Author's Notes: Hello and welcome, lovely readers, to the second chapter of 2025 of the best Persona 5 story on the internet! I hope you're all doing amazing, though I know you are because you're MY fans, and that you're getting ahead, pursuing goals, and making the most of the year so far. Baby steps and micro wins, that's the way to get ahead.
And just think – March is a month where you guys will get two chapters instead of just one. Are you hyped for it? Because I'm hyped to show you the insanity we're coming up with. Firion and I have been percolating some truly awesome stuff and now we get to show it off. I did mention before that things will be different here from the canon material, right? Because it will, and it will be great.
Speaking of the man himself, thanks to Firion as always for his help on these projects. And thanks to you guys, my fans, for dropping me a line or three. It's always great to hear from you all.
UltimateCCC: They really do, don't they? Nothing quite like it.
CrimsonDemon666: It's great to see you again! I'm glad you liked Shiho's mother, there was a lot to go into that one. And yes, we get to see Makoto throw down and take names. What more can we ask for? And as for the others, Ryuji has been a real pleasure to write. He was neglected by Atlus in favor of cheap humor, but here we get to see him shine, and it has been a pleasure to do so. For him and the others, like Haru and Gina, especially for what they have coming up. Thanks for the line, and enjoy!
Musical accompaniment for a certain section of this chapter (you'll know it when you get there) is Strike Hard by the amazing Retroxx.
Check in the Dark
Ripples ebbing and flowing, distant echoes of intent past or to come. They were always there whether night or day, behind the hardened, unshifting world that people were tied to. They went through the flow, were so often moved to join it, but almost never saw it. Before, that current had been like a stretch of rapids, rocky and churning with tense hostility and spite heavy enough to pull one under and drown in. It was different now. 'That place' had changed thanks to the work of the Phantom Thieves. The rushing noise lessened, the pain subsided, and it was easier to hear what else was going on.
Like… there. There it was.
Faint but unmistakeable, so quiet that the background noise had concealed it until now, was the weight of a Palace, its mass looming off on the horizon. It couldn't be seen yet, but its gravity could be felt, its pressure distinct and its negativity a sweeping, sucking undertow ready for more victims.
With attention on it, faint differentiations of sound could be heard. Speech.
"... can be saved if… … come this far, just… … are you crying, girl? Don't you…"
Deep in the night, Morgana stirred. His ears flickered. His blue eyes opened. There it was, that sense from when Joker let him run free, too strong to ignore but too broad to pinpoint.
He could feel it clearly now. Another target. He pressed a paw to the edge of his bed.
His claws came out, and they were bright.
7 7 7
Gina stretched, and was glad to be able to fully stretch. Her injuries were mostly healed, and only the most stubborn of her bruises gave her any trouble. In some ways it was nice not to have been left black and blue, but lacking a clear marker of where she'd taken those hits had hampered her recovery. Even she could only go by feel, not by sight, on where she still hurt.
But she'd survived without any lasting injuries or diseases and come through it stronger. She was ready to face whatever came next, although she'd be a little more judicious about how much danger she got herself into from this point on. She still had the reminder of that chapter of her life on her arm, the marks Kaneshiro's goons had inflicted upon her. She grimaced just looking at it now: 'Kaneshiro' and 'Meat.' Hardly subtle, but at least she hadn't been permanently scarred or stuck with an infection. And Takemi-sensei had given her a catalogue of tattoo designs to pick from to cover it up. It helped to think of making that mark her own, something strictly hers, and after a few conversations on the subject, the good doctor had undone her dress enough to show the small phoenix between her shoulders.
Burning bright through life's challenges, reborn from one's own ashes. Gina didn't know what the woman had gone through, but seeing that gave her hope and made her determined to do right by all the people who'd helped her get this far. She would recover, and more than that she would excel. Their efforts would not be in vain.
Luckily, she'd recovered at just the right time. The police had spent a few days taking her statement, going over the details of Kaneshiro's operations to the fullest extent that she knew. They were prepared for her, were considerate of her physical state, and came with good questions. She felt like she was working with capable professionals. She'd respected the skills of the police before, very aware of the scope of the power they could wield against her, but this was the first time it felt like it could be used for its intended purpose. It was encouraging, and also very strange.
When they finished up, they told her that the lead prosecutor herself was coming down to conduct an interview. They asked if Gina was open to that.
"Every day that we're doing this is costing Takemi-sensei business," she'd replied. "She's been outstanding for me, so I'd like to inconvenience her as little as possible. If your prosecutor is going to do this, then I'd like it to be soon. Otherwise I need to look for a place to stay and get a job so I can pay back my medical bills."
It had taken a day to get back to her to set up a time, and before that call came, a postcard arrived for Gina in the mail. The picture on it was of a sakura tree before Mt. Fuji, and it read, Are you recovering well? If you are available for a meeting, I could use someone with your talents. Please let me know when you think you'll be able to meet with me. It was signed, Charlotte Backson.
Gina looked the card over. The return address wasn't one she recognized, and the postcard was the sort found in every tourist shop and memento stall in the country. It was as distinct as oxygen. The letters were shaky and spidery, so the sender probably used their non-dominant hand to keep the writing from being recognized. And the Western name must be someone's attempt at a joke. Gina had entertained foreign men under Kaneshiro, but none with that name. They'd used handles and pseudonyms, of course, but she'd also ferreted out who they were as part of the clan's blackmail racket. Nothing came to mind, and Gina had a very good memory.
So this was a gag or an attempt at subterfuge, certainly not something hostile. Gina was amused by the gesture, but the chance at employment so soon after needing it was too good to pass up. She filled out the desired information before putting the card in the outgoing mail.
Then the day came for her to meet Niijima Sae, the head prosecutor and the woman who was wielding the police force with such surgical efficiency. Gina cleaned herself up and dressed for the occasion, glad that she could fit into her clothes and look respectable again. A little earlier than the appointed time, the woman herself strode in, a police detail escorting her.
In so much classy, professional black, she was impressive. And she really knew how to use those heels, arching her back and using her hips and momentum to bring out the full effect of her footwear. The black of her suit set off those piercing red eyes, a bit more slanted than those of her sister and therefore sharper, and her hairstyle and jewelry were notable without stealing the show. Everything was pressed and primped and polished to create one singular effect. She was strong but not aggressive – yet – and absolutely not someone to screw with.
Gina wasn't intimidated – it took a lot more than this to rattle her – but for an employee of the state, this was someone to watch out for. She understood now why Kaneshiro hated Niijima Sae more than anyone else.
The escort waited outside the door to give them their privacy. The woman introduced herself professionally and seated herself on the stool by the bed, back at a perfect right angle. She used the table, now clear of trinkets and training tools, to set down a file folder and a tape recorder.
Gina greeted her, but commented, "I thought I'd said everything I needed to before."
"You gave the police a lot to work with, and I thank you for letting them cover so many subjects," the woman answered. Her voice was clear without being loud, her pronunciation distinct and cadence measured. It was apparent that she'd spent time in a courtroom, and she'd gone to lengths to make sure she was heard no matter what. "It couldn't have been easy, talking about what you went through."
"It is what it is."
Niijima looked her over. "I heard that you were solid. I thought they were exaggerating. Has Takemi-sensei told you about the programs and professionals who can help you with any psychological trauma you might have incurred?"
"We've talked about it more than once. She got some numbers for me once I can afford the service. If I need anything, that is."
"I'd be surprised if you didn't. What you've been through is terrible."
