Disclaimer:
Praise to Atlus, the company that created the games! I do not own the story and the concepts represented in this fiction!
Author's Notes:
Hello everyone! I hope everything's going well. This chapter is an excellent counterbalance to Chapter 31, where things got too heavy. It's a little emotional, but in a good way!
Thanks to everyone who continues to read this story. It's the longest story I've ever written, and I'm committed to finishing it. This motivation stems directly from your support and encouragement, so thanks! Any likes, feedback, and reviews are greatly appreciated!
[Comments to Reviews]
prince of underbrush: Hey! Thank you so much for your review and your thoughts. Yeah, Chapter 31 got dark real quick. Putting those ideas to paper (or computer screen) was honestly uncomfortable. That's why it took me so long to post the chapter. Nonetheless, it would have been all worth it if it had gotten that shocked expression out of you!
codywhite162: Thank you so much for your review. I'm thrilled you are so invested! Your reaction reminded me of my friend who edited this chapter. He honestly wasn't ready for the sudden dark turn. I have some more ideas to keep the momentum of Chapter 31 going, so I look forward to it.
Before
10/12
The sunlight peeking from the window curtains greets Akira like any other morning. Despite the cooler and windy Fall season rearing its head, the weather outside still maintained a bit of that summer luster.
Strange, Akira thinks, considering what happened yesterday.
Rising from the bed, careful not to disturb Morgana, Akira wonders if he'll ever forget. Suppose the images from the new broadcast would remain an ever-present reminder of what a mental shutdown does to a person.
The black ooze seeps out of Kunikazu Okumura's mouth, nose, ears, and pupil-less eyes—the look of horror on everyone's faces and, most frightening, Haru's expression.
Her look of absolute stupefaction before she came to her senses and fled Destinyland with all her might. On this surprisingly warm October morning, Haru's reaction repeats itself inside the young man's mind.
Carefully, Akira slides off the bed, feet contacting the hardwood flooring and wincing as it creaks. Akira slowly turns back at Morgana, still sleeping, and then to the sunny blue skies visible beyond the window.
Why? Akira wonders.
How could the world retain such a sunny disposition after such a horrific and traumatizing display of death?
Were his struggles and those of his friends so insignificant?
Akira sighs miserably, cradling his face in his hands. He resists the urge to call Haru. Or text her, leave a voicemail, or the myriad of other ways he's tried to make contact.
The only reason he hadn't raced to her estate was Morgana's insistence that the older girl needed space. Starting at the sleeping feline, Akira wonders if his resentment is justified or if he's handling the situation as poorly as he imagines.
His feelings are too chaotic to make sense of right now. So, without delay, Akira begins preparing for another ordinary school day. He's slow in getting ready and, at some point, makes enough noise for Morgana to stir from his slumber.
The biped tuxedo's maw opens as he yawns and takes in his surroundings. Akira finishes buttoning his blazer.
"Morning," Morgana drawls.
"Morning," Akira acknowledges, reaching for his student bag.
Morgana takes another moment to stretch his limbs before asking, "How'd you sleep?"
Akira gives the feline a deadpan look that screams, Are you asking me that?
Morgana sighs. "Hey, I'm just asking. No need to get upset for caring."
Akira's blank facade softens. "I know, I know. I just...I slept well. But I shouldn't have! Haru's dad just died on national television. She saw it all. And it might be our fault..."
Akira sighed deeply and sat on the bed next to Morgana. It took a lot out of Akira to admit this secret suspicion to Morgana. But he also knew that out of everyone on the team, only Morgana would listen to his concerns objectively without feeling discouraged. The other thieves, at times, revered him as calm and fearless. With their apprehension over the situation, Akira's anxieties could harm their morale.
"You know we did everything right?" Morgana says, curling up against Akira's thigh.
Akira turns sharply at the feline, ready with an angry retort, but stops after the cat gives him a pointed look.
"We've changed Kamoshida's, Madarame's, Kaneshiro's, and - heck! - even Futaba's heart. Of all those heists, how many have led to mental shutdowns or deaths!?"
"N-none -"
"Okay! And, before we even formed the Phantom Thieves, were mental shutdowns occurring!?
"T-they were happening-"
"And is there not a third party wearing a black mask who is unaccounted for!?
Akira shoots to his feet. "There is!"
"Exactly! I understand you must feel guilty and uncertain about what happened yesterday. Trust me. I feel the same. But! We did everything right. Therefore, following that train of thought could only mean that after securing the treasure, some unaccounted variable must have intervened."
"Unaccounted like this black mask."
Morgana nods sagely. "Yes. So, hold off those feelings of guilt and blame. Instead, channel those negative feelings toward finding the truth and taking down the true culprit!"
Akira nods resolutely. He knows he doesn't radiate his usual strength and assuredness. Still, Morgana's impromptu pep talk is enough to return a bit of fire to his eyes.
"Thank you," the young man says, smiling appreciatively at his feline companion. "I... felt myself spiraling there for a bit. If not for you, I wouldn't have thought about that. An unaccounted variable...black mask."
Morgana shrugs nonchalantly. "It's no problem. I'm your second in command, after all."
