was it.

Every day on the train was a new incendiary rumor. Usually. Today, though, it sounded like the embers were petering out.

"They still haven't done anything yet?"

"Ha! They talk a big game, but it looks like Medjed's been left in the dust."

"What are you in such a rush for? It hasn't even been a week, chill out!"

"Would you really wait a week? If they were gonna do anything, they'd have done it by now."

"So it's over, then? Thank God, I do not need any more of this crap stressing me out all summer!"

"I'm not sure… I have a feeling like the other shoe's about to drop."

"Yeah I was pumped for this drama to go on all year long. Ending like this, what a bummer."

"You're crazy. Things are finally back to normal, you should be glad!"

"It was fun while it lasted. Here I was, hoping the Phantom Thieves would finally be exposed."

"Like Medjed's the saint here? Just dropping some empty threats and pissing off. As if! PT's all the way!"

"They're all a bunch of blowhards. Good riddance to both of them."

Winding down. Winding down was good, Makoto had thought once. Everyone having a chance to breathe, and go back to the ordinary lives they had before all this cat and mouse started. He laughed as the train ran over the bump, thinking about it now that he knew better.

Summer break was just hours away. Everyone here, all his classmates that stoked these fires every day, he might just miss them. Well, there was always next semester. Before too much more crossed his mind, the train doors opened to the Shujin subway station, and he moved his feet to the last procession of the season.

Indoors, the hallways on the first floor buzzed with the third year students' summer plans. One was eager for a road trip. Another groaned at the thought of cram school. One whispered, loud as anyone else, about getting a job behind the school's back. Another gushed about spending the break with her boyfriend.

Makoto wasn't one of them. He stood in front of his locker, shuffling books in and out, thinking which ones he'd need most. Probably all of them, his grades barely survived this one term as it was. Optimistically.

It could be he had no future here at all.

He pushed the door shut, and there was Kasumi, leaning on the next locker over, with eyes fixed and a sly smile. "Good morning, Senpai! So, now that it's been a while…" She clasped her hands together over her skirt. "How was it?"

It had barely been a week since the gymnastics meet, but so much else had been on his mind that Makoto felt bad for letting this promise slip. "It was a lot of fun," he said. "I couldn't follow a whole lot of it, but you and Sumire looked great. Sorry if that's not as deep as you're looking for, I've just never been to a gymnastics competition before." He was so clearly grasping at straws.

And Kasumi made no effort to hide that she could see it. "It's more than I expected. After all, it's not like soccer, it's more like telling a story. If you don't understand at first, that's not your fault. You don't have to make up a book report for my sake. Besides, it's not the meet I was asking about."

"Ah, yeah…" Makoto turned around and leaned back on the locker himself. "Wait, what is it about, then? You're already thinking about your next one? Second's plenty to be proud of, Kasumi! And when first place is the Ultimate Gymnast, that almost doesn't count."

"I know…" She looked around the hallway. "I just don't want to be the kind of person that cares about that. If the rest of the country, if the whole rest of the world thinks Akane Owari is the best gymnast just because of what school she goes to, I just have to prove them wrong." Kasumi pulled head up and muttered something under her breath. "But, that's zero for two. Nrrgh. It's Sumire! Come on, tell me how it went!"

Makoto's face flushed red. Kasumi's smile, as if that was all she needed to see, only made it worse. "How it went with Sumire? Uh, n-nothing happened."

Her whole head rolled with her eyes. "That's not true. She's been different all week. A good different. Something changed."

"Okay! We took a walk around the strip. We chatted for a bit." They touched each other's lips, a memory Makoto couldn't help but linger on for a second. Long enough for Kasumi to read his mind, he realized as he felt himself smiling. "But that's between me and her. It didn't go any further than that."

Kasumi crossed one foot behind the other. "I know," she said. "You wouldn't play with a girl's heart like that. As long as you're serious about it, though… She likes you, Makoto. I think you're good for her. I say go for it."

But what did he think? It could be the rest of his life they were talking about, and Kasumi was nudging him to decide it right now? He hadn't really known her more than a few months. But he felt special about her, watching her, being next to her. If there was ever a future Makoto could decide on, a person he could take a chance on, surely Sumire was the one.

How much of that was his heart doing the talking?

How much of it Kasumi's enthusiasm? "Not that I don't like her too, but, don't you think this is a little bit too much, too fast?"

"No," she said flatly. "Some move has to be your first. Make it optimistically." Kasumi tugged on his sleeve, both hands. "I'm not saying you have to sweep her off her feet right away. But if you ask her out, I promise you she'll say yes. See where it goes from there. I have a good feeling about it, and I want you both to be happy." Her grip on Makoto's sleeves tightened when she felt him trying to pull away.

They caught some eyes in the hallway. Some over imaginative glances, some awkward flicks away, some smirks from people who definitely won't shut up about it all summer. Makoto pushed back with all the strength his wrists could muster, until Kasumi let go on her own.