While Gina was sure the woman meant well, the canned, impersonal phrasing sounded like the drone of a government insect. "Was that why you came by? Because I don't need anyone's pity."
Niijima looked at her, red eyes going hard. Gina stared straight back at her, not giving an inch.
"No," Niijima murmured finally, "you don't, do you? I apologize, that was rude of me. I trust your judgment on the matter, but if you do need anything that I can help you with, here's my card. I'd like to help if I can. It's the least I can do for what you're offering us."
Gina took the card. "I appreciate that. If I hit a roadblock, I'll reach out."
"Excellent. Now, I have a few things I'd like to go over."
"Beyond what your police asked? They were pretty thorough."
"They were, and I have no reason to doubt them. I just wanted to be sure of a few details. I'm the lead on this case, you see, so I want to be ready for anything the defense throws at me."
Niijima asked her questions, and Gina answered what she could. There was a lot that she couldn't help with, but there were also details that the police hadn't gone into. Niijima Sae dug into the details of Kaneshiro's operations, into his associates and any contacts he had in the government. She was thorough, and as Gina answered she got the impression that this was more than just a case she wanted to go well. The depth she went to, the dogged persistence, the way she pushed even on details Gina couldn't help with all gave the impression that this was more personal than strictly professional.
Still, Gina was as accommodating as she could be, and she offered whatever she could on points Niijima might not have considered.
As they wrapped up, the prosecutor thanked her. "I hope you understand if we need to keep tabs on you up to the trial," she added. "Kaneshiro and his associates wouldn't take the chance of a living witness."
"I do understand, but there are some things I need to look after. I want to get outside, for one, because Takemi-sensei needs her clinic back."
"I can speak to her about that. The police can escort you if you need some exercise and get you whatever you need."
Gina smiled dryly. "I make a point of not relying on the police. It's nothing personal, but with how things were before, I'm better off looking after myself."
"That's changed now."
"Respectfully? No, it hasn't. Not before I was under Kaneshiro and certainly not after."
Niijima gestured for her to continue.
"I used to be a student at Shujin," Gina informed her. "I got cornered by a gym teacher, someone I understand is finally facing justice. I cracked, and I ran. After a week or so on the streets, I tried telling my story to a police officer."
"Your tone tells me that it didn't go well."
"He said he'd look into my case if I would meet with him after he got off duty. And he was pretty obvious about what he meant."
"What was his badge number?"
"It doesn't matter. I went to the precinct and complained, so they said they would investigate him. I came back two weeks later and they found nothing incriminating. So either they didn't bother looking into it, or he lied. Either way, that's the last time I've gone to law enforcement for anything."
"That might have been a rank-and-file badge, but we do things differently. You have my number. If anything like that happens again, call me right away."
"I have no question that the guys outside are solid. They've come in to check on me and have been nothing but fantastic. You, the investigators before, everyone's been great. There are a lot of good cops and that one guy was a bad apple, as you like to say, but I'm used to relying on myself now."
"How has that gone for you? You're here, after all."
Gina smiled, part challenging and part amused. "Someone saved me from that life without any involvement from the police. So it went fine."
Niijima grimaced. "You told my colleagues that a boy helped you. Kurusu Akira, correct?"
"Yes. Do you know him?"
"We've crossed paths before. He has a gift for being in the right place at the right time. We don't agree on very much, but I am glad he was there to help you. Truly, it doesn't happen often enough that we get someone out of that world, so this is a victory. You two should be proud of what you've accomplished."
Unlike before, the woman seemed sincere. Gina nodded in reply. "Thank you for that."
Niijima leaned in. "I have one more question. This is a long shot, but did you hear anything from Kaneshiro about an officer named Niijima Satoru? Any details, from him or his people, even in idle conversation? It would have been three or four years ago."
Gina looked closely. Was this the personal thread? Maybe, but her instincts told her this was coming from somewhere else. "I'm afraid not. That name is distinct, so I'd remember it."
"There were a number of solid cases regarding racketeering, prostitution and drug trafficking. Cases that shouldn't have been convictable but were because of good police work. The final details, let's call them, involved a truck. Does that help at all?"
"Hmm… Wait. There was one night around three years ago. Kaneshiro had some clients over and they were talking about 'that bloodhound in the department.' Kaneshiro said this person was a risk to a lot of operations, but I was… working with someone else at the time. I didn't catch the rest of the conversation."
Niijima perked up. "Did he mention it any time after?"
"Not using those words. But he did talk a week or two later about how another problem was dealt with. He used that phrase a lot, though, so I never knew who he was talking about. And I didn't want to."
"That's something. A bloodhound. That does sound right." The woman's tone was bittersweet, her eyes fond and soft, but they turned conflicted, tumultuous, and finally professional as her iron-clad control clamped down again. "If you think of any other times he mentioned that title, or if there were any direct connections to the police, please let me know."
"I will. I assume that was your dad?"
"Yes."
"I'm really sorry. If he got on Kaneshiro's bad side… I'm sorry you and your sister had to go through that."
"I appreciate the sentiment. This might help put some things to rest." Niijima checked her watch. "That covers all the questions I had. Is there anything else you'd like to ask or talk about?"
"Nothing comes to mind. But I'll call if that changes."
Niijima collected her things and rose, bowing smoothly despite those heels. "Thank you for your assistance. This is going to help us more than I can say. I'll tell the men outside to escort you if you need to get anywhere. I understand your reservations, but the last thing we want is for you to be targeted by Kaneshiro's associates."
Apparently Niijima didn't know about the letter from Endo-sama. Had her sister not brought up that little conversation? "There are some things that can't wait, but I will bring them along with me. The security will help."
"Then I should be going. Thank you again."
"Good luck with the case. These guys move fast, so I hope you get what you need to make this stick."
"I will. There will probably be some hiccups, but this will come out well for us. For all of us." Niijima left.
Gina reflected on that statement. Her instincts whispered, but that wasn't enough to go on. She couldn't do anything about it, not any more than she already had. She heard some conversation from the front, hopefully Niijima speaking to Takemi-sensei about lost income, waited a few minutes after the door shut, then reached under her pillow.
Before the meeting, the mail had come in. Another card arrived, the same design and the same writing but with a different message. This one offered a time and a place and the same signature as before, Charlotte Backson. The location was known to Gina. It was near where she had to go anyway, so this worked out nicely for her.
The time was in a few hours, lots of space for her to work. Gina got up, set her room in order, and headed to the lobby. "I'm going outside for a while," she said to Takemi-sensei.
The doctor looked her up and down. "How are you feeling?"
"Well enough to move around, so I need to stretch my muscles. I want to look into a few things so I can get out of your hair, too."
"You're welcome here for as long as you need my services."
"I know, but the cops hanging around are biting into your business, aren't they? The sooner I can heal up, the better off that situation is. And I'm doing it for myself, too – I hate sitting around."
"All right. Don't push yourself, and come back if you feel off in any way. Take those midwits with you in case you need them."
"Understood."
Gina exited the clinic and smiled at the police outside. "I have some errands to run. Would you like to come with me?"
One asked, "Is this more important than your safety, miss? Until your time at the trial, you should stay low and keep quiet."
"I talked to Niijima Sae about it. She said it was only advised if I brought you guys along, so that's what I'll do."
They talked with each other, then called it in on their radio. A minute or two later, the response came. "All right, we can accommodate this. Keep in mind that we'll be there in case you run into any gang members."
'Gang members,' like Kaneshiro's guys were the sort to litter and spray graffiti on alley walls and storefronts to earn their colors. But Gina nodded, and before she could get into the car, Takamaki and that kid with the bleached blonde hair came into view. "Good morning!" she called to them.