Akira quietly chuckles at Morgana's attempt at acting cool. "I... still want to check up on Haru. But I should wait, shouldn't I?"
"It's best to give her some time. She'll come around. She's strong. But what she's going through is undoubtedly challenging."
Akira hums quietly in agreement. He opens his bag for Morgana to jump into, and then the two venture downstairs, where Sojiro is preparing for the day.
"Curry?" Sojiro asks.
Akira holds up his hand. "I'm okay. I'll get something small on the way."
"Suit yourself. But the little prince needs his nourishment. Don't punish him for your terrible diet."
Akira groans and opens his bag so Morgana can happily jump out and follow Sojiro for a plate of canned tuna. As Morgana eats, Akira entertains himself with the nearby crossword puzzle, stumbling with a six-letter word involving school festivals.
While he scours his brain for the possible answer, Sojiro slides a full plate with utensils.
"Much as I love your curry, it doesn't always make the best breakfast," Akira says, picking up the fork and knife.
"It's leftovers from yesterday. Usually, there's not much the next day, but you didn't eat any last night."
"Wasn't hungry..."
Sojiro hums contemplatively. "Listen, when's the last time you called your parents?"
Akira nearly chocks mid-chew. "W-what?"
"Parents, kid. You're mother and father. Or, more accurately, pains in my ass."
Akira shallows slowly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the older male. "Why? Did they call?"
Sojiro snorts in laughter, giving Akira an almost condescending smirk. "Have they called? Those two bother me for weekly updates on how you're doing. Goodness, help me if I wait to reach out to them. Your father panics."
The raven-haired teen stares at Sojiro with shrunken pupils. Sojiro laughs at his reaction.
"I'm guessing that's a no. Listen, I don't mind keeping your parents updated on what's happening here, but they'd want to hear from you."
"They would?"
"Of course," Sojiro says as if it is the obvious thing in the world.
But Akira isn't so sure. "Then...why haven't they called me directly?"
Sojiro shrugs, walking over to collect Morgana's finished plate as the content feline saunters over. "Maybe the same reason you haven't reached out either."
With those words, Sojiro turns toward the cabinetry to prepare for the day. Akira slowly munches on his curry. The epiphany that his parents were thinking of him weighs down on his mind the entire way to school and during his classes.
Even during Ms. Kawakami's lecture, thoughts of his mother and father miraculously outweigh everything else.
"Listen this time, okay?" Ms. Kawakami huffs. "We're discussing literature created by individuals in the working class –"
"Hey," whispers a male student to another. "You see that shit yesterday with that president?"
"I know," the other student no-so-discreetly replies, "I can't believe they aired that guy dying."
"And I can't believe you're wasting time during my class!" Ms. Kawakami snaps. She takes a breath. "Okay, never mind. Question time!"
A chorus of groans fills the classroom.
"Nope, you all did this to yourselves. Let's see..."
For a moment, the teacher's eyes narrow in Akira's direction. With her gaze, she asks the silent question, "Have you got this?"
Usually, Akira is ready to accept and answer any question she sends his way. It does wonders for his reputation as a delinquent, making him appear at least competent, something his teacher/maid has repeatedly stressed she wanted to help improve.
This time, however, Akira discreetly shakes his head – to Ms. Kawakami's muted surprise. Too many things run rampant in his mind to care about his reputation. Unfortunately, Akira's refusal puts Ann in the hot seat.
"Takamaki," the teacher decides.
Ann jumps. "Y-yes?"
"Hope you were paying attention. Can you tell me –"
Akira can see the tips of Ann's ears redden as she struggles to respond. It sucks for her because Ms. Kawakami repeatedly mentioned the author before posing the question.
As Ann struggles, Akira takes a peek at his phone. Morgana, curled up inside his desk, peers to look. The group chat is abuzz with activity, and Makoto even comments on their situation. Someone noticeably missing, though, is Haru, and no one has yet to hear from her.
Akira gulps and stares at the time on his phone. In another twenty minutes, the class will end, and he will run to the roof, hoping against all odds that Haru is waiting for him. Just like she always is.
X
Watching the uniformed police officers and the suited detectives rummage through her family's estate irks Haru more than she'd ever admit. They were so clinical and careless in inspecting each room and item. Moving things out of place, not putting them back, and treating them without proper respect.
Their treatment of her father's office was the worst. She wanted to object fiercely each time she saw them enter with shoes, toss and turn books and folders, or carelessly put them away.
Didn't they know her father detested shoes or sandals touching the office carpet? Or that every book and folder has a label and specific place on the bookshelf or filing cabinet. Or that no one was allowed entrance to her father's office without explicit permission.
Or that –!
Haru inhales deeply before getting too immersed in her thoughts. She expects her father to angrily march through the door and throw a tantrum before remembering the harsh reality. Her father is dead.
He'll never come marching in to criticize the people ravaging their house. He'll never come home with that annoyed grimace he always wore after a long day at the company.
He'll never make a snide remark or chastise her on her usefulness.
And he'll be able to turn it all around and fix their damaged father-daughter relationship like she's always dreamed he would.