"Sorry about that." She retreated a step, hands back down by her sides. "Of course, it's up to you and her to make it work. Or not. But you'll at least try, right?"

"I… want to," Makoto said. He brushed a bead of sweat off his forehead. He saw Kasumi lock onto him. But? "I'm still working on something. The same thing you helped me with, with the smuggling, and the gangsters. It's not over. It's more than I ever thought it'd be, and the last thing I want is to drag Sumi into it."

Slowly, Kasumi folded her tensed up arms together. "That guy died," she said. She nodded when she saw the rest of Makoto's line of thought. All roads led back to the Phantom Thieves. "And you can't give them up."

"It wasn't them."

"I know." Kasumi turned around, looking out the window to the courtyard. She sighed, she shrugged. "Kobayakawa's been dumping this on you all year. Everyone can tell where he stands regarding the truth. The absolute, polar opposite. If he wants it to be them, then it's not. And you'll prove it."

She left for the stairwell, left Makoto at the lockers to think about what she said. For the first time, he really thought about what comes after all the investigating, after exposing the culprit. Being with someone, with Sumire, it was first idea of the rest of his life he'd ever had.

All that was in his way was Kobayakawa. Him, and whoever was behind him, too. And then he was free. No big deal, he thought. Kasumi's confidence was rubbing off on him.

The filled part of a progress bar slowly crawled its way to the right. A mouse cursor zipped around it, stopping and going in the shape of a rectangle. In front of the computer, Chihiro slumped her head on her arm, kicking her feet over the side of the chair. Code was compiling.

A half dozen other windows tiled the computer's background. A text editor, a software developer environment, brain activity readouts from the probes from Makoto and Kyoko both, a hastily drawn flowchart in Paint with no labels, and a document reader. Wakaba Isshiki's flash drive glowed in its port on the side of Chihiro's laptop.

"Are you sure I can't keep a copy of it?" Chihiro said.

Makoto looked up from the booklet in her hands. "The program, or cognitive research?" Aside from being buried in a ludicrous number of New folders, the paper was dense reading. She could barely catch a sentence at a time while Chihiro flicked from page to page.

"Honestly, both." Her head perked up and her mouse trail drew tighter around the end of the progress bar. "I mean, this at least, I need to keep until we know it works. As for the paper, I guess it's not really necessary to have, but… can I?"

"It's possible Isshiki died for it." Kyoko was sitting in another row, rereading the case file on the researcher's death. "What we're doing now, trying to break into the cognitive world, could be the same thing her killer did. Same with the culprit of the mental shutdown cases over the last year. And it makes them more likely to be the same person."

Now Chihiro was fully alert, and shaking. "Does that mean…? Does that mean they'll come after us too?"

She shot Kyoko a cautious glare, which she returned in kind. Makoto stepped to Chihiro's side, and laid her hand on her shoulder. "It could." And she hated not knowing who was in danger, and how much of it was her fault. "For Kyoko and myself, it can't be avoided. But if there's any chance keeping this out of your hands means you're safe…" She pointed at the flash drive.

Chihiro wrapped her fingers around it, green light shining in the space between them. "One day," she said. "I'll wipe it after that, but, please, Niijima, I just need it for a day."

Makoto turned to Kyoko again, a less certain look this time. "A day should be fine, right?"

"The earliest hours typically make the biggest impact. That goes for most things, not just detective work." Kyoko put the file down and walked around the rows of tables to join Makoto next to the computer. It was almost finished compiling. "I'm sorry, Fujisaki. I would say no. But it's my training to look for ways things could go wrong. So I'll leave the choice to you."

Makoto tucked her finger back in line with her loosely curled fist. She patted Chihiro's shoulder. "What do you need it for?"

"There's someone I have to send it to," Chihiro said. "Isshiki's daughter, Futaba. She was a friend of mine, but we haven't talked in a long time. Now that I think of it, it was the day her mom died. So, if everything Kirigiri put together is true… I'm worried about her. This was stolen from her." Chihiro clicked on the window with the cognitive research file. "I want to give it back."

"Won't that leave a trace?" Kyoko said.

"There's ways to conceal it. I hear you that's dangerous," Chihiro switched back to the progress bar. "It'd be dangerous no matter who has it. At least if it's me, I can accept it."

One day. And then what? Take the danger out of Chihiro's hands, just to put someone else at risk? Or bear the burden herself, and worry about the flash drive every waking moment. Maybe she could give it to Sojiro, but it wasn't like it really safer with him than anyone else either. She sighed, and let go of her grasp on Chihiro. Someone had to bear the risk. At least it could be someone who wanted to. "You can keep it," she said.

Chihiro took her hand off the flash drive, full green light glowing. "Thank you," she whispered, and went back to check on the program. "It's done! Can I have your phone for a second?"

Makoto pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over. She watched it connect to the laptop, and hung her head and slumped back down into the nearest chair. Of course this was going to happen.

Another loading bar.