"Hi there." Takamaki came over. "You're up and around?"
"Yeah, I want to get some air. How about you?"
"Ryuji here needed to see the doctor."
The guy introduced himself politely, his hand straying down to just above his knee. From how he held himself and the way the movement seemed unconscious, something had happened to his leg. But despite his rebellious look, he seemed like a good kid. "I'm glad Akira was able to help you," he said. "You were in a pretty bad spot before."
"Yeah, don't I know it. I remember you. It's good that you got out from under his heel. You're in good hands with Takemi-sensei. Her bedside manner's a bit strange, but she really knows her stuff."
"That's what I hear, but thanks for the recommendation."
Takamaki asked, "Do you need us to come with you?"
Gina pointed to the police. "Thanks for the offer, but these guys are looking after that. I won't keep you."
"Then take care. We'll talk later."
Gina waved and they went into the clinic. There didn't appear to be anything serious there, but they would make a cute couple if that changed.
"All right," Gina told her chaperones, "let's go." She got into the car, gave them directions, and off they went.
Gina's objective was her stashes. She'd never had faith in the others she worked with after Fujino-san and Kamei-san died, so any excess cash she earned or stole ended up in her hidey holes. And she'd learned the hard way not to rely on just one, so there were three places to hit up. She'd been smart enough to never hang onto jewelry or drugs, always exchanging it for cash even if she knew she was getting screwed on the trade. Cash couldn't be traced, but necklaces and rings and watches were a different story, and while drugs retained their value, they were also a fast ticket to prison. So she directed her escort to the first of her three addresses, went out and wriggled a brick out of the way, and pulled out the bag with her money in it. She wrapped it up and pocketed it, and while she got some looks from the cops, the only word they said was, "Next?"
The second one was safe as well, and now Gina had enough to make rent on a new contract once she found a place to live. Then she could start paying Takemi-sensei back and consider a down payment on her tattoo. There was also a fake ID with that bundle of money, but she left that where it was. They were illegal, after all, and she was a law-abiding victim of organized crime now.
The third spot was a bust. Someone had found the hiding spot and emptied it, and while that stung a bit – she would have been comfortable with that much in her pocket – she'd take it for what it was. Life had its clear days and it had its storms, and all she could do was enjoy the highs and ride out the lows. She had her health and her life; she could handle the rest.
When she was heading back to the police car, a pack of Kaneshiro's guys approached on the street. She knew this crowd, more muscle than brains, and definitely dangerous if they were in the wrong mood. They stopped and conversation went around them, some nodding at her and talking to the others.
Gina's body shook, but she tried to pull herself under control. This wasn't like before. This was different. Her escort was right nearby, looking at the guys in question, and she was out in broad daylight. They wouldn't try anything.
Unless it was serious, or…
Gina moved her hand up to her chest, just over her heart where Endo-sama's letter rested. She'd been afraid of it at first, had wanted to destroy it, but over time she grew to want to know whether it would actually do anything. She hadn't wanted to get in the position to have to use it, but the way they were looking at her, she might–
The guys crossed the street. They didn't move forward as they did, which would have brought them close by, but instead went directly across at 90 degrees and walked down the sidewalk on the farthest orbit from her. Any looks sent her way seemed more to make sure they were as far away as they could be, not meant to intimidate.
They went around the next corner, and Gina let out a breath and deflated. Something really had changed. It seemed impossible, but this was proof. This was what freedom tasted like, at least for now. She would have to get used to it, but so far she didn't mind it.
She went back to the police and told them, "Thanks for being here for that. It helped a lot to have you guys backing me up."
One just nodded, the other smiled. "Is that all?"
"One more place, please. Thanks for indulging me." She checked the time on the car's dashboard and nodded. She had an appointment to keep.
She got to the meeting spot early, the same intersection she'd met Kurusu-kun. She left the car and scoped the place out. Wide open, lots of civilian traffic, and numerous access and egress points at a busy time of the day. It would have been hard to pick out a single person from any angle, but Gina knew what she was doing.
She stopped on a familiar figure in pink. Was that the mysterious Charlotte Backson? It would make sense. This was a new person in Gina's life, someone who took an interest in her from the beginning, and subtle misdirections on handwritten notes suited a courtly, higher-end girl. Gina smiled and decided to have some fun of her own. She scribbled a note on the corner of a paper pad and tore it off. She watched her target, picked up the girl's patterns, and found a blind approach. She set off, drifted up close, slipping the note into the girl's pocket, and turned with her to blend right in. She went to the soft cream parlor she took Kurusu-kun to and ordered mint and chocolate chip. She turned to her security detail and held a hand out to the counter, offering them a refreshment. They looked at her, then at the menu, and ordered coffee and took a spot by the door. Gina sat at a table of her own and enjoyed the flavor of her favorite brand. Maybe it was how long she'd been away, or her brush with her own mortality, but this had never tasted so good.
She was almost done when the girl came in, looking around. Gina waved to her and called, "Over here."
Okumura-san approached, shuffling sheepishly and taking a seat.
"Good morning," Gina started.
"Good morning to you too. I didn't know you were this good." Okumura-san pulled out the note. On it, Gina had written, I like Onigokko too. You're it. Meet me instead. Gina had put the parlor's address on it. "I didn't feel a thing or notice that you were there."
Gina shrugged. "That's part of the trick."
"Well, I'm impressed."
"It fit the theme you set when you sent the first note."
The girl cleared her throat. "Well, yes, that was me."
"Where did Charlotte Backson come from?"
"A French book I read. I feel like it worked all right."
"It did, and so long as you're careful with where you use that name and how, it's a good approach." Gina interlocked her fingers. "Now, shall we get started? Your first note mentioned that I might be of service to you. What does that mean?"
Okumura-san looked to the side as though listening to someone, then answered, "Quite a lot, I think. You've proven that. I'm finding that I need to think outside the box about my current circumstances, and you would be an asset to that end. I'd like to consult with you, and I'll pay you of course."
Did the girl have an ear piece in? Gina couldn't see anything. "All right, I'm listening."
"First, I need something you might have encountered in your previous line of work. A burner phone."
Gina chuckled. With the things she'd seen, handled and done, a burner was positively quaint. "That's all?"
"That's just the start. It's quite a situation and a long story."
"Please, only tell me what's necessary. As for a burner, I know people who deal in them. I can give you a name, but you'll have to make the arrangements after that yourself, and they'll want cash up front."
"Can you get me in?"
"Of course. You already said you'd pay me to."
"Deal. I also might need your help in the future. Once I get a way to contact you, can I have your number?"
"Sure, when I get a phone of my own." Gina looked to the side. "Don't say anything about this too loud. My security guys are cops. They'll have to report it if they heard anything illegal."
To Okumura-san's credit, she subtly glanced to the side, catching the cops' reflection in a polished side of a coffee machine. She didn't look around or gawp like an amateur. She was green, but not unfamiliar with the trade.
Gina wrote a name and an address on a paper napkin. "Here. He's not the friendliest guy in the city, but he knows his merchandise. Tell him I sent you and use one of your pseudonyms. You'll have to get me your number later – I don't even have my IDs back yet. I can't do anything out of turn while I'm being watched."
"I understand. But when you do, can we keep in touch?"
Gina had a feeling this was going to go further. The girl was smart enough to not indicate where and how, but this was the sort of investment that could really pay off. "Definitely."
Okumura-san bowed in her seat. "I look forward to working with you."
"Likewise."