Haru exhales and attempts to clear her mind. To distract herself, she stares out the rows of picture windows. Despite the recent temperature drop, today is sunny, with light brightening the grass field outside. It is a picturesque scene only momentarily dampened by Haru's present company. It's almost jarring how beautiful the world can appear after such a cruel, whimsical death of her father. The inconsistency makes her want to laugh.
Blinking back to awareness, Haru tries to make sense of the jumbled conversations around her, especially the ones involving Sae Niijima.
"—calling card in the principal's office too!" exclaims a tired-looking detective.
Haru's interest in the conversation quadruples as she stares at Sae's dumbfounded expression.
"Yes..." the older woman whispers resolutely.
Sae Niijima turns to address Haru and regains her professional facade. "I'm sorry if this sounds repetitive, but your father never mentioned the Phantom Thieves, correct?"
Haru stands and says, "That's right..."
"I see. If anything new catches your attention, please feel free to reach out. No matter how small."
She hands Haru a business card with her contact info in big, clear lettering. Haru nods and watches the pair walk off into another room. Then, she rushes to her bedroom and locks the door.
She leans against the doorframe and descends until she tumbles onto her butt. The consequence of recent events weighs heavily on her fatigued mind, but the latest mystery strikes another hard blow.
What was this latest revelation about their school's principal?
X
"So, if nothing else, consider my words today and reflect on them so you can judge the recent happenings plaguing our country!"
Once again, Toranosuke Yoshida, Akira's confidant of the Sun Arcana, delivers a passionate and compelling speech to a few onlookers.
The older male sighs in relief at the dispersing crowd of listeners and steps down from his box. Holding up Yoshida's sign, Akira places it upright against the wall and congratulates the older man.
"Good speech, as always. I haven't heard one negative comment today."
"Thank you. Though that negativity challenges my resolve, I'll never disregard a nice, quiet day."
The two laugh as they gather Yoshida's belongings and trek toward his vehicle parked on the outskirts of Central Street.
"Listen, I know you're doing this for personal reasons, but thank you for always supporting me."
"It's no problem. Like you said, I'm benefiting from this. And, while I don't know much about campaigning, politics, or running for office, the person in that position should be just and dedicated."
Yoshida laughs. "And you think I'm that person."
"You have my vote," remarks Akira.
Yoshida laughs again. "Well, I appreciate your faith in me. That said, you are someone supporting me through this challenging time. As such, I would like to extend the same courtesy."
Akira slows his pace and adjusts his grip on Yoshida's belongings. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I couldn't help but notice, but your attention was elsewhere today. This is normal for a young man who works and goes to school. Nonetheless, my intuition tells me more is troubling you today."
Akira stares at Yoshida, quietly surprised.
"We don't have to discuss it if you aren't willing. But, know that I'm open ears. And maybe No-Good Tora can offer some helpful advice with my lifetimes of difficulties."
The rest of the walk to Yoshida's car is silent. The older male makes no further attempts to coax Akira's current troubles, which the raven-haired youth greatly appreciates. It also helps that Yurlungur of the matching arcana highly favors the unyielding politician. So, Akira trusts his confidant under the multicolored copper snake's endorsement.
"Yoshida-san," Akira says, "something has been bothering me lately. But I... don't know how to begin talking about it."
They arrive at the parking building where Yoshida is parked. Fortunately, he found first-floor parking, a novelty he could never afford with the bustling lot. Approaching the vehicle – a rather worn-looking sedan – Akira calmly waits for the older male's response. The stern, ponderous tension on the older male's face tells him that Yoshida is taking his statement seriously.
As Yoshida unlocks the back seat door and places his belongings inside, he asks Akira, "What is the main focus of this thing that's been troubling you?"
Akira blinks. "Main focus?"
"Yes," Yoshida nods, moving to the rear of his vehicle. He takes the box from Akira's hands, places it inside, and then shuts the trunk.
He turns toward Akira. "My apologies; I should be more explanatory. You see, whenever I write one of my speeches, like an essay, I first begin with the main focus. With that thought in mind, it allows me to tackle issues and concerns with the focal point of my talk in mind."
"I - I see. Yeah, that makes sense."
Instead of entering his vehicle, Yoshida walks past Akira and gestures for him to follow. "I always find it easier to think when I'm active. Maybe it'll help you, too?"
So, Akira abides by his confidant's suggestion, and the two exit the parking building and go to the street outside. Yoshida takes a left, walking back toward the central station, and Akira quietly follows behind.
"Family," Akira says after a minute of silence into their walk. "I'm having some confusion over my family."
"Hmm. Confusion in what regard?"
Akira glances at Yoshida's face and sees a mature adult with a calm, patient look. This eases Akira's reluctance to talk about the subject.
"My father and mother, whom I haven't spoken to since near the beginning of the year, have been keeping tabs on me through my guardian. With how busy I've been...I haven't thought about them. I hadn't thought about them at all until today. My guardian mentioned that they expect him to update them weekly. Which is...a lot. But why haven't they called me themselves instead of using a middleman?"