Kobayakawa was always on the phone with someone. It made sense, his job was basically passing information back and forth, but now, Makoto couldn't help speculating who was on the other end. Maybe some education minister. Maybe the press, he talked about that a lot. Maybe the police. Makoto saw the small black recording box still connected to the telephone. Kobayakawa hadn't found it yet.

Or maybe he found it, and hadn't removed it. The uncertainty was brutal. No wonder everyone else in school believed everything they heard.

Makoto shut the door behind him. Kobayakawa put his hand over the phone speaker and brought it down to his desk. "Naegi! Come on in, please. Have a seat. Our discussion last week ended somewhat abruptly. I trust that you've taken this time to reconsider your priorities for the summer?"

"I did."

"Good! That's very good to hear." The principal clasped his hands together and smiled with as much delight as his pudgy face could express. "Uh, tell me. What did you have in mind?"

Makoto tapped his foot around underneath the principal's desk. "I was going to devote the whole month to the Kaneshiro case, but after talking to Kasumi, and, thinking about what you told me as well…"

"Yoshizawa." He leaned in. "Is she involved? Is she one of them?" Kobayakawa wasn't actually drooling over his desk, but it sure felt like dangling a bit of meat in front of a starving dog.

"What? No! She's got nothing to do with the Phantom Thieves!" Makoto linked his hands behind his head. "She just wishes I'd finally give this detective stuff a rest."

"Of course, of course. Sorry, I may have gotten a little ahead of myself." He tried to compose himself, but his body fat betrayed the way his arms shook, even just reaching for the telephone handset. "I'm sure the semester has been difficult for you. And I acknowledge that your special activities on my behalf have contributed to that burden. So, if you agree, then alleviating that burden can be as simple as dropping your interest in that criminal Kaneshiro. It seems like you're the only one who misses him anyway. I would appreciate it. Yoshizawa would appreciate it. Just focus on the Phantom Thieves. They're students of this school, it's summer break, they should have their guard down, it'll be easier on you. Everyone gets what they want."

"Unless…" Kobayakawa wrung his hands together, "… that's not what you want. Need I remind you, Naegi, what happens then?"

"You'll report me, for killing him. I thought about that." Makoto lifted his head up. He looked at the end of the telephone. He looked at the bug, still installed. He saw the speaker indicator light on the telephone. "I guess you didn't. Even if everything I did was part of some master plan to kill Kaneshiro, someone had to make him crazy." That'd have to involve his shadow. His castle in the thought world. Where would Kaneshiro's castle have been?

"That could just as easily be you. After all, this will only happen because you refused to prove otherwise."

"But locking me away doesn't fix your problem. Either of them. The Phantom Thieves will still be out there. Then who's going to find them for you? We both know you won't find them by yourself." It was the hideout, the coordinates Niijima went to great lengths to find, and her prosecutor sister, even greater lengths.

"And what other problem might you be referring to, Naegi?"

"Kaneshiro's actual killer." No one else, besides any other gang members, was arrested that day. So whoever it was had business there, and the only thing happening was the police raid. Someone who could slip away and return without anyone noticing. "After all, if this is unrelated to the Phantom Thieves, then they didn't do it. Right? Makes sense to me."

Kobayakawa pounded his throat. Perhaps now, he realized the extent of his error. Perhaps he'd finally admit he had a problem. Or, Makoto was dismayed to think as he saw the principal drum his fingers, he'd still hold onto his pathetic self delusion. "Well, your logic there is sound. Enough. But, so what?"

"What do you mean, so what? So, I was right! There is someone else involved! If they can get Kaneshiro, they can get you too. Oh my God, that's what this was about the whole time! They're going to kill you. That's seriously what this was about, if you don't what they want, they're going to kill you!"

He scrambled to hang up the phone, but in his panic, the principal dropped the handset over the edge of his desk, and it fell at Makoto's feet. "Naegi…" His tone changed. Almost like he was a completely different person.

But only almost.

"Naegi… Before you say another word, please, hand me the phone…"

His own cell phone started ringing in his pocket.

Niijima

He pushed back his chair and stood up to leave Kobayakawa's office. "Get it yourself," he said, and shut the door behind him. Makoto hit the call button. "What's up?"

"Do you remember that thought world you mentioned a while ago? I've been working with some of my classmates to find a way to access it. I think we did, but we can't tell if it really works or not. Do you know the exact process our counterparts used?"

Makoto peered back through the door window, watching the fat principal fumbling with the telephone. He walked fast, driven with purpose, downstairs to grab his school bag. "Meet me at Shibuya station. I'll explain the rest to you there. And if this works, there's something else I need you to do as well."

Maybe this wouldn't take all summer. Makoto saw a chance to put an end to the cognitive murder case, to flush out the killer and catch him in the act. At last, he saw a chance for things to go back to normal. He saw a chance to try building a future with Sumire. He saw a chance to save Kobayakawa.

Everybody wins.