Their conversation turned to the mundane after that, with Gina getting some tea to go along with the ice cream flavor and Okumura-san picking a treat from the menu. She chatted about casual topics and Gina watched. This girl was a Shujin student, and Gina's luck had been on a rocky climb since she'd made that move on Kurusu-kun. Kokkuri-san had been right, pointing her in this direction.
It has been enough to make the difference, and now Gina wondered where this might take her.
7 7 7
Sparring with Senpai was quickly becoming a fun activity, Akira realized. The athleticism, the feedback and ideas, and the chance to talk shop with someone other than Morgana made for a great break from him doing his summer homework. It was also a good marker for the work he'd been putting into himself, seeing the definition of his body and feeling stronger than ever before, burning cleaner as he moved, and having the reason to keep going.
The view was nothing to sneeze at, either. In a building full of sweaty adults, she was who he saw first and foremost. She wore a karate gi in their time on the mat, crisp white with the top of her sports bra peeking over the edge of the overlap, and with how her belt cinched on her waist, emphasizing the flare of her hips, that serious look, and even how cute her toes were, Akira was never more motivated to show up for class. He'd gotten a gi of his own in gray, and since he'd never taken his karate lessons from his previous life seriously – he'd been more intent on cutting practice and hanging out with his friends – this was a good return to basics for him. The stretches were good additions to his regular exercise regimen, and it was good to see what she could do. Her foundation was strictly formal martial arts, but as she moved he could see the little quirks that were strictly her. How she was light on her feet, how she shifted to the left more than to the right like she was used to a follow-up strike, and how careful she was to not let her guard get in the way of her line of sight.
She was good. But she was also boring. Having seen Queen tear through enemies like she couldn't kill them fast enough, this staid and simple exercise, everything by the rules, felt like needless restraint. She started him with rules and katas, no improvisation or creativity. He tried to branch out with his strikes, leaving openings so he could lure her in or move to the next blow faster, but she slapped his wrist each time and referred to the book. At first he humored her – the uptight SC Prez was fun to needle and work with – but the boundaries were soon chafing him raw.
"This isn't how the Shadows will fight," he pointed out after the fourth time she reined him in. "They don't care about your stances and rules."
"We're here to address how you fight people, too," she pointed out. "Remember how it went when you went to get Miya-san?"
"Trust me, I haven't forgotten. But that also proves my point. People aren't going to follow your rules, either. Those guys didn't have a lot of formal training, and even if they did, they weren't in the mood to go easy on me. When things get real, they get messy, and relying on the forms is a distraction."
"Unless you practice it correctly often enough that you memorize them, so you don't have to think about it. You'll just be doing it."
"Except we're going to be fighting more 'over there' than we will here, so memorizing the wrong moves could get in the way. We should be getting used to unexpected combat conditions, shouldn't we?"
"Are you saying I'm wrong?"
"No. There's quite a bit you're showing me that's useful. I've learned a lot so far. I just think you need to let it go a little. Your rules are good for classes, but real life isn't like that. We both know that."
"So, what, you want to fight me as I am 'over there'?"
"As best you can, sure. This is the environment for it, isn't it? And it would mix things up a little." He shrugged. "Or at least spar with me to make this interesting. Give me some practical lessons to prove your points. Show me instead of just telling me."
She considered that, then nodded. "All right." She pulled her padded gloves on, met him in the circle, and bowed.
He did the same, and had to immediately duck a kick to his head. A quick step back put him out of range, but she smiled.
"Does that mix it up enough?" she asked sweetly.
Akira grinned, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. "It's a very good start."
They circled and fought, putting enough behind their strikes to mean it but not enough to injure. And through finding each other's openings, they taught and learned without the need for charts or a book. When Akira stepped out too quickly, she showed him how open he was and bruised his ribs more than once. When she relied on her eyes too much, he got some stinging jabs in on her arms. And more than once it felt like she was correcting herself, reacting to him and flowing smoothly to follow up with harder blows, but her footwork was off like she wasn't used to connecting the movements yet. More than once they stopped to try something different and consult, going over why might work and why. Akira picked up her martial arts style faster and better in facing it than he did from her lessons. "Did you learn Chinese martial arts from your dad?" he asked when they took a break.
"No, I've never taken Chinese lessons. Why?"
"Because your stances, your kicks and how you move, they remind me of that wuxia book I bought you."
She blinked, and then she blushed and looked to the side. "That's… that's a coincidence."
"Really?"
"Yes. It wouldn't be appropriate to copy martial arts from a comic. I'm not a kid."
He replied, "I never said you were. But it's a good starting point. People say the writer brings in black belts to consult so he gets the stances down just right. If it gets you into the real thing, or if it's what you're passionate about, then what's the trouble? Same with movies."
"What about movies?" Her tone was quick and defensive.
"Just that if you saw something you liked in movies, and it leads you to the real thing and you get better at it, there's nothing wrong with it. Like martial arts flicks or…" He looked over at her, noting how she was fidgeting, looking to the side, and still quite red. "Wait. You're into those too?"
She was silent.
"It's fine if you like what you like," he told her. "You dropped a name when we were on our last case. Like a Dragon, right?"
"You… you remember that?"
"Of course."
"I guess it would stand out for a girl to like those movies."
"I think it's okay if you like them. So do I, so we have that in common. When the next one comes out, we can go see it together."
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Maybe. Let's keep going."
Akira chuckled and met her in the ring. He gave her some grace considering she was still blushing and looking away from him, but she was more natural on her feet and in her strikes. She went for the openings and blocked quicker rather than waiting for him or playing passive, and even if Queen's battle rage wasn't making an appearance, it did feel like he was getting to the girl behind the rules for a change. He could respond to it better, and by the end they were reading each other much more easily. "Let's keep that up," he commented as they left the gym together. "That was fun."
"There is theory in martial arts that we have to go over," she pointed out, "or we'd all end up like you."
"The results speak for themselves. Give us some combat tactics and team exercises and we can do this. We're already researching our enemies before we hit them."
She nodded, and at the corner she went her way. Akira watched her go, and maybe it was her imagination but she seemed lighter in her steps, like she wasn't as worried about hiding something.
He chuckled.
Their lessons continued for a few days after that. Their marks were sent out and Akira was happy to see he'd made it to 34 out of the top 50 in his grade. It would get challenging to climb higher as the competition got stiffer, but it was good to prove to Sakura-san and the faculty – those who weren't already convinced he was cheating, anyway – that he was more than some troublemaking punk.
He was looking forward to sharing his success with Senpai, humming to himself as he went to gym, when his phone went off. Without looking, he connected the call. "Hello?"
A man cleared his throat. "Akira? It's your dad."
The timbre of that voice, the instant recognition, dropped Akira's good cheer from the bottom of his stomach like a bucket busting its bottom. Ice was all that was left, and it crept up his insides and had him shaking.
Kurusu Isao asked, "Are you there?"
Akira leaned against the nearest building, trembling as the cold gripped him. "What do you want?"
"To talk to you. I've left messages. When you didn't get back to me, I thought something might have happened."
It wasn't ice water that took up residence inside Akira, but gasoline. Did gas freeze? Did airplane fuel? Whatever it was, it was cold but ready to ignite the second a spark caught. "I got your messages," he choked out.
"Is everything okay?"
The fuel was dripping, edging closer to that spark. "Is everything… really? You're asking that? Talk to Mom, she'll tell you how great things are."
"We're not speaking anymore."
"Yeah, she told me."
"That's… I'm sorry it came to that, Akira. I wanted you to hear it from both of us, but once she filed the paperwork…"
"She was happy to tell me. About that and a lot more."