Yoshida makes that stern, pensive expression that means he's taking Akira's account seriously. It relieves the raven-haired teen as much as it rattles him.
"I'm assuming you haven't contacted them either?"
Akira opens his mouth to refute Yoshida's claim and justify his no contact, but Yurlungur reels in his potential outburst. The rainbow serpent coils around his thoughts and smothers any self-deceptive rationalizations his brain conjures.
"I... haven't," Akira admits.
"How long has it been since you've spoken to your parents?"
"It's been..." Akira slows his pace, considering the question. "Since the moment they shipped me to Tokyo. The last thing they said to me was bye. I didn't respond."
The wind blows, and Akira crosses his arms to defend against the chill. Yoshida, in his aged suit, doesn't appear fazed. His pensive expression and the sluggish way he leads them almost remind Akira of the humanoid shadows he'd encountered through various palaces.
"So," Akira voices out. "What do you think?"
His question snaps the older male out of his trance. Yoshida stops, nearly stumbling over his feet.
"Ah, apologies. I was considering your situation when it reminded me of something."
"Like what?"
"Oh, well...how do I say?"
Yoshida scans their surroundings and narrows his gaze to a wooden bench.
"Why don't we sit down briefly, and I'll explain."
Akira nods and follows Yoshida's lead. When they sit, the older male sighs in relief.
"I envy you being so young. Your ability to keep up and about on your feet diminishes as you age. In any case, concerning your situation, I have something that can help you. I won't be giving a speech now. Instead, I'd like to tell you a story if you'd like, Kurusu-kun?"
Akira nods. Though he is still determining how Yoshida can help, Yurlungur urges him to listen.
"Now," Yoshida begins, "you are well aware of my history as a failed politician, remember?"
"It was one of the first things we discussed," Akira says.
"Right, of course," Yoshida laughs. "Well, you shouldn't be surprised that I was failing my professional and personal obligations during that time. While acquiring my three strikes, my incompetence also negatively impacted my home life. My wife and –"
"You were married?" Akira blurts.
Yoshida gives Akira a confused look at the sudden interruption and then chuckles. "Why, yes, once upon a time. Something not openly discussed about politics is the need to present a neat and orderly personal life. As such, most members of the National Diet have a family. Though, that unspoken rule is not so prominent nowadays."
"I see," Akira says, urging Yoshida to continue.
"As I mentioned, my personal life also suffered due to my increasing number of strikes until strike three." Yoshida gives a tired sigh. "It was long after that the fighting between my wife and I reached a boiling point. Soon after, she filed for divorce."
As if knowing the question brewing in Akira's mind, Yoshida adds, "My daughter recently graduated with her advanced degree in Finance and Economics and is engaged to marry next year. Seeing her in that white dress next year is the highlight of my thoughts when I'm not giving speeches. Also, the thought of grandchildren."
Yoshida's gaze momentarily becomes distant before he composes himself and clears his throat. "During the divorce process, many hurtful things were said on both sides. Unfortunately, our temper would get the best in front of our daughter. Due to my recent status as unemployed, my ex received primary custody. I struggled to pick myself up financially after the divorce and looming child support payments. These struggles prevented me from being as present as I wanted during my daughter's upbringing. Then, well...working to live daily takes an immense toll on your mind and body. Time just slips away..."
Yoshida looks at Akira with a remorseful smile. "As time passed, I visited less, called less, and reached out less. I justified it as my daughter wouldn't want to hear from me. I failed as a politician, as a husband, and back then as a father. These rationalizations eventually became my reality and...I stopped reaching out entirely for a few years."
Yoshida pauses his tale, and his gaze becomes distant once more. This pause is different, however, from his earlier one. Instead of contentment, he radiates melancholy and regret. A question jumps to the forefront of Akira's mind, borne from Yurlungur's presence in his soul.
"What changed?"
All at once, Yoshida's melancholy dissipates, and joviality returns to his demeanor.
"My daughter reached out to me," he explains simply.
"She called you?"
"Yes," Yoshida nods. "It was the most unexpected thing. One day, after another shift, my phone vibrates from an unknown call. Usually, I ignore those to avoid spam calls. But something compelled me to answer. I did, and upon hearing her voice, I felt something inside of me just clicked back into place."
"What do you mean?" Akira asks, wanting him to elaborate.
"It felt as if my world was set back into place. For instance, do you remember what I said was the important part of giving a good speech?"
Akira smirks. Perhaps it was cheating, but if he ever forgot something his confidant said or valued, a persona of the matching arcana would remind him. "Believing in yourself."
"Ha! You are a remarkable young man, Kurusu-san. Yes, exactly. Now, here's something I've never told you. Before giving a speech, you need a guiding light. Why do I want to give a speech to anyone? What am I trying to convey? For whom am I striving so hard for?"
"A purpose..." Akira notions.
"Exactly," Yoshida exclaims. "By reaching out to me, my daughter ignited a spark I had long lost. And, with that spark, my purpose to make a change returned. So, that's why, after a long day of work, I return to my spot outside Shibuya Station and give speeches. I want to help create a truly prosperous country where the next generation, like my daughter and you, can succeed."
While not intending to give a speech, Yoshida's words resonated strongly in Akira, reminding the youth how fortunate he was to have the older male as a confidante.
"Now," Yoshida continues, "to how this personal tale relates to you and your family situation. My life took a complete turn because my daughter reached out to me. My failings and cowardness resulted in the deteriorating state of our relationship. However, she still reached out. While I don't know all the details about your situation, I can see from experience that, as a parent, we can be scared to reach out. We may not know how. And, each day we struggle to bridge the gap, we justify our lack of courage with untrue rationalizations. But a good parent loves their child and wishes they could run down that bridge to see them."
"D-Does that mean I should reach out to them first?"
"It means that taking a chance can significantly benefit you. And isn't that what we're doing with trying to get me elected."
Yoshida gives Akira a smile and extends his hand in a gesture that is more than just teacher and mentee but comrades in arms.
"Yeah," Akira agrees, taking Yoshida's arm. "You're right."
X
Yoshida is kind enough to offer Akira a ride back to Cafe Leblanc. Akira considers the offer but ultimately declines. He wants to ruminate over Yoshida's words of wisdom. And, while usually crowded, the journey via train did allow him time to think. And he'd have to pick up Morgana or fear the cat would go missing again.
Upon returning to Central Street, Akira immediately spots the tuxedo feline by the spot where he and Yoshida give speeches.
"I thought you left me," muses the cat.
"And risk you disappearing again? Hardly." Akira opens his bag. "Come on, jump in."
Morgana does. The odd sight of a cat jumping into the boy's bag barely attracts the attention of fellow pedestrians, lost in their thoughts.
"So, how was your time with the politician?" Morgana asks.
"His name is Toranosuke Yoshida," Akira resorts. "You know this. And it was great. He...gave me a lot to think about."
"Oh, sushi for your thoughts?"
"I'll take a dragon roll. But later. I'm still thinking it over."
"Hm," Morgana huffs. "Suit yourself. Everyone knows Nigiri is best."
By the time they returned to Cafe Leblanc, Akira had decided on a course of action. He enters the establishment just as Sojiro unties his apron and finishes organizing behind the counter.
"Perfect timing. Take care of what's left. The counters need cleaning, and the floor needs wiping."
"Gotcha," Akira nods, setting his bag on the nearest booth table.
His immediate agreement catches Sojiro off guard. "No quip or snark remark?"
"None, at least at the moment," Akira says. "I've been thinking about what you told me this morning."
"What I told you?"
"About my parents."
"Oh! Thank goodness! Those two are driving me up the wall. Your mom's nonchalant way of asking about you and your dad's...energy."
Akira frowns, switching places with Sojiro behind the counter to collect clean clothes. "What do you mean?"
Sojiro quirks a brow. "You know, um, how your parents are?"
Akira opens his mouth and then closes it. He begins wiping the counter as if on autopilot. His strange demeanor is so weird that Morgana even pops his head inside the bag. "I... don't really."
"What?"
Akira rubs his eyes tiredly. "I haven't spoken to them all this year. After...getting into trouble, I haven't even thought of them much. After everything, it's hard to think of them and how they act."
A silence hangs over the Cafe. Sojiro must realize how conflicted Akira feels when the older male decides against immediately retrieving his coat and hat. Instead, the older male sits in the middle booth, sighs, and looks up at the ceiling annoyedly.
"Your mother reminds me of a cat sometimes."
"Huh?"
"It's so apparent that she's worried about you and wants every detail under the sun about your well-being. You know that your grades and school reports go to me and them, too, right?"
Akira shakes his head.
"Well, they do. Every time you bring in good grades, I can expect an hour-long conversation between your parents about how smart you are and from whom you received your intelligence. Heck, that reward fund I give for getting good grades..."
"Yeah?"
"About 75 percent of it comes from your parents. I sprinkle a bit in there myself, but it's mostly them."
Akira's eye twitches.
"Oh!" Sojrio suddenly exclaims, planting a fist over his palm. "You can't imagine the headache your mother was when I told her you're seeing that Okumura girl."
Akira's entire body tenses. "What?"
"Sorry for letting the cat out, but your mother managed to pull that info right out of me. Your dad is very proud and impressed. Your mother...it took some convincing to not take the first train to interrogate the poor girl."
Akira's gaze falls onto the counter. He hasn't even wet the dry rag enough to perform his task. "I..."
Sojiro shifts to look at the younger male. "Kid, your mom's like a big cat. She doesn't express how much she cares or how far she'll go. But, it's too the moon and then some."
Then, Sojiro sighs tiredly and shakes his head. "Your dad is quite literally the opposite. He's a golden retriever with way too much energy for his age. He'd punch a hole in the moon to make you or your mom happy."
Sojiro concludes his speech with one final thought. "They fight constantly because your pops want to visit or call, but your mother thinks you need space. They both want the best for you in their own quirky way."
Akira nods. Everything Sojiro says correlates with Yoshida's explanation—about wanting to reach out but not knowing how but always wanting the best.
Akira finally finds his voice. "I think I'm going to call them now."