"So you know."
"Yeah. Was that all you called about? Because if so, we can hang up now."
Kurusu Isao cleared his throat. "You're angry. I can tell."
Akira bit out, "I hope you can tell, because I'm not exactly being subtle here."
"About what happened, about that man and court…"
"What? What about those things? Are they re-evaluating my case? Did someone come forward with new evidence, or maybe in my defense like they should have the first time? Because if so I haven't heard anything about it."
"That's…"
"Well? Is that why you're calling?"
"No. Not about that specifically, but I need to talk to you. I'm sorry, Akira."
Sparks caught on the fuel, heating him up. "You're… you're sorry."
"Yes. For how things went, for what I didn't say. I don't know why it turned out that way, with everyone turning against you and saying the same things, it was like they were all crazy, but–"
"But you're different," Akira spat. "You just stood there and didn't say anything. Mom and Kaiya and everyone else took turns throwing me under the bus and no one stood up in my defense. No one. I'd remember if anyone did because they would have been alone in that crowd."
"Like I said, things were crazy then."
"That makes it okay then? That's your excuse? That wasn't a slow process, you know. It took days for them to get through everyone. What, did they bar you from the courtroom? Did someone abduct you and keep you from getting back home in time to help? Because I saw you there and you didn't say a single word to stand up for me."
Nothing.
"Or am I misremembering that? Am I wrong?"
"No. You're not."
"Thanks for saying it now, then. It makes all the difference."
"Akira, listen. I had to understand what was going on, and I know that's not an excuse–"
Everything in him ignited, clouding his vision in yellow and red. Not caring about anyone around him, Akira's voice spiked. "You're damn right it isn't an excuse! All the stories you told me as a kid about sticking up for what you believe in, how important justice is in society, the lessons about doing what's right even when it's hard. Then when I do that I get dragged through the streets! Where were you?! You had to know I wouldn't do what they accused me of – I even told you it was a big misunderstanding – but where were you when the cops came?! What did you do?! Do you remember?!"
"I… let them through the door."
"Yes! And drag me off and charge me! You heard it all, you were there, and when the lawyers and Mom turned on me you didn't say anything! Nothing! From the guy who taught me about sticking up for what's right!"
"I'm sorry, Akira–"
"Well that makes it all better, doesn't it?! That just fixes everything! I can come home now, except I can't because I don't even have a family there anymore, do I?!"
"I'm here, and I'm–"
"Really? First off, are you actually? Second off, why would I come back? So you can hide under the rug the next time someone lies about me?"
"It won't be like that."
"No? Then let's hear it. What are you doing to make sure it won't? What's changed between then and right now, so that if I came back tomorrow, what happened before would be completely different next time. Because there will be a next time – that's how life is – so how have you actually changed?"
Kurusu Isao started speaking and stopped. He tripped on his words, and then silence followed.
Akira spoke with the finality of his sentence in the courtroom. "When you can answer that question, call me. Or don't. Actually, don't bother no matter what, because I'm sick of everyone's excuses." He cut the call, and with shaking fingers blocked it from any further contact. He momentarily considered hurling his phone into the nearest industrial shredder, but he needed it to stay in touch with the others. He ignored the few stares from people around him and fumed. He was glad that Morgana had gone roaming; explaining this to his cat would have made it harder. As it was, he beat his feet sore on the concrete the rest of the way to the gym.
When Akira got there, he pulled his gi on and warmed up. Everything was a few degrees off, his strikes were wild, and he wasn't on the same landmass as his usual centre of balance. His insides shook with anger, and the dam was trembling against the weight of everything he'd left back home.
What did he do about that? Ignore it? Address it? It obviously hadn't forgotten him, and he had no idea where to start.
Senpai came in a few minutes later, got changed and came over to him. Unlike their previous sessions which were open with easy greetings and a healthy dose of respect, today she was tense, her eyes crinkled at the edges with anger. "We need to talk."
Akira immediately didn't like her tone. It reminded him of her sister, talking down to him from a pedestal of supposed moral and legal superiority. He held onto his self-control by his fingertips and his voice was ragged as he asked, "Is that so?"
"I went by the school for some business and I saw Iida. He's bruised and beaten up, and he looked like he was being chased. Nishiyama was with him, too. It seems some people are taking your idea and running with it."
"It's a good idea, and he deserves it."
"He doesn't deserve that."
Akira's breath rattled as he drew it in and then blew it out through clenched teeth. "I'm going to give you a warning, Senpai. Bring this up some other day, because I really don't need it right now."
Her eyes narrowed, taking on an edge of judgment to go along with the anger. "You don't need this? What about him? You say you balanced the scales, but what about now that others are following your example?"
"Not my problem. And school's not in session, so it's not yours either."
"That's the answer you're going with?"
"The guys going after him were probably the same idiots who spread rumors behind my back when I first got here. That's who they are, and they'd be tormenting anyone else in that same position. Just happens they're taking out the trash in Iida's case."
"No responsibility, is that what I'm hearing?"
Akira yanked on his gloves with a snap. "What you're hearing is me being tired of your lectures, Miss Prez. Drop it and let's go, or hit the road and we'll call it a day."
She glared at him, stubbornly standing her ground.
Akira's teeth showed in a sharp, serrated smile. "Or show me what it means to you. You don't like what I did? You think I'm wrong? Prove it."
She set her bag to the side, rolled her shoulders and stood opposite him. Their eyes locked, a second passed, and they each rushed the other.
What followed was an athletic effort more mismatched than giving a long-distance swimmer the pole for the high jump. Akira was distracted by his phone call while Senpai was fighting against her own aggression, holding her control with fingers that kept slipping. They dodged and crashed into each other, they blocked at the same time, and their strikes were either badly aimed and glanced off or were too strong for practice, but neither cared. She was holding back still, trying even now to hold the higher ground, and more and more it pissed Akira off.
She stepped back to the line and watched him, hands up in an easy guard.
"Are we done?" he asked.
She didn't answer, but the disappointed, judging, borderline contemptuous look in her eyes pushed him just far enough. He lashed out with a ranging punch, more of a snap of the arm than anything with real force behind it, and she was at the extreme of his reach.
But she was still close enough. He caught her chin just hard enough to be loud, sending her back with a startled cry and getting the attention of a few fighters nearby.
She looked surprised. Akira ground his teeth. He spat, "Well? Step up or take off. If we're doing this then take it seriously, because now you're wasting my time."
There was the gauntlet. Both knew what it was and no fighter could pass it up. Her eyes ignited red and she stepped up, fingers clenching.
They rushed each other again, and the fight was on.
Because it was a fight. Neither held back, each observed the rules only so much as they were of practical use, and both had the bit in their teeth. She moved and punched to put him down, and he blocked and struck back with a familiar reckless edge. Her blows stung his forearms and chest, but that only drove him forward. She flowed around his strikes at first, brushing him aside when he overbalanced and striking from good angles. On a counter punch, she even grabbed his wrist and wrenched down to twist his arm, trying to disable him, but by then he had a read on her momentum and shifted with her. He rolled his hand around and caught her wrist, then sent her back hard with a blow to the chest. She'd wrenched his elbow in the process, but he was deafened to the pain, and then she was tumbling and rolling back to regain her distance, trying to get centered so she could use all her weight for her strikes. She had to duck and weave around his punches because despite her muscle tone and experience, she didn't have the strength or the mass to withstand a sustained attack.