Sojiro nods. "You should. Even dead asleep, they'd want to hear from you. As a father to one rowdy brat...I can honestly say nothing would make them happier."
Sojiro departs soon after without another word. Morgana jumps out of the bag and gives Akira a curious look. "Sounds like you figured out some things on your own."
"Yeah," Akira nods.
"Good, I like the look in your eye. Very determined and leader-like." Morgana motions to the stairs, facing away from Akira. "I'll be upstairs if you need me. And just know that I'm always on your side. We're partners but also kind of like brothers."
Akira clenches the fabric in his hand tightly. He waits a few moments after Morgana departs upstairs before releasing his sigh. Internally, he shuffles through his various personas to get a feel, which would help in the coming conversation.
Like obedient soldiers, his other selves line up in the mental scape that is his mind. He sees Yurlungur, Koumokuten, Okuninushi, Kikuri-Hime, Ose, Hariti, Daisoujou, and Fortuna.
If he wants to act most like himself, Ose of the Fool arcana fits the bill. Or, if he wants to ensure a smooth interaction, Fortuna, Kikuri-Hime, or Hariti make him particularly pleasant to be around.
Akira mulls over his options. Some part of him craves to have Arsene back in his mental scape, if nothing else, for reassurance. And though recalling the persona would be the simplest of tasks, Akira refuses the comfort it would bring.
After all, Arsene – like the others – is a part of something larger.
The real me, Akira thinks. Right, Haru?
Akira steels his resolve. He requests his personas to observe and not provide any influence or guidance. Though confused, they assent. Akira leaves the cloth on the counter, maneuvers to the middle booth, and pockets his cell phone. He strolls through his contacts until he reaches his home phone. Without hesitating, he taps the contact number to begin the call.
The following rings fill the silence like drums playing next to his ear.
Ring~
Ring~ Ring~
Ring~ Ring~ Ring~
"Hello."
"H-hi."
"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son," Rinka Kurusu says in her usual icy, controlled tone.
"What's he saying?" A much louder and more energetic voice inquires in the background—Sato Kurusu.
Suddenly, the phone goes silent. Akira presses his closer to the device to decipher some of the conversation.
"Can you - be - trying to - stern!"
"Why!? - reached out - work this out."
"Just - take - for once!"
"I've - with your - my approach."
Akira's brain is hazy from the turn of events. Even his personas loom on in confusion.
"Um, hello?"
The bickering on the other side settles. A long, tired sigh travels across the device.
"I didn't set it on mute," Rinka laments.
Akira hears his father chuckle.
"Just set it on speaker, Rinka," Sato says.
Rinka sighs again before complying with Sato's request. "Hello, Akira. Do you hear us?"
"Yes?"
"H-How are you son?"
Hearing the hesitation in his mother's tone unnerves Akira somehow. "I-I'm fine," he responds hesitantly.
"Oh, good, good. We're happy to hear. Very, very happy."
The conversation falls into silence. Now that Akira is speaking to his parents, his mind is a blank canvas without paint. He imagines his mother feels the same. Fortunately, his father is as fearless as he is brash.
"Okay, okay, enough of tiptoeing over the issue. Akira, my son, your mother, and I are incredibly overwhelming, positively –"
"Just say it!" his mother insists.
"—sorry! They say you experience intense heartache whenever your child doesn't need your help to bathe anymore –"
"Wait, what?" Akira says.
"—or look under their bed for a monster, or do their homework on their own, when they don't pee the bed anymore –"
"Shinto gods above, stop!" Rinka demands.
"Mother of all Ryuji-moments, please stop!" Akira pleads.
Sato Kurusu's epic soliloquy ends abruptly. A true travesty to all literary scholars. Akira's face is flush from his father's ramblings, his head a bigger mess, and his chest aching from the embarrassment.
"I was just trying to tell him how much we love and miss him," Sato explains.
"Not. Like. That!" Rinka admonishes. "I'm praying the poor boy doesn't hang up. I know I would consider it!"
"Hang up! No! Akira, son, please talk to us! We—"
"WAIT!" Akira requests. His blaring demand is loud enough to catch the attention of any locals who, at that moment, would walk past Cafe Leblanc. Hopefully, Morgana wouldn't suddenly appear to investigate the noise.
"Just give me a sec," Akira mummers.
Thankfully, his parents respect his request. Or his mother reels in his father enough for him to settle down. A golden retriever, indeed.
"Hey, Mom and Dad, I'm sorry for not reaching out earlier," Akira says.
"We're the ones who are sorry –"
"Hush," Rinka urges her husband.
"Um, it's been hectic over here," Akira continues. "That's not a good reason, but I've...been doing my best. I'm sorry."
"Like I just said, we're the ones—ah!"
"What your father is trying to say," Rinka says, "is that you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, we're the ones...no, that's not right, I'm the one who should most apologize?"
"What?"
" Rinka?"
"Your father lasted three days until he wanted to call you when we sent you away. I convinced him otherwise. Then, like clockwork, every three days, he would explode and demand to hear from you."
"Rinka..." his father says.