So she got creative. She mixed her pitches, moved around his blows to distract him and striking with kung fu palm strikes or low kicks aimed at his knee. At that angle, a critical hit would have been serious. When he knelt to block those, she went low and spun in a deceptively high kick aimed at his face. He was fast enough that it only half connected with him, but that was still enough to send him spinning with the blow to keep his footing. He darted in and took two hits to get his arms around her, wrapping her around the neck in a choke hold that she fought fiercely.
"Where's your fire?" he asked as he tightened and twisted. She blindly scratched at his face with one hand and jammed her elbow into his side with the other, but he twisted and tightened to keep her aim off. "All that determination and you're wasting it on that parasite. Was it all just a flash underwater?"
She thrashed around and ducked to wriggle free, rolling from his grip and leaving her top in his hand. Her teeth were clenched, her fists up, as she faced him in her gi bottoms and her sports bra and her anger.
He smiled and tossed her top aside, taunting her to come forward. She rushed him and he blocked her off, getting ahead of her strikes. He'd watched her fight for this long, had picked up on her quirks, and he used that reckless edge to stay one step ahead of her until he was blocking her strikes before they had the momentum to hurt, driving her back. She went for his open side, but he'd expected that and spun with her, impacting her midsection with a palm strike that sent her back, and when she struck high he stepped in to block with one hand and elbow her with the other. She backpedalled, which left her open to a snap kick that caught her in the hip, leaving her guarding that side and breathing hard.
"You think becoming what you're fighting is any better?" she asked. "What we saw in the Bank, he was normal once. Do you think you can't go down that road?"
"Where are my victims? And where are your innocents, hm? A worm who would gladly use your back for a knife block, is that who you're standing up for?"
"Your methods are fine so long as your victims are guilty, is that what you're saying?"
"Who else was going to do it? You? You're the only one falling for his act, Senpai."
"I saw his injuries. That isn't an act."
"Tell it to Miya-san, or are you going to advocate for the guys who beat her to within an inch of her life? If you're just going to flip-flop, maybe you should stay behin–"
She grunted and lunged, lashing at his face. He raised his guard to block it, blocking his view. She retracted in a flash and launched a straight punch right at him, whipping past his defenses and too fast to catch. She hammered him in the midsection, and his wind blew out of him with a harsh "Ooof!"
Akira dropped hard, curled around as he failed to breathe. The sucking, choking sense of being unable to draw air, the clenching in his chest as his body refused to execute the most basic of autonomic functions, had him fighting and fearing as he gagged. Darkness edged his vision.
Then Senpai was by him, kneeling on the floor and pulling him into her lap. "You need a little bit longer. I hit your diaphragm, which is why you can't breathe. It should loosen up after a minute or so, which is still before you'll suffer any serious brain damage."
Whatever was left of those sixty long seconds felt like they took forever to pass. Against her advice, Akira fought for breath, moved and stretched out to get just the smallest bit of give in his lungs. Whether through his stubborn attempts or the accuracy of her advice, the knot gave little by little, and he gasped in oxygen and coughed up spit and mucus, which led to some going down the wrong tube and leaving him a coughing, hacking mess on the mat, barely able to hold himself up from the puddles he was leaving.
A few of the gym-goers came over to make sure he was all right, but Senpai thanked them for their concern and waved them off. "He'll be fine," she said with utmost confidence. "He's been through worse."
A few people nodded sympathetically, a couple chuckled at the sight of him, curled up next to a girl, and one even commented, "That's what happens when you flap your gums instead of fight, kid. Hope you don't have to learn that lesson again."
Akira creaked his head up to tell the speaker off, but he'd already left.
Senpai eased Akira up, hands on his chest and back to encourage proper, steady breathing, leaning in like she was concerned. Her eyes, though, were hard. "What you said? What you did? Unacceptable. The people we're after might be filth, but that doesn't mean we have license to be worse. If you're just here to replace them, to shuffle the deck instead of burn the cards, then count me out." She got up, collected her gi top, and stepped away.
Akira stopped her with a pained growl. "Who… the hell are you… to say that? You come in… late, foul up our job, but you… think you've got it figured out? Nothing those bastards… went through justifies what they did. Nothing!"
She looked back, unflinching. "And it doesn't justify staining your hands and ending up worse than them. I don't know what you went through that this is the lesson you took from it, but it doesn't excuse what you risk becoming." She went and collected her bag, and then left the gym.
The curious gym-goers looked at him appraisingly. Akira glared back as he crawled to the bench, collapsing back. He could feel his diaphragm fluttering, the breath at the bottom of his lungs rattling. He needed a minute.
As he took it, her words rang in his head. The anger from that call, the memories he couldn't keep down no matter how hard he tried, even her accusations, it all tugged him back at a time when he didn't have the energy to get free.
There he rested, and back he went. Into the past. To that day.
7 7 7
Aga in Niigata prefecture was just right. Just busy enough, just quiet enough, just close enough to the city to have the good stuff but just far enough away to not have the congestion or politics, and just popular enough in the winter with their ski hills and just dull enough to encourage the tourists to leave in the spring.
It was the sort of place where you didn't have to think about what you did or how, because everything was just right. A guy could go his whole life without moving on, without breaking his mold, without thinking for himself.
Akira had been like that. Oh, how he'd been like that.
There along the river he walked with them. He couldn't call them friends anymore, didn't want to admit he'd ever associated with them. He reflected now on how he'd ended up in their orbit.
He knew why, though. Path of least resistance.
"Hey, have you guys heard about the accidents in Tokyo?" Taira Riichi asked excitedly. "Word is that it's all tied to a big political conspiracy."
"Isn't it always?" asked Arakawa Mitsue with an amused smirk.
"This is real, though. I heard someone online make the argument for it. He's legit. If you connect the guys who were affected and who they worked for, it actually links to the birthday of the shogunate and the companies that his supporters broke off to from."
"And they're communicating over that TV channel that plays at midnight when it rains, right? Or spreading rumors that immediately become true because people believe them? Or granting wishes if you call your own number on phones that stop for an hour at midnight?"
"Hey, that thing with the phones is actually real!"
Nagai Koji noted, "We stayed up late for three weeks and never saw anything."
"Well, what do you think caused it?"
"It didn't happen, so how can we say?"
Riichi looked at the smallest one of their group. "Nishi, you believe me, right?"
Gima Nishi nodded quickly, like always. "Of course, Riichi-san. It's just as you say."
"See? She believes me."
"And she says it every time," Amari Kaiya commented under her breath, arms crossed under her not-inconsiderable cleavage. Her neck was open to make the most of the warm spring day, and her generous figure was there for Akira to appreciate.
Generous was one word. 'Chubby' also worked. She was big enough to have a nice rack, but fit enough to be fetishized by guys who liked their girls soft.
Akira patted her on the shoulder, and she came closer for a moment. The faintest show of affection before turning away to talk to someone else.
That was fine. Like how it always was.
Koji and Riichi got to talking about the influence of foreigners on the media, Nishi bouncing between them and only stopping long enough to agree with one and then the other. Mitsue looked over. "Have you given any thought to which university you're applying to? Entrance exams aren't that far away."
"Yeah," Akira answered more because Kaiya was there than because it was the truth, "definitely. What about you?"
Mitsue shrugged in that way that came across as humble just so it was more socially acceptable to brag. "I might be interning at a political office."
"Really? Congratulations. That's a good fit."
How appropriate. Mitsue loved arguing semantics and playing devil's advocate. It had been a sign of his impressive intelligence and ability to see a problem from all sides, but it also put him notably above the others, which was probably why he hung around with them.