"I-I'm a horrible m-mother," his mother confesses. "Nothing was stopping us from reaching out. You had just become sixteen, and we had been shipping you off like a criminal! But there was nothing we could do!"
His mother's voice becomes shrill, a disorienting mix of restrained tears and panic—a tone so skittish and delicate that Akira can't quite believe it is coming from his always stern, composed mother.
"T-there's no way o-our son would randomly attack some random old, pervy fucker!" Rinka's tone abruptly becomes sharp and revengeful. "So, what if he's some big shot? He was in the wrong! We have enough character statements, a great lawyer, and no prior history of ANY misconduct to prove OUR SON IS NOT A CRIMINAL!"
His mother breaks down into a mess of sobs. Akira doesn't need to witness it to know. And some part of him is thankful he isn't.
"W-we, the judge d-didn't giv-giv – OUCH!"
"Oh, it didn't hurt that bad." The speaker on the other side swiftly switches to his father. Akira's facial expression is one for the books as he hears what sounds like a small animal clawing at his father. Considering how diminutive his mother is compared to him, it is fitting.
"Son, one sec, ow, I'm going to put you on mute."
Akira stares at his phone, thinks about the entirety of his talk with his parents and how it was not going at all how he imagined, then says, "What the fuck?"
Was this what Yoshida and Sojiro were talking about, or was his family unique in its ridiculousness?
I have multiple other selves in the form of mythological and historical figures that help me navigate daily life, Akira realizes. It's probably a us thing.
His personas collectively nod.
After a few minutes, he hears his father from the device. "Son, are you there?"
"I'm here."
"Good. Okay...I will try to explain what your mother was trying to say."
"She okay?"
"Your mother? She's fine! I got her wrapped around my arms. It isn't often, but when we get a little too heated, we usually end up with me wrapping my arms around her until –"
" Sato...he doesn't need to know," his mother says in a cracked voice.
"Y-you guys' fight?" Akira whispers in dismay.
"What! No, no, no," his mother insists. "We can sometimes get...a little heated in our disagreements. It's nothing over the top. Our views can differ, and we'd bicker –"
"Never in front of you," his father injects.
"No, never in front of you," his mother agrees. "When we would, privately, we would talk and talk until we eventually compromised. Your father hugging me because you are hugging me, not holding me like an animal, is a recent development."
"Ever since you left," his father says.
"Ever since you left," his mother echoes.
"You have to understand, son," Sato begins, "nothing we did worked. We spent money on the best lawyer we could, petitioned the school, and got character statement after character statement to help sway the judge. But nothing worked. That big shot, Masayoshi Shido, influence was so apparent, so...argh!"
"S-squeezing too tight!"
"O-oh, sorry, love you. After arguing with our lawyer, I wanted to hit that spineless suit; he convinced us that the best option for removing this from your record was sending you to that school in the city."
His father chuckles for a moment. "Your mother was against it. She wanted to have you home-schooled to keep you close."
"He's never been so far from home," his mother weakly protests. "And school children are cruel. They'd always see some monster..."
Her voice quivers once more, and Akira hears his father reassuring her. Akira is thankful for their moment of distraction. He needs time to think and to process their explanation.
Sure, nothing they have told him is ground-shattering. After witnessing numerous corrupt adults and their influence over teens like his friends, Akira sees how a few in power can squeeze the options of any of their victims. After some months in Shujin, he learned how cruel and judgmental bystanders are. Being labeled as a criminal by people he thought cared for him at his old school would crush him. Their opinions hurt less at Shijin, where he had no close ties.
A nagging thought still lingers.
"I'm not any better for not reaching out...but why didn't you," Akira asks.
"We were ashamed," his mother confesses.
Akira's throat constricts.
"Not of you," his father quickly asserts. "Sweetie, context."
"Wha...? Oh, no, not of you! At ourselves," his mother clarifies.
"W-what?"
"We were ashamed of ourselves," his mother explains. "I mean, we knew you did nothing wrong. We had enough resources, social standing, and connections to prevent you from ever being in front of a judge and having to move schools."
"We thought we did," Sato grumbles.
"I called my parents. Your father reached out to all of his relatives. We had so much on our side but still failed you..."
"Rinka, we did everything we could," his father says.
"No! Because if we did, why is my son with a record, away from home, and that old, fucking – ow!"
"Not more cursing," Sato says. "You never curse."
"Stop pinching me..." his mother whimpers.
Akira's head is a mess when it comes to his parents' interactions. Usually, his mother is in control, while his father is more vibrant and annoyingly energetic.
Within his mental world, Hariti comments on their loving attitudes and requests Akira to take notes from his father.
Quiet you, Akira thinks.
"Your mother believes we failed you," Sato explains. "I believe we have as well. Nonetheless, we continued to fail you by not reaching out. We were ashamed and, quite frankly, scared of how you would respond to us. Whenever I reached my boiling point and wanted to hear from you, I was silently thankful when your mother convinced me otherwise. You see, just like her, I was afraid. Afraid of my son's hatred. It became increasingly easier to be swayed by this fear. Don't blame yourself, Rinka."