"Make sure you look after her," Mitsue went on, his salesman's smile in place. "That's important, right?"
Akira nodded dumbly. "Yeah, it is."
Normal conversations came to normal conclusions. They went their own ways and Akira offered to study course work with Kaiya since her parents were out that night. She didn't say no, so he slipped out of the house and went over. They studied, and after that they 'studied' more. Closeness and intimacy, hesitant questions and promises. It was almost everything a relationship was supposed to be, they just had to find their stride and get there.
Akira knew better now. Those had been mechanical motions and tepid reactions out of socially enforced obligation. He was pathetic, she was insecure, so sex was just a two-way pity fuck. He dreamed that it meant more, but all those dreams proved was how little they suited each other. He talked about the life he'd live without putting the work in to get there because it wouldn't change much if he did otherwise, and she went along with it because her friends commented on how cute they were together. What a shallow reason to be with someone, but this was the same girl who became an ace at math only so she could calculate her caloric intake and avoid exercise, and then get temperamental when her scale refused to lie to her. How small a person she was, compared to Ann or Senpai or Miya-san. A girl unproven in the everyday, tested by life and earning her failing grade.
That led to Akira's trip home alone, the quiet night that let sound carry further, and the sounds of a struggle. The woman, the guy in the dark, the tripping accident and the promise of retribution. Even now, Akira couldn't remember many details about him, only a black suit and an angry voice. It was too fast, too messy, the accusations flying fast, the consequences soon to follow that had such ramifications that he'd never have imagined they were possible.
But he could remember the knock on the door that led to the trial, standing in cuffs at the stand. He could remember the police giving their report, the woman's testimony damning him in her absence, his friends speaking out against him, lying about how he'd been into all sorts of deviant crap and how it was a sign of the bad turn he was going to take. Kaiya crumpled before the judge, claiming to being 'coerced' into her relationship with Akira, how he was into rough sex and how it made her feel used, her tears cementing his fate as his protests fell on the deafest of ears. "How could you? He's clearly important; why did you attack him?!"
The others were there to add iron balls to his chains, but it seemed hardly necessary by then. Mitsue was honest about the talks they'd had about ethics and morality, but he spun Akira's naiveté – his ignorance, he could see now – as a smokescreen for a nefarious personality, a convincing lie to hide the person who could victimize a grown woman and attack the man who came to help. Every good deed, a criminal in training testing the waters, and not an ounce of compassion to be found. So like someone eyeing a job in politics.
Riichi ran with the rumors, citing pop culture statistics about interests Akira had in common with known convicts, how simple comments about which villain was better in a series were actually the groundwork for learning how and where to break the law. All this, every example given, with the fervent assurance of someone happy and eager to be proven right, no matter who it hurt.
If Akira ever saw Riichi again, he'd wring the little puke's neck.
Nishi's testimony was practically unnecessary. She parroted everything the prosecution said, what the others who came before her claimed, and agreed to anything whether she contradicted herself or not. She'd never been strong enough to speak out by herself, so even as she condemned Akira to his face, she didn't use any of her own words or examples. A person with only the faintest claim to autonomy, a puppet eager for a hand on her strings.
Next had been Koji, and that one hurt. Akira's closest friend had an inflexible streak a mile wide, and rather than that coming to Akira's defense, it led to Koji spouting the vilest condemnations imaginable. Akira's friendship and help over the years became a deception, a facade as he took advantage of the generosity of the Nagai family, particularly when it came to Koji's doting but ailing grandmother. All their conversations became malicious manipulations, acts of charity further cons in the act, and Koji had been happy to provide the entire list of receipts. Akira hadn't known before that day how innocuous comments could become promises of sedition against the government, but he'd learned then, much like he'd learned how all that self-righteous judgment felt when he was the target of it. "You broke the law, Akira. The punishment fits the crime."
Akira's parents took the stand last. His mother had openly begged him to repent, to throw himself on the mercies of the law, and never failed to make herself the victim of his actions. "Please, sweetie, just admit to it. Maybe they're mistaken about a few things, but saying you did it makes this all go away!" Back then he'd thought she was just distraught over the case, stressed and shocked, but now he knew that was who she'd always been. That had simply been the day her mask came off.
And that hurt as much as what Dad said: nothing at all. He hadn't condemned his son, but nor had he spoken a word in his defense. All their talks of right and wrong, the encouragement to take the right path in life, to be a strong man and grow up honorable and just, and the one who held all those virtues so dear said not one word against the masses. Only at the end did Kurusu Isao speak. "Akira, I… how did this happen?"
Everyone close to him had turned on him in a single night. It was only Akira's status as a minor and the judge's fair verdict that gave him a chance at a normal life. The witness testimonies hadn't changed the charge, after all, and not one of the accusations had the physical evidence needed to back it up or Akira would have been convicted of capital punishment and locked away forever. But the gavel struck regardless and everything he'd known had changed.
He'd hoped the time would fix it, that there'd been something he'd missed and this was all a misunderstanding. But then his mother had called and burned it all down before scattering the ashes. Akira doubted he could find any trace of that old life now.
Where did that leave him?
7 7 7
Akira came back to himself in that gym. The call from Dad, the acrimony of the trial, it all revved his engine and reminded him of what he'd lost, how it had all been ripped away.
But he couldn't deny that he'd been soft, drifting along with no direction or drive or the slightest interest in improving himself. He'd been 'normal,' that's what Miya-san called it, and while he hadn't expected everything to flip on him, he could see the signs now that he had no business expecting things to remain as smooth as he thought they were going. Mom had always been a bit too eager to see things from someone else's point of view, to find an answer that made her look good and consider her family second, if at all. Kaiya had been by his side for her own sake instead of his. She'd tried at affection, but she'd always been looking for a way up or a way out. Koji only wanted friends who didn't drag him into anything messy. Mitsue, Riichi, Nishi, they'd shown Akira time and again what they were like and he'd ignored it.
They were his friends. They'd never hurt him. Akira had been complacent. Weak. And that weakness had landed him here, for better or for worse, like an unwanted puppy thrown to the curb.
He held up his left hand, feeling the cards swirling in his soul. Beaten and down, but not out yet. He got to his feet, testing his lungs and already texting Senpai. We need to talk. Meet me tomorrow.
He wasn't taking his hits lying down anymore. This puppy had some very sharp teeth.
7 7 7
Akira went to Inokashira Park the next afternoon after homework and the lunch rush. He'd gotten most of the acrimony out of his system, and hopefully that didn't change as soon as he saw her. He took Morgana and set off, getting there early so he could find a spot and go over what he might say, how he wouldn't let his emotions grab hold, and everything else that he had to consider as a Phantom Thief.
It made him feel like a leader. That meeting with Ryuji sure made him seem like he was. When had that happened?
But Akira felt a familiar tingle down his neck and turned. Senpai approached, her hand half up in a wave, but not going all the way as she put her hair back behind her ear and looked to the side. She stepped up next to him, near enough for them to hear each other but with some distance between them.
Akira cleared his throat. "Hey."
"Hello."
A few awkward moments passed, then Akira noted, "I'm better today. You got a lucky shot in, but it doesn't hurt now."
"Was it lucky if I hit right where I was aiming?"
"So you say. Try it again next time and we'll see what happens."
"Next time. Yes, I might do that." She let a breath out. "I might have misrepresented myself before. I still don't know if what you did with Iida was right, especially considering how it's going now, but I do agree that something had to be done."
"But you think that what I did went too far?"
"I'm not sure. Johanna and I, we talk at night. A lot. She's not like Carmen, though. She tries to lead me to the answer and let me see how things connect, but sometimes that leaves me with more questions. It's new and very different, and when I saw Iida, it made me doubt everything." She looked over at him. "But I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful. You and the others came to help me when I was ambushed, and you did what you did because of me. No matter how I might feel about anything else, I do appreciate you looking out for me. I mean that."
"Thanks. And you're welcome. It threw me, too, hearing you sticking up for Iida. You were the one who almost blew someone's head off, after all, and I had to pull you back."
"That's part of what I mean. Kaneshiro was filth, but I almost let it get the better of me. So I pulled back, but then this happened. I wonder if I over-corrected."
"I'd say so, but don't feel too bad about it. You're not the only one of us who's fighting with that, and it's something each of us has to figure out for themselves."
Morgana jumped out of the bag and sat on the rail before them. "But you are making progress if you can see where you're going and how you're operating, Queen. That's important in the development of a Phantom Thief. And just because each of you has to work things through with your Personas doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
She stroked the cat's ears. "Thanks, Morgana."
Akira scratched his cheek. "I played a part in how yesterday went, too. I would have handled it differently, but I got a call that threw me into a tailspin. When you came on hard, I didn't take it well, and I wanted a fight to get everything out of my system. I'm not making excuses, but that's how it went."
"I thought something like that had to have happened. You don't fight like that even when you're 'over there.' It was like you wanted to hurt someone, whether that was me or you."
"You handled yourself well, but I'm glad I didn't do anything too serious."
"Thank you for the sentiment. Whatever else came of that fight, I do appreciate it."
"Now that the air is cleared," Morgana offered, "why don't we celebrate? I think we were all hit harder by Kaneshiro and what we saw and did than we expected. And Queen said she's still figuring this stuff out, and that can leave someone stuck in their own head. A party with snacks and drinks, like when we went to the hotel buffet, would be great."
"You ate most of the fish dishes there all by yourself," Akira remarked dryly. "Are you going to try the same thing again?"
"Of course not! We won't hold it at a buffet this time, that's all."
"Nice save. But I do like the idea. We still have to get that briefcase open and spread the wealth, and if Ryuji's feeling better, then this will help set things right."
"Agreed then. Set a time and a day and I'll be there." She smiled softly. "It's a bit exciting, actually. I haven't been to many parties, so I'm not sure what to bring."
"We'll make a menu and go from there."
"Thank you." She let out a breath. "That phone call. Was it personal?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Because I've seen you like that before."
"I'm pretty sure you haven't."
"No, I have. At the batting cage by Leblanc."
Akira froze.
She went on quickly. "I didn't mean to. I was investigating you for the principal and I had to know whether you were involved with anything suspicious or illegal. You kept getting away, but I thought I'd see something if I went to where you live, and… well, you almost ran right into me."
"I didn't see you. That was… a really bad night."
"I thought so. I followed you and you looked… I don't think I've ever seen someone like that." Her fingers opened and closed a bit. "You were hurt by something, weren't you?"
Akira swallowed, then nodded.
"I… I don't really know what to say. It was the worst I think I've ever seen anyone before. I understand if it's personal, and I don't mean to pry. But if talking about it would help, even a little, I wouldn't mind listening."
That she'd seen him in that state stung, and revisiting that night, even if only by idle comment, was enough to make his fists close. But it was also oddly embarrassing how she'd seen something no one else had. It was comforting that it was her, and strangely intimate. He found he didn't mind, and he found that odd, and he didn't want to delve into that just yet.
He realized how long he'd been quiet, how expectant and vulnerable she looked, and he answered, "That's still a private subject. There's a lot of bad blood back there, stuff to do with my family and why I came to Tokyo. Every time I get a call or a reminder, that's what happens, so I'm still working a lot out. I don't know how much I'll feel like talking about it."
"Oh."
Akira caught the smallness of her voice, the hope that withered right then and there, and kept going. "But I do want to move past it. I have to someday. So when I get there, or if something comes up that is easier to say, I will. And I wouldn't mind talking about it before a round on the mat, or after a movie if you like."
She glanced up at him, a small, silly smile on her lips. Baby steps, small gestures, but she knew what he was saying, and more importantly, she knew he wouldn't say it to anyone else. "Deal."
He smiled and nodded, then looked at her comfortably until she turned a touch red and cleared her throat. "What sorts of things should I bring to this party? We should put a list together, shouldn't we? I'll call Ann-san and see what she likes. And we need to make sure nobody has any allergies."
Akira laughed and went along with her, already putting the plans together and watching her work.
Small gestures. The barest of promises. There was still so much he hadn't addressed, so much he wasn't sure he even wanted to address. But having someone in his corner, who'd seen him at his worst and wanted to help, that was as unexpected as it was welcoming. He didn't know where it would lead him, but as he faced those fractured pieces of his past, he found that he didn't mind the company on this road.
7 7 7
Nothing. That was what this box had to offer him. It was a long way from Lotus, stone walls without decoration or acoustics, a steel-framed bed without any padding, a vertical window that let in only a slice of natural light, and a sink with a bucket beneath it.
Where were the girls? What about his men? Where was his money that had kept him out of places like this from his first day in?
Nowhere. Because it didn't matter.
Kaneshiro Junya sat on the floor, leaning against his cot, staring at nothing. He had nothing to do but reflect on things and wait. He had an appointment with the interrogator tomorrow, someone who looked particularly eager to ask him questions. What were they? Who was coming after him? What did he do that mattered enough to notice?
Nothing.
That was how it all felt now. He didn't know how or why this crisis of conscience hit him, but it had brought him here. Now what? Was he supposed to repent? Accept punishment for what he did? Repay his debt to society after what it did to him? What would balance that? Who would decide, and would that be enough? What would he do after?
He couldn't be bothered to entertain the answers to those questions. They were all meaningless.
Still, it filled the time between meals. Nothing like what he was used to, but he'd certainly eaten worse.
A key turned in the lock. It was off schedule. The door opened and Kaneshiro looked up. He didn't particularly care, but his brain analyzed the scenario nonetheless.
Two men came in, dressed in prison uniforms, but they covered their faces once they entered. A job like this would require four in total, so the other two would be outside to look like the guards. One brought out a length of braided cord from inside his shirt. Neither said anything. They would be fast, direct, and gone in a few minutes.
It was as good a hit as one could plan. And in the most secure prison in the country. A place with a history of never letting so much as a stamp past the scanners, of never being broken into or losing a prisoner. That was about to change, and quickly.
"Endo-sama is a very competent man," Kaneshiro noted, getting to his feet. "But this wasn't just his idea, was it?"
A punch to the stomach blasted his wind out. He doubled over, but before he could catch his breath the braided cord went around his neck and squeezed tight. Kaneshiro struggled instinctively, but pulled his hands down as best he could.
What was the point? The cord would do the job, they'd break his neck to make sure it was finished, and they'd hang him with a ripped piece of blanket to make it look like it was his doing. This was always the penalty for failure, the fate he'd accepted years ago. He wouldn't fight a fair outcome, and he wouldn't let them scare him.
His vision was going dark. It wouldn't take long. He waited, wondered if he'd see Mom and Dad. What had happened to make him remember them? What changed? Why now, when he almost had Niijima Sae in his hand?
The universe had a sense of humor all right. Considering how her father met his end, this was positively ironic.
The lights were going out now. And they didn't appear. Not Dad's laugh and pats on his back, not Mom's soft touches and encouraging smiles. Nothing.
Because that was what he was left with.
Nothing.