"Sato," his mother whispers.
"It is my responsibility as your husband, Rinka, and your father, Akira, to ensure your well-being. Yet, I failed on both accounts and let your mother shoulder the burden. I have nothing to say for myself. I am a failure."
Hearing his mother cry and berate herself surprised Akira, but hearing his father's admission dumbfounded him. It deeply unsettles the teen that the man he sees as indomitable addresses himself as a failure. No matter the circumstances.
He searches his mind for something to say, a silent prayer for whatever magical words will remedy the situation. He loves his parents, and his entire life, he's wanted to make them proud. He closes his eyes, and Yoshida's words come to him.
"As time passes, it is easier not to reach out. We think we've failed whether as a son, a parent, a husband, a wife...Those thoughts become rationalizations that become reality. That's true for anyone. It's true for me, and it's true for you."
Akira breathes in, trying to hide the trembling in his voice as his eyes water. "Please don't be ashamed of yourself. Please don't call yourselves failures. You guys are the greatest. You've provided me with the greatest life I can ask for. I... really should've reached out so much sooner."
Akira gulps. He waits anxiously for their response. Without a persona of the matching arcana, he can't be sure if he got his message across. So, he sits patiently and hopes.
"We think we've failed whether as a son, a parent, a husband, a wife..." his father repeats.
"Those thoughts become rationalizations that become a reality..." follows his mother.
"Rinka, our son sounds smart."
"Smarter than you."
"What!?"
What follows is his mother's giggling shriek in the background and heavy footsteps. Once again, Akira wonders if he ever really knew his parents.
"Mom, Dad," he whines irritably.
The background noise settles, and his father's voice again booms into his ear. "Sorry, sorry...it's just that I'M SO HAPPY!"
"Eh?"
"To hear from you, have you say those words, and sound so bright while saying it! Come on, a good bit must come from me!"
"No," his mother refutes. "I was an excellent student. You couldn't bother."
"Because school sucks. I'm wealthy by learning my way."
"Mom, Dad," Akira interrupts.
"Sorry," his mother apologizes. This might not make sense to you yet, but being a parent is the most fulfilling experience in the world. Watching this little life become something so wonderful. And, loving and being loved by that child is believed to be a parent's greatest happiness."
"With a handful of words," his father says, "you've made us happier than almost anything."
"Other than when you were born," his mother corrects.
"Or you in your school uniform as a kid. On that note, would you like a little sibling?"
Akira's eyes sink to the back of his skull. "W-what?"
"Ignore him! Thank you for reaching out and for understanding us. I hope this means we no longer have to get updates on you via Sojiro."
"Sojiro! I love that man," his father comments.
"I will call," Akira affirms. "Often, like weekly."
"Whenever you can," his mother says. "Or we can call."
"We'll figure it out," Akira says.
A pleasant air hangs over the conversation like the pleasing amora of roasted coffee.
"Do...you still have time to talk?" Rinka asks.
"Of course, Mom," Akira says. "What do you want to know?"
"Let us talk about your free time," his father injects. "And the city, your friends, I heard you found yourself a girl!"
"Yes, Akira, you found yourself a young lady, correct?" The stern, icy tone he usually associates with his mother emerges.
"I... yeah..."
After hours of conversation, Akira and his parents finally ended their conversation with promises of further discussions, care packages, and an eventual visit.
It is late evening when Akira completes his nightly cleaning. He folds his apron and places it in the bin behind the counter. For the first time in a while, he feels refreshed and unburdened.
He's about to turn off the downstairs lights when his phone buzzes. He finds a message waiting for him.
[Haru O.] 1124PM: I'm sorry for the late message, but I have something urgent we must discuss!
Akira gulps.
Haru uses only one exclamation point, he thinks.
Morgana's light feet thump on each stairstep as he descends. "Hey, you almost done?"
"Yeah, but I just got a -"
Knock! Knock!
Akira sighs, dons Hariti of the Empress Arcana, and feels his tense nerves ebb away. Morgana walks a few paces behind him as he opens the door to Haru in her usual pink cardigan.
"Hello, I'm sorry for the sudden intrusion."
"No problem. It must be serious if you're visiting this late."
"Hey, Haru," Morgana chirps.
"Hello, Morgana." Haru pauses to stroke the feline softly under his chin.
Akira leads her to the center booth, where he'd been speaking to his parents, and proceeds behind the counter. "I can make some coffee, but caffeinated tea might be better –"
"Tea sounds lovely."
"Gotcha."
"So, what's with the late visit, Haru?" Morgana asks suspiciously with all the tact of a grumpy older man.
Luckily, Haru doesn't grasp what he implies. "I was visited by the police, investigators, and attorney overseeing my father's...incident."
Akira stops a moment from accessing the various tea bags. Hariti steadies his resolve. "How are you?"
"I...am faring as well as I can. However, the investigators mentioned something I had not been informed of while discussing the case."
Akira turns to look at Haru, and Morgana jumps on the booth table.
"Like what?" Akira asks.
Haru takes a deep breath. "Akira, Morgana, please tell me about the Shijin principal and why you never mentioned him to